Detail of Aphrodite from Sandro Botticelli’s
15th-century Birth of Venus
Ouranos was jealous of his children, and so confined them wickedly in their mother, Gaia, till she could no longer endure the stain of retaining so many unborn and begged them to end their father’s tyranny. Kronos listened to his mother’s plea when the others were afraid, and was given a curved sword or sickle ‘of grey adamant’ (presumably iron or steel) with which he emasculated his father Ouranos as the latter presented his genitals to Gaia for mating, and flung the severed parts into the sea. From the drops that fell from them onto the earth were born the Erinyes, the Giants, and the Meliai. But from Ouranos’ genitals themselves as they floated in the sea and foam (aphros) gathered about them sprang the goddess Aphrodite.
She is called Kypris, ‘Lady of Cyprus,’ where her cult was certainly very old and as certainly not Greek; her name sounds vaguely Greek, and was by the Greeks themselves connected with aphros (foam), but this at best explains only the first two syllables of her name, and is only tenuously connected with her most important functions. At Thebes, she was connected with the foreigner Kadmos, and nowhere do we find clear evidence of a cult of her certainly primeval and certainly Hellenic. It may be that here and there, in the early days when she was adopted into the Greek pantheon, she found and absorbed some local goddess of similar functions. It is therefore reasonable to take her as a Greek adaptation of one of the well-known middle eastern goddesses of the type of Ishtar, who were widely worshipped in Asia.
Regardless of her origin, she was certainly worshipped practically in every place where Greek was spoken. Generally she was the goddess of love, beauty and marriage, not infrequently a protectress of sailors, but also, in Sparta especially, a war-goddess, a conception of her which came perhaps from Cyprus itself (warlike goddesses were not uncommon in Asiatic cult), by way of the ancient worship of her just off the Lakonian coast, at Kythera (hence her very common title, Kythereia). This is no doubt the real reason why she is so commonly united with Ares, who is her cult-partner here and there, and in mythology her lover and sometimes the father of Eros. Concerning her connexions—clearly secondary and the result of a natural desire to prove this important foreigner of good Greek stock—with Zeus and Dione, read the file about the god Zeus.
To the same desire can be attributed Aphrodite’s mythical position as mother of Eros. This was a respectably old god, worshipped at Thespiai in Boiotia, and at Parion in Mysia. Despite the constant association of the pair ‘Venus and Cupid’ in ancient literature, Eros has nothing whatever to do with her in any but late cult, and little in any literature before the Alexandrian period; although in Hesiod he attends Aphrodite, he is not her son, but an ancient cosmogonic power, which indeed he continued to be in theological and philosophic speculation. In the places where his worship was of importance, he was quite markedly the deity of the loveliness of young men and boys, to which, as is well known, the Greeks of the classical age were exceedingly susceptible. In Alexandrian times, however, the idea of romantic love (not mere desire) between the sexes took possession of literature, which is why most of the famous love-stories date from that time.
Eros therefore became more and more important, at the same time losing his dignity; for whereas he was previously shown for the most part as a handsome young athlete—his famous bow dates only from the fourth century B.C.—he is later generally shown as a pretty child, a little winged archer, capricious and mischievous, delighting in working magic (by shooting an invisible arrow at them) on gods and men alike. In literature, therefore, he appears for the most part late and in a subordinate part as a piece of divine machinery for making some one fall in love with some one else.
Thus, when we do get a story told of the god, it is one rather of lovers than of Love; for instance, the altar of Anteros near the Akropolis at Athens had the following tale attached to it. One Meles, a beautiful Athenian boy, looked with scorn on the offer of friendship of a metic, or resident alien, called Timagoras, and bade him jump off the Akropolis if he really wanted to prove his devotion. Timagoras took him at his word, and Meles in remorse took the leap likewise. In commemoration, the metics set up the altar of Anteros. The latter deity is simply ‘counter-love,’, ‘love returned,’ and provides a deified equivalent of the lover as Eros does of the loved. Another tale is preserved by Ovid and Antoninus Liberalis. A man named Phylios or Phyllios was infatuated with a lovely boy called Kyknos (Swan), who imposed upon him all manner of extraordinary tasks, such as taking savage beasts bare-handed. At last Kyknos bade him capture a bull, which he managed to do by the help and advice of Herakles, but he refused to give it to Kyknos. The latter, in a pet, jumped over a cliff, or into a lake, and was turned into a swan. It is rather a libel to call such rubbish mythology.
Aphrodite is not uncommonly associated with the Charites (one version of whose parentage is described in the file about the god Zeus). Although these goddesses (vague in number, but generally represented as a triad, on the authority of Hesiod), whose parentage is variously given, are commonly conceived as simply grace or loveliness embodied, they were sometimes also associated with vegetation; hence, for example, their Athenian cult under the names of Auxo (Increaser) and Hegemone (She-who-leads, which is to day, brings the plants forth from the earth). They were common enough in art, where their three comely and maidenly figures, draped or undraped, were a favourite subject, and also in legends where an attendant for one of the greater goddesses, a beautiful wife for a god, or celestial dancers or singers at any great festival, were required. But they can hardly be said to have any legends of their own in the surviving relics of ancient tradition.
Equally vague and likewise connected with the fruits of the earth are the Horai. As the word in classical Greek does not mean ‘hour’ in the Latin and English sense, but simply ‘time, season’, they are the Seasons of the year. Hence their varying number, for the ancients recognized anything from two seasons (summer and winter) up to four, as we do. They are oftenest three (spring, summer, winter), and tended slightly to become deities of ethical character; as early as Hesiod they are named Eunomia, Dike and Eirene, i.e., Law-and-Order, Justice, and Peace. But this is not their most important side in what little cult they had, and generally they, like the Charites, remain picturesque but subordinate deities, attendants on the greater ones, including Aphrodite. They have no real mythology.
In considering the myths relating to Aphrodite herself, we may begin with the most easternly stories, of which the best known is her love for Adonis; for here we have, without doubt, the familiar Oriental tale of the Great Mother and her divine lover. The name Adonis is probably the Semitic ’adon, ‘lord,’ and he is often identified with Tammuz, for instance in the Vulgate of Ezekiel. To begin his story at the beginning, Myrrha or Smyrna, daughter of Theias king of Assyria or of Kinyras king of Cyprus, was smitten by Aphrodite, whom she refused to honour, with an incestuous love for her own father. With the connivance of her nurse and under cover of darkness she contrived to satisfy her desires; but at last he found her out and would have killed her had not the gods listened to her prayer for deliverance and turned her into the tree (myrrh or balsam) which still bears her name. At full time a lovely boy was born from the tree, concerning whom two stories are told; according to one, Aphrodite put him into a chest and gave him to Persephone to take care of; but Persephone refused to give him back, because of his beauty. They appealed to Zeus, who decided that Adonis should spend a third of the year where he would, and a third with each of the two goddesses. Adonis henceforth spent two-thirds of each year with Aphrodite (the resemblance of this to the story of Kore is obvious), but later was killed by a boar when out hunting.
This drags in the other form of the story, according to which Aphrodite met Adonis as he hunted, and was enamoured of him because of his beauty; she had apparently not seen him before, and he had been brought up by nymphs. She warned him to be careful, but he persisted in going hunting, and so was killed by the boar—either an ordinary one, or one specially sent by Artemis, who for some reason was angry with him, or by Ares, who was jealous, or even by Ares himself disguised as a boar. From his blood sprang the rose, or the anemone, or else the latter sprang from the tears Aphrodite shed for her dead love; roses, which once were all white, were reddened by the blood of Aphrodite, who had pricked herself on a thorn as she ran to help the dying Adonis. The rites of Adonis were popular in Greece from the fifth century b.C.; besides the ceremonial wailing and singing of dirges, which went on sometimes over an effigy of the dead boy, they included the preparation of the famous ‘gardens of Adonis,’ seeds planted in shallow soil, which sprang up quickly and quickly withered.
Much the same story, although at first glance a different one, is told of Anchises and Aphrodite. The goddess, either by the machinations of Zeus, who wanted to be revenged on her for all the trouble she had caused him and the other gods, or out of sheer wantonness of desire, fell desperately in love with Anchises, then a young and handsome man, and granted him her favours on Mt. Ida, near Troy. The fruit of this union was Aineias. In the ‘Homeric’ hymn, which is our best authority for the story, Anchises is much afraid, after he discovers who his mistress is, that he will become ‘strengthless’ in consequence, but not that he will die (as Adonis did).
So far, we have been dealing with legends which represent the goddess, not as married, but as forming more or less temporary unions with some one much inferior to herself—a proceeding quite characteristic of Oriental goddesses, who were essentially mothers, not wives, and beside whom their husbands or lovers sink into comparative insignificance, although some of them are not unimportant gods. This aspect of Aphrodite is reflected only here and there in Greece; under the title Ourania (Celestial; Astarte was Queen of Heaven) she was occasionally, as at Corinth, worshipped with definitely immoral rites, including temple harlots. But in Athens, Aphrodite Pandemos (‘of-all-the-folk’) is a quiet and staid marriage-goddess, in whose worship nothing licentious seems to have taken place.
The statement so often fond that Aphrodite Ourania is celestial and Aphrodite Pandemos vulgar or mercenary love is merely a pretty conceit of Plato. Not dissimilar was the compromise which took place in mythology; Aphrodite is a wife, but far from a model one. Her husband is another noteworthy Oriental, the fire-god Hephaistos. But as she is not infrequently connected in cult with Ares, we get as early as Homer the story of her love for the war-god. Hephaistos soon learned of the intrigue, for Helios, who sees everything, warned him. He contrived a subtle net of invisible but very strong meshes, which fell upon the guilty couple and caught them in the act of defiling Hephaistos’ marriage-bed; whereupon Hephaistos called in all the other gods to see the sight. At first he was very angry, and talked of a divorce and of reclaiming the bride-price he had paid Zeus for his errant daughter; but Poseidon managed to get him pacified and went surety for Ares’ payment of the damages due to Hephaistos, so all was smoothed over, and Aphrodite continued to live more or less peaceably with her injured husband.
As in mythology, so in art, Aphrodite wavers between several types. Her Oriental figures, as the archaic idols found in Cyprus, are naked and hideous things, with their sex emphasized in a way which would be obscene if it were not so innocently frank; the early Greek statues show a draped figure, having a certain stiff dignity, such as would be not inappropriate to Aphrodite Pandemos; the later ones are for the most part nude or nearly so, and vary with the skill of the artist from meritorious studies of the body of a healthy and well-proportioned woman to monuments of that divine beauty which no one has ever again seen quite so clearly as the best of the Greeks.
The Romans, who had no love-goddess of any sort, identified Aphrodite with an Italian deity, Venus (the name means practically the same as Charis) who seems to have been the spirit who made tilled ground and especially gardens look trim and neat (uenustus), as they do when flourishing. The Greek deity, coming in from Sicily, where her cult on Mt. Eryx was famous, thrust this puny native wholly into the background, and stamped her own cult, in its more respectable form, on Rome. The Julian gens were active in introducing the new worship, whence ultimately their claim to be descended from her through Aineias.
1 Sing to me, O Muse, of the works of golden Aphrodite, the Cyprian, who stirs sweet longing in gods and subdues the races of mortal men as well as the birds that swoop from the sky and all the beasts 5 that are nurtured in their multitudes on both land and sea. Indeed all have concern for the works of fair-wreathed Kythereia.
Three are the minds which she can neither sway nor deceive. First is the daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, gray-eyed Athena. The works of Aphrodite the golden bring no pleasure to her, 10 but she finds joy in wars and in the work of Ares and in the strife of battle and in tending to deeds of splendor. She was first to teach the craftsmen of this earth how to make carriages and chariots with intricate patterns of bronze. And she taught lustrous works to soft-skinned maidens 15 in their houses, placing skill in each one’s mind. Second is hallooing Artemis of the golden shafts, whom smile-loving Aphrodite can never tame in love. For she delights in the bow and in slaying mountain beasts, in the lyre and the dance and in shrill cries 20 and in shaded groves and in the city of just men. Third is a revered maiden not charmed by the deeds of Aphrodite, Hestia, whom Kronos of crooked counsels begat first and youngest too, by the will of aegis-bearing Zeus. Poseidon and Apollon courted this mighty goddess 25 but she was unwilling and constantly refused. She touched the head of aegis-bearing Zeus and swore a great oath, which has been brought to pass, that she, the illustrious goddess, would remain a virgin forever. Instead of marriage Zeus the Father gave her a fair prize, 30 and she took the choicest boon and sat in the middle of the house. In all the temples of the gods she has her share of honor, and for all mortals she is of all the gods the most venerated. Of these three she can neither sway the mind, nor deceive them.
But none of the others, neither blessed god 35 nor mortal man, has escaped Aphrodite. She even led astray the mind of Zeus who delights in thunder and who is the greatest and has the highest honor. Even his wise mind she tricks when she wills it and easily mates him with mortal women, 40 making him forget Hera, his wife and sister, by far the most beautiful among the deathless goddesses and the most illustrious child to issue from crafty Kronos and mother Rhea. And Zeus, knower of indestructible plans, made her his modest and prudent wife. 45 But even in Aphrodite’s soul Zeus placed sweet longing to mate with a mortal man; his purpose was that even she might not be kept away from a mortal’s bed for long, and that some day the smile-loving goddess might not laugh sweetly and boast among all the gods 50 of how she had joined in love gods to mortal women, who bore mortal sons to the deathless gods, and of how she had paired goddesses with mortal men. And so he placed in her heart sweet longing for Anchises who then, looking like an immortal in body, 55 tended cattle on the towering mountains of Ida, rich in springs.
When indeed smile-loving Aphrodite saw him, she fell in love with him, and awesome longing seized her heart. She went to Cyprus and entered her redolent temple at Paphos, where her precinct and balmy temple are. 60 There she entered and behind her closed the shining doors; and there the Graces bathed her and annointed her with ambrosian oil such as is rubbed on deathless gods, divinely sweet, and made fragrant for her sake. After she clothed her body with beautiful garments 65 and decked herself with gold, smile-loving Aphrodite left sweet-smelling Cyprus behind and rushed toward Troy, moving swiftly on a path high up in the clouds. And she reached Ida, rich in springs, mother of beasts, and over the mountain she made straight for the stalls. 70 And along with her, fawning, dashed gray wolves and lions with gleaming eyes and bears and swift leopards, ever hungry for deer. And when she saw them, she was delighted in her heart and placed longing in their breasts, so that they lay together in pairs along the shady glens. 75 But she herself reached the well-built shelters and found the hero Anchises, whose beauty was divine, left alone and away from the others, by the stalls. All the others followed the cattle on the grassy pastures, but he was left alone by the stalls, and away from the others 80 he moved about and played a loud and clear lyre.
And Aphrodite, the daughter of Zeus, stood before him, in size and form like an unwed maiden, so that he might not see who she was and be afraid. When Anchises saw her, he pondered and marveled 85 at her size and form, and at her glistening garments. She was clothed in a robe more brilliant than gleaming fire and wore spiral bracelets and shining earrings, while round her tender neck there were beautiful necklaces, lovely, golden and of intricate design. Like the moon’s 90 was the radiance round her soft breasts, a wonder to the eye. Desire seized Anchises, and to her he uttered these words: “Lady, welcome to this house, whoever of the blessed ones you are: whether you are Artemis, or Leto, or golden Aphrodite, or well-born Themis, or gray-eyed Athena, 95 or yet perchance one of the Graces, who with all the gods keep company and are called immortal, or one of the nymphs who haunt these beautiful woods, or one of the nymphs who dwell on this beautiful mountain and in the springs of rivers and the grassy dells. 100 Upon a lofty peak, which can be seen from all around, I shall make you an altar and offer you fair sacrifices in all seasons. And with kindly heart grant me to be an eminent man among the Trojans, to leave flourishing offspring behind me, 105 and to live long and behold the light of the sun, prospering among the people, and so reach the threshold of old age.”
And then Aphrodite, the daughter of Zeus, answered him: “Anchises, most glorious of all men born on earth, I surely am no goddess; why do you liken me to the immortals? 110 A mortal am I, and born of a mortal woman. Renowned Otreus is my father—have you perchance heard his name?—who is lord over all of well-fortified Phrygia. And I know well both my language and yours, for a Trojan nurse reared me in my house; she took me 115 from my dear mother and devotedly cherished me when I was little. For this reason indeed I know your language too. But now Argeiphontes of the golden wand carried me off from the dance of hallooing Artemis of the golden shafts. Many of us nymphs and maidens, worth many cows to their parents, 120 were playing, and endless was the crowd encircling us. From there Argeiphontes of the golden wand abducted me and carried me over many works of mortal men, over much undivided and uninhabited land, where beasts which eat raw flesh roam through the shady glens, 125 and I thought that my feet would never again touch the life-giving earth. He said I should be called your wedded wife, Anchises, and sharing your bed would bear you fine children.
But when mighty Argeiphontes had shown and explained this to me, again he went away among the tribes of the immortals; 130 and so I am before you because my need is compelling. By Zeus I beseech you and by your noble parents, for base ones could not bear offspring like you. Take me untouched and innocent of love and show me to your father and wise mother 135 and to your brothers born of the same womb; I shall be no unseemly daughter and sister. Quickly send a messenger to the Phrygians, who have swift horses, to bring word to my father and to my mother in her grief; they will send you much gold and many woven garments, 140 and do you accept all these splendid rewards. Once these things are done, prepare the lovely marriage feast, which is honored by both men and immortal gods.”
With these words ehe goddess placed sweet desire in his heart, so that love seized Anchises and he addressed her: 145 “If you are mortal and born of a mortal woman and Otreus is your father, famous by name, as you say, and if you are come here by the will of Hermes, the immortal guide, you shall be called my wife forever. And so neither god nor mortal man will restrain me 150 till I have mingled with you in love right now; not even if far-shooting Apollon himself should shoot grievous arrows from his silver bow. O godlike woman, willingly would I go to the house of Hades once I have climbed into your bed.” 155 With these words he took her by the hand; and smile-loving Aphrodite, turning her face away, with beautiful eyes downcast, went coyly to the well-made bed, which was already laid with soft coverings for its lord. On it were skins of bears and deep-roaring lions, 160 which he himself had killed on the high mountains. And when they climbed onto the well-wrought bed, first Anchises took off the bright jewels from her body, brooches, spiral bracelets, earrings and necklaces, and loosed her girdle, and her brilliant garments 165 he stripped off and laid upon a silver-studded seat.
Then by the will of the gods and destiny he, a mortal, lay beside an immortal, not knowing what he did. And at the hour shepherds turn their oxen and goodly sheep back to the stalls from the flowering pastures, 170 she poured sweet sleep over Anchises and clothed her body in her beautiful clothes. When the noble goddess had clothed her body in beautiful clothes, she stood by the couch; her head touched the well-made roof-beam and her cheeks were radians with divine beauty, 175 such as belongs to fair-wreathed Kythereia. Then she roused him from sleep and addressed him thus:
“Arise, Dardanides! Why do you sleep so deeply? And consider whether I look the same as when you first saw me with your eyes.” 180 So she spoke. And he, arising from sleep, obeyed her forthwith. And when he saw Aphrodite’s neck and lovely eyes, he was seized with fear and turned his eyes aside. Then with his cloak he covered his handsome face and spoke to her winged words in prayer: 185 “Goddess, as soon as I saw you with my eyes I knew that you were divine; but you did not tell the truth. Yet by aegis-bearing Zeus I beseech you not to let me live impotent among men, but have mercy on me; for the man who lies 190 with immortal goddesses is not left unharmed.” And Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus answered him:
“Anchises, most glorious of mortal men, courage! Have little fear in your heart. No need to be afraid that you may suffer harm from me 195 or from the other blessed ones, for you are loved by the gods. And you shall have a dear son who will rule among the Trojans, and children shall always be born to his offspring. His name shall be Aineias, because I was seized by awful grief for sharing a mortal man’s bed. 200 But of all mortal men your race is always closest to the gods in looks and stature. Wise Zeus abducted fair-haired Ganymedes for his beauty, to be among the immortals and pour wine for the gods in the house of Zeus, 205 a marvel to look upon, honored by all the gods, as from the golden bowl he draws red nectar. Relentless grief seized the heart of Tros, nor did he know whither the divine whirlwind had carried off his dear son. So thereafter he wept for him unceasingly; 210 and Zeus pitied him and gave him high-stepping horses, such as carry the immortals, as reward for his son. He gave them as a gift for him to have, and guiding Argeiphontes at the behest of Zeus told him in detail how his son would be immortal and ageless like the gods. 215 And when he heard Zeus’ message, he no longer wept but rejoiced in his heart and was gladly carried by the careering horses.
“So, too, golden-throned Eos abducted Tithonos, one of your own race, who resembled the immortals. 220 She went to ask Kronion, lord of dark clouds, that he should be immortal and live forever. And Zeus nodded assent to her and fulfilled her wish. Mighty Eos was too foolish to think of asking youth for him and to strip him of baneful old age. 225 Indeed, so long as much-coveted youth was his, he took his delight in early-born, golden-throned Eos, and dwelt by the stream of Okeanos at the ends of the earth. But when the first gray hairs began to flow down from his comely head and noble chin, 230 mighty Eos did refrain from his bed, though she kept him in her house and pampered him with food and ambrosia and gifts of fine clothing. But when detested old age weighed heavy on him and he could move or lift none of his limbs, 235 this is the counsel that to her seemed best in her heart: she placed him in a chamber and shut its shining doors. His voice flows endlessly and there is no strength, such as there was before, in his crooked limbs. If this were to be your lot among immortals, I should not choose 240 for you immortality and eternal life. But should you live on such as you now are in looks and build, and be called my husband, then no grief would enfold my prudent heart.
“But now you will soon be enveloped by leveling old age, 245 that pitiless companion of every man—baneful, wearisome, and hated even by the gods. But great shame shall be mine among the immortal gods to the end of all time because of you. Till now they feared my scheming tattle, 250 by which, soon or late, I mated all immortal gods to mortal women, for my will tamed them all. But now my mouth will not bear to mention this among the immortals because, struck by great madness in a wretched and grave way, and driven out of my mind, 255 I mated with a mortal and put a child beneath my girdle.
As soon as this child sees the light of the sun, the full-bosomed mountain nymphs who dwell on this great and holy mountain will nurture him. They do not take after either mortals or immortals; 260 they live long and eat immortal food, and among the immortals they move nimbly in the beautiful dance. The Seilenoi and sharp-eyed Argeiphontes mingle with them in love in caves where desire lurks. When they are born, firs and towering oaks 265 spring up on the man-nourishing earth and grow into lush beauty on the high mountains. They stand lofty, and are called sanctuaries of the gods; and mortals do not fell them with the ax. But whenever fated death is near at hand, 270 first these beautiful trees wither on their ground, the bark all around them shrivels up, the branches fall away, and their souls and those of the nymphs leave the light of the sun together. They will keep my son and nurture him.
As soon as he reaches much-coveted adolescence, 275 the goddesses will bring the child here to show him to you. And, to tell you all I have in mind, toward the fifth year I will come and bring my son. And when you first lay your eyes upon this blossom, you will delight in the sight, for so much like a god he will be; 280 and you shall take him forthwith to windy Ilion. But if any mortal man should ask you what sort of mother carried your dear son under her girdle, do remember to speak to him as I bid you: ‘He is the son, they say, of a nymph with a petal-soft face, 285 one of those who dwell on this forest-covered mountain.’ But if you reveal this and boast with foolish heart to have mingled in love with fair-wreathed Kythereia, an angry Zeus will smite you with a smoking thunderbolt. I have told you everything; with this clear in your mind, 290 refrain from naming me, and heed divine anger.” With these words she darted up to the windy sky.
Hail, O goddess and queen of cultivated Cyprus! I began with you but now shall go on to another hymn.
