In
the Iliad (book 8 lines 360-9), Athena complains to Zeus about the number of
times she spent saving Herakles from some disaster or other. In this posting, I
am going to continue my exploration, begun in my previous posting, into
rescuing this figure (mostly Hercules in what will follow). The rescuing in
question will concern saving – perhaps liberating – the hero from the elitism
that is so often invoked in postclassical receptions of classical mythology. I
might even be moving between scholarship and activism in doing this: I have
received some supportive feedback on the previous posting, including from Liz Hale,
another member of the Our Mythical Childhood team, commenting that such an attempt at
rescuing Hercules constitutes ‘not just pioneering work, but activism too.’
My
previous posting concluded with the observation that another hero, Odysseus,
can be rescued from any elitist associations. I then asked, ‘Can Hercules?.’ I
continued: ‘In a sense, it is harder to rescue this particular hero. In another
sense, it is significantly easier – so much so that even a representation in a
room in a gentleman’s villa can be made accessible to a wide audience – a more
diverse audience that those for whom it was created.’ Here I begin to attempt
such a rescue.
The
story of the reception of Hercules is very much the story of high culture and
of elitism. Hercules has been the subject of many paintings, such as Caracci’s Ercoleguidato dalla Virtù, illustrated at the head of this posting.
Episodes from the life of Hercules have figured in works of classical music. What
is more, if we turn to the kinds of individuals who have received Hercules, the
elitist associations appear compounded.
This is a tradition that has been
evident over the centuries of postclassical reception – but it is a tendency
that begins in antiquity, at least with Alexander the Great, as depicted on the coin illustrated here. It might,
possibly, be traced further back, to the Athenian tyranny of the sixth century
BCE. Alexander the Great did not just draw on imagery of Hercules: he actually
dressed as the hero/god. So, too, did the Roman notables Mark Antony and, later,
Commodus. Then, after antiquity, a series of leaders had themselves cast as a modern
Hercules, including Charlemagne, Richelieu and Napoleon. In the twentieth century,
this was continued with Mussolini.[1]
Moving into the current century, Vladimir Putin was represented performing the twelve labours of Hercules at an exhibition in Moscow in 2014.
This
brings up to date a tendency that has been evident at least since the fourth
century BCE. And what it points to is Hercules as one whose superhuman
abilities raise him far above ordinary mortals. Hercules is one who can capture or
kill monsters and who can carry out wonderful feats of strength. What is more –
and this is something that might be suggested in the various examples of
notable leaders representing themselves as Hercules – Hercules does not just
possess a strength that exceeds that of ordinary people. Rather, it is where he
gets this strength from that also places him above the rest of us, for it is
god-given. And, what is more, gods intervene in his life – to aid him or to frustrate
him. Athena, as noted earlier in this posting – and possibly intimated in
Caracci’s Virtue – is one such deity. As Hercules carries out his adventures,
he does so on a level that exceeds anything that can relates to the possibilities
of ordinary mortals. By being equated with Hercules, the list of notables
mentioned above are cast as superior to their country-people.
There
were times when their audacity in casting themselves as Hercules was turned
against them. For example, Mark Antony’s opponents engaged with Antony at his own
game and likely outplayed him, by saying that Antony was indeed like Hercules,
but rather than embodying his virtues what he showed were the flaws of the hero
(reference in progress!). However, this only reinforces the elitism at play
here: for Hercules is still being used as a model for a leader. It is just
that, rather than being imbued with the qualities of good leadership, it is as
a bad leader that the hero is being received.
Hercules,
then, has been received as one superior to others. This has its roots in the
classical past and it has continued through the ages and into our own age. However,
it is possible to rescue the hero from his associations with leaders – good or
bad – while, also, acknowledging that with his extraordinary qualities,
Hercules is likely to remain a superior figure – a fantasy figure. This rescuing
has been underway for some time and it is a rescuing that has been effected at least
as well as that of Odysseus; indeed, the rescuing of Hercules is likely more
advanced than that of Odysseus. For Hercules has been repeatedly received in
popular culture. There have been several films of Hercules for instance and it
is
Above
all, there is a particular episode from the life of Hercules that has particular
value in this regard. It is an episode that is at least as valuable in this
respect as the episodes from the life of Odysseus that Grove and Park (see my
previous posting) draw from. This is because, for all that Odysseus is read as
an everyman figure, this particular Herculean episode has even greater appeal,
one that can cut through class or gender. Hercules is, here an ‘everyman’
figure – and an ‘everyhuman’ or ‘everywoman’ as well. This appeal also extends
beyond ability or disability.
It
is this episode that will be at the centre of the first set of resources that I
am developing, with a view to opening up classical myth to autistic users who
may, in some cases, lack access to a traditional education.
This
episode in question has kept cropping up over the past year or so on this blog –
and so some readers might be very aware of what is coming next. But I’ll stop
here all the same, and in the next posting I shall turn to this episode. In
this next posting, I shall provide the fullest discussion of it to date on this
blog.
[1] The
appropriation of Hercules by various notables through the ages is well explored
in Alastair Blanshard’s Hercules: A Heroic Life (Granta 2005) and in Emma Stafford’s
Herakles (Routledge 2012).
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