THE FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY

COLLEGE OF ARTS & SCIENCES

THE CRETAN CYCLE: SEX, SACRIFICE, AND THE SACRED BEAST

By

M. ARENDSEE

A Thesis submitted to the

Department of Humanities
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for Honors in the Major

Degree Awarded:
Spring Semester, 2007

The members of the Committee approve the thesis of Melody Arendsee defended on April 10,
2007.

______________________________
Dr. Adam Briggs
Thesis Director

______________________________
Dr. Laurel Fulkerson
Outside Committee Member

______________________________
Dr. Maricarmen Martinez
Committee Member

Acknowledgements
First and foremost, let me thank Moco Steinman, without whom this could never
have been completed. Her insight and her hours of help with editing are all
greatly appreciated. I would also like to thank Dr. Adam Briggs for his acumen,
his patience, and his support. Thanks goes out to the wonderful professors at
Florida State who taught me so much about the ancient world, and to Rogue and
Jessica (of The Crxshadows) for providing a model and photography for the
cover image and allowing me to reuse an image that eventually found a place on
their album DreamCypher. Of course, no list of acknowledgements would be
complete without admitting the help of the muses. Thank you all.

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Excerpt from Asterios (Graphic Novel)

-1-

Introduction

-4-

The Momentarity of Labyrinths / Her Brothers Keeper

-14-

Pasiphae

-15-

Chapter One: Bestiality and the Sacred

-16-

Pity

-41-

There

-42-

Chapter Two: The Labors of the Bull

-43-

The Bull, The Crone, & the Raven Rattle

-61-

Between Them

-62-

Chapter Three: The Goddess and the Bull

-63-

Cave of the Golden Calf / Asterios

-87-

Conclusion

-88-

Theseus

-95-

_________________________________________________________________
Bibliography
-end materials* Primary Sources
-i* Secondary Sources
- iii * Additional Resources
-viii * Models and Source Images
- ix Appendix I - Images

-x-

Appendix II The Myths

- xiv -

Appendix III - The House of Asterion by J.L. Borges

- xvii -

INTRODUCTION

The myth of Theseus battle with the Minotaur is well known. It appears in over a dozen
classical sources, ranging in date from the 3rd century BC (Callimachus) through the 5th century
AD (Nonnus). Literary references to elements of the story, such as Ariadnes relationship with
Theseus and Dionysus, date back to Homer and Hesiod. Its artistic history is even longer; bullheaded figures appear on ancient Minoan coins and gems (apparently as positive emblems, rather
than the decidedly antagonistic view of the later minotaur). Recognizable artistic portrayals of
Minotauromachy, with Ariadne and thread in attendance, appear in the 7th and 6th century BC.
The earliest of these [Image 1] is a relief amphora of the mid-7th century (Shapiro, 2006), though
in this case the Minotaur has more centaur-like morphology than in earlier Minoan art or later
Greek works, probably indicating an oral rather than artistic transmission. Not only is this story
of great antiquity, but it also shows a remarkable staying power. Images of the Minotaur in his
labyrinth persisted in Greco-Roman culture right up into the 5th century (as evidenced by
Nonnus Dionysiaca). Even before losing their pagan significance, such images were adapted by
the Christian church, and labyrinths with the Minotaur (with or without Theseus) became
common in church pavements. Theseus killing the Minotaur in the labyrinth of Crete, and
labyrinths in general, were favorite subjects for church pavements (Lanciani, 1892: 31), as seen
in the 6th century church of San Vitale in Ravenna. This custom continued for many generations,
with famous examples including the labyrinth in the cathedral at Chartres1 (which originally

Wright (2001) has written a lengthy book about the appearance of the labyrinth, the monster, and the warrior in
sacred contexts, tracing the labyrinth from the ancient Cretan context through the modern new age labyrinth
mania. Image 15 shows one of his diagrams of a Chartres-style labyrinth, complete with a Minotaur whose physical
appearance rather resembles that of a Baphomet.

M. Arendsee - 4

included a metal minotaur in the center, that was eventually melted down in 1792 [Wright, 2001:
41]). The Minotaur and his myth maintained a surprisingly consistent grip on the popular
imagination; it was his story that fueled much of the 19th and early 20th century
exploration/inventions of Cretan archeology (for better or worse!). Even modernists such as
Picasso, Matisse, and Luis Borges have used the Minotaur myth as part of their evolving worldview. While some interpreters would like to suggest that the accounts of Theseus and the
Minotaur are merely another manifestation of the traditional hero and monster mrchen (Lang,
1910), the Minotaur has a unique grasp on the Western imagination that far exceeds what might
be expected from a stock monster figure, if its sole purpose was to challenge a specific hero.
This famous confrontation between Theseus and the bi-formed monster in the labyrinth
is, perhaps, the highlight of the myth. However, their battle is not the only aspect to attract either
ancient or modern attention. The Minotauromachy itself was a major theme in the visual arts,
possibly because of the inherent technical challenges and dramatic value of such a scene.
However, Theseus descent into the labyrinth is far less often explicated in literary retellings;
Homer, in fact, does not even mention it. More emphasis is given to the surrounding events,
particularly Pasiphae and her love for the bull, the birth and imprisonment of the Minotaur,
Ariadnes aid to Theseus, his betrayal of her, and the image of her dancing. In many cases, the
ancients seem to have focused just as much on the women of the story as on Theseus conquest.
This feminization of the story is reflected in much of the early art (sub-geometric and black
figure), in which Theseus almost always appears with Ariadne, who is welcoming him to the
island, presenting him with her spindle or crown, or watching his fight with the Minotaur.
Thus, the fight with the Minotaur is seldom portrayed as a complete myth, in and of
itself. In the words of Diodorus Siculus, though it remains for us now to speak of the Minotaur.

M. Arendsee - 5

. . we must revert to earlier times and set forth the facts which are interwoven with this
performance, in order that the whole narrative may be clear (The Library: IV.60.1). In modern
retellings of the myth, such as one may find in an introductory text or class on Greek mythology,
the battle with the Minotaur may serve as a climax to the youthful adventures of Theseus. Yet,
as the story is unfolded in the classical texts, Theseus escapades in Crete cannot be separated
from the complex Cretan history with which it is intertwined. It seems that to fully appreciate
the rising action of the story, one must take into consideration both the events on mainland
Greece, where Theseus prepares for his battle, and the much more complex events that took
place on Crete before his arrival.
A great deal has already been said by many interpreters about the meaning of Theseus
narrative, but significantly less has been said about the rest of the Cretan events as part of the
same story. Individual mythic elements, such as Europas abduction by the Zeus Bull, Herakles
capture of the bull, and Ariadnes relationship with Dionysus, have all received due attention.
The analysis of these narratives as one unified Cretan Cycle, however, is relatively rare.
Therefore, if in the following chapters Theseus is often ignored, the readers indulgence is
requested; he gets his due elsewhere.
There have been many interpretations of the Theseus/Minotaur story and a few
interpretations of other Cretan events as they relate to the Minotaur. Some interpreters go into
great detail regarding specific qualities of the myth (e.g. Herberger). Others may gloss it en
route to a more general interpretation of either the storys historical content (e.g. Boer) or its fit
into their theory of myth (e.g. Raglan). Many of these theories will not be discussed in detail in
the following chapters, though the existence of some of these is both foundational and
formational to this study. For the readers sake, then, an overview of these theories is necessary.

M. Arendsee - 6

Let us here discuss these theories by means of three crude divisions, loosely calling them the
historical, the spiritual, and the literary readings.
In the historical reading, the Minotauromachy is understood either to represent a mythic
interpretation of actual events, such as the historical conquest of the Minoan civilization by the
Myceneans, or to be a historically-based foundational myth for the Athenian state. This
perspective has found a fictional voice in the writings of Mary Renault (The King Must Die,
etc.), and it has been embraced by numerous scholarly sources, even before Sir Arthur Evans
made it one of his personal tenets in interpreting the archeology of Crete. Plutarch quotes
Philochorus and Aristotle as having interpreted the myth in a rationalist and historical way, by
suggesting that the Minotaur was merely a military commander, and the youths merely servants
(Theseus). Modern interpreters may be following in classical footsteps here, albeit with slightly
more archeological data on their side. Rodney Castleden (1990), in his book on The Knossos
Labyrinth, discusses a variety of historically-based interpretations. In many of these, Theseus is
the Mycenean leader or people, whether literally or metaphorically, and the Minotaur and
Ariadne are either specific Minoan political/religious figures or cultural memes (e.g., Ariadne
may represent religious traditions, or the women of the culture, or some other cultural
appropriation). As a final example of such interpretations would be the argument that the myth
represents an adaptation and metamorphosis of religious traditions, with Greek religion
overcoming and supplanting Minoan faiths (represented by the Minotaur) by marrying the
primary goddess of the Minoan tradition (Ariadne) to their own bull god, Dionysus.
Such survivalist speculations do have some merit, especially if they are not taken
simplistically. It is open to question whether such myths were created from ancient parallels, or
if they directly reference the transformation of one religion into another; it is unquestionable that

M. Arendsee - 7

certain elements do recur from one generation of myth to another. Within the Greco-Roman
presentation of the Cretan Cycle, one does find echoes of older images and themes a Minoan
bull-man in conflict with leonine figures, the eternal labyrinth, and the link between goddesses
and bulls which all appeared long before Athenian literature elevated Theseus as their heroking.2 How these elements got from point A to point B is speculation, whereas the identification
of the elements themselves is incontrovertible. These elemental symbols bring the weight of
their primeval past, inherently encumbering later myths, so that those who would create new
Greek myths, and those who now interpret them, must reckon with that weight. Consequently, a
great deal of time will be spent in the following chapters by investigating such undying elements.
In the spiritual type of interpretation, the critic explores myth in terms of its symbolic
relationships to religion/faith, psychology, or social worldviews, either historically or in the
critics own culture. One way this can be done is to look at the mystical significance of a myth.
Medieval Christians often pictured the battle between Theseus and the Minotaur as a metaphor
for the struggle of a soul for redemption from its bestial nature, or as representing the souls or
Christs victory over the devil (Wright, 2001: 73ff).3 In so doing, they were engaged in active
interpretation of the story, however not all spiritual interpretation attempts to personalize the

Also under the category of historical interpretations would be those that argue that the Theseus myth was
intentionally shaped as an Athenian rival to the Herakles myths (discussed by Shapiro, 2006). This may be relevant,
but does not need discussion here.
3

Medieval interpretations were more complicated than can be so quickly summarized, of course. Wright (2001)
spends over 100 pages discussing the variety of interpretations for this story that arose in the middle ages. Among
other interpretations was one in which Theseus paralleled the harrowing of hell. The Minotaur was the devil whom
God expelled from heaven ... Just as Theseus [who] was the son of King Aegeus, so Christ, the son of God the
Father, was sent by fate to an earthly death ...[he] had the courage to descend to these minotaurs ... he led away with
him to the paradisiacal homeland Ariadne, daughter of Minos, human nature, the daughter of Adam, who lay in
Limbo (14th c. text qtd by Wright, 2001: 76-77). In another version, The thread that had been Ariadnes is now the
lifeline of salvation; the guide is no longer Theseus, but Christ (79) and Theseus is identified with the struggling
Christian. Erasmus made a similar equation, speaking of faith like the thread of Daedalus (qtd. in Wright, 2001:
86) Other interpretations saw the Minotaur as representing death within the labyrinth homeland of human activity
(Wright, 2001: 126). In a longer study of the historical context of the Minotaur myth, consideration of the changing
religious/artistic portrayal of the Minotaur and the maze would certainly find a central place.

M. Arendsee - 8

symbolism it finds. One may also apply such symbols either to understanding the culture that
created them, or to an imagined universal human experience. Thus there may be some overlap
between the historical and the spiritual interpretations; writers such as Herberger (1972) or
Graves (1966), for example, use historical evidence of the Minotaurs or Ariadnes sacred nature
(as opposed to being mere characters in mrchen) as evidence for both historical and spiritual
interpretations.
The original spiritual interpretations of myth can be difficult to ascertain from the
contexts in which these stories survive. We have evidence of cults dedicated to Ariadne and
Pasiphae. Pausanias (Description of Greece, 3.26.1) claims that Pasiphae was the moon goddess
and locally worshipped at a sanctuary at Ino, and evidence suggests that Ariadne was heavily
syncretized with Aphrodite in the non-Attic context (Farnell, 1921: 48ff). Unfortunately, we do
not have sacred texts related to these rites that might explain for us how those who worshipped
them understood their stories. In later times there is evidence for the life of Ariadne being seen
as symbolic of the experiences of the initiate into Bacchic rites; funereal art very often shows the
entombed dead in the traditional context and pose of Ariadne sleeping on Naxos, or being
awakened by Dionysus. Meanwhile, that Theseus was included in many of the celebrations in
the Athenian calendar (Boer, 1969:10) may pose as many questions as it does answers about the
meaning of his role.
Modern spiritual interpretations of the story might draw from the work of Joseph
Campbell or Lord Raglan, tending to read Theseus descent into the underworld of the Labyrinth,
his struggle with the monster, and his relationship with the semi-divine Ariadne as parallels to
the spiritual or liminal experiences (respectively) that all people may experience. Robert Graves
would certainly speak of the story of the women of the Cretan Cycle as expressing transcendent

M. Arendsee - 9

truths about the White Goddess, mistress of life and death and lady of the labyrinth. One might
say that artists who use the myth as a transcendent symbol in their own works, such as Picasso or
Borges, are also taking a spiritual meaning from it. One could potentially come up with a great
many modern spiritual or psychological meanings for the myth by applying the interpretative
techniques of mythographers such as Jung, Freud, Girard, and so forth. There is nothing to
necessarily say that a single mythic cycle, such as this one, cannot yield up multiple valid
interpretations, but it would be difficult to list them all here.
The category of literary interpretations (including the reading of visual art), on the
other hand, neither focuses on the historical implications or the spiritual ramifications of a myth,
but instead looks at the myth in a somewhat limited fashion, either as it appears within a single
text, or as it is generally synthesized from a variety of texts into an assumed normal form.
Literary interpretations generally trace a specific issue either within a single work or more
broadly. Some are so narrow as to trace the use of a single set of key terms in relation to a
certain character or text, and such interpretations can be very useful in bringing out details that
might otherwise be overlooked. For example, Boyle analyzes the specific use of bull imagery in
retellings of the story of Phaedra and, in so doing, incidentally allows a researcher to follow the
effects of the Cretan bull through Theseus life to discover an entirely new set of ramifications.
Other literary interpretations take a broader outlook, tracing very specific themes through
multiple appearances in visual and textual art.
Most of these types of interpretation are incomplete in their assessment of the myth.
Some, such as those narrowly interpreting the Minotauromachy as a mythologizing of political
history, do not take full account of the emotional and spiritual weight of the story. Meanwhile,
many spiritual-type interpretations, which tend to focus on the experiences of just one character,

M. Arendsee - 10

do not fully acknowledge the depth of back-story given to the Minotaur and the full Cretan
Cycle. In short, this story does not fit neatly into one convenient category. Perhaps focusing
only on Theseus role may allow such cataloguing, but such a limitation neglects the wider
implications of the tale.
In the following chapters, a few of these attendant issues will be dealt with. Though not
entirely linear in progression, these chapters do have a central theme: the assessment of the
sidelights of the myth as central issues in their own right, and the reapplication of those issues
to the myth in order to see what new ideas may arise. Before this analysis can be undertaken,
however, the reader is referred to Appendix II, in which the normal forms of the Cretan myths
are presented.
The first chapter, Bestiality and the Sacred, takes a rather literary approach to the myth.
In this chapter, ancient views on bestiality are examined as a way of accessing the possible
weight and meaning of Pasiphaes actions in conceiving of the Minotaur. In many ways, the
story of the Minotaur is unique among the great monsters in Greek legend, in that his conception,
birth, and early childhood all seem to have been the subjects of as much literary interest as his
death. Euripides seems to have written at least one tragedy (Kretes, which unfortunately exists
only in fragments) regarding the Minotaurs birth and imprisonment, and Ovid wrote in length
on Pasiphaes lust for the bull (Ars Amatoria, I.9). This chapter not only discusses the way in
which bestiality appears in other Greek myths and texts, but also looks at how the Minotaurs
birth and physical appearance fit into existing ancient conceptions of deviant sexuality and birth
deformities. Though discussing the literary and social aspects of ancient bestiality may seem like
an odd place to begin what will essentially be a thesis focusing on historical and spiritual
interpretations, the opening chapter provides much needed contrast to the more speculative

M. Arendsee - 11

nature of the remainder of this work, and also provides alternatives for interpretation that should
be remembered when reading the final chapter on the relationship between the goddess and her
bull.
The second chapter, The Labors of the Bull, is primarily a reading of the multiple texts
regarding the wider context of the Cretan Cycle by using the recurring figure of a Cretan Bull
to unite the individual myths involved. Due to the time constraints placed on this project, the
totality of the Daedalus myth cannot be discussed here; in a longer study, it would demand its
own chapter. What will be addressed, from the Cretan Cycle, is the appearance of the Zeus Bull
to Europa, the Great White Bulls relationship with Pasiphae and its eventual adventures with
Herakles and Theseus, the further appearances of the man-bull Minotaurus, the bull-god
Dionysus, and finally the third bull from the sea, which appears in the story of Hippolytus
(Theseus son) and Phaedra (the daughter of Pasiphae).
The final chapter, The Goddess and the Bull, looks at the wider mythological and ritual
context in order to understand the cyclical nature of the Cretan story. This chapter examines
comparative accounts in Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Indian, and further Greek accounts in order to
establish recurrent themes that delineate the spiritual or ritual content of these stories. A
particular focus is developed in this chapter on the role of proper sacrifice in maintaining the
community and promoting fertility, and on how Minos failure to sacrifice the white bull
precipitated the events of the Minotauromachy.
With a new look at these issues, we may return afresh to the main story of Theseus,
Ariadne, and the Minotaur with a renewed appreciation of what is at stake in their meeting.
Though the former interpretations of this myth will not necessarily be contested within the scope
of this study, they will remain in the background so that when considering the wider context of

M. Arendsee - 12

the story, they may contribute to the completeness of any new conclusions. Yet in the end,
something of the former understanding of the story may need to be reconsidered; by looking at
the full story it becomes obvious that that the strict categories of hero and monster are blurred,
leaving behind not a Manichean war between good and evil, but a far more nuanced and tragic
story. This other story is not merely about the conquest of any single monster or people. It
rather speaks of the inherent dependence of life and renewal on death, and the necessary and
labyrinthine interweaving of violence and the sacred, of sex and sacrifice, and of love and
betrayal.

M. Arendsee - 13

CHAPTER ONE: BESTIALITY AND THE SACRED

Lying beneath the exalted readings discussed in the introduction is what appears to be a
sordid tale of bestiality between Pasiphae, a human woman, and the great white Cretan Bull
(which was, for all its glory, a farm animal). Our modern sensibilities may shy away from such
potentially repulsive imagery, and the ancients do not seem much more comfortable with its
details. Euripides and Ovid both took a turn at exploring the motivations and experiences of
Pasiphae, struggling to bring meaning to the story. In a far less artistic way, the Emperor Nero is
said to have recreated the coupling within the bounds of the circus; the results may have been
deadly for the mock-queen (Suetonius, Nero 12.2). Yet while Pasiphae was an object of derision
for classical writers, her immediate predecessor and mother-in-law, Europa, was a favorite topic
for artists and was treated with veneration and respect, despite the fact that she had likewise
fallen in love with a bull, who happened to be Zeus in disguise. Many other mythical figures
such as Leda or Ganymede also enjoyed sex with a god-beast and were similarly respected.
Despite the construction of Pasiphaes bestiality as strange and monstrous, it is not without
parallel in the art and myth of Greco-Roman antiquity. In fact, her actions must find their place
within a much broader social conception of bestiality that includes, simultaneously, both the
obscene and the sacred.4
In this chapter, we will look at this broader conception to understand both the obscenity
and sanctity of the Minotaturs birth. Many of the texts and social trends discussed in the
following sections may not seem to be immediately related to the story of the Minotaur or the
Cretan Cycle. However, they are relevant inasmuch as they develop for us a full picture of what
4

Interestingly, the Latin word sacer may imply both sacred and accursed or obscene (Girard, 1979: 257) possibly
implying a wider underlying coincidence of these concepts. Inasmuch as both obscenity and sacredness are Other
from the mundane, they do share certain similarities.

M. Arendsee - 16

bestiality meant for the audience of the Minotaur myth. Frequently when ancient authors
described the Minotaur, they spoke of his body betraying the secrets of his birth (e.g. Euripides,
Kretes). It would not be amiss to imagine the Minotaur as a physical embodiment of his
mothers trespasses, or to say that in his flesh he incarnates the act of bestiality and also its
social, psychological, and spiritual significance. In understanding the ancient worlds approach
to bestiality, one can, in a round-about way, directly address what that world saw in the
Minotaur. Susan Woodford, writing image commentary for Lexicon Iconographicum
Mythologiae Classicae (hereafter LIMC),5 admits that the Minotaur hardly seems to present a
real challenge for Theseus, that he is usually more terrified than terrifying a peculiarly
unfortunate creature combining the weakness of a man with the limited intelligence and
inarticulateness of a bull (LIMC, VI, 580-81). Perhaps Theseus true victory in the Labyrinth is
not his mastery over this deformed, top-heavy creature, but rather over what the Minotaur
represents the incarnation of deviant sexuality.

Pasiphae and the Bull

Beyond the mere facts of the case of the Minotaurs conception, it is worthwhile to
examine more closely the explicitly sexual content of the myth of Pasiphae and the Bull, as
presented in the ancient sources. There have been three primary approaches to this event; the
first is a pragmatic approach, and the other two are both psychological. These latter two are
typified by Euripides and Ovid, respectively, with the former focusing on the way in which this

The Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae, published over the period of more than a decade, is
designed to be a comprehensive catalogue of the appearance of mythic figures in Greek art. It exists in multiple
volumes of images and attendant volumes of commentary. Images from LIMC will be included in the appendices
with their volume and page number; commentary will be listed with author name, volume number, and page
number. Years will not be included due to the span over which the catalogue was published.

M. Arendsee - 17

episode represents a break with nature and a form of madness, while the latter uses it as a perfect
example of nature, seeing it as an indicator of the inclinations of a womans lust.
The pragmatic narrative, on the other hand, is the most common (apart from those that
gloss over the episode without exposition). Such narratives seem geared toward explaining how
Pasiphae could have managed coitus with a bull and emerged alive. Indeed, this is no mean feat;
the average penis size for a bull is a shocking three feet, the insertion of which would prove fatal
for most mortal women. People who were familiar with an agricultural lifestyle would certainly
have been aware of this size discrepancy, and thus the story emerges, as we have it here from
Apollodorus:
In her love for the bull she found an accomplice in Daedalus, an architect, who
had been banished from Athens for murder. He constructed a wooden cow on
wheels, took it, hollowed it out in the inside, sewed it up in the hide of a cow
which he had skinned, and set it in the meadow in which the bull used to graze.
Then he introduced Pasiphae into it; and the bull came and coupled with it, as if it
were a real cow. (Apollodorus, The Library, 3.1.4)
The inclusion of Daedalus, the master inventor, is frequent in these retellings, even in versions
where his precise solution is not explicated. Diodorus, for example, spends a great deal of time
describing the bull itself and its eventual offspring, but in describing the actual sex act says
simply: By means of the ingenuity of Daidalos Pasiphae had intercourse with the bull and gave
birth to the Minotauros, famed in the myth (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 4.77.2).
However, Hyginus (Fabulae 40) and Propertius (Elegies 3.19 & 4.7) both mention only the
wooden cow and not its creator. Nonetheless, in visual artistic portrayals of this segment of the
myth, it is always the relationship between this copulation and Daedalus intervention that is
highlighted. Philostratus the Elder describes in great detail a now lost Greek painting, in which a
scene prior to Pasiphaes copulation is shown:

M. Arendsee - 18

Their union is not depicted here, but this is the workshop of Daidalos; and about it
are statues, some with forms blocked out, others in a quite complete state in that
they are already stepping forward and give promise of walking about. . . Daidalos
himself is of the Attic type He sits before the framework of the cow and he
uses Erotes6 as his assistants in the device so as to connect with it something of
Aphrodite. . . . Pasiphae outside the workshop in the cattlefold gazes on the bull,
thinking to draw him to her by her beauty and by her robe, which is divinely
resplendent and more beautiful than any rainbow. She has a helpless look - for she
knows what the creature is that she loves - and she is eager to embrace it, but [it]
takes no notice of her and gazes at its own cow. The bull is depicting with proud
mien, the leader of the herd, with splendid horns, white, already experienced in
love, its dewlap low and its neck massive, and it gazes fondly at the cow; but the
cow in the herd, ranging free and all white but for a black head, disdains the bull.
For its purpose suggests a leap, as of a girl who avoids the importunity of a lover.
(Philostratus the Elder, Imagines 1.16)
One might suppose that this painting, or at least its description, may have served as an inspiration
for a later Roman piece from Pompeii in the first century AD [Image 2], which shows a bronzed
Daedelus explaining the inner workings of his wooden cow to Pasiphae. Another mosaic from
the same era [Image 3] shows an Erotes playing beneath Pasiphaes seat, while behind him lays
the unattached head of a wooden cow. The story seems to have caught the interest of artists,
certainly, but none seemed brave enough to attempt to display the actual event.
The poets were more forthright. Euripides appears to be the first to treat this section of
the myth at length; at least his is the only extended Greek work on this topic to survive (albeit in
fragments). The text that remains to us from Kretes deals directly with Pasiphaes own
psychological experience of her lust for an animal.
What could I have seen in a bull
to assault my heart with this shameful passion?
Did he look too handsome in his robe?
Did a sea of fire smoulder in his eyes?
6

An Erotes is a small winged boy used by artists as a visual representation of the spirit of erotic love.

M. Arendsee - 19

Was it the red tint of his hair, his dark beard?

His body, so [different] from my husband's? [. . .]
Are these the things that drew me to lie
in his bed, in my cowskin [. . .]? (Euripides, Kretes)
She presents it as madness, a curse placed upon her by the gods. This excuse was not
necessarily of Euripides invention. Most accounts do hold that her lust for the bull was a
punishment visited on Minos, but its execution certainly reflects the playwrights unique
dramatic style:
What diseased my mind?
Minos' god afflicted me,
and Minos is more [guilty in this affair than I am.]
... Poseidon sought you [Minos] out:
to punish you through this sick passion
in my heart. (Euripides, Kretes)
If Euripides seems to be pleading Pasiphaes case, Ovid seems to be prosecuting all
womanhood through her. In the first book of his Art of Love (Ars Amatoria), this poet provides a
lengthy foray into the misbehavior of Pasiphae in love, replete with her jealous slaughter of the
bulls favorite heifer (implying that this very skin will be used to make her own disguise) and her
long courtship of the bull:
Pasiphae joyed in adultery with the bull:
she hated the handsome heifers with jealousy
They say that, with unpractised hands, she plucked
fresh leaves and tenderest grasses for the bull.
She went as one of the herd, unhindered by any care
for that husband of hers: Minos was ousted by a bull.
Why put on your finest clothes, Pasiphae?
How you wish that brow of yours could bear horns!
Ah, how often, with angry face, she spied a cow,
and said: Now, how can she please my lord?
Look, how she frisks before him in the tender grass:
doubtless the foolish thing thinks that shes lovely.
The number of times she killed rivals to please the gods,
and said, holding the entrails: Go, and please him for me!
Now she claims to be Io, and now Europa,
one whos a heifer, the other borne by the bull.
M. Arendsee - 20

Yet he filled her, the king of the herd, deceived

by a wooden cow, and their offspring betrayed its breeding.
(Ovid, Ars Amatoria, 1.9)
To Ovid, the moral of the story is simply that all these things were driven by womans
lust: its more fierce than ours [that of men], and more frenzied (Ars Amatoria, 1.9). In a single
move he has constructed Pasiphaes passion for the bull (which previous authors had considered
unnatural, at best) as the normal standard for a womans lust. He uses this to justify his own
conquest of married women.
So far, in looking at the Greco-Roman response to this tale of bestiality, one does not see
evidence of approval, per se. The zoophile may be treated with pity, or condemned as an
adulteress, or marveled at for her survival, but she is certainly not being honored. Yet, strangely,
amidst the many disdainful references to Pasiphae in both Greek and Roman works, there is one
allusion that defies immediate explanation. Pausanias Description of Greece (3.26.1) makes
clear that that not all the ancients shared such disdain for the Cretan queen:
From Oitylos to Thalamai the road is about eighty stades long. On it is a
sanctuary of Ino and an oracle. They consult the oracle in sleep, and the goddess
reveals whatever they wish to learn, in dreams. Bronze statues of Pasiphae and
of Helios (the Sun) stand in the unroofed part of the sanctuary. It was not
possible to see the one within the temple clearly, owing to the garlands, but they
say this too is of bronze. Water, sweet to drink, flows from a sacred spring.
Pasiphae is a title of Selene (the Moon), and is not a local goddess of the people
of Thalamai.
Thus, in addition to being seen as a mad-woman or a whore, Pasiphae seems to have been
viewed by some of the common people as a moon goddess connected to visions and dreams, and
bound up with Helios, her father. Considering the exploration within our next two chapters of
the sacred use of bull symbolism, one may begin to recognize the significance in Pasiphaes
bestiality that goes beyond moral censure.

M. Arendsee - 21

Bestiality and the Biformed Monster

Perhaps the most difficult element of the Minotaur story for the modern reader is the
curious idea that a bull and a woman could together give birth to viable hybrid offspring.
Nonetheless, that humans and animals were capable of interbreeding was a common idea in the
ancient world, and persisted into the nearly-modern era. Midas Dekkers, in his book on
bestiality taboos, records a consistent strain of belief, running from the archaic Greeks to the
rural Europeans of the late 1800s, that bestiality could result in deformed, animalistic offspring
(Dekkers, 2000: 75-91). Evidence of this is notion indeed to be found in Greco-Roman texts.
Pausanias gives credence to the Minotaur myth on the grounds of experiential evidence: Legend
says Theseus fought with the so-called Tauros (Bull) of Minos, whether this was a man or a beast
of nature [as] he is said to have been in the accepted story. For even in our time women have
given birth to far more extraordinary monsters than this (Description of Greece, 1.24.1). As
Dekkers points out, there are striking similarities between certain known birth deformities and
the descriptions of ancient monsters or deities. Dekkers (2000: 81) does not go into detail
regarding these specific similarities. He chooses instead to paraphrase Schatzs 1901 The
Greek Gods and Human Monsters, which claims that centaurs may have been inspired by the
birth of human children with extra limbs (an occasional side-effect of partial twinning); Dekkers
also lists numerous instances of animal-like deformities, which may be considered as parallels to
mythical monsters by the enterprising reader.
The Minotaur myth, in particular, may strike the reader as relating to a craniofacial
disorder, such as scaphocephaly, which primarily affects the head and leaves the remainder of
the body intact. Other myths of bestial reproduction also suggest the birth of monstrous children,
whose appearance seems to bear a striking resemblance to what are now seen as documentable
M. Arendsee - 22

and human birth defects. For example, Rebecca Armstrong relates the story of Polyphonte, one
of the few other mythical women to actively seek out a real animal for sex (rather than a godbeast). The love goddess inspires her with a passion for a bear. Once Polyphonte has
committed the act and become pregnantshe gives birth to two large and vicious sons
(Armstrong, 2006: 73). One might consider how birth deformities such as hypertrichosis, which
causes excessive hair growth on the entire body, could create the illusion of a half-human, halfbear hybrid. Susan Eberly (1988) and others have had similar success linking supposed
changeling descriptions to specific deformities.
Despite the birth of such monstrosities to women who were involved in bestiality, those
who have sex with a god in animalistic disguise are less likely to give birth to monsters. The
offsprings of such unions often turn out to be great heroes; it is the divinity of the rapist, rather
than his temporary bestial state, which is of greater importance in the long run. There are
exceptions to this pattern, such as Philyra,7 who was raped by Cronus in the form of a stallion.
She gives birth to Chiron the Centaur, whose appearance is evidence of his mixed parentage
(Armstrong, 2006: 72).
A perceived connection between bestiality and birth deformity may have altered the way
bestiality was viewed by a community. This seems particularly relevant to the ideas of bestiality
held in Greece in comparison to those held in Egypt. In Ancient Egypt deformity was viewed
favourably, even as a mark of divine beneficence, elevating those affected from all social strata
to important magico-ritualistic positions. . . associated with ritualistic and religious significance
(Sullivan, 2001: 262). This stands in sharp contrast to Greece, where deformed children were
often exposed to death either by tradition or, in the case of Sparta, by law. Sullivan suggests that
7

Philyra, like Pasiphae, was the mortal daughter of a deity. The degree to which this affects their ability to give
birth to monsters in unclear, though there may be a logical connection between their status and their children.

M. Arendsee - 23

part of the reason that deformity and disfigurement were considered sacred in Egypt was because
so many of the divine protectors in their pantheon were deformed. . . a fusion of animist and
human forms to create gods and goddesses (Sullivan, 2001: 262). In Greece, on the other hand,
it is only the antagonists (such as the Minotaur) or, in rare cases, the beneficial outsiders (such as
Chiron) who are shown as either physically deformed or as having descended from
human/animal pairings.
On a basic level, then, a link may exist between the way in which deformity, or
monstrosity, was seen to exist in myth and the way that deformed people were understood in
daily life. If there is a difference in the way that Greeks and other ancient peoples (specifically
Egypt) approached deformity, it seems feasible to speculate that there might also be a difference
in these cultures approach to the sexuality thought to lead to deformity, such as bestiality.8
Assuming we can take seriously the claims of Herodotus and Plutarch (to be discussed in more
detail later) that the Egyptians were more lenient than the Greeks regarding bestiality, then it is
possible that this different social reaction may stem from a different idea about deformity. At the
very least, however, it seems likely that the horror with which the Greeks often responded to the
birth of the bull-headed Minotaur would not have been as reasonable to the Egyptians, who
would have recognized its sacred nature at once.
While a eugenic explanation of the Greeks social horror of bestiality may be quite
practical, it should be recalled that zoosexual intercourse with a god was still likely to result in
the birth of a hero (as discussed above) rather than a monster. Pasiphae may be condemned in
the Greek mind, along with her infant bull-child, but Europa, who had been in much the same
8

It is outside the scope of this paper to discuss the link between monstrous births and sexual deviations other than
bestiality. However, the reader may be interested to know that at various times in the past unusual births were also
associated with homosexual behavior, among other non-normative sexual practices. William Newman (2004), in
Promethean Ambitions, for example, discusses beliefs that anal intercourse could lead to the birth of monstrous
homunculi.

M. Arendsee - 24

position relative to the Zeus-bull, is emphatically not condemned.

The Sacred Bestiality: Rapist Gods and Animal Lovers

The story of Europa has much in common with that of Pasiphae. Europa is also
approached by an unusually large and beautiful bull, and reacts to it with desire. Climbing onto
the Bulls back, she is carried across the ocean to Crete (there is a link between the bull and the
ocean, which is also a vital part of the Pasiphae account). In Crete, Europa copulates with the
bull to produce a child, Minos. A parallel between Minos and the Minos-Bull (Minotaur)
appears even in their names, but while Pasiphaes child shows outward monstrosity and violence,
Europas child appears outwardly normal. However, a closer analysis of Minos life shows that
he is indeed tainted by his animal heritage, for the ancients tell us that Minos would ejaculate
snakes, scorpions and millipedes, killing the women with whom he had intercourse (Antoninus
Liberalis, Metamporphoses, 41).
Nonetheless, the stigma of bestiality did not attach itself to Europa, nor to the many other
women who had sexual relations with an animal-formed god. Perhaps this is because to
condemn the beloved woman would be to condemn the divine lover as well, which would be
inappropriate for a mere mortal. However, these myths indicate a cultural ambivalence towards
the subject of female desire by the very fact that these divine seductors need to adopt an
animalistic disguise. If respectable women, such as Europa or Leda, were more likely to
welcome sexual relationships with an animal than with a human male, could this not indicate a
certain female drive towards bestiality? That Ovid characterized Pasiphae as comparing herself
to Europa and Io (Ars Amatoria, 1.9) strengthens the degree to which one may see even female
intercourse with god-beasts as bestial at its core. As Armstrong says, it could be argued that the
M. Arendsee - 25

act of sexual union with an animal points to the otherness of the young woman and the wild
nature of female sexuality (Armstrong, 2006: 72).
Some readers might argue that the women in these stories are not actually sexually
attracted to animals or willingly submitting to bestial intercourse. The women are frequently
tricked or taken unawares: attracted by apparently harmless creatures, they unwittingly lay
themselves open to sexual attack (Armstrong, 2006: 72). However, the claim that these women
were raped by the beast-formed God, and were therefore not willing participants, does not
stand up to analysis. Admittedly, the idea that any proper women should make at least a pretense
of resistance to male advances seems to have been a common one at the time, as evidenced in
Ovids writings and the research of feminist authors such as Blundell (1995) and Kuells (1993).
However, this great metaphor of pursuit should not be taken to indicate that the normative
sexuality of the time matches our modern understanding of rape, or that women did not generally
desire men. Likewise, if god-beasts are said to be raping women, one must not jump to the
conclusion that the women do not consent. On the contrary, though the term rape is generally
used in English translations of such tales, when images of these events appear in art they
generally portray a mutual attraction, as will be discussed in the following paragraphs. In fact, in
many cases this mutuality is actually more pronounced than in comparable heterosexual scenes.
Literary accounts of these myths often have this quality of mutuality as well.
The story of Europa, in addition to being the most obvious parallel to Pasiphae, is also
one of the more commonly portrayed animal-god bestiality myths. In the many paintings of this
scene, none seem to show any violence occurring between the maiden and the bull. The one
given here [Image 4] shows Europa willingly running beside the bull, with her hand wrapped
around his remarkably phallic horn. Others in this category show her seated comfortably on his
M. Arendsee - 26

back, or caressing his face.

Another bestial rape that is generally accompanied by imagery of erotic and willing
submission is that of Leda, who copulated with Zeus in his swan form. Though some pieces
seem to imply that she is pinned by the swan (though how a bird could overpower a women is
unclear), in others she is blatantly pursuing their sexual relationship. One ancient artist [Image
5] shows Leda seizing the swan and willfully kissing it; in this image, it is the swan and not the
woman who appears taken aback.
The kidnapping of Ganymede, in which Zeus as an eagle seizes a young boy to be his
lover, is one of the few Greco-Roman animal-lover myths to feature male homosexuality.
Considering the young age of the child, one might expect more violent imagery to exist here.
Such violence may be inherent in images of clutching claws against naked skin; however, many
of the images are surprisingly gentle. In Roman times, the imagery of Ganymede and the eagle
was often used on the grave monuments of young boys, which connotes being carried off in
lovely youth (Nock & Beazley, 1946: 168). One would not expect fond parents to carve their
childs tombstone with images of forcible rape or abuse. This context implies that the myth was
not understood as a violent encounter, but as a consensual attachment between pederastic lovers.9
Indeed, many of the images of Ganymede and the eagle clearly show mutual affection between
the boy and the gods animal form [Image 6].
In addition to these famous relationships between humans (or humanoid gods) and
divinities in animal forms, many less well-known tales exist. Poseidon also came to some of his
lovers in animal form, approaching Canace as a bull, Medusa as a bird, and Melantho as a
Dolphin. As mentioned above, Philyra was mounted by the stallion-formed Chronos and gave
9

Though this is a discussion of Roman art, Ganymede is originally a Greek character and his relationship with Zeus
was originally conceived within a culture in which pederasty was normative.

M. Arendsee - 27

birth to the bi-formed Chiron. The genre of divine bestiality stories was given sufficient weight
and credence so as to be adopted in aspects of current histories, as indicated by the widely
reported story that Alexander the Greats mother had been impregnated by Zeus in his snake
form (Plutarch, Alexander, 1.2-3ff).
There are also hints of bestiality surrounding the amorous pursuits of Dionysus, though
these are less obvious. It is clear that Dionysus occasionally took bull form. Indeed, one of his
surnames in the Orphic mysteries is Taurocephalus, the bull-headed (Smith, 1870: 984). He is
frequently referred to as bull-like, as in the Orphic Hymn XLIV, Come, blessed Dionysius,
various nam'd, Bull-fac'd. As will be explained in more detail shortly, there is evidence for
ritual bestiality within the rituals of Dionysus at the Athenian hierogamos (Stutley, 1969: 259).
Ovid compares the sexual relationship of Ariadne and Dionysus with the bestial relationship of
Pasiphae, by having Ariadne say to the god: The horns of a handsome bull captured my mother,
and your horns have me (Fasti, 3.459). Though it might be a stretch to refer to this imagery as
a true example of bestiality in myth, when it comes to Dionysus such stretches are not necessary;
unabashed bestiality surrounds him in the cavorting between goat-men and maenads.
Satryrs are difficult to place in the spiritual cosmology. They are neither quite gods, nor
humans, nor animals. Their association with raw nature, and with Dionysus in particular, relates
them to the mystical and sacred. If they are spiritual beings, however, they are also unabashedly
sexual creatures. So are the centaurs, who are also frequently associated with Dionysus. Both
satyrs and centaurs may appear human from the waist up, but their lower extremities (and
therefore their sexual organs and identity) are those of an animal. Both he-goats and stallions
have proportionally large sexual organs and are lusty in temperament, which may explain the use
of satyrs and centaurs as sexual symbols throughout art and literature. It is not surprising that the
M. Arendsee - 28

beast-man is seen as hyper-sexed. What is remarkable here is that the maenad women (or,
occasionally, young boys) returned these attentions, performing sexually with partners who were,
at least genitally, animals. [Image 7]
The maenads are not only shown performing acts of bestiality with the satyrs who attend
them, but their described rituals involve further zoosexual content. Euripides describes
(Bacchae, ln 695-705) how the maenads would suckle panthers and fawns, holding the beasts to
their breasts. While this is not necessarily an act of bestiality, per se, a womans breast is an
erogenous zone,10 which creates blatant sexual overtones. One might also project a certain
sexual significance to the act of sparagmos.11 Both performances are part of the worship of
Dionysus, and help to bring the maenads closer to the chthonic deity.
In all these myths regarding bestiality (though not in every report of supposedly factual
zoosexual activity), the action takes place under the sanction of one or more gods. In most cases,
as shown above, this sanction takes the form of an active seduction by the animal-formed god or
his followers. However, in the remaining two cases of Pasiphae and Polyphontes, the gods are
still involved. Pasiphaes lust for the bull comes upon her as part of a curse that, depending on
the version, originated with either Poseidon or Aphrodite. Polyphontes is also cursed by
Aphrodite, who causes her to fall in love with a bear. Though any love affair may be attributed
to Aphrodite, as the goddess of love, there is a degree to which bestiality is occurring primarily
within a sacred context.

10

For more on the ancient erotics of breasts, see Gerbers The Female Breast in Greek Erotic Literature (1978).

11

The Freudian implications of sparagmos are outside the context of this paper. In brief, sparagmos is the
impassioned tearing apart and eating of live animals or (in literature) humans. The connection between the sexual
devouring of someone and the physical devouring of their living meat seems (at least in a post-Freudian era) to be
explicit, as does the connection between the drinking of blood and the sexual act.

M. Arendsee - 29

Sacrifice and Sacred Bestialty

Ritualists such as Jane Ellen Harrison, A.B. Cook, and Lord Raglan suggest that all
mythology derives from, or may at least be linked to, specific ritual usage. Ritual and myth coexist as embodiments of each other, so that ritual gives practice to myth and myth gives meaning
to ritual. If this is the case, then one would expect to find that myths of sacred bestiality would
have had some underpinning in ritual behavior. Such a link would not necessarily have to exist
within the later periods of the Greco-Roman world, as long as it coexisted with myth at their
original foundation. In order to consider the possible existence of ritual prototypes for sacred
bestiality, let us turn briefly to a comparative study of a related Indo-European sacrificial
tradition. Margaret Stutley (1969, 259ff) argues that the Asvamedha (or Indian horse sacrifice)
appears to have close parallels to the Athenian hieros gamos of Dionysus and the Queen;12 if this
is true, it carries potential implications for the Minotaur story as well.
As Stutley describes it, the Indian/Vedic horse sacrifice ceremony culminated in ritual
bestiality between the Queen Consort and the dying sacred horse. In this practice, a horse is
treated with great reverence for a year and allowed to wander as he wishes. At the end of this
time, the horse is ritually sacrificed, in the belief that through his death and cremation he will be
apotheosized and ascend to the heavens. As the sacrifice continues:
The Queen Consort lies down with the horse and a cloth is thrown over them and
the officiant says: In heaven ye envelope yourselves for that indeed is heaven
where they immolate the victim. The Queen adds. . . May the vigorous male,
the layer of seed, lay seed! The priests and the assembled women take part in an
erotic dialogue. (Stutley, 1969: 259)

12

In this annual festival, which is mentioned in Aristotles Constitution of Athens (1.3) and discussed in more length
by Stutley and other comparative mythographers, the kings wife is ritually married to Dionysus

M. Arendsee - 30

One may see a parallel here to the story of the great white bull of Minos. In the Greek
myth, as in the Vedic tradition, the animal to be sacrificed is associated with the king himself. In
both accounts, the animal is sacred and destined for sacrifice, and this death is linked to a sexual
experience with the queen. Just as the horse was left to wander for a year, the bull is taken from
Crete by Herakles and set free to wander in Greece. Eventually the horse will be killed by a
king, as will the bull (King Minos is superceded by the soon-to-be-King Theseus; both are wed
to a queen of Crete, be that Pasiphae or Ariadne).
It seems feasible, then, that the core of the Cretan story arose from bull sacrifices that
were performed in a similar fashion to such horse sacrifices. Stutley (1969: 253ff) explains that
the Vedic sacrifice dates back to archaic times and may be indicative of broader Indo-European
ritual trends. This same ritual practice that gave rise to the story of the Cretan bull may have
survived into later day Greece, with Dionysus taking the place of the bull of Crete. Stutley
suggests that the sacred marriage between the Queen of Athens and Dionysus was a survival of
the same early Indo-European traditions as the Vedic horse sacrifices. Historically, the
heirogamos ritual took place within the Cattle Stall, so it seems likely that Dionysus may have
appeared incarnated as a bull, just as Varuna is identified with the stallion in the erotic scene
with the queen (Stutley, 1969: 259).
Other stories about bestiality between god-animals and human women may have
originated in similar cases of incarnation. That a woman literally slept with a shape-shifting god
is hard for modern critics to accept. Yet the possibility does exist that a priestess may have
symbolically or physically become sexually involved with a sacred animal, who was considered
to be an incarnation of the god. That such animals existed in Egypt is certain, as illustrated by
the Apis Bull. The Cretans also kept sacred bulls, though whether they were considered to be
M. Arendsee - 31

incarnations of gods is difficult to say. It is feasible that at an early stage the Greeks too would
have kept animals that were understood to play the role of a god in a ritual and sexual context.

Shamanism, Shape-shifting, and Bestiality

The role of animals and shape-shifting gods within a mystical tradition has been
addressed by the revolutionary work of Mircea Eliade (1907-1986). His studies on comparative
myth and culture stand out among the defining works of an anthropological approach to
comparative religion. Among his many observations on the world-wide phenomena of
shamanism are its frequent links with sexual aberration (such as androgyny and bisexuality),
shape-shifting, and ecstasy. All these topics are relevant to a discussion of Classical bestiality.
Eliade writes, the Shaman is more than the healer and the specialist in techniques of ecstasy: he
is also the friend and master of wild animals: he imitates their cries; he transforms himself into
an animal. . . (Eliade, Symbolism and History, 1991: 165).
Among the shamanic connections to animals recorded by Eliade are those involving
visions of bestiality. In his book Shamanism (1972, 71-73) he describes how one (male) shaman
experienced a long-term spiritual wedding with a shape-shifting spirit guide who comes to him in
many forms, including that of a woman, a wolf, a winged tiger, and other animals. Other IndoEuropean mythic traditions with shamanistic elements, such as the Norse stories of Loki or Odin,
frequently include shape-shifting and some resulting form of bestiality. In one myth, Loki
transforms himself into a mare and, in that state, becomes impregnated by a stallion (Puhvel,
1989: 216).
Shamanistic practices, as discussed by Eliade, frequently involve possession, madness,
and ecstasy. These themes are also present in many Dionysian narratives, including the Cretan
M. Arendsee - 32

Cycle. Euripides portrayed Pasiphaes bestiality as madness, for example, and Ariadnes link to
Dionysus is self-evident. Many other mythic accounts of bestiality also contain Dionysian
elements or themes of madness and ecstasy. It seems reasonable, therefore, to consider whether
these may in part be much-altered accounts of shamanic practices. On the one hand, the memory
of sacred shape-shifting guides may have influenced the many stories in which the gods take on
animal forms. On the other, the shamanic initiations and visions of possession may have helped
to create stories in which humans are the victims, for lack of a better word, of divine rape.
Exploration of the mystical elements in these accounts of bestiality is not intended to
become a single-minded search for an original form. A discerning exploration will instead
lead to an appreciation of the accumulated symbolic weight that myth gathers to itself over time.
The body of myth in general, and these myths in particular, can be seen as synthetically selfcreating and therein capable of containing many meanings simultaneously. A story such as that
of Pasiphae and the Bull may have originated in ancient shamanic visions of the world, in which
divine possession was described as a sexual union. As shamanism evolved ritual forms, the
myth may have evolved with it, and taken on new elements that drew from zoosexual bull
sacrifices. As ritually-based societies interacted on political, social, and symbolic levels, the
accretion of these interactions also may have left marks and changes on the myth. As Herberger
(1972: 27ff) suggests, at one point in Minoan culture this story may have signified an intensely
philosophical science of the relationship between death, life, and the calendar year. Its
translation into Greek, and later Roman, forms would necessarily have included symbolic
alterations; it is reasonable to think the Cycle may have at that point come to include a defense of
political events or gender roles. Let us then end this section on shape-shifting by admitting the
polymorphic nature of myths themselves.
M. Arendsee - 33

The Satyr and the Self: Human Desire as Bestiality

It would be premature to simply dismiss bestiality in Greek thought as part of a sacred
mystery; myth and ritual influence the development of societal mores, just as surely as society
demands myths and rituals to justify those practices. Dismissing the secular view of bestiality as
inconsequential for our interpretation of the Minotaur myth is potentially myopic and overly
prudish. By looking beyond mythology at the broader use of bestiality imagery in art and
literature, and at reports of zoosexual occurrences within historical settings, one will find that
such myths do have external analogues.
In Art, Desire, and The Body in Ancient Greece, Andrew Stewart (1998) discusses the
way in which beasts such as satyrs and centaurs came to be used as scapegoats for human sexual
urges. Between 500 and 400 BC, explicitly sexual works portraying humans became less
acceptable in Athens. Sexual portrayals gradually disappeared from the city of images and
were confined to the bestial, uncouth, and intemperate centaurs [and satyrs] (Stewart, 1998:
171). Increasingly women were shown consorting with centaurs or satyrs, without the
intervention of any potential rescuer. The bi-formed animal may be appearing in these
contexts as a stand-in for the observing male art patron. In many artistic portrayals of this time,
when human men are shown in sexual situations, they are dressed up with false animalistic traits,
as if pretending to be satyrs. [Image 8]
In the Greco-Roman corpus, there is a tendency to portray human sexual relationships as
if they were in fact acts of bestiality. For example, Blundell quotes Archilochus as desiring to
embrace his lover like a fawn in fear (1995: 80), Greco-Roman works persistently use animal
metaphors for women, to an extent that is not easily dismissed as mere poetic license.
Semonides (Poem 7) disdainfully lists how each type of wife is in essence a different sort of
M. Arendsee - 34

animal: a sow, fox, donkey, ape, horse, dog, or, in a complementary tone, honey bee. Animal
imagery is also quite common. . . [it] conveys a sense of the wildness and otherness of the
female (Blundell, 1995: 79). Cristiana Franco (2003) has written an entire book on the links
between canines and women in the imagination of ancient Greece. She found a remarkable
Greek tendency to discuss womens strengths and weakness in terms of canine traits (as when
Hesiod, in Works and Days, speaks of Pandoras dog-like mind). Simultaneously, Francos
examined texts tended to discuss the best and worst qualities of dogs by comparing them with
women, with domestic dogs commonly spoken of in the same terminology used for wives or
daughters.
It is important to note that this tendency to zoomorphize women is not reserved for the
field of invective, but is also frequently used in praise and endearment as well. In Ovids Art of
Love, the poet consistently describes the women he desires with animal terminology. Just within
the first twelve poems, he refers to women as bullocks, heifers, horses, deer, boars, fish, lambs,
and various fowl including doves. Much of this is within the context of hunting metaphors, as
when he writes: the right girl has to be searched for: use your eyes. The hunter knows where to
spread nets for the stag (Ars Amatoria, 1.2). In other places, the imagery of taming a wild beast
is used: the spirited horses teeth [are] worn by the bit, and Love will yield to me (Ars
Amatoria, 1.1).
However, not all of the references follow a pattern of pursuit; Ovid also uses animal
imagery to express the sexual desires or desirability of women, as when he urges his reader not
to think that women are less lusty than men: If it was proper for men not to be the first to ask,
womans role would be to take the part of the asker. The cow lows to the bull in gentle pastures:
the mare whinnies to the hoofed stallion (Ars Amatoria, 1.9). It is within this context, while
M. Arendsee - 35

continually referencing women as sexually desirable beasts, that Ovid begins to retell stories of
bestiality. He uses this to illustrate how women are naturally full of sexual desire. As proof of
his case, he retells the myth of Pasiphae, which culminates in a conclusion that womans lust is
more fierce than ours, and more frenzied (Ars Amatoria, 1.9).
There is an elusive distinction in the roles that men and women play in imaginary
bestiality. It is thought to be within the nature of women to be more likely to engage in bestial
sex because they are filled with lust and are, to some degree, already animalistic themselves.
Juvenal suggests this cause in his Satires (6.334) when he writes that if by chance no human can
be found, why then despair? They let some donkey fill their savage needs. In myth, women are
shown as being more likely than men are to commit bestiality. In poetic literature, however,
women are symbolized as the animal objects of male desire. Likewise, in the few surviving
pornographic images of bestiality, women are more often shown engaged with mythological
figures (such as satyrs and centaurs), while males (sometimes in satyric guise) are more often
shown with actual non-mythic animals. [Image 9]
In modern and near-modern times, according to Dekkers book, men are statistically
more likely than women to have participated in recreational bestial sex (2000, 133); it is
impossible to determine which was more likely in ancient times. Ancient writers do not appear
to have made any systematic study of sexual norms and deviance on the scale of modern writers
like Kinsey. We do have evidence that bestiality has historically been employed for the
amusement of others. Nero appears to have ordered displays of bestiality. Apuleius also
implies, in The Golden Ass, that performances involving bestiality were common entertainment
(Armstrong, 2006: 14).

M. Arendsee - 36

Sir Richard Burtons, in the extended end matter for The Priapae (1890), reports that
many Greco-Roman writers believed that bestiality was a historical fact in various parts of the
world, particularly Egypt. Admittedly, such early ethnographic writings must be accepted with a
measure of caution, since early Greek and Roman authors cannot necessarily be trusted to tell us
the truth about the broader ancient world. However, they can be trusted to tell us the truth about
their own impression of it, and in so doing they reveal their own occupation with bestiality.
Burtons well-researched list included the following claims, among others:
According to Pliny, Semiramis prostituted herself to her horse; and Herodotus
speaks of a goat having indecent and public communication with an Egyptian
woman. Strabo and Plutarch both confirm this statement. . . Venette says that
there is nothing more common in Egypt than that young women have intercourse
with bucks. Plutarch mentions the case of a woman who submitted to a crocodile;
and Sonnini also states that Egyptians were known to have connection with the
female crocodile. Virgil refers to bestiality with goats. Plutarch quotes two
examples of men having offspring, the one by a she-ass, the other by a mare.
(Burtons, 1890: Endnotes)
In these reported cases, the division between male and female (human) participation seems to be
split evenly.
The ancients were precisely tolerant of bestiality, though they certainly seem less
horrified, and perhaps more easily amused, by it than their modern counterparts. The imagery
and eroticism of bestiality was, however, commonly used as an artistic and literary motif to
highlight the exotic Otherness of those who were inclined to practice it. This Otherness was
attached clearly to certain foreign groups, such as the Egyptians. These Othering tendencies also
included sexualized women, and any males who, like centaurs at a Lapith wedding, allowed their
sexuality to overwhelm their reason. If the classical woman was secretly identified with
Pasiphae and seen as driven by mad lust, the classical man was secretly identified with the satyrs,
whose overwhelming sexuality led them to engage with any sort of partner, whether male,
M. Arendsee - 37

female, or animal. To the Greco-Roman mind, bestiality seems to be less a separate category of
sexual deviation than a logical conclusion of sexual excess.

The Golden Ass: Problems of Interpretation

In the early Roman novel The Golden Ass (or The Metamorphoses), by Apuleius, the
narrator is transformed into a donkey. In this form, he eventually meets a woman who wishes to
copulate with him and succeeds in doing so, not entirely without his consent, after purchasing the
night from his owner. Subsequently, his owner decides to display him in the circus, copulating
with a condemned slave. Fearful that he will end up being killed in the ring, the donkey/man
escapes. In the end, after many adventures, he is initiated into the cult of Isis and is thus purified
and returned to human form. In many ways, this story highlights some of the difficulties
inherent in understanding the role of bestiality in Greco-Roman culture. Perhaps by looking at
the challenges of interpreting this simpler fictional account, which will not be carrying the
weight of such cultural accretions as the Cretan Cycle does, we may gain some insight into both
the difficulties and possibilities available to us in interpreting the Minotaurs story.
On the one hand, it is easy to read The Golden Ass as a mere burlesque, or mock-heroic
novel. This book is often obscene for the sake of entertainment, and it is enjoyable precisely
because it is shocking. Similarly artists, whether painting satyrs or writing illustrious poetry
(such as Ovid), may have been including bestial imagery in part because it was simply fun it
allowed the viewers to indulge in forbidden imagery and it may have provided a much needed
outlet for the tensions of more mild sexual taboos. It may also be possible, then, to understand
something of the popularity of Pasiphaes story in terms of its bawdy content. Despite the fact
that Euripides made a tragedy out of her story (and it could be easily argued that tragedy often
M. Arendsee - 38

incorporates political and sexual satire), it may have been widely understood as a more satyric
story. Much like the stories of Zeus fights with his hen-pecking wife, perhaps this myth is
meant to be taken in good fun.
At the same time, one is justified in seeing in the story of The Golden Ass a profound
allegory for the journeys of a deluded soul from a state of animal ignorance to its rebirth into
truth within the mysteries. Despite the fact that the opening is in many ways a picaresque tale,
the conclusion of this book is very serious-minded. The narrators search to regain human form
may be taken as a profound narrative for the need of the spirit to escape the corruption of the
flesh, and Apuleiuss discussion of the Isiac mysteries, in which the narrator is transformed from
donkey into man, contains some of our best information about the content of those sacred rites
(Rutherford, 2005). In the same way, one might take many of the stories of bestiality as
metaphors or allegories for nature, or for the journey of the soul. For example, the assumption of
Ganymede to heaven, seized by an eagle, may speak to the innocence of young children who
ascend to a childrens paradise (Nock & Beazley, 1956: 168) by virtue of their beauty and purity.
An allegorical understanding of the Cretan Myth is also possible. Pasiphaes yielding to
the bull, and all the after-effects, may serve as philosophical symbols. One might suggest, for
example, that when the higher spirit of Pasiphae is joined with the animal flesh of the bull, the
result is a bi-formed beast whose half-animal and half-human qualities are a visual parallel for
the soul/body duality. At his birth, the Minotaur is placed within a labyrinth, much like a human
is placed into the physical world, which he believes himself to rule, but in which he is actually
imprisoned (another Eastern concept which also had currency in Gnostic philosophy). In the
end, the only resolution is the death of the beast-self, who is killed by a hero assisted by the
female spirit (here Ariadne), to which that hero will be wed. The bi-formed mesh of animal and
M. Arendsee - 39

human, or of soul and body, is therein severed so that release or enlightenment is reached. Such
an interpretation seems in keeping with the spiritual and cultic symbolism of the labyrinth.
Without even taking recourse to the weight of past ritual and cultic meanings, one might
see that stories such as this are as bi-formed as the characters within them, having simultaneously
a secular and sacred meaning. The fact that even popular fiction, such as Apuleius work, takes
bestiality within a context of both entertainment and philosophical exploration tends to show the
way in which zoosexuality could serve both roles for the wider the cultural imagination.
Elements of Apuleius novel have also been examined as historical evidence regarding
the practices of his time. His record of the donkeys experience as a sexual entertainer may be
partly based on the authors own experiences with Roman circuses, and thus the novel may be
read as an accurate description, rather than an exaggerated burlesque, of the habits and mores of
its time. Likewise, other stories of bestiality may refer obscurely to previous historical events or
rituals. It is at this point that our consideration of The Golden Ass must return to a discussion of
the archaic depth of the Pasiphae myth. While Apuleius can only provide evidence for his own
time period, myths may contain within them memories of a far greater time span. As discussed
previously, the Minotaur myth can be read as metaphor for political and cultural events in the
Minoan/Mycenean period, or as evidence for a ritual and shamanic past.
Just as a single explanation does not address all the meanings of Apuleius novel, in the
same way we cannot hope to cover adequately all the occurrences or possible resonances of
bestiality in the Greco-Roman world. Still, it is possible to point to important elements of this
subject and to realize that the Minotaur myth cannot be read in isolation from the act of bestiality
with which it begins

M. Arendsee - 40

CHAPTER TWO: THE LABORS OF THE BULL

The labors of Herakles, and the youthful deeds of Theseus, are among the staples of
popular re-tellings of Greco-Roman mythology. Likewise, the stories of Europa, Phaedra, or the
Minotaur are all well known. Yet in the background of all these tales, proceeding almost without
notice, is the separate and distinct mythic story of the great white bull himself. The path of this
bull (who is the opponent of the heroes, the father of the minotaur, and the beast of the gods)
winds a single, labrythine path through the lives of the heroes, and tells a tale of birth, death, and
regeneration. In this underlying story, the Minotauromachy becomes only one phase among
many.
The purpose of this chapter is two-fold. First, it serves as a guide to the many
appearances of the Cretan bull in myth; there is not a single source detailing the bulls story in its
entirety, and so it is necessary to point out the single identity of the bull throughout his
appearances. Secondly, this chapter shows the way in which the many stories of the bull, and of
his minotaur son, create a cyclical pattern of occurrence and recurrence, which both hints at a
deeper spiritual meaning to the stories and is also essential for a literary understanding of the
myth. As J.H. Miller (1976) points out in Ariadne's Thread: Repetition and the Narrative Line,
the Cretan labyrinth13 is central to the Minotaurs story not only because it imprisons him, but
because it embodies the looping and convoluted texture of the myth itself. The need for a
permutation of the somewhat mysterious elements of the story is intrinsic to the story itself. It is
as if no telling of it could express clearly its meaning. It has to be traced and retraced, thread

13

The specifically Cretan nature of the labyrinth must here be stressed because of its unique composition the
labyrinth of Crete consists of a single spiraling path that doubles back on itself constantly and circularly, without
ever branching out. This same multiplicity within singularity is, Miller argues, characteristic of the story of Ariadne
and the Minotaur.

M. Arendsee - 43

over thread in the labyrinth. . . Each telling both displays the labyrinthine pattern of relations
again and at the same time leaves its true meaning veiled (Miller, 1976: 65).
As to the first point, this chapter will proceed to give mostly primary evidence regarding
the content of the bull story, with commentary on its significance. In anticipation of these points,
a quick summary may be in order:14
Zeus took the form of a great white bull, come out of the ocean to seduce
and abduct the maiden Europa (whose ancestry included Poseidon, Epaphos, and
Io the heifer). In this bull-form he impregnated her with the future king, Minos.
When he had come of age, Minos was competing for the throne of Crete, and
called upon the gods to prove his claim. Poseidon sent to him a great white bull
from the ocean in answer, with the understanding that it would be returned to him
in sacrifice. Minos did not sacrifice the bull, and in recompense his wife
Pasiphae was driven mad with lust for the bull. With the help of Daedalos, she
copulated with the bull and conceived the Minotaur. This same bull was
subsequently captured by Herakles as one of his labors, and taken to mainland
Greece, where it was released after being properly displayed. Sometime after its
release, it began to plague the people of Marathon, and was blamed with the
death of Minos son, Androgeus. Via a series of divine and political
machinations, this death led to the Athenians being required to pay a regular
tribute of youths to Minos. Theseus, at the instigation of Medea, was sent to
Marathon to fight the bull, which he killed. After this, Theseus went to Crete and
killed the Minotaur with the aid of Ariadne, whom he abandoned on the island of
Naxos. Ariadne was there (re)united with the bull-god Dionysus. Theseus went on
to marry Ariadnes sister, Phaedra, also the daughter of Pasiphae and Minos.
Phaedras lustful madness caused Theseus to blame his son, Hippolytus, with her
rape. He invoked Poseidons wrath, and the sea god sent a great bull from the
ocean, which was instrumental in causing the death of Hippolytus.
Though all the elements of this story are attested in numerous sources, they are not
presented linked in this linear fashion, with the bull as the common protagonist. By so linking
them, we can see the emergence of a new normal form of the Cretan Cycle. Yet, perhaps more
significant than this normal form are the odd deviations that, like so-called Freudian slips,

14

The following summary constitutes what folklorists would call a normal form, which is a hypothetically
standardized version of a story given to present its usual content. No citations will be given within the context of
this summary, but each point is attested in one or more primary sources.

M. Arendsee - 44

serve to illustrate its meaning. Equally important is a close reading that brings out the repeating
elements of the story that point consistently, if sometimes obliquely, to its meaning.

Phase I. Europas Bull

The subject of Europas seduction by the bull was popular among both classical artists
and authors; it is the subject of many surviving vases and has appeared in many of the major
literary works. The fact that she was seduced by a bull is consistent among these tellings, though
the authors are not clear, sometimes even within a single work, on whether the bull was a mere
servant of Zeus carrying her to meet the god, or the god himself in animal form come to carry her
away. For example, Nonnus writes in passing that on another occasion Zeus beheld another
desirable woman and was fluttered again and wished to change his form [as he had with
Europa]: certainly he would have carried the burden of love in bulls form again. . . had not the
Bull of Olympos, Europas bridegroom, bellowed from out the stars with jealous throat, to think
that he might set up there a new star of seafaring armours and make the image of a rival bull in
the sky (Nonnus, Dionysiaca 41.155). This passage seems at once to imply that the bull was
Zeus in animal form and that the bull was merely a beast who had been immortalized in the sky
for his service.
This question is important because it directly affects the identity of the later Cretan Bull.
Apollodorus, for example, writes of the Cretan Bull that according to Akousilaos this was the
bull that carried Europa for Zeus, but others say that it was the bull that was sent by Poseidon
out of the sea, the time Minos said he would sacrifice to Poseidon whatever appeared from the
sea (Apollodorus, the Library 2.94-95, emphasis added). Obviously, it cannot be that the
Cretan bull, who was captured by Herakles and killed by Theseus, is meant to have been all this

M. Arendsee - 45

time Zeus in disguise; the patriarch of gods would not be so poorly used. Yet this dual tradition
continues, holding at one moment that the Cretan bull known to Pasiphae and Herakles is in fact
the same one who had carried Europa, and at another moment saying that Zeus himself had
borne Europa (Apollodorus, The Library 2.94-95). Incidentally, it appears that a similar lack of
clarity exists within the myth of Ganymede and the eagle, who either serves Zeus or is Zeus.
Perhaps a certain lack of comfort with the divine bestiality lay at the base of these forking
versions of the tale. In the case of Europa, however, it seems more likely that these two versions
have emerged from a single original bull-and-maiden myth that became both the story of
Pasiphae and of Europa; perhaps the two bulls are being confused because originally there was
just one bull and one woman.
If this Ur-form of the myth exists, it likely has Minoan roots. This is hardly a new
theory; an entire generation of archeologists and mythographers, around the time of Evans and
Schliemann, were dedicated to digging up the Minoan and Mycenean roots of Greek mythology,
with varying and often dubious success. Even without a forced interpretation of Cretan material
culture, which would try to assign a Greek name to every god or figure, there remain certain
elements of the Minoan culture that may prefigure the myth of the bull from the ocean. The
prominent role that bulls play in Minoan art and culture is well recognized. Walter Potscher
(1990), among many others, discussed the elements of bull worship in Minoan tradition and the
role of a sacred marriage between the bull god and a goddess figure. Along this line of
thought, Wunderlich suggests that Minos was actually. . . used as a title for Minoan Kings
(Castledon, 1990: 65), and others claim that that the Cretan Bull (along with the Minotaur) was a
symbol of the royal household (Herberger, 1972: 27ff). Indeed, bulls do appear with startling
frequency in Minos family line. Cook, in his 1894 article on Animal Worship in the Mycenean

M. Arendsee - 46

Age, reflects on the occurrence of bovines within the Cretan royal line. The genealogy he
presents begins with Io (who was given the form of a heifer), then goes to her son Epaphos (who
was syncretized with the Egyptian Apis Bull), whose daughter Libya copulated with Poseidon
(who was also symbolized by a bull). Europa was Libyas granddaughter. Minos father was the
Zeus-bull, and his wife copulated with the Cretan bull. Europa then proceeded to marry
Asterion, whose name connects him with the later bull-headed child of Pasiphae, Asterios. As
Andrews (1969: 60ff) explains, Europa and Pasiphae have much in common, including the
names of their kinfolk.
While the Ur-form may have been derived from Minoan myth, how closely this may be
related to the later Greco-Roman forms is difficult to say. In her discussion of Greek
mythologys relevance to Mycenean art, Vermeule (1958, 97ff) points out that there do seem to
be direct parallels to the Europa myth seen in earlier visual culture. She points to several statues
and gems in which a lady is carried (sometimes across water) on the back of a bull. However,
the lady is less in an attitude of distressed virginity than of benevolent divinity. . . [this] was, a
religious type proclaiming the goddess on her servant monster. By classical times the roles have
been reversed: the Phoenician maiden raped by Olympian Zeus in the form of his own cult bull
(Vermeule, 1958, 97ff). She adds that while visual and even narrative elements may be
preserved, the Minoan and Mycenean traditions only assumed their classical form by
corruption, distortion and ignorance (Vermeule, 1958, 97ff).
This very distortion may be what confuses the issue of the identity of Europas bull,
trapping it in uneasy ground between god and animal. It is evident at once that Europa and
Pasiphae are doublets; each is a queen of Crete who mates with a divine bull and bears a son
called Mino-. Therefore they are in principle the same person, suggests Andrews (1969: 60). If

M. Arendsee - 47

this is the case, it might serve to explain why the classical mythographers could not quite
determine whether the bull of Europa is, or is not, the same as the Cretan bull captured by
Herakles. It is not possible to separate the two bulls entirely, because they are too much alike in
their actions and in their significance. At the same time, one cannot possibly confirm their
singularity without implying that the bull-conquering heroes were capturing or slaying Zeus
himself. This difficulty is sufficient to explain the vacillation between describing Europas bull
as the god in his own right (which appears to have been the original story) and describing him as
a mere animal that could be legitimately killed.

Phase II. The Bull of Minos & Pasiphae

The same conflation between the bull of Europa and that of Pasiphae often seems to
occur when authors attempt to determine which of the Cretan bulls was stolen away by Herakles.
The accounts are not clear as to whether Herakles stole Europas bull or Pasiphaes bull, even
though accounts of the birth of the Minotaur never directly claim that the bull that Pasiphae
embraces is the same bull that had brought Europa. Despite this, there is still some confusion
about the origin of Pasiphaes bull.
The accounts generally agree that Minos ought to have sacrificed the bull to Poseidon.
His failure to do so resulted in Poseidon cursing Pasiphae to lust after the beast. A few accounts,
such as that of Hyginus, instead claim that Aphrodite was punishing Pasiphae with this passion,
because of some sin she had committed against that goddess. Of course, there is no reason why
Aphrodite and Poseidon might not have collaborated in this affair, each for their own reasons.
The actual origin of the bull varies slightly. Apollodorus claims:
Minos aspired to the throne, but was rebuffed. He claimed, however, that he had
received the sovereignty from the gods, and to prove it he said that whatever he

M. Arendsee - 48

prayed for would come about. So while sacrificing to Poseidon, he prayed for a
bull to appear from the depths of the sea, and promised to sacrifice it upon its
appearance. And Poseidon did send up to him a splendid bull. Thus Minos
received the rule, but he sent the bull to his herds and sacrificed another. . .
Poseidon was angry that the bull was not sacrificed, and turned it wild. He also
devised that Pasiphae should develop a lust for it. (Apollodorus, The Library 3.811)
Diodorus, however, suggests that the bull had been born into Minos herd, and the
primary sin was that Minos had bypassed the best bull of his herd and instead sacrificed another
from among those which were inferior, whereupon Poseidon becoming angry at Minos, caused
his wife Pasiphae to become enamoured of the bull (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History
4.77.1). The common thread in most accounts is a lapse in religious duty involving the sacrifice
of a bull to the god of the sea. This focus on Poseidon even appears in an a-typical account of
the story in which sacrifice itself is not mentioned, and a wild bull is sent out of the ocean by
Poseidon as a punishment because of Minos failure to worship Poseidon more than any other
god (Pausanias, Description of Greece, 1.27.9). There is obviously a strong connection
between the bull and the ocean. Such a connection becomes more intuitive when we consider
that Poseidon is generally associated with bulls, and the ocean itself is frequently represented in
literature as a bull (Paschalis, 1994: 108ff).
Pasiphaes lust for the bull and Daedalus help in this matter is one of the few details of
the story that seems consistent, though the focus of individual authors varies. Euripides, for
example, focuses more on the issue of madness and culpability, while Ovid focuses on the
naturally bestial and unfaithful tendencies of women. Her passion may serve different symbolic
roles in different contexts, but the details are relatively consistent. What is significant for the
matter at hand is the fact that Pasiphaes attentions to the bull not only bear a passing
resemblance to Europas care for the Zeus-bull, but also that this resemblance was recognized

M. Arendsee - 49

and commented on within the ancient world. Ovid describes Pasiphae as re-defining herself in
the same terms as her god-touched ancestors: Now she claims to be Io, and now Europa, one
whos a heifer, the other borne by the bull (Ars Amatoria, 1.9). Here one may see evidence of
one of the first sets of recurrence and repetition in the myth.
Just as the intercourse of Europa and the bull is significant because it gave birth to Minos,
so also the intercourse of Pasiphae and the bull is most significant because its progeny was the
Minotaur, whose name is given by Apollodorus as Asterios (The Library 3.8-11). However, the
practice of naming the Minotaur is not particularly common; he ordinarily is called by his title,
Minotaurus, which means the bull of Minos. That he is given this name despite the fact that he
is not, strictly speaking, a descendent of Minos himself creates a thematic parallel between the
Minotaur and the Cretan bull who was also of Minos. Moreover, the name given to Pasiphaes
child does not symbolically separate the Cretan bull from the Cretan bull-man. Asterios means
The Starry One, and stars are occasionally associated with his image [suggesting]. . . astral
associations (Woodford, LIMC VI, 181). The stars, like the sun or the moon, may be seen
rising out of the ocean and returning to the ocean in their regular journey; just as the bull that
rises from the ocean may therefore be a celestial figure (Herberger, 1972), so also Asterios may
be considered to rise from the sea.
Phase III. Herakles Bull
Another point authors seem to agree on is that in the labor of Herakles, where he was sent
to capture a wild bull, the bull was from Crete. However, as mentioned above, the question of
which Cretan Bull (either Pasiphaes or Europas) he captured is subject to debate. Yet the
Cretan provenance of the bull seems unshakable. It appears likely, then, that the setting of the
story on Crete is extremely important to the meaning of the tale.

M. Arendsee - 50

The capture of bulls by unidentified heroes is evident in Minoan and Mycenean art.
Among the most famous examples is that of the Vaphio cup. [Image 10] This golden cup, found
in Sparta, had originated in Crete, and shows powerfully muscled men capturing bulls with net
ropes (Elderkin, 1917: 397-408). Bull capture appears in other Minoan and Mycenean scenes as
well, possibly as a preliminary part of the famous bull games (Cook, 1894). Herakles quest for
the bull likely draws from the foundational myth of these games or reflects an interest in them.
A particularly interesting element of the story of Herakles versus the Cretan Bull is the
fact that Herakles is generally portrayed as wearing a lion skin over his head and shoulders. By
thus symbolically showing Herakles as a lion, the art and myth recreates a primal contest
between Herberger predator and prey. More importantly, it directly evokes Minoan imagery.
On this point, Herberger (1972: 28ff) argues persuasively on that Minoan artifacts present the
lion and the bull as forming a dualistic cycle in which one catches and destroys the other,
representing in their exchange the cyclical move from summer to winter. He suggests that in the
Minoan tradition, the bull and the lion were considered to be brothers (possibly even twins),
whose interrelationship was necessary to maintain the balance of the world.
With this in mind, it seems significant that in all the accounts of Herakles quest for the
Cretan Bull, he is never accused of having killed the bull. Hyginus specifically adds that the bull
was brought alive from the island of Crete to Mycenae (Fabulae 30), while Apollodorus and
Pausanius add that it was released on the mainland and wandered about causing trouble there. It
is not unusual that Herakles refrains from killing the bull, however. Though he is certainly a
deadly foe to the many predators he fights, throughout his labors he seems to show a certain
piety regarding the beasts that are sacred to the gods. For example, Herakles does not kill the
sacred deer, nor does he offer any harm to Cerberus. Even if his mercy towards the bull does not

M. Arendsee - 51

stem from a kinship between them, his regard seems to indicate that at this point in the myth the
bull is being perceived as having a certain sanctity.
Phase IV. The Bull as Son-Killer
Supposedly, the reason why Athens was required to pay a tribute of youths to King
Minos is because the bull of Marathon had killed his son Androgeus. Apollodorus further
explicates how Athens. . . celebrated the games of the Panathenaia festival, in which
Androgeos, son of Minos, vanquished all comers. [Therefore]. . . Aegeus sent him against the
bull of Marathon, by which he was destroyed (Apollodorus, The Library 3.15.7). However, this
is not the only version of the story. Sir James Frazer (in his footnotes to Apollodorus The
Library) points out that many ancient sources argue that Androgeos was instead killed outright
by jealous competitors at the games, or, alternately, that he was killed in a battle between Minos
and the Athenians.15
However, before dismissing the idea that the bull was responsible for the death of Minos
son, let us skip ahead to the end of this cycle and consider the story of Theseus son, Hippolytus.
In this tale, Theseus calls upon Poseidon to punish Hippolytus, who Theseus wife, Phaedra
(daughter of Pasiphae), claims has raped her. In response, Poseidon sends out from the sea a
monstrous bull, whose intervention leads to Hippolytus death. In Senecas treatment of this
story, the myth of Pasiphae and the Cretan Bull returns time and again as a direct parallel to the
action on stage. The bull from the sea is an essential element of the myth of Hippolytus in all
its versions. Seneca expanded what stood firmly in the literary tradition by linking it with. . . the
Cretan bull, object of Pasiphae's love [and] the Minotaur, their monstrous offspring (Paschalis,

15

Which of these versions is more familiar to the reader may vary depending on their prior exposure to classical
sources. Rationalizing writers or historians are likely to deny the unnatural appearance of the Cretan bull at this
point, while those most interested in compiling myths are more likely to discuss the bull.

M. Arendsee - 52

1994: 105). Hippolytus is compared to the first bull from the sea (107ff), and the text also draws
parallels from Crete to the arrival of this second bull from the sea: Man and animal face each
other like two bulls. Hippolytus identifies himself with Theseus the bull-slayer, an allusion to
his father's killing of the Minotaur and/or the Marathonian bull (Paschalis, 1994: 123).
Here, then, is another point of narrative repetition: the death of sons. First, Androgeus,
son of Minos, is killed by the bull that had belonged to his father, and then Hippolytus dies
because of the bull summoned by his father, Theseus. This is a direct inversion of the pattern in
which a heroic prince is called upon to kill the oceans bull, for now a bull returns from the
ocean to kill a prince. Both Minos as a prince, and Theseus as prince, were supposed to kill a
bull from the ocean. The bull was granted to Minos before he took the throne as a way of
helping to prove his claim to it, and so it is as a prince and not as a king that he first refuses to
kill the bull. One might see here an echo of what Herberger referred to as the seasonal cycle of
lion and bull, as each returns to take the life of the other. This pattern, of sons and bulls
destroying one another (or, in the case of Minos, refusing to do so and reaping the consequences)
may cast a new light on the story of a bull-man, the Minotaur, devouring the sons of Athens, and
then being killed by its prince. It may be that Theseus arrival to kill the Minotaur was
mythically necessitated not just as a part of the hero-vs.-monster archetypal pattern, but also as a
part of the wider pattern of bull and boy-child that is developing here. In this light, therefore, it
is important to take seriously the form of the myth in which Androgeus is killed by the bull.
Phase V. Theseus Sacrificial Bull
This line of thought returns us quickly to the story of Theseus and the Bull of Marathon,
which is the same Cretan Bull as that one captured by Herakles, as discussed previously and
clarified in the ancient texts. Diodorus describes it as the Marathonian Bull which Herakles in

M. Arendsee - 53

the performance of one of his Labours had brought from Krete to the Peloponnesos, (Library of
History 4.59.6) and this description is echoed almost verbatim in Hyginus (Fabulae 38). Other
versions, concerned primarily with the labors of Herakles, record only that the bull wandered to
Sparta and over all of Arkadia, then crossed the Isthmos and went as far as Marathon in Attika
where it molested the natives (Apollodorus, The Library 2.94-95). Sources that discuss the bull
primarily as it concerns the deeds of Theseus are generally not concerned with the bulls origin
and do not discuss the fact that this is the same bull as that which impregnated Pasiphae (though
the same work, such as Apollodorus, may certainly contain both stories and admit that the bull
is the same in both episodes). Pausanias, for example, ties the bull to both Herakles and
Theseus, but omits the tale of Pasiphae altogether. (1.27.9-10)
The story of Theseus wrestling with the bull seems to have been inspired by the preexisting story of Herakles and the bull. As a specifically Attic hero, Theseus adventures were
frequently constructed to compete with the more panhellenic Herakles. Walter Agard (1928) also
writes about the importance of Theseus as a national hero whose deeds are associated strongly
with the political power of Athens. This may be part of the reason why so many authors take
care to point out that the Marathonian bull is the same one that Herakles captures. Shapiro
(1988), in an article on the Marathonian Bulls depiction in art, adds that, the black-figure
painters knew two versions of the story, one in which Theseus kills the Bull on the spot, the other
in which he captures it alive [and kills it later]. The latter quickly becomes the standard
Athenian version. . . (Shapiro, 1988: 378). The live capture of the bull appears particularly
similar, visually, to Herakles early labor, and subsequently it is not always possible in black
figure art to distinguish between Theseus and Herakles in bull capturing scenes. This may, in
fact, be part of the reason why the Athenians preferred this version. However, in narrative terms

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a distinction is made; Herakles releases the bull alive, while Theseus, even when he captures it
alive, ends the story by sacrificing the bull himself or bringing it to his father to be sacrificed.16
As Shapiro (1988: 378) concludes, [there exists] a Sophoklean fragment which refers to the
hero binding the bull with willow branches. . . The specification of willow gives this detail a
ritual flavor and makes clear that the capture is preliminary to a sacrifice.
The ritual nature of this capture and the attending sacrifice, combined with its conflation
with the Herakles myth, recalls our attention to the Minoan roots of bull-capturing imagery.
Herakles, as the lion figure in this cycle, had refrained from killing the bull. Theseus, who walks
in his footsteps, does complete this ritual act (and his son eventually pays the price). Moreover,
in finally killing the Cretan/Marathonian bull, Theseus becomes linked to a chain of events that
began when Minos refused to sacrifice this bull. His attachment to that older Cretan storyline
prefigures his involvement with the Minotaur, and his triumph over the Marathonian bull may be
seen as foreshadowing of his triumph over the bulls son. Here is yet another case of repetition,
both in terms of the capture of the bull by Herakles and then Theseus, and in the issue of
sacrifice with Minos and Theseus.
Phase VI. The Second Sacrificial Bull
The title and attributes of the Minotaur, as the Cretan bull-man, link him very closely on
a thematic level with his father, the Cretan bull, and his life follows the same established
patterns. It is therefore justifiable to say that the story of the Cretan bull continues after his death
at Marathon through the life of his son.
Already, in this discussion, the archetype of the bull and the lion has become important.
In the death of the Marathonian bull, Theseus steps into Herakles role in this duality. Plutarch
16

Both accounts, with this distinction intact, appear in several works including Plutarchs Life of Theseus and
Diodorus Library of History.

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discusses this, saying that the young Theseus admired the valor of Heracles, until by night his
dreams were of the hero's achievements, and by day his ardor led him along and spurred him on
in his purpose to achieve the like (Theseus, 6.6, emphasis added). If Theseus is inheriting the
labors of Herakles, then it stands to reason that he is assuming his role as the lion in this
dichotomy as well. There is some evidence for this within the storyline. One may recall that the
lion and the bull are portrayed as seasonal and celestial brothers (Herberger, 1972: 28), in
addition to being enemies. This symbolic kinship is also preserved in the relationship between
Theseus and the Minotaur. Theseus is consistently described as a son of Poseidon (Apollodorus,
etc.), and this is further highlighted in the story of the Cretan adventure itself, as Theseus goes to
visit Poseidons watery castle en route to Crete (Bacchylides, 17). He is, metaphorically, the son
of the ocean. Meanwhile the Minotaur is the son of the bull of Poseidon, and thus may also be a
metaphoric son of the ocean, making him the symbolic brother of Theseus. As if to highlight the
fact that Theseus labors are pitting him against his paternal brothers, the myths of his labors
record that among the mountain bandits that he kills, three are fellow sons of Poseidon
(Prokrustes, Skeiron, and Periphetes).17
Theseus eventual victory over the Minotaur is a direct result of the intervention of
women. Ariadne aids him in finding his way through the labyrinth, and in an alternate version he
had been aided by the wife of Poseidon. The intervention of a woman in his quarrel with the
bull-man is particularly significant in light of the fact that it was also a woman, Medea, who
encouraged Theseus to go after the Marathonian bull. If women are the objects of affection for
bulls in this myth, they also seem to be directly responsible for their sacrifice as well. (These
two roles are conflated in the story of Hippolytus, as presented by Seneca and discussed
17

Admittedly this point is seldom mentioned in books on mythology, and the sources do not seem to linger on it.
The parentage of Prokrustes and Periphetes is mentioned by Hyginus in Fabulae 38, while Skeirons parentage is
(Bacchylides, 17) given by Apollodorus.

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previously.) If one is to consider this story as a cycle, driven by the bull in his roles as a lover,
son, devourer, and sacrificial victim, then it ties into Robert Graves (1966) theory that all
mythology shows the presence of the White Goddess whose consort/son is continually
sacrificed for her. Additionally, if the Cretan bull of Minos and Asterios, also the bull of Minos
(Minotaurus), are to be considered as thematically the same, the fact that the Cretan bull was
sacrificed by Theseus (and should have been sacrificed by Minos) may contribute to the degree
to which the Minotaurs death may be seen as sacrificial or ritual in nature. These themes will be
taken up in more detail in the next chapter on the bull and the goddess.
Phase VII. The Return of the Bull
Though the Cretan bull is dead before Theseus even comes to Crete, and doubly dead
after the death of his son, the Minotaur, it may be argued that the thematic cycle of the story
continues not only in the second coming of the bull to Hippolytus (discussed above) but also in
the coming of Dionysus to Ariadne. As Ovid will have Ariadne say to Dionysus, The horns of a
handsome bull captured my mother, and your horns have me (Fasti, 3.459).
Dionysus is described as a bull-horned god (Euripides, Bacchae: ln. 100), and
associated in worship with bulls. Walter Burkert describes him as having a tauromorphic image
and name (Burkert, 2006, 61ff). He continues to describe how Dionysus was once slaughtered in
the form of a bull calf, when (as Zagreus) he was killed and eaten by the Titans. Euripides also
refers to Dionysus as Taurocephalus, the bull-headed, which gives him a particularly strong link
with the Minotaur. Interestingly, Greek syncretists have generally conflated Dionysus with the
Apis Bull (Rutherford, 2005), which is not only a physical, living bull but is also occasionally
shown in art as a human-bodied man with a bulls head. [Image 11] This created further visual
links between Dionysus and the Minotaur.

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In arguing that Dionysus should be considered as thematically linked to the Cretan bulls
and the Minotaur, it seems productive to point out his connections to Crete itself. Deedes (1935:
217ff), in his work on the double headed god, describes the association of Dionysus with the
Minoan double axe, and further clarifies that Dionysus appears to have been heavily synthesized
with Zeus in Cretan practice. Specifically, Dionysus in his young form (which dies and is
resurrected) is known as Zagreus, which on Crete was another name of Zeus.18 Thus, Dionysus
may be seen as the head of the Greco-Minoan pantheon. The double axe is associated
throughout Minoan art with the bull, and Herberger (1972: 29ff) specifically links it with the
labyrinth, not only in terms of its name labrys, but also in terms of its imagery. Dionysian
imagery is also present in the famous Bull Rhytons, large wine containers in the shape of a bulls
head. When used, wine pours from the mouth or nose, (Marinatos, 1993: 6) vividly mimicking
the flow of blood from a slaughtered animal. The idea of wine as the blood of a bull-god is
deeply Dionysian, and appears in the Bacchae, where Tiresias says, He is poured as a libation to
the gods, a god himself (ln 284-5). The continued significance of dance, both for Ariadne and
Theseus, is also a Dionysian characteristic.
The primary argument against Dionysus as a symbolic force within the
Minoan/Mycenean culture comes from the perception that he was a late-comer to the pantheon, a
foreign god that arrived into Greece from abroad; this perception has been generally shown to be
false. Walter Otto (1965) has convincingly argued that Dionysus is truly native to this tradition,
and his contentions are backed up by the presence of the name Dionysus appearing on Linear B
tablets. Dionysus may be best understood as a god of arrivals and of the wild fringe (Rutherford
18

Dionysus has a very complicated mythology that is often radically different in Orphic sources, cultic practice,
rationalist and pseudo-historical accounts, tragedy, and is further confused by the rumors that abound regarding his
myths (i.e., accounts of mythic stories told by early Christian scholars and anti-Dionysian Roman rhetoricians).
Curious readers are recommended to the work of Walter Otto (1965), Marcel Detienne (1989), and Albert Henrichs
article (1984) on the modern view of Dionysus.

M. Arendsee - 58

2005[b]), rather than a god who is historically imported from abroad. His was a constructed
and self-conscious foreignness. . . a self-constructed Otherness. (Arendsee, 2006)19 The Cretan
bull is also consistently shown as arriving, either walking improbably across or through the
ocean to Crete, or imported in chains by Herakles to Marathon. The degree to which the bull or
the Minotaur serves as a symbol of Otherness within the story is noted by Paul Miller, who
claims that the true purpose of the labyrinth is to confine the chaotic, alien powers of the
feminine. (Miller, 1995: 228)
It is important to reclaim the epiphany of Dionysus to Ariadne as a part of the bull theme
because Dionysian myths may serve to both explicate and resolve the multiple appearances of
the bull. Death and rebirth play a very important role in the story of Dionysus, as does the
necessity of coming to terms with the wild and dangerous aspects of life (such as the Minotaur or
the rampaging bull), and, just as importantly, the dangers of attempting to deny these aspects.
Euripides was drawn both to the story of the Bacchantes and also to those of Pasiphae and
Phaedra, both of whom he portrays as possessed by the mad love for a bull (or bull-like
Hippolytus).20 The connection between Dionysus and his bride deserves to be explored in more
detail, but that is outside the scope of the current chapter.21 What is essential here is that
accepting Dionysus in the role of the returning bull changes the meaning of the story, from
touting mans triumph over chaotic nature to embracing a cyclical vision, in which life and death
follow and feed on one another, continuing the nature of the world.

19

The idea of Dionysus cult as self-constructing its own sense of Otherness was one of the primary points of my
presentation Taming Bacchus: Roman Attempts to Naturalize and Suppress Dionysian Otherness at the McMaster
Graduate Student Classics Conference on Strangers and Exiles in the Roman World, September 30, 2006.
20
Hippolytus shares with the Cretan (Pasiphae's) bull and the monstrous bull from the sea a strikingly common
phraseology (Paschalis, 1994: 125).
21
Unfortunately, though this subject ought to be within the scope of this work in its entirety, constraints of time and
space will limit the overall amount of attention paid to this theme.

M. Arendsee - 59

Conclusion
With all these elements taken into consideration, these many mythic events may be seen
as a series of interlocking cycles of the love, birth, death, and return of the bull-god. The
presence of doublets and triplets throughout the tale certainly implies a cyclical nature. Here two
women are in love with a bull (possibly three, including Ariadne and Dionysus), and two pairs of
strange sons are born. Here two princes are charged with sacrificing the bull, and for each of
them the death of a son ensues. Here are two captures of the bull, and, counting both the
Marathonian bull and the Minotaur, there are two subsequent deaths of the bull. Here, finally,
are two women driven mad in passion (Pasiphae and Phaedra), and the bull sent twice from the
ocean (for Minos and Hippolytus). Even Daedalus role finds itself repeating, as he first builds a
framework to harness the bulls passion for Pasiphae, and then a labyrinth to harness the
wildness of their offspring. This repetition points to an underlying archetypal story that reemerges and re-forms itself in each incarnation of the tale. The themes that thus emerge are such
that one may quickly agree with Roger Callois, who lists this cycle as dealing with the ancient
sacred marriages with the bull god, where the priestess, symbolically or in reality, gives herself
to the animal to insure the fertility of the earth (1938: 142). The story also goes beyond this to
approach the struggle of the heroic male against the challenges of chaotic nature (a struggle
which is not always successful, as in the cases of Androgeus and Hippolytus), and it is this
struggle that drives forward the cycling of the plot.

M. Arendsee - 60

CHAPTER THREE: THE GODDESS AND THE BULL

The last chapter established the cyclical re-appearance of the Cretan bulls; this chapter
will discuss their place within a wider context by surveying the archetypal relationship between
bull-gods and the sacred feminine in the ancient world. However, such comparative
mythography is methodologically problematic. An ideal study would look at each cultures
myths, and the appearance of the goddess-bull pair within them, in the context of the society that
created them, the pantheons that fostered them, and the rituals that surrounded them. To do
anything less is to obscure the very real differences that exist between the mythologies and
traditions of variegated cultures, and to engage in a slippery universalizing of myth. Yet at the
same time, the sheer bulk of information and speculation related to goddess and bull
mythological pairs is so great that to attempt any sort of honest analysis of each of these pairs
would entirely exceed the scope of this thesis. So, with some reluctance, if we are going to look
at non-Greek traditions to illuminate our understanding of the Minotaur myth, there is little
choice but to commit just such a blurring of cultural distinctions and step wholeheartedly into the
field of comparative mythology.
While considered problematic by some in today's academic world, this approach has been
favored by generations of mythographers, including Sir James Frazer, Mircea Eliade, Robert
Graves, Joseph Campbell, and Carl Jung. There are certain benefits in a comparitive study of
this type. In many circumstances, ancient syncretism has already created links between
traditions, as in the identification of the bull-god Dionysus with Osiris (who in turn was
identified by Greco-Egyptians with the Apis bull). Additionally, even when direct cultural
transmission is less likely, the way in which specific symbols or traditions are utilized in

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different cultures may suggest possible meanings in areas that are otherwise unclear. Just as
importantly, gathering evidence of universal themes may point to meanings in myths that
transcend the particular cultures to which their narratives belong. As long as we keep in mind
the limited ability of comparative mythology to speak to the specifics of culture, this
comparative approach may yield good results.
Specific Examples
This chapter will not attempt to list exhaustively all the relevant myths and rituals
existing worldwide. This selection was generally made by virtue of familiarity to a myth-literate
audience.22 The exception to this is the inclusion of the South Indian bull/buffalo sacrifice,
which represents a particularly good case study of more recent ritual behavior. Not all of the
myths discussed specifically deal with a goddess and a physical bull, per se, but those that deal
with human-formed gods or men (as in the case of Osiris or Siva) deal with a figure that is
strongly bull-identified within myth and cult. This bull-identified male may have a bull as a
signifier, or occasionally appear in bull form, or be identified by bull-like characteristics (such as
wearing a bull mask, speaking with a bull roar, or being described as horned, bull-faced,
bull-headed, or like a bull). In addition to the Southern Indian sacrificial ritual mentioned
above, the following myths will serve as primary examples for the discussion:
The Cretan Cycle. As in the last chapter, this includes Europa and the Zeus-Bull,
Pasiphae and the Cretan Bull, The Minotaur, and Ariadne and Dionysus, with special
consideration given to Dionysus in his other mythic contexts as well. All of these males except
Dionysus are obviously bulls; Dionysus may seem human at times, but he is always bull22

The majority of these myths, with the exception of the Cretan Cycle itself, will be found at least in some form -in many serious introduction to world mythology type classes or textbooks. All of them are summarized in The
Oxford Companion to World Mythology, though that is not the source used for this work.

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identified. As Girard says, Dionysus is simultaneously god, man, and bull (1979: 251).
Baal and Anath. Both brother and sister in this story are identified as bulls at times, and
Baal is also described as the son of a bull. Anath specifically takes on the form of a heifer in
order to seduce the bull god Baal.23
Inanna and Consort. At Ur, according to Johnson (1988: 288), the bull was known as
the beloved of Inanna. To this extent, Inannas male consorts are also described with extensive
bull imagery, and may be considered to be bull-men to some extent. For example, in erotic
Sumerian poetry, Damuzi [i.e. Tammuz], the sacred partner, is described as a wild bull with a
beard of lapis lazuli, (Johnson, 1988: 304) who is requested to plow the vulva of the goddess,
and when he finally does, their climax creates a new growth of vegetation.
Ishtar and the Bull of Heaven. This pairing is seen in the epic of Gilgamesh, and is also
evident in Mesopotamian artwork. To the degree that Inanna and Ishtar are the same,24 the Bull
may be seen as a recurring form of her consort.
Siva and Consort. David Kinsley (1978: 489ff) describes the mountain-dwelling consort
of Siva as one of the five basic manifestations of the Hindu Deva (goddess); she appears under
several different names and in different incarnations, including Parvati and Sati. Parvati rides a
bull that is a form or epiphany of Siva (Johnson, 1988: 309). OFlaherty (1980: 105) explains
that Sivas bull is both a vehicle and an incarnation of the god, and through it all bulls are Siva.
Not entirely incidentally, Siva is also closely associated with another horned animal, the goat;
this is a trait that he shares with Dionysus, along with their mutual relationship with snakes.

23

The story of Baal and Anath may be read in some detail either in Starr (1984) or in E.O. James (1959: 69-81)

24

It is arguable that Inanna, Ishtar, and Anath are all names of the same goddess from slightly different
eras/cultures, with relationships to each other roughly parallel to those between any pairing of Greek gods and their
Roman equivalents (say, for example, Dionysus and Liber; there are significant differences, but also an essential
unity)

M. Arendsee - 65

Isis and Osiris. At first glance, this example may not seem to fit into this category,
considering that Osiris is generally not in cow form, while Isis is frequently cow-headed (due to
her association with Hathor). However, Osiris also took the form of the Apis bull, whose
worship and maintenance were an extremely important part of the Egyptian ritual tradition
(Rutherford, 2005). Osiris-Apis was sometimes portrayed as a man with a bulls head. [Image
11] To this extent, then, the myths of Isis and Osiris are to some degree myths of bull and
goddess.
In addition to going to these myths for insight into the narrative elements of the story of
the goddess and the bull, this chapter will go to other sources for the relationship between bull
and goddess. There exists a wealth of iconic and ritual data going back into the Paleolithic era
(according to Gimbutas) linking goddess with bull, and this linkage was also very strong in the
iconography of the archaic Aegean. Additionally, there is ritual evidence for a link between
women, bulls, and sacrifice, though this may not always have explicit myth behind it.

Defining the Relationship, and Issues of Gender

In the narrative of the Cretan cycle, there is very little ambiguity about the relationship
between the bull(s) and the female characters. Assuming that we may take Europa, Pasiphae and
Ariadne as goddesses (as Rebecca Armstrong does), then each has a bull for a consort.
Additionally, Europa and Pasiphae give birth to the bull-figures of Minos and the Minotaur. The
goddess then is both mate and mother to a bull. The traditional mythographers understanding of
the pairing of goddess and bull seems to be that the bull plays an important role in ritual as a
symbol of phallic power (Johnson, 1988: 279), and also that the bull (or cow) are manifestations
of the male and female principles of vegetation. Frazer (1994: 48.7) speaks of the bull as a

M. Arendsee - 66

manifestation of the corn spirit. This pairing is also visible in many non-Greek traditions. The
use of the bull as a totem for the king or god, and as a consort of the goddess, was consistent
throughout both the Aegean and Near Eastern cultures. Links between bull and goddess are also
visible throughout India (Kinsley, 1978), though in some cases the bull is replaced by its near
relative, the water buffalo (Hiltebeitel, 1980).
Additionally, there are numerous examples of the bull relating to the goddess as a son.
Obviously, this is the case with the Minotaur and Pasiphae. Additionally, other goddesses give
birth to bulls, generally after having first copulated either with a bull god or while in bovine form
themselves. Anath, for example, gives birth to a wild ox after having mated with the bull-god,
while herself in the form of a heifer (Starr, 1984).
It is important to note that while the bull does seem generally to play the role of a
consort, evidence also suggests that in many settings the figure of a bull may not be
accompanying a goddess so much as representing a goddess. Despite its maleness, it
symbolized the Goddess herself (Johnson, 1988: 272). Marija Gimbutas (1974) explains how
the shape of a horned bulls head in silhouette closely resembles a traditional medical diagram of
the female reproductive system, with the horns being the fallopian tubes and ovaries, the central
bridge of the skull being the womb, and the length of the nose being the birth canal. She reports
that the symbol for a bulls head appears everywhere with the goddess, and serves as an even
more esoteric symbol of the womb of regeneration (Gimbutas, 1974: 244). While at first glance
this may seem like an overly sexualized interpretation, evidence appears to be on her side.
Gimbutas demonstrates several Paleolithic paintings in which the shape of a bulls head is
painted in the position of a womb and ovaries within the female body.

M. Arendsee - 67

The bulls role as consort and son is not incompatible with his role as a symbol of the
goddess herself. While Johnson suggests that the bull cannot be a true sexual partner because the
goddess is parthenogenic, and while Gimbutas seems to minimize the importance of the bull as
an individual figure (subsuming it entirely as a symbol of the goddess), these approaches seem
somewhat over-zealous. It may be better to acknowledge that when the bull is playing his role as
the great fecundator of nature and incarnation of the Corn Spirit. . . a symbol of phallic power
(Johnson, 1988: 279), he is indeed the consort of the Goddess, and also that he maintains a
mystic union with the Goddess that enables him to be her symbol. That the bull is a feminine
symbol, while serving in this phallic role, does preserve a measure of the parthenogenesis that
Johnson and Gimbutas consider important. There is no reason why the bull cannot be
simultaneously a symbol of the masculine and the feminine; on the contrary, in the penumbra of
these bull-and-goddess myths the lines between genders are often blurred.
The blurring of gender lines is prominent in the story of the bull-god Dionysus and his
host of maenads. In Euripides Bacchae, Dionysus is repeatedly described as womanish, with
his female consorts taking on masculine roles while his male followers cross-dress. Nonnus tells
of Dionysus cross-dressing in his youth: he would show himself like a young girl in saffron
robes and take on the feigned shape of a woman (Dionysiaca 14.143). Susan Guettel-Cole, in
Landscapes, Gender & Ritual Space (2004: 128), describes Dionysus as having a sort of ritual
ambidexterity in which he was both masculinized and feminized.
This sort of bi-genderedness is not limited to Dionysus, but appears related to bull-gods
in other contexts. In the South Indian tradition, in which a water buffalo is consecrated as the
husband of the village goddess, the bulls sacrifice is executed by a male priest costumed as a
woman (Hiltebeitel, 1980). Also in India we find the curious bi-gendered relationship of Siva

M. Arendsee - 68

and his consort, who are frequently combined into one biformed figure, male on one side and
female on the other (OFlaherty, 1980: 99). This bi-gendered union of the bullgod and the
goddess calls out for a comparison, once more, with Dionysus and Ariadne. It appears to have
become common in Roman times for these two to be united as a double herm (Deedes, 1935:
223), becoming one figure with a male and a female head. Apparently following this artistic
example, other male-female pairs were later shown thus joined including such ungainly partners
as Apis with Isis (Deedes, 1935: 223), another bull and goddess pair. Gender roles are blurred
elsewhere in relationships between bull and goddess, such as in the story of Baal and Anath,
whom the Egyptians describe as a woman acting as a man, clad as a male and girt as a female
(Starr, 1984: 231), and in the connection between the war-like Inanna/Ishtar and their youthful
bull-identified lovers.
Additionally, the goddess herself may appear in bovine form. In fact, among artistic
predecessors to the Minotaur, Egyptian and near Eastern cow-headed goddesses often seem the
most anatomically analogous. However, the relationship of the bull-gods to their goddesses is
distinctive from the sorts of relationships maintained by heifer deities with their mates. There is
not a widespread diffusion of myths involving a non-divine female cow consorting with a
human-formed god (Io being an exception), unlike the many goddesses who take a non-divine
bull mate. A similar disparity exists in the visual sphere. In the Aegean countries, the Potnia
Tauron (a goddess riding on, or in a chariot pulled by, bulls) [Image 12] was common: among
the iconic types in which this [old omnipotent mother] goddess has survived in later art, the most
common is that of the bull-riding goddess (Lehmann-Hartleben, 1939: 669). No inverted
archetypal imagery exists of an omnipotent cow-riding father god. Thus, the bull and goddess
pairs are distinctive.

M. Arendsee - 69

Inasmuch as bulls are strongly associated with the goddess (particularly in her gendertransgressive and dangerous qualities), and that the biform of human body and cow head seems
to be strongly related to the anatomy of various female deities, we see one more way in which
Paul Millers claim is right: that in containing the Minotaur, the labyrinth's purpose is to. . .
domesticate the chaotic powers associated with passion and the feminine (Miller, 1995: 228).

Narrative Elements
In comparative mythography, it is standard to invent a chronological order into which all
universal mythic patterns will fall, usually by taking only hero myths into account (Raglan,
Campbell, Freud, etc.). In the stories of the goddess and the bull, such a chronology would be
difficult to establish, perhaps because the cyclical relationship between bull and goddess has no
discernible beginning or end. There do seem to be seven distinct events, however, which tend to
occur. As with other comparative patterns, such as Lord Raglans scale for the hero, not every
characteristic of this cycle will be apparent in every myth. However, more developed narratives
seem to record at least four of these characteristics, presented here in an arbitrary order:25
1. The Goddess (sometimes in the form of a mortal woman or a heifer) rides,
dominates, or tames the Bull.
2. The Bull and the Goddess copulate or get married. This copulation is often
directly related to the fertility of the world or the goddess.
3. The Bull is in some way associated with the power structure of kings or of gods,
and his life, death, or birth have a political significance.
4. The Bull causes a threat of violence to civilization or the Goddess.

25

I had considered giving these seven events abstract symbols instead of numbers, in order to preserve their a-linear
quality. However, did not seem like appropriate list elements.

M. Arendsee - 70

5. The Bull is sacrificed, killed, or captured, usually by a third party, though the
Goddess may be either directly responsible for this event, in some way fail to stop
it, or otherwise participate in his death.
6. The Bull returns from death (either literally or metaphorically), often with the
Goddess assistance.
7. The Goddess gives birth to the Bulls son, who may also be the Bull.
In many cases, five and six may be conflated, with the bull returning in the form of his
son, who repeats the cycle in turn. For example, the Cretan Bull returns in the form of the
Minotaur in order to be captured/killed again, as discussed in the second chapter. Alternately,
the bull might actually fulfill all of these steps, both being resurrected from the dead and having
a bull-son by the goddess, as in the story of Anath and Baal. It is not coincidental that many of
the elements of this plot are shared with the story of what Frazer calls the Corn God (199426) and
which Deedes (1935) describes as the double-headed god. This pattern emerges often in
comparative mythology: the male copulates, is sacrificed for the sake of fertility, and is then
succeeded by his younger self or son, who repeats the cycle in turn. Both Frazer and Deedes
speak of this archetype as having been embodied, in certain cultures (specifically African and
Mesopotamian ones) in the sacrificial death of kings. In time, they say, the death of the king
may have been substituted with the death of a bull. Even if Frazer were mistaken in projecting a
historical background for this king-sacrifice, he would still have accurately identified a running
theme in myth. The life and death of bulls is substitutionary for the life and death of kings, as
suggested by the third characteristic above. The bull god differs from Frazers Corn God in that
the bull frequently becomes a threat to the established order (as in the fourth characteristic

26

reprint date; original publication in 1922

M. Arendsee - 71

above). One might call this element the sacrificial bull-kings tragic flaw.27 This links it to the
theories of sacrifice suggested by Rene Girard (1979) in order to explain the same
anthropological and mythological data noticed by Frazer.

1. Riding the Bull

The first element listed above is the occurrence of the goddess taming the bull. As
mentioned above, this moment is immortalized throughout the Aegean world in the form of
Potnia Tauron. Here the goddess is mounted on, or standing on the back of, one or more bulls,
or her chariot is drawn by bulls, or she holds the bulls in her hands. A similar typology is found
in Indian conceptions of Sivas consort, who always rides on the back of the Siva-bull, Nandi.
This event is also clear in the Cretan Cycle, where Europa rides the Zeus-bull across the ocean,
and paralleled in friezes where Dionysus carries Ariadne away in his chariot.
Though the physical domination of the bull by the goddess is not explicit in certain other
stories, specifically those of Anath/Baal and Isis/Osiris, the male may still seem subservient to
the female. These two stories are additionally differentiated from the others in this analysis
because in them both characters take on bovine form at times, and the god-goddess pair are also
brother and sister. Nonetheless, in both cases the patriarchal male-female power balance is
sometimes reversed. In the story of Baal and Anath, for example, Anath repeatedly saves her
brother from his enemies, and acts in decisive military and political ways on his behalf. Isis, too,
is at times more powerful than her husband/brother, as when she outwits Ra or resurrects Osiris.

27

Girard (1979) argues for an essentially sacrificial nature to the themes of tragedy. It is possible to take the bull
god as an essentially tragic character, as indicated by the themes of reversal, death, and this flaw within his
character. This tragic nature is felt when the bull appears in theatrical contexts, as in the story of the Bacchae, the
account of the Kretes or the story of Hippolytus.

M. Arendsee - 72

2. Marrying the Bull

In the second element, the bull-figure and goddess copulate or get married. Additionally,
this copulation is often directly related to the fertility of the world or the goddess. Not every
myth is explicit about the link between this copulation and the fertility of the land. In the Cretan
cycle, for example, though Pasiphae and Europa both conceive sons from their encounters, a
wider link to fertility is not explicit. This is one area in which the meaning of the Cretan cycle
may be expanded by considering it in the context of other comparable myths. In the myth of
Anath and Baal, for example, an explicit link is made between their marriage and Baals ability
to bring the rains that feed the land (Starr, 1984: 236). Likewise, when Siva remains celibate for
an extended time, his sterility is said to cause the world to be sterile28 (OFlaherty, 1973: 296).
In this area, ritual is as good a testimony as any of the mythological sources. The ritual
mating of the goddess and the bull appears in numerous contexts, without necessarily being
attended by specific mythological content. A Greek example of this, in the case of the Athenian
hierogamos, was discussed in the first chapter. Edward Armstrong (1945), writing about
Chinese Bull Ritual and Its Affinities, details a number of bull-centered rituals, both in China
and the ancient Mediterranean world, that were viewed as annual fertility rituals. Among
Eastern traditions there is the South Indian buffalo sacrifice, in which a bull is given as a
husband to the village goddess and honored in that role. This ritual is done annually (indicating
a purpose for fertility) and also in cases of emergencies, such as a small pox epidemic. The bull
serves as the husband of the goddess from the time he is selected until the time of the sacrifice
(usually a year), and at the time of the sacrifice itself, [the animal] is bathed, smeared with
turmeric, and garlanded with flowers. Such adornments of a male are commonly associated with
28

Curiously, when Siva and his consort spend too much time consorting, the world also becomes infertile in their
absence. It seems that Sivas sexuality and its link to the worlds fertility requires a balance between asceticism and
eroticism.

M. Arendsee - 73

marriage. An image of the goddess may also be prepared for the rite as if she were a bride
(Hiltebeitel, 1980: 190-191). The sacrifice is also a marriage.

3. The Bull as King

The third element is that the bull is in some way associated with the power structure of
men or of gods. He may be associated with a king, as in the accounts woven by Frazer and his
descendents. In ritual practice, bulls were identified with kings and in that role were sacrificed.
Thus, symbolically and mythically, kings were sacrificed, whether or not this had anything to do
with real historical events. It is incontrovertible that kingship was closely associated with the
symbol of the bull in the historic and pre-historic Mediterranean world. Cook (1894: 29),
writing about the religions of Palestine, explains that bull horns and bull imagery were a symbol
of strength, superhuman power, and deity. As emblems of Divine rank they are found on gods,
genii, and great kings: as many as four pairs of horns indicating special pre-eminence. Obbink
(1937: 46) adds, These horns are undoubtedly bulls horns. . . Since the horns can represent the
god himself, they are found on shrines in Babylonia and everywhere. This everywhere, we may
learn from James (1959: 245ff), included the entirety of the Aegean and Near Eastern. It is this
pre-eminence everywhere, along with the mythological records, that led people to suggest that
the Cretan Bull and the Minotaur were symbols of the kingship and sovereignty of Crete
(Castledon, 1990: 65; Herberger, 1972: 27ff).
This historical link between kings and bulls is shown in the mythological texts
themselves. Osiris, who is also the Apis bull, is mythologically the first king of Egypt and the
father of the Royal line. Within the Cretan cycle, Minos is both the descendant of a bull and the
(step)father of a bull-man, and the arrival of the great white bull is, according to many classical

M. Arendsee - 74

writers, the force that had catapulted him onto the throne. Likewise, it is the death of the
Minotaur which, albeit somewhat inadvertently, grants Theseus his throne.29 The story of the
romance between the bull-god Baal and his sister is, to a large degree, a political narrative as
well, as Baal (whose name means lord) struggles with his father for the right to a throne. Even
the stories of Dionysus, who is remarkably anarchistic for an ancient myth, are in large part
political. In Thebes, he challenges Pentheus political power, and fights to enforce his own
position of divine power by punishing those who refuse to acknowledge his godhood.

4. The Threat of the Bull

Despite possible associations with kingship or perhaps because of it the bulls seem
dangerous to the well-being of the people. One does not see this threatening aspect in the myths
of Osiris or Baal (perhaps because, as mentioned before, they are somewhat atypical). However,
this threat is quite evident in other accounts. Obviously, in the Cretan cycle the great white bull
becomes a menace that must be faced by Herakles and Theseus, while the Minotaur is said to eat
Athenian youths. Later, the bull from the ocean will kill Hippolytus. Likewise, Ishtars Bull of
Heaven (in the Gilgamesh epic) is a dreadful foe that kills hundreds of men before Enkidu and
the king stop it. In the South Indian sacrificial ritual, in the year before the bull is killed, it is
left to roam freely around the village thus constituting a potential nuisance (Hiltebeitel 1980:
191). The roaming, dangerous aspect of the bull-god is also evident in the myths of Dionysus, as
we see in The Bacchae and elsewhere. Siva presents another ambiguous character in this
respect; one interesting story of his union with Parvati describes how his phallus threatens to
destroy the world until she can trap it with her vagina:
29

Theseus, on his return to Athens, inadvertently causes the suicide of his (mortal) father, Aegeus. It seems
significant that his adventures on Crete, including his killing of the Minotaur, have led him unconsciously to the
death of the old king and his ascension to the throne.

M. Arendsee - 75

One day, Siva took on a disguise to test [some holy men]. . . he came there naked,
holding his penis in his hand and making lewd gestures. . . When the sages saw
what was happening, they exploded in fury, shouting at him, Who are you?. . . let
your penis fall to the ground. When they said this, Sivas penis fell down and
moved down into hell and up into heaven and all over the earth. . . burning
everything everywhere it went, like a great fire. [Brahma]. . . advised them to ask
Parvati to take the form of the vagina to hold the penis of Siva, and to worship
him in that form. The sages propitiated Parvati and the bull-bannered Siva, and
Parvati held the penis and kept it calm. (OFlaherty, 1980: 98)
In this tale, not only is Siva explicitly identified as being bull-bannered, but also his sexual
union with the goddess is what allows him to be tamed and his danger to be overcome.

5. Sacrificing the Bull

In the stories where it occurs, the death of the bull god often plays a prominent role. We
have already examined the several deaths of the bull in the Cretan Cycle. Dionysus, as well,
suffers death within the course of his myths, at least once as the infant Zagreus, and on several
later occasions he descends willingly into the underworld. The death of Osiris is also intrinsic to
his character. The death of Baal, and the struggle of Anath and Baal against Mot (the god of
death), plays a prominent part in the accounts of their relationship. Inanna surrenders her bullidentified lover Tammuz to death rather than die herself; Ishtar, in the story of Gilgamesh, also
sends the Bull of Heaven to fight in her stead, which leads to its death. Thus, we see that when
the relationship of the bull and the goddess manifests as part of a larger sacrificial ritual, the bull
will die.
What may be less obvious is that the same goddess, or another goddess, frequently plays
a contributing role in this death. In the story of the Minotaur, Ariadne assists Theseus in his
journey into the labyrinth, and Medea asks Theseus to kill the Marathonian bull. Likewise, in
the story of Zagreus the horned baby, the Titans kill Dionysus because of the resentment of

M. Arendsee - 76

implacable Hera (Nonnus, Dionysiaca 6.155). In the South Indian buffalo sacrifice, the
officiant comes to his role disguised as a woman and playing the role of the handmaiden of the
goddess. In this ritual, the bull is first chased through the village and wrestled to the ground.
(Here comparisons might be made to scenes from Crete of the catching of the bulls, or to
Athenian ritual driving of the bulls, which preceded the festivals of Dionysus; the idea of
wrestling a bull is also evident in the myths of Theseus and Herakles.) After the bull has been
caught and garlanded as if for marriage, the goddess maiden cuts open his throat and drinks his
blood. A symbolic counterpart of this drink of blood is the draught of wine drunk by the
goddess before she slays Mahisasura, the buffalo demon (Hiltebeitel, 1980: 190). Not only is
this death visually linked to stories of similar events where the goddess killed a bovine that had
threatened the community, but also the goddess is explicitly condemned for the death of the
sacrificial beast. During the ritual, the goddess is insulted as an adulterer, a widow, and a
destroyer of her own family, all in terms reflecting her power over disease and fertility
(Hiltebeitel, 1980).
A goddess or woman may then be directly responsible for the death of the bull, as in this
sacrifice, in Ariadnes aid to Theseus, and in Inannas condemnation of Tammuz. Alternately,
she may be indirectly responsible, as when Ishtar sends her bull to a battle he cannot win, or
Medea inadvertently has the Marathonian bull (rather than Theseus) killed in their battle. It may
also merely be that the goddess fails to save the bull, as when Isis seems to stand by while Seth
kills her husband, or when Dionysus nurse-maids leave him to the Titans. Regardless of the
Goddess culpability, the actual death tends to happen at the hands of a man (even when that man
may be disguised as a woman).

M. Arendsee - 77

6 and 7. The Return of the Bull

In the final two elements, the goddess may either give birth to a new bull or god, or she
may resurrect the dead bull (or sometimes both). Some combination of these two is seen in the
myth of Isis and Osiris, in which the bull-identified god is temporarily raised from the dead in
order to aid in the conception of his son, Horus. In the story of Anath and Baal, likewise, Anath
both resurrects Baal and bears him a wild ox as a son. Ishtar does not resurrect the Bull of
Heaven or bear his child, but as Inanna she does bring Damuzi/Tammuz back from the dead on
occasion. In the Cretan Cycle, all three of the prominent female characters give birth to children
after their experiences with the bull. Europas and Pasiphaes children were also bull-identified.
Ariadne too gives birth very shortly after the Cretan affair. The fact that she gives birth so soon
after meeting Theseus may even serve to call into question his stated paternity, recalling that
Ariadne may have been mated to the bull-god Dionysus on Crete.30 In the South Indian
sacrificial ritual, the bull is not said to come back to life or to impregnate the goddess, however
he is quickly replaced by another bull so as to prevent the goddess from remaining a widow
(Hiltebeitel, 1980: 191); this replacement, which fills the exact same role and position, may
easily be understood as a return of the first bull.
Siva, on the other hand, does not die and therefore cannot come back to life, and any
children he has with Parvati are incidental to the story. However, one may very well take the
incident of his castration and the renewal of his penis as a symbolic death and resurrection;
certainly, the descent of his phallus into heaven and hell suggests that sort of interpretation.

30

Webster (1966) discusses the complications of Ariadnes history, including her connection to Dionysus. That
Ariadne was originally the mate of Dionysus before going with Theseus is included in Homers version of the story.
Whose children Ariadne gives birth to on Naxos has always been a question of contention. The Athenians
particularly liked to claim them as Theseus sons, even though others suggest that they were Dionysus children.
The question of when she became pregnant, and who the father was, is even more complicated than the question of
whether she was with Dionysus before or after Theseus (or both).

M. Arendsee - 78

Curiously, in the Siva myths it is generally his consort who dies and is resurrected (Parvati and
Sati are two of these re-incarnations). This difference might be accounted for by the fact that
Siva and his consort are in many ways considered as one being, as shown in their epiphany as the
bigendered Ardhanarishvara. Inasmuch as the bull god is part of the goddess, as discussed
earlier in this chapter, it is both bull and goddess who are dying and resurrecting when one of
them dies and resurrects. This may also serve to illuminate the case of Inanna/Ishtar, who, prior
to switching roles with Damuzi/Tammuz, herself died and resurrected.

Translating the Archetypes

Three thematic points emerge from this overview of the relationship and narrative of the
goddess and the bull. First, the life and death of the bull is often bound up with fertility rituals;
this is made explicit in the stories of Osiris, Dionysus, Tammuz, and Baal. Second, with some
exceptions, the bull is linked to a cycle of violence; he introduces violence and danger to the
community, and he perishes by violence. Finally, the story of the bull and the goddess is a
sacrificial one.31
If we focus primarily on the dying and renewing aspect of the myth, with its similarity to
Frazers Corn God, this is clearly a fertility myth about nature, which may be taken as a
metaphor for human renewal after death, as in Graves (1966). The bull may represent male
potency while the goddess represents the receptivity of the ground; the death of the bull is the
harvest of the land. Alternately, female fertility may be associated with chthonic deities of grain
while male potency is associated with the hunt (of bulls and other prey). Something of this is
31

This is true even in the story of Siva, which does not culminate with the gods own death. In one instance, Sati
immolates herself at a sacrifice to which Siva had been uninvited, and he takes revenge on the sacrificers. Siva later
becomes a master of the sacrifice and slayer of cattle (O Flaherty, 1980: 106), which places him in the position of
both executioner and victim (recall that he is embodied within bulls, which are his vehicle or embodiments).

M. Arendsee - 79

also suggested by Northern European artistic traditions, though unfortunately not preserved as
solid narrative, in which a horned god was accompanied by a goddess bearing a cornucopia of
grain (Murray,32 1970: 23ff).
In this way, by taking the sacrificial themes more literally, one might say that the bull is
not the grain harvest (as suggested by Frazer), but represents the actual slaughter of living cattle
in order to feed the community. That the bull is the willing consort of the goddess, and that he is
born and dies at her whim, may serve as a justification of agricultural lifestyles and the slaughter
of animals. Whether taking the bull as a harvest of grain or meat, the story would still deal with
the painful cycle of life in which the power of death is rooted in the power of female sexuality
(as discussed in detail by Robert Graves and his followers); the association of a bull skull with a
womans womb, then, would signify the union of these powers and be the ultimate symbol of the
life cycle.
Focusing on the bull as meat brings up the issue of violence. In this pattern, the bull
brings violence into his surroundings. Violence is, in turn, visited upon him, and this violence
seems to unite the community (frequently at the expense of the guilty women of the myth). In
considering this conjunction of myth and violence, Girards (1979) perspective provides insight:
the bull is merely a mask, or a surrogate, for the true target of that violence within the human
community. Violence, according to Girard (1979), is understood by early human communities as

32

Dr. Margaret Murray (1863-1963) is one of those controversial authors in the area of folklore and anthropology.
She argued, over the course of many books, for a horned god prominent in Europe from the Paleolithic to early
Christian eras, and linked this god to later Mesopotamian, Egyptian, and Greco-Roman bull-horned figures
including the Minotaur. She furthers argues that this same god was the basis for witch cults in the middle ages. The
controversy surrounding Murray (see Cohn [1973]) centers on this later claim, which, incidentally has also been
influential on the revivalist pagan movement now known as Wicca. However, her evidence regarding the mere
existence or a horned god in art and artifact of the pagan European past is relatively strong, even when her
contention that this same god was worshiped by later witches is no longer academically acceptable.

M. Arendsee - 80

a sort of contagion that must be dealt with ritually.33 He argues that societies defend themselves
against internal urges towards violence by externalizing it within mythic contexts, and then turn
that violence upon a surrogate victim usually an animal that bears certain qualities or traits in
common with the humans who might otherwise be the target of that violence. The resemblance
between the bull and the king and also, then, between the bull and the husband, lover, son, and
brother, is not coincidental. Rather, it is necessary to recreate the bull as someone who can be
recognized as a violent and dangerous object of sacrifice, without jeopardizing the peace of the
community. His death in myth and in ritual is cathartic precisely because it is not the death of
the king or husband or neighbor, and thus it allows the glutting of violent urges that may have
been directed towards them. The death of the bull is still a substitute death, and a representative
death, and it still brings a renewal of sorts (this time of the peace of the people), but the context
is different.

Significance of these Types for the Cretan Myth

The reason for discussing this assortment of myths is to provide possible insight into the
mythic logic behind the Cretan Cycle. In myth, particularly in its tragic dimensions34, things do

33

Though Girard does not discuss Aeschylus The Eumenides, one may easily see evidence of his theory in the
closing arguments of that play. In it, Orestes is seen as carrying a sort of contagious family violence, which having
stemmed from an act of cannibalism in Atreus generation-- has already been responsible for the death of his parents
and sister, and arguably for the Trojan War itself. This violence will either continue without stopping, or be
sublimated into ritual form. Even the appearance of the Furies is, to some extent, an externalizing of violence into
mythic prerogatives.
34

One will recall that many part of the Cretan Cycle were expressed in tragedy. Ancient playwrites wrote tragedies
about Pasiphae (Euripides The Kretes), Ariadne and Theseus (lost Theseus plays by Sophocles and Euripides),
Phaedra/Hippolytus (Hippolytus by Euripides and Seneca) and Dionysus (Euripides The Bacchae). Though only
these latter ones remain mostly intact, their very existences indicate that these stories fit into tragic models.

M. Arendsee - 81

not simply happen by chance; there must be a logic behind events.35 The importance of this
comparative approach is its ability to answer the significant questions of causation: Why must
Pasiphae fall in love with a bull and have a monster child? What logic links the sacrifice of
Athenian children to the Minotaur and why will the sacrifices stop if the Minotaur is killed; does
Minos intend for the Athenians to kill it? Why can Ariadne not go home with Theseus? Without
the wider mythic context, these questions break up the orderly inevitability that so often
characterizes Greek tragedy and myth.
To the first question, the comparative mythic context illuminates Pasiphaes lust for and
natural connection with the bull. If there is an iconic connection between goddesses and bulls,
and if there is a connection between bulls and kings, then it makes sense that Pasiphae as the
wife of the king and a demi-goddess in her own right would have an instinctive symbolic
connection to the bull. Minos, it will be recalled, kept the bull even though he was asked to
sacrifice it. Every account of this story has in common the theme that Minos committed a lapse
in religious duty involving the sacrifice of a bull to the god of the sea (see Chapter 2). If, as we
have discussed, bulls were sacrificed as surrogates for the king, or if they played a role in society
where they were seen as totems of male power on whom violence could be visited (rather than
allowing real violence to erupt), then logic suggests that once the bull had been chosen for
sacrifice, he had already begun to exlapse in religions dutyist in this totemic state. In that case,
Pasiphaes attraction to the bull is essentially indistinguishable from her attraction to the king.
Thus, her passion is a direct result of the kings refusal to sacrifice the bull which is precisely
the defense she offers. He [Minos] prayed to his god of the sea, and swore to sacrifice that
portentous bull and then he spared it from the slaughter. No wonder Poseidon sought you
35

In the Oedipus myth, for example, Oedipus must go to the Delphic oracle in order to be encouraged to go back to
his homeland, because he must go back to Thebes in order to complete the structure of the story by fulfilling his fate.

M. Arendsee - 82

[Minos] out: to punish you through this sick passion in my heart (Euripides, Kretes). Thus,
there is an inescapable and tragic chain of events occurring here, stemming from the refusal of
the king to sacrifice the bull.
Additionally, the idea of sacrificial crisis can be seen as further driving the plot in a chain
of dependent events. Girard (1979) speaks of how sacrifice is capable of ending the chain of
violence by creating an object on which violence can be sated. Violence and sexuality, Girard
(1979: 34ff) also suggests, are closely interlinked. When the bull is not sacrificed, his continued
existence gives rise to a violent outbreak of sexuality, and this in turn gives birth to the
monstrous double. The Minotaur is a creature that exists on blood and violence, but his double
form is that of both an originator of violence (the human) and the victim of violence (the bull).
Daedalus, an arbiter of civilization and rationality, attempts to lock up the Minotaur as if to end
the violent cycle but this does not stop the chain of events. The violence continues when
Minos great white bull eventually kills his (and Pasiphaes) son on Attic soil.
The death of Androgeus is inevitable from the moment that the bull is not killed for
several reasons. Obviously, the first reason is that the bull is responsible for his death. In
sacrificial terms, this is inevitable because the cycle of violence naturally moves on to human
victims when it is denied animal surrogates (Girard, 1979). Moreover, it is necessary that
Androgeus will die because such violence is an integral part of the bulls archetype. The bull is
allowed to wander and commit violence before being killed by Theseus, and this is part of the
tradition of the bull and goddess myth (c.f., the South Indian sacrifices, the rampages of Ishtars
Bull of Heaven, and Baals incestuous misadventures, as discussed above).
The death of Androgeus leads to a pseudo blood feud in which Athenian youths are
being sent to the court of Minos as fodder for (or perhaps sacrifices to) the Minotaur. The

M. Arendsee - 83

Athenians agree to the tribute because they are in the midst of a plague, and an oracle presents
this as the way to stop it this lends to their deaths clear sacrificial overtones. With the bull
sacrifice neglected, humans continue to die. Thus, there is a logical connection between the
Minotaur eating people and the death of Androgeus. This is an escalation of the original
sacrificial crisis (of which the Minotaur was a significant part), and the Minotaurs chance to fill
the role of the ravaging bull. This growing violence creates a reason why the Minotaur must die,
and why Minos does not take precautions to prevent the death of his monster. His promise to
cease the tribute upon the death of the Minotaur essentially provokes the Athenians to kill the
bull-man.
The comparative story of the bull and the goddess also provides a solid reason why
Ariadne would help Theseus to kill her brother. Classical writers have often seemed bothered by
this question. Authors like Catullus sometimes compared Ariadne to Medea because she was
willing to betray her family for the love of a stranger (Webster, 1966: 26ff). Euripides, in his
play on Theseus, has her hesitate before this decision. Moreover, the comparative mythic
approach, employed earlier in this chapter, situates Ariadnes relationship to the Minotaur in
context; the Goddess is often complicit in the sacrifice of the bull,36 and her betrayal is an innate
part of her power over life and death. In much of the art depicting the Minotauromachy, Theseus
is shown gripping the bull-man by one horn while stabbing him with the other hand.37 [Image
13] This same pose is shown in seals depicting the sacrifice of a bull to a goddess (Deedes, 1935:
197ff); it seems to be a traditional position for sacrifices. In Black Figure art it was common for
the death of the Minotaur to be portrayed in the approving presence of Ariadne and her nurse,

36

Several other goddess-bull pairs (Isis/Osiris and Anath/Baal) are also siblings.

37

For this point, and the presence of Ariadne at the Minotaurs death, the reader is pointed to Vol. VII.2 of LIMC,
in which these images are archived.

M. Arendsee - 84

and frequently Minos as well. [Image 14] If the Minotaurs death was originally seen as a
sacrifice, then having such an audience makes more sense than assuming that these other
characters had followed Theseus on his journey into the labyrinth, or that they are somehow
symbolically present in spirit.
One of the challenges in relating the story of Ariadne is the chronology of her
relationship with Dionysus: according to Homer, she betrayed Dionysus, and was subsequently
put to death on Naxos for this crime, while in most accounts, including the standard Athenian
account, she is taken from Theseus (or abandoned by him) on Naxos and there joins with
Dionysus as his bride. (Webster: 1966) Following the sentiment of the comparative goddess and
bull story, it may be suggested that her betrayal of Dionysus on Crete was her aid to Theseus
in killing the Minotaur, whose bull-headed figure can be interpreted as an epiphany of the bull
god Dionysus. Her death on Naxos may be the same event as her sleep there: in her death
she would be rejoined with the Minotaur; in awakening from sleep she would be rejoined with
Dionysus. Either way, Ariadne finds herself with the bull once more, just as the South Indian
village goddesses, though ritually accused of the slaughter of their families, were quickly given
new bull mates. Obviously, the Minotaur is Ariadnes brother while Dionysus is her husband;
however, as the stories of Anath and Isis show, the role of brother and husband are not
necessarily mutually exclusive. This is not to say that Ariadne was copulating with the
Minotaur, but their association together as family members serves the same purpose of creating a
deep attachment and symmetrical union-in-opposition of male and female.
Finally, the conception of this story as a repetition of the goddess-bull theme explains
why Theseus and Ariadne part ways so suddenly. She returns to her role as the counterpart of
the bull, while he carries the blood guilt for killing the bull, and must be separated from people

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for a time. Close study of the comparative patterns of the bull and the goddess, with which we
began this chapter, will reveal that no third party killer of the bull ever escapes without some
sort of consequence. Enkidu is killed for his role in the slaying of Ishtars bull, and Gilgamesh
eventually goes into self-imposed exile for a period. For his part in Osiris death, Seth is
eventually ousted and relegated to the role of an outsider. The forest sages that opposed and
castrated Siva are first burned and then converted. Mot, who kills Baal, is chopped up into
pieces and planted like grain. In the case of the South Indian bull sacrifices, the officiator is
driven out of the village for a time in order to keep his blood guilt away from the people. Girard
(1979) suggests that all violence, even sacrifice, is charged with the danger of contagion and
continuation, and must be met with ritual taboos and with caution. The seeds of the violence and
death that Theseus has sown continue to grow in his life his father is killed when he fails to
change his sails, and later his son is either killed by a bull or dragged to death by horses.
Ariadnes separation from Theseus both leads to her union with Dionysus, and serves to separate
her from the guilt of the Minotaurs death.
It remains true that the Minotaur is not simply Osiris, Baal, Siva, or Tammuz;38 one
cannot blithely collate all of these stories into one grand sweeping narrative in which each of
these gods and their related goddesses are merely avatars of one single universal bull god and
mother goddess. However, to the degree that doing so serves to clarify, rather than confuse, the
text, it is legitimate and perhaps even necessary to apply the patterns or elements of other
traditions to the Cretan Cycle in order to allow a better understanding of its intrinsic patterns.

38

Amusingly, though the Minotaur is not identical to the mate of Ishtar, he may be the Bull of Heaven, in a sense,
as his name does mean The Starry One.

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RUMINATIONS
One of the goals of the emerging field of interdisciplinary humanities is to explore the
world of intertextuality. It is understood that through comparisons, contrasts, and the subtle
science of allusion, modern texts may be reconstructed in context. What this focus on
intertextuality does for modern interdisciplinary studies, the contextual and comparative analysis
of mythology does for the study of ancient sources. All myths, by their very nature, exist in a
primarily intertextual space; multiple versions of the story not only co-exist, but also interact cocreatively with one another and with the society around them. For example, Ariadnes
relationship with Theseus, in a given text, is not only affected by the existence of alternate
versions in which she has betrayed Dionysus to go with him, but is also affected by the
comparisons between her story and that of her cousin Medea, and the attendant issues of
foreignness and malevolent betrayal,39 and then altered again when considering the intertextual
allusions to deviant sexual practices in her attraction to Dionysus.40 One of the primary purposes
of this project has been to create a context in which such intertextuality can be acknowledged
and explored.
The Cretan Cycle in a Sexual Context
The first chapter in this project looks at the role of bestiality in Greco-Roman myth, art,
and culture. This analysis of bestiality is not intended to be merely provocative; the Minotaur in
39

In particular, the comparisons that are drawn between Medea and Ariadne, by authors such as Catullus (discussed
earlier), create a surprising sympathy for the Minotaur who is implicitly equated, by this comparison, with Medeas
helpless younger brother.
40

When Ariadne says to Dionysus that his horns have seized her as the horns of a bull had seized her mother, there
is a strong implication that her attraction to him is as unnatural and deviant as her mothers attraction to the white
bull. There is certainly some validity to this concern, considering the deviant gender roles embraced by Dionysus
and his maenads.

M. Arendsee - 88

this area emerges as a signifier of Pasiphaes original sexual deviation, and by looking at the role
of bestiality it is possible to look directly at the role of the monster. Thus, inasmuch as bestiality
emerges as an object of socio-sexual fixation and an expression of the violation of gender roles,41
the Minotaur can be seen as an embodiment of this cultures sexual anxieties. Many GrecoRoman deities exhibit non-normative sexual behavior, whether this expressed in gender bending
(Dionysus), bestial rape and rampant adultery (Zeus), or extreme signs of sexuality (as in the
phallic Herms42 or Eos pursuit of men). Just as Girard speaks of violence being projected into
the sacred in order to separate it from the human community, it seems that sexuality is likewise
externalized. This projection is discussed in the first chapter as human desires came to be
embodied in satyrs and centaurs. Thus, the Minotaur like the concept of bestiality itself also
becomes simultaneously sacred and obscene.
If the Minotaur is a symbol of sexual deviance, then the Labyrinth may be seen as a
masculine construction intended to harness and restrain a chaotic and essentially feminine threat.
It will be recalled that this conclusion was reached by Paul Miller (1995), based purely on the
text of the Aeneid. The argument is strengthened by the evidence presented in chapter three of
this study, regarding the long-standing association of the bull-head with the female womb. To
this extent, the Minotaur may symbolically be a man with a womb-head that devours youths, and
thus linked to the Freudian idea that men fear Vagina Dentata. Furthering this argument, it is
significant that Daedalus second great construction on Crete was a dancing floor for Ariadne,

41

One may recall the discussion of bestiality as representing the perverse natural lust of women, which is out of
sync with the feminine role of wife and mother, and also its manifestation as a symbol of male excess which
likewise threatens the norms of civilized behavior.
42

Herms are pillars with the head of Hermes (or, on rare occasions, another deity) and a large erect phallus that
serve as apotropaic boundary markers. They may also be considered as symbols of state or male power (Kuells,
1993).

M. Arendsee - 89

which serves to confine her dancing in the same way that the Minotaur is confined within the
Labyrinth. Such a reading is strengthened by fact that Ariadnes dance is described as showing
the intricate twists and turns of the labyrinth (Plutarch, Theseus) and that even into the middle
ages sacred labyrinths43 were used as dancing floors: The dance on the maze [in cathedrals] was
a venerable ritual. . . Thus the myth of the Cretan maze and the victory dance of Theseus were
recreated in French custom into the middle of the nineteenth century44 (Wright, 2001: 141-158).
If the dancing floor confines Ariadnes sexual exuberance in the same way that the labyrinth
confines the Minotaurs sexual threat, then to an extent the entire Cretan Cycle may be
understood to describe infectious outbreaks of sexuality (often described as madness) and the
attempts of male heroes from Daedalus to Theseus to Hippolytus to confine the threat of such
sexuality.

The Cretan Cycle in a Memetic Context

The second and third chapters of this work describe the way in which the central conflict
of the Minotauromachy relates to its mythic context, within the Cretan Cycle itself (Chapter 2)
and within the wider scope of comparable myths (Chapter 3). In these discussions, one primary
conclusion arose: the Cretan Cycle is cyclical, and it follows a looping and widespread ancient
pattern in which death is followed by renewal. Similar patterns have been distinguished in other
myth types, such as Raglans heroic scale or Campbells Monomyth of the Heros Journey, as
discussed in the introduction to the third chapter.
43

generally on Cathedral floors, but still marked with a Minotaur at the center.
Each year, from at least 1396 until 1538, the canons and chaplains of the cathedral of Auxerre gathered in the
early afternoon of Easter Sunday around the maize situated in the nave of their church. Joining hands to form a
ring-dance, or chorea, they chanted antiphonally the sequence Praises to the Easter Victim (Victimae paschali
laudes) as they danced on the labyrinth.... through the tracks of the maze to the center and back....The maze that was
formed through this folklorish ritual was obviously not an architectural labyrinth but rather a human configuration
generated by the dancers themselves, just as was once done in ancient Greece. (Wright, 2001: 140-158)
44

M. Arendsee - 90

The field of comparative mythology may profit by borrowing a theoretical technique

from the modern study of memetics. Richard Dawkins (2006: 189), in the groundbreaking book
The Selfish Gene, argues for the existence of memes, derived from mimeme (imitation) and
mme (same). A meme is, in short, a unit of cultural transmission (189), which may be an idea
or sign, an archetype, a story pattern, a theory, or any other product of human thought. Dawkins
writes, As genes propagate themselves in the gene pool. . . so memes propagate themselves in
the meme pool. . . memes should be regarded as living structures, not just metaphorically but
technically (2006: 192). The bull and goddess pair, and elements of their story, when treated as
living and evolving memes may be more easily understood to be passed and exchanged
throughout cultures, without being entirely identical and syncretizable, nor entirely separate.
This theoretical concept of myths evolving and changing, based on the evolution of culture
around them and the influence of their intertextual and intermythical meme pool, gives the
memetic or intertextual reader an increased ability to see the links and relationships between the
mythic forms and the cultural products (literature, art, etc.) that emerge from them.
For example, recognizing that the Minotaur participates organically with the bull-god
meme brings into relief the pre-existing sacrificial themes in the Minotauromachy visual genre.
[Image 16] Likewise, knowing the tradition of erotic and sacred relationships between
goddesses and bull-kings creates new expectations and implications for the Pasiphae story, while
recognizing the underlying issues of violence and sacrifice invigorates the sub-text to Euripides
depiction of Pasiphaes madness. Perhaps the most powerful revelation to emerge from the
intertext of these stories is the possibility that the Minotaur and the bull-faced Dionysus are
one and the same, due in part to their memetic similarity. Such a rethinking of the plot situates
the intertextual/memetic reader to understand how Theseus would react with fear and with

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drawn sword (Webster, 1966: 28) to the approach of the god. Likewise, this reading explains
why there might be confusion about if and how Ariadne betrayed Dionysus.45
In these two chapters, the memetic pattern of the bull is presented as integrally connected
with the idea of fertility and the agricultural world, and also with the necessity of sacrifice and
violence as an arbiter of social order. The bull meme is thus in participation with the meme of
kingship and godhood, and also with the meme of violence and social threat. Therefore, the idea
of the Minotaur as the sacrificial/sacred Other also enters into dialogue with the idea of Minotaur
as the monstrous Other.
Along these lines, Girard suggests that all gods to whom blood sacrifices are offered are
essentially bi-formed, simultaneously victim and executioner. The Minotaur as a devourer of
sacrifices is evident within the myth itself. If his death is sacrificial, then he fulfills both parts of
this sacred role. Such sacredness transforms a mere mrchen into a religious myth. The
memetic idea of the minotaur has persisted in ways other monsters have not, appearing in his
labyrinth again and again, from Roman villas to Medieval Cathedrals (Wright, 2001), and from
the crude coins of Crete to the rude sketches of Picasso or existential musings of Borges. To
understand how compelling his figure is, one must start with an intimation of sanctity and finish
with the puzzling meme of Otherness.
Towards a Modern Minotaur
If we are to speak of the memetic value of the Minotaur, then we must be prepared to
consider the role that such a meme might play in a modern dialogue. From the sexual themes
explored in the first chapter and the ideas of violence and sacredness inherent in the second and
45

If the Minotaur is an epiphany of Dionysus, then Ariadne had betrayed Dionysus in her betrayal of the Minotaur;
thus she might both have betrayed Dionysus on Crete and met him - in his full god form - for the first time on
Naxos.

M. Arendsee - 92

third chapters, it seems fair to suggest that a modern re-application of the Cretan Cycle will
revolve around this concept of Otherness.
If part of the fundamental Otherness of the Minotaur (and his family) is this concept of
sexual deviation, then let us apply to this mythic group some of the considerations of modern
Queer Theory. Already we have presented the idea that what is bound in the labyrinth is not so
much a flesh-and-blood monster as a symbol of raw and unrestricted sexuality. This confinement
is seen in the imprisonment of the Minotaur, as well as in the way that an ancient hierogamos
(sacred marriage) between goddess and bull is mocked as a degraded and mechanized46 affair in
the descriptions of Pasiphaes coitus with the bull. Considering the Minotaur as a symbol of
deviant (and/or feminine) sexuality, it is a small step to apply the theoretical idea of the lesbian
monster to this bull-monster. Farwell says of the lesbian that she is a sacred monster, the
grotesque version of the womans body exceeding the boundaries assigned to it by culture,
discourse, and narrative (Farwell, 1996: 12). A similar description might be given to the
Minotaur, who likewise exceeds the boundaries of culture and human discourse. Curiously, this
identification of the Minotaur with the queer monster may help explain the bull-mans
curiously weak appearance.47 Farwell implies that it is [only] by killing the monster that the
male establishes [its] monstrosity and his heroism (1996: 31), and one might add that, like the
lesbian monster, the Minotaurs fearfulness is largely constructed by the way in which it is
treated by the men in the story by Daedalus, who imprisons it, by Minos who feeds it Athenian
youths, and by Theseus who undertakes to do battle with it. When portrayed in relationship to
women, on the other hand (as in [Image 17] of the baby Minotaur with Pasiphae), it seems oddly
endearing.
46
47

by the use of a hollow or mechanical bull.

as in the LIMC commentary by Susan Woodford, discussed in Chapter 1.

M. Arendsee - 93

The alterity of the Minotaur may also be imagined apart from its sexual symbolism.
Borges, in his short story The House of Asterion, describes the Minotaur as an existentialist
figure, alienated from the world around him and essentially trapped within his own body and
home. One might imagine the Minotaur as a post-modern hero, who has been estranged from his
own bull-god nature and is, by the accident of his birth and habits, also physically and socially
alienated from all other human beings. The questions of scapegoating, of contagious violence,
and of the sometimes catastrophic results of the process of Othering, are all very modern in their
way, and the figure of a character trapped in limbo between man and animal, and between animal
and god, may be a very fitting symbol for the spirit of our own post-Darwinian, post-humanist
age.

M. Arendsee - 94

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MODELS AND SOURCE IMAGES

Please note: All modern visual art in this thesis is credited to MANDEM, which is the pseudonym shared by M.
Arendsee and Moco Steinman for individual and collaborative visual art projects.

Ariadne Tauron [Cover Art]. Model: Jessica Lackey. Photography: Rogue.

Her Brothers Keeper. Models: Lockstock, Defabe. Reprinted from: The Crxshadows. (2007)
DreamCypher, Philadelphia: Dancing Ferret Discs.
Asterios. Model: Justmeina.
Theseus. Model: name withheld upon request. Photography: Moco Steinman.

M. Arendsee - ix

APPENDIX I: IMAGES
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APPENDIX II: THE MYTHS

The following summary constitutes what folklorists would call a normal form, which is
a hypothetically standardized version of a story given to present its usual content. No citations
will be given within the context of this summary, but each point is attested in one or more
primary sources. In the second chapter, this normal form is re-told to focus on the role of the
bull; in this telling the focus attempts to remain on those elements most commonly recounted by
mythographers past and present.

Europa. Zeus once became enamored of Europa, a Phoenician princess, and seduced her
in the form of a great white bull. In this form her carried her across the ocean to Crete. There
she gave birth to the king, Minos, and married the Cretan king, Asterion.
Pasiphae. Minos, in order to prove his claim to the throne, called upon the gods to send
him a bull from the ocean, which he would sacrifice to Poseidon. When a beautiful white bull
came from the ocean, however, he chose to keep it rather than put it to death. In punishment, his
wife, Pasiphae, who was a witch and daughter of Helios, was cursed with lust for the bull. With
the help of Daedalus, she copulated with the bull and gave birth to the calf-headed Minotaur
(sometimes named Asterios).
The Marathonian Bull. In one of his labors, Herakles was sent to Crete to fetch Minos
great white bull. He brought it back to mainland Greece and released it. Some time later, it
began to run wild, and harass the natives. Additionally, it was accused of killing Androgeus,
Minos son, who had come to Athens for the games. Eventually, it was captured and killed by
Theseus.

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The Youthful Deeds of Theseus.48 When Theseus, who was the son of the King of
Athens, Aegeus (and also of Poseidon), came of age, he traveled across land to Athens in order
to claim his birthright. En route, he defeated many bandits. Upon arriving in Athens, he found
his father under the influence of Medea (incidentally also Pasiphaes niece), who attempted his
murder by sending him to fight the Marathonian bull. After his victory over the bull, Theseus
was recognized by his father and Medea was banished.
Theseus and the Minotaur. Because Minos son, Androgeus, had been killed by the
Marathonian bull (due in some measure to the Athenians actions), a plague had struck Athens.
The city was told, by an oracle, to ask Minos what they might do to make reparations, so that the
plague might stop. Alternately, depending on the version, the Athenians owed tribute to Minos
due to his military victories over them. In either case, Minos demanded that seven male and
seven female youths be sent to him at fixed times. These youths were supposedly fed to the
Minotaur, a dreadful monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull, which Minos had
imprisoned within a labyrinth. This labyrinth had been made by Daedalus for just this purpose,
and it was said that no man or creature could find his way out. Theseus volunteered to go to
Crete as one of these fourteen youths. Upon his arrival, Ariadne (the daughter of Pasiphae and
Minos, and in some accounts the bride of Dionysus) fell in love with him, and told him the secret
of the labyrinth. She gave him a skein of thread so that he could follow it to find his way out,
and, in some accounts, also gave him a shining crown, which had been her gift from Dionysus.
He went into the labyrinth, slew the Minotaur, and escaped from Crete with Ariadne.

48

These are being much abbreviated where they do not directly concern Crete.

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Ariadne and Theseus. After leaving Crete, Theseus stopped on the island of Naxos, and
he left again without Ariadne. Here the accounts are somewhat confused. Either Ariadne was
here killed by Dia (Artemis) because she had betrayed Dionysus, or she was abandonned by
Theseus and was here discovered by Dionysus and taken as his bride. In some stories, Ariadne
went into labor on the islands, and so had to be abandoned because she could not continue
traveling. In others, Theseus either fell in love with another woman or merely decided that
Ariadne would not make a fitting Athenian queen. Some accounts also have him frightened
away by Dionysus. At any rate, Theseus returned home to Athens, but in his return failed to
change the black sails for white ones. The flying of black sails had been a pre-arranged sign that
the young prince was dead, so Theseus grief-stricken father killed himself before the ships
landed, and thus Theseus became king.
Hippolytus. In later years, Theseus married Phaedra, the sister of Ariadne. She
developped an unrequited passion towards his son, Hippolytus, whose mother had been an
Amazon. When Hippolytus rejected her, Phaedra allowed Theseus to believe that his son had
attempted to rape her. He cursed Hippolytus and called on Poseidon (his divine father) to take
revenge on the youth. A great bull emerged from the ocean, and either killed Hippolytus or
caused his horses to drag him to his death.

M. Arendsee - xvi

APPENDIX III: The House of Asterion - by Jorge Luis Borges (1949)

And the queen gave birth to a child who was called Asterion.
Apollodorus: Bilbliotheca, III, I

I know they accuse me of arrogance, and perhaps of misanthropy, and perhaps of

madness. Such accusations (for which I shall extract punishment in due time) are derisory. It is
true that I never leave my house, but it is also true that its doors (whose number is infinite)[note:
The original says fourteen, but there is ample reason to infer that, as used by Asterion, this
numeral stands for infinite.] are open day and night to men and to animals as well. Anyone may
enter. He will find here no female pomp nor court formality, but he will find quiet and solitude.
And he will also find a house like no other on the face of the earth. (There are those who declare
there is a similar one in Egypt, but they lie.) Even my detractors admit there is not one single
piece of furniture in the house. Another ridiculous falsehood has it that I, Asterion, am a
prisoner. Shall I repeat that there are no locked doors, shall I add that there are no locks?
Besides, one afternoon I did step into the street, if I returned before night, I did so because of the
fear that the faces of the common people inspired in me, faces as discolored and flat as the palm
of one's hand. The sun had already set, but the helpless crying of a child and the rude
supplications of the faithful told me I had been recognized. The people prayed, fled, prostrated
themselves; some climbed onto the stylobate of the temple of the Axes, others gathered stones.
One of them, I believe, hid himself beneath the sea. Not for nothing was my mother a queen; I
cannot be confused with the populace, though my modesty might so desire.
The fact is that I am unique. I am not interested in what one man may transmit to other
men; like the philosopher, I think that nothing is communicable by the art of writing.
Bothersome and trivial details have no place in my spirit, which is prepared for all that is vast
and grand; I have never retained the difference between one letter and another. A certain
generous impatience has not permitted that I learn to read. Sometimes I deplore this, for the
nights and days are long.
Of course, I am not without distractions. Like the ram about to charge, I run through the
stone galleries until I fall dizzy to the floor. I crouch in the shadow of a pool or around a corner
and pretend I am being followed. There are roofs from which I let myself fall until I am bloody.
At any time I can pretend to be asleep, with my eyes closed and my breathing heavy. (Sometimes
M. Arendsee - xvii

I really sleep, sometimes the color of day has changed when I open my eyes.) But of all the
games, I prefer the one about the other Asterion. I pretend that he comes to visit me and that I
show him my house. With great obeisance I say to him: Now we shall return to the first
intersection or Now we shall come out into another courtyard or I knew you would like the drain
or Now you will see a pool that was filled with sand or You will soon see how the cellar
branches out. Sometimes I make a mistake and the two of us laugh heartily.
Not only have I imagined these games, I have also meditated on the house. All the parts
of the house are repeated many times, any place is another place. There is no one pool,
courtyard, drinking trough, manger; the mangers, drinking troughs, courtyards, pools are
fourteen (infinite) in number. The house is the same size as the world; or rather, it is the world.
However, by dint of exhausting the courtyards with pools and dusty gray stone galleries I have
reached the street and seen the temple of the Axes and the sea. I did not understand this until a
night vision revealed to me that the seas and temples are also fourteen (infinite) in number.
Everything is repeated many times, fourteen times, but two things in the world seem to be only
once; above, the intricate sun; below, Asterion. Perhaps I have created the stars and the sun and
this enormous house, but I no longer remember.
Every nine years nine men enter the house so that I may deliver them from evil. I hear
their steps or their voices in the depths of the stone galleries and I run joyfully to find them. The
ceremony lasts a few minutes. They fall one after another without my having to bloody my
hands. They remain where they fell and their bodies help distinguish one gallery from another. I
do not know who they are, but I know that one of them prophesied, at the moment of his death,
that some day my redeemer would come. Since then my loneliness does not pain me, because I
know my redeemer lives and he will finally rise above the dust. If my ear could capture all the
sounds of the world, I should hear his steps. I hope he will take me to a place with fewer galleries
and fewer doors. What will my redeemer be like?, I ask myself. Will he be a bull or a man? Will
he perhaps be a bull with the face of a man? Or will he be like me?
The morning sun reverberated from the bronze sword. There was no longer even a vestige
of blood.
"Would you believe it, Ariadne?" said Theseus. "The Minotaur scarcely defended
himself."
M. Arendsee - xviii