Gate

Is there any finer way to spend a September day than sitting on a sandy Greek beach beneath cloudless skies, the temperature hovering around 30C, a sound of gentle waves lapping, cold beer to hand if required and the plays of Euripides as holiday reading? Don't worry, it's a rhetorical question. The answer is no, obviously.

So that's what I've been doing, not just for a day but a whole glorious week on the island of Zakynthos, and it was in Euripides' tragedy 'Medea ' that I found inspiration for this Greek-themed Gate blog, which in anticipation of National Poetry Day will view the gate as a portal, opening to a place of refuge or sanctuary.

a Greek gate

Medea was not Greek (and that's important). She came from Colchis, in what is modern-day Georgia, on the eastern  shores of the Black Sea, and thought at the time to be the land of the rising sun. What drew her into the Hellenic sphere was the fabled adventure of Jason and the Argonauts and their expedition to seize (i.e. steal) the golden fleece from King Aeëtes of Colchis, for she was the king's daughter.

The golden fleece was a symbol of authority and kingship, and Aeëtes kept in hanging in a tree in a sacred grove protected by a dragon. Jason (great-grandson of Hermes) had been promised the throne of Iolcus by Pelias (who had usurped it from Jason's father) in return for the golden fleece. Medea, famed as a sorceress, fell in love with Jason and, on a promise from him of marriage, used her powers to help him thwart the dragon and steal the fleece from her father. She then eloped with Jason to Greece on the Argo and became his wife. 

However, Pelias reneged on the promise to hand the throne of Iolcus to Jason, so Medea once again used her sorcery to trick Pelias's daughters into murdering their father, after which Jason and Medea had to flee Iolcus and sought refuge at the court of King Creon of Corinth, where Medea bore Jason fine sons.

In time however, Jason, wanting to further aggrandize himself and better provide for his sons, sought marriage to Creusa, daughter of King Creon. (Polygamy was not unknown in Ancient Greece. They gave the word to the world, after all.) Medea was expected to just quietly accept the arrangement and put up with being turfed out of the marriage bed for the greater good of her children, but she wasn't having any of it. Cue the play by Euripides. 

Observing the classical rule of unity of time and place favoured by Greek dramatists of the 5th century BC, the tragedy of 'Medea ' plays out in the royal palace at Corinth on the day of Jason's marriage to Creusa. 

Medea laments the infidelity of Jason, the man she has done so much for, the man she has cut all ties with her own family for, the man she has effectively committed murder to support. She cannot abide  being replaced in his affections by Creusa, not just for the loss of face but for having her feelings for Jason spurned in such a fashion. Her grief is passionate.

Jason tries to persuade her that his marriage to Creon's daughter will give all of them greater security but she rejects this reasoning out of hand, for Creon has been good enough to them all for years as it is.

Creon, for his part, suspecting that Medea won't take kindly to Jason marrying his daughter and being fully conversant with Medea's reputation for sorcery, gives her notice to quit Corinth before she can cause any trouble for him or his family. This incenses Medea who realises she is being cast out not just from her husband's bed but from the life she has known in Corinth. She faces an uncertain future in exile with her sons and turns to Aegeus, King of Athens (who just happens to be visiting) to beseech him to offer her - a non-Greek and an imminent exile - sanctuary in Athens, as the city state is famed for its 'open gate' policy, its generosity to strangers and its humanitarian values. Aegeus gives his promise to Medea that she will be granted refuge in Athens regardless of any crimes she may have been guilty of. 

Jason then informs Medea that he will not allow his sons to go into exile and advises her to make some propitiatory act to persuade Creon of her good will so he will allow her to stay, but she knows from her previous conversation with Creon that he is implacable in his insistence she must leave. 

So she plots the ultimate revenge. She pretends to have reconciled herself to Jason's marriage and sends her sons to deliver two presents to the new bride, a dress and a gold coronet. Creusa puts on the dress and crown, both of which are enchanted, and soon dies of their poisonous effects and Creon, in attempting to save her, is tainted with the poison and dies too. Medea then slays her own dear sons with a knife, this act being the cruellest conceivable blow she can inflict on the husband who has betrayed her so heartlessly. She flees Corinth for the promised refuge of Athens, where if she cannot find redemption she can at least find sanctuary.

Powerful stuff, you'll agree (and the title role remains a great part for any modern day actress to play).

statue of Medea with knife

For my latest poem, I've paraphrased some of the exchanges between Medea and Jason in the form of a mobile phone text conversation (hence the crafty punning title). Let me know if you think it works. I was in two minds whether or not to condense it down into text speak but for now it can stay as is. (If reading on a mobile phone, tip sideways into landscape mode for correct alignment of the poem.)

Social Medea

M: I am wronged. You were my whole life,

What misery, what wretchedness you've 

heaped on me by taking a younger wife!

                                                                                J: Calm down woman. I'm doing what's 

                                                                                best for us all. If you hadn't raged against

                                                                                the King and Princess you could have 

                                                                                stayed on quietly in Corinth's splendid

                                                                                halls but you've really queered your pitch.

M: Filthy coward. Ungrateful bastard. After

all I've done for you. This is my reward, to

be thrown over for that bitch, banished from 

your bed and worse, to be cast into exile 

through no fault of my own.

                                                                                J: You're just too dangerous when you're in 

                                                                                this mood. Your reputation is your curse. 

                                                                                That's why none of us is safe if you stay.

                                                                                But I won't see you penniless. I'll give you

                                                                                gold to go away and the sooner the better.

M: If you think you can shack up with that

whore and make her mother of our kids in

my place you'd better think again. Fuck

you Jason. I thought you were a better man

than this but you're just like all the rest.

                                                                                J: I'm not scared of you Medea. You'd best rein

                                                                                it in. Don't spurn my offer. Take this proffered 

                                                                                purse and may good luck accompany you.

M: All right! Since I cannot win, I give in.

I will play the social game. As a token of

my acceptance of the situation, I'll send the

boys with presents for your new bride.

                                                                                J: That's my girl. I'm pleased your tide of anger

                                                                                has turned. Make a fresh start. You're still a good 

                                                                                catch. It's the best way, believe me. I'm sure you'll 

                                                                                find a way to prosper by your arts.

M: Oh, but I believe in nothing anymore 

except cruel fate for which I am no match.

Still, I shall embrace my destiny with both 

hands and a blackened heart.

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

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Marmoreal

Following the announcement of the death of Queen Elizabeth II on Thursday afternoon, what you are reading is take two of my marmoreal (of or like marble ) blog. Think of this first section as being a prologue. For most of us, the Queen has been a constant in our lives, the longest reigning British monarch. For seventy years we have been Elizabethans. Now we are new Caroleans. The transition is going to be a strange one. I expected there would be marble busts aplenty of Queen Elizabeth II and that I would be able to incorporate an image of one into today's piece; a marmoreal in memoriam, so to speak. It seems I was overly optimistic. There are busts for sure, in bronze, in limestone, in white granite (bianco del mar), even in porcelain, but not in marble. Maybe it's not fashionable any more, maybe it requires a level of skilled workmanship in the specific material that few have, maybe Elizabeth's marble memorial is still to be created.

Marble is a metamorphic rock; i.e. what was originally sedimentary carbonate rock (most commonly limestone or dolomite) has been transformed by the action of temperatures in excess of 150 C and often considerable pressure into a different structure without it having melted. Typically those original carbonate mineral grains have crystallized (or re-crystallized) in the transformation into an interlocking mosaic thoroughly meriting the name μάρμαρος (marmaros ), ancient Greek for crystalline or shining rock. Sometimes its tone is uniformly pure. Often it is shot through with colouration from impurities, giving a striated, marbled (QED) effect.  

There are many types and grades of marble. As chance would have it, the purest, fine-grained white marble came historically from Greece, Pentelic marble quarried on Mount Pentelicus in Attica, and Parian marble from the island of Paros, which we visited in 2019. Either or both would have been the source of the marble that was used in the construction of so many ancient Greek buildings with their ornate columns, friezes and statuary.

a marble forest

Of course there are other famous 'named' marbles. Carrara from Italy is probably most widely known. Then there is Makrana from Rajasthan in India. which was used to build the Taj Mahal, Nero Marquina from Spain, a black marble, Purbeck, the commonest English marble, and Prokonnesos, fittingly from Marmara Island in Turkiye, though there are dozens more. Turkiye is actually the world's biggest exporter of marble (with 42% of the global share) followed by Italy, Greece and Spain. Unsurprisingly, the modern demand for marble is not for colonnades or sculpture but for flooring, kitchen work surfaces and luxury bathrooms.

What I did light upon when searching the marmoreal world with regal connections was this exquisite statue of Aphrodite (below) currently on display in the British Museum but actually on loan from the Royal Collection. It dates from the Antonine period (2nd century AD) and is a Roman copy of an earlier Greek original from approximately 200 BC, whereabouts now unknown. This Roman sculpture was brought to England during the first Carolean era by King Charles I, a renowned collector of Roman antiquities and beautiful women.

the Antonine Aphrodite

It was sold to the King by Duke Vincenzo II of Mantua and is listed in a Royal Collection inventory of 1631 as having been acquired from the Duke's Gonzago collection. When Charles I was executed, it was auctioned off in 1650 as part of the Commonwealth Inventory Sale. It went for £600 to the artist Peter Lely, but was returned to the Royal Collection in 1682, some twenty years after the restoration of the monarchy. At the beginning of the last century it was relocated from Kensington Palace to Windsor Castle, where it graced the Orangery for decades. It has been on long-term loan to the British Museum since 1963.

Although marble is thought of as being durable, it is not nearly as tough as an igneous rock like granite. When exposed to an increasingly polluted atmosphere full of acids, the calcium carbonate in the rock reacts with the acids to produce salts and carbon dioxide, corroding the surface. (For the same reason, proud marble worktop owners, you should never clean them with vinegar.)

But marble is solid, you'll agree, and a marble floor is a durable thing of beauty. Which leads me on to recounting the strangest sight I ever beheld. It was while holidaying on the Greek island of Zakynthos some years ago. We were staying in a pleasantly appointed villa with marble floors. We had been advised that we were in earthquake territory and that there had been a series of tremors in preceding weeks, but nothing too serious. We were also told, if we felt one, that the safest thing to do was to stand in a doorway. (Not good advice, by the way. The safest place is under a table.)

dappled shade, Zakynthos villa

The tremor struck late one afternoon. First of all, everything went quiet, the cicadas ceased droning, the birds stopped twittering. Then there was a loud rumble like a jet plane and the shockwave hit. It was over in a matter of seconds. There was no structural damage, a few things rattled, but the spookiest part of all was to see that marble floor momentarily act like a wobbling jelly as the shockwave passed through. I know in theory that every solid thing is more space than substance, (I've even written poems on the topic), but unless I'd witnessed it with my own eyes that afternoon, I wouldn't have believed that something as rigid and substantial as marble could ripple like a jelly. It was astonishing.

For Kristel

Know that for all 

your immutable beauty

your cool hauteur

your marble heart

the way it cracked

so easily susceptible

to the shivering wave

in a chaos of depravity

has left us shocked

though yes of course

we'll help pull you

out of the rubble

after the fact pretend

nothing happened

you back on that plinth.

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

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