One of the fun things about WordPress is that, on the blog dashboard, I get a read-out of all the search engine terms that people enter that come up with results on my site. Not surprisingly, from a very early date “Antinous” has usually been foremost among those. At most, these search engine terms tend to be one, two, or usually no more than three words long. But, an interesting one has come up in the last few days, and it is the subject line of this entry: “Is Polydeukion A Gay God?”

Well, I’m a big fan of talking about Polydeukion (as recent entries show!). He’s one of the Treískouroi, the “Three Boys/Youths,” along with Antinous and Lucius Marius Vitalis; and the phenomenon of his cultus is extremely interesting in its own right. So, I’ll take this opportunity to address him and this subject further, for the benefit of anyone who might make that search engine inquiry again in the future–and if you, search engine querent, happen to be reading this entry, I’d love to hear your comments and feedback below!

First, let’s address the second term of significance in that phrase: “god.” Polydeukion is not a god, per se. Polydeukes of the Dioskouroi is a god, certainly–he was the “more divine” of the pair, and even though those gods are sometimes called heroes instead, they are very often called gods. This ambiguity of terminology exists for a lot of ancient divine figures, including Herakles, Asklepios, and various other figures that might be classed as “demi-gods.” It also exists for Antinous, but for different reasons: he is called a hero in some places, and a god in others. Many people in the modern world would not see much of a difference between a god, a demi-god, a hero, a deified mortal, and a variety of other types of divine figure; and, there’s nothing wrong with allowing for that sort of ambiguity. The formerly mortal often have a closer relationship to “current mortals” than the gods do, and thus it is understandable to be more attached to or attracted to many of them.

Polydeukion, the trophimos of Herodes Attikos, however, is never called a god in any extant piece of evidence from the ancient world–the limited number of inscriptions of or to him that survive from the time of the late second century never refer to him as a theos, only as a hero; and even then, very rarely. The very limited number of literary texts that speak of him do not address his divine status or theological classification at all: Lukian of Samosata, Philostratus, and Aulus Gellius’ writings say nothing on this, while they do mention Polydeukion (though Gellius does not do so by name).

The image above is often said to be Polydeukion, but it is not; scholars are in agreement that it is probably one of the other Trophimoi of Herodes Attikos, Achilles. While many more identifiable images of Polydeukion survive than of the other two Trophimoi–and, indeed, more images of him survive than of any other private Greek individual for all of ancient history!–at roughly 25 such portraits, to Achilles’ putative two or three and Memnon’s one, and, further, Herodes seems to have honored him more highly than the other two Trophimoi, nonetheless it is evident that Achilles, Memnon, and Polydeukion all received heroic honors from Herodes Attikos; his wife, Appia Annia Regilla, also received heroic honors and multiple cenotaphs. It is unknown whether Herodes Attikos honored Antinous as a god, but it looks more like he honored him as a hero in shrines at one of his private villas, and the hero cultus that he did for him shaped his eventual hero cultus of the Trophimoi, his own deceased children, and his wife. So, while Polydeukion may be foremost among the mortals honored by Herodes due to the number of his images, the number of surviving inscriptions, and the evidence of games held in his honor, it is well to remember that Polydeukion was not alone in his heroic honors.

This brings us to the first term of the inquiry in relation to Polydeukion: was he “gay”? Well, apart from the historicist and cultural constructionist argument–namely, that “gay” is a term that is only really appropriate to describing the sexual orientation of people in the modern world, not the ancient world–there is literally not a single shred of evidence to suggest that he was in any way homoerotically inclined. Royston Lambert writes of him that he is a “rather unattractive” youth, which I find laughable personally, but I think it can be agreed that Polydeukion is portrayed–whether lifelike and accurate or not–in a far less erotically suggestive light than Antinous is.

Because Herodes Attikos was a Romanized Greek, and Hadrian was a Hellenophile Roman, and the latter engaged in the traditional erastes/eromenos relationship with Antinous, and Herodes was a conscious admirer and imitator of Hadrian, and finally that Herodes heroized Polydeukion in a parallel fashion to Antinous’ cultus, it has therefore been syllogized by many modern scholars that, therefore, Herodes’ relationship to Polydeukion was one of an erastes/eromenos character rather than anything else. But, as I said, there is absolutely nothing to suggest this is the case, or that this interpretation–while possible–is the most viable.

With one exception (which will be dealt with below), Polydeukion is not portrayed in any fashion in surviving images that suggest eroticization of any sort. His full name, as known, is Vibullius Polydeukion, and Herodes’ mother’s name was Vibullia Alkia, which makes it very likely that Polydeukion was a relative–whether more distant or more proximate–of Herodes. It has been suggested that when Hadrian was younger, Trajan was not merely his guardian but also his elder lover, and they were cousins; this is far from certain, but it is possible, and therefore it seems possible that the same could be true of Herodes and Polydeukion, even if they were related. However, we have the direct words of Herodes in at least one case–an inscription on a monument he set up, complete with a curse for anyone who might deface it–which indicates the nature of their relationship: Herodes mourned him because he “loved him as a son.” While many intergenerational modern gay relationships have the “daddy/son” element to them, this wasn’t the usual arrangement of the erastes/eromenos relationship in the past, it was more of a “patron/apprentice” or “teacher/student” relationship in the classical cases. As Polydeukion was a Trophimos, “foster-son” (although some have instead understood that term as “pet human”–?!?), of Herodes, it seems fairly clear to me that their relationship was one of surrogate sonship, and that Herodes viewed Polydeukion–and the other two Trophimoi–as the sons he would have liked to have had himself, considering that his own male children either died in their extreme youth or infancy, or displeased him greatly (in the case of Attikos Bradua).

The single depiction of Polydeukion that exists in which he is portrayed nude is the one seen above here, in the hero-shrine that was developed at one of Herodes’ Arcadian villas, which had been a hero-shrine to Antinous previously. However, the nudity here is not erotic (and in the Achilles relief sculpture above, it isn’t either–in the Achilles relief case, it is “heroic”), it is heroic or divine, and signifies that Polydeukion is dead and in the process of being divinized or heroized. Herodes is standing giving Polydeukion instructions, while Polydeukion himself seems to be following along on a script or crib-sheet of his own, which suggests that there is an element similar to the Orphic texts that accompanied various individuals in their burials, the sort of brief “books of the dead” that instructed them on how to proceed in the afterlife when certain challenges confronted them. Indeed, one of the surviving inscriptions that Polydeukion himself made before his death was a dedication to Dionysos, who was intimately involved in the Orphic Mysteries. So, you can imagine Herodes here saying to him “Now, when you get down to Hades, make sure you drink from the cold spring of Lethe past the white cypress tree, and not the other spring–okay, have fun!” as if he’s sending him off to school for the day. Herodes, the great sophist, was ever the teacher…and in this, I fully understand and echo his own position!

So, to answer the direct and full question, “Is Polydeukion a gay god?” I would have to say no.

However, that doesn’t mean that modern gay people can’t do cultus to him, or that Polydeukion himself would not be interested in such things (even though in his own time there wouldn’t have been much understanding of “sexual orientation” as a concept outside of certain limited circles).

In the book Etched Offerings: Voice from the Cauldron of Story, I wrote a short story called “Anankê Antínoou (Contingent Histories Along a Shard of the Second Sophistic),” which is a series of three “alternate histories,” one of which involves Antinous living to a ripe old age and dying of natural causes. In that story, he ends up being the erastes of Polydeukion. I had not originally intended for that to be the case, until I realized something: if Polydeukion was born in c. 145 CE (which would be the time Attikos Bradua was born, and thus if Polydeukion was one of the “alphabet boys” that were his contemporaries, as seems likely, then they’d be the same age), then when Antinous was 48 in 158, Polydeukion would have been 13; and when Hadrian was 48 in 124, that was about the time he met Antinous, and if it were before November of that year, then Antinous would also have been 13 years old. Just as his elder lover had done, Antinous in turn had a youthful lover, and had he lived longer, it very well could have ended up being Polydeukion. And, like many people of that era, it wouldn’t have been inappropriate or unusual for him to have done so, very likely with the blessing of Herodes Attikos in the process.

But, even though that did not happen, nonetheless there is a shared element between them, and a manner in which Antinous “passed the torch” to Polydeukion, at least as far as widely-famed Greek immortalization and subsequent success in propagated and surviving statuary goes. If Antinous was like the divine Polydeukes, then Polydeukion was like Kastor, the beneficiary of the other’s immortality to ensure his own. And that is no small thing!

So, may we recall all of these figures, and praise them, and thank them for all that they have left us, and all that they may teach us!

On the first day of Paganalia, spelt cakes were offered to Tellus Mater, the Roman “earth mother.” (The following day is dedicated to Ceres, and a similar offering is given for her.) Ovid’s Fasti I.655-704 has this to say on the 24th of January, but in relation to the Paganalia/Sementivae:

After Lyra vanishes into obscurity, the fire that gleams
At the heart of the Lion will be sunk in the sea at dawn.
I have searched the calendar three or four times,
But nowhere found the Day of Sowing:
Seeing this the Muse said: ‘That day is set by the priests,
Why are you looking for moveable days in the calendar?’
Though the day of the feast’s uncertain, its time is known,
When the seed has been sown and the land’s productive.’
You bullocks, crowned with garlands, stand at the full trough,
Your labour will return with the warmth of spring.
Let the farmer hang the toil-worn plough on its post:
The wintry earth dreaded its every wound.
Steward, let the soil rest when the sowing is done,
And let the men who worked the soil rest too.
Let the village keep festival: farmers, purify the village,
And offer the yearly cakes on the village hearths.
Propitiate Earth and Ceres, the mothers of the crops,
With their own corn, and a pregnant sow’s entrails.
Ceres and Earth fulfil a common function:
One supplies the chance to bear, the other the soil.
‘Partners in toil, you who improved on ancient days
Replacing acorns with more useful foods,
Satisfy the eager farmers with full harvest,
So they reap a worthy prize from their efforts.
Grant the tender seeds perpetual fruitfulness,
Don’t let new shoots be scorched by cold snows.
When we sow, let the sky be clear with calm breezes,
Sprinkle the buried seed with heavenly rain.
Forbid the birds, that prey on cultivated land,
To ruin the cornfields in destructive crowds.
You too, spare the sown seed, you ants,
So you’ll win a greater prize from the harvest.
Meanwhile let no scaly mildew blight its growth,
And let no bad weather blanch its colour,
May it neither shrivel, nor be over-ripe
And ruined by its own rich exuberance.
May the fields be free of darnel that harms the eyesight,
And no barren wild oats grow on cultivated soil.
May the land yield rich interest, crops of wheat
And barley, and spelt roasted twice in the flames.’
I offer this for you, farmers, do so yourselves,
And may the two goddesses grant our prayers.
War long gripped mankind: the sword was more useful
Than the plough: the ox yielded to the warhorse:
Hoes were idle, mattocks made into javelins,
And heavy rakes were forged into helmets.
Thanks to the gods, and your house, under your feet
War has long been bound in chains.
Let the ox be yoked, seed lie beneath ploughed soil:
Peace fosters Ceres, and Ceres is child of Peace.

While I am not a planter, farmer, or even gardener myself, it seems quite obvious to me that the earth–whether we personify her or not, whether we accept her as Gaia or Tellus Mater or any number of other goddesses (or, in the case of Egypt, as the god Geb!)–is the foundation of our lives, full-stop. Being that this is a planting festival in origin, I am thinking about what I’ve sown recently, not only in practical terms but in the context of my relationships with others, both long-term and casual. Have I sown discord, or concord? Have I sown friendship, or strife? Have I sown hatred and dissension, or have I sown the seeds of love? It’s something any of us can ask ourselves…

I also would be an advocate of pagans across theological lines honoring a festival that is named after us and has direct relevance to almost all of us: Paganalia, a festival of “paganism” in its original meaning, i.e. rural people of the fields and of the earth. And, since the significance of the holy occasion is the honoring of two major earth goddesses, and the thing which (in interfaith circles) paganism is touted as bringing–almost uniquely when it comes to Western religions–is the importance of the feminine element in divinity, perhaps this should be a holy-day that is more frequently reckoned in an intrafaith manner, not just among Roman-based practitioners. (Yes, many would say, “Oh, but we don’t need to, because Imbolc is a goddess festival and it’s a week later…but, why not have “both/and”?)

So, that’s my reflection for the day. I will have a further post after this one relating to something intriguing, which I’ll say more about therein.

Ignis Corporis Infirmat, Ignis sed Animae Perstat for Virginia Woolf! Happy Robert Burns Day!

Ave Tellus Mater! Ave Ceres! Ave Pax! Felix Paganalia!

And (and AND!), on further thought after the first post this morning, I realized there is one more poem I’ve written to (or about, or as) Hadrian in the past that might be suitable for the occasion today. It’s something that may have been said by him in his mourning for Antinous, or even in those short moments of doubt after his death when he had still not seen Antinous revealed in his divine glory. I thought of the title first, and then the concept solidified, and I used the five lines of Hadrian’s epitaph, “Animula Vagula Blandula,” in reverse order (and translated!) as the first line and epigraph of five sections of the poem. It is both based on the fact that Hadrian may have been subject to damnatio memoriae had Antoninus Pius not insisted he be deified; and also the writing of Julian the Apostate when he critiqued the notion of Antinous’ divinity. The title itself is a paraphrase of a work by Erasmus of Rotterdam, on a particular pope (Julius) being excluded from paradise after his death; the theme, of course, is similar.

This poem will be published later this year in Scarlet Imprint’s second anthology of esoteric poetry, Mandragora, along with an essay I’ve written, and a ton of other wonderful poetic and essay submissions by loads of brilliant and beautiful people–many of whom I know personally! So, I’m looking forward to that. I honestly think this was one of the best poems I’ve written in the last few years, and thus I’m glad it is the one they chose to include, even though I had hoped to have a few other of my favorites published in there as well–but, I’m perfectly happy to take what I’ve been given in this regard. Meanwhile, here it is!

Hadrianus Exclusus

“…and I will not make my usual jokes…”

There are whispers of damnation,
there are murmurs that I will be forgotten
before the altar of Roma herself,
the altar I myself commissioned.

There are uncertainties in death,
that pious successors may not be trusted,
that youthful brilliance dies too soon,
is cut down as a shoot or bud, never withering

the way that even the least resplendent
flowers are allowed when their days expire.
I seek the immovable firmament of the heavens,
the very arched halls of Olympus immortal.

They say the gods are laughing at my approach,
they mutter that they will sneer at my question,
they anticipate the mocking answer to come:
“He was never here.”

But the question must be asked…

“…in cold, dark, gloomy places…”

I will not seek for you in Olympus’ courts,
not in the wheat field of Elysium,
not on the shaded banks of the Styx
nor in the dry grey plains of Hades.

You are not there. The same was said
of that Galilean when his women
came before the fisher-folk to his tomb,
and a messenger told them he was not there.

They paused for fear, they fled in joy,
this emptiness which was fulfillment.
I have moved the firmament for you,
reinscribed its stars in memory of your name,

I have opened every road in the earth
and every way in heaven I have cleared
so that you may wander as you might wish,
where none have ventured before.

It is there I will find you.

“…to what places will I set out for now?…”

If there is no place for me, none for you,
then it is well, for we shall make one
for ourselves, if for no one else.
I have built walls that divide islands,

I have built bridges that span rivers,
I have made temples of such size and beauty
even the architects of the heavens are envious.
I have made cities rise from dust and desert.

If there be a limit in the heavenly spheres,
even then, I will carve out a space for us,
I will fashion an enclosure of subtle arts,
where starlight will suffuse the cracks

in woven walls of mud and even dung.
For I have raised prayers more rare
to the sky and the four corners of the cosmos
on stone monuments.

Nothing less for your body.

“…body’s guest and companion…”

For if I am with you as my sole friend,
if none else of the celestial hosts,
of the shades of the dead, of immortal gods,
if even these shun my company, curse my name,

it is as nothing to me, for my soul is sated.
If you are in my sight, then mud is marble,
then even the squalid shit of swine
can be as polished pale alabaster.

I would trade the undying ambrosial fountain
for the kiss of your lips, the water of your eyes.
Take Hebe, take Ganymede, take Dionysos,
and give me a broken couch with you on it.

Let me lie with dogs if we are hounds leashed together,
leave me naked in the rain and I will clothe myself
with your body, with your breath for warmth,
with these things alone.

I will not be alone.

“…little soul, little wanderer, little charmer…”

I will give my immortality up if it means
that you and I may be together.
If it is dead that I must remain,
I am not dead if you are at my side.

We are not brothers like Castor and Pollux,
born of one mother and father, but brothers
like the Sacred Band of Thebes, a pair of men
inseparable by bonds more binding than blood.

This is not poetry speaking, not the orator’s art,
not a rhetorical exercise, not the Muses’ speech.
I make no jokes now, this naked soul of mine,
I make no separation between self and speaking,

nor do I place any distance between you and I.
We two are divine, I am made god by you
sure as by Apis bull and by phoenix I was heralded.
We are gods together. Antinous and Hadrian.

The heavens hold nothing

you and I do not…

Something I had meant to do on my first post of today, but forgot, was to put in a few photos of the few sculptural fragments remaining from the Hadrianeum in Rome. As I considered coming back and adding them in, I suddenly had a strange notion: what if the four hunting tondi on the Arch of Constantine were not from some separate hunting monument, but instead were from the Hadrianeum, and were looted from there when the temple was destroyed? And, what if we had a way of seeing what the apotheosis relief of Hadrian would have looked like there? Suddenly, I had a narration from Herakles/Hercules on this matter, across four different poems that would each be in a different meter or format. The first one, while metered, is not rhymed; the second is a short villanelle; the third is a slightly modified sonnet; and the fourth is a series of haiku. Hercules relates parts of the biography of Hadrian in relation to his own sacred places, epithets, syncretisms, and aspects.

I think it is not too much of an overstatement that even the gods honor Hadrian on this day, as he honored so many of them. So, let us join Herakles/Hercules’ thoughts on these matters, accompanied by some pictures of the remaining bits of the Hadrianeum, and one of Hadrian’s Wall for good measure (and appropriateness!).

Hercules Praises Hadrian

I.

I see a child, born on this day
in Hispania’s Gades great,
patronized by my Tyrian
aspect when I traveled further
to the pillars of the wide sea.

He will come to travel as far
as I did in my wanderings,
he will be visitor elsewhere
in Syrian Palmyra’s sphere
where I am called Nergal.

II.

I sing the song of Tibur’s Villa fair
the ruler who presided in its halls
the light of Roma’s empire that lives there.

The sanctuary safe from strife and care
where oracle of Trophonius calls–
I sing the song of Tibur’s Villa fair.

The Salii with shield and sword prepare
their dances that I patronize, where falls
the light of Roma’s empire that lives there.

Antinous with obelisk–so rare–
will be remembered where estate’s edge sprawls…
I sing the song of Tibur’s Villa fair,
the light of Roma’s empire that lives there.

III.

Where he builds the dirt-banked ditch and wall
like necklace spanning island shore to shore
cutting off rebellion’s head of war–
an isle where manifold the ways they call
names I have been given: Invictus,
“the undefeated”; Victor, sound ‘midst strain;
Saegon, Magusanus…they are fain
to style me, but of these, Augustus
is the name I’m owed to him alone
seated, lion-girdled, on his throne.

IV.

Note the features here:
for one day in the autumn
of city they’re gone.

Hadrianeum
the name of the temple bright
dedicated thus–

with reliefs of hunts
lion, running bear, tusked boar,
horse and hound in chase;

the one nude figure
the hero and lover true
Antinous…slain.

Sacrifices four
to the children of Leto
and Pan-Silvanus

and also myself;
in the company of friends
offerings are made.

But look at this one
crumbled by time, deliberate
its destruction is:

apotheosis,
the genius of Augustus
the numen, winged

carries him into
the halls of Mount Olympus–
Zeus’ company:

Roma rejoices,
Mars exults, Ptah with Nilus,
Antinous smiles.

So, as you may be able to guess from the subject line of this entry, one of the two texts I wrote for Hadrian today is yet another adoration post (thank you once again for starting the trend, Sannion!), to accompany the one I wrote for Antinous recently.

Why the number 76? It’s the year (by our reckoning) of Hadrian’s birth; and, it’s also the last two digits of the year of my own birth, and I’ve always liked it as a number. Now, you may say I cheated with this one, because I just broke up bits of Hadrian’s cursus honoratus and titulature for the beginning of it–something he shared with many different emperors–but oh well…and, I ended up having a lot more lines that connect him to other people and deities. But, I don’t think that’s a bad thing necessarily. One of the things I like most about a prodigious and thriving polytheism is that it makes one realize how not only dependent, but interdependent, we all are on each other, and how the interconnections of the gods, ancestors, and Sancti all make us the unique constellations that we are.

So, I hope you like this one! Even though the title is in Latin, and the first word of the salutation is (appropriately!) Salve, pretty much the rest of it–with one small exception–is in English. I am pretty happy that on my initial writing of this, I was able to do it entirely off the top of my head, and upon checking the accuracy of certain things afterwards, found I was around 95% correct in remembering some of these matters–not bad for only one hour of sleep! Here we go…

Salutis Divi Hadriani Augusti LXXVI

Salve Hadrian father of his country.
Salve Hadrian three times consul.
Salve Hadrian twice emperor.
Salve Hadrian pontifex maximus.
Salve Hadrian twenty-two years in the tribunician power.
Salve Hadrian heir of Augustus.
Salve Hadrian son of the Divine Trajan.
Salve Hadrian grandson of the Divine Nerva.
Salve Hadrian son of the Divine Plotina.
Salve Hadrian grandson-in-law of the Divine Marciana.
Salve Hadrian son-in-law of the Divine Matidia.
Salve Hadrian brother of the Divine Domitia Paulina.
Salve Hadrian husband of the Divine Sabina.
Salve Hadrian lover of Antinous.
Salve Hadrian father of the Divine Aelius Caesar.
Salve Hadrian father of the Divine Antoninus Pius.
Salve Hadrian grandfather of the Divine Marcus Aurelius.
Salve Hadrian grandfather of the Divine Lucius Verus.
Salve Hadrian archon of Athens.
Salve Hadrian honored guest of Palmyra.
Salve Hadrian prefect of the Ist Minerval Legion.
Salve Hadrian restorer of Britannia.
Salve Hadrian pacificator of Parthia.
Salve Hadrian Pharaoh of the Two Lands.
Salve Hadrian of Gades in Hispania.
Salve Hadrian of Tibur in Latium.
Salve Hadrian of Rome.
Salve Hadrian friend of Arrian of Nikomedia.
Salve Hadrian friend of Polemo of Smyrna.
Salve Hadrian friend of Herodes Attikos.
Salve Hadrian friend of Philopappus of Athens.
Salve Hadrian friend of Quinctianus Caesarnius.
Salve Hadrian friend of Statianus Caesarnius.
Salve Hadrian friend of C. Julius Eurykles Herculanus.
Salve Hadrian patron of Pachrates of Heliopolis.
Salve Hadrian patron of Numenios of Herakleia Pontica.
Salve Hadrian patron of Favorinus of Arles.
Salve Hadrian patron of Strato.
Salve Hadrian patron of Julia Balbilla.
Salve Hadrian patron of Marcus Cornelius Fronto.
Salve Hadrian patron of Lucius Marius Vitalis.
Salve Hadrian patron of Apollodorus of Damascus.
Salve Hadrian freer of Phlegon of Tralles.
Salve Hadrian freer of Mesomedes of Crete.
Salve Hadrian freer of Germana.
Salve Hadrian student of Apollonius of Tyana.
Salve Hadrian student of Epicurus.
Salve Hadrian interlocutor of Secundus.
Salve Hadrian interlocutor of Epictetus.
Salve Hadrian favored of Re-Harakhte.
Salve Hadrian favored of Hapi.
Salve Hadrian votary of Aphrodite.
Salve Hadrian votary of Eros.
Salve Hadrian like Mars the Protector.
Salve Hadrian like Hercules the Victor.
Salve Hadrian like Serapis the Joiner of Peoples.
Salve Hadrian like Olympian Zeus.
Salve Hadrian the hearer of Memnon.
Salve Hadrian the New Dionysos.
Salve Hadrian the Leader of the Muses.
Salve Hadrian epoptes of Eleusis.
Salve Hadrian follower in Alexander’s footsteps.
Salve Hadrian patron of sacred games.
Salve Hadrian founder of mysteries.
Salve Hadrian builder of the Pantheon.
Salve Hadrian restorer of Ephesus.
Salve Hadrian hunter of lions.
Salve Hadrian hunter of boars.
Salve Hadrian hunter of bears.
Salve Hadrian the combative poet.
Salve Hadrian the skilled orator.
Salve Hadrian the learned sophist.
Salve Hadrian the innovative architect.
Salve Hadrian the Greekling.
Salve Hadrian the far-traveler.
Salve Hadrian most brilliant of emperors.