Abduct

Abduct (pronounced ab-duhkt)

(1) To carry off or lead away (a person) illegally and in secret or by force, especially to kidnap.

(2) In physiology (as a back-formation from adduction), of certain muscles, to pull (a leg, arm etc) away from the median axis of the body.

1825–1835: From the Latin abductus, past participle of abdūcere (to abduce; to lead away) and perfect passive participle of abdūcō (to lead away), the construct being ab- (from, away from) + dūcō (lead).  The sense of the verb “abduct” meaning “to kidnap” was in use by 1834 (almost certainly as a back-formation from abduction and may be compared with the earlier transitive verb “abduce”, from abdūcō.  Abduct & abducting are verbs, abductor, abductee & abduction are nouns, abducting is a verb, & abducted is a verb & adjective, abductive is an adjective and abductively is an adverb; the common noun plural is abductions.

The noun abduction (a leading away) was in use by the 1620s and was from the Latin abductionem (a forcible carrying off, ravishing, robbing), the noun of action from past-participle stem of abducere (to lead away, take away, arrest (in use a sense of “by force” often implied although in Roman humor it seems the word was used when men approvingly discussed (legitimate, non-violent) acts of seduction)).  The construct was ab- + ducere (to lead), the latter element from the primitive Indo-European deuk- (to lead).  The modern idea of abduction as “the criminal act of forcibly taking someone (ie a kidnap) was in use by 1768, the previous uses in medicine and logic continuing, confusion avoided because the contexts were so different

In English, the sixteenth century abduce conveyed the same notions as the later abduct :(1) to conduct away; to take away; to withdraw; to draw to a different part & (2) to move a limb out away from the centre of the body but became obsolete when the alternative was preferred although it retains to this day the abstract meaning “to draw a conclusion”, used in specialized fields to describe the results of metanalysis.  In applied statistics, metanalysis is a systematic procedure (there are many) used to analyse data from two or more sources although, casually, the term is sometimes used of any analysis undertaken at a higher level of abstraction than running the numbers through a “standard analytical model”.  For those not practitioners in the field(s), what is abduced appears to be the same as what is “deduced” from the data and the difference between the terms is that abduce describes a process.

El rapto de Europa (The Rape of Europa (1628-1629)), oil on canvas by Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640), Prado Museum, Madrid (left).  It follows a 1562 work in the same vein by Tiziano Vecelli (circa 1489-1576 and known in English as Titian).  Ratto di Proserpina (The Rape of Proserpina, 1621-1622) by Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598–1680) (right).

In modern use, few words in English have, in a historical context, been as misunderstood as “rape” because the modern understanding has become so pervasive.  Rape is now (in most Western jurisdictions) held to mean “a penetrative sexual act forced upon another in the absence of their consent” (although some feminist schools of thought argue the vista should be wider) but the use of the word “rape” (sometimes retrospectively) in so much art and sculpture from Antiquity and the Middle Ages is the cause of much misunderstanding among modern audiences.  Both the French noun and verb ultimately came from the Latin rapina (act of robbery, plundering (related to rapine and the source of much modern confusion because “rape” was long used in the sense of “pillage” or “kidnapping”)) with sense development influenced by the Latin rapidus (rapid).  In the sense of “carrying off”, the English use was in parallel with the Middle French rapture with the meaning drawn from the Medieval Latin raptura (seizure, rape, kidnapping, carrying off, abduction, snatching away) and the word rape is a cognate of this.

The verb rape was from the late fourteenth century rapen (seize prey; abduct, take and carry off by force) from the noun rape and the Anglo-French raper, from the Old French rapir (to seize, abduct) which was the standard legal term, probably directly from the Latin rapere (seize, carry off by force, abduct).  The meaning “to rob, strip, plunder (a place and, more latterly, an institution)” dates from the 1720s and was a partial revival of the old sense but applied to objects rather than people; in this sense it is still used, not because there aren’t other terms to convey the meaning but because of the special force the word “rape” exerts.  Of course, in the literature and art of the Classical world and for centuries after depictions of the “rape” of women (in the sense of being abducted) likely were anyway representations of what was a prelude to sexual violation, trophies being taken for a reason so the distinction is one of linguistic practice rather than changes in the conduct of men.  Other related words have also had similar meaning shifts.  The adjective “ravishing”, dating from the mid fourteenth century and meaning “enchanting, exciting rapture or ecstasy” (present-participle adjective from the verb ravish) is now probably associated with Mills & Boon romances but the origin was sacred, the figurative notion being “carrying off from earth to heaven”.  The term “rape” is thus now obsolete in the sense of “carry off” and replaced by “abduct”, the synonyms (used variously) including drag away, kidnap, run away with, seize, spirit away etc.

Deduction, induction & abduction

A reproduction of an early edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles with illustrations by Sidney Paget (1860–1908).  It was Paget who gave Holmes the deerstalker cap and Inverness cape which became so associated with him; neither were ever mentioned by Conan Doyle.

Some subtle differences in the meanings of the sometimes confused induction & deduction were recently discussed on the BBC’s (British Broadcasting Corporation) World Book Club in an exchange between presenter Harriett Gilbert and Dr Mark Jones, co-presenter of The Doings of Doyle podcast and editor of The Sherlock Holmes Journal.  The focus of the programme was The Hound of the Baskervilles, the third of the four crime novels by British author & physician Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930), the work featuring the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes and his faithful sidekick Dr Watson.  Later published in a single edition, it originally serialised in The Strand Magazine between August 1901 and April 1902, something which accounts for the structure including a number of “cliff hanger” last sentences in chapters, a creative tension which would have worked well when readers eagerly were waiting seven days for the next instalment but which produces an unusual narrative effect when printed as a consolidated work.  The gothic Hound of the Baskervilles, which remains the best regarded of Conan Doyle’s novels, was set in the gloomy fog of Dartmoor in England’s West Country and was the tale of the search for a “fearsome, diabolical hound of supernatural origin”.  As a footnote the author's name is an example of how conventions of use influence things.  He's long been referred to as “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle” or “Conan Doyle” which would imply the surname “Conan Doyle” but his surname was “Doyle” and he was baptized with the Christian names “Arthur Ignatius Conan”, the “Conan” from his godfather.  Some academic and literary libraries do list him as “Doyle” but he's now referred to almost universally as “Conan Doyle” and the name “Arthur Doyle” would be as un-associated with him as “George Shaw” would with George Bernard Shaw (GBS; 1856-1950).  A popular perception probably is that immediately after uttering the phrase “Elementary, my dear Watson”, Holmes will go on to explain how, through a process of induction or deduction, how he solved whatever was the riddle.  Interestingly, although he had Holmes say both “elementary” and “my dear Watson”, Conan Doyle never used the two as a single text-string, the phrase appearing first in the US film The Return of Sherlock Holmes (1929).  The detective does however at various times use techniques of deduction, induction abduction.

The process of deduction moves from general rules, laws, premises, principles etc to specific conclusions on the basis if the assumptions are true and the reasoning valid, the conclusion must be true, thus the standard example cited in Philosophy 101 lectures: (1) premise 1: all humans are mortal; (2) premise 2: Socrates is a human, thus (3) the conclusion: Socrates is mortal.  What deduction relies upon is necessity (the conclusion follows with certainty).  The process of induction describes drawing conclusions from specific observations or facts so that general rules or principles can be developed.  The significance of induction is that conclusions cannot be guaranteed to be true and are assessed in terms of probability and efficacy is judged by the degree to which things tend towards certainty.  An example would be: (1) observation: every day in known history the sun has risen in the east thus (2) the conclusion: tomorrow the sun will rise in the east.  While the conclusion goes beyond observed facts (ie there is no way to view “tomorrow”), the conclusion seems probable.

Induction systems: 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR Uhlenhaut Coupé (left), 1961 Chrysler 300G Convertible (with “long ram” Sonoramic tubes, centre) and 1993 Mercedes-Benz 600 SEC (right).

Before they became almost universally covered with bland plastic moldings, the more photogenic induction systems fitted to ICEs (internal combustion engine) exerted on some a real fascination, the straight or curved tubular structures recalling architectural traditions from the baroque to brutalism.  What the tubes did was deliver the fuel/air mixture to the combustion chambers and their exaggerated length was to exploit an aspect of fluid dynamics related to Sir Isaac Newton's (1642–1727) first law of motion, more commonly known as the law of inertia: “An object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion” and it’s the second part for which the tubes were designed.  During the intake cycle of an engine, the fuel-air mix flows through the intake manifold, past the intake valve, and into the cylinder, then the intake valve shuts.  At that point, the law of inertia comes into play: Because the air was in motion, it wants to stay in motion but can’t because the valve is shut so it piles up against the valve with something of a concertina effect.  With one piece of air piling up on the next, the air becomes compressed and, being under pressure, this stuff has to go somewhere so it turns around and flows back through the intake manifold in the form of a pressure wave.  This pressure wave bounces back and forth in the runner and if it arrives back at the intake valve when the valve opens, it’s drawn into the engine.  This bouncing pressure wave of air and the proper arrival time at the intake valve creates a low-pressure form of supercharging but for this to be achieved all variables have to be aligned so the pressure wave arrives at the intake valve at the right time.  This combination of synchronized events is known as the “resonant conditions”.  All that physics is of course interesting but even those bored by the details can sometimes just admire the lines of the more exotic induction systems

The process of abduction sometimes is described as “drawing an inference to reach the most plausible explanation” which sounds a bit wishy-washy but it’s an essential element in the analytical toolbox.  In use, abduction means moving from an observation (or a opinion, which need not represent an orthodox view) to develop a hypothesis to explain it.  In this process, there should be symmetry, such as in an expression like: (1) if A were true, (2) B would be expected. (3) If B is observed, (4) A thus might be true.  So the observation “the car is covered in raindrops” means the hypothesis “it must have rained” seems reasonable.

Dr Barrett was joking.

For reasons uncertain (though there's been much speculation), since the early 1960s there have been many claims of “alien abduction”.  Many theories exploring the phenomenon come from the mental health community and discuss the effects of dreams, false memory syndrome and such but of note is the trend emerged only after the “space race” had begun and tales of “flying saucers” had for some time been part of popular culture.  The fondness alien abductors clearly have for examining abductees with “anal probes” seems to have been identified only in the 1980s and the volume of published accounts must have encouraged the trend; the devices in this context became a staple of comedy routines.

Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes is most associated with deduction but at times used all three reasoning methods and the boundaries between them are not always rigid, one sometimes blurring into another because a deduction can be dependent on a prior induction or abduction.  In The Adventure of the Speckled Band (1892) there is a clear example of the deductive (general > specific > necessary conclusion) process.  In that short story, Holmes began with the premise a person cannot from the outside unlock a locked bedroom door if one does not have the key and because the victim’s door was locked from the inside and the only key was with them in the bedroom, the murderer must have entered by some other means (which turned out to be the ventilator).  In the novel A Study in Scarlet (1887), the example of the inductive method is illustrated by Holmes astonishing knowledge of the nature of the ashes left by cigars, the detective’s explanation being that by “repeated experiments”, his study of the material allowed him to identify vital characteristics, different tobaccos leaving different ashes.  From this emerged the general rule that ashes can identify the source tobacco and thus perhaps also the smoker.  In The Hound of the Baskervilles, although there are many examples of deduction, they ultimately are contingent upon one fundamental product of the inductive method: There is no such thing as the supernatural so there can be no spectral hound stalking the moors.  From this it follows there must be a mortal flesh & blood dog, albeit one large and frightening.  It’s the simplest explanation, even though one not certain until tested by the beast being hunted down and killed.

Elope

Elope (pronounced ih-lohp)

(1) To run off secretly to be married, usually without the consent or knowledge of one's parents.

(2) To run away with a lover.

(3) To leave without permission or notification; escape:

(4) In the slang of geriatric medicine and mental health care (of a person with a mental disorder related to dementia or other cognitive impairment), to leave or run away from a safe area or safe premises.

1300s: From the Middle English alopen (to run away) (from which Anglo-Norman gained aloper) and perhaps influenced by the Middle Dutch lōpen (to run).  The Anglo-Norman aloper (to abduct, to run away from a husband with one’s lover) was from a Germanic source, either the Middle Dutch ontlopen (to run away) or some predecessor thereof.  It was cognate with the German entlaufen (to escape) and the Danish undløbe (to run away).  The sense of "run away in defiance of parental authority to marry secretly" became the standard meaning in the nineteenth century.  The now functionally extinct verb delope did not describe a young couple changing their minds and returning to their families unmarried.  It was unrelated to elope and was from the French déloper (throw away) and meant "to fire a gun into the air in order to end a duel".  Elope is a verb, eloper & elopement are nouns, eloping is a noun & verb and eloped & elopes are verbs; the most common noun plural is elopements.

The Middle Dutch (ont)lopen (run away), from ont- (away from) was from the Proto-Germanic und- (which also gave the first element in until) from the primitive Indo-European root ant- (front, forehead) with derivatives meaning "in front of, before" + lopen (to run) from the Proto-Germanic hlaupan (source also of Old English hleapan) and in support of this etymology, the OED compares Old English uðleapan, the technical word for the “escaping' of a thief”.  However the fourteenth century Anglo-French aloper (run away from a husband with one's lover) does seem the most compelling source.  Of note also is the oldest known Germanic word for "wedding", represented by the Old English brydlop (source also of the Old High German bruthlauft & the Old Norse bruðhlaup (literally "bride run) meaning "the conducting of the woman to her new home”.  Elope is a verb (used without object), eloped & eloping are verbs, elopement and eloper are nouns and the curious uneloped is an adjective.  Words similar in meaning include fly, abscond, skip, leave, decamp, bolt, escape, flee & disappear but, certainly as used today, elope is unique.

Elopement in England and Scotland

The Anglo-Norman aloper was originally a legal term meaning, of a wife, to run away from her husband with a paramour, a court journal from 1338 (during the reign of Edward III) among the earliest known recordings of court proceedings citing the word.  That was noted by John Rastell (circa 1475-1536) and his son, William Rastell (circa 1508-1565) in their 1636 legal textbook which translated what they called “…certaine difficult and obscure Words and Termes of the Common Lawes and Statutes of this Realme” from Old and Middle English into what is still a recognizably modern form.

Elopement they defined as “…when a married woman departeth from her husband with an adulterer, and dwelleth with the adulterer without voluntary reconcilement to her husband, by that she shall lose her dower…”.  They further noted the existence of a legal maxim of the time, in the form of verse:

The woman that her husband leaves

And in adultery leads her life

If that he dye vnreconcil’d

The Law endoweth no such wife

It changed.  From the twelfth to the early nineteenth century, “elope” was used to refer to a wife who had run off with her lover, the meaning shift changing tthe sense to "two single lovers running away to marry", the undeniably romantic act a thing which became popular after passing in England of the Marriage Act (1753) that required those "having not attained their majority" (ie not yet 21) to obtain in writing their parents’  consent.  Marriages being not infrequently arranged by parents with daughters’ opinions either ignored or un-sought, flights from undesired unions also became frequent and an unintended consequence of the act was the boost to Scottish tourism.  Scotland’s legal system was, and remains, separate from that of England and it not only waived the demand for parental consent but permitted marriage between girls of 12 and boys of 14 (clearly, youth "grew up quickly" in Scotland) so there was a happy conjunction between the push from the south and the pull from the north.  A sudden spike in young English lovers hastening over the border to marry ensued.  

Just across the English-Scottish border lay the village of Gretna Green which, improbably, became the Las Vegas of the era.  Under Scottish customary practice, village blacksmiths were known also as “anvil priests”, empowered to perform “anvil weddings” at their forge (although by the eighteenth century the ceremonies usually were conducted in quieter, cleaner surroundings).  Under pressure from both London and the Church of Scotland, in 1856, Scottish marriage laws were amended to try to stem the flow of elopements, requiring a couple to live in a parish for three weeks prior to the ceremony, twenty-one days ample time for families to reclaim runaways.  Scottish commerce however rose to the occasion, offering three-week (room & meals) packages with what hotels now call “silent bookings” (anonymity).  Business continued.

A residual of these times remains in Scottish law, a twenty-one day notice of marriage still required although the residency requirement has been repealed and bride and groom now have to be over sixteen to marry.  Still in the business after two-hundred and sixty years, the Old Blacksmith's Shop in Gretna Green village continues to conduct anvil weddings although there's apparently no guarantee the celebrant will be a genuine blacksmith, those of that profession not now so numerous.  Experiencing something of a post COVID-19 boom, bookings are essential.

It's a changing world and the traditional reasons for elopement now generally less prevalent, the word “elope” has been re-purposed.  When the site SheKnows commented on the path to Lindsay Lohan's nuptials: “They got engaged in November 2021 before eloping in July 2022.”, they appeared to vest "elope" with a very modern sense.  The implication seems to be if a pop-culture figure's wedding happens without being packaged as a photo collection and video stream sold to whichever outlet is (1) thought appropriate and (2) willing to pay the asking price, that’s an elopement.  That sounds right and reflects the wider net cast by contemporary celebrity culture, the modern apparatus of distribution meaning such folk now have millions from whom to elope.

Glaucus

Glaucus (pronounce gloh-kus)

(1) Bluish-green, grayish-blue, sea-colored (ie of certain seas) or a gleaming pale blue.

(2) Any member of the genus Glaucus of nudibranchiate mollusks, found in the warmer latitudes, swimming in the open sea, strikingly colored with blue and silvery white.  They’re known also as sea swallow, blue angel, blue glaucus, blue dragon, blue sea slug, blue ocean slug).  If offered the choice, the organisms presumably would prefer to be called swallows, angels or dragons rather than slugs.

(3) A desert lime (Citrus glauca), a thorny shrub species endemic to semi-arid regions of Australia.

From the Ancient Greek γλαυκός (glaukós) (the γλαῦκος (glaûkos) was an edible grey fish although the species is uncertain (perhaps the derbio)) and was taken up by the Medieval Latin as glaucus (bright, sparkling, gleaming” and “bluish-green).  There may be an Indo-European root but no link has ever been found and despite the similarity, other words used to denote gleaming or shimmering light and colors (glow, gleam etc), there’s no known etymological link and it may have been a substratum word from Pre-Greek.  The eighth century BC poet Homer used the Greek glaukos to describe the sea as “gleaming, silvery”, apparently without any suggestion of a specific color but later writers adopted it with a sense of “greenish” (of olive leaves) and “blue; gray” (of eyes).  In English, the adjective glaucous dates from the 1670s and was used to refer to shades of bluish-green or gray; it’s a popular form in botany and ornithology, describing surfaces with a powdery or waxy coating that gives a pale blue-gray appearance.  In fashion, the vagueness of glaucus (especially the adjective glaucous) makes it handy because it can be used to describe eyes or fabrics neither quite blue nor green yet really not suited to being called turquoise, teal, aqua etc.  Glaucus is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is glaucuses.

Translators seem to believe Homer's glauk-opis Athene (Athena Glaukopis) meant “bright-eyed” rather than “gray-eyed” goddess; it was an epithet emphasizing her intelligence and wisdom, the construct being glau(kos) (gleaming, silvery; bluish-green; grey) + opsis (eye; face).  The word γλαύξ (glaux) (little owl) may have been related and linked to the bird’s distinctive, penetrating stare but it may also be from a pre-Greek source.  Owls do however sometimes appear with the goddess in Greek art and, like her, became a symbol of wisdom and intelligence.  The other epithets applied to Athena included Ophthalmitis and Oxyderkous, both references to her sharp, penetrating gaze.  As a descriptor of color, glaucus was applied widely including to eyes, the sea, the sky or fabrics and was used of shining surfaces.  The descendants include the Catalan glauc, the English glaucous, the French glauque, the Romanian glauc, the Italian glauco, the Portuguese glauco, the Romanian glauc and the Spanish glauco.  The Middle English glauk (bluish-green, gray) was in use as late as the early fifteenth century.

Renaissance-era engraving of Athena, the Ancient Greek goddess of wisdom, warfare, and craft, depicted in Corinthian helmet with spear and clothed in a long πέπλος (péplos); her aegis (shield or breastplate), bearing the Gorgon's head, rests nearby.  Athena’s sacred bird, the Athene noctua (little owl) is perched atop a pile of books, symbolizing knowledge & wisdom while the creature at her feet is the chthonic serpent Erichthonius which she raised, used often to stand for the triumph of reason over chaos, thus appearing also as the sacred serpent which protected the Acropolis.  The Greek Inscription on the banner reads: ΜΟΧΘΕΙΝ ΑΝΑΓΚΗ ΤΟΥΣ ΘΕΛΟΝΤΑΣ ΕΥ ΠΡΑΤΤΕΙΝ (Those who wish to do well must undergo toil) a classical aphorism often suggested as being a paraphrasing lines from Pindar or Isocrates, extolling effort and virtue.

In the myths of Antiquity there were many tales of Glaucus and in that the character was not unusual, the figures in the stories sometimes differing in details like parentage, where they lived, the lives they led and even whether they were gods or mortals; sometimes the lives depicted bore little similarity to those in other tales.  The myths in ancient Greece were not a fixed canon in the modern Western literary tradition; they were for centuries passed down orally for centuries before being written and in different regions a poet or dramatist was likely to tell it differently.   That was not just artistic licence because the stories could be a product people would pay to hear and content providers needed new product.  Additionally, as is a well-documented phenomenon when information is passed on orally, over generations, the “Chinese whispers problem” occurs and things, organically, can change.

Lindsay Lohan’s in glaucous (in the Medieval Latin sense of gleaming as well as the color) John Galliano satin gown, worn with Santoni stilettos, Irish Wish (Netflix, 2024) premiere, Paris Theater, New York City, March, 2024.

Nor was there the modern conception of IP (intellectual property) or copyright in the characters, the myths “belonging” literally to all as a shared public cultural heritage.  Were a poet (Ovid, Homer, Hesiod etc) to “re-imagine” an old myth or use well known characters to populate a new plot, that wasn’t plagiarization but simply a creative act in interpretation or reshaping.  There were social and political determinisms in all this: We now refer casually to “Ancient Greece” but it was not a unitary state (a la modern Greece) but an aggregation of city-states with their own distinct cults, local legends and literary traditions.  So, in one region Glaucus might have been depicted as a sea-god while somewhere to the south he was a warrior; a tragedian might make Glaucus tragic, a philosopher might use him as an allegorical device and a poet might map him onto a formulaic tale of jealousy, transformation and redemption.  The best comparison is probably the fictional characters which have entered public domain (as Mickey Mouse recently achieved) and thus become available for anyone to make of what they will.  To be generous, one might suggest what the AI (artificial intelligence) companies now wish to be made lawful (vacuuming up digitized copyright material to train their LLMs (large language models) for commercial gain while not having to pay the original creators or rights holders) is a return to the literary practices of antiquity.

Lindsay Lohan’s eyes naturally (left) are in the glaucus range but with modern contact lens (right), much is possible.

So it wasn’t so much that writers felt free to adapt myths to suit their purposes but rather it would never have occurred to them there was anything strange in doing exactly that.  Significantly, any author was at any time free to create a wholly new cast for their story but just as movie producers know a film with “bankable” stars has a greater chance of success than one with talented unknowns, the temptation must have been to avoid risking market resistance and “stick to the classics”.  Additionally, what’s never been entirely certain is the extent to which the poets who wrote down what they heard were inclined to “improve” things.  The myths were in a sense entertainment but they were often also morality tales, psychological studies or statements of political ideology, a medium for exploring fate, identity, love, betrayal, divine justice and other vicissitudes of life.  The very modern notion of “authorship” would have been unfamiliar in Antiquity, a ποιητής (author; poet) being someone who “shaped” rather than “owned” them and Homer (who may not have been a single individual) was revered not because he “made up” the Trojan War, but because masterfully he recounted it, just as now historians who write vivid histories are valued. 

Some of the many lives of Glaucus (Γλαύκος)

(1) He was the son of Antenor who helped Paris abduct Helen and to punish him, his father drove him out.  He fought against the Greeks, and was said sometimes to have been slain by Agamemnon but the more common version is he was saved by Odysseus and Menelaus; as the son of Antenor, who was bound to them by ties of friendship.

(2) He was the son of Hippolochus and grandson of Bellerophon and with his cousin Sarpedon, he commanded the Lycian contingent at Troy.  In the fighting around the city, he found himself face to face with Diomedes but both recalled their families were bound by ties of friendship so the two exchanged weapons, Diomedes of bronze and Glaucus of gold.  Later, when Sarpedon was wounded, he went to assist him, but was stopped by Teucer, wounded and forced to retire from the fray.  Apollo cured Glaucus in time to recover Sarpedon's body, though he was unable to stop the Greeks stripping the corpse of its arms.  Glaucus was killed during the fight for the body of Patroclus by Ajax and on Apollo's order his body was carried back to Lycia by the winds.

(3) He was the son of Sisyphus and succeeded his father to the throne of Ephyra, which later became Corinth.  Glaucus took part in the funeral games of Pelias but was beaten in the four-horse chariot race by Iolaus; after this his mares ate him alive after being maddened either by the water of a magic well, or as a result of Aphrodite's anger, for in order to make his mares run faster Glaucus refused to let them breed, and so offended the goddess.  In another legend, this Glaucus drank from a fountain which conferred immortality. No one would believe that he had become immortal, however, so he threw himself into the sea, where he became a sea-god and every sailor who cast a gaze upon him was assured an early death.

(4) He was a sea-deity.  Glaucus was a fisherman standing on the shore when he noticed if he laid his catch upon a certain herb-covered meadow, the fish miraculously were restored to life and jumped back into the sea. Curious, he tasted the herb himself and was seized by an irresistible urge to dive into the waters where the sea goddesses cleansed him of his remaining traces of mortality.  With that, he assumed a new form, his shoulders grew broader and his legs became a fish’s tail, his cheeks developed a thick beard (tinted green like the patina of bronze) and he became a part of the oceanic pantheon.  He also received the gift of prophecy to become a protector of sailors, often giving oracles and wisdom drawn from the sea.

Glaucus et Scylla (1726), oil on canvas by Jacques Dumont le Romain (1704-1781), (Musée des Beaux-Arts de Troyes). 

(5) Virgil made him the father of the Cumaean Sibyl and he appeared to Menelaus when the latter was returning from Troy; in some traditions he is said to have built the Argo and to have accompanied the ship on its voyage.  Glaucus courted Scylla unsuccessfully, and also tried to win the favours of Ariadne when Theseus abandoned her on Naxos. In that quest he failed but Dionysus included him in his train when the god took her away and made her his wife.

(6) He was the son of Minos and Pasiphae and while still a child he was chasing a mouse when he fell into a jar of honey and drowned.  When Minos finally found his son's corpse, the Curetés told him the child could be restored to life by the man who could best describe the colour of a certain cow among his herds which changed its colour three times a day.  It first became white, then red and finally became black.  Minos asked all the cleverest men in Crete to describe the colour of the cow and it was Polyidus who answered that the cow was mulberry-coloured, for the fruit is first white, turns red, and finally goes black when ripe. Minos felt that Polyidus had solved the problem and told him to bring Glaucus back to life, shutting him up with Glaucus' body.  Polyidus was at his wits' end, until he saw a snake make its way into the room and go over towards the body. He killed the serpent but soon a second came in and, seeing the first lying dead, went out before returning carrying in its mouth a herb with which it touched its companion.  Immediately, the snake was restored to life so Polyidus rubbed this herb on Glaucus, who revived at once.  Minos, however, was still not satisfied.  Before allowing Polyidus to return to his fatherland he demanded that the soothsayer should teach Glaucus his art.  This Polyidus did, but when he was finally allowed to go, he spat into his pupil's mouth, and Glaucus immediately lost all the knowledge he had just acquired.  In other versions of the legend, it was Asclepius, not Polyidus, who brought Glaucus back to life.