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.