Oracle

Oracle (pronounced awr-uh-kuhl)

(1) As used especially in reference to Ancient Greece, an utterance, often ambiguous or obscure, given by a priest or priestess at a shrine as the response of a god to an inquiry.

(2)  The agency or medium giving such responses.

(3) A shrine or place at which such responses were given (classically the oracle of Apollo at Delphi).

(4) A person who delivers authoritative, wise, or highly regarded and influential pronouncements.

(5) A divine communication or revelation; a prophecy, often obscure or allegorical, revealed through the medium of a priest or priestess at the shrine of a god

(6) Any person or thing serving as an agency of divine communication.

(7) Any utterance made or received as authoritative, extremely wise, or infallible.

(8) The English translation for The Holy of Holies, the term in the Hebrew Bible which refers to the inner sanctuary of the Tabernacle where God's presence appeared.

(9) In computer science theory, a theoretical entity capable of answering some collection of questions.

1350–1400: From the Middle English oracle (a message from a god expressed by divine inspiration through a priest or priestess (in answer to a human inquiry, usually respecting some future event)) via the twelfth century Old French oracle (temple, house of prayer; oracle) from the Latin ōrāclum & ōrāculum (divine announcement, oracle; place where oracles are given), the construct being ōrare (to pray to, plead to, beseech (from which Modern English gained orator)) + the instrumental suffix -culo- (as -culum (a re-bracketing of diminutive suffix -lus on nouns ending in -cus, used freely in Latin)).  Ōrāculum was the alternative form with similar forms also in Hittite where it meant either “to worship; revere” or “to consult an oracle”.  In Attic Greek the equivalent was ἀρά (ará) (prayer) and in the Sanskrit it was आर्यन्ति (āryanti) (praise).  Ōrō is from the primitive Indo-European hzer- (to pronounce a ritual). The diminutive suffix culum was from -culus, from the Proto-Italic -klom, from the primitive Indo-European -tlom, from -trom.  Interestingly there is stabulum which comes from a similar suffix (-dhlom) but, despite the resemblance, osculum (which is never found in the form osclum) and other diminutive nouns do not contain this suffix.  Oracle is a noun & verb, oracularity is a noun and oracular is an adjective; the noun plural is oracles.

The dualism of the oracle as (1) the agency or medium of a god and (2) the place where such divine utterances were given dates from antiquity and was another of those things which wasn't always appreciated by Medieval translators which accounts for some of the misleading documents (presumably the work of more than one scribe) in which the senses shift which in some way anticipated (however inadvertently) Marshall McLuhan's (1911–1980) distinctly twentieth century construct of "the medium is the message" the influential phrase from his Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (1964).  The notion of the oracle as a physical place entered English in the early fifteenth century, the extended sense of "uncommonly wise person" developed by the 1590s.  The adjective oracular (of or pertaining to, or of the nature of, an oracle or oracles) emerged in the 1670s, the construct being from the Latin ōrāculum (see oracle) + -ar ((from the Latin -āris (of, pertaining to) and was appended to nouns to create adjectives).  The now extinct (although it has of course been seen in the odd literary novel) was oraculous, dating from the 1610s.

The GHD Oracle

Art of the possible: A post GHDed young lady (GHD promotional image).

Claimed by the GHD corporation (which really is an initialism of Good Hair Day) to have taken six years and absorbed some Stg£5.2 million (US$6.3m) in research & development (R&D), the Oracle styling tool was in 2019 simultaneously launched with the Platinum+, an upgrade of the Platinum styler, first introduced in 2015.  The Platinum+ was an evolution from its predecessor, featuring enhanced heat management to maintain a hair-safe temperature and new sensors which recognise the thickness of hair, the section size and the speed at which hair is passing through, adjusting the power to suit.  Importantly, the Platinum can be used in exactly the same way as previous GHD stylers.  In the way that sometimes happens in English, because in the 1970s the term "hair straightener" achieved critical mass, it remains something of a generic and modern multi-function devices (which curl and wave as well as straighten) still are often casually referred to as such.  

Progress: A young lady having her hair ironed (left), Queens, New York City, 1964 and a GHD Oracle (GHD promotional image) (right).  Advances in engineering and technology over the last 60-odd years have transformed the lives of most of the planet’s population and the availability of first hair strengtheners and later styling wands is one small aspect of this phase of modernity.  The devices mean girls no longer have to have their hair ironed.

The Oracle is different in both design and use, featuring a U-shaped clamp, with one cooling plate on top and ceramic heater plates on each arm to maintain the temperature at 365˚F (185˚C), the innovation in the heated hair being cooled before leaving the styler which GHD said helps set curls in place.  However, the design does demand a different technique in use because there's a defined “curl-zone” and the positioning of the hair in relation to this space is critical: the Oracle must exactly be positioned.  GHD’s manual instructs that to achieve what they describe as zig-zaggy, energetic, beachy curls, the styler needs first to be vertically adjacent to the head, then turned 90˚, then, with the logo facing outwards, moved in a gentle gliding action along the hair at a 45˚ angle.  Given the dexterity demanded, perhaps unsurprisingly, users in GHD’s test-labs reported the right-handed found the right-side easier to style, left-handers preferring the left.  Using the Oracle does necessitate movements of wrists and arms very different from those used with GHD’s traditional products.  For this reason, the Oracle is available only in hair salons with the purchase price  including an instructional session from a stylist.

Suspected GHD Oracle user Lindsay Lohan who over the years has done more with her hair than most.

Sisyphean

Sisyphean (pronounced sis-uh-fee-uhn)

(1) Of or relating to Sisyphus.

(2) Something endless and unavailing (describing usually some laborious or repetitive task).

1625–1635: From the Ancient Greek name Sīsýpheios or Sī́syphios, the construct being Sīsýphe + -eios (from the Latin adjectival suffix -ēiōs, the accusative masculine plural of –ēius).  Some etymologists suggest the name has a pre-Greek origin and some connection with the root of the word sophos (σοφός) (wise) while one noted German mythographer thought it derived from sisys (σίσυς) (a goat's skin), a reference to a rain-charm in which goats' skins were used.  A sisyphean task is one which comes to be understood as both endless and futile; no longer how long one persists, the task is never done.  Because it’s based on a name, Sisyphean is often capitalized, but not always and is is used especially in the phrases “Sisyphean task” & “Sisyphean labors”.  The comes from the name of Sisyphus, a character in Greek mythology who was punished by being forced continuously and eternally to roll a boulder up a steep hill and just as he was about the reach the top, the boulder would roll back down, and he’d have to start all over again.  The phrase is now used of any task which seems never to end no matter how diligent one may be, such as clearing the contents of one’s inbox.  A classic modern example (which apparently wasn’t quite true) was the task is allocated to the team painting the Sydney Harbour Bridge; by the time they finished at the northern end, it was time to return to the south and start again.  Sisyphean is an adjective.

In Greek mythology, Sisyphus (Σίσυφος) was the most cunning (if not the most admirable) of mortals.  A Thessalian prince and founder of Corinth (then called Ephyra), he was the son of King Aeolus of Aeolia and Enarete, the daughter of Deimachus and in the way the myths of Antiquity bounced around a bit, he was either the successor and avenger of Corinthus or the successor of Medea.  In the best known of the myths, Autolycus had stolen flocks of sheep from Sisyphus, but because he had engraved his name under the hoof of each, he was able to reclaim them by pointing to the etchings and that day happened to be the eve of the marriage of Anticleia, daughter of Autolycus, and Laertes.  Still not best pleased about the theft of his livestock, Sisyphus that night found his way into the bride’s bed and from that vengeful conquest was born Odysseus.  Those facts are agreed but in some of the myths a scheming Autolycus offered his daughter to Sisyphus because he wanted a grandson to inherit his wiliness & cunning.  The variations in the myths have attracted much comment and it wasn’t until the seventeenth century that some were found to be the work of Medieval writers but some of those with sometimes contradictory “alternative facts” were from Antiquity and it needs to be remembered that many were written by “content providers” who created their “new” product from an existing and popular cast of characters.  In that the process was much the same as the modern equivalent, the US daytime TV soaps, where “killed off” characters can re-appear and on one celebrated occasion, one who had lost a leg managed in a later season to show up again bipedal.

When Zeus abducted Aegina he travelled through Corinth where he was seen by Sisyphus and when her father Asopus came searching for her, Sisyphus promised to reveal the kidnapper's name on condition that Asopus made a spring gush on the town's citadel.  To this Asopus agreed and Sisyphus told him Zeus was the guilty one; here again the myths take forks.  In one telling an enraged Zeus struck the snitch with a thunderbolt, hurling him into the Underworld, where he was condemned for eternity to roll an enormous rock up a hill, the big stone always to roll back to the bottom just as the peak was approached.  However, in the Odyssey, the story was that Zeus sent Thanatos, the spirit of Death, to pay one of his unwelcome visits to Sisyphus in order to bring about his end.  The cunning Sisyphus, however, took Thanatos by surprise and chained him up, meaning that for some time, not one mortal of all of Earth died, compelling Zeus to force the spirit’s release so he could resume his essential tasks; Zeus made sure Sisyphus was the first victim.

Ever plotting, before Thanatos did his work, secretly Sisyphus made his wife promise not to perform at his funeral the obsequies to which he was entitled and upon arrival in the Underworld, stridently he complained to Hades about this slight.  It being a boys club, Hades granted him permission to return to earthly life to punish her.  Of course, the devious fellow didn’t keep to the pact and stayed on Earth, living in rude good health to a great age.  He was though mortal and when eventually he died the gods of the Underworld weren’t going to be tricked again, setting him to the task of pushing the rock uphill, leaving him not a moment to seek his escape.  That story is complete but there were other variations, the most intriguing being in a damaged fragment from the Roman writer Hyginus (Gaius Julius Hyginus (circa 64 BC–17 AD).  Here, it’s described how Sisyphus hated his brother Salmoneus and asked the oracle of Apollo how he could kill the sibling he described as “his enemy”.  Apollo told him that he would find men to take revenge if he slept with his own niece, Tyro, the daughter of Salmoneus.  The deed done, Tyro gave birth to twins by Sisyphus but, learning of what the oracle had promised, she killed her two children.  What happens next is not known because that part of the text has been lost but the concluding passages survived and Sisyphus in found in Underworld, rolling his stone.  For this incestuous tale, readers are invited to fill in the gaps.  The foundation of the Isthmian Games is sometimes attributed to Sisyphus, in honor of his nephew Melicerties.  He was married to Merope and his descendants included Glaucus and Bellerophon.

Some slave for lifetimes at their Sisyphean tasks, others walk away.

Sisyphean and Herculean tasks

A “Sisyphean task” differs from a “Herculean task” in that the latter, although immensely challenging, is achievable with extraordinary effort while the former not only cannot be done but must repeatedly be attempted for all eternity.  Hercules was from the Latin Herculēs, from the Etruscan hercle, from the Ancient Greek Ἡρακλῆς (Hēraklês), believed to be the cognate of Ἥρα (Hḗra) (Hera) and, according to some etymologists, the construct was the primitive Indo-European yóhr̥ (year, season) + κλέος (kléos) (glory).  Hercules was the Roman name for the Greek divine hero Heracles, the son of Jupiter and Alcmene, a celebrated hero who possessed exceptional strength.  In the myths, he’s remembered most for the twelve difficult labors he was made to perform as a penance for killing his family and that's the origin of the phrase.

Mr Trump & Mr Biden on CNN.

Essentially, what certain operatives in the White House are hoping is the task confronting Joe Biden (b 1942; US president since 2021) over the next few weeks is merely Herculean and not Sisyphean.  It should of course be neither because all he needs to do is not appear senile or at least not obviously at some stage of cognitive decline.  That would seem a reasonable expectation for a major-party nominee for the office of President of the United States (POTUS), a four-year appointment which, as well as lots of other stuff, includes being commander-in-chief of the planet’s most powerful military and the right to deploy the US nuclear arsenal.  However, after the first televised debate (June 2024) with Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021), he has yet to convince many and in each public appearance since, what he has been doing is pushing his rock (which gets bigger and heavier which each attempt) uphill, only to commit some gaff which means the rock rolls to the bottom and he has to start again.  Mixing up the names of Vladimir Putin; (b 1952; president or prime minister of Russia since 1999) & Volodymyr Zelensky (b 1978; president of Ukraine since 2019) might have elicited little more than a smile from observers had it not been part of a pattern of behavior and while in the archives there are doubtlessly many similar gaffs by others, Mr Biden’s are now keenly awaited and rated for severity.  At least quickly he caught the error and corrected himself but later the same day, he referred his vice-president (Kamala Harris (b 1964; US vice president since 2021) as “Vice President Trump”, blithely carrying on, apparently oblivious to what he’d just said.  That seems to be beyond  gaff; more of “a howler”.

It’s definitely a matter of a heightened focus on Mr Biden’s slip-ups and Mr Trump also has “a bit of previous” in mixing up names, something which has not gone unnoticed but has been treated as just an amusing part of the clatter of the campaign and it’s an associative thing: because he’s not labelled as being in “obvious cognitive decline”, when Mr Trump mixes up a name, it’s spun not as a symptom but just an “everyday” gaff.  In January 2024 Mr Trump mistakenly referred to his then rival for the nomination Nikki Haley (b 1972; ambassador to UN 2017-2018) when he should have been attacking Democrat Nancy Pelosi (b 1940; speaker of the US House of Representatives 2007-2011 & 2019-2023), repeatedly naming Ms Haley (who for some two years under his administration served as ambassador to the UN) when speaking at a campaign rally in New Hampshire, discussing the 6 Jan 2021 capitol riot:

“Nikki Haley, you know they, do you know they destroyed all of the information, all of the evidence, everything, deleted and destroyed all of it.  All of it, because of lots of things like Nikki Haley is in charge of security.  We offered her 10,000 people, soldiers, National Guard, whatever they want.  They turned it down. They don’t want to talk about that.  These are very dishonest people.”

Nikki Haley must have been much on his mind.  The previous September, he’d surprised a few by saying “…with Obama, we won an election that everyone said couldn’t be won” before going on to say “…we would be in World War II (1939-1945) very quickly if we’re going to be relying on [Mr Biden].”  Asked for a comment, Mr Trump claimed sometimes “sarcastically” he transposes Mr Biden’s name with that of Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017) “…as an indication that others may actually be having a very big influence in running our country.”  Seemingly, crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) is no longer on his mind.

This is a genuine crisis for the Democratic Party and one thing it has done is publicize the way the machinery would work if a critical mass of delegates to the Democratic National Convention (scheduled for 19-22 August 2024) decide to contest Mr Biden’s path to the nomination.  The first potential spanner in the works is a recent amendment to Ohio electoral law which demands presidential candidates be certified (ie the state’s electoral commissioner must be notified that presidential candidates have been officially nominated) at least 90 days before the general election if they are to appear on ballot’s in Ohio.  That makes the Ohio deadline the earliest in the land and the cut-off date is 7 August, some two weeks before the convention.  The Republican National Convention is held in July so this is exclusively a problem for the Democrats and the issue has existed in the past but states have either accepted a “provisional nomination” or extended their deadline.  The Ohio attorney-general however says the state will not be accepting a provisional certificate and the Republican-controlled legislature did not pass an extension amendment so there things stand, appearing to demand the delegates vote in some virtual way prior to 7 August.  There is also the matter of federal electoral law for the delegates to consider.  What it holds is that the millions of dollars being held as campaign funds for the Biden-Harris ticket cannot be transferred to new ticket, unless the new presidential nominee was one of the members of the old.  What this means is that if Mr Biden is not the nominee, the vital campaign funds will remain available only if that nominee is Vice-President Harris.

Mr Biden at work.

Political junkies who belong to the school of “politics as theatre” are actually hoping for a so-called “open convention” (sometimes called a “brokered convention), something not seen since 1952 although both parties have since flirted with the possibility.  An open convention is one in which no individual secures a majority on the first ballot and it become a matter of horse trading between 4000-odd delegates and for that to happen would require either Mr Biden deciding to withdraw (and presumably endorsing Ms Harris) or a challenge emerging from the floor.  While the junkies can see the potential for fun in such a spectacle, the thought of an open convention sends shivers down the spines of the party bosses who like things to be stage-managed and decided in advance; the potential for messiness just too big a risk.  Still, at least in theory, it really is in the hands of the delegates who under the law are entitled to vote for whomever they wish, even if they have been elected on the basis of a pledge to vote for a certain candidate.

If Mr Biden manages to rise to the herculean task of convincing the necessary folk he’s not senile then the problem goes away because, even if they think he’s likely to descend into senility during a second term, that’s a bridge to be crossed as some later date.  Perhaps fortunately for Mr Biden, even if the task proves Sisyphean, he might still secure the nomination by refusing to withdraw because it’s not as if there are others both outstanding in quality and willing to stand against the Republican’s inevitable nominee; this is not 1968.  Interestingly, analysts have noted a sudden shift in the Trump campaign and suggest rather than trying to damage Mr Biden to the extent he's forced to withdraw from the process, the strategy now appears to be shaped towards ensuring he remains the candidate, the assumption being Trump will beat Biden but only may win against another candidate.  In politics, there's much preference for the known rather than the unknown. 

Ambrosia

Ambrosia (pronouced am-bro-zia)

(1) In classical mythology, the food (sometimes called nectar) of the gods and said to bestow immortality.

(2) Something especially delicious to taste or smell.

(3) A fruit dish made of oranges and shredded coconut.  Sometimes includes pineapple.

(4) Alternative name for beebread.

(5) Any of various herbaceous plants constituting the genus Ambrosia, mostly native to America but widely naturalized: family Asteraceae (composites).  The genus includes the ragweeds.

1545-1555.  From the Middle English, from the Old French ambroise, from the Latin ambrosia (favored food or drink of the gods) from the Ancient Greek ambrosia (food of the gods), noun use of the feminine of ambrosious (thought to mean literally "of the imortals") from ambrotos (immoratlity; immortal, imperishable).  The construct was a- (not) + mbrotos (related to mortos (mortal), from the primitive Indo-European root mer- (to rub away, to harm (also "to die" and used widely when forming words referring to death and to beings subject to death).  Writers in Antiquity woud use the word when speaking of theit favorite herbs and it's been used in English to describe delectable foods (though originally of fruit drinks) since the 1680s and came to be used figuratively for anything delightful by the 1730s.  Applied to certain herbs by Pliny and Dioscorides; used of various foods for mortals since 1680s (originally of fruit drinks); used figuratively for "anything delightful" by 1731.  The adjective ambrosial dates from the 1590s in the sense of "immortal, divine, of the quality of ambrosia", the sense of "fragrant, delicious" developed by the 1660s.  The other adjectival forms were ambrosiac (circa 1600) & ambrosian (1630s).

Ambrose was the masculine proper name, from the Latin Ambrosius, from the Ancient Greek ambrosios (immortal, belonging to the immortals),  The Biblioteca Ambrosian (Ambrosian Library) in Milan (1609), established by Cardinal Federico Borromeo (1564–1631), is named for Saint Ambrose of Milan (circa 339–397) Bishop of Milan 374-397.

Cupid, Psyche and the Nectar of the Gods

In Greek mythology, Psyche was the youngest and loveliest of a king’s three daughters.  So haunting was Psyche’s beauty that people travelled from afar to pay homage, neglecting the worship of Venus (Aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, instead venerating the nymph.  Venus became enraged at finding her altars deserted, men instead turning their devotions to the young virgin, watching as she passed, singing her praises and strewing her way with chaplets and flowers.

Indignant at the exaltation of a mortal, Venus began her righteous rant.  "Am I then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mere mortal girl?  In vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. I will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty."  Venus summoned her winged son, the mischievous Cupid and telling him of Psyche, ordered her revenge.  "My dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give your mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph."

Obediently, Cupid set to his task.  In the garden of Venus lay two fountains, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter.  Cupid filled two amber phials, one from each fountain and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of Psyche, finding her asleep.  He shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips and although though the sight of her moved him almost to pity, touched her side with the point of his arrow.  At the touch she awoke and her eyes gazed upon the invisible Cupid which so enchanted him he became confused and pricked himself with his own arrow.  Helplessly in love, his only thought now was to repair the mischief he had done and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken blonde ringlets.

Psyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, gained no benefit from her charms.  While all cast covetous eyes upon her and all spoke her praises, not prince, plebeian or peasant ever asked for her hand in marriage.  Her two sisters had become betrothed to princes but Psyche sat in solitude, feeling cursed by the beauty which had failed to awaken love.  The king and queen, thinking they had incurred the wrath of the gods turned for guidance to the oracle of Apollo who answered: “The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist."

Her parents, distraught, abandoned themselves to grief but Psyche was fatalistic, saying "Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? You should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive I am victim to that name.  I submit.  Lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me."  Accordingly, amid the lamentations of all, she was taken to the peak of the mountain and there left alone.  When the tearful girl stood at the summit, the gentle Zephyr raised her from the earth and carried her on the breeze, bringing her to rest in a flowery dale where she laid down to sleep.  When she awoke, refreshed, she looked around and beheld nearby a grove of tall and stately trees.  Entering the forest, she discovered in its midst a fountain from which bubbled crystal-clear waters and nearby, a splendid palace, so magnificent she knew it the work not of mortal hands, but the retreat of some god.  Drawn by admiration and wonder, she ventured to enter the door.  Amazed at what she saw, she walked along a marble floor so polished it shimmered, golden pillars supported a vaulted roof, walls were enriched with carvings and paintings of fantastic beasts.  Everything upon which her eye fell delighted her.

Soon, although she saw no one, she heard a voice.  "Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with utmost care.  Retire, should you please, to your chamber, recline upon your bed of down and when you see fit, repair to the bath.  Your supper awaits in the alcove”.  Psyche took her bath and seated herself in the alcove, whereupon a table appeared laden with extraordinary delicacies of food and nectarous wines.   While she ate, she heard the playing of lute and harp and the harmony of song.

That night she met he husband but he came only in the darkness, fleeing before the dawn, but his words and caresses were of love and inspired in her a like passion.  Often she would beg him to stay so she might behold him in the light but he refused, telling her never to attempt to see him, for no good would come of it and that he would rather have her love him as a man than adore him as a god.  This, Psyche accepted but the days grew long and lonely and she began to feel she was living in a gilded cage.  One night, when her husband came, she told him of her distress, her charms enough to coax from him his unwilling acquiescence that her sisters could visit.  Delighted, she summoned the obedient Zephyr who brought them to the mountain and in happiness, they embraced.

The splendor and celestial delights of Psyche’s palace astonished her sisters but also aroused their envy and they began to pepper her with questions about her husband and she told them he was a beautiful youth who spent his days hunting in the mountains.  Unconvinced, the soon drew from her that she had never seen him and they began to fill her mind with dark suspicions, recalling the Pythian oracle had declared her doomed to marry a direful and tremendous monster.  Psyche protested but they told her the folk living in the valley say the husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, amusing himself while nourishing her with dainties that he may by and by devour her.  They told to one night to take with her a lamp and sharp blade so that when he slept she might light the lamp and see his true form.  If truly he is a monster they told her, "hesitate not and cut off its head".

Psyche tried to resist her sisters’ persuasions but knew she was curious and that night she took to bed a lamp and a long, sharp knife.  When he had fallen to sleep, silently she arose and lit her lamp, beholding but the most beautiful of the gods, his golden ringlets falling over his snowy neck, two dewy wings on his shoulders whiter than snow, with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring.  Entranced, as she moved her lamp better to see his face, a drop of hot oil fell on the shoulder of the god and startled, he opened his eyes and fixed them upon her.  They both were frozen for a few seconds, then suddenly and without a word, he spread his wings and flew out of the window.  Psyche, crying in despair, in vain endeavored to follow but fell from the window to the ground below.

Hearing her fall, Cupid for a moment paused in his flight and turned to her saying, "Oh faithless Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? After I disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and would cut off my head?  Go, return to your sisters, who you trust more than me.  I punish you no more than to forever leave you for love cannot dwell with suspicion."  With those words, he flew off, leaving poor Psyche crying into the earth.  For hours she sobbed and then looked around, but her palace and gardens had vanished and she found herself in a field in the city where her sisters dwelt.  She repaired thither and told them her story at which, though pretending to grieve with her, the two evil sisters inwardly rejoiced for both thought as one: that Cupid might now choose one of them.  Both the next morning silently arose and snuck secretly to the mountain where each called upon Zephyr to bear them to his lord but leaping up, there was no Zephyr to carry them on the breeze and each fell down the precipice to their deaths.

The devastated Psyche meanwhile wandered.  Day and night, without food or rest, she searched for her husband and one evening saw in the distance a magnificent temple atop a lofty mountain and she felt her heart beat, wondering if perhaps there was Cupid.  She walked to the temple and there saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, mingled with ears of barley.  Scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly from the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day.  This unseemly confusion disturbed the neat and tidy Psyche and she put herself to work, separating and sorting everything and putting all in its proper place, believing she ought to neglect none of the gods, but prove by her piety to prove she was worthy of their help.  The holy Ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her, "Oh Psyche, truly your are worthy of our pity, though I cannot shield you from the frowns of Venus, I can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. Go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost."  Filled with both fear and hope, Psyche made her way to the temple of Venus.

Venus met her with anger.  "Most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember you have a mistress or have you come to see your sick husband, the one injured by the wound given him by his worthless wife?  You are so ill favored you can be worthy of your lover only by showing industry and diligence.  I shall put you to work".  She led Psyche to temple’s storehouse in which sat vast piles of wheat, barley, vetches, beans and lentils, the food for her birds.  “Separate these grains, put them all in sacks and have it done by night” she commanded, leaving her to the task.  Shocked, Psyche sat silent, moving not a finger.  While she despaired, Cupid ordered an ant, a native of the fields, to bring all ants from the anthill and they gathered on the piles.  Quickly and with the efficiency of their breed, they took grain by grain, making perfect parcels of each and when done, vanished from sight.  As twilight fell, Venus returned from a banquet of the gods and seeing the sacks neatly stacked, became enraged.  "This is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed."  So saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and stormed off.

Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called and said to her, "Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water.  There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs.  Go now, fetch me some of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces."  Standing on the riverbank, wondering at the difficulty of her task, Psyche was about to cross but river god made the reeds speak, telling her "Oh maiden, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among those rams for as long as the sun shines, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth.  But when the noontide sun has driven them to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees."  Psyche did as they said and returned with her arms full of the golden fleece but Venus was not pleased.  "Well I know it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded I do not believe you are of use but I have another task for you.  Here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine and say, 'my mistress Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own'.  Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear this evening at the circle of the gods."

Psyche now believed her own destruction was at hand and, with no wish to delay what was not to be avoided, dashed to the top of a high tower, preparing to cast herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below.  But then, a voice from the tower said to her, "Why, poor unlucky girl, do you design to put an end to your days in so dreadful a manner? And what cowardice makes you sink under this last danger when you have been so miraculously supported in all your former?"  Then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. But the voice also cautioned, "When Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, you must never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses."

Encouraged, Psyche obeyed the advice and travelled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. Admitted to the palace of Proserpine, she delivered her message from Venus and soon, she was handed the box, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then she returned the way she came, glad once more to be in the light of day.  But as she walked along the path, a longing desire overcame her, an urge to look into the box for, as she imagined, a touch of the divine beauty would make her more desired by Cupid so, delicately, she opened the box.  But in there was nothing of beauty but only an infernal and truly Stygian sleep which, being set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell in the road where she stood, plunged into a deep sleep, lying there without sense or motion.

But Cupid was now recovered and could no longer bear the absence of his beloved Psyche and slipping through a crack in the window, he flew to where Psyche lay.  He gathered up the sleep from her and closed it again in the box, waking her with the gentlest touch of one of his arrows. "Again," said he, "have you almost perished by the same curiosity.  But now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and I will take care of the rest."  Then Cupid, as swift as lightning, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication.  Jupiter was impressed and so earnestly did he plead the cause of the lovers that he won the consent of Venus and on hearing this, sent Mercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, he handed her a goblet ambrosia saying, "Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual."  Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in time, born to them was a daughter whose name was Pleasure.

Wedding Banquet of Cupid and Psyche (circa 1517) by Raphael (1483–1520).

The story of Cupid and the OCD Psyche is told by the Roman writer Apuleius (circa 124-circa 170) in three chapters in his rather risqué picaresque novel, The Metamorphoses of Apuleius (which Saint Augustine dubbed Asinus aureus (The Golden Ass (by which it’s today known)).  The Golden Ass is notable as the only full-length work of fiction in Classical Latin to have survived in its entirety and is a work with aspects which would be regarded as novel centuries later, including fantastical imagery, passages like fairy tales and elements which would now be called magic realism.  Like many modern fairy tales, there is a moral to the story and for Apuleius it was that it is love which makes to soul immortal and there was no need for subtlety, Cupid the son of the goddess of desire and Psyche's name originally meant soul.

With the re-discovery (and some re-invention) of much of antiquity during the Renaissance, the story gained much popularity and attracted the interest of artists and from Raphael’s (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, 1483–1520) studio came the best known evocation.  One of the scenes is the wedding feast, painted in the form of a hanging tapestry.  Psyche’s guest list was a roll-call of the gods, Ganymede, Apollo, Bacchus and Jupiter are all at the table, the Graces and the Hours in attendance.  The artists (for some the work was executed by professional painters under Raphael’s guidance) do have some fun, very much in the spirit of Apuleius for above the flying Mercury sits, artfully arranged, a suggestive conjunction of certain vegetables and fruits.

The Wedding Feast of Cupid and Psyche (1532) by Giulio Romano.

The romance of Cupid and Psyche drew other artists including the Italian Giulio Romano (Giulio Pippi, circa 1499-1546), a student of Raphael whose influence permeates.  While not highly regarded by critics and better remembered as an architect, Romano is of note because he was among the earliest of the artists whose work can be called Mannerist and certainly his wedding feast painting includes the mythological, a staged and theatrical setting, eroticism and an unusual sense of perspective; all characteristic of Mannerist art although he remained entirely naturalistic in the callipygian rendering of Psyche’s buttocks.

In Shakespeare's late drama The Winter's Tale there’s an allusion to Romano as “that rare Italian master” but despite the bard’s apparent admiration, historians of art treat him as little more than a footnote; the shadow Raphael cast was long.  Some critics seem determined to devalue his work, the Catholic Encyclopaedia (1913) noting it was “prolific and workmanlike, always competent…” but with “…no originality; as a painter, he is merely a temperament, a prodigious worker. His manual dexterity is unaccompanied by any greatness of conception or high moral principle.  His lively but superficial fancy, incapable of deep emotion, of religious feeling, or even of observation, attracted him to neutral subjects, to mythological paintings, and imaginary scenes from the world of fable. Therein under the cloak of humanism, he gave expression to a sensualism rather libertine than poetical, an epicureanism unredeemed by any elevated or noble quality.  It is this which wins for Giulio his distinctive place in art.  His conception of form was never quite original; it was always a clever and bookish compromise between Raphael and Michelangelo.  His sense of color grows ever louder and uglier, his ideas are void of finesse, whatever brilliancy they show is second-hand. His single distinctive characteristic is the doubtful ease with which he played with the commonplaces of pagandom.  In this respect at least, paintings like those of the Hall of Psyche (1532) are historical landmarks.  It is the first time that an appeal is made to the senses with all the brutal frankness of a modern work”. 

Damning with faint praise perhaps.  Grudgingly, the editors did concede that despite being “…distinguished by such characteristics and marked by such defects, Romano occupies nevertheless an important place in the history of art. More than any other, he aided in propagating the pseudo-classical, half-pagan style of art so fashionable during the seventeenth century. It’s mainly through his influence that after the year 1600 we find so few religious painters in Europe”.

One could hardly expect The Catholic Encyclopedia (sub-titled An International work of reference on the constitution, doctrine, discipline and history of the Catholic Church), to find much worthy in a mannerist (or perhaps anything modern).  Mannerism, novel in some ways as it was, was rarely original in form or content.  It was a reaction against the perceived perfection of the neo-classicism of the High Renaissance and artists from Romano on were drawn to Greek mythology, characters like Psyche and Echo able simply and unambiguously to represent the psychological problems muddied by Christian theology.

Colossus

Colossus (pronounced kuh-los-us)

(1) A statue of gigantic size.

(2) Anything colossal, gigantic, or very powerful.

(3) The internal name for Google's file system, introduced in 2010 and optimized for use in big-machine databases stored in multiple server clusters.  

1350-1400: From the Middle English, from the Latin colossus (statue larger than life), from the Ancient Greek κολοσσός, (kolossós) (statue or image, origin uncertain but thought most likely from a pre-Hellenic Mediterranean language) and the word was used by Herodotus to describe large Egyptian statues.  The figurative sense "anything of awesome greatness or vastness" is from 1794, taken from the adjective colossal (of extraordinary size, huge, gigantic), in use since 1712 although, colossic in the same sense is noted from circa 1600 and there are instances of colossean in the seventeenth century, both from the French colossal, from colosse, all forms from the Latin colossus from the Greek kolossós. The noun Colosseum dates from the 1560s, replacing the earlier Coliseum, the name in Medieval Latin for the classical Amphitheatrum Flavium (begun circa 70), noun use of the neuter of the adjective colosseus (gigantic), thought perhaps a reference to the big statue of Nero that for so long stood nearby. Colossus is a noun' the noun plural is colossi or colossuses.

The plural of colossus doesn't often come up in conversation but when it does, the choice is between colossi and colossusus, the latter there to be used by anyone who finds unwelcome, for whatever reason, the adoption in English of classical plural forms.  Not all words from Greek with a Latinised ending -us take the same pluralisation and there's no objection either to colossuses or the Latinized colossi; those who object to either probably suffer the condition known as hyper-correctionism and it is a real phenomenon (the squabble about octopuses, octopodes and the charming octopi) and is ongoing.  All that can be recommended is consistency; in a document, either adopt the English plural forms or use the classical form but don't mix.

Vaguely plausible rendering of how The Colossus of Rhodes may have appeared.

The Colossus of Rhodes was one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.  It was a very big statue, erected somewhere near the port of the city of Rhodes, the biggest settlement on what is the one of the larger Greek islands of the same name which lies off what is now Turkey’s Aegean coast.  Taking a dozen years to complete, the statue, construction of which began in 292 BC, was erected to honor Elios, the God of the Sun, who brought the inhabitants victory over Demetrius Poliorcetes (Demetrius I of Macedon; “The Besieger" 337–283 BC) who laid siege to Rhodes in 305-304 BC.  It stood for only sixty-odd years, collapsing during a severe earthquake which struck in 226 BC, contemporary reports indicating the structure fractured at both knees before toppling.  Remarkably, the mostly bronze wreckage was left substantially undisturbed for some eight-hundred years, becoming something of a tourist attraction before, in 654, it was salvaged by Arab invaders under the Muslim caliph Mu'awiya I (معاوية بن أبي سفيان‎, Muʿāwiya ibn Abī Sufyān; circa 600–680) who sold it to someone described as “a Jewish merchant from Damascus” who is said to have carted it off on a camel train of almost “a thousand beasts”.

Demetrios the Besieger had a scandalous private life but had a flair for military matters, noted too for innovations in engineering such as the machines and devices built by his armies as siege engines.  However, even the forces he was able at deploy in 305-304 BC weren’t sufficient to defeat the fortifications of Rhodes and eventually, Demetrios was compelled to retreat, abandoning the siege machinery on the island.  To give thanks to the Sun God, the Rhodians granted the commission to build a triumphal statue to Helios to the sculptor Chares of Lindos (Χάρης ὁ Λίνδιος, circa 330 BC-circa 280 BC), a pupil of Lysippos (Λύσιππος; fourth century BC) and, in the dozen years between 304-292 BC, he supervised the construction.

Digitally generated image of statue of Zeus by Phidias,

Before the Colossus, Rhodes had long been famous for its statues, the contemporary accounts probably as unreliable as any Roman histories but even if Pliny’s count of some three-thousand was an exaggeration, the writing of others do suggest there were doubtlessly a lot, many in stone, some in bronze, but nothing on the scale of the Colossus had even been attempted.  There was a titanic statue, as they’re now known, in Olympus, a chryséléphantine (one made from Gold and ivory) study of Zeus some 13 m (42 feet) high, another of the seven wonders although the sculptor Phidias (Φειδίας, circa 480–430 BC) had avoided the fragility inherent in a standing figure by having Zeus sit in a chair.  He had also built a chryshephantine statue of the goddess Athena but that stood but 9m (30 feet) high; by any standards, the titanic Colossus was truly colossal.

Logo of Lindsay Lohan's Rhodes Beach House.

Beach Structurally, the build was executed along the well-understood engineering principles of the age, the base of white marble first installed to which were affixed the feet and ankles, an iron and stone framework gradually formed as scaffolding and structure proceeded in unison upwards.  To permit the workers to reach the highest levels, an earth ramp was built because the heights involved meant a free-standing system of scaffolding would lack the needed stability; when the work was complete, the earth ramp was demolished and the soil carted off.  While the superstructure was built, workers cast the outer skin in bronze using plates, the metal formed with copper melted in large ovens, to which iron, making 10-20% of the mix, was added.  Then the mouton metal mixture was moved in large ladles to be distributed in clay molds, flat structures used to form sheets varying in thickness according to need. Once cast, the rough edges were ground away and the plates polished before they were transported to the building site where they were hammered to the desired shape to be attached to the iron structure,  The thickest and heaviest plates were those rendered for the feet and ankles, complex in the shape of their curves and needing more mass to afford greater stability.  Thus for a dozen years, the thin bronze skin was added to the growing body of stone, each plate fixed to the iron frame and then to the neighboring plate.  Once finished, it was polished to reflect the rays of the Sun so it would shine as intensely as possible, better to honor Helios. 

How engineers would today build a 122 m (400 feet) high Colossus using modern techniques of structural engineering.  An interesting exercise although the Greek exchequer may have other fiscal priorities.

From the laying of the first stone to its toppling, building its destruction lies a time span of but sixty-seven years but the Colossus ranks as one of the seven wonders of the ancient world with Great Pyramid of Giza which still stands after almost five-thousand.  Such was the scale of the Colossus that the ruins still impressed, “…even lying on the ground, it is a marvel" wrote Pliny the Elder (24-79) who noted few men could wrap their arms around the fallen thumb and each finger alone would have stood taller than most other statues.  The earthquake which so damaged the city 226 BC broke the Colossus at its narrowest and thus weakest points, the knees, and given the mass which existed above, there was no chance it could survive.  Although it would be centuries before the list of the seven wonders would exist as the codified canon now familiar, the stature was already famous and the an offer to the pay the cost of restoration was extended by Ptolemy III Euergetes (Πτολεμαῖος Εὐεργέτης, Ptolemy the Benefactor; circa 280–222 BC) of Egypt.  However, an oracle was consulted and their judgement forbade any re-construction so the offer was declined.  Details of the oracle’s pronouncement are lost but it’s speculated the conclusion may have been the earthquake was the act of a wrathful Helios and the ruins should be left where they fell, lest anger again be aroused.  There is no otherwise compelling explanation to account for why so much valuable bronze wouldn’t for centuries be recycled.

A (fanciful) engraving of the Colossus of Rhodes (circa 1540) by Martin Heemskerck (1498-1574).

The exact location remains uncertain but the notion the Colossus straddled the entrance to Rhodes harbor with ships passing between its legs was a figment of medieval imagination, a thing famously vivid.  Given its method of construction, such a thing would have collapsed under its own weight even before it was complete and, had it stood over the water, not only would construction have been challenging but when it fell, it would have blocked the entrance to the Mandraki harbor.  Despite that, in the early 1980s when a large piece of rubble was discovered in the water, there were still romantics who hoped this might vindicate the medieval theory.  There’s little doubt the story of a 60m (200 feet) tall Colossus straddling the entrance to the harbor was the work of opportunist poets and artists, the engineers and architects of the time sufficiently acquainted with physics and metallurgy to have assured all of the impossibility of their vision yet it seems long to have captured the medieval imagination.  Despite all that, it still influenced many even at the dawn of modernity, being one of the inspirations for the Statue of Liberty but that was designed in a way to ensure greater strength and stability, the weight distribution and the dimensions of the base entirely different.  There’s no doubt the statue stood somewhere in the proximity of Rhodes harbor but archaeological excavations have thus far revealed nothing, not unsurprising given the footprint of a vertical structure is much less than a temple or other building, and the urbanization of Rhodes over two millennia mean the site may long ago have been built-over.  The Colossus though would have shared one noted characteristic with the Statue of Liberty: When copper rubs on iron, it creates electricity, especially in a costal environment with salty air.  Like Liberty, the Colossus of Rhodes made its own electricity.

Sir Joh Bjelke-Petersen (1911–2005; Premier of Queensland 1968-1987) (left), Russ Hinze (1919–1991; Minister for this and that in Queensland state government, 1974-1988) (centre) & Bob Hawke (1929–2019; Prime Minister of Australia 1983-1991) (right).  Russ Hinze was a politician who served in the state parliament of Queensland, Australia between 1966-1988.  He held many portfolios, often simultaneously, one of which was minister for roads.  In honor of his impressive girth, he was dubbed The Colossus of Roads.

Wartime photograph of Colossus.

Colossus was the name of the world’s first electronic device which truly could be described a computer (being programmable, electronic and digital although the instructions were effected by switches, not stored programs).  It was built by the British in 1943 to break German military codes and was one of the mechanisms which provided the allies with the ultra decrypts, the importance of which to the war effort was of critical significance or merely helpful depending on the historian consulted.  During the war, twelve of the machines were assembled (which functioned independently; clusters and farms then an engineer's dream) but two didn't become functional until after the end of hostilities.  Colossus and the whole code-breaking operation remained a well-kept secret until the mid-1970s and the revelation induced some re-assessment of the strategic and tactical acuity of a number of political and military leaders, many of their decisions once through based on intuition or brilliance now understood as merely the use of good intelligence (ie "reading the enemy's mail").