September 17th/18th sees a partial lunar eclipse. In London, the peak of the eclipse will be visible around 3:45 a.m. BST on September 18, while it was on the 17th September in the USA.. And it’s also a supermoon when the moon is at its closest to the Earth.. Sorry, you are unlikely to get this on time!
There are plenty of people who believe that eclipses can be predicted by Stonehenge. And it certainly can be used that way, but this doesn’t mean it was. A series of stones, and posts in concentric circles with sight lines to innumerable features on the horizon offers many ways of making calculations which combined with observations over a long period COULD predict, predictable celestial phenomena. Doesn’t mean they were. So it is very difficult to say what they were capable of, and only the most obvious alignments can be certainly confirmed.
This Washington Post article below suggests the Loughcrew Cairns near Dublin were built about the time of a total eclipse, and that one of the stones with complicated carvings on may show a lunar eclipse. If you look at the sketch of the stone above, you will see the biggest circle, near the middle, may represent the moon, and it obscures the circle behind it which may represent the sun. Read this for the details: https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2017/08/18/this-5000-year-old-stone-carving-may-be-the-worlds-first-drawing-of-an-eclipse/
What is striking is how can they say it was built around the time of a total eclipse and make that seem significant because there is no way archaeological dating is accurate enough to give any idea whether it was built for a particular day. Also, there are many more circles and objects on the large stone, and to pick two out to prove what you want it to prove, is not proof. We are left with the intriguing possibility, but it is no more than that.
What I really admire are people who, through their sheer brain power, can change our views of the world. The first example that comes to mind is Newton’s insight that if the universe were infinite, the night sky would not be dark as everywhere there would be tiny pinpricks of starlight. So, we don’t live in a infinite universe. Another one is Einstein’s thought experiment that proves that time is relative. But see below for a description of that.
But now to Goodricke.
Yesterday in York, near the Minster, I saw the blue sign above, which I read and thought, what on earth are ‘variable stars’? Behind me, I heard two women say something like. ‘Here it is,”variable stars”‘. I turned around and asked them what was a variable star?
‘Donno’ they said, ‘we’ve ‘just doing this escape room walk around York.’ They showed me a booklet they had received on the internet, which was what I would call a treasure trail. But no, they insisted, ‘this is an escape room adventure where we collect clues to decipher the code to escape’.
Such is the modern tourist! Sadly, they showed no interest in finding out what a variable star is!
Aristotle and ancient philosophers held that the universe was unchanging and eternal. The first breach in that theory was the identification in 1638 of star Omicron Ceti by Johannes Holwarda who discovered that the start pulsed on an 11 month cycle. This and the discovery, of supernovae (first observed in 1572), proved that the ‘The starry sky was not eternally invariable’.
John Goodricke was educated at Thomas Braidwood‘s Academy, school for deaf pupils in Edinburgh, and Warrington Academy. He returned to live with his parents who rented an apartment at the Treasurer’s Hall, near the Minister in York, and used a friend’s personal observatory to look for variable stars. He found two of the first 10, and was the first to propose a solution, which was that two stars orbited each other causing eclipses between them and the observer, and thus creating a variation in the light emitted. To be able to extrapolate from a simple observation and provide an explanation which necessitates a complete rethink about the nature of the universe seems, to me, to be awesome.
Back to Einstein, his thought experiment was something like this:
A train is travelling through a station. There is an observer on the train towards the front, another on the platform as the train goes through. There are two simultaneous lighting strikes at either end of the train. The observer on the platform sees the strikes as simultaneous as she is in the middle between the two lighting strkes and light travels at the same speed. The observer on the train who is near the front of the train will see the lighting strike at the front of the train before the light from the back of the train can reach him as it has further to go.
This is mind-boggling, and I’m never sure what to make of it but it means that time is not a constant it is relative to the observer. And yet, we see time as a constant, something that remorselessly ticks forward and which we cannot alter. But it isn’t.
It is that time of the year when you say ‘Where has the Summer gone? It can’t be September already?’ But, metrologically speaking, Autumn starts today. September 1st was chosen on a numerical basis for ease of measuring rather than any profound floral, agricultural or solar reason. So, there are three Gregorian Calendar months for each season, and each season starts on the first of the month. Autumn comes from Latin (autumnus) which went into French and then into English. The season was also called Harvest (which went into Dutch herfst, German Herbst, and Scots hairst -Wikipedia) or from the 16th Century the ‘fall of the year’ or ‘fall of the leaf’ which spread to America.
It still feels like summer this year, with flowers doing well in my garden and not looking too tired. In England, we often have a glorious September, and an ‘Indian’ Summer.
Of course, for the real Autumn, we have to wait for the Equinox, the beginning of Astronomical or Solar Autumn. This year (2024) on September 22nd.
The stars signs for astrological September are: Virgo which is linked to Aphrodite (Venus) the Goddess of Love and Libra is linked to Artemis (Diana), virgin goddess of many things, including hunting, wild animals, children, and birth.
September gets its name from the Romans, for whom it was the 7th Month of the year (septem is Latin for seven). Later, they added two new months so it became our 9th Month. (For more on the Roman year, look at my post here).
It is called Halegmonath in the early English language, or the holy month, named because it is the month of offerings, because of the harvest, and the mellow fruitfulness of September? Medi in Welsh is the month of reaping, and An Sultuine in Gaelic which means the month of plenty.
Here is an early 17th Century look at September from the Kalendar of Shepherds – for more on the Kalendar, look at my post here.
The Kalendar has an additional shorter look at September and continues with its linking of the 12 months of the year with the lifespan of a man – 6 years for each month. So September is a metaphor for man at 56 years of age, in their prime and preparing for old age.
Keats (1795 – 1821) wrote a great poem about Autumn:
To Autumn
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,— While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Written September 19, 1819; first published in 1820. This poem is in the public domain and available here:
I am finishing my post on September, and using the Kalendar of Shepherds. As you may have noticed, I often use the Kalendar of Shepherds to provide an insight into how the seasons were seen in the past. Mostly, I use it for the posts at the beginning of each month. I have created this page as a placeholder to put information on the Kalendar for anyone who is eager to explore it more or to make use of it. Each month I will link to it, so I do not have to repeat the basic information about the Kalendar. Much of this text was contained in the December post, and I have used this month as my example. Tomorrow, you will get the September version.
About the Kalendar of Shepherds.
The Kalendar was printed in 1493 in Paris and provided ‘Devices for the 12 Months.’ I’m using a modern (1908) reconstruction of it using wood cuts from the original 15th Century version and adding various text from 16th and 17th Century sources. (Couplets by Tusser ‘Five Hundred Parts of Good Husbandrie 1599, and text descriptions of the month from Nicholas Breton’s ‘Fantasticks of 1626. This provides an interesting view of what was going on in the countryside every month.
The Kalendar of Shepherds has an illustration for each month (December above) which shows typical activities for the time of year, and has inserts to identify the astrological signs of the month. So, in December they are baking and collecting firewood. The star signs are Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21) and Capricorn(December 22 – January 19).
The text below gives a vivid description of December weather and then elaborates on the last six years of a man’s life, with hair going white, body ‘crooked and feeble’. The conceit here is that there are twelve months of the year, and a man’s lot of ‘Six score years and ten’ is allocated six years to each month. So December is not just about the 12th months of the Year but also the last six years of a person’s allotted span. The piece allows the option of living beyond 72, ‘and if he lives any more, it is by his good guiding and dieting in his youth.’ Good advice, as we now know. But living to 100 is open to but few.
The longer description of December (shown below) is by Breton (1626) and gives a detailed look at the excesses of Christmas, who is on holiday, and who working particularly hard. But it concludes it is a costly month.
Last year, from my hotel room in York, I noticed a strange brick building dug into the bank in front of the City Wall, near Monk Bar. ‘Very curious.’ I thought, as I looked, ‘It’s either a kiln or an Icehouse. ‘ A ridiculous place for a kiln, I concluded, and as the weather was nice, I went out to explore.
By Monk Bar (Bar means Gate in York) I found a pub called the Keystones, and through its yard I could see the round brick structure, you can see below.
‘Icehouse!’ I thought to myself with increasing confidence, and the ladder to the cavernous conical hole beneath it proved the point. It dates to about 1800.
I wrote a brief history of Ice Houses in November 2022, which you can read in my post ‘How to Make a Dish of Snow’ here. But it doesn’t say much about ice cream. I have been meaning to write a piece on that subject since I got a great article on the history of Ice Cream from the Friends of the British Museum magazine. I intended to précis it and do a little research and include here. But, in the meantime, I received an email from ‘Jetpack’, a plugin for WordPress users, that offered me an AI plugin, which I wanted to try. So this is the first AI generated piece of information I have ever used.
WARNING AI GENERATED TEXT!
Ice cream has a long and fascinating history. It’s believed that the ancient Chinese were the first people to eat a form of ice cream, flavoured with fruit and honey. The Persians also had a version of ice cream using ice and grape syrup. In the 13th century, Marco Polo brought the idea of ice cream to Europe from China. The dessert became popular in Italy, where early recipes called for flavoured snow and ice. By the 18th century, ice cream was regularly served in English and American households. Today, ice cream is enjoyed all over the world in many variations and with a plethora of flavours.
JetPack AI Generated (I’ve improved spelling and grammar.)
Now, settle yourself down with that pistachio and ciocolata gelato and read real writing on the subject of the origins of Ice Cream from the British Museum, and please note that the ice house pictured below is also, weirdly, just by a City Wall, but this time in Mesopotamia.
August was originally ‘sextilis’ or the 6th Month of the ten-month Roman Calendar. It became the 8th Month with the addition of January and February (by tradition during the reign of King Numa Pompilius). It was changed from a 29-day month to a 31-day month in the reforms of Julius Caesar. It was subsequently renamed August by a sycophantic Senate trying to flatter the divine Octavian, Emperor Augustus. (more about the Roman Calendar here)
In modern Irish, it is Lúnasa, which means the month of the festival of Lughnasa. In Welsh, it is Awst which comes from the Latin. In Anglo-Saxon: the Venerable Bede, writing in the 8th Century, says August is Wēodmōnaþ or the Weed Month, named, he says, because of the proliferation of weeds. Why does that seem such an unsatisfactory name for August? An early Kentish source calls the month Rugern – perhaps the month of the harvest of Rye? (Winters in the World by Eleanor Parker).
The 15th Century illustration in the Kalendar of Shepherds, above, shows that the Harvest is the main attribute of the Month, and the star signs, Leo and Virgo.
The 16th/17th Century text in the Kalendar of Shepherds gives an evocative insight into the month. (more about the Kalendar here)
For the Anglo-Saxons, August brings in the harvest period, the most important months of the year, where the bounty of the earth needs to be carefully collected, enjoyed but not wasted. It begins with the festival of Lammas, which derives from the English words for bread and mass, when bread made from the first fruits of the harvest is blessed.
In Ireland, it is one of the great Celtic quarter days, named Lughnasa, the festival of the God Lugh, celebrated with games, fairs, ceremonies. Called Calan Awst in Wales, it is the festival of August.
The quarter days, are halfway between the Solstices and Equinoxes and are: Samhain (1 Nov) Imbolc (1 Feb), Beltane (1 May) and Lughnasa (1 Aug) and all are, or can be seen as, a turning point in the farming year.
The Gallic Coligny ‘Celtic’ Calendar records August as a ‘great festival month’. The stone-carved Calendar was found near Lyon, whose Roman name was Lugodunum. The town is named after the Gaulish God Lugos, to whom, the Irish Lugh and the Welsh Llew Llaw Gyffes are probably related. He has an unstoppable fiery spear, a sling stone, and a hound called Failinis. The Romans associate Lugos with Mercury, and the Church with St Michael.
Lughnasa, (meaning the festival of Lugh) was founded by the God himself to honour his foster mother Tailtiu at Brega Co. Meath. Tailtiu became one of Ireland’s greatest festivals, springing from the horse races and marital contests set up by Lugh. In Gaelic Scotland it is called Lunasuinn, and Laa Luanistyn in the Isle of Man.
The festival is a harvest festival, celebrating the ripening of wheat, barley, rye, and potatoes. It is 6 months after Imbolc and records the ending of lactation of lambs and the beginning of the tupping season. It can be celebrated by climbing hills, visiting springs, wells, lakes and eating bilberries. (Myths and Legends of the Celts. James MacKillop).
St Germanus is the source of one of the few contemporary references to Britain in the 5th Century (the Dark Ages). One of his followers wrote his life story. The Saint, a Bishop in France, was sent to Britain because the Pelagian Heresy was endangering the Catholic version of Christianity. Pelagius was a highly educated British (or possibly Irish) priest who moved to Rome in the late 4th Century. He lived by a strict moral code, attacking Catholic laxity and opposing St Augustine of Hippo’s theory of Divine Grace. By contrast, Pelagius promoted human choice in salvation and denied the doctrine of original sin. Wikipedia tells us that he:
considered it an insult to God that humans could be born inherently sinful or biased towards sin, and Pelagius believed that the soul was created by God at conception, and therefore could not be imbued with sin as it was solely the product of God’s creative agency.
Germanus was sent to Britain, where he confronted Pelagian converts in a public debate which is thought to have taken place in a disused Roman amphitheatre. The author is not interested in Britain, per se, so does not tell us which town it was, but, it is mostly assumed to be St Albans, although London is possible.
In the stadium, the Saint and his acolytes confound the heretics and, so, convert the town’s people sitting watching the debate. St Germanus goes to a nearby shrine of St Alban to thank God, falls asleep in a hut, and is miraculously saved from a fire. He then comes across a man called a Tribune, and helps defeat a Saxon army in the ‘Alleluia’ victory. The importance of all this is that it, in about 429AD, gives us a few glimpses of Britain two decades after the Romans have left, and that Britain stayed in the Catholic fold.
The British Bishops were led in their heresy by someone called Agricola. The writer describes these bishops as ‘conspicuous for riches, brilliant in dress and surrounded by a fawning multitude’. The use of the title ‘Tribune’ in the story suggests Roman administrative titles are still in use 19 years after the date of the ‘formal’ end of Roman Britain, 410AD. The Alleluia victory over the Saxons also gives us an early date for Saxon presence in the country as an enemy.
St Albans is the favoured choice for the location of the event because, Bede tells us St Albans was born, martyred and commemorated in Verulamium, now called St Albans. Archaeology shows possible post Roman occupation of the town. And it has a famous Amphitheatre.
However, Gildas, who is writing 200 years or more before Bede, tells us St Alban was born in Verulamium but martyred in London, which makes sense as London was the late Roman Capital and more likely to be the site of a martyrdom. There is also a church dedicated to St Albans close to the Roman Amphitheatre, where Gildas tells us the execution took place. The Church cannot, unfortunately, be, archaeologically dated back to 429AD.
Bede’s account of the martyrdom of St Albans is also somewhat farcical, as God divides the waters of the River Ver for Alban to get to his martyrdom more quickly. The bridge was said to be full of people walking to witness Alban’s execution, and blocking Albans path to Heaven. But the Ver is but a piddle, and it would be easy to walk over without needing wellington boats, let along a miracle to get to the otherside. This story is much more impressive,in Gildas’ version who has the miraculous crossing over the River Thames.
Had Pelegius won and the Roman Church had a more optimistic view of the human spirit, would it have made any difference? It’s a big question, but maybe it would have left less room for pessimism and guilt?
What were the effects of original sin? …. it damaged our relationship with God. He seemed distant, we became mistrustful. We lost sanctifying grace. The weakening of the will, making us more prone to temptation. The darkening of the intellect. Increased vulnerability to sickness and disease. Spiritual death.
Germanus died in Ravenna.
For more on Nick Fuentes and his theories on St Germanus, St Patrick and King Arthur click here:
The Divine Twins, aka the Dioscuri, were horsemen, patrons of calvary, athletes and sailors, one of many indo-european twin gods. Pollux is the son of Zeus and Leda (raped by Zeus in the guise of a swan). His twin brother has a different and mortal father, the King of Sparta to the same mother, Leda. So they are examples of heteropaternal superfecundation as Mary Poppins probably didn’t sing.
One is therefore immortal and the other isn’t. They had many adventures including sailing with Jason as Argonauts.
According to some version of the story Castor was mortally wounded, and Zeus gave Pollux the option of letting his brother die while Pollux could spend eternity on Mount Olympus. The alternative was to share his immortality with his brother. He did the good thing, and the twins spend half their year as the Constellation of Gemini and the rest, immortal, on Mount Olympus. Thus, they are the epitome of brotherly love.
Their sisters were no less than Helen of Troy and Clytemnestra. They were also twins, Helen the divine daughter of Zeus and, Clytemnestra, mortal daughter of the King of Sparta.
It happened like this. The Swan was being pursued by an eagle, so Leda protected the Swan and took it to bed. On the same night she slept with her husband Tyndareus of Sparta. Two eggs were fertilised, each split in two to give two sets of twins.
Never mind the Brothers, what Sisters! Helen you know. But Clytemnestra? She was the wife of Agamemnon, the arrogant leader of the Greeks. On the way to retrieve Helen from Troy, the Greek Fleet was becalmed. So, on advice, Agamemnon sacrificed his own daughter, Iphigenia, on the island of Aulis in exchange for a fair wind to Troy. (read Iphigenia at Aulis by Aeschylus, a great play which I studied in Classical Studies at University)
Meanwhile, Queen Clytemnestra, abandoned at home, broods on her husband’s heartless fillicide. She takes a lover. After 10 years of war, Agamemnon comes back, in triumph from the destruction of Troy, with his prize, the Trojan Princess, Cassandra. Strutting with arrogance, he demands Clytemnestra prepare him a bath, and, so she does, she gives him the hottest bath possible. With the help of her lover, she hacks Agamemnon to pieces with an axe.
Cassandra prophesizes that she too will be a victim. She has been gifted with the ability of accurate prophecy, albeit twinned with the inability to get anyone to believe her! She is also slaughtered.
I visit John Collier’s painting of Clytemnestra at the Guildhall regularly and am fascinated by her grim expression.
In the 18th/19th Century rich people were into ‘attitudes’. For example, Emma Hart, later Lady Hamilton, would be invited to present an attitude in front of a dinner party of mostly male aristocrats. She would dress up in a flowing revealing unstructured classical gown and stand on a table presenting herself as: Helen or Andromache or any other classical beauty guests might fancy an eyeful of. She would assume an appropriate facial expression and posture for everyone’s pleasure.
Being Clytemnestra is difficult! I imagine Collier’s model being prompted to look both sad at the loss of the daughter; outraged at the arrogance of the husband; horror at the gore of the murder but overall to portray a grim satisfaction that the bastard got exactly what he deserved.
Lord Leighton had a famous model who was exceptionally skilled at adopting poses for his paintings. He determined to help her with an acting career. As part of the plan he helped improve her cockney accent, and it is said this inspired Bernard Shaw’s story Pygmalion which, in turn, inspired My Fair Lady and Eliza Doolittle.
Leighton’s model was Dorothy Dene. She became a famous actress, outstripping the fame of Ellen Terry and Lily Langtry. She modelled for the famous painting ‘Flaming June’ which sold 500,000 print copies in 1895. Lord Leighton went somewhat out of fashion and the original painting was purchased for £50 by the rather marvellously named Museo de Ponce, Puerto Rico where she still resides.
I have one of those half million prints on my bedroom wall.
Before we finish, do have a look at John Collier’s Wikipedia because he is the most ridiculously well-connected painter you can imagine! Related to half the Cabinet and married to TWO daughters of Darwin’s Bulldog T.H.Huxley (grandfather of Aldous Huxley).
For more on Flaming June see my blog post of 12 July 2024
European Twin Gods
It is suggested that twin male gods are a feature of Indo-European religions, and that the Twins are associated with horses/chariots and are responsible for moving the Sun and the Moon. Their use of a horse above the water means that they can rescue people lost at sea. St Elmo’s fire was said to be the way they manifested their divinity to sailors. Diodorus Siculus records that the Twins were Argonauts with Heracles, Telamon, and Orpheus. Further, he tells us in the fourth book of Bibliotheca historica, that the Celts who dwelt along the ocean worshipped the Dioscuroi “more than the other gods”.
July is named for Julius Caesar. Originally, the Roman Month was called Quintilis, as it was the fifth month of the Roman calendar, which originally started in March. Caesar reformed the calendar in 44BC and the Senate renamed the month after him.
It is called Lúil in Irish and Gorffennaf in Welsh. In Anglo Saxon July was Æfteraliða, or “after-mild;”, Liða, means “mild” or “gentle,” or the period of warm weather around Midsummer. June is Arraliða, or “before-mild”.
It is on average the warmest month in most of the Northern Hemisphere, where it is the second month of summer. The star signs for July are: Cancer (until July 22) and Leo (July 23 onwards),
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July is the month of Haymaking, as you can see from the July image (above from in the Kalendar of Shepherds). To find out more, wait for the next post.From the Kalendar of Shepherds comes this description of July.
Ovid says about the 16th February, ‘Next day is vacant.’ This is surprisingly encouraging to me because I have found it hard work finding something to say about some days. You can fill in with generalities, but the specific feels so much better. But. if Ovid can just say nought happened, then that is good enough for me. If you want to read Ovid’s almanac of the year, the ‘Fasti’, for yourself, this is the translation I am using.
Fasti is sadly unfinished because Pūblius Ovidius Nāsō was exiled by the Emperor Augustus when he was halfway through the Fasti. So the last entry is for 30th June where he says: ‘put the last touches to my undertaking’ suggesting he knew he was ending it here.
He was exiled until his death ten years later in Tomis, on the Black Sea. It is not clear exactly why he was exiled, ostensibly it was for the immorality in his book ‘The Art of Love’, but as that was published almost a decade earlier, it seems strange.
Was he involved with a plot against Augustus that saw the Emperor’s own daughter exiled? Her lover was Lullus Antonius, son of Mark Antony. Unlike Julia’s other lovers, he was forced to commit suicide.
But this also happened years before Ovid’s exile, so neither does it make any great sense of the great man’s punishing exile. However, Julia’s daughter was herself exiled closer to the time of Ovid’s exile and her husband, Lucius Aemilius Paullus, was executed for treason. Ovid said the reason for his exile was a ‘poem and a mistake’. The nature of that mistake is not recorded but he said the crime was worse than murder and more harmful than poetry.
Here is one of my favourite Ovid quotations. I quote from my own book which you can buy at the link at the bottom of the page.
‘Ovid, writing in Augustus’ reign, provides our guide to the flesh-pots of a Roman town. Here he recommends how the aspiring male should dress for a night out on the town:
Don’t torture your hair, though, with curling-iron: don’t pumice Your legs into smoothness. Leave that To Mother Cybele’s votaries, ululating in chorus With their Phrygian modes. Real men Shouldn’t primp their good looks …
… Keep pleasantly clean, take exercise, work up an outdoor Tan; make quite sure that your toga fits And doesn’t show spots; don’t lace your shoes too tightly, Or ignore any rusty buckles, or slop Around in too large a fitting. Don’t let some incompetent barber Ruin you looks: both hair and beard demand Expert attention. Keep your nails pared, and dirt-free; Don’t let those long hairs sprout In your nostrils, make sure your breath is never offensive.
Avoid the rank male stench That wrinkles noses. Beyond this is for wanton women – Or any half-man who wants to attract men.
The translation is from Green, Peter (Trans) ‘Ovid The Erotic Poems’ Penguin Classics, London 1982‘
Mother Cybele’s votaries were castrati, hence their high pitched voices. Cybele fell in love with Attys, who made her jealous, so Cybele made him mad, whereupon he castrated himself and bled to death. The Mother Goddess had him resurrected body and soul and he enjoyed divine bliss ever after. A Cybelian castration device, dredged out of the Thames, can be seen in the Roman Gallery of the British Museum.’
It’s quoted in In Their Own Words – A Literary Companion To The Origins Of London‘ D A Horizons, 2009. Kevin Flude
To buy Kindle version click here. To buy paperback (for £5.99) email kpflude AT anddidthosefeet.org.uk