Battle of the Lapiths and Centaurs at the Wedding of Hippodamia
(Karel Dujardin, 1667, Stiftung Preussische Schlösser und Garten, Potzdam)
The Battle of the Lapiths and Centaurs, the Centauromachy, occurred at the wedding of the Lapith king Pirithous and Hippodaemia.This best-known legend with which the Lapiths are connected is their battle with the Centaurs at the wedding feast of Pirithous, the Centauromachy. The Centaurs had been invited, but, unused to wine, their wild nature came to the fore. When the bride was presented to greet the guests, the centaur Eurytion leapt up and attempted to rape her. All the other centaurs were up in a moment, straddling women and boys. In the battle that ensued, Theseus came to the Lapiths' aid. They cut off Eurytion's ears and nose and threw him out. In the battle the Lapith Caeneus was killed, and the defeated Centaurs were expelled from Thessaly to the northwest.
Caeneus was a well-known Lapith, originally a girl named Caenis and the favourite of Poseidon, who changed her into a man at her request and made her an invulnerable warrior. Such warrior women, indistinguishable from men, were familiar among the Scythian horsemen too (see the entry "Amazons") .In the Centaur battle, Caeneus proved invulnerable, until the Centaurs simply crushed him with rocks and trunks of trees. He disappeared into the depths of the earth unharmed and was released as a sandy-headed bird.
Ovid describes in great length the Centauromachy in his Metamorphosis, Book the Twelfth, as narrated by Nestor:
“The son of bold Ixion, Pirithous wedding Hippodame, had asked as guests the cloud-born centaurs to recline around the ordered tables, in a cool cave, set under some shading trees. Thessalian chiefs were there and I myself was with them there. The festal place resounded with the rout in noisy clamor, singing nuptial verse; and in the great room, filled with smoking fire, the maiden came escorted by a crowd of matrons and young married women; she most beautiful of all that lovely throng. And so Pirithous, the fortunate son, of bold Ixion, was so praised by all, for his pure joy and lovely wife, it seemed his very blessings must have led to fatal harm: for savage Eurytus, wildest of the wild centaurs, now inflamed with sudden envy, drunkenness, and lust, upset the tables and made havoc there so dreadful, that the banquet suddenly was changed from love to uproar. Seized by the hair, the bride was violently dragged away. When Eurytus caught up Hippodame each one of all the centaurs took at will the maid or matron that he longed for most. The palace, seeming like a captured town, resounded with affrighted shrieks of women.
"At once we all sprang up. And Theseus cried, `What madness, Eurytus, has driven you to this vile wickedness! While I have life, you dare attack Pirithous. You know not what you do, for one wrong injures both!’ The valiant hero did not merely talk: he pushed them off as they were pressing on, and rescued her whom Eurytus had seized. Since Eurytus could not defend such deeds with words, he turned and beat with violent hands the face of him who saved the bride and struck his generous breast. By chance, an ancient bowl was near at hand. This rough with figures carved, the son of Aegeus caught and hurled it full in that vile centaur's face. He, spouting out thick gouts of blood, and bleeding from his wounds—his brains and wine mixed,—kicked the blood-soaked sand. His double membered centaur brothers, wild with passion at his death, all shouted out, `To arms! to arms!’ Their courage raised by wine! In their first onset, hurled cups flew about, and shattered wine casks, hollow basins— things before adapted to a banquet, now for death and carnage in the furious fight.
"Amycus first (Opinion's son) began to spoil the inner sanctuary of its gifts. He snatched up from that shrine a chandelier, adorned with glittering lamps, and lifted high, with all the force of one who strives to break the bull s white neck with sacrificial axe, he dashed it at the head of Celadon, one of the Lapithae, and crushed his skull into the features of his face. His eyes leaped from his sockets, and the shattered bones of his smashed face gave way so that his nose was driven back and fastened in his throat. But Belates of Pella tore away a table-leg of maple wood and felled Amycus to the ground; his sunken chin cast down upon his breast; and, as he spat his teeth out mixed with blood, a second blow despatched him to the shades of Tartarus.
"Gryneus, seeing a smoking altar, cried, `Good use for this,’ with which words he raised up that heavy, blazing altar. Hurling it into the middle of the Lapithae, he struck down Broteas and Orius: Mycale, mother of that Orius, was famous for her incantations, which she had often used to conjure down the shining twin-horns of the unwilling moon. Exadius threatened, `You shall not escape! Let me but have a weapon!’ And with that, he whirled the antlers of a votive stag, which he found there, hung on a tall pine-tree; and with that double-branching horn he pierced the eyes of Gryneus, and he gouged them out. One eye stuck to the horn; the other rolled down on his beard, to which it strictly clung in dreadful clotted gore.
"Then Rhoetus snatched a blazing brand of plum-wood from an altar and whirling it upon the right, smashed through the temples of Charaxus, wonderful with golden hair. Seized by the violent flames, his yellow locks burned fiercely, as a field of autumn grain; and even the scorching blood gave from the sore wound a terrific noise as a red-hot iron in pincers which the smith lifts out and plunges in the tepid pool, hissing and sizzling. Charaxus shook the fire from his burnt locks; and heaved up on his shoulders a large threshold stone torn from the ground—a weight sufficient for a team of oxen. The vast weight impeded him, so that it could not even touch his foe—and yet, the massive stone did hit his friend, Cometes, who was standing near to him, and crushed him down. Then Rhoetus, crazed with joy, exulting yelled, `I pray that all of you may be so strong!’ Wielding his half-burnt stake with heavy blows again and again, he broke the sutures of his enemy's skull, until the bones were mingled with his oozing brains.
"Victorious, then rushed he upon Evagrus, and Corythus and Dryas. First of these was youthful Corythus, whose cheeks were then just covered with soft down. When he fell dead, Evagrus cried, `What glory do you get, killing a boy?’ But Rhoetus did not give him time for uttering one word more. He pushed the red hot stake into the foeman's mouth, while he still spoke, and down into his lungs. He then pursued the savage Dryas, while whirling the red fire fast about his head; but not with like success, for, while he still rejoiced in killings, Dryas turned and pierced him with a stake where neck and shoulder meet. Rhoetus groaned and with a great effort pulled the stake out from the bone, then fled away, drenched in his blood. And Orneus followed him. Lycabas fled, and Medon with a wound in his right shoulder. Thaumas and Pisenor and Mermerus fled with them. Mermerus, who used to excell all others in a race, ran slowly, crippled by a recent wound. Pholus and Melaneus ran for their lives and with them Abas, hunter of wild boars and Asbolus, the augur, who in vain had urged his friends to shun that hapless fight. As Nessus joined the rout, he said to him, `You need not flee, for you shall be reserved a victim for the bow of Hercules!’ But neither Lycidas, Eurynomus nor Areos, nor Imbreus had escaped from death: for all of these the strong right hand of Dryas pierced, as they confronted him. Crenaeus there received a wound in front. Although he turned in flight, as he looked back, a heavy javelin between his eyes pierced through him, where his nose and forehead joined.
“In all this uproar, Aphidas lay flat, in endless slumber from the wine he drank, incessant, and his nerveless hand still held the cup of mixed wine, as he lay full stretched, upon a shaggy bear-skin from Mount Ossa. When Phorbas saw him, harmless in that sleep, he laid his fingers in his javelin's thong, and shouted loudly, `Mix your wine, down there, with waters of the Styx!’ And stopping talk, let fly his javelin at the sleeping youth—the ashen shaft, iron-tipped, was driven through his neck, exposed, as he by chance lay there—his head thrown back. He did not even feel a touch of death—and from his deep-pierced throat his crimson blood flowed out upon the couch, and in the wine-bowl still grasped in his hand.
"I saw Petraeus when he strove to tear up from the earth, an acorn-bearing oak. And, while he struggled with it, back and forth, and was just ready to wrench up the trunk, Pirithous hurled a well aimed spear at him, transfixed his ribs, and pinned his body tight, writhing, to that hard oak: and Lycus fell and Chromis fell, before Pirithous. They gave less glory to the conqueror than Helops or than Dictys. Helops was killed by a javelin, which pierced his temples from the right side, clear through to his left ear. And Dictys, running in a desperate haste, hoping in vain, to escape Ixion's son, slipped on the steep edge of a precipice; and, as he fell down headlong crashed into the top of a huge ash-tree, which impaled his dying body on its broken spikes.
"Aphareus, eager to avenge him tried to lift a rock from that steep mountain side; but as he heaved, the son of Aegeus struck him squarely with an oaken club; and smashed, and broke the huge bones of that centaur's arm. He has no time, and does not want to give that useless foe to death. He leaps upon the back of tall Bienor, never trained to carry riders, and he fixed his knees firm in the centaur's ribs, and holding tight to the long hair, seized by his left hand, struck and shattered the hard features and fierce face and bony temples with his club of gnarled strong oak. And with it, he struck to the ground Nedymnus and Lycopes, dart expert, and Hippasus, whose beard hid all his breast. And Rhipheus taller than the highest trees and Thereus, who would carry home alive the raging bears, caught in Thessalian hills. Demoleon could no longer stand and look on Theseus and his unrestrained success. He struggled with vast effort to tear up an old pine, trunk and all, with its long roots, and, failing shortly in that first attempt, he broke it off and hurled it at his foe. But Theseus saw the pine tree in its flight and, warned by Pallas, got beyond its range—his boast was, Pallas had directed him! And yet, the missle was not launched in vain. It sheared the left shoulder and the breast from tall Crantor. He, Achilles, was your father's armor bearer and was given by King Amyntor, when he sued for peace.
"When Peleus at a distance saw him torn and mangled, he exclaimed, `At least receive this sacrifice, O Crantor! most beloved! Dearest of young men!’ And with sturdy arm and all his strength of soul as well, he hurled his ashen lance against Demoleon, which piercing through his shivered ribs, hung there and quivered in the bones. The centaur wrenched the wooden shaft out, with his frenzied hands, but could not move the pointed head, which stuck within his lungs. His very anguish gave him such a desperation, that he rose against his foe and trampled and beat down the hero with his hoofs, Peleus allowed the blows to fall on helm and ringing shield. Protected so, he watched his time and thrust up through the centaur's shoulder. By one stroke he pierced two breasts, where horse and man-form met. Before this, Peleus with the spear had killed both Myles and Phlegraeus and with the sword Iphinous and Clanis. Now he killed Dorylas, who was clad in a wolfskin cap and fought with curving bull's horns dripping blood.
"To him I said, for courage gave me strength, `Your horns! how much inferior to my steel!’ -- and threw my spear. Since he could not avoid the gleaming point, he held up his right hand to shield his forehead from the threatened wound. His hand was pierced and pinned against his forehead. He shouted madly. Peleus, near him while he stood there pinned and helpless with his wound, struck him with sharp sword in the belly deep. He leaped forth fiercely, as he trailed his bowels upon the ground, with his entangled legs treading upon them, bursting them, he fell with empty belly, lifeless to the earth.
"Cyllarus, beauty did not save your life—if beauty is in any of your tribe—your golden beard was in its early growth, your golden hair came flowing to your shoulders. in your bright face there was a pleasing glance. The neck and shoulders and the hands and breast: and every aspect of his human form resembled those admired statues which our gifted artists carve. Even the shape of the fine horse beneath the human form was perfect too. Give him the head and neck of a full-blooded horse, and he would seem a steed for Castor, for his back was shaped so comfortable to be sat upon and muscle swelled upon his arching chest. His lustrous body was as black as pitch, and yet his legs and flowing tail were white as snow. Many a female of his kind loved him, but only Hylonome gained his love. There was no other centaur maid so beautiful as she within the woods. By coaxing ways she had won Cyllarus, by loving and confessing love. By daintiness, so far as that was possible in one of such a form, she held his love; for now she smoothed her long locks with a comb; and now she decked herself with rosemary and now with violets or with roses in her hair; and sometimes she wore lilies, white as snow; and twice each day she bathed her lovely face, in the sweet stream that falls down from the height of wooded Pagasa; and daily, twice she dipped her body in the stream. She wore upon her shoulders and left side a skin, greatly becoming, of selected worth. Their love was equal, and together they would wander over mountain-sides, and rest together in cool caves; and so it was, they went together to that palace-cave, known to the Lapithae. Together they fought fiercely in this battle, side by side. Thrown by an unknown hand, a javelin pierced Cyllarus, just below the fatal spot where the chest rises to the neck—his heart, though only slightly wounded, grew quite cold, and his whole body felt cold, afterwards, as quickly as the weapon was drawn out. Then Hylonome held in her embrace the dying body; fondled the dread wound and, fixing her lips closely to his lips endeavored to hold back his dying breath. But soon she saw that he indeed was dead. With mourning words, which clamor of the fight prevented me from hearing, she threw herself on the spear that pierced her Cyllarus and fell upon his breast, embracing him in death.
“Another sight still comes before my eyes, the centaur Phaeocomes with his log. He wore six lion skins well wrapped around his body, and with fixed connecting knots they covered him, both horse and man. He hurled a trunk two yokes of oxen scarce could move and struck the hapless son of Olenus a crushing blow upon the head. The broad round dome was shattered, and his dying brains oozed out through hollow nostrils, mouth, and ears, as curdled milk seeps down through oaken twigs; or other liquors, crushed out under weights, flow through a well-pierced sieve and, thick, squeeze out through numerous holes. As he began to spoil his victim—and your father can affirm the truth of this—I thrust my sword deep in the wretch's groin. Chthonius, too, and Teleboas fell there by my sword. The former had a two-pronged stick as his sole weapon, and the other had a spear, with which the wounded me. You see the scar. The old scar still is surely visible! Those were my days of youth and strength, and then I ought to have warred against the citadel of Pergama. I could have checked, or even vanquished, the arms of Hector: but, alas, Hector had not been born, or was perhaps a boy. Old age has dulled my youthful strength. What use is it, to speak of Periphas, who overcame Pyretus, double-formed? Why tell of Ampyx, who with pointless shaft, victorious thrust Echeclus through the face? Macareus, hurling a heavy crowbar pierced Erigdupus and laid him low. A hunting spear that Nessus strongly hurled, was buried in the groin of Cymelus. Do not believe that Mopsus, son of Ampycus, was merely a prophet of events to come, he slew a daring two-formed monster there. Hodites tried in vain to speak, before his death, but could not, for his tongue was nailed against his chin, his chin against his throat.
"Five of the centaurs Caeneus put to death: Styphelus, Bromus, and Antimachus, Elymus, and Pyracmos with his axe. I have forgot their wounds but noted well their names and number. Latreus, huge of limb, had killed and stripped Emathian Halesus. Now in his armor he came rushing out, in years he was between old age and youth; but he retained the vigor of his youth; his temples showed his hair was mixed with grey. Conspicuous for his Macedonian lance and sword and shield, facing both sides -- each way, he insolently clashed his arms; and while he rode poured out these words in empty air. `Shall I put up with one like you, O Caeneus? For you are still a woman in my sight. Have you forgot your birth or that disgrace by which you won reward—at what a price you got the false resemblance to a man?! Consider both your birth, and what you have submitted to! Take up a distaff, and wool basket! Twist your threads with practiced thumb! Leave warfare to your men!’ While puffed-up pride was vaunting out such nonsense, Caeneus hurled a spear and pierced the stretched out running side, just where the man was joined upon the horse. The Centaur, Latreus, raved with pain and struck with his great pike, the face of Caeneus. His pike rebounded as the hail that slants up from the roof; or as a pebble might rebound from hollow drum. Then coming near, he tried to drive a sword into the hard side of Caeneus, but it could not make a wound. ‘Aha!’ he cried, ‘this will not get you off. The good edge of my sword will take your life, although the point is blunt!’ He turned the edge against the flank of Caeneus and swung round the hero's loins with his long, curving arm. The flesh resounded like a marble block, the keen blade shattered on the unyielding skin. And, after Caeneus had exposed his limbs unhurt to Latreus, who stood there amazed, `Come now,’ he said, `and let us try my steel against your body!’ And, clear to the hilt, down through the monster's shoulder-blade he plunged his deadly sword and, turning it again, deep in the Centaur's entrails, made new wounds within his wound.
"Then, quite beside themselves, the double-natured monsters rushed against that single-handed youth with huge uproar, and thrust and hurled their weapons all at him. Their blunted weapons fell and he remained unharmed and without even a mark. That strange sight left them speechless. `Oh what shame!’ at length cried Monychus, `Our mighty host,—a nation of us, are defeated and defied by one who hardly is a man. Although indeed, he is a man, and we have proved, by our weak actions, we are certainly what he was! Shame on us! Oh, what if we have twofold strength, of what avail our huge and mighty limbs, doubly united in the strongest, hugest bodies in this world? And how can I believe that we were born of any goddess? It is surely vain to claim descent of great Ixion, who high-souled, sought Juno for his mighty mate; imagine it, while we are conquered by an enemy, who is but half a man! Wake up! and let us heap tree-trunks and stones and mountains on him! Crush his stubborn life! Let forests smother him to death! Their weight will be as deadly as a hundred wounds!’ While he was raving, by some chance he found a tree thrown down there by the boisterous wind: example to the rest, he threw that tree against the powerful foe; and in short time Othrys was bare of trees, and Pelion had no shade Buried under that mountainous forest heap, Caeneus heaved up against the weight of oaks upon his brawny shoulders piled. But, as the load increased above his face and head, he could not draw a breath. Gasping for life, he strove to lift his head into the air, and sometimes he convulsed the towering mass, as if great Ida, now before our eyes, should tremble with some heaving of the earth.
"What happened to him could not well be known. Some thought his body was borne down by weight into the vast expanse of Tartarus. The son of Ampycus did not agree, for from the middle of the pile we saw a bird with golden wings mount high in air. Before or since, I never saw the like. When Mopsus was aware of that bird's flight—it circled round the camp on rustling wings—with eyes and mind he followed it and shouted aloud: `Hail, glory of the Lapithaean race, their greatest hero, now a bird unique!’ and we believed the verdict of the seer. Our grief increased resentment, and we bore it with disgust that one was overwhelmed by such a multitude. Then in revenge we plied our swords, till half our foes were dead, and only flight and darkness saved the rest.”
