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Aegina

A nymph of Greek myth, daughter of the river-god Asopus, carried off by Zeus to the island that took her name and there the mother of King Aeacus.

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Daughter of the river-god Asopus, the nymph Aegina was carried off by Zeus to an island in the Saronic Gulf that afterwards took her name. The myth is at once a story of abduction and an act of etymology — it explains how an island once called Oenone came to be Aegina, and ties the place to the god by way of the woman taken there. She belongs to a recognizable class: the river-daughter whose chief act in the record is to be loved by a god and to give a coastline a name and a royal line. Almost nothing of her own is told. What survives is the descent of the god, the founding of a kingdom, and a genealogy that reaches all the way to the plain of Troy.

Painting of the nymph Aegina reclining as Jupiter approaches. Jean-Baptiste Greuze, “Aegina Visited by Jupiter” (ca. 1767-69), oil on canvas, Metropolitan Museum of Art — via Wikimedia Commons (public domain).

The Asopids and the abduction

Asopus is a river-god of the northeastern Peloponnese and Boeotia, and Aegina is one of his many daughters. Diodorus Siculus, drawing the genealogy together in his Library of History (4.72), seats Asopus at Phlius, marries him to Metope, daughter of the river Ladon, and lists their twelve daughters — Corcyra, Salamis, Aegina, Peirene, Cleone, Thebe, Tanagra, Thespeia, Asopis, Sinope, Ornia, and Chalcis. The catalog is itself the point: nearly every name on it is a place, and the daughters are the spring-nymphs and island-nymphs of the Greek map, each carried off by a god and each leaving her name on the land. Aegina is the most consequential of them, because her son founded one of the oldest royal lines in the heroic genealogy.

The abduction comes down in more than one form. The commonest tradition has Zeus descend as an eagle and snatch her from her father’s banks. Ovid, listing the god’s disguises on the tapestry that Arachne weaves against Athena (Metamorphoses 6.113), gives a different metamorphosis in a single compressed line: as Danae was deceived by a shower of gold, the daughter of Asopus — Asopis — was taken in a flame. The two images, the bird of the sky and the fire that falls from it, are the same god rendered twice, and the variation is the kind of thing the sources differ on without disturbing the story’s shape. Pindar, who had the strongest local reason to sing the myth, in his Isthmian 8 makes Aegina and her sister Thebe the twin youngest daughters of Asopus, both pleasing to Zeus — a doubling that the river’s children invite, since the same god fathers founders on more than one of them.

What gives the abduction its sharpest narrative is not the god but the witness. Pseudo-Apollodorus, in the Bibliotheca (3.12.6), and Pausanias, in his Description of Greece (2.5.1), tell it the same way: when Asopus went searching for his lost daughter, he came to Corinth, where Sisyphus had seen the eagle pass overhead. Sisyphus would name the abductor — but only in exchange for a perennial spring of water on the height of the Acrocorinth. The bargain made, Asopus learned that the thief was Zeus and pursued him; Zeus drove the river back to his own channel with the thunderbolt. From that, the Greeks drew a half-earnest aetiology: the lumps of charcoal said to be found in the bed of the Asopus were the scorch of that lightning, the trace in the landscape of the god’s reprisal. (Sisyphus, for his betrayal of the divine secret, was set the labor in the underworld that bears his name — a thread the same sources follow.) The episode is a study in how the Greek imagination read its own country: a spring on a citadel, black stones in a riverbed, and the line of a god’s anger written across both.

Painting of Sisyphus straining to push a boulder up a slope in the underworld. Titian, “Sisyphus” (1548-49), Museo del Prado — the Corinthian king who betrayed the secret of the abduction was condemned to roll a stone forever in the underworld. Via Wikimedia Commons (public domain).

Aeacus and the Myrmidons

On the island Aegina bore a son to Zeus, Aeacus, who grew to be its king and a byword for justice — in the later tradition one of the three judges of the dead. Around him gathers the island’s foundation legend, the making of the Myrmidons, and here the sources split in a way worth keeping distinct, because the older and younger versions tell the story for different reasons.

The earliest account is the Hesiodic one. In the genealogical poetry that passed under Hesiod’s name — the Catalogue of Women, quoted by later writers from its now-fragmentary text — Aegina bears Aeacus, and when he comes of age he chafes at ruling an empty island alone. To give him a people, Zeus makes all the ants of the island into men and broad-girdled women. In this telling there is no plague and no grief: the Myrmidons are simply the population a lonely king is granted, and their name is heard in the Greek myrmex, the ant — a people as numberless and industrious as the colony they were raised from. The etymology is the engine of the story.

The version that became standard adds catastrophe before the gift. Ovid tells it at length in Metamorphoses 7, in the mouth of Aeacus himself, who recounts it to the Athenian Cephalus: Hera, affronted that the island carried her rival’s name, sent a pestilence that fouled the air and water and emptied the land of every living thing, until Aeacus, looking up at a long file of ants streaming around the trunk of a sacred oak of Zeus, prayed that his city be given as many citizens as he saw insects there. That night the oak shook; the next day the ants rose as men, and Aeacus named them Myrmidons after the creatures they had been. Pseudo-Apollodorus keeps closer to the older line, making the ants into men simply because Aeacus was alone on the island, while the full plague-and-prayer scene is Ovid’s. The two strata — Hesiodic loneliness, Ovidian plague — leave the same people standing at the end, but only the later one makes the island’s name the cause of its near-destruction, turning Hera’s jealousy into the hinge of the whole story.

The line to Troy

What makes Aegina more than a local spring-nymph is the genealogy that runs down from her son. Aeacus fathered Telamon and Peleus. Peleus married the sea-nymph Thetis and became the father of Achilles; Telamon was the father of Ajax. The two greatest fighters at Troy after — and in strength rivaling — any on the field were thus great-grandsons of the river Asopus through the nymph Aegina, and the Myrmidons that Achilles led to Troy were the ant-born people of his great-grandmother’s island. Pindar’s victory odes for athletes of Aegina turn on exactly this: the Aiakidai, the line of Aeacus, are the island’s pride and the poet’s standing subject, so that to praise a wrestler from Aegina is to invoke Peleus, Telamon, Achilles, and Ajax, and behind them the nymph who began the line. The genealogy is not decoration; it is the reason the myth was sung at all.

Marble statue of a fallen warrior from the west pediment of the Temple of Aphaia. A wounded warrior from the west pediment of the Temple of Aphaia on Aegina (ca. 500-480 BCE), now in the Glyptothek, Munich; the pediments depict the island’s heroes fighting at Troy. Photo Allan T. Kohl / AICT, via Wikimedia Commons (CC0 / public domain).

Sources and scholarship

No single canonical text owns Aegina; she is assembled from the scattered genealogical tradition, and the assembly is itself instructive about how Greek myth was transmitted. The skeleton is Hesiodic — the Catalogue of Women supplied the descent of Asopus and the oldest form of the Myrmidon legend. Pindar gave the myth its grandest public life in the Aeginetan odes (Isthmian 8, Nemean 7 and 8, and the fragmentary Paean 6), where the Aiakid genealogy is the recurring matter. Diodorus Siculus preserves the full daughter-catalog and the bare line that Aegina was carried from Phlius and bore Aeacus there (Library of History 4.72). The Sisyphus episode and the thunderbolt-and-charcoal aetiology are owed to Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3.12.6, and to Pausanias 2.5.1, whose Description of Greece records the spring on the Acrocorinth as a thing one could still go and see. The plague version of the Myrmidons is most fully the work of Ovid in Metamorphoses 7, with the flame-disguise saved for the Arachne ekphrasis of Book 6. Modern scholarship has read the proliferation of Asopus’s daughters as the residue of older epic genealogy adapted to local cult: Gregory Nagy, examining the Aeginetan odes of Pindar, argues that the twinning of Aegina and Thebe preserves a preclassical pattern in which a river-father’s daughters are distributed across the cities that claimed descent from him. The variants — eagle or flame, loneliness or plague — are not corruptions of a lost original but the working of a tradition that kept the shape fixed and let the embroidery move.

The island and the eponym

The island of Aegina was no minor place to be given a divine ancestry. An old and proud maritime state in the Saronic Gulf, it was the first Greek city to strike its own silver coinage, the famous turtle staters minted from around the late seventh or early sixth century BCE, whose thick drachms passed through the markets of the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean long before Athenian silver did. Its temple — the great Doric sanctuary of Aphaia, still standing on its ridge — was among the finest of the archaic Greek world, and its fleet made the island a rival of Athens until Athenian power broke it in the fifth century. A foundation myth descending from Zeus, through a nymph who gave the island her name and a king whose grandsons led the Greeks at Troy, furnished that pride with a divine warrant and a heroic pedigree, and the victory odes commissioned by its wealthy athletic families spent that pedigree freely.

Archaic silver stater of Aegina showing a sea turtle in relief. Silver stater of Aegina (ca. 600-500 BCE) with its emblematic sea turtle; the island was the first Greek state to strike its own coinage. Staatliche Münzsammlung, Munich — photo ArchaiOptix, via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).

The Doric Temple of Aphaia standing on its ridge on Aegina. The Doric Temple of Aphaia on Aegina (ca. 500-490 BCE), among the finest sanctuaries of the archaic Greek world. Photo Paul Munhov, via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 3.0).

So the nymph and the island are bound past separating. Her name is the island’s, and the island’s is hers, and it is rarely possible to say which the Greeks named first. What the myth gives her is not a biography but a function: she is the hinge of a foundation, the figure through whom a god, a king, a people raised from ants, and the heroes of an epic war are all fastened to one rocky shore in the gulf. Where Asopus’s other daughters lent their names to springs and lesser towns, Aegina gave hers to a state that minted the coin half the Greek world counted by, and made of a river-nymph’s abduction the first link in the chain that ends with Achilles before the walls of Troy.

→ Related: Aristaeus · Eurydice · Hylas · Zeus · Hera · Cyrene · Thetis

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