The Curious Story of the Priapus Myth

By Dr Oliver Tearle (Loughborough University)

Greek mythology is full of randy gods who had, shall we say, rather relaxed attitudes towards things like consent, with Zeus obviously being the grand daddy of them all (not to mention the literal daddy of Apollo, Artemis, Dionysus, Heracles, Hermes, Minos, Persephone, Perseus, and Helen of Troy, to say nothing of nine Muses).

But Zeus, being the king of the gods, clearly set a bad example for the other, lesser gods. And this is perhaps truest of all when it comes to Priapus.

Priapus was the last of the gods, but he was clearly first in line when they were handing out genitalia. The thing everyone associates with Priapus is his oversize penis, which was perennially erect and ready for action. Unfortunately for Priapus, no action ever came (if you’ll excuse the pun), since he was also impotent.

If that sounds like a physical impossibility, perhaps the best way to think about Priapus is a man with a hose which works in every respect except it’s unable to spray any water. As it were.

Priapus’ parentage is a bone of contention among scholars and writers, but many people have said his father was Zeus and his mother was Aphrodite. Zeus, true to form, seduced the goddess of love, dominating her. Zeus, however, was married to another woman – well, goddess – namely Hera, who didn’t take kindly to her husband’s philandering willy-nilly (with the emphasis very much on the willy) with all and sundry.

Hera, fearing that the offspring of a union between the mighty Zeus and the beautiful Aphrodite would be … well, mighty and beautiful, used her divine powers to ensure the child was born ugly. If anything, she did the job too well and when Aphrodite gave birth to the baby, she was so repulsed she promptly ran up the nearest mountain and left the child there.

But this is Greek myth, and Babies Left To Die On Mountains are invariably found and rescued by gentle shepherds and their wives, who happen to live nearby. (See also Oedipus.) Sure enough, a gentle shepherd happened to be in the area and the little ugly child was saved from a chilly death in the mountains and was able to grow up into a big, ugly man (well, god).

And he grew ‘big’ in one area in particular. The one thing Priapus is generally known for is having a large penis, but this wasn’t a blessing for him. It was so large it was something of a hindrance. He is commonly depicted in orchards, scaring away any women who might venture in there hoping to scrump a few apples from the trees. No prizes for guessing how he scared them away.

The modernist poet H. D. (Hilda Doolittle) wrote a 1913 poem, ‘Priapus, Keeper-of-Orchards’, in honour of the ‘unbeautiful’ god. The poem (which can be read here) is cryptic, but the speaker seems to be calling for the phallic god to spare her and other women from too much ‘loveliness’: i.e., from temptation of some kind. A huge dong in the face will probably do that for most people.

Pierre Grimal’s The Penguin Dictionary of Classical Mythology has a good entry on Priapus. He points out that Priapus’ role was essentially to ward off evil spirits and people who would seek to damage the harvest. So like other figures from Greek myth, such as Persephone, he’s a reminder that, in the good old days, one bad harvest could lead to the deaths of countless people.

Grimal’s entry on Priapus also taught me a new word, ‘ithyphallic’, meaning ‘pertaining to or associated with the phallus carried in procession at the Bacchic festivals’ but also something ‘composed in the metre of the Bacchic hymns (the trochaic dimeter brachycatalectic)’ (OED). It’s always nice to learn about a new kind of poem.

Although Priapus (and his phallus) symbolise fertility, it’s a somewhat hollow piece of symbolism. As Fernand Comte points out in The Wordsworth Dictionary of Mythology, the fruits Priapus usually guarded represented a pretty ‘paltry’ crop, and his penis was, in fact, a hollow symbol of fertility.

His attempts at sexual conquests would’ve made his father ashamed of him. When he was part of Dionysus’ retinue along with the old satyr Silenus, he took a shine to the nymph Lotis but when he went to make his move on her while he was asleep (as I said, sexual consent wasn’t high up on the list of Greek gods’ priorities), Silenus’ ass made a noise (that can sometimes happen when you’re asleep) which helpfully woke her up and saved the poor girl from a fate worse than death.

Priapus responded by running away, and (later) by challenging the donkey (though it isn’t recorded whether it was the same donkey) to a penis-measuring contest. The donkey won, further humiliating Priapus, who promptly gave his name to priapism, a medical condition involving an abnormal persistent erection of the penis but without accompanying sexual arousal.

However, because the poor fellow was associated with guarding orchards, he did leave a lasting legacy in gardens all over the world, as Comte also records. Well into Roman times, little statues of Priapus were placed in orchards, painted red and complete with pointy erections. The pointy erection, in time, became the more family-friendly pointy red hat, the orchards became gardens, and Priapus became the ubiquitous garden gnome.