Tartarus: Total Hell

Right then, settle in, grab a cuppa, and let’s have a proper chinwag about one of the most fascinating – and frankly, terrifying – bits of Greek mythos. We’re talking about Tartarus, chaps. Now, if you’re knocking about The Pagan Club, you’ve probably heard the name whispered in hushed tones along with Hades, the Underworld, and all that spooky jazz.

But Tartarus? Tartarus is… well, it’s a whole different kettle of fish. It’s not just a place in the Underworld, it’s practically the dungeon basement of the Underworld, and trust me, you do not want to end up there.

So, let’s dive straight in and get the lowdown on this abyss of doom.

Tartarus: Underworld, ruled by Hades

First things first, let’s get our bearings. In Greek cosmology, the universe wasn’t just about the sky and the earth as we know it. Oh no, it was layered, like a cosmic onion (a slightly terrifying cosmic onion, mind you). At the very top, you had the bright and shiny heavens ruled by Zeus and the Olympians.

Then there’s the Earth, our stomping ground. And then, underneath it all, we have the Underworld, ruled by Hades. Think of the Underworld as the general postcode for the land of the dead – a bit like a vast, shadowy suburb.

But Tartarus isn’t just in the Underworld, it’s way, way down there. Imagine the deepest, darkest pit you can possibly conjure up. Then double it. Then maybe add a few more layers of ‘deep’ for good measure. That’s Tartarus.

Hesiod, that ancient Greek poet who was basically the gossip columnist of the gods, described it as being as far beneath Hades as the heavens are above the Earth. Blimey, that’s a long drop! In fact, if you dropped an anvil from Earth down to Tartarus, Hesiod reckoned it would take nine whole days to fall. That’s a lot of falling, isn’t it? Gives you a bit of a sense of the scale, doesn’t it?

Now, Tartarus isn’t just a place, it’s also often personified as a primordial deity. Think of it as a being as well as a location. In Hesiod’s Theogony, Tartarus is one of the very first beings to come into existence, alongside Gaia (Earth), Eros (Desire), and Nyx (Night).

So, it’s ancient, it’s fundamental, it’s basically part of the fabric of the cosmos itself. In this sense, Tartarus wasn’t just a location, but a primal void, representing the formless chaos that existed before the order brought by the Olympian gods. This primordial Tartarus is often described as the very essence of the abyss, the void, the utter opposite of the bright, ordered world of the Olympian gods.

Right, so we know Tartarus is deep. Very deep. But what’s it actually like? Well, it’s not exactly a great advertisement in “Greek Mythology Monthly” as a must-visit. Think less “charming taverns and river cruises” and more “eternal torment and the screams of the damned.” You get the picture.

Descriptions vary a bit, but there are some common themes:

  • Darkness, Pitch Black Darkness: No sunlight gets down here, obviously. We’re talking proper, can’t-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face kind of dark. Think of being in the middle of nowhere on a moonless night, but amplified to a cosmic scale.
  • Noiselessness… and Screams: Sometimes Tartarus has the description of being eerily silent, a vast void swallowing all sound. At other times, it’s filled with the echoes of suffering, the wails and groans of those imprisoned within. Bit of a mood swing, eh Tartarus?
  • Iron Gates and Walls: To keep the nasties in (and anyone else out, presumably), Tartarus is often depicted as being surrounded by impenetrable walls and guarded by iron gates. Think maximum security prison, but on a mythological scale.
  • Rivers of the Underworld Connections: Some descriptions link Tartarus to the rivers of the Underworld, particularly Phlegethon (river of fire) and Cocytus (river of lamentation). Imagine fiery rivers flowing through this abyss of darkness – not exactly soothing scenery, is it?

Now, who are the unlucky sods who end up in Tartarus? It’s not exactly a place for ordinary mortals who’ve just been a bit naughty. Tartarus is reserved for the real cosmic wrongdoers, the big hitters in the bad behaviour stakes. We’re talking about beings who have seriously ticked off the gods.

Oh, the Titans. These were the older generation of gods, the ones who ruled before Zeus and the Olympians came along and had a bit of a… well, a right royal rumble for control of the cosmos. After Zeus and his lot won the Titanomachy (that’s the War of the Titans, for those not up on their Greek vocab), many of the Titans were chucked into Tartarus as punishment.

Think of it as the ultimate time-out for cosmic bullies. Cronus (father of Zeus), Atlas (who holds up the sky), and Iapetus (father of Prometheus) are just a few of the big names down there.

Later on, the Olympians had another big fight on their hands, this time against the Giants or Gigantes. These weren’t just big blokes, they were monstrous, earthborn creatures who challenged the Olympian order. After the Gigantomachy (War of the Giants), many of these were also tossed into Tartarus. Clearly, the Olympians had a bit of a thing for sending their enemies to the underworld’s deepest dungeon.

Tartarus isn’t just for Titans and Giants. We also hear of other mythological figures being imprisoned there for their transgressions, often for hubris (excessive pride) or disrespecting the gods. Think of figures like Tantalus (who tried to feed the gods his own son – yikes!) and Sisyphus (who tricked Thanatos, death itself).

Other unfortunate souls included Ixion, forever bound to a spinning, fiery wheel for his attempted seduction of Hera, and the Danaids (Danaïdes), condemned to eternally fill leaky jars with water for their murderous crime. These are cautionary tales, chaps – don’t mess with the gods, or you might find yourself on a one-way trip to Tartarus.

To make sure no one escapes from this ultimate prison, the Olympians appointed some rather formidable guards: the Hecatoncheires (also known as the Centimanes). These were monstrous beings, children of Uranus and Gaia, with a hundred hands and fifty heads each.

These formidable beings, each with a hundred hands and fifty heads, stood as unwavering sentinels, ensuring no prisoner could ever hope to breach the iron gates. Imagine that lot on gate duty. They were basically the cosmic bouncers of Tartarus, ensuring no unwelcome guests left, and probably discouraging anyone from even trying to break in.

It’s easy to get Tartarus and Hades muddled up, as they’re both in the underworld realm. But they are distinct. Think of it like this:

  • Hades (the Underworld): This is the general realm of the dead. It’s a vast area with different sections, kind of like a big country. It’s where most souls go after death, regardless of whether they were particularly good or bad (at least in Homeric tradition). It’s ruled by the god Hades (also called Pluto in Roman myth). Mythologists and historians often depict it as shadowy and gloomy, but not necessarily a place of punishment for everyone.
  • Tartarus: This is a specific section within Hades, the Underworld. It’s the prison part of the underworld. It’s specifically for those who have committed serious offenses against the cosmic order, especially against the gods themselves. It’s a place of punishment and torment.

So, all of Tartarus is in Hades, but not all of Hades is Tartarus. It’s like saying all of Alcatraz is in San Francisco Bay, but not all of San Francisco Bay is Alcatraz. One’s a general area, the other is a very specific (and rather grim) location within it.

While Tartarus is primarily known as a prison, it also crops up in other aspects of Greek myth and cosmology. It’s not just a place of punishment, it’s a fundamental part of the universe’s structure.

  • Cosmological Origins: As we mentioned, Tartarus is one of the primordial entities in some origin myths. It represents the abyss, the chaos from which the ordered cosmos emerged. So, in a weird way, it’s essential to the very structure of reality. A bit like the foundations of a house – you don’t see them, but they’re crucial for the whole thing to stand up.
  • Symbolism of Chaos and Disorder: Tartarus, as the deepest, darkest, most chaotic place, often symbolizes the forces of disorder and chaos that are constantly trying to undermine the Olympian order of the cosmos. For the ancient Greeks, Tartarus likely represented the ultimate fear of divine retribution and the essential need for cosmic order. It’s a reminder that order is always fragile and needs to be maintained against the forces of chaos and rebellion. A bit of a cosmic pressure valve, perhaps?

Even though the ancient Greek myths are thousands of years old, Tartarus still pops up in modern culture. It’s a potent image – the ultimate prison, the abyss of despair. You see references to Tartarus in:

  • Literature and Art: From classic literature to modern fantasy, Tartarus serves as inspiration for depictions of hellish realms, prisons, and places of torment.
  • Games and Pop Culture: Video games, films, and TV shows often borrow elements of Tartarus when they need a suitably nasty underworld or a place of ultimate confinement. It’s got that instant “bad place” vibe that creators love.
  • Metaphor for Inner Turmoil: On a more metaphorical level, Tartarus can represent inner turmoil, deep-seated fears, or the darkest aspects of the human psyche. Thinking about Tartarus can even be a way to explore our own anxieties about punishment, darkness, and the unknown.
Tartarus: Underground prison or Hell on Earth!

So there you have it, chaps. Tartarus. Greek mythology’s ultimate naughty step, the deepest, darkest dungeon in the cosmos, and a place you definitely wouldn’t want to accidentally book a holiday to. It’s a grim place, no doubt, but it’s also a fascinating one. It tells us a lot about how the ancient Greeks viewed the universe, justice, and the consequences of messing with the big gods.

Next time you hear someone mention the Underworld, remember Tartarus. It’s not just a shadowy realm; it’s the basement of the shadowy realm, and trust me, things get properly serious down there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I need another cuppa and something a bit less… abyssal to think about. Perhaps we can chat about Elysium next time? That sounds a bit more cheerful, doesn’t it?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *