Sarah Clegg Virgin Ghosts and Failed Mothers
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n 306BC, as the heirs of Alexander the Great fought over control of his empire, Ptolemy I’s fleet was captured at the battle of Salamis by the young ruler of Macedon, Demetrius Poliorcetes. Aboard one of Ptolemy’s ships was a courtesan by the name of Lamia, who was taken as a concubine by Demetrius. While we have little information concerning how she felt about this, we do know that she quickly became Demetrius’s favourite – not, apparently, due to her looks (as Plutarch insists on repeating throughout his account of her life she had ‘already passed her prime’ when she was captured by Demetrius), but because she was witty and ‘prompt in repartee’.1 She was also (supposedly) demanding and prone to extravagant whims, which were often indulged by a besotted Demetrius: we have multiple accounts of lavish feasts that he threw for her, and according to Plutarch he even levied a substantial tax on his citizens to pay for her soap.2 A curious anecdote about her has also survived, concerning a discussion between a group of Demetrius’s representatives and a Macedonian officer called Lysimachus. During a lull in the conversation, Lysimachus began showing off the scars on his leg and back, souvenirs from a time he had fought a lion. Demetrius’s men laughed, and claimed that their king, too, had scars on his neck from a ‘dreadful wild beast’ – Lamia. This was not just a reference to Lamia’s supposedly controlling nature, but also a pun – the king’s lover shared her name with a mythical monster.3 This monstrous Lamia was said to have been a beautiful queen of Libya who was loved by Zeus and forced by an envious Hera to devour her own children. Driven mad by grief
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