When we think of Greek mythology, we think of Zeus, Poseidon, Hercules… but what about Comus? Now that’s a name that doesn’t scream myth, theatre, or music. But it’s one that’s always changing, always strange. It’s one that lived in the minds of the Ancient Greeks, on the poetic stage of John Milton, and in the lyrics of British psychedelic folk bands.

So, who is Comus and why has he made his mark on media even though we forgot him?

The Myth ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

In mythology, Comus is a minor Greek god associated with festivity, ecstasy, and nocturnal abandon. He is, in the postclassical tradition, the son of Dionysus (the god of wine, theatre, and spiritual ecstasy) and Circe (a powerful enchantress most famous for turning Odysseus’ men into pigs). He was often portrayed as a drunken reveler with grapevine wreaths around his head, winged young man, or satyrisko (a child satyr) that was involved in Dionysiac processions. He frequently appears alongside other personifications of festivity in Greek mythology, namely Gelos (Laughter) and Euphrosyne (Mirth).

A vivid account of Comus’ revels are found in the writings of Greek sophist Philostratus the Elder, specifically in the following passage from his book Imagines:

Dionysus sails to the revels of [the island of] Andros and, his ship now moored in the harbor, he leads a mixed throng of Satyrs and Bacchantes and all the Silens. He leads Gelos (Laughter) and Comus, two spirits most gay and most fond of the drinking-bout, that with the greatest delight he may reap the river's harvest.

Here, Comus is not a solitary figure like Dionysus, but serves as an integral part of joyful chaos by bridging mortal and divine pleasure with wine and performance.

Although he was not extensively written about in ancient sources, he becomes more prominent in Renaissance traditions. It was the aspect of Comus that brought enchantment and intoxication which caught the attention of John Milton and eventually led him to write his play Comus (1634).

The Play ✧˖ °🎭✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

John Milton’s Comus (1634) is often read as a celebration of virtue. In the play, the mischievous Comus attempts to tempt a woman lost in the woods (simply called “the Lady”) into drinking from his magical cup which represents succumbing to man’s most primal desires. The Lady and Comus engage in debate over whether one should elevate these desires or submit to them. The Lady, who takes the former, succeeds in resisting Comus’ temptations. In the end, the Lady’s two brothers come rescue her with the help of a nymph called Sabrina (whose appearance in the play is really quite random if you ask me). Yet when viewed through the lens of Comus’ arguments, the play reveals a much more complex and morally ambiguous world. Comus exists in the space between clarity and confusion, reason and ecstasy, civilization and wilderness. Just like his parents, he casts illusions and enchantments upon the reader. When he is first introduced dancing merrily with his horde of revelers, the line between self-control and self-loss is blurred, especially when Comus says to his fellow dancers, “Come, knit hands, and beat the ground, in a light fantastick round!”

Comus makes three basics arguments against the Lady’s philosophy:

1. It’s Nature’s law to submit to longing (which could be read as sexual pleasure, but we’ll get to that later): Why should you be so cruel to yourself, / And to those dainty limbs which Nature lent / For gentle usage and soft delicacy?

2. Abandon is enlightenment: Thou hast nor ear, nor soul to apprehend / The sublime notion and high mystery / That must be utter’d to unfold the sage / And serious doctrine of virginity.

3. Love is a divine gift: What hath night to do with sleep? Night hath better sweets to prove, / Venus now wakes, and wakens Love.

The Lady claims that Comus’ philosophy is hedonistic and too indulgent, thus she dismisses his arguments and attempts to undermine his side of the debate. As the play goes on, Comus and the woods begin to seem more dangerous and pose as a greater threat to virtue than anything else.

But Comus doesn’t initially come off as a silver-tongued trickster. In fact, when he is first presented, it seems to be in quite a positive light (well, if you exclude what Milton has to say about his parentage). The woods seem to carry more malice than Comus himself does at the beginning (“But their way lies through the perplex’t paths of this drear Wood / The nodding horror of whose shady brows threats the forlorn and wand’ring Passinger”) implying that, perhaps, although Comus is a manifestation of the chaos of the primal, nothing can represent or personify the actual source of that abandon— the woods. The woods essentially become a setting that forces submission to man’s true nature.

The Lady, who contrasts the woods and all it’s revelry with her chastity, Stoic calm, and unfamiliarity with the forest, carries a strong conviction and remains unwavering in her position. I mean, her name is literally “the Lady”— it adheres to the social structures society has created while also carrying superiority, all things that seem to not exist in the forest. However, her virtue, though idealized, is ultimately passive. She can’t save herself and needs the help of supernatural nymphs, a spirit, and her brothers. So, is human virtue a truly powerful resistance if it requires divine backup?

More troubling still is that Comus is never captured, never punished. He escapes back into the woods with his questions remaining unanswered. The resolution to the argument, in a very real sense, is avoided even though the Lady’s triumph is celebrated.

What’s even more interesting is if you read the woods as a symbol for the unconscious mind and Comus as a being that knows the unconscious like the back of his hand. In this case, does he know better than your conscious, rational mind? Maybe Comus is seen as a malevolent temptation because that desire to break through the confines of the ego is repressed so intensely in society in order to keep it functioning. Staying in this ego, feeding it, is like powering up the machine and to annihilate it and surrender to yourself is to put a cog in it. Here, Comus represents the desire to escape the diseased structures of the rational world: hierarchy, repression, and ego. So although Comus’ temptations seem sexual, they’re not. They’re metaphysical.

In this light, the Lady’s rejection of Comus’ magic cup seems pretty tragic. She had the chance to experience liberation and transformation, but she chose to leave the woods and find a solid path back to civilization. The play doesn’t end with clarity, but with an almost uncanny sense that something still lurks unresolved in the woods. Something that still waits for submission.

But to submit does not always mean to lose control. Yes, perhaps, rationally, but not a loss of control over your own existence. There is this concept in Islam called tawakkul, which in Arabic, means “reliance” or “trust”, but in the context of Islam, is more of a submission to the universe, that you put your full trust in existence— a dissolving of yourself into space and knowing that everything will be okay (sort of like the song All is Full of Love by Björk: “You’ll be given love / You’ll be taken care of /You just have to trust it”). Comus’ argument to surrender yourself reminds me of this.

Do I believe that Milton intended this interpretation? Probably not. You could also read the Lady’s resistance to Comus as the Self resisting earthly pleasures and transcesending the physical. But I think that a story can exist without the author or their intent, because in the end, the only thing it belongs to is Existence.

The Band ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

Who knew that Comus, the god, and the play, influenced a British folk band from the 70s? Formed in London by art students Glenn Goring and Roger Wootton, the band initially only played at folk clubs in Kent, but gained recognition by performing at David Bowie’s Arts Lab in Beckham. The band decided to be named Comus after both the Greek god and the masque by John Milton. Their music took inspiration from both the mythology and literature of the figure by handling themes of ecstasy, dark eroticism, and pagan mysticism.

I must specify that Comus channeled pagan mysticism not in a New Age or neopagan sense, but through a dark, primal, and often disturbing lens by drawing from the unsettling aspects of classical mythology and English folklore. Their first album “First Utterance” (1971) explores moral ambiguity and dark temptation, both of which are themes central to Milton’s “Comus” and the mythic character as a symbol of sensuality, intoxication, and chaos. The band is known for it’s dark and disturbing themes, such as rape, necrophilia, and shock therapy which sometimes leave the listener feeling quite nauseated.

If I’m going to be honest with you: I don’t really like their songs. I also don’t like their depiction of Comus as a raping god, and I quote, “hymen hunter” that steals “virgins’ virtue”. My favorite artists are AURORA, Björk, Florence + the Machine, Of Monster & Of Men, Kate Bush, Enya, Daemonia Nymphe, and Arrowwood (Chelsea Robb)… so that combined with Comus’ disturbing content, it makes sense that they wouldn’t exactly slot into my taste in music, all but for one song.

I discovered Comus’ song, The Herald way before I knew any of their other songs or did the research for this article. It’s the only song of theirs’ I like or listen to because it seems almost as if it came from a different source than the other songs. There is a beauty and mysticism that the other songs don’t seem to hold. Yes, it is a bit unsettling, but there is an underlying joy and comfort, almost celestial nostalgia. It’s about a herald that searches the world for another herald who announces the light in the morning. The beauty of the song overflows at around the 9:20 mark (yes, it’s a long song) with a rough, anticipatory stringed sound. If I could describe the sound it would be like being there, almost there— reaching a desire for something the world cannot offer. I would highly recommend giving it a listen.

Yes, Comus is a wild god. Yes, he is a manifestation of ecstasy and chaos like his father, Dionysus. But like his father, it is ecstatic, infinite, violent, chaotic love that he brings with him, imbuing the entire universe with intoxicating love for the self and existence. His temptation isn’t sexual temptation, but the desire to get away from diseased civilization, away from the ego, away from the judgement of ‘rational humans’ and to the unconscious of the forest, where man realizes himself to be divine. Comus reminds me of a person making it out of the cave in Plato’s allegory. Although I personally didn’t interpret him as a “hymen hunter”, in the world of media, Comus can be anything one needs him to be. In the band, he is used to discuss and confront dark topics while in John Milton’s masque, he is neither good nor bad, neither fully man nor fully god— he is an evader of definition. He is the liminal space, a place reminiscent of the imaginal world where the self is stripped down to it’s original source.

And I for one, prefer to keep him that way.

Thank you for reading my ramble of the week!

Keep telling and collecting stories,

Ava🪐