The Flight of Icarus

By Sally Benson

 

Background Today we think of myths as stories that have

been passed down through countless generations. In the ancient

civilization of Greece, myths were the basis of an elaborate

system of beliefs. Myths explained their mystifying world and

offered wisdom on how to live in it. The myth of Daedalus and his

son Icarus is one example.

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When Theseus escaped from the labyrinth, King Minos

flew into a rage with its builder, Daedalus, and ordered

him shut up in a high tower that faced the lonely sea. In time,

with the help of his young son, Icarus, Daedalus managed to

escape from the tower, only to find himself a prisoner on the

island. Several times he tried by bribery to stow away on one

of the vessels sailing from Crete, but King Minos kept strict

watch over them, and no ships were allowed to sail without

being carefully searched.

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       Daedalus was an ingenious artist and was not discouraged

by his failures. “Minos may control the land and sea,” he said,

“but he does not control the air. I will try that way.”

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       He called his son, Icarus, to him and told the boy to

gather up all the feathers he could find on the rocky shore.

 

As thousands of gulls soared over the island, Icarus soon

collected a huge pile of feathers. Daedalus then melted some

wax and made a skeleton in the shape of a bird’s wing. The

smallest feathers he pressed into the soft wax and the large

ones he tied on with thread. Icarus played about on the beach

happily, while his father worked, chasing the feathers that blew away in the strong wind that swept the island and sometimes taking bits of the wax and working it into strange shapes with his fingers.

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       It was fun making the wings. The sun shone on the bright

feathers; the breezes ruffled them. When they were finished,

Daedalus fastened them to his shoulders and found himself

lifted upwards, where he hung poised in the air. Filled with

excitement, he made another pair for his son. They were

smaller than his own, but strong and beautiful.

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       Finally, one clear, wind-swept morning, the wings were

finished, and Daedalus fastened them to Icarus’s shoulders

and taught him how to fly. He bade him watch the movements

of the birds, how they soared and glided overhead. He pointed

out the slow, graceful sweep of their wings as they beat the

air steadily, without fluttering. Soon Icarus was sure that he,

too, could fly and, raising his arms up and down, skirted

over the white sand and even out over the waves, letting his

feet touch the snowy foam as the water thundered and broke

over the sharp rocks. Daedalus watched him proudly but

with misgivings. He called Icarus to his side and, putting his

arm round the boy’s shoulders, said, “Icarus, my son, we are

about to make our flight. No human being has ever traveled

through the air before, and I want you to listen carefully to my

instructions. Keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low,

the fog and spray will clog your wings, and if you fly too high,

the heat will melt the wax that holds them together. Keep near

me and you will be safe.”

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       He kissed Icarus and fastened the wings more securely

to his son’s shoulders. Icarus, standing in the bright sun, the

shining wings dropping gracefully from his shoulders, his

golden hair wet with spray, and his eyes bright and dark with

excitement, looked like a lovely bird. Daedalus’s eyes filled

with tears, and turning away, he soared into the sky, calling to

Icarus to follow. From time to time, he looked back to see that

the boy was safe and to note how he managed his wings in his

flight. As they flew across the land to test their prowess before

setting out across the dark wild sea, plowmen below stopped

their work and shepherds gazed in wonder, thinking Daedalus

and Icarus were gods.

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       Father and son flew over Samos and Delos, which lay on

their left, and Lebinthus,[1] which lay on their right. Icarus,

beating his wings in joy, felt the thrill of the cool wind on his

face and the clear air above and below him. He flew higher

and higher up into the blue sky until he reached the clouds.

His father saw him and called out in alarm. He tried to follow

him, but he was heavier and his wings would not carry him.

Up and up Icarus soared, through the soft, moist clouds and

out again toward the glorious sun. He was bewitched by a

sense of freedom and beat his wings frantically so that they

would carry him higher and higher to heaven itself. The

blazing sun beat down on the wings and softened the wax.

Small feathers fell from the wings and floated softly down,

warning Icarus to stay his flight and glide to earth. But the

enchanted boy did not notice them until the sun became so

hot that the largest feathers dropped off and he began to sink.

Frantically he fluttered his arms, but no feathers remained

to hold the air. He cried out to his father, but his voice was

submerged in the blue waters of the sea, which has forever

after been called by his name.

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       Daedalus, crazed by anxiety, called back to him, “Icarus!

Icarus, my son, where are you?” At last he saw the feathers

floating from the sky, and soon his son plunged through the

clouds into the sea. Daedalus hurried to save him, but it was

too late. He gathered the boy in his arms and flew to land,

the tips of his wings dragging in the water from the double

burden they bore. Weeping bitterly, he buried his small son

and called the land Icaria in his memory.

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Then, with a flutter of wings, he once more took to the

air, but the joy of his flight was gone and his victory over the

air was bitter to him. He arrived safely in Sicily, where he

built a temple to Apollo and hung up his wings as an offering

to the god, and in the wings he pressed a few bright feathers

he had found floating on the water where Icarus fell. And he

mourned for the birdlike son who had thrown caution to the

winds in the exaltation of his freedom from the earth.