{"id":19170,"date":"2023-11-14T10:24:38","date_gmt":"2023-11-14T09:24:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/?p=19170"},"modified":"2025-10-19T17:33:29","modified_gmt":"2025-10-19T16:33:29","slug":"elizabeth-vandiver-from-ovid-to-the-stars","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/?p=19170","title":{"rendered":"Elizabeth Vandiver &#8211; From Ovid to the Stars"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>24 &#8211; <strong>From Ovid to the Stars &#8211; Classical Mythology (Vol 25) by Elizabeth Vandiver<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Run time: 29:47 \/ 2011-01-05<\/p>\n<div style=\"width: 640px;\" class=\"wp-video\"><video class=\"wp-video-shortcode\" id=\"video-19170-1\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" preload=\"metadata\" controls=\"controls\"><source type=\"video\/mp4\" src=\"https:\/\/archive.org\/download\/ClassicalMythologyvolume25\/24.FromOvidToTheStars_512kb.mp4?_=1\" \/><a href=\"https:\/\/archive.org\/download\/ClassicalMythologyvolume25\/24.FromOvidToTheStars_512kb.mp4\">https:\/\/archive.org\/download\/ClassicalMythologyvolume25\/24.FromOvidToTheStars_512kb.mp4<\/a><\/video><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #999999;\"><em>(Transcribed with the help of AI &#8211; S. Guraziu, Oct. 2025 &#8211; Video embedded, source IntArchive, Nov. 2023)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p><strong>Elizabeth Vandiver<\/strong> &#8211; Hello and welcome back to the final lecture on classical mythology. In the previous lecture, we talked about Ovid&#8217;s place in Roman history and his use of myth in Metamorphoses, the type of work it is and what Ovid was doing with myth.<br \/>\nIn this last lecture, I want to look at the enormous influence that Ovid&#8217;s work exercised on later European culture from about the 11th century AD onward. Now to get from Ovid to the 11th century AD, we need to do a little recapping of history from the period in which the Roman Empire became Christian onward. <\/p>\n<p>Classical civilization, the belief in the classical gods, like the Minoan and Mycenaean civilizations before it, did not simply disappear all of a sudden. Rather, it waned over a period of time with the growing influence of Christianity playing a very strong role in that waning. In the fourth century AD, with the conversion of the Emperor Constantine, often called Constantine the Great, Christianity became the primary religion of the Roman Empire and from that time onward belief in the pagan gods began to disappear from European culture. <\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s impossible to tell, of course, when the final transition came, when no one any longer believed in the traditional gods of Greece and Rome. We know that after Constantine&#8217;s conversion to Christianity, there was a later emperor called Julian the Apostate, who reigned from 361 to 363 AD, who tried to return the Roman Empire to the traditional pagan gods, and Julian supposedly was the last person ever to receive an oracle from Apollo&#8217;s oracle at Delphi. <\/p>\n<p>Julian sent to Delphi and got the answer that said, tell the king, to the messengers Julian had sent, tell the king that Apollo&#8217;s hall has fallen, the sacred spring speaks no longer, he has no prophetic laurel any longer, there&#8217;s no one here, in other words. But Julian was not successful in returning roman culture to worship of the pagan gods and christianity remained the primary religion of roman culture now between the fourth century the time of constantine and julian and the 11th centuries a.d and later on in fact latin was the main language of communication in western Europe.<\/p>\n<p>But literary evidence for these centuries is relatively sparse, and most literature that does survive from this time period is specifically Christian-oriented. It&#8217;s specifically about church matters, lives of saints, that sort of thing. It is in the late 11th century and onward, the High Middle Ages and the Renaissance, that we see classical literature and particularly Ovid coming back into play as major influences on European culture. <\/p>\n<p>And Ovid&#8217;s influence, or I should say the influence of Metamorphoses because his amatory poetry was much less important, the influence of metamorphoses on European culture from the late 11th century onward was surprisingly large. In fact, the 12th century AD has even been called by some scholars an Eitas Ovidiana or Ovidian age, an age that models itself on Ovid. <\/p>\n<p>Why should metamorphoses have suddenly become so important a model, so important a text in the 12th century in Western Europe? Well, there are a few reasons. First, the growth of cathedral schools in this time period increased the knowledge of Ovid&#8217;s work.<br \/>\nClassical literature in general survived after the conversion of classical civilization to Christianity. Classical literature survived mainly in copies held in the libraries of monasteries, convents, and great churches. Classical literature, like all literature before the invention of the printing press, was preserved by being copied laboriously by hand manuscript to manuscript.<\/p>\n<p>Many works were lost in this time period, in these centuries from the fourth century onward, not out of any malicious intent, but simply because the labor required to copy works that were no longer considered important was too great to justify. But primary classical works, Virgil, Ovid, the historian Levy, and so forth, were copied and continued to exist, therefore, in monastery, convent, and cathedral libraries. <\/p>\n<p>Thus, when cathedral schools became a force to be reckoned with, in the 12th century in particular, more people were able to gain knowledge of Ovid&#8217;s work. Those who attended those schools would encounter Ovid along with the other classical and ecclesiastical works that they would find in the libraries associated with their schools.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\n<!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<p>This, of course, doesn&#8217;t explain why Ovid, more than Virgil or any other classical writer, was popular. The answer to that question seems to be, very surprisingly, that medieval writers interpreted metamorphoses as a collection of allegories, both moral allegories in general and specifically Christian allegories. You&#8217;ll remember back in the early lectures of the course, I said that the allegorical interpretation of myth has had a very long run for its money.<\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s been a very popular interpretation of myth from antiquity onwards. And certainly this is what we see with the treatment of metamorphoses in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. In fact, by the 14th century A.D., the allegorical use of Ovid reached its high point in an anonymous French verse poem of 70,000 verses entitled Ovid Morrise.<\/p>\n<p>Ovid interpreted as moral exempla, more or less. In this work, the flight of Daedalus and his son Icarus was interpreted as representing the soul&#8217;s flight towards God. Daedalus, you&#8217;ll remember, was the great artisan, the craftsman who constructed the labyrinth in which the minotaur was kept imprisoned.<\/p>\n<p>Later in his story, Daedalus himself and his son Icarus were imprisoned by Minos and made their escape by making wings for themselves and flying away from the island of Crete. Daedalus fashioned these wings by gathering feathers from seabirds, making wax forms that he fitted to his own and his son&#8217;s arms, warming the wax, impressing the feathers into it, and then he and Icarus could fly.<\/p>\n<p>Daedalus warned his son not to fly too near to the sun or the heat would melt the wax and the feathers would drop off his arms, not to fly too low or the moisture from the sea would make the feathers heavy and pull him down, but to fly in the middle path. Icarus flew too near to the sun, the wax melted, he fell into the sea and was drowned. Now there are undoubtedly many allegorical ways to interpret that myth. <\/p>\n<p>I suppose the most obvious one is that it&#8217;s a representation of the Delphic maxim, nothing in excess, keep to the middle way, but in the book Ovid Moralise in the 14th century, it was seen as representing the soul&#8217;s flight towards God. Perhaps even more surprisingly and certainly more specifically Christian in allegory was the way this work read the tale of Daphne and Apollo. Daphne was seen in her purity, her rejection of sexuality, as representing the Virgin Mary.<\/p>\n<p>So Ovid was used in this time period as a source of allegory that was seen as being specifically Christian most of the time and the rest of the time at least very, very moral. An odd twist of fate for Ovid who, as we saw in the last lecture, was so ironic and urbane and sophisticated a writer that he should be used as a source of completely unironic allegory as a source of moral instruction for youth, but that is how he was used.<br \/>\nBy the 14th century, when Ovid Moralise was written, Ovid was also becoming well-known in England in his Latin original. And students who went to grammar schools in England learned to read Latin. That&#8217;s why grammar schools were called grammar schools, because that was where students studied Latin grammar.<\/p>\n<p>When we move on into the 15th century, William Caxton published the first English translation of Metamorphoses in 1480. Caxton worked from a French translation. He worked both directly from the Latin and from a French translation and he included morals or allegorical interpretations and explanations of the stories in Ovid. So Caxton&#8217;s translation was really a translation plus commentary and reflected the same assumption that we saw in the earlier Ovid Moralize that Ovid&#8217;s main use is as a source of morals and allegories and that interpreting those as part of what the translator should do for his audience.<\/p>\n<p>But with Caxton&#8217;s translation, obviously, Ovid became available to more English readers because now even those who did not know Latin could read Ovid in English. For English literature and culture, however, the crucial point about Ovid is reached with Ovid&#8217;s influence on Shakespeare.<br \/>\nShakespeare clearly knew metamorphoses very, very well indeed. He knew it backwards and forwards. It permeates Shakespeare&#8217;s work to an extent that can hardly be exaggerated. <\/p>\n<p>We don&#8217;t know the details of Shakespeare&#8217;s education. We know very, very little about Shakespeare&#8217;s life, but if he studied at the Stratford Grammar School, there was a grammar school in Stratford, so if Shakespeare was one of the students there, we simply don&#8217;t know whether he was or not, he would have read Ovid in the original Latin as a schoolboy. He probably also used, as a grown man, the translation of 1567 done by Golding, which was a very, very popular book in England in the late 16th century.<\/p>\n<p>Whether Shakespeare took his Ovid directly from the Latin or whether he worked mostly or even entirely from Golding&#8217;s translation, Metamorphoses permeates Shakespeare&#8217;s works to an absolutely extraordinary extent. It&#8217;s almost as though Metamorphoses is the text lying behind Shakespeare on just about every page of just about every play. <\/p>\n<p>When Shakespeare wants a point of comparison, when he wants something to use as a metaphor or a simile or a more general kind of comparison, one of Ovid&#8217;s stories in Metamorphoses seems to be the first thing that springs to his mind in a very great number of cases. And it has always seemed to me particularly in teaching modern American college students, that this is a large part of what makes Shakespeare difficult for modern readers. People often think that the difficulty of Shakespeare lies in his language. I don&#8217;t think so. <\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\n<!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<p>The archaic language is fairly easy to get past. I think the difficulty of Shakespeare lies in the fact that he makes so many allusions to things that are meaningless to modern readers. And I can give you one example to serve<br \/>\nfor all of the examples in Shakespeare. In her great second balcony speech, when Juliet is waiting for Romeo to come join her for their wedding night, she opens the speech with a mythological reference. <\/p>\n<p>Just to remind you of where we are in the play at this point, Romeo and Juliet have secretly been married. Romeo has murdered Juliet&#8217;s cousin Tybalt and therefore has been banished from Verona. Juliet is waiting for him to come join her for what they know will probably be their one and only night together. And she&#8217;s standing on her balcony waiting for night to fall.<\/p>\n<p>And this is what she says, the first three lines of her speech. Now, when I teach mythology, to college students. I always recite that speech the first day of class and ask them if they know what it means and almost without exception they haven&#8217;t a clue what it means. I might as well be saying blah blah blah. I then tell them the story of Phaeton and enjoy watching their faces wide up and their heads nod and understanding when I recite Juliet&#8217;s lines again. <\/p>\n<p>If you know the story of Phaeton you realize that Juliet is saying, in effect, that she doesn&#8217;t care if the entire world is destroyed. She doesn&#8217;t care if every other living creature dies that very night. She wants Romeo and she wants him as soon as possible, and of course there&#8217;s more at work in this image even than that there&#8217;s a resonance of Juliet referring to the eager passionate ardent young doomed teenager Phaeton when she herself is an eager passionate ardent young doomed teenager the death of Phaeton that anyone who has read ovid knows is inevitable in the story of the wagoner Phaeton whipping the horses to the west the death of Phaeton prefigures the deaths of Romeo and Juliet themselves. <\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s an image that works on all sorts of levels and it is an extraordinarily powerful way for Juliet to begin her speech describing her desire for night to come in immediately and bring her Romeo. But if you haven&#8217;t read Ovid or if you haven&#8217;t read classical myth, it falls about as flat as anything possibly could fall.<\/p>\n<p>This is, as I said, just one example out of Shakespeare. There are many, many others. And since Shakespeare&#8217;s influence on English literature is incalculably great, I think it&#8217;s fair to say that Ovid&#8217;s influence on English literature through Shakespeare is also incalculably great. Now, Ovid is only one author, granted.<\/p>\n<p>But he can stand as a representative of the enormous influence that classical mythology in general has had and continues to have on later Western civilization, both European and American. Authors have taken and continue to take themes, images, plots, characters, points of comparison from Homer, from Virgil, from the tragedians, from many other classical authors, as well as from Ovid. <\/p>\n<p>And since these ancient authors&#8217; subject matter was, as we&#8217;ve seen throughout this course, if not directly myth, then at least permeated with myth, that means later authors who draw upon the ancient authors are inevitably drawing upon those same myths for their plots, characters, points of comparison, and so forth. Sometimes a modern author will make this obvious through the title of a work. When James Joyce calls his novel Ulysses, he&#8217;s giving us a clue that it is in some way a reworking of the story of Odysseus, whose name in Latin was Ulysses.<\/p>\n<p>When Eugene O&#8217;Neill writes a play that he entitles Mourning Becomes Electra, he is telling us through that title what he doesn&#8217;t tell us overtly in the play itself, that it is in some way a reworking of the myth of the House of Atreus. And obviously in both cases, those authors simply assume that their audiences are familiar enough with classical mythology that they will understand the point of the reference in the title.<\/p>\n<p>Other modern authors don&#8217;t indicate their intentions so clearly, but that doesn&#8217;t make their debt to classical mythology necessarily any less. An example of what I mean here would be Charles Fraser&#8217;s marvelous novel, Cold Mountain, that came out a couple of years ago which owes not just much of its plot, but many of its specific episodes and much of its imagery to the Odyssey. It is a story about a Civil War soldier walking home to rejoin his fiancee, and it would hardly be an exaggeration to say that it is a reworking of or a retelling of the Odyssey set in the post-Civil War American South, though with some remarkable changes from the Odyssey as well.<\/p>\n<p>Now, classical mythology clearly permeates our culture&#8217;s literature. It also permeates our culture&#8217;s art. Not so much, I suppose, in modern art as in art from the Middle Ages up through the last century or so, but anyone who has ever gone to a great art museum will remember that when you look at paintings in any of the great art museums in Europe or America, a great many of them have their subject matter taken either directly from the Bible or directly from classical mythology.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\n<!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<p>Classical mythology also is in our language. I&#8217;ve mentioned some examples already in the course. Tantalize, narcissism, that sort of thing. Are these the only reasons it&#8217;s still important to us that we find it as images in our literature and our art and as the occasional metaphor in our language?<\/p>\n<p>Most of the theorists we surveyed at the beginning of this course would say that myth is important to us for deeper reasons than merely its influence on our culture. They would say, for instance, that myth taps into some deep structure or some psychological tendency in the human mind to mediate binary oppositions, to express our repressed desires, to link us to the archetypes, whatever.<\/p>\n<p>And they may be right about that. I don&#8217;t claim to know whether they are or not. But this would leave unanswered the question of why classical myth in particular is so congenial to us. That perhaps requires a little bit of explanation. In my experience, in the experience of most people I have talked to, classical myth is congenial in a way that the myths of many other cultures aren&#8217;t. <\/p>\n<p>People who have turned from reading classical myth to reading the myth of, say, Navajo culture or ancient African cultures or many other cultures find that there is a kind of familiarity to classical myth that makes it immediately congenial in a way that the myths of other cultures are not.<\/p>\n<p>To some extent, that may simply be a matter of familiarity, as I just said. These stories are common in our culture. We already know them. We recognize them as familiar. But that doesn&#8217;t seem to me to be quite adequate to explain not just the appeal of classical myth, but the alien-feeling nature of myths from other cultures. <\/p>\n<p>I think what&#8217;s going on here is that classical myth&#8217;s presence in our culture represents much more than just a borrowed set of literary and artistic tropes and images. I think, and perhaps here I&#8217;m agreeing more than I realize with the psychological theorists, I think that classical myth resonates for us on a deeper level than simply being a convenient set of metaphors that we plug in whenever we need a comparison, in the stories of greco-roman antiquity, I think we have inherited not just stories but a whole cast of mind now I&#8217;m certainly not trying to say that we agree with those cultures in every particular quite obviously we don&#8217;t. <\/p>\n<p>But I think we do have access in their myths to an entire cast of mind to an entire world view that perhaps has more influence on a still than we often realize. I think furthermore that literature and when I say literature here I&#8217;m including other forms of entertainment that have to some extent superseded books in our culture such as movies and television programs. I think that literature does much more than merely entertain us.<\/p>\n<p>I think it&#8217;s more important than that that it interacts with other areas of human endeavor to shape our entire world view and that therefore classical myth has to some extent helped in shaping our world view, in shaping our culture, just as it helped in shaping the cultures that developed it. One final question that I&#8217;d like to address in this lecture, before we leave classical mythology and mythology in general, is to look at the question of where the myth-making impulse has turned in our own society. <\/p>\n<p>If classical myth still serves us as a set of traditional stories that we can draw upon, what about the myth-making impulse? What about the impulse that creates myth in any culture? What about the traditional stories that we developed ourselves rather than the ones that we inherited from another culture?<\/p>\n<p>As I said in the very first lecture, all cultures have myths, but it can be very difficult to analyze and identify myths from within a culture. In fact, I even suggested that myth is a category that really only exists when you&#8217;re outside a culture looking in, that when you&#8217;re inside the culture, myth tends to be seen as true descriptions of the way things really are.<\/p>\n<p>I still stand by that statement, but if myths are stories a culture tells itself that encode its aspirations, anxieties, beliefs, and fears, as I&#8217;ve suggested is a working definition of myth, then I think we can identify at least one strong mythic tendency in modern American culture. Even if this doesn&#8217;t yet have quite the full status of myth in the senses we&#8217;ve looked at in this course, I think we can identify at least one strong tendency towards what may yet become myth, one strong myth-making tendency.<\/p>\n<p>And what I think this is, is the whole complex of stories, word of mouth accounts, and widespread beliefs in visitors from extraterrestrial cultures that we see in modern American society. I think there&#8217;s several reasons why those stories are so common now, not just in word of mouth accounts, but in our entertainment. Why so many movies in particular deal with space travel, with aliens, with the whole genre that we call rather misleadingly science fiction. Why would those appeal to us so greatly?<\/p>\n<p>We can no longer place our monsters and our bizarre creatures at the edges of our own world. We know what&#8217;s at the edges of our own world. We know that our world has no edges. We&#8217;ve seen pictures of our world from outer space. We know what&#8217;s here. We can&#8217;t any longer put monsters at the far-lying reaches where nobody knows what&#8217;s located there, really. So what do we do with them? <\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\n<!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<p>We put them in outer space. The same impulse that put the Amazons in Scythia and triple-bodied Gerion in the far west now puts savage monsters beyond the solar system. And I think it really is precisely the same impulse. Just as medieval map makers, when they got to the edge of the known world, would write in the white space beyond it, here are monsters, so we, when we get to the edge of the solar system, right in the space beyond it, here are monsters. <\/p>\n<p>And we locate them there because we can&#8217;t locate them anymore on Earth. Similarly, and here I think there&#8217;s a very interesting correspondence indeed, we can no longer place our age of heroes in the remote past. History and archaeology have made that impossible. We know too much about what happened in the past to say that there was a golden age, to say that there were people who were greater, more culturally developed, more technologically advanced than we are living in the remote past. What do we do with them? What do we do with that impulse? We put them in the remote future.<\/p>\n<p>We have all sorts of stories about people who are greater than we, more technologically advanced than we, and yet somehow connected to us, and we place them several centuries in the future rather than in the past. And again, in our culture, we are probably more likely to find these stories in film and in television than in books, but I don&#8217;t think that matters at all for the point I&#8217;m trying to make here. Popular television programs and movies such as the Star Trek series I think reflect precisely the same impulse that we see played out in Hesiod in his account of the Age of Heroes.<\/p>\n<p>But the pattern is inverted chronologically. This race of people greater, stronger and more capable than we are still in some sense related to us, but they&#8217;re not our ancestors, they&#8217;re our descendants. And over and over again in the Star Trek series, some character will find a photograph or talk about a photograph or tell a story about an ancestor who lived in America in the 20th century, or an ancestor from the 19th century, the writers of that series very much make the point over and over again that these people are our descendants. Even Hesiod&#8217;s pessimism is not entirely lacking. <\/p>\n<p>In Star Trek it is, but in other science fiction it&#8217;s not. Many of our futuristic movies portray a future that is dark and horrible. That seems to agree with Hesiod&#8217;s description of the iron race that things are going to go from bad to worse. But even in those, and this is something I find especially fascinating, even in those particularly nihilistic and distressing futures, there is usually some figure, some strong and powerful and brave figure who overcomes great affliction, such as in the Terminator movies or the Road Warrior movies. There&#8217;s some figure who arises to try to overcome the difficulties of the extremely negatively pictured future.<\/p>\n<p>Now, what is the explanation for all of this? For, if I&#8217;m correct, what I&#8217;ve identified as the myth-making impulse moving towards science fiction and towards setting our myths in the future rather than in the past. What&#8217;s the explanation for the recognizable mythic themes that I think I&#8217;ve identified in modern entertainment?<\/p>\n<p>Again, psychological theorists, of course, would say that the stories of fantasy and science fiction are reflections of the mythic impulse welling up through our subconscious minds and that in them we see characters who are oddly familiar and situations that are oddly familiar because they&#8217;re reflecting the archetypes or our subconscious desires or the inevitable binary working of our opposition loaded minds or some other such theory and that may very well be part of the answer but in my opinion it&#8217;s more likely that these stories and their popularity are an indication not so much of immutable realities in the human psyche as of the degree to which the patterns of classical mythology have permeated our culture.<\/p>\n<p>I think that these stories and others like them tend to be appealing to us not simply because they reflect archetypes or patterns of human thought that would be the same in any culture at any time. Rather, I think a great deal of the reason for their appeal to us lies in the familiarity that comes to us because of the repetition through 2500 years of the stories of classical myth. <\/p>\n<p>Those 25 centuries of repetition in other words I think have made the patterns of these particular stories familiar to us and in fact have built those story patterns into the textures of our minds so just as the Athenian myths of Theseus and his encounters with the Minotaur preserved some memory of Minoan culture despite the fact that the Athenians did not know that that was what they were doing so, too, I think many of the stories that we tell ourselves as a society, the stories that encode our hopes, aspirations, and fears, preserve the traces of classical culture and the traces of classical myth and are part of our classical legacy.<br \/>\nThank you.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\n<span style=\"color: #999999;\"><em>(Transcribed with the help of AI &#8211; S. Guraziu, Oct. 2025 &#8211; Video embedded, source IntArchive, Nov. 2023)<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>24 &#8211; From Ovid to the Stars &#8211; Classical Mythology (Vol 25) by Elizabeth Vandiver Run time: 29:47 \/ 2011-01-05 https:\/\/archive.org\/download\/ClassicalMythologyvolume25\/24.FromOvidToTheStars_512kb.mp4 &nbsp; (Transcribed with the help of AI &#8211; S. Guraziu, Oct. 2025 &#8211; Video embedded, source IntArchive, Nov. 2023)&hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/?p=19170\" class=\"more-link\">Lexo <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[29],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-19170","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-media-extracted"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19170","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=19170"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19170\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=19170"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=19170"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/letrat.eu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=19170"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}