Hermes Conference Recap, Day 2

Ah, beautiful Charlottesville, Virginia.  Beloved town of Thomas Jefferson, one of the great Founding Fathers of the United States of America, and home of my alma mater, the University of Virginia, where I spent several years in academic, emotional, and spiritual upheaval and chaos which had a significant impact on my life today.  It’s also where an amazing conference is being held on my patron god, titled Tracking Hermes/Mercury, put on by the Department of Classics at the University of Virginia.  If you’re not here, you’re missing out; there are 21 presentations being made over three days talking about the role of Hermes-Mercury in many of his forms in myth, religion, magic, and daily life throughout the antique to late classical periods of European history.  I’m more than pleased to be here, and it’s an amazing group with equally amazing speakers from around the world presenting here on this awesome topic.  Besides the fact that I get to roam around my old stomping grounds again and do a bit of exploration that I couldn’t or wouldn’t do when I was younger, I get to study and learn more about my own patron from some of the brightest and sharpest (though sometimes oddly-accented) experts in the field of classics.  While I’m here, I may as well write up some of my notes and things to think on that I’m picking up at this little conference.

Today was the second day of three, a full day of presentations: Jenny Strauss Clay (Virginia), Deborah Boedeker (Brown), Erin Moodie (Williams), Sandra Blakely (Emory), Joseph Farrell (Penn), Micah Myers (Kenyon), Stephen Harrison (Oxford), and Shane Black (Colorado).  Below are some of the talking points and thoughts from their discussions.

  • Hermes is known for his mastery of seducing and seductive rhetoric, lies, craftiness, improvising, penetrating all sorts of barriers, being nosy, being greedy, and being preoccupied with food.  The same can also be said of Odysseus in Homeric literature; the two share many traits in common.
  • What’s unusual about Hermes is that there’s very little theophanic epiphany between and Odysseus (like on Ciprogedyrce’s island).  Usually, when a god is revealed to a mortal, there’s a good amount of freaking out on the part of the human, strange omens, or some sort of amazing transformation.  The relationship between Odysseus and Hermes, on the other hand, is casual, almost like Odysseus expects to see Hermes when a stranger appears to him.  On Hermes’ part, this shows him to be kind and philanthropic towards Odysseus, though it’s on the down-low between them.  The two definitely share a special bond.
  • An example of this that links the two tighter are when Odysseus visits the Phaeacians, unseen by all until he suddenly appears clutched to Queen Arete’s knees while they pour out their libations to Hermes.  Everyone became dumb-struck, marveling at the sudden appearance of this stranger in awe-struck silence (and remember from yesterday that, when silence occurs in a conversation, they say that Hermes has come in).  It’d be common, after all, in the old mythic ages for gods to feast with mankind.
  • It’s a little odd for Hermes to appear out of nowhere on Circe’s island so readily to Odysseus, especially when he complains of traveling afar to places with no delicious sacrifices for him.  That Circe says that Hermes told her (or, rather, repeatedly told her) to expect Odysseus suggests that Hermes hangs around Circe’s island for…well, you tell me, dear reader.  Hermes’ lasciviousness is nothing secret.
  • The bond between Hermes and Odysseus may go back to Odysseus’ grandfather, who honored Hermes with many sacrifices and great gifts, and whom Hermes celebrated by giving him Hermes’ craftiness and ingenuity.  This apparently was hereditary, given Odysseus’ knack for the same.  However, it’s also suggested that Odysseus’ grandfather was son to Hermes, which would make Odysseus both progeny and prodigy of Hermes.  Ties between the two are strong, even so far as for Circe to use the epithet “polytropos” (many-turning) to describe Odysseus, when this epithet is only ever used in other literature to describe Hermes.
  • Hermes and Odysseus may be immune to Circe’s magic, but they’re certainly not immune to her other charms.  Hermes may very well have been sleeping with Circe before Odysseus came along, and Odysseus just about becomes her sex slave instead of a porcinified one.  Odysseus has to be reminded later that he needs to set out once more on the seas to get home, after all.
  • That Athena is tutelary goddess to Odysseus is nothing new, but there may be evidence to suggest that Athena was added in later on to Homeric literature to help clean up Odysseus’ image.  It may be that Odysseus only had such a relationship to Hermes, but it’s also likely that the two were there from the beginning together.  Athena uses Hermes’ winged sandals in book I of the Odyssey, after all, and appears as a figure sharing many similarities to Hermes later on when Odysseus lands on Ithaca’s shores.  Unlike Hermes, however, Athena openly shows her affection for Odysseus, helping him in battles and everything.
  • Still, even Athena remains distinct from Hermes.  When Odysseus lands on Ithaca’s shores, Athena takes on the image of a young man with many mercurial looks and traits, hoping that Odysseus would spill his heart to her; yet, ever crafty, Odysseus engages in a game of deceitful cat-and-mouse with disguised Athena, both of them using “winged words”.
  • Speaking of “winged words” and banter, it can be said that Hermes is god of not just of eloquence but also of banter and cajoling.  One of the more famous styles of meter used in poetry is the iamb, and it can be said that Hermes is the patron god of this style of poetry.  Yes, it is metrically defined as an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed one (da-DUM da-DUM, etc.), but definitions broader than this go back to Aristotle, saying that the iambic meter is used by poets “of a less exalted nature [who] represented the actions of inferior men, at first writing satire…for these the iambic meter was fittingly introduced and that is why it is still called iambic, because it was the meter in which they lampooned (iambizon) each other” (Poetics, 1448b.31).  Even from Hermes’ Homeric Hymn do we see this working well for the god, because even as soon as he made the lyre he started singing out “sweet random snatches, even as youths bandy taunts at festivals”, which Apollo notes as the music and song like that “at young men’s revels”.
  • This is furthered by the use of the Greek word kertomon to describe Hermes, literally “heart-cutting” and translated as “impertinent” or “mischievous”, but also perhaps meaning obscene, scurrilous, and generally thumbing one’s nose at pretension. Hermes was no stranger to being rude or breaking taboo, such as him telling Leto (mother of Apollo and Artemis) to sod off when she challenges him in battle during the Theomachy in the Iliad (when Zeus ordained the gods to fight as they will!), or when Hermes jokes about sleeping with Aphrodite no matter the cost.
  • Of course, it isn’t just being rude to others that was appropriate in iambic poetry, but being rude generally.  Iambic poets love using bodily functions, and Hermes’ Homeric Hymn is likely the only one where farts are mentioned.  Hipponax, my new bestest and favoritest poet ever, made good use of this, writing dick jokes into his poems: “after awaiting at his side the white-robed day, you will make obeisance to the Hermes of the Phlyesians” (where nobody knows where Phlyesia was, but people now think it means masturbation, which pairs well with Hermes’ oft-seen phallic nature), or how “Blessed Hermes, you who know how to awake the sleeper” (i.e. morning wood or curing impotence).
  • Hipponax was a native of Asia Minor, and frequently made use of Lydian (a native language there) in his Greek poetry.  This would be improper, technically speaking, to use streettalk mixed in with invocations to the gods, often to lampoon or satirize others, such as calling Zeus the “sultan” (Lydian palmun) of the gods as gold is the “sultan” of silver (that’s not a very kind metaphor).  To use such a low register is basically rapping at someone on a street corner compared to higher, more artful poetry.
  • Not much of Hipponax’ poetry survives, but what does is fucking hilarious.  There’s something about someone getting into a fight and shitting on the golden wand of Hermes in fright (not kidding, this was actually discussed in the talk), and another poem where there’s some sort of random sexual encounter in a filthy privy where an old woman (the presenter paused here and said “how do I say this in polite company”) performs some sort of magic rite involving hitting genitals with branches, anal penetration, and dung beetles.  What I’m basically saying here is that iambic poetry is not the classiest of styles, so it’s totes proper for Hermes’ purview.
  • Of course, poetry isn’t the only thing Hermes would have a claim in, and it’s quite reasonable that one might claim Hermes to also be the god of comedic theater.  Yes, Dionysus is the god of theater, but Hermes-Mercury as a character (and, thus, actual presence) in comedic plays shows a huge familiarity with comedy and theatership generally.  Tragedies, of course, are taken very seriously and are where gods appear most often, but comedies are another thing entirely.  It was often seen as disrespectful for the gods to appear in comedies with very few exceptions, and many of the characters in comedies engage in metatheatrical behavior: breaking the fourth wall, direct address of the audience, awareness of being an actor in a play, references to theater in general or self-reference to one’s own parts.  Actors of low-class people (slaves, cooks, old men, parasites, etc.) engaged in the most metatheatrical activities on stage, and Hermes (when he appears) engages in some of the most direct and common acts of all.
  • Hermes himself notes in, say, Plautus’ Amphitryon that the gods aren’t fit to appear in comedies; after all, one shouldn’t be laughing at the antics of divinity.  Tragedies were fitting for the gods, after all, but comedies should star only humans.  That Hermes willingly takes part in comedies suggests, again, his closeness to humanity and his philanthropic nature, not to mention his divine nature of being trickster and deceiver.
  • By adopting metatheatrical methods in comedies, Hermes willingly takes on roles of the low class who often get the better of the high class roles, since, say, as a slave in a comedy, “it is proper for me to be wicked, clever, and now astute…with wickedness” (Plautus, “Amphitryon”).  These, of course, are not just qualities of the role Mercury plays (both as an actor of the play and role of himself to be played in disguise), but are qualities of Mercury himself.  This is self-referential on several levels, especially since it could be argued that Hermes himself is the slave to the gods, subservient while remaining deceptively crafty.  He’s the runt of the Olympian litter, effectively low-class, and the servant of the other gods.  His role in comedies, then, is an extension of his role on Olympus.
  • This isn’t to mention, of course, that many of the roles in comedies used iambic meter, and as we already know, iambic meter is quite a mercurial meter to use, especially for laughs and satire.  Not to mention penises everywhere; male roles in theater had a phallus on their costumes to clearly mark them as men, not unlike the phallus on the statues of herms.
  • Dionysus, of course, is the only other god in plays to directly address the audience in metatheatrical behavior, but then, Dionysus and Hermes are tightly connected in many ways (either with Hermes bringing Dionysus up or Hermes being Dionysus’ son, depending on the myth, and further Hermes’ role in the Anthesteria festival).  Dionysus may be a god of theater, but Hermes can definitely assume god of comedic theater since he’s so intimate with it.
  • Even going beyond metatheater, Hermes is the god who evokes laughter with song; he does this to Zeus with his stories and lies, and even gets Apollo to laugh with his lyre and lyrics.  Another reason to give Hermes patronage over acts that make others laugh, like comedic theater.
  • While Hermes is god of many things, Hermes is odd because it’s hard to find temples actually dedicated to Hermes.  Despite his importance as a god in so many things, he’s often denied the cult status or attributions that many other gods have.  A notable exception to this is the mystery cult of Hermes based on Samothrace, an island in the north Aegean on the frontiers of what might be considered proper Greek society.  The only resource notable from Samothrace were onions and a black flaky stone, so they depended almost wholly on maritime transport and commerce for their livelihoods.  Because the economic impact of sailing and ships was paramount to Samothracians, a cult rose up to honor one particular god to preserve Samothracian sailors (and, really, all sailors who were initiated into the cult).  This cult was dedicated to none other than Hermes, though it’s one of the few cults in the Mediterranean dedicated to the god.  And, further, unlike other cults that promised a blessed afterlife, this cult promised only safety at sea.
  • Although it’s not entirely clear how, exactly, Hermes came to be worshiped so importantly on Samothrace, there’s much evidence to link Samothracian Hermes to Kyllenic Hermes (referencing Mount Kyllene, where Hermes was born according to his Homeric Hymn).  Samothrace had a thing for archaic flavors of worship, and incorporated even Mycenaean-looking architecture, sacred stones and megaliths, and old wooden statues of the gods; they link these explicitly with the cult of Hermes at Kyllene, though there’s quite a bit of distance between Western Arcadia and Samothrace.
  • There were many gods of the sea and sailors, of course, besides the obvious Poseidon.  The Dioskouroi, or the divine twins Castor and Polydeukes (Pollux), were often seen to watch over sailors, though there is evidence that worship of the Dioskouroi coincided with that of Samothracian Hermes in many instances.  Similarly, this was also combined with the ever-popular Priapus; they all shared phallic or ithyphallic representations, and not only served to help turn away evil but purify and guide people to salvation and safe harbors.
  • Just as herms were set at crossroads to guide travelers, many monuments to Priapus and Hermes were set up on harbors to watch over harbors and indicate safe landings for ships.  The apotropaic purposes of these statues became more functional than they might otherwise have been; in this sense, this syncretic Hermes became a god of the harbor.
  • Supposedly, Samothrace was the first place the Greeks learned to make ithyphallic representations of Hermes, given Samothrace’s knack for holding onto ancient and archaic styles of worship, and this spread to the rest of Greece by way of the herms.
  • Fishermen on Samothrace, too, prayed to Hermes for prosperity in their business, though this may not always be for direct aid.  For instance, in the Theogony (specifically the Hymn to Hekate), should one pray to Hekate, both she and Hermes will ensure “a good catch”; however, other inscriptions dedicate fishermen’s tools to Hermes with the hopes that “when I’m too old to use these, please help me” (preserve my livelihood even when I can no longer do my job).
  • The nearby city of Ainos was dedicated almost entirely to Hermes, being the port for land routes in Thrace to mingle with the river routes of the Hebrus river and the sea routes of the Aegean; it was an exceptionally wealthy country where Hermes had so much sway.  There’s a particular representation of Hermes as a wooden statue set on a throne overlooking the sea, said to be made and designed by Epeios, the maker of the Trojan Horse.  This image was supposedly found in the sea by fishermen who wanted to burn it for wood, but it couldn’t be hacked apart by axes; it was divined to be a form of Hermes, and so was given worship.  A similar story is given to Methymna, where the statue was definitely Hermes and definitely not Greek (interesting!).
  • Although the Methymnian Hermes may not have been ultimately Greek in origin, some things about Hermes aren’t very Greek to begin with.  For example, Hermes’ love live is considerably lacking compared to the adventures and misadventures of the other Greek gods, especially those of his father Zeus and brother Apollo.  Sure, Hermes has a reputation for helping one elope or be secretive in love, or for ribald lovemaking, but Hermes has almost negligible love affairs in myth, particularly when compared to the other males of his Olympian family.
  • In fact, not only does Hermes lack the notable exploits of his godly peers, but he’s almost completely sublimated any lust or sexual desire he would have.  He has the capacity for it, sure, as he sings of the affairs and exploits of the gods in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes once he makes the lyre (likely in iambic meter, of course).  However, after this, despite being aroused, he hungers for meat, literally “lusting” for it, though this phrase is only applied to lions in other Homeric literature and only humorously here means little more than a physical hunger.  His sexual appetite is sublimated into his actual physical hunger.
  • Hermes is the child of Maia and Zeus, who met in secret at night while Hera slept; this was done in complete secrecy.  Hermes inherited his secretiveness, stealthiness, and secrecy from his parents as a result of this.  Zeus later picks up on this and uses Hermes’ secrecy to facilitate his own affairs (e.g. re-abduction of Io from Argos).
  • The only other expressions of love or lust Hermes shows in his hymn is his bromance (the erudite scholar actually used this word) with Apollo, with whom he promises to love forever, even watched over and officiated by Zeus.  To be fair, the language used is of a deep friendship, but really hints at something more than that.  Still, if it’s anything gay, it’s homosocial rather than homosexual, since there’s nothing to suggest the two gods got it on.  (This brings to my mind the astronomical image of the planet Mercury closely following the Sun, in the tightest orbit of all the planets.)
  • Instead of having sex with Apollo (which, I think, would be fucking hot) Hermes in his Homeric Hymn gives Apollo another source of joy: the lyre.  The music and tool of the lyre is described, essentially, as a girlfriend with a beautiful voice.  In this instance, the lyre is almost like a hetaira, a courtesan or classy whore that the two share like fratboys.
  • Apollo and Hermes may be good friends by the end of Hermes’ Homeric Hymn, but that certainly wasn’t always the case; Apollo is really bad at dealing with young gods.  A highly similar case exists, right down to many of the details, in Ovid’s Metamorphoses when Ovid describes the interaction between Cupid and Apollo.  With Apollo and Cupid, Cupid wants to take up archery, which Apollo scoffs at (since, obvi, archery was his domain); Cupid makes Apollo pay for his hubris by falling in love with the anti-love Daphne, who turns into the laurel tree, which Apollo then takes (almost as a gift from Cupid) as his beloved symbol.  This is very close to the Homeric Hymn of Hermes, where Hermes steals Apollo’s cattle and threatens worse, but they make up by Hermes giving Apollo the lyre.  While Cupid wants honor among the gods, Hermes wants specific dominion, but in either case Apollo gets what he loves (Daphne in tree form or friendship through music).  The episode between Cupid and Apollo is also similar to the theft of Apollo’s bow and arrows by Hermes (yes!) in the Iliad, and both Ovid and Homer share very similar terminology in these episodes.  Another similarity can be drawn between the stories of Cupid/Eros, and that of Mercury/Hermes.  Eros is the child of Aphrodite and, in some sources, Hermes, much as their other child Hermaphroditus.  There may be other parallels between the two that can argue that Hermaphroditus is Eros, and vice versa, though this might be a stretch.
  • Anyway, considering Hermes’ almost neverending role in helping Zeus with the god-father’s sexual escapades, it’s plain that Hermes is essentially the wingman of the gods.  Hermes almost never gets involved with sex, but is almost always needed by or asked for help from the other gods.  Hermes is the god who sets up or prevents affairs, which makes sense, since as a god of guides and guide of men and gods, his job is to lead someone to somewhere or to someone.
  • In this sense, Hermes is often approached by Aphrodite or in conjunction to prayers with her.  In Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, even Venus herself says that she never tries to do anything without her brother Mercury’s help.  Partially, of course, this is flattery so Mercury would help out Venus; but even then, since Hermes-Mercury is the god of flattery, banter, and persuasion, it makes sense that Hermes would have to be involved in getting people together.  Even Horace calls on Mercury in the Odes with Venus together to get into the house of Glycera, not only to bring them together physically but also to help Horace actually get into her house (despite the blocking-man who’s guarding Glycera).  It’s also why Aphrodite, when she’s fallen in love with Anchises of Troy, she says she was a virgin of Artemis abducted by Hermes; while nearly every other god would abduct a girl to rape her, Hermes would only ever lead the girl to someone who should know her (in either or both senses of the word).
  • Hermes, then, is necessary as a wingman either in act (helping the gods or men get together with someone) or in symbol (as our own eloquence to get someone to get with us). This latter part makes good sense, since classical authors often wrote of love needing to be tempered by reason, or saying that it’s better for couples in love to get things accomplished through persuasion rather than fighting.
  • Another reason why Hermes may not have many offspring is, from the few he’s had, they don’t tend to turn out alright.  One offspring of his was Pan, the goat-footed child that freaked out his mother, and another was Hermaphroditus, a child that was effeminate from birth and doubly so after merged with the nymph Salmacis.  The Greeks basically viewed either one as deformed or defective in some way, that his DNA somehow didn’t produce the best offspring; given Hermes’ lack of war conquests and manly stature, maybe it was seen that having a child of Hermes wasn’t that great generally.
  • A notable exception to this is the Homeric hero Eudoros, said to be a child of Hermes to account for his mentally and physically speedy nature, though this may only be a later addition to merely account for it.  Even then, Eudoros was the offspring of Hermes and the woman Polymele, and Hermes didn’t abduct her like most other gods may have, but instead sneaked into her room at night (taking a cue from his parents’ own congress).
  • Besides this, Hermes does have a few other sexual escapades here and there, as hinted at before with Circe, but also with Krokus (in a near replay of the Apollo/Hyacinthus myth), Brimo (likely Hekate), Persephone herself, and a few nymphs on the way to the underworld.  Hermes apparently has a thing for ladies and men of death or the dying.
  • In a sense, Hermes’ lack of sexuality becomes a type of alternative sexuality; not necessarily asexual, but certainly different from the conventional sexualities known and validated by other myths and in classical Greek culture.  He does his own thing on his own terms; when it comes to the relationships of others, he acts as the go-between of two people, bringing them together but staying out of anything that results.
  • Going a bit further in my own thoughts, the fact that Hermes stays out of relationships may be a hint at why he has next to no cults or mystery religions of his own.  Hermes brings people and gods together but stays out of what happens, after all.  Hermes, although an Olympian, is certainly not among the important ones, but he’s still a vital god to work with and crucial in day-to-day living.  Hermes has no temple, because he’s in every temple; he has no rites, because he’s in all rites; he has no expertise, because he’s an expert in everything.  Hermes is the go-between that leads us on in anything and everything; he is the road between destinations, but is not the destinations themselves.  He only leads us along the roads, but the road is where we spend most of our lives and times.  The presence of Hermes is required by man to work with any god, and is required to communicate to man from the gods.
  • Of course, this may not always be easy to explain.  Apparently, the presence of Hermes in book IV of the Aeneid is something of a problem for classicists, I guess because it’s so difficult to explain why Vergil wrote him into the story so as to get Aeneas out of Carthage after he falls in love with Dido at the cunning works of his mother Venus.  Essentially, the divine intervention here is abrupt and disrupts the flow of the story, but then that’s just it: at this stage in the story, the Aeneid isn’t going anywhere.  If Hermes never intervened to get Aeneas out of Carthage, Aeneas would never’ve left, which would otherwise put the Aeneid to an abrupt end, which would be far worse than an abrupt entry of a god to move the story along.
  • While many classicists link Aeneid IV (Mercury getting Aeneas’ ass in gear out of Carthage) with Odyssey V (Hermes telling Kalypso to free Odysseus), the differences here outweigh the similarities.  Odysseus was kept trapped by Kalypso, but Aeneas was happily and willingly staying with Dido even though he could leave at any time.  In either case, sure, fate had to be done, but the whole intent and tone is different.  Rather, it’s more instructive to look at the similarities with the last book of the Iliad, where Hermes is sent to Priam to lead him safely to Achilles to retrieve the body of Hector.  There, Hermes honors Priam for putting himself in danger to do what’s right, and so speaks respectfully as a devoted or loving son to Priam.  In the Aeneid, however, Mercury shames Aeneas for disregarding what’s right to do, speaking angrily as an impatient father.  In this light, Priam is an exemplar of good fatherhood, while Aeneas is being an exceptionally bad father to his own son.  In either case, however, they both exist to make sure the story doesn’t end.
  • Vergil is odd in that he never actually mentions Mercury by name, and even then only mentions Mercury three times through the entire Aeneid.  In book I, he mentions Mercury as “son of Maia” who comes from the heavens to the earth and landing on the shores of Libya; this emphasizes his celestial-terrestrial nature (son of ouranic Zeus and chthonic Maia) and liminal nature (going between the worlds and manifesting in liminal, threshold places of boundaries).  The other two times Vergil mentions Mercury is in book IV, starting with a description of Mercury’s staff, which is given all the usual attributes (guidance, leading people to sleep and wakefulness, etc.) but importantly adding a new power: that of death.  This is distinct from his role as psychopomp, leading the souls of those who have already died; this new power of the wand is a power of making people to die.
  • Essentially, Vergil uses Mercury to resolve the problem of narrative stagnation.  Aeneas is stuck in Carthage, but happily so and would remain there for the rest of his days if he could.  Vergil may have written himself into a corner, and so used Mercury to open the rest of the story up so it could keep going.  Mercury/Hermes here has the ability to keep things going and to give things closure, and he does this moreover as herald and messenger of the gods.  And, as god of transitions, Mercury enables Aeneas to move from impiety to piety once more.
  • Later authors have used Mercury/Hermes in a similar role to resolve narrative stagnation, such as Boccaccio in La Teseida and Chaucer in the Knight’s Tale (essentially the same story, where someone has to die in a fight in order for the story to be resolved but nobody dies until the gods make it so), as well as by Dante in the Inferno, canto 9, when he stands before the Gates of Dis with Vergil.  Vergil, for the first time, fails as a guide and can’t open the gates, and without progress the Inferno would end with them all caught in hell.  Happily, another guide “from heaven” with the appearance of a messenger and a wand uses the wand to open the gates, enabling the story to continue.  That this guide is Hermes/Mercury is more than likely, appearing from one world into another at a liminal place and using a wand to open ways and make things continue; Dante may have used this to “disprove” the idea that Vergil himself was a magician (since he was powerless here).
  • In a broader light, then, Hermes is not only the god of roads but also of road-opening.

5 responses

  1. Pingback: Hermes and the Other Gods in Mathesis | The Digital Ambler

  2. Pingback: On Mathetic Purification | The Digital Ambler

  3. Pingback: Sam’s Notes on Hermes | The Boukoleon

  4. Pingback: Notes on Hermes from Polyphanes | The Boukoleon

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