In Greek "Daedalus" means cunning worker. (The word is not of Hellenic origin and was borrowed by the Greeks from another culture.) In Latin it means skillful. "Daedalean" or "Daedalic" has come to mean something that is ingenious, complicated or convoluted.
Referring to the story of King Minos and the labyrinth that Daedalus built for him, Ovid calls Daedalus "an artist/ Famous in building, who could set in stone/ Confusion and conflict, and deceive the eye/ With devious aisles and passages." (In another myth it is Daedalus who builds the wooden bull in which Pasiphae, the wife of Minos, can hide in order to fulfill her passion for the bull that Minos refused to sacrifice to Poseidon. The result of that god's punishment is the Minotaur which Minos needs to hide and thus the labyrinth. Perhaps a myth for another day.) As mentioned in another post, Ovid describes Daedalus' invention of the wings as "changing the laws of nature" and later relates the murder of Talos Perdix as "the story [that] reflects no credit on Daedalus." (A bit of an understatement.) Ovid, it seems to me, describes an amoral man. If we look beyond the creations of Daedalus, we have a schemer whose pride goes beyond arrogance. Perhaps as with those who view his flight, Daedalus believes that he must be a god.
Omitting Daedalus from Landscape with the Fall of Icarus could be interpreted as Brueghel's statement that Daedalus is a failure as both inventor and father. Since he includes the partridge in the painting, Brueghel seems to be emphasizing a contrast: The goddess put feathers on Talos Perdix and he lived; Daedalus put feathers on himself and his son and Icarus died. Perhaps the painting shows more than universal indifference to human suffering.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Interpretations of Icarus Continued
Auden's answer to the reason for the human indifference to Icarus' tragedy in Brueghel's painting is that "it was not an important failure." I'm not sure what to make of that. The obvious question is, why wasn't it important? The next is, what failure or whose failure? As Auden writes, the ship "had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on." Also the sun "shone/ As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green/ Water." Are both poem and painting studies of a universe apathetic to suffering?
There is an interesting part of the painting that is difficult to see. On a branch coming out of the cliff just above the fisherman, there is a partridge, apparently the only thing looking at Icarus. The partridge is connected to the second story associated with Daedalus in Ovid's Metamorphoses. While Daedalus is burying his son, "A noisy partridge...drummed with her wings in loud approval." The bird is Talos Perdix (genus of partridge), the pupil and nephew whom Daedalus killed out of envy. However, Minerva (the Roman name of the Greek goddess Athena) had saved Talos and turned him into a partridge. So does this then become a story of revenge?
All of which makes me return to Daedalus, the character missing from poem and painting. He was after all, the instigator of events. What does he represent to Ovid, Brueghel, Auden?
There is an interesting part of the painting that is difficult to see. On a branch coming out of the cliff just above the fisherman, there is a partridge, apparently the only thing looking at Icarus. The partridge is connected to the second story associated with Daedalus in Ovid's Metamorphoses. While Daedalus is burying his son, "A noisy partridge...drummed with her wings in loud approval." The bird is Talos Perdix (genus of partridge), the pupil and nephew whom Daedalus killed out of envy. However, Minerva (the Roman name of the Greek goddess Athena) had saved Talos and turned him into a partridge. So does this then become a story of revenge?
All of which makes me return to Daedalus, the character missing from poem and painting. He was after all, the instigator of events. What does he represent to Ovid, Brueghel, Auden?
Friday, April 22, 2011
Brueghel's Icarus
Pieter Brueghel the Elder (he removed the "h" from his name) was a Flemish painter born around 1525. Many of his works are panoramic landscapes crowded with people, painted with detailed precision and realistically depicting individual stories of rustic life. His Landscape With the Fall of Icarus is a bit different. (http://cgfa.acropolisinc.com/bruegel1/p-brue1-10.htm)
He has each of the individuals mentioned in Ovid's story: Down the bank a man is fishing and seems to be looking at his rod as it "dips and trembles over the water." In the middle ground there is a shepherd who "rests his weight upon his crook," his right leg folded over his left, with his sheep scattered about on a narrow strip. There is a dog sitting next to him and he is gazing upward caught up in a daydream. The ploughman in the foreground is concentrating on his work rather than resting "on the handles of the ploughshare." A large ship is sailing away from the shore. In the distance are a port town and ragged cliffs. The sun is setting into the water and giving the sky a yellow hazy glow. Down in the right-hand corner legs are sticking up awkwardly out of the water. They seem to be kicking in the air. That is the fallen Icarus. However none of the peasants are looking up "in absolute amazement," nor are they exclaiming, "They must be gods!" In fact, Daedalus is not in sight.
Herein lies the difference between Ovid and Brueghel's versions of the story. For Brueghel, Icarus's tragedy is recognized by no one except the viewer of the painting and then only as a small detail. The painting depicts a Flemish proverb: "No plough stops because a man dies." Of course the "man" in this instance is a boy and his death is not "natural" but something that could have been avoided. It seems that any one of the men could save him. In Ovid's case, the men are in awe thinking they are viewing gods. The complete lack of awareness of the men in Brueghel's painting seems to be saying something else about "humanity."
He has each of the individuals mentioned in Ovid's story: Down the bank a man is fishing and seems to be looking at his rod as it "dips and trembles over the water." In the middle ground there is a shepherd who "rests his weight upon his crook," his right leg folded over his left, with his sheep scattered about on a narrow strip. There is a dog sitting next to him and he is gazing upward caught up in a daydream. The ploughman in the foreground is concentrating on his work rather than resting "on the handles of the ploughshare." A large ship is sailing away from the shore. In the distance are a port town and ragged cliffs. The sun is setting into the water and giving the sky a yellow hazy glow. Down in the right-hand corner legs are sticking up awkwardly out of the water. They seem to be kicking in the air. That is the fallen Icarus. However none of the peasants are looking up "in absolute amazement," nor are they exclaiming, "They must be gods!" In fact, Daedalus is not in sight.
Herein lies the difference between Ovid and Brueghel's versions of the story. For Brueghel, Icarus's tragedy is recognized by no one except the viewer of the painting and then only as a small detail. The painting depicts a Flemish proverb: "No plough stops because a man dies." Of course the "man" in this instance is a boy and his death is not "natural" but something that could have been avoided. It seems that any one of the men could save him. In Ovid's case, the men are in awe thinking they are viewing gods. The complete lack of awareness of the men in Brueghel's painting seems to be saying something else about "humanity."
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Ovid's Icarus
According to Greek mythology, Daedalus was an Athenian engineer and inventor. He was afraid that his pupil, Talos, who invented the saw and potter's wheel, would become greater than he was so he threw Talos into the sea. He was condemned by the council and fled to Crete. There he made his famous labyrinth for King Minos who wouldn't let him leave. Daedalus, according to Ovid, thought "Minos' dominion/ Does not include the air" so he made wings out of feathers and wax for himself and his son, Icarus, and flew away, "changing the laws of nature."
Ovid gives details of the invention and has Daedalus warning Icarus to fly a middle course: "Don't go too low, or water will weigh the wings down;/ Don't go too high, or the suns' fire will burn them." Ovid next describes the scene below the flyers: "Far off, far down, some fisherman is watching/ As the rod dips and trembles over the water,/ Some shepherd rests his weight upon his crook,/ Some ploughman on the handles of the ploughshare,/ And all look up, in absolute amazement,/ At those air-borne above. They must be gods!"
And therein lies the rub for the ancient Greeks and for Ovid. Daedalus is guilty of hubris when he "turned his thinking / Toward unknown arts" and invents wings. He must be punished. Icarus "soared higher, higher, drawn to the vast heaven,/ Nearer the sun, and the wax that held the wings/ Melted in that fierce heat, and the bare arms/ Beat up and down in the air...Until the blue sea hushed him." While burying his drowned son, Daedalus "cursed his talents."
Ovid gives details of the invention and has Daedalus warning Icarus to fly a middle course: "Don't go too low, or water will weigh the wings down;/ Don't go too high, or the suns' fire will burn them." Ovid next describes the scene below the flyers: "Far off, far down, some fisherman is watching/ As the rod dips and trembles over the water,/ Some shepherd rests his weight upon his crook,/ Some ploughman on the handles of the ploughshare,/ And all look up, in absolute amazement,/ At those air-borne above. They must be gods!"
And therein lies the rub for the ancient Greeks and for Ovid. Daedalus is guilty of hubris when he "turned his thinking / Toward unknown arts" and invents wings. He must be punished. Icarus "soared higher, higher, drawn to the vast heaven,/ Nearer the sun, and the wax that held the wings/ Melted in that fierce heat, and the bare arms/ Beat up and down in the air...Until the blue sea hushed him." While burying his drowned son, Daedalus "cursed his talents."
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
W.H. Auden 's "Musee des Beaux Arts" and "The Story of Daedalus and Icarus"
"About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on."
This poem was written after Auden had visited the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Brussel in 1938. The first stanza makes a general statement about paintings Auden viewed. Some argue that Pieter Brueghel the Elder's Census at Bethlehem is the painting being described. Auden names the Brueghel painting being interpreted in the second stanza: Landscape With the Fall of Icarus is the full title. It can be seen here:
http://cgfa.acropolisinc.com/bruegel1/p-brue1-10.htm
Just as Auden's poem uses a painting to make a statement, Brueghel translates one of the stories in Ovid's Metamorphoses into painting. (Ovid, of course, takes his "Story of Daedalus and Icarus" from Greek mythology.) I want to compare and contrast all three works looking specifically at differences and possible reasons for the changes of interpretation.
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on."
This poem was written after Auden had visited the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Brussel in 1938. The first stanza makes a general statement about paintings Auden viewed. Some argue that Pieter Brueghel the Elder's Census at Bethlehem is the painting being described. Auden names the Brueghel painting being interpreted in the second stanza: Landscape With the Fall of Icarus is the full title. It can be seen here:
http://cgfa.acropolisinc.com/bruegel1/p-brue1-10.htm
Just as Auden's poem uses a painting to make a statement, Brueghel translates one of the stories in Ovid's Metamorphoses into painting. (Ovid, of course, takes his "Story of Daedalus and Icarus" from Greek mythology.) I want to compare and contrast all three works looking specifically at differences and possible reasons for the changes of interpretation.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Authors...Yeats "Politics"
"How can I, that girl standing there,
My attention fix
On Roman or on Russian
Or on Spanish politics,
Yet here's a travelled man that knows
What he talks about,
And there's a politician
That has both read and thought,
And maybe what they say is true
Of war and war's alarms,
But O that I were young again
And held her in my arms."
This is one of my favorite poems by Yeats. It was one of the last that he wrote before he died, age 73, on January 28, 1939. In his revised edition of the poems, Richard J. Finneran places it last among the "Last Poems," apparently following the order Yeats had intended. R.F. Foster, one of Yeats' biographers, describes the "message" in the poem as "poignant, resigned, and regretful." It was written in May, 1938, more than a year before the beginning of World War II, yet it was a time of rising panic over Germany's troop movements.
However, if the poem is read outside of its historical context (as perhaps it should be), I think we get a truer sense of the "message," one that is universal. It's a poem describing old age and the pathos that accompanies a recognition of one's mortality. What is important in life is not power and the greed that seems to accompany it. What is important is kindness and companionship and the happiness they bring. The pity is that one always seems so lost in the turmoils of living that one doesn't recognize what is important until it's too late...too late to hold life in one's arms.
My attention fix
On Roman or on Russian
Or on Spanish politics,
Yet here's a travelled man that knows
What he talks about,
And there's a politician
That has both read and thought,
And maybe what they say is true
Of war and war's alarms,
But O that I were young again
And held her in my arms."
This is one of my favorite poems by Yeats. It was one of the last that he wrote before he died, age 73, on January 28, 1939. In his revised edition of the poems, Richard J. Finneran places it last among the "Last Poems," apparently following the order Yeats had intended. R.F. Foster, one of Yeats' biographers, describes the "message" in the poem as "poignant, resigned, and regretful." It was written in May, 1938, more than a year before the beginning of World War II, yet it was a time of rising panic over Germany's troop movements.
However, if the poem is read outside of its historical context (as perhaps it should be), I think we get a truer sense of the "message," one that is universal. It's a poem describing old age and the pathos that accompanies a recognition of one's mortality. What is important in life is not power and the greed that seems to accompany it. What is important is kindness and companionship and the happiness they bring. The pity is that one always seems so lost in the turmoils of living that one doesn't recognize what is important until it's too late...too late to hold life in one's arms.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Word-Hoard...Tins or Cans
Liz from Australia recently used the word "tins" which I immediately translated into American English usage: "cans." Then I wondered how the difference occurred.
Tin, of course, is an alloy of silver and lead. The chemical symbol is Sn (Latin stannum). The word is derived from the Old English tin and a variety of meanings attach to it. In British slang it means money. In cricket it refers to the scoreboard: "on the tins." A squash court is fitted with tin at the bottom of the front wall which resounds when struck. So "tin" means out of play. In Australian slang, "tin-back" means lucky man. A "tin plate" is iron or steel that has been coated with tin so that it is resistent to oxidation. In other words, it's hermetically sealed which is closest to the meaning of Liz's "tins."
Can (the noun) also has a variety of meanings. It is American slang for toilet. (The Oxford English Dictionary states that this is American slang for "water-closet" the derivation of which we'll save for another day.) To "carry the can" means to take responsibility or to take the blame, rather opposite usages. In the U.S. Navy it means to be reprimanded. According to the OED, the origin of the "take responsibility" usage is unknown but it may have referred to the beer can one soldier carried for his companions. "Can" is derived from the Old English canne from Latin canna meaning "small vessel." The OED defines it as a vessel for holding liquids, made from various materials but now usually made of tin.
All very interesting but does it answer the original question? In the Eighteenth Century "tin can" in U.S. slang referred to a destroyer. I'm going to put forward a theory: At one time the term used when referring to a hermetically sealed small vessel of food was "tin can." As usual, being language-lazy, that was too much of a mouthful so we split the terms. The Brits (also adopted by the Australians) made the first term plural. For some reason the Americans took the second term and made it plural. Why? Contrariness? Any other theories?
Tin, of course, is an alloy of silver and lead. The chemical symbol is Sn (Latin stannum). The word is derived from the Old English tin and a variety of meanings attach to it. In British slang it means money. In cricket it refers to the scoreboard: "on the tins." A squash court is fitted with tin at the bottom of the front wall which resounds when struck. So "tin" means out of play. In Australian slang, "tin-back" means lucky man. A "tin plate" is iron or steel that has been coated with tin so that it is resistent to oxidation. In other words, it's hermetically sealed which is closest to the meaning of Liz's "tins."
Can (the noun) also has a variety of meanings. It is American slang for toilet. (The Oxford English Dictionary states that this is American slang for "water-closet" the derivation of which we'll save for another day.) To "carry the can" means to take responsibility or to take the blame, rather opposite usages. In the U.S. Navy it means to be reprimanded. According to the OED, the origin of the "take responsibility" usage is unknown but it may have referred to the beer can one soldier carried for his companions. "Can" is derived from the Old English canne from Latin canna meaning "small vessel." The OED defines it as a vessel for holding liquids, made from various materials but now usually made of tin.
All very interesting but does it answer the original question? In the Eighteenth Century "tin can" in U.S. slang referred to a destroyer. I'm going to put forward a theory: At one time the term used when referring to a hermetically sealed small vessel of food was "tin can." As usual, being language-lazy, that was too much of a mouthful so we split the terms. The Brits (also adopted by the Australians) made the first term plural. For some reason the Americans took the second term and made it plural. Why? Contrariness? Any other theories?
Friday, April 8, 2011
Word-Hoard...Nitpicker
Barb and Maggie brought up this term wondering its origin. As usual I've been having fun delving into language. According to the Wikipedia article on "nitpicking," this means removing lice from hair: "A slow and laborious process, as the root of each individual hair must be examined for infestation."
"Nit" is derived from the Old English hnitu meaning "louse egg." Of course, nitpicker has come to mean one overly concerned with unimportant details (unimportant to whom, I ask!). One of the usage examples in the Oxford English Dictionary from 1672 is this: "The scold...stretched up her hands with her two thumb-nails in the nit-cracking posture." That's an interesting image and it led me from "scold" to "scold's bridle." (If you go to Google images and type in Scold's Bridle Medieval you find a variety of examples.)
"Scold" is derived from Old Norse skald meaning poet and author of insulting poems. In English it means a woman who uses loud abusive speech and who always finds fault. The bridle, or branks, was used in the Middle Ages as a device of punishment for such women. It was an iron muzzle in an iron frame that fit over the head. The bridle bit was about two inches long with spikes that pressed into the tongue. Some had a bell that rang while the woman was paraded by leash in town.
I'm certainly glad that I didn't live then! There is a mystery novel by Minette Walters titled The Scold's Bridle which the victim is wearing when found. I read it when it first came out in 1994. That was how I first became aware of such a device. And I suppose "nitpicker" and "scold" do have an association. Fascinating!
"Nit" is derived from the Old English hnitu meaning "louse egg." Of course, nitpicker has come to mean one overly concerned with unimportant details (unimportant to whom, I ask!). One of the usage examples in the Oxford English Dictionary from 1672 is this: "The scold...stretched up her hands with her two thumb-nails in the nit-cracking posture." That's an interesting image and it led me from "scold" to "scold's bridle." (If you go to Google images and type in Scold's Bridle Medieval you find a variety of examples.)
"Scold" is derived from Old Norse skald meaning poet and author of insulting poems. In English it means a woman who uses loud abusive speech and who always finds fault. The bridle, or branks, was used in the Middle Ages as a device of punishment for such women. It was an iron muzzle in an iron frame that fit over the head. The bridle bit was about two inches long with spikes that pressed into the tongue. Some had a bell that rang while the woman was paraded by leash in town.
I'm certainly glad that I didn't live then! There is a mystery novel by Minette Walters titled The Scold's Bridle which the victim is wearing when found. I read it when it first came out in 1994. That was how I first became aware of such a device. And I suppose "nitpicker" and "scold" do have an association. Fascinating!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
"Ozymandias"
Reading about metamorphosis, change and immortality, I, of course, thought of Shelley's sonnet published in 1818. Here's a link to it:
http://homepages.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/ozy.shelley.html
I love the satire. Ozymandias is the Greek name of Ramses II of Egypt (13th Century BCE). Not only do his mighty works no long exist; the statue of him that was supposed to immortalize him and his reign ("Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!") is in ruins. The legs remain but not the body. His face has become buried in sand and only the frown, wrinkled lips and sneer can be seen on the "visage." The unknown sculptor knew his subject and mocked him and his arrogant "heart that fed" his passions. Other than this, only sand remains. (Shelley is using poetic license in his description of the statue.)
Ovid hoped that his poetry would make him immortal. Both Ozymandias the man and statue "decay." We do, however, still have Shelley's poem. Will that give the king, sculptor and poet immortality? Perhaps a better question is, why does man seek immortality?
http://homepages.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/ozy.shelley.html
I love the satire. Ozymandias is the Greek name of Ramses II of Egypt (13th Century BCE). Not only do his mighty works no long exist; the statue of him that was supposed to immortalize him and his reign ("Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!") is in ruins. The legs remain but not the body. His face has become buried in sand and only the frown, wrinkled lips and sneer can be seen on the "visage." The unknown sculptor knew his subject and mocked him and his arrogant "heart that fed" his passions. Other than this, only sand remains. (Shelley is using poetic license in his description of the statue.)
Ovid hoped that his poetry would make him immortal. Both Ozymandias the man and statue "decay." We do, however, still have Shelley's poem. Will that give the king, sculptor and poet immortality? Perhaps a better question is, why does man seek immortality?
Monday, April 4, 2011
Metamorphoses..."The Epilogue"
Of course justice has not been served and I suspect that that is the point behind Ovid's masterpiece. Feasting on a relative, often in ignorance, is a story that runs through several Greek myths. Check out the family of Pelops, specifically the Descendants of Atreus. Part of that story is in the Oresteia, a trilogy of plays by Aeschylus performed in 458 BCE. (It's the only complete trilogy to survive.) The theme of revenge runs throughout. The final play concludes that revenge leads to further revenge through several generations and is not a substitute for justice. That third play, Eumenides (The Furies), is the legendary foundation of the Areopagus court--the Greek court that judged cases of homicide. In other words, justice can only be obtained through judicial procedure using objective citeria.
I think that Ovid uses satire to get the justice he did not receive from Augustus. Near the end of the Metamorphoses is the tale titled "Pythagoras." (He was a sixth century BCE philosopher and mystic who preached vegetarianism based on the belief that we can be reincarnated into any living form. An animal may be an ancestor--too bad Tereus was not a vegetarian. He also believed that the universe could be explained through numbers and their relations to other numbers. Abstracts, such as injustice, were numbers and part of the cosmos within his system.) Near the end of this tale Ovid writes:
The eras change, nations grow strong, or weaken,
Like Troy, magnificent in men and riches,
For ten years lavish with her blood, and now
Displaying only ruins and for wealth
The old ancestral tombs. Sparta, Mycenae,
Athens, and Thebes, all flourished once, and now
What are they more than names?
He is saying that even the greatness of Imperial Rome will not last. He gives tribute to both Julius Caesar (ending with the "Deification of Caesar") and to Augustus stating "far be the day,/ Later than our own era, when Augustus/ Shall leave the world he rules, ascent to Heaven,/ And there, beyond our presence, hear our prayers!" (Ovid outlived Augustus by four years but was forced to remain in exile.) However, no matter how great their status and achievements they and their work will not last.
In his twelve-line "Epilogue," Ovid makes it clear that what will last is his poem. Even though metamorphosis, transformation, is the essence of life, works of art will endure. "I shall be read, and through all centuries,/ If prophecies of bards are ever truthful,/ I shall be living, always." He does have the final say.
I think that Ovid uses satire to get the justice he did not receive from Augustus. Near the end of the Metamorphoses is the tale titled "Pythagoras." (He was a sixth century BCE philosopher and mystic who preached vegetarianism based on the belief that we can be reincarnated into any living form. An animal may be an ancestor--too bad Tereus was not a vegetarian. He also believed that the universe could be explained through numbers and their relations to other numbers. Abstracts, such as injustice, were numbers and part of the cosmos within his system.) Near the end of this tale Ovid writes:
The eras change, nations grow strong, or weaken,
Like Troy, magnificent in men and riches,
For ten years lavish with her blood, and now
Displaying only ruins and for wealth
The old ancestral tombs. Sparta, Mycenae,
Athens, and Thebes, all flourished once, and now
What are they more than names?
He is saying that even the greatness of Imperial Rome will not last. He gives tribute to both Julius Caesar (ending with the "Deification of Caesar") and to Augustus stating "far be the day,/ Later than our own era, when Augustus/ Shall leave the world he rules, ascent to Heaven,/ And there, beyond our presence, hear our prayers!" (Ovid outlived Augustus by four years but was forced to remain in exile.) However, no matter how great their status and achievements they and their work will not last.
In his twelve-line "Epilogue," Ovid makes it clear that what will last is his poem. Even though metamorphosis, transformation, is the essence of life, works of art will endure. "I shall be read, and through all centuries,/ If prophecies of bards are ever truthful,/ I shall be living, always." He does have the final say.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
"The Story of Tereus, Procne, and Philomela"
This is one of the most gruesome tales in the Metamorphoses. Tereus, king of Thrace, sent an army to help Pandion, king of Athens, win a war. Because Tereus was the son of Mars (Ares, Greek god of war and only son of Zeus and Hera) and was very wealthy, Pandion "made him a son as well as ally" by having his daughter Procne marry him. Ovid gives foreshadowing: None of the gods attended or blessed the marriage and the Furies "brandished torches/ Snatched from a funeral." Above the bridal chamber "Brooded the evil hoot-owl."
After five years, Procne misses and wants to see her sister, Philomela, so Tereus journeys to Athens to bring her back. As soon as Tereus sees Philomela he "took fire, as ripe grain burns, or dry leaves burn....He was a passionate man, and all the Tracians/ Are all too quick at loving; a double fire/ Burnt in him, his own passion and his nations." (I assume Ovid is offering this an excuse.) After they land, Tereus "dragged her with him/ To the deep woods, to some ramshackle building/ Dark in that darkness" and rapes her repeatedly.
Philomela feels guilty: "I am/ My sister's rival" and says she will tell everyone what Tereus has done. He pulls out his sword and she welcomes the thought of death. However, instead of killing her he cuts out her tongue. "The mangled root/ Quivered, the severed tongue along the ground/ Lay quivering, making a little murmur/ Jerking and twitching, the way a serpent does/ Run over by a wheel, and with its dying movement/ Came to its mistress' feet." Tereus leaves her there and goes home to Procne and weeps saying that Philomela is dead.
Unlike the other stories that include loss of speech, Philomela finds a solution. After a year she weaves a tapestry telling her story and has the tapestry taken to Procne who sees it and understands. She brings Philomela back to the palace and takes her in her arms. "But Philomela could not/ So much as lift her eyes to face her sister,/ Her sister, whom she knew she had wronged." Procne tells her that it isn't the time to cry. She wants revenge: "To burn the palace, and into the flaming ruin/ Hurl Tereus, the author of our evils./ I would cut out his tongue, his eyes, cut off/ The parts which brought you shame, inflict a thousand/ Wounds on his guilty soul." (The original castrating female--the woman scorned.)
At that moment her young son, Itys, comes in and Procne thinks, "How like his father he is." She stabs him to death and the sisters cut up his body and "this was the feast they served to Tereus." When he asks to have his son brought in, Procne tells him that his son is already there. Philomela "with hair all bloody,/ Springs at him, and hurls the bloody head of Itys/ Full in his father's face." (A painting by Rubens, Tereus Confronted by the Head of His Son Itylus, depicts this scene dramatically. http://www.paintingall.com/peter-paul-rubens-tereus-confronted-with-the-head-of-his-son-itylus.html.) Tereus wishes he could "open up his belly,/ Eject the terrible feast: all he can do/ Is weep, call himslf the pitiful resting-place/ Of his dear son." He draws his sword and the two sisters run away. The metamorphosis then takes place with all three turning into birds.
Ovid does not actually say which birds the sisters become. He has one flying into the woods--where nightingales dwell. Since "Philomel" is from the Greek words meaning love of song, in literature Philomela is the nightingale. The other sister/bird flies under the cover of a roof--where the swallow builds its nest. Thus, Procne changes into a swallow. ( Some stories switch these identities.) For Tereus "a stiff crest rises/ Upon his head, and a huge beak juts forward,/ Not too unlike a sword. He is the hoopoe,/ The bird who looks like war."
Has justice been served?
After five years, Procne misses and wants to see her sister, Philomela, so Tereus journeys to Athens to bring her back. As soon as Tereus sees Philomela he "took fire, as ripe grain burns, or dry leaves burn....He was a passionate man, and all the Tracians/ Are all too quick at loving; a double fire/ Burnt in him, his own passion and his nations." (I assume Ovid is offering this an excuse.) After they land, Tereus "dragged her with him/ To the deep woods, to some ramshackle building/ Dark in that darkness" and rapes her repeatedly.
Philomela feels guilty: "I am/ My sister's rival" and says she will tell everyone what Tereus has done. He pulls out his sword and she welcomes the thought of death. However, instead of killing her he cuts out her tongue. "The mangled root/ Quivered, the severed tongue along the ground/ Lay quivering, making a little murmur/ Jerking and twitching, the way a serpent does/ Run over by a wheel, and with its dying movement/ Came to its mistress' feet." Tereus leaves her there and goes home to Procne and weeps saying that Philomela is dead.
Unlike the other stories that include loss of speech, Philomela finds a solution. After a year she weaves a tapestry telling her story and has the tapestry taken to Procne who sees it and understands. She brings Philomela back to the palace and takes her in her arms. "But Philomela could not/ So much as lift her eyes to face her sister,/ Her sister, whom she knew she had wronged." Procne tells her that it isn't the time to cry. She wants revenge: "To burn the palace, and into the flaming ruin/ Hurl Tereus, the author of our evils./ I would cut out his tongue, his eyes, cut off/ The parts which brought you shame, inflict a thousand/ Wounds on his guilty soul." (The original castrating female--the woman scorned.)
At that moment her young son, Itys, comes in and Procne thinks, "How like his father he is." She stabs him to death and the sisters cut up his body and "this was the feast they served to Tereus." When he asks to have his son brought in, Procne tells him that his son is already there. Philomela "with hair all bloody,/ Springs at him, and hurls the bloody head of Itys/ Full in his father's face." (A painting by Rubens, Tereus Confronted by the Head of His Son Itylus, depicts this scene dramatically. http://www.paintingall.com/peter-paul-rubens-tereus-confronted-with-the-head-of-his-son-itylus.html.) Tereus wishes he could "open up his belly,/ Eject the terrible feast: all he can do/ Is weep, call himslf the pitiful resting-place/ Of his dear son." He draws his sword and the two sisters run away. The metamorphosis then takes place with all three turning into birds.
Ovid does not actually say which birds the sisters become. He has one flying into the woods--where nightingales dwell. Since "Philomel" is from the Greek words meaning love of song, in literature Philomela is the nightingale. The other sister/bird flies under the cover of a roof--where the swallow builds its nest. Thus, Procne changes into a swallow. ( Some stories switch these identities.) For Tereus "a stiff crest rises/ Upon his head, and a huge beak juts forward,/ Not too unlike a sword. He is the hoopoe,/ The bird who looks like war."
Has justice been served?
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