No More Learning

Ovid's account of Proteus was in itself inconspicuous. During the
Middle Ages it seems to have aroused no particular interest in the sub-
ject. But during the Renaissance, when the Odyssey and the Georgics
became accessible, Ovid's version undoubtedly encouraged men to seek
further information in these poems and contributed to a lively interest
in Proteus and his numerous changes. Many authors of the Renais-
sance and the nineteenth century recalled the idea. Goethe in his Faust
seems to have followed the Odyssey. Milton in his Paradise Lost fol-
lowed Vergil. A number of authors referred to the tradition without
clear recollection of any particular account, the most important ex-
ample being Spenser in his narratives of Proteus and Florimell and of
Archimago and Una. We may assume that such authors were encour-
aged to mention the subject by reading of Proteus in a work so familiar
as the Metamorphoses. And probably Ovid's account was the main
reason why Shakespeare gave the name Proteus to the fickle youth in
Two Gentlemen of Verona.
In Hawthorne's tale, The Three Golden Apples, the tradition of
Proteus suggested an adventure of Hercules with Nereus.
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? ERYSICHTHON
Erysichthon
Acheloiis now began to tell about another example of successive
changes. This was the daughter of Erysichthon. The myth appears to
have originated in Thessaly and at first to have been concerned entirely
with Erysichthon himself.
In actual life a human being sometimes is known to eat ravenously
and yet without visible cause to remain lean and undernourished. Re-
cent investigation has shown that the phenomenon may be due to one
of several kinds of internal disorder, such as an over active thyroid
gland. To savages it might appear as if the afflicted person had offended
the gods providing nourishment and as if their gifts had lost the power
to benefit him. The early Greeks imagined this to have been true of a
certain man named Erysichthon. According to the mythographer
Hellanicus, he was a son of Myrmidon, and he was given the nickname
Aethon (Consuming Fire) because no amount of food would satisfy his
hunger. His name seems to have become proverbial for voracity. Hel-
lanicus mentioned him as living at a very early period, perhaps before
the Deluge. Afterwards authors thought of him as living at a somewhat
indefinite time in the remote past.
Before the Alexandrian era the story had taken rather definite
form. It was supposed that Erysichthon had offended Ceres, and his
offense was associated with a practice common in many lands of regard-
ing certain groves as sacred to a major divinity. It was believed that a
certain great divinity took special pleasure in visiting such localities
and would resent any injury done to them. Even if trees were to be cut
for some necessary reason, it was thought wise to propitiate their divine
patron. The elder Cato noted that, before thinning a sacred grove, one
ought to offer prayers and sacrifice a hog. Erysichthon had invaded
a grove sacred to Ceres and had cut down several trees. Although the
story may have implied that he wished to make some use of them, it does
not seem to have mentioned his purpose. The goddess punished him with
hunger that nothing could appease.
Callimachus in his Hymn to Ceres recorded the earliest version
which now survives. He suggested some previous displeasure of the god-
dess with Erysichthon's family and the possibility of the offender's hav-
ing acted under influence of a curse. Evidently sympathizing with his
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK EIGHT
misfortunes, Callimachus declared that he was reduced to a pitiable
state. Callimachus gave a different account of Erysichthon's parent-
age. His grandfather was thought to have been Neptune, and his father
was King Triopas of Dotium, on the western shore of Lake Boebais. At
the time of the story Erysichthon was a youth, perhaps sixteen years
old.
Callimachus described the grove of Ceres, noting its many varieties
of trees. Into this grove the rash young prince led twenty strong men
armed with axes. They first began cutting a poplar, which towered as
high as heaven, a tree under which the dryads loved to sport during the
time of noonday heat. Callimachus seemed to imply that they also be-
gan to cut other trees, but he left the matter uncertain. Aware of the
trespass, Ceres took the form of her priestess and warned the prince to
forbear, lest he incur the wrath of the goddess. Looking fiercely at her,
he threatened her with an axe and replied that her trees were to become
his banquet hall, in which he was going to feast with his companions.
Nemesis recorded the impious words. The goddess resumed her own im-
pressive form. In terror the twenty strong men fled. Ceres spared them,
because they had acted under constraint. She cursed the prince with
many feasts in his hall. Presumably she referred to the hall that Ery-
sichthon already was using, for he could hardly have persisted in his
purpose of building the new one.
The goddess afflicted him with consuming hunger. No matter how
much he ate, he longed for as much again. Twenty persons were needed
to prepare one of his meals. Bacchus, cooperating with Ceres, afflicted
him with such thirst that twelve people were needed to serve him wine.
He ate all varieties of food, feasted for days at a time, and remained
unsatisfied, as if the food had gone into the sea.
Ashamed of his affliction, his parents tried to conceal it by keeping
him within the palace. If anyone asked him to go elsewhere, they de-
clined the invitation with various excuses. The prince wasted away. His
mother, his two sisters, and the handmaids wept for him. His father be-
sought Neptune either to cure his malady or to provide the necessary
food, for already the boy had consumed all the flocks and herds, the
mules, the racehorse and the warhorse, the heifer sacred to Vesta, and
even the cat dreaded by all lesser beasts. Neptune did not help him. Ap-
parently no one thought of trying to placate Ceres. And now the secret
could be kept no longer, for the prince sat by the crossroads begging all
who passed for morsels of food.
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? ERYSICHTHON
Another Alexandrian version of the tale appeared at about the
same time as that of Callimachus. Both the work and the name of its
author now are lost. It described Erysichthon as a man of mature years
and himself a king. The author does not appear to have mentioned any
descent from Neptune' or to have spoken of a mother and sisters.
And apparently he thought of the events as occurring not inland near
Dotium, but somewhere near the coast. He repeated briefly the tradi-
tional account that Erysichthon cut down several trees and that Ceres
punished him with invincible hunger. But he added a new circumstance.
The king had a grown daughter named Hypermnestra (Very Per-
suasive). * When he exhausted other means of getting food, he took ad-
vantage of her peculiar gifts. In many countries witches have been sup-
posed to make a living fraudulently by the following means. They first
metamorphose a human being into a different form, usually that of an
animal, and sell him. Then at some convenient occasion they restore his
original form, take him back, and repeat the process. A similar idea
entered into the tale of Erysichthon, with a twofold reversal of the usual
process. The human being made a living fraudulently by selling the
witch. And the witch was sold in her original form and took an alien
shape in order to return. Hypermnestra made herself attractive to a
prospective purchaser; her father sold her in her own form as a slave;
and at the first opportunity she assumed a strange form and returned
to her father. By such trickery she was able to provide for him. The
Alexandrian author seems to have imagined that she did so for a long
time -- an idea which was very improbable. The power of transforming
herself at will she obtained from Neptune. After ravishing her, the god
had offered it in compensation.
At last the ravenous father sold her to Autolycus. Since the time
of the Iliad he had been described as a superlative thief; and since the
time of the Catalogues he had been notorious for ability to conceal his
thefts by changing the objects beyond recognition. Understanding the
wiles of Hypermnestra, he prevented her escape. The Odyssey had named
Amphithea as the wife of Autolycus, but the Alexandrian author de-
clared that he married Hypermnestra. Deprived of his last resource,
Erysichthon perished.
To this version of the tale several authors made allusion. Lycophron
noted that Erysichthon maintained himself by daily traffic of his daugh-
*The name appeared also as Hypermestra and as the abbreviated forms Mnestra
and Mestra.
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK EIGHT
ter. Ovid in his Ibis spoke of her as taking a thousand shapes. Nicander
observed that on one occasion the girl assumed the form of a man.
In the Metamorphoses Ovid followed the second Alexandrian ver-
sion, but he introduced important ideas from Callimachus and added
much new material. Although he identified Hypermnestra as the wife of
Autolycus and the daughter of Erysichthon, he never mentioned her
name. Following Callimachus, he spoke of her father as a Thessalian,
the son of Triopas; and, following the second Alexandrian author, he
did not record the locality but imagined it as near the coast. Ovid took
an unfavorable view of Erysichthon's character and continually height-
ened the sense of his guilt. Although he usually did this in tales of im-
piety, he may also have had a special reason. Acheloiis, who was telling
the story, might desire to impress more deeply the sceptic Pirithoiis.
Erysichthon, said Ovid, habitually scorned the gods and refused to
make offerings. He even violated a grove sacred to Ceres, felling with the
axe her ancient trees. The idea of his cutting down more than one of
them was in accord with tradition, but was not borne out by Ovid's own
account. Feeling that desire to construct a banquet hall might afford
some excuse, Ovid mentioned no purpose and suggested by the context
that his motive was sheer bravado.
Following Callimachus, Ovid imagined that Erysichthon began with
an especially large and venerable tree. Ovid gave a longer and somewhat
different description of it. Vergil in his Georgics had counseled the
shepherd to rest his flock at noon where some great oak, full of ancient
strength, spread its huge limbs. In the Aeneid, Vergil had likened his
hero to an oak mighty with the strength of many years. Recalling both
passages, Ovid made the tree a huge oak, full of the strength of many
years. * And his idea had the further advantage that oaks were more apt
than poplars to be regarded as sacred trees. Ovid added that the oak
was itself a grove, an expression that he already had applied to the water
lotus in his Epistle of Sappho. Round the trunk hung many evidences of
the tree's sacred character -- fillets, garlands, tablets bearing witness to
answered prayers. Following Callimachus, Ovid noted that dryads often
held festive dances in its shade. He described the size of the tree in terms
at once more moderate and more precise. The oak was nearly twenty-
three feet in circumference and twice the height of the surrounding grove.
This tree the impious man decided to fell. Ovid implied that he
*Vergil's phrases were Magna lovis antiquo robore quercus Ingentis tendat
ramos, and annoso vaUdam cum. robore quercum. Ovid's phrase was vngens annoto
robore querent.
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? ERYSICHTHON
ordered part of his attendants to fasten ropes at suitable places among
the limbs and to pull on them when the oak should be ready to fall. This
done, he ordered the others to begin cutting with axes. They showed re-
luctance to obey. Ovid then profited by a hint from Callimachus. Ac-
cording to the Alexandrian poet, Ceres had appeared in disguise, and
Erysichthon had threatened her with an axe. Ovid thought of the goddess
as residing at a majestic distance, beyond the reach of such direct in-
sult. But he made even more striking the violator's impious intent. Seiz-
ing an axe from one of his followers, Erysichthon declared that he would
cut down the tree, even if it were the goddess herself.
At this point Ovid introduced a new idea. It grew out of many be-
liefs which savages have held regarding trees. Most savage peoples have
imagined them as the residence of supernatural beings, who could enter
or leave at will. The early Greeks thought of these beings as nymphs
called dryads or hamadryads. In accord with this idea both Callimachus
and Ovid had spoken of dryads dancing under the sacred tree. If it
should be necessary to cut down the residence of such a being, savages
felt that its owner ought to be compensated with another residence.
Usually they regarded the matter as easy to arrange. It sufficed to lay
on the stump a twig of some other tree.
Many savage peoples thought it prudent also to give the tree spirit
warning in advance and to offer an urgent reason for taking his resi-
dence. When possible, they thought it well also to put the responsibility
elsewhere. The native of Java was careful to read a spurious proclama-
tion from the Dutch government ordering destruction of the tree. Neglect
of such precautions might result in the guilty person's dying from ven-
geance of the offended spirit.
Savage peoples have imagined sometimes that spirits inhabiting
trees are inseparable from them and would perish if the tree should die.
Both in China and in Europe, peasants have declared that, if certain
trees are injured, they lament and utter words of protest. This idea of
inherent spirits occurred often in Greek literature. The Homeric Hymn
to Venus noted that dryads of Mt. Ida perish with their oaks and pines.
Callimachus in his Hymn to Delos discussed the dependence of nymphs
on their oak trees. And Ovid in the Fasti repeated a tradition that
Cybele destroyed a certain hamadryad by cutting down her tree.
Apollonius told a more elaborate story of this kind. The father of
a certain Paraebius, he said, was felling trees on a mountain of Thrace.
He came to an oak inhabited by a dryad. She wept and besought him to
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK EIGHT
spare the tree on which she had relied through all the years of her long
life. He disregarded her plea, and before dying she punished him with a
curse. As a result of it, both the offender and his children had to toil for
their living, and they continually toiled harder and fared worse. At last
the seer Phineus taught Paraebius how to obtain relief by due prayer
and sacrifice. Ovid decided to bring a similar incident into the tale of
Erysichthon. He imagined the presence of a dryad whose life should end
with the fall of the sacred tree, and he planned to have her lay a similar
curse on her destroyer.
But he decided to enhance the effect with still another idea.
In many
countries men have thought that a spirit inhabiting a tree is so nearly
identical with it that, if the tree should be cut or broken, the injured
place would bleed. In the Aeneid, Vergil used the idea with striking effect.
The spirit of Polydorus had entered into a thicket of cornels and myrtles
that sprouted on his grave. When Aeneas began pulling up the stems,
blood dripped from the torn roots and bark. When he cautiously per-
sisted, Polydorus groaned beneath the earth, protested, and told Aeneas
who it was. Ovid planned to imitate the incident, adding further detail.
As Erysichthon raised the axe to strike, the great oak trembled
and groaned. Pallor spread through its leaves and all the length of its
branches. As the steel cut into the trunk, blood gushed forth, as freely
as if a priest had cut through the neck of a huge sacrificial bull. All the
attendants were aghast. One of them even ventured to interfere. Ery-
sichthon scornfully cut off his head. Then, as the impious man struck
repeated blows, the dryad spoke within the tree, declaring herself a
nymph loved by Ceres and warning him that vengeance was to follow her
death. Still he persisted in the crime. If Erysichthon intended to fell an
oak of such dimensions -- seven feet in diameter, he probably would have
done some preliminary work with the axe and then called for a saw. It
seems unlikely that he would have attempted to cut down the tree with an
axe and incredible that he could have finished the task in a single period
of work. But Ovid assumed the contrary. Weakened by persistent cut-
ting and pulled by the ropes, the tree crashed down, overwhelming a
wide stretch of the surrounding grove.
Ovid imagined that during these tragic events Ceres was absent and
unaware of the sacrilege. He implied later that she was in some other
part of Thessaly. The dryads, clad in mourning, went to her and prayed
for redress. In the tale of Lycaon (Bk. 1), Ovid had spoken of Jupiter
as moving earth and sky when he shook his head. He now observed that
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? ERYSICHTHON
Ceres, when she nodded, shook the fields of yellow grain. Following tra-
dition, he wisely omitted the idea of her receiving aid from Bacchus. Cal-
limachus had noted that she reduced Erysichthon to a pitiable condition.
Ovid declared that his condition would have been such, if his crime had
not excluded pity.
The Theogony had personified Famine as a daughter of Strife, and
Vergil spoke of her as one of the shades guarding the entrance to Hades.
Ovid saw a chance to personify Famine and make her the avenger em-
ployed by Ceres. But he imagined her as residing on earth and, drawing
on his previous description of Athena employing Envy (Bk. 2), he gave
a remarkable account of her. Athena had been so opposite to Envy that
she could not enter her abode. For a similar reason Ceres could not visit
even the country of Famine.
Calling a mountain nymph, she gave her instructions about the
journey. Envy had breathed into Aglauros, infecting her vitals. Famine
was to do the same with Erysichthon and to overcome the utmost power
of Ceres to feed him. Ovid had not given Envy a definite locality. But
he showed Ceres describing the country of Famine as the remotest part
of icy Scythia. For this long journey Ceres lent the nymph the same
dragon car that she formerly had provided for Triptolemus (Bk. 5).
Proceeding northeastwards to the region of the Caucasus Moun-
tains, the nymph left her car on a frozen peak and continued the search
on foot. She discovered Famine in a stony field, plucking scanty herbs
with her nails and teeth. Apparently Famine was naked and showed in
detail her hideous and emaciated condition. Ovid described it impres-
sively. Probably for this reason he afterwards gave no details about the
similar wasting of Erysichthon. Athena had found Envy so repulsive
that she delivered her message and departed as soon as possible. Ovid
recorded a similar experience of the nymph, adding that she did not
venture even to approach the monster. Nevertheless, she departed with
feelings of hunger. Although Famine was by nature contrary to Ceres,
she carried out her instructions. Like Envy, she travelled through the
air and arrived by night in the chamber of her victim. Since Ovid had
pictured Envy's baleful effect as she passed through the intervening
country, he did not describe the journey of Famine.
The Iliad had personified Sleep and had spoken of him as able to
journey through the air. Greek artists added that he had wings, and
Alexandrian authors followed their example. Ovid spoke of him as hov-
ering on peaceful wings and soothing the impious Erysichthon. But the
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK EIGHT
visitation of Famine was having its effect. The sleeping man dreamed of
feasts and wearied his jaws with champing empty air. Awaking he
burned with hunger.
Ovid described his banquets only in general terms and gave a strong
impression of their immensity. Whatever sea, land, or air produces
Erysichthon demanded. With loaded tables before him, he complained
of hunger. What would have been enough to feed cities or a whole nation
was not enough for him. The more he devoured the more he wanted.
Callimachus had said that it was as if the food had gone into the sea,
and tradition had given Erysichthon the name Consuming Fire. Ovid
improved both ideas. Erysichthon was like the sea, that swallows up all
rivers of the world and is not filled, or like fire, that devours all the fuel
it receives and, as it is given more, becomes ever more greedy. For him
any food was only an occasion for more food, and always he became
empty by eating. This time Ovid's witty paradoxes seemed happily to
bring out the point. The reader was not supposed to feel sympathy or
to be stirred by any tragic emotion. He needed only to appreciate the
man's incredible predicament.
Although all the wealth of Erysichthon was exhausted, Famine still
raged in his vitals. There remained only the princess, his daughter. Im-
pressed by his predecessor's account of her filial devotion, Ovid called
her worthy of a better father. The king sold her to a life of slavery and
dishonor. He descended even to an expedient so cynical and without
shame -- the nadir of his wickedness. Ovid suggested this idea, although
he did not give it emphasis.
To indicate the father's wickedness more clearly, Ovid altered the
previous account of Hypermnestra. When her father sold her, he im-
plied, she had no means of escape. Although Neptune had ravished her,
he had still to offer any compensation. Recoiling from the thought of
slavery, she fled along the sea shore and prayed Neptune for deliverance.
By the new version, Ovid not only improved the story but also made it
differ from his later account of Caenis (Bk. 12). Remembering that in
one of Hypermnestra's transformations she became a man, Ovid ob-
served that Neptune responded by transforming her into a fisherman.
He noted that her master had been pursuing her along the shore and
from a distance had seen her as she stood with dishevelled hair appealing
to Neptune. Apparently Ovid thought of the shore as curving in such a
way that, when the master came nearer, it turned landwards and hid the
girl from view. The man pushed on, expecting either to see her again or
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? ERYSICHTHON
to trace her by footprints in the wet sand. To his surprise he discovered
only the fisherman occupying an untrodden shore. Ovid invented a hu-
morous dialogue, in which the girl, well pleased to be questioned about
herself, denied seeing anyone else in that vicinity. Her master gave up
the pursuit, Ovid continued, and did not even seek redress from her
father. This was in accord with tradition, but was improbable under the
circumstances which Ovid had given. The girl received her original form
again. Her father took advantage of her ability by selling her repeat-
edly, and she escaped by assuming successively the forms of many dif-
ferent animals.
Wishing to speak later about Autolycus and his power of retaining
what he took (Bk. 11), Ovid thought it unwise to tell of his keeping
Hypermnestra. It also was unnecessary. Tradition had insisted that no
provisions would be enough to relieve the hunger of her father. Inevit-
ably his condition would become desperate. Ovid observed that it did.
In the Georgics Vergil had told how the horse dying of plague at last
tore his own flesh with greedy teeth. This, said Ovid, was the final resort
of Erysichthon. He began to tear his flesh with greedy teeth and fed
himself by consuming his own body.
Eliminating such normal human traits as appeared in the version of
Callimachus, Ovid had made his chief character a veritable ogre. But he
obtained a clear and single effect. And he enhanced it by introducing
new elements of great interest. His version of the tale was by far the
most impressive.
Authors of later times often recalled Ovid's work. Many of them
were interested in the destruction of the sacred tree. Lucan attributed
similar conduct to Julius Caesar. When the soldiers hesitated to cut
down a sacred grove, Caesar himself took an axe and struck at an airy
oak. Lucan added, however, that gods have to reserve their anger for
the unfortunate and that Caesar destroyed the grove with impunity.
Tasso imitated Ovid in more detail. As the hero Tancred made his way
through an enchanted forest, he came to a great cypress on which there
was inscribed a warning to spare the tree. He struck the trunk with his
sword, and blood gushed from the severed bark. He struck again, in-
tending to fell the tree. Then a voice within the trunk declared the
cypress was his loved Clorinda.
Dante in his account of the Suicides' Wood and Ariosto in the epi-
sode of Alcina's isle told of trees which bled and protested against injury.
Both poets evidently recalled Vergil's account of Polydorus, but they
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK EIGHT
seem to have adopted Ovid's idea that words of protest came directly
from the tree. To Shakespeare Ovid's incident of the attendant who
interrupted Erysichthon's crime may have suggested that remarkable
incident in King Lear of the servant who interrupted Cornwall's abuse of
Gloster.
A few authors recalled the latter part of Ovid's tale. Seneca in his
Hercules Furens appears to have remembered it, when he spoke of Fam-
ine as having a sad appearance and foul jaws. To Dante, Ovid's Famine
suggested his description of gluttons famished on the mount of Purga-
tory. But Dante likened them to the emaciated Erysichthon just before
he began to devour himself. To Milton this final incident suggested the
lines in Comus, describing Evil, when,
settled to itself
It shall be in eternal restless change,
Self-fed and self-consumed.
Ovid showed Acheloiis mentioning himself as his third example of
power to assume varied forms. According to older Greek tradition their
number seems to have been unlimited. But Sophocles in the Trachinian
Women had mentioned only three -- the god's usual form of a man with
bull horns on his forehead, and those of a serpent and a bull. Ovid,
anxious to make each of his examples differ from the rest, imagined that
Acheloiis was limited to these three. All of them often have been at-
tributed to water spirits, in the lore of many countries. Acheloiis now
had lost one of his bull horns, as Theseus could see. The god's lament at
this misfortune gave Ovid occasion for the initial story of his next book.
The Eighth Book included only ten stories, a number that is re-
markably small. Of the six which Ovid made important, five were of
early origin. Greek authors and artists often had treated three of these
-- the stories of the Minotaur and Ariadne, of Icarus, and of Meleager.
Greek authors of the Alexandrian era had been fond of the tale of
Erysichthon. And, although the story of Philemon and Baucis was of
late origin and little known, it belonged to a class of tales which long
had been exceedingly popular. In almost all the chief stories Greek
predecessors had provided Ovid with an abundance of material, from
which it was his problem to select and improve the best. Of the four lesser
tales in the Eighth Book, the story of Proteus was old and familiar; the
other three were of Alexandrian origin and were virtually unknown.
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? BOOK EIGHT
Roman authors before Ovid's time had shown interest only in the
three tales of Scylla, the Minotaur and Ariadne, and Proteus. It was
Ovid who made the others easily accessible to his countrymen. Roman
authors after Ovid's time took little notice of any story treated in the
Eighth Book. With the fall of Rome, Greek versions of the material were
lost to view, and Vergil's treatments of the tales of Scylla and Proteus
became almost unknown. It was Ovid who preserved nine of the ten stories
for medieval times. He gave the tales of Icarus, Meleager, and Erysich-
thon their fame. And three others, including the celebrated tale of Phile-
mon and Baucis, he saved from oblivion.
In developing the tale of Meleager, Ovid owed much to the Iliad and
Euripides and to the boar hunt of the Odyssey. He used the Odyssey
again for his account of Proteus. For the other tales he was content
with more recent material. In the earlier half of the book the Manual
provided his background and usually the outline of the story. Both in
the earlier and the later half, Callimachus was more important than at
any time since Book Five. For the tales of Icarus and Perdix he was
Ovid's chief authority, and he contributed much to the tales of Philemon
and Erysichthon. Apollonius suggested an important event in the tale
of Erysichthon, and Parthenius afforded many ideas for the account of
Scylla. Nicander gave relatively little -- only the transformations in
the tales of Meleager and Erysichthon. During the latter half of the
book Alexandrian authors whom we cannot identify became the chief
source of almost every story. Alexandrian artists provided striking de-
tails for the stories of Meleager and Erysichthon.
Ovid often improved this Greek material with ideas from earlier
Roman poets. Catullus offered important suggestions for the tale of the
Minotaur and Ariadne, Horace for that of Philemon, Propertius for that
of Scylla. Vergil gave many and valuable contributions, especially in the
latter half of the book. Ovid recalled an unusual number of his poems,
both major and minor, and displayed much skill in giving his ideas a
new setting, although he sometimes invited unfortunate comparison with
the Aeneid. For a number of tales Ovid took suggestions from his own
work in earlier books of the Metamorphoses. And for the tales of Ariadne
and Philemon he seems to have drawn on personal observation.
As usual, Ovid found a difficult problem of adjustment. Previous
authors had given the tales in the first half of the book only a loose rela-
tion to one another.