I call this a fling at scep-
ticism, -- perhaps it is something else.
ticism, -- perhaps it is something else.
Ovid - 1901 - Ovid and His Influence
OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
stories of love. There is the wild and vengeful
love of the witch Medea, the unfilial love
of Scylla for her father's foe, the all-too-filial
love of Myrrha for her father, the chivalrous
love of Meleager for Atalanta, the incestuous
love of Byblis for her brother, the love of the
young Centaur for his bride, the love of Narcis-
sus, -- most complicated case of all -- for him-
self. What next? Why, the love of Cephalus
for his wife, a tragic story deep and true, giv-
ing "serious relief" amidst these distressing
amorosities. Ovid had used it for this purpose
in the Art of Love. He tells it again, and he
tells it even better. Ovid reveals his inner
depths of reverence when he writes:
I fondly dwell, oh son of Aeacus,
On those blest days of wedlock new,
Then when we each to each were all in all}''
Ovid is not responsible for all of his stories
of unhallowed love. He is following an unpleas-
ant tradition set by his Greek predecessors, who
had gone to greater lengths than he. Ovid has
selected and refined. He is not the victim of
morbid curiosity; he uses pathological matter
for different effects. He begins the tale of Byb-
lis with a shiver of horror, and sustains tragic
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
feeling to the end. In the story of Myrrha,
pathos is mingled recklessly with burlesque.
You cannot take that sort of thing seriously
twice! But Centaur-love he treats without a
flicker of burlesque. The beauty of Cyllara,
half-brute though she is, is set forth in lines of
epic dignity. If we smile at her feminine pro-
pensity
On her left shoulder or her side to hang
Becoming beast-skins in the latest style,18
it is no smile of derision, and it changes to pity
and sorrow when the lovers meet their death.
Will the love of the half-brute Polyphemus be
treated by our poet in the same fashion?
Hardly. This most uncouth swain is hero in an
entertaining travesty of the pastoral. He combs
his locks with a rake and performs a serenade
to his Galatea on a Pan's pipe of an hundred
reeds, a veritable church-organ; the serenade
is arranged elaborately into strophes and anti-
strophes and is set to loud music with ponder-
ous rhymes and grating dissonance.
Our poet's love of variety is no less manifest
in the other strands of which the story is
woven. Every book has its contrasts of grave
and gay, and these elements are never mixed
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
in the same proportion or occupy the same
places in a book. For variety's sake, one whole
book is devoted to love, and the songs are by
one singer, Orpheus, who reveals the kind of
songs to which the oaks gave ear, -- no wonder
that the Maenads tore him to bits! Devices for
introducing the stories are invented with an
apparently inexhaustible ease. They are nar-
rated as the pieces rendered in a contest in
song or described in the works of contestants
in weaving; they form after-dinner speeches,
or the tales that soldiers swap; they are parts
of the experiences of long-separated friends,
told to each other as they meet again; they
are parts of women's gossip, -- no better nar-
rator of the deeds of the infant Hercules than
Alcmene, his mother, and no better auditor
than Iole, his latest love. Glaucus woos his
maiden with the story of his own metamorpho-
sis; Vertumnus assumes a metamorphosis in
wooing his. A brilliant device is the setting of
the amorous stories of the daughters of Minyas
in an atmosphere of horror; while all Thebes
celebrates the rites of the new god of the vine,
they blasphemously stay at home and as they
spin, blasphemously regale themselves with
scandal; vengeance is gathering for them, and
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
at the return of the god, the spinsters' woof
grows into the ivy and the vine that they had
despised; the maidens themselves turn into
chattering bats. Boccaccio, helped doubtless by
Ovid's art, effects a similar contrast between
the gay tales of the Decamerone and their
grewsome occasion.
As we glide along the varied course of Ovid's
story, with changes in moods and colors,
changes in the music of the verse, changes in
the settings, changes in the actors at the end of
the tale, we become gradually aware that the
spirit of the poem is constantly changing as it
moves. It starts as epic and is epic throughout.
It has not the nobility of Virgil's poem, which
only Milton among the countless imitators of
Virgil could reproduce. Ovid, avoiding what he
knew was impossible for him, invented what
was impossible for Virgil, an epic that with the
easy, romantic flow of the Odyssey, takes on
different colors in its course. Now it seems
comedy, now elegy, now pastoral. Now it be-
comes a hymn, now tragedy. Now the poet,
with some daring, shifts the scene to the rostra,
where Ajax and Ulysses debate the right to
wear the armour of the slain Achilles. Ovid
lavishes on this debate his full store of rhetori-
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
cal subtleties and psychological observation. It
is drama of a high order and oratory that
Cicero might envy; it also impressed Landor,
a critic hard to please, as more epic than the
Aeneid. Didactic poetry in the vein of Lucre-
tius appears in the first book of the poem and
in the last. Panegyric is sounded, not too
loudly, at the beginning and again at the end.
Every book in the poem is different, and every
one the same, like the faces of the nymphs
whose images Vulcan wrought in the palace of
the Sun,
Like and unlike, as sister-nymphs beseems.
In adjusting his narrative, Ovid has many
nice problems to solve, many impossibilities
to make real by the art of illusion. Roughly
speaking, the poem falls into three parts. The
action is first in the world of the gods, then in
that of the heroes, and lastly in that of men.
It is the time-honored division of Pindar's ode,
and Horace's:
tLvcl 0e6v, t'lv' ? ipu>a, riva d'avSpa x^^V^o^v.
But these divisions shade into one another and
each contains matter that belongs elsewhere.
"Pyramus and Thisbe " is a love-story of the
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
Hellenistic age, but it is told by the daughters
of Minyas in the mythical days of Pentheus of
Thebes. Still, it might have been familiar be-
fore the flood. Who cares? It does not disturb
the reader's sense of the descending sweep of
time. The moment he may feel that he is float-
ing about in a timeless realm of myth, the poet,
with a magic touch, attaches the myth to his-
tory, as when Apollo, flying away after his
victory over Pan, sees Laomedon far beneath
him, building the walls of Troy. We know
where we are and what is coming; the Trojan
War is not far away. When it comes, Ovid
takes care not to enter the lists against either
Homer or Virgil. He tells what metamorphoses
he can at the beginning, and narrates the death
of Achilles at the end. The intervening stretch
of time must be wiped out. With an amusing
sort of illusion, he manages to slide o'er full
nine years
and leave the growth untri'ed
Of that wide gap.
He assembles the heroes at a feast. The after-
dinner talk is restricted to deeds of war.
For of what else could great Achilles tell,
Or others tell with great Achilles there? 19
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
Nestor finally has the floor and while Nestor
talks, centuries can slip by. When he has fin-
ished, the war is done. So in the journey of
Aeneas, a brief expanse of paper holds a copi-
ous flow of time. It is a different voyage from
that of Virgil's hero and might have differed
still more; Ovid, poet of the tender loves, shows
remarkable restraint in omitting the various
replicas of the hero's amour with Dido which,
as we learn from the commentary of Servius,
legend contained. But this is not the time for
a travesty of Aeneas; the tone of the poem is
sobering as it approaches the end.
The voyage gets its proper length from the
incidental stories, interspersed with diverting
effect. While we are listening with Galatea to
her monstrous shepherd's serenade, Aeneas is
gliding on to his destination. In the last book,
the poet leaps down the centuries too precipi-
tously, some critics think, as though he were
anxious to wind up his long legend and did not
quite know how. If, however, we perceive the
ideal issues underneath the narrative, the jour-
ney has not been too swift. The poet, with the
meaning of Virgil's epic in mind, sees in Roman
history a composite harmony of the native
sweetness and strength of Italy and the enlight-
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
enment brought to Italy from without. In the
fourteenth book, the charm of primitive an-
tiquity is set forth in the stories of Picus and
Pomona. In the last book, we have a vision of
a greater Italy, a new Rome, growing by what
it shall absorb from abroad. First comes the
discourse of Pythagoras in which he reveals to
King Numa his doctrine of metempsychosis
and the ultimate truths of life. Here is a bright
cloud of Greek learning, Greek thought, cast
artfully by the poet about the origins of his
country. In a setting of wide historical per-
spective, with glances back to the cities of
yester-year as well as forward to the majesty
of Rome to come, Ovid inserts a bit of pane-
gyric as impressively sincere as anything in
Virgil:
Famed once was Sparta; once Mycenae throve
And towers of Cecrops and Amphion's towers.
Now dust is Sparta, high Mycenae fell.
Oedipus' Thebes to legend has decayed,
The Athens of Pandion is a name.
Now rise, fame tells, the walls of Dardan Rome;
Where Tiber flows from lordly Apennine,
She lays the great foundations of the world. 20
Now follows the story of Egeria and that of
Hippolytus, a bit of tragedy not unworthy of
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
master Euripides. Next is the legend of Cipus,
an example of that ancient virtus, self-sacrifice
for the state, which is the back-bone of Roman
character and owes nothing to foreign importa-
tion. The next episode marks the appearance
of Greece, as Rome unites with her own re-
ligion the worship of Aesculapius. The previ-
ous stories symbolize remote antiquity; this
one brings us to the third century, the time,
in Horace's profound epigram,
When captive Greece took its rude victor captive.
This is a turning-point in the history of Rome.
The next and last for our poet to record is the
Augustan age, with its culminating metamor-
phosis, the exaltation of Julius Caesar to god-
head. History, like geography, is plastic in
Ovid's hands. Every island is a floating Delos
to him, and centuries may be compressed into
decades if he will.
The ending of the last book is thus a monu-
ment to Rome. The beginning of that book is
a monument of the poet's temperament. His is
a philosophy of metempsychosis in a world of
flux and flow. Ovid is speaking with gravity
again, as at the commencement of the poem.
His burlesques of the gods are passing pleas-
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
antries and no more reveal his judgment of the
deeper verities of life than the pictures of
Olympus in the Aeneid show us the religion of
Virgil. If this is all of Ovid, his poem is indeed,
as Sellar would have it, the most irreligious in
history. But in the Aeneid no less than in the
Metamorphoses, Olympus can be a stage for
comedy; Virgil's tragedies are for humankind.
The twilight of the gods was settling before
Ovid's time. As early as Aeschylus, reverent
spirits brooded over the conflict of primitive
and immoral myths with new and higher con-
ceptions of the divine. And apart from that,
burlesque can run side by side with worship,
except in some cold and colorless creed. Both
moods are found in Plautus's Amphitryo, which
at the beginning presents a most Ovidian Jove,
and ends in a lowly adoration of the Divine
Benefactor. Both moods are found in Homer.
Puritans will find much to shock them in
Mediaeval parodies of sacred things, and yet
the Middle Ages were the ages of faith. Both
Virgil and Ovid bow to something sacred
behind the myth. Both reverence the simple
piety of simple folk; the beautiful legend of
Philemon and Baucis, who entertained deities
unawares, is told to silence a scoffer.
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
It were rash to define Ovid's theology. A
vague monotheism may underlie his story of
creation. He trusts in the gentleness of heaven,
-- mite deum numen. At the same time, there
is more than one Euripidean protest against the
injustice of the gods; what is revelry for them
is bitter fate for human beings. Still, these are
the gods of myth; the poet tacitly appeals to
a principle of justice above them.
Varer ingiusta la nostra giustizia
Negl' occhi del mortali ed argomento
Di fede e non d'eretica nequizia.
Ovid's mind is too subtle, too nomadic, to at-
tach itself to a science. He is too keenly alive
to human realities to profess an ultimate scep-
ticism. In the world of magic in which he
freely moves, it were hazardous to say what
miracles may not come to pass. He can have
a fling at scepticism. Orpheus, on entering the
world of shades, remarks to Proserpine that he
supposes Love is omnipotent there as else-
where:
1/ Pluto's theft of thee is not a myth.
This is the ne plus ultra of incredulity, the
uncertainty of one mythicality about the genu-
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
Ineness of another.
I call this a fling at scep-
ticism, -- perhaps it is something else.
Ovid is likewise no cynic. For that, he has
too lively a sympathy with humble things, with
impossible things, like Centaurs. His imagina-
tion loves to make the most of a small domain,
Parva sed apta. He has the skill of a French
house-wife faire des petites Economies. He
would applaud Herrick's maxim:
A little saint best fits a little shrine,
A little prop best fits a little vine,
As my small cruse best fits my little wine? 1
After all our attempts at analysis, Ovid's
spirit eludes us. If we call him this or that, he
quickly performs a metamorphosis and shows
another face. He loves shadings, the slanting
intermediates, in Meredith's phrase, the twi-
lights of nature and of the mind, -- tenues
parvi discriminis umbrae. But in the midst of
the flowing circumstance of time and space, his
spirit, like Shakespeare's, dwells master of it-
self and creator of whatever world he will. He
has written himself into his poem, which not
only tells of changing forms but is metamor-
phosis itself, riding on like a supple river-god,
a Proteus of a stream, with a clearness, as
Landor says, that shows the depths, passing
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
through different lights and shades and rippling
with a different music at every turn, forever
changing and forever the same.
The work had not received its author's fin-
ishing touches; it was " still growing and still
rude," he declares, when Augustus banished
him from Rome. He burned his manuscript.
Perhaps he might have excised a few touches
of false rhetoric and false pathology here and
there, -- false from audacity and not from lack
of taste -- but what else could he have done?
The poet knows that he has succeeded. At the
close he can well declare his immortality, --
if, as he adds,
If prophesies of bards have aught of truth.
Previously he had intimated that the devotion
of bards to truth is not intense. We are coming
out from Ovid's world of shifting dreams by
the Ivory Gate.
3. The Poet or the Pagan Year
When with the Virgin morning thou do'st rise,
Crossing thy selfe; come thus to sacrifice . . .
Next to the Altar humbly kneele, and thence,
Give up thy soule in clouds of frankincense.
HERRICK
Protinus accessi ritus ne nescius essem. ovro
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
After his magical handling of chronology in
the Metamorphoses, Ovid may have felt some-
thing of the pride of the connoisseur in com-
posing a poetical calendar of Roman feasts, a
"Pagan Year. " To devote a whole poem to
religion is a sign of the poet's deepening in-
terests, or rather of the deeper side of his
nature flowing more naturally into his verse;
the fascination of cults and ceremonies is no
new thing to him, as we saw in his earliest love-
poetry. His plan in the new poem is- to follow
the calendar, giving a book to each month and
describing the feasts in their turn. Nothing
could be more unlike the Protean display of
variety in the Metamorphoses than this simple
design. Ovid's imagination has not failed; he
is treating liturgy decently and in order; there
will be variety enough of its kind. For the
metre, Ovid returns to the elegiac couplet.
Propertius had anticipated him in poems on
religious rites, which, by the example of Cal-
limachus, the Greek master of them both, are
appropriate for elegy. But it is sober elegy.
Ovid is no longer the tender singer of the play-
ful loves, but " the busy poet of the days. "
Roman religion, one might infer from certain
summary treatments of it, is a bare and lifeless
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
round of ceremonies, which neither cheered nor
sanctified the life of the worshipper, but were
maintained superstitiously as an instrument for
binding the gods to their part of the bargain.
Give and take; pay the vow, sacrifice the vic-
tim, and no plague shall visit the sheep-fold
or mildew spoil the standing crops. Fear made
the first gods; kings and priests, in the interests
of the state, imposed divine worship on their
credulous subjects. There is an element of
truth in such assertions, which ancient as well
as modern authors have made, but the sum of
them presents an idea of religion that hardly
could have lasted a twelvemonth. We may turn
to Walter Pater's Marius the Epicurean, where
the imaginary picture of the ancient rites of
Rome is nearer the living reality than are some
authorities on Romischer Kultus. To penetrate
to the heart of Roman worship in the times of
Augustus, we should go to the poets, to Virgil
for religious aspiration, to Horace for the wor-
ship of the state, to Ovid for the beauty of
ritual.
There are several strands in the texture of
Roman religion as the contemporaries of Ovid
knew it. The rites of earliest Italy had been
enlarged with Greek legends and practices, and
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
though philosophy was originally distinct from
religion, the latter derived new colorings, par-
ticularly from the Platonic and Stoic systems
of thought. The veneration of the heroes of old
also crystallized into ceremony; St. Romulus
has his day in Ovid's calendar. If the primitive
Romans are less imaginative than the Greeks,
the reason is partly that they were too reveren-
tial to treat their gods jocosely. The worship
of the di indigetes was not necessarily bare be-
cause these deities had no domestic history.
Tacitus thought the religion of the Hebrews
bare because no image was found within the
inner temple. The art of Giotto may seem bare
to those who are unmoved by his mystic awe.
The fancy of the Romans, leaving the gods
alone, played freely about the heroes; this was
the kind of myth wherewith, as Livy puts it,
they hallowed the origins of Rome. The more
we must detract from the authenticity of early
Roman history, the more we must add to the
poetical creativeness of the Romans.
Ovid is deeply interested, perhaps particu-
larly interested, in the faith of his primitive
ancestors, in the days when
The stars in annual path free roamed the sky
All unobserved; and yet the gods were nigh. 22
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
It was the Golden Age of liberty for the
planets, before they were shackled to scientific
theory. The gods were worshipped in plain
images of straw, but, says the poet, no less
reverent was the worship of that straw than of
the Roman eagles which symbolized the might
of Augustus's divinity. In those happy times,
the gods moved freely among men, visiting the
cottage unawares. The hearth of Vesta was a
sacred thing; the farmer and his family would
sit on long benches before the fire and believe
that the gods had their place at the table. The
shepherd knows that every grove is full of
deities. He prays to his goddess Pales for par-
don if ever he has entered a forbidden grove,
or by peeping about has made the nymphs
scamper with the half-goat god at their heels,
or if he has lopped off a bough from a sacred
tree as browze for a sick sheep, or if in a sud-
den hail-storm he has driven his little flock
into a rustic shrine. These were desperate
cases, but the sin had been done. May the god-
dess have mercy, and grant that he may ne'er
look on a Dryad, or Dian at her bath, or rout
old Faunus from his noon-day napl
All Roman poets are liturgical, even Lucre-
tius, who describes the rites of Cybele with no
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
little zest. 23 Many a solemn measure in Virgil
and Horace sounds most deeply to those who
can hear the same music in the Catholic Mass.
Ovid, too, is fond of liturgical lines, which call
to one another like choristers chanting antiph-
onally. After the flood, says the poet in the
Metamorphoses, Jupiter saw that of the thou-
sands of mankind only two remained. This
statement is not made simply but sung liturgi-
cally, with a bit of rhyme, in a verse and its
response:
Et superesse virum de tot modo milibus unum,
Et superesse videt de tot modo milibus unam. 2*
There are similar passages in the Fasti. The
Great Mother of the gods is brought to Rome
in a vessel of state at night-fall. They tie the
cable to a stump of oak and after a slight re-
past, lie down to sleep. At day-break they con-
struct a hearth, offer incense upon it, and cast
off. The liturgical character of the act is not
stated in words but sung in the verse:
Nox aderat: querno religant a stipite funem
Dantque levi somno corpora functa cibo.
Lux aderat: querno solvunt a stipite funem,
Ante tamen posito tura dedere foco. 26
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
Ovid has not merely a liturgical manner at
his command. He has an expert's acquaintance
with hosts of rites, usual and unusual, and can
set them into poetry with vivid charm and
delicate sympathy. He describes with zest the
merrymakings attending the feast of Anna
Perenna, when the people build booths of
boughs by the Tiber and drink as many cups
as the years they wish to live, -- the poet de-
clares that he has seen those who by grace of
much potation rivalled the longevity of Nestor
or the Sibyl. As they reel home at the end of
the day, the crowd cheers them and calls them
blessed. A quieter scene is the feast of Termi-
nus, god of the farmer's bounds, a humble god,
but ancient, and firm to maintain the true line
f division even though the farmer beat him
ver the head with a ploughshare or a rake.
More solemn is the Parentalia, the festival of
the dead, whose shades are satisfied with the
humble offerings of the devout, -- garlands and
fruit, a pinch of salt thrown on the flames, or
loose violets in some potsherd, found in the
country road. Pictures like these indicate no
dull round of obligations, but the pleasant
feasts of immanent deities, to whom costly
victims were a less ample oblation than the
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
prayers of the poor. Ovid's poem reflects the
colors, gay and sombre, of the life of a people
more deeply penetrated with religion than
people are today.
If Ovid's calendar consisted merely of a
series of festivals and rites described as he de-
scribes them, there would be for us life and
variety enough, but not for him. He has not
forgotten his earliest title to fame. Venus, it
would seem, imagines that he has. At the be-
ginning of her own month, April, he makes the
goddess a courteous apology, which would
seem a bit superfluous; for love runs in and
out of the poem as it does in the Metamorpho-
ses. There is a Rabelaisian tale of the ass of
Silenus who by an untimely braying inter-
rupted Priapus's wooing of the nymph. The ass
is promptly sacrificed, and has ever since been
sacrificed, to Silenus; what would seem to us
a commendable moral protest was imputed to
the poor beast as original sin. But the gods
are sometimes not nice in ethical distinctions.
Flora, the charming but disreputable goddess
who contests with Jupiter the right to name the
first of May, declares:
We gods love honor, altars, festal song;
Like politicians, we're a greedy throng.
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
The sinner often moves celestial hate,
Yet oft a victim doth our anger sate.
Jove have I seen, his bolts about to rain,
At whiff of incense drop his arm again. 2"
Such is the message of the wanton goddess of
flowers, who at the end of the conversation de-
parts, if not in the odor of sanctity, at least
amid an agreeable fragrance. Primitive Italian
awe has melted with her into the insubstantial
air. Flora is responsible for a bit of what we
might call, in the midst of so much liturgy,
"blasphemous relief" or, better, the irrepres-
sible bubbling up of the poet's wit.
There is more of this witty irreverence in the
poem, and it can intermingle with devotion.
Ovid's mind is at its Protean play again. He
opens the last of the six books in a serious
strain:
A god within us animates the soul
With sacred sparks of the celestial whole.
This mood does not last long. So, then, the
poet continues, it is no sin to meet goddesses
face to face, as he did! Juno, addressing him
respectfully as "founder of the Roman year,"
asserts her right to name the month of June.
Juventa, the bride of Hercules, interrupts her
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
argument boisterously, when Concordia ap-
pears, not to reconcile the disputants but to
claim the honor for herself. The poet, remem-
bering the unhappiness that Paris brought into
the world, refuses to become famous for a
judicium Nasonis. He sends the goddesses
away without a decision:
Taris by arbitration Troy overthrew;
Less joy had he from one than woes from two.
The poet's conversation with Janus is more
profitable. Ovid approaches, with the assur-
ance of a modern reporter, salutes the god, as
an ancient Italian deity, to whom Greece has
nothing similar, and asks why he alone of im-
mortals can see his own back. The god affably
consents to be interviewed, and the poet whisks
out his note-book. Janus explains that as a
veritable antiquity, -- nam sum res prisca --
he goes back to the days of Chaos, at which
time he was a shapeless mass. Some of the first
experiments at creation, as the reader may
verify from Lucretius, were curious; the god
is one of those early monstrosities or freaks of
nature; that is why he has a face before and
behind. However, this peculiarity_is_put to use.
He survives as the fittest creature to become
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
concierge of the sky. After a fusilade of ques-
tions, the poet is anxious to know the symbol-
ism of the coin which the devout offer to the
god. The latter, smiling with a far-away look
of worldly wisdom, points out that long ago
customs were simple.
In his small shrine, Jove scarce upright could stand,
And sped clay thunder-bolts with mightiest hand.
With leaves, not gems, adorned Rome's temple
stood.
Himself the statesman gave his sheep their food.
No shame it was to rest the tired head
On a straw pillow in a stubble bed. "
But times have ? changed, -- and Janus has
changed with them.
stories of love. There is the wild and vengeful
love of the witch Medea, the unfilial love
of Scylla for her father's foe, the all-too-filial
love of Myrrha for her father, the chivalrous
love of Meleager for Atalanta, the incestuous
love of Byblis for her brother, the love of the
young Centaur for his bride, the love of Narcis-
sus, -- most complicated case of all -- for him-
self. What next? Why, the love of Cephalus
for his wife, a tragic story deep and true, giv-
ing "serious relief" amidst these distressing
amorosities. Ovid had used it for this purpose
in the Art of Love. He tells it again, and he
tells it even better. Ovid reveals his inner
depths of reverence when he writes:
I fondly dwell, oh son of Aeacus,
On those blest days of wedlock new,
Then when we each to each were all in all}''
Ovid is not responsible for all of his stories
of unhallowed love. He is following an unpleas-
ant tradition set by his Greek predecessors, who
had gone to greater lengths than he. Ovid has
selected and refined. He is not the victim of
morbid curiosity; he uses pathological matter
for different effects. He begins the tale of Byb-
lis with a shiver of horror, and sustains tragic
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
feeling to the end. In the story of Myrrha,
pathos is mingled recklessly with burlesque.
You cannot take that sort of thing seriously
twice! But Centaur-love he treats without a
flicker of burlesque. The beauty of Cyllara,
half-brute though she is, is set forth in lines of
epic dignity. If we smile at her feminine pro-
pensity
On her left shoulder or her side to hang
Becoming beast-skins in the latest style,18
it is no smile of derision, and it changes to pity
and sorrow when the lovers meet their death.
Will the love of the half-brute Polyphemus be
treated by our poet in the same fashion?
Hardly. This most uncouth swain is hero in an
entertaining travesty of the pastoral. He combs
his locks with a rake and performs a serenade
to his Galatea on a Pan's pipe of an hundred
reeds, a veritable church-organ; the serenade
is arranged elaborately into strophes and anti-
strophes and is set to loud music with ponder-
ous rhymes and grating dissonance.
Our poet's love of variety is no less manifest
in the other strands of which the story is
woven. Every book has its contrasts of grave
and gay, and these elements are never mixed
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
in the same proportion or occupy the same
places in a book. For variety's sake, one whole
book is devoted to love, and the songs are by
one singer, Orpheus, who reveals the kind of
songs to which the oaks gave ear, -- no wonder
that the Maenads tore him to bits! Devices for
introducing the stories are invented with an
apparently inexhaustible ease. They are nar-
rated as the pieces rendered in a contest in
song or described in the works of contestants
in weaving; they form after-dinner speeches,
or the tales that soldiers swap; they are parts
of the experiences of long-separated friends,
told to each other as they meet again; they
are parts of women's gossip, -- no better nar-
rator of the deeds of the infant Hercules than
Alcmene, his mother, and no better auditor
than Iole, his latest love. Glaucus woos his
maiden with the story of his own metamorpho-
sis; Vertumnus assumes a metamorphosis in
wooing his. A brilliant device is the setting of
the amorous stories of the daughters of Minyas
in an atmosphere of horror; while all Thebes
celebrates the rites of the new god of the vine,
they blasphemously stay at home and as they
spin, blasphemously regale themselves with
scandal; vengeance is gathering for them, and
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
at the return of the god, the spinsters' woof
grows into the ivy and the vine that they had
despised; the maidens themselves turn into
chattering bats. Boccaccio, helped doubtless by
Ovid's art, effects a similar contrast between
the gay tales of the Decamerone and their
grewsome occasion.
As we glide along the varied course of Ovid's
story, with changes in moods and colors,
changes in the music of the verse, changes in
the settings, changes in the actors at the end of
the tale, we become gradually aware that the
spirit of the poem is constantly changing as it
moves. It starts as epic and is epic throughout.
It has not the nobility of Virgil's poem, which
only Milton among the countless imitators of
Virgil could reproduce. Ovid, avoiding what he
knew was impossible for him, invented what
was impossible for Virgil, an epic that with the
easy, romantic flow of the Odyssey, takes on
different colors in its course. Now it seems
comedy, now elegy, now pastoral. Now it be-
comes a hymn, now tragedy. Now the poet,
with some daring, shifts the scene to the rostra,
where Ajax and Ulysses debate the right to
wear the armour of the slain Achilles. Ovid
lavishes on this debate his full store of rhetori-
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
cal subtleties and psychological observation. It
is drama of a high order and oratory that
Cicero might envy; it also impressed Landor,
a critic hard to please, as more epic than the
Aeneid. Didactic poetry in the vein of Lucre-
tius appears in the first book of the poem and
in the last. Panegyric is sounded, not too
loudly, at the beginning and again at the end.
Every book in the poem is different, and every
one the same, like the faces of the nymphs
whose images Vulcan wrought in the palace of
the Sun,
Like and unlike, as sister-nymphs beseems.
In adjusting his narrative, Ovid has many
nice problems to solve, many impossibilities
to make real by the art of illusion. Roughly
speaking, the poem falls into three parts. The
action is first in the world of the gods, then in
that of the heroes, and lastly in that of men.
It is the time-honored division of Pindar's ode,
and Horace's:
tLvcl 0e6v, t'lv' ? ipu>a, riva d'avSpa x^^V^o^v.
But these divisions shade into one another and
each contains matter that belongs elsewhere.
"Pyramus and Thisbe " is a love-story of the
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
Hellenistic age, but it is told by the daughters
of Minyas in the mythical days of Pentheus of
Thebes. Still, it might have been familiar be-
fore the flood. Who cares? It does not disturb
the reader's sense of the descending sweep of
time. The moment he may feel that he is float-
ing about in a timeless realm of myth, the poet,
with a magic touch, attaches the myth to his-
tory, as when Apollo, flying away after his
victory over Pan, sees Laomedon far beneath
him, building the walls of Troy. We know
where we are and what is coming; the Trojan
War is not far away. When it comes, Ovid
takes care not to enter the lists against either
Homer or Virgil. He tells what metamorphoses
he can at the beginning, and narrates the death
of Achilles at the end. The intervening stretch
of time must be wiped out. With an amusing
sort of illusion, he manages to slide o'er full
nine years
and leave the growth untri'ed
Of that wide gap.
He assembles the heroes at a feast. The after-
dinner talk is restricted to deeds of war.
For of what else could great Achilles tell,
Or others tell with great Achilles there? 19
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
Nestor finally has the floor and while Nestor
talks, centuries can slip by. When he has fin-
ished, the war is done. So in the journey of
Aeneas, a brief expanse of paper holds a copi-
ous flow of time. It is a different voyage from
that of Virgil's hero and might have differed
still more; Ovid, poet of the tender loves, shows
remarkable restraint in omitting the various
replicas of the hero's amour with Dido which,
as we learn from the commentary of Servius,
legend contained. But this is not the time for
a travesty of Aeneas; the tone of the poem is
sobering as it approaches the end.
The voyage gets its proper length from the
incidental stories, interspersed with diverting
effect. While we are listening with Galatea to
her monstrous shepherd's serenade, Aeneas is
gliding on to his destination. In the last book,
the poet leaps down the centuries too precipi-
tously, some critics think, as though he were
anxious to wind up his long legend and did not
quite know how. If, however, we perceive the
ideal issues underneath the narrative, the jour-
ney has not been too swift. The poet, with the
meaning of Virgil's epic in mind, sees in Roman
history a composite harmony of the native
sweetness and strength of Italy and the enlight-
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
enment brought to Italy from without. In the
fourteenth book, the charm of primitive an-
tiquity is set forth in the stories of Picus and
Pomona. In the last book, we have a vision of
a greater Italy, a new Rome, growing by what
it shall absorb from abroad. First comes the
discourse of Pythagoras in which he reveals to
King Numa his doctrine of metempsychosis
and the ultimate truths of life. Here is a bright
cloud of Greek learning, Greek thought, cast
artfully by the poet about the origins of his
country. In a setting of wide historical per-
spective, with glances back to the cities of
yester-year as well as forward to the majesty
of Rome to come, Ovid inserts a bit of pane-
gyric as impressively sincere as anything in
Virgil:
Famed once was Sparta; once Mycenae throve
And towers of Cecrops and Amphion's towers.
Now dust is Sparta, high Mycenae fell.
Oedipus' Thebes to legend has decayed,
The Athens of Pandion is a name.
Now rise, fame tells, the walls of Dardan Rome;
Where Tiber flows from lordly Apennine,
She lays the great foundations of the world. 20
Now follows the story of Egeria and that of
Hippolytus, a bit of tragedy not unworthy of
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
master Euripides. Next is the legend of Cipus,
an example of that ancient virtus, self-sacrifice
for the state, which is the back-bone of Roman
character and owes nothing to foreign importa-
tion. The next episode marks the appearance
of Greece, as Rome unites with her own re-
ligion the worship of Aesculapius. The previ-
ous stories symbolize remote antiquity; this
one brings us to the third century, the time,
in Horace's profound epigram,
When captive Greece took its rude victor captive.
This is a turning-point in the history of Rome.
The next and last for our poet to record is the
Augustan age, with its culminating metamor-
phosis, the exaltation of Julius Caesar to god-
head. History, like geography, is plastic in
Ovid's hands. Every island is a floating Delos
to him, and centuries may be compressed into
decades if he will.
The ending of the last book is thus a monu-
ment to Rome. The beginning of that book is
a monument of the poet's temperament. His is
a philosophy of metempsychosis in a world of
flux and flow. Ovid is speaking with gravity
again, as at the commencement of the poem.
His burlesques of the gods are passing pleas-
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
antries and no more reveal his judgment of the
deeper verities of life than the pictures of
Olympus in the Aeneid show us the religion of
Virgil. If this is all of Ovid, his poem is indeed,
as Sellar would have it, the most irreligious in
history. But in the Aeneid no less than in the
Metamorphoses, Olympus can be a stage for
comedy; Virgil's tragedies are for humankind.
The twilight of the gods was settling before
Ovid's time. As early as Aeschylus, reverent
spirits brooded over the conflict of primitive
and immoral myths with new and higher con-
ceptions of the divine. And apart from that,
burlesque can run side by side with worship,
except in some cold and colorless creed. Both
moods are found in Plautus's Amphitryo, which
at the beginning presents a most Ovidian Jove,
and ends in a lowly adoration of the Divine
Benefactor. Both moods are found in Homer.
Puritans will find much to shock them in
Mediaeval parodies of sacred things, and yet
the Middle Ages were the ages of faith. Both
Virgil and Ovid bow to something sacred
behind the myth. Both reverence the simple
piety of simple folk; the beautiful legend of
Philemon and Baucis, who entertained deities
unawares, is told to silence a scoffer.
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
It were rash to define Ovid's theology. A
vague monotheism may underlie his story of
creation. He trusts in the gentleness of heaven,
-- mite deum numen. At the same time, there
is more than one Euripidean protest against the
injustice of the gods; what is revelry for them
is bitter fate for human beings. Still, these are
the gods of myth; the poet tacitly appeals to
a principle of justice above them.
Varer ingiusta la nostra giustizia
Negl' occhi del mortali ed argomento
Di fede e non d'eretica nequizia.
Ovid's mind is too subtle, too nomadic, to at-
tach itself to a science. He is too keenly alive
to human realities to profess an ultimate scep-
ticism. In the world of magic in which he
freely moves, it were hazardous to say what
miracles may not come to pass. He can have
a fling at scepticism. Orpheus, on entering the
world of shades, remarks to Proserpine that he
supposes Love is omnipotent there as else-
where:
1/ Pluto's theft of thee is not a myth.
This is the ne plus ultra of incredulity, the
uncertainty of one mythicality about the genu-
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
Ineness of another.
I call this a fling at scep-
ticism, -- perhaps it is something else.
Ovid is likewise no cynic. For that, he has
too lively a sympathy with humble things, with
impossible things, like Centaurs. His imagina-
tion loves to make the most of a small domain,
Parva sed apta. He has the skill of a French
house-wife faire des petites Economies. He
would applaud Herrick's maxim:
A little saint best fits a little shrine,
A little prop best fits a little vine,
As my small cruse best fits my little wine? 1
After all our attempts at analysis, Ovid's
spirit eludes us. If we call him this or that, he
quickly performs a metamorphosis and shows
another face. He loves shadings, the slanting
intermediates, in Meredith's phrase, the twi-
lights of nature and of the mind, -- tenues
parvi discriminis umbrae. But in the midst of
the flowing circumstance of time and space, his
spirit, like Shakespeare's, dwells master of it-
self and creator of whatever world he will. He
has written himself into his poem, which not
only tells of changing forms but is metamor-
phosis itself, riding on like a supple river-god,
a Proteus of a stream, with a clearness, as
Landor says, that shows the depths, passing
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
through different lights and shades and rippling
with a different music at every turn, forever
changing and forever the same.
The work had not received its author's fin-
ishing touches; it was " still growing and still
rude," he declares, when Augustus banished
him from Rome. He burned his manuscript.
Perhaps he might have excised a few touches
of false rhetoric and false pathology here and
there, -- false from audacity and not from lack
of taste -- but what else could he have done?
The poet knows that he has succeeded. At the
close he can well declare his immortality, --
if, as he adds,
If prophesies of bards have aught of truth.
Previously he had intimated that the devotion
of bards to truth is not intense. We are coming
out from Ovid's world of shifting dreams by
the Ivory Gate.
3. The Poet or the Pagan Year
When with the Virgin morning thou do'st rise,
Crossing thy selfe; come thus to sacrifice . . .
Next to the Altar humbly kneele, and thence,
Give up thy soule in clouds of frankincense.
HERRICK
Protinus accessi ritus ne nescius essem. ovro
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
After his magical handling of chronology in
the Metamorphoses, Ovid may have felt some-
thing of the pride of the connoisseur in com-
posing a poetical calendar of Roman feasts, a
"Pagan Year. " To devote a whole poem to
religion is a sign of the poet's deepening in-
terests, or rather of the deeper side of his
nature flowing more naturally into his verse;
the fascination of cults and ceremonies is no
new thing to him, as we saw in his earliest love-
poetry. His plan in the new poem is- to follow
the calendar, giving a book to each month and
describing the feasts in their turn. Nothing
could be more unlike the Protean display of
variety in the Metamorphoses than this simple
design. Ovid's imagination has not failed; he
is treating liturgy decently and in order; there
will be variety enough of its kind. For the
metre, Ovid returns to the elegiac couplet.
Propertius had anticipated him in poems on
religious rites, which, by the example of Cal-
limachus, the Greek master of them both, are
appropriate for elegy. But it is sober elegy.
Ovid is no longer the tender singer of the play-
ful loves, but " the busy poet of the days. "
Roman religion, one might infer from certain
summary treatments of it, is a bare and lifeless
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
round of ceremonies, which neither cheered nor
sanctified the life of the worshipper, but were
maintained superstitiously as an instrument for
binding the gods to their part of the bargain.
Give and take; pay the vow, sacrifice the vic-
tim, and no plague shall visit the sheep-fold
or mildew spoil the standing crops. Fear made
the first gods; kings and priests, in the interests
of the state, imposed divine worship on their
credulous subjects. There is an element of
truth in such assertions, which ancient as well
as modern authors have made, but the sum of
them presents an idea of religion that hardly
could have lasted a twelvemonth. We may turn
to Walter Pater's Marius the Epicurean, where
the imaginary picture of the ancient rites of
Rome is nearer the living reality than are some
authorities on Romischer Kultus. To penetrate
to the heart of Roman worship in the times of
Augustus, we should go to the poets, to Virgil
for religious aspiration, to Horace for the wor-
ship of the state, to Ovid for the beauty of
ritual.
There are several strands in the texture of
Roman religion as the contemporaries of Ovid
knew it. The rites of earliest Italy had been
enlarged with Greek legends and practices, and
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
though philosophy was originally distinct from
religion, the latter derived new colorings, par-
ticularly from the Platonic and Stoic systems
of thought. The veneration of the heroes of old
also crystallized into ceremony; St. Romulus
has his day in Ovid's calendar. If the primitive
Romans are less imaginative than the Greeks,
the reason is partly that they were too reveren-
tial to treat their gods jocosely. The worship
of the di indigetes was not necessarily bare be-
cause these deities had no domestic history.
Tacitus thought the religion of the Hebrews
bare because no image was found within the
inner temple. The art of Giotto may seem bare
to those who are unmoved by his mystic awe.
The fancy of the Romans, leaving the gods
alone, played freely about the heroes; this was
the kind of myth wherewith, as Livy puts it,
they hallowed the origins of Rome. The more
we must detract from the authenticity of early
Roman history, the more we must add to the
poetical creativeness of the Romans.
Ovid is deeply interested, perhaps particu-
larly interested, in the faith of his primitive
ancestors, in the days when
The stars in annual path free roamed the sky
All unobserved; and yet the gods were nigh. 22
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
It was the Golden Age of liberty for the
planets, before they were shackled to scientific
theory. The gods were worshipped in plain
images of straw, but, says the poet, no less
reverent was the worship of that straw than of
the Roman eagles which symbolized the might
of Augustus's divinity. In those happy times,
the gods moved freely among men, visiting the
cottage unawares. The hearth of Vesta was a
sacred thing; the farmer and his family would
sit on long benches before the fire and believe
that the gods had their place at the table. The
shepherd knows that every grove is full of
deities. He prays to his goddess Pales for par-
don if ever he has entered a forbidden grove,
or by peeping about has made the nymphs
scamper with the half-goat god at their heels,
or if he has lopped off a bough from a sacred
tree as browze for a sick sheep, or if in a sud-
den hail-storm he has driven his little flock
into a rustic shrine. These were desperate
cases, but the sin had been done. May the god-
dess have mercy, and grant that he may ne'er
look on a Dryad, or Dian at her bath, or rout
old Faunus from his noon-day napl
All Roman poets are liturgical, even Lucre-
tius, who describes the rites of Cybele with no
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
little zest. 23 Many a solemn measure in Virgil
and Horace sounds most deeply to those who
can hear the same music in the Catholic Mass.
Ovid, too, is fond of liturgical lines, which call
to one another like choristers chanting antiph-
onally. After the flood, says the poet in the
Metamorphoses, Jupiter saw that of the thou-
sands of mankind only two remained. This
statement is not made simply but sung liturgi-
cally, with a bit of rhyme, in a verse and its
response:
Et superesse virum de tot modo milibus unum,
Et superesse videt de tot modo milibus unam. 2*
There are similar passages in the Fasti. The
Great Mother of the gods is brought to Rome
in a vessel of state at night-fall. They tie the
cable to a stump of oak and after a slight re-
past, lie down to sleep. At day-break they con-
struct a hearth, offer incense upon it, and cast
off. The liturgical character of the act is not
stated in words but sung in the verse:
Nox aderat: querno religant a stipite funem
Dantque levi somno corpora functa cibo.
Lux aderat: querno solvunt a stipite funem,
Ante tamen posito tura dedere foco. 26
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
Ovid has not merely a liturgical manner at
his command. He has an expert's acquaintance
with hosts of rites, usual and unusual, and can
set them into poetry with vivid charm and
delicate sympathy. He describes with zest the
merrymakings attending the feast of Anna
Perenna, when the people build booths of
boughs by the Tiber and drink as many cups
as the years they wish to live, -- the poet de-
clares that he has seen those who by grace of
much potation rivalled the longevity of Nestor
or the Sibyl. As they reel home at the end of
the day, the crowd cheers them and calls them
blessed. A quieter scene is the feast of Termi-
nus, god of the farmer's bounds, a humble god,
but ancient, and firm to maintain the true line
f division even though the farmer beat him
ver the head with a ploughshare or a rake.
More solemn is the Parentalia, the festival of
the dead, whose shades are satisfied with the
humble offerings of the devout, -- garlands and
fruit, a pinch of salt thrown on the flames, or
loose violets in some potsherd, found in the
country road. Pictures like these indicate no
dull round of obligations, but the pleasant
feasts of immanent deities, to whom costly
victims were a less ample oblation than the
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
prayers of the poor. Ovid's poem reflects the
colors, gay and sombre, of the life of a people
more deeply penetrated with religion than
people are today.
If Ovid's calendar consisted merely of a
series of festivals and rites described as he de-
scribes them, there would be for us life and
variety enough, but not for him. He has not
forgotten his earliest title to fame. Venus, it
would seem, imagines that he has. At the be-
ginning of her own month, April, he makes the
goddess a courteous apology, which would
seem a bit superfluous; for love runs in and
out of the poem as it does in the Metamorpho-
ses. There is a Rabelaisian tale of the ass of
Silenus who by an untimely braying inter-
rupted Priapus's wooing of the nymph. The ass
is promptly sacrificed, and has ever since been
sacrificed, to Silenus; what would seem to us
a commendable moral protest was imputed to
the poor beast as original sin. But the gods
are sometimes not nice in ethical distinctions.
Flora, the charming but disreputable goddess
who contests with Jupiter the right to name the
first of May, declares:
We gods love honor, altars, festal song;
Like politicians, we're a greedy throng.
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
The sinner often moves celestial hate,
Yet oft a victim doth our anger sate.
Jove have I seen, his bolts about to rain,
At whiff of incense drop his arm again. 2"
Such is the message of the wanton goddess of
flowers, who at the end of the conversation de-
parts, if not in the odor of sanctity, at least
amid an agreeable fragrance. Primitive Italian
awe has melted with her into the insubstantial
air. Flora is responsible for a bit of what we
might call, in the midst of so much liturgy,
"blasphemous relief" or, better, the irrepres-
sible bubbling up of the poet's wit.
There is more of this witty irreverence in the
poem, and it can intermingle with devotion.
Ovid's mind is at its Protean play again. He
opens the last of the six books in a serious
strain:
A god within us animates the soul
With sacred sparks of the celestial whole.
This mood does not last long. So, then, the
poet continues, it is no sin to meet goddesses
face to face, as he did! Juno, addressing him
respectfully as "founder of the Roman year,"
asserts her right to name the month of June.
Juventa, the bride of Hercules, interrupts her
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? THE WORLD OF POETRY
argument boisterously, when Concordia ap-
pears, not to reconcile the disputants but to
claim the honor for herself. The poet, remem-
bering the unhappiness that Paris brought into
the world, refuses to become famous for a
judicium Nasonis. He sends the goddesses
away without a decision:
Taris by arbitration Troy overthrew;
Less joy had he from one than woes from two.
The poet's conversation with Janus is more
profitable. Ovid approaches, with the assur-
ance of a modern reporter, salutes the god, as
an ancient Italian deity, to whom Greece has
nothing similar, and asks why he alone of im-
mortals can see his own back. The god affably
consents to be interviewed, and the poet whisks
out his note-book. Janus explains that as a
veritable antiquity, -- nam sum res prisca --
he goes back to the days of Chaos, at which
time he was a shapeless mass. Some of the first
experiments at creation, as the reader may
verify from Lucretius, were curious; the god
is one of those early monstrosities or freaks of
nature; that is why he has a face before and
behind. However, this peculiarity_is_put to use.
He survives as the fittest creature to become
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? OVID AND HIS INFLUENCE
concierge of the sky. After a fusilade of ques-
tions, the poet is anxious to know the symbol-
ism of the coin which the devout offer to the
god. The latter, smiling with a far-away look
of worldly wisdom, points out that long ago
customs were simple.
In his small shrine, Jove scarce upright could stand,
And sped clay thunder-bolts with mightiest hand.
With leaves, not gems, adorned Rome's temple
stood.
Himself the statesman gave his sheep their food.
No shame it was to rest the tired head
On a straw pillow in a stubble bed. "
But times have ? changed, -- and Janus has
changed with them.
