But,
as she stirred the leaves, Cephalus imagined that a wild beast was near
and wounded her fatally with an arrow.
as she stirred the leaves, Cephalus imagined that a wild beast was near
and wounded her fatally with an arrow.
Ovid - 1934 - Metamorphoses in European Culture - v2
Dogs, birds, and hoary wolves avoided them and left
them to spread contagion.
The plague soon passed to human beings, first in the country and
then in the city. Here Ovid followed Lucretius, but not closely, and
again he made the description more concise. In individual cases the
vitals were consumed with fever, the face was flushed, the breathing
labored. The tongue became rough and swollen, the mouth was open
and gasping. No bed or covering was tolerable. Ovid added the pic-
turesque idea of the sick vainly throwing themselves flat on the ground,
in the hope of cooling their bodies. But the ground did not cool them.
On the contrary it became hot. With Thucydides he observed that phy-
sicians themselves perished from the disease, and with Vergil he noted
138
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CREATION OF THE MYRMIDONS
that remedies increased the evil. The more faithful the attendants, the
more quickly they caught the plague.
The sick, despairing, grew reckless of precautions and restraints,
for nothing availed. Shameless they lay in fountains, streams, and
cisterns and drank unsatisfied until death. Ovid added a further horror.
Many, unable to rise, died in the water; yet others did not scruple to
drink it. Ovid then elaborated effectively ideas of Thucydides and Lu-
cretius. So hateful did their sick beds appear that many forsook them.
The weakest rolled about on the ground; the others fled from their
homes, hoping so to avoid the unknown evil. One could see them stagger-
ing about the roads or prostrate on the ground, weeping, rolling their
eyes, and extending their hands towards the pall of clouds.
Aeacus longed to die with his people. Everywhere he saw them lying
in heaps, like mellow apples or acorns shaken from the tree. Thucydides
had spoken of prayers as useless; Lucretius had spoken of parents fall-
ing dead on the bodies of their children. Ovid combined these two ideas
in a more effective manner. Aeacus pointed out to Cephalus a temple
of Jupiter, with its long flight of steps. How many, he said, brought
thither fruitless offerings! How often a husband praying for his wife or
a father for his son died, still holding part of the incense unused!
Euripides in the Hippolytus had mentioned it as a rule of the gods that
one deity should not thwart the purpose of another, and probably for
this reason Ovid showed the people of Aegina obtaining no help even
from Jupiter, their divine patron and the king of the gods.
Ovid then adapted effectively a detail from Vergil. Often, he said,
bulls standing at the altar and being decorated for sacrifice fell, with-
out receiving the stroke. While Aeacus himself was about to make such
an offering in behalf of his family and his people, the animal uttered
dreadful bellowings, fell down, and hardly stained with its blood the
sacrificial knife. The disease had so ravaged its vitals as to make them
useless for augury.
Human bodies were piled before the temple doors and -- more
horrible -- before the very altars. Thucydides and Lucretius had
spoken of the sick as not even trying to save their lives. Ovid declared
that many hung themselves, anticipating their fate. He then followed
the account that Lucretius had given of funerals. The usual ceremo-
nies were lacking, for they could not be performed. The dead either lay
unburied or were heaped indiscriminately on pyres. Men fought for a
chance to burn the corpses of their friends. No kinsmen were left to
139
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
serve as mourners. And Ovid added still other striking circumstances.
The souls went forth unwept -- matrons and brides, young men and old.
There no longer was a place for graves or wood for funeral fires.
Previous accounts of plague had said nothing of any recovery.
From the Iliad to Lucretius they implied that effects of the pestilence
remained indefinitely, and Vergil declared that in his own time Illyria
still was deserted. But Ovid's Alexandrian predecessor had mentioned
a repopulation of Aegina by the transformation of ants. Ovid saw an
opportunity to introduce a new ending, and he emphasized it by skilful
elaboration.
According to ancient tradition repeated by the Manual, Greece had
once been afflicted with drought; and Aeacus, a man famed for piety and
a son of Jupiter, had been chosen to pray for relief. His prayer was
answered by a loud roll of thunder and abundant rain. Ovid imitated
the incident in his tale of the plague. Aeacus prayed his divine father
either to restore the people or to send him also to the grave. A peal of
thunder resounded in answer. Then Ovid invented a picturesque inci-
dent. While Aeacus rejoiced, he turned towards a venerable oak, the
seed of which had come from Jupiter's sacred grove at Dodona. Up the
trunk and along the branches a column of large ants was ascending.
Amazed at the number of the insects, Aeacus prayed for an equal number
of citizens. The branches and foliage of the oak swayed and rustled in
the still air.
Ovid took much pains to impress his readers with the wonder of the
transformation. Aeacus, terrified at what seemed like a response to his
prayer, kissed the ground and the tree, not daring to confess his hope
even to himself. But the idea remained in his thoughts, and while he
slept that night the scene returned in a dream. As the oak trembled in
answer, it shook the swarming ants to the ground. Gradually they be-
came men and women. Waking, Aeacus dismissed the vision as incredible
and lamented the wreck of his country. But the palace, long silent and
empty, filled with the noise of human voices. Aeacus thought it still a
dream, until Telamon entered and bade him come and behold something
incredible. Hastening forth, Aeacus found the same people of whom he
had dreamed, now saluting him as their king. To them he apportioned
the vacant lands and justly gave the name of Myrmidons. They still
retained their original industry, thrift, and valor and would prove good
soldiers when Cephalus should obtain a favorable breeze.
The east wind, said Ovid, had brought Cephalus to Aegina and it
140
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CREATION OF THE MYRMIDONS
had not ceased blowing. Cephalus must delay his return until the wind
should blow from the south. From the point of view of navigation this
was a curious reason. The east wind had not prevented Minos from
leaving Aegina or from sailing to Megara -- in a direction only a little
different from that of Athens. And, unless another factor was involved,
there would seem to be no reason why Cephalus should not use a wind
from any direction. But Ovid wished to detain him as the narrator of
still other tales, and he caught at any pretext for delay.
Ovid's account of the Myrmidons interested many authors of later
times. Dante in the Convivio noted the conduct of Aeacus as illustrating
virtues proper to old age. In the Inferno he compared the wretched
state of the falsifiers to that of the people of Aegina when the island
needed repopulation by the metamorphosis of ants. Chaucer remem-
bered in his Legend of Ariadne the cordial relations between Athens and
Aegina and imagined that Theseus too visited the island.
Many authors recalled Ovid's account of the plague. To Manilius
it probably suggested his mistaken idea of the Athenian plague begin-
ning in the country and spreading to the city. Seneca in his Oedipus
imitated many of Ovid's details. Lucan used a few of them while describ-
ing a plague that afflicted Pompey's army. In Lycidas, Milton noted
that sheep,
Swollen with wind and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly and foul contagion spread.
Gray remembered a detail that Ovid shared with many accounts of the
plague. In The Bard he spoke of hungry birds as avoiding corpses of
the Welsh heroes. And Shelley often followed Ovid when he described a
dread plague in The Revolt of Islam*
*Remarkable descriptions of plague, not influenced by Ovid, were those of
Evelyn, Pepys, Defoe, Manzoni, Bulwer Lytton in Rienzi, and Conan Doyle in Sir
Nigel.
141
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
Cephalus and Peoceis
The next morning, while Aeacus was still asleep, Ovid continued,
the two older sons, Peleus and Telamon, began assembling troops, and
the third son, Phocus, conversed with the Athenian ambassadors. Pho-
cus, who enjoyed hunting, observed that Cephalus had with him a
javelin of extraordinarily fine workmanship. The head was made of gold
and the shaft of some unusual kind of wood. Referring to this weapon,
Phocus learned from one of the sons of Pallas that it had the further
merit of always hitting the animal at which it was aimed and then
returning spontaneously to the hunter. With heightened interest Phocus
proceeded to ask many questions. Cephalus answered him but hesitated
to mention at how sad a cost he obtained such a javelin. By this observa-
tion Ovid would appear to mean the temporary estrangement of Cepha-
lus from his wife, but the context indicates that he was thinking rather
of her tragic death. Remembering the lost Procris, Cephalus shed tears
and observed that his javelin would cause him life-long grief, for it had
brought destruction both to him and to his wife.
Cephalus then told the circumstances which formed the background
of the tale. His wife was Procris, daughter of King Erechtheus of
Athens and sister of the ravished Orithyia. This information Ovid had
given already near the close of the preceding book. But Cephalus added
that both in beauty and in character Procris excelled her sister. The
marriage proved one of mutual affection, he continued, and it seemed
happy both to others and to him. But this opinion was not shared by
all. Describing in the Aeneid the death of Ripheus, the most just of the
Trojans, Vergil added the memorable comment, "To the gods it ap-
peared otherwise. " He thought apparently that, if the gods had con-
sidered Ripheus just, they would have given him length of days. Ovid
made a similar comment on the idea that Cephalus had been happy. To
the gods it did not appear so, or they might have made his happiness
permanent. With this introduction Cephalus turned to the events of the
story.
In the Odyssey, Ulysses had noted Procris as one of that company
of ladies who loved and perished haplessly -- an idea which Vergil re-
peated long after in his Aeneid. The early epic called Epigoni observed
that Cephalus killed his wife accidentally and was purified of guilt by
142
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS
the Thebans. Sophocles treated the myth in a play which is now lost.
Pherecydes appears to have recorded the following circumstances.
Cephalus, doubting the loyalty of his wife, disguised himself beyond
recognition and tried to seduce her. She yielded to his temptation, and
husband and wife were for a while estranged. Becoming reconciled, they
often went hunting together. One day when Procris was following a
wild beast through a thicket, Cephalus, not realizing where she was.
killed her accidentally with a javelin.
Another Greek author, whom we cannot identify, elaborated inter-
estingly the account of the estrangement and reconciliation. Procris, he
said, took refuge with the maiden goddess, Diana. The goddess made it
possible for her to obtain the reconciliation. She gave Procris a javelin
which never missed and a dog which never failed to take the quarry.
Disguising Procris beyond recognition, she bade her return, and show
the gifts to Cephalus. Delighted with them, Cephalus became so anxious
to possess them that he offered marriage. Procris revealed herself, and
Cephalus realized that he was guilty of the same offense for which he had
blamed his wife. While residing with Diana, Procris had engaged in
hunting, and she afterwards was glad to share this pursuit with her
husband. Callimachus, alluding to the new version, mentioned Procris as
a comrade of Diana.
Later Alexandrian authors gave the story a less attractive form.
The javelin and dog, according to Eratosthenes, had been given by
Jupiter to his paramour Europa and had been inherited by Minos of
Crete. Procris took refuge, not with Diana, but with Minos. He pre-
sented her with these remarkable gifts and presumably seduced her. In
the Manual, the story reached a still lower plane. Originally a certain
Pteleon courted Procris, offered a golden crown, and seduced her. Ceph-
alus, who presumably had no part in the affair, learned of it and
became estranged from his wife. The Manual then told in some detail
of the seduction by Minos. Fearing the hostility of his queen, Pasiphae,
it continued, Procris became reconciled to Cephalus. The Manual said
nothing, however, about her tempting him while in disguise. After the
accidental killing of Procris, Cephalus was tried before the Athenian
Court of the Areopagus and was exiled for life. Nicander too recorded
the myth. Although he agreed in most respects with the Manual, he
gave an account of the first seduction which was more nearly in accord
with earlier tradition. Cephalus doubted the loyalty of his wife and
tempted her by encouraging another man to seduce her. To these later
143
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
Alexandrian versions, Ovid alluded in his Remedies for Love, observing
that Minos deserted Pasiphae for Procris.
In the Art of Love, Ovid retold the concluding incident of the tale,
the death of Procris. Greek authors, in the early part of the story,
often had shown Cephalus jealous of Procris. Ovid in the latter part of
the story showed Procris jealous of Cephalus. Alexandrian authors had
treated the theme of a husband so interested in hunting that he ne-
glected his wife and caused her to suspect him of being unfaithful. The
wife tried to watch his behavior from a concealed place but she perished
disastrously. In a tale recorded by Parthenius the hounds attacked and
killed her. This general idea Ovid associated with the accidental killing
of Procris. She did not go hunting with Cephalus, he said, but remained
at home. Cephalus used to spend the morning in pursuit of wild beasts
and at noon to visit a particular spring on Mt. Hymettus and enjoy the
cool, refreshing breeze (ewtro). He used even to address the breeze,
urging it to visit him. Informed of this, Procris imagined that he was
courting some nymph named Aura. In great distress she went alone to
the spring and concealed herself, alternately hoping and fearing. On
this occasion Cephalus addressed not only the breeze but also Zephyr.
Happy to find herself mistaken, Procris would have rushed to him.
But,
as she stirred the leaves, Cephalus imagined that a wild beast was near
and wounded her fatally with an arrow. She survived only long enough
to tell him of her tragic mistake.
For the Metamorphoses Ovid planned to retell the whole story of
Cephalus and Procris. He decided to use material both from the un-
known Greek author and from his Art of Love and to avoid the gross-
ness of the later Alexandrian accounts. Both husband and wife were to
be loyal, and yet without cause both were to indulge in jealousy. For
this purpose Ovid elaborated the tale and altered it at many points.
First he associated it with a myth of Cephalus and Aurora. In
Greek mythology the goddess of dawn often was supposed to have car-
ried off some beautiful youth. The Odyssey mentioned her abduction of
the hunter Orion. The Theogony gave an account of her carrying off
Tithonus. Although she conferred on him immortal life, she neglected
to add immortal youth and so he withered and at last was transformed
into a cicada. Later Greek authors usually followed this account and
regarded Tithonus as the aged husband of the Dawn.
The Theogony spoke of Aurora as abducting Cephalus also and
as bearing him a son named Phaethon. Euripides declared in the Hippo-
144
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS
lytus that Aurora carried Cephalus to the home of the gods; the Manual
spoke of her as transporting him to Syria. Frequently Greek vase
painters dealt with the story, and Greek sculptors often used it for
ornamenting some temple or colonnade. In these artistic representa-
tions Aurora appeared either pursuing Cephalus or carrying him in her
arms. Ovid himself mentioned the abduction several times in his amatory
poetry. So far the tale of Cephalus and Aurora had been independent of
the tale of Cephalus and Procris. All accounts indicated either that
Aurora carried off a different Cephalus or that she abducted the hus-
band of Procris after his wife had died.
In the Metamorphoses Ovid gave the adventure with Aurora an
essential relation to the story of Procris. He spoke of the abduction as
interrupting the early happiness of Cephalus and Procris and made it
the occasion for the husband's jealousy. Two months after the wed-
ding, Aurora observed Cephalus hunting on Mt. Hymettus, and she
carried him away. Tradition always had referred to the young hunter
as accepting her overtures. According to Ovid, he rejected them and
continually lamented his absence from his wife. Angered at such con-
stancy, Aurora declared that he should return to Procris but should live
to regret that he ever had married her.
Cephalus, impressed by the disloyalty of Aurora to Tithonus, in-
ferred that Procris was unfaithful to him. Here Ovid followed the tradi-
tion that Tithonus was husband of the Dawn, and he followed it later
in the tale of Iolaiis (Bk. 9). But in the Homeric Hymn to Venus and
in most later tradition, Tithonus was a son of King Priam of Troy, who
reigned about a century after the time of Cephalus, so that in both
passages Ovid was guilty of a considerable anachronism. Cephalus
rashly planned to tempt his wife and told his purpose to Aurora. The
unknown Greek author had shown Diana transforming Procris in order
that she might tempt Cephalus. Struck by the idea of divine aid, Ovid
showed Aurora transforming Cephalus in order that he might tempt
Procris.
Ovid refined and elaborated the Greek author's account of the
temptation. Revisiting Athens, Cephalus found Procris lamenting the
absence of her loved husband. Although he seemed to have every reason
for being reassured, he persisted in his purpose. By many clever shifts he
succeeded in visiting his wife repeatedly. Her innocent beauty and
obvious concern for her husband almost persuaded him to desist.
Yet he courted her again and again. Procris answered always that she
145
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
could love none but Cephalus. The Manual had spoken of the tempter's
offering a golden crown. Ovid, too, imagined an offer of valuable gifts
but heightened it to the limit of belief. Cephalus promised whole for-
tunes and even more. At this Procris showed hesitation. Immediately
Cephalus revealed himself and accused her of being unfaithful. In shame
and anger Procris left her husband's dwelling and all society of men and
shared the sports of the maiden goddess, Diana. From her she obtained
the unerring javelin and the unfailing dog.
Ovid remembered the Greek author's account of the reconciliation
but he retold the incident in a way more favorable to both parties. Ac-
cording to the Greek author, Procris made the first overtures. Imitating
her husband's methods, she disguised herself and offered the javelin and
dog as a temptation to be unfaithful. And Cephalus yielded to the
temptation. According to Ovid, it was Cephalus who made the over-
tures. Admitting that he had done wrong, he asked her pardon and he
added that, if someone had tempted him with an offer of valuable gifts,
he too would have compromised himself. Procris did not tempt her hus-
band to do wrong, and Cephalus was not guilty of disloyalty. Procris
accepted the apology and returned. Then out of pure good will she pre-
sented Cephalus with the unerring javelin and the unfailing dog.
Ovid's Greek predecessors had continued immediately with the
tragedy. Ovid waited long enough to record another tale. Cephalus, he
said, promised to tell Phocus a story about each of the magic gifts, and,
reluctant to pursue the tale of the javelin, he told first of the dog.
This adventure, Ovid's predecessors had mentioned as occurring
after the death of Procris. The Epigoni told it as follows. To punish
the royal family of Thebes, the gods created a vixen which could not be
caught. The animal was extraordinarily fierce and powerful and became
a menace to the whole countryside. Accordingly the Thebans invited
Cephalus to visit them, purified him of guilt, and persuaded him to
hunt the vixen with the unfailing dog. Near Teumessus, a village a few
miles east of Thebes, Cephalus found the quarry. The inevitable dog
pursued the unattainable vixen, until the gods escaped from their
dilemma by turning both animals into stone.
The Epigoni does not seem to have told why the gods were offended.
Later authors usually spoke of them as punishing Thebes for hostility
to Bacchus in the time of Pentheus (cf. Bk. 3). It was Jupiter, accord-
ing to Eratosthenes, who metamorphosed the dog and vixen. Nicander
seems to have named the dog Laelaps (Storm Wind). The Manual
146
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS
added further details. It mentioned Creon as reigning when the vixen
began to harry Thebes. To avoid worse havoc, the Thebans were obliged
monthly to offer one of their sons as a prey to the devouring beast.
Creon appealed first to Amphitryon, stepfather of Hercules. The latter
organized a hunt, but in vain. Creon then obtained the effective help of
Cephalus. After this adventure, the Manual continued, Cephalus de-
parted to the island which afterwards was named in his honor Cephal-
lenia.
Ovid took his outline from the Manual but altered many circum-
stances in accord with his own requirements. Considerations of time
forbade his associating the vixen with the rejection of Bacchus. Ovid
thought of another cause, suggested by the idea that Thebes was ruled
by Creon, successor of Oedipus. According to the Theogony, Thebes
had been harassed by a sphynx. This was a monster with the head of a
woman and the body of a lion. The Oedipodia and other early epics
elaborated the account. Taking her station on a high rock, the sphynx
required every passer-by to answer a riddle and, if he could not solve it,
to perish. At last Oedipus gave the right answer, and the monster
leaped over a cliff and was killed.
Greek authors do not appear to have given any reason for the
visitation of the sphynx. Ovid imagined vaguely that Themis, personi-
fication of divine justice, had sent the monster to punish the Thebans
for their offenses. When Oedipus overcame the sphynx, he said, Themis
despatched another monster to afflict them. Since it was hardly credible
that men and their herds were devoured by a vixen, Ovid spoke only of a
wild beast.
He spoke vaguely also about the earlier hunt and of course did not
mention the purifying of Cephalus for the death of Procris. Cephalus
and other youths from the towns near Thebes endeavored to capture the
beast, he said, using first nets and then a hundred ordinary dogs. At
length Cephalus released Laelaps. Ovid indicated well the dog's amazing
swiftness. Instantly it had vanished, leaving only footprints in the sand.
Hastening up a nearby hill, Cephalus observed the dog already in hot
pursuit of the quarry. In the tale of Daphne (Bk. 1) Ovid had compared
Apollo pursuing the nymph to a hound following a hare so closely that
his jaws seem continually on the point of seizing it. With remarkable
skill he now described a similar breathless chase of dog and quarry, yet
made the two accounts different in almost every particular. But he for-
got to make clear the contradiction of the inevitable dog and the un-
147
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
attainable quarry. Cephalus looked away, he continued, in order to
poise a javelin and, turning again, found the animals congealed into
marble. Some god had willed that both should remain unconquered.
At this point Cephalus was inclined to stop. It would have been
tactful and considerate, if Phocus had spared him the pain of telling
more. But Phocus already had been somewhat importunate in his curi-
osity, and he now insisted on hearing what grievance Cephalus might
have against the javelin. This importunity made it possible for Ovid to
give his readers the chief incident of the tale.
Cephalus described first his happiness after the reconciliation, and
with characteristic rashness he incurred the risk of offending the gods.
Procris, he said, would have been faithful, even if courted by Jupiter;
he himself would have been unmoved even by the charms of Venus. Greek
authors had shown Procris hunting with her husband. In the Art of
Love and again in the Metamorphoses, Ovid thought of her as remain-
ing at home. Daily as the sun touched the summit of the mountains,
Cephalus went forth to hunt. Greek authors had regarded the unerring
javelin only as a means of seduction and had not mentioned it after the
reconciliation of Cephalus and Procris. Cephalus continued to hunt
with ordinary weapons. In the Art of Love, Ovid followed their example.
In the Metamorphoses, he spoke of Cephalus as hunting with the new and
better weapon. It was probable that Cephalus would do this. But Ovid
had a more important reason. He thought of the unerring arrow with
which Apollo shot his loved Coronis (Bk. 2) and realized that an un-
erring javelin would make more plausible and more pathetic the ensuing
catastrophe. Trusting in his magic weapon, Cephalus no longer felt
the need of companions, horses, or dogs. But either companions or dogs
might have prevented his fatal mistake.
When weary, he betook himself to a shady place and the breeze
from cool valleys. In the Art of Love, Ovid noted that Cephalus went
regularly to a certain spring on Mt. Hymettus. In the Metamorphoses
he did not indicate the locality. The reader would suppose that he went
to various places, as time and convenience served, and later would think
it unlikely that Procris could follow him. As in the Art of Love, Ovid
noted the hunter's enjoyment of the breeze {aura) and his urging it to
refresh him. But he imagined a longer address, affording a number of
chances for misunderstanding. He showed Cephalus himself comment-
ing on his rashness. As before, Ovid told how the address was mistaken
for courtship of a nymph and how Procris grieved and planned to
148
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS
observe her husband's behavior. But this time he showed her willing to
believe that Cephalus was faithful unless she could prove disloyalty with
her own eyes.
The rest of the tale Ovid recounted in a new and more effective man-
ner. This time he showed Cephalus calling only to the breeze. Procris,
still deceived, moaned audibly in the thicket. Cephalus persisted in his
entreaty. She stirred the leaves, and, rash as ever, he launched the un-
erring javelin. At her cry of pain he recognized the voice and knew that
it had struck his faithful Procris. In the tale of Coronis, Ovid had re-
corded Apollo's unavailing grief and the last words of the dying wife.
He now pictured a similar event in a manner that was different and even
more pathetic. Cephalus, horrified at the cry, found Procris dying --
her tunic stained with blood, her fingers endeavoring to pull from her
breast the weapon that she generously had given him. Ovid forgot that
her javelin should have returned to the hunter.
Raising the loved Procris in his arms, Cephalus labored to check
the flowing blood and prayed her not to leave him guilty of her death.
At this point there came to Ovid's mind that famous moment of the Iliad
when Achilles had stricken Hector with a mortal wound. Hector, faint
and dying, made a last urgent plea that Achilles would not leave him
unburied. Procris, faint and dying, implored Cephalus not to let Aura
take her place. Realizing the fatal mistake, Cephalus hastened to un-
deceive her. She died in her husband's arms, to the last gazing at him
fondly, her features illumined by a look of joy.
Early peoples often have thought of the soul as leaving the body
with the final breath and have believed that soul and final breath ought
to be inhaled by some loving relative or friend. In Rome this was the
duty of the nearest relative. This idea Vergil mentioned at the death of
Dido. Ovid showed Cephalus observing that Procris breathed out her
unfortunate spirit on his lips.
According to the Manual, Cephalus had been punished with exile
for life and had gone ultimately to Cephallenia. Ovid imagined that he
remained an unhappy but respected citizen of Athens.
Ovid had banished from the tale the coarse elements of earlier ver-
sions and had filled his narrative with originality, charm, and pathos.
His work interested many authors of later times.
The mythographer Hyginus followed Ovid in his own account of
Cephalus. Petrarch in the Triumph of Love mentioned Procris as one of
the fair ladies attending the court of the god. In the fifteenth century
149
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl.
them to spread contagion.
The plague soon passed to human beings, first in the country and
then in the city. Here Ovid followed Lucretius, but not closely, and
again he made the description more concise. In individual cases the
vitals were consumed with fever, the face was flushed, the breathing
labored. The tongue became rough and swollen, the mouth was open
and gasping. No bed or covering was tolerable. Ovid added the pic-
turesque idea of the sick vainly throwing themselves flat on the ground,
in the hope of cooling their bodies. But the ground did not cool them.
On the contrary it became hot. With Thucydides he observed that phy-
sicians themselves perished from the disease, and with Vergil he noted
138
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CREATION OF THE MYRMIDONS
that remedies increased the evil. The more faithful the attendants, the
more quickly they caught the plague.
The sick, despairing, grew reckless of precautions and restraints,
for nothing availed. Shameless they lay in fountains, streams, and
cisterns and drank unsatisfied until death. Ovid added a further horror.
Many, unable to rise, died in the water; yet others did not scruple to
drink it. Ovid then elaborated effectively ideas of Thucydides and Lu-
cretius. So hateful did their sick beds appear that many forsook them.
The weakest rolled about on the ground; the others fled from their
homes, hoping so to avoid the unknown evil. One could see them stagger-
ing about the roads or prostrate on the ground, weeping, rolling their
eyes, and extending their hands towards the pall of clouds.
Aeacus longed to die with his people. Everywhere he saw them lying
in heaps, like mellow apples or acorns shaken from the tree. Thucydides
had spoken of prayers as useless; Lucretius had spoken of parents fall-
ing dead on the bodies of their children. Ovid combined these two ideas
in a more effective manner. Aeacus pointed out to Cephalus a temple
of Jupiter, with its long flight of steps. How many, he said, brought
thither fruitless offerings! How often a husband praying for his wife or
a father for his son died, still holding part of the incense unused!
Euripides in the Hippolytus had mentioned it as a rule of the gods that
one deity should not thwart the purpose of another, and probably for
this reason Ovid showed the people of Aegina obtaining no help even
from Jupiter, their divine patron and the king of the gods.
Ovid then adapted effectively a detail from Vergil. Often, he said,
bulls standing at the altar and being decorated for sacrifice fell, with-
out receiving the stroke. While Aeacus himself was about to make such
an offering in behalf of his family and his people, the animal uttered
dreadful bellowings, fell down, and hardly stained with its blood the
sacrificial knife. The disease had so ravaged its vitals as to make them
useless for augury.
Human bodies were piled before the temple doors and -- more
horrible -- before the very altars. Thucydides and Lucretius had
spoken of the sick as not even trying to save their lives. Ovid declared
that many hung themselves, anticipating their fate. He then followed
the account that Lucretius had given of funerals. The usual ceremo-
nies were lacking, for they could not be performed. The dead either lay
unburied or were heaped indiscriminately on pyres. Men fought for a
chance to burn the corpses of their friends. No kinsmen were left to
139
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
serve as mourners. And Ovid added still other striking circumstances.
The souls went forth unwept -- matrons and brides, young men and old.
There no longer was a place for graves or wood for funeral fires.
Previous accounts of plague had said nothing of any recovery.
From the Iliad to Lucretius they implied that effects of the pestilence
remained indefinitely, and Vergil declared that in his own time Illyria
still was deserted. But Ovid's Alexandrian predecessor had mentioned
a repopulation of Aegina by the transformation of ants. Ovid saw an
opportunity to introduce a new ending, and he emphasized it by skilful
elaboration.
According to ancient tradition repeated by the Manual, Greece had
once been afflicted with drought; and Aeacus, a man famed for piety and
a son of Jupiter, had been chosen to pray for relief. His prayer was
answered by a loud roll of thunder and abundant rain. Ovid imitated
the incident in his tale of the plague. Aeacus prayed his divine father
either to restore the people or to send him also to the grave. A peal of
thunder resounded in answer. Then Ovid invented a picturesque inci-
dent. While Aeacus rejoiced, he turned towards a venerable oak, the
seed of which had come from Jupiter's sacred grove at Dodona. Up the
trunk and along the branches a column of large ants was ascending.
Amazed at the number of the insects, Aeacus prayed for an equal number
of citizens. The branches and foliage of the oak swayed and rustled in
the still air.
Ovid took much pains to impress his readers with the wonder of the
transformation. Aeacus, terrified at what seemed like a response to his
prayer, kissed the ground and the tree, not daring to confess his hope
even to himself. But the idea remained in his thoughts, and while he
slept that night the scene returned in a dream. As the oak trembled in
answer, it shook the swarming ants to the ground. Gradually they be-
came men and women. Waking, Aeacus dismissed the vision as incredible
and lamented the wreck of his country. But the palace, long silent and
empty, filled with the noise of human voices. Aeacus thought it still a
dream, until Telamon entered and bade him come and behold something
incredible. Hastening forth, Aeacus found the same people of whom he
had dreamed, now saluting him as their king. To them he apportioned
the vacant lands and justly gave the name of Myrmidons. They still
retained their original industry, thrift, and valor and would prove good
soldiers when Cephalus should obtain a favorable breeze.
The east wind, said Ovid, had brought Cephalus to Aegina and it
140
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CREATION OF THE MYRMIDONS
had not ceased blowing. Cephalus must delay his return until the wind
should blow from the south. From the point of view of navigation this
was a curious reason. The east wind had not prevented Minos from
leaving Aegina or from sailing to Megara -- in a direction only a little
different from that of Athens. And, unless another factor was involved,
there would seem to be no reason why Cephalus should not use a wind
from any direction. But Ovid wished to detain him as the narrator of
still other tales, and he caught at any pretext for delay.
Ovid's account of the Myrmidons interested many authors of later
times. Dante in the Convivio noted the conduct of Aeacus as illustrating
virtues proper to old age. In the Inferno he compared the wretched
state of the falsifiers to that of the people of Aegina when the island
needed repopulation by the metamorphosis of ants. Chaucer remem-
bered in his Legend of Ariadne the cordial relations between Athens and
Aegina and imagined that Theseus too visited the island.
Many authors recalled Ovid's account of the plague. To Manilius
it probably suggested his mistaken idea of the Athenian plague begin-
ning in the country and spreading to the city. Seneca in his Oedipus
imitated many of Ovid's details. Lucan used a few of them while describ-
ing a plague that afflicted Pompey's army. In Lycidas, Milton noted
that sheep,
Swollen with wind and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly and foul contagion spread.
Gray remembered a detail that Ovid shared with many accounts of the
plague. In The Bard he spoke of hungry birds as avoiding corpses of
the Welsh heroes. And Shelley often followed Ovid when he described a
dread plague in The Revolt of Islam*
*Remarkable descriptions of plague, not influenced by Ovid, were those of
Evelyn, Pepys, Defoe, Manzoni, Bulwer Lytton in Rienzi, and Conan Doyle in Sir
Nigel.
141
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
Cephalus and Peoceis
The next morning, while Aeacus was still asleep, Ovid continued,
the two older sons, Peleus and Telamon, began assembling troops, and
the third son, Phocus, conversed with the Athenian ambassadors. Pho-
cus, who enjoyed hunting, observed that Cephalus had with him a
javelin of extraordinarily fine workmanship. The head was made of gold
and the shaft of some unusual kind of wood. Referring to this weapon,
Phocus learned from one of the sons of Pallas that it had the further
merit of always hitting the animal at which it was aimed and then
returning spontaneously to the hunter. With heightened interest Phocus
proceeded to ask many questions. Cephalus answered him but hesitated
to mention at how sad a cost he obtained such a javelin. By this observa-
tion Ovid would appear to mean the temporary estrangement of Cepha-
lus from his wife, but the context indicates that he was thinking rather
of her tragic death. Remembering the lost Procris, Cephalus shed tears
and observed that his javelin would cause him life-long grief, for it had
brought destruction both to him and to his wife.
Cephalus then told the circumstances which formed the background
of the tale. His wife was Procris, daughter of King Erechtheus of
Athens and sister of the ravished Orithyia. This information Ovid had
given already near the close of the preceding book. But Cephalus added
that both in beauty and in character Procris excelled her sister. The
marriage proved one of mutual affection, he continued, and it seemed
happy both to others and to him. But this opinion was not shared by
all. Describing in the Aeneid the death of Ripheus, the most just of the
Trojans, Vergil added the memorable comment, "To the gods it ap-
peared otherwise. " He thought apparently that, if the gods had con-
sidered Ripheus just, they would have given him length of days. Ovid
made a similar comment on the idea that Cephalus had been happy. To
the gods it did not appear so, or they might have made his happiness
permanent. With this introduction Cephalus turned to the events of the
story.
In the Odyssey, Ulysses had noted Procris as one of that company
of ladies who loved and perished haplessly -- an idea which Vergil re-
peated long after in his Aeneid. The early epic called Epigoni observed
that Cephalus killed his wife accidentally and was purified of guilt by
142
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS
the Thebans. Sophocles treated the myth in a play which is now lost.
Pherecydes appears to have recorded the following circumstances.
Cephalus, doubting the loyalty of his wife, disguised himself beyond
recognition and tried to seduce her. She yielded to his temptation, and
husband and wife were for a while estranged. Becoming reconciled, they
often went hunting together. One day when Procris was following a
wild beast through a thicket, Cephalus, not realizing where she was.
killed her accidentally with a javelin.
Another Greek author, whom we cannot identify, elaborated inter-
estingly the account of the estrangement and reconciliation. Procris, he
said, took refuge with the maiden goddess, Diana. The goddess made it
possible for her to obtain the reconciliation. She gave Procris a javelin
which never missed and a dog which never failed to take the quarry.
Disguising Procris beyond recognition, she bade her return, and show
the gifts to Cephalus. Delighted with them, Cephalus became so anxious
to possess them that he offered marriage. Procris revealed herself, and
Cephalus realized that he was guilty of the same offense for which he had
blamed his wife. While residing with Diana, Procris had engaged in
hunting, and she afterwards was glad to share this pursuit with her
husband. Callimachus, alluding to the new version, mentioned Procris as
a comrade of Diana.
Later Alexandrian authors gave the story a less attractive form.
The javelin and dog, according to Eratosthenes, had been given by
Jupiter to his paramour Europa and had been inherited by Minos of
Crete. Procris took refuge, not with Diana, but with Minos. He pre-
sented her with these remarkable gifts and presumably seduced her. In
the Manual, the story reached a still lower plane. Originally a certain
Pteleon courted Procris, offered a golden crown, and seduced her. Ceph-
alus, who presumably had no part in the affair, learned of it and
became estranged from his wife. The Manual then told in some detail
of the seduction by Minos. Fearing the hostility of his queen, Pasiphae,
it continued, Procris became reconciled to Cephalus. The Manual said
nothing, however, about her tempting him while in disguise. After the
accidental killing of Procris, Cephalus was tried before the Athenian
Court of the Areopagus and was exiled for life. Nicander too recorded
the myth. Although he agreed in most respects with the Manual, he
gave an account of the first seduction which was more nearly in accord
with earlier tradition. Cephalus doubted the loyalty of his wife and
tempted her by encouraging another man to seduce her. To these later
143
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
Alexandrian versions, Ovid alluded in his Remedies for Love, observing
that Minos deserted Pasiphae for Procris.
In the Art of Love, Ovid retold the concluding incident of the tale,
the death of Procris. Greek authors, in the early part of the story,
often had shown Cephalus jealous of Procris. Ovid in the latter part of
the story showed Procris jealous of Cephalus. Alexandrian authors had
treated the theme of a husband so interested in hunting that he ne-
glected his wife and caused her to suspect him of being unfaithful. The
wife tried to watch his behavior from a concealed place but she perished
disastrously. In a tale recorded by Parthenius the hounds attacked and
killed her. This general idea Ovid associated with the accidental killing
of Procris. She did not go hunting with Cephalus, he said, but remained
at home. Cephalus used to spend the morning in pursuit of wild beasts
and at noon to visit a particular spring on Mt. Hymettus and enjoy the
cool, refreshing breeze (ewtro). He used even to address the breeze,
urging it to visit him. Informed of this, Procris imagined that he was
courting some nymph named Aura. In great distress she went alone to
the spring and concealed herself, alternately hoping and fearing. On
this occasion Cephalus addressed not only the breeze but also Zephyr.
Happy to find herself mistaken, Procris would have rushed to him.
But,
as she stirred the leaves, Cephalus imagined that a wild beast was near
and wounded her fatally with an arrow. She survived only long enough
to tell him of her tragic mistake.
For the Metamorphoses Ovid planned to retell the whole story of
Cephalus and Procris. He decided to use material both from the un-
known Greek author and from his Art of Love and to avoid the gross-
ness of the later Alexandrian accounts. Both husband and wife were to
be loyal, and yet without cause both were to indulge in jealousy. For
this purpose Ovid elaborated the tale and altered it at many points.
First he associated it with a myth of Cephalus and Aurora. In
Greek mythology the goddess of dawn often was supposed to have car-
ried off some beautiful youth. The Odyssey mentioned her abduction of
the hunter Orion. The Theogony gave an account of her carrying off
Tithonus. Although she conferred on him immortal life, she neglected
to add immortal youth and so he withered and at last was transformed
into a cicada. Later Greek authors usually followed this account and
regarded Tithonus as the aged husband of the Dawn.
The Theogony spoke of Aurora as abducting Cephalus also and
as bearing him a son named Phaethon. Euripides declared in the Hippo-
144
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS
lytus that Aurora carried Cephalus to the home of the gods; the Manual
spoke of her as transporting him to Syria. Frequently Greek vase
painters dealt with the story, and Greek sculptors often used it for
ornamenting some temple or colonnade. In these artistic representa-
tions Aurora appeared either pursuing Cephalus or carrying him in her
arms. Ovid himself mentioned the abduction several times in his amatory
poetry. So far the tale of Cephalus and Aurora had been independent of
the tale of Cephalus and Procris. All accounts indicated either that
Aurora carried off a different Cephalus or that she abducted the hus-
band of Procris after his wife had died.
In the Metamorphoses Ovid gave the adventure with Aurora an
essential relation to the story of Procris. He spoke of the abduction as
interrupting the early happiness of Cephalus and Procris and made it
the occasion for the husband's jealousy. Two months after the wed-
ding, Aurora observed Cephalus hunting on Mt. Hymettus, and she
carried him away. Tradition always had referred to the young hunter
as accepting her overtures. According to Ovid, he rejected them and
continually lamented his absence from his wife. Angered at such con-
stancy, Aurora declared that he should return to Procris but should live
to regret that he ever had married her.
Cephalus, impressed by the disloyalty of Aurora to Tithonus, in-
ferred that Procris was unfaithful to him. Here Ovid followed the tradi-
tion that Tithonus was husband of the Dawn, and he followed it later
in the tale of Iolaiis (Bk. 9). But in the Homeric Hymn to Venus and
in most later tradition, Tithonus was a son of King Priam of Troy, who
reigned about a century after the time of Cephalus, so that in both
passages Ovid was guilty of a considerable anachronism. Cephalus
rashly planned to tempt his wife and told his purpose to Aurora. The
unknown Greek author had shown Diana transforming Procris in order
that she might tempt Cephalus. Struck by the idea of divine aid, Ovid
showed Aurora transforming Cephalus in order that he might tempt
Procris.
Ovid refined and elaborated the Greek author's account of the
temptation. Revisiting Athens, Cephalus found Procris lamenting the
absence of her loved husband. Although he seemed to have every reason
for being reassured, he persisted in his purpose. By many clever shifts he
succeeded in visiting his wife repeatedly. Her innocent beauty and
obvious concern for her husband almost persuaded him to desist.
Yet he courted her again and again. Procris answered always that she
145
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
could love none but Cephalus. The Manual had spoken of the tempter's
offering a golden crown. Ovid, too, imagined an offer of valuable gifts
but heightened it to the limit of belief. Cephalus promised whole for-
tunes and even more. At this Procris showed hesitation. Immediately
Cephalus revealed himself and accused her of being unfaithful. In shame
and anger Procris left her husband's dwelling and all society of men and
shared the sports of the maiden goddess, Diana. From her she obtained
the unerring javelin and the unfailing dog.
Ovid remembered the Greek author's account of the reconciliation
but he retold the incident in a way more favorable to both parties. Ac-
cording to the Greek author, Procris made the first overtures. Imitating
her husband's methods, she disguised herself and offered the javelin and
dog as a temptation to be unfaithful. And Cephalus yielded to the
temptation. According to Ovid, it was Cephalus who made the over-
tures. Admitting that he had done wrong, he asked her pardon and he
added that, if someone had tempted him with an offer of valuable gifts,
he too would have compromised himself. Procris did not tempt her hus-
band to do wrong, and Cephalus was not guilty of disloyalty. Procris
accepted the apology and returned. Then out of pure good will she pre-
sented Cephalus with the unerring javelin and the unfailing dog.
Ovid's Greek predecessors had continued immediately with the
tragedy. Ovid waited long enough to record another tale. Cephalus, he
said, promised to tell Phocus a story about each of the magic gifts, and,
reluctant to pursue the tale of the javelin, he told first of the dog.
This adventure, Ovid's predecessors had mentioned as occurring
after the death of Procris. The Epigoni told it as follows. To punish
the royal family of Thebes, the gods created a vixen which could not be
caught. The animal was extraordinarily fierce and powerful and became
a menace to the whole countryside. Accordingly the Thebans invited
Cephalus to visit them, purified him of guilt, and persuaded him to
hunt the vixen with the unfailing dog. Near Teumessus, a village a few
miles east of Thebes, Cephalus found the quarry. The inevitable dog
pursued the unattainable vixen, until the gods escaped from their
dilemma by turning both animals into stone.
The Epigoni does not seem to have told why the gods were offended.
Later authors usually spoke of them as punishing Thebes for hostility
to Bacchus in the time of Pentheus (cf. Bk. 3). It was Jupiter, accord-
ing to Eratosthenes, who metamorphosed the dog and vixen. Nicander
seems to have named the dog Laelaps (Storm Wind). The Manual
146
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS
added further details. It mentioned Creon as reigning when the vixen
began to harry Thebes. To avoid worse havoc, the Thebans were obliged
monthly to offer one of their sons as a prey to the devouring beast.
Creon appealed first to Amphitryon, stepfather of Hercules. The latter
organized a hunt, but in vain. Creon then obtained the effective help of
Cephalus. After this adventure, the Manual continued, Cephalus de-
parted to the island which afterwards was named in his honor Cephal-
lenia.
Ovid took his outline from the Manual but altered many circum-
stances in accord with his own requirements. Considerations of time
forbade his associating the vixen with the rejection of Bacchus. Ovid
thought of another cause, suggested by the idea that Thebes was ruled
by Creon, successor of Oedipus. According to the Theogony, Thebes
had been harassed by a sphynx. This was a monster with the head of a
woman and the body of a lion. The Oedipodia and other early epics
elaborated the account. Taking her station on a high rock, the sphynx
required every passer-by to answer a riddle and, if he could not solve it,
to perish. At last Oedipus gave the right answer, and the monster
leaped over a cliff and was killed.
Greek authors do not appear to have given any reason for the
visitation of the sphynx. Ovid imagined vaguely that Themis, personi-
fication of divine justice, had sent the monster to punish the Thebans
for their offenses. When Oedipus overcame the sphynx, he said, Themis
despatched another monster to afflict them. Since it was hardly credible
that men and their herds were devoured by a vixen, Ovid spoke only of a
wild beast.
He spoke vaguely also about the earlier hunt and of course did not
mention the purifying of Cephalus for the death of Procris. Cephalus
and other youths from the towns near Thebes endeavored to capture the
beast, he said, using first nets and then a hundred ordinary dogs. At
length Cephalus released Laelaps. Ovid indicated well the dog's amazing
swiftness. Instantly it had vanished, leaving only footprints in the sand.
Hastening up a nearby hill, Cephalus observed the dog already in hot
pursuit of the quarry. In the tale of Daphne (Bk. 1) Ovid had compared
Apollo pursuing the nymph to a hound following a hare so closely that
his jaws seem continually on the point of seizing it. With remarkable
skill he now described a similar breathless chase of dog and quarry, yet
made the two accounts different in almost every particular. But he for-
got to make clear the contradiction of the inevitable dog and the un-
147
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SEVEN
attainable quarry. Cephalus looked away, he continued, in order to
poise a javelin and, turning again, found the animals congealed into
marble. Some god had willed that both should remain unconquered.
At this point Cephalus was inclined to stop. It would have been
tactful and considerate, if Phocus had spared him the pain of telling
more. But Phocus already had been somewhat importunate in his curi-
osity, and he now insisted on hearing what grievance Cephalus might
have against the javelin. This importunity made it possible for Ovid to
give his readers the chief incident of the tale.
Cephalus described first his happiness after the reconciliation, and
with characteristic rashness he incurred the risk of offending the gods.
Procris, he said, would have been faithful, even if courted by Jupiter;
he himself would have been unmoved even by the charms of Venus. Greek
authors had shown Procris hunting with her husband. In the Art of
Love and again in the Metamorphoses, Ovid thought of her as remain-
ing at home. Daily as the sun touched the summit of the mountains,
Cephalus went forth to hunt. Greek authors had regarded the unerring
javelin only as a means of seduction and had not mentioned it after the
reconciliation of Cephalus and Procris. Cephalus continued to hunt
with ordinary weapons. In the Art of Love, Ovid followed their example.
In the Metamorphoses, he spoke of Cephalus as hunting with the new and
better weapon. It was probable that Cephalus would do this. But Ovid
had a more important reason. He thought of the unerring arrow with
which Apollo shot his loved Coronis (Bk. 2) and realized that an un-
erring javelin would make more plausible and more pathetic the ensuing
catastrophe. Trusting in his magic weapon, Cephalus no longer felt
the need of companions, horses, or dogs. But either companions or dogs
might have prevented his fatal mistake.
When weary, he betook himself to a shady place and the breeze
from cool valleys. In the Art of Love, Ovid noted that Cephalus went
regularly to a certain spring on Mt. Hymettus. In the Metamorphoses
he did not indicate the locality. The reader would suppose that he went
to various places, as time and convenience served, and later would think
it unlikely that Procris could follow him. As in the Art of Love, Ovid
noted the hunter's enjoyment of the breeze {aura) and his urging it to
refresh him. But he imagined a longer address, affording a number of
chances for misunderstanding. He showed Cephalus himself comment-
ing on his rashness. As before, Ovid told how the address was mistaken
for courtship of a nymph and how Procris grieved and planned to
148
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/mdp. 39015005276665 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS
observe her husband's behavior. But this time he showed her willing to
believe that Cephalus was faithful unless she could prove disloyalty with
her own eyes.
The rest of the tale Ovid recounted in a new and more effective man-
ner. This time he showed Cephalus calling only to the breeze. Procris,
still deceived, moaned audibly in the thicket. Cephalus persisted in his
entreaty. She stirred the leaves, and, rash as ever, he launched the un-
erring javelin. At her cry of pain he recognized the voice and knew that
it had struck his faithful Procris. In the tale of Coronis, Ovid had re-
corded Apollo's unavailing grief and the last words of the dying wife.
He now pictured a similar event in a manner that was different and even
more pathetic. Cephalus, horrified at the cry, found Procris dying --
her tunic stained with blood, her fingers endeavoring to pull from her
breast the weapon that she generously had given him. Ovid forgot that
her javelin should have returned to the hunter.
Raising the loved Procris in his arms, Cephalus labored to check
the flowing blood and prayed her not to leave him guilty of her death.
At this point there came to Ovid's mind that famous moment of the Iliad
when Achilles had stricken Hector with a mortal wound. Hector, faint
and dying, made a last urgent plea that Achilles would not leave him
unburied. Procris, faint and dying, implored Cephalus not to let Aura
take her place. Realizing the fatal mistake, Cephalus hastened to un-
deceive her. She died in her husband's arms, to the last gazing at him
fondly, her features illumined by a look of joy.
Early peoples often have thought of the soul as leaving the body
with the final breath and have believed that soul and final breath ought
to be inhaled by some loving relative or friend. In Rome this was the
duty of the nearest relative. This idea Vergil mentioned at the death of
Dido. Ovid showed Cephalus observing that Procris breathed out her
unfortunate spirit on his lips.
According to the Manual, Cephalus had been punished with exile
for life and had gone ultimately to Cephallenia. Ovid imagined that he
remained an unhappy but respected citizen of Athens.
Ovid had banished from the tale the coarse elements of earlier ver-
sions and had filled his narrative with originality, charm, and pathos.
His work interested many authors of later times.
The mythographer Hyginus followed Ovid in his own account of
Cephalus. Petrarch in the Triumph of Love mentioned Procris as one of
the fair ladies attending the court of the god. In the fifteenth century
149
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-12-26 11:21 GMT / http://hdl.
