The
imaginary
work of art might picture scenes typical of life
at the time.
at the time.
Ovid - 1934 - Metamorphoses in European Culture - v2
The Pierids
and the Muses vied with one another in song, Arachne and Athena com-
peted in pictorial weaving. This difference Ovid planned to emphasize
by adding a description of the process. But he invented also important
differences in the treatment. In the case of the Pierids, he gave first
the ending of the tale: he presented the nine sisters as they appeared
after their transformation into magpies. In that of Arachne, he be-
gan chronologically with the girl's parentage and training. He had
caused the Muse Urania to tell of the Pierids, but he told the story of
Arachne himself. Thus Ovid obtained contrast from the beginning, and
he introduced further changes as the story proceeded.
After identifying Arachne, Ovid told in some detail of her increasing
fame. First her products became noted in the Lydian towns. Then
her skill drew visitors to watch the process. There were vine nymphs
from Mt. Tmolus and nymphs from the river Pactolus, a stream rising
on the other side of the mountain, which was celebrated for the
mythical adventures of Midas (Bk. 11). And later Ovid spoke generally
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
of women from the whole region of Phrygia. All these came to admire
the skill of the Lydian maiden, Arachne.
Ovid then gave an accurate, animated description of the prelim-
inary process of spinning and later he gave an equally animated descrip-
tion of weaving. It is a misfortune peculiar to modern readers that we
cannot immediately understand and enjoy these brilliant descriptions.
Mechanical invention of recent times has supplanted the ancient art
of making cloth by hand. But it still is worth attempting to under-
stand a process which through uncounted centuries was a continual and
important part of life in almost every civilized home.
The making of cloth has been an accomplishment of all peoples en-
joying a settled and approximately civilized life. During the Stone
Age the art was known to the Lake Dwellers of Switzerland. Before
historical times it was acquired by the great civilizations of Asia,
Africa, and Europe. In the wake of their conquests it passed to their
more barbarous neighbors, and it was made known by the Romans
throughout the southern half of Europe. It continued to be an essen-
tial art of all the more advanced nations during the Middle Ages, the
Renaissance, and the succeeding period until the close of the eighteenth
century. And through all this time cloth was made chiefly in the home
and always by simple manual labor. In the nineteenth century the
scene changed from the home to the factory, and manual labor gave
place to the more efficient work of machines. But the older process
still lingers in backward countries, and it has been revived to some
extent even in twentieth century America.
An art so widely known was sure to have its effect on literature.
Beginning with the Iliad, allusions to it were many. This continued
true of poetry until at least the early part of the nineteenth century.
And even later the novelist George Eliot made weaving by hand the
occupation of Silas Marner. Greek authors used the idea of spinning
and weaving to portray symbolically the action of the Fates. Catullus
pictured them vividly as they sat, during the marriage festival of Peleus
and Thetis, spinning their wool and singing of the events to come.
Scandinavian authors independently adopted the same idea with respect
to the Norns. Often the idea influenced modern poetry, including
Milton's Lycidas. Ariosto gave an elaborate description of the Fates
at work in their heavenly palace. And Gray repeated the same gen-
eral idea in order to increase the weird terror of his odes, The Bard and
The Fatal Sisters. Plato referred to the weaver's art for illustrating
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
a great variety of philosophical ideas. Melville in an impressive chapter
of Moby Dick likened the action of the warp, the woof, and the reed to
the mystic interplay of fate, free will, and chance.
Ordinarily these authors mentioned the preparation of cloth only
incidentally, in relation to some other theme. For them the art itself
was so familiar that it had no interest. Catullus had given an excellent
account of spinning, but Ovid was the only great poet who described the
entire process of making cloth as it actually was performed in every
household for century after century.
In ancient times one sort of raw material was used almost exclu-
sively, and it varied with the nature of the country. In China it was
silk; in India, cotton; in Egypt, flax; in Greece and Italy, wool. This
raw material was cleaned of impurities and then a large quantity of
it was wound about a rod some three feet in length called a distaff.
Ovid tells us that such material could seem as white and fleecy as a
cloud. The process of transforming it into cloth might be performed
exclusively by the men, but usually it was left to the women.
Holding the distaff under her left arm, the worker detached some
of the fibers with her left hand and began to spin her thread. In front
of her, there hung at a convenient distance a vertical wooden bar, per-
haps fifteen inches long, which terminated in a hook. This was called a
spindle. Still holding in her left hand the detached fibers, the spinner
took their ends in her right hand and twisted them into thread. This
she fastened to the hook of the spindle. Then she detached more fibers
from the distaff, twisted them so as to continue the previous thread;
and turned the spindle, to wrap the thread tightly about it. From
time to time bits of fibers projected from the spindle, tending to interfere
with the work. These fibers, Catullus tells us, the spinner removed with
her teeth, so that both hands might continue preparing the thread. This
process went on until she had prepared as much as the spindle could
hold. If the fibers of the raw material were long, it was necessary to
keep them on the distaff. But if they happened to be short, the spinner
would often detach a conveniently large mass of them, gather it into a
ball, and hold the ball in her lap. And such, Ovid tells us, was the prac-
tice of Arachne.
By this relatively simple method, the ordinary spinner could pre-
pare excellent thread. And, with a few refinements of the process, the
spinners of Dacca in Bengal could transform their cotton into a filmy
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
muslin so delicate that a single pound of material became a thread
eight hundred and thirty feet in length.
Until the fourteenth century A. D. , all spinning was done by hand.
Then the spinning wheel was devised in India, passed gradually to
European countries, and continued in general use throughout the civ-
ilized world until the development of power-driven machines in the
nineteenth century.
After preparing thread in sufficient quantities, the worker pro-
ceeded to weave it into cloth. For this process she used a primitive
machine called the hand loom. Choosing first the threads which were
to run the length of her future cloth, she fastened them successively
to a horizontal bar known as a cloth beam. These longitudinal threads
were known as the warp. Ultimately she carried them the length of the
loom and fastened them to another horizontal bar called the warp beam.
But meanwhile an essential step intervened. Half way between
the cloth beam and the warp beam, were set, one behind the other, two
wooden frames called heddles. Each heddle consisted of a horizontal
bar running above the future level of the threads, from one side of the
loom to the other, and of many vertical bars extending down to a
similar horizontal bar below the future level of the threads. The
weaver arranged her warp threads in pairs. The first thread of every
pair she passed through an opening in the corresponding vertical bar
of the nearer, or first heddle. The second thread of every pair she
passed through the corresponding vertical bar of the second heddle.
The weaver then fetched a spindle loaded with the thread which
was to run across the width of her cloth. This thread was called the
woof or web. Plato tells us that it was softer and looser than the
warp. One end of the woof she fastened to the shuttle, a flat wooden
implement with a pointed end. Standing near the cloth beam, she
raised by hand the first heddle and so lifted half the warp threads
above the rest. Between the upper and lower threads she inserted the
shuttle and pushed it across to the other side of the loom. Then she
lowered the first heddle and raised the second, elevating the other half
of the warp threads above the rest. Again she inserted the shuttle
between them and pushed it back to its original position. This process
continued throughout the weaving of the cloth.
Between the cloth beam and the first heddle was a frame called
the reed or slay. It resembled the heddle except for the fact that all
the warp threads passed between its vertical bars. From time to time
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
the weaver pulled the reed towards the cloth beam and so made the
horizontal threads of the woof compact. As the process continued,
the woof advanced nearer to the first heddle. But, when the interval
became too narrow, the weaver drew the warp beam nearer to the cloth
beam and turned the cloth beam so as to wind up the cloth and give
sufficient room. This was the process of weaving cloth on the hori-
zontal loom. It was used in ancient Mexico and in medieval and modern
Europe, and it still is used in Asiatic countries to-day.
The ancient Egyptians had a kind of loom which was operated in
the same manner as the horizontal but differed from it in one respect.
The warp beam was set directly above the cloth beam, and the warp
threads were vertical. This vertical loom was adopted by the ancient
Greeks and was described in Ovid's myth of Arachne. A loom of the
same kind still is used by many African tribes and by the Navajo Indians
of southwestern North America.
Gradually the hand loom was improved in various ways. Some-
times more heddles were added, to give a more complicated fabric. And
often treadles were introduced, allowing the weaver to raise the heddles
by pressure of her feet. Bui? the process of weaving altered little until
the close of the eighteenth century. Then hand looms were superseded
by the efficient power looms of the modern factory.
In remote prehistoric times the material probably was first woven
into cloth and then was given its color. It could be painted with orna-
mental designs -- a process still used in parts of India, or it could be
stained with some colored liquid. But long before the dawn of history
the ancient civilized nations learned to color their fibers before spin-
ning them into thread. For this purpose they employed substances
called dyes, which would react chemically with the material and give a
relatively durable color.
Some of the dyes were vegetable. Varieties of the madder plant
gave a bright red, which was well known to dyers of India and Egypt
several thousand years before the Christian era. The indigo furnished
a blue, which was in use as early as the year three thousand B. C. A
variety of mignonette provided weld, the smoke tree gave young fustic,
and the autumn crocus yielded saffron; and all of these were used for
different tints of yellow.
Other dyes were animal. The Kermes insect provided a valuable
dark red. And as early as the year two thousand B. C. dyers of India
had increased its value by a process now called mordanting. Before
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
applying the kermes, they steeped their fiber with an appropriate
metallic salt and so made the color far more durable. The same process
was employed later to prolong the effect of other dyes. In Asia Minor
two varieties of the murex, a salt water snail, furnished purple. Since
the discovery of this dye was attributed to the people of Tyre, the
dye was called Tyrian purple. Both in ancient and in modern times
the richest beds of murex were found near Acre in Palestine. But Ovid
tells us that Arachne was able to procure her Tyrian dyes from Phocaea
on the coast of Lydia.
By mixing these colors, the ancients produced many others. And
they found that, by treating with ammonia a certain lichen of Asia
Minor, they could obtain archil, a purple which added beautiful luster
to a number of other dyes. Such colors were known to the ancient
Greeks. Though fading rather easily in sunlight, they gave rich and
beautiful effects. By using them, Ovid tells us, Arachne could weave
garments as delicately varied as the rainbow, in which a thousand
colors pass by imperceptible gradation from the darkest purple to the
lightest pink.
During the Middle Ages the same natural dyes were employed,
whenever they could be obtained, and they furnished colors for the
celebrated Bayeux tapestries of eleventh century Normandy. With
the coming of the Renaissance, exploitation of tropical America brought
new and often better natural dyes, which gradually superseded the old.
These newer dyes were used in the famous Gobelins tapestries, includ-
ing Boucher's remarkable series called the Loves of the Gods. But
chemical processes of the nineteenth century have replaced almost all
natural color with the even more effective synthetic dyes familiar
today.
Colored figures in a piece of cloth were obtained ordinarily by
weaving threads of a single material variously dyed. But the weaver
might obtain her effects also by weaving threads of different material.
And Ovid informs us that both Arachne and Athena mingled their
colored wool with slender filaments of gold.
It was possible to adorn the woven cloth further by sewing in
colored threads with a needle. The process was called embroidery and
was used frequently by the Greeks. Ovid tells us that in embroidery,
too, Arachne was proficient. But she did not use it in her contest
with Athena. The art of embroidery reached its height in modern
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
Persia of the seventeenth century and has continued to be popular in
many countries until the present time.
When Arachne uttered her challenge to Athena, Ovid did not
proceed immediately to a description of the contest. He first made
it clear that this was not merely a case of temporary bravado. In the
Aeneid, Vergil had shown the Fury, Allecto, visiting Turnus. Assum-
ing the form of an old woman, she warned him to protect himself from
grave danger. Turnus replied that she was in her dotage, bade her
mind her own affairs, and refused to heed her. But the Fury, resuming
her proper shape, revealed her identity and filled him with dismay.
A similar visit Ovid attributed to Athena -- and he contrasted well the
patience of the goddess and the violence of Arachne. When the goddess
revealed herself, he added, the girl reddened and then grew pale, like
the sky at dawn. But she remained obdurate, and the contest began.
Ancient poets frequently had described an imaginary work of sculp-
ture or of pictorial art. They desired a striking effect, and often
they wrote with little regard for the limitations of the art which they
professed to describe. In a single picture or the few designs of a
beautiful cape, they found the events of an animated story, including
the words and even the thoughts of the participants. Description of
this kind afforded a pleasant digression from the poet's main theme and
often lent interest to a necessary lull in the action.
The imaginary work of art might picture scenes typical of life
at the time. In the Iliad, Vulcan sculptured a great shield of Achilles
with groups representing the daily labors of men. The shade of Her-
cules in the Odyssey wore a golden sword belt carved with shapes of
fierce animals and with cruel conflicts between human beings. And
shepherds competed in the First Idyll of Theocritus for a bowl sculp-
tured with adventures of a coquette and her two lovers. By an easy
transition, the imaginary work of art might also represent typical
scenes of mythology, the great gods in their daily life on Mt. Olympus
and the lesser gods animating the sky and the sea. Representations
of this kind were described in the Theogony and in Ovid's account of
the Sun's palace (Bk. 2).
But the work of art might show also particular events. These
almost always were taken from mythology. In the Iliad, Helen em-
broidered a design portraying battles near the city of Troy. When
Jason visited Hypsipyle, Apollonius recorded graphically the myth-
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
ological stories adorning his cloak. And Moschus told how Europa
carried a basket ornamented with scenes from the tale of Io.
In the elaborate sculpture described by The Shield of Hercules,
there appeared a combination of themes. There were examples of typ-
ical human life, representations of the gods performing their tradi-
tional offices, and detailed illustrations of particular mythical events.
Euripides, in his Ion, imagined a similar combination of themes which
adorned the interior of the royal tent, and he pictured them with
admirable effect. In the Electra he described mythological scenes --?
both typical and individual -- adorning the armor of Achilles.
Several leading Roman poets delighted in portraying imaginary
works of art. For their themes they almost always chose particular
events. Digressing from the tale of Peleus and Thetis, Catullus intro-
duced a famous account of Theseus and Ariadne which, he said, was
used to decorate the coverlet of the nuptial couch. Vergil pictured
brilliantly a cloak adorned with the story of Ganymede, which Aeneas
presented to the victor of the boat race. He described with sympathy
the sculptured doors at Cumae, which recounted the tale of Daedalus.
And, when Vulcan made the shield of Aeneas, Vergil pictured its
elaborate sculpture portraying the greatness of the hero's Roman
descendants. Ovid too, was to follow the fashion and to describe in
detail a bowl carved with the story of Orion's daughters (Bk. 13).
All these descriptions served chiefly as interesting digression from
the tale itself. But Vergil gave such description a further advantage.
He made it contribute something of value to the story. When he
portrayed the murals depicting events at Troy, they not only afforded
interest in themselves; they informed Aeneas that Dido was acquainted
with some of his past adventures and was friendly to the Trojans.
Ovid too, learned how to make description of imaginary works of art
contribute directly to his narrative. Following Vergil's examples, he
not only made his account of the designs of Arachne and Athena elab-
orate and brilliant but he chose themes in harmony with their char-
acters, and he caused the impiety of Arachne's work to anger the
goddess and hasten the catastrophe.
As Ovid imagined the contest between Athena and Arachne, it was
to be similar in many respects to the contest between the Muse and
the Pierid. In both stories the nature of Ovid's work required him to
introduce mythological tales ending in metamorphoses. In both stories
a goddess contested with a mortal woman; she had the advantage of a
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
more edifying theme; and she obtained the victory. Although both
these subjects might be interesting, there was danger of monotony.
Ovid was careful to relieve the effect of similar material by
variety of treatment. In the first contest he had allowed the Muse
the advantage of a more interesting theme. He did not allow such an
advantage to Athena. This gave him variety in the nature of the
contests. But Ovid did not stop here. In one story he had recorded
first the work of the mortal Pierid, in the other he recorded first the
work of the goddess Athena. This gave him also variety of order.
He had introduced a contrast between the work of the Pierid and that
of the Muse. Making the song of the Pierid brief and dry, he fol-
lowed it with an elaborate, beautiful song of the Muse. He contrasted
in a still different way the work of Arachne and that of Athena. Be-
ginning with an effective account of Athena's design, he followed it
with a far richer account of the design of Arachne. In his hands the
work of each one of the four contestants became obviously different
from that of the other three. In the first tale poor work of the Pierid
became a foil to beautiful work of the Muse. In the second tale simple,
dignified work of Athena stood out beside work of Arachne which was
rich in interest. Ovid added to the value of his subjects a treatment
of extraordinary variety. And in both contests he secured the further
advantage of presenting the material in order of increasing interest.
By giving an elaborate description of the woven pictures, Ovid
gained the advantage of sumptuous effect. He increased this effect by
an unusual treatment of the theme. Ordinarily it was Ovid's practice
to narrate a myth at some length. Here he often gave it only a single
brilliant phrase and then passed on to a similar brilliant, allusive
treatment of the next myth. He produced the impression of strange,
ever varying, inexhaustible wealth.
Such a result was of great benefit. But that was not all. Usually
Ovid would recount his events approximately in their chronological
order. This method brought two disadvantages: certain desirable tales
had no relation to any of the rest, and certain other desirable tales
appeared at such long intervals in the great mythic cycles of Athens,
Argos, and Thebes (cf. Bk. 3) that, to associate them in order of
historical time, Ovid would have to deal with intervening material
which for his purpose was unsuitable. Ovid removed both difficulties
by his allusive description of the woven designs. This allowed him to
select at will either interesting isolated myths or attractive events
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
which had occurred previously in the three great mythic cycles. He
might use any appropriate material which had occurred before the
time of the contest between Athena and Arachne. But Ovid found the
advantage of this arrangement so great that he went still further.
He mentioned a few events which must have happened long after the
time of the contest. He lessened the evil by his unusual method, for
in a series of rapid, brilliant allusions, an error of date was unlikely
to draw attention. And this permitted Ovid to use desirable events
even in the mythical history of Troy. Ovid obtained not only a sumptu-
ous effect in the story of Arachne but also a great improvement of his
poem as a whole.
Athena, Ovid tells us, planned a large central picture and four
lesser pictures in the four corners. For the central picture she chose
the victory which made her patron deity of Athens. The myth had
been popular with Greek authors and artists. Herodotus told it to the
following effect. Not long after the founding of the city, Neptune and
Athena appeared on the Acropolis and competed for the honor of be-
coming the favorite deity. Each gave a demonstration of supernatural
power. Neptune, smiting the rock with his trident, caused a spring of
salt water to bubble up and form a pool, referred to as "a sea. "
Athena, striking the ground with the point of her spear, produced an
olive tree. Athena obtained the victory. But both deities were honored
in the temple of Erechtheus, built on the historic spot.
The idea of striking a rock and causing a spring of water was
common in popular lore. According to a favorite Arcadian myth,
Neptune had smitten another rock with his trident to form the three
springs of Lerna. Apollonius attributed a similar miracle to Hercules.
And Ovid had recorded a kindred story of Pegasus and the fount of
Hippocrene (Bk. 5). But among all such tales the most famous is
that of the Hebrew Moses and the flinty rock of Meribah.
Phidias in a great sculptured pediment of the Parthenon had
treated the contest of Neptune and Athena. In all essential particulars
he agreed with Herodotus, but he added the idea that Athena appeared
as a warrior maid. The contest was pictured also on many painted
vases and on coins. In general these representations agreed with
Herodotus and Phidias. But sometimes they added a goddess personi-
fying Victory, and one vase painting showed her offering a crown to
the successful Athena.
Herodotus and the Greek artists had not shown how the contest
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
was decided. Callimachus declared that Jupiter appointed as judges
twelve gods. Callimachus gave also a different version of the contest.
Athena, he said, did not create the olive tree in public view. She
planted it in the temple of Pandrosos and made King Cecrops her
witness. This account was repeated by the Manual. Varro mentioned
as judges of the contest the people of Athens.
Ovid followed in part the version of Phidias and the Greek vase
painters. He spoke of the contest as taking place in public view, add-
ing mistakenly that it occurred on the Hill of Mars, and he showed
Athena as a warrior maid obtaining recognition from the goddess
Victory. But he agreed with Callimachus and the Manual that Jupiter
appointed as judges the twelve gods. While referring to them, he
may well have remembered Euphranor's famous painting of the twelve
gods, which adorned the Athenian colonnade of Jupiter.
Of Athena's lesser designs, Ovid tells us, all four showed mortals
transformed because of their impiety to the gods. In at least three
rases they were guilty of impiety to Juno.
First came Haemus and Rhodope. They were a Thracian brother
and sister who presumptuously took the names of Jupiter and Juno.
As punishment, they were turned into bleak mountains covered with
perpetual snow. Ovid merely alluded to their fate, because already he
bad described the similar transformation of Atlas (Bk. 4).
Next came a tale of the Pygmies, a theme of special interest to
the Greeks and Romans. In prehistoric times dwarf tribes of black
people seem to have inhabited a great area of equatorial Africa. They
were a shy, inoffensive race, now distinguished as the Negrillos, aver-
rging perhaps four feet six inches in height. The Egyptians, through
trade with the tribes of the Upper Nile, learned something of these
small black people and represented them accurately in sculpture at
Sakkarah, which dates from about the year 2,500 B. C. Egyptian
voyagers encountered them also on the west coast of equatorial Africa.
And a stray party of Libyans met with them as far north as the lower
course of the Niger. In modern times the Negrillos have occupied a
much more restricted area near the headwaters of the Congo River
and near Lake Albert Nyanza.
To the Greek world also, there came news of the strange little
people. The Greeks called them Pygmies, meaning (literally) people
only thirteen and a half inches high. The poet of the Iliad mentioned
the Pygmies as living far south by the streams of Ocean. Others
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
thought of them more vaguely as inhabiting some unvisited region in
the south, or even far to the north. Greek painters portrayed them
rather accurately and showed them armed with lances. Herodotus
recorded the Egyptian traditions. And Aristotle tried to localize the
Pygmies in the marshes of Upper Egypt.
Other tribes of dwarf black people, the Negritos, inhabited many
islands south of Asia. During Alexander's expedition to India, his
followers learned something of these tribes, and the fact was mentioned
by the historian Ctesias. With the new discovery in mind, later Greeks
tended to identify the Pygmies with the Negritos and to localize them
vaguely in India, a belief which Ovid recorded in his Fasti.
Meanwhile Greek poets had introduced the strange, little known
people into mythology and had associated them with the annual migra-
tion of cranes. During the summer these birds reared their young
throughout the northern half of Europe. In the autumn they gathered
in flocks and flew southwards with loud, trumpeting cries to Africa or
to India. The Iliad declared them on their way to war with the distant
race of Pygmies. Greek poets and vase painters often repeated the idea.
Ovid mentioned it in his Fasti, and Juvenal described vividly what he
thought might be a typical battle.
To account for this peculiar antagonism, the Alexandrians in-
vented another myth. At one time, said Boeus, the queen of the Pygmies
was a certain Gerana. She claimed for herself the worship belonging
to Juno. As punishment she was transformed into a crane and made
hateful to her former subjects. When she tried to visit her son, they
resisted her and began the celebrated war. This account was repeated
by Ovid's friend, Aemilius Macer.
Athena filled her third corner with a design showing the fate of
the Trojan princess Antigone, a daughter of Laomedon (cf. Bk. 11).
Boeus and Macer had told the story as follows. Proud of her long,
beautiful hair, Antigone called herself superior to Juno. The goddess
turned it into snakes, but the gods alleviated her misery by transform-
ing her into a stork. Since the first change resembled that of Medusa
(Bk. 4), Ovid confined himself to the second.
In the fourth corner Athena pictured Cinyras mourning the loss
of his daughters. Guilty of some impiety, they had become the marble
steps of a temple. This tale we know only from Ovid. Athena enclosed
her entire design with a border of olive sprays.
Ovid then turned to the design of Arachne. He had imagined
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?
and the Muses vied with one another in song, Arachne and Athena com-
peted in pictorial weaving. This difference Ovid planned to emphasize
by adding a description of the process. But he invented also important
differences in the treatment. In the case of the Pierids, he gave first
the ending of the tale: he presented the nine sisters as they appeared
after their transformation into magpies. In that of Arachne, he be-
gan chronologically with the girl's parentage and training. He had
caused the Muse Urania to tell of the Pierids, but he told the story of
Arachne himself. Thus Ovid obtained contrast from the beginning, and
he introduced further changes as the story proceeded.
After identifying Arachne, Ovid told in some detail of her increasing
fame. First her products became noted in the Lydian towns. Then
her skill drew visitors to watch the process. There were vine nymphs
from Mt. Tmolus and nymphs from the river Pactolus, a stream rising
on the other side of the mountain, which was celebrated for the
mythical adventures of Midas (Bk. 11). And later Ovid spoke generally
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
of women from the whole region of Phrygia. All these came to admire
the skill of the Lydian maiden, Arachne.
Ovid then gave an accurate, animated description of the prelim-
inary process of spinning and later he gave an equally animated descrip-
tion of weaving. It is a misfortune peculiar to modern readers that we
cannot immediately understand and enjoy these brilliant descriptions.
Mechanical invention of recent times has supplanted the ancient art
of making cloth by hand. But it still is worth attempting to under-
stand a process which through uncounted centuries was a continual and
important part of life in almost every civilized home.
The making of cloth has been an accomplishment of all peoples en-
joying a settled and approximately civilized life. During the Stone
Age the art was known to the Lake Dwellers of Switzerland. Before
historical times it was acquired by the great civilizations of Asia,
Africa, and Europe. In the wake of their conquests it passed to their
more barbarous neighbors, and it was made known by the Romans
throughout the southern half of Europe. It continued to be an essen-
tial art of all the more advanced nations during the Middle Ages, the
Renaissance, and the succeeding period until the close of the eighteenth
century. And through all this time cloth was made chiefly in the home
and always by simple manual labor. In the nineteenth century the
scene changed from the home to the factory, and manual labor gave
place to the more efficient work of machines. But the older process
still lingers in backward countries, and it has been revived to some
extent even in twentieth century America.
An art so widely known was sure to have its effect on literature.
Beginning with the Iliad, allusions to it were many. This continued
true of poetry until at least the early part of the nineteenth century.
And even later the novelist George Eliot made weaving by hand the
occupation of Silas Marner. Greek authors used the idea of spinning
and weaving to portray symbolically the action of the Fates. Catullus
pictured them vividly as they sat, during the marriage festival of Peleus
and Thetis, spinning their wool and singing of the events to come.
Scandinavian authors independently adopted the same idea with respect
to the Norns. Often the idea influenced modern poetry, including
Milton's Lycidas. Ariosto gave an elaborate description of the Fates
at work in their heavenly palace. And Gray repeated the same gen-
eral idea in order to increase the weird terror of his odes, The Bard and
The Fatal Sisters. Plato referred to the weaver's art for illustrating
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
a great variety of philosophical ideas. Melville in an impressive chapter
of Moby Dick likened the action of the warp, the woof, and the reed to
the mystic interplay of fate, free will, and chance.
Ordinarily these authors mentioned the preparation of cloth only
incidentally, in relation to some other theme. For them the art itself
was so familiar that it had no interest. Catullus had given an excellent
account of spinning, but Ovid was the only great poet who described the
entire process of making cloth as it actually was performed in every
household for century after century.
In ancient times one sort of raw material was used almost exclu-
sively, and it varied with the nature of the country. In China it was
silk; in India, cotton; in Egypt, flax; in Greece and Italy, wool. This
raw material was cleaned of impurities and then a large quantity of
it was wound about a rod some three feet in length called a distaff.
Ovid tells us that such material could seem as white and fleecy as a
cloud. The process of transforming it into cloth might be performed
exclusively by the men, but usually it was left to the women.
Holding the distaff under her left arm, the worker detached some
of the fibers with her left hand and began to spin her thread. In front
of her, there hung at a convenient distance a vertical wooden bar, per-
haps fifteen inches long, which terminated in a hook. This was called a
spindle. Still holding in her left hand the detached fibers, the spinner
took their ends in her right hand and twisted them into thread. This
she fastened to the hook of the spindle. Then she detached more fibers
from the distaff, twisted them so as to continue the previous thread;
and turned the spindle, to wrap the thread tightly about it. From
time to time bits of fibers projected from the spindle, tending to interfere
with the work. These fibers, Catullus tells us, the spinner removed with
her teeth, so that both hands might continue preparing the thread. This
process went on until she had prepared as much as the spindle could
hold. If the fibers of the raw material were long, it was necessary to
keep them on the distaff. But if they happened to be short, the spinner
would often detach a conveniently large mass of them, gather it into a
ball, and hold the ball in her lap. And such, Ovid tells us, was the prac-
tice of Arachne.
By this relatively simple method, the ordinary spinner could pre-
pare excellent thread. And, with a few refinements of the process, the
spinners of Dacca in Bengal could transform their cotton into a filmy
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
muslin so delicate that a single pound of material became a thread
eight hundred and thirty feet in length.
Until the fourteenth century A. D. , all spinning was done by hand.
Then the spinning wheel was devised in India, passed gradually to
European countries, and continued in general use throughout the civ-
ilized world until the development of power-driven machines in the
nineteenth century.
After preparing thread in sufficient quantities, the worker pro-
ceeded to weave it into cloth. For this process she used a primitive
machine called the hand loom. Choosing first the threads which were
to run the length of her future cloth, she fastened them successively
to a horizontal bar known as a cloth beam. These longitudinal threads
were known as the warp. Ultimately she carried them the length of the
loom and fastened them to another horizontal bar called the warp beam.
But meanwhile an essential step intervened. Half way between
the cloth beam and the warp beam, were set, one behind the other, two
wooden frames called heddles. Each heddle consisted of a horizontal
bar running above the future level of the threads, from one side of the
loom to the other, and of many vertical bars extending down to a
similar horizontal bar below the future level of the threads. The
weaver arranged her warp threads in pairs. The first thread of every
pair she passed through an opening in the corresponding vertical bar
of the nearer, or first heddle. The second thread of every pair she
passed through the corresponding vertical bar of the second heddle.
The weaver then fetched a spindle loaded with the thread which
was to run across the width of her cloth. This thread was called the
woof or web. Plato tells us that it was softer and looser than the
warp. One end of the woof she fastened to the shuttle, a flat wooden
implement with a pointed end. Standing near the cloth beam, she
raised by hand the first heddle and so lifted half the warp threads
above the rest. Between the upper and lower threads she inserted the
shuttle and pushed it across to the other side of the loom. Then she
lowered the first heddle and raised the second, elevating the other half
of the warp threads above the rest. Again she inserted the shuttle
between them and pushed it back to its original position. This process
continued throughout the weaving of the cloth.
Between the cloth beam and the first heddle was a frame called
the reed or slay. It resembled the heddle except for the fact that all
the warp threads passed between its vertical bars. From time to time
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
the weaver pulled the reed towards the cloth beam and so made the
horizontal threads of the woof compact. As the process continued,
the woof advanced nearer to the first heddle. But, when the interval
became too narrow, the weaver drew the warp beam nearer to the cloth
beam and turned the cloth beam so as to wind up the cloth and give
sufficient room. This was the process of weaving cloth on the hori-
zontal loom. It was used in ancient Mexico and in medieval and modern
Europe, and it still is used in Asiatic countries to-day.
The ancient Egyptians had a kind of loom which was operated in
the same manner as the horizontal but differed from it in one respect.
The warp beam was set directly above the cloth beam, and the warp
threads were vertical. This vertical loom was adopted by the ancient
Greeks and was described in Ovid's myth of Arachne. A loom of the
same kind still is used by many African tribes and by the Navajo Indians
of southwestern North America.
Gradually the hand loom was improved in various ways. Some-
times more heddles were added, to give a more complicated fabric. And
often treadles were introduced, allowing the weaver to raise the heddles
by pressure of her feet. Bui? the process of weaving altered little until
the close of the eighteenth century. Then hand looms were superseded
by the efficient power looms of the modern factory.
In remote prehistoric times the material probably was first woven
into cloth and then was given its color. It could be painted with orna-
mental designs -- a process still used in parts of India, or it could be
stained with some colored liquid. But long before the dawn of history
the ancient civilized nations learned to color their fibers before spin-
ning them into thread. For this purpose they employed substances
called dyes, which would react chemically with the material and give a
relatively durable color.
Some of the dyes were vegetable. Varieties of the madder plant
gave a bright red, which was well known to dyers of India and Egypt
several thousand years before the Christian era. The indigo furnished
a blue, which was in use as early as the year three thousand B. C. A
variety of mignonette provided weld, the smoke tree gave young fustic,
and the autumn crocus yielded saffron; and all of these were used for
different tints of yellow.
Other dyes were animal. The Kermes insect provided a valuable
dark red. And as early as the year two thousand B. C. dyers of India
had increased its value by a process now called mordanting. Before
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
applying the kermes, they steeped their fiber with an appropriate
metallic salt and so made the color far more durable. The same process
was employed later to prolong the effect of other dyes. In Asia Minor
two varieties of the murex, a salt water snail, furnished purple. Since
the discovery of this dye was attributed to the people of Tyre, the
dye was called Tyrian purple. Both in ancient and in modern times
the richest beds of murex were found near Acre in Palestine. But Ovid
tells us that Arachne was able to procure her Tyrian dyes from Phocaea
on the coast of Lydia.
By mixing these colors, the ancients produced many others. And
they found that, by treating with ammonia a certain lichen of Asia
Minor, they could obtain archil, a purple which added beautiful luster
to a number of other dyes. Such colors were known to the ancient
Greeks. Though fading rather easily in sunlight, they gave rich and
beautiful effects. By using them, Ovid tells us, Arachne could weave
garments as delicately varied as the rainbow, in which a thousand
colors pass by imperceptible gradation from the darkest purple to the
lightest pink.
During the Middle Ages the same natural dyes were employed,
whenever they could be obtained, and they furnished colors for the
celebrated Bayeux tapestries of eleventh century Normandy. With
the coming of the Renaissance, exploitation of tropical America brought
new and often better natural dyes, which gradually superseded the old.
These newer dyes were used in the famous Gobelins tapestries, includ-
ing Boucher's remarkable series called the Loves of the Gods. But
chemical processes of the nineteenth century have replaced almost all
natural color with the even more effective synthetic dyes familiar
today.
Colored figures in a piece of cloth were obtained ordinarily by
weaving threads of a single material variously dyed. But the weaver
might obtain her effects also by weaving threads of different material.
And Ovid informs us that both Arachne and Athena mingled their
colored wool with slender filaments of gold.
It was possible to adorn the woven cloth further by sewing in
colored threads with a needle. The process was called embroidery and
was used frequently by the Greeks. Ovid tells us that in embroidery,
too, Arachne was proficient. But she did not use it in her contest
with Athena. The art of embroidery reached its height in modern
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
Persia of the seventeenth century and has continued to be popular in
many countries until the present time.
When Arachne uttered her challenge to Athena, Ovid did not
proceed immediately to a description of the contest. He first made
it clear that this was not merely a case of temporary bravado. In the
Aeneid, Vergil had shown the Fury, Allecto, visiting Turnus. Assum-
ing the form of an old woman, she warned him to protect himself from
grave danger. Turnus replied that she was in her dotage, bade her
mind her own affairs, and refused to heed her. But the Fury, resuming
her proper shape, revealed her identity and filled him with dismay.
A similar visit Ovid attributed to Athena -- and he contrasted well the
patience of the goddess and the violence of Arachne. When the goddess
revealed herself, he added, the girl reddened and then grew pale, like
the sky at dawn. But she remained obdurate, and the contest began.
Ancient poets frequently had described an imaginary work of sculp-
ture or of pictorial art. They desired a striking effect, and often
they wrote with little regard for the limitations of the art which they
professed to describe. In a single picture or the few designs of a
beautiful cape, they found the events of an animated story, including
the words and even the thoughts of the participants. Description of
this kind afforded a pleasant digression from the poet's main theme and
often lent interest to a necessary lull in the action.
The imaginary work of art might picture scenes typical of life
at the time. In the Iliad, Vulcan sculptured a great shield of Achilles
with groups representing the daily labors of men. The shade of Her-
cules in the Odyssey wore a golden sword belt carved with shapes of
fierce animals and with cruel conflicts between human beings. And
shepherds competed in the First Idyll of Theocritus for a bowl sculp-
tured with adventures of a coquette and her two lovers. By an easy
transition, the imaginary work of art might also represent typical
scenes of mythology, the great gods in their daily life on Mt. Olympus
and the lesser gods animating the sky and the sea. Representations
of this kind were described in the Theogony and in Ovid's account of
the Sun's palace (Bk. 2).
But the work of art might show also particular events. These
almost always were taken from mythology. In the Iliad, Helen em-
broidered a design portraying battles near the city of Troy. When
Jason visited Hypsipyle, Apollonius recorded graphically the myth-
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
ological stories adorning his cloak. And Moschus told how Europa
carried a basket ornamented with scenes from the tale of Io.
In the elaborate sculpture described by The Shield of Hercules,
there appeared a combination of themes. There were examples of typ-
ical human life, representations of the gods performing their tradi-
tional offices, and detailed illustrations of particular mythical events.
Euripides, in his Ion, imagined a similar combination of themes which
adorned the interior of the royal tent, and he pictured them with
admirable effect. In the Electra he described mythological scenes --?
both typical and individual -- adorning the armor of Achilles.
Several leading Roman poets delighted in portraying imaginary
works of art. For their themes they almost always chose particular
events. Digressing from the tale of Peleus and Thetis, Catullus intro-
duced a famous account of Theseus and Ariadne which, he said, was
used to decorate the coverlet of the nuptial couch. Vergil pictured
brilliantly a cloak adorned with the story of Ganymede, which Aeneas
presented to the victor of the boat race. He described with sympathy
the sculptured doors at Cumae, which recounted the tale of Daedalus.
And, when Vulcan made the shield of Aeneas, Vergil pictured its
elaborate sculpture portraying the greatness of the hero's Roman
descendants. Ovid too, was to follow the fashion and to describe in
detail a bowl carved with the story of Orion's daughters (Bk. 13).
All these descriptions served chiefly as interesting digression from
the tale itself. But Vergil gave such description a further advantage.
He made it contribute something of value to the story. When he
portrayed the murals depicting events at Troy, they not only afforded
interest in themselves; they informed Aeneas that Dido was acquainted
with some of his past adventures and was friendly to the Trojans.
Ovid too, learned how to make description of imaginary works of art
contribute directly to his narrative. Following Vergil's examples, he
not only made his account of the designs of Arachne and Athena elab-
orate and brilliant but he chose themes in harmony with their char-
acters, and he caused the impiety of Arachne's work to anger the
goddess and hasten the catastrophe.
As Ovid imagined the contest between Athena and Arachne, it was
to be similar in many respects to the contest between the Muse and
the Pierid. In both stories the nature of Ovid's work required him to
introduce mythological tales ending in metamorphoses. In both stories
a goddess contested with a mortal woman; she had the advantage of a
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
more edifying theme; and she obtained the victory. Although both
these subjects might be interesting, there was danger of monotony.
Ovid was careful to relieve the effect of similar material by
variety of treatment. In the first contest he had allowed the Muse
the advantage of a more interesting theme. He did not allow such an
advantage to Athena. This gave him variety in the nature of the
contests. But Ovid did not stop here. In one story he had recorded
first the work of the mortal Pierid, in the other he recorded first the
work of the goddess Athena. This gave him also variety of order.
He had introduced a contrast between the work of the Pierid and that
of the Muse. Making the song of the Pierid brief and dry, he fol-
lowed it with an elaborate, beautiful song of the Muse. He contrasted
in a still different way the work of Arachne and that of Athena. Be-
ginning with an effective account of Athena's design, he followed it
with a far richer account of the design of Arachne. In his hands the
work of each one of the four contestants became obviously different
from that of the other three. In the first tale poor work of the Pierid
became a foil to beautiful work of the Muse. In the second tale simple,
dignified work of Athena stood out beside work of Arachne which was
rich in interest. Ovid added to the value of his subjects a treatment
of extraordinary variety. And in both contests he secured the further
advantage of presenting the material in order of increasing interest.
By giving an elaborate description of the woven pictures, Ovid
gained the advantage of sumptuous effect. He increased this effect by
an unusual treatment of the theme. Ordinarily it was Ovid's practice
to narrate a myth at some length. Here he often gave it only a single
brilliant phrase and then passed on to a similar brilliant, allusive
treatment of the next myth. He produced the impression of strange,
ever varying, inexhaustible wealth.
Such a result was of great benefit. But that was not all. Usually
Ovid would recount his events approximately in their chronological
order. This method brought two disadvantages: certain desirable tales
had no relation to any of the rest, and certain other desirable tales
appeared at such long intervals in the great mythic cycles of Athens,
Argos, and Thebes (cf. Bk. 3) that, to associate them in order of
historical time, Ovid would have to deal with intervening material
which for his purpose was unsuitable. Ovid removed both difficulties
by his allusive description of the woven designs. This allowed him to
select at will either interesting isolated myths or attractive events
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
which had occurred previously in the three great mythic cycles. He
might use any appropriate material which had occurred before the
time of the contest between Athena and Arachne. But Ovid found the
advantage of this arrangement so great that he went still further.
He mentioned a few events which must have happened long after the
time of the contest. He lessened the evil by his unusual method, for
in a series of rapid, brilliant allusions, an error of date was unlikely
to draw attention. And this permitted Ovid to use desirable events
even in the mythical history of Troy. Ovid obtained not only a sumptu-
ous effect in the story of Arachne but also a great improvement of his
poem as a whole.
Athena, Ovid tells us, planned a large central picture and four
lesser pictures in the four corners. For the central picture she chose
the victory which made her patron deity of Athens. The myth had
been popular with Greek authors and artists. Herodotus told it to the
following effect. Not long after the founding of the city, Neptune and
Athena appeared on the Acropolis and competed for the honor of be-
coming the favorite deity. Each gave a demonstration of supernatural
power. Neptune, smiting the rock with his trident, caused a spring of
salt water to bubble up and form a pool, referred to as "a sea. "
Athena, striking the ground with the point of her spear, produced an
olive tree. Athena obtained the victory. But both deities were honored
in the temple of Erechtheus, built on the historic spot.
The idea of striking a rock and causing a spring of water was
common in popular lore. According to a favorite Arcadian myth,
Neptune had smitten another rock with his trident to form the three
springs of Lerna. Apollonius attributed a similar miracle to Hercules.
And Ovid had recorded a kindred story of Pegasus and the fount of
Hippocrene (Bk. 5). But among all such tales the most famous is
that of the Hebrew Moses and the flinty rock of Meribah.
Phidias in a great sculptured pediment of the Parthenon had
treated the contest of Neptune and Athena. In all essential particulars
he agreed with Herodotus, but he added the idea that Athena appeared
as a warrior maid. The contest was pictured also on many painted
vases and on coins. In general these representations agreed with
Herodotus and Phidias. But sometimes they added a goddess personi-
fying Victory, and one vase painting showed her offering a crown to
the successful Athena.
Herodotus and the Greek artists had not shown how the contest
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK SIX
was decided. Callimachus declared that Jupiter appointed as judges
twelve gods. Callimachus gave also a different version of the contest.
Athena, he said, did not create the olive tree in public view. She
planted it in the temple of Pandrosos and made King Cecrops her
witness. This account was repeated by the Manual. Varro mentioned
as judges of the contest the people of Athens.
Ovid followed in part the version of Phidias and the Greek vase
painters. He spoke of the contest as taking place in public view, add-
ing mistakenly that it occurred on the Hill of Mars, and he showed
Athena as a warrior maid obtaining recognition from the goddess
Victory. But he agreed with Callimachus and the Manual that Jupiter
appointed as judges the twelve gods. While referring to them, he
may well have remembered Euphranor's famous painting of the twelve
gods, which adorned the Athenian colonnade of Jupiter.
Of Athena's lesser designs, Ovid tells us, all four showed mortals
transformed because of their impiety to the gods. In at least three
rases they were guilty of impiety to Juno.
First came Haemus and Rhodope. They were a Thracian brother
and sister who presumptuously took the names of Jupiter and Juno.
As punishment, they were turned into bleak mountains covered with
perpetual snow. Ovid merely alluded to their fate, because already he
bad described the similar transformation of Atlas (Bk. 4).
Next came a tale of the Pygmies, a theme of special interest to
the Greeks and Romans. In prehistoric times dwarf tribes of black
people seem to have inhabited a great area of equatorial Africa. They
were a shy, inoffensive race, now distinguished as the Negrillos, aver-
rging perhaps four feet six inches in height. The Egyptians, through
trade with the tribes of the Upper Nile, learned something of these
small black people and represented them accurately in sculpture at
Sakkarah, which dates from about the year 2,500 B. C. Egyptian
voyagers encountered them also on the west coast of equatorial Africa.
And a stray party of Libyans met with them as far north as the lower
course of the Niger. In modern times the Negrillos have occupied a
much more restricted area near the headwaters of the Congo River
and near Lake Albert Nyanza.
To the Greek world also, there came news of the strange little
people. The Greeks called them Pygmies, meaning (literally) people
only thirteen and a half inches high. The poet of the Iliad mentioned
the Pygmies as living far south by the streams of Ocean. Others
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? PALLAS AND ARACHNE
thought of them more vaguely as inhabiting some unvisited region in
the south, or even far to the north. Greek painters portrayed them
rather accurately and showed them armed with lances. Herodotus
recorded the Egyptian traditions. And Aristotle tried to localize the
Pygmies in the marshes of Upper Egypt.
Other tribes of dwarf black people, the Negritos, inhabited many
islands south of Asia. During Alexander's expedition to India, his
followers learned something of these tribes, and the fact was mentioned
by the historian Ctesias. With the new discovery in mind, later Greeks
tended to identify the Pygmies with the Negritos and to localize them
vaguely in India, a belief which Ovid recorded in his Fasti.
Meanwhile Greek poets had introduced the strange, little known
people into mythology and had associated them with the annual migra-
tion of cranes. During the summer these birds reared their young
throughout the northern half of Europe. In the autumn they gathered
in flocks and flew southwards with loud, trumpeting cries to Africa or
to India. The Iliad declared them on their way to war with the distant
race of Pygmies. Greek poets and vase painters often repeated the idea.
Ovid mentioned it in his Fasti, and Juvenal described vividly what he
thought might be a typical battle.
To account for this peculiar antagonism, the Alexandrians in-
vented another myth. At one time, said Boeus, the queen of the Pygmies
was a certain Gerana. She claimed for herself the worship belonging
to Juno. As punishment she was transformed into a crane and made
hateful to her former subjects. When she tried to visit her son, they
resisted her and began the celebrated war. This account was repeated
by Ovid's friend, Aemilius Macer.
Athena filled her third corner with a design showing the fate of
the Trojan princess Antigone, a daughter of Laomedon (cf. Bk. 11).
Boeus and Macer had told the story as follows. Proud of her long,
beautiful hair, Antigone called herself superior to Juno. The goddess
turned it into snakes, but the gods alleviated her misery by transform-
ing her into a stork. Since the first change resembled that of Medusa
(Bk. 4), Ovid confined himself to the second.
In the fourth corner Athena pictured Cinyras mourning the loss
of his daughters. Guilty of some impiety, they had become the marble
steps of a temple. This tale we know only from Ovid. Athena enclosed
her entire design with a border of olive sprays.
Ovid then turned to the design of Arachne. He had imagined
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