No More Learning

In medieval times, the Third Book awakened unusual enthusiasm.
The myth of Cadmus became a favorite in Provence; the myths of
Actaeon and Narcissus were even longer and more widely admired.
The Renaissance showed great interest in almost the entire book. And
many of the stories continued to be important, even during the eras
which followed.
Among individual authors, this book attracted a large, and a re-
markably varied company. Prominent among those not usually show-
ing fondness for Ovid were Rousseau, Schiller, and Tennyson. An
especially interesting effect appeared in the work of Tasso and Shelley.
Dante, Camoens, and Shakespeare recalled many tales. Spenser used
almost every story, often for important passages of his own. Addison
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? PENTHEUS
translated the entire book, adding valuable criticism. From boyhood
to age Milton admired all the chief tales and he profited by them in
great passages of Comus and Paradise Lost.
Most of the tales have interested modern painters, and Actaeon,
Semele, and Narcissus have attracted an unusual number, although
masterpieces were few. The myth of Narcissus interested sculptors
also and even bore a minor part in the history of opera.
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? BOOK FOUR
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? BOOK FOUR
The Daughters of Minyas
At the close of the Third Book Ovid had mentioned the general
acceptance of Bacchus in his native Thebes. The Fourth Book
opened with a brief account of the festival in his honor. This per-
mitted Ovid to describe the god's appearance. In older Greek art
Bacchus had been represented as a bearded man crowned with ivy or
grape leaves and swathed in a long tunic. But in the time of Praxiteles
he acquired a more voluptuous form. Painting and sculpture repre-
sented him as a soft young man in scanty attire, and Euripides appears
to have followed the newer conception in his famous play. Profiting by
this idea, Ovid described the god as a very young man endowed with
almost maidenly beauty and with perennial youth.
In accord with religious practice, Ovid showed the worshipers trying
to enumerate all the many titles of their god. By using such a cata-
logue, they hoped to include any title of which he might be particularly
fond. And this gave Ovid a chance to mention the extraordinary tra-
dition of his having two mothers. It was natural likewise for the wor-
shipers to recall famous exploits of the god. Among these was the
conquest of Asia. Euripides had extended it as far as the eastern
limits of Persia. But the subsequent expedition of Alexander the
Great into India suggested a mythical conquest extending to the
remote and picturesque shores of the Ganges. The new myth allowed
Greek poets to compliment Alexander by likening his achievements to
those of his divine predecessor, and Vergil had paid a similar tribute
to the Emperor Augustus. Ovid found the Indian expedition recorded
briefly in the Manual and gladly mentioned it in his own account.
Four centuries later this expedition became the theme of an enormous
work by the Greek poet Nonnus.
Ovid added also a sketch of the strange procession which was sup-
posed to accompany Bacchus. A longer and more brilliant descrip-
tion he reserved for his myth of Ariadne in the Fasti.
While describing the Bacchic festival, Ovid needed only to improve
on hints in the Manual. But he made this festival the occasion for
introducing a story of three sisters who defied the god and incurred
a memorable punishment.
Both the names and the story varied with different accounts.
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK IV
Originally the three girls were said to have been natives of Argos.
When Bacchus visited the city, they deliberately remained at home
weaving, instead of going forth to welcome the god. As punishment,
Bacchus drove them mad and caused them to draw lots and devour
one of their children. The story was told by Corinna, a poetess
reputed to have been the teacher of Pindar, and by Aeschylus in a
play called the Xantriae. It was commemorated by a festival called
the Agriona, held annually in Argos and other Greek cities.
Nicander gave the myth a quite different form. He localized it in
Orchomenus, an ancient city perhaps a day's journey to the north-
west of Thebes. The three girls, he said, were daughters of Minyas,
the supposed founder of Orchomenus, and their names were Leucippe,
Leuconoe, and Alcithoe. Nicander assigned also a different punish-
ment. Bacchus, he said, first appeared in a variety of alarming
shapes and transformed their woven fabric into a fruitful vine, then
metamorphosed the girls themselves--one of them into a bat, another
into a duck, and the third into an owl.
Following Nicander, Ovid called the sisters daughters of Minyas.
But he transferred their adventure to the well known city of Thebes.
He imagined it as occurring immediately after the triumph of Bacchus
over Pentheus. In the previous tale, Ovid had described Pentheus as
wicked and godless. By a prudent contrast, he represented the daugh-
ters of Minyas as ordinarily industrious and pious. They did honor to
Minerva, patroness of household arts, and admitted that a real god
would have power to do anything. But they refused to acknowledge
the divinity of Bacchus. In the account of their punishment, Ovid
followed Nicander; but he simplified and improved the conclusion by
turning all three girls into bats.
Ovid's tale of the three sisters interested a number of later authors.
La Fontaine repeated it in his poem The Daughters of Minyas. Both
Camoens in the Lusiad and Milton in the Animadversions remembered
Ovid's statement that Bacchus had two mothers; and Camoens de-
scribed the god's Indian expedition as sculptured on the Palace of
Calicut. In Alexander's Feast Dryden followed. Ovid while picturing
a triumph of Bacchus and especially in the repeated line
Bacchus ever fair and ever young.
Titian seems to have used Ovid's triumph of Bacchus for his paint-
ing.
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? PYRAMUS AND THISBE
Ovid's innovation was not confined to introducing a story about the
daughters of Minyas. He imagined that, while weaving, the three
girls entertained themselves by telling other stories. . These tales,
although of great interest and very appropriate for Ovid's general
purpose, would not enter easily into the sequence of his poem. They
did not belong naturally to any definite time, or to any organized
cycle such as the mythical history of Thebes, and they were quite
unrelated to one another. But they could be told by a group of
people whiling away a comparatively idle hour. In a similar manner
Ovid was able afterwards to introduce tales recounted by a group of
heroes detained in the residence of Achelous (Bk. 8) and other tales
by the Greek heroes besieging Troy (Bk. 12). The number and length
of the stories told by the daughters of Minyas served the further
purpose of emphasizing their neglect of Bacchus and preparing for
their punishment. A similar effect Ovid was to obtain later by assign-
ing a number of tales to Orpheus (Bks. 10 and 11).
The stories which Ovid gave the . daughters of Minyas comprised
three groups--one told by each sister. Every group began with a
rather short introductory passage and then proceeded to a tale of
some length. Introducing the first and third groups, Ovid alluded
to a number of myths each containing a metamorphosis; introducing
the second group, he told briefly the adultery of Mars and Venus.
Almost all the stories, both short and long, were localized in Asia
Minor, and all the longer stories dealt with love. Almost all the stories
appear to have entered Greek literature during Alexandrian times.
Some of them Ovid probably found in the work of Nicander. The rest
he seems to have taken from a lost Alexandrian collection of oriental
tales which later was to furnish him the myth of Latona and the
Lycian rustics (Bk. 6) and the celebrated idyl of Philemon and
Baucis (Bk. 8). In the first and the third groups, Ovid caused the
daughters of Minyas to indicate that the longer tales were new--to
themselves and probably also to Ovid's Roman contemporaries.
Pyramus and Thisbe
Leucippe, the first narrator, Ovid pictured as weighing the merits
of four mythical stories, all of them localized in regions of Asia Minor
little known to the Greeks and Romans. Three of them she rejected as
well known; the fourth she told as something quite new.
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK IV
Of the three tales which Leucippe rejected, the first dealt with
Atargatis, a Syrian goddess of love who was supposed to appear in
the shape of a dove or a fish. Her divine lover was Hadad. From
her the Greeks derived their goddess Venus, and her lover hecame the
celebrated Adonis (cf. Bk. 10). But the Greeks knew her also as an
unfamiliar goddess of the Semites, whom they called Dercetis. She
was believed at one time to have loved a mortal and to have borne him
a daughter, who afterwards became the Assyrian queen Semiramis.
But, ashamed of loving one so far beneath her, she destroyed the
youth; exposed her daughter; and absconded in the shape of a fish.
To this tradition Ovid alluded, localizing the event vaguely in Pales-
tine.
The second tale related to the daughter, Semiramis. According to
tradition, doves had fed the babe until she was found and adopted by
a shepherd. In time Semiramis was reported to have married Ninus,
king of Babylon, and to have commemorated him with a tomb, which
Ovid was to mention in the subsequent tale of Pyramus. At length
she became a dove and vanished from human sight. Ovid mentioned
her frequenting white towers because the ancients thought buildings
of this color specially attractive to doves.
The third myth had been recorded first by Nearchus, a general of
Alexander, who brought the conqueror's fleet from the Indus back to
the Euphrates. He told of a Naiad who transformed her lovers into
fishes and incurred a like fate herself. To Tasso Ovid's allusion sug-
gested a remarkable incident in which Armida metamorphosed
Gugliemo into a fish.
The fourth story, which Leucippe told at length, was the famous
myth of Pyramus and Thisbe. Originally the tale ran to the following
effect: Pyramus and Thisbe were young lovers dwelling in the central
part of Asia Minor. Finding their parents opposed to their marriage,
they planned to flee covertly. The plan miscarried and both perished.
Pyramus became a large river coursing southward to the coast of
Cilicia, Thisbe a neighboring spring. This version was mentioned
long after by Nonnus.
An unknown Alexandrian author contemporary with Nicander
transferred the myth northeastward to Babylon and gave it a different
ending. Blood of the dying Pyramus, he said, darkened the fruit of a
mulberry tree, and Thisbe prayed that the berries might retain their
new color as a perpetual reminder of the event. She herself did not
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? PYRAMUS AND THISBE
experience a metamorphosis. This version appeared in a Pompeian
fresco of Thisbe's death.
Ovid retold the tale with admirable brevity and beauty. In a few
words he named the lovers; indicated the setting; and mentioned their
affection, which was occasioned by proximity and grew stronger with
parental opposition. Then he recorded the discovery of a hidden
fissure in the wall dividing their houses and the naive converse of the
lovers until nightfall. Indicating with a few poetic touches the return
of day, he outlined their plan to escape that night and meet under a
tall mulberry tree by the tomb of Ninus. Although concise, he de-
scribed the scene graphically.
Thisbe, he said, arrived safely at the tree but fled at the approach
of a lioness, leaving behind her cloak. The lioness, fresh from devour-
ing cattle, rent and stained it with her bloody jaws. The incident
was probable and effective, but Ovid made it less credible by adding
that first the lioness drank abundantly from a nearby spring.
Pyramus, arriving soon after, discovered the bloody cloak and the
tracks of the beast. Imagining that Thisbe had perished, he held him-
self to blame and imprudently resolved to kill himself at once. Fatally
wounded by his sword, he lay struggling under the mulberry tree, and
his blood soaking into the earth passed upwards through the roots to
darken the snow white berries overhead. The idea was plausible and
striking. But for more graphic effect, Ovid added that the blood
spurted also, like water from a lead pipe, and shot high enough to
sprinkle the fruit of the tall tree? a detail which was neither probable
nor happy. If
Thisbe returned timidly and was at first doubtful whether this
could really be the appointed place. In the uncertain moonlight and
at a time of great agitation, her doubt was very natural. But Ovid
imagined that she was perplexed by the altered color of the mulberries.
For the conclusion of the tale, it was essential that Thisbe should
notice the change. Yet Ovid introduced the discovery under improb-
able circumstances. Thisbe would have neither light nor leisure for
so nice an observation. Ovid then described effectively her terror at
seeing her dying lover and her frantic efforts to rouse him. And he
added that on hearing her loved name, Pyramus opened his eyes;
recognized her; and sank to death. Ovid recorded effectively the final
request of Thisbe; her death on her lover's sword; and the burial of the
unfortunate lovers in a common urn.
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK IV
In this tale Ovid found a theme of perennial interest. His treat-
ment was good, not only in the main incidents but in many beautiful
details. The faults were confined to non-essentials. And Ovid's was
the only lengthy account which still survived in medieval and modern
times.
The Roman mythographer Hyginus repeated the tale briefly, fol-
lowing Ovid's version.
In medieval Latin the story soon attracted attention. A German
named Wibert, writing near the middle of the eleventh century, quoted
in his Life of Leo Ovid's words to the effect that the more a fire is
covered the hotter it burns. Two unknown Latin poets retold the
story in the thirteenth century. And Gower repeated it in his Con-
fessio Amantis.
Meanwhile the tale of Pyramus had attracted vernacular poets of
northern France. About the middle of the twelfth century an un-
known author made a free translation of it. Chretien de Troyes used
the tale repeatedly. In his Erec he showed the hero believing mis-
takenly that his lady was dead and planning suicide; in his Lancelot
he showed both hero and heroine making the mistake and preparing
to die. But in both cases Chretien avoided a tragic ending. For his
Yvain Chretien adapted many of Ovid's incidents in the following
curious form: Yvain arrived at a certain large tree, shading a spring
and not far from a small building. Fainting with grief and weariness,
he accidentally wounded himself. His tame lion, coming upon him,
believed him dead and ran on the sword. Yvain, reviving, guessed the
cause of the faithful creature's death and would have killed himself
for grief. But Lunete, calling from the building, diverted his atten-
tion. He discovered that she was imprisoned but he was able to con-
verse with her through a fissure in the wall. ^
Not long after Chretien's time, Jean Bonnard retold Ovid's myth
while translating the tale of Susanna. A lost Book of Pyramus re-
peated the story at some length and probably in the manner of con-
temporary Arthurian romance. Towards the middle of the thirteenth
century an unknown poet told the story again, with needless elabora-
tion of incident and much supersubtle analysis of love. He gave
special attention to the converse of the lovers through the wall, ex-
panding twenty-eight lines of Ovid to six hundred of his own! And
the incident of the dying Pyramus opening his eyes to look on Thisbe
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? PYRAMUS AND THISBE
inspired a similar incident in a fourteenth century treatment of Nar-
cissus.
The tale of Pyramus was popular also outside France. Lesser
poets repeated it in German and Dutch. In all countries of western
Europe, the story was taught in the schools and became a theme for
rhetorical exercises of the clergy. It was repeated orally by unedu-
cated and spread slowly eastward until at length de Remusat found
it circulating even in China.
Dante shared the interest of his time. In his treatise on Monarchy
he went quite out of his way to cite the lines where Ovid mentioned
Ninus and Semiramis. He returned to the myth twice in his Purgatorio.
When Vergil reminded him that beyond the flames was Beatrice,
Dante responded to her dear name as promptly as the dying Pyramus
fo that of Thisbe. And a few cantos later Beatrice explained to
Dante that he failed to discern the meaning of a sacred tree because
vain thoughts darkened his mind as the blood of Pyramus darkened
the mulberries. Boccacio told of Pyramus in his Fiametta and again
in his treatise, Famous Women. Petrarch mentioned Pyramus and
Thisbe in his Triumph of Love.
Chaucer found the subject of special interest. In the Merchant's
Tale he cited the discovery of the hidden fissure in the wall and com-
mended Ovid for observing how skilfully lovers find a way. The
Parliament of Fowls referred to the story as painted on the walls of a
temple of Venus. And in the Legend of Good Women Chaucer named
Thisbe among famous beauties of old and later retold the story in full.
He expanded Ovid's account pleasantly, treating with even more deli-
cacy the terror and laments of the unhappy lovers; but he was unduly
anxious to show that women are the more loyal. The darkening of
the mulberries he carefully omitted.
Boiardo and Camoens both associated the mulberry with Ovid's
tragic story. Tasso remembered that nearness and early association
caused the love of Pyramus and Thisbe and attributed the same ex-
perience to his Aminta and Silvia. In his Jerusalem Delivered the inci-
dent of Pyramus opening his eyes reappeared effectively when Erminia
met with the wounded and unconscious Tancred. And Tasso retold
Ovid's entire story more than once in his minor writings.
Castillejo treated the myth of Pyramus in narrative verse. Monte-
mayor treated it in prose. Gongora used it for an unsuccessful bur-
lesque. And many lesser dramatists of Spain and other countries
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK IV
made either serious or comic versions during the sixteenth and seven-
teenth centuries.
Shakespeare alluded to the tale gracefully, first in Titus Andronicus
and then in The Merchant of Venice. His Midsummer Night's Dream
presented the story at some length as a farcical play within the play.
Milton recalled Ovid's statement that the night went forth from
the same waves which had received the setting sun. In Comus the Lady
says
They left me then when the greyhooded Even,
Like a sad Votarist in palmer's weeds,
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain.
Nicholas Manuel painted Pyramus. Burne Jones depicted sepa-
rately both Pyramus and Thisbe. Gliick used the story for an opera,
which though unsuccessful gave valuable training for his subsequent
triumphs.
Until the sixteenth century, Ovid's Pyramus and Thisbe continued
without rival as the master tale of star crossed love. But the myth
had lingered on in its native Asia Minor. During the middle ages
another version with different names for the two lovers passed west-
ward into Italy and by the time of Dante had been localized in Verona.
Gradually the new story attracted more and more attention. It inter-
ested all western Europe during the sixteenth century and culminated
in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare, too, showed the
young lovers meeting parental opposition, the attempted escape and
seeming death of the heroine, the resulting tragedy. But he endowed
the story with a more intense and varied interest and a still greater
wealth of poetry. The new masterpiece proved even better and more
popular than the old. Thereafter Romeo and Juliet displaced its
older rival, and Pyramus and Thisbe was known chiefly from the bur-
lesque in A Midsummer Night's Dream.
Mars and Venus
To Leuconoe, the second narrator, Ovid gave first a brief tale of
Mars and Venus. The story did not itself include a metamorphosis,
but it prepared the way for a longer story about the origin of frank-
incense.
Both Mars and Venus were deities acquired by the Greeks from
neighboring peoples. Mars came from Thrace; Venus from the Semitic
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? MARS AND VENUS
nations of Asia Minor. Before historic times they joined the Greek
deities on Olympus. The Iliad presented Mars as the son of Jupiter
and Juno, Venus as the daughter of Jupiter and the goddess Dione.
And, although Mars was uncongenial to Greece, both Mars and Venus
were honored later as if they had been native deities. Often they were
said to have an honorable affection for each other. This may have
been implied even in the Iliad. The Theogony made them husband and
wife and parents of Harmonia, the bride of Cadmus. The same tra-
dition inspired those beautiful lines in which Lucretius prayed that
Venus might persuade her lover to end the Roman civil wars. And
Ovid, following the Manual, implied in his tale of Cadmus (Bk. 3)
that Mars and Venus were lawful parents of Harmonia.
But neither Mars nor Venus obtained full honor at once. The
Greeks thought of them, for a considerable period, as alien deities
belonging chiefly to rude Thrace and self-indulgent Asia. The Iliad
showed them overthrown and ridiculed by the Greek Athena and often
referred to Mars as vanquished in battle or in other ways ignomini-
ously treated.
In a similar spirit the Odyssey narrated their love for each other.
Vulcan in this account was the lawful husband of Venus. Mars was
an adulterer who incurred a memorable disgrace. The story, sung
by a bard named Demodocus, was to the following effect: Mars, finding
Venus in Vulcan's palace, won her by many gifts. The Sun observed
them and informed Vulcan. To punish the lovers, Vulcan made a
great number of chains, fine as threads of the spider and invisible even
to the gods, yet so strong that they could not be loosed or broken.
With these he contrived a net over his couch and chamber. Then he
pretended to depart on a journey. Mars entered immediately; found
Venus; and persuaded her to lie down with him on the couch. At
once they were trammeled so firmly that they could not move a limb.
* Vulcan then summoned the gods and denounced the guilty pair. All
'the gods came and laughed infinitely at the cleverness of the trap.
Apollo and Mercury suggested that the ignominy would be quite
tolerable, with Venus as a partner. But Neptune, thinking that the
jest had gone too far, persuaded Vulcan to set the lovers free.
The famous scandal was recalled often in Greek literature and art.
Some writers declared that Mars and Venus were the parents of at
least three illegitimate children. A Pompeian mural naively repre-
sented them as employing a dog to guard against surprise.
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK IV
Ovid had retold the story already in his Art of Love. A lover, he
said, should beware of exposing the infidelity of his 'mistress. Let him
remember the experience of Vulcan. Accepting the courtship of Mars,
Venus often delighted him by ridiculing the lameness and hard hands
of Vulcan. Yet at first the guilty lovers acted with caution and
reserve. Ovid then repeated briefly the story in the Odyssey. After
that, he said, Mars and Venus had nothing to lose by further dis-
covery, and Vulcan often wished that he had allowed them to conceal
their guilt.
In the Metamorphoses Ovid used the tale as cause of hostility be-
tween Venus and the Sun. Again he followed briefly the incidents given
by the Odyssey, toning down its irreverent humor. But he added the
dismay of Vulcan when he learned the evil news and he elaborated in-
terestingly the account of the marvellous chains. In this passage
Ovid did not imply that the guilty courtship continued after the dis-
grace.
The Art of Love and the Metamorphoses afforded the best known,
and for many centuries the only, accounts of Mars and Venus. Dur-
ing both the Middle Ages and the Renaissance the tale enjoyed great
popularity.
Jean de Meun repeated Ovid's account in the Romance of the Rose.
Petrarch saw Mars and Venus led captive in the triumph of Love.
Chaucer used the tale for a display of wit and metrical skill: in' the
Complaint of Mars he showed the god lamenting the cruel manner in
which the Sun had parted him from his loved Venus. Chaucer repre-
sented the three deities as the heavenly luminaries which bear their
names and showed them acting in accord with medieval astronomy.
But at the same time he presented Mars and Venus as a medieval
knight and lady guided by the rules of Courtly Love. Vulcan, who
had no place in astronomy, he carefully omitted. In the Knight's
Tale Chaucer recalled Ovid briefly more than once. Spenser associated
the story of Mars and Venus with that of Daphne. Venus, he said,
avenged herself by causing the Sun god to love the unresponsive
nymph. Shakespeare alluded to the story at many periods of his liter-
ary career. In Venus and Adonis he gave a quite long and charming
description of the courtship. And he referred to Ovid briefly in Titus
Andronicus, Troilus and Cressida, Antony and Cleopatra, and The
Tempest.
The myth of Mars and Venus attracted the painters Botticelli,
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? LEUCOTHOE AND CLYTIE
Cosimo, Paris Bordone, Vanloo, Mignard, Lagrene, Hubert, and
Boucher.
Leucothoe and Clytie
In the tale of Mars and Venus, Ovid had shown why the goddess was
angry with the informing Sun. The story of Leucothoe and Clytie
showed how she avenged herself by making him unhappy in love. This
story, like its predecessor, was told by Leuconoe to the other daugh-
ters of Minyas.
Hesiod appears to have been the earliest author who recorded the
myth. He showed Venus resenting the Sun's disclosure of her adultery
and punishing him with an ill starred affection. In his account
Leucothoe (the Swift White One) was the Moon, who was attended
by her twelve handmaidens, the Months. The rest of the tale has been
lost.
*
An unknown Alexandrian author retold the story with many
changes. He made it one of several tales localized in the distant and
marvellous East. Leucothoe became an oriental princess. Her father
was Orchamus (Ruler) and her mother Eurynome (Wide Ruling).
Her father governed the famous empire of Persia, but he may have
resided in the far southern province of Arabia Sabaea. In this region
Leucothoe was born and grew up, the most beautiful of eastern maid-
ens. The Sun loved her. Taking the form of her mother, Eurynome,
he visited her one night; revealed himself; and made known his affec-
tion. Flattered by the courtship of so glorious a suitor, Leucothoe
accepted him. But another maiden, Clytie (the Praised One), had
loved the Sun without avail. Displeased that he should prefer
Leucothoe, Clytie informed the savage father Orchamus. In vain
Leucothoe pretended that she had been overcome by violence. Deaf
to all excuses, Orchamus caused her to be buried alive under a great
heap of sand. The Sun exhumed, but could not revive, her. In com-
pensation he transformed her to the shrub frankincense, which the
Greeks thought of as native to the sunlit deserts of Arabia, although
in fact it grew chiefly on the opposite coast of Africa.