[“Neptune Chasing Coronis” (Giulio Carpioni)]
Just some brief reading notes on the rest of Book II of Ovid’s Metamorphoses.
Callisto
Another Jovian rape and another victim who pays the price. Unlike Phaethon, who is the personification of hubris, Callisto appears to do nothing wrong except find herself unable to fend off the most powerful of the gods. Be that as it may, Ovid does fault her trust in Diana:
“…she [Callisto] was Diana’s soldier,
and no nymph pleased the goddess more than she did,
there on Mount Menelaus: but influence
cannot be counted on to last too long.”
(II:571-574)
We’re going to see the theme of a son hunting his transformed parent in much more gruesome form soon.
Coronis (the Raven)
Alaska is the land of Raven myths. Tlingit culture, in particular, is informed by a mythology referred to as the Raven Cycle and the Raven is—depending on the story—either the Creator of the world or a trickster. In this myth the Raven is Caronis, transformed by Athena into a crow to escape the obsessive clutches of Neptune:
“I called upon the gods and men for aid,
but no one was around to hear my cries;
a virgin’s plight aroused the virgin goddess
and she delivered me: I stretched may arms out
and they began to darken with pinfeathers;
I tried to tear the clothing from my shoulders
but it was feathered, rooted in my skin;
I strove to beat my bare breasts with my hands,
but found that I had neither hands nor breasts.
I tried to run but now I glided over
the unrestraining surface of the sand,
and soon I soared aloft, high in the air…”
(II:803-814)
Ovid also works in a lesson that I found echoed in Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations in a different form. As Ovid puts it:
“All birds should be reminded by my loss
not to seek trouble by loquacity,
and not to bring bad tidings to the boss”
(II:784-786)
I wonder if Ovid’s is the first of the raven myths to be recorded? The ubiquity of the raven as a central figure of myth across a wide variety of cultures is noteworthy.
The name Coronis is also interesting… the Carrion Raven (rather than the Common Raven) has the scientific name (Corvus Corone), derived from the latin “caro” meaning “meat.” A connection?
Aglauros
Ovid is fond of extended metaphors. I sometimes get the feeling that he’s showing off a bit, but why not? I enjoyed this example, which opens this segment:
“The winged god gave them the once-over
as they returned, and, altering his flight plan,
made after them in a wide, sweeping arc,
as when that swiftest of all birds, the kite
has glimpsed the entrails of the sacrifice–
but while the priests are crowded round, it fears
to fly too near, yet fears to fly away,
so hovers high above its longed-for prey;
just so the nimble Mercury in flight
made circles over the Acropolis.”
(II:988-995)
It’s fitting that Aglauros—who vows she “will not move” until Mercury has been thwarted—is turned to stone, a transformation described in another marvelous passage:
“…a chill crept down her extremities
and pallor drained her body of its color;
as cancer, that incurable disease,
spreads its roots widely while it makes its way,
infecting healthy tissues from unhealthy,
so lethal winter gradually came
into her breast and closed the passages
of life and slowly suffocated her;
she no more tried to speak, and if she had,
would not have found a passage for her voice.
Her neck was turned to rock. Her features hardened
until she sat, a bloodless effigy;
nor was that stone white, but stained as by her soul.”
(II:1130-1142)
Jove and Europa
I have to admit that this segment made me laugh and shiver at the same time. There’s something off in the eroticizing of Jove-as-bull, but it’s so over the top that I had to laugh:
“He is as white as the untrampled snow
before the south wind turns it into slush.
The muscles stand out bulging on his neck,
and the dewlap dangles on his ample chest;
his horns are crooked, but appear handmade,
and flawless as a pair of matching gems.[…]
At first she [Europa] fears to get too close to him,
but soon approaching, reaching out her hand
and pushes flowers into his white mouth.
The lover, quite beside himself, rejoices,
and as a preview of delights to come,
kisses her fingers, getting so excited
that he can scarcely keep himself from doing it!”
(II:1174-1189)
And, as usual, Ovid slips in a piece of sage advice:
“Majestic power and erotic love
do not get on together very well
nor do they linger long in the same place…”
(II:1161-1163)
