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Sex, gender, and power interact in complex and frequently violent ways in the Metamorphoses. Rape and sexual assault are assertions of power, so the fact that the gods frequently assault women serves as an extension of their existing power over mortals and non-gods. In one of many examples, Apollo pursues the nymph Daphne. To rescue her from assault, Daphne’s father turns her into a tree. But, Ovid writes, “and still Apollo loved her; on the trunk / he placed his hand and felt beneath the bark / her heart still beating, held in his embrace / her branches, pressed his kisses on the wood. / Yet from his kisses still the wood recoiled” (17). Although her father might have tried to save Daphne, by turning her into a tree, this transformation prevents Daphne from ever fully escaping Apollo, who continues to violate her in perpetuity.
Sexual violence isn’t exclusive to gods, however, as Ovid shows in the story of Tereus, Procne, and Philomela. Tereus asserts power over Philomela in many ways when he kidnaps her—by isolating her in the woods, by raping her, and by cutting out her tongue (which is supposed to prevent her from communicating). Although Tereus is not a god and does not hold that position of power, he is still a man, and even a king, giving him immense power over especially the women around him. Philomela, however, turns her disempowerment back around on Tereus. Ovid writes, “on a clumsy native loom / she wove a clever fabric, working words in red on a white ground to tell the tale / of wickedness, and, when it was complete, / entrusted it to a woman and by signs / asked her to take it to the queen” (139). This moment represents Philomela regaining her power of communication, in part using sign language, but more importantly through her skilled weaving. It is notable that she weaves her message into a tapestry rather than writing a letter—weaving was a traditionally feminine craft in both Greece and Rome. Her skill allows Philomela to use more than just the words to convey her distress to her sister. She takes advantage of color, using red to write her own bloody story, when Tereus had literally bloodied her by cutting out her tongue. She weaves on white also to represent herself, as women in Roman mythology are traditionally depicted as having pale skin. Philomela therefore uses feminine art to reassert the power that Tereus took from her.
As Ovid states in the beginning of the Metamorphoses, his goal is to cover events from the very beginning of time up until his own day. To the modern reader, this seems to cover both mythological and historical events. It is important to note that such a distinction is a modern imposition on the poem; the events of the Metamorphoses would not have been so neatly divided into categories by the ancient Roman reader. This is evident in the way the text treats the theme of empire, which pervades both events that we would consider mythological and that we would consider historical. Given Ovid’s reasonably high social standing in ancient Rome, politics are ever-present, and empire is always in the background of the Metamorphoses, which he composed during the early imperial period under Rome’s first emperor Augustus.
The direct ancestor to imperial Rome in the Metamorphoses is Troy. Stories of Troy take up much of Book 12 and the beginning of Book 13. The city of Troy has its roots in the divine—both Neptune and Apollo even helped build the city’s famous walls. Neptune reminds Apollo of this after the war has gone on for many years. He says, “do you not groan to see / this citadel at any moment now / about to fall?” (292). Apollo agrees with Neptune, as both the gods feel a great deal of personal investment in the city. Despite these divine origins, however, Troy does ultimately fall. Ovid writes of the aftermath, “Ilium [Troy] was burning, / its fires not yet died down; Jove’s altar drank / old Priam’s scanty blood” (307). This description goes on, showing the level of destruction that the Greeks create in the city. By covering the myths of Troy in the first place, Ovid links his Metamorphoses back to the canonical Greek epics, particularly Homer’s Iliad. The Trojan War was a frequent source of literary topics in antiquity, and so it makes sense that Ovid would cover such an important civilization within his expansive work.
More importantly for a Roman audience, however, Ovid also covers the myth of Aeneas, the Trojan prince who links his city of birth to the land where Rome will eventually be founded. Aeneas, who is also semi-divine through his mother Venus, escapes the burning city. Ovid writes, “even so the Fates did not allow Troy’s hopes / to fall to ruins with her walls” (314). Although the city itself is gone, through Aeneas her legacy remains, and Ovid begins to transition toward more Rome-centered myths and stories. Some of these stories, such as those of the Sabine women and the early Roman kings, are important in other works of literature, such as the historian Livy’s History of Rome, written in the earlier decades of Augustus’ rule shortly before Ovid completed his Metamorphoses. Moreover, Ovid creates a clear, transitive connection between imperial Rome, Troy, and the gods through his presentation of Julius Caesar. Caesar had, historically, been deified in Rome before Augustus became emperor, so Ovid only embellishes this story, rather than inventing it from scratch. However, including Caesar’s deification gives Augustus and imperial Rome in general a more immediate divine origin than the long-distance ancestors of Trojan Aeneas and Venus. In Ovid’s account of the apotheosis, he writes, “lest therefore [Augustus] be born of mortal seed, / his father must be made divine” (375). This reasoning would not have made sense historically, since Caesar was deified before Augustus became emperor and took on the title “Augustus,” yet Ovid presents Caesar’s apotheosis as if it creates the inevitability of a later imperial and divine ruler. The links that Ovid creates from the gods to Troy to the land of Rome is important to the city’s self-image, which the epic poet Virgil had already used as the basis for his poem the Aeneid.
By focusing on myths of metamorphosis or transformation, Ovid shows the extent to which common boundaries can be crossed and broken. One basic boundary that frequently breaks down in these myths is the boundary between species. This is, of course, broken every time someone transforms from person to animal, person to plant, object to person, etc. The breakdown of the boundary is clearer, however, in the case of hybrids, which are beings that combine the parts or elements of more than a single species. The Minotaur is one famous example. The name (which predates Ovid) is a combination of person (“mino” from king Minos) and animal (“taur” from the Greek root for bull). Ovid writes of the Minotaur that Minos’ “dynasty’s / disgrace had grown; the monstrous hybrid beast / declared the queen’s obscene adultery” (175). Here with “obscene adultery,” Ovid references the circumstances of the Minotaur’s conception: Neptune punished Minos by making his wife Pasiphae fall in love with a bull, and the child born from their affair was the Minotaur. The Minotaur’s hybrid form therefore is considered monstrous primarily because of its obscene and transgressive conception.
In addition to species boundaries, Ovid breaks down sex and gender boundaries in some of his myths, emphasizing the fluidity of these categories. For example, Ovid tells the myth of Hermaphroditus, from whose name comes the English term “hermaphrodite,” which is now considered unacceptable to use when referring to people. When the nymph Salmacis merges with the boy she loves, Ovid writes, “they two were two no more, nor man, nor woman— / one body then that neither seemed and both” (85). The person who emerges from the dissolving of boundaries, known as Hermaphroditus (a combination of “Hermes” and “Aphrodite”), is intersex. They are not simply the culmination of both male and female parts, but rather of a separate identity.
In the story of Iphis and Ianthe, Ovid also shows how people can cross normative gender identity boundaries. Although Iphis is born female, her father desires a boy and so her mother disguises her as one. They continue this until Iphis’ father even betroths her to the girl Ianthe, whom Iphis does love. In Ovid’s antiquated Roman mindset, however, it is not acceptable for women to love women, and so Iphis wishes that she had been born a boy. She says, “though Daedalus himself / flew back on wax-bound wings, what could he do? / Could all the arts he learnt change me from girl / to boy?” (222). Iphis thinks that her desire to become a boy is impossible, something that only a god could achieve. And yet she prays, and the goddess Isis grants her wish, turning her into a boy. Iphis then marries Ianthe. The two give thanks to the goddess with a plaque inscribed with “these offerings, vowed by Iphis as a maid, / by Iphis, now a man, are gladly paid” (224). Ovid depicts Iphis’ transformation, and therefore the free flow of gender divisions, in a positive light, showing how happy Iphis becomes when he takes on the identity that he desires.
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By Ovid