Philomela's Metamorphosis

 

King Pandion of Athens had two lovely daughters. King Tereus of Thebes asked for the hand of the elder daughter, Procne, and after suitable celebrations, brought her home to his kingdom.

After some time, and the birth of their first son, Itys, Procne grew homesick. She begged her husband to invite her sister Philomela for a visit. So Tereus travelled to Athens and asked King Pandion if Philomela could return with him for a short visit. Pandion was concerned about his unmarried daughter travelling abroad. Especially since she was so lovely. He made Tereus swear he would watch over her as if she were his own daughter, and bring her back soon.

So Tereus gave his oath, and Pandion agreed. But his lust had already been awakened. He had other plans for Philomela.

Once he got the lovely girl back to Thebes, he did not go directly to his castle. Instead he led her deep into the woods, to an abandoned cabin. There he violently raped her. When she protested loudly and warned him she would not be silent about this, he bound her, cut out her tongue, and raped her again. Then he abandoned her in the cabin, posting guards so she could not escape.

He returned to his castle and told Procne that her sister Philomela had died.

In her enforced silence and isolation, unable to tell anyone what had happened, Philomela took to weaving, like the Lady of Shallot. She began a beautiful tapestry. Into it, she wove images of everything that had happened. When it was done, she bound it up and somehow managed to convey to a guard that this was meant as a gift for the Queen.

Procne unwrapped the tapestry, not knowing who had sent it. She immediately understood. She found out where this girl was living.

Then in the evening, she dressed in leaves to perform the rites of Dionysus. The female devotees of Dionysus, the maenads, would dance in the woods in a frenzy, supposedly possessed by the god or feigning possession. So this gave her cover. Feigning a temporary madness inspired by the god, she danced and stumbled her way to the isolated cabin in the woods. She broke down the door as if manic, and found her sister. She dressed Philomela as another maenad, carefully concealing her face with vegetation, and together they danced and stumbled their way back to the castle and slipped inside.

Little Itys ran to greet his mother. In a fit of rage at her husband, Procne suddenly started hacking her son to death. He reminded her too much now of her husband. As she was stabbing wildly, Philomela slit his throat. Perhaps as an act of mercy. Then they cooked him in a stew.

While Philomela remained hidden, Procne called her husband to supper.

Once he had finished, he asked for his son. Procne told him he had just eaten the boy. At that moment, Philomela emerged from the curtains and threw Itys’s head onto his lap.

Tereus grabbed an axe and came after the two sisters.  But just as he was about to catch them, the gods transformed Procne into a swallow, and Philomela into a nightingale.

And so, when you hear the nightingale singing in the night, a song famous for its sad beauty, that is Philomela, mourning her fate.

Later writers have regularly understood Philomela and the nightingale as images of the artist. The story explains where art and the artistic temperament comes from.

It comes from a child or young person who has been cruelly treated by someone with authority over them--a parent or perhaps someone in the place of a parent. When Hemingway was asked how to become a writer, he answered, “Have an unhappy childhood.” As often as not, this cruelty has to do with the adult fulfilling some illicit sexual desire. Freud saw this, but got it upside down. This being the usual motive, the dysfunctional childhood is most likely to happen to an especially attractive or impressive child—someone highly sexually desirable, or else someone who appears to the adult to be a potential sexual rival. Because the parent or guardian is in authority over them, and they are a minor, or perhaps in early adolescence, they are unable to say anything; they are wholly dependent on the adult. If they do say anything, they are not listened to. It is as though their tongue had been cut out.

Like Philomela’s tapestry, art is the sublimation of this urgent need to speak. As Emily Dickenson wrote, “Tell all the truth, but tell it slant. Success in circuit lies.” Art is the representation by other means of whatever needs to be screamed to the heavens, yet cannot be said outright. It exists in a folded state to get past the posted guards, and to the ears that can and need to hear it.

As Jesus said of his parables, “Let those who have ears to hear, hear.”

If Philomela the nightingale represents art and the artist, what does her sister Procne the swallow represent? A second strategy employed by an abused child: madness, or feigned madness. Madness or the mask of folly is another way to say what needs to be said, or do what needs to be done, without destruction; at the cost of being ignored. Strategic madness perhaps accounts for everything we call “mental illness.”

The prime symbolism of the swallow is of a frequent flier, a constant traveller, on long migrations. This is the fate, a “wandering mind,” or perhaps the prescription, for Procne, the mad sibling: for God’s sake, get away from the family.

What about Itys? Why is that part of the formula? 

The murder of Itys is especially morally disturbing. Tereus is the villain; Itys is an innocent victim just like Philomela and Procne.

Nevertheless, this is just how dysfunctional families work. Instead of confronting the adult authority figure responsible, even when the rest of the family really know who is responsible, children, spouses, siblings, generally turn on each other instead. This may be out of fear of the power of the true villain—he or she has done what he did because he was powerful enough to get away with it. Therefore it is risky to attack him or her directly. It is easier to take out your anger at someone else—a family scapegoat.

In the epilogue, Tereus, the selfish king, the narcissist, is transformed into a hoopoe, a notoriously preening bird with a crown on its head.