Metamorphoses by Ovid – 2

‘The heavens and everything which lies below them change their shape, as does the earth and all that it contains.’
(Pythagoras in his great discourse about mutability in book 15 of the Metamorphoses)

(This is the second of two notes-and-summaries of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, specifically of books 8 to 15. Read my previous blog post for notes on the first seven books of the poem.)

Book 8

King Minos of Crete arrives on the Greek mainland and attacks the town of Algathous whose king is Nisus. The town’s security is guaranteed by a purple lock in his hair. His daughter, Scylla, falls hopelessly in love with manly, handsome Minos as she watches him fighting from the town’s battlements. She wants to marry him. Eventually her crush leads her to betray her father and town by cutting off the purple lock while he’s asleep, then taking it through the enemy ranks to present to Minos. Minos accepts it and the fall of the town but recoils at Scylla’s treachery, sacks the town and sails away without her. Enraged, Scylla throws herself off the cliffs into the sea but half way down is transformed into a bird called a shearer; so it is another ‘etymological myth’, working back from a name which happens to be cognate with a meaningful word to invent a story to explain it.

What’s interesting is how much Ovid enters Scylla’s thought process, giving us full access to the series of arguments leading up to her decision to betray her father. Very much like the extended soliloquy of Medea deciding to betray her father for handsome Jason. Both very like the extended argumentation of the Heroides, and a new thing – not present in the first 7 or so books.

Minor returns to Crete and Ovid spends far less time (half a page) dealing with the entire story of the Minotaur, Daedelus constructing the labyrinth in which to hide it, and how Theseus killed it and found his way out using the thread provided by Ariadne (another maiden who betrays her father out of love for a handsome warrior).

Ovid goes into more detail about Daedalus making the wings of feathers for himself and his son and flying away from Crete. I’d forgotten that Ovid includes a passage which anticipates the opening of Auden’s famous poem about Daedalus, not the precise details, but the idea that it was observed by ordinary peasants. Ovid 6 AD:

Some fisher, perhaps, plying his quivering rod, some shepherd leaning on his staff, or a peasant bent over his plough handle caught sight of them as they flew past and stood stock still in astonishment…(book 8, p.185)

Auden 1938 AD:

In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure;

Icarus crashes and dies, his father recovers his body from the sea, builds a tomb, settles in Sicily. What struck me about this long-ish account is it isn’t really a metamorphosis at all. Clipping on fake wings is not changing your essential nature.

Back in Athens Theseus is greeted as a hero, having killed the Minotaur. He then gets involved in the great hunt of the Calydonian Boar. This beast was loosed on Calydon after King Oeneus made the bad mistake of giving offerings to all the other gods except Diana – who plagued his land with a giant boar.

An immense troop of heroes assembles, led by Meleager and featuring a rare female warrior, Atalanta. Many are injured, some killed as they corner the boar, but Atalanta draws first blood then Meleager finishes it off. Smitten, he hands Atalanta the spoils, being the head and skin. But his uncles, Plexippus, and Toxeus, are outraged at giving spoils to a woman and overrule him. Blind with anger Meleager kills both his uncles. When his mother (and their sister) Althaea hears of this she fills the city with her weeping and wailing etc, then takes out the old log which soothsayers said would match Meleager’s life and throws it on the fire. Back in the forest Meleager feels a burning sensation and, inexplicably finds himself consumed to ashes. Althaea then kills herself.

Two things: once again, this isn’t a metamorphosis at all and b) Ovid, once again, devotes his creative energy to Althaea’s soliloquy in which she agonises over whether to avenge her brothers and kill her own son. These anguished moral debates by female figures obviously fascinate him.

Meleager’s sisters bemoan his death and in pity Diana gives them feathers and transforms them into birds (guinea fowl).

On the way back to Athens Theseus and his companions are blocked by a swollen river, the River Acheloüs, which advises them to wait till his waters have dropped. He invites them to a feast then tells the story of how he turned nymphs who didn’t worship him into islands, especially the nymph he seduced (or raped?), Perimele, whose outraged father threw her into the sea but Achelous persuaded Neptune to change into an island.

A very rare heart-warming story: Philemon and Baucis. As part of the same scene after the meal given by River Acheloüs, Ixion’s son Pirithoüs mocks the notion of the gods intervening in mortal lives. Which prompts Lelexto tell the story of how Jupiter and Mercury toured a region of Phrygia looking for good people to take them in. They were spurned by all the households until they came to the poorest of all, owned by Philemon and Baucis who took them in and shared all their food. Impressed by their goodness, the god makes them climb a hill and watch the area be flooded and everyone drowned and their own house turned into a temple. Then Jupiter offers them a wish, and they decide they want to tend his temple for as long as they may, and then both die at the same time. And so it comes to pass and when their time comes they are transformed into an oak tree and a lime tree.

The river then mentions Proteus, capable of changing into any number of shapes. And goes on to tell the story of Erysichthon. This was an impious man who got his men to chop down a huge oak tree sacred to Ceres. As they chop it they hear the voice of the dying dryad inside prophesying that he will be punished.

The other dryads beg Ceres to take revenge so Ceres sends an oread (mountain spirit) in her chariot all the way to the Caucasus to meet Hunger in her lair and order her to haunt Erysichthon. Sure enough Hunger comes by night and embraces him, breathing her spirit into his soul. As soon as he wakes he calls for feast after feast but can never slake his hunger. He eats his way through his entire fortune then sells his daughter, Mestra, for more money for food.

Mestra, sold into slavery, begs help and Neptune takes pity. As she is walking along the shore before her master, Neptune changed her into a fisherman. When the master asks whether she/he has seen a girl she denies it and he goes off puzzled – at which Neptune changes her back.

This ability to change at will is now permanently hers and her father sells her again and again to different masters and she assumes a shape and escapes. But eventually even the money brought in from selling and reselling his daughter isn’t enough to slake his invincible hunger and Erysichthon ends up eating himself!

Book 9

Achelous tells his guests about the time he wrestled with Hercules for the hand of Deianira, transforming himself into a snake then a bull. Hercules rips off one of his horns, thus mutilating his forehead permanently, but otherwise unscathed and now river nymphs decorate his head with willow leaves so that no one notices. Next morning Theseus and companions leave his cave.

Segue to the story of Hercules, Nessus, and Deianira i.e. Nessus the centaur offers to carry Deianira over a flooded river but then goes to carry her off so Hercules downs him with a single arrow. As he dies Nessus soaks his blood into his shirt and tells Deianira, standing nearby in horror, that his blood is a love potion (lying, as he knows it is a fierce poison). Hercules rescues Deianira and takes her off. Some time later Deianira hears that Hercules is having an affair with Iole (daughter of Eurytus) and is going to being her back to their house. She agonises about how to win back her husband, remembers the shirt soaked in Nessus’s dried blood and gets a servant, Lichas, to take it to Hercules as a token of her love. He puts it on and the toxic blood immediately starts burning him. He tries to tear it off but it rips his skin, bellowing in agony. He throws the cowering servant, Lichas, into the sea, who is turned to stone so that a stone in human sometimes appears in the Euboean Gulf at low tide and sailors call it Lichas to this day.

Eventually Jupiter takes pity on his son, sloughs off his human part and translates his immortal part into the heavens.

Cut to Hercules’s mother, Alcmena, telling Iole about the hero’s birth, namely how Juno, hating Hercules even before his birth, orders the goddess of birth Lucina to squat outside Alcmena’s house with her arms and legs crossed which, magically, effected Alcmena’s womb and prevented the child’s birth. Until Alcmena’s loyal servant Galanthis fools Lucina by telling her the baby’s already been born. Surprised, Lucina uncrosses her legs and the baby Hercules then can be born. Furious, Lucina grabbed Galanthis by the hair and dragged her head down to the ground and the loyal servant was changed into a weasel.

Continuing this conversation, Iole then tells a story to Alcmena, about her half sister, Dryope. She ‘suffered the assault’ of Apollo i.e. was raped, but then respectably married off to a mortal man. One day she came to a lovely pool with her one-year-old son and innocently picked some flowers from a lotus tree, only for it to bleed. She learned the tree was the nymph Lotis fleeing the sexual advances of Priapus (sometimes the narrative feels like one rape after another). At which point Dryope is transformed into a tree. She pleads she has done nothing to justify such a sad fate, and her sister (Iole, the narrator the tale) tries to intervene, but nothing can prevent her sad fate.

They are surprised by the arrival of Iolaüs, Hercules’s nephew and companion, who has been rejuvenated, made young again. At this all the gods complain and demand similar rejuvenation for their mortal partners, lovers or children.

Even the gods are subordinate to Fate

However, Jupiter replies with an important statement about the limits of his powers, about his own subservience to the unseeable dictates of Fate, which echoes the same thought found in the Aeneid.

l Jupiter opened his mouth and said: ‘O, if you have any respect for me, where do you think all this talk is heading? Do any of you think you can overcome fate as well? Through fate Iolaüs’s past years were restored. Through fate Callirhoë’s children must prematurely become men, not through ambition or warfare. Even you, and I, too, fate rules, if that also makes you feel better. If I had power to alter fate, these late years would not bow down my pious Aeacus. Just Rhadamanthus would always possess youth’s flower, and my Minos, who is scorned because of the bitter weight of old age, and no longer orders the kingdom in the way he did before.’

‘You and I, too, fate rules.’ A profound vision of the world, where even the gods are, in the end, subservient, to darker powers.

Mention of Minos links to his rival Miletus who left their kingdom and founded his own city on the shore of Asia Minor, married Cyanee, and fathered twins, Byblis and her brother Caunus. This story is about Cyanee, the daughter of Maeander, whose stream so often curves back on itself, when she was Byblis’s incestuous love for her brother Caunus. As with Medea and Scylla, Ovid gives us another long soliloquy by a female character agonising about what to do in light of her passionate love. In the end she sets down her thoughts in a long letter declaring her love for her brother which she gets a slave to deliver. Alas, he doesn’t reciprocate but is shocked and then furious, throwing away the tablets the letter is written on.

But Byblis continues her suit, becoming more passionate, until Caunus flees, setting up his own city in Asia Minor. Byblis goes mad, roaming the hills and plains, until she falls to the ground endlessly weeping, and the naiads turn her into a fountain.

But another miraculous transformation happened around that time in Crete. Ligdus was married to Telethusa. When she gets pregnant he tells her it had better be a boy child; if a girl, they’ll expose it to die. In a dream the goddess Isis comes to Telethusa and says she will protect her. In the event she gives birth to a girl but swears all the servants to pretend it is a boy. And so Iphis is raised as a boy.

When Iphis turns 13 her father betroths her to the 13-year-old daughter of a neighbour. Iphis loves this other girl, but as a lesbian. Ovid gives another prolonged female soliloquy, this time of Iphis begging the gods for a way out of her dilemma. Telethusa prays some more and, the night before the wedding is due, Isis changes Iphis into a boy.

Book 10

Orpheus and Eurydice are married. She steps on a poisonous snake, dies and goes to the underworld. Orpheus follows her and sings a lament to Dis and Persephone which moves them to release Eurydice, on the condition Orpheus doesn’t look back at her on their long walk back to earth. Of course he does and she slips through his fingers back into the underworld, for good this time.

Devastated, Orpheus shuns the company of women and prefers to love boys, during the brief period of their first flowering.

On a flat hilltop there is a gathering of all the trees who come to listen to Orpheus’s wonderful songs (another List). The cypress tree was made when the fair youth Cyparissus accidentally speared a noble stag he had long loved. He wept and pined and was turned into the cypress.

Amid this assembly of trees Orpheus sings tales of transformation. All the rest of book 10 is Orpheus’s songs:

  • Ganymede: Jupiter temporarily turns himself into an eagle to abduct this boy
  • Hyacinth: Apollo went everywhere with this young man till one time they were having a competition to throw the discus, Apollo threw it a mighty distance, Hyacinthus ran forward to collect it but it bounded up into his face and killed him and the boy was turned into the purple flower
  • The Cerustae men murder all who stay with them as guests. For this impiety Venus turned them into bullocks.
  • The Propoetides denied Venus and were the first women to prostitute themselves in public. So Venus turned them into flints.
  • Pygmalion shuns women and makes a statue of one which he falls in love with until, during the festival of Venus, he asks the god to make his beloved statue real and she does.
  • longer than all the other stories put together is the story of Myrrha who conceives an illegal love for her own father, Cinyras. She tries to hang herself, her nurse interrupts, saves her, learns her shameful secret, and then helps disguise her so she can sleep with her father which she does, repeatedly, until he discovers the scandal, runs to get his sword, she fled the palace and wandered in the wild, until the compassionate gods changed her into the myrrh tree.
  • She was pregnant when she transformed and the boy is born of her tree trunk and raised by nymphs to become gorgeous Adonis. Venus is pricked by her son, Cupid’s, arrow and falls in love with him.
    • Story within a story within a story: Orpheus tells the story of Venus who one day, as they are lying in a glade, tells Adonis the story of Atalanta who refused to marry, challenging all her suitors to a running race and the losers are put to death. Hippomenes asks Venus for her help and the goddess gives him three apples. During the race he throws each of them to the side of the track and each time Atalanta detours to pick them up, so that Hippomenes wins. But when the victorious young man fails to thank and praise her the fickle goddess turns against him. She puts it in their minds to make love in a sacred cave, thus defiling it and Juno, offended, turns them into lions. In time Cybele tamed them and now they pull her chariot.
  • Back up a level, Orpheus goes on to describe how Adonis foolishly hunts a fierce boar which gores and kills him. Mourning Venus institutes an annual festival in his name and turns him into the anemone.

Book 11

The frenzied Ciconian women aka the Bacchantes aka the Maenads, kill Orpheus and tear his body to pieces which they throw in a river which carries it to the sea. His soul goes down to Hades and is reunited with his beloved Eurydice. Bacchus turns the Maenads who killed Orpheus into oak trees.

Bacchus’s tutor, Silenus, is captured by the Lydians and taken to King Midas. After ten days of partying the kind returns the drunk old man to Bacchus who grants him a wish and Midas chooses the golden touch. Then the standard account of how his delight turns to horror as even his food and wine turn to gold. In this version, he doesn’t touch his daughter and turn her to gold; he begs Bacchus to take back the gift, so Bacchus tells him to go bathe in the river by great Sardis.

Pan challenges Apollo to a competition as to who is best musician. They choose the god of the mountain of Tmolus as judge. Both play and Tmolus judges Apollo the better performer. Since his misfortune with the gold, Midas has wandered the fields and mountains. He happens to be at this competition and demurs, saying Pan was better. Apollo gives him ass’s ears.

Apollo flies over to watch the first building of Troy, by Laomedon and Neptune. When the king refused the promised payment Neptune flooded the land.

Jupiter gives Thetis to Peleus after Proteus predicts she will give birth to a son greater than her father. In fact Peleus comes across Thetis naked on the seashore and tries to rape her but she transforms through a series of shapes. Proteus advises holding her tight till she gives in so Peleus seizes her in her seashore cave and holds her through even more transformations till she gives in at which point he inseminates her with Achilles.

Earlier in his life Peleus had been expelled from his homeland for killing his brother and fetched up in the kingdom of Trachis whose king, Ceyx, tells him the story of Daedalion. This starts with the gods Apollo and Mercury both seeing and falling love with the Chione, the 14-year-old daughter of Daedalion. Both cast magic spells on her and raped her, Mercury by day, Apollo by night.

Nine months later this daughter gave birth to twins, Autolycus, crafty and Philammon, skilled the with lyre. Unfortunately, Chione boasted about this achievement, vaunting herself above the goddess Diana who promptly shot her dead with an arrow. Her distraught father Daedalion tried to hurl himself onto her funeral pyre, was restrained, but later threw himself off a cliff. Taking pity, Apollo turned him into a hawk who takes out his savage anger on other birds and small animals.

Ceyx has only just finished telling this story when Peleus’s herdsman comes running up and tells him a huge wolf is devastating his herd. Peleus realises it’s punishment for him killing his half-brother and prays the half-brother’s mother, Psamathe, to relent. Thetis intercedes on his behalf and the goddess changes the wolf to marble.

Despite the warnings of his loving wife, Alcyone, Ceyx goes on a journey by sea to consult the oracle of Apollo, at Claros. There is a bravura passage giving a terrific description of a storm at sea. He drowns. Not knowing this Alcyone goes daily to Juno’s shrine to pray for his safety. Taking pity, Juno sends Iris to the House of Sleep which is given a full and brilliant description. In the Kline translation:

There is a deeply cut cave, a hollow mountain, near the Cimmerian country, the house and sanctuary of drowsy Sleep. Phoebus can never reach it with his dawn, mid-day or sunset rays. Clouds mixed with fog, and shadows of the half-light, are exhaled from the ground. No waking cockerel summons Aurora with his crowing: no dog disturbs the silence with its anxious barking, or goose, cackling, more alert than a dog. No beasts, or cattle, or branches in the breeze, no clamour of human tongues. There still silence dwells. But out of the stony depths flows Lethe’s stream, whose waves, sliding over the loose pebbles, with their murmur, induce drowsiness. In front of the cave mouth a wealth of poppies flourish, and innumerable herbs, from whose juices dew-wet Night gathers sleep, and scatters it over the darkened earth. There are no doors in the palace, lest a turning hinge lets out a creak, and no guard at the threshold. But in the cave’s centre there is a tall bed made of ebony, downy, black-hued, spread with a dark-grey sheet, where the god himself lies, his limbs relaxed in slumber. Around him, here and there, lie uncertain dreams, taking different forms, as many as the ears of corn at harvest, as the trees bear leaves, or grains of sand are thrown onshore.

Juno has tasked Iris with asking Sleep to send one of his shape-shifting sons in a dream to tell Alcyone the bad news. Sleep despatches Morpheus, expert at assuming people’s likenesses, who appears to Alcyone in a dream as her husband and tells her he is dead. Next day she goes down to the seashore to mourn and Ceyx’s corpse is washed ashore. Alcyone jumps up onto a breakwater to see better and keeps on flying, her arms turning into wings her mouth into a beak. In fact both wife and dead husband are transformed into ‘halcyons’. It is said that they mate once a year and make a nest on the sea and after she has laid the eggs, Aeolus god of the winds delivers 7 days of complete calm on the sea. Hence the expression halcyon days.

In a breath-takingly casual link, Ovid says an old man was standing nearby who added another story, telling the ill-fated love of Aesacus, Hector’s half-brother, for the nymph Hesperie. One day, chasing her (as men chase all women in these stories) she trod on a snake, was bitten and died. Despairing, Aesacus threw himself off a cliff but Tethys caught him and transformed him into the long-necked bird which repeatedly dives into the sea, and is called a ‘diver’ (the genus Mergus).

Book 12 The Trojan War

In book 12 Ovid retells the stories of the Greek siege of Troy, but focusing on moments of transformation.

The House of Rumour

Rumour of them precedes the coming Greeks and Ovid has another page-long description of an allegorical figure, Rumour (compare previous extended descriptions of the Houses of Hunger and of Sleep).

Iphigenia and Cycnus

As to the transformations:

  • when Agamemnon is about to sacrifice his own daughter, Iphigenia, she is replaced by a deer
  • Achilles fiercely attacks Cycnus who, at the moment of death, is changed into a swan

Nestor’s tales

An extended sequence is devoted to tales told by Nestor one evening after the Greek leaders have feasted.

1. Nestor tells the story of Caenis, a young woman walking the seashore who is raped by Neptune. Afterwards he asks if she wants any gift and she asks to be turned into a man so she can never be raped again, and so Neptune turns her into the man Caeneus and makes him invulnerable to weapons.

2. Nestor gives an extended description of the battle of the Lapiths and Centaurs at the marriage of Pirithous to Hippodame (pages 273 to 282). The Lapiths are a group of legendary people in Greek mythology, whose home was in Thessaly. They held a wedding feast and invited the centaurs who proceeded to get drunk and attempt to abduct the Lapiths’ women. The resulting battle is one of the most enduring of Greek legends.

Maybe placing it here is Ovid’s way of showing he can do anatomically detailed and gory descriptions of fighting in the approved epic manner, but without infringing on the actual fighting at Troy which Homer and Virgil (among many others) had already done so well.

In Ovid’s account the battles leads up the centaurs fighting the invulnerable human, Caeneus and, since no weapons can harm him, deciding to pile trees on top of him. Thus buried under torn-up trees, No one knows what happened to Caeneus in the end but some saw a bird with tawny wings fly out from the middle of the pile.

3. Tlepolemus asks Nestor why he hasn’t mentioned Hercules and Nestor explains that he loathes the man because he killed 11 of his brothers, even Periclymenus who Neptune gave the gift of being able to change shape, and who changes into an eagle to escape the massacre but Hercules kills him, nonetheless, with bow and arrow. And that is the end of Nestor’s storytelling.

The death of Achilles

Jump forward ten years to the climax of the siege of Troy. Ovid deals with the death of Achilles in an odd way. He starts by describing how Neptune, who helped to build Troy and fought on the Trojan side, resented the success of Achilles but is forbidden to confront him directly, and so goes to his nephew, Apollo, also fighting on the Trojan side, and asks whether he is not angry at man-killing Achilles and whether he’ll use his mighty bow and arrow to stop him. Apollo agrees and so seeks out Paris fighting ineffectually in the middle of the day’s battle, tells him to shoot at Achilles and he will guide his arrow. Which he does, and that is the death of Achilles.

It’s odd that Ovid doesn’t even mention the central aspect of Achilles’ death which is the vulnerability of his heel, which is where Paris’s poisoned arrow is said to have struck him. And there’s no transformation involved to justify its inclusion in the poem at all. But then his treatment of the entire war is odd, digressing into the battle of the Lapiths and avoiding describing all the famous incidents of the war itself.

Instead Ovid skips to immediately after the funeral of Achilles when argument arises about which of the surviving heroes will inherit the mighty shield of Achilles. The Greek leaders agree to hold a formal debate which begins in book 13.

Book 13

Debate between Ajax and Ulysses

Again, Ovid takes an odd, peripheral approach to the great subject. He describes in detail the set-piece debate about who should claim the arms of dead Achilles. Ajax, arguably the Greeks’ biggest strongest warrior, argues for a full 4 pages, describing his own merits (grandson of Jupiter, only Greek who can stand up to Hector) but mainly rubbishing Ulysses, describing him as a coward and a sneak who never fights in the light of day but cooks up secret midnight tricks. Then Ulysses speaks for 7 pages, defending himself.

The whole extended passage is a bravura demonstration of Ovid’s skill at staging a debate, reminding us that his parents and the emperor himself originally expected him to make a career in public life.

Anyway, Ulysses wins the debate, is awarded the arms of Achilles, and Ajax kills himself out of rage and chagrin. Ovid points out that out of his blood grew the hyacinth but it’s a pretty tangential reference to the poem’s theme. Any reaction by the other leaders is ignored.

Ulysses fetches Philoctetes

Instead Ulysses sails off to the isle of Lemnos to see Philoctetes, without whose bow and arrow, prophets said, Troy could not fall. There are umpteen versions of this story; Ovid short circuits all of them, says Philoctetes returned and Troy fell boom boom.

The deaths of Polyxena, Polydorus and transformation of Hecuba

King Priam sends his youngest son Polydorus away from Troy when the war begins, to the court of king Polymestor. But he sent a load of gold with him, too, and impious Polymestor stabbed the boy to death and threw him over a cliff into the sea.

Troy is captured, sacked, all the men killed and all the women dragged off into captivity including miserable Hecuba who tries to grab the ashes of her beloved son, Hector. The ghost of Achilles appears before the Greek leaders and tells them they will get no favourable wind for their ships unless they sacrifice one of Hecuba’s daughters, Polyxena, so the Greeks agree to do this.

Polyxena makes a noble speech, another one of the long closely-reasoned speeches Ovid writes for his female characters, then offers her breast to the priest at the altar. Like everyone else he is moved to tears by her speech but stabs her to death anyway.

Hecuba witnesses all this, herself making an extended soliloquy of misery, then goes running along the seashore mad with grief, but trying to console herself that at least she has her son to console her. That’s when she sees the corpse of Polydorus floating across the waves towards her, his wounds bleached and gaping.

Somehow, with the logic of a fairy tale not history, Hecuba with her attendants makes her way to the court of the treacherous King Polymestor, and asks for a private audience where she will tell him about more treasure. Polymestor agrees and when they are alone, swears he’ll hand the treasure on to his ward. Hecuba, knows he has murdered his ward and so knows he is swearing lying oaths. She stabs him in the eyes with her sharp fingernails and then smashes his eye sockets.

Then the Thracian people try to stone Hecuba and her Trojan women but she chases the stones, snapping at them and is turned into a dog. Even vengeful Juno is moved to say Hecuba didn’t deserve this fate but then that is the overwhelming moral of these stores: life is howlingly, outrageously cruel and unfair.

Memnon

During the war Memon had been killed by Achilles. His mother, Aurora, goddess of the dawn, goes to be Jupiter for some recognition of her grief and his achievement. Jupiter arranges for his body on the funeral pyre to give rise to a flight of birds which divide into two parties, fight each other and all die. They are called the Memnonides and celebrated at an annual feast. Meanwhile, every morning the dawn weeps tears for her dead son, what we mortals call the dew.

The pilgrimage of Aeneas

Aeneas flees Troy with his father, son, followers and household gods. First stop is Delos where king Anius tells the sad story of how his daughters, who had magic gifts for turning everything they touched into food and wine, were kidnapped by Greek forces but pleaded with the god Bacchus who gave them their skills and were transformed into white doves.

Next day they attend the oracle of Apollo for Anius is not only king but high priest, and the god tells them to seek the bones of their mother which Aeneas, falsely, takes to mean Crete. They exchange gifts with king Anius including a cup engraved with the story of Orion’s daughters, and set sail.

What follows is a very brief summary of Aeneas’s journeys i.e. he rejects Crete and heads north towards Italy, landed in the harbour of the Strophades, were terrified by the harpy, Aëllo, and a shopping list of other ancient islands and cities they sailed past on their way to Sicily, stopping at Epirus to have their futures read by Helenus, through the straits of Messina past the perils of Scylla and Charybdis.

Obviously this was all dealt with in detail in Virgil’s masterpiece the Aeneid. Presumably Ovid had to mention Aeneas as a kind of link between the Trojan War and later myths/history, but did he also feel obliged to namecheck it so as to incorporate/supersede Virgil in his own, eccentric epic?

Acis and Galatea

Back before Scylla was turned into a grotesque monster she combs Galatea the sea nymph ‘s hair (underwater) while the latter tells her about her love for 16-year-old mortal boy, Acis. Unfortunately, the Cyclops Polyphemus is in love with her and Ovid devotes a couple hundred lines to a rather moving love song he sings to her, like so many of these soliloquies making a case, in this instance all the reasons Galatea ought to love him e.g. he’s big, he owns lots of sheep and so on.

Then Polyphemus spots the lovers lying in each other’s arms and comes storming towards them. Galatea dives into the sea leaving Acis to run but not fast enough. Polyphemus throws a huge chunk of mountainside which crushes the boy. Galatea changes Acis into a river (and accompanying river god).

Scylla and Glaucus

After this tale Scylla returns to the land where she roams naked. She is startled by the attentions of Glaucus who used to be mortal but was turned into a merman. Glaucus tells the story of how he was transformed (by eating magic grass) but Scylla slips off, leaving him frustrated.

Book 14

Scylla and Glaucus continued

Glaucus swims across the sea to the land of Circe and begs her to concoct a potion to make Scylla fall in love with him. Circe advises him to forget Scylla and fall in love with her. Glaucus rejects her and swims off. This infuriates Circe with Scylla and so she concocts an evil potion, swims over to Scylla’s island and pours it into the pool where Scylla loves to bathe. When Scylla slips in up to her waits the region below is transformed into barking monster dogs. Glaucus is distraught. Scylla becomes curdled with hatred and takes to living on one side of the Strait, reaching out and capturing sailors of ships passing by e.g. Ulysses in his wandering or Aeneas, a little later.

More Aeneas

Which brings us back to Aeneas. Ovid briefly describes the storm which blows his fleet onto the north African coast where he, of course, encounters Dido. Their love affair barely rates a sentence before Aeneas is off again, sailing north, back to Sicily then past the isle of the Sirens, the loss of Palinurus. It’s like the Aeneid on fast forward.

A super-brief reference to the fact that Jupiter, hating the lying and deceit of the Cercopes, turned them into monkeys.

A very rushed account of Aeneas anchoring at Cumae, seeing the Sybil, plucking the golden bough and going to the underworld where he meets the spirit of his dead father, Anchises.

The Sibyl’s story

On the way back up from the underworld Aeneas offers to build a temple to the Sibyl but she corrects him; she is no god but a mortal woman. Apollo fancied her and offered her eternal life if she would sleep with him. She said no but he gave her eternal life and the gift of prophecy – but not eternal youth; in the years to come she will shrivel and shrink with age.

Macareus and Achaemenides

In a rather contorted segue Ovid says a Greek had settled in Cumae, named Macareus. This Macareus now recognises among the Trojans a fellow Greek named Achaemenides who had got left behind on Sicily in the realm of Polyphemus. Achaemenides describes the Cyclops rage at being blinded and tricked and how he threw whole mountains after Ulysses’s departing ship.

Then Macareus tells Achaemenides what happened after they escaped Sicily, namely: a) how they used the winds put into a bag by Aeolus, b) how they docked at the city of Lamus, of the Laestrygonians, whose treacherous king Antiphates led an attack on them and killed and ate some of their shipmates before they could escape.

The island of Circe

How they next arrived the island of Circe and Macareus drew a lot to go to the palace. Pushing through flocks of wild animals (a thousand wolves, and mixed with the wolves, she-bears and lionesses) they entered the chamber where Circe’s servants were separating out her herbs and medicines. She offered them food and win then touched them with her wand and turned them into pigs. One of the party makes it back to Ulysses, tells him what happened. Ulysses has the herb moly which protects him from Circe’s magic, so when he goes up to her palace he pushes aside her wand and master her, taking her as wife. In bed he demands that his men are turned back from animals to men.

They stayed on Circe’s island for a year. Macareus tells some stories about things he saw there:

Picus and Canens and Circe

Picus, the son of Saturn, was king in the land of Ausonia and a very handsome man. All the nymphs and nerieds threw themselves at him but he wooed and wed Canens who sang beautifully. One day he went hunting in the countryside and was seen by Circe who fell madly in love with him. She conjured a phantom boar for him to chase into the depths of the forest where the cast spells and confronted him and offered him her love. But Picus rejected Circe, saying he was loyal to his wife Canens. So Circe changed him into a woodpecker. When his fellow hunters confront her, she changes them into wild beasts, too. Canens waits in vain for her husband to return, lies down beside the river Tiber and turns into nothing. The place is called Canens to this day.

Now, this story of forests and magic feels much more like Ovid’s speciality and much more like the subject of this poem than either the Troy or the Aeneas subject matter. They both feel too historical. They lack real magic. They lack the strange and unexpected. It doesn’t make chronological sense to say this, but the best of his tales have a kind of medieval feel, feel like the strange fables and magical happenings which fill Boccaccio or Chaucer.

Aeneas reaches Latium, war with Turnus

Macareus ends his tale by saying that after a year Aeneas rounded up his crew and they left Circe’s island. Again, Ovid gives a super-compressed account of Aeneas’s arrival in Latium and the war with Turnus which follows, all for the hand of Lavinia.

How Diomede lost his men

Looking for allies, Turnus sends Venulus to Diomede, a Greek in exile. Diomede can spare no men because, after long suffering, troubled journey back from Troy, one of his men, Acmon, insulted the goddess Venus who turned them all into birds a bit like swans.

En route back to Turnus Venulus passes a spot where a rude shepherd once terrorised some nymphs. He was changed into the bitter olive tree.

The Trojan ships are turned to dolphins

Turnus storms the Trojan ships and sets them alight. But the goddess Cybele remembers they’re made from trees which grew on Mount Ida which is sacred to her so she sent a thunderstorm to extinguish the fires, but then snapped their cables and sank them. Underwater, the ships were turned into dolphins.

Eventually Turnus is killed in battle and his army defeated. The city of Ardea was conquered and burned and from its midst rose a heron.

Venus asks Jupiter for permission to make Aeneas a god. His body is washed and purified by the river Numicius, then she touches his lips with nectar and ambrosia, and he becomes a god with temples where he’s worshipped.

Ovid then lists the succession of kings following Aeneas, starting with his son Ascanius and briefly describing a dozen or so until he comes to the story of Pomona.

Pomona and Vertumnis

Pomona is a skilful wood nymph wooed by many men, by Pan and Silenus. She hides herself away. But she is desperately loved by Vertumnus, god of the seasons and their produce. He disguises himself as an old woman to gain entrance to her sanctuary and there speaks eloquently in favour of Vertumnus. This pretend old lady then tells Pomona the story of Iphis, a commoner, who falls in love with the princess Anaxerete. But she is hard-hearted, refuses and mocks him. Iphis hangs around outside her locked door, sleeping on the step, hanging garlands on it (as does the stock figure of the lover in the elegiac poems, the Amores). Eventually he hangs himself from the lintel. The servants take him down and carry his body to his mother who organises his funeral procession. Anaxerete hurries up to the top floor room and leans out to watch the procession and is turned to stone as hard as her heart.

Frustrated, Vertumnus reveals himself in his glory as a handsome young man and, luckily, Pomona falls in love at first sight.

Romulus

What happens next is odd: Ovid introduces the character of Romulus but without mentioning any of the usual stuff, about the vestal virgin Ilia being impregnated by Mars, bearing twins Romulus and Remus, their being abandoned but suckled by a she-wolf, their agreeing to found settlements but Remus laughing at Romulus and the latter angrily killing his brother.

None of that at all. Ovid cuts to war with the Sabine tribe which ends in a peace whereby the Sabines’ king Tatius co-rules with Romulus. In the next sentence Tatius is dead, Romulus is ruling alone and then Mars goes to see Jupiter and asks for his son to be turned into a god (exactly as per Aeneas). And so Mars spirits Romulus – completely alive and in the middle of administering justice – into the sky.

His widow, Hersilie, receives a visit from Iris, female messenger of the gods, is told to go to the Quirinal hill, where a shooting star falls from heaven, sets fire to her hair, and she is whirled up into heaven to be reunited with Romulus. He renames her Hora, the name under which she has a temple on the Quirinal Hill.

Book 15

Cut to the figure of Numa, the second king of Rome (after Romulus) who is ambitious to understand the universe who travels to Crotona and there hears the legend of its foundation i.e. how Myscelus, the son of Alemon of Argos, was ordered in a dream to leave his home town, travel over the seas to found it.

The doctrines of Pythagoras

Turns out we’ve come to Crotona because this is where Pythagoras lived and, unexpectedly, Ovid now describes in some detail the teachings of Pythagoras.

‘I delight in journeying among the distant stars: I delight in leaving earth and its dull spaces, to ride the clouds; to stand on the shoulders of mighty Atlas, looking down from far off on men, wandering here and there, devoid of knowledge, anxious, fearing death; to read the book of fate, and to give them this encouragement!’

He has Pythagoras deliver a speech of 404 lines, roughly half the length of the book, touching on a set of Pythagorean concerns:

Polemical vegetarianism – in the Golden Age there was no hunting and killing of animals. ‘When you place the flesh of slaughtered cattle in your mouths, know and feel, that you are devouring your fellow-creature.’

Metempsychosis – be not afraid of death for no soul dies: ‘Everything changes, nothing dies: the spirit wanders, arriving here or there, and occupying whatever body it pleases, passing from a wild beast into a human being, from our body into a beast, but is never destroyed. As pliable wax, stamped with new designs, is no longer what it was; does not keep the same form; but is still one and the same; I teach that the soul is always the same, but migrates into different forms.’

Is this why this long Pythagoras section is included? Because the belief in metempsychosis is a kind of belief in universal metamorphosis, posits a world of continual metamorphoses?

Eternal Flux – of nature, of all life forms, of human beings which grow from the womb, ever-changing.

The Four Ages of Man – in the womb, helpless baby, playful toddler, young man, mature man, ageing man etc.

The four elements – being earth, water, air and fire, endlessly intermingling, changing combinations.

Geologic changes – seashells are found on mountaintops, deserts were once pasture, islands become joined to the mainland, parts of the mainland slip under the sea. The magic properties of many rivers, some of them turn you to stone, some into birds. If the earth is an animal, volcanoes like Etna are outlets for her fires.

Animals – brief references to well-known folk stories, like buried dead bulls give rise to bees, frogs are born from mud. A buried war horse gives rise to hornets. Bury a dead crab and it will change into a scorpion. Twaddle. The legend of the phoenix. Lynxes can change their sex. Coral is wavy below water but becomes stone on contact with the air. Twaddle.

Cities rise and fall: Thebes, Mycenae, Sparta. Troy was once mighty and is now ruins. This allows Pythagoras/Ovid to mention rumours of a new city, Rome, rising by Tiber’s banks. Pythagoras recalls Helenus’s prophecy for Rome:

Helenus, son of Priam, said to a weeping Aeneas, who was unsure of his future: “Son of the goddess, if you take careful heed, of what my mind prophesies, Troy will not wholly perish while you live! Fire and sword will give way before you: you will go, as one man, catching up, and bearing away Pergama, till you find a foreign land, kinder to you and Troy, than your fatherland. I see, even now, a city, destined for Phrygian descendants, than which none is greater, or shall be, or has been, in past ages. Other leaders will make her powerful, through the long centuries, but one, born of the blood of Iülus, will make her mistress of the world. When earth has benefited from him, the celestial regions will enjoy him, and heaven will be his goal.”

Surely this is all hugely channelling Virgil and his vision of the rise of Rome portrayed in the Aeneid.

Most odd. It’s a crashing example of Ovid’s love of tricks and games and poetic tours de force to include a big passage of philosophy in a supposedly epic poem, or poem about love and transformations. It’s almost a deliberate provocation, to rank alongside his odd jumping over big aspects of the Trojan War and of the life of Romulus. Is it intended to be a serious exposition of Pythagoras’s teachings on the lines of Lucretius’s vast exposition of Epicurus’s philosophy in De Rerum Natura? Or is it an elaborate joke? Was he just constitutionally incapable of taking anything seriously?

Numa listens to this great discourse and takes Pythagoras’s teachings back to Rome where he spreads them before dying of old age. His wife, Egeria, goes lamenting through the country but is confronted by Hippolytus, son of Theseus. He tells his story, namely how his father’s wife, Phaedra, fell in love and tried to seduce him. When he rejected her, she accused him of trying to rape her to her husband, Hippolytus’s father. He was sent into exile but when crossing the Gulf of Corinth a vast wave filled with the roars of bulls spooked his horses who galloped off dragging him behind them till he was flayed. He goes down to the Underworld but is healed by Asclepius and given a disguise by Diana.

But Egeria continues lamenting her husband til Diana turns her into a pool of water. Romulus is amazed to see his spear turn into a tree. Cipus acquires horns.

The long-winded story of how Asclepius in the form of a snake saved Rome from a plague.

Caesar and Augustus

Then the poem reaches its climax with unstinting praise of the emperor Augustus:

Caesar is a god in his own city. Outstanding in war or peace, it was not so much his wars that ended in great victories, or his actions at home, or his swiftly won fame, that set him among the stars, a fiery comet, as his descendant. There is no greater achievement among Caesar’s actions than that he stood father to our emperor. Is it a greater thing to have conquered the sea-going Britons; to have led his victorious ships up the seven-mouthed flood of the papyrus-bearing Nile; to have brought the rebellious Numidians, under Juba of Cinyps, and Pontus, swollen with the name of Mithridates, under the people of Quirinus; to have earned many triumphs and celebrated few; than to have sponsored such a man, with whom, as ruler of all, you gods have richly favoured the human race?

Venus warns all the gods of the conspiracy she can see against her descendant, Julius Caesar, but in another important statement of the limits of the gods powers:

It was in vain that Venus anxiously voiced these complaints all over the sky, trying to stir the sympathies of the gods. They could not break the iron decrees of the ancient sisters. (p.355)

Still Ovid enjoys devoting half a page to all the signs and portents which anticipated the assassination of Julius Caesar, as lovingly reproduced in Shakespeare’s play on the subject. And Jupiter delivers another, longer lecture on the unavoidability of fate.

Then Jupiter, the father, spoke: ‘Alone, do you think you will move the immoveable fates, daughter? You are allowed yourself to enter the house of the three: there you will see all things written, a vast labour, in bronze and solid iron, that, eternal and secure, does not fear the clashing of the skies, the lightning’s anger, or any forces of destruction. There you will find the fate of your descendants cut in everlasting adamant.

Which turns into Jupiter praising Caesar’s adopted son, Augustus, worth quoting in full seeing as what happened to Ovid soon after:

‘This descendant of yours you suffer over, Cytherean, has fulfilled his time, and the years he owes to earth are done. You, and Augustus, his ‘son’, will ensure that he ascends to heaven as a god, and is worshipped in the temples. Augustus, as heir to his name, will carry the burden placed upon him alone, and will have us with him, in battle, as the most courageous avenger of his father’s murder. Under his command, the conquered walls of besieged Mutina will sue for peace; Pharsalia will know him; Macedonian Philippi twice flow with blood; and the one who holds Pompey’s great name, will be defeated in Sicilian waters; and a Roman general’s Egyptian consort, trusting, to her cost, in their marriage, will fall, her threat that our Capitol would bow to her city of Canopus, proved vain.

‘Why enumerate foreign countries, for you or the nations living on either ocean shore? Wherever earth contains habitable land, it will be his: and even the sea will serve him!

‘When the world is at peace, he will turn his mind to the civil code, and, as the most just of legislators, make law. He will direct morality by his own example, and, looking to the future ages and coming generations, he will order a son, Tiberius, born of his virtuous wife, to take his name, and his responsibilities. He will not attain his heavenly home, and the stars, his kindred, until he is old, and his years equal his merits.’

Julius looks down on his son who has superseded his achievements and the poem ends with a prolonged and serious vow, invoking all the gods, that Augustus live to a ripe old age.

You gods, the friends of Aeneas, to whom fire and sword gave way; you deities of Italy; and Romulus, founder of our city; and Mars, father of Romulus; Vesta, Diana, sacred among Caesar’s ancestral gods, and you, Phoebus, sharing the temple with Caesar’s Vesta; you, Jupiter who hold the high Tarpeian citadel; and all you other gods, whom it is fitting and holy for a poet to invoke, I beg that the day be slow to arrive, and beyond our own lifetimes, when Augustus shall rise to heaven, leaving the world he rules, and there, far off, shall listen, with favour, to our prayers!

It could hardly be more fulsome.

In a sense the entire theme of miraculous transformation can be seen as a kind of artistic validation or evidence base or literary justification for the belief that Julius Caesar really was transformed into a god at his death and that his adopted son will follow in his path. The poem dramatises the ideology which underpins Augustus’s power. In their way – a subtle, playful, colourful way – the Metamorphoses suck up to Augustus just as much as Virgil’s Aeneid does, until the sucking up becomes as overt as it could possibly be in the last few pages.

Long female soliloquies about love

As mentioned, some passages are very similar to the Heroides in that women are given long soliloquies in which they make a case, argue and discuss issues with themselves (always about illicit love).

  • Medea (book 7)
  • Scylla (book 8)
  • Byblis (book 9)
  • Myrrha (book 10)
  • Iphigeneia (book 12)
  • Hecuba (book 13)

Allegorical figures

Mostly the narrative concerns itself with mortals and gods whose attributes and abilities are only briefly mentioned, as it’s relevant to the story. But a couple of times the narrative introduces grand allegorical figures who are given the full treatment, with a description of their dwelling place, physical appearance, accoutrements and so on. Although I know they’re common in medieval literature and later, they remind me of the allegorical figures found in Spenser’s Faerie Queene and, later, in Paradise Lost (I’m thinking of Sin and Death who Satan encounters in book 2).

  • Hunger (book 8)
  • Sleep (book 11)
  • Rumour (book 12)

Credit

Mary M. Innes’ prose translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses was published by Penguin books in 1955.

Related links

Roman reviews

The Aeneid by Virgil – books 4 to 6

‘[This is] Trojan Aeneas, famous for his devotion and his feats of arms.’
(The Sibyl defending Aeneas to Charon in Aeneid book 6, line 404)

Book 4 Dido, love and death

Dido admits to her sister, Anna, that she is falling in love with Aeneas. Anna says she has held aloof from suitors from all the neighbouring tribes, but yes, she needs to let go of her dead husband and fall in love. Encouraged by this, Dido falls madly in love. Virgil – in his Epicurean, anti-emotion way – describes it as a madness, a fever, a fire in the bones, and other alarming analogies.

Remember that in the third Georgic Virgil wrote an extended denunciation of love and sex and passion in all its forms, whether in animals or humans, as a fire and frenzy which completely derails efforts to live rationally and orderly:

Man and beast, each and every race of earth,
creatures of the sea, domesticated animals, and birds in all their finery,
all of them rush headlong into its raging fury; love’s the same for one and all.
(Georgic 3: lines 242 to 244, translated by Peter Fallon)

Venus meets with Juno. Juno suggests they let Aeneas and Dido marry, thus uniting exiled Tyrians and Trojans into a super-tribe. Venus interprets this as a transparent attempt to stop Aeneas continuing on to Italy and founding the Roman people who will, centuries hence, crush Dido’s heirs. She agrees in principle but diplomatically suggests Juno asks her husband, Jupiter, king of the gods, what he thinks. Juno outlines her plans to interrupt Dido and Aeneas’s next hunting trip, conjure up a storm, separate the lovers from their entourages, drive them into a cave and there have them consummate their love.

And this is what happens, with fire flashing and nymphs wailing from the mountaintops. For centuries of readers their love has been reinterpreted in the light of the medieval concept of courtly love and the sentimental romantic ideas which followed. But Virgil is harshly critical. Not only does this mark the beginning of the end for Dido:

This day was the beginning of her death, the first cause of all her sufferings. (4. 170)

But it had a ruinous effect on her people. When she slackened her leadership, they stopped building the city. The towers ceased to rise. The harbours and fortifications were left half-finished. All stood idle.

Virgil spends a page describing the genealogy and character of Rumour which runs fleet of foot among all men and communities spreading lies and when he describes Rumour as telling foreign rulers that Dido and Aeneas have ceased leading their people in order to wallow in lust…I immediately realise Virgil has made them Antony and Cleopatra, ‘lovers who had lost all recollection of their good name’ (4.221) which makes Creusa the emblem of Octavia, Antony’s loyal dutiful Roman wife, abandoned for an oriental whore.

The local king, Iarbas, had long harboured plans of marrying Dido so now he is infuriated that she abruptly abandoned herself to another. He offers up heartfelt angry complaints to his father, Jupiter.

Jupiter hears and is angry that Aeneas is shirking his duty. He calls Mercury and tells him to deliver an angry message to the Trojan. Is this the hero Venus promised them? Hardly. ‘He must sail. That is all there is to say.’

Mercury puts on his winged sandals, takes his caduceus and skims down through the skies to alight by Aeneas, busy helping build a temple. Mercury gets straight to it, telling Aeneas he is a disgrace by abandoning his destiny and to think about his little son who is meant to inherit leadership of a brave new race: ‘You owe him the land of Rome and the kingdom of Italy.’ (4.286)

So Aeneas immediately calls his lieutenants to him and tells them to ready the ships and the people for departure. Dido obviously hears about this and comes raging to see him, eyes blazing with anger. he tries to justify himself, but furious Dido dismisses all his excuses, calls him a traitor, mocks his stories about Jupiter this and Mercury that, then dismisses him, tells him to leave, but warns that her furious ghost will return to haunt him. (Lots of ghosts, a poem of ghosts, bringing with them the sad wisdom of the dead.)

Dido runs off into her palace, collapsing with despair. Virgil points the moral: See? This is where ‘love’ gets you:

Love is a cruel master. There are no lengths to which it does not force the human heart. (4.413)

But Aeneas, unlike Antony, is faithful to his duty (4.394) and continues preparations for departure. Dido pours her heart out to her sister, Anna, and sends her again and again with heartfelt pleas for pity or at least a delay – but the Fates forbade it and God blocked his ears to all appeals.

‘Possessed by madness’, Dido perceives all kinds of portents. Her sacrificial offerings turn black and bloody, She hears muttering at the shrine of her dead husband. She has nightmares in which she is abandoned on the African shore alone. Madness is the key word, repeated again and again.

She instructs her sister to build a big funeral pyre in the atrium of the palace where she says she will burn all Aeneas’s belongings. She attends ceremonies supervised by a terrifying priestess from Ethiopia who chants incantations to all the deities of hell.

Like all suicides Dido can’t see a way out: if she goes with Aeneas and the Trojans she will be their chattel; if she tries to persuade the entire Tyrian people to follow her they will refuse; if she stays behind she will be the laughing stock of all the tribes around who she used to treat so haughtily and will now see her humbled. No. She must die. [Virgil dramatises the logic of her thinking all too vividly.] And she reproaches herself for ever abandoning her independent single status as a widow.

Aeneas is asleep in the stern of a ship but he has a terrifying dream vision of ‘the god’ who warns him not to wait, but to leave now before morning comes and Dido comes to talk him out of leaving or to burn his ships. He wakes and wakes his men, they weight anchor and depart.

Dido waking with the dawn sees the sea covered with their ships and the harbour empty and delivers a magnificent harangue cursing Aeneas mightily and ends with an actual curse, invoking all the gods to ensure Aeneas in his new homeland never enjoys it, but is harried by a strong race, and driven from his own land, and beg for help and see his people dying. Let him die before his time and lie unburied on the sand. And may undying enmity be between her people and his (obviously referring to the legendary enmity which grew up between Rome and Carthage in the 3rd and 2nd centuries BC).

Then she climbs onto the pyre she has prepared, delivers another magnificent speech about her destiny and her good intentions and plunges upon Aeneas’s sword and her blood foams out. Her serving women see and a great wailing spreads across the city as if the enemy were within and destroying everything (exactly as they had at Troy: repetitions and echoes).

Her sister Anna comes running, cursing herself for not realising this is what her sister really wanted the pyre built for and recriminating Dido for not waiting or sharing her death. She climbs atop the pyre and holds her sister as three times she tries to rise on her elbow but collapses and then expires.

Thus Dido died ‘in a sudden blaze of madness’ and Juno took pity and sent Iris down to loosen the binding of her soul. And so Iris descends as a rainbow through the sky and alights on the pyre and cuts a lock of Dido’s hair and thus releases her soul from its anguish.

God, surely this is the most magnificent and moving book ever written! It is breathtakingly powerful, cuts deep, and yet is short, just 23 pages in the Penguin edition, with not an ounce of fat, nothing verbose or long-winded or tiresome, but fast-moving, alert and to the point, fiercely and deeply imagined, and transcendently moving!

Book 5 Funeral games

Another storm hits, forcing them ashore back in Sicily, in the port run by his brother Eryx, where the bones of his father Anchises are buried. They are greeted by Acestes, half Trojan. The months pass until it is a full year since Anchises died and was buried. Aeneas leads sacrifices and ceremonies at his tomb.

Then he holds grand funeral games. First a boat race across the sea to a prominent rock and back. Then a running race. Then boxing matches. All are described in loving (and surprisingly exciting) detail. An arrow shooting competition and then equipage, horse management by the young contemporaries of Ascanius. They young cavalry perform a mock battle. Virgil explains how Ascanius will pass this on to his descendants and eventually it will be performed in Rome by youthful cavalry and called the lusus Troiae.

For the first time Virgil associates specific companions of Aeneas with the patrician Roman families they will establish (Mnestheus giving his name to the Memmii family, Sergestus the Sergii, Cloanthus the Cluentii [5.120], Atys founder of the Atii [5.569]).

The games are then officially ended but meanwhile the wretched women of Troy, fed up with seven years wandering over the endless ocean, rebel. Juno, font of endless schemes against Aeneas, sends Iris in disguise of one of their number to rouse them to indignation and insist that they sail no further but settle here on Sicily. Possessed by divine fury, they seize brands from the various altars and throw them into the Trojan ships.

The men quickly drop their games and rush to the beach just as the goddess leaves the women’s minds and, coming to their senses, the realise what they’ve done and run off into the woods and hills. Aeneas stares at his burning fleet and calls on Jupiter to save what little remains – at which there is a sudden torrential downpour. Most of the ships are saved but four are write-offs.

Aeneas is downhearted. But old Nautes gives good advice: he says Aeneas and the young and fit must continue on to Italy; but leave here on Sicily the old men, the women worn out by the sea, the ‘heart-weary’. Let them build a city and call it Acesta.

Still, Aeneas is worried and careworn when the ghost of his father slides down through the dark. He reinforces Nautes’ advice to leave the old and sick here on Sicily and only take the young and strong with him to Italy for there, as he has been told quite a few times by now, he will have to overcome ‘a wild and strong people’.

But Anchises tells him something new. First he will have to go down into Dis, the underworld, to meet his spirit there. He will be helped through the doorway to hell by a Sibyll. There he will learn about all the descendants who are to follow him. Then, like so many of his visions, he disappears into thin air like smoke.

Aeneas, as is his wont, goes straight into action (as he did after the god told him to leave Carthage immediately). For nine days he helps the people they’re leaving behind lay out the boundaries of the new city, build a forum, ordain laws and erect a temple to Venus, building a mini-Troy.

Then they say their farewells, make the sacrifices and oblations, and set sail, with a fair wind and rowing. Cut to Venus visiting Neptune god of the sea and bewailing Juno’s unending spite against the Trojans and beseeching Neptune to take pity on them. Neptune reminds her how he protected Aeneas when Achilles was running mad in front of Troy, and promises fair seas.

All the mortals see is the appearance of a clear sky and fair winds and they set sail for Italy with good heart. Thus Virgil shows us, behind every physical event, especially large scale ones like the weather, storms, shooting stars, erupting volcanoes and so on, the direct involvement of the gods. The gods are the environment through which mortals walk, purblind and ignorant.

And Palinurus, the loyal helmsman who has always given the best advice – the god of sleep wafts down from heaven, taps him on the temples with a stick dripping with water from the rivers Lethe and the Styx (rivers of the underworld), Palinurus is plunged into a deep sleep and the god of sleep chucks him overboard where he drowns down down down into the blue ocean.

Noticing something wrong, Aeneas goes astern and discovers his top helmsman has fall overboard, and blames him for trusting to a calm sea. But, as we know, it is not his fault. Like all mortals, there is nothing he can do to resist the whims of the gods.

Half way through the book I am noticing:

  • how many visions, ghosts, dream visitations, spectral appearances and just as sudden disappearances there are
  • by extension, the way there are few if any conversations, but rather great block chunks of speeches
  • the enormous amount of sacrifices – so many bullocks slaughtered, so many entrails, so much steaming gore

Book 6 The underworld

They make land at Cumae (according to Wikipedia ‘the first ancient Greek colony on the mainland of Italy, founded by settlers from Euboea in the 8th century BC and soon becoming one of the strongest colonies.’) Aeneas makes to the citadel with its huge temple of Apollo, and a vast cave, retreat of ‘the awesome Sibyl’. On the doors of the temple are depicted scenes from legend including the story of the Minotaur. For legend has it that this is where Daedalus touched down after making wings for himself to escape from captivity in Crete.

The daughter of the high priest tells them to make animal sacrifices then come with her. She is suddenly possessed by the go and tells Aeneas to pray. Aeneas delivers a page-long supplication to the god Apollo to have mercy on his people.

The priestess fights against the god but finally he possesses her and delivers his prophecy to Aeneas. They have finished their travels by sea. But what awaits them by land will be worse.

I see wars, deadly wars, I see the Thybris foaming with torrents of blood. (6.86)

Immigration

This line was notoriously quoted out of context by the British politician Enoch Powell in his virulently anti-immigration speech of April 1968. Reading it here, I realise there’s a political irony here, because this speech, about bloodshed, isn’t addressed to the native people, warning them against immigrants – Aeneas is the immigrant. He is the one arriving in a strange land and it is his god-inspired conviction that he’s owed a living and a future here which brings bloodshed and war.

Women’s wombs

Anyway, the god goes on to predict he must face ‘a second Achilles’. More interestingly, he warns that ‘Once again the cause of all this Trojan suffering will be a foreign bride’ – just as the entire Trojan war was fought over Helen (and just as the action of the Iliad is triggered by a squabble between Agamemnon and Achilles about who should be assigned a slave girl they captured at a raid on an outlying temple). The rightful ownership of women, and their reproductive capacity, is the core cause of these wars between violent men. Next to ownership of the land and its food-producing capacity, comes ownership of women and their baby-producing capacity. It is as primitive as that.

Madness

The visionary state in which the priestess speaks Apollo’s words is described as ‘madness’. Did Virgil use the same word for this as for the ‘madness’ of Dido? In which case it weakens the rhetoric of his argument against love and passion. If so, is it the same word he used for the ‘madness’ of the Trojan women who set fire to the ships in Sicily (5.660, 670)? In which case, is he making the point that a certain kind of madness is restricted to, or characteristic of, women?

Aeneas begs the Sibyl to allow him to go down into hell to see his father. The Sibyl warns the way down is easy, it’s the coming back that’s difficult. When the Sibyl warns that undertaking such a journey is ‘the labour of madness‘ I begin to see frenzy, insanity and madness as being a recurring theme or motif of the poem.

The Sibyl tells him a) there is a dead man lying unburied which is polluting the fleet; he must find and bury him and perform the rituals b) there is a tree in a dark grove which bears a golden bough; he must pluck it and carry it down to hell to please Queen Proserpina; but only the favoured of the gods can find it or pluck it.

Aeneas leaves, accompanied by his faithful friend Achates, and on the shore above the tideline they discover the body of Misenus. He had engaged in a horn blowing competition with a Triton who drowned him. So the Trojans chop down a load of trees (whose species Virgil carefully lists) to build a shrine and altar. While doing so Aeneas prays for help in finding the grove of the golden bough and his mother Venus sends two white doves who lead him to the tree.

He plucks the golden bough, presents it to the Sibyl, who insists on numerous more rites and sacrifices and then leads him down into hell, taking him past a checklist of the florid monsters who guard the gates, centaurs, scyllas, chimera, gorgons, harpies and so on.

Dante

I can see why Virgil was such a model for Dante in terms of format. Aeneas spots individuals among the various crowds (such as the crowd waiting to be ferried by Charon across the Styx), asks them a question, and the other briefly tells his story, explaining why he’s ended up here. This is more or less the recurring format for the entire Divine Comedy.

So Aeneas sees Palinurus, quizzes him, and Palinurus tells him his sad fate – he was not drowned after all, but swam to shore where he was murdered by ruffians. He begs to be allowed to cross the river; the sibyl says this is not possible till his body is given a decent burial; the sibyl reassures him that the people who live near his corpse will be driven by signs from heaven to find it and give it a decent burial

This entire story of Palinurus seems designed to evoke a sweet sadness, as we observe his grief, his regrets, Aeneas’s grief for him, their manly love for each other – commander and staunch helmsman – who met a cruel fate through no fault of his own. The Palinurus story encapsulates Virgil’s pity for suffering humanity. Seeing the great tide of woeful humanity waiting on the river bank, ‘the helpless souls of the unburied’, Aeneas ‘pitied their cruel fate.’

The hell sequence is packed with mythological details (three-headed Cerberus etc), but it is the human moments which strike home, not least his encounter with the shade of Dido. Till this moment he wasn’t sure what became of her but now he realises the rumours were true and she killed herself. He fulsomely apologises, saying he was driven on by the command of the gods, but she won’t even look at him, stands silent, then wafts away to be with her first, murdered, husband, grief speaking to grief.

In Wilfred Owen’s famous preface to his war poems he said ‘the poetry is in the pity’. Well, there is poetry in every aspect of this magnificent poem, but the consistent underlying tone of the Aeneid is heartfelt pity at the sad and tragic plight of humanity.

There is an awesome description of their walk through hell while the aged priestess of Apollo explains the variety and ingenuity of the punishments for all who have broken the laws of gods and men, including the shades of all the Greeks and the Trojans who fought and died during the recent war. Then they come to the home of the blessed: here there is singing and games, poets, leading up to the great Musaeus, who tells Aeneas where to find his father.

Aeneas is reunited with the spirit of his father. He goes to embrace him three times (the rule of three; just as Aeneas tried to embrace the ghost of Creusa three times, 2.792) but, like Creusa, Anchises is soft as the wind (6.700). But he can speak. He is delighted to see his son and then explains how some souls in the afterlife are purged of their earthly memories and returned to the primeval fire which first began the universe; but others buzz round Elysium for a thousand years and then are sent back to inhabit new bodies on earth. In other words, reincarnation.

He leads Aeneas and the Sibyl to a slight mound in the plain and predicts the long line of Aeneas’s descendants who will make Rome and Italy great. Reincarnation seems very unGreek but then, if his prime aim was to have scene where Aeneas is shown all his descendants, it’s hard to see how else this could have been achieved. The souls of famous men had to be available before they were born in order for Aeneas to review them. The more you think about it, the weirder it becomes.

Anchises points out Aeneas’s descendants starting with his posthumous son, Silvius who will be followed by Procas, Capys, Numitor, Silvius Aeneas, founders of Alba Longa and other settlements. Then Romulus founder of Rome ‘whose empire shall cover the earth’.

Then Anchises turns to the Caesar, mentioning Julius Caesar (remote descendant of Iulus, or Ascanius, Aeneas’s son). Then follows the famous hymn to Augustus Caesar, son of a god, who will bring back the golden years of the age of Saturn, who will extend the borders of the empire to the edge of the known world, who will achieve more than Hercules or Bacchus. Is that enough brown-nosing?

Rather anachronistically, Anchises goes back to recount the line of kings who ruled Rome, before switching to heroes of the early Republic, the Brutus who drove out the Tarquins, others who invented the consulship, Cato the Elder, the Gracchi, the two Scipios, Fabius Maximus, great figures from Roman history. And then some sternly patriotic rhetoric:

Your task, Romans, and do not forget it, will be to govern the peoples of the world in your empire. These will be your arts – and to impose a settled pattern upon peace, to pardon the defeated and war down the proud. (6.851)

Then Anchises delivers a page-long lament for a young man they see accompanying Marcellus on his triumph. This is Marcus Claudius Marcellus (42 to 23 BC), nephew of Augustus and his closest male relative, who enjoyed an accelerated political career and was married to Augustus’s daughter, Julia. But he died of an infection which swept through Italy (Augustus got it but recovered) dashing Augustus’s hopes of making him his heir. So it seems likely that this extended passage in praise of young Marcellus was written just after his death in 23 BC, in order to please Virgil’s patron, the great Augustus.

David West, the translator of the Penguin Classics edition of the Aeneid, devotes a 3-page appendix to this section, the procession of Roman heroes, giving brief descriptions of all the eminent Romans who feature in it. He mentions the story, recorded in a near-contemporary biography of Virgil, that when he was reading his poem to Augustus and his family, his sister – Octavia (mother of Marcellus) – fainted at this passage. It’s worth repeating this anecdote to emphasise just how direct and personal Augustus’s relationship with Virgil was, and therefore, by extension, with much of the content of the poem.

After the long passage of praise for Marcellus the last few sentences of the book are an anti-climax. Virgil tells us that Anchises told Aeneas about the entire future course of events, his war against the Laurentines, how he should maximise his fate.

Aeneas’s return through hell, crossing back over the Styx, climbing back up to the entrance to the great cavern – all this isn’t even described. Instead all we get is a short, abrupt sentence saying that Aeneas made his way back to his ships and his comrades, then steered a straight course to the harbour of Caieta, where they dropped anchor.

It’s an oddly abrupt ending to one of the most magnificent and influential books of poetry ever written.

Epithets of Aeneas

I’ve slowly been realising that, as the poem progresses, Aeneas comes to be accompanied by more and more adjectives. I mean that, in the early books, he is mostly plain ‘Aeneas’. But it’s noticeable that, certainly by book 6, his name rarely occurs without being accompanied by an adjective indicating his greatness. By this sly method, Virgil implies the way Aeneas grows in stature, experience and leadership as the adventures continue. I’d noticed the same happening to Anchises who, in the earlier books, comes to be referred to more and more frequently as Father Anchises. When he dies the title passes quietly to Aeneas, Father Aeneas, sometimes referred to as ‘the son of Anchises’, and then the epithets begin to occur more frequently:

  • the leader of the Trojans (4.165)
  • the son of Anchises (5.424)
  • the great-hearted son of Anchises
  • Father Aeneas (5.461)
  • dutiful Aeneas (6.233)
  • devout Aeneas (5.685, 12.175)
  • the hero Aeneas (6.103)
  • huge Aeneas (6.413)
  • great glory of our Troy (6.547)
  • Aeneas, greatest of warriors (9.41)
  • great Aeneas (10.159)

Roman reviews

Mission to Paris by Alan Furst (2012)

When you are in Paris, you have to make love to somebody. (p.76)

This is the twelfth of Alan Furst’s historical espionage novels, all set on continental Europe in the late 1930s or early years of World War Two, in which fairly ordinary European men find themselves caught up in cloak and dagger activities, but are generally consoled by sensuous love affairs with one or more willing young ladies. The very strong love elements in Furst’s novels make them as much romantic novels as historical or spy thrillers.

This one is something of a return to the brooding intensity of his debut, Night Soldiers, with a real sense of growing menace and threat until almost the last pages. The previous two or three books in the series featured interesting hero figures – Carlo Weisz, Jean Mercier, Costa Zannis – who had sporadic undercover adventures, but then tended to return back to the safety of their hotel rooms or apartments for a good kip and some sensual sex with their lady of the moment – before setting out on another adventure, and so on. They felt episodic, only intermittently featuring violence which gave any sense of real danger.

Nazi menace

But in Mission to Paris the hero becomes enmeshed in a web of intrigue that doesn’t let up, but draws him deeper and deeper into peril – in which the Nazis who are tracking him systematically crowd into every part of his life, at first just requesting favours, then threatening vague reprisals, then physical violence and eventually he finds himself running for his life. It is this steadily mounting sense of threat and peril which is reminiscent of the powerful mood of the first books in the series.

The story is set against the looming threat of a European war. Hitler and the Nazis are screaming about the injustices being suffered by ethnic Germans in the Sudeten area of Czechoslovakia and in western Poland – all, of course, preparing the way for his invasions of  those countries. Many pundits and many ordinary people are concluding that some kind of war with Germany is inevitable. Into the feverish atmosphere of war-worried Paris arrives a Hollywood movie star, Fredric Stahl (in fact born in Austria and who’s made good in the States) who has carved out a niche as an actor of sturdy, reliable male characters. He is coming over to play the lead in a Warner Brothers France production titled Après la Guerre.

As background, the novel gives examples of the incredibly widespread and well-organised propaganda efforts the Nazis are making to promote the parties of the right, to spread disinformation about Hitler’s intentions, to praise Germany, to promote the idea that it is silly to fight the Germans, there will be no war, to blame all warmongering on communists and Jews. In other words, of the Nazis’ extensive use of ‘political warfare’.

As to Stahl, the Ribbentropburo of the German Foreign Ministry knows about his stay in Paris, knows about his Austrian background, and is drawing up plans to exploit him in all sorts of ways: these include setting him up for press interviews with right-wing papers which distort his banal answers into apparent calls for peace, or a more menacing invitation to fly to the Reich to attend a film festival.

German figures from his past suddenly appear out of nowhere, journalists put words into his mouth, Paris salon hostesses introduce him to charming people who run Franco-German Friendship societies, would he like to attend a meeting, give an interview for their magazine, attend a German film festival? As the pressure grows on Stahl from multiple directions, the novel conveys a good sense of claustrophobia and mounting paranoia.

Things take a distinct turn half way through when Stahl reluctantly agrees to attend the wretched film festival in Berlin, and finds his contact at the American Embassy in Paris, J.J. Wilkinson, asking if he would mind taking a large sum of money with him and making a clandestine rendezvous with an American agent working under deep cover in Berlin. At this point Stahl crosses the line from innocent bystander to active agent, and the tension and pressure cranks up from that point onwards right to the end.

Plot summary

As usual with Furst’s novels, the text is divided into four parts or ‘acts’:

1. German money – 14 September to 30 September 1938

September 1938. We are introduced to Hollywood movie star Frederic Stahl, born Franz Stalka in Vienna 40 years previously, ran away to sea from his strict father aged 16, was on board a neutral ship when the Great War broke out. The ship was fired on by Italians and limped to Barcelona where the Austrian Legation gave him a desk job for the remainder of the war. Shipped back to Austria he tried to escape his domineering father and supine family by taking to acting. He played small parts at local theatres, then got a gig in Paris, where he was talent spotted by the Warner Brothers agent and sent to Hollywood. Here he’s created a brand as a clean-cut, reliable good guy. He’s been sent by the studio to star in a movie in Paris, Après la Guerre, alongside a French producer, director, crew etc. He’ll play the hero, leader of three soldiers who find themselves released after the 1918 Armistice and having to make their way home across a war-ravaged Europe.

The text actually opens with a scene depicting a hitman from the Nazi Ribbentropburo, named Herbert. The sinister Baroness Cornelia Maria von Reschke und Altenberg, a German aristocrat who has established one of the top salons in Paris, is a German agent, surreptitiously handing out funds and favours to French VIPs who can influence public opinion and policy in a direction favourable to Germany. As one of her many workstreams she has given a bag of money to one Prideaux, the chef de cabinet of a French senator, to pass onto his boss in return for Germany-friendly speeches. However, handling so much money went to Prideaux’s head and he has absconded to the Black Sea port of Varna, before moving on into Turkey. Unfortunately, Herbert and his henchman Lothar have tracked him down to Varna, with instructions to recover the money and terminate Prideaux. We watch Herbert and Lothar hire a local assassin to murder Prideaux. This opening scene sets the scene and mood, showing the sophistication and extent of their efforts to influence opinion in France, and the ruthlessness if someone crosses them.

The scene then shifts to Stahl on board the transatlantic liner, Ile de France, having a mild flirtation with a star-struck (and married) fan, Iris. He is met at le Havre by Zolly Louis, Warner Brothers man in Paris, and driven to the capital city in a stylish 1938 Panhard Dynamic car, where he’s been booked into a nice room at the Hotel Claridge. Stahl has barely unpacked before the hotel present him with letters and invitations, including one from the Baroness Cornelia Maria von Reschke und Altenberg. No reason not to go, so he dresses smartly and takes a cab to her luxury apartment but, as he takes her wizened claw and observes her tight face with the blue vein in her forehead and her fawning manner, he begins to feel antipathy, confirmed as he is then introduced to a succession of businessmen who gently but consistently ask him his opinion about Germany, about the situation in Europe, wouldn’t peace be better, isn’t war futile, you know it’s all these Jews who want war, they own all the armaments companies – and so on and on.

In the midst of this stifling atmosphere, Stahl is relieved to meet the stylish young Kiki de Saint-Ange, who whisks him away to a much more cool Bohemian party on the Left Bank. Being driven there in the big Panhard they come across men posting up affiches blanches to the walls, indications of the partial mobilisation the French government is beginning as war looms. Stahl’s chauffeur, Jimmy, is on the list and later Stahl learns that the director slated to direct his movie has been called up and sent to Alsace. The threat of a European war is becoming very real.

Next morning Stahl gets a cab out to the Paramount film studios in the Paris suburb of Joinville where, in Building K, he gets measured for his costumes by the costume designer, Renate Steiner, herself an émigré from Germany – her husband is a communist so they had to flee when Hitler came to power. Renate is brisk and professional and half way through her friends Inga and Klaus stop by to excitedly tell her that Daladier and Chamberlain have signed the Munich Agreement, in effect handing over the Sudeten part of north-west Czechoslovakia to Germany in exchange for Hitler’s promise of peace.

Stahl’s taxi back to the hotel gets stuck in a crowd of marchers protesting against the scandalous sellout to Hitler, and Stahl is forced to get out and walk. Suddenly, masked men attack the marchers with iron rods and Stahl finds himself coming to the defence of a woman being hit, next thing he’s struck by a bar himself, several times, falls to the ground, and is in the middle of fighting back when he is arrested and taken to a police station.

After a grim night Stahl is released by Zolly Louis, who has greased a few palms, but ‘Hollywood actor spends night in Paris gaol’ becomes one of the many threats the Germans will hold over him. Although he has a girlfriend / confidente / lover, Betsy Belle, back in Hollywood, he nonetheless accepts an invitation from Kiki to meet for a drink. He and Kiki stroll round lovers’ Paris in the evening, until they come across a nice discreet hotel and slip into it for an evening of slow, sensual sex.

This first ‘act’ ends with the three brief documentary-style examples of the way the Germans are bringing pressure to bear at every level of French society, but especially on the media and opinion formers:

  • We find Hervé Charais, news commentator for Radio Paris, relaxed in his bedroom and (naturally) admiring his half-dressed Spanish mistress (p.63) while she taunts and teases him and gently suggests that maybe his commentaries ought to put the German view a bit more, mention the hardships of the poor German minorities trapped in the Sudetenland or Poland and subject to bullying and intimidation. ‘How about it,’ she asks, as she takes his pecker in her hand…
  • The Director of the National Press Guild of Germany writes to the chief executive of the Havas Agency, the leading French wire service, confirming an all-expenses paid trip to the Reich where he will have dinner with the German Foreign Secretary, von Ribbentrop, and then a meeting with the Führer himself.
  • We hear LaMotte, wine king, in a phone conversation with the publisher of Le Temps, chatting about a weekend away together, the tennis they’ll play, and casually linking the money he’s about to spend on his next advertising campaign in the magazine, with a few comments on recent editorials about Germany: doesn’t he think the magazine is being a bit harsh? After all it was Hitler who invited Chamberlain and Daladier to Berchtesgarten, it was Hitler who defused the crisis; all the Germans want is peace. Honest.

2. Agent of Influence – 12 October to 4 November 1938

Stahl meets the cast of the movie – Pasquin the burly comedian, Brecker the blonde German, Justine Piro his female lead, Jean Avila the boy wonder director.

Mme Boulanger in the Warner Brothers office has fixed up an interview with Loubec, a journalist from Le Matin with his photographer René. Expecting to give an easygoing chat about the new movie and  his c-stars, Stahl is amazed when the interview is all about his attitude to war, to the Germans, with insinuating comments about his lack of active service during the Great War. When he sees the headline next morning – Hollywood stars speaks out for rapprochement – he realises how badly he’s been stitched up.

Stahl receives an invitation to visit the US Embassy, where he is seen by Second Secretary J.J. Wilkinson, who formally welcomes him to Paris. Wilkinson points out that he’s already been seen consorting with people known for their Nazi sympathies – the Baroness von Reschke, Philippe LaMotte – as well as managing to be locked up in prison for the night. An impressive start. Wilkinson explains to a puzzled Stahl that he is an ‘agent of influence’; a casual word from him will be widely reported and might help nudge public opinion, towards pacifism, fatalism, the wish for peace at any price: exactly what Hitler wants.

Next day  Stahl is appalled when a cast reading of the script is interrupted by Karl ‘Moppi’ Moppel’, Stahl’s boss at the Austro-Hungarian legation in Barcelona where Stahl worked during the Great War. What the hell is he doing here? How did he track him down to the studio? Moppi acts all innocent – he just wants to see his old friend, but has just enough time to make it clear that Stahl is Austrian, something the other cast members didn’t know. It’s a small nudge designed to alienate him from them and push him a little closer to the Nazi camp.

His Hollywood girlfriend Betsy Belle writes a letter dumping him, saying she’s met an older man who’ll ‘look after her’. On the rebound, Stahl phones Kiki and takes her out to a movie theatre where, to his surprise, she manoeuvres his hand between her thighs and makes him masturbate her to a brief gasping climax, all the time watching the silver screen.

Moppi continues to pester Stahl with phone calls and with invitations to lunch at the famous restaurant, Maxim’s. Eventually Stahl gives in, determined to go along and tell him to stop bloody bothering him. He finds a table full of repellent Nazis stuffing themselves with the best French food who invite him to a little film festival they’re having: all-expenses paid, luxury hotel, good food, he just has to watch half a dozen movies and select the best. Stahl stands up and delivers his speech, saying he absolutely will not go and telling them to stop pestering him. But as he walks away, he hears them laughing and drooling over the desserts as they arrive, completely unperturbed.

Next day Stahl goes back out to Building K out at Joinville for further fittings for his costume, where he finds Renate red-eyed and tearful, until he is prompted to give her a big hug. Things are bad at home; her husband is depressed at having gone from big-shot journalist in Berlin to nobody in Paris and gets so low he threatens suicide. Stahl is a friendly shoulder to cry on. ‘Gee, ma’am, wish there was more I could do to help.’

Madame Boulanger, slightly embarrassed at setting him up with the reptile Loubec, now fixes for Stahl to meet André Sokoloff, Russian émigré journalist, senior correspondent for Paris Soir, at the Brasserie Heininger. This is the ‘famous’ restaurant which, rather monotonously, features in every single Furst novel. Sokoloff appals Stahl by giving him an in-depth explanation of how ‘political warfare’ works, a nudge here, a word there, an interview, a commentary piece in a paper, and so on (pp.109-114). What appals him most is the extent of the active treachery of such large parts of French society which would rather have the country ruled by Hitler than by a Jew or a liberal.

When Stahl gets back to his hotel room it’s to find a Nazi bruiser has broken into his room and is calmly lounging on his sofa. It is Herbert who threatens him, warning him that he must come to the Reich for the film festival or he and his colleagues would be upset and you don’t want to upset us do you? You never know what might happen. Before getting up and casually sauntering out the door. It is his arrogance, his assumption that Stahl wouldn’t dare start anything, which Stahl finds so upsetting and demoralising.

Cut to the scene back at the Ribbentropburo in Berlin, where a meeting is convened to go through a long list of eminent French people who are being targeted with invitations, bribes or smears and threats, to toe the Nazi line. It includes discussion of some eye-opening examples, like the Catholic priest who preaches against Nazi ideology and who they’re working on the Vatican to get transferred to Martinique. Towards the bottom of the list is Stahl and, when he hears that the actor is refusing to play ball, the Deputy Director gets into a fury and threatens his underlings that Stahl better go to this bloody festival or else!

Stahl goes for a walk to calm down after the scary encounter with the Nazi in his room, and is sitting in a bar nursing a cognac when Kiki walks in. The conversation morphs from her cheering him up into the seductive role-playing mode of a soft porn movie, and he ends up taking her back to his luxury hotel (the Claridge) where she is soon ‘half-stripped, in high heels and lacy bra and panties’ before Stahl kneels and performs cunnilingus on her (p.125). All frightfully French and sophisticated.

Next day, back at the sound studio out at Joinville, his co-star Brecker arrives at a rehearsal at the studio with his arm in a sling. It was broken in a bar-room brawl. Can it possibly be some kind of threat from the Nazis? Stahl is now so spooked he is seeing their malign influence everywhere.

Stahl seeks another meeting with Wilkinson at the Embassy, tells him about the accumulated incidents and talks through what to do? Well, no laws have been broken – and each one of the incidents by itself is almost trivial. ‘Is he going to go to the film festival?’ Stahl is trying to decide, when Wilkinson points out that, if he does decide to go… well, there’s a little favour he could do for his government…

3. Espionage – 9 November to 10 December 1938

In act three, Stahl crosses a line by agreeing to work undercover for Wilkinson, becoming an agent, a spy. He phones the Nazis and agrees to go to their bloody festival. Has a horrible time on the plane to Berlin, along with repellent Emhof and reading Nazi propaganda rags. Taxi to the Hotel Adlon. The streets are absolutely packed with uniformed men and violence is in the air. He dresses for the evening meal, sucks up to the revolting German hosts – notably Otto Raab, the embittered mediocrity who’s found his niche in the Nazi Party as a hack turning out propaganda movies, and who is organiser of the festival.

Over the festival banquet, Stahl strikes up conversation with the athletic and attractive Russian émigré film star, Olga Orlova, who is one of Hitler’s favourite German actresses, and quite quickly she invites him to pop along to her bedroom after the banquet. Yummy. He waits a decent interval, makes his excuses to his hosts and goes up to her room. The reader expects that this is going to lead to yet another Furstian soft porn interlude. Instead, she calls for his identification, which turns out to be a Reichsmark note whose numbers she has been tipped off to check. They match; his identity is confirmed. Because it turns out, Olga is a spy, too. The mission Wilkinson gave Stahl was to smuggle in $100,000 in cash, which he hands over to Olga in return for the latest top secret documents she has secured. These he will stash in the secret compartment in his bag and take back to Wilkinson. Exchange made, Olga and Stahl agree he must stay in her room till the early hours as if they had had sex, which is their cover story for any snoopers. She goes to sleep in the bed, he on the couch.

Intermittently throughout the evening – when he stepped out for a cigarette, when he was in Olga’s bedroom – he and Olga both smelled burning. The omniscient narrator tells us this is because these events just happen to be taking place on Kristallnacht, the night of 9-10 November 1938, when, in reprisal for the assassination of a German official in the Paris embassy, the Nazi authorities encouraged the destruction of synagogues and Jewish businesses across Germany and the roundup of up to 30,000 Jews to be taken off to camps. Obviously neither Olga nor Stahl understand this is what’s happening, though they realise it’s something bad.

Next day, Stahl has to watch a series of revolting Nazi films and ends up giving the top award to a propaganda farrago titled Hedwig’s Mountain, produced and directed by none other than Otto Raab, amid much backslapping and a graceful speech. Stahl plays his role to perfection without a trace of repulsion, secretly gratified that he is doing these scum some damage.

At the banquet the night before, the waiter serving him and Olga – Rudi – had been unpleasantly intrusive until Stahl bluntly told him to go away. As he’s preparing to leave the hotel, Stahl is horrified when the waiter approaches him and threatens to blackmail him and Olga. Were they really sleeping together – or doing something traitorous, conspiring against the Führer, for example? He wants $5,000 and fast! At first he thinks it’s a ridiculous joke, but then, as the waiter’s bitterness becomes more apparent, and as he thinks of all the stories he’s heard about the Gestapo, Stahl becomes genuinely frightened. He phones Olga on an emergency number, explains the situation, and in 40 minutes she appears with the required money in a bag, and they go up to Rudi’s attic room. Here she mollifies and soothes him, distracting him as she gets out the money, and then shoots him in the head with a silenced gun. She scribbles a suicide note and arranges the body to look like suicide. Stahl, stunned, watches her. Nobody mentioned murder. He’s really in it, now. Up to his neck.

Nonetheless, Stahl takes a taxi to the Berlin Tempelhof airport and flies unhindered back to Paris, job done. Next day he is relieved to see the Warner Brothers press people did a small release about how he’s doing his bit to ‘promote’ his new movie in Germany. Clever way of spinning it.

Out at the Joinville studio, the movie finally starts filming – Furst supplies interesting detail on the script, the opening scenes, technical problems overcome and so on.

In the costume room, Stahl discovers Renate in tears; she has broken up with her depressive husband – more accurately, he’s run off with a younger model. As her hands touch his body as she adjusts shirt and trousers and outfits, as she measures him and as she walks away from him with a sexy sway, Stahl realises he really fancies her or, as Furst puts it, ‘He wanted to fuck her’ (p.165). He makes subtle moves but she doesn’t respond.

Stahl is invited out to a society dinner party where he meets Wilkinson to hand over Olga’s documents. Wilkinson gives Stahl (and the reader) more insight into the complex international situation. Turns out the money he’s given him to give to Olga, is not US government money. Congress, the Senate and most of the population don’t want anything to do with Europe. But Roosevelt knows war is coming and is strongly anti-German. This money comes from private donors and friends of the president’s in order to gather information to help Roosevelt make his case Stateside, to influence important people. Stahl has got himself involved in America’s efforts at ‘political warfare’.

Finishing a day’s filming unexpectedly early, Stahl surprises Renate in her costume room wearing only stockings and suspenders, trying out a blouse. She squeals and runs for the changing room. Stahl is absolutely confirmed in his erotic obsession with her now. He fantasises about her, though she remains cool.

Stahl continues to be pestered by Moppi, this time invited to come meet the famous Wolf Lustig, the most eminent producer in Germany, at a reception being given at the Pré Catelan restaurant in the Bois de Boulogne. It is being hosted by the Roussillon wine people (who we know from early on are pro-German organisation) and the witchy Baroness is presiding – once again Stahl has to shake her claw and stare into her beady eyes – before being introduced to Lustig who he takes an instant dislike to. Lustig, confident and jokey like Emhof, like all these arrogant Krauts, offers Stahl a role in his next production. It will be set in Poland, titled Harvest of Destiny, about a good-hearted German girl who is victimised by cowardly Poles and Jews. ‘Does he want at least to come on the reconnaissance journey round Poland? All expenses paid?’ Stahl feels physically ill and can’t extract himself fast enough.

Stahl goes to meet Wilkinson again. Wilkinson by this time has become a kind of commentator on the action: when something happens to Stahl, Stahl goes to Wilkinson to have it interpreted and explained. Now Wilkinson explains that the ‘recce’ could quite possibly be a spying mission – what better cover than a film producer looking for locations, and quite justifiably taking detailed notes of railway lines, bridges, infrastructure? The more that is revealed to him, the more horrified Stahl becomes at the complexity of the web of deceit which seems to be enmeshing Europe and the lust for violence which underpins it all.

In a new narrative thread, we are introduced to two new characters, Freddi Müller, one of the Führer’s favourites up at his Berchtesgarten retreat, and his wife, Gertrude ‘Trudi’ Müller. Olga is a valued guest of the Führer’s from time to time and the narrator explains how Trudi has developed a lesbian crush on her. A crush Olga the professional spy knows she can exploit. One morning the two women gear up to go for a healthy, vigorous, Aryan walk up a nearby mountain – but snow and bad weather close in and force them back to the hotel they’re staying in. Here, Trudi has a slow luxurious soak, while Olga gets busy riffling through husband Freddi’s briefcase and using a specially adapted Leica camera to snap everything she finds in it, lots of information about Poland.

Through secret channels Olga communicates to Wilkinson that she has new information for sale, but at an even higher price than the previous product. Wilkinson is set to send another courier to Berlin to collect it, but the agent is injured in a car crash, so he’s at a loss. In conversation with Stahl, Wilkinson discovers that the movie he’s working on now moving to do its foreign location shoots – first stop will be Morocco, to a place called Erg Chebbi in the Ziz Valley on the edge of the Sahara Desert (p.192).

So Wilkinson arranges for Olga to send a courier with the photos of the documents all the way to Morocco  and gives Stahl a pack of cash to meet him and pay for it. From Stahl’s point of view, we see the flights of him and the film crew in several stops down to Morocco, a bit of atmospheric reconnoitring into the desert, and the set-up for a few days’ filming. In the middle of all this, Stahl takes a break to go to the railway station as planned, and meets almost the only European on the train, a pudgy German. They identify each other and make a discreet swap, Stahl’s money for Olga’s envelope full of photographed documents.

Mission accomplished, Stahl relaxes and invites Renate out for a drink or a meal that night after work, but she is stuck in looking after her room-mate member of the crew, who’s got food poisoning. Stahl is frustrated at his lack of progress with her. He keeps seeing her stockings, her suspenders, her smooth creamy thighs etc.

Early next morning he is woken by the movie’s director, Avila. The police have arrived. As usual nowadays, Stahl’s heart almost stops with fear that he’s somehow been exposed and will spend the next thirty years in a Moroccan gaol. But the police just want them to come to the morgue to identify a body, as almost the only other Europeans in town. It is, inevitably, the corpse of the pudgy German, who had been horribly garroted and thrown off the train. Both Avila and Stahl say they’ve never seen him before.

4. A Good Soldier – 17 December 1938 to early February 1939

The filming is completed without further incident and the crew all fly back to Paris. Stahl makes an appointment to meet Wilkinson at what has become their regular rendezvous, the American Library in Paris. Wilkinson is shocked to hear about the murder, but grateful for the Polish documents – he explains they’ll come in handy influencing senators and congressmen of Polish origin, back in the States.

Stahl chats more to Renate on the plane home, keeping up a slight but relentless pressure for a date. That night she invites him to her small Bohemian flat in rue Varlin for a home-made dinner. They’re drinking wine and relaxing in an intimate candle-lit atmosphere, when Stahl surprises her (and the reader) by asking her to strip. But – thus addressed point blank – she does: she gets up and does a slow strip-tease in front of him, finally unbuttoning his flies, extracting his manhood and kneeling to perform fellatio. Lucky old Stahl.

Meanwhile, in a completely different time zone and mood, Olga is entertaining Trudi to tea in a chintzy tearoom in Berlin. We have, by being party to her thoughts, by this time realised that she mainly works for the Soviets, but sells things onto Wilkinson or the British, if they’ll buy. She’s not fussy. Unexpectedly, there is a phone call for her. At first surprised, Olga is terrified when a voice says simply, ‘Get out now, the Gestapo are in your apartment.’

Flushed and stressed, she takes leave of Trudi who, to her surprise, insists on helping her, so she accepts a lift to the train station. But this is heaving with Gestapo so they drive around before finding a tiny hotel. They take a room then Olga sends Trudi out to buy peroxide and scissors. They cut Olga’s hair short and dye it. Next morning Trudi drives her beloved and now disguised Olga out to the Berlin suburbs, they have a tearful goodbye and then Olga catches a series of local trains to Frankfurt, where she catches a fast one to Prague.

Stahl is at Renate’s when there is a phone call, it is for him, it is long distance from Berlin, one of those arrogantly confident German voices saying they wish to know the whereabouts of a certain Olga Orlova, maybe he can help them. Furious and terrified, Stahl slams the phone down. How did they know he’d be at Renate’s? How did they get her number? It is designed to scare him, and her. As has become usual, Stahl meets Wilkinson to discuss the news and its implications, this time on one of those tourist boats that ply up and down the Seine.

Later Stahl is phoned in his hotel room by another smiling German voice, which asks him to look out the window and there, in the apartment opposite, a hand waves and he hears a voice laughing. Now he is really spooked.

Kiki phones Stahl for a meeting at a cafe in a smart part of town. Instead of her usual seductive self, she is scared. She says she has come from the Baroness and is delivering what she calls ‘a final warning’. They want to know where Olga is. They will brook no refusals.

Meanwhile, back on the film production, as it approaches the end of the year, the entire crew fly to Hungary for the final location shooting at an old Hungarian castle, a key scene in the movie. When I read that the castle belongs to none other than Count Polyani I burst out laughing. Count Janos Polanyi has appeared in numerous previous Furst novels, and is a spymaster at the Hungarian legation in Paris. At a stroke I knew the book would have a happy ending.

Furst litters this series of novels with recurring characters which is entertaining, but the drawback is that their appearance mostly militate against seriousness: they remind me of the gallery of characters you get at the beginning of Tintin books, and the childish pleasure to be had identifying them and trying to remember which one appeared in which story. Same here.

The count is, of course, a noble old host – roast venison is served along with bulls blood wine, and the filming cracks on at a good rate. Except that early on New Year’s Day 1939, the cameraman comes hurtling into the breakfast room to announce that all the cameras have been stolen. A message is left that the crew must bring a ransom to an old inn down the Danube.

The count is amused at this presumption and rustles up to aristocratic friends, Ferenc and Anton to sort out  his guests’ little problem. They load a large motorboat and steam down the Danube with Avila and Stahl in attendance but the Hungarians insist that, as their guests, they stay aboard the boat. They anchor it near the old inn and then the count and pals disappear into the woods. After some suspense, our chaps hear a sudden outburst of shooting – single shots then an automatic – and then the roar of a car engine.

The count and pals reappear: three Germans were waiting, but they caught them napping, there was a shootout in which everyone missed, and the Germans ran away. Alas the cameras were nowhere to be seen. Laughing over the incident, the count steers the boat back upstream towards the castle. He secures some more cameras from Budapest and the filming is finally finished. The crew assemble to fly out of Budapest airport, but at passport control there is a problem.

Renate has a German passport, she has never been naturalised in France and she doesn’t have the correct exit visa. The rest of the crew can leave, but she can’t. So they all board the plane out, but Stahl also refuses to go, insisting on staying with his new girlfriend, despite a strong hint from the passport official that it is his last chance.

This ought to be scary but, as with the appearance of Count Polanyi, there is a pantomime feel about the menace. Stahl is not one of the completely powerless Jews I read about in the work of Primo Levi – he is an American film star. Therefore, he is able to get a taxi to a nice hotel, from where he makes an appointment with the American consulate. Here he is shown right in and meets a nice young man named Stanton, who says he’ll be able to expedite getting Renate an American visa which will allow them both to fly right over Hitler’s Germany. Might take a week or more, though. Outside is a long line of people queueing for visas, who are not American film stars.

So they’ve secured one route to freedom, but this is trumped after Stahl makes a person to person call with his agent, Buzzy Mehlman, in California. He explains the situation and Buzzy says he’ll get on it. Result? At 11am next day Jerry Silverberg turns up, Warner Brothers’ man in Eastern Europe, who has fixed everything: train to Arad on the Romanian border; bribe Major Mihaly of the border guard to get into Romania; train to Constanta on the Black sea; steamer to Istanbul; ship to Lisbon; boat to New York; 20th century Limited transcontinental train back to Hollywood. He’s booked all the tickets, first class. Such is the power of Hollywood and American money.

Sure enough, Renate and Stahl get the rather slow train to Arad where there is a civilised exchange of money with Major Mihaly, who waves them across the border.

Stahl and Renate are in a hotel room in Constanta waiting for the ferry, when the narration tells us that… so is Herbert, the Nazi hitman we met in the opening scene of the book, and his sidekick Lothar. On January 13 Herbert packs his Luger and swaggers off to the Princess Maria hotel where Stahl and Renata are staying. He bangs on their bedroom door with increasing impatience, thinking they are unarmed, helpless prey, getting bored and frustrated and hungry for his lunch. However, Stahl still has the pistol Count Polanyi gave him back at the castle, during the trip down the river. As Herbert’s threatening becomes more impatient, angry and Germanic, something in Stahl snaps and he fires through the door. There is the sound of a body falling – then silence.

They smuggle the corpse down onto a nearby bench overlooking the sea then go on to the dock to await their ship. It is a long journey, three weeks at sea, with a few stopovers, before they reach New York. As the Statue of Liberty comes into view Renate is crying and Stahl is choked up. The nightmare is over, and they are both free.


Dramatis personae

As always it’s only when you list them, that you realise what an enormous number of characters a Furst novel contains, and how they add a great sense of depth and complexity and historical verisimilitude to the story.

The characters listed here (and the plot summary above) don’t include the plot and characters of the movie Stahl is making –  Après la Guerre – which has a cast of characters and a storyline all its own, which we get to hear quite a lot about as we watch it being rehearsed and filmed. Then there are further ‘stories’ embedded in the text, such as the plot of the film which Stahl and Kiki watch as she masturbates herself on his fingers and which Furst describes in some detail. Or the numerous background stories, such as the slightly complex chain of events which led up to the Kristallnacht and which Furst explains for us.

On multiple levels, then, and in interlocking and overlapping webs, Furst’s books are tremendously dense with story and character, which makes for a rich and rewarding reading experience, like the multiple layers of flavour in an expensive wine.

  • Louise Prideaux, chef de cabinet of a French senator, who has absconded with a sizeable bribe given him by the Countess to pass on to the senator, but instead he’s done a bunk and is holed up in a cheap hotel in the Black Sea port of Varna (p.4).
  • Herbert, Nazi thug, organises killings for the Ribbentropburo (p.7).
  • Lothar, Herbert’s sidekick, fat, fiftyish, jolly (p.8).
  • General Aleksey, the Russian émigré they’ve hired to assassinate Prideaux (p.9).
  • Deputy Director of the Ribbentropburo, based in the Reich Foreign Ministry at 3 Wilhelmstrasse, young, incisive, angry (p.13).
  • Herr Hoff, Ribbentropburo functionary in charge of the French section, so gets handed the Fredric Stahl brief (p.15).
  • Fredric Stahl, Hollywood movie star, born Franz Stalka in Vienna, he now makes $100,000 a picture and has been sent by Warner Brothers in a deal to appear in a Paramount France production (p.15).
  • Iris, the wife of a drunk mid-Western businessman who Fredric has a kiss and a cuddle with on the transatlantic liner, the Ile de France (p.16).
  • Zolly (short for Zoltan, Hungarian) Louis, Warner Brothers man in Paris (p.21).
  • Jimmy Louis, Zoltan’s nephew and chauffeur of the huge 1938 Panhard Dynamic automobile in which Fredric is driven round (p.23).
  • Jules Deschelles, producer of the movie Fredric’s to appear in, Après la Guerre (p.36).
  • Baruch ‘Buzzy’ Mehlman, Stahl’s agent at the William Morris Agency in Hollywood (p.25).
  • Walter Perry, right hand man to Jack Warner, boss of Warner Brothers (p.25).
  • Mme Boulanger, 50-ish, determined head of publicity at Warner Brothers Paris (p.27).
  • Karl ‘Moppi’ Moppel, a threatening presence from the past, Stahl’s boss at the Austro-Hungarian legation in Barcelona where Stahl worked during the Great War (p.32).
  • Frau Hilda Bruner, his friend (p.34).
  • Jean Casson, a French film producer who was the hero of two Furst novels, The World At Night and Red Gold. We don’t see him; Stahl walks past his door on the way to Deschelles’ office (p.36).
  • Baroness Cornelia Maria von Reschke und Altenberg, sinister hostess of a leading Paris salon, German and pretty obviously a German agent.
  • Betsy Belle, Stahl’s official Hollywood fiancée / lover, ie they take care to be seen out and about together and photographed by the gossip columns (p.40).
  • Philippe LaMotte, managing director of the Roussillon wine company, also director of the Comité Franco-Allemagne, a German propaganda front.
  • Kiki de Saint-Ange, stylish young Parisienne who frequents the Baroness’s salon but prefers a racier, more bohemian set on the Left Bank. Quite quickly she and Stahl become lovers and he is excited by her open-minded sexual inventiveness (p.48).
  • Renate Steiner, married German émigré costume designer for the movie, fled Germany with her husband because he is a communist (p.53).
  • Inga and Klaus, two émigré friends of Renata who cycle by to tell her the Munich Agreement has been signed (30 September 1938) (p.54).
  • Justine Piro, female lead in the movie (p.71).
  • Pasquin, burly frequently drunk French comedian, co-star in the movie (p.72).
  • Gilles Brecker, Germanic looking co-star in the movie (p.82).
  • Jean Avila, young Wunderkind director who is now slated to direct Après la Guerre (p.73).
  • J.J. Wilkinson, Ivy league Wall Street lawyer, now Second Secretary at the US Embassy in Paris and conduit for money from President Roosevelt’s anti-German friends (p.74).
  • Loubec, journalist from Le Matin with his photographer René (p.89)
  • André Sokoloff, Russian émigré journalist, now senior correspondent for Paris Soir, a friendly presence who explains in some detail how ‘political warfare’ works, the extent it has penetrated French high society, the sheer number of top French who are, in effect, traitors to their own country (p.109-114).
  • Emhof, pop-eyed Nazi in charge of the group at Maxim’s who invite Stahl to the film festival in Berlin (p.99).
  • Otto Raab, mediocre German film director who has found is niche in the Nazi party (p.145).
  • Olga Orlova, Russian émigré movie star, one of Hitler’s favourites, who turns out to be a spy for hire and who plays a key role in the final sections of the book (p.146).
  • Rudi the waiter, who tries to blackmail Stahl and Olga with fatal consequences (p.148).
  • Wolf Lustig, Germany’s most successful movie director (p.176).
  • Freddi Müller, one of the Führer’s favourites up at the Berchtesgarten.
  • Gertrude ‘Trudi’ Müller, Freddi’s wife who has developed a lesbian crush on Olga, a crush Olga ruthlessly takes advantage of (p.184).
  • Count Janos Polyani, who has featured in several of the previous novels as a spymaster based in the Hungarian legation in Paris. The film crew use his castle as the final location for the movie (p.233).
  • Jerry Silverberg, fairy godmother aka Warner Brothers man in Eastern Europe who fixes the entire escape route for Stahl and Renate out of Hungary and back to the US of A (p.249).

Credit

Mission To Paris by Alan Furst was published in 2012 by Weidenfeld and Nicholson. All quotes and references are to the 2013 Phoenix paperback edition.

 Related links

The Night Soldiers novels

1988 Night Soldiers –  An epic narrative which starts with a cohort of recruits to the NKVD spy school of 1934 and then follows their fortunes across Europe, to the Spain of the Civil War, to Paris, to Prague and Switzerland, to the gulags of Siberia and the horrors of the Warsaw ghetto, in a Europe beset by espionage, conspiracy, treachery and murder.
1991 Dark Star – The story of Russian Jew André Szara, foreign correspondent for Pravda, who finds himself recruited into the NKVD and entering a maze of conspiracies, based in Paris but taking him to Prague, Berlin and onto Poland – in the early parts of which he struggles to survive in the shark-infested world of espionage, to conduct a love affair with a young German woman, and to help organise a network smuggling German Jews to Palestine; then later, as Poland is invaded by Nazi Germany, finds himself on the run across Europe. (390 pages)
1995 The Polish Officer – A long, exhausting chronicle of the many adventures of Captain Alexander de Milja, Polish intelligence officer who carries out assignments in Nazi-occupied Poland and then Nazi-occupied Paris and then, finally, in freezing wintertime Poland during the German attack on Russia.
1996 The World at Night – A year in the life of French movie producer Jean Casson, commencing on the day the Germans invade in June 1940, following his ineffectual mobilisation into a film unit which almost immediately falls back from the front line, his flight, and return to normality in occupied Paris where he finds himself unwittingly caught between the conflicting claims of the Resistance, British Intelligence and the Gestapo. (304 pages)
1999 Red Gold – Sequel to the World At Night, continuing the adventures of ex-film producer Jean Casson in the underworld of occupied Paris and in various Resistance missions across France. (284 pages)
2000 Kingdom of Shadows – Hungarian exile in Paris, Nicholas Morath, undertakes various undercover missions to Eastern Europe at the bidding of his uncle, Count Janos Polanyi, a kind of freelance espionage controller in the Hungarian Legation. Once more there is championship sex, fine restaurants and dinner parties in the civilised West, set against shootouts in forests, beatings by the Romanian police, and fire-fights with Sudeten Germans, in the murky East.
2003 Blood of Victory – Russian émigré writer, Ilya Serebin, gets recruited into a conspiracy to prevent the Nazis getting their hands on Romania’s oil, though it takes a while to realise who’s running the plot – Count Polanyi – and on whose behalf – Britain’s – and what it will consist of – sinking tugs carrying huge turbines at a shallow stretch of the river Danube, thus blocking it to oil traffic. (298 pages)
2004 Dark Voyage – In fact numerous voyages made by the tramp steamer Noordendam and its captain Eric DeHaan, after it is co-opted to carry out covert missions for the Allied cause, covering a period from 30 April to 23 June 1941. Atmospheric and evocative, the best of the last three or four. (309 pages)
2006 The Foreign Correspondent – The adventures of Carlo Weisz, an Italian exile from Mussolini living in Paris in 1938 and 1939, as Europe heads towards war. He is a journalist working for Reuters and co-editor of an anti-fascist freesheet, Liberazione, and we see him return from Civil War Spain, resume his love affair with a beautiful German countess in Nazi Berlin, and back in Paris juggle conflicting requests from the French Sûreté and British Secret Intelligence Service, while dodging threats from Mussolini’s secret police.
2008 The Spies of Warsaw The adventures of Jean Mercier, French military attaché in Warsaw between autumn 1937 and spring 1938, during which he has an affair with sexy young Anna Szarbek, helps two Russian defectors flee to France, is nearly murdered by German agents and, finally, though daring initiative, secures priceless documents indicating German plans to invade France through the Ardennes – which his criminally obtuse superiors in the French High Command choose to ignore!
2010 Spies of the Balkans The adventures of Costa Zannis, senior detective in the northern Greek port of Salonika, who is instrumental in setting up an escape route for Jews from Berlin through Eastern Europe down into Greece and then on into neutral Turkey. The story is set against the attempted Italian invasion of Greece (28 October 1940) through to the German invasion (23 April 1941).
2012 Mission to Paris The adventures of Hollywood movie star Frerick Stahl, who travels to Paris to make a movie and becomes embroiled in increasingly sinister Nazi attempts to bully, blackmail and intimidate him into making pro-German or at least pacifist statements, and then gets caught up in actual espionage with more and more at stake.
2014 Midnight in Europe
2016 A Hero in France

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