Actaeon

I thought I knew the myth of Actaeon, but apparently I didn’t. At first, while reading it, it seemed to me a probable source of the Titania/Bottom predicament in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and so I read it as such, expecting (for some unknown reason), a similar dreamily disoriented ending. I should have known better, seeing as most Greek myths seem to end in cathartic tragedy. The first clue I had that this was going to go much deeper than Shakespeare’s flippant treatment of Bottom’s transformation into an ass was the description of Actaeon’s reaction to the metamorphosis – by far one of the most touching and searing descriptions in the “Tales from Ovid” thus far.

Human tears shone on his stag’s face

From the grief of a mind that was still human.

One of the reasons I am scared to death of various debilitating diseases is that I think there can be nothing worse than having a functioning mind trapped in a nonresponsive body. And the next most terrifying thing would not be you forgetting the faces of those you know, but your realization that those around you no longer know who YOU are. Which is what happens to Actaeon. As his own hounds turn on him, his friends,

who had followed the pack

To this unexpected kill,
Urged them to finish the work. Meanwhile they shouted
For Actaeon – over and over for Actaeon

To hurry and witness this last kill of the day –
And such a magnificent beast –
As if he were absent.

It reminds me of an old legend/fable/story that I think my grandfather told me, about a man whose dogs turn on him. Dogs, of course, being the most loyal of animals – it only makes the vision more chilling.

Damn, Diana is a bitch.