Museum Warfare

IN THE Princeton University Art Museum’s collection of Ancient Mediterranean Art, a stone mosaic floor from the 3rd century A.D. depicts the ancient Greek myth of Daphne and Apollo.
The beautiful stone floor is displayed in a prominent, backlit glass case so you can walk above it and examine it closely.
As retold by the Roman author Ovid in his Metamorphoses (I.438–567), the story, as you probably know, involves the god Apollo, who has been struck by an arrow from Cupid’s quiver. Under the influence of Cupid’s magic lance, Apollo falls in love with the beautiful nymph, Daphne. Unfortunately, she has vowed to remain a virgin. Daphne flees and Apollo follows, awed by her beauty.
Despite her not yet knowing who pursues her, Apollo seems to know exactly who she is, calling, “Wait nymph, daughter of Peneus, I beg you! I who am chasing you am not your enemy.” He comments that she is running from him as prey would from a predator, but tells her that he is spurred on by love and a desire to be with her, not destroy her, so she should have pity on him. He then says that he is worried that she will be injured in the chase and cause him guilt, so if she slows down he will too, but she continues. (Source)
Finally as the nymph approaches a river, she calls out for help to her father, the river god Peneus. Seeing his daughter’s predicament, he turns her into a laurel tree.
Apollo loves her still. As Ovid recounts it:
Even like this [Apollo] loved her and, placing his hand against the trunk, he felt her heart still quivering under the new bark. He clasped the branches as if they were parts of human arms, and kissed the wood. But even the wood shrank from his kisses, and the god said ‘Since you cannot be my bride, you must be my tree! Laurel, with you my hair will be wreathed, with you my lyre, with you my quiver. You will go with the Roman generals when joyful voices acclaim their triumph, and the Capitol witnesses their long processions. You will stand outside Augustus’s doorposts, a faithful guardian, and keep watch over the crown of oak between them. And just as my head with its un-cropped hair is always young, so you also will wear the beauty of undying leaves.’ Paean had done: the laurel bowed her newly made branches, and seemed to shake her leafy crown like a head giving consent. (more…)








