Wrestling the Forbidden Within the Unconscious Mind

In his book, Metamorphoses, Ovid states in the beginning of Byblis’ tale that it “serves to illustrate a moral:/ that girls should not desire what’s forbidden;\” (p. 322).

However, the poet also seems to imply that Byblis represents a heroic figure, because she speaks her heart’s desire, albeit “forbidden.”

Human dignity exerts itself through her voice. Thus, her plight is a universal one in which an underdog refuses to censure self.

She courageously speaks and stands alone against conventions that condemn her passion through the narrator/poet’s voice, when he says, “she [does] not love her brother as a brother,/ or as a sister should” (p. 323). Byblis’ psychological struggle to reconcile two opposing systems—whether to voice her forbidden desire or to remain silent—is a study of wrestling the forbidden within the unconscious mind.

Byblis’ struggle begins when she “at first” does not “recognize her passion” (p. 323) and behaves affectionately towards her brother Caunus, kissing or throwing her arms around him often without thinking “it wrong” (p. 323). Since she does not “recognize” her passion, the phrase implies that she is unaware that she has erotic feelings toward him.

For “some time,” she is “deceived/ by the appearance of affectionate devotion” (p. 323). The word “deceived” suggests that she consciously identifies her love toward Caunus as “affectionate devotion” but unconsciously she is no more aware of her true feelings than a typical adolescent.

However, Ovid portrays the budding embers of Byblis’ metamorphosis from an unconscious to a conscious realization of erotic passion and from adolescence to young adult. Further, the poet foreshadows her actualization: “Her feelings for him gradually changed / and not for the better” (p. 323).

Byblis’ unconscious feelings first emerge to break through to her conscious mind “when she visit[s] her brother” on a particular occasion (p. 323). She “[is] elegantly dressed,/ and anxious that he [Caunus] find her beautiful” (p. 323). The word “anxious” connotes worry and nervousness. These feelings are natural responses for someone that is near a person of erotic interest, although not usually a sibling.

Her psychological struggle to fuse her unconscious with her conscious self begins “when [she is] relaxed in sleep,” and “an image of her passion [comes] to her” (p. 323). She can see the truth in her dreams—“an image of her lying with her brother,/ that made her, even sleeping, blush with shame” (p. 323). When she awakens, she not only remembers her dream but she also “[revisits] the dream of her desire” (p. 323).

Ovid’s rhetoric captures the distinct breakthrough of her unconscious into her conscious being—the moment she decides while awake to revisit her dream. Through the mental reenactment, she identifies her “forbidden” passion.

At this point, Byblis’ speaks for the first time about her battle to reconcile her two conflicting opinions about her “forbidden” desire for Caunus. In her monologue, she attempts to discern the meaning of “these visions that appear in the wordless night” (p. 323). Words are unnecessary when the dream-image speaks for itself. She intuitively knows the meaning.

Thus, to speak or not is her predicament. Courage is required to make the leap of disclosure and to bare the soul. Therefore, the heroine’s quandary is more poignant and challenging, because she must disclose her heart to her brother.

Although Byblis “overcomes her mind’s uncertainties” (p. 325), and questions, “What slope am I beginning to descend?” (p. 325), she descends, nevertheless, and is heroic, because she bravely counts the cost and with “[h]er shaking hands [sets] down the practiced words” (p. 325). She validates her self-identity and voices her “forbidden” desire in a letter to Caunus.

Her action to end her silence is also one to regain her sanity: “I did my best…to bring myself again to sanity” (p. 326). Her letter conveys her motivation that she “would not speak unless compelled by passion” (p. 327).

After Caunus reads her letter and rejects her love, Byblis’ emotional suffering is horrific. At this point in the reading, Ovid’s use of sympathetic imagination evokes empathy from the reader, and he or she is engaged in Byblis’ plight: “they say, she truly lost her mind,/…sets out after her self-exiled brother” (p. 330). The women of Bibasus see “Byblis raving all across the fields” (p. 330). Although she writes her letter with the goal to regain her sanity and speak her heart’s truth, she descends further into madness.

Byblis’ battle is similar to those that labor to articulate their hearts’ minds, albeit unpopular. She wrestles with her opposing opinions and decides to ethically pursue her desire. Although she is rejected, she faces the consequences of her unrequited love—a burden of grief.

Ovid’s veiled commentary is: to procreate/create art (whether the art is love or the art is writing or any other creative process), creators must count the cost. Unlike gods/Augustan rulers that contrive laws to benefit their unlawful acts, creators like Byblis/Ovid suffer to voice their creative impulses. Ovid’s rhetoric conveys the suffering so well that readers sympathize with Byblis’/Ovid’s plights. S/he are heroic figures for those who voice their heart’s truth in a dignified way.

Moreover, Byblis represents Ovid’s refusal as a writer to censure his rhetoric. As Byblis faced consequences for her “forbidden” speech—the alteration of her consciousness into a stream—Ovid faced punishment for his “forbidden” speech in his writings—the alteration of his existence in “a Fort Apache of the Roman frontier, where, according to Ovid, showers of poisoned arrows could come over the walls at any moment” (p. xi).

Thus, Ovid's moral in Byblis’ tale warns against the repercussions that result from desiring the “forbidden,” and her metamorphosis is a premonition of his ultimate fate.

Yet both Byblis’ and Ovid’s psychological battles to resolve their inner dilemmas—whether to follow their hearts’ desires by voicing them or to remain silent—are battles that most creative individuals recognize as part of the artistic process.

In Byblis case, her impulse to procreate with her brother overcomes her objections regarding consequences. In Ovid’s situation, his compulsion to create poetry or prose that examines politics and conventions are stronger than his concern for penalties.

Poignantly, Byblis transforms into a font “incapable of running dry” (p. 331), implying an everlasting existence. It serves well as an image of Ovid’s metamorphosis of consciousness into an everlasting stream of creative words that continue to flow today through his works and are “incapable of running dry.” Ovid’s stream of consciousness speaks today, and it refuses to be silenced.