Virgil is considered inferior to Homer in sublimity, but he exceeds him in sweetness and in the beauty of his descriptions. The moral, and even to a certain extent the religious spirit which pervades his writings is beyond praise, and places him almost alone among the poets of antiquity.
Ques. When did Ovid write?
Ans. Ovidius Naso was born in the year 43, B. C., at Sulmo (now Sulmona), a town about ninety miles distant from Rome. The date of his birth is rendered memorable in history by the murder of the great Cicero. Ovid belonged to an equestrian family; he was educated at Rome, and enjoyed every advantage that splendid capital afforded. He showed his taste for poetry at an early age, but was dissuaded from cultivating this art by his father, who wished him to apply exclusively to the study of eloquence. Ovid gained some distinction as an orator; but when the death of his elder brother left him sole heir to an ample fortune, his natural inclination prevailed, and he gave himself up to literary pursuits. A career of unexampled prosperity was now opened to the poet. He enjoyed the favor of Augustus, and the friendship of the most distinguished men in Rome; his verses were universally admired, they were sung in the streets and at entertainments, or were recited in the theatre amid bursts of applause. Ovid was not content with the nobler pleasures of fame and friendship, but plunged without restraint into all the vices and follies of which the Roman capital was the centre. This career of prosperity and pleasure was brought suddenly to a close. Ovid was banished by Augustus to Tomi, (now Temiswar) on the shores of the Euxine.
The decree was executed with the utmost severity. But one wretched night was allowed to the poet to deplore his fate, and take leave of his friends. His wife begged in vain to be allowed to accompany her husband in his exile. It is not known by what crime the unfortunate poet merited so severe a punishment. The immoral tendency of some of his poems, was the ostensible reason set forth by the emperor; but these verses had been written many years before. It is evident, therefore, that he must have offended Augustus in some manner which the latter did not choose to make public. Ovid wrote, in his exile, poems appropriately named “Tristia,” in which he bewails his hard fate, and describes the scenes by which he was surrounded. From the severity of the climate, and the inroads of the barbarians, the fields were without grain, the hills without vines; no stately oaks clothed the mountain-side, no willows drooped along the banks; a scanty growth of wormwood alone covered the desolate plains. Spring brought with it neither birds nor flowers. In Summer, the sun was obscured by clouds; the Autumn shed no fruits, but through every season of the year, the wintry winds blew with prodigious violence, and lashed the waves of the boisterous Euxine on its desert shore. The only animated object was the wild Sarmatian driving his car, yoked with oxen, across the icy waste, himself wrapped in furs, his shaggy hair and beard sparkling with the hoar frost and flakes of snow. Such was the abode for which the poet was compelled to exchange the theatres, the porticoes and gardens of Rome, the court of Augustus, and the sunny skies of Italy. He died in the ninth year of his exile, and the sixty-first of his age.
The poems of Ovid, however beautiful otherwise, are all more or less objectionable on account of their immoral tendency; the corruption of the author’s private character has left its impress on all his works.
The claim of Ovid to be numbered among the poets of mythology, rests chiefly on his Metamorphoses. This is a collection of legends of all the transformations said to have taken place in heathen mythology, beginning with the earliest times, and closing with the changing of Julius Cæsar into a star. The stories are not themselves original; they are principally Greek and Oriental fictions, interspersed, perhaps, with a few Latin or Etruscan fables. There are, in all, two hundred and fifty of these stories. Ovid was engaged in correcting this, his greatest work, when he was surprised by the sentence of banishment. In a fit of impatience and despair, he threw it into the flames. Some of his friends possessed copies, and the poem was thus preserved.
If the Metamorphoses had been destroyed by this rash act, we would have lost many interesting fables which have been rendered immortal by the beauty of Ovid’s verse and his graceful fancy.
The Tristia are not so generally admired. They turn principally on the poet’s personal misfortunes; and this subject, however absorbing to himself, soon becomes wearisome to the reader. Ovid composed a poem in the harsh dialect spoken by the Getæ who dwelt on the borders of the Euxine Sea. The barbarians listened with delight to his recitations, until their anger was excited by his constant complaints of their rude manners and inhospitable climate.