The music for this podcast was generously provided by Dr. Stefan Hagel.
Cover illustration and voice of Ovid provided by Lu (twitter: @DRScomics, instagram: @dead_romans_society, tumblr: @ovidiana).
Foley sounds for soundscape provided by zapsplat.com.
Hosting, English sections, and editing provided by Margrethe.
Transcript:
Mar: Salve aveque. This is Margrethe from Ovid Daily, for our podcast special: “Evenings with Ovid”. Joining me today from the far-off shores of the Black Sea is the eminent Latin poet Publius Ovidius Naso, (given voice by the excellent Lu), here to read one of his most moving works: Tristia. Intriguing title, Ovid, shall we get into it?
Lu/Ovid: Libenter. En ego—aures praebēte, quaeso, si non vobis gravis est: orior.
Lu/Ovid:
Parve (nec invideo) sine me, liber, ibis in urbem:
ei mihi, quod domino non licet ire tuo!
Vade, sed incultus, qualem decet exulis esse:
infelix habitum temporis huius habe.
Nec te purpureo velent vaccinia fuco:
non est conveniens luctibus ille color:
nec titulus minio, nec cedro charta notetur,
candida nec nigra cornua fronte geras.
Felices ornent haec instrumenta libellos:
fortunae memorem te decet esse meae.
Nec fragili geminae poliantur pumice frontes,
hirsutus sparsis ut videare comis.
Neve liturarum pudeat. Qui viderit illas,
de lacrimis factas sentiat esse meis.
Vade, liber, verbisque meis loca grata saluta:
contingam certe quo licet illa pede.
Siquis, ut in populo, nostri non inmemor illic,
siquis, qui, quid agam, forte requirat, erit:
vivere me dices, salvum tamen esse negabis:
id quoque, quod vivam, munus habere dei.
Atque ita tu tacitus (quaerenti plura legendum)
ne, quae non opus est, forte loquare, cave.
Protinus admonitus repetet mea crimina lector,
et peragar populi publicus ore reus.
Tu cave defendas, quamuis mordebere dictis:
causa patrocinio non bona maior erit.
Invenies aliquem, qui me suspiret ademptum,
carmina nec siccis perlegat ista genis,
et tacitus secum, ne quis malus audiat, optet,
sit mea lenito Caesare poena levis:
nos quoque, quisquis erit, ne sit miser ille, precamur,
placatos miseris qui volet esse deos;
quaeque volet, rata sint, ablataque principis ira
sedibus in patriis det mihi posse mori.
ut peragas mandata, liber, culpabere forsan
ingeniique minor laude ferere mei.
Iudicis officium est ut res, ita tempora rerum
quaerere. Quaesito tempore tutus eris.
Carmina proveniunt animo deducta sereno:
nubila sunt subitis tempora nostra malis.
Carmina secessum scribentis et otia quaerunt:
me mare, me venti, me fera iactat hiems.
Carminibus metus omnis obest: ego perditus ensem
haesurum iugulo iam puto iamque meo.
Haec quoque quod facio, iudex mirabitur aequus,
scriptaque cum venia qualiacumque leget.
Da mihi Maeoniden et tot circumspice casus,
ingenium tantis excidet omne malis.
Denique securus famae, liber, ire memento,
nec tibi sit lecto displicuisse pudor.
Non ita se nobis praebet Fortuna secundam
ut tibi sit ratio laudis habenda tuae.
Donec eram sospes, tituli tangebar amore,
quaerendique mihi nominis ardor erat.
Carmina nunc si non studiumque, quod obfuit, odi,
sit satis. Ingenio sic fuga parta meo.
Tu tamen pro me, tu, cui licet, aspice Romam:
di facerent, possem nunc meus esse liber.
Nec te, quod venias magnam peregrinus in urbem,
ignotum populo posse venire puta.
ut titulo careas, ipso noscere colore:
dissimulare velis, te liquet esse meum.
Clam tamen intrato, ne te mea carmina laedant:
non sunt ut quondam plena favoris erant.
Siquis erit, qui te, quia sis meus, esse legendum
non putet, e gremio reiciatque suo,
"inspice" dic "titulum. Non sum praeceptor amoris;
quas meruit, poenas iam dedit illud opus."
Forsitan expectes, an in alta Palatia missum
scandere te iubeam Caesareamque domum.
Ignoscant augusta mihi loca dique locorum.
Venit in hoc illa fulmen ab arce caput.
Esse quidem memini mitissima sedibus illis
numina; sed timeo qui nocuere deos.
Terretur minimo pennae stridore columba,
unguibus, accipiter, saucia facta tuis.
Nec procul a stabulis audet discedere, siqua
excussa est avidi dentibus agna lupi.
Vitaret caelum Phaëthon, si viveret, et quos
optarat stulte, tangere nollet equos.
Me quoque, quae sensi, fateor Iovis arma timere:
me reor infesto, cum tonat, igne peti.
Quicumque Argolica de classe Capherea fugit,
semper ab Euboicis vela retorquet aquis.
Et mea cumba semel vasta percussa procella
illum, quo laesa est, horret adire locum.
ergo cave, liber, et timida circumspice mente,
ut satis a media sit tibi plebe legi.
Dum petit infirmis nimium sublimia pennis
Icarus, aequoreis nomina fecit aquis.
Difficile est tamen hinc, remis utaris an aura,
dicere. Consilium resque locusque dabunt.
Si poteris vacuo tradi, si cuncta videbis
mitia, si vires fregerit ira suas:
siquis erit, qui te dubitantem et adire timentem
tradat, et ante tamen pauca loquatur, adi.
Luce bona dominoque tuo felicior ipso
pervenias illuc et mala nostra leves.
Namque ea vel nemo, vel qui mihi vulnera fecit
solus Achilleo tollere more potest.
Tantum ne noceas, dum vis prodesse, videto.
Nam spes est animi nostra timore minor:
quaeque quiescebat, ne mota resaeviat ira,
et poenae tu sis altera causa, cave.
Cum tamen in nostrum fueris penetrale receptus,
contigerisque tuam, scrinia curva, domum,
aspicies illic positos ex ordine fratres,
quos studium cunctos evigilavit idem.
Cetera turba palam titulos ostendet apertos,
et sua detecta nomina fronte geret;
tres procul obscura latitantes parte videbis:
hi quia, quod nemo nescit, amare docent,
hos tu vel fugias, vel, si satis oris habebis,
Oedipodas facito Telegonosque voces.
Deque tribus, moneo, si qua est tibi cura parentis,
ne quemquam, quamuis ipse docebit, ames.
Sunt quoque mutatae, ter quinque volumina, formae,
nuper ab exsequiis carmina rapta meis.
His mando dicas, inter mutata referri
fortunae vultum corpora posse meae.
Namque ea dissimilis subito est effecta priori,
flendaque nunc, aliquo tempore laeta fuit.
Plura quidem mandare tibi, si quaeris, habebam:
sed vereor tardae causa fuisse viae.
Et si quae subeunt, tecum, liber, omnia ferres,
sarcina laturo magna futurus eras.
Longa via est, propera: nobis habitabitur orbis
ultimus, a terra terra remota mea.
Mar: Gratias tibi ago, Ovidi. I have here the English translation of our guest’s poem, originally translated by A.L. Wheeler in 1924.
“Little book, you will go without me—and I grudge it not—to the city. Alas that your master is not allowed to go! Go, but go unadorned, as becomes the book of an exile; in your misfortune wear the garb that befits these days of mine. You shall have no cover dyed with the juice of purple berries—no fit color is that for mourning; your title shall not be tinged with vermillion nor your paper with oil of cedar; and you shall wear no white bosses upon your dark edges. Books of good omen should be decked with such things as these; tis my fate that you should bear in mind. Let no brittle pumice polish your two edges; I would have you appear with lock all rough and disordered. Be not ashamed of blots; he who sees them will feel that they were caused by my tears.
“Go, my book, and in my name greet the loved places: I will tread them at least with what foot I may. If, as is natural in so great a throng, there shall be any there who still remembers me, any who may perchance to ask how I fare, you are to say that I live, yet not in health and happiness; that even the fact of life I hold to be the gift of a god. Except for this be silent—for he who asks more must read you—and take care that you chance not to say what you should not; forthwith, if but a reminder be given, the reader will recall my sins, and I shall still be convicted by the people’s voice as a public criminal. Do you take care to make no defence though attacked with biting words ; my case is not a good one, and will prove too difficult for advocacy. You are to find one who sighs over my exile, reading your lines with cheeks that are not dry, one who will utter a silent prayer unheard by any ill-wisher, that through the softening of Caesar's anger my punishment may be lightened. On my part I pray that whoever he may be, suffering may not come to him who wishes the gods to be kind to suffering. May his wish be fulfilled! May the removal of the Prince's wrath grant me the power to die at home in my country! Though you should carry out my directions you will be criticized perchance, my book, and regarded as beneath the glory of my genius. Tis a judge's duty to investigate both the circumstances and the time of an act. If they ask the time you will be secure. Poetry comes fine spun from a mind at peace; my days are clouded with unexpected woes. Poetry requires the writer to be in privacy and ease; I am harassed by the sea, by gales, by wintry storms. Poetry is injured by any fear; I in my ruin am ever and ever expecting a sword to pierce my throat. Even the making of such verse as this will surprise a fair-minded critic and he will read these verses with indulgence, however poor they are. Pray bring the Maeoniani and cast just as many dangers about him; all his genius will fall away in the presence of such great ills.
“Take heed, then, my book, to go untroubled about fame, and be not ashamed that your readers gain no pleasure. Fortune is not now so favourable to me that you should take account of your praise. In the time of my security I was touched by the love of renown, and I burned to win a name. Now let it be enough if I do not hate poetry and the pursuit which has injured me; through that my own wit has brought me exile. But do you go in my stead, do you, who are permitted to do so, gaze on Rome! Would that the gods might grant me now to be my book!—and think not, because you enter into the great city as one from foreign lands, that you can come as a stranger to the people. Though you should lack a title, your very style will bring recognition; though you should wish to play the deceiver, it is clear that you are mine. And yet enter secretly, that my verses may not harm you; they are not popular as once they were. If there shall be anybody who thinks you unworthy to be read for the reason that you are mine and repels you from his breast, say to him, “Examine the title. I am not the teacher of love; that work has already paid its deserved penalty.”
“Perchance you are waiting to see if I shall send you to the lofty Palatine and bid you mount to Caesar’s house. May those places of awe and the gods of those places grant me pardon! It was from that citadel that the bolt fell upon this head of mine. There are, I know, in those shrines deities of exceeding mercy, but I still fear the gods who have wrought me harm. The least rustle of a feather brings dread upon the dove that thy talons, O hawk, have wounded. Nor does any lamb, once wrested from the teeth of a ravenous wolf, venture to go far from the fold. Phaëthon would avoid the sky if he were alive; the steeds which in his folly he desired, he would refuse to touch. I too admit—for I have felt it—that I fear the weapon of Jupiter: I believe myself the target of a hostile bolt whenever the thunder roars. Every man of the Argive fleet who escaped the Capherean rocks always turned his sails away from the waters of Euboea; and even so my bark, once shattered by a mighty storm, dreads to approach that place where it was wrecked. Therefore be careful, my book, and look all around with timid heart, so as to find content in being read by ordinary folk. By seeking too lofty heights on weak wings Icarus gave a name to waters of the sea. Yet from this position of mine ’tis hard to say whether you should use the oars or the breeze. You will be advised by the time and the place. If you can be handed to him when he is at leisure, if you see everything kindly disposed, if his anger has lost its keenness, if there is anybody, while you are hesitating in fear to approach, who will hand you to him, introducing you with but a few brief words—then approach him. On a lucky day and with better fortune than your master may you arrive there and lighten my misfortunes. For either nobody can remove them or, in the fashion of Achilles, that man only who wounded me. I Only see that you do no harm in your wish to help for my hope is smaller than my fear and that slumbering wrath!—take care that it be not roused to renewed fierceness and that you be not to me a second cause of punishment.
“But when you find refuge in my sanctuary, reaching your own home, the round bookcases, you will behold there brothers arranged in order—brothers whom the same craftmanship produced with toil and waking. The rest of the band will display their titles openly, bearing their names on their exposed edges, but three at some distance will strive to hide themselves in a dark place, as you will notice even so, as everybody knows, they teach how to love. These you should either avoid or, if you have the assurance, give them the names of Oedipus or of Telegonus. And I warn you, if you have any regard for your father, love not any one of the three, though he himself teach you. There are also thrice five rolls about changing forms, poems recently saved from the burial of my fortunes. To these I bid you say that the aspect of my own fate can now be reckoned among those metamorphosed figures. For that aspect has on a sudden become quite different from what it was before—a cause of tears now, though once of joy. More directions for you, if you ask me, I have been keeping, but I fear to be the cause of lingering delay; and if you were to carry with you, my book, all that occurs to me, ’tis likely you would be a heavy burden to him who shall bear you. The road is long. Make haste! I shall continue to dwell at the edge of the world, a land far removed from my own.”
Mar: Thank you so much for listening, and be sure to tune into Ovid Daily’s “Evenings with Ovid” next week for the next installment of Ovid’s Tristia. Vale beneque placideque quiescas!
Mar: A transcript for this podcast is available at oviddaily.substack.com. Our text comes from the 1924 Loeb Classical Library edition of the Tristia, edited and translated by A.L. Wheeler. Our music is performed by Dr. Stefan Hagel on the Hellenistic Aulos, a link to which is available in the description, and on our website on our “Resources” page. Foley sounds for our soundscape are provided by zapsplat.com. Our lovely cover art was illustrated by Lu, and you can see more of Lu’s art on Twitter @DRScomic, or on Tumblr @ovidiana. If you wish to contact Ovid Daily, you may email me at oviddaily@substack.com.
Tristia 1.1