reading response

Ovid's Amores: A Political Reading

Author(s): P. J. Davis

Source: Classical Philology , Oct., 1999, Vol. 94, No. 4 (Oct., 1999), pp. 431-449

Published by: The University of Chicago Press

Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/270575

Why did Ovid choose to write erotic verse? For poets in Augustan Rome

the selection of a genre in which to write was not merely an aesthetic deci-

sion. To write love elegy was, first of all, to follow in the footsteps of Cor-

nelius Gallus, a poet whose fame Ovid is happy to proclaim (Am. 15.29-30):

It was of course precisely because of his eastern fame that Gallus, elegist and

soldier, incurred imperial displeasure and committed suicide in 26 B.C.E.25

Moreover, to write elegy was to reject the most prestigious of all literary

genres, epic poetry. For the neoteric poets of the late Republic, to write per-

sonal verse was to abandon ways of writing they considered outmoded and

archaic, but for Augustan poets, to renounce epic was also to renounce

Augustan themes.26 Propertius puts it like this (Prop. 2.1.17-26):

In Propertius 2.1 the poet explains why it is that he continues to write love

elegy. He does not feel obliged to explain why he does not write tragic or

lyric or didactic or pastoral verse. For Propertius, choosing to write elegy

means one thing: not writing epic. An epic could, of course, be composed

on many subjects: on Greek myth, the tales of Thebes and Troy for example;

on Greek history, the war against Xerxes; on Roman history (whether recent or remote), Romulus and Remus, the Punic wars, or Marius' battles against

the Cimbri. But the most pressing subject for an Augustan epicist is Caesar's

wars and achievements. That is the subject that Propertius avoids.

Ovid faced the same choice. He expresses it more succinctly than Prop-

ertius in Amores 3.12.15-16: Just in case we should be tempted to take this statement autobiographically,

the poem itself asserts that it should not be read as literal truth: nec tamen

ut testes mos est audire poetas ("it is not usual to listen to poets as wit-

nesses," 19). Moreover, in 3.12 the poet is explicitly concerned to em-

phasize the fictional nature of poetry in general (19-40), and of Ovidian

elegy in particular (Am. 3.12.41-44):When Ovid claims that Corinna "stirred his talent" he is not asserting that

he wrote elegy because he loved a woman, but that he wrote elegy because

he chose to do so. Corinna equals elegy. Note too the crucial difference be-

tween Ovid's poem and that of Propertius. The Propertian poem is addressed

to Maecenas and the tone is apologetic: "I'm not up to writing epic." By con-

trast, Ovid's has no stated addressee and gives no genuine reason. Its tone

is flippant, not repentant: "If only I'd written epic, then no rival would have

known about my mistress."

The very first poem of the collection juxtaposes elegy and epic in a sim-

ilar way. In 1.1 the poet begins by telling us that he had actually begun com-

posing a poem telling of "wars in a serious meter" (arma gravi numero),

but that Cupid intervened and compelled him to write elegy. The choice is

effectively presented as arbitrary: the poet is capable of writing epic, but he

won't. In 2.1 we find a similar story. Once again the poet is busy writing his

epic, this time on the battle between gods and giants, when who should

close the door but his girlfriend. After that he could not continue with epic.

But this time a reason is given for preferring elegy to epic: praising a girl-

friend means a better sex life (2.1.33-34). In 2.18 also it is a girl who

prevents epic composition. Attempting to abandon both elegy and his girl-

friend, the poet finds her kissing and embracing him. In those circumstances

he can forsake neither elegy nor girlfriend. Epic will have to be dumped.

In these programmatic poems (1.1, 2.1, 2.18, and 3.12) the poet is primar-

ily concerned to establish nis independence. Without reason, without apol-

ogy, without humility, he declares that he will not take up the composition

of epic poetry. In 3.1 aesthetic choice takes on a distinctly political coloring.27

This time, however, the contest is between elegy and tragedy. The poet hap-

pens to be strolling near a cave within a sacred wood, wondering what to

write next when two women appear, Elegy and Tragedy. Each of course is

described in terms appropriate to the genre she represents. Thus in Elegy's

case one foot is longer than the other (8, 12), while Tragedy wears the garb

characteristic of tragic actors, the mantle (palla),28 sceptre, and buskins

(12-14).29 This much detail is sufficient to associate the women with their

respective genres. But Ovid goes further than that, for Elegy is described in

terms that suggest the elegiac mistress. Her hair is perfumed (7), her clothes

are extremely sheer (tenuissima),30 she has a lover's face and an elegant form.

As Wyke points out,31 her appearance is strikingly reminiscent of Cynthia's

first physical appearance in Propertius. She is also described in terms sug-

gestive of Corinna's initial entry into Ovid's text.32 By contrast, Tragedy is

described in terms that suggest that she is a respectable Roman matron, for

her robe hangs full-length to the ground (12), while her gestures are suitably

serious (31-32). Tragedy disapproves of dissipation (17-18), of the lover's

notoriety (19-20) and offers the attractions of Roman glory (29). Thus the

poet faces a choice, not merely between genres but between the embodi-

ments of different values, between a mistress and a matron, between wanton

idleness and social responsibility. How does the poet choose? He opts for

mistress and wanton idleness.

We see the same rejection of the claims of official Augustan values in

Ovid's treatment of the military. In Rome the army was, of course, centrally

important. It was the means whereby the empire had been acquired and

maintained; it was the instrument whereby Octavian had triumphed in civil

war and won through to autocratic power.

In the Monobiblos the Propertian lover had explicitly rejected the life of

military service in favor of erotic struggle (Prop. 1.6.29-30):

What stands out to me in this passage is how Ovid captures the moment when resistance collapses into recognition. The speaker begins in a state of restless denial—his body aching, his mind refusing to name what’s happening—yet the language makes it clear that love has already taken hold. I’m drawn to the way he frames love as something cunning, almost parasitic, “insinuating itself” into him before he can consciously acknowledge it. There’s something painfully relatable in that: the feeling that an emotion has already rearranged you from the inside out before you’ve had the courage to admit it.

What resonates with me most in this passage is the way Ovid captures the moment when self‑control gives way to recognition. The speaker’s denial—his insistence that he’d “know if it were love”—feels almost defensive, as if naming the feeling would make it too real. His body, though, betrays him long before his mind does. The tossing, the aching, the restless night: it’s as if love has already rearranged him internally, and the confession is just catching up.

I’m especially drawn to the metaphors of submission. The ox resisting the yoke, the horse learning the bit—these images dramatize the fear of losing autonomy, but they also reveal something honest about vulnerability. There’s a strange relief in the moment he finally admits he is Cupid’s “prey.” The tone shifts from frantic resistance to a kind of ceremonial acceptance, as though surrender allows him to understand himself more clearly.