Ovid

Statue of Ovid in Constanta, Romania

You may know him for his infamous Metamorphoses or daring Ars Amatoria. Perhaps the celebratory Fasti or even the innovative Amores. But I’m willing to bet you haven’t heard much about his Heroides, considering it’s not included in most high school Latin curricula and is often overlooked when examining his impressive literary arsenal. And who, of course, is “he?” None other than Publius Ovidius Naso, or Ovid, the poetic prodigy born in 43 BCE and passing in 17 CE. This past spring, I had the pleasure of studying Ovid’s Heroides, and in that time, I was able to analyze this work as a commentary on gender roles and women’s place in the ancient world, making it rather fitting to share with the Being Anti-Sexist community.

Ovid’s Heroides is a body of work containing epistolary poems written in Latin elegiac couplets. The letters are written from the perspective of aggrieved heroines of ancient mythology and are addressed to their male lovers who have somehow betrayed them. Yet to apply these works more aptly to our mission here at Being Anti-Sexist, it’s important to recognize the gender dynamics that Ovid explores in simply undertaking the task of writing the female viewpoint. Since it was uncommon for women to be prolific writers in the ancient world let alone vocal, at all, in the intellectual sphere, the female perspective that Ovid assumes in the Heroides is particularly intriguing. It urges us to ask the following: What did it mean to Ovid for a woman to write? Furthermore, what did it mean for a woman to write her desire? There’s an implicit power felt when one describes their wanting of a lover. Lust has been described by several revered male poets (take Catullus or Horace) and it’s a feeling that’s powerful, overwhelming, and almost animalistic: three qualities that are distinctly unwomanly. The idea of an ancient woman having these feelings, let alone immortalizing them in writing, is diametrically opposed to the expected traits that hallmarked ancient femininity and still pervade our culture to this day, characteristics like docility and passivity. Thus, herein lies a great innovative effort on Ovid’s end: to restore the voice of female victims of betrayal and deception in mythology. It’s a great feat and, although we can safely assume it wasn’t executed in this same sort of feminist spirit, to examine this work through such a lens deepens the meaning of Ovid’s writing and continues to highlight its relevancy in today’s day and age.

Odysseus and Penelope, Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein, 1802

In order to contextualize these broader comments in a physical body of work, I present Heroides 1. This epistle from Penelope to Ulysses relies on background information provided by the epic Greek author Homer. Penelope and Ulysses’ story begins in Homer’s Iliad, when Ulysses is called to fight in the Trojan War and thus leaves behind Penelope for ten years. The Odyssey later details Ulysses’ journey back home, where he encounters several obstacles and is away for another ten years. During this twenty-year hiatus, Penelope is pursued by many suitors, hopeful of a relationship with her. Penelope says she’ll entertain their advances once she’s finished weaving a shroud, yet, to avoid these men, Penelope unravels her work every night in an effort to stay faithful to and preserve hope for the seemingly lost Ulysses. Or so we think. Homer’s story includes the following quote: 

"How I wish chaste Artemis would give me a death so soft, and now, so I would not go on in my heart grieving all my life, and longing for love of a husband excellent in every virtue." 

(Odyssey 18.202-204)

Yet the story Ovid unravels in his Heroides reads differently than the one Homer birthed. In fact, Ovid’s Penelope unravels her tapestry not in a patient attempt to stall for Ulysses, but rather because she’s bored of endless nights:

“...The pendulous web would not then have tired my tender hands, while by such means I sought to elude the lingering nights.”

(Heroides 1.9-10)

In this version, Penelope subverts Homer’s themes of wifely submission and dedication as she unweaves her tapestry not for her husband’s sake, but rather as a simple distraction — a way to kill time, if you will. This act becomes an instance where Penelope serves herself, not Ulysses, and as such, asserts Penelope as an active character of the story, rather than a passive victim.

This pattern of subversion and newly-sourced power continues throughout the entirety of Heroides 1. At times, Penelope can be seen using the present active tense and deploying the imperative, two verbal voices appropriate only for someone with authority and confidence. Another instance can be found when Penelope speaks of lying in a deserted bed. This idea of a lover lying alone and cold in a bed is a common trope in Latin lyric poetry, as iterations of it appear in many male poets’ work. Having a woman use this common stock image is then only more significant, as it’s an unexpected twist on an expected theme. Ovid’s passing of these grammatical and metaphorical devices to a female challenge a traditional Homer-conceived version of Penelope with a new, rather empowered one.

With all this in mind, it seems that a disclaimer is in order. It comes as no shock that Ovid and his literate male peers wouldn’t have read the Heroides as a celebration of feminism or an endorsement of coloquial “girl power.” To credit them with such mentalities would be an erroneous effort to rewrite the past. Yet nonetheless, the insights I’ve presented remain pertinent when recognizing that Ovid’s work is still in circulation (in a 21st century, post-MeToo era), that his writing is still being taught to young generations of students, and that Ovid, himself, is still (rightfully so) being revered by academics. To that end, I believe that his writing, as it gives voice to female victims from mythology, adds texture and further dimension to not only their stories, but to ancient culture at large. Ovid’s work humanizes these women — women who are often othered and objectified in mythology, as they become reduced to a mere subplot for a male protagonist’s overarching story. As the Heroides restores the voices of these women, the writing holds great power. So while I encourage you to take Ovid’s art with a grain of salt, the roaring of a female voice deserves to be celebrated no matter where it may appear.