Sandro Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” was inspired by an exiled poet. Forced to spend the last 10 years of his life away from home, Ovid never gave up writing. His exilic works show readers the power of literature to forge hope from suffering.
"The Birth of Venus," circa 1485, by Sandro Botticelli. Tempera and plaster on canvas.
Uffizi Gallery, Florence. Public Domain
Uffizi Gallery, Florence. Public Domain
A Poem and a Mistake
In A.D. 8, the 50-year-old Publius Ovidius Naso, today known as “Ovid,” was banished from Rome. Did he slight Emperor Augustus, who sponsored his work? Did he commit a crime? No one knows. Ovid said the reason for his exile was “carmen et error” (“a poem and a mistake”). He might have referred to “The Art of Love,” a light-hearted instructional elegy on how to become a successful philanderer. Roman authorities likely interpreted the book as promoting adultery, which had recently become punishable by banishment.Ovid reassured readers that what he did wasn’t illegal, though he said it was “weightier” than murder. Scholars have suspected he exploited a minor incident to boost his career. It’s also possible that Ovid knew about a conspiracy against Augustus but didn’t tell the emperor. Either way, the poet was forced to leave everything and everyone he loved. In 2017, the city of Rome officially revoked his exile.
An anonymous 18th-century engraving of Ovid, who, exiled from Rome, made his greatest literary contributions. Public Domain
A Prolific Exile
Ovid’s most famous work is the “Metamorphoses,” a compilation of myths that is “the most widely illustrated book from the ancient world” after the Bible, according to Paul Barolsky, professor of Art and Literature at the University of Virginia. The poem contains 250 narratives meant to tell the history of the world, from its genesis to the deification of Julius Caesar. From Orpheus’s piteous love for the beautiful Eurydice to the tragic end of the self-absorbed Narcissus—the most influential versions of these popular stories all come from Ovid.
The finished restoration of 1572 edition of “Metamorfosi,” the “Metamorphoses” by Ovid. AtelierGK
Perhaps the greatest metamorphosis in Ovid’s life was caused by his displacement. He was sent to the remote coastal town of Tomis (now called Constanța), in modern-day Romania, where he could do little besides writing. Understandably, Ovid lamented his new situation. His wife stayed in Rome, and no one could visit him. He had to get used to a much colder climate that intensified his loneliness. He sent lively letters to friends and enemies, which have helped scholars understand the inner workings of the aristocracy in the nascent Roman Empire.
“Ibis,” one of the works he wrote in Tomis, is a vicious slander against an unnamed enemy Ovid believed was responsible for his downfall. Spite and anger notwithstanding, the poetry that emerged from his exile also contains hopeful statements about his loving wife, his dearly missed home, and his possible return.
From Winter to Spring
Writing helped Ovid cope with a lonesome life. Tomis was in the Kingdom of Thrace, a satellite state of the Roman Empire. The locals didn’t speak Latin. For a poet whose world revolved around language, that was a serious setback. Unable to communicate, Ovid turned to writing even more fervently than before. Although he decried the decline of his poetic powers, the works he wrote in Tomis are just as vivid as his earlier compositions.
Although he knew he was no hero, Ovid saw himself in Ulysses and Aeneas, two symbolic figures of exiles and wayfarers. In a poem titled “Storm and Prayer,” he commented on Aeneas’ tumultuous life: “There was hate for Aeneas.” Juno, goddess of love and marriage, stood against the legendary founder of Rome by siding with his enemy, Turnus, who sought to bring about Aeneas’ demise by obstructing his journey to Italy. The same happened to Ulysses, whom Neptune, god of freshwater and the sea, punished harshly on his way homeward after the Trojan War. Yet Ovid reminded readers that Aeneas “was safe through Venus’ power,” which enabled him to found Rome, and that “Minerva saved” Ulysses, who made it home eventually.
"Aeneas's Flight From Troy," 1598, by Federico Barocci. Oil on canvas. Borghese Gallery, Rome. Public Domain
Ovid pondered these mythic heroes and their journeys to keep alive his hope of returning home like they did: “And different though I am from them, who forbids a divine power from being of some avail to me against the angry god?” A divine power might intervene in Ovid’s life and help him return to his loved ones in his beloved home. So he wished.
Ovid also found solace in Tomis’s unfamiliar but charming scenery. In “Springtime in Tomis,” he observed that “merry boys and girls are plucking the violets that spring up unsown in the fields, the meadows are abloom with many-coloured flowers, the chatty birds from unschooled throats utter a song of spring.” As the harsh winter made way for spring’s gentle sprout, sailors resumed their travels. Ovid wondered where their journeys had taken them: “Eagerly I shall run to meet the mariner and when I’ve greeted him, shall ask why he comes, who and from what place he is.”
If he can speak “with the voice of Greek or Roman (this last will surely be the sweeter), whoever he is, he may be one to tell faithfully some rumour, one to share and pass on some report.” The poet burned with desire for news of home. He prayed “that not here may be my hearth and home but only the hostelry of my punishment,” using his verses to preserve the thought of home and thus cling to life.
Alas, Ovid’s wishes never came true. He didn’t make it to Rome and died without seeing his beloved wife. Yet he never let his lonesome, mournful longing get the best of him. Fate trapped him, but his mind held on to freedom: “deprived of native land, of you and my home, reft of all that could be taken from me; my mind is nevertheless my comrade and my joy.”
Forging Meaning Out of Suffering
Ovid’s exilic works inspired many contemporaries who shared his fate. The controversial Stoic Seneca, for example, wrote a consolatory letter to his mother, Helvia, after Emperor Claudius exiled him to Corsica. Seneca told Helvia that he spent most of his time writing, reading, and meditating to keep his pain at bay. Like Ovid, he invoked Aeneas, suggesting to his mother that everyone lives in exile, in that everyone must face separation, be it from friends, family, or home.Nobel-prize winner Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn found similar solace in writing. While imprisoned in a labor camp at Ekibastuz after Soviet authorities banished him for criticizing Stalin, he wrote a poem to encourage his fellow prisoners to cultivate “an illumined interior,” which he believed was “the loftiest gem of all earthly gemstones.” When the chips were down, at least literature could lift the soul.
A monument to Solzhenitsyn on the Korabelnaya embankment in Vladivostok, Russia. Lia Koltyrina/Shutterstock
Like countless other writers, Ovid crafted poetry to ponder his exile and cope with its repercussions. Yes, he often vented his anger at the powers that dictated his fate. But he also offered readers honest glimpses into the hope that kept him alive. Away from home, deprived of love in foreign lands, Ovid let his imagination wander as his pen worked anxiously against despair—to keep the light aflame.
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