Artful and audacious at all times, the Roman poet Ovid claims that he can help any young man or woman find and keep the beloved person he or she longs for; and in the extended poem that the Romans call Ars Amatoria, and that residents of the contemporary Anglosphere refer to as The Art of Love, Ovid sets forth his strategies and tactics for amatory success.
In a manner that might remind some readers of the “self-help” books of the present day, Ovid, writing all the way back around the year 2 A.D., seeks to guide the reader through all of the steps of meeting, wooing, winning, and keeping that special someone. When it comes to starting a conversation, and keeping it going, Ovid’s advice is as follows:
Now is the time for conversation. Be off, rustic modesty! Fortune and Venus favour daring. Do not count on me to teach you the laws of eloquence. Only make a beginning, and the eloquence will follow without your looking for it. You must play the role of a lover. Let what you say express the ache which burns within you, and neglect no means of persuading your mistress. (p. 33)
Some of Ovid’s advice is fairly timeless; at other times, one must apply a bit of historical context. Characteristic in that regard is this passage, in which Ovid tells a young man how to let his beloved know that she is always uppermost in his thoughts:
Take care to hold her sunshade over her, and make a way for her if she finds herself caught up in the crowd. Hasten to place a footstool to help her get into bed. Take off or put on her sandals on her delicate feet. Often, too, though you may be shivering yourself, warm the ice-cold hands of your mistress in your breast. Do not hesitate, though you may feel a little ashamed, to use your hand, the hand of a free man, to hold her mirror. (p. 53)
Note that Ovid is trying to anticipate and refute the likely protest of a proud Roman freeman – something to the effect that holding a mirror for a lady is “slave work.” But Ovid wants his reader to move beyond such thinking. After all, what is more democratizing, more liberating, than the universality of love – of falling in love, of loving and being loved?
By the way, Ovid has some other sage advice for a young man wishing to preserve his relationship with the woman he loves: (1) agree with her regarding what she praises or criticizes; and (2) if you’re playing dice or chess, be sure to let her win.
Ovid also has some (ahem!) bedroom advice for young men, regarding ways to make sure that the connubial aspect of the relationship is most perfectly happy for both partners. It is stated more poetically and elegantly than what one might find in the pages of Playboy or Men’s Health, but is unmistakable in its import. It is near the end of Book II, if you want to look it up for yourself. I will say no more.
Ovid sums up his advice to young men by writing that “May every lover who has triumphed over a fierce Amazon with the sword he has received from me inscribe on his trophies: Ovid was my master” (p. 79). But Ovid is interested in offering advice to young women as well as young men, pointing out that “here, also, is the fair sex demanding lessons from me. So, it is for you, young Beauties, that I reserve what follows” (p. 79).
Ovid is just as specific in his advice to young women as he is when advising young men, writing to young women that
My dears, you will do well to mingle with crowds; often go out with no destination in view. The she-wolf watches many ewes in order to seize one of them; the eagle pursues more than one bird through the air. Thus a Beauty ought to be seen by the people; among them perhaps there will be one whom her charms will captivate. Everywhere let her show herself eager to please, and let her pay great attention to all that can enhance her attractions. Everywhere chance offers luck. Let the hook be always held out; the fish will come to take it when you least expect it. (p. 102)
“Young maidens,” Ovid writes, “be kinder to those who appear to be in love with you; this love, at first put on, will become sincere” (p. 33). But, Ovid warns the ladies, “avoid those men who show off their dress and their beauty, and who are afraid to disarrange their hair. What they will say to you they will already have repeated a thousand times to others. Theirs is an errant love which will settle nowhere….Perhaps this seems unbelievable to you, but you must believe it. Troy would still be standing where she was if she had listened to the advice of old Priam” (pp. 102-03). His advice seems as sound and sensible in 2020 A.D. as it was in 2 A.D.
I wish I could tell you that Ovid was able to pass the remainder of his days in Rome, writing of love and hopefully being in love; but alas, such was not to be. Six years after publishing The Art of Love, in 8 A.D. – the same year in which Ovid published his magnum opus, the cycle of Greek and Roman mythological stories known as The Metamorphoses - he was exiled from Rome by personal order of the emperor Augustus Caesar, and sent to the city of Tomis, on the shores of the Black Sea in Dacia. Today, Tomis is the seaside city of Constanța in Romania, where a statue of Ovid shows the pride that the Romanian people have in knowing that the great poet was once a fellow-countryman of theirs.
Why did the Emperor treat Ovid as he did? There is speculation that Augustus may have suspected Ovid of involvement in a coup attempt against the Emperor. Beyond such possibilities, however, there is the certainty that Ovid’s world-view and that of Augustus Caesar were fundamentally different. Ovid was worldly, pleasure-loving, tolerant of human frailty; Augustus was stern, cold, duty-bound. Ovid focused on the individual; Augustus, on the state. Ovid wanted people to seek out love as a key to happiness; Augustus wanted strict, stable couples to dutifully bring forth and raise future generations of valiant Roman soldiers and stern Roman matrons who could help further the imperial project of Roman hegemony. In a way, perhaps it’s a surprise that Augustus didn’t exile Ovid sooner than he did.
Whatever the reasons for his exile – and Ovid himself said the reason was carmen et error, “a poem and a mistake” – Ovid passed the last decade of his life in unhappy exile on what he would have regarded as a “barbarian” frontier, far from the Rome that he loved, with its high culture, its elegant society, its gossip, its love affairs. Truly, Augustus knew how to choose a punishment that would be most painful to its recipient.
But Augustus’ empire, so precious to him, crumbled into dust in 476 A.D. Meanwhile, Ovid’s The Art of Love still delights with its naughty, flirtatious playfulness. And somewhere in the world, as I write these words, some young person who is desperately in love is even now taking up a copy of The Art of Love, saying to him- or herself, “I’ve heard that this person Ovid has some good ideas that can help me…”