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ed by Ancus Marcius, at the first foundation of Ostia (Liv., 1, 33), still subsist near the site now called Casone del Sale. (Cramer's Anc. Italy, vol. 2, p. 11, seqq.)—“Nothing,” observes a modern traveller, “can be more dreary than the ride from Rome to this once magnificent seaport. You issue out of the Porta San Paola, and proceed through a continued scene of dismal and heart-sinking desolation; no fields, no dwellings, no trees, no landmarks, no marks of cultivation, except a few scanty patches of corn, thinly scattered over the waste; and huts, like wigwams, to shelter the wretched and half-starved people that are doomed to live on this field of death. The Tiber, rolling turbidly along in its solitary course, seems sullenly to behold the altered scenes that have withered around him. A few miles from Ostia we entered upon a wilderness indeed. A dreary swamp extended all around, intermingled with thickets, through which roamed wild buffaloes, the only inhabitants of the waste. A considerable part of the way was upon the ancient pavement of the Via Ostiensis, in some places in good preservation, in others broken up and destroyed. When this failed us, the road was execrable. The modern fortifications of Ostia appeared before us long before we reached them. At length we entered its gate, guarded by no sentinel; on its bastions appeared no soldier; no children ran from its houses to gaze at the rare splendour of a carriage; no passenger was seen in the grass-grown street. It presented the strange spectacle of a town without inhabitants. After some beating and hallooing, on the part of the coachman and lackey, at the shut-up door of one of the houses, a woman, unclosing the shutter of an upper window, presented her ghastly face; and, having first carefully reconnoitred us, slowly and reluctantly admitted us into her wretched hovel. “Where are all the people of the town!" we inquired. “Dead,” was the brief reply. The fever of the malaria annually carries off almost all whom necessity confines to this pestilential region. But this was the month of April, the season of comparative health, and we learned, on more strict inquiry, that the population of Ostia, at present, nominally consisted of twelve men, four women, no children, and two priests.-The ruins of old Ostia are farther in the wilderness. The sea is now two miles, or nearly, from the ancient port. The cause of this, in a great measure, seems to be, that the extreme flatness of the land does not allow the Tiber to carry off the immense quantity of earth and mud its turbid waters bring down; and the more that is deposited, the more sluggishly it flows, and thus the shore rises, the sea recedes, and the marshes extend. The marshy insula sacra, in the middle of the river, is now inhabited by wild buffaloes. We had intended to cross to the sacred island, and from thence to the village of Fiumecino, on the other side, where there are said to be still some noble remains of ancient Porto, particularly of the mole, but a sudden storm prevented us.” (Rome in the Nineteenth Century, vol. 2, p. 449.) Ostorius Scapüla, a governor of Britain in the reign of Claudius, who defeated and took prisoner the famous Caractacus. He died A.D. 55. (Tacit., Ann., 12, 36.) Ostrogöthar, or Eastern Goths, a division of the great Gothic nation, who settled in Pannonia in the fifth century of our era, whence they extended their dominion over Noricum, Rhaetia, and Illyricum. About 482 or 483 A.D., their king Theodoric was serving as an auxiliary under the Emperor Zeno, and distinguished himself in Syria. On his return to Constantinople, Theodoric, according to the statement of the historian Evagrius, fearing Zeno's jealousy of his success, retired into Pannonia in 487, where he collected an army, and in the following year marched into Italy, with all his * men, women, and children, and, as - 6

appears, with the consent of Zeno himself, who wished to remove the Ostrogoths from his territories. Theodoric defeated Odoacer in various battles, took him prisoner, and some time after put him to death. Upon this event, Theodoric sent an ambassador to Anastasius, the emperor of Constantinople, who transinitted to him, in return, the purple vest, and acknowledged him as King of Italy. It appears that both Theodoric and his predecessor Odoacer acknowledged, nominally at least, the supremacy of the Eastern emperor. The rest of the history of the Ostrogoths is connected with that of Theodoric, who established his dynasty over Italy, which is generally styled the reign of the Goths in that country. (Encycl. Us. Knowl., vol. 17, p. 55.) Osy MANdyas, a king of Egypt, the same with Ameproph or Phamenoph. (Vid. Memnon, and Memnonium.) Jablonski makes Osymanydas equivalent in meaning to “dans vocem,” voice-emitting. (Voc. AEgypt., p. 29, p. 97.-Compare Creuzer, Symbolik, par Guigniaut, vol. 1, p. 482.) Otho, I. Marcus Salvius, was born A.D. 31 or 32. He was descended of an honourable family, which originally came from Ferentinum, and which traced its origin to the Lucumones of Etruria. His grandfather, who belonged to the equestrian order, was made a senator through the influence of Livia Augusta, but did not rise higher in office than the praetorship. His father, Lucius Otho, was advanced to offices of great honour and trust by the Emperor Tiberius, whom he is said to have resenbled so closely in person as to have been frequently taken for a near relation. Marcus Otho was an intimate friend of Nero during the early years of his reign, and his associate in his excesses and debaucheries; but Nero's love for Poppaea, whom Otho had seduced from her husband, and to whom he was greatly attached, produced a coolness between them, and this rivalry for the affections of an unprincipled woman would soon have terminated in the ruin of Otho, had not Seneca procured for the latter the government of Lusitania, to which he was sent as into a kind of honourable exile. In this province, which he governed, according to Suetonius (Wit. Othonis, 3), with great justice, he remained for ten years; and afterward o an active part in opposition to Nero, and in placing Galba on the throne, A.D. 68. Otho appears to have expected, as the reward of his services, that he would be declared his successor; but when Galba proceeded to adopt Piso Licinianus, Otho formed a conspiracy among the guards, who proclaimed him emperor, and put Galba to death after a reign of only seven months. Otho commenced his reign by ingratiating himself with the soldiery, whom Galba had unwisely neglected to conciliate. He yielded to the wishes of the people in putting to death Tigellius, who had been the chief minister of Nero's pleasures, and he acquired considerable popularity by his wise and judicious administration. He was, however, scarcely seated upon the throne, before he was called upon to oppose Vitellius, who had been proclaimed emperor by the legions in Germany a few days before the death of Galba. Vitellius, who was of an indolent disposition, sent forward Caecina, one of his generals, to secure the passes of the Alps, while he himself remained in his camp upon the Rhine. Otho quickly collected a large army and marched against Caecina, while he sent his fleet to reduce to obedience Liguria and Gallia Narbonensis. (Compare Tacitus, Agric., c. 7.) At first Otho was completely successful. Liguria and Gallia Narbonensis submitted to his authority, while Caecina was repulsed with considerable loss in an attack upon Placentia. Caecina encountered subsequently a second check. But, shortly after, Otho's army was completely defeated by the troops of Vitellius, in a hard-fought battle near Bebriacum, a village on the Po, soothwest of Mantua. o who 9

does not appear, however, to have been deficient in bravery, had been persuaded, for the security of his person, to retire before the battle to Brixellum ; a step which tended, as Tacitus has observed, to occasion his defeat. When he was informed of the result of the conflict, he refused to make any farther effort for the enlpire, but put an end to his own life by falling upon his sword, at the age of 37 according to Tacitus (Hist., 2, 50), or of 38 according to Suetonius (Wit. Oth., c. 11), after reigning 95 days. Plutarch, in his life of Otho, relates that the soldiers immediately buried his body, that it might not be exposed to indignity by falling into the hands of his enemies, and erected a plain monument over his grave, with the simple inscription, “To the memory of Marcus Otho.” The early debaucheries of Otho threw a stain upon his reputation, which his good conduct in Lusitania and his mildness as emperor did not altogether remove. The treatment which he received from Nero might in some degree justify his rebellion against that prince; but no palliation can be found for the treason and cruelty with which he was chargeable towards Galba. In all things his actions were marked by a culpable extreme ; and o: both the good and the evil which appeared in is life were the result of circumstances rather than of virtuous principles or of fixed and incurable depravity. (Tacit., Hist, lib. 1 et 2. —Sueton., Vit. Othon. Plut., Vit. Othon.—Dio Cass., lib. 64.—Encycl. Us. Knowl., vol. 17, p. 59. – Encycl. Metropol, div. 3, vol. 2, p. 497, seqq.)—II. L. Roscius, a tribune of the commons, who, in the year that Cicero was consul, proposed and caused to be passed the well-known law which allowed the equestrian order particular seats in the theatre. The equites, previous to this, sat promiscuously with the commons. By this new regulation of Otho's, the commons considered themselves dishonoured, and hissed and insulted Otho when he appeared in the theatre: the equites, on the other hand, received him with loud plaudits. The commons repeated their hissings and the knights their applause, until at last they came to mutual reproaches, and the whole theatre presented a scene of the greatest disorder. Cicero, being informed of the disturbance, came and summoned the people to the temple of Bellona, where, partly by his reproofs and partly by his persuasive eloquence, he so wrought upon them that they returned to the theatre, loudly testified their approbation of Otho, and strove with the equites which should show him the most honour. The speech delivered on this occasion was asterward reduced to writing. It is now lost, but, having been delivered extempore, it affords a strong example of the persuasive nature of his eloquence. One topic which he touched on in this oration, and the only one of which we have any hint from antiquity, was his reproaching the rioters for their want of taste, in creating a tumult while Roscius was performing on the stage. (Livy, Epit., 99. – Horat., Epist., 1, 1, 62.-Jup., Sat., 3, 159.-Well. Paterc., 2, 32.—Fuss, Rom. Antiq., p. 147.) Othrys, a mountain-range of Thessaly, which, branching out of Tymphrestus, one of the highest points in the chain of Pindus, closed the great basin of Thessaly to the south, and served at the same time to divide the waters which flowed northward into the Peneus from those received by the Sperchius. This mountain is often celebrated by the poets of antiquity. (Eurip., Alcest., 583.—Theocr., Idyll., 3, 43.−Virg., AEm., 7,674.—Lucan, 6,337.) At present it is known by the different names of Helloro, Varibovo, and Gowra. (Ponqueville, vol. 3, p. 394. — Cramer's Anc. Greece, vol. 1, p. 412.) Orus and Ephialtes, sons of Neptune. Aloidae.) Ovidius Naso, P., a celebrated poet, born at Sulmo (now Sulmona), a town lying on the river Pescara, in the territory of the Peligni, at the distance of

(Wid.

ninety miles from Rome. Ovid came into the world A.U.C. 711, the memorable year in which Cicero was murdered, and on the very day when the two consuls, Hirtius and Pansa, sell at the battle of Mutina. The events of his life are chiefly known from his own writings, and more particularly from the tenth elegy of the fourth book of the Tristia. Ovid was of an equestrian family, and was brought to Rome at an early period of life, along with an elder brother, to be fully instructed in the arts and learning of the capital. (Trist., 4, 10.) He soon disclosed an inclination towards poetry; but he was for some time dissuaded from a prosecution of the art by his father, whose chief object was to make him an accomplished orator and patron, and thereby open up to him the path to civic honours. The time was indeed past when political harangues from the rostra paved the way to the consulship or to the government of wealthy provinces; but distinction and emolument might yet be attained by eminence in judicial proceedings, and by such elequence as the servile deliberations of the senate sull permitted. Ovid, accordingly, seems to have paid considerable attention to those studies which might qualify him to shine as a patron in the Forum, or procure for him a voice in a submissive senate. He practised the art of oratory, and not without success, in the schools of the rhetoricians Arellius Fuscus and Porcius Latro, the two most eminent teachers of their time. Seneca, the rhetorician, who himself had heard him practising declamation before Fuscus, informs us, that he surpassed all his fellow-students in ingenuity : but he harangued in a sort of poetical prose; he was deficient in methodical arrangement, and he indulged too freely in digressions, as also in the introduction of the commonplaces of disputation. He rarely declaimed, moreover, except on ethical subjects; and preferred delivering those sort of persuasive harangues which have been termed Suasoriae. (Senec., Contrer. 2, 10.) After having assumed the Toga Virilis, and completed the usual course of rhetorical tuition at Rome, he proceeded to finish his education at Athens. It is not known whether he made much progress in

‘philosophy during his stay in that city; but, from the

tenour of many of his works, it appears probable that he had at least studied physics, and that in morals he had embraced the tenets of the Epicurean school. In company with Æmilius Macer, he visited the most illustrious cities of Asia (Ep. e Ponto, 2, 10); and on his way back to Rome he passed with him into Sicily. He remained nearly a year at Syracuse, and thence made several agreeable excursions through disferent parts of the island. After his return to Rome, and on attaining the suitable age, Ovid held successively several of the lower judicial offices of the state, and also frequently acted as arbiter, highly to the satissaction of litigants whose causes he decided. (Trist., 2, 93.) These avocations, however, were speedily relinquished. The father of Ovid had for some time restrained his son's inclination towards poetry ; but the arguments he deduced against its cultivation, from the stale example of the poverty of Homer (Trist., 4, 10), were now receiving an almost practical refuta: tion in the court favour and affluence of Virgil and Horace. The death, too, of his elder brother, by leaving Ovid sole heir to a fortune ample enough to satisfy his wants, finally induced him to abandon the prosession to which he had been destined, and bid adieu at once to public affairs and the clamours of the Forum. Henceforth, accordingly, Ovid devoted himself to the service of the Muses; though he joined with their purer worship the enjoyment of all those pleasures o life which a capital, the centre of every folly and amusement, could afford. He possessed an ble villa and extensive farm in the neighbourhood of ‘’’. mo, the place of his birth; but he resided chiefon: his house on the Capitoline Hill (Trist., I, 3), or his gardens, which lay a little beyond the city, at the junction of the Clodian and Flaminian Ways, near the Pons Milvius, where he composed many of his verses. He was fond, indeed, of the rural pleasures of flowers and trees, but he chiefly delighted to sow and plant them in these suburban gardens. (Ep. e Ponto, 1,8.) Far from hiding himself amid his groves, like the melancholy Tibullus, he courted society, and never was happier than amid the bustle of the capital. One day, when Augustus, in his capacity of censor, according to ancient custom, made the whole body of Roman knights pass before him in review, he presented our poet with a beautiful steed. (Tristia, 2, 89.) The gift was accounted a peculiar mark of favour, and shows that, at the time when it was bestowed, he had incurred no moral stain which merited the disapprobation of his prince. While frequenting the court of Augustus, Ovid was well received by the politest of the courtiers. The titles of many of the epistles written during his banishment, show that they were addressed to persons well known to us, even at this distance of time, as distinguished statesmen and imperial favourites. Messala, to whose house he much resorted, had early encouraged the rising genius, and directed the studies of Ovid ; and the friendship which the father had extended to our poet was continued to him by the sons. But his chief patron was Q. Fabius Max. imus, long the friend of Augustus, and, in the closing scenes of that prince's life, the chief confidant of his weaknesses and domestic sorrows. (Tacit., Ann., 1, 5.) Nor was Ovid's acquaintance less with the celebrated poets of his age than with its courtiers and senators. Virgil, indeed, he had merely seen, and premature death cut off the society of Tibullus; but Horace, Macer, and Propertius were long his familiar friends, and often communicated to him their writings previous to publication. While blessed with so many friends, he seems to have been undisturbed, at least during this period of his life, by the malice of a single foe; neither the court favour he enjoyed nor his poetical renown procured him enemies; and he was never assailed by that spirit of envy and detraction by which Horace had been persecuted. His poetry was universally popular (Tristia, 1, 1,64): like the stanzas of Tasso, it was often sung in the streets or at entertainments; and his verses were frequently recited in the theatre amid the applause of the multitude. Among his other distinctions, Ovid was a favourite of the fair, with whom his engagements were numerous and his intercourse unrestraincd. (Am., 2, 4.— Tristia, 4, 10, 65.) He was extremely susceptible of love, and his love was ever changing. His first wife, whom he married when almost a boy, was unworthy of his affections, and possessed them but a short while. The second, who came from the country of the ancient Falisci, led a blameless life, but was soon repudiated. After parting with her, Ovid was united to a third, who was of the Fabian family. In her youth she had been the companion of Marcia, the wife of Fabius Maximus, and a favourite of Marcia's mother, who was the maternal aunt of Augustus. She was a widow at the time of her marriage with Ovid, and had a daughter by her former husband, who was married to Suillius, the friend of Germanicus. (Ep. e Ponto, 4, 8.) But these successive legitimate connexions did not prevent him from forming others of a different description. Corinna, a wanton, enticing beauty, whose real name and family the commentators and biographers of our poet have ineffectually laboured to discover, allured him in his early youth from the paths of rectitude. It is quite improbable that Corinna denoted Julia, the daughter of Augustus, and impossible that she represented Julia, his granddaughter, who was

an infant when Ovid recorded his amours with Coonna. Ovid passed nearly thirty years in the voluptuous enjoyment of the pleasures of the capital, blessed

with the smiles of fortune, honoured with the favour of his prince, and fondly anticipating a tranquil old age. (Tristia, 4, 8, 29.) He now remained at Rome the last of the constellation of poets which had brightened the earlier age of Augustus. That prince had by this time lost his favourite ministers, Maecenas and Agrippa : he was less prosperous than during former years in the external affairs of the empire, and less prudently advised in his domestic concerns: he was insidiously alienated from his own family, and was sinking in his old age under the sway of the imperious Livia and the dark-souled Tiberius. Ovid's friendships lay chiefly among those who supported the lineal descendants of Augustus, the unfortunate offspring of Julia and Agrippa. He thus became an object of suspicion to the party in power, and had lost many of those benefactors who might have shielded him from the storm which now unexpectedly burst on his head, and swept from him every hope and comfort for the remainder of his existence. It was in the year 762, and when Ovid had reached the age of 51, that Augustus suddenly banished him from Rome to a wild and distant corner of the empire. Ovid has derived nearly as much celebrity from his misfortunes as his writings; and, having been solely occasioned by the vengeance of Augustus, they have reflected some dishonour on a name which would otherwise have descended to posterity as that of a generous and almost universal protector of learning and poetry. The real cause of his exile is the great problem in the literary history of Rome, and has occasioned as much doubt and controversy as the imprisonment of Tasso by Alphonso has created in modern Italy. The secret unquestionably was known to many persons in Rome at the time (Tristia, 4, 10. – Compare Ep. e Ponto, 2, 6); but, as its discovery had deeply wounded the feelings of Augustus (Tristia, 2, 209), no contemporary author ventured to disclose it. Ovid himself has only dared remotely to allude to it, and when he does mention it, his hints and suggestions are scarcely reconcilable with each other, sometimes speaking of his offence as a mistake or chance, in which he was more unfortunate than blameable, and at other times as if his life might have been forfeited without injustice. (Tristia, 5, 11.) No subsequent writer thought of revealing or investigating the mystery till it was too late, and it seems to be now closed for ever within the tomb of the Caesars. The most ancient opinion (to which Sidonius Apollinaris refers) is, that Ovid was banished for having presumed to love Julia, the daughter of Augustus, and for having celebrated her under the name of Corinna (Sidon. Apoll, Carm, 23, v. 158); and it was considered as a confirmation of this opinion, that exile was the punishment inflicted on Sempronius, the most known and best beloved of all her paramours. This notion was adopted by Crinitus and Lylius Gyraldus; but it was refuted as early as the time of Aldus Manutius, who has shown from the writings of Ovid that he was engaged in the amour with his pretended Corinna in his earliest youth ; and it certainly is not probable that such an intrigue should have continued for about thirty years, and till Ovid had reached the age of fifty-one, or that Augustus should have been so slow in discovering the intercourse which subsisted. Julia, too, was banished to Pandataria in the year 752, which was nine years before the exile of Ovid ; and why should his punishment have been delayed so long after the discovery of his transgression 1 Besides, had he been guilty of such an offence, would he have dared in his Tristia, when soliciting his recall from banishment, to justify his morals to the emperor, and to declare that he had committed an involuntary error? Or would he have been befriended and supported in exile by the greatest men of Rome, some of whom were the favourites and counsellors of Augustus —ovemb 'o the time of Manutius, various other theories have been devised to account for the exile of Ovid. Dryden, in the Preface to his translation of Ovid's Epistles, thinks it probable that “he had stumbled by some inadvertency on the privacies of Livia, and had seen aer in a bath ; for the words ‘sine weste Dianam,” he remarks, agree better with Livia, who had the fame of chastity, than with either of the Julias.” It would no doubt appear that our poet had a practice of breaking in unseasonably on such occasions (A. A., 3, 245). But it is not probable that Augustus would have punished such an offence so severely, or that it would have affected him so deeply. Livia, at the time of Ovid's banishment, had reached the age of sixty-four, and was doubtless the only person in the empire who would consider such an intrusion as intentional.—Tiraboschi has maintained, at great length, that he had been the involuntary and accidental witness of some moral turpitude committed by one of the imperial family, most probably Julia, the granddaughter of Augustus, who had inherited the licentious disposition of her mother, and was banished from Rome on account of her misconduct, nearly at the same time that the sentence of exile was pronounced on Ovid. This theory, on the whole, seems the most plausible, and most consistent with the hints dropped by the poet himself. He repeatedly says, that the offence for which he had been banished was a folly, an error, an imprudence, rather than a crime: using the words stultitia and error in opposition to crimen and facinus. (Tristia, 1, 2, 100, et passim.) He invariably talks of what he had seen as the cause of his misfortunes (Tristia, 2, 103, seqq.), and he admits that what he had seen was a fault. But he farther signifies, that the fault he had witnessed was of a description which offended modesty, and which, therefore, ought to be covered with the veil of night. (Tristia, 3, 6.) It is by no means improbable that he should have detected the granddaughter of the emperor in some disgraceful intrigue. Neither of the Julias confined their amours to the recesses of their palaces, so that the most dissolute frequenter of the lowest scenes of debauchery may have became the witness of her turpitude. Farther, it is evident that it was something of a private nature, and which wounded the most tender feelings of Augustus, who, we know from history, was peculiarly sensitive with regard to the honour of his family. Lastly, it appears, that, after being a witness of the shameful transgression of Julia, Ovid had fallen into some indiscretion through timidity (Ep. e Ponto, 2, 2), Yhich might have been avoided, had he enjoyed the benefit of good advice (Tristia, 3, 6, 13); and it seems extremely probable, that the imprudence he committed was in revealing to others the discovery he had made, and concealing it from Augustus.-It is not likely that any better guess will now be formed on the subject. Another, however, has been recently attempted by M. Villenave, in a life of Ovid prefixed to a French translation of the Metamorphoses. His opinion, which has also been adopted by Schöll (Hist. Lit. Rom., vol. 1, p. 240), is, that Ovid, from accident or indiscretion, had become possessed of some state secret concerning Agrippa Posthumus, the son of Agrippa and Julia, and grandson of Augustus. The existence of the family of Julia long formed the great obstacle to the ambition of Livia and her son Tiberius. Agrippa Posthumus, the last surviver of the race, was banished from Rome to the island of Planasia, near Corsica, in 758; but considerable apprehensions seem to have been entertained by Livia that he might one day be recalled., Ovid, in a poetical epistle from Pontus, written in the fifth year of his exile, accuses himself as the cause of the death of his friend Fabius Maximus; and this Fabius Maximus, it appears, was the chief confidant of the emperor in all that related to the affairs of Agrippa, which he wished concealed

from Livia. A few months before his own death, Augustus, attended by Fabius Maximus alone, privately visited Agrippa in his retirement of Planasia; and the object of his journey from Rome having been discovered by Livia, the death of this counsellor followed shortly after. It will be remarked, however, that this voyage was undertaken in 666, four years subsequently to the exile of Ovid, and was disclosed through the indiscretion of the wife of Fabius. (Tacit., Ann., 1, 5.) But the French author conjectures, that the scene to which Ovid alludes in his writings as having witnessed, had some close connexion with the ensuing visit to Planasia, and gave a commencement to those suspicions which terminated in the death of his friend. His chief objection to the theory of Tirabosch, is, that Augustus would not have banished Ovid for discovering or revealing the disgrace of Julia, when, by her exile, he had already proclaimed her licentiousness to the whole Roman people. But, in fact, Ovid was not banished for the sake of concealment. The discovery which proved so fatal to himself was no secret at Rome; and, had secrecy been the emperor's object, banishment was the very worst expedient to which he could have resorted. Ovid might better have been bribed to silence ; or, if sentence of death could have served the purpose more effectually, the old triumvir would not have scrupled to pronounce it. The secret, however, was already divulged, and was in the mouths of the citizens. Ovid was therefore exiled as a punishment for his temerity, as a precaution against farther discoveries, and to remove from the imperial eye the sight of one whose presence must have reminded Augustus of his disgrace both as a sovereign and parent.—Whatever may have been the real cause of the exile of Ovid, the pretext for it was the licentious verses he had written. (Ep. e Ponto, 2, 9.) Augustus affected a regard for public morals; and concealing, on this occasion, the true motive by which he was actuated, he claimed a merit with the senate, and all who were zealous for a reformation of manners, in thus driving from the capital a poet who had reduced licentiousness to a system, by furnishing precepts, deduced from his own practice, which might aid the inexperienced in the successful prosecution of lawless love. He carefully excluded from the public libraries not merely the “Art of Love,” but all the other writings of Ovid. (Tristia, 3, 1, 65.) It is evident, however, that this was all colour and pretext. Ovid himself ventures gently to hint, that Augustus was not so strict a moralist that he would seriously have thought of punishing the composition of a few licentious verses with interminable exile. (Tristia, 2, 524.) In point of expression, too, the lines of Ovid are delicate compared with those of Horace, whom the emperor had always publicly favoured and supported. Nor was his sentence of banishment passed until many years after their composition ; yet, though so long an interval had elapsed, it was suddenly pronounced, as on the discovery of some recent crime, and was most rapidly carried into execution. The mandate for his exile arrived unexpectedly in the evening. The night preceding his departure from Rome was one of the utmost grief to his family, and of consternation and dismay to himself. In a fit of despair, he burned the copy of the Metamorphoses which he was then employed in correcting, and some others of his poems. He made no farther preparations for his journey, but passed the time in loud complains, and in adjuration to the gods of the Capitol. His chief patron, Fabius Maximus, was absent at the time, and his only daughter was with her husband in Africa; but several of his friends came to his house, where they remained part of the night, and endeavoured, though in vain, to console him. After much irresolution, he at length departed on the approach

of dawn, his dress neglected and his hair dishevelled.

His wife, who had wished to accompany him, but was not permitted, sainted the moment he left the house. —After his departure from Rome, Ovid proceeded to Brundisium, where he had an interview with Fabius Maximus. He recommended his wife to the care of his friend, and received repeated assurances of his support.—The destined spot of his perpetual exile was Tomi, the modern Temiswar, on the shore of the Euxine, a few miles to the south of the spot where the most southern branch of the Danube unites with that sea. (Vid. Tomi.) The place had been originally an Athenian colony, and was still inhabited by a few remains of the Greeks, but it was chiefly filled with

rude and savage barbarians, of whose manners and

habits the poet draws a most vivid description. The town was defended by but feeble ramparts from the incursions of the neighbouring Getae, or still more formidable tribes to the north of the Danube. Alarms from the foe were constant, and the poet himself had sometimes to grasp a sword and buckler, and place a helmet on his gray head, on a signal given by the sentinel (Tristia, 4, 1, 73), when squadrons of barbarians covered the desert which Tomi overlooked, or surrounded the town in order to surprise and pillage it.— Without books or society, Ovid often wished for a field (Ep. e Ponto, 1, 8) to remind him of the garden near the Flaminian Way, in which, in his happier days, he had breathed his love-sighs and composed his amorous verses. Some of the barbarian inhabitants were along with our poet in the small and inconvenient house which he inhabited (Tristia, 2, 200), and kept him in a state of constant alarm by their ferocious appearance. They neither cut their beards nor hair, which, hanging dishevelled over the face, gave a peculiar horror to their aspect. The whole race were clothed in the shaggy skins of various animals (Tristia, 3, 10), and each barbarian carried with him constantly a bow, and a quiver containing poisoned arrows. (Tristia, 5, 7.) They daily filled the streets with tumult and uproar, and even the litigants sometimes decided their cause before the tribunals by the sword. (Tristia, 5, 10.) But if there was danger within the walls of Tomi, destruction lay beyond them. Tribes, who foraged from a distance, carried off the flocks and burned the cottages. From the insecurity of property and severity of climate, the fields were without grain, the hills without vines, the mountains without oaks, and the banks without willows. (Tristia, 3, 10, 71.) Absinthium, or wormwood, alone grew up and covered the plains. (Ep. e Ponto, 4, 8.) Spring brought with it neither birds nor flowers. In summer the sun rarely broke through the cloudy and foggy atmosphere. The autumn shed no fruits; but, through every season of the year, wintry winds blew with prodigious violence (Tristia, 3, 10, 17), and lashed the waves of the boisterous Euxine on its desert shore. (Tristia, 4, 4, 57.) The only animated object was the wild Sarmatian driving his car, yoked with oxen, across the snows, or the frozen depths of the Euxine (Tristia, 3, 10,32), clad in his fur cloak, his countenance alone uncovered, his beard glistening and sparkling with the hoar-frost and flakes of snow. (Tristia, 3, 10, 21.) —Such was the spot for which Ovid was compelled to exchange the theatres, the baths, the porticoes, and

ardens of Rome, the court of Augustus, the banks of the Tiber, and the sun and soil of Italy.—While thus driving him to the most remote and savage extremity of his empire, Augustus softened the sentence he had pronounced on Ovid with some alleviating qualifications. He did not procure his condemnation by a decree of the senate, but issued his own mandate, in which he employed the word “relegation” (relegatio), and not “banishment” (ersilium), leaving him, by this choice of terms, the enjoyment of his paternal fortune and some other privileges of a Roman citizen. (Tristia, 5, 11, 21.-Ibid., 4, 9.) Nor were other circum

stances wanting in his fate which might have contributed to impart consolation. His third wife, to whom he was tenderly attached, though not permitted to accompany him on the voyage to Scythia, continued faithful to her husband during his long exile, and protected his property from the rapacity of his enemies. (Tristia, 1, 5.) Many of his friends remained unshaken by his misfortunes, and from time to time he received letters from them, giving him hopes of recall. The Getae, though they at length became displeased with his incessant complaints of their country (Ep. e Ponto, 4, 14), received him at first with kindness and sympathy, and long paid him such distinguished honours, that he almost appears to have realized the sables of Orpheus and Amphion, in softening their native ferocity by the magic of the Roman lyre. (Ep. e Ponto, 4, 9–1bid., 4, 14.)—Nothing, however, could compensate for the deprivations he suffered; nor was anything omitted on Ovid's part which he thought might prevail on the emperor to recall him to Rome, or assign him, at least, a place of milder exile; and Sicily was particularly pointed at as a suitable spot for such a mitigation of punishment. (Tristia, 5, 2.) This is the object of all his epistles from Pontus, the name of the district of Moesia in which Tomi was situate, and not to be confounded with the Pontus of Asia Minor. He flattered Augustus during his life with an extravagance which bordered on idolatry (Ep. e Ponto, 4, 6–Tristia, 2); and the letters addressed to his friends inculcate skilful lessons of choosing the most favourable opportunities for propitiating the despot. It does not appear, however, that any one of his numerous and powerful acquaintances ventured to solicit his recall, or to entreat Augustus in his behalf. Yet the poet seems to suppose that Augustus, previous to his decease, was beginning to feel more favourably towards him. (Ep. e Ponto, 4, 6.) After the death of the emperor, with a view, doubtless, of propitiating his successor, Ovid wrote a poem on his Apotheosis, and consecrated to him, as a new deity, a temple, where he daily repaired to offer incense and worship. (Ep. e Ponto, 4, 9.) Nor was he sparing in his panegyrics on the new emperor (Ep. e Ponto, 4, 13); but he found Tiberius equally inexorable with Augustus-The health of Ovid had been early and severely affected by his exile and confinement at Tomi. He was naturally of a feeble constitution, and, in the place of his banishment, every circumstance was combined which could wear out the mind and the body. The rigour of the climate bore hard on one who had passed a delicate youth of pleasure and repose under an Italian sky. In consequence, soon after his arrival at Tomi, he totally lost his strength and appetite (Ep. e Ponto, 1, 10), and became thin, pale, and exhausted. From time to time he recovered and relapsed, till at length, at the age of 60, he sunk under the hardships to which he had been so long subjected. His death happened in the year 771, in the ninth year of his exile, and the fourth of the reign of Tiberius. Before his decease, he expressed a wish that his ashes might be carried to Rome; even this desire, however, was not complied with. His bones were buried in the Scythian soil, and the Getae erected to him a monument near the spot of his earthly sojourn.—It would seem that Ovid had commenced his poetical career with some attempt at heroic subjects, particularly the Gigantomachia. But he soon directed his attention from such topics to others which were more consonant to his disposition. Accordingly, the earliest writings of Ovid now extant are amatory elegies in the style of Tibullus and Propertius. These elegies are styled Amores, amounting in all to forty-nine, and were originally divided by the poet into five books. There are now only three books in the printed editions of Ovid; but it has been doubted whether all the elegies he wrote be still included in this division, or if two

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