As I researched The Steppe Saga, I naturally turned to Ovid and his eyewitness accounts of life in Scythia Minor. Ovid was exiled by Augustus to the Milesian colony of Tomis on the banks of the Ister (modern Danube) for an unspecified offense to do with one of his poems (likely the seduction/sex manual Ars Amatoria, “The Art of Love” which encouraged, among other things, adultery) and possibly some of his personal behavior or politics. The details are vague, but the results are clear. While he arrived after the Scythians had been largely supplanted by the Sarmatians in the region, several centuries after my story’s timeframe, he lived among the descendants of Greeks, as well as native Sarmatians and Getae—culturally related but ethnically distinct tribes—so his information offers useful details not only of the relevant cultures, but of classical perspectives on the region’s nomadic peoples.
Ovid wrote several works during his time in exile here, but the entries which most interested my research were the ones which specifically mention the native Sarmatian and Getae inhabitants of Tomis. He, as an unwilling immigrant to the country, gives a vivid account of the people and place which is deliberately negative but also, with his poet’s flair, wonderfully descriptive—if a bit melodramatic. Of course, these poems and letters serve a purpose: Ovid may be venting his frustrations, but he is mainly hoping escape Tomis to a more favorable location, and so is trying to persuade their readers that being forced to live in an unforgiving wasteland among such savages is unfairly harsh. He likely believed it, but he also excluded any evidence to the contrary. If he felt anything positive toward the place or people, it has been carefully omitted in service of his cause.
A few selections from Tristia “Sorrows”
Original translation by Arthur Leslie Wheeler, public domain, can be found here.
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BOOK III
Yet while the warm breezes blow we are defended by the interposing Hister ; with the flood of his waters he repels wars.
…forthwith when the Hister has been levelled by the freezing Aquilo the barbarian enemy with his swift horses rides to the attack—an enemy strong in steeds and in far flying arrows—and lays waste far and wide the neighbouring soil.
X. THE RIGOURS OF TOMIS
If there be still any there who remembers banished Naso, if my name without me still survives in the city, let him know that beneath the stars which never touch the sea I am living in the midst of the barbarian world. About me are the Sauromatae, a cruel race, the Bessi, and the Getae, names how unworthy of my talent ! Yet while the warm breezes blow we are defended by the interposing Hister ; with the flood of his waters he repels wars. But when grim winter has thrust forth his squalid face, and the earth is marble-white with frost, while Boreas and the snow prevent life under the Great Bear, then 'tis clear that these tribes are hard pressed by the shivering pole. The snow lies continuously, and once fallen, neither sun nor rains may melt it, for Boreas hardens and renders it eternal. So when an earlier fall is not yet melted another has come, and in many places 'tis wont to remain for two years. So mighty is the power of Aquilo, when once he is aroused, that he levels high towers to the ground and sweeps away buildings. With skins and stitched breeches they keep out the evils of the cold ; of the whole body only the face is exposed. Often their hair tinkles with hanging ice and their beards glisten white with the mantle of frost. Exposed wine stands upright, retaining the shape of the jar, and they drink, not draughts of wine, but fragments served them ! 25 Why tell of brooks frozen fast with the cold and how brittle water is dug out of the pool ? The very Hister, not narrower than the papyrus-bearing river, mingling with the vast deep through many mouths, freezes as the winds stiffen his dark flood, and winds its way into the sea with covered waters. Where ships had gone before now men go on foot and the waters congealed with cold feel the hoof-beat of the horse. Across the new bridge, above the gliding current, are drawn by Sarmatian oxen the carts of the barbarians. I may scarce hope for credence, but since there is no reward for a falsehood, the witness ought to be believed—I have seen the vast sea stiff with ice, a slippery shell holding the water motionless. And seeing is not enough; I have trodden the frozen sea, and the surface lay beneath an unwetted foot. If thou, Leander, hadst once had such a sea, thy death would not have been a charge against the narrow waters. At such times the curving dolphins cannot launch themselves into the air ; if they try, stern winter checks them ; and though Boreas may roar and toss his wings, there will be no wave on the beleaguered flood. Shut in by the cold the ships will stand fast in the marble surface nor will any oar be able to cleave the stiffened waters. I have seen fish clinging fast bound in the ice, yet some even then still lived. 51 So whether the cruel violence of o'ermighty Boreas congeals the waters of the sea or the full waters of the river, forthwith when the Hister has been levelled by the freezing Aquilo the barbarian enemy with his swift horses rides to the attack—an enemy strong in steeds and in far flying arrows—and lays waste far and wide the neighbouring soil. Some flee, and with none to protect their lands their unguarded resources are plundered, the small resources of the country, flocks and creaking carts—all the wealth the poor peasant has. Some are driven, with arms bound behind them, into captivity, gazing back in vain upon their farms and their homes ; some fall in agony pierced with barbed shafts, for there is a stain of poison upon the winged steel. What they cannot carry or lead away they destroy, and the hostile flame burns the innocent hovels. Even when peace prevails, there is timorous dread of war, nor does any man furrow the soil with down-pressed share. A foe this region either sees or fears when it does not see ; idle lies the soil abandoned in stark neglect. Not here the sweet grape lying hidden in the leafy shade nor the frothing must brimming the deep vats ! Fruits are denied in this region nor here would Acontius have anything on which to write the words for his sweetheart to read. One may see naked fields, leafless, treeless—a place, alas ! no fortunate man should visit. This then, though the great world is so broad, is the land discovered for my punishment !
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BOOK IV
If I look upon the country, 'tis devoid of charm, nothing in the whole world can be more cheerless ; if I look upon the men, they are scarce men worthy the name ; they have more of cruel savagery than wolves.
VII. " AMONG THE GOTHS "
The letter which you are reading has come to you from that land where the broad Hister adds his waters to the sea. If you are blessed with life and the sweetness of safety, bright is still one spot in my life. Doubtless you are asking, as ever, dearest one, how I fare, though this you can know even if I speak not. I am wretched—this is the brief sum of my woes and so will all be who live subject to Caesar's wrath. 9 What the people of the land of Tomis are like, amid what customs I live, are you interested to know ? Though upon this coast there is a mixture of Greeks and Getae, it derives more from the scarce pacified Getae. Greater hordes of Sarmatae and Getae go and come upon their horses along the roads. Among them there is not one who does not bear quiver and bow, and darts yellow with viper's gall. Harsh voices, grim countenances, veritable pictures of Mars, neither hair nor beard trimmed by any hand, right hands not slow to stab and wound with the knife which every barbarian wears fastened to his side. Among such men, alas ! your bard is living, forgetful of the loves with which he played : such men he sees, such men he hears, my friend. Would he might not live, but die among them, and yet so that his shade might leave this hated place ! 25 As for your news that my songs are being presented "with dancing in a crowded theatre, my friend, and that my verses are applauded—I have indeed composed nothing (you yourself know this) for the theatre; my Muse is not ambitious for hand-clappings. Yet I am not ungrateful for anything which hinders oblivion of me, which brings back the exile's name to men's lips. Although at times I curse the poems whose injury to me I recall, and my Pierians, yet when I have cursed them well I cannot live without them ; I still seek the weapons that are bloody from my wounds, and the Grecian bark that but now was shattered by the Euboean waves dares to skim the waters of Caphereus. And yet I do not work o' nights for praise, toiling for the future life of a name which had better have lain unnoticed. I busy my mind with studies beguiling my grief, trying to cheat my cares. What else am I to do, all alone on this forsaken shore, what other resources for my sorrows should I try to seek ? If I look upon the country, 'tis devoid of charm, nothing in the whole world can be more cheerless ; if I look upon the men, they are scarce men worthy the name ; they have more of cruel savagery than wolves. They fear not laws ; right gives way to force, and justice lies conquered beneath the aggressive sword. With skins and loose breeches they keep off the evils of the cold ; their shaggy faces are protected with long locks. A few retain traces of the Greek tongue, but even this is rendered barbarous by a Getic twang. There is not a single man among these people who perchance might express in Latin any common words whatsoever. I, the Roman bard—pardon, ye Muses! —am forced to utter most things in Sarmatian fashion. Lo ! I am ashamed to confess it ; now from long disuse Latin words with difficulty occur even to me! And I doubt not there are even in this book not a few barbarisms, not the fault of the man but of the place. Yet for fear of losing the use of the Ausonian tongue and lest my own voice grow dumb in its native sound, I talk to myself, dealing again with disused words and seeking again the ill-omened currency of my art. 65 Thus do I drag out my life and my time, thus do I withdraw myself from the contemplation of my woes. Through song I seek oblivion from my wretchedness. If such be the rewards I win by my pursuit, 'tis enough.
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BOOK V
Here it is I that am a barbarian, understood by nobody
X. THE EVILS OF TOMIS
Since I have been by the Pontus' shore, thrice has Hister halted with the cold, thrice has the water of the Euxine sea grown hard. Yet already I seem to have been absent from my country as many years as Dardanian Troy was besieged by the Grecian foe. One would think that time stood still, so slowly does it move, and the year completes its journey with lagging pace. For me the solstice lessens not the nights, and winter shortens not the days. In my case surely nature has been made anew and she makes all things as tedious as my own sorrows. Or does time in general run its wonted course, and is it rather that the time of my own life is cruel ? For I am held by the shore of the false-named Euxine and the land, in truth ill-omened, of the Scythian sea. Countless tribes round about threaten cruel war, thinking it base to live if not by plunder. Without, nothing is secure : the hill itself is defended by meagre walls and by its skilful site. When least expected, like birds, the foe swarms upon us and when scarce well seen is already driving off the booty. Often within the walls when the gates are closed, we gather deadly missiles in the midst of the streets.
Rare then is he who ventures to till the fields, for the wretch must plough with one hand, and hold arms in the other. The shepherd wears a helmet while he plays upon his pitch-cemented reeds, and instead of a wolf the timorous ewes dread war. Scarce with the fortress's aid are we defended; and even within that the barbarous mob mingled with the Greeks inspires fear. For with us dwell without distinction the barbarians, occupying even more than half of the dwellings. Even should you not fear them, you may loathe the sight of their chests covered with hides and with their long hair. Even these who are believed to derive their descent from the Greek city wear Persian trousers instead of the dress of their fathers. They hold intercourse in the tongue they share ; I must make myself understood by gestures. Here it is I that am a barbarian, understood by nobody ; the Getae laugh stupidly at Latin words, and in my presence they often talk maliciously about me in perfect security, perchance reproaching me with my exile. Quite naturally they think me somehow pretending whenever I have nodded no or yes to their speech. And besides unjustly the hard sword dispenses justice, for wounds are often given in the midst of the market-place.
45 Ah! cruel Lachesis, when my star is so ill-fated, not to have granted my life a shorter thread! That I am separated from the sight of my country and of you, my friends, that I must lament my abode among these Scythian tribes-each is a heavy penalty. Yet I deserved exile from the city ; I did not perchance deserve to be in such a place. What am I saying? Madman that I am ! Even my very life I deserved to lose by offending the divine will of Caesar.
Source: https://archive.org/details/ovidtristiaexpon011949mbp/mode/1up