AUREA PRIMA SATA EST AETAS, QUAE VINDICE NULLO,

SPONTE SUA, SINE LEGE FIDEM RECTUMQUE COLEBAT.

POENA METUSQUE ABERANT, NEC VERBA MINANTIA FIXO

AERE LIGABANTUR, NEC SUPPLEX TURBA TIMEBAT

IUDICIS ORA SUI, SED ERANT SINE VINDICE TUTI.

NONDUM CAESA SUIS, PEREGRINUM UT VISERET ORBEM,

MONTIBUS IN LIQUIDAS PINUS DESCENDERAT UNDAS,

NULLAQUE MORTALES PRAETER SUA LITORA NORANT;

NONDUM PRAECIPITES CINGEBANT OPPIDA FOSSAE;

NON TUBA DERECTI, NON AERIS CORNUA FLEXI,

NON GELAE, NON ENSIS ERAT; SINE MILITIS USU

MOLLIA SECURAE PERAGEBANT OTIA GENTES.

IPSA QUOQUE IMMUNIS RASTROQUE INTACTA NEC ULLIS

SAUCIA VOMERIBUS PER SE DABAT OMNIA TELLUS;

CONTENTIQUE CIBIS NULLO COGENTE CREATIS

ARBUTEOS FETUS MONTANAQUE FRAGA LEGEBANT

CORNAQUE ET IN DURIS HAERENTIA MORA RUBETIS

ET QUAE DECIDERANT PATULA IOVIS ARBORE GLANDES.

VER ERAT AETERNUM, PLACIDIQUE TEPENTIBUS AURIS

MULCEBANT ZEPHYRI NATOS SINE SEMINE FLORES.

MOX ETIAM FRUGES TELLUS INARATA FEREBAT,

NEC RENOVATUS AGER GRAVIDIS CANEBAT ARISTIS.

FLUMINA IAM LACTIS, IAM FLUMINA NECTARIS IBANT,

FLAVAQUE DE VIRIDI STILLABANT ILICE MELLA.

 

 

GOLDEN WAS THE FIRST AGE, WHICH WITH NO POLICE* OR LAWS,

AND BY ITS OWN WILL CULTIVATED FAITH AND RIGHTEOUSNESS.

PUNISHMENTS AND FEARS WERE ABSENT, NOR WERE THREATENING WORDS

SET IN FIXED BRONZE, NOR DID THE SUPPLIANT FEAR THE STERN

FACE OF HIS JUDGE, BUT ALL WERE FREE FROM THE AUTHORITIES.

THE PINE TREE, NOT YET CUT FROM ITS MOUNTAIN, DID NOT DESCENT INTO

THE WATERY WAVES SO THAT THEY COULD TRAVEL THE WORLD,

AND NONE KNEW ANY BUT HIS OWN SHORE;

NOT YET DID DEEP MOATS ENCIRCLE CITIES;

THERE WAS NO BUGLE OF STRAIGHT BRONZE, NO HORN OF BENT BRONZE,

NO HELMETS, NO SWORDS; WITHOUT THE USE OF SOLDIERS

THE SAFE PEOPLES ENJOYED A PLEASANT PEACE.

THE EARTH HERSELF WAS ALSO UNHARMED AND UNTOUCHED BY THE HOE

NOR WOUNDED BY ANY PLOUGH AND GRANTED ALL THINGS ON HER OWN;

AND CONTENTED WITH THE FOOD THAT HAD BEEN CREATED WITHOUT WORK

THEY COLLECTED THE ARBUTUS FRUIT AND THE MOUNTAIN STRAWBERRIES

AND CORNEL CHERRIES AND BLACKBERRIES CLINGING TO HARD BRAMBLES

AND THE ACORNS THAT DROPPED FROM THE WIDE-SPREADING TREE OF JOVE.

SPRING WAS ETERNAL, AND PLACID BREEZES WITH TEPID AIR

BRUSHED THE WILD FLOWERS.

SOON EVEN THE UNPLOWED EARTH BORE GRAINS,

AND THE UN-RENEWED FIELD GREW WHITE WITH HEAVY CORN.

NOW FIELDS OF MILK AND NECTAR FLOWED,

AND YELLOW HONEY DRIPPED FROM THE GREEN OAK.


 

 

Hey all, sorry for the delay in posting today’s comic; I’ve been super busy this weekend with the Annual Meeting of Post-Graduates in Ancient Literature (AMPAL), whose yearly meeting came to Cambridge this time around. (if you click that link, you might recognise my hand in drawing the logo – I programmed the website too!)  It’s a really fun annual conference for post-graduates to get a chance to present papers without pressure.  I really look forward to it, because I get to see tons of friends there and meet some new ones too: we had delegates not just from the UK, but also Italy, Germany, Greece, the US, Ireland, Australia, and more!  The theme was “Failure in Ancient Literature”, which (I gotta say) takes guts to pull off.  Luckily, despite the ominous subject, the conference was a rousing success.  I presented a paper on the Metamorphoses (shocker, I know…) and Ovid’s use of failure as a motif for transition in the death of Orpheus in Book 11.  It went well and I got some good feedback; hopefully I’ll be able to work it into something publishable in the future.  We’re still waaaaaaaay off from the episode in question in the comic, but the transition between Books 10 and 11 is one of my favourite scenes in the poem (more on that whenever we get there, though).  I also saw some really great papers and had some fabulous discussions.  So, before I ramble on about today’s page, just let me say ‘thanks and congratulations’ to the organisers and delegates of AMPAL 2014!  Hope to see you all (plus new faces) in Edinburgh next year!

Right, onto the comic!  I don’t normally say such things, but this is one of my favourite things I have ever drawn.  I wanted each of the four ages to get a single page to reflect the way Ovid gives them short little vignettes in his poem.  Of course, getting the whole vignette onto one page meant condensing it a bit; this is also the most lines (24) I’ve squeenzed into a single page yet.  It was worth it though for the tight composition – and to get us into the triple digits at last!

The myth of the Golden Age is quite an alluring concept, and it’s not just Ovid who thinks so.  The motif – first found in Hesiod’s Works and Days – was popular in poetry and art during the reign of Augustus: Vergil (Eclogues 4 and Georgics 1) also depicted it and Horace (Epodes 16) used it as a motif.  This was no accident, but a part of the culture of relief that washed over the Roman people after the end of the civil wars and subsequent social, political and economic crises that had plagued Rome throughout the first century BCE.  The mythical Golden Age is marked by a strong, inborn sense of morality and a lack of war or hardship.  With the advent of the Augustan regime, the Roman Empire and the order they represented, it became a common proclamation (encouraged by imperial propaganda) that the Golden Age had returned.  You can see Ovid emphasises a lack of arms and strife, a motif common in Augustan depictions.  However, the strong focus on the lack of laws and authority may be a little too much for Augustus’ comfort.  Indeed, the new regime introduced morality laws, which Ovid had already flagrantly violated with the content of his Art of Love, seen by some (including the Emperor) as a guide to adultury.  The emphasis here might provide circumstantial evidence for Ovid’s having edited the Metamorphoses following his exile in 8 CE (for which the Art of Love provided an excuse).  As is the way with ancient literature, where no clear processes of publication allowed for reliably tracking new editions, we cannot be certain.  It is tempting to see Ovid yearning for a more just age, or at least one that might treat him better.  But, ever the pragmatist, Ovid has no delusions about his own times.  Augustus’ golden age?  Well, Ovid says, “now it is truly a golden age: honour and even love can be bought for gold!” (Art. 2.277-8).

Ovid’s composition here is very pretty, and its exceptional quality mimics the austerity of the Golden Age itself.  Barchiesi notes the clever touch of adding a so-called “golden line”** on the very end (that, my friends, is an example of a metatextual pun…)  My own visual composition is actually rather rough and asymetrical.  The reason for this is that I have to make a couple of decisions about visual translation: on the one hand, the Golden Age is a time when nature essentially ruled the world; the order and squared-ness of the modern age was absent, because it was not needed.  Thus, I wanted to produce a more natural look in my design.  The hand-clutching-the-globe motif is actually taken from a Roman hair pin that was discovered on an archaeological dig I was on in Roman Dacia (modern Transylvania, Romania) in 2010 with John Cabot University, my alma mater (I didn’t discover it, but I was there when it was discovered).  It was bone (ivory, maybe) and featured a hand clutching a sphere; there was disagreement as to whether it was a globe or a fruit, such as a pomegranate or an apple.  I cannot be sure, but I have always enjoyed more the interpretation that it was a globe.  For some reason, out of all the amazing finds from that dig, that one stuck with me in my mind.  When it came time to draw the Golden Age, the notion of a benevolent hand gingerly supporting the Earth in splendor seemed like the perfect centrepiece for the page.  The image is based on my best memory of the pin, modified to look more natural.  I searched for a picture of it, but couldn’t find one;  I also looked through my sketches, because I was one of the find-artists*** on that dig, but had no success (most digs make you hand in all your photos and drawings, so as not to spoil the news of finds before publication).  All I found was the picture below of a modern replica in a jewelry shop in London.  It’s not exaclty the same, but it’s the closest approximation I could I find:

Anyway, that’s all for now; I seem to have contracted the post-conference flu, and am off to bed to sleep for a million-billion years.  Don’t worry, though – I’ll wake up long enough to post a comic next Monday…

 


* Yes, I know it’s an anachronistic translation, but if anachronism is a mortal sin, then Ovid will be damned right along with me.

** A “golden line” is one that had ABCBA word-order: “FLAVAQUE (A) DE VIRIDI (B) STILLABANT (C) ILICE (B) MELLA (A)”.

*** Sometimes photographs just can’t do justice to archaeological finds, because they don’t show every detail which could be of interest to researchers.  Because of this, digs have someone (usually an artsy student like me) also draw the finds to capture those details.