Ovid the policeman

Statue of Ovid in Constanta (formerly Tomis), Romania

The poet Ovid spent some time as one of Rome’s tresviri, the men who supervised activities such as policing. Could he have been involved in solving crimes? For Fiona Forsyth, this is “one of those gaps in history that it is my job as a historical novelist to fill”. Here she writes about how she found her character, Ovid the policeman, for her novel Poetic Justice.

The idea of a public prosecution supported by investigation and evidence supplied by a police force is relatively modern, and yet it sometimes feels strange that until Augustus became the first Emperor at the end of the first century BC, Rome had few resources with which to tackle crime.

Instead, responsibility for public order lay with a combination of officials such as praetors and aediles, who had limited resources they could call on, and many other responsibilities. In addition, the decision over whether or not to prosecute an individual for a crime belonged not to the state but to private individuals.

For a small town straddling a couple of hills by the Tiber, this might well have been enough, but things were different when the poet Publius Ovidius Naso – Ovid – was born in 43BC.

Rome was by then a huge power, controlling a large swathe of lands across the Mediterranean basin. Within the city, political violence was rife and leading men routinely used gangs to instigate rioting.

Caesar himself started a civil war that led to his own assassination in a meeting of the Senate. The usual means of control had failed.

The first Emperor, Augustus, grew up during this time of social unrest and civil war and it is not surprising that over a period of several decades he set up three important bodies that maintained order in the city – the Praetorian Guard to guard Augustus himself, the Urban Cohort to guard the city, and the Watch to fight fires. There was still no concept of a state-funded body whose duty was to investigate and/or prosecute crime.

Ovid had been born into a wealthy family in what was called the equites, the class that was only just below senatorial rank. He had it all before him: he was enjoying the student life on Rhodes while his elder brother was in Rome preparing to elevate the family with a brilliant political career. Ovid was a budding poet: he may even have already come to the notice of the literary patron Valerius Messalla.

Graffito from the guardroom of the 7th cohors of the Roman vigiles (firefighters) located in Trans Tiberim (Trastevere)

But devastating news arrived on Rhodes: his elder brother had died. Ovid and his sibling had been close: they were born exactly a year apart, and Ovid wrote in an autobiographical poem written towards the end of his life that he lost half of himself.

It also meant that the family hopes of advancement now rested on him.

So it was that Ovid was summoned back to Rome, and his dream of living a life of poetry was shelved. Driven by duty, he started on a series of low level jobs traditionally given to young ambitious men, starting with the Tresviri (“Board of Three”).

There are two possible jobs this could refer to, the Tresviri Monetales, who worked in the mint, or the Tresviri Capitales, who supervised prisons and executions; it is suggested by some modern scholars that the Tresviri Capitales may also have supervised night patrols of the city.

Grating over the hole in the floor of the Mamertine prison in Rome

It doesn’t sound like the sort of job that Ovid would have embraced with enthusiasm: after all, a decent Latin love poet should be spending his nights laying siege to his love, huddled on her doorstep and singing songs to her cruelty.

Did Ovid really check on the welfare of prisoners, oversee a few executions, patrol the dark and dangerous streets of the Subura, one of Rome’s poorest quarters?

Maybe it was during the night patrols of the Tresviri Capitales though that Ovid gained the inspiration for one of his most famous poems:

Every lover is a soldier, and serves in Cupid’s camp…
… lover and soldier both stand a night watch, each takes his rest on the ground.
The one guards his lady, the other his captain.
Ovid Amores book 1, poem 9

I’m currently writing a series of books on Ovid in his last years, and while researching his youth and duties as one of the Tresviri it occurred to me that the young Ovid could genuinely have been involved in solving crimes.

Stretching the evidence a little? Well, I would argue that this is the wrong way of looking at it – here is one of those gaps in history that surely it is my job as a historical novelist to fill? And yes, it was also irresistible.

Ruins of the Roman bath-house in Constanta

As a background to my character then, I imagined that the poet spent a year as one of the three officers of the Tresviri Capitales gaining an understanding of crime, punishment and the city.

Ovid’s political career stalled soon after his year as one of the Tresviri. He persuaded his father to let him concentrate on poetry and was successful, charming Roman society with love poems (Amores), poems of mythology (Metamorphoses) and the racy Ars Amatoria (The Art of Love). He even started to write a long poem that explained the festivals of the Roman religious calendar, but in 8AD disaster struck.

Ovid was hauled in front of the Emperor Augustus and summarily banished to the Black Sea town of Tomis, where he lived for the rest of his life. He had angered the Emperor with his “carmen et error”, a poem and a mistake.

The poem was probably the Ars Amatoria, but as for the mistake – well, we don’t really know. I’m going to have a good guess in my book about it, though!