The Fifth Desk · Evaluation

Act I · The Map

Literature · Verse letters · 1st c. BC to 1st c. AD · Troy, Carthage, Naxos, Lemnos, Ida and the other shores of the inherited stories, each at the moment of the writing

Heroides

Ovid · a book of twenty-one verse letters in elegiac couplets · fourteen letters from women of myth, Sappho’s letter to Phaon and three pairs of letters and answers · the single letters among Ovid’s earliest work, the pairs later · scored on Ovid’s Latin, read from knowledge; no text in hand, Latin quoted only where its words are certain, with Showerman’s Loeb as revised by Goold for sense

The Plate · a rule along the foot with twenty-one strokes on it, the fifteen single letters at the left and the three pairs beyond a small gap; each single rises to its own height and stops, with an open ring above it that it never reaches; a dotted line across the top marks the end the reader knows; one stroke rises to touch it, and one, heavier, passes through it and is capped; the fifteenth stroke is dashed; the pairs are joined at the top by arches, and from the middle arch a dotted line climbs to the line of the end

Mode

Verse letter from myth: epic and tragedy turned round so that the one left behind writes; the rhetoric school’s exercise in speaking as a character made into a book

Mythos

The woman on the shore writing to the one who sailed; the voice left behind by the hero’s departure; the writer fixed at a moment whose end the reader holds

Phase

Moments from the stories of Troy, of Jason, of Hercules, of Theseus and of Aeneas, each taken before or inside a catastrophe that the writer does not see and the reader does

Presentation

One book of twenty-one letters in elegiac couplets: fourteen single letters from women of myth, Sappho’s letter to Phaon, and three pairs of letter and answer, Paris and Helen, Leander and Hero, Acontius and Cydippe

Register

Rhetoric in the couplet: reproach, recital, catalogue and persuasion, from the near comedy of Phaedra’s arguments to the horror of Canace’s

Scale

Twenty-one voices, each one writer to one absent reader at one moment

Governing Proposition

Fifteen women, fourteen of them from myth and one a poet, write to men who have left them or been parted from them, and three couples write and answer. The wager of the book is that the heroic story can be told by those it uses and leaves; that a letter which cannot know its end, and will not be answered, knows more than a narrative that tells it; and that the abandoned command rhetoric, persuasion and self-deception as the powerful do.

Write Nothing Back

8.3 / 10
Tier IV · Canonical

Act II · The Essay

Movement I

This Work Unknown to Others

Twenty-one letters in elegiac couplets, a hexameter and a pentameter in turn, stand in the standard editions under the title Heroides, or Epistulae Heroidum, the letters of the heroines. Fourteen are written by women of myth to men who have left them or been parted from them: Penelope to Ulysses, Phyllis to Demophoon, Briseis to Achilles, Phaedra to Hippolytus, Oenone to Paris, Hypsipyle to Jason, Dido to Aeneas, Hermione to Orestes, Deianira to Hercules, Ariadne to Theseus, Canace to Macareus, Medea to Jason, Laodamia to Protesilaus, Hypermestra to Lynceus. The fifteenth is from a poet, Sappho, to Phaon. The last six are three pairs, a letter and its answer: Paris and Helen, Leander and Hero, Acontius and Cydippe. The single letters are among Ovid’s earliest work. The pairs are later.

The desk scores the book as it is read and printed, as one book, on Ovid’s Latin. Sappho’s letter came down apart from the main manuscripts, and its authorship is disputed. The double letters have been doubted too; most recent editors, Kenney among them, accept them as Ovid’s. Both belong to the book as printed and are weighed with it, and the disputes decide nothing here. The letters weighed most are Dido’s, Ariadne’s, Medea’s, Canace’s, Deianira’s and Penelope’s, with the pair of Paris and Helen.

Ovid claimed the form for himself. Of the Epistula he wrote: “ignotum hoc aliis ille novavit opus”
“he renewed, that is invented, this work unknown to others” (Ars Amatoria 3.346). The claim is substantially just. Letters had been set inside poems before, Propertius’ Arethusa writing to Lycotas the nearest, and the tragic monologue and the schools’ exercises in persuasion and in speaking as a character were to hand. No one had made a book of them. Every letter has the same form: one writer, one addressee who is absent, a moment fixed before or inside a catastrophe that the reader knows from epic or tragedy and the writer does not.

Movement II

Your Penelope Sends This

“Haec tua Penelope lento tibi mittit, Ulixe; / nil mihi rescribas, attamen ipse veni”
“Your Penelope sends this to you, slow Ulysses; write nothing back, but come yourself” (1.1 to 2). The book opens with a letter that asks not to be answered. It is addressed, and it is futile, and it knows both: the only reply that would serve is the man himself. The two lines set the terms for every letter after them. The writer is fixed at a moment, the husband not yet home; the reader knows that he will come, and she does not. Her reproach is patient, and its patience is the story’s ending held out of her sight.

Briseis writes to Achilles about the embassy of the ninth book of the Iliad, which offered her back to him with gifts. Seen from her side, the war story is a story about property. That is the book’s first disclosure and its constant one: the heroic story as lived by those it uses and leaves. Women who were incidents in another man’s epic or tragedy are given the speaking part, and they speak with the instruments of the powerful: reproach, persuasion, argument, and the self-deception that rhetoric allows.

The situation is one, and so is much of the means. The letters share a repertory: the reproach, the recital of past favours, the catalogue of the man’s ingratitude, the threat or the prospect of death, the request that he return. Phyllis at the sea and Oenone on Ida go over ground that Ariadne and Dido cover, move for move, and the book has been charged with monotony for centuries. The charge is right of the weakest letters. Of the book as designed it is half right: variation on one situation is the form’s argument, and the strongest letters each do what no other does. The couplet carries the variation. The sense closes within it, and the pentameter turns, caps or undercuts the line before, with antithesis and paradox set at the line’s end.

Movement III

The White Swan Sings

“Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abiectus in herbis / ad vada Maeandri concinit albus olor”
“So, when the fates call, lying in the wet grass by the shallows of the Maeander, the white swan sings” (7.1 to 2). Dido’s letter declares itself a dying song in its first couplet. She writes to Aeneas when he is already gone, with his sword in her lap, and she turns his pietas, the virtue of Virgil’s hero, into a lover’s excuse. The story is Virgil’s. The speaking part is hers.

Ariadne wakes on Naxos to a cold bed and the sail going. She climbs a rock and waves her veil at a ship that cannot see her, and her cry comes back to her from the empty shore. She writes to a man on a ship, from an island with no messenger. The letter cannot arrive, and it is written all the same: the writing is the subject, and the woman left behind is made the author of her own story.

Ariadne on Naxos, Dido at Carthage, Phyllis at the sea, Oenone on Ida, Hypsipyle on Lemnos: the book builds one figure out of many inherited stories, the woman on the shore writing to the one who sailed. The deserted woman was already in Catullus’ sixty-fourth poem and the fourth book of the Aeneid, and each letter takes its myth whole from a source, Homer, the tragedians, Apollonius, Catullus, Virgil. What the book made was the pattern across them, and the pattern outlived it as an archetype of its own: the voice left behind by the hero’s departure.

Movement IV

Impious Deianira

Deianira begins a letter to Hercules and is overtaken by the news as she writes it. In the course of the letter she learns what the robe has done, and its last part turns on a refrain: “impia quid dubitas Deianira mori?”
“impious Deianira, why do you hesitate to die?” (9). The refrain turns a letter into a lament. Elsewhere the book’s chief instrument is the moment fixed before the catastrophe; here the catastrophe arrives inside the letter.

The other writers are fixed at moments whose end the reader holds. Laodamia fears for the first man ashore at Troy. Hypermestra writes from her cell. Canace writes with a pen in one hand and a sword in the other, her love incestuous and her newborn exposed, and the family presses on both letters, in Canace’s father and in Hypermestra’s. Nothing in these letters is told; it is known, by the reader, while the writer argues on.

Medea is the one writer who already holds the catastrophe in her hand. Her letter is a cold catalogue of what she did for Jason, and its last lines hold the murders unspoken in a threat. The tone of the book runs from the near comedy of Phaedra’s sophistical persuasion of Hippolytus to the horror of Canace’s letter, and the law under it does not change. Penelope’s patient reproach of a husband who will come home and Medea’s threat to a husband she is about to destroy obey the same law: a voice writing to an absence, from inside a story whose end the reader knows, the writer’s ignorance or knowledge of that end measured against ours.

Movement V

Hero’s Lamp

The last six letters are three pairs, and they add what the single letters lack, a reply. Paris writes to Helen, and Helen answers him with a refusal that yields: her reply refuses and concedes in one sentence, and the persuasion can be seen working on her as she resists it. Leander and Hero write and answer, and Hero’s lamp and Leander’s sea give the pair the singles’ shadow, a death ahead that the reader knows. Acontius and Cydippe, the girl tricked by an oath, move into a lighter and more erotic register.

The pairs are later than the singles, and they are felt as a second book attached to the first. With Sappho, a historical poet among women of myth, they make a seam in the book as it is printed. The seam is real, and so is what lies on either side of it: in the singles a voice that cannot be answered, in the pairs a voice that is.

The book was taught through the Middle Ages, glossed and imitated as a store of rhetoric, morals and stories, and printed from the first decades of printing. It shaped the female complaint in medieval poetry, Chaucer’s Dido and his Legend of Good Women, Boccaccio’s Fiammetta, the troubadour and courtly epistle; and it founded the heroical epistle, Drayton’s England’s Heroical Epistles, Pope’s Eloisa to Abelard and a long European line of héroïdes. From the nineteenth century it was read mainly as juvenilia and charged with monotony, until, from the 1970s, criticism returned to the irony of its fixed moments, to its writers as readers of their own sources and to the women’s command of rhetoric. Whether the women write against their poets or are spoken through by one is still argued. The first letter in the book asked for no answer, and the book is still being answered.

Act III · The Twelve

1The Inevitable (Ananke)

The subtractive test is the book’s oldest charge, and it holds in part. Fifteen women in one situation use a shared repertory: the reproach, the recital of past favours, the catalogue of the man’s ingratitude, the prospect of death, the request that he return. Hermione, Laodamia and Hypermestra could go with little lost to what the book knows, and Phyllis and Oenone repeat Ariadne and Dido move for move. Against this, the strongest letters are each required: Penelope’s opening sets the book’s terms, a letter that asks not to be answered; Medea alone already holds the catastrophe in her hand; Canace writes with a pen in one hand and a sword in the other. Each of the double letters needs its answer. Variation on one situation is the design, and the design is partly what the charge describes. The cap is met, and only just.

Score: 7.5 / 10

2The Unconcealment (Aletheia)

What the book brings into the open can be stated, and it holds: the heroic story as lived by those it uses and leaves. Women who were incidents in another man’s epic or tragedy are given the speaking part, and rhetoric, persuasion and self-deception prove to be the instruments of the abandoned as of the powerful. Briseis writes to Achilles about the embassy of the ninth book of the Iliad, which offered her back with gifts, and the war story turns into a story about property. Dido makes Aeneas’s pietas a lover’s excuse. Held below the gate because the disclosure is made through ethopoeia, the school exercise of speaking as a character, and many letters render a mood and a position more than a condition; the irony of a reader who knows the end discloses more than any single voice does.

Score: 8.2 / 10

3The Sublime (Hypsos)

The elevation is real and intermittent, and it is pathos rather than grandeur. The heights: Ariadne on the rock, waving her veil at a ship that cannot see her, her cry returned by the empty shore; Dido’s swan singing by the Maeander, with Aeneas’s sword in her lap as she writes; Canace with the sword beside her and her newborn exposed; Medea’s last lines, which hold the murders unspoken in a threat. Hero’s lamp and Leander’s sea lift the double letters once. What holds the axis is frequency. The register is rhetoric, the wit cuts the pathos often and by design, and many letters run level from complaint to complaint without rising. A book that rises in five or six of its twenty-one pieces stands below a work that rises throughout.

Score: 7.7 / 10

4The Archetypal Deep (Mythos)

The myths are all inherited, from Homer, the tragedians, Apollonius, Catullus 64 and the Aeneid. What the book builds out of them is one pattern, and that part is load-bearing: the woman left on the shore, writing to the one who sailed. Ariadne on Naxos, Dido at Carthage, Phyllis at the sea, Oenone on Ida and Hypsipyle on Lemnos are one figure in many particulars, and the figure outlived the book as an archetype of its own. The second construction is dramatic irony: Laodamia fearing for the first man ashore at Troy, Hypermestra in her cell, Deianira learning what the robe has done as she writes. Held below the gate because each letter evokes its myth whole from a source, the deserted woman was already in Catullus and Virgil, and the pattern is built across the book rather than within each letter.

Score: 8.2 / 10

5The Swerve (Parekklisis)

Ovid claimed to have invented the form, and the claim is substantially just. Letters inside earlier poems were to hand, Propertius 4.3, Arethusa to Lycotas, the nearest of them, and so were the tragic monologue and the rhetorical schools’ suasoria and ethopoeia; but no one before him had made a book of verse letters from mythical women, or turned epic and tragedy round so that the incident speaks. The swerve is double, from narrative to monologue and from the hero to the one he leaves, and the double letters swerve again, into exchange. The stake was real: fifteen variations on one situation risked the monotony charged against them for centuries. Held at the gate rather than above it because the materials were inherited, elegy had already made the lover’s complaint its subject, and the wager was a young poet’s, smaller than the one he placed later in the Metamorphoses.

Score: 8.6 / 10

6The Living Form (Entelecheia)

Change the form and the book loses much of what it knows. A narrative would tell the end; the letter cannot know it, and the moment fixed before the catastrophe is the form’s chief instrument. The letter is also addressed and futile: Penelope asks Ulysses not to write back, Ariadne writes from an island with no messenger to a man on a ship, Dido to a man already gone. The writing becomes the subject, and the woman made the author of her own story is what the form says. The double letters add what the singles lack, a reply, and Helen’s answer shows persuasion working on her as she resists it. Held off the higher figures because in the weaker letters the form holds the complaint without adding to it, and the frame repeated fifteen times becomes at times a container.

Score: 8.4 / 10

7The Bottomless Well (Apeiron)

Evidence first, and the return has two phases. Through the Middle Ages and the Renaissance the book was a school text, mined for rhetoric, morals and stories, glossed and imitated without end. From the nineteenth century to the middle of the twentieth it was read mainly as juvenilia and charged with monotony. Since the 1970s, from Jacobson’s book on the letters onward, a large criticism of the heroine as writer, of intertext and of gender has found what the older readings missed: the irony of the fixed moments, the writers as readers of their own sources, the women’s command of rhetoric. Questions stay open: how far wit undercuts the pathos, and whether the women write against their poets or are spoken through by one. Held below the higher figures because much of the yield is critical and intertextual, and a single letter, once its irony is seen, is less inexhaustible than the book.

Score: 8.2 / 10

8Pressure on Tradition (Agon)

The field is Latin poetry of the Augustan age, and behind it Greek and Latin literature to that date. The intrinsic force is a new genre made at one stroke, the verse letter of a mythical or historical figure, and a new stance towards the inherited stories, told from the margin by those they used. Achieved reach is scored with intrinsic force: wide and lasting. A school text through the Middle Ages, the book shaped the female complaint in medieval poetry, Chaucer’s Dido and his Legend of Good Women, Boccaccio’s Fiammetta, the troubadour and courtly epistle; it founded the heroical epistle of Drayton’s England’s Heroical Epistles, Pope’s Eloisa to Abelard and a long European line of héroïdes; and it lives again in modern retellings of myth from the women’s side. Held below the higher figures because much of the reach runs through a sub-genre and the classroom, and the Metamorphoses carries the larger share of Ovid’s redirection of the field.

Score: 8.7 / 10

9The Imperishable (Aphtharsia)

Two thousand years, read without a break: copied, taught and imitated through the Middle Ages, printed from the first decades of printing, translated into every major European language. The single letters survive whole in form. The charges are on form and on presence. Sappho’s letter came down apart from the rest; parts of the double letters are held to rest on late witnesses, and interpolation is suspected in places; the authorship of the fifteenth letter and of the pairs has been disputed. The book as read is a little less secure than a text handed down whole. And for a long stretch it was read mainly in the academy and dismissed as juvenilia, recovered only in the last half century, though the neglect was of esteem, not of presence: it stayed in print and in the schools. Those charges hold it a step below a whole text continuously read.

Score: 9.3 / 10

10The Made (Techne)

Judged on the Latin. The elegiac couplet in Ovid’s hands is as fluent and controlled as in any Latin poet: the sense closed within the couplet, the pentameter used to turn, cap or undercut the hexameter, antithesis and paradox set at the line’s end. The openings are made with care: Penelope’s two lines, and Dido’s swan, which declares the letter a dying song. Within the shared repertory the rhetoric is varied by character: Medea’s cold catalogue of what she did for Jason, Phaedra’s sophistical persuasion of Hippolytus, Helen’s reply that refuses and concedes in one sentence, Deianira’s refrain turning a letter into a lament. Held from the top on two charges: figures and arguments recur from letter to letter, and the wit is at times its own end where the situation asks for more. The finer sound of the verse is beyond this reading.

Score: 9.0 / 10

11The Inner Law (Cosmos)

One law governs the single letters: a voice writing to an absence, at a fixed moment, from inside a story whose end the reader holds. Take the two most distant: Penelope’s patient reproach of a husband who will come home, and Medea’s threat to a husband she is about to destroy. They obey the same law, the writer’s ignorance or knowledge of the end measured against the reader’s. The range of tone inside it is wide, from the near comedy of Phaedra’s arguments to the horror of Canace’s. The double letters bend the law: the exchange, the lighter and more erotic register of Acontius and Cydippe, and the later date are felt as a second book attached to the first, though Hero and Leander keep the singles’ shadow of a death ahead. Sappho, a historical figure among mythical ones, is a further wrinkle. That seam holds the axis here.

Score: 8.3 / 10

12The Encompassed (Megethos)

Judged as a collection of short poems in one situation. Consciousness is held fully: each letter is a mind arguing with itself. Love comes in many forms: marital, adulterous, incestuous in Canace, a stepmother’s in Phaedra, the girl tricked by an oath in Cydippe. The family is there in Canace’s father and Hypermestra’s, and in Medea’s children; war and the state at the edge, Troy behind Penelope, Briseis, Laodamia, Oenone and Helen, Dido’s Carthage, the Danaids; the sacred in oaths, gods and Fate invoked; death in most letters. What holds the axis lowest of the twelve: every order is seen from one vantage, the separated lover, and at one moment, the writing, so that war, the city and the gods are backdrop, not held in structure. The book holds more than a body of lyric and less than a narrative of its length.

Score: 7.3 / 10

Act IV · The Reckoning

8.3 / 10 · Final Average

Placement: Tier IV · Canonical

Strongest Dimensions

The Imperishable at 9.3, then The Made at 9.0, Pressure on Tradition at 8.7 and The Swerve at 8.6. A book read without a break for two thousand years; the elegiac couplet handled as fluently as by any Latin poet, its rhetoric varied by character; a new genre made at one stroke, which founded the heroical epistle and shaped the female complaint for centuries; and epic and tragedy turned round so that the woman left behind speaks.

Limiting Dimension

The Encompassed at 7.3: love, family, war and the sacred all enter, but every order is seen from one vantage and at one moment, and war, the city and the gods stay backdrop. Above it, The Inevitable at 7.5, where a shared repertory makes the weaker letters exchangeable, and The Sublime at 7.7, a pathos that rises in five or six of the twenty-one pieces and is often cut by wit.

The Necessity Cap is met at 7.5 against a threshold of 7.5, exactly. The Coherence Floor clears with room: The Living Form at 8.4, The Made at 9.0, The Inner Law at 8.3, each against 7.0. The Epochal Gate is unmet: The Imperishable at 9.3, Pressure on Tradition at 8.7 and The Swerve at 8.6 clear the bar of 8.5, but The Unconcealment and The Archetypal Deep at 8.2 fall short. The Universal Minimum is met (no axis but The Encompassed falls below 7.5, against 7.5), and The Encompassed, which is exempted, clears its own floor of 6.0 at 7.3. The aggregate, at 8.3, also stands below the summit’s 9.0.

Basis · a reading from knowledge of Ovid’s Heroides (Epistulae Heroidum), scored as one book on Ovid’s Latin as the standard editions print it, Dörrie’s and Showerman’s Loeb as revised by Goold: twenty-one letters in elegiac couplets, fourteen single letters from women of myth, Sappho’s letter to Phaon, and three pairs of letter and answer. Sappho’s letter, which came down apart from the main manuscripts, is of disputed authorship, and the double letters have been doubted; both are weighed as part of the book as printed, and the disputes move nothing. No text was in hand, nothing was measured, and no quotation was checked against a file. Latin is quoted only where its words are certain, with an English rendering beneath that keeps close to it, cited by letter and line, or by letter alone where the line could not be checked; the claim of novelty is cited from the Ars Amatoria. Every axis is judged on the Latin. Translations · Showerman’s Loeb as revised by Goold, close to the Latin, for sense; Harold Isbell’s Penguin version, for a readable English. Neither is quoted, and no translation’s shortfall is charged to the book. The finer sound of the couplet is beyond this reading and is neither credited nor charged. Matters that could not be verified, among them the line count of the book and of each letter, the dates of the single and the double letters, an early list of the letters in Ovid’s own verse with a friend’s replies to them, and the details of the manuscript tradition, are not given.