The Aeneid

By Virgil

Themes

1. Rome's Greatness vs. Suffering of the Individual

The Aeneid is a patriotic poem; a poem that seeks to justify the Roman race and its achievements, particularly its expansive empire. It is a poem that details what it is to be Roman, forging a collective history and predicting and encouraging a glorious future, written at a time when everything in the present was uncertain. It defines Romanness. Yet at the same time it does not present a blithely romanticised vision. In order to be a representative of fundamental Roman values in the Aeneid, you cannot be or do other things: Aeneas cannot be a Homeric hero - he is told as much by Hector (a prototype Homeric hero) in Book 2; he cannot indulge in a life of Catullan love trysts; he cannot think solely for himself, for he must always consider the continuation of his race, and the founding of a city for that race to inhabit, to be of paramount importance. This is what his 'pietas' demands, namely a subjugation of his own personal desires to the need to follow the mission charged to him. At the same time, those around him suffer so that the Roman race might be founded. Dido and Turnus are destroyed, when they become obstacles to this eventuality. Their nobility of character demonstrates the poet's sympathy for their predicament - they, like Aeneas, see their own individual designs made subject to the needs of the future Roman race. Personal concerns are considered of less importance than collective success. As result, we find a tension in the Aeneid between what has been termed Virgil's public and private voices.

The public voice glorifies the virtues of Rome and Roman character, while the private voice represents the individual caught in the middle of these grander schemes. The private voice is suffused with a melancholy that represents the inability of the two voices to be reconciled. For the Aeneid seems unable to provide an answer, a fact that seems clear from the final combat between Aeneas and Turnus. The death of Turnus has often been thought to be at odds with the rest of the poem, for it presents Aeneas in an unfavourable light just when we expect to see him in a fully exalted position. And yet, it actually demonstrates perfectly the tension between the two voices that runs throughout the poem. Aeneas has been told by Anchises in Book 6 what qualities the Roman will bring to the world. He will govern the people of the empire, bring a settled peace and 'parcere subiectis et debellare superbos' ("spare the vanquished and war down the proud", 6.853). This then is what it will mean to be Roman. However, when, in the final combat, Aeneas, the father of the Roman race, is placed in a situation where his enemy Turnus is beseeching him as a suppliant not to kill him, and is thus certainly 'subiectus', Aeneas is motivated by personal concerns to slay him. For he sees Pallas' belt and is reminded of his death and of his own responsibility to avenge that death. Thus we see the conflict between public and private interests and, in the end, the need to be a good Roman is overridden in the heat of battle by the need to be a good friend. The two cannot easily be reconciled and the poem offers no solution. The founding of Rome is not an easy undertaking and the poet displays a certain ambivalence to the events he describes. As he states at the start of the poem 'tantae molis erat Romanam condere gentem' ("So onerous it was to found the Roman race", 1.33).

2. The Greatness of Rome

Despite the conflict that arises between Virgil's public and private voices, we still cannot fail to read the Aeneid as primarily a poem that glorifies the Roman race and its achievements. Certainly the pathos of individual suffering shows that all that Rome and her empire bring with them is not rosy, but there is no suggestion that it is a reason to see the poem as anti-Roman or anti-imperialist. Suffering occurs in spite of Rome's greatness, not as a detriment to it. In addition the conflict between civic and personal duty is not one that is exclusive to Rome, but one that affects any member of any community. Virgil's skill is in making us aware of the conflict, while glorifying the race and at the same time respecting the individual.

From the beginning of the poem, we are made aware of the poet's commitment to providing an epic that will emphasise Rome's greatness, past, present and, through the glorification of Augustus, future. Jupiter's prophecy to Venus in Book 1 (257-296) explicitly establishes the link between Aeneas and the founding of Rome by Romulus. Furthermore, it gives divine consent to Rome's empire, for Jupiter states that he is imposing on it no limitation in time or space ('his ego nec metas rerum nec tempora pono: / imperium sine fine dedi', 278-9). And yet, it is an empire ruled not by bloody conflict, but by peace and justice. Through Jupiter's prophecy, Virgil accomplishes several things. It introduces Aeneas' mission early in the poem, while at the same time presenting its accomplishment as an event that is fated to occur. Thus, despite the setbacks, particularly the opposition of Juno, we are never in any doubt that, on a cosmic level, matters are in Aeneas' and the Roman race's favour - they are destined to succeed. Furthermore, the prophecy is a veiled plea to Augustus to re-establish peace within the Roman empire, since this is how Jupiter has ordained that it should be. Indeed the prophecy is simply the first example of a theme that runs throughout the poem, namely that as well as glorifying Augustus through the deeds of his ancestors, Virgil is encouraging him to be like them in certain respects.

Providing a similar function to the prophecy is the pageant of Roman heroes that Aeneas is treated to in the Underworld, in Book 6 (756-886). Virgil is able again to emphasise the connection between Aeneas and his descendants; to show that Roman glory is fated; to celebrate that glory, particularly that of Augustus; and to advise the emperor. Indeed, Anchises explicitly states the qualities that a good Roman possesses in comparison to those of other races (847-53), in a passage that can clearly be seen as affirmation of what the poet seeks from Augustus as a ruler.

In Book 8, the description of Aeneas' divine shield (626-728) is a further reminder of the future glory of the Roman race. As with the pageant of heroes, it places Augustus and his triumphs firmly at the centre of this glory (literally in the centre, in the case of the shield) and serves to provide a teleological view of Roman history/future, implying that the reign of Augustus is the culmination of a historical process that started with Aeneas. The present empire, ruled over peacefully after the Battle of Actium, is the logical conclusion to Rome's glorious past. Again, we find exhortations to rule and act justly through the representation of acts and individuals who failed to do this and were duly punished, for example Mettus and Catiline.

Jupiter's promise to Juno at the end of Book 12 (834-840) is further evidence of Virgil's commitment to presenting the Roman race in a glorious light. He states that the new race that will arise from the Trojans and the Latins will surpass all men, and all gods, in demonstrating 'pietas', the essential devotion to the gods, the fatherland and one's family that is so clearly emphasised in the character of Aeneas and is so positively recommended as a particularly Roman virtue. Glorification and exhortation are once more dually present.

Concept of Herosim

The Aeneid sees a move from the traditional heroism of the Homeric epics to a contemporary heroism, more applicable to the Roman situation. In the Iliad and the Odyssey, there is a sharply defined heroic code. One must harm one's enemies and help one's friends; avoid personal shame at all costs; choose self-aggrandizement over more social concerns. This is the concept of heroism that drives men like Achilles, Hector and Ajax, and is represented in the Aeneid by the character of Turnus. It is a relatively simple, self-centred philosophy which does produce larger-than-life heroes. And yet, it cannot and does not fit with the concerns of the Aeneid. Just as the poem deals with the progression of the Trojans from survivors of the most famous war of the ancient heroic world to progenitors of the most powerful race of the modern world, it also deals with the progression from traditional heroism to a new heroism, most clearly through the character of Aeneas.

The necessity for a new type of heroism is clear. Contemporary Rome was not part of the ancient heroic world, but a complex society in which the values of that ancient world were no longer workable, and had not been for a long time. Any even relatively complex society must consider socially advantageous qualities to be preferable to self-promotion and self- regard. The ancient hero was too concerned with himself to care too much about his comrades, unless, by helping them, he created glory for himself. Odysseus is undoubtedly a charismatic and awe-inspiring figure, but when he finally manages to return to Ithaca, it is alone, for all his companions have been killed; Achilles' pride, damaged by the slight he feels that Agamemnon has paid him, prevents him from helping his comrades even when they are being roundly slaughtered by the Trojans. Such attitudes were not to be promoted within Rome of the first century BC. Therefore, we see Aeneas leaving behind the traditional heroic role, when he leaves Troy. His desire to die gloriously at Troy is questioned first by the ghost of Hector, secondly by himself when he sees the death of Priam and finally by Venus when she prevents him from killing Helen. Hector raises Aeneas' responsibility to his city and her household gods, Aeneas himself raises his responsibility to his family, while Venus raises his responsibility to heed the wishes of the gods. Therefore, once he has determined to leave, he has stepped beyond the narrow confines of traditional, self-interested heroism and taken up a more communal heroism that recognises the individual's responsibility to people and things other than himself, most explicitly the cornerstones of Roman 'pietas' - one's race, one's family and one's gods.

3. The Character of Aeneas

A discussion of the character of Aeneas follows directly from a discussion of the Aeneid's new concept of heroism. Aeneas has often been criticised for being feeble and uninspiring. Many people have preferred the rugged, self-confident Turnus to the diffident and taciturn Aeneas. Yet such criticism fails to see that Aeneas is not a traditional epic hero badly drawn, but a more rounded, proto-Augustan figure, who provides the template for the 'pius Romanus'. It is pointless to compare him disparagingly with the Homeric heroes, since, if not chronologically then ethically at least, he lives in a different world to them. It is not simply himself that he must lead to the land promised by fate, but his people, his family and the gods of his former city. If he appears much of the time to be reluctantly following the wishes of fate and the gods, then we must appreciate how he does consistently subjugate his own feelings and how unclear is the mission with which he has been charged. He has not been informed of the future in depth, as we have by Jupiter's prophecy in Book 1. He is simply told initially by the ghosts of Hector and Creusa that he must leave Troy and found a new city. Then, as his travels lead him to various sites on which he attempts to establish this city, he is told through prophecies that it must be in Italy. Therefore, for the first half of the poem, Aeneas is wandering the seas with little idea of what it is that he is looking for. In stark contrast to Odysseus, who leaves the ruins of Troy a victor and with a certain and familiar endpoint to his travels, Aeneas leaves defeated, his city and people decimated, with no clear concept of where he is aiming for or what he will find when he arrives there. He is not fired by the desire to get home; he is not following his own deepest-held wishes; and there is no foreseeable conclusion to his struggles. This is why his 'pietas' is so emphasised. For in spite of all this, he still carries out his mission. He may not be visibly enthused by it - it is notable that he offers no comment after seeing the pageant of heroes - but, particularly after his visit to the Underworld, he shows a grim determination that enables him to succeed, with the gods' help, in triumphing in Latium and putting the destruction of Troy behind him.

And yet, Aeneas also demonstrates how difficult it is to be a hero in the new mould; how it is difficult to reject some aspects of the old Homeric heroism. This ties in with the discussion of Virgil's public and private voices. For Aeneas' heroism is generally related to the poet's public voice, since his 'pietas' is civic and altruistic, whereas Homeric heroism is more self-related. When Aeneas hears of Pallas' death and embarks upon a killing spree, he is acting in a manner reminiscent of the heroes of the Iliad. Indeed his sacrifice of eight young men to Pallas (10.517-20) directly parallels the sacrifice that Achilles makes to the spirit of Patroclus. Most crucially, the slaughter of Turnus at the end of the poem shows that the Homeric axiom of helping your friends and harming your enemies cannot easily be disregarded in favour of Anchises' injunction to spare the vanquished. The desire for vengeance and fulfilment of personal obligations cannot simply be neglected. Just as with the poet's public and private voices there is the irresolvable, or at least unanswered, problem of conflict, so there is a conflict between the old and new types of heroism.

4. Dido and Aeneas

Ever since antiquity, the story of Dido and Aeneas has been the most popular episode in the Aeneid. It is not difficult to see why. The suffering of Dido and the resolution of Aeneas in the face of many attempts at persuasion and slurs upon his character are brilliantly captured by the poet. In addition, the fact that it is told from her, rather than his, point of view means that we are not explicitly aware of what Aeneas is feeling, with the result that, at the same time as sympathising with Dido, we do not know where to lay the blame for her suffering. Is it due to Aeneas' hard-heartedness, the decree of fate or the gods, or her own misreading of the situation? As is usual with Virgil, there is no clear answer. We are left to decide for ourselves, and thus the episode has provided much substance for debate and disagreement. One cannot read it without forming an opinion.

This lack of clarity over blame was familiar to the ancients, as it is a fundamental component of Greek tragedy and it is Greek tragedy that the episode most closely resembles. Time and again, we are prompted by Virgil to think in these terms. When she sees the Trojans preparing to depart, Dido is described as raging around the city like a Bacchant (4.300-303), recalling Euripides' play the Bacchae. She sees herself in her dreams as being like Pentheus, the tragic hero from the same play, or like Orestes escaping from the ghost of his mother Clytemnestra and from the Furies, as in Aeschylus' Eumenides (4.469- 473). Interestingly, the latter comparisons are explicitly to these characters on the stage, and not simply to the characters in the legends and thus Virgil emphasises the comparison to tragedy as a literary form, rather than simply to its mythical content. Finally, at the end of the book, just prior to her death, Dido asks herself why she did not tear Aeneas limb from limb and scatter the pieces into the sea or else kill Ascanius and serve his flesh as food at his father's table (4.600-602). Both proposed acts are lifted from Greek mythology (Medea's murder of her brother, and Atreus' punishment of his brother Thyestes, respectively). The latter was the subject of no extant Greek tragedy, but of three Roman tragedies - Ennius' Thyestes, Accius' Atreus and Varius' Thyestes. The former points up the similarity between Dido and Medea, the great mythological and tragic paradigm for a woman sent mad by the betrayal of her love. Indeed, the links between Dido and Medea are apparent throughout Book 4, for example in her description and use of magic (4.474-499).

The structure of Book 4 also causes us to recall Greek tragedy. We find the verbal contests between two characters ('agones'), as well as the reversal of fortune ('peripeteia') and recognition ('anagnorisis') that Aristotle demanded in all good tragedy. The latter two are represented by the departure of Aeneas and Dido's realisation of the position that she has sunk to as a result of her obsession. Her suicide is caused not so much by (in her eyes) Aeneas' betrayal as by her own awareness of how easily she neglected the oath she had made to Sychaeus, of how she has made herself look foolish in front of her people and her enemies, and of how untenable her position as leader of the Carthaginians now is. When we first meet her she is a proud, powerful, glorious queen, likened to Diana (1.498-504). By the time of her death, she has been humbled, a victim of both cosmic and human forces, a broken women, yet still proud and noble enough to see that she can no longer continue living without her former honour intact. In truth, a genuine tragic heroine.

If we pity Dido, what then are we to make of Aeneas' actions? We cannot fault him for leaving, since he is ordered to do so by Jupiter and any refusal on his part would undercut his specifically Roman heroic quality - his 'pietas' - and present him as little more than a self- interested charlatan. However, we must ask whether his treatment of Dido after his visit from Mercury is that of a man struggling with his own emotions and deciding that explaining exactly how he feels is counter-productive both to himself and the queen, or whether he makes a cowardly decision to avoid an awkward encounter. It is a question that has divided critics for centuries. The fact that Book 4 is written from Dido's point of view means that there is no clear insight into Aeneas' state of mind. Virgil does not make it evident whether Aeneas felt any love for her. Yet there are some signs to suggest that he did, a conclusion which would present him in a more heroic light since he would be subjugating feelings similar to those of Dido to the necessity to follow the will of fate and the gods. His love for her seems to be demonstrated in several places. Firstly, at 4.281, his desire to escape Carthage is expressed, but the lands are described as 'dulcis'("pleasant"). Given the highly subjective style of Book 4, which tends, even in the narrative, to take one into the mind of the person described, the 'terras' can only be 'dulcis' to Aeneas because of Dido. Secondly, at 4.331- 2, Aeneas' reaction to Dido's first attack and appeal is described as follows, 'obnixus curam sub corde premebat' (he struggled to hold down the pain in his heart). The use of the word 'curam' is notable because it is used throughout the book to refer to the pain caused by love and especially to Dido's pain. In addition, the use of the imperfect 'premebat' signifies continued action and, together with 'obnixus', emphasises the ongoing struggle that Aeneas is enduring. Thirdly, at 4.447-9, having been compared to an oak tree, buffeted on all sides by the winds, it is stated that 'magno persentit pectore curas' (in his great heart, he felt the pain of love). Once more, therefore, we find Aeneas' feelings referred to as 'curas' and once more the struggle he is undergoing is stressed. Given this, and the fact that the rest of the sentence refers to him, the ambiguous and controversial phrase 'lacrimae volvuntur inanes' (tears rolled down but in vain, 4.449) can, in my view, also be assigned to him, another sign that he does feel some love towards Dido. Finally, when he meets Dido in the Underworld, he sheds tears once more and 'dulcique adfatus amore est' (addressed her with the voice of sweet love, 6.455). This would seem to provide more proof of his feelings.

If we read Book 4 in this way, we can see that, although Dido elicits more sympathy than Aeneas, we are not to see him in a bad light. He may not explain himself to Dido fully, but he can see from her initial responses that she will not accept any reason that he might give. He cannot express his true feelings, as that leaves himself at their mercy and, furthermore, gives Dido false hope that he might be persuaded to stay. The most important thing is his mission, rather than his own or Dido's feelings. This may make him appear cold or hard- hearted, but it is in fact harder for him to fulfil it than to bow to his own or Dido's wishes. By writing Book 4 from Dido's point of view, Virgil invites us to sympathise with her, but he does not suggest that this should denigrate Aeneas in any way. Both are simply unfortunate to be caught in a grand cosmic design that precludes their happiness (for what little we see of Lavinia suggests that she is far less of an ideal match for Aeneas than Dido). We are left with Aeneas' plaintive cry ringing in our ears - 'Italiam non sponte sequor' ("I go to Italy not of my own free will", 4.361).

5. The Gods

Virgil inherited the system of anthropomorphic gods that we find in the Aeneid from Homer. Yet, as with everything that he inherited from Homer, he adapted it to suit his own purpose. As with the Iliad and the Odyssey, the gods in the Aeneid provide divine causation to add to human causation on the mortal plane. They can be used to explain what otherwise is inexplicable, to hurry the action along and generally to effect what cannot be achieved on a human level. In addition, they provide a colourful and fantastic alternative to the mortal world and an opportunity for the poet to utilise all his powers of imagery. At the same time, they offer a constant reminder of the ultimate futility of much human action, since, even on a whim, they can destroy lives. For example, the opposition of Juno to the Trojans, despite her knowledge that it is fated for Aeneas to found the Roman race, results in the deaths of Dido, Turnus, Pallas, Amata, Lausus, Mezentius and many other Trojans, Latins and Rutulians.

This example demonstrates another key aspect of both the Virgilian and Homeric gods, namely that they are ruled by Fate in the same way that the mortals are. Juno may be able to postpone it, but she cannot alter it. Even Jupiter, who proclaims to know the Fates when he prophesies to Venus in Book 1 (227-96), seems confused by the events in Latium at the start of Book 10 (8) and eventually says that he will withdraw and let the Fates find their own way (10.104-13).

Where the divine machinery of the Aeneid differs from its counterpart in Homer is in its essential idea that man, gods and Fate are all working towards a common end, which is ultimately for the benefit of mankind. This common end is the founding of the Roman race and the establishment of the process that will culminate in Augustus' reign over the Roman Empire. The Fates have decreed as much, as Jupiter knows and expresses in his prophecy and as all the other gods also learn. Aeneas having accepted, or having been forced to accept, his divine mission attempts as best he can to bring it about, and when human frailty causes him to doubt, he is aided by the gods, with the exception of Juno, such that he might continue and complete it. Such a view of the interaction of the divine and mortal worlds is profoundly influenced by Roman Stoicism. Man endures all adversity in order to bring about the will of Fate and the gods, while the latter reciprocate by guiding the attempts of those capable of understanding the divine wishes. The eventual result is the increased civilisation of the human race. This is an idea that underpins the Aeneid and it is no surprise that Aeneas, and, to an extent, Augustus also, are continually compared to Hercules, the great Stoic civiliser.

6. Structure

The essential structure of the Aeneid can be seen in two ways. Firstly, it can be seen as distilling the structures of the two Homeric epics into one poem. Thus we have the first six books which imitate the Odyssey, in that they relate the tales of Aeneas' wanderings after the fall of Troy, replete with characters from the Odyssey, such as the Cyclops and Scylla and Charybdis. The second six books then imitate the Iliad, in that they relate the war in Latium, which echoes the Trojan War. Secondly, the Aeneid can be seen as divided into three parts, the first of which (Books 1-4) details the tragedy of Dido, the second of which (Books 5-8) relates to the final search for the promised land and Aeneas' time at the future site of Rome, and the third of which (Books 9-12) describes the tragedy of Turnus.

There are also internal parallels between the two halves. Juno's anger is emphasised at the start of both Book 1 and Book 7; Book 2 sees Aeneas' final departure from Troy, while Book 8 sees his arrival at the future site of Rome; the pathos of the death of Dido in Book 4 is echoed by the pathos of the death Pallas in Book 10; and the disquieting end to the first half of the poem, where the death of Marcellus is foretold, is reprised by the disquieting end to the whole Aeneid with the death of Turnus.

7. Language

The quality of Virgil's language has been praised since antiquity, even at times when the ethical, political and aesthetic aspects of his work have been heavily criticised, for example during the Victorian period. Apart from the beauty of the sound created by recitation of his hexameters, he was innovative in two areas.

Firstly, he used the difference between ictus and accent to aesthetic advantage more than any other Latin poet. The ictus is the first metrical beat of each of the six feet of a hexameter line. The accent is the natural stress that one puts on particular syllables when one recites or reads a line. Evidently, the ictus and accent can occur on the same syllables in a line, or on different ones. If they are in harmony, then the line flows naturally and peacefully; if they clash, then the effect can be unpleasant, awkward or simply difficult to say. Virgil harnessed this fact to his advantage, such that the accord or clash of ictus and accent is often representative of the sense of the line.

Secondly, he utilised the difference between line endings and sentence or sense endings more than any of his predecessors. By not necessarily completing a sentence at the end of a line, he was able to produce greater aesthetic variation in his poetry. Sentences could be as long or short as he wished, depending on what sense they were intended to convey, while he was free to use devices such as enjambement to much greater effect than anyone previously. Thus, we find that in Virgil the language used, its sound and its application, is extremely important to the understanding of the meaning it carries.