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At what time of his life
VIRGILIO turned his thoughts to epic poetry is not known.
Probably like most
gifted poets VIRGILIO felt from his earliest years the ambition to write a heroic
poem.
He expresses this feeling in the "Eclogues" more than once.
Pollio's exploits seemed to him worthy of such a celebration.
In the "Georgics," VIRGILIO declares that he will wed Caesar's glories to an epic strain, but though the emperor urged him to undertake the subject, which was besides in strict accordance with epic precedent, his mature judgment led him to reject it.
Like Milton, VIRGILIO seems to have revolved for many years the different themes that came to him, and, like him, to have at last chosen one which by mounting back into the distant past enabled him to indulge historical retrospect, and gather into one focus the entire subsequent development.
As to his aptitude for epic poetry opinions differ.
VIRGILIO is a remarkable instance of a man mistaking his vocation.
His real calling was lyric poetry.
His small lyric poems show that he would have been a poet like Catullus if he had not been led away by his desire to write a great Graeco-Latin poem."
His real calling was lyric poetry.
His small lyric poems show that he would have been a poet like Catullus if he had not been led away by his desire to write a great Graeco-Latin poem."
By speaking of "successes like that of the _Aeneid_" others evidently inclines towards the same view.
It must be conceded that VIRGILIO's genius lacked heroic fibre, invention, dramatic power.
VIRGILIO had not an idea of "that stern joy that warriors feel," so necessary to one who would raise a martial strain.
The passages we remember best are the very ones that are least heroic.
The funeral games in honour of Anchise, the forlorn queen, the death of Niso and Euryalo, owe all their charm to the sacrifice of the heroic to the sentimental.
Had Virgil been able to keep rigidly to the lofty purpose with which he entered on his work, we should perhaps have lost the episodes which bring out his purest inspiration.
So far as his original endowments went, his mind certainly was not cast in a heroic
mould.
But the counter-balancing qualifications must not be forgotten.
He had an inextinguishable enthusiasm for his art, a heart "smit with the love of ancient song," a susceptibility to literary excellence never equalled, and a spirit
responsive to the faintest echo of the music of the ages.
The very
faculties that bar his entrance into the circle of creative minds enable
him to stand first among those epic poets who own a literary rather than
an original inspiration.
For in truth epic poetry is a name for two widely
different classes of composition.
The first comprehends those early
legends and ballads which arise in a nation's vigorous youth, and embody
the most cherished traditions of its gods and heroes and the long series
of their wars and loves. S
trictly native in its origin, such poetry is the
spontaneous expression of a people's political and religious life.
It may
exist in scattered fragments bound together only by unity of sentiment and
poetic inspiration: or it may be welded into a whole by the genius of some
heroic bard.
Had Virgil been able to keep rigidly to the lofty purpose with which he entered on his work, we should perhaps have lost the episodes which bring out his purest inspiration.
So far as his original endowments went, his mind certainly was not cast in a heroic
mould.
But the counter-balancing qualifications must not be forgotten.
He had an inextinguishable enthusiasm for his art, a heart "smit with the love of ancient song," a susceptibility to literary excellence never equalled, and a spirit
responsive to the faintest echo of the music of the ages.
The very
faculties that bar his entrance into the circle of creative minds enable
him to stand first among those epic poets who own a literary rather than
an original inspiration.
For in truth epic poetry is a name for two widely
different classes of composition.
The first comprehends those early
legends and ballads which arise in a nation's vigorous youth, and embody
the most cherished traditions of its gods and heroes and the long series
of their wars and loves. S
trictly native in its origin, such poetry is the
spontaneous expression of a people's political and religious life.
It may
exist in scattered fragments bound together only by unity of sentiment and
poetic inspiration: or it may be welded into a whole by the genius of some
heroic bard.
But it can only arise in that early period of a nation's
history when political combination is as yet imperfect, and scientific
knowledge has not begun to mark off the domain of historic fact from the
cloudland of fancy and legend.
Of this class are the Homeric poems, the "Nibelungen Lied", the Norse ballads, the _Edda_, the _Kalewola_, the legends of Arthur, and the poem of the _Cid.
All these, whatever their
differences, have this in common, that they sprang at a remote period out
of the earliest traditions of the several peoples, and neither did nor
could have originated in a state of advanced civilization. It is far
otherwise with the other sort of epics.
These are composed amid the
complex influences of a highly developed political life. They are the
fruit of conscious thought reflecting on the story before it and seeking
to unfold its results according to the systematic rules of art. The stage
has been reached which discerns fact from fable; the myths which to an
earlier age seemed the highest embodiment of truth, are now mere graceful
ornaments, or at most faint images of hidden realities. The state has
asserted its dominion over man's activity; science, sacred and profane,
has given its stores to enrich his mind; philosophy has led him to
meditate on his place in the system of things. To write an enduring epic a
poet must not merely recount heroic deeds, but must weave into the recital
all the tangled threads which bind together the grave and varied interests
of civilized man.
It is the glory of
Virgil that alone with ALIGHIERI and Milton he has achieved
this: that he stands forth as the expression of an epoch, of a nation.
That obedience to sovereign law, [49] which is the chief burden of the ENEIDE, stands out among the diverse elements of Roman life as specially
prominent, just as faith in the Church's doctrine is the burden of
Mediaevalism as expressed in Dante, and as justification of God's
dealings, as given in Scripture, forms the lesson of _Paradise Lost_,
making it the best poetical representative of Protestant thought. None of
Virgil's predecessors understood the conditions under which epic greatness
was possible.
His successors, in spite of his example, understood them
still less. It has been said that no events are of themselves unsuited for
epic treatment, simply because they are modern or historical. [50]
This
may be true; and yet, where is the poet that has succeeded in them?
The early Roman poets were patriotic men.
They chose for subjects the annals of Rome, which they celebrated in noble though unskilled verse.
Naevius. Ennius, Accius, Hostius, Bibaculus, and Varius before Virgil, Lucan and
Silius after him, treated national subjects, some of great antiquity, some
almost contemporaneous.
But they failed, as Voltaire failed, because
historical events are not by themselves the natural subjects of heroic
verse.
Tasso chose a theme where history and romance were so blended as to
admit of successful epic treatment; but such conditions are rare.
Few
would hesitate to prefer the histories of Herodotus and Livy to any
poetical account whatever of the Persian and Punic wars; and in such
preference they would be guided by a true principle, for the domain of
history borders on and overlaps, but does not coincide with, that of
poetry.
this: that he stands forth as the expression of an epoch, of a nation.
That obedience to sovereign law, [49] which is the chief burden of the ENEIDE, stands out among the diverse elements of Roman life as specially
prominent, just as faith in the Church's doctrine is the burden of
Mediaevalism as expressed in Dante, and as justification of God's
dealings, as given in Scripture, forms the lesson of _Paradise Lost_,
making it the best poetical representative of Protestant thought. None of
Virgil's predecessors understood the conditions under which epic greatness
was possible.
His successors, in spite of his example, understood them
still less. It has been said that no events are of themselves unsuited for
epic treatment, simply because they are modern or historical. [50]
This
may be true; and yet, where is the poet that has succeeded in them?
The early Roman poets were patriotic men.
They chose for subjects the annals of Rome, which they celebrated in noble though unskilled verse.
Naevius. Ennius, Accius, Hostius, Bibaculus, and Varius before Virgil, Lucan and
Silius after him, treated national subjects, some of great antiquity, some
almost contemporaneous.
But they failed, as Voltaire failed, because
historical events are not by themselves the natural subjects of heroic
verse.
Tasso chose a theme where history and romance were so blended as to
admit of successful epic treatment; but such conditions are rare.
Few
would hesitate to prefer the histories of Herodotus and Livy to any
poetical account whatever of the Persian and Punic wars; and in such
preference they would be guided by a true principle, for the domain of
history borders on and overlaps, but does not coincide with, that of
poetry.
The perception of this
truth has led many, epic poets to err in the
opposite extreme.
They have left the region of truth altogether, and
confined themselves to pure fancy or legend.
This error is less serious
than the first; for not only are legendary subjects well adapted for epic
treatment, but they may be made the natural vehicle of deep or noble
thought.
The _Orlando Furioso_ and the _Faery Queen_ are examples of this.
But more often the poet either uses his subject as a means for exhibiting
his learning or style, as Statius, Cinna, and the Alexandrines; or loses
sight of the deeper meaning altogether, and merely reproduces the beauty
of the ancient myths without reference to their ideal truth, as was done
by Ovid, and recently by Mr. Morris, with brilliant success, in his
_Earthly Paradise_.
This poem, like the _Metamorphoses_, does not claim to
be a national epic, but both, by their vivid realization of a mythology
which can never lose its charm, hold a legitimate place among the
offshoots of epic song.
opposite extreme.
They have left the region of truth altogether, and
confined themselves to pure fancy or legend.
This error is less serious
than the first; for not only are legendary subjects well adapted for epic
treatment, but they may be made the natural vehicle of deep or noble
thought.
The _Orlando Furioso_ and the _Faery Queen_ are examples of this.
But more often the poet either uses his subject as a means for exhibiting
his learning or style, as Statius, Cinna, and the Alexandrines; or loses
sight of the deeper meaning altogether, and merely reproduces the beauty
of the ancient myths without reference to their ideal truth, as was done
by Ovid, and recently by Mr. Morris, with brilliant success, in his
_Earthly Paradise_.
This poem, like the _Metamorphoses_, does not claim to
be a national epic, but both, by their vivid realization of a mythology
which can never lose its charm, hold a legitimate place among the
offshoots of epic song.
Virgil has overcome the
difficulties and joined the best results of both
these imperfect forms.
By adopting the legend of ENEA, which, since the Punic wars, had established itself as one of the firmest national beliefs, VIRGILIO was enabled without sacrificing reality to employ the resources of Homeric art; by tracing directly to that legend the glorious development of Roman life and Roman dominion, he has become the poet of his nation's history, and through it, of the whole ancient world.
these imperfect forms.
By adopting the legend of ENEA, which, since the Punic wars, had established itself as one of the firmest national beliefs, VIRGILIO was enabled without sacrificing reality to employ the resources of Homeric art; by tracing directly to that legend the glorious development of Roman life and Roman dominion, he has become the poet of his nation's history, and through it, of the whole ancient world.
The elements which enter
into the plan of the ENEIDE are so numerous as
to have caused very different conceptions of its scope and meaning.
Some
have regarded it as the sequel and counterpart of the _Iliad_, in which
Troy triumphs over her ancient foe, and Greece acknowledges the divine
Nemesis.
That this conception was present to the poet is clear from many
passages in which he reminds Greece that she is under Rome's dominion, and
contrasts the heroes or achievements of the two nations. [52]
But it is by
no means sufficient to explain the whole poem, and indeed is in
contradiction to its inner spirit.
For in the eleventh Aeneid [53] Diomed
declares that after Troy was taken he desires to have no more war with the
Trojan race; and in harmony with this thought Virgil conceives of the two
nations under Rome's supremacy as working together by law, art, and
science, to advance the human race. [54]
Roman talent has made her own all
that Greek genius created, and fate has willed that neither race should be
complete without the other.
The germs of this fine thought are found in
the historian Polybius, who dwelt on the grandeur of such a joint
influence, and perhaps through his intercourse with the Scipionic circle,
gave the idea currency.
It is therefore rather the final reconciliation
than the continued antagonism that the _Aeneid_ celebrates, though of
course national pride dwells on the striking change of relations that time
had brought.
to have caused very different conceptions of its scope and meaning.
Some
have regarded it as the sequel and counterpart of the _Iliad_, in which
Troy triumphs over her ancient foe, and Greece acknowledges the divine
Nemesis.
That this conception was present to the poet is clear from many
passages in which he reminds Greece that she is under Rome's dominion, and
contrasts the heroes or achievements of the two nations. [52]
But it is by
no means sufficient to explain the whole poem, and indeed is in
contradiction to its inner spirit.
For in the eleventh Aeneid [53] Diomed
declares that after Troy was taken he desires to have no more war with the
Trojan race; and in harmony with this thought Virgil conceives of the two
nations under Rome's supremacy as working together by law, art, and
science, to advance the human race. [54]
Roman talent has made her own all
that Greek genius created, and fate has willed that neither race should be
complete without the other.
The germs of this fine thought are found in
the historian Polybius, who dwelt on the grandeur of such a joint
influence, and perhaps through his intercourse with the Scipionic circle,
gave the idea currency.
It is therefore rather the final reconciliation
than the continued antagonism that the _Aeneid_ celebrates, though of
course national pride dwells on the striking change of relations that time
had brought.
Another view of the
_Aeneid_ makes it centre in Augustus.
Aeneas then
becomes a type of the emperor, whose calm calculating courage was equalled
by his piety to the gods, and care for public morals.
Turno represents Marc'Antonio, whose turbulent vehemence ("violentia") mixed with generosity
and real valour, makes us lament, while we accept his fate.
Dido is the
Egyptian queen, Cleopatra, whose arts fell harmless on Augustus's cold reserve, and
whose resolve to die eluded his vigilance.
Drances, the brilliant
orator whose hand was slow to wield the sword, is a study from Cicero.
And so the other less important characters have historical prototypes.
But there is even less to be said for this view than for the other.
It is
altogether too narrow, and cannot be made to correspond with, the facts of
history, nor do the characters on a close inspection resemble their
supposed originals. [57]
Beyond doubt the stirring scenes Virgil had as a
young man witnessed, suggested points which he has embodied in the story,
but the Greek maxim that "poetry deals with universal truth," [58] must
have been rightly understood by him to exclude all such dressing-up of
historical facts.
Aeneas then
becomes a type of the emperor, whose calm calculating courage was equalled
by his piety to the gods, and care for public morals.
Turno represents Marc'Antonio, whose turbulent vehemence ("violentia") mixed with generosity
and real valour, makes us lament, while we accept his fate.
Dido is the
Egyptian queen, Cleopatra, whose arts fell harmless on Augustus's cold reserve, and
whose resolve to die eluded his vigilance.
Drances, the brilliant
orator whose hand was slow to wield the sword, is a study from Cicero.
And so the other less important characters have historical prototypes.
But there is even less to be said for this view than for the other.
It is
altogether too narrow, and cannot be made to correspond with, the facts of
history, nor do the characters on a close inspection resemble their
supposed originals. [57]
Beyond doubt the stirring scenes Virgil had as a
young man witnessed, suggested points which he has embodied in the story,
but the Greek maxim that "poetry deals with universal truth," [58] must
have been rightly understood by him to exclude all such dressing-up of
historical facts.
There remains the view
to which many critics have lent their support, that
the _Aeneid_ celebrates the triumph of law and civilization over the
savage instincts of man; and that because Rome had proved the most
complete civilizing power, therefore it is to her greatness that
everything in the poem conspires.
This view has the merit of being in
every way worthy of Virgil.
No loftier conception could guide his verse
through the long labyrinth of legend, history, religious and antiquarian
lore, in which for ten years of patient study his muse sought inspiration.
Still it seems somewhat too philosophical to have been by itself his
animating principle.
It is true, patriotism had enlarged its basis.
the _Aeneid_ celebrates the triumph of law and civilization over the
savage instincts of man; and that because Rome had proved the most
complete civilizing power, therefore it is to her greatness that
everything in the poem conspires.
This view has the merit of being in
every way worthy of Virgil.
No loftier conception could guide his verse
through the long labyrinth of legend, history, religious and antiquarian
lore, in which for ten years of patient study his muse sought inspiration.
Still it seems somewhat too philosophical to have been by itself his
animating principle.
It is true, patriotism had enlarged its basis.
The city of Rome was already the world, and the growth of Rome was the
growth of human progress.
Hence the muse, while celebrating the imperial
state, transcends in thought the limits of space and time, and swells, as
it were, the great hymn of humanity. But this represents rather the utmost
reach of the poet's flight after he has thrown himself into the empyrean
than the original definitely conceived goal on which he fixed his mind. We
should supplement this view by another held by Macrobius and many Latin
critics, and of which Mr. Nettleship, in a recent admirable pamphlet [60]
recognises the justice, viz. that the _Aeneid_ was written with a
religious object, and must be regarded mainly as a religious poem. Its
burning patriotism glows with a religious light. Its hero is "religious"
(_pius_), not "beautiful" or "brave." [61] At the sacrifice even of
poetical effect his religious dependence on the gods is brought into
prominence.
The action of the whole poem hinges on the Divine will, which,
is not as in Homer, a mere counterpart of the human, far less is
represented as in conflict with resistless destiny, but, cognizant of fate
and in perfect union with it, as overruling all lower impulses, divine or
human, towards the realization of the appointed end.
This Divine Power is
Jupiter, whom in the _Aeneid_ he calls by this name as a concession to
conventional beliefs, but in the _Georgics_ prefers to leave nameless,
symbolised under the title Father. [62] Jupiter is not the Author, but he
is the Interpreter and Champion of Destiny (_Fata_), which lies buried in
the realm of the unknown, except so far as the father of the gods pleases
to reveal it. [63] Deities of sufficient power or resource may defer but
cannot prevent its accomplishment. Juno is represented doing this--the
idea is of course from Homer. But Jupiter does not desire to change
destiny, even if he could, though he feels compassion at its decrees
(_e.g._ at the death of Turnus). The power of the Divine fiat to overrule
human equity is shown by the death of Turnus who has right, and of Dido
who has the lesser wrong, on her side.
Thus punishment is severed from
desert, and loses its higher meaning; the instinct of justice is lost in
the assertion of divine power; and while in details the religion of the
_Aeneid_ is often pure and noble, its ultimate conceptions of the relation
of the human and divine are certainly no advance on those of Homer. The
verdict of one who reads the poem from this point of view will surely be
that of Sellar, who denies that it enlightens the human conscience. Every
form of the doctrine that might is right, however skilfully veiled, as it
is in the _Aeneid_ by a thousand beautiful intermediaries, must be classed
among the crude and uncreative theories which mark an only half-reflecting
people. But when we pass from the philosophy of religion to the particular
manifestation of it as a national worship, we find Virgil at his greatest,
and worthy to hold the position he held with later ages as the most
authoritative expounder of the Roman ritual and creed. [64] He shared the
palm of learning with Varro, and sympathy inclined towards the poet rather
than the antiquarian.
The _Aeneid_ is literally filled with memorials of
the old religion.
The glory of Aeneas is to have brought with him the
Trojan gods, and through perils of every kind to have guarded his faith in
them, and scrupulously preserved their worship. It is not the Trojan race
as such that the Romans could look back to with pride as ancestors; they
are the _bis capti Phryges_, who are but heaven-sent instruments for
consecrating the Latin race to the mission for which it is prepared.
"_Occidit_" says Juno, "_occideritque sinas cum nomine Troja:_" [65] and
Aeneas states the object of his proposal in these words--
"Sacra
deosque dabo; socer arma Latinas habeto." [66]
This then being the
lofty origin, the immemorial antiquity of the national
faith, the moral is easily drawn, that Rome must never cease to observe
it.
The rites to import which into the favoured land cost heaven itself so
fierce a struggle, which have raised that land to be the head of all the
earth, must not be neglected now that their promise has been fulfilled.
Each ceremony embodies some glorious reminiscence; each minute
technicality enshrines some special national blessing.
faith, the moral is easily drawn, that Rome must never cease to observe
it.
The rites to import which into the favoured land cost heaven itself so
fierce a struggle, which have raised that land to be the head of all the
earth, must not be neglected now that their promise has been fulfilled.
Each ceremony embodies some glorious reminiscence; each minute
technicality enshrines some special national blessing.
Here, as in the
_Georgics_, Cato and Varro live in Virgil, but with far
less of narrow literalness, with far more of rich enthusiasm. We can well
believe that the _Aeneid_ was a poem after Augustus's heart, that he
welcomed with pride as well as gladness the instalments which, before its
publication, he was permitted to see, [67] and encouraged by unreserved
approbation so thorough an exponent of his cherished views. To him the
_Aeneid_ breathed the spirit of the old cult. Its very style, like that of
Milton from the Bible, was borrowed in countless instances from the Sacred
Manuals.
When Aeneas offers to the gods four prime oxen (_eximios tauros_)
the pious Roman recognised the words of the ritual.
When the nymph
Cymodoce rouses Aeneas to be on his guard against danger with the words
"_Vigilas ne deum gens? Aenea, vigila!_" [69] she recalls the imposing
ceremony by which, immediately before a war was begun, the general struck
with his lance the sacred shields, calling on the god "_Mars, vigila!_"
These and a thousand other allusions caused many of the later commentators
to regard Aeneas as an impersonation of the pontificate. This is an error
analogous to, but worse than, that which makes him represent Augustus; he
is a poetical creation, imperfect no doubt, but still not to be tied to
any single definition.
less of narrow literalness, with far more of rich enthusiasm. We can well
believe that the _Aeneid_ was a poem after Augustus's heart, that he
welcomed with pride as well as gladness the instalments which, before its
publication, he was permitted to see, [67] and encouraged by unreserved
approbation so thorough an exponent of his cherished views. To him the
_Aeneid_ breathed the spirit of the old cult. Its very style, like that of
Milton from the Bible, was borrowed in countless instances from the Sacred
Manuals.
When Aeneas offers to the gods four prime oxen (_eximios tauros_)
the pious Roman recognised the words of the ritual.
When the nymph
Cymodoce rouses Aeneas to be on his guard against danger with the words
"_Vigilas ne deum gens? Aenea, vigila!_" [69] she recalls the imposing
ceremony by which, immediately before a war was begun, the general struck
with his lance the sacred shields, calling on the god "_Mars, vigila!_"
These and a thousand other allusions caused many of the later commentators
to regard Aeneas as an impersonation of the pontificate. This is an error
analogous to, but worse than, that which makes him represent Augustus; he
is a poetical creation, imperfect no doubt, but still not to be tied to
any single definition.
Passing from the
religious to the moral aspect of the _Aeneid_, we find a
gentleness beaming through it, strangely contradicted by some of the
bloody episodes, which out of deference to Homeric precedent Virgil
interweaves.
Such are the human sacrifices, the ferocious taunts at fallen
enemies, and other instances of boasting or cruelty which will occur to
every reader, greatly marring the artistic as well as the moral effect of
the hero.
Tame as he generally is, a resigned instrument in the divine
hands, there are moments when Aeneas is truly attractive. As Conington
says, his kindly interest in the young shown in Book V. is a beautiful
trait that is all Virgil's own. His happy interview with Evander, where,
throwing off the monarch, he chats like a Roman burgess in his country
house; his pity for young Lausus whom he slays, and the mournful tribute
of affection he pays to Pallas, are touching scenes, which without
presenting Aeneas as a hero (which he never is), harmonise far better with
the ideal Virgil meant to leave us. But after all said, that ideal is a
poor one for purposes of poetry. Aeneas is uninteresting, and this is the
great fault of the poem. Turnus enlists our sympathy far more, he is
chivalrous and valiant; the wrong he suffers does not harden him, but he
lacks strength of character. The only personage who is "proudly conceived"
[70] is Mezentius, the despiser of the gods. The absence of restraint
seems to have given the poet a more masculine touch; the address of the
old king to his horse, his only friend, is full of pathos. Among female
characters Camilla is perhaps original; she is graceful without being
pleasing. Amata and Juturna belong to the class _virago_, a term applied
to the latter by Virgil himself. [71] Lavinia is the modest maiden, a
sketch, not a portrait. Dido is a character for all time, the _chef
d'oeuvre_ of the _Aeneid_.
Among the stately ladies of the imperial house
--a Livia, a Scribonia, an Octavia, perhaps a Julia--Virgil must have
found the elements which he has fused with such mighty power, [72] the
rich beauty, the fierce passion, the fixed resolve. Dido is his greatest
effort: and yet she is not an individual living woman like Helen or
Ophelia.
Like Racine, Virgil has developed passions, not created persons.
The divine gift of tender, almost Christian, feeling that is his, cannot
see into those depths where the inner personality lies hidden. Among the
traditional characters few call for remark. The gods maintain on the whole
their Homeric attributes, only hardened by time and by a Roman moulding.
Venus is, however, touched with magic skill; it may be questioned whether
words ever carried such suggestions of surpassing beauty as those in
which, twice in the poem, her mystic form [73] is veiled rather than
pourtrayed. The characters of Ulysses and Helen bear the debased, unheroic
stamp of the later Greek drama; the last spark of goodness has left them,
and even his careful study of Homer, seems to have had no effect in
opening the poet's eyes to the gross falsification. Where Virgil did not
feel obliged to create, he was to the last degree conventional.
gentleness beaming through it, strangely contradicted by some of the
bloody episodes, which out of deference to Homeric precedent Virgil
interweaves.
Such are the human sacrifices, the ferocious taunts at fallen
enemies, and other instances of boasting or cruelty which will occur to
every reader, greatly marring the artistic as well as the moral effect of
the hero.
Tame as he generally is, a resigned instrument in the divine
hands, there are moments when Aeneas is truly attractive. As Conington
says, his kindly interest in the young shown in Book V. is a beautiful
trait that is all Virgil's own. His happy interview with Evander, where,
throwing off the monarch, he chats like a Roman burgess in his country
house; his pity for young Lausus whom he slays, and the mournful tribute
of affection he pays to Pallas, are touching scenes, which without
presenting Aeneas as a hero (which he never is), harmonise far better with
the ideal Virgil meant to leave us. But after all said, that ideal is a
poor one for purposes of poetry. Aeneas is uninteresting, and this is the
great fault of the poem. Turnus enlists our sympathy far more, he is
chivalrous and valiant; the wrong he suffers does not harden him, but he
lacks strength of character. The only personage who is "proudly conceived"
[70] is Mezentius, the despiser of the gods. The absence of restraint
seems to have given the poet a more masculine touch; the address of the
old king to his horse, his only friend, is full of pathos. Among female
characters Camilla is perhaps original; she is graceful without being
pleasing. Amata and Juturna belong to the class _virago_, a term applied
to the latter by Virgil himself. [71] Lavinia is the modest maiden, a
sketch, not a portrait. Dido is a character for all time, the _chef
d'oeuvre_ of the _Aeneid_.
Among the stately ladies of the imperial house
--a Livia, a Scribonia, an Octavia, perhaps a Julia--Virgil must have
found the elements which he has fused with such mighty power, [72] the
rich beauty, the fierce passion, the fixed resolve. Dido is his greatest
effort: and yet she is not an individual living woman like Helen or
Ophelia.
Like Racine, Virgil has developed passions, not created persons.
The divine gift of tender, almost Christian, feeling that is his, cannot
see into those depths where the inner personality lies hidden. Among the
traditional characters few call for remark. The gods maintain on the whole
their Homeric attributes, only hardened by time and by a Roman moulding.
Venus is, however, touched with magic skill; it may be questioned whether
words ever carried such suggestions of surpassing beauty as those in
which, twice in the poem, her mystic form [73] is veiled rather than
pourtrayed. The characters of Ulysses and Helen bear the debased, unheroic
stamp of the later Greek drama; the last spark of goodness has left them,
and even his careful study of Homer, seems to have had no effect in
opening the poet's eyes to the gross falsification. Where Virgil did not
feel obliged to create, he was to the last degree conventional.
A most interesting
feature in the _Aeneid_--and with it we conclude our
sketch--is its incorporation of all that was best in preceding poetry. All
Roman poets had imitated, but Virgil carried imitation to an extent
hitherto unknown. Not only Greek but Latin writers are laid under
contribution in every page.
Some idea of his indebtedness to Homer may be
formed from Conington's commentary.
Sophocles and the other tragedians,
Apollonius Rhodius and the Alexandrines are continually imitated, and
almost always improved upon. And still more is this the case with his
adaptations from Naevius, Ennius, Lucretius, Hostius, Furius, &c. whose
works he had thoroughly mastered, and stored in his memory their most
striking rhythms or expressions. [74] Massive lines from Ennius, which as
a rule he has spared to touch, leaving them in all their rugged grandeur
planted in the garden of his verse, to point back like giant trees to the
time when that garden was a forest, bear witness at once to his reverence
for the old bard and to his own wondrous art. It is not merely for
literary effect that the old poets are transferred into his pages. A
nobler motive swayed him. The _Aeneid_ was meant to be, above all things,
a National Poem, carrying on the lines of thought, the style of speech,
which National Progress had chosen; it was not meant to eclipse so much us
to do honour to the early literature. Thus those bards who like Naevius
and Ennius had done good service to Rome by singing, however rudely, her
history, find their _Imagines_ ranged in the gallery of the _Aeneid_.
There they meet with the flamens and pontiffs unknown and unnamed, who
drew up the ritual formularies, with the antiquarians and pious scholars
who had sought to find a meaning in the immemorial names, [75] whether of
places or customs or persons; with the magistrates, moralists, and
philosophers, who had striven to ennoble or enlighten Roman virtue; with
the Greek singers and sages, for they too had helped to rear the towering
fabric of Roman greatness. All these meet together in the _Aeneid_ as if
in solemn conclave, to review their joint work, to acknowledge its final
completion, and predict its impending fall. This is beyond question the
explanation of the wholesale appropriation of others' thought and
language, which otherwise would be sheer plagiarism. With that tenacious
sense of national continuity which had given the senate a policy for
centuries, Virgil regards Roman literature as a gradually expanded whole;
coming at the close of its first epoch, he sums up its results and enters
into its labours.
So far from hesitating whether to imitate, he rather
hesitated whom not to include, if only by a single reference, in his
mosaic of all that had entered into the history of Rome.
His archaism is
but another side of the same thing. Whether it takes the form of
archaeological discussion, [76] of antiquarian allusion, [77] of a mode of
narration which recalls the ancient source, [78] or of obsolete
expressions, forms of inflection, or poetical ornament, [79] we feel that
it is a sign of the poet's reverence for what was at once national and
old.
The structure of his verse, while full of music, often reminds us of the earlier writers.
It certainly has more affinity with that of Lucretius than with that of Lucan.
A learned Roman reading the _Aeneid_ would feel his mind stirred by a thousand patriotic associations.
The quaint old
laws, the maxims and religious formulae he had learnt in childhood would
mingle with the richest poetry of Greece and Rome in a stream flowing
evenly, and as it would seem, from a single spring; and he who by his art
had effected this wondrous union would seem to him the prophet as well as
the poet of the era.
That art, in spite of its occasional lapses, for we
must not forget the work was unfinished, is the most perfect the world has
yet seen.
VIRGILIO's exquisite sense of beauty, the sonorous language he
wielded, the noble rivalry of kindred spirits great enough to stimulate
but not to daunt him, and the consciousness of living in a new time big
with triumphs, as he fondly hoped, for the useful and the good, all united
to make himl not only the fairest flower of Roman literature, but as the
master of Dante, the beloved of all gentle hearts, and the most widely-read poet of any age, to render him an influential contributor to some of
the deepest convictions of the modern world.
sketch--is its incorporation of all that was best in preceding poetry. All
Roman poets had imitated, but Virgil carried imitation to an extent
hitherto unknown. Not only Greek but Latin writers are laid under
contribution in every page.
Some idea of his indebtedness to Homer may be
formed from Conington's commentary.
Sophocles and the other tragedians,
Apollonius Rhodius and the Alexandrines are continually imitated, and
almost always improved upon. And still more is this the case with his
adaptations from Naevius, Ennius, Lucretius, Hostius, Furius, &c. whose
works he had thoroughly mastered, and stored in his memory their most
striking rhythms or expressions. [74] Massive lines from Ennius, which as
a rule he has spared to touch, leaving them in all their rugged grandeur
planted in the garden of his verse, to point back like giant trees to the
time when that garden was a forest, bear witness at once to his reverence
for the old bard and to his own wondrous art. It is not merely for
literary effect that the old poets are transferred into his pages. A
nobler motive swayed him. The _Aeneid_ was meant to be, above all things,
a National Poem, carrying on the lines of thought, the style of speech,
which National Progress had chosen; it was not meant to eclipse so much us
to do honour to the early literature. Thus those bards who like Naevius
and Ennius had done good service to Rome by singing, however rudely, her
history, find their _Imagines_ ranged in the gallery of the _Aeneid_.
There they meet with the flamens and pontiffs unknown and unnamed, who
drew up the ritual formularies, with the antiquarians and pious scholars
who had sought to find a meaning in the immemorial names, [75] whether of
places or customs or persons; with the magistrates, moralists, and
philosophers, who had striven to ennoble or enlighten Roman virtue; with
the Greek singers and sages, for they too had helped to rear the towering
fabric of Roman greatness. All these meet together in the _Aeneid_ as if
in solemn conclave, to review their joint work, to acknowledge its final
completion, and predict its impending fall. This is beyond question the
explanation of the wholesale appropriation of others' thought and
language, which otherwise would be sheer plagiarism. With that tenacious
sense of national continuity which had given the senate a policy for
centuries, Virgil regards Roman literature as a gradually expanded whole;
coming at the close of its first epoch, he sums up its results and enters
into its labours.
So far from hesitating whether to imitate, he rather
hesitated whom not to include, if only by a single reference, in his
mosaic of all that had entered into the history of Rome.
His archaism is
but another side of the same thing. Whether it takes the form of
archaeological discussion, [76] of antiquarian allusion, [77] of a mode of
narration which recalls the ancient source, [78] or of obsolete
expressions, forms of inflection, or poetical ornament, [79] we feel that
it is a sign of the poet's reverence for what was at once national and
old.
The structure of his verse, while full of music, often reminds us of the earlier writers.
It certainly has more affinity with that of Lucretius than with that of Lucan.
A learned Roman reading the _Aeneid_ would feel his mind stirred by a thousand patriotic associations.
The quaint old
laws, the maxims and religious formulae he had learnt in childhood would
mingle with the richest poetry of Greece and Rome in a stream flowing
evenly, and as it would seem, from a single spring; and he who by his art
had effected this wondrous union would seem to him the prophet as well as
the poet of the era.
That art, in spite of its occasional lapses, for we
must not forget the work was unfinished, is the most perfect the world has
yet seen.
VIRGILIO's exquisite sense of beauty, the sonorous language he
wielded, the noble rivalry of kindred spirits great enough to stimulate
but not to daunt him, and the consciousness of living in a new time big
with triumphs, as he fondly hoped, for the useful and the good, all united
to make himl not only the fairest flower of Roman literature, but as the
master of Dante, the beloved of all gentle hearts, and the most widely-read poet of any age, to render him an influential contributor to some of
the deepest convictions of the modern world.
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