WARNING! Dr Cowan’s remark that this essay is ‘eccentric’ as regards the subject matter was a well meaning way of saying ‘what were you fucking thinking my man?’ This essay strays from the point indeed, it doesn’t really address the point in hand in any particular fashion so…be warned this is how not to write an essay.
When Virgil wrote the Aeneid he was one of many heirs to a literary tradition that had been established by the works of Homer and Hesiod nearly eight centuries previously. This was a tradition that had evolved and grown through the works of the Attic tragedians, the Hellenistic poets, the early Latin poets such as Ennius and Naevius and the developing historical tradition of Herodotus, Thucydides and Livy. Such a corpus of work provided a wealth of events, stories and myths that an author or poet could draw upon for inspiration, to rework, to depict differently or to simply imitate. Much of what may have provided Virgil with the bricks and mortar with which he constructed the Aeneid is unfortunately now lost to us but some extant texts, particularly the influential Iliad and Odyssey, are still readily available. As regards Virgil’s exploitation and utilisation of the tradition he was heir to there can be little doubt that he “imitated Homer throughout the whole of the Aeneid” but equally there is little to suggest that he was merely looking to simply rewrite the works of Homer in Latin but that rather he was seeking “to rival his predecessor both in the overall purpose of his epic as well as in the finest and most minute of poetic details.”[1] Virgil’s use of allusion did not restrain itself to the purely Homeric but made use of the whole literary tradition including exegetical commentaries on original works, a school that began perhaps as early as the 6th century BCE with allegorical interpretations but certainly appeared to be in full swing by the 4th century BCE with commentaries on Homer.[2] To answer the question of how the Aeneid relates to its predecessors it is not sufficient to simply say ‘intimately’ despite this very much being the case for, as already stated, Virgil went beyond a retelling of old tales, he adapted, juggled and ultimately harnessed together a wealth of influences to create something that was very new indeed despite being based on pre-existing material. As regards the utility of allusion, intertext and genre it will be necessary to address some of the aims and intentions of literary criticism, namely the analysis of authorial intention, thematic structure, characterisation and so forth.
If indeed it is that case that “practically every line of the entire Iliad and the entire Odyssey inspired something in the Aeneid”[3] then it is possible to go through the Aeneid line by line and compile these influences which would result in a list longer than the poem itself. Such a labour of love has already been accomplished by G.N.Knauer and there is neither room nor intention in this essay to perform a similar task. Instead I shall concentrate more specifically upon Book Two, the description of the fall of Troy to explore, elucidate and demonstrate the way in which Virgil’s poem interacts with previously existing material. In this analysis I am heavily indebted to the fascinating work of Richard Heinze, whose book, ‘Virgil’s Epic Technique’, explores Virgil’s intentions as well as his adaption of and deviation from his predecessors work in more detail than I can do justice here. The intertextual issues pertaining to the second book of the Aeneid are complex, intertwined with mythology, with Roman nationalism and with the literary tradition. It is one of the many examples of Virgil’s masterful handling of sources in his moulding of the disparate, sometimes conflicting traditions surrounding the fall of Troy into a cogent, coherent whole which transmits its own story rather than a confused medley of events which muddles up a pre-existing tale. Earlier depictions of the Greek sack of Troy are unavailable to us in any other form than fragmentary lines or references from earlier commentators. A certain Proclus references the Ilias Parva of Lesches and the Iliu persis of Arctinus both renditions of Troy’s final hours. Austin in his introduction to Book two lists other sources that Virgil may well have been influenced by, the Epic Cycle, the historians Timaeus and Hellanicus and there are also the extant Greek tragedies Hecuba and Troades of Euripides as well as those now lost such as Sophocles’ Laocoon and Sinon; Ennius too wrote in his Annals of the fall of Troy. In short the subject matter was a beaten track from which deviation was a risk inasmuch as an alteration of the fall of Troy could conceivably render the tale unrecognisable whilst on the other hand an updated recount of the story risked unfavourable comparison with a pre-existing version. Thus as Heinze believed “it is precisely here, in this most frequently trodden area, that Virgil’s art is most apparent”[4]
Perhaps an interesting exercise is to place oneself in the position of the poet and to reflect upon problems that he may have had to consider faced with the existing traditions surrounding the fall of Troy, for instance the very character of Aeneas was not one that he appeared to have picked up ready-made and shoehorned into his story. Aeneas’ role in the sack of his native city was not definite but oscillated between that of an abject coward and an ancient action hero. Allegedly, the earliest tradition of Aeneas’ flight from Troy is that recounted in Sophocles’ Laocoon, we learn from Livy that Aeneas, having fallen into the hands of the Greeks was spared for betraying his city to its attackers. Moving the scales of heroism, Timaeus’ version holds that Aeneas held the citadel of Troy with such force that he was able to sue for surrender on the condition that he was given passage from the city unharmed. Choosing his aged father as the only object he would carry with him rather than money or treasure, Aeneas’ act of piety earned him the sympathy of the Greeks who allowed him to take something else with him, when he chose his household gods the Greeks, in a magnificent display of generosity, provided him with ships to sail into exile with. Finally the historian Hellanicus tells us that Aeneas heroically held the citadel of Troy whilst the Trojans regrouped in sufficient enough numbers to prevent a general massacre of civilians by the Greeks, he covered their retreat and then evacuated the remaining troops in orderly fashion to a stronghold in the hills from which he then negotiated an escape for the Trojan people. Clearly these are differing conceptions of the same tale and present a least a passing difficulty to a poet whose intentions had to take into account the nature of the society that he was writing for without distorting the traditions that would have been well known within the educated minority that would constitute his audience. Heinz identifies a particular concern that he attributes to Virgil, that of rehabilitating the reputation of the Trojans who fell victim to one of the most famous cases of hoodwinking in history “to defend the Trojans in general, but above all his hero, from accusations of cowardice, weakness, timid despondency or disloyalty towards his fatherland.”[5] Given that the Trojans are the progenitors of the Roman race there is likely to have been a distinct discomfort with their ignoble defeat by the Greeks and their permanent exile from their homeland, the Roman attitude to which can be seen in the words of Camillus described in Livy’s history; the abandonment of one’s homeland was not just a matter of shame but “an abominable impiety”[6] and it is likely that Virgil found it necessary to revisit the manner of and the reasons for the Trojan defeat. It is here that the intertext can help us make some steps toward grasping the elusive shade that is Virgil’s intention, for in the differentiation between Virgil’s version and that of Timaeus or Hellanicus there are arguably intentional deviations from what was already understood to be the story of the Troy’s destruction. Farrell believes very strongly that when lines in the Aeneid correspond almost exactly with those in the Iliad, Odyssey, Argonautica and so forth “the exactitude of this similarity, and the unlikelihood that such a similarity would occur by chance… are both so great as to make the line itself an unmistakable intertextual”[7] marker” and whilst he accepts the role of coincidence he nonetheless concentrates on the sheer number of these similarities and the poor odds that in a literary tradition that was well known within educated circles so many coincidences could take place without intent. If the similarities can give some clue as what the author intended then so too can clear divergences from tradition. Thus in Virgil’s account Aeneas does not make any manner of truce with the Greeks, he does not rely on their mercy or magnanimity in order to make good his escape for we may speculate that this would, by Roman standards indebt him to his conquerors and make him in some form a client to his benefactors, unthinkable for the founder of the Roman race. Treachery too speaks for itself, it simply isn’t an option for a Roman hero and there is no amount of penitence that could make up for the crime of betraying one’s own city, country and people to an invader. It is Virgil’s rejection of the tradition described by Hellanicus that is of particular interest, for Virgil downplays Aeneas’ heroism to that of almost observer status. His actions are brave at some points but of little effect or success, far from performing some heroic holding operation, far from taking charge of the ragtag remnant of the Trojan army and regrouping for a counterattack Aeneas is involved in a small, ultimately unsuccessful stealth operation which results in the death of most of the small band of troops he has not so much gathered together but fallen in-step with. He does not hold the citadel so much as join a futile effort to defend it before Neoptolemus forces his way in and slaughters Priam. Left alone amidst the collapsing city, Aeneas has neither the troops nor indeed does it seem the resolve to prevent the Greeks overrunning the citadel, and his thoughts turn to his father before he all but flees the battle to find his family. This version in relation to Virgil’s predecessors certainly vindicates Aeneas from accusations of treachery as well as cowardice for although Aeneas does not cover himself in glory he is nonetheless an active participant the chaotic melee of the street fighting. He certainly does not betray his country and nor does he benefit from any humanity or generosity on behalf of the Greeks. Absolved from such accusation he may be yet Virgil’s Aeneas is not quite the man of action portrayed in Hellanicus’ account and there are several reason why this may be so. I shall concentrate on the suggestion that the downplaying of Aeneas’ military role is in keeping with Virgil’s theme of defeat by ignoble means. This leads to a discussion on the nature of the Greek success in duping the Trojans into taking the wooden horse into Troy. In Homer’s Odyssey the narrative, which Proclus tells us corresponds with Arctinus’ ‘Sack of Troy’, is hauled inside the city of Troy without a moment’s hesitation or a mutter of dissent from any wary individual other than an attempt at tempting the soldiers forth by Helen, recalled in a peculiarly disparate recount of Menelaus. The Trojans appear utterly oblivious of the deception to the point of reckless celebration, drunken carousing and an erroneous and final early night. It is in all honesty difficult to determine which of the two sides is more foolish given these circumstances, for the Greek plan itself is one of high risk. If discovered the Greeks would have lost nearly all the hero’s they have left, there is no Sinon involved in this scene to provide any countermeasure to Trojan suspicion but fortunately for the Greeks their adversaries trump this foolishness with a greater measure of their own, just as there is no Sinon, there is no Laocoon either. It is conjecture but it is likely that the ancient literary critic would have found this scene troubling for both sides’ plan of action raises many questions. For in the Odyssey the scheme of Odysseus is recalled by Menelaus as
“What a piece of work, the hero dared and carried off”[8]
The Trojans are duped by the master strategist into opening the gates to their enemy and in this simple version the ignobility is fully upon the hapless, naive Trojans who all but bring their own doom upon themselves. In an effort to justify the actions of the Trojans Virgil’s inclusion of both Sinon and Laocoon is of the utmost importance and both have literary precedent, “Apollodorus tells us that Laocoon warned the Trojans”[9] whilst “we know from Tryphiodorus that Virgil’s poem was not the first in which Sinon spoke to Priam himself.”[10] The inclusion of Laocoon as a dramatic figure, rushing onto the ‘stage’ to warn the Trojans of their impending folly goes a long way to salvaging the reputation of Trojan common sense and his sudden violent death acts as form of peroration to Sinon’s trickery, this evil portent very much seals the deal for the Greeks in that even the reader, with their knowledge of the situation, can understand why the Trojans take the course of action that they do. Virgil marries the various traditions and creates a scene in which the human motives and characterisation are more fully developed than that of previously existing versions still known to us. Sinon’s deceit and trickery overcome aspects of heroic wile already associated with Odysseus’ stratagem Odysseus himself becomes “scelerumque inuentor Vlixes”[11] whilst his henchman Sinon becomes representative of Greek duplicity “accipe nunc Danaum insidias et crimine ab uno disce omnis.”[12] This contrasted with the trusting and faithful Trojans helps highlight the cowardly and treacherous manner in which Troy was lulled to her doom. Virgil includes four telling lines to reinforce this idea that the defeat of the Trojans was not achieved on the battlefield but through perfidious deceit.
“Talibus insidiis periurique arte Sinonis
credita res, captique dolis lacrimisque coactis
quos neque Tydides nec Larisaeus Achilles
non anni domuere decem, non mille carinae.”[13]
This in turn relates to the nature of Virgil’s demotion of Aeneas from military hero to bewildered survivor, for to pursue a tradition which depicts a concerted Trojan counterattack would give form to the idea that the Trojans were defeated or driven out of their city in arms, which goes someway to legitimising their defeat. In Virgil’s account there is no unified military structure in the stricken city, there is no viable chain of command, the only organised resistance is at the gates and it is quickly and inevitably overrun. The ‘battle’ for Troy is more of an abject rout with some hero’s, as we find out later in Book Six from the shade of the mutilated Deiphobus, being caught and killed in their bedchambers, there is no legitimacy to it at all and it is the result of a perfidy of the lowest kind.
Some discussion of this is included in Austin’s introduction to his commentary on Book Two when he writes
“Heinze, thinks that he[Virgil] wished to play down military defeat and to represent the Trojan disaster as due solely to trickery, this is too easy an explanation and it ignores the evident desire of Virgil that Aeneas should appear just in this way”[14]
There is some mileage in this idea but both may be true, Aeneas certainly develops as an individual through the course of the Aeneid, he is not an all conquering hero for the first half of the book and only really adopts a strong, militaristic manner toward the end of the story, even this is somewhat undermined by the bouts of rage that buffet him on to morally uncomfortable killings including that of Turnus in the final lines of Book Twelve. Austin’s idea of course does not render Heinze’s speculations meaningless but indeed complements them. Farrell notes that “Virgilian allusion is never one dimensional or unrelated to other thematic devices”[15] and so Virgil’s depiction of the fall of Troy and Aeneas’ confusion and bewilderment during its final hours may utilise allusive qualities to preceding versions so as to rehabilitate the reputation of Trojan sense as well as formulate the character of an Aeneas whose journey, both literally and metaphorically, lies ahead of him. Another scene which lends support to this notion that allusion could be, if not subordinated to, then incorporated into the thematic, narrative structure that Virgil was aiming for, is the death of Creusa. The ancient tradition according to Ennius knew Aeneas’ wife as Eurydica, and Naevius describes how she accompanied him into exile, Virgil changes both of these details not, as it seems, without precedent for the 1st century AD Tabula Iliaca and a tradition recorded by Pausanias both suggest that this was a version known before Virgil included it within the Aeneid.[16] Creusa’s death is a necessity in the narrative, since Aeneas will find temporary solace in the arms of Dido in Carthage and will go on to eventually marry the silent Lavinia in Latium, clearly a pre-existing marriage would have hindered these events. Aeneas’ flight from Troy leaving his wife behind by mistake has already been noted by Christine Perkell as a curious reversal of the story of Orpheus in that Aeneas looks back too late and whilst it is impossible to tell either way it is nonetheless an interesting idea that this a clever and beautifully subtle allusion both to the Orphic tradition and that of Ennius; for in this situation Virgil seems to be saying ‘this is not Eurydica’ both in the fact that Aeneas does not look back and in the fact that her name is now Creusa. When such a consideration is coupled with the rejection of the Naevius tradition as Aeneas goes into exile a widower it suggests that by a subtle twist Virgil makes Creusa his own character. It is this very nature of taking that which already exists and creating something almost entirely new that so emphasises Virgil’s creative genius for he is like the poets described by Gian Biagio Conte who “far from taking up the stance of “absolute creators” who invent their own linguistic tools, find a concrete set of literary texts that they treat as a body of rules.”[17] Nonetheless Virgil can hardly be said to stick dogmatically to the rules, his portrayal of Aeneas and Dido, their love affair and Dido’s tragic suicide over her unrequited passion for the Trojan is again at odds with the mythographical tradition, which has the two characters existing in different time periods and Dido committing suicide over a forced marriage to an African prince. Just as it deviates from one tradition it follows a lesser known tradition expounded by Naevius and perhaps this too was based on an earlier version, this certainly seems to agree with Feeney’s view of the “strange two-sidedness of allusion in every aspect of its operation; it simultaneously establishes continuity and divergence, traditionalism and novelty, authentication and artificiality”[18] What remains frustratingly elusive is the bulk of literature that must have existed between the writing of the Homeric epics and the writing of the Aeneid because doubtless there must have been so much more than has survived the turmoil of the centuries, Sophocles lost play’s Sinon and Laocoon have already been mentioned and it would be an exercise in frustration to list what else we know to have been lost indefinitely. Farrell, in commenting upon David Nelis’ “Vergil’s Aeneid and the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius” determines that Nelis “shows convincingly…that the Aeneid in its entirety alludes to the Argonautica in its entirety”[19] before adding with what appears to be a mixture of wistfulness and relief “What other poems might be involved. Where does it stop?”[20] Whilst the duality of an Aeneid that can all at once allude to the Odyssey and Iliad and the Argonautica in their entirety’s may raise some doubts over the ultimate use that allusion may be to us in understanding Virgil’s intentions it does not so much undermine intertextual study than highlight it’s necessity. For the allusions that can be drawn point toward a sustained and systematic literary tradition in which techniques, ideas, styles, characters and scenes were part of a homogenous whole which were well known to those fortunate enough to have been in possession of an education. The use this can be to our understanding not only of the Aeneid but any piece of classical literature is immense since the understanding that the literary world of the time would have had of this well known corpus of work would have had an effect upon any work of literature produced. It is at this point that I shall briefly consider the role of literary criticism as an influence upon the creation of literature, specifically the Aeneid.
It is important to consider what is included within the term, intertext for it is not only the primary texts which preceded Virgil but the school of literary criticism, the commentaries, the reviews the considerations and thoughts of the Alexandrian school, the scholarship of which “commanded authority and respect throughout antiquity”[21] Questions as to characterisation, motive, meaning, intention and style had been addressed and readdressed for at least four centuries before Virgil put pen to paper. This again is alluded to by Heinze who posits that Virgil was influenced by these literary criticisms as well as the primary material. It makes a great deal of sense that this should be so for concepts and interpretations will have provided a wealth of ideas, answers to some questions and further questions in general, all of which would be fertile material for the creative poet. For example the scene in which twin serpents fatally attack Laocoon and his sons and then go on towards the city of Troy is of particular interest for this portent has it precursor in the Iliad II in which Odysseus reminds the fleeing Achaeans of a portent which appeared at Aulis before the Greek fleet set sail for Troy.
“There appeared a great sign; a snake, his back blood-mottled,
a thing of horror, cast into the light by the very Olympian,
wound its way from under the altar and made toward the plane tree”[22]
This episode is commented upon in a scholium of one Porphyry and the symbolism of such a portent is picked up on.
“The tree, then, is the path [to the city], but [the fact that] the serpents mode of travel is not straight by nature indicates that the path of the Greeks was not direct…it showed the manner in which the Greeks were about to sack Troy, for they did not overcome and capture it by direct [means, openly]”[23]
Schlunk goes on to argue that the symbolism of deviousness provided Virgil with an image which he utilised in his depiction of the serpents who swim towards Troy from Tenedos. This would support Heinze’s idea (indeed it is something Schlunk himself believes) that literary criticism added to the collective material that Virgil could make use of, in this case it was the development of a symbolic form, the snake that connotes treachery, that was made use of.
The elusive literary concept that is the intention of the author is still not set in stone by intertextual analysis yet it becomes more apparent, easier to outline and grasp when clear similarities or clear divergences from traditional renditions can be demonstrated, Schlunk argues that “whenever Virgil chose to use or indeed adapt, such Homeric passages, his purpose would surely become more explicit”[24] it certainly cannot be proved but the Aeneid is a particularly deliberate piece of literature and rarely will anything be found that appears accidental, anything that can shed further light on the deliberation and the intent behind such a methodical work is of great use. Even outside the conception of intention; styles, techniques and literary devices can be compared and contrasted, archaisms sourced and the tools with which Virgil constructed masterpiece can be better understood if they can be seen in a previous form in pre-existing works. Finally it is necessary to concentrate on the fact that when Virgil composed the Aeneid “the Iliad, the Odyssey, Apollonius’ Argonautica, Naevius’ Bellum Poenicum and Ennius Annales loomed before him.”[25] He had at his fingertips a great selection of traditions and devices with which to put his Epic together and it is beyond reasonable doubt that much of what is included within the Aeneid contains a knowing nod to the great authors that preceded him, nonetheless it is not a subservient nod but a distinctly competitive one, one that seems to have fully grasped the tenuous claims of originality when so much of what was being written had been transmitted from the distant past by persons unknown, Homer (if he was just one man) had recorded and written down stories which had been passed on via an oral tradition and whilst the techniques were his, the ideas were not so conclusively his and his alone. The retelling of the stories of the past was open to competition and Virgil vied with his predecessors at the same time as acknowledging his indebtedness to them. To imitate great art without copying it, to create something new from that which already exists and to take something truly brilliant and go one step further with it and create something even more incredible is perhaps what progress is all about.
[1] Schlunk, pg 1
[2] Schlunk, pg 5
[3] Farrell, Intention and Intertext, pg 103
[4] Heinze, pg 3
[5] Heinze, pg 4
[6] Livy, 5.51ff
[7] Farrell, Intention and Intertext, pg 100-1
[8] Odyssey IV, 267-98
[9] Heinze, pg 9
[10] Heinze, pg 6
[11] Virgil, II, 164
[12] Virgil, II, 65
[13] Virgil, II, 195ff
[14] Austin, xvi
[15] Farrell, The Virgilian Intertext, pg 224
[16] Heinze, pg 34
[17] Conte, pg 143
[18] Feeney, pg 206-7
[19] Farrell, Intention and Intertext, pg 106
[20] Farrell, Intention and Intertext, pg 107
[21] Schlunk, pg 4
[22] Iliad II, 303ff
[23] Schlunk, pg 39
[24] Schlunk, pg 6
[25] Conte, pg 141
Bibliography
Austin, R.G, Aenieidos Liber Secundus, Oxford, 1971
Conte, G.B, The Rhetoric of Imitation. Genre and Poetic Memory in Vergil and Other Latin Poets, Ithaca, 1989
Farrell, J, Intention and Intertext, Phoenix, vol. 59, no 1/2 , 2005
Farrell, J, The Virgilian Intertext, Cambridge Companion to Virgil
Feeney, D.C, Review Article, JRS79, 1989,
Heinze, R, Virgil’s Epic Technique, trans Harvey and Robertson, Bristol Classical Press, 1993
Homer, Odyssey, trans Fagles, Penguin Books, 1996
Nelis, D, Vergil’s Aeneid and the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius, Leeds, 2001
Schlunk, R.R, The Homeric Scholia and the Aeneid: A Study of the Influence of Ancient Literary Criticism on Vergil, Ann Arbor, 1974
Virgil, Aeneid, Oxford Classical Texts,Oxford University Press, 1969
Oooh Boy, what was I thinking?
