The Epic Itself
The purpose of the epic is to indicate the divinely ordained origin and history of Rome as a conquering, civilizing, and organizing government, destined to replace both anarchy and tyrannical despotism by liberty under law. As the real world-historic reason for Rome’s existence is so commonly overlooked, let us recall Mommsen’s words in the introduction to his Provinces of the Roman Empire: “It fostered the peace and prosperity of the many nations united under its sway longer and more completely than any other leading power has ever succeeded in doing.... If an angel of the Lord were to strike the balance whether the domain ruled by Severus Antoninus was governed with the greater intelligence and the greater humanity at that time or in the present day, whether civilization and national prosperity generally have since that time advanced or retrograded, it is very doubtful whether the decision would prove in favor of the present.” Virgil states the function of Rome clearly in the famous passage of the sixth book wherein Greek and Roman are compared:—
“Forget not, O Roman, thy fate—to rule in thy might o’er the nations:
This is to be thine art—peace to the world to give.”
So the hero Æneas, himself of divine birth, is preserved by divine intervention when Troy falls, and mid dire perils for seven years’ voyagings, and all the bitter warring in Italy, “to bring the gods unto Latium,” “to found a city,” to teach Italy religion and a virile civilization. “Whence Rome mighty in her defences,” “a task of so great magnitude it was to build the Roman nation.” Twice,—once in fields Elysian from the lips of sainted Anchises, and again, portrayed on the shield that Vulcan made for Æneas, is rehearsed the long line of legendary and historical Roman heroes down to Augustus himself. “On this side is Augustus Cæsar, leading the Italians to conflict, with the senate and the people, the home-gods and their mighty brethren, standing aloft on the stern.” “But Cæsar... was consecrating to the gods of Italy a votive tribute to deathless gratitude, three hundred mighty fanes the whole city through.” “Such sights Æneas scans with wonder on Vulcan’s shield... as he heaves on his shoulder the fame and the fate of grandsons yet to be” (end of eighth book). Incidentally ground is given, in compensating fate, for Rome’s conquest of Greek lands—she is but loyal to her Trojan ancestry!—and for the duel to the death with Semitic Carthage—whose queen once was the stately Dido, left by King Æneas at Jove’s command! Incidentally, too, Virgil draws from Trojan origins governmental forms, religious rites, yes, even games.
While this great task of glorifying patriotism and harmonizing it with loyalty to Cæsar is ever present to Virgil, he cannot lose two qualities that make him the most modern of ancient poets—his love of nature and his pathos. As examples—of the former, it suffices to cite the charming harbor scene succeeding storm and wreck, in the first book; and, of the latter, the death-scene of the immortal twain, Nisus and Euryalus (in Book nine).
“Down falls Euryalus in death; over his beauteous limbs gushes the blood, and his powerless neck sinks on his shoulders; as when a purple flower, severed by the plough, pines in death, or poppies with faint necks droop the head, when rain has chanced to weigh them down. But Nisus rushes full on the foe... and dying robs his foe of life. Then he flung himself on his breathless friend, pierced through and through, and there at length slept away in peaceful death.
“Happy pair! if this my song has ought of potency, no lapse of days shall efface your names from the memory of time, so long as the house of Æneas shall dwell on the Capitol’s moveless rock, and a Roman father shall be the world’s lord.”