II—
Description
Narrative depicts a sequence of events, description depicts a state of affairs, a
collection of concrete objects, or even an event if the aim is not to narrate how the
event proceeds but to describe it by a comprehensive survey of its individual fea-
tures. Ancient critics rightly classified this technique – for example the description
of a battle or a fire or a storm – under the heading
The common factor of all kinds of description is that it delays the progress of the
action; the reader stands still and examines the details of a picture. From what we
have said above about the structure of Virgil's action, it is clear that description
cannot loom large in his work; where it does occur, it is made to resemble narrative
as much as possible.
This
397 but not only orators and rhetorical historians, poets too must already have used such
a thing; the good poetry of the earlier Hellenistic period seems to have refrained
from it, as far as I can see, trying to make every description preserve the character of
narrative (unless it was explicitly introduced as the description of a picture or
something like that). This tendency is unmistakeable in Virgil: if one compares, for
example, his description of the tempest in Book 1 with that by Quintus (p. 45f.
above), it is clear what an effort he has made to emphasize a sequence of events.[38]
The Fall of Troy as a subject could tempt a writer to pile up descriptions of single
features, and the later epic-writers wallow in it; Virgil rations himself severely.[39]
Dido's passionate love, a very rewarding subject for detailed description, is
equipped with a number of descriptive features on the Hellenistic pattern (4.68ff.),
but since the passage of time through the day is also described, the progress of the
action also receives its due.
The descriptions of localities, as already mentioned, is restricted to a very few
cases where a mood-setting background is to be supplied for the action. The most
detailed description, eight lines long, is of the harbour on the Libyan coast (1.159);
this is an imitation of a description in the Odyssey and is intended to be recognized
as such; in Virgil, the main purpose of this description is not to help us to visualize
the scene but to make us share the feelings of the survivors of the wild tumult of the
elements as they find refuge in a place protected from every breeze and the pound-
ing of the waves. The late-Homeric description of Alcinous' royal seat ( Odyssey
7.86ff.) may be regarded as paralleled by the description of Latinus' palace (7.170);
Homer gives the visual and attractive picture of expensive buildings and luxuriant
398 nature, Virgil portrays the original form of a Roman atrium , furnished with the
images of the earliest Latin kings; this is primarily of historical interest.[40] The sites
of ancient Rome are portrayed in Book 8, particularly in 337-61, not in a descriptive
from the Ara Maxima to the Forum, i.e. in the form of action. Similarly in the
Underworld, the different landscapes are presented as stations on the way, and
described briefly, but given visual characteristics: we see the Stygian marshy
landscape with its mud and reeds, the secret paths of the shady myrtle-grove in
which the victims of unfortunate love linger, the flame-encircled iron fortress of
Tartarus, and finally sunny Elysium, with its grassy fields and sandy places, exer-
cise-grounds for gymnasts and wrestlers, its laurel-grove of fame by the Eridanus
and, past a little hill, the green valley of the River Lethe: all the scenes stand out
clearly, particularly because they contrast with each other, but they are seen only in
passing.
Compared with this small amount of nature-description it might seem that too
much space is allotted to the description of works of art. Apart from brief depictions
of exceptional pieces of armour,[41] we have at 5.250-7 an embroidered chlamys
[cloak] depicting the rape of Ganymede; 1.466-93: the images on the temple at
Carthage; 6.20-30: the doors of the temple of Apollo at Cumae, which Daedalus has
decorated with his own story; and finally 8.626-728: the shield of Aeneas. Here the
399 form is clearly borrowed from the technique of the Hellenistic poets, who frequently
chose to describe works of art in this way. But although this custom must have
sprung originally from their pleasure in precious and beautiful articles, it had al-
ready often become a pretext to narrate the chosen stories in a descriptive manner;
Virgil has taken this farther, so that the work of art has no importance in itself, but
only in the matter depicted.
If we then look for the reason which led Virgil to include these descriptions, the
one in Book 5 is not necessarily connected with the action: the precious nature of the
prizes given by Aeneas could have been made clear in other ways. But if anywhere
in the Aeneid , such a description, arising from joy over a beautiful object, has its
place in these scenes which overflow with joie de vivre (see 135f. above); the
listener is intended to share the mood of the victor who receives this costly artefact.
Then in Books 1 and 6 the descriptions are of technical importance: Virgil wishes to
compose scenes (p. 253 above) and he has to occupy Aeneas until the queen or the
Sibyl enters; that is the purpose of the pictures which he contemplates. Finally, the
description of the shield springs from the pressure of epic tradition; the shield of
Achilles and of so many other epic heroes must be paralleled, as must the love of
Calypso, and Odysseus' journey to the Underworld.
The difficult problem of how to prevent the action from coming to a halt during
the descriptions was best solved by Virgil in Book 1: there he is really aiming at
giving us the impression that we are not having images described to us but having
Aeneas' changing emotions narrated to us. In Book 6 he makes no such attempt; it is
said only at the end that Aeneas saw the images which have been described ( quin
protinus omnia perlegerent oculis [33] [they would have gone on to survey every-
thing]); indeed the description, as in Book 5, is so brief that one hardly notices the
lack of action. In Book 8, too, the shield is described to us as Aeneas looks at it; but
here the contents are unintelligible to Aeneas and he must be disregarded during the
description. The poet compensates for the lack of action by making his description
400 itself into a narrated action; in the first part it goes rapidly through the earliest
history of Rome, in the second part it gives a connected account of the Battle of
Actium and the subsequent victory-feast, during which the shield and its manufac-
turer are only mentioned for form's sake.[42]
The content of what is represented is always connected with the content of the
poem. This is achieved most successfully in Book 1, where the pictures even have a
rôle in furthering the course of the action (p. 97 above). Here they present scenes
from the Trojan War; the embroidery in Book 5 shows a famous scene from Troy's
earlier history; the pictures in Book 6 provide an opportunity for us to linger over
the story of Daedalus, the founder of Apollo's temple at Cumae, and also tell us the
prehistory of this foundation, which may be regarded as part of the history of early
Italy. In the same way as these images take us back into the past, the description of
the shield leads us into the future: instead of remaining merely a piece of poetic
decoration, it becomes a motif which points forward and, together with Jupiter's
prediction in Book 1 and the Parade of Heroes in Book 6, shows us the distant
culmination of the poem's events, thereby greatly increasing the significance of
what is narrated.
It is only in Book 5 that the depiction can be said to be purely descriptive and
visual. The images in Book 1 are intended to arouse the listener's pity, in the same
way as they bring tears to Aeneas' eyes: that is why the description lingers on the
401 most painful scenes of the war, and passes quickly over the actual fighting, which
contains less pathos. It is very clear that the description in Book 6 is also aimed at
arousing pathos; it mentions the pitiful human tribute paid by Athens to Minos,
Pasiphae's horrible madness, Ariadne's love, so desperate that Daedalus himself
feels sympathy for her; finally, the death of Icarus is not depicted but is mentioned
to make us share his father's sorrow. The description of the shield serves a different
purpose: the journey through Rome's history, from the twins abandoned in the
wolf's lair, to Augustus, triumphant in splendid majesty, is meant to impress upon
the listener the greatness of the Fate which raised Aeneas' race from simple begin-
nings to dominion over the whole world.
Finally, the main aim of the way in which the work of art is depicted is not to
produce an impression of a real artefact. Virgil comes nearest to this in depicting the
separate pictures on the shield, but even here it would be difficult to reconstruct
them, particularly the last picture: there we do have the beginnings of a description
of a picture, but basically it is a description of a festival with no regard to whether
the details can be represented pictorially.[43] It is the same in Book 6: nobody can say
how the scene of Ariadne's thread was depicted; we are told the story. Similarly in
402 Book 1, the description changes into narrative.[44] I do not think that this is because
the poet was not skilful enough to maintain the standpoint of someone simply
describing. Here again he is more interested in the events than their depiction in the
concrete artefact, and he is more interested in reminding the reader of those events
than in creating the impression of a visible object; so that even here, where it
properly belongs, we do not have pure description.
There are also cases where the poet has other characters describing something, or
makes us see something as if through the eyes of others. When Achaemenides
describes the horrible diet of the Cyclops, a tiny detail slips in which does not
belong to the visual description but has crept in from the narrator's own knowl-
edge.[45] The poet himself does the same thing. When the Trojans sail past Circe's
island, we might expect to be told what they saw and heard; we are told to some
extent, but other information is added by the poet himself (7.10-20). When Aeneas,
on the way to Carthage, looks down from a hill at the activities of the builders, what
we are told is basically what he can actually see; but that 'some are selecting the site
for their house' (1.425) can hardly be seen, and I therefore doubt whether the
following line, iura magistratusque legunt sanctumque senatum [they were making
choice of laws, of officers of state, and of a consecrated senate] may be regarded as
interpolated: Virgil believes that this activity was part of the foundation of every
city (3.137; 5.758) and that is perhaps why he had it in his mind here, although it
does not fit into the presentation.[46]
Closely related to description, in one sense, is the detailed list, in so far as it, too,
depicts co-existing things, and brings the action to a halt. I will look at only one such
403 list, where we can again learn much from comparisons: the catalogue of the Latin
auxiliary troops in Book 7. In the Homeric Catalogue, as in Apollonius' catalogue of
the Argonauts (1.23ff.), and as, finally, in Virgil's catalogue, the basic interest is
historical. Whereas the Hellenistic poet stops at that, and Homer, exceptionally for
him, enlivens the list with description,[47] Virgil deliberately and skilfully appealed to
the eye, to make the list come alive: he not only evokes a three-dimensional im-
pression of the leaders[48] but he also describes the appearance, armour and weapons
of the men. But, here too, the description is not the most important thing. The
Homeric Catalogue hardly ever takes notice of the occasion which gives rise to the
catalogue – the need to take up arms and march into battle – and in general Homer is
content to name the number of ships which each provides. Apollonius avoids count-
ing the assembly; he says that this one and that one came;[49] and that is that. In
contrast, Virgil makes an effort to provide real action , as elsewhere; here he de-
scribes the troops marching up to marvel at the splendid sight hunc legio late
comitatur agrestis (681) [he is accompanied by a legion of countrymen from far and
wide], ibant aequi numero regemque canebant (698) [they moved in regular rhythm,
singing of their king], scuta sonant pulsuque pedum conterrita tellus (722) [their
shields clattered, and earth was alarmed by the tread of their feet], insequitur nimbus
peditum clipeataque totis agmina densentur campis (793-4) [he was closely fol-
lowed by a cloud of foot-soldiers, whose bucklered columns clustered thick over all
the plain]; there, the leaders setting out or coming in: agmina in arma vocat subito
ferrumque retractat (694) [suddenly he rallies his troops to arms and handles the
sword again], curru iungit Halaesus equos (724) [Halaesus yokes his horses to his
chariot], Virbius . . . aequore campi exercebat equos curruque in bella ruebat (781-2)
[Virbius . . . drove his horses over the level plain and dashed in his chariot to war],
ipse pedes . . . regia tecta subibat (666-8) [he himself moved up to the royal palace on
foot]; right at the end, he lays special emphasis on the entrance of Camilla, at whose
arrival omnis iuventus turbaque matrum (812) [all the young men and a crowd of
mothers] come streaming out of the houses and from the fields to marvel at the
splendid sight.