1—
Generic Characteristics
Ancient literary theory distinguished very sharply between the characterization of
types and the characterization of individuals. In the Poetics , Aristotle is most inter-
ested in the characterization of individuals, but he does occasionally allude to the
characterization of types; he deals with the latter more fully in the Rhetoric . It is
significant that Horace's Ars Poetica lays particular emphasis on this kind (112-18;
156-78), and passes very quickly over the other, in a way that shows that he believes
that in elevated poetry a mere handful of conspicuous features will provide suffi-
cient characterization of individuals (119-27). This corresponds exactly with the
practice of the post-classical phases of ancient poetry. As early as Aristotle, we find
the opinion that 'more recent' tragedy lacks 
[moral character] (Poetics 1450b
25): it had been pushed into the background by 
[emotion]. In Hellenistic
poetry, subtler touches of individual characterization are restricted almost entirely to
comedy and the less elevated genres (where, it is true, with a few brilliant exceptions,
it became fossilized into 'typical' characterization). Serious poetry was considered
to have other aims; it employed characterization, if at all, only in broad outlines or in
a general way. Callimachus' Acontius and Cydippe, as the recently discovered
papyrus shows, were simply a boy and a girl, a neutrally-coloured ground from
which the splendid blossoms of passionate love, with all their rich hues, can spring.
Apollonius' Jason is a stereotyped heroic youth – in so far as a man of Apollonius'
calibre is capable of conceiving one; his Medea is merely the typical maiden who is
overpowered by the strength of Eros; the only way in which a woman like her could
plausibly have become a Medea ferox [fierce Medea] would have been by means of
266 more individual characterization. Theocritus' Amycus is the stupid, clumsy, foreign
athlete, the opposite of the Hellene Polydeuces, in whom mind and body are equally
well developed.
Virgil's roots were in Hellenistic poetry; but he was too enthusiastic and percep-
tive a reader of Homer and Attic tragedy not to attempt, at least from time to time, to
rise above the level of the Alexandrians.
The main aspects of characterization according to 
[types] are, in the first
place, the differences between the stages of human life, and between male and
female; secondly, the differences that are characteristic of various nations and social
classes, though this last category is irrelevant to the heroic world of Virgil's epic.[1]
We have already mentioned (p. 128) the young Ascanius in connection with the
lusus Troiae [Troy Game]. In the character of Ascanius, Virgil was depicting a
typical young member of the nobility, noble by birth and noble by nature, although,
since he is a heroic youth, he is mature enough to take part in the hunt and in battle
at an earlier age than youths of today. In his case, he had had no mother to care for
him during the long years of his childhoood; he had been taken along on a dan-
gerous voyage that had wandered here, there and everywhere. It is understandable
that ante annos animumque gerit curamque virilem (9.311) [he bore beyond his
years the mind and responsibilities of a man]. But Virgil has nevertheless – and this
is a delicate touch – made use of the fact that Ascanius is no more than a child, by
attributing to him the exclamation heus etiam mensas consumimus [Hullo, we are
even munching our tables!] on the occasion of the prodigium of the tables (7.116), a
piece of schoolboy humour ( nec plura adludens [jokingly; that was all he said])
which Aeneas is immediately able to recognize as a fortuitous omen.[2] Furthermore, I
observe that Ascanius' first action in battle, the bow-shot with which he kills Nu-
manus (9.590ff.), is also the last action of his that we hear of; it is as if he grows
before our very eyes from childhood to young adulthood.
Next to Ascanius in years comes Euryalus;[3] he is already old enough to take part
267 in the young men's foot-race – although childish tears roll down his cheeks when he
realizes that he is not going to win the prize (5.343); and he is already old enough to
take part in the dangers of battle – but he does not yet possess the caution and
experience of a mature warrior; and it is this that leads to his death. Then come the
young heroes Lausus and Pallas, as brave as Euryalus, except that Euryalus' bravery
is characterized as mere hunger for action and honour, whereas that of Pallas is
characterized as resolute and steadfast courage,[4] and that of Lausus, which is shown
in one scene only, the scene in which he meets his death, as self-sacrifice through
pietas ; but the difference here lies in the situation rather than the characterization;
these three young men – and Nisus may be added as a fourth – are presented on the
whole as ideal types of youthful manliness, full of hope; so that it is fitting that, for
the sake of a great cause, they should throw themselves into dangers for which, in
the eyes of their more cautious elders, they are still too young.[5]
The mature men, Turnus, Aeneas, Mezentius, are not given the typical attributes
of men of their age; more particular traits are mentioned.[6]
Typical old men include Ilioneus, Nautes (5.704), Evander and, above all, An-
chises; they speak and act calmly, thoughtfully, dispassionately; they give guidance
to the younger men and offer advice from the rich store of their experience, and they
enjoy talking about the past.[7] Some of them have been granted the privilege of
special insight into the will of the gods and the decrees of fate: Nautes has been
given this power by Pallas Athene (5.704); Anchises interprets the omen when the
Trojans first land in Italy (3.539); he appears as prophet at 7.123, a fragment that
268 survives from an earlier draft. The portrayal of Latinus is also rich in generic
characteristics: but Virgil adds individual touches as well.
As for the women, their generic characteristic is, above all, that they are more
easily excited; in their case, every emotion is much more likely to develop into
passion, and this passion destroys their psychological balance and drives them mad
– the Trojan women in Book 5, Dido, Amata represent the various stages of mad-
ness; and as soon as one woman is seized by madness of this kind, it spreads like an
infection (7.392): sorrow becomes despair, and despair brings death, or turns life
into a cruel torment (e.g. Euryalus' mother 9.473ff.; Juturna at 12.879). All these
were traits which Hellenistic poets were particularly fond of stressing when they
portrayed the nature of women, but they were very common in Roman thought too.[8]
Varium et mutabile semper femina [women were ever things of many changing
moods], Mercury tells Aeneas in a dream (4.569): the Trojan women set fire to the
ships in their despair and fury, but as soon as they have caught sight of the men piget
incepti lucisque (5.678) [they were disgusted at what they had done and ashamed to
be seen in the light of day]; the women of Laurentum ally themselves with Amata
(7.392ff.) to avenge the violation of her rights as a mother, and embrace the cause of
Turnus, and in so doing they are largely responsible for the outbreak of war; but
after the first defeat they curse the cruel war and Turnus' marriage-plans: let him
fight by himself, man against man, to win the kingdom that he claims (11.215). Yet
Amata remains a loyal supporter of Turnus; in taking his side she is setting her own
life at risk. Her behaviour is not motivated by anything special in her character, but
– as Virgil portrays it – it is typical of the way that any woman in her position would
react, except of course that not every woman is driven to extremes by an Allecto.[9]
269 She has selected Turnus, that handsome, noble, splendid young hero, who is more-
over one of her kin, to be her son-in-law; when things turn out differently and her
daughter is to be handed over to a homeless, penniless foreigner, she resists ex-
tremely violently, as might be expected; she is an easy prey for Allecto. First she
pours out her grievances and entreaties to the king, accuses the stranger of being a
'treacherous pirate', and uses bold subterfuges in an attempt to turn the oracle of
Faunus to her own advantage; and all this is solito matrum de more (7.359) [as a
mother well might speak]. When Latinus remains unmoved she becomes a raging
Bacchant; and disaster ensues.
Camilla, the maiden on horseback, belongs to a world outside the normal sphere
of women and is not to be measured by the same yardstick as the others. But in order
to make her perhaps not totally implausible, Virgil has given her one typical fem-
inine characteristic: the gleaming accoutrements of the Phrygian priest catch her
eye, f e m i n e o praedae et spoliorum amore (11.782) [in a woman 's hot passion for
plundering and spoils], she throws all caution to the winds in her pursuit, and falls
victim to her own passionate greed.
All these rather unpleasing characteristics are offset by only one praiseworthy
quality: a woman's unswerving love for her own family. This is of course an
emotion that is also felt by honourable men, but whereas in their case it is regarded
as the fulfilment of a duty and acknowledged as such, it is thought to be just a
woman's nature, and therefore not to deserve any special praise; for a man it is one
obligation among many, for a woman it is her whole existence.[10] A woman's love
for her family can take various forms. Love for her children: Venus is the prime
example, tireless in her concern for Aeneas, as Thetis is for Achilles in the Iliad , but
more passionate and more tender; Euryalus' mother too, who forgets all troubles and
cares in working for her son, and who, when she loses him, no longer has anything
to live for; Andromache who loves in Ascanius the resemblance to her own
Astyanax (3.486) and hopes that Ascanius yearns for his lost mother (341), because
270 she feels that if the same fate had befallen her, she would have survived in the
memory of her Astyanax; Creusa, whose last words to her husband are nati serva
communis amorem (2.789) [guard the love of the son whom we share]. Love be-
tween brothers and sisters: Anna, Dido's unanima soror (4.8) [the sister whose heart
was one with hers], whose first thought when she hears of the death of the sister
'whom I love more than life itself' (4.31) is regret that Dido had not thought her
worthy to share her fate; Juturna, whose immortality becomes a torture to her when
her brother dies. Love between husband and wife: Dido, whose greatest pride lay in
her fidelity to her dead husband, becomes unfaithful when she is fatally infatuated
with Aeneas; she hears the voice of the dead Sychaeus calling her, and resolves to
die, so as to rejoin the husband of her youth in the underworld, and to be united in
love with him again, as in days gone by; and, again, Andromache, coniunx Hecto -
rea[11] [the wife of Hector] even when forced to be wife to another (3.488), who utters
the incomparable Hector ubi est? ['Where is Hector?'] when she thinks that she sees
the shade of Aeneas (312). Finally, when their ancestral home, their fathers, hus-
bands and brothers are in extreme danger, then heroic courage wells up in the hearts
of the women also, and verus amor patriae (11.475, 891) [true love of their home-
land] drives them on to the walls to meet the enemy attack.
In characterizing whole nations, Virgil most often restricts himself to a handful of
outstanding traits which were common currency to his contemporaries and him-
self.[12] Sinon is the very type of the deceitful, resourceful, wily Greek.[13] Venus fears
danger for Aeneas from the Tyrii bilingues (1.661) [deceitful Tyrians]: that is the
conventional Roman view of the Carthaginians, although it is hardly borne out by
the behaviour of Dido and her people. Again, the Etruscans are described by their
own king Tarchon just as the Romans usually imagined them: bent on pleasure,
271 dancing and feasting at lavish sacrifices, hic amor , hoc studium (11.736) [this is
their passion, their interest]; this may be historically justified to some extent, but
there is nothing about Virgil's Etruscans that seems to justify these criticisms;
perhaps the point of this depiction is to offer an explanation of the maiden Camilla's
military successes as being due to the inefficiency of her enemy, which consisted
mostly of Etruscans? Another traditional attribute, the terrible cruelty of Etruscan
pirates, is used to characterize Mezentius 8.485 (see above p. 168). The native
inhabitants of Italy are characterized by Numanus, himself an Italian, as being like
the popular image of the ancient Sabines and so forth (8.603); Numanus also,
surprisingly, characterizes the Trojans as Phrygians, worshippers of Cybele, for this
was how they were best known to the Romans (9.614ff.), and the Numidian Iarbas
has also imagined Aeneas in this way (4.215); of course this description is totally
inapplicable to Virgil's Trojans. All Ligurians are liars:[14] Camilla too has this in
mind when she shouts to the Ligurian opponent who has tried a cowardly trick on
her: nequiquam patrias temptasti lubricus artis nec fraus te incolumem fallaci per -
feret Auno (11.716) ['You were slippery! But it has done you no good to try your
native tricks, for your cunning will never bring you safe home to Aunus your father,
who is a cheat like yourself'].