1—
Supernatural and Human Motivation
Motivation of the action, that is demonstration of cause and effect, is of course
demanded of every poet at all times. In real life a person often has to be content not
to know the reason for something ('Heaven alone knows'), but in poetry the divine
331 Muse is supposed to be speaking through the poet's mouth, giving the listener the
satisfaction of surveying the whole course of events. However, like all poetic tech-
niques, the kind of motivation and the degree of motivation are conditioned by their
time, and depend on how much insight that time had acquired into the workings of
the world, and of the human soul.
After what we have said about the role of the divine in Virgil's Weltanschauung ,
it is hardly surprising that the initial motivation of every event of any importance is
the intervention of a god. That is also frequently the case in Homer, but Virgil is
more consistent about it; one might almost say that he is obstinate in his consist-
ency.[83] One has the impression that he is not doing it because he wishes to give his
work the ornaments of epic style, but because he wishes to express a particular
doctrine. If anyone had accused him of robbing his characters of their independence
by having the gods constantly intervening, so that they are mere marionettes in the
hands of the gods, he would probably have replied that this is the true state of
affairs, and that he is only depicting this truth. He could point to the truth established
by the philosophers which demonstrates that even unhappy incidents (such as in the
cases of Amata and Turnus) do not happen without the gods' involvement.[84]
The rule holds good both for natural events and for human actions. In natural
events the divine motivation is of course the only one; this only leaves the question
of what motivated the god's decision. This is answered either in a preparatory scene
featuring the gods – Juno's monologue in Book 1 before the storm, the conversation
332 between Venus and Vulcan in Book 5 before the unnatural calm –, or it is made
clear in the course of the action – crop-failure and plague after the colony has been
founded on Crete in Book 3; this is a sign of divine disapproval.[85] In the case of
human actions the god is again revealed as supplying the real driving-force, exerted
either by expressing his or her will, or by proclaiming fatum , which the mortal then
obeys. As we have seen above, this is on the same level as purely human motives.
Or else the god affects the mortal in ways found in myth and poetry; in these cases,
human, psychological motivation is not excluded, but runs parallel to, or is sym-
bolized in, the divine intervention, but in such a way that we can still recognize what
it was. For example, when the psychological motivation of Aeneas' change of heart
in Books 2 and 4 is replaced by the interventions of Venus and Mercury, this is
presented in such a way that we are not faced with an incomprehensible command
stemming from the god's caprice, which would be a completely new force interrupt-
ing the course of the action in a miraculous way; rather, the commands of the gods
supply what, in the natural course of events, would be psychological factors bring-
ing about the mortal's decision. This is even clearer in, for example, the case of the
effect of Iris/Beroe on the Trojan women in Book 5, or of Juturna/Camers on the
Latins in Book 12, because here there is no reversal; all the psychological forces are
already present, so that only a spark is needed to start the blaze; but instead of
presenting these forces in psychological terms, Virgil puts them into the mouth of a
god who gives advice. In other cases, the psychological development is described
independently, in great detail, and the divine intervention only accompanies it as
some sort of visual symbol: thus Amor in the shape of Ascanius; this is the divine
intervention, but there is a separate description of how Dido's love is prepared,
springs up and grows, and, before the lover yields to her beloved, the short conver-
sation with her sister gives an exhaustive account of the emotional forces at work, as
well as her rational reasons for acting as she does. When the psychological pro-
cesses are long and more gradual in developing, the divine intervention is restricted
333 to providing the first impetus: all the rest unrolls before our eyes in the human
psyche, and the poet takes care to show us every stage in the protagonist's own
words. This is how we follow Dido's slowly ripening decision to die, and Turnus'
developing resolve which is set in motion by Allecto and continues gathering
momentum unstoppably to the end: the speeches (12.620, 632, 676) show how the
final decision to face his opponent gradually takes possession of him.
It is the general rule in Virgil that the psychological motivation is explained
either by the words of the adviser, or by the words of the protagonist. It is only in
exceptional circumstances, such as when he is paving the way for detailed motiva-
tion, or where it would have been difficult or artifical to create the opportunity for a
speech, that Virgil himself gives the explanation: this is the case before the above-
mentioned speeches of Turnus (12.616), before Juturna's speech which leads to the
breaking of the treaty (12.216), before Iris' speech to the Trojan women (5.615); on
the other hand, see, for example, the case of Camilla's fateful hounding of Chloreus
(11.778), where Virgil steps out of the role of poet and behaves more like a rationa-
lizing historian, providing a choice of two motives: sive ut templis praefigeret arma
Troia captivo sive ut se ferret in auro [either hoping to fasten arms from Troy as an
offering on a temple wall, or wishing to parade herself in captured gold].
Virgil has this in common with the rationalizing historian – such as Livy – that he
tries to give the reader a complete explanation of human actions. The historian is
generally supplied only with information about actions and events, and has to pro-
vide the motivation himself, often finding that he has to explain mass actions which
cannot be traced back to individual characters. He is therefore inclined not to single
out just one motive, but where possible to combine all imaginable motives, leaving
the reader to judge whether the collective motives or one single one from among
them really tilted the balance. If one analyses the motivating speeches in Livy, one
comes across the same technique again and again: Livy has imagined the situation
and the attitudes of the protagonists and taken trouble not to forget anything which
ever influenced or might influence such people in such a situation; the more motives
334 the better, and the more ways in which a motive can be exploited the more effective
it is.[86] Virgil's technique is very closely related to this. I have shown earlier (p.
102f.) that for Dido's decision to kill herself Virgil does not take one single motive
and deepen and strengthen it so that it has to lead to the deed from psychological
necessity, but piles up a number of equally valid motives, and it is their combined
weight which overcomes Dido. This was an important event, but less important
events are treated in the same way. Here I will point only to the above-mentioned
conversation between Dido and Anna at the beginning of Book 4, or to Pallas'
cohortatio [exhortation] to his men, 10.369; when we discuss the speeches we shall
return to this characteristic technique. As in the Dido/Anna conversation, so else-
where too the motivation frequently works itself out in the course of speech and
reply. The behaviour of Entellus before the boxing-match shows two stages: first
hesitation, then decision; the decision is motivated by Acestes' speech (5.389), the
hesitation is motivated by Entellus' reply; but the poet is primarily concerned with
using the decision to show Entellus' character, and he therefore rejects an obvious
motivation – desire for the victor's prize – and that is also brought about by the
speech and reply. Moreover, the historian feels the obligation to make an unex-
pected decision seem plausible by presenting its gradual development.[87] How
skilfully Virgil does this in the case of the wooden horse, or Dido's suicide, or the
breach of the treaty in Book 12, I do not need to repeat here.