c—
Time and Place
1. Timetable . Concentration of the action . Days , seasons , years .
General chronology . Description and visualisation of the topography
Let us draw up a table of the action to see how many days it covers and how it is
divided into days.
I
1st day: Departure from Sicily, storm at sea, landing in Libya; conversation
between Jupiter and Venus: 1.34-304.
341 2nd day: Sunrise 305; journey to Carthage, meeting with Dido, evening banquet
(726), Aeneas' tale in the night (2.8): 1.305-4.5.
?3rd day: Dido's conversation with Anna, sacrifice, another banquet in the eve-
ning (77), Dido restless in the night, conversation between Juno and Venus: 4.6-128.
4th day: Hunt and thunderstorm: 4.129-68.
Interval of unspecified duration ( hiemem quam longa fovere [193] [they spent the
long winter together]: 4.169-97.
II
?1st day: Iarbas; Mercury and Aeneas; conversation between Dido and Aeneas,
conversation between Anna and Aeneas; erection of the funeral-pyre; in the night
(522) Dido's soliloquy, Aeneas' dream and departure: 4.198-583.
2nd day: Dido's death; voyage to Sicily; reception by Acestes: 4.584-5.41.
3rd day: Proclamation of funeral games for nine days later, and sacrifice for
Anchises: 5.42-103.
12th day: Games; burning of the ships; in the night Anchises' apparition: 5.104–
745.
?13th day: Founding of Segesta: 746-61.
14th–22nd day: Interval lasting nine days of festival: 762.
23rd day: Departure; in the night (835) Palinurus' death: 763-871.
24th day: (daybreak is not mentioned) arrival in Cumae; oracle of the Sibyl; the
golden bough; burial of Misenus; in the night (252) sacrifice to the spirits of the
Underworld: 6.1-254.
?25th day: Nekyia; journey to Caieta: 255-901.
26th day: burial of Caieta; in the night, journey past the land of Circe: 7.1-24.
27th day: in the morning, landing by the mouth of the Tiber: prodigium of the
tables: 7.25-36; 107-47.
28th day: building of the camp; delegation to Latinus: 7.147-285.
342 Interval of unspecified duration: Allecto's activity, preparations for war.
III
1st night: Dream-appearance of Tiberinus (morning 8.67); day: sacrifice to Juno,
preparation for the journey.
2nd night: (86) until midday (97) journey up the Tiber; festival of Hercules:
7.86-368. Turnus' first assault 9.1-158.
3rd night: Venus and Vulcan. Nisus and Euryalus: 9.159-458. Day: in the early
morning (8.455) parley with Evander; Aeneas to Caere, parley with Tarchon
(10.148ff.); Turnus' second assault 8.369-731 (cf. 10.148-56) and 9.459-818.
4th night: Aeneas' journey: 10.146-255. Day: assembly of the gods; a fresh
assault by Turnus; Aeneas' arrival; first battle: 10.1-145; 256-908.
5th day: Pallas' funeral; Latins' delegation; preparations for the burial: 11.1-138.
6th day: (Night: arrival of the funeral procession at Evander's house? 139-81)
1st day of 12-day (133) armistice; burial of the dead: 182-224.
18th day: return of Diomedes' delegation; council-meeting; advance of Trojans
and Latins; Camilla's feats and death; Turnus' challenge: 11.225-12.112.
19th day: Final battle: 12.113-952.
This table immediately tells us one thing: Virgil has made every effort to squeeze
the action into as short a period as possible; apart from the periods when nothing, or
very little, happens, there are only about twenty days in Virgil's narrative. In this he
was not merely following the example of the Iliad and the Odyssey ; his desire for
concentrated effect had to lead to the same result. The faster one event follows upon
another, the more the reader's attention is held, the more he has the impression of
being told everything, the more he can dispense with filling gaps from his own
343 imagination. Virgil was not able to keep to the unity of time as perfectly as the
authors of our Iliad and Od yssey could; he had to allow a longish period for Aeneas'
sojourn in Carthage, in order to give the impression that this sojourn was close to
becoming permanent; and a second period for the preparations for the war: not only
did the Amata story require more than one day, the spreading of the war across Italy,
the gathering of the contingents etc. needed a longish time; however, we have to
work that out for ourselves; the poet avoids any reference to it.[91] From the realistic
standpoint these would not be the only two places where more time would be
needed: another thing that we can see from our table above is that Virgil often
makes more happen in the space of one day than would be possible, or probable, in
reality. It is improbable that between Aeneas' arrival in Carthage and his union with
Dido in the grotto only one day has passed, and although it seems clear that Virgil
planned it like that originally he obviously felt unhappy about it himself later, and
made additions which suggest that we should assume a longer intervening period,[92]
but he has refrained from any direct indication, apparently so that the idea of the
continuity of the action should be disturbed as little as possible. It is exactly the
same with the day on which Mercury appears to Aeneas. It is certainly highly
improbable that all the events leading up to the night before Aeneas' departure
should happen on this one day, and the poet does not explicitly rule out the possi-
bility that they are spread over several days; indeed this is made necessary by the
344 mention of the prodigia which affect Dido's decision;[93] on the other hand, once
again there are absolutely no definite indications, and the narrative runs on in an
uninterrupted flow, clearly showing that the poet wanted to avoid the impression of
a long delay: he prefers to leave the matter uncertain, not least because he does not
wish to spoil the impression that Aeneas is arranging his departure with the greatest
possible haste. Of course one could assume that Virgil has simply forgotten to
consider the timetabling here, but if so this would be the only place in the Aeneid
where he has done (except for minor matters), whereas we shall find more examples
later of events happening at an impossible speed. Servius (on 5.1) already points out
that Aeneas could not have travelled from Carthage to Drepanum in the space of one
day[94] and says that it was in the evening that Aeneas saw the pyre burning and he
then travelled through the night and part of the following day. Virgil himself – who
did not necessarily know the exact distance – gives the distinct impression that the
journey was completed within a day, just as in Book 1 he has the Trojans making the
same journey in the other direction in one day, and landing in Libya in time for
Aeneas to go off on the stag-hunt. Whether the timing was possible or not is
ignored, and the poet takes care not to raise the question by giving any indication of
the time of day – such as the advent of midday or evening. It is exactly the same at
the end of Book 5 with the foundation of the city of Segesta: beforehand and
345 afterwards there are precise indications of the time, so that the reader is led to think
of Anchises' command being carried out on the day after his appearance, without
stopping to think that this is impossible on account of the distance between Drepa-
num-Eryx and Segesta.[95] Less noticeable is the fact that the same thing happens on
Aeneas' Etrurian expedition. As we shall see later, Virgil has given much thought to
the synchronism of Aeneas' adventures and the events in Latium; if we work it out,
Aeneas must have left Evander on the same day that he then arranged the treaty with
Tarchon and sailed out to sea with his new allies, so that we meet them at midnight
(10.147) well into their journey. Again, Virgil does not say anywhere explicitly how
long this took, but he is concerned with giving an impression of speed: according to
Evander, the armed might of the Etruscans is already assembled, the fleet lies by the
shore and everyone is burning to go to war (8.497, 503): when Aeneas comes with
his request, haud fit mora , Tarchon iungit opes . . . tum classem conscendit gens Lydia
(10.153) [there was no delay, Tarchon joined forces . . . now the nation from Lydia
embarked on their fleet].[96]
The landmarks in the story are the sunrises: they are reported regularly in the
346 connected narrative.[97] That the day then ends, night falls, and people go to their rest,
is only expressly stated when something important happens during the night – which
is surprisingly often in the Aeneid ; but even then we often only learn in passing that
it is night-time.[98] Other times of day are only mentioned during the visit to Evander:
there we hear of midday (8.97), evening (280) and nightfall (369): this is charac-
teristic of the idyllic tone of the whole episode, which brings us closer to nature than
the usual elevated epic style likes to do.
As with the times of day, so with the times of year. They are mentioned where
they are needed to motivate the action, but not to lend colour or mood to events. We
are not told the season in which the action of the Iliad unrolls; it is characteristic of
the cosy, bourgeois tone of certain parts of the Odyssey that the wintry situation is
conveyed.[99] The thing most affected by the seasons is seafaring, and this does cause
Virgil to mention the time of year: in Book 4 it is winter, so that Dido has a pretext
to keep Aeneas from leaving,[100] and can later complain that he wants to leave her
despite the winter storms;[101] Virgil has kept to this idea when he has Fama spreading
the tale that the lovers hiemem inter se luxu , quam longa , foveres (192) [are now
spending all the long winter together in self-indulgence]. But outside Book 4 he
forgets that it is winter: in both Books 1 (755) and 5 (626) there is talk of the septima
347 aestas [seventh summer] which the Trojans have already spent on their wande-
rings;[102] when Aeneas has founded Pergamum on Crete, Sirius scorches the barren
fields; the grass becomes withered and the diseased crops refuse to yield (3.141);
that is, it is high summer, to make it possible for the prodigium of the 
[crop-failure] to occur; but when the Trojans set sail and suffer a terrible three-day
storm (203), the poet certainly does not mean that the season of autumnal storms has
meanwhile started.
This leads us to the much discussed question of the chronology of Aeneas'
wanderings. In the case of longish periods where the narrative cannot tell us every-
thing, but only superficial details, it is also best from the poetic point of view that
exact lengths of time should not be specified. It can be important that a longish
period be felt as long: when Dido speaks of the seven years of wandering, she is
only indicating how much she expects to hear, and when the same number of years
is mentioned in Iris' speech to the Trojan women, it is intended to explain their
yearning for rest. But when, in Book 3, it comes to the description of these wande-
rings, neither Dido nor the listener wants Aeneas or the poet to measure out how the
events took up those years, and it would have been boringly pedantic to have
actually worked out a consistent chronology. Thus it is only to be expected that the
indications of time will be vague and underplayed, and this is so. It seems almost
348 deliberate when the poet leaves us in the dark about the duration of the various
sojourns, and we find that he has made as much effort in narrating the main events
as in the detailed linking narrative to give the illusion of short periods of time.
Everything which is told of the sojourn in Thrace (3.16-68), could be imagined as
squeezed into one day: it remains uncertain – and is intended to remain so – whether
the mention of the date of departure (69ff.) means that they have waited for spring,
although on closer study this does seem the most likely (see above p. 81f.). It
remains unclear how long they remained on Crete: it is only from the above-men-
tioned prodigium that one may deduce that a sowing-season and a harvest-season
have passed. One might think that the city of Helenus was well suited for a longer
sojourn, perhaps for hibernation, but as if to demonstrate the Trojans' conscientious
haste, it is made explicit that only a few days were spent here (356). It is therefore
hardly surprising that, of the many attempts to work out the chronology of the seven
years of wandering, not one is convincing, and I should be tempted to put the blame
on poetic licence and rest content with the thought that Virgil himself wanted to
discourage such attempts from the first,[103] were it not that we suddenly come across
the unexpected information that now 'the sun has finished its annual course and the
icy winter-storm stirs up the waves' (284). This information fits so awkwardly into
its context – it is not even clear whether Aeneas then did wait there for the winter to
end, or whether he sailed on regardless – that I cannot believe that this passage is in
its definitive form, and we cannot decide what Virgil intended with this solitary
indication of season; one will hardly assume that this was an abortive attempt to
provide a chronological framework for the whole.
As with the seven years' wandering, so with the one full year that, according to
5.46, lies between Anchises' death and Aeneas' return to Sicily. Here, however,
what concerns the poet is not the length of time which has elapsed, but the fact of
349 the anniversary; he has no interest in explaining exactly how the year is filled by the
events of Books 1 and 4 and the extra events which must be supplied in the narrative
at the end of Book 3. Critics have found it a great stumbling block that in spite of
this period of about a year which lies between the above-mentioned statements by
Dido and Iris, they both name the same number of years – septima aestas . This is
probably simply due to the fact that in both passages – which were possibly written
years apart – the number seven was the one which happened to strike the poet as
appropriate:[104] the difficult problem, whether the poet had any regard to the one
passage while writing the other, and, if so, whether he noticed the contradiction,
and, if so, whether he considered it unimportant or privately planned to straighten it
out later, I must leave to others to solve; and until it is solved it is not right to draw
conclusions about Virgil's art from this supposed contradiction.
Finally, with regard to the general mythical and historical chronology, Virgil did
not let it fetter his imagination at all. He respects the period of 333 years before the
foundation of Rome (1.265), but at the same time he takes over a poetic idea which
has no regard for chronology when he has Aeneas and Dido meet, which puts the
foundation of Carthage at the time of the Trojan War. He includes in his catalogues
all the heroes from Italy's prehistory that he knows of, without asking whether it is
likely that they all lived at the same time. He has Neoptolemus killed by Orestes
before Aeneas meets Andromache, although that death was traditionally placed in
the tenth year after the destruction of Troy, and he has Achaemenides wandering in
350 the lands of the Cyclopes for only three months, although Homer tells us that
Odysseus had already been there in the first year of his wanderings. All this worries
him not a jot,[105] and it was a strange misunderstanding of poetic principles to attempt
to base on these synchronisms a chronology for Aeneas' adventures: e.g. to work out
Ascanius' age from the fact that Andromache (3.491) calls him a coeval of As-
tyanax, when the latter – according to Homer – was still a babe-in-arms in the last
year of the Trojan War: such a calculation would be mistaken even if we did not
happen to know that Virgil thought of Astyanax as definitely not a babe-in-arms
(2.457).
2—
Description of Place
We have already dealt with the question of place as far as distances were con-
cerned.[106] Place as the scene of the action has the same unimportant role in Virgil as
in ancient narrative poetry in general.
places, had, it is true, faint beginnings in Homer which were developed by the
Hellenistic poets; but there it is less a case of giving a local motivation to the action
than providing atmospheric background; that is also to be found, though not very
often, in Virgil. For the rest, he often has to take account of complicated local
connections; it is hard to decide whether he imagined the scene clearly to himself
but was not able to evoke it equally clearly in the reader, or if he just vaguely
thought of a few isolated features of the scene without combining them in his own
mind into a united and definite picture; in any case he does not precede his narrative
with a connected description of a locality – which would have been the surest means
of achieving clarity, but incompatible with his principles – but mentions in the
course of the narrative here a detail, there a detail; which means that the reader who
351 wishes to visualize clearly not only the characters but also the scene of the action is
badly served.[107] Two fairly important examples will illustrate this.[108] In Book 5
Aeneas speaks to his men first from a mound on the shore (43ff.) and then goes with
them to the tumulus of Anchises (76), the position of which is not given any more
precisely than that. On the day of the Games, the people again assemble on the
shore, and the prizes are set out there circo in medio (109) [in the middle of a circle]:
how Virgil imagines this circus cannot be known. The agger [mound] from which
the signal to start the Games is given (113) may be the one previously mentioned
(44). After the boat-race the festive crowds move to a 'grassy place, surrounded with
wooded hills, and in the middle of the valley was a circus theatri ': the gramineus
campus [grassy plain] seems to be identical with the circus , but different from the
previous circus . When the ships then start burning, the news is brought ad tumulum
cuneosque theatri (664) [to the mound and the rows of the amphitheatre], the
tumulus can only be that of Anchises mentioned earlier, and it would certainly be
most appropriate for the Games dedicated to him to take place near his tomb, but we
are only told about this now, rather late in the day. It is possible that the poet thought
of it earlier, for (329) he had Nisus slipping on the blood of slaughtered oxen: this is
modelled on the same occurrence in Homer, where the oxen have been sacrificed at
Patroclus' tomb: it is also possible that this motivation did not even occur to Virgil.
352 Thus all those separate details do not necessarily contradict each other, and it is
possible that they stem from a rounded idea of the scene, but any reader who was
interested in visualizing it would have to piece it together from chance references.
In the second example we may certainly assume that the poet had a clear idea of
the scene, even though he did not enable us to share it. I mean the Trojan camp by
the Tiber, and its surroundings. The camp lies 'near the shore' (8.158), but not right
by the sea: when the enemy attack they have the sea behind them (10.267ff.; cf.
9.238: in bivio portae quae proxima ponto [at the fork of the roads outside the gate
nearest the sea]). But it is right on the river bank, and open on that side, with no
protecting walls: otherwise Turnus would not be able to leap from the camp into the
water (9.815).[109] So far the topography is clear; but now (9.468), when the enemy
approach, Virgil says:
Aeneadae duri murorum in parte sinistra
opposuere aciem – nam dextera cingitur amni –
ingentisque tenent fossas et turribus altis
stant maesti
[the men of Aeneas resolutely ranged their line for resistance along the wall on their
left flank, since their right was girt by the river; and they were sadly lining their
deep moats and taking up their posts on their tall towers]. That is, as Servius rightly
remarks, a preparation for Turnus' retreat: it is supposed to impress on us the
situation on the riverbank. But with a camp, how can one speak of a left and right
side of the walls at all? This is possible with a square Roman camp, which has a
front and a back, and therefore a left and a right side; but here the camp seems to
have only two sides altogether, and if a square camp is protected by the river on one
side, then three are open to attack. Let us suppose that the wall was a level, bow-
shaped area with both ends touching the river: then the side facing the enemy could
be called the left side (if one were facing the same way as the Tiber's current
353 flows),[110] and the side by the river could be called the right side (to be exact, the
right side of the camp, not of the walls): but it is asking a lot of the reader to think
out all this, or some alternative. It is certain that the poet meant something definite
by pars sinistra [left flank] and dextera [right], and wanted to convey it to the
reader: but he does not succeed in doing so. This is a weakness, but to be fair we
must remember how even historians in ancient times failed to describe the topo-
graphy adequately, and how even modern writers who pride themselves on their
detailed scenic descriptions often leave the reader doubtful and confused, so that the
only remedy is to provide a sketch map.
In other cases one is inclined to assume that Virgil did not start by imagining a
precise scene, but introduced each feature for a particular purpose as it was needed:
an example of this is the torrent (10.362) which forces the Arcadian horsemen to
dismount (above p. 192 n. 66), or the extensive marsh which hems in Turnus' flight
(12.745). However, here it is a question of localities which may have been well
known to both Virgil and his readers, and we have to consider the possibility that he
may be linking the action to familiar scenes. If this is so, details which would not
help strangers might fit together to build up a clear picture for local people, as we
can see from the example of the Etruscan camp in Book 8. Evander has begun (478)
his report on Etruscan relationships with the 
[topography] of the urbs
Agyllina i.e. Caere, Mezentius' royal seat; he has given an account of the conquest
of the city by the rebellious Etruscans when, immediately afterwards (497), he
354 reports that all Etruria is now burning to pursue Mezentius, and the fleet is lying
ready by the shore, litore ; then every reader who knows where Caere is situated, will
also know that this litus is that of Palo, and, because of that, he will understand that
hic campus (504) [this plain], where the Etruscan battle force is encamped, is the
campus around Caere. Further when Aeneas gives as his destination the Tyrrhena
arva (551) [Etruscan fields] and the Tyrrheni litora regis (555) [shores of the
Etruscan king], this reader will know exactly what he means; also he will know
where to set the grove prope Caeritis amnem (597) [near the river of Caere], in
which Aeneas receives Vulcan's armour, and which is not far from Tarchon's camp
(603) – not by the upper course of the Caere, which the words could also mean, but
in the neighbourhood of Caere.[111] Finally, he will not be at all surprised to hear later
(10.55) that the army has embarked without delay; but anyone who was ignorant of
the local geography and read the last-mentioned passages in isolation would be
inclined to complain that here, too, Virgil has been vague in describing the scene.