2—
Narrative and Précis
A summary description of a crowd-scene gathers together all the simultaneous
pieces of action; a précis narrative does the same for a series of events; but clearly a
précis does not allow a full exposition of the material, and so a poet must not make
too frequent use of it. He can do this by concentrating events into the smallest
possible length of time; the more the action is spread out, the more often a précis
will be needed to bridge the gaps between the major scenes, if, that is, the poet has
any interest in maintaining continuity. The most important means to this end is one
borrowed from the Odyssey , by which the action is made to start near the end of the
period taken up by the story, and letting the hero narrate what has happened so far.
We have already seen how, in any case, Virgil likes to squeeze events into the space
of a few days whenever possible; and how, when a longer time would be necessary
in real life he tries to obscure the fact (p. 266f. above). Brevity can most easily be
justified in first-person narrative; the poet can shift the responsibility for it onto his
narrator, and he, in turn, can say that he must consider his audience; the reader
total illumination from him than he would from the poet himself, since the narrator
is himself part of the imagined fiction. Also, it is only in first-person narrative that a
different treatment can be employed as, for instance, in the adventure with the
358 Cicones in Odyssey 9, as compared with the adventure with the Cyclops; the Ci-
cones story in the form in which we hear it from Odysseus would clash with the
style of the whole poem if the poet narrated it. Virgil has made good use of this
possibility, particularly in Book 3: he has Aeneas giving a quick survey of the seven
years of adventures, then selecting a few for detailed narration, choosing those
which are sure to interest his audience. This means that he can pass very quickly
over such things as his departure from his native land and what preceded it –
auguria divum [divine signs], construction of the fleet:[2] he can choose to describe
from the first stage of their exile (the sojourn in Thrace) only the pathos-filled scene
at the tomb of Polydorus; he can pass quickly over their reception in Delos, Anius
and his hospitality etc., up to the death of Anchises ( amitto Anchisen [I lost An-
chises]); nowhere else in the whole Aeneid has Virgil used anything like so much
brief summary.
In other ways, too, he has used précis more freely than Homer did. Homeric style
allows itself précis only in the sub-plots which are to be less prominent than the
main plot,[3] but they too are often narrated in detail. According to Virgil's artistic
principles, précis was essential whenever the listener would otherwise have been
told something that he already knew. Thus, wherever a section which is being told in
some detail reaches the point where one character has to report to others things
which we have already seen take place, they are always summarized. Here it is
supposed that the imagination will simply reproduce the picture it has already seen;
a full repetition would continue the external action, but Virgil's readers are not as
359 patient as Homer's, who are content even when they are not being told anything
new. We therefore find examples of précis when Aeneas tells his companions about
things that we already know (his decision to sail away from Carthage, the vision of
Mercury etc. [4.288]); when Anna has to carry out Dido's errand (4.437); similarly,
after Anchises' dream-appearance (5.746), after Turnus' decision to fight (7.407),
Aeneas' decision to visit Evander (8.79) etc.; almost always, the succeeding nar-
rative is also shortened; in the last example, Aeneas' departure from the camp is told
briefly regardless of the fact that there are important factors that we should know
about (9.40, 172) but are told only later. The reception by Acestes (5.35-41) is
reported by Virgil with quite un-Homeric brevity: here, too, a clear, detailed de-
scription of what we already know would have run into many words. We should also
list here messages of which we already know the contents: 9.692 to Turnus after the
Trojans' sortie, 10.520 to Aeneas after Pallas' death, 11.896 to Turnus after Camilla
has fallen, 12.107 challenging Aeneas to the duel; in these and countless other cases
Homer would not have spared us the full details.
Virgil is totally committed to narrating only things which are important in them-
selves, which are worthwhile for their own sake, and which produce an effect: he
omits where possible anything which is unimportant, which is significant only as
preparation for future events or as the result of past events. This is the same artistic
principle which led the neo-Hellenistic writers to select from their material only the
emotional scenes, discussing the rest with a brief reference, regardless of its import-
ance to the plot. It is a severe infringement of the principle of 
[propor-
tion], which requires important matters and unimportant matters to be treated with
corresponding expansiveness or succinctness.[4] Virgil never omits anything import-
ant; on the contrary, he takes care that everything significant shall also have artistic
360 value so that it is worth telling. However, it does happen, very infrequently, that
circumstances come up in the course of the narrative that are too important to omit
but are mentioned only briefly so as not to spoil the effect of the passage.[5] Even
more infrequently he relegates a really important matter to minor status for artistic
reasons: I cannot think of another example more striking than tandem erumpunt et
castra relinquunt Ascanius puer et nequiquam obsessa iuventus (10.604) [at last the
young prince Ascanius and the manhood of Troy broke out from their camp. The
siege had failed.]. That should really stand at the end of the book: the Latins are
forced to lift the siege of the camp, the sortie achieves their complete defeat. But
Virgil cannot put anything at the end after the death of Mezentius, so the result is
told here in advance, and inserted as a result of Aeneas' fury; but it can only be
mentioned briefly here because the poet is in a hurry to reach Turnus, against whom
Aeneas' angry rage is principally directed. For similar reasons, the description of the
shield at the end of Book 8 must not be followed by anything which might weaken
the effect; Aeneas' discussions with the Etruscans and their embarkation are there-
fore not narrated until later, at 10.148: but nothing is lost thereby, and the poet gains
361 the advantage that, since he is recapitulating, he can be briefer than if he were
narrating the events in their proper place; in that case it wpould have been difficult
to avoid tedious repetitions of the first scenes with Evander – the presentation of
Aeneas, an account of what had been happening etc.
Finally, the description of the union of Aeneas and Dido (4.165) really does
nothing but allude to it, and stands in a class of its own in that the brevity here does
not stem from artistic principles:
speluncam Dido dux et Troianus eandem
deveniunt . prima et Tellus et pronuba Iuno
dant signum ; fulsere ignes et conscius aether
conubiis summoque ulularunt vertice nymphae
[Dido and Troy's chieftain found their way to the same cavern. Primaeval Earth and
Juno, Mistress of the Marriage, gave their sign. The sky connived at the union; the
lightning flared; on their mountain-peak nymphs raised their cry]. That is masterly in
every trait; it is true that here 'modern' sensibility had to use a 'modern style'.[6] But
who can fail to see that the paraphrase here, far from being merely the handmaid of
prudery, truly frees the event from every vulgar overtone, lifting it to the heroic level?