Vergil, Aeneid IV 279-295

Manuscripts: M 279-292, 293-295 | P

"By the end of the passing of rumors about them together, Aeneas and Dido are driven apart; in the second of their two conversations, Aeneas is leaving..."

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The last time we heard Dido and Aeneas speak to each other was at that very first dinner they had together, where they talked all night—and in particular, Aeneas talked for hours about the Trojan war and his journey at sea. That conversation began in 1.723-56, and Aeneas tale took all of Books 2 and 3.

Since that night, we haven’t heard them talk to each other, even though events in their relationship have been moving very fast. They were ‘married’ in that cave in the middle of a storm, while they were just out hunting together (160–72), and all the action from then until now has been the flying of rumors, people hearing things about people from other people. By the end of the passing of rumors about them together, Aeneas and Dido are driven apart; in the second of their two conversations, Aeneas is leaving.

Dido’s speech to Aeneas is extraordinary and uses arguments from every possible angle in an effort to convince Aeneas that his leaving is unnecessary and unfair. Aeneas’ speech in return is defensive and cool. Both repay careful reading, and they are rewarding to compare and contrast. However, how we understand what they say, which is inevitably linked to the emotional state and frame of mind of each speaker, is substantially determined before either one opens their mouths to say their first word. Thus I aim here to do preparatory work—to explore the way Dido and Aeneas each come to the conversation—in hope that it will enrich your own reading of the speeches themselves.

We hear about Aeneas first, then about Dido, but Dido speaks first, then Aeneas, so there is a chiastic order to the scene.

When Mercury has finished speaking to Aeneas and vanished into thin air before his very eyes (in tenuem ex oculis evanuit auram, 278), Aeneas is stunned and horrified: At … Aeneas obmutuit amens, arrectaeque horrore comae et vox faucibus haesit (279–80). He goes a little crazy, amens, and his entire focus, his whole desire, is radically shifted by the encounter: ardet abire fuga dulces relinquere terras, attonitus tanto monitu imperioque deorum (281–82). Similar to what we saw when Dido (whom he didn’t notice) and his fellow Trojans (whom he emphatically did notice) both came into the temple while he was looking at the pictures of the Trojan war, Aeneas’ most intense emotion is directed towards his own journey to Italy. We have seen too that Dido’s intense emotion was directed first towards Sychaeus and later on towards Aeneas. Where Dido felt a fire in her veins for Aeneas (caeco carpiture igni, 2), Aeneas now burns to get away (ardet abire, 281). 

For the rest of the scene, when Aeneas casts about in a frenzy about what he can do (heu quid agat? 283), a major concern is how to tell Dido, but it is ultimately parallel to his other logistical concern, which is getting his men and ships ready to leave. He phrases it in distinctly political terms: quo nunc reginam ambire furentem audeat adfatu? (283–84). What he needs to do, ambire, is surround her, get her vote, canvas her; his means for doing so, adfatu, is an address to her—not at all a conversation with her. Indeed, it is worth noting that adfator is commonly used when people address their farewells to the dead—a markedly one sided business.

Other aspects of this question he asks himself are also suggestive of how he expects his farewell to her to go. He is going to have to work up his courage to do it, audeat, and he expects her to be upset and unreasonable, furentem. Or, perhaps he is remembering now the stereotype of Phoenicians as fierce that surfaced in 1.302, when Jupiter sent Mercury to make sure the Trojans would be welcomed: ponunt ferocia Poeni corda volente deo (302–3). Thus, not only does he anticipate an announcement rather than a reciprocal exchange, but he also speaks as though she is already losing her individuality in his eyes and reverting to type: the fierce/furious Phoenician queen who needs to be talked to.

Thus, after he runs through all sorts of possibilities (varias perque omnia versat, 286) and decides on what seems his best option (haec alternanti potior sententia visa est, 287), the strategy he settles on is to divide the work in half. His men will secretly start preparing to leave (288–91) while he deals with Dido. He does acknowledge that it has been a landmark affair and knows that she is not expecting the break (tantos rumpi non speret amores, 292), so he will look for the easiest time to speak, mollissima fandi tempora, and the most skillful way to manage things, quis rebus dexter modus (291–94). Tasks are divided and synchronized in order to further the thing he is now burning to do—which is to leave.

Therefore, when he goes into his conversation with Dido, Aeneas is feeling a strong emotional pull away from Dido, a feeling fueled by a direct interaction with Mercury and a direct order from Jupiter. While he can acknowledge that there has been strong fellow feeling (tantos amores, 292) between himself and Dido, it is clear that he is planning to interact with her with the diplomatic aim of leaving on decent terms. He seems to expect that she will be upset (furentem, 283), and there may be a tiny hint that he sees how harmful his leaving will be to her (adfatu, 284), but these are vague obstacles he plans to overcome with skill (quis rebus dexter modus (294). Also, he expects to be able to frame the matter himself, to have the advantage of surprise, since Dido doesn’t know (quando Dido nesciat, 291–92).

But of course Dido knows! At regina dolos (quis fallere possit amantem?) praesensit … (296–97).

The nature of Dido’s knowing, however, is complicated. The parenthesis in 296, ‘who could ever fool a lover?’, offers a truism that suggests Dido can ‘just tell’ when her lover is planning to leave. Next, we are given a little more: she was the first to catch wind of the ructions there were going to be, fearing when everything was safe, motusque excepit prima futuros omnia tuta timens (297–98). It would seem that the participial phrase is causal: because she was fearful even when everything was safe, she was the first to find out. On the one hand, this might be seen to corroborate the truism about lovers: a lover is worried about betrayal even when it isn’t happening. On the other hand, watchfulness when all appears safe might also suggest prudent political awareness.

Then, doubt comes in: she heard an unholy rumor that the navy was being armed, and a course was being plotted: eadem impia fama furenti detulit armari classem cursumque parari (298–99). By now we are primed to recognize how fama is truth spiked with poison—and to ask, what here is true? Where is the poison? Or is it that in this case the truth is poisonous, and the poison is the truth?

This recursive reiteration of the route or routes by which Dido found out at second or third hand about Aeneas’ leaving is in clear contrast to the powerful directness of Aeneas’ interaction with Mercury. That visit from the messenger shaped Aeneas’ response to the message. Right away, it fueled his burning eagerness to leave (281–82), and just before he speaks in response to Dido, it again shapes his response. He keeps his eyes still and his anxiety hidden (immota tenebat lumina et obnixus curam sub corde premebat, 331–32) specifically because he is mindful of Jove’s warnings, Iovis monitis (331). As we will see, hearing this important news via the rumor mill likewise shapes Dido’s response. 

Aeneas went a little crazy when he first heard Mercury’s message, amens (279), but then he had work to do to honor the mandate and achieve his desire, to leave. On hearing the rumor that Aeneas is leaving, Dido too goes a little crazy—only there is nothing she can really do to address the problem of Aeneas leaving. It makes her mad with rage: incensed, she savages around the city (301–2). In a three-line simile she is compared to a bacchant––a woman worshipper of the wine-god, wild-drunk and in a violent, ecstatic, frenzied trance.

Thus, when Dido goes into this conversation with Aeneas, she has learned something of great importance to her both personally and politically (namely, that her lover and co-ruler Aeneas is suddenly leaving) in a manner that befits neither her personal nor her political standing (namely, through the grapevine and not from the man himself) – and she is extremely angry and upset. If Aeneas’ strongest emotional commitment when they talk is directed away from Dido, Dido’s most intense emotion is now directed against Aeneas. If Aeneas entertained vague hope of finding an effective diplomatic solution, Dido is simply outraged.

And in line 104, finally (tandem), on her own initiative (ultro), Dido forces (compellat) Aeneas into a conversation. Aeneas has no advantage of surprise. He didn’t ‘dare’ (audeat, 284) to do anything. On the contrary, the secrecy and delay he hoped to use strategically for finding the right time to talk (mollisima fandi tempora, 292–93) have hopelessly backfired. Before they speak at all, it is deeply unlikely that there can be a diplomatic solution.

Further Reading

Feeney, D.C. ‘The Taciturnity of Aeneas’ Classical Quarterly 33 (1983) 204-29, reprinted in Oxford Readings in Virgil’s Aeneid, ed. S.J. Harrison (Oxford, 1990) 167-90

Feeney, D. ‘The Appearance(s) of Mercury and the Motivation of Aeneas’ in A Woman Scorn’d. Responses to the Dido Myth, ed. M. Burden (London, 1998) 105-30

Gibson, R.K. ‘Aeneas as Hospes in Virgil, Aeneid 1 and 4’ Classical Quarterly 49 (1999) 184-202

Hinds, S. ‘Essential epic: genre and gender from Macer to Statius’ in Matrices of Genre: Authors, Canons, and Society, eds. M. Depew and D. Obbink (Cambridge, MA, 2000) 221-44

Hughes, L. ‘Aeneas and Dido, an Homeric Homilia?’ Latomus 61 (2002) 339-51

Nelis, D. Vergil’s Aeneid and Apollonius’ Argonautica (Leeds, 2001) 148-52

O’Hara, J.J. ‘Medicine for the Madness of Dido and Gallus: Tentative Suggestions on Aeneid 4’ Vergilius 39 (1993) 12-24

Perkell, C. ‘On Creusa, Dido, and the Quality of Victory in virgil’s Aeneid’ Women’s Studies 8 (1981) 201-23, reprinted in Reflections of Women in Antiquity, ed. H. Foley (New York, 1981) 335-77

Rudd, N. ‘Dido’s Culpa’ in Lines of Enquiry: Studies in Latin Poetry (Cambridge University Press, 1976) 32-53, reprinted in Oxford Readings in Virgil’s Aeneid, ed. S.J. Harrison (Oxford, 1990) 145-90

Schiesaro, A. ‘Furthest Voices in Virgil’s Dido’ Studi Italiani di Filologia Classica n.s. 6 (2008) 60-109, 194-245

279–295: Aeneas, awestruck by such a warning, ponders anxiously what to do and at last sends orders to prepare the fleet for sea, hoping himself to find a happy opportunity for breaking the news to Dido (Page).

279: at vērō: the use of the two particles makes the statement very strong (F-B). amēns: bewildered rather than frenzied (Pease). aspectū obmūtuit āmēns: “aghast at the sight, was struck dumb” (F-B). Aeneas is brought up with a jolt, and is “distraught and tongue-tied at the vision” (Austin).

280: horrōre: ablative of cause (AG 404); a good instance of horror used partly in a metaphorical sense = “with dread,” partly in a literal one = “bristling,” in this case a situation that causes one’s hair to stand on end (Page).

281: ārdet abīre: “he burns (with desire) to depart” (Page). Here is the dilemma: he is afire to go, and to go quickly (fugā), but the land that he must leave is sweet; in dulcēs we have a fleeting glimpse of Aeneas’ real feelings (Austin). dulcēs: note the striking contrast between dulcēs and ardet abīre, which expresses the conflict in the mind of Aeneas between love and duty (Pease).

283: heu, quid agat?: dubitative (or deliberative) subjunctive (AG 444), the present being a vivid construction for the imperfect (Stephenson). So also audeat and sūmat (284). Aeneas would say directly to himself quid agam? The poet repeats his words in indirect discourse “alas (he says) what is he to do?” (Page). quō...adfātū: “with what address can he now approach the passion-frenzied queen?” (Page). ambīre: “to canvass” (Austin); admirably used here to hint at cunning and treachery (Page): “to approach,” literally “to go round,” as if in danger of a hostile reception (Frieze). The verb implies that the situation is delicate and tact is needed (F-B).

284: quae prīma exōrdia sūmat: “what opening words he should choose first?” The pleonasm of prīma exōrdia emphasizes the embarrassment felt (F-B). The same sense of cunning and falsehood inherent in ambīre (283) is suggested by the rhetorical term exōrdium and also by sūmat “adopt” (284) (Page). exōrdia: properly of the laying down of a web, and so again appropriate; here too I cannot see how Page finds a sense of falsehood in it. Vergil simply means “how is he to set about a beginning?” (Austin)

286: in partēsque rapit variās: “hurries (his thoughts) in different directions”; he thinks rapidly of various expedients (Frieze). versat: (intensified), “turns (his thoughts) rapidly” (G-K).

287: alternantī: supply eī; “(to him) as he wavered” (F-B), i.e., whether to inform Dido or not (G-K). Alternantī may be used intransitively, but sententiās is easily supplied (Page). Haec goes with sententia (Frieze).

288: Mnēsthea Sergestumque...Serestum: the particularizing by name is characteristic of Vergil (Austin). vocat: his plan is explained by what he does (Frieze). A verb of ordering is implied: “summoning them he directs them to...” (G-K).

289: classem aptent tacitī: “they are to fit out the fleet and never say a word” (Austin). sociōsque...cōgant: “and they must call their mates to join them at the shore (Austin). aptent, cōgant, parent, and dissimulent: present subjunctives in indirect command (preceded by the implied eīs imperat ut...) (AG 588) (Frieze). Again, as with agat, 283, the vivid present instead of imperfect (Stephenson).

290: arma parent: either “arms” (for defense in case of interference) or “equipments,” “tackle” for the ships (G-K). rēbus novandīs: dative gerundive (AG ); “for forming new plans,” or “for renewing their adventures” (Frieze). quae...sit causa: indirect question (AG 574); “hide the cause of changing their plans” (F-B).

291–3: sēsē...temptātūrum: (supply esse); indirect discourse, depending on dīcēns or putāns implied in vocat (288) (Frieze): “saying that he meantime will try...” The subjunctive is an indirect command, while the accusative with infinitive is an indirect discourse (Page). The phrase temptāre aditūs is from military language (F-B).

291–2: quandō...amōrēs: “since Dido, his best, knew nothing and never dreamed of the breaking of so strong a love” (Austin).

291: optima: “best of women” (G-K). An epithet skillfully adapted to intensify Aeneas’ difficulty who felt obliged to act so unkindly toward this “kindest of friends” (Stephenson).

292: nesciat: subjunctive dependent clause in indirect discourse (AG 592) (G-K). spēret: “expect” or “anticipate,” used of ill as well as of good expectation (G-K). Spērō is common with the present infinitive where it means not “hope” but “expect,” and the reference is not to something which may happen in the future but is already happening in the present (Page). rumpī: present infinitive, because the matter is already in progress (Frieze).

293: aditūs: “the approaches,” or “avenues” (to her feelings) (Chase). The ways of addressing her so as to give the least offense (Frieze). quae: supply sint (Chase). Subjunctive in indirect question, depending on the preceding (G-K).

293-4: mollissima...tempora: “the softest moments” are the moments when Dido would be softest (Stephenson); “the tenderest time (i.e., the happiest place and time) for speech (Page).

294: quīs rēbus dexter modus: “what plan propitious for his purpose” (Page). Supply sit, subjunctive in the continuing indirect question; rēbus is dative after dexter; “adapted to circumstances” (Frieze); “for the business” (G-K). dexter: “skillful” and “favorable”; “what is a good way for his purpose” (Austin). ōcius: supply dictō; “quicker than said” (Frieze). omnēs: i.e., the Trojan chiefs (Frieze).