Destiny and Empire: Aeneid Book I

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
21

Humble Servant:

Glad you like it!

I too have little Latin, and so I do little translation from that august tongue. I have enough to check things and to get pedantic when I see cause so to get.

When making a verse translation (especially into rhymed verse), one is entitled to much more “poetic” licence than when doing translation with more degrees of expressive freedom. (I wonder what literalism would be, in any case, when translating over such a chasm of space, time, language, and culture?)

Your two questions:

  1. What do you mean by your use of the “we two” in the fourth to last line–that poet and muse are collaborators (an interesting variation on the inspiration theme)?

Yes, I definitely aimed at that sense of collaboration. Note that I also set the hearers of the poem up as collaborators, in line 2: “To try our hero, wandering after Troy”. He is OUR hero - and the poet and the muse lead the consideration of his adventures as primi inter pares. Makes for a kind of inclusive intimacy.

  1. What are you saying in the last line, “How heaven’s wrath such mortal faults betrays”? It does indeed “sing,” but what does it mean for wrath to betray a fault??

First, wrath usually does reveal (or betray) a fault, doesn’t it? A fall from equanimity, from serenity. Second, We expect of the gods something approaching perfect serenity - not anything issuing in the intemperate treatment meted out to Aeneas (or Odysseus, for that matter). Third, the poet undeniably exalts the qualities of Aeneas while dramatically deprecating the gods, in these few lines. Why? Because it is easier to elevate Aeneas to godlike stature if you “lower the bar” by pointing out the gods’ own weaknesses even as you vaunt the mortal’s virtues. I take a poet’s liberty with the original when I attribute to the gods “mortal faults”, but this is a slight infidelity, I suggest, in the service of a higher faithfulness to Virgil’s intent. Such is the way of the translator.

22

I’m still smiling over this one.

Internaut, I actually don’t fault you a bit for the “mortal faults” liberty–I do indeed agree that the gods are being knocked down to human scale and given human emotions, wrath included. My quibble is that wrath IS a mortal fault, so it shouldn’t betray itself. How about: “How mortal faults a wrathful heaven flaunts.” “Faults” and “flaunts” are kinda cool together. Everyone’s a critic, huh?:smiley:

(By the way, if you want to quote someone’s post in your reply, hit the little “quote” button at the end of the post you want to quote instead of hitting the “reply to thread” button at the bottom of the thread. You can then delete whatever you don’t want from the quoted post and add your own comments.:))

23

(Thanks for the tip about quoting, HS. I’m gradually getting the hang of this board’s conventions.)

Yes, well of course that last line is controversial. I certainly hesitated with it, and am ready to have it improved upon. Some specific points:

  1. “How mortal faults a wrathful heaven flaunts” would not rhyme with the preceding line, so that would have to be altered also. To what?

  2. While agreeing that “faults” and “flaunts” could go well together, I don’t much like “flaunts”, and I don’t think that it says quite what we want said here. To flaunt is wilfully to display. See SOED, sense 1:

1 v.i. & t. (w. it). Display oneself ostentatiously or impudently; show off. M16.b v.t. (Now the usual sense.) Parade or flourish (oneself, one’s possessions, abilities, etc.) provocatively or defiantly. E19.

Quite the reverse of what I was attempting with “betray”.

  1. I appreciate your analysis of wrath as already a mortal fault, and had the same misgiving myself. In the end I thought this way about it: Wrath is usually, but not always, a fault - neither in mortals nor in gods. There is righteous and entirely proper wrath, whose absence would be a fault. Where it is a fault, it is a mark of an underlying failing: a fall from equanimity, from serenity, perhaps (as I suggested in an earlier post). And that is a most ungodlike characteristic that wrath can betray!

  2. All that said, I think I should rework the line; if it raised your eyebrow (and mine before), it would raise others. So how about this for the last four lines:

There’s much, O Muse, that we two have to tell
Of crimes and calumnies, and how it fell
That such a man was hounded on his ways:
How heaven’s wrath a mortal heart betrays!

Or something like that. I do still want my original idea, and now our quibble is quashed. “Heart” gives more the idea of the character of the gods, rather than of a temporary lapse that might be identified with the excess of wrath itself; and “heart” sounds well with “mortal”, as well as alliterating pleasingly with “hounded”, “how”, and “heaven”. A new quibble might be that the line could be read as meaning “How heaven’s wrath is treacherous to mortal hearts”; but I don’t mind that at all, because it works just as well! Our original is rife with subtleties and functional ambiguities, so why should a translation lack these entirely?

Thanks for your interest, HS.

24

Isn’t common in both Greek and Roman mythology for the gods to show human frailties? They certainly make poor role models!

25

I’m sure that Humble Servant would agree, Dropzone, that it is “common in both Greek and Roman mythology for the gods to show human frailties”. Note that HS was commenting on my discerning and highlighting this common motif in Aeneid Book I lines 1-11, where I thought that Virgil was deploying it for a particular purpose, and with special vehemence.

26

Ok, I like this. I hear your reasoning on “heart” being alliterative and the way it gives a double meaning, but I’m still going to ask whether “face” is an improvement over heart. The “face of god” ties into the Judeo-Christian mythos of man being made in God’s image in a way that I like.

dropzone’s point in this context is very interesting–traditionally, one of the lines on why Christianity displaced Greek and Roman paganism was that it gave a more “sophisticated” view of God, tied to an ethical system (why should humans act ethically in the face of inconsistent random responses from a bunch o’ gods whose powers were in conflict and who might or might not take an interest in a particular human’s life?). Greek and Roman gods seemed “too human” to function as gods (note that they perhaps do a better job of “explaining” why bad things happen to good people/compare Job where the answer seems to be that there really isn’t an answer). Nonetheless, the Old Testament insists that God has a human visage, and Christianity of course has God actually become man. So, we do seem to need some kind of connection between gods/God and humanity, but not too much. (How’s that for a ramble?:D)

27

Humble Servant wrote

Not a very good line, IMHO. (Does that mean I have to move this to the other forum? :)) By the time Christianity came on the scene, Greek philosophy had replaced Greek and Roman myth for the educated. They read the myths figuratively, since OF COURSE gods would never behave so shabbily. They also posited the idea of God as unchanging, unmoving, singular, unmixed, immaterial etc., etc. Anything that changed was, by definition, less than God. This very transcendant view of god was expanded into a strong ethical system by any number of different philosophers. For Greeks (and Romans, who read Greek, spoke among themselves in Greek, sent their children to Greek schools and generally appropriated Greek culture), the debate was among different schools of philosophy, not between myth (already discredited) and religion.

It is for this reason that early Christians often called themselves philosophers, and Christianity a philosophy. One of the main differences was that where Greeks held that philosophy could only be practiced by educated, upper class men who had the time and the ability to spend their time studying and debating philosophical schools, Christianity was embraced by the poor, uneducated, and even women. It was a source of some amazement that such people were able to live as though they were philosophers, (i.e., act in accordance with an ethical system, and deny the passions and live aesthetic lives) even though they clearly couldn’t be (being poor, uneducated and possibly female).

But back to our regularly scheduled program:

I like “heart.” I don’t think the “face of god” idea is really relevant here. This isn’t a poem about the Judeo-Christian mythos. Also, how do the gods betray Aneas’ face? His heart, yes. Unless human here doesn’t mean Aneas at all. I can see it having a double sense, both the idea that Aneas has been let down, and that the gods by their actions betray the trust that humans in general have placed in them. But unless Aneas isn’t included in this line at all, face makes no sense.

28

<quick aside>
Hey! I used to know this stuff! That’s what I love about this place: how it dredges up old knowledge from back when I was smart and educated.
</quick aside>

29

I agree that many of the educated, including Vergil, did not actually believe in the gods; nonetheless, Augustus was actively trying to revive religion, and those who dissed the gods were lowlife in Vergil’s eyes (we discussed this some in the Book VIII thread which is linked above). Why was this? Pure politically motivated cynicism on the part of Augustus and his lackey apologist, Vergil?

30

OK, be all that as it may, the caravan moves on. I have modified the translation of the first 11 lines, and done another 11. Note that I make 14 lines for Virgil’s 11. The Latin is very dense, and has about 15 syllables per line, in any case. I see that other translators also expand things - more than I do, in fact. So here’s the work in progress as it now stands:

Aeneid, book I, 1-22

My fateful theme concerns a man of war,
And what the vengeful Juno had in store
To try our hero, wandering after Troy
On sea and land before he could enjoy
The spoils of arduous battle, make his home
In Italy, and found high-towered Rome.
All this he did, and gave his gods a shrine
On Latin ground; the noble Alban line
Grew strong. But long before he came to beach
At that Lavinian shore he strove to reach,
There’s much, O Muse, that we two have to tell
Of crimes and calumnies, and how it fell
That such a man was hounded on his ways:
How heaven’s wrath a mortal heart betrays!

There stood a town across from Italy
Right opposite where Tiber fronts the sea;
Carthage, wealthy colony of Tyre,
With thirst for war its people’s first desire.
Now, Juno loved this place above the rest,
Even Samos; Carthage she loved best.
Her chariot and arms lay hidden there;
In time, and if the Fates allowed, she’d dare
Extend her city’s empire far and wide.
But rumour murmured, people prophesied –
Trojan blood would rise again to fight
And put her haughty Tyrians all to flight.
So wove the Parcae, at their fatal loom:
A mighty force all Libya would consume.

31

I just want to point out that “rumor murmured” is a LOT of fun to say. :wink: Great work, Internaut – you definitely have a feel for iambic pentameter.

Now I’ll have to go dig out my copy of the Aeneid…I wonder if I still have that disk with the Latin text on it?

I can’t believe I didn’t notice this thread earlier…

32

I think calling Vergil a lackey apologist does neither Vergil nor Augustus much service.

While one may debate Roman spirituality from here into the next world, Roman traditionalism is a subject more cut and dried.

In the wake of decades of civil war and social tumult, it is not surprising that Augustus tried to renew Roman society by enforcing a traditional moral program and by encouraging worship of the traditional, stabilizing gods. Whether the literati liked it or not, Zeus, Hera, et al were the gods of their forefathers, and certainly the gods of Rome. I think it would have been inconceivable for the Romans to invent a national myth without making use of the gods.

Despite his occasional subversiveness, deep down I think Vergil is a fundamentally conservative author. Even of the gods themselves are petty, shallow, and worthless, he would probably argue human worship of them is healthy and beneficial. Whether they exist or not, those who dis the gods, dis Rome.

33

Thanks for joining us, Katisha. I look forward to your comments, and I smiled at your Hobbit translation in the other thread.

Keep going, Internaut!

Guess I should have put a winkie smilie after that characterization because it is not my own.:slight_smile: Do you have a particular passage that you are thinking of when you say that he would probably argue that human worship of the gods is healthy and beneficial? It seems to me that his conservatism is uneasy, that he wants the peace to continue, but is aware of the loss of freedom and political voice involved in this imperfect bargain.

34

Thanks, Katisha. I was rather pleased with “rumour-murmured”, too! And HS, you want me to keep going? Very well, we now have 33 lines. Some earlier ones I have modified yet again, so I reproduce them all here:
Aeneid, book I, 1-33

My fateful theme concerns a man of war,
And what the vengeful Juno had in store
To try our hero, exiled far from Troy,
On sea and land before he could enjoy
The spoils of arduous battle, make his home
In Italy, and found high-towered Rome.
All this he did, and gave his gods a shrine
On Latin ground; the noble Alban line
Grew strong. But long before he came to beach
At that Lavinian shore he strove to reach,
There’s much, O Muse, that we two have to tell
Of crimes and calumnies, and how it fell
That such a man was hounded on his ways:
How heaven’s wrath a mortal heart betrays!

There stood a town across from Italy
Right opposite where Tiber fronts the sea;
Carthage, wealthy colony of Tyre,
With thirst for war its people’s first desire.
Now, Juno loved this place above the rest,
Even Samos; Carthage she loved best.
Her chariot and arms lay hidden there;
In time, and if the Fates allowed, she’d dare
Extend her city’s empire far and wide.
But rumour murmured, people prophesied -
Trojan blood would rise again to fight
And put her haughty Tyrians all to flight.
So wove the Parcae, at their fatal loom:
A mighty force all Libya would consume.

Fearing this, and mindful how she’d laid
Long siege to Troy, and came to Greece’s aid
In its campaign, also she recalled
The insult dealt her pride when (how it galled
To think it!) Paris judged awry and gave
That mortal wench the prize - unthinking knave!
Another, too: Jove’s favourite Ganymede
He raised to heavenly service, paid no heed
To her, his sister-wife! And so she flung
The Trojans (those Achilles spared) among
The tempests, kept them from their promised land,
Their destined home on Latium’s distant strand.
So Saturn’s daughter journey’s end delayed:
Such years of toil till mighty Rome was made!

35

Thanks, Katisha. I was rather pleased with “rumour-murmured”, too! And HS, you want me to keep going? Very well, we now have 33 lines. Some earlier ones I have modified yet again, so I reproduce them all here:
Aeneid, book I, 1-33

My fateful theme concerns a man of war,
And what the vengeful Juno had in store
To try our hero, exiled far from Troy,
On sea and land before he could enjoy
The spoils of arduous battle, make his home
In Italy, and found high-towered Rome.
All this he did, and gave his gods a shrine
On Latin ground; the noble Alban line
Grew strong. But long before he came to beach
At that Lavinian shore he strove to reach,
There’s much, O Muse, that we two have to tell
Of crimes and calumnies, and how it fell
That such a man was hounded on his ways:
How heaven’s wrath a mortal heart betrays!

There stood a town across from Italy
Right opposite where Tiber fronts the sea;
Carthage, wealthy colony of Tyre,
With thirst for war its people’s first desire.
Now, Juno loved this place above the rest,
Even Samos; Carthage she loved best.
Her chariot and arms lay hidden there;
In time, and if the Fates allowed, she’d dare
Extend her city’s empire far and wide.
But rumour murmured, people prophesied -
Trojan blood would rise again to fight
And put her haughty Tyrians all to flight.
So wove the Parcae, at their fatal loom:
A mighty force all Libya would consume.

Fearing this, and mindful how she’d laid
Long siege to Troy, and came to Greece’s aid
In its campaign, also she recalled
The insult dealt her pride when (how it galled
To think it!) Paris judged awry and gave
That mortal wench the prize - unthinking knave!
Another, too: Jove’s favourite Ganymede
He raised to heavenly service, paid no heed
To her, his sister-wife! And so she flung
The Trojans (those Achilles spared) among
The tempests, kept them from their promised land,
Their destined home on Latium’s distant strand.
So Saturn’s daughter journey’s end delayed:
Such years of toil till mighty Rome was made!

36

Here’s another bit I like a lot–you can tell she’s really pissed!

I hope everyone is enjoying the reading–just a reminder that the discussion starts on the 15th.

37

Thanks Humble Servant. (Sorry about the double post. How can that be fixed? The system was REALLY slow when I was posting, and I couldn’t tell what was happening.)

I had some further felicitous thoughts about these lines, and found a few ways to get nearer to Virgil’s intentions (I hope!). Indulge me, then - here is the text with about ten alterations:

Aeneid, book I, 1-33

My fateful tale concerns a man of war,
And what the vengeful Juno had in store
To try our hero, exiled first from Troy,
On sea and land before he could enjoy
The spoils of arduous battle, make his home
In Italy, and found high-towered Rome.
All this he did, and gave his gods a shrine
On Latin ground; the noble Alban line
Grew strong. But long before he came to beach
At that Lavinian shore he strove to reach,
There’s much, O Muse, that we two have to tell
Of crimes and calumnies, and how it fell
That such a man was hounded on his ways:
How heaven’s wrath a mortal heart betrays!
There stood a town across from Italy
Right opposite where Tiber fronts the sea;
Carthage, wealthy colony of Tyre,
Power of arms its people’s fierce desire.
Now, Juno loved this place above the rest,
Even Samos. Carthage she loved best.
She kept her weapons and her chariots there;
In time, and if the Fates allowed, she’d dare
Extend the city’s empire far and wide.
But rumour murmured, people prophesied -
Trojan blood would rise again to fight
And put her haughty Tyrians all to flight.
This doom the Parcae fashioned on their loom:
A conquering force all Libya would consume.
Fearing this, and mindful how she’d laid
Long siege to Troy, and came to Greece’s aid
In its campaign, also she recalled
The insult dealt her pride when (how it galled
To think it!) Paris judged awry and gave
That mortal wench the prize - unthinking knave!
Another, too: Jove’s favourite Ganymede
He raised to heavenly service, paid no heed
To her, his sister-wife! And so she flung
The Trojans (those Achilles spared) among
The tempests, kept them from their promised land,
Their destined home on Latium’s distant strand.
So Saturn’s daughter journey’s end delayed:
Such years of toil till mighty Rome was made!

38

Uhmmmmm…I’ll be back in a bit, mmmm’kay? I’m researching the context in which this work was created and would’ve been performed in order to support a hypothesis… see, Vergil may have been a city sophisticate, but I don’t think his intended audience was necessarily so. It’s still a good story, though.

I’m still working on it.

Other than that, nice job, Internaut. Wish I could do that. (Along with Sanskrit, Arabic, Mandarin, Japanese… I know that I’m missing something in the translation, dammit!)

39

Um, IIRC, didn’t Paris give immortal Aphrodite the prize? The contest was among Aphrodite, Juno and Athena, and each offered Paris a bribe. I can’t remember what Juno and Athena offered, but Aphrodite offered him the most beautiful woman in the world as his wife. That woman was Helen, who was already married to Menalaus, and Paris running off with her started the Trojan War. Or am I wrong?

40

I think this is a fine idea, and I’m very impressed by the translation. I’ll be arming myself with original, dictionary and translation over the weekend.

To pick one nit:

“Italy” is an anachronism, strictly speaking. Neither Aeneas nor Virgil, if you follow me, would have used the term.

What a pedant.