A timeless and borderless masterpiece! ✨️

Virgil's contemporaries and subsequent literary figures were quite right in defining the poet from Mantua as the "new Homer"!

Taking examples from the Iliad and the Odyssey, the Bard creates the adventures of Aeneas, his arrival in the beautiful and fertile Italy and the subsequent founding of the Roman line!

In my opinion, compared to Homer, Virgil is of a higher level because he gives greater psychological prominence to the characters and creates very respectable female figures (Dido, Amata, Camilla, Juno). Only Lavinia, the casus belli between the Trojans and the Rutuli-Latins, remains in the shadow, and it's a real pity.

And to think that Virgil wanted to destroy his work because when he died he hadn't had the opportunity to revise it... Thanks to Augustus for saving this masterpiece!

It should be read and reread at all ages to grasp meanings that may escape on a first reading.

**A Comparison between the Eneida and the Iliad**

"
  A Fortuna favorece os audazes.
"

(Canto X)



Vergílio aimed to surpass the two epics of Homer. Did he succeed? In my heart, I don't think so.

I really liked the first part of the Eneida (similar to the Odyssey). However, in the second part, I yawned during some battle scenes, something that never happened to me while reading the Iliad.

Why?

Is it because the translation of the Eneida is in prose and that of the Iliad is in verse?

Is it because the Eneida has Eneias and Turno instead of Achilles and Hector?

Is it because the theme didn't surprise me and, consequently, decreased the sense of wonder?

Is it because it took me too long to read and I overused the number of other books that I interspersed between its pages?

Or is it simply because I like Homer more than Vergílio?

I don't know... there are things that are not understood...




  "A única salvação para os vencidos é não esperar salvação nenhuma."


(Canto II)

The more Epic Poems I read, the more I am convinced of our unreality, or our ability to literally create the reality in which we live. These poems are the cultural foundation of the entire Western society, born from orality, surviving through text registration, and shaping much of the ancient history we know today, or our Mythology. We have gods who act like humans, and we have humans who are special because they are the children of those gods. We have imagined spaces and events that have served to perpetuate the imagination of those times until today. Reading these poems is a distinct and exotic experience because, although it is all fantasy, dealing with great unrealities, it is at the same time all History, effective text stones that support all our literature, all our culture, everything we are today.

To understand this idea, it is enough to think of the fact that Troy never existed as a city, nor even as a kingdom. Its creators and kings, children of the gods, naturally never existed either. However, when we conduct research on them, their stories unfold in webs of infinite details, elements captured from a myriad of artifacts created over millennia, not only texts - namely the so-called Epic Cycle to which the fundamental poems of the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" belong, as well as a set of other semi-destroyed or lost poems - records of oral stories, but also images - drawn on vases and frescoes - and many sculptures that have served the construction of myths, their promotion and distribution, and then their preservation until today. The various cities and peoples are confused between reality and myth - Troy, Dardania, Sparta, Ithaca, Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, etc. - with characters that merge gods - the twelve Greek gods: Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, Ares, Demeter, Apollo, Artemis, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Hermes, and Dionysus; and the corresponding twelve Roman gods: Jupiter, Juno, Neptune, Minerva, Mars, Ceres, Phoebus, Diana, Vulcan, Venus, Mercury, and Bacchus - and humans - Menelaus, Helen, Paris, Hector, Achilles, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Aeneas, Priam, Turnus, Latinus, etc. Even the creators do not escape this fusion between fiction and reality, starting with the doubt about Homer: did he exist?; and if he existed, did he write the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey"?; and if he wrote them, wouldn't these just be oral stories created over the previous millennia?

The "Aeneid" has a less complex, more traditional genesis, as it arises as a commission from Emperor Augustus to Virgil. 600 years after the "Iliad" and "Odyssey", a poet in a society, the Roman one, which preserved records very well and therefore we have much more knowledge about what happened, tries to respond to the genesis of Italy starting from Troy. But why return to Troy? This is the doubt that remains, especially because of the fact that Augustus asked Virgil for a story that would symbolize the birth of Italy, and yet how could that story present a foreigner, coming from Troy, overthrowing the Latins. It is true that Augustus ended the Republic and began the Empire, becoming the first Emperor of Rome, but still Augustus was a son of Rome, had no connection with the outside. Augustus may have asked for a text with the qualities of the "Iliad" and "Odyssey", to exalt and sing the power of the emperor, which also shows the propagandistic side of these Epic Poems. But Virgil responds to this dilemma by creating a new branch in the myth of Aeneas: the city of Troy would have been founded by Dardanus, who according to Roman myths would be from Italy.

It is necessary to clarify that although it is a propaganda weapon, if the "Aeneid" has survived, not as a written text but as part of our cultural imagination, it owes more to Virgil and less to who asked for it and paid for it, from the structure to the poetic quality. In the first field, Virgil divided his poem into two parts: in the first (Book I to VI) we have Aeneas' journey to Italy, attached to Ulysses' return from Troy to Ithaca, thus mirroring the narrative of the "Odyssey"; in the second half (Book VII to Book XII) we have the fight between Aeneas and Turnus, in an approximation to the fight between Achilles and Hector, and thus emulating the "Iliad". This collage is not merely structural, Virgil uses the structures of Homer to elaborate new narrative lines, not only dealing with the relationship between the end of Troy and the birth of Italy, but also because it will relate all the mythological fiction with real facts of his time, serving the interests of Augustus, but also serving us as a historical record.

Adventurous.

The Aeneid is an epic adventure that takes readers on a captivating journey through the Mediterranean. It is filled with the excitement of sailing, the drama of storms on the high seas, and the terror of shipwrecks. The story also weaves in elements of romance, suicide, battles, and wars, creating a rich and complex narrative. The fate of the heroes and villains alike is constantly in flux, determined by the clever and cunning manipulations of the Olympus gods. As readers follow the adventures of Aeneas and his companions, they are drawn into a world of danger, excitement, and adventure. The Aeneid is a thrilling read that will keep readers on the edge of their seats from beginning to end. It is a classic work of literature that has stood the test of time and continues to captivate audiences today.

Really, I didn't have much care for this work, especially the second half.

There appeared to be very little story beyond the gory killing. Even my dear husband, who has a military mindset, commented several times that the descriptions of spear thrusts and the ensuing bloody results were excessive, almost like those in early Roman era Hollywood movies.

My observation was that although I don't consider myself a feminist, at least not by the modern definition, this book could surely make me one. I continuously listened for positive portrayals of female characters and could only point to one. Dido's sister, Anna, was completely devoted to Dido—even though Dido treated Anna dreadfully. However, the rest of the women were difficult to stomach or understand, especially the female gods. There was little character depth or development. I know there aren't many women in the Greek tradition worth emulating, but with Virgil, well... I kept thinking, Dante, if this is your hero, he is not mine.

Father-son relationships were upheld as the epitome of love and loyalty. The best a woman could hope for was unrequited love for her man or pride in a noble son, not that the son necessarily returned the mother's affection. He might acknowledge the mother's love to others, but she would never know it. Well, you could be an Amazon warrior or a meddling goddess? Moms in those days, if they simply did their duty with love, must have gone straight to Heaven. It's easy for me to see why Jesus was so radical at that time with His love for everyone, even women, fallen women no less.

As for our story's 'hero', Aeneas, he is commanded by the high god, Jupiter, to abandon Dido, whom he claims to love and Dido considers herself married to, for the founding of the new city for Troy. That is his mission and it is an imperative. It is so crucial and necessary that Aeneas get going immediately; it simply cannot wait! Aeneas attempts to'sneak away'—with all his men and ships—without even a by-your-leave. Of course, Dido isn't fooled. She knows what he is up to and counters with everything she can to hold him there, but without success. Aeneas leaves.

Having been in the military myself, I understand about missions. When you have a mission, you do drop everything and go. A military wife or girlfriend has to get used to that. But there also comes a time when the mission is accomplished and you return to real life. What then? That doesn't seem to be a consideration in this story. The mission is the only reality here. After leaving Dido, Aeneas goes to the next place only to take time out to participate in games, which don't seem to be an obstacle to the founding of this city. Jupiter doesn't say anything then to Aeneas about getting on his way and there was plenty of time for awards and celebrating! The story seems to imply that it was just spending time with the woman he loved that hindered important work.

Also, Dido was disappointing in her subsequent behavior, but then I forgot she was under some kind of love potion from Aeneas's goddess mother. Dido had everything to live for, a city-state that needed her, a devoted sister, and she was still young and beautiful. Instead, she kills herself. Then later when the pair meet up in the underworld, Dido is still sulking and vindictive. Aeneas, who is just visiting, tells her he is still 'in love with her'. This didn't ring true to me. If he had really loved her, he wouldn't have tried to sneak out on her; that was a cowardly action for a 'hero'. The least he could have done was say goodbye. An explanation would have been better and a promise to return to her would have been the best of all. It didn't matter if she believed him. He should have made the effort. Still, Virgil's portrayal of Dido seems to support Aeneas's treatment of her, but not his continuing love for her. The Aeneid, and/or its author, does not value love between men and women.

Still, the worst part of the book was the ending. It just ended. No resolution. The epic ends with the final bloody killing by Aeneas. That's it. That's it? Yes. I thought there was going to be a founding of the city? Me too. Sorry. Story over.

No, I don't like this book any more than I did the first time I read it. Thank you LORD that I wasn't born back in that time period!

January 28, 2020: Dear husband and I are listening to this. He already LOVES it! I am surprised by how much I am enjoying it. I remember that last time (15 years ago) when I listened to it with our children, it didn't impress me as did The Illiad and The Odyssey. Was I tired of ancient literature by then? Who knows! Anyway, off to a great start!

December 13, 2005: Listened to the book on tape with my daughters when we were still homeschooling as a part of our study of the Great Books. It was our least favorite of the ancient three. (Started it the 30th of October.)

"Is it that the Gods inspire,
this fever of the breast?
Or make we gods of but a wild desire?"



I delved into the Taylor translation, with the exception of a few chapters that I listened to on audio from Librivox, which was the Dryden version. Additionally, I would时不时 check out the PoetryinTranslation version as they use classical paintings as illustrations, which I found quite cool. The Taylor translation came accompanied by a comprehensive set of annotations that proved to be extremely useful.



Overall, the poem has its share of awkward moments. Some of this might be attributed to the translation, but a significant portion is due to Virgil's penchant for using elaborate little stories as metaphors. By the time he concludes these metaphors, I often find myself at a loss as to what point he was attempting to convey :lol. Large sections of the story also seem rather redundant, and there are numerous asides that seem to be aimed at boosting the Roman ego. There are a plethora of characters, yet one never truly gets to know any of them in-depth. Most of them are introduced only a few lines before they meet their demise ;) .



On the positive side, many of the battle scenes are well-executed, vividly depicting the chaos and costs of war. Dido, Juno, and everyone else gets an opportunity to present their perspective on the issues, making it a surprisingly fair-handed tale. I also appreciate that Aeneas is so ordinary. He is neither exceptionally brave nor cowardly, neither overly smart nor stupid, neither good nor bad. He is simply in charge because people are familiar with his mother, much like a slightly less effective Sterling Archer :) .



In any case, it's not my favorite epic. There were moments of boredom, but also parts that held my interest.

The Aeneid, much inferior to the Homeric epics it blatantly copies (yes, both of them), also has the misfortune of being a "military" art. Virgil, in contrast to Homer (whichever Homer), who sat on a rock with the wind cooling his brow and recited verses without being bothered by anything else, blatantly weaves encomiums of the already deified Gaius Julius and Octavian Augustus, to the point where his muse must have become undrinkable coffee.
The entire epic is dominated by a revengeful allusion (Italians are the new Greeks). The Italians are the new enemy that the Trojans must subdue to fulfill their destiny (becoming Italians themselves in the end). The Greeks are humiliated (and let's be in Italy now), and now they will see what they will suffer (of course with Virgil's hindsight that Rome conquered Greece).
The work, in contrast to the Homeric ones, is... boring, tiresome in several places, and fails to justify motives and behaviors, dominated by a teleology that is disastrous for the plot: Aeneas will triumph, Rome will become a world power.
Also, in this particular edition (despite the very good editing), the preliminaries go on for 130 pages, a volume that corresponds to more than 1/3 of the Aeneid itself, reminding more of a monograph than a prologue.

The Aeneid is a complex and ambitious work that attempts to merge the heroic traditions of Troy with the rise of Rome. It tells the story of Aeneas, a Trojan hero who flees the fallen city and embarks on a long and arduous journey to find a new home. Along the way, he encounters many challenges and adventures, including love, war, and encounters with the gods.
One of the main themes of the Aeneid is the idea of destiny and the role that the gods play in human affairs. Aeneas is constantly guided and protected by the gods, especially Venus, his mother. However, he also has to make difficult choices and face the consequences of his actions. Another important theme is the idea of Rome as a new civilization and the importance of its founding. Virgil portrays Aeneas as the founder of Rome and emphasizes the city's greatness and its role in the world.
The Aeneid is also a work of great literary merit. Virgil's use of language and imagery is masterful, and he creates a vivid and detailed world that comes alive on the page. The epic is full of memorable scenes and characters, such as the fall of Troy, the love between Aeneas and Dido, and the final battle between Aeneas and Turnus. Overall, the Aeneid is a classic work of Western literature that has had a profound influence on subsequent generations of writers and thinkers.

I truly loved the Fagles' translation of Virgil's Aeneid. It was a remarkable piece of work that captured the essence and beauty of the original. However, when it comes to the Iliad and the Odyssey, my feelings are a bit different.

Artistically speaking, the Fagles' translation of the Aeneid is on par with Homer's great epics. The language is vivid, the imagery is powerful, and the storytelling is engaging. It brings the ancient world to life in a way that is both accessible and captivating.

Emotionally, though, the Odyssey and especially the Iliad have a stronger impact on me. The Iliad, in particular, is a powerful and moving account of the Trojan War, filled with heroic deeds, tragic losses, and complex characters. It explores themes such as honor, duty, love, and hate in a way that is both profound and relatable. The Odyssey, on the other hand, is a more lighthearted and adventurous tale, but it still manages to touch on some of the same themes in a different way.

Overall, I would highly recommend the Fagles' translation of the Aeneid to anyone interested in ancient literature. It is a wonderful work that stands on its own merits, even if it doesn't quite have the same emotional resonance for me as the Iliad and the Odyssey.

The Aeneid by Virgil, as translated by Shadi Bartsch, is a remarkable work. Bartsch endeavors to stay as close as possible to the original. She adheres to a line-by-line correspondence, approximates Virgil’s meter, keeping within his six beats to a line. Moreover, she maintains the simplicity of language without sacrificing the effects of alliteration and assonance. In her introduction, Bartsch declares her aim to make the work accessible to the general public while remaining faithful to the original.

She includes an Introduction that offers context for the poem, its reception, character analysis, and commentary. Additionally, there is a Translator’s Note that explains the challenges and choices she made in translating. Her Notes, a Bibliography, and a Glossary are also included.

Bartsch’s translation is truly impressive, and her scholarship is extensive. She presents a different reading experience of the Aeneid, revealing the ambiguity, nuances, and subtlety of language and characterizations. Her notes are highly beneficial in highlighting the contradictions within the poem and in interrogating the character of Aeneas. She has provided an invaluable service to the reading of this classic by opening it up to new interpretations and meanings while still remaining true to the original.

My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com

Fantastic epic, beautifully told.

It seems to be a perfect complement to the Iliad and Odyssey.

The Fagles’ version is truly wonderful, and I have a great affection for it.

However, the Bartsch translation also has its own charm and is quite good.

Each translation offers a unique perspective and brings out different aspects of this magnificent epic.

The story is filled with heroic deeds, complex characters, and thrilling adventures.

It takes the reader on a journey through a world of gods and mortals, where honor, love, and war collide.

Whether one prefers the Fagles’ version or the Bartsch translation, both have their merits and contribute to the rich tapestry of this epic masterpiece.

It is a work that has endured through the ages and continues to captivate readers with its timeless themes and powerful storytelling.

So over the years, I had picked up various translations of the Aeneid. However, I was never overly impressed by any of them. I thought this was just one of those classical texts that was respected rather than truly enjoyed, similar to The Faerie Queene. Nevertheless, I would return to it every few years. And now, I've finally figured out the issue. The Aeneid has been extremely unlucky when it comes to English translators.

I sat down and carefully worked through all of them, and the hit-or-miss ratio is simply astonishing. Dryden's work is... well, it's Dryden (I'm not even certain if you could really call it a translation). Fagles is terrible, West is terrible, Lombardo is terrible, Fitzgerald is okay but a bit stilted and not entirely accurate, and Kline is okay but a bit too literal, and so on.

It turns out that by far the best translation is Mandelbaum's. Crucially, I hadn't come across it in my previous attempts. As a result, all other translations can be safely ignored.

My Latin is not as good as it used to be, but I found the process to be similar to my recent comparison of Proust translations. My French is somewhat better, but still not outstanding. In short, you don't have to be an expert in Latin, French, or any other language to see two things. First, which English translator is more talented simply in terms of shaping the written word. For example, Fagles's translation of the Aeneid and Lydia Davis's translation of Swann's Way are travesties against the English language, regardless of their accuracy or lack thereof. Second, which translator is able to convey the style, spirit, content, and tone of the original while also avoiding stilted prose, sing-song verse, and other common problems with bad translations.

Admittedly, the second point is more difficult if you don't know the language very well. For instance, at a certain point, I have to trust the translators of Japanese poetry. But it's not impossible. You can look at Proust's sentences and clearly see that Moncrieff has created an appropriate English version of them, even if the finer details of any translation are only clear to experts. The same goes for Mandelbaum, whose English verse is a remarkably clear and poetic rendition of Virgil's Latin.

In my early twenties, before I had to learn German in graduate school, I had done this kind of non-expert comparison of translations of Hegel, Heidegger, and others. And my basic sense of which translations were good, accurate, and readable was never disproven by my later expertise. Although I certainly had a clearer understanding as I learned the language better. A. V. Miller's translation of Hegel's Phenomenology was obviously terrible when I was 21, and it remained equally - and in a way more deeply - terrible when I was 31. Seriously, what kind of crazy person translates Begriff as "notion"? This doesn't mean that beautiful translations are always the most faithful translations, but it happens far more often than you might expect.

Siempre resulta una alegría escribir sobre una obra tan emblemática de la literatura universal como es la Eneida de Virgilio.

Por lo general suelo centrarme en ese héroe tan atípico que resulta Eneas, que para bien o para mal, no deja de ser uno de los padres de nuestra cultura occidental. Y en cuyos hombros no solo se sostiene su padre sino quizá todo lo que hemos sido. Pero hoy no tengo ganas de escribir del refugiado y piadoso Eneas ni de todo lo que supuso Roma, en tanto fue trasmisor de la cultura griega. Sino del propio Virgilio y los enemigos del otro lado: los cananeos, mal llamados púnicos y fenicios por sus enemigos romanos y griegos.

Lo primero que hay que tener en cuenta es que la Eneida es una composición de encargo y una obra de propaganda política. Y aun así no deja de sorprender el talento que contiene. Virgilio es un grandísimo poeta y si alguien duda de ello ahí están las Geórgicas y Las Bucólicas, que fue su primer gran obra. Hay una vinculación emocional de Virgilio con la tierra, con la siembra, con los pastores, con los poetas alejandrinos, que puede comprobarse muy bien leyendo estos poemas. Estos son tan o igual de importantes como la Eneida y que puede que ofrezcan muchas más señales de cómo era el propio Virgilio y de la vida y los ciclos de la tierra por aquella época.

Remontémonos en el tiempo. El nacimiento de Virgilio se remonta alrededor del año 70, antes del carpintero, y el fallecimiento parece ser que ocurrió en el 18 o 19. Parece ser que vivió alrededor de 50 años. En esos tiempos eso era vivir una vida extensa. La gente moría mucho más joven. No existían antibióticos y cualquier enfermedad te podía llevar deprisa y sin escalas “al otro barrio”. De hecho, la mortandad entre los recién nacidos era altísima. Era realmente raro que una persona superarse los 70 años. Algunos hubo, claro. Siempre hay excepciones. Igual que hoy en día también puede encontrarse personas que viven más de cien años y a los que los escuchas hablar y te parece prodigioso que con esas edades conserven tan intacta la memoria.

Oficialmente Virgilio murió de una insolación. Estos son los datos que damos por “buenos” y que proceden de Suetonio. Todo el que lea la esplendorosa e inigualable La muerte de Virgilio, de Hermann Broch, conocerá que allí las cosas no son tan claras y que su muerte ofrece otra conjeturas y posibilidades. Y es que también sabemos si buceamos un poco que Virgilio tenía muy buenos amigos poetas, y que no coincide para nada el lugar oficial de su muerte con el que señalaron sus amigos. Algo no cuadra, y todos sabemos que Virgilio no estaba contento ni con Augusto ni con su propia redacción de la Eneida. ¿Fue asesinado? ¿Pidió destruir la Eneida antes de fallecer por motivos meramente artísticos o hubo, por el contrario, un claro desacuerdo político? ¿Fue envenenado? ¿Hemos de creernos la versión oficial de la insolación? ¿Un golpe de calor? ¿Realmente no vamos a creer que alguien tan acostumbrado a los rigores de la canícula como Virgilio murió de una insolación?

Quizá la Eneida sea la epopeya épica en la que se nota con mayor nitidez que Virgilio no cree en su héroe. Eneas no convence al escritor, y ni siquiera ese intento de absorber la Odisea en la primera parte y la Ilíada en la segunda consiguen convencernos de ello. Pero aquí vamos a añadir algo que no suele ser muy habitual en los análisis de la Eneida: Virgilio tampoco cree demasiado Dido (Elishat para los auténticos cananeos), aunque es posible que se sienta más cercana a ella que a Eneas, al compartir de alguna manera sus sufrimientos eróticos. En realidad Virgilio cree en muy pocos personajes-presencias míticas en este poema. Solo se emociona de verdad cuando describe a la gente joven. Entonces sus palabras sí que son encendidas y se llenan de fuerza y vigor. Lo egregio y lo épico es la juventud en la literatura de Virgilio. Y no solo en los hombres pues ahí aparece la bellísima Lavinia, hija del rey latino y futura esposa de Eneas, con una aparición en el poema auténticamente esplendorosa y repleta de combustión. Es como si de pronto Virgilio se untase en cuerpo y alma de explosividad y Vulcano ardiese.

Había un laurel en medio de la casa, en lo más hondo,

de sagrado follaje y cuidado con reverencia durante muchos años,

que, se decía, el padre Latino en persona encontró y consagró

A Febo, al fundar de la ciudad los cimientos,

y que por él puso de nombre laurentes a los colonos.

De aquel en lo más alto una nube de abejas

(asombra contarlo) se instaló, llevadas por el aire

Transparente con intenso zumbido y se colgó con las patas trabadas

un repentino enjambre de la rama frondosa.

Al punto el vate dijo: < un hombre extranjero (es Eneas), y que del mismo sitio viene

al mismo sitio y se apodera de la alta fortaleza>>.

Además. mientras los altares (aquí aparece Lavinia) perfumaba con

castas antorchas

y junto a su padre en pie estaba la joven Lavinia,

Se vio (¡qué espanto!) que un fuego prendía en el largo cabello

y ardía todo su tocado entre llamas crepitantes,

Abrasado su pelo de reina, abrasada la corona

cuajada de gemas; llena de humo, entonces, la envolvía

una luz amarilla y extendía a Vulcano por toda la casa.

Contaban esta visión como algo horrible y asombroso,

pues anunciaba que ilustre y famoso sería su propio

Destino, pero que gran guerra habría de traer a su pueblo.

(Libro VII)

También señalar que el poema avanza a pesar del propio escritor que cada poco tiempo se apena y se contagia del sufrimiento que describe. Virgilio es susceptible al dolor y a la pesadilla de angustia absoluta que representa Juno.

Mírame bien: vengo de la morada de las crueles hermanas,

llevo en mi mano la guerra y la muerte.

Posee una gran sensibilidad. Y una sensibilidad cercana y afín a todo sufrimiento humano. No importa el siglo tan lejano en el que se escribió esta epopeya. El nombre de los dioses cambia; los aparatitos de los que nos rodeamos son distintos; la medicina ha evolucionado; las geografias y los países y las fronteras que habitamos tienen otros nombres, pero eso es igual puesto que todos los países y todas las banderas son ficciones; pero el dolor humano, el dolor de una madre por perder a su hijo sigue siendo el mismo que antaño. Hace falta ser una piedra para no sobrecogerse en esta parte del poema del Libro IX:

«Así te veo, Euríalo? ¿Eres tú, el reposo postrero

de mis años, y has podido dejarme sola,

cruel? Y cuando te enviaron a peligros tan grandes,

¿no se dio a tu madre el hablarte por última vez?

¡Ay! Yaces en tierra extraña botín de los perros latinos

y de sus buitres. Siendo tu madre, ni tus exequias te he podido

hacer, ni he cerrado tus ojos, ni lavé tus heridas,

cubriéndote con la tela que te estaba tejiendo a toda prisa,

de día y de noche, y en el telar consolaba mis cuitas de vieja.

¿Dónde buscarte ¿Qué tierra guarda ahora tu cuerpo

y tus miembros lacerados y tu cadáver roto? ¿Esto me traes

de ti, hijo mío? ¿Esto es lo que he seguido por mar y por tierra?

Atravesadme, si queda aún piedad; contra mí todas las flechas

disparad, rútulos, matadme la primera con la espada;

o tú, gran padre de los dioses, ten piedad y esta odiada

cabeza sepulta bajo el Tártaro con tu rayo,

que de otro modo no puedo quebrar esta vida cruel».

¿Qué se puede extraer de todo esto? Bueno, pues la primera consideración que traigo al vuelo es que Virgilio no creyó realmente en este poema en casi ningún momento, y sí en cambio creía y se sentía conmovido por todo sufrimiento humano. Sabía que su creación iba a ser utilizada para afianzar el poder de Augusto y creo que no no sintió mucha felicidad de que esto se produjese. Lo imagino lleno de contradicciones creativas y personales mientras componía esta obra. Que quisiese destruirla me parece ahora hasta lógico. Lo verdaderamente intrigante es por qué no la destruyó antes. ¿Por temor a ser exiliado y que las tierras de su familia se confiscasen? Posiblemente. Hay que tener en cuenta que todo el mundo en Roma sabía que esta escribiendo esta obra. Si Virgilio se hubiese atrevido a destruiría al mismo tiempo estaría destruyendo todo un sueño colectivo. Y eso indudablemente le iba a acarrear graves consecuencias personales. De ocurrir así hubiese sido ese uno de los mayores gestos de malditismo literario de toda la historia de la literatura.

En cambio lo que nos propone Hermann Broch en su novela, La muerte de Virgilio, tiene más que ver con los límites del arte; con los horizontes a los que puede y no puede llegar el verbo y con la totalidad aniquiladora de toda gran expresividad humana. Cuando se asciende y se alcanza alguna cúspide creativa lo que se halla es tan solo vacío.

Pero hay algo mucho más prosaico y humano y es que existieron denuncias previas y críticas al poder de Augusto. Hay ciertos historiadores y críticos que señalan que Virgilio incluyó críticas al proceder del Princeps en sus poemas y que este se percató. ¿Ordenó asesinarlo? No sería descartable. En esos mismos años del gobierno de Augusto hubo poetas que se suicidaron en extrañas circunstancias y otros que fueron exiliados. ¿Qué pasó con Ovidio? «El fomentador del adulterio femenino» según el propio Augusto. Hay que reírse. “Las palabras escritas” siempre ha sido peligrosas y cada vez toma más cuerpo la idea de que Virgilio no fue el poeta oficial de Augusto como durante muchos siglos se nos ha vendido, sino un opositor en la sombra a su gobierno y a su autoridad, puesto que ya se aprecian en las Bucólicas cierta ironía y distancia respecto a Octavio. Es verdad que entonces Octavio era un muchachito casi siempre enfermo y que nada hacía presagiar lo que después ocurriría, “el animal político” que escondía en ese cuerpo tan frágil; pero no deja de ser curiosa la posibilidad de que el poeta más oficial del Princeps fuese desde casi el principio de su carrera literaria un ser disconforme y alejado de intereses políticos. Yo esta versión última me la voy creyendo más y más conforme los años pasan y prosigo releyendo a Virgilio. Si bien, en las Geórgicas sí se encuentran encendidos elogios a Augusto. Hay que situarse en el contexto y declarar que entonces Octavio acababa de derrotar a Marco Antonio. Tras muchas décadas de enfrentamientos civiles por fin se abría la posibilidad de una paz duradera. Creo que esa la verdadera felicidad que se extrae de ese casi tratado de agricultura y fusión con la naturaleza que es la Geórgicas. No sabemos lo que Virgilio pensaba de la rectitud en el culto de los dioses que proponía Octavio, pero no creo que como lucreciano que era eso le importase demasiado. Los dioses para Lucrecio no tienen ninguna importancia. No podemos esperar nada de ellos.

Esta misma edición de Alianza Editorial cita de pasada en la introducción que los primeros círculos poéticos en los que se movió Virgilio eran cercanos a Marco Antonio. Pero no profundiza en ello. Solo lo menciona muy por encima. Hay que situarse en las convulsiones que sacudieron a Roma y todas sus guerras civiles y colocar ahí a un hombre tan alejado del deseo de poder y de la notoriedad como Virgilio. La felicidad para este poeta estaba en las cosas sencillas de la vida. Imaginad la lucha interna que tuvo que padecer al ser elegido el poeta oficial de un régimen en el que muy posiblemente no creyó en toda su existencia. Lo mal que lo pasaría cuando tuvo que leerle al propio Octavio pasajes de la Eneida que ya tenía escritos.

De hecho sabemos por las muchas amistades que Virgilio cultivó que deseaba estar alejado de los eventos literarios de la época y andar y leer y escribir libre sin tener que rendir cuentas a nadie. La personalidad de Virgilio no tenía nada que ver con la búsqueda del éxito, sino con la indagación filosófica epicúrea y lucreciana. La naturaleza campesina de Virgilio no tenía demasiados motivos para apreciar en el gobierno de Augusto, y más con la supuesta confiscación de tierras que el poeta sufrió o que estuvo a punto de padecer, supongo que en esas contrapartidas que se aprobaron hacia los legionarios; pero no tengo muy claro lo que ocurrió porque en algunos lados leo que esas confiscaciones sí ocurrieron y en otros que Virgilio consiguió a través de algunas de sus amistades paralizar las que iban a expropiar a las tierras de su padre. Tendría que investigarlo. Lo cierto es que ya César tuvo bastantes problemas en el Senado para que sus soldados fuesen recompensados, aunque es bastante cierto que intentó cumplir sus promesas.

Pero para terminar nuestras cuitas sobre el no tan oficial poeta Virgilio (como se nos ha vendido durante tantos siglos) tan solo señalar que allí donde algunos estudiosos ven esoterismo y hermetismo en realidad lo único que hay es la visión lucreciana de un hombre con un gran sentido de lo trascendental. Lo único que puede escaparse un poco de Virgilio y parecernos hoy en día misterioso y un punto hermético es su visión pitagórica. Los números tienen una gran importancia en las Bucólicas, pero no hay nada esotérico ni sectario en perseguir la música de las esferas. Algunos leen los libros desde “sus mentes enfermas” y luego van soltando tonterías desde sus ensayos y estudios críticos. Esoterismo hay (y por un tubo) en un autor tan moderno y universal como Víctor Hugo. ¿Verdad que no os han explicado esto en las escuelas? Pues es muy cierto. Algún día igual hablaré sobre las tremendas sesiones de espiritismo que Víctor Hugo y su círculo más cercano practicaron con gran asiduidad. Harían mejor esos críticos en buscar esoterismo y hermetismo allí, y dejar de “intoxicar” al bueno de Virgilio. Y ya si se atreven a seguir con la indagación sobre el ocultismo lean a un novelista tan mágico y potente como Alejo Carpentier, puesto que en muchas de sus obras se aprecian ciertos detallitos cabalísticos que están muy pero que muy presentes. En Virgilio, por el contrario, hay un hombre de campo sumido en grandes divagaciones y que busca a través de lo epicúreo y lo pitagórico una conexión con el universo más plena. Por lo tanto Virgilio es un poeta mucho más sencillo de lo que nos hacen creer, y no por ello menos profundo. Sencillo en el sentido que lo es también Rimbaud cuando describe un árbol y un río. Es eso, no hay más detrás. Rimbaud no es Crownley. La gente del campo (y Rimbaud es otro poeta de campo pese a sus visitas-escapadas-huídas a París y Bruselas) no se suele andar con remilgos ni busca casi nunca emplear un vocablo más complicado que otro si el primero que viene a su cabeza ya viene ungido por su experiencia vital.

Y en cuanto a Dante y su famosa obra tan solo señalar que