to me in dreams, urged me forward even to these regions. Permit me now to
clasp thee in my arms, and do not withdraw from my embrace." Thrice did he
attempt to throw his arms about the shade, which being only composed of
thin air, was not perceptible to his touch. While the two conversed
together, Æneas observed at no great distance from them a stream, at which
prodigious numbers of ghosts were incessantly crowding to drink, swarming
like bees round their hive. Astonished at this spectacle, the hero
inquired of his father what that stream was, and why those spectres were
so eager to drink of it. "These," answered Anchises, "are souls destined
by fate to occupy other bodies in the upper world; and the stream is
Lethe, one draught of which is sufficient to destroy all recollection of
their former condition."
"But surely," said Æneas, "it is not to be believed that any souls which
have tasted the delights of this abode will be desirous to return again to
the life of earth, with its uncertainties and its miseries. How comes it
that this impulse possesses them?"
In reply to this question, Anchises entered into a long explanation, the
substance of which was that all the spirits of the departed had to endure
in the regions below a process of expiation for their earthly sins, longer
or shorter according to the nature of their transgressions. Those that
were not consigned to the pains of Tartarus entered the Elysian Fields,
where, after they had remained a thousand years, they were summoned to
drink of the waters of Lethe, and thus lose all recollection of their
former lives; after which, being purified from all stain, they were fitted
to return to the upper world and inhabit new bodies. Anchises added that
he would show to his son the forms of his own descendants in the Italian
kingdom he was destined to establish, and would trace for him their
achievements. Leading Æneas and the Sibyl onto a rising ground, in the
midst of the souls which were crowding about the magic stream of Lethe, he
pointed out to him a long array of future kings of Latium,--Silvius, who
was to be the son of Æneas's old age by his consort Lavinia; Procas,
Capys, and Numitor, destined to be monarchs of Alba Longa; and Romulus,
the future founder of the great city of Rome, which would extend over
seven hills, and would spread her dominion over the whole earth. Not far
from these were the souls of Romulus's successors in the' early days of
Rome,--Numa Pompilius, who first would give his country laws, and
encourage the arts of peace; Tullus Hostilius, who would wage victorious
wars, and extend the territories of Rome; Ancus Martius, not less
successful in the field; and Tarquin, destined to lose the throne through
his oppressive reign. Anchises proceeded to indicate to his wondering son
many of the patriots and generals who in future years were to contribute
to the glory and power of the Roman State,--more especially the great
Julius Caesar, the lineal descendant of Æneas himself; and Augustus, who
would once more establish the golden age in Latium, and whose empire would
extend to countries as yet unknown. The venerable shade concluded his
forecast of the future with a splendid description of the part which Rome
was destined to play in the world's history:--
"Let others better mould the running mass
Of metals, and inform the breathing brass,
And soften into flesh a marble face;
Plead better at the bar; describes the skies,
And when the stars descend, and when they rise:
But Rome! 'tis thine alone, with awful sway
To rule mankind, and make the world obey,
Disposing peace and war thy own majestic way;
To tame the proud, the fettered slave to free,--
These are imperial arts, and worthy thee."
Having thus inspired Æneas with renewed determination by showing him the
brilliant future that was awaiting his descendants, Anchises conducted him
over those parts of the Elysian Fields which he had not yet visited, and
showed him everything that was of peculiar interest. As they went, he
discoursed to him respecting the wars which he would have to wage in
Latium, and gave him counsel as to the means by which he should overcome
every difficulty. Then at last, having brought him to the ivory gate
whence the gods were accustomed to send false dreams to the upper world,
he bade him farewell. By that gate Æneas and the Sibyl quitted the abodes
of the dead, and ascended without difficulty or adventure to the cave of
the oracle, whence the hero hastened at once to his ships. Without loss of
time he ordered the sails to be spread, and the ships were steered along
the coast, drawing nearer ever hour to their final destination.
ÆNEAS'S FIRST GREAT BATTLE WITH THE LATINS
By Charles Henry Hanson
[Æneas finally lands in Italy, the country promised him by the
Gods as a home for his race. The Italian king, Latinus, has been
warned by signs and omens that the hand of his daughter Lavinia
must not be given to an Italian prince, but to a stranger coming
from a far country. He believes that Æneas is the hero chosen by
the Fates as her husband, and greets him in most friendly manner.
Queen Amata, however, is influenced by the Trojan-hating Juno to
oppose this marriage. Turnus, chief of the Rutuli, a suitor of
Lavinia, is next aroused, and soon the whole kingdom is in a
turmoil. A fierce battle ensues.]
Turnus, having brought the bulk of his forces from before the beseiged
camp, hurled them against the army of Æneas before its ranks were properly
formed, and a furious conflict at once began to rage. The Trojan hero,
rejoicing to find himself once more on a field of battle, first
encountered the Latian warriors, who chanced to be in his front. Their
leader was Theron, a man of gigantic stature, who did not hesitate to
engage Æneas hand to hand; but he paid dearly for his rashness, for the
sword which Vulcan had forged--so keen was its edge, so excellent its
temper--pierced through his brazen buckler and his tunic stiffened by bars
of gold, and penetrating his side, drained the life-blood. Next the hero
struck down Lycas; and rushing onward, encountered two stalwart rustics,
Cisseus and Gyas, who were making havoc among the Trojans by beating them
down with ponderous clubs. On the divine armor the heavy blows of these
rude weapons fell harmless, while the spear of Æneas proved fatal to both
those who wielded them. An insolent warrior named Pharus was defying the
hero from a short distance with taunting speech, when he hurled a javelin,
which struck the boaster full in the mouth, and transfixing the throat,
silenced him forever. Now a band of seven brothers, the sons of Phorcus,
all at once attacked Æneas with darts, throwing them together. Some of the
weapons struck his helmet and shield, and rebounded; others, turned aside
by the care of Venus, grazed his skin. Æneas called to Achates to bring
him more spears, and snatching one as soon as it was offered, hurled it
against Mæon, one of the brothers, with such force that it penetrated his
shield and corselet, and inflicted a mortal wound in his breast. Another
brother, Alcanor, hurrying up to Mæon's assistance, he smote with a second
spear, just where the arm and shoulder join, leaving the arm hanging to
the body only by two or three shreds of skin and muscle. Seeing the
slaughter that Æneas was spreading around him, Halæsus and Messapus
hurried up with their bands to confront him, and so in that part of the
field the battle grew still more furious.
In another part, where Pallas was fighting at the head of his Arcadian
horsemen, the ground had been rendered so uneven by the winter torrents
that they were obliged to dismount, and being unaccustomed to fight on
foot, they began to retreat before the fierce assault of the Rutulians. At
this sight their brave young leader was overwhelmed with shame and
mortification. "Whither," he cried, "my fellow countrymen, do you fly? I
implore you, by the memory of your gallant deeds in the past, by the name
of Evander, the king you love, by my own hopes of glory, not to flee. Your
way lies through your foes, not from them; with your swords must you cut a
passage where they crowd most densely. These are not gods who pursue us;
they are mortals, like ourselves, and they are not stronger or more
numerous than we. The ocean hems us in with an impassable barrier on the
one side; the enemy confronts us on the other, and separates us from our
friends. Whether shall we fly into the sea, or force our way toward the
Trojans?" So saying, he turned, and dashed into the midst of the hostile
ranks. Tagus was the first who fell a victim to his noble wrath; for as he
was stooping to pick up a heavy stone, the spear of Pallas struck him in
the middle of the back, and shattered the spine and ribs. As the young
hero was withdrawing the weapon, Hisbon rushed on and struck at him from
above; but the blow fell short, and before he could recover his guard
Pallas buried his sword deep in his body. Warrior after warrior he struck
down, restored the confidence of his followers, and spread confusion and
dismay in the opposite ranks, raging among them as the flames lit by the
husbandman in the autumn spread through the stubble, and destroy
everything in their path. But now the Auruncian chief, Halæsus, summoned
by some of his followers to their aid, opposed the advance of the
Arcadians. He was a tried and fierce warrior, and he slew five of the
bravest of Pallas's men before the young chief could confront him. Then,
however, the son of Evander hurled a spear with such skill and certainty
of aim that he pierced Halæsus's heart, and the grim leader of the Aurunci
sank lifeless on the field. His fall was a sore discouragement to the
troops of Turnus, which would have sought safety in flight, had not
Lausus, the gallant son of Mezentius,--noble and upright offspring of an
unworthy father,--suddenly come to their aid. First encountering Abas,
leader of the Populonians, he slew him with a single blow of his sword,
and followed up his success with a furious slaughter of Arcadians and
Etrurians. Thus the battle continued: on the one side Pallas impetuously
urged the attack; on the other Lausus not less obstinately maintained the
defense. They were equal in years, and in beauty and grace of form; and to
both alike the Fates had assigned a place among the victims of the war.
But the Gods had ordained that they should not encounter hand to hand;
each was destined to succumb to a superior foe.
Turnus was leading his troops in another quarter of the field, when he was
summoned to hasten to the assistance of Lausus, who alone was bearing up
the battle against Pallas and his Arcadians. Quickly he turned his chariot
in that direction, and as soon as he reached the spot, called on his
warriors to withdraw from the conflict. "I alone," he said, "will
encounter Pallas; to me his life is given. Would to Heaven his father were
here to witness our combat." The Rutulians obeyed the command of their
king, and fell back; while Pallas, amazed at their retreat and the sudden
appearance of Turnus, gazed on his opponent. Then, in reply to his
vaunting speech, he said, "Now, either by carrying off thy spoils or by a
noble death at thy hands, I shall be rendered famous. My sire knows how to
bear either extremity of fortune. Cease thy threatenings and let us
engage." As he spoke, the hearts of the Arcadians, who loved him, were
filled with fear and sorrow. Turnus sprang from his chariot, and came
forward to the encounter on foot, advancing as a lion bounds toward his
prey. As soon as Pallas thought him within reach of his spear, he prepared
to throw it, and uttered this prayer to Hercules: "By my father's
hospitality, and that abode which thou, his guest, didst visit, O Alcides,
aid, I implore thee, my arduous attempt. May the dying eyes of Turnus
behold me strip him, expiring, of his bloody armor, and endure the sight
of a victorious foe." Hercules, from his place on Olympus, heard the
prayer, and knowing that the decree of Fate was otherwise, answered with
heavy groans and unavailing tears. These were not unseen by Jupiter, who
strove to console his immortal son. "To every one," he said, "his day is
fixed; a short and irretrievable term of life is given to all; but to
lengthen out fame by heroic deeds is the best that man can do. Under the
lofty walls of Troy many sons of gods themselves perished,--among them the
heroic Sarpedon, my own offspring, perished; Turnus, too, is summoned by
the Fates, and has nearly reached his term of life." He spoke, and turned
away his gaze from the battlefield, himself pitying the untimely death of
Pallas.
And now the brave son of Evander with his utmost force hurled his spear,
and then hastened to draw his sword from its scabbard. The weapon struck
Turnus where the shoulder was protected by the corselet, and piercing
through the solid brass, slightly grazed the hero's body. Then Turnus,
poising a steel-tipped javelin, darted it at Pallas, exclaiming, "See
whether mine be not the more penetrating shaft." Cast with irresistible
might, it tore its way through the youth's shield, composed though it was
of thick plates of brass and iron, and through his cuirass, and inflicted
a ghastly wound in his breast. In vain he wrenched out the deadly missile
from his body; even as he withdrew it life deserted his quivering form,
and he fell to the ground. Bestriding the corpse, Turnus cried, "Ye
Arcadians, faithfully report to Evander this message,--I send him back his
Pallas in such a plight as he deserved. Whatever honor is in a tomb,
whatever solace in the performance of funeral rites, I freely grant him.
His league with the Trojan intruder shall cost him dear." So saying, he
pressed his foot on the body, and tore away a massive belt, adorned with
figures richly carved in gold. This spoil Turnus exultingly clasped around
his own body, little dreaming that the time would come when he would wish
that he had never taken it, and that he and Pallas had never met. But now
the lifeless corpse of the youth, stripped of its arms and still bleeding
from the fatal wound inflicted by the Rutulian chief, was laid on a shield
and borne away by his weeping followers. Thus the first day on which he
took a part in war saw also the young hero's death, though not, indeed,
before he had strewn the plain with Rutulian corpses.
Speedily the news of this sad disaster, and of the consequent retreat of
his forces in that part of the field, was borne to Æneas. Rendered furious
by the event, he impetuously mowed with his sword a bloody passage through
the hostile ranks in search of Turnus, on whom he was eager to avenge the
death of his friend. The thought of the bright youth who had thus perished
in his cause, of the hoary father bereaved of all that made life dear to
him, filled his heart with sorrow as he recalled the kindness which both
had shown to him, and the pledges of enduring friendship he had exchanged
with them. Eight Rutulian warriors he struck down, and captured them
alive, destining them as victims to be offered to the shade of Pallas, and
to drench with their blood the flames of the hero's funeral pyre. Next,
Æneas having hurled a javelin at a Latian named Magus, the trembling
wretch evaded the dart by stooping, and as Æneas rushed upon him with
uplifted sword, he clasped his knees, and implored him to spare his life,
proffering a large ransom of silver and gold which lay concealed
underground in his house. Sternly the Trojan chief bade him keep his
treasures for his sons; as for showing mercy, that was forbidden to him
from the moment that Pallas fell by the hand of Turnus. Then grasping the
suppliant's helmet, and forcing back his head so as to expose the neck,
even as Magus renewed his petition he plunged the sword into his body to
the hilt. Near by, the luckless Æmonides, a priest of Apollo and Diana,
who wore a sacred fillet on his temples and shone in burnished armor, fell
a victim to his relentless spear, and the splendid arms he had worn were
carried off by Serestus as an offering to Mars. The Rutulians fled in
terror before the raging chief; but King Cæculus of Præneste, and Umbro,
the leader of the Marsians, renewed the struggle. A huge warrior named
Tarquitus, the son of the nymph Dryope, dared to oppose himself to Æneas,
but his fate was soon decided. The hero first pierced his corselet with a
spear, and then, as he lay wounded and imploring mercy, smote off his head
with his sword. Spurning the bleeding trunk, he furiously cried, "Lie
there, haughty champion! Thee no tender mother shall lodge in the earth,
or place a tomb above thy body; to birds of prey thou shalt be left, or
cast in the sea to be devoured by fishes." Still insatiable of slaughter,
he drove into terrified flight Antæus and Lycas, two of Turnus's bravest
followers. But now the fierce Lucagus approached in a chariot drawn by two
snow-white coursers. These were guided by his brother Liger, while he
himself flourished his sword in the air, and prepared to encounter Æneas,
who on his part rushed forward to meet them. "These," cried Liger, "are
not the steeds of Diomedes, nor this the plain of Troy. Here an end shall
be put at once to thy life and to the war." Against these insults Æneas
prepared to give an answer otherwise than in words, and as Lucagus bent
forward in readiness for the fight, the Trojan javelin whizzed through the
rim of his shield, smote him in the groin, and hurled him, quivering in
the pangs of death, out of the chariot. Æneas assailed his dying ears with
a bitter scoff: "It is not, O Lucagus, the slowness of thy steeds in
flight that hath lost thee thy chariot, but thou thyself, springing from
thy seat, hast abandoned it." So saying, he seized the chariot; and now
the miserable Liger, extending his hands in supplication, begged for his
life. "It was not in this fashion that thou spokest a little while since,"
replied the relentless hero. "It would not be fitting that thou shouldst
desert thy brother. Die, therefore, and attend him to the shades." With
that he thrust the avenging sword through his heart, whence the trembling
soul fled with a shriek.
So Æneas spread havoc amid the hostile ranks, and drove the forces of
Turnus back in headlong rout, so that Ascanius and those who had hitherto
been shut up in the fortifications were able to issue forth into the
field. Meanwhile Jupiter, watching from Olympus the fortunes of the day,
accosted his consort. "Thou art in the right, my cherished queen, in
alleging that Venus gives her aid to the Trojans; for without divine aid,
how would it be possible for any mortal to achieve such deeds as Æneas is
now accomplishing?" "Why," submissively answered Juno, "dost thou tease
me, who am already oppressed with anguish for the fate of the people I
befriend? Had I that share in your love which I once enjoyed, and which it
is fitting for me to possess, thou surely couldst not refuse me this much,
that I might have permission to rescue Turnus from the fate that threatens
him, and restore him safe to his father Daunus. But since that cannot be,
let him die, and glut the vengeance of the Trojan with his blood; yet his
origin is divine, and often has he piled thy altars with sacrifices." Not
unmoved, the ruler of the Gods replied, "If you plead for a respite from
immediate death, and a little breathing-time for the youth, I grant you to
bear him from the field, and for a short time to preserve him. So far I
will indulge you; but if you hope to gain any greater favor, and imagine
that the whole predetermined course of the war is to be altered at your
entreaty, you delude yourself with empty hopes." With tears Juno
responded, "What if thou shouldst grant in thy heart what in words thou
dost refuse, and continue the life of Turnus for its natural duration? I
fear much that a speedy end awaits the brave youth; but oh! I pray that I
may be misled by groundless alarms, and that thou, to whom all power
belongs, may alter thy purpose for the better."
Not daring to say more, the queen of heaven hastily descended from Olympus
towards the contending armies. Then she devised an airy phantom, wearing
armor which exactly resembled that of Æneas, and imitating to the life his
walk and mien. This shadow she caused to flutter in the forefront of the
battle, full in the view of Turnus, and to provoke him with darts and
insolent words. The enraged Rutulian eagerly pressed upon it, and from a
distance hurled against it a spear. Immediately the spectre, wheeling
about, took to flight. Turnus, imagining that in very truth it was the
Trojan chief who feared to meet him, and filled with baseless exultation,
cried out, "Æneas, whither dost thou fly? Desert not thus thy promised
bride; with this right hand will I bestow upon thee the settled abode thou
hast sought in vain through so many lands and seas." Thus vociferating, he
madly pursued the deceitful phantom. It chanced that near the shore there
lay a vessel, joined to the land by a temporary bridge of planks. Hither
Juno led the shadow, and caused it in seeming fear to leap on board and
throw itself into a hiding-place. With not less speed Turnus followed,
bounded along the bridge, and mounted to the lofty prow of the ship in
search of the supposed fugitive. Instantly the goddess severed the cable,
and drove the vessel over the foaming waves. Then the phantom melted into
the air, and the Rutulian, utterly bewildered, gazed about him in despair,
nor did he feel at all thankful to the guardian deity for having thus
preserved him from the arms of Æneas. "Almighty Father," he cried, raising
his eyes and hands towards heaven, "why dost thou think me worthy of such
shame as this? What have I done to merit such a punishment? whither am I
borne? How shall I venture again to enter the walls of Laurentum or look
upon my camp? What will be said of me by the warriors who have followed me
into this war, and whom--unutterable shame!--I have abandoned to the
bloodthirsty Trojans! O winds! take pity on me, I entreat you; dash this
vessel on some rugged crag, and overwhelm me so that I can no longer be
conscious either of my humiliation or of the reproaches of my Rutulians."
While he thus lamented, he was uncertain whether he should put an end to
his own life with his sword or plunge into the sea and endeavor to regain
the land by swimming. Three times he attempted each expedient, and as
often Juno, full of pity, restrained him. Carried along by a favorable
wind, the ship bore him safely to the capital of his father, King Daunus.