dangers may present themselves." Iulus and the other chiefs were moved to tears, and
promised to do all his request. "Your mother shall be mine," said Iulus, "and all that I
have promised to you shall be made good to her, if you do not return to receive it."
The two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midst of the enemy.
They found no watch, no sentinels posted, but all about, the sleeping soldiers strewn
on the grass and among the wagons. The laws of war at that early day did not forbid a
brave man to slay a sleeping foe, and the two Trojans slew, as they passed, such of
the enemy as they could without exciting alarm. In one tent Euryalus made prize of a
helmet brilliant with gold and plumes. They had passed through the enemy's ranks
without being discovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of them,
which, under Volscens, their leader, were approaching the camp. The glittering helmet
of Euryalus caught their attention, and Volscens hailed the two, and demanded who
and whence they were. They made no answer, but plunged into the wood. The
horsemen scattered in all directions to intercept their flight. Nisus had eluded pursuit
and was out of danger, but Euryalus being missing he turned back to seek him. He
again entered the wood and soon came within sound of voices. Looking through the
thicket he saw the whole band surrounding Euryalus with noisy questions. What
should he do! how extricate the youth! or would it be better to die with him?
Raising his eyes to the moon which now shone clear, he said, "Goddess! favor
my effort!" and aiming his javelin at one of the leaders of the troop, struck him in the
back and stretched him on the plain with a death-blow. In the midst of their
amazement another weapon flew and another of the party fell dead. Volscens, the
leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand upon Euryalus. "You
shall pay the penalty of both," he said, and would have plunged the sword into his
bosom, when Nisus, who from his concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed
forward exclaiming, "'Twas I, 'twas I; turn your swords against me, Rutulians; I did it;
he only followed me as a friend." While he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the
comely bosom of Euryalus. His head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down
by the plough Nisus rushed upon Volscens and plunged his sword into his body, and
was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows.
Mezentius.
Aeneas, with his Etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of action in time to rescue
his beleaguered camp; and now the two armies being nearly equal in strength, the war
began in good earnest. We cannot find space for all the details, but must simply
record the fate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to our readers.
The tyrant Mezentius, finding himself engaged against his revolted subjects, raged like
a wild beast. He slew all who dared to withstand him, and put the multitude to flight
wherever he appeared. At last he encountered Aeneas, and the armies stood still to
see the issue. Mezentius threw his spear, which striking Aeneas's shield glanced off
and hit Anthor. He was a Grecian by birth, who had left Argos, his native city, and
followed Evander into Italy. The poet says of him with simple pathos which has made
the words proverbial, "He fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for another, looked up to
the skies, and dying remembered sweet Argos." ^* Aeneas now in turn hurled his
lance. It pierced the shield of Mezentius, and wounded him in the thigh. Lausus, his
son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and interposed himself, while the
followers pressed round Mezentius and bore him away. Aeneas held his sword
suspended over Lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he
was compelled to deal the fatal blow. Lausus fell, and Aeneas bent over him in pity.
"Hapless youth," he said, "what can I do for you worthy of your praise? Keep those
arms in which you glory, and fear not but that your body shall be restored to your
friends, and have due funeral honors." So saying, he called the timid followers and
delivered the body into their hands.
[Footnote *: See Proverbial Expressions, page 479.]
Mezentius meanwhile had been borne to the river-side, and washed his wound.
Soon the news reached him of Lausus's death, and rage and despair supplied the
place of strength. He mounted his horse and dashed into the thickest of the fight,
seeking Aeneas. Having found him, he rode round him in a circle, throwing one javelin
after another, while Aeneas stood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet
them. At last, after Mezentius had three times made the circuit, Aeneas threw his
lance directly at the horse's head. It pierced his temples and he fell, while a shout from
both armies rent the skies. Mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might be
spared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be buried in the same grave with his
son. He received the fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his life and his blood
together.
Pallas, Camilla, Turnus.
While these things were doing in one part of the field, in another Turnus
encountered the youthful Pallas. The contest between champions so unequally
matched could not be doubtful. Pallas bore himself bravely, but fell by the lance of
Turnus. The victor almost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at his
feet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling him of his arms. The
belt only, adorned with studs and carvings of gold, he took and clasped round his own
body. The rest he remitted to the friends of the slain.
After the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days to allow both armies
to bury their dead. In this interval Aeneas challenged Turnus to decide the contest by
single combat, but Turnus evaded the challenge. Another battle ensued, in which
Camilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous. Her deeds of valor surpassed
those of the bravest warriors, and many Trojans and Etruscans fell pierced with her
darts or struck down by her battleaxe. At last an Etruscan named Aruns, who had
watched her long, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing a flying enemy
whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. Intent on the chase she observed not
her danger, and the javelin of Aruns struck her and inflicted a fatal wound. She fell
and breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens. But Diana, who beheld her
fate, suffered not her slaughter to be unavenged. Aruns, as he stole away, glad but
frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launched by one of the nymphs of Diana's
train, and died ignobly and unknown.
At length the final conflict took place between Aeneas and Turnus. Turnus had
avoided the contest as long as he could, but at last impelled by the ill success of his
arms, and by the murmurs of his followers, he braced himself to the conflict. It could
not be doubtful. On the side of Aeneas were the expressed decree of destiny, the aid
of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and impenetrable armor fabricated by
Vulcan, at her request, for her son. Turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his
celestial allies, Juno having been expressly forbidden by Jupi
ter to assist him any
longer. Turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless from the shield of Aeneas. The
Trojan hero then threw his, which penetrated the shield of Turnus, and pierced his
thigh. Then Turnus's fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy; and Aeneas
would have given him his life, but at the instant his eye fell on the belt of Pallas, which
Turnus had taken from the slaughtered youth. Instantly his rage revived, and
exclaiming, "Pallas immolates thee with this blow," he thrust him through with his
sword.
Here the poem of the Aeneid closes, and we are left to infer that Aeneas, having
triumphed over his foes, obtained Lavinia for his bride. Tradition adds that he founded
his city, and called it after her name, Lavinium. His son Iulus founded Alba Longa,
which was the birthplace of Romulus and Remus, and the cradle of Rome itself.
There is an allusion to Camilla in those well-known lines of Pope, in which,
illustrating the rule that "the sound should be an echo to the sense," he says, -
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The line too labors and the words move slow.
Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o'er th' unbending corn or skims along the main."
Essay on Criticism
Chapter XXXIV: Pythagoras - Egyptian Deities - Oracles
Pythagoras.
The teachings of Anchises to Aeneas, respecting the nature of the human soul,
were in conformity with the doctrines of the Pythagoreans. Pythagoras (born five
hundred and forty years B. C.) was a native of the island of Samos, but passed the
chief portion of his life at Crotona in Italy. He is therefore sometimes called "the
Samian," and sometimes "the philosopher of Crotona." When young he travelled
extensively, and it is said visited Egypt, where he was instructed by the priests in all
their learning, and afterwards journeyed to the East, and visited the Persian and
Chaldean Magi, and the Brahmins of India.
At Crotona, where he finally established himself, his extraordinary qualities
collected round him a great number of disciples. The inhabitants were notorious for
luxury and licentiousness, but the good effects of his influence were soon visible.
Sobriety and temperance succeeded. Six hundred of the inhabitants became his
disciples and enrolled themselves in a society to aid each other in the pursuit of
wisdom; uniting their property in one common stock, for the benefit of the whole. They
were required to practise the greatest purity and simplicity of manners. The first
lesson they learned was silence; for a time they were required to be only hearers. "He
[Pythagoras] said so," (Ipse dixit,) was to be held by them as sufficient, without any
proof. It was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient submission, who were
allowed to ask questions and to state objections.
Pythagoras considered numbers as the essence and principle of all things, and
attributed to them a real and distinct existence; so that in his view, they were the
elements out of which the universe was constructed. How he conceived this process
has never been satisfactorily explained. He traced the various forms and phenomena
of the world to numbers as their basis and essence. The "Monad" or unit he regarded
as the source of all numbers. The number Two was imperfect, and the cause of
increase and division. Three was called the number of the whole because it had a
beginning, middle, and end; Four, representing the square, is in the highest degree
perfect; and Ten, as it contains the sum of the four prime numbers, comprehends all
musical and arithmetical proportions, and denotes the system of the world.
As the numbers proceed from the monad, so he regarded the pure and simple
essence of the Deity, as the source of all the forms of nature. Gods, demons and
heroes are emanations of the Supreme, and there is a fourth emanation, the human
soul. This is immortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body, passes to the
habitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to the world, to dwell in some
other human or animal body, and at last when sufficiently purified, it returns to the
source from which it proceeded. This doctrine of the transmigration of souls,
(metempsychosis,) which was originally Egyptian and connected with the doctrine of
reward and punishment of human actions, was the chief cause why the Pythagoreans
killed no animals. Ovid represents Pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words:
"Souls never die, but always on quitting one abode, pass to another. I myself can
remember that in the time of the Trojan war I was Euphorbus, the son of Panthus, and
fell by the spear of Menelaus. Lately being in the temple of Juno, at Argos, I
recognized my shield hung up there among the trophies. All things change, nothing
perishes. The soul passes hither and thither, occupying now this body, now that,
passing from the body of a beast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again. As
wax is stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped anew with others, yet
is always the same wax, so the soul, being always the same, yet wears, at different
times, different forms. Therefore, if the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms,
forbear, I entreat you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your own relatives."
Shakspeare, in the Merchant of Venice, makes Gratiano allude to the
metempsychosis, where he says to Shylock, -
"Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith,
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit
Governed a wolf; who hanged for human slaughter
Infused his soul in thee; for thy desires
Are wolfish, bloody, starved and ravenous."
The relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers, whereby harmony
results from vibrations in equal times, and discord from the reverse, led Pythagoras to
apply the word "harmony" to the visible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of
parts to each other. This is the idea which Dryden expresses in the beginning of his
Song for St. Cecilia's Day: -
"From harmony, from heavenly harmony
This everlasting frame began;
From harmony to harmony
Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The Diapason closing full in Man."
In the centre of the universe (he taught) there was a central fire, the principle of
life. The central fire was surrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the five
planets. The distances of the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived
to correspond to the proportions of the musical scale. The heavenly bodies, with the
gods who inhabited them, were supposed to perform a choral dance round the central
fire, "not without song." It is this doctrine which Shakspeare alludes to when he makes
Lorenzo teach astronomy to Jessica in this fashion: -
"Look, Jessica, see how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with pattens of bright gold!
There's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim;
Such harmony is in immortal souls!
But whilst this mu
ddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it."
Merchant of Venice.
The spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy fabrics arranged over one
another like a nest of bowls reversed. In the substance of each sphere one or more of
the heavenly bodies was supposed to be fixed, so as to move with it. As the spheres
are transparent we look through them and see the heavenly bodies which they contain
and carry round with them. But as these spheres cannot move on one another without
friction, a sound is thereby produced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for mortal
ears to recognize. Milton, in his Hymn to the Nativity, thus alludes to the music of the
spheres:
"Ring out, ye crystal spheres!
Once bless our human ears;
(If ye have power to charm our senses so;)
And let your silver chime
Move in melodious time,
And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow;
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full concert with the angelic symphony."
Pythagoras is said to have invented the lyre. Our own poet Longfellow, in Verses
to a Child, thus relates the story: -
"As great Pythagoras of yore,
Standing beside the blacksmith's door,
And hearing the hammers as they smote
The anvils with a different note,
Stole from the varying tones that hung
Vibrant on every iron tongue,
The secret of the sounding wire,
And formed the seven-chorded lyre."
See also the same poet's Occultation of Orion.
"The Samian's great Aeolian lyre."
Sybaris And Crotona.
Sybaris, a neighboring city to Crotona, was as celebrated for luxury and
effeminacy as Crotona for the reverse. The name has become proverbial. J. R. Lowell
uses it in this sense in his charming little poem, - To the Dandelion:
Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology Page 36