Monday 3 October 2011

Vergil's eclogue 3

Vergil’s Eclogue III

Menalcas can’t stop himself picking a fight. Aegon has left his flock with Damoetas, and Menalcas can’t help but comment to Damoetas ‘Poor sheep! That flock’s always unlucky.’ Menalcas, you see, is always up for a bit of a laugh. He goes on to talk about what Aegon’s been up to, suggesting that while Aegon ‘Fondles Neaera’ he is at all time ‘dreading that she favours me’. Menalcas certainly thinks something of himself, and although I’m no psychologist, it sounds like Menalcas’s got a chip on his shoulder, something to prove. And so it’s no surprise when he finally winds Damoetas up so much a competition emerges. Of course in the end it’s Damoetas who suggests the contest, but who wouldn’t after such provocation from Menalcas: ‘Dunce, at the crossroads wasn’t it you Who murdered miserable tunes on squeaking straw?’
As prize for the victor, Damoetas offers a prize heifer. But Menalcas is one hell of a difficult guy, and so it’s no surprise he doesn’t agree to the initial wager. Instead of offering one of his flock, Menalcas promises a cup to the winner, a cup which ‘even you will admit is worth far more’ (my italics). The scene is set. The shepherds inhale deeply and the singing can begin. Before we get to the judging, however, it’s worth taking a look at Theocritus’ Idyll 5.
Idyll 5, on which Eclogue 3 is based, opens quite differently. We have similar bickering shepherds but rather than one agent provocateur teasing the other, Theocritus’ singers begin by accusing each other of stealing. Comatas cries: ‘Hey, goats, look out for that shepherd there, Lacon from Sybaris! Yesterday he stole my goatskin.’ And Lacon in turn: ‘It’s Comatas, Can’t you see? – the one who stole my pipe last week.’ Although both Comatas and Lacon are there to wind each other up, there is a sense in Theocritus’ poem of a hierarchy. Comatas is older than Lacon. He’s taught him a few things, and seems particularly proud of the moments in which he buggered poor Lacon. Lacon first hints at this relationship, stating ‘Did I ever learn a worthwhile lesson from you?’ To which Comatas answers; ‘Well, you howled when I shafted you; my she-goats’ Bleats mocked you, and the billy gave them a poke.’ And just like that Lacon’s on the back foot, because the best he can offer in rebuttal: ‘Oh, you didn’t go deep; may your grave be just as shallow’, which is a crap comeback. The second time Comatas brings up is more explicit: ‘Don’t you remember the time I battered your bum? How you scowled and wriggled and clung to that oak!’ (l. 116/7). Lacon can but deny any memory of it (l. 118). And so this scene with it’s clear hierarchy must have a clear winner. Judge Morson does a fine job of declaring the more senior singer the winner. This is no idealised competition in which idleness, play and poetry are the real victors. No, this is a sport and a bet.
Vergil, on the other hand, introduces us not to pragmatic Morson but to romantic Palaemon. Palaemon, the wimp, can’t help but speak in encomiums. His opening gambit:
‘Sing then, because we sit together on soft grass,
And every field now, every tree is burgeoning;
Now woods are leafing, now the year is loveliest.’
Which is all well and good, but what’s it got to do with a competition? A competition with goats and cups and things of real value at stake? Turns out, Palaemon’s the worst kind of judge for any kind of competition. For having sung their hearts out, Palaemon can but disappoint Menalcas and Damoetas, stating:
‘Not ours to arbritrate these grave disputes between you.
Both you and he have earned the heifer – so have all
Who fear the sweet or feel the bitterness of love.’

The competition does not declare a victor for it was not the winning or losing, but, Vergil tells us, the taking part that counts. Vergil’s poem is not a competition, but an aesthetic exercise, a poetic stretching of the legs. Vergil uses Theocritus’ pastoral setting to develop a pastoral tradition.

Rich

2 comments:

  1. Lively stuff Rich, although I'd prefer a slightly more scholarly tone, with fewer slang expression and a rather more disinterested (which is not the same thing as 'uninterested') style. When you say: 'Menalcas certainly thinks something of himself, and although I’m no psychologist, it sounds like Menalcas’s got a chip on his shoulder, something to prove. And so it’s no surprise when he finally winds Damoetas up so much a competition emerges' -- I see what you're arguing, but it's rather messily, clumsily expressed. Otherwise this is a solid account of the eclogue: you need to say which translation you're quoting, and include line-numbers; and I'd like to see some engagement with critics. When you say 'Vergil uses Theocritus’ pastoral setting to develop a pastoral tradition', you need to adduce some evidence to support that statement.

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  2. I don't know the premise of this blog, but I find your take on these poems very enjoyable! I take it you did not use the Guy Lee version.

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