Vergil’s Sixth Eclogue and Creative Freedom

Aaron M. Seider (University of Chicago)

Song is central to the lives of the shepherds in Vergil’s Eclogues, and this is especially so in Eclogue 6. Beginning with the poem’s first lines, when Tityrus’ poetry is explicitly discussed, and extending throughout the Song of Silenus, the topics of the art of poetry and the role of the poet are never far from the surface.

Scholars have recognized these poetic undercurrents, but few have examined the entire poem as a reflection of Vergil’s artistic ambitions. Instead, many have chosen to concentrate on the Song of Silenus (Elder, 1961) or the figure of Gallus (Ross, 1975). While I follow Rutherford (1989) in his decision to consider Eclogue 6 as a whole and to interpret it as reflective of Vergil’s poetic aims, the poem reveals more than what Rutherford contends, namely that Vergil has reservations about neoteric poetry. In this paper I argue that Vergil advances a strong claim for his own creative freedom in Eclogue 6. Vergil explicitly asserts his poetic autonomy at the work’s beginning and then reaffirms that autonomy throughout the remainder of the poem.

Vergil’s claim of creative freedom is set out in Tityrus’ poetic initiation and subsequent refusal to write an epic poem for Varus. Tityrus’ description of his encounter with Apollo draws attention to the singer of the Eclogues and heralds his growth as a poet. The shepherd was singing of wars and kings when the god plucked his ear and enjoined him “to sing a fine-spun song” (“deductum dicere carmen,” 5). When he later decides to leave Varus’ military deeds for others to praise, Tityrus makes a conscious choice about his poem’s subject and style. This choice is a testament to the poet’s freedom.

The Song of Silenus emphasizes the poet’s autonomy in two different ways. The first is through the dramatic appearance of Gallus within Silenus’ mythological universe. Even though Tityrus softens his recusatio by promising that “our tamarisks, Varus, our whole grove will sing of you” (“te nostrae, Vare, myricae, / te nemus omne canet,” 10-1), it is Gallus, not Varus, who appears in the poem. This inclusion of Gallus is a pointed snub of Varus and makes clear that it is the poet who exercises control over his composition. Moreover, while Gallus was both a soldier and a poet, he is utterly demilitarized in Eclogue 6: one of Apollo’s muses guides him to a meeting on Mount Helicon with Linus, who gives him Hesiod’s pipes. The narrative of Gallus’ appearance only reaffirms and increases the sixth Eclogue’s focus on the special power of the poet.

The second way in which the Song advances the poet’s claim to artistic autonomy is through the cumulative effect of three of its aspects: Tityrus’ frequent descriptions of Silenus’ singing and the chronological discrepancies and mythological confusions within the Song itself. Together these features exert a considerable influence over the Song by virtue of this common characteristic: each interrupts the Song’s narrative flow and, by doing so, reminds the reader that a poet is creating Silenus’ world and is in sole control of his literary production.