Monday 25 May 2020

Book 3, lines 1-35


[Previous: Book 2 lines 964-1001]

In Book 2 Jesus was arrested, tried by the Sanhedrin and turned over to Pilate. Now read on!
Fama volans iam finitimas impleverat urbes,
exceptum insidiis heroa dolisque suorum:
obscurus tamen, atque incerto auctore vagari
rumor adhuc, necdum matris penetrârat ad aures;
cuncta licet nunquam illa animo secura timeret                 [5]
praesago: nempe audierat, vatumque tremenda
terrebant monita, pro libertate piorum
natum sponte sua subiturum funus acerbum.
Ast ubi Iosephus senior praesensit (ei olim
alma parens fuerat Superûm concredita jussis)                  [10]
Nazaren linquens Solymorum se intulit urbi.
Vix introgressus videt omnia fervere multo
concursu populi, sublustri nocte, per umbras,
mœniaque ingenti misceri tota tumultu.
Ecce autem elapsus manibus telisque cohortis                    [15]
fidus Ioannes pallenti tristior ore
occurrit: sed vix amens agnovit amicum,
dum trepidat, casusque animo ducis haeret acerbus.
Cui senior “Heus! siste gradum, quò te rapis?” inquit.
Quo res nostra loco? Sine te nunc vester ubi dux                [20]
patre deo satus? Aut strepitus quis tantus in urbe!
Hei mihi! non fallunt pavidam praesagia matrem.”

Sic ait; illum autem iuvenis complexus, et haerens
tantùm fundebat lacrymas, gemitusque ciebat.
Tandem pauca refert: “Nostra, heu! spes occidit omnis,     [25]
atque absumpta salus: dux fœdè carcere captus
clauditur: invidia primores urbis in illum
conspirant, pœnasque graves cum sanguine poscunt.
Fidi omnes petiere fugam terrore subacti.
Mater ubi est? miseraene adeò iam nuncius aures               [30]
perculit? Hic utinam tecum nunc afforet ipsa.
Pontius, aspiciens lacrymas gemitusque parentis,
forsitan indigni casus miseresceret ultro.
Ire tamen libet, ac pacem veniamque precari,
et populi invidiam atque odium crudele profari.”                [35]
------------
News spread to all the surrounding towns, that
the hero had been treacherously taken.
The rumour, though, was vague and had no source.
It had not yet reached the ears of his mother
though her soul trembled with prophetic fear                    [5]
nonetheless: she knew the terrible words of
the prophets:—that to liberate the souls
of good men her son would have to meet death.
Sensing this, Old Joseph (with whom the mother
of God had been paired by divine commandment)            [10]
left Nazareth for Jerusalem’s city.
When he got there he found the place in uproar
crowds thronged the streets, an umbral, moonless night
all a tumult of noise within the city walls.
Slipping past the rioters throwing things                           [15]
he found faithful John—looking pale and sad,
and so anxious for the fate of his leader
that he almost didn’t recognise his friend.
The old man said: “Hey! Stay there, don’t run off.”
How are things with us? Why aren’t you with our king       [20]
the son of God? Why’s the city such chaos?
No! Have the Mother’s forebodings come true?”

He spoke; the younger man only hugged him.
For some time he could only weep and sigh.
At last he spoke briefly: “all hope our is dead,                   [25]
our salvation gone: our lord shamefully seized
and thrown in jail. Envious city-elders
are conspiring for harsh and bloody revenge.
The faithful, terrified, have all fled. Where
is his Mother? Has this terrible news reached                       [30]
her ears? I wish she were here with you now.
If Pilate could see her tears, hear her sighs,
perhaps he would be moved to right this wrong.
We have to ask his pardon! To speak against
the cruelty and hatred of the people.”                                  [35]
------------

And so we’re into Book 3. After two books of more straightforward narrative Vida here steps back: all 1000-lines of Book 3 are given over to a lengthy speech Joseph makes before Pilate, explaining how Jesus came to be born—Book 4, following on from this, is Joseph detailing Jesus’s youth. So a flashback, based loosely on Aeneas explaining his backstory to Dido in books 2 and 3 of the Aeneid. But the analogy has one crucial asymmetry. Aeneas, in telling Dido his lifestory, and dwelling on the sufferings he has endured, is courting her—like Othello winning Desdemona (‘She loved me for the dangers I had passed/And I loved her that she did pity them’ and so on). Joseph pleading his case before Pilate of course lacks this specifically erotic subtext, and he dwells not on Jesus’s sufferings but on his special-ness.

Bringing Joseph into his epic, and giving him such a prominent position, is a tricky move by Vida. The strong imputation of the gospel narrative is that he was dead by this point.
The last time Joseph appears in person in any Gospel book is in the story of the Passover visit to the Temple in Jerusalem when Jesus is 12 years old, found only in Luke. No mention is made of him thereafter The story emphasizes Jesus' awareness of his coming mission: here Jesus speaks to his parents (both of them) of "my father," meaning God, but they fail to understand [Luke 2:41–51]. Christian tradition represents Mary as a widow during the adult ministry of her son. Joseph is not mentioned as being present at the Wedding at Cana at the beginning of Jesus' mission, nor at the Passion at the end. If he had been present at the Crucifixion, he would under Jewish custom have been expected to take charge of Jesus' body, but this role is instead performed by Joseph of Arimathea. Nor would Jesus have entrusted his mother to the care of John the Apostle if her husband had been alive.
But he we are: Joseph alive and hale. I suppose the reasoning is: Vida needs an eye-witness of Jesus's conception, birth and youth to be able to relate these events to Pilate without he-said-she-said second-handness. His only options, then, are Joseph or Mary herself. And while obviously it would have been interesting to see Mary telling her own story, it would have been an unusually progressive and genderblind thing for a sixteenth-century Catholic churchman to do in an epic context.

The opening line of this book mimics Vergil (‘extemplo Libyae magnas it Fama per urbes’; news spread quickly through the great Libyan cities; Aeneid 4:172; rumour also spreads through the cities in Aeneid 7:549). There are half a dozen other Vergilian echoes in this opening passage.

At the head of the post: Saint Joseph (c. 1640) by Guido Reni.

[Next: lines 36-72]

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