think hard, think well

Check out this article on Plugged In’s website. The old question is again raised: to what extent does art reflect culture and to what extent does art shape culture?

We are a society of romantics, looking for the next emotional high or low. I was in a band in high school, and I swear that our singer/songwriter would enter a relationship half hoping that it wouldn’t work out so that he could write a heartfelt breakup song. If we’re not constantly emotional, we’re somehow less human.

Yet we appropriate others’ artistic productions to express our own feelings. We make montages of our favorite TV couples, set them to our favorite songs, and post them on Youtube. We copy neat photos and literary quotes to our facebook pages to convey our own emotions. We feel like we are contributing to culture and understanding, but we’re just homines incurvati.

Today is the fifteenth anniversary of my baptism. I was baptized on September 9, 1994, at Light of Israel Congregation in Yonkers, NY.

– Benj

“We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” (Rom. 6:4)

I believe in God, the Father almighty,
maker of heaven and earth;
And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord;
who was conceived by the Holy Ghost,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, dead, and buried.
He descended into hell.
The third day he rose again from the dead.
He ascended into heaven,
and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father almighty.
From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Ghost,
the holy catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting. Amen.

.אַשְׁרֵי נְשׂוּי-פֶּשַׁע   כְּסוּי חֲטָאָה

Well, it has begun: our final semester at PBU. After 10 years at PBU between the two of us, Bekah and I are entering the home stretch. In December, she will receive her B.S. in Biblical Studies with honors, summa cum laude, etc. I’ll get my M.S. in B.S. two years after completing my B.S. in B.S., thank the Laude.

It’s strange to be finishing together. Though we’re two school-years apart, we have never studied at the same institution at the same time. In my senior year of high school I took 12 credits at PBU’s now-defunct NJ campus. Then I matriculated in Fall of 2003 and finished in three years. Bekah spent what would have been her freshman year in Mexico, so she arrived just after I left. While she did her first two years, I took a year off and then went to Westminster for a year. In the wake of the Enns fiasco, I transferred back to PBU for grad studies, only to see her spend a year in Oxford. Now, finally, we get to spend our last semesters together. I’m enjoying it already.

I’d appreciate your prayers as I make several campus visits in pursuit of doctoral admission. I’m going up to Penn State next week, and then to Princeton Seminary in three weeks. Bekah is applying to several graduate programs in the US and UK, but she’ll need your prayers less than I will.

Benj

Here’s a comment I made on Thomas’s post about healthcare:

I’ve wondered about that and often felt frustrated about my inability. Unfortunately, the culture of health insulation (a more accurate term than "insurance") has allowed prices to rise so high that it is simply not feasible for a church to simply share medical expenses. One problem is that the necessity of certain procedures is questionable–do I really need this test? If I’m not paying for it, of course I do! If I am, then–eh, maybe not. The rationing that naturally occurs within a market is difficult, partly because we don’t have a market for health care, and partly because most consumers don’t have expert knowledge of which services are necessary and which are borderline or frivolous.

From what I’ve read, the problem seems to go back to WWII when wages were frozen by gov’t; employers improved fringe benefits to entice workers. After the war these benefits stayed and (this is key) became tax exempt. If congress made fringe benefits offered by employers–retirement, health insurance–taxable, and instead passed on that value as an income tax credit, we would see more of a market for insurance plans, particularly cheaper plans with high deductables and catastrophic coverage (think SafeAuto). Congress should also do its job according to the Constitution and "regulate" (i.e., "make regular") trade between the states by forcing states to allow the purchase of health insurance policies across state lines.

The problem is we’ve had a race to the top of the industry and no variegation in coverage and price. Now those who have insurance pay nothing (so they think) and use too much and those who don’t have insurance are sunk.

So, back to the original question, Thomas: I don’t think we can do much, except pray, help individuals find jobs with insurance, and lobby our public officials to loosen some of these chokeholds on the industry.

What a downer.

The following is the third and final part of an essay I wrote for a tutorial in Oxford in an attempt to address the question: “In what ways has Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue been interpreted since its composition and why is the Messianic view rejected by most modern scholars?”

– Rebekah

Royds’s remarks on the similarities between Virgil’s Eclogue and the prophecies of Isaiah evoke questions about the nature and function of prophecy and its connection with messianic expectation. In light of the stark contrast between the interpretive methods of early commentators and those of modern scholars, one wonders if a christocentric reading has any merit whatsoever. Has the rise of modern scholarship entirely dethroned centuries of traditional Christian interpretation of the Eclogue at one fell swoop? There is also the ever-pervading question about whether Christian interpretation itself is not antithetical to the nature of critical scholarship. As aforesaid, Royds has noted the tendency to read Christian dogmatic theology into pre-Christian writings. This has often resulted in gross misinterpretation of texts. The messianic prophecies in the Old Testament Book of Isaiah provide a prime example of this.

The writers of Isaiah portend the birth of a child who will establish a kingdom and uphold it with justice and righteousness (Isaiah 7:10-9:7). This messianic passage has often been interpreted as a reference to Christ, largely because Matthew’s Gospel cites Isaiah 7:14 and declares that the prophet’s words were fulfilled by the events surrounding the virgin birth of Christ (Matt. 1:22-23). It is a mistake, however, to assume that Matthew believed that the Isaianic prophecy had not in some way already been fulfilled by the birth of a child in Isaiah’s own lifetime. While the identity of the child in Isaiah remains unknown, it is evident that the child’s birth was to be a sign for the people to whom Isaiah preached. In using a citation from Isaiah, Matthew is not committing the “sin of Constantine” by insisting that Isaiah prophesied concerning Christ. Rather, Matthew and the other writers of the New Testament viewed the Old Testament as a witness to the fact that God had already broken into human history through his dealings with the nation of Israel. They viewed the advent of Christ as the climax to Israel’s story for, in their minds, the Christ Event signified that God had once again broken into human history and changed the course of human history forever. Just as the writers of the inscriptions at Priene considered Augustus to be not just the Savior of the Romans, but the one who would “stop war and ordain all things,” so the NT writers saw Christ not just as the Savior of Israel, but as the Savior of the whole world. When Matthew cites Isaiah in his Gospel, he is not employing a shoddy method of textual interpretation, but recalling to his readers the memory of the entire OT story and claiming that Christ is the culmination of that story and thus the ultimate fulfillment of all messianic figures.

How does this have bearing on interpretations of Virgil? Simply this: the apparent tension between christocentric readings of the Fourth Eclogue and modern attempts to provide a more historically-grounded interpretation ought not to exist. The interpreter of the Eclogue, or Isaiah, for that matter, should not be forced to choose between an intellectually-honest reading and what might be deemed a more “mystical” understanding of a text. If Constantine had better understood the nature of biblical prophecy and known the historical background of the Eclogue’s composition, he might have made a better claim both for Virgil and for Christianity. Had Constantine interpreted the child to be one of the Caesars, it might have strengthened his argument for Christianity for, whether or not Christ was indeed the Savior of the world, it was clear that Augustus was not. Augustus had not set the world to rights; he had not established a kingdom of peace and justice. It was clear that Caesar had not inaugurated a lasting Golden Age; the ancient utopian ideals had not come to fruition under his reign. In essence, Constantine did not have to assert that the Eclogue portended the birth of Christ in order to claim that Christ was the one who met messianic expectations. It could be argued that, if Christ truly was the Savior of the whole world as the NT writers believed him to be, then interpreting Virgil’s Eclogue in accordance with its historical context would be the essence of a truly christocentric reading.

Virgil’s “Messianic” Eclogue has been interpreted in many ways since its composition. Although Virgil’s intent in writing the Eclogue still remains hidden, a study of how it has been interpreted provides insight into how the nature of prophecy has been understood throughout the past two millennia. The idea that Virgil foretold the birth of Christ is rejected by modern scholars because the theory simply does not fit the context or content of the Fourth Eclogue. However, its messianic themes bear witness to the fact that the pagan world, not just the Jews, was longing for peace and prosperity and awaiting a ruler through whom would come, as the inscriptions at Priene read, “a beginning of good tidings (εὐαγέλλιον).”

Bibliography

Author Unknown. The Golden Age from the Fourth Eclogue of Virgil, &c. Godu Pamph. 1489. Worthy: London, 1703.

Baldry, H.C. “Who Invented the Golden Age?” The Classical Quarterly. New Series, 2.1/2 (Jan. – Apr., 1952): 83-92.

Bourne, Ella. “The Messianic Prophecy in Vergil’s Fourth Eclogue.” The Classical Journal. 11.7 (Apr., 1916): 390-400.

Carus, Paul. Virgil’s Prophecy on the Savior’s Birth.  Open Court Publishing Co: London and Chicago, 1918.

Clausen, Wendell. Virgil: Eclogues. Clarendon Press: Oxford, 1994.

de Witt, Norman W. “The Influence of the Saviour Sentiment upon Virgil.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association. 54 (1923): 39-50.

Garrod, H.W. “Note on the Messianic Character of the Fourth Eclogue.” The Classical Review. 19.1 (Feb., 1905): 37-38.

—. “Virgil’s Messianic Eclogue.” The Classical Review. 22.5 (Aug., 1908): 149-151.

Gillespie, Stuart. “Dryden’s Second Poem on the Royal Wedding of 1683?” The Review of English Studies, New Series. 41.163 (Aug., 1990): 365-369.

Hardie, W.R. “The Age of Gold: A Lecture Suggested by the Fourth Eclogue.” Privately printed. University of Edinburgh. October 1901.

Kerlin, Robert T. “Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue.-An Over-Looked Source.” The American Journal of Philology. 29.4 (1908): 449-460.

Mackail, J.W. “Virgil and Virgilianism: A Study of the Minor Poems Attributed to Virgil.” The Classical Review. 22.3 (May, 1908): 65-73.

Mattingly, Harold. “Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue.” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 10 (1947): 14-19.

Mayor, J.B., W. Warde Fowler, and R.S. Conway. Virgil’s Messianic Eclogue. London: Conway, 1907.

Miner, Earl. “Dryden’s Messianic Eclogue.” The Review of English Studies, New Series, 11.43 (Aug., 1960): 299-302.

The following is the second part of an essay I wrote for a tutorial in Oxford in an attempt to address the question: “In what ways has Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue been interpreted since its composition and why is the Messianic view rejected by most modern scholars?”

– Rebekah

Within the past two centuries, interpretive methods have shifted. Scholars began to seek other interpretations which set the Eclogue in its cultural-historical context. Fowler breaks down the most generally held views of the poem into three main elements: 1) the poem celebrates the consulship of Pollio and the peace of Brundisium, describing a Golden Age which will come about under Octavian and Antonius, 2) the child was a real infant born or expected in 40 B.C. and 3) Virgil drew his imagery and ideas from now lost Sibylline verses, Hesiod, Orphic poets, Hebrew prophets and even perhaps his Roman predecessors (53).

Slater argues that Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue was written to celebrate the marriage of Octavia and Mark Antony and that it serves as a ‘sequela’ to Catullus’ Song of the Fates. In the end of Peleus and Thetis Catullus bemoans the loss of the Golden Age and Astraea’s departure, and Virgil’s Eclogue opens with the announcement of Astraea’s return, thus portraying Antony and Octavia as the “new Peleus and Thetis” and the child of their union as the “new Achilles.” Clausen concurs with Slater by saying that the child is the future offspring of Octavia and Antony whose marriage was brought about by Pollio. The child turned out not to be the expected son who would usher in the new Golden Age, but a girl instead. It is likely, Clausen asserts, that Virgil made certain changes to his Eclogue before he published it some five years later. Thus the Fourth Eclogue took on a sort of mystical quality, so much so that, in the following generation, Pollio’s son, Asinius Gallus, could claim to be the child.

The theory that the child is the son of Pollio most likely came from Asconius, a learned Roman critic of the age of Nero who wrote a generation or two later than Virgil (Royds 9, Fowler 80). According to a note of Servius, Asconius claimed that Asinius Gallus had told him that he, Gallus, was the child or parvus puer of the Eclogue (Fowler 80, Hardie 17-18). Gallus was a candidate for the Principate at the end of Augustus’ reign and considered himself a possible successor (Fowler 80). However, when Tiberius became Augustus’ successor, Gallus did all that he could to be as unpleasant as possible to the Emperor, which would give Gallus ample motives for spreading such a story. Hardie finds a number of problems with the assertion that the child is Pollio’s son. First, the child of Virgil’s poem is said to rule a new and better world. “Can this be said of any child unrelated to Octavian?” Hardie asks. Second, the Eclogue states that the glorious age will begin in Pollio’s consulship, which would seem strange if Pollio was the father of the child (19). However, as Fowler notes, whether or not Gallus spoke the truth, a valuable piece of evidence can be gleaned from Gallus’ claim: Asconius did not know who the child was. If Asconius did not know, it is unlikely that anyone else knew otherwise Gallus’ claim could have been easily countered (Fowler 81). Fowler maintains that the child is not Pollio’s son, for the language used both in this Eclogue and in the Third Eclogue is very ordinary. These seem to portray Pollio as a human being; therefore, he cannot be the father of the marvelous son described (82).

It has been suggested that the child is the offspring of Octavian and Scribonia. Hardie rejects this idea on the grounds that Octavian’s only child was a girl, Julia. Royds, however, has no difficulty identifying the child in the Eclogue as the expected offspring of Octavian and Scribonia. He compares the language in the Eclogue to verses in the sixth Aeneid where Augustus is spoken of as the restorer of the Golden Age (Royds 7). Virgil simply expected the child of the couple to be a son and was mistaken. Similarly, Fowler insists that the new age and hopes of Italy could only ever be personified by Virgil as a member of the family of the Caesars. Therefore, it the child is most likely the intended child of Augustus Caesar. “Augustus is ever in Virgil’s mind from the First Eclogue onwards, not merely as a human friend and helper, but as the son of the divine Julius, and as the pacificator and regenerator of the world” (Fowler 83).

W.M. Ramsay fails to see any reference to an actual flesh-and-blood child in the Eclogue at all. In 1907, Ramsay published two articles in the Expositer in which he interprets the child to be the new Roman people. Just as the prophet Isaiah depicts the “Servant of Yahweh” as the ideal Israel of the future, so the child of the Eclogue typifies the Romans of the coming Golden Age (Royds 4). It was Ramsay who began reviving the theory that Virgil was acquainted with Jewish ideas of a coming messiah (Hardie 20). He thought that Virgil’s poem was a response to the sixteenth Epode of Horace (Hardie 21). In the Epode, Horace exhorts the citizens of Rome to quit Italy and seek a new home in the Western Ocean. “Horace, in despair at the new outbreak of civil war, had fancifully suggested that the Italian race should migrate like the Phocaean of old to the west, where, as Sertorius had been told in Spain, lay the islands of the blest” (Fowler 54). Virgil’s response was to communicate through the Eclogue the idea that the Golden Age was already beginning in Italy. The hope of blessing, then, lay not in some distant land, but at home (Hardie 21). Hence, Ramsay is inclined to think that Virgil is using a fictitious child to typify the people of an age. “In the vision of the coming age the scenery is Italian,” writes Ramsay, “and the new-born child is the representative of the new Roman generation” (Fowler 55).

The discussion on modern interpretations of the Fourth Eclogue has, in part, addressed the issues concerning the modern rejection of christocentric readings. However, the possible reasons for a virtually unanimous dismissal of such readings by commentators of 19^th and 20^th centuries ought to be discussed in further detail. Hardie reflects on the contrasts between Greek ideals and those of modern times. He opines that the Greeks found their utopian ideas by looking to the past, for they viewed the present Age of Iron as a regression from a once Golden Age. Their hope of the future was founded on a shimmering picture of earlier days. Not so the modern man. The modern man living in a scientific age has a greater hope in progress and views the idea of a past Gold Age as something of a fallacy (Hardie 4). “The ‘Golden Age’ of ancient poets is a primeval age of innocence and bliss. The modern man looks in one direction, the Greek in another” (3-4). In essence, the modern man does not conceive of a previous age when there was little or no vice, or perhaps more virtue. His hope is not in the coming of an individual, god-like messiah to restore the earth to its former glory, but in the perpetual advancement of humanity to a yet-unreached zenith of existence through scientific enlightenment.

Hardie’s analysis has merit and he well-identifies the zeitgeist of his day, however, these ideas must be explored further. The burgeoning distrust in christocentric readings must also be attributed as a reaction to the long tradition of proverbial “hyper-typers” who tended to see virtually everything as a portent concerning Christ. In his book, Virgil and Isaiah (1918), Thomas Fletcher Royds touches on one of the fundamental problems of early interpretations of the Eclogue. “Old-fashioned scholars, in their anxiety to read Christian dogmatic theology into pre-Christian writings, were apt to lose sight of the fact that a prophet’s message is first and foremost to his own times” (Royds 17). In short: a prophecy must have some measure of meaning and fulfillment in its historical context.

One hopes, however, that this common spurning of traditional christocentric interpretations is not simply due to a growing distaste for overly-mystical readings of texts or, for that matter, a patronizing distain of seemingly infantile messianic ideals of the ancient world. Fowler indulges in a brief lament over the way in which modern criticism has, at times, discouraged a deeper appreciation of the Eclogue as a poem. Fowler writes:

[The Eclogue] should be treated essentially as a poem and not merely as a puzzle, and that it should be interpreted as far as possible by reference to the poet’s own life and works. As a poem it should be learned by heart and meditated on as a whole, not merely put upon the dissecting-board as a corpus vile for criticism. (85)

Fowler’s exhortation is well worth heeding. It is indeed grievous when a text is viewed as nothing more than the subject of criticism; something merely to be picked at, analyzed and solved. The aim of critical scholarship should not be to rob a text of any inherent mystery, but to eliminate those ambiguities which are due to a dearth of knowledge about the circumstances surrounding the writing of the composition. The purpose of deconstruction is to tear down false assumptions in order that what is true can be built up in their place. Interpreters of Virgil from both sides of the spectrum have done injury to the Eclogue by their vehement attempts to abolish uncertainty about its meaning. Constantine and others like him built their views upon the assumption that the Eclogue could do naught but portend the birth Christ and this required them to modify the text in order to fit that assumption; to squeeze and tweak the Eclogue to fit a Christ-shaped mold. Thus was the mystery of the Eclogue solved by slapping on a meaning even before any real criticism could take place. However, the quest of the modern man to strip the Eclogue of its enigmatic features has done similar damage. Commentators like Mackail fail to see any measure of mystery in the poem at all (Fowler 85) and thereby view as illegitimate any manner of mystical interpretation. It is scholars like Conway, Fowler, Mayor and Royds who strive to maintain a balance, not seeking to destroy the enigma, but to set it solidly within its historical context.

The following is the first part of an essay I wrote for a tutorial in Oxford in an attempt to address the question: “In what ways has Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue been interpreted since its composition and why is the Messianic view rejected by most modern scholars?”

– Rebekah

It is not without reason that readers of Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue have drawn parallels between it and the messianic prophecies in the Old Testament Book of Isaiah. Despite the debate regarding whether or not Virgil’s poem should be viewed as prophetic in nature, the poem certainly contains messianic themes, for it depicts the birth of a child whose naissance will mark the advent of a new Golden Age. Although many early ecclesiastical interpreters of Virgil believed the Eclogue to be a prophecy predicting the birth of Christ, this view is ardently rejected by the majority of modern scholars. While it is not within the scope of this paper to provide a comprehensive history of the ways in which the Fourth Eclogue has been interpreted since its composition, it will attempt to give a summary both of the views of several earlier interpreters and also those of modern scholars.

Before delving into various interpretations of the Eclogue, some discussion of its content and the historical setting is in order, as well as some brief remarks on the life of Virgil. Virgil (70-19 B.C.) was a classical Roman poet who lived in the midst of the civil strife that eventually ended the Roman Republic. Julius Caesar was killed in 44 B.C. and two years later, his assassins were defeated by Mark Antony and Octavian (Augustus). It was within this turbulent Roman world that the Fourth Eclogue was composed. The poem is dated at 40 B.C., for it is addressed to Gaius Asinius Pollio who was a soldier, statesman, poet and distinguished member of the Caesarian party (Conway 13). It was, in part, the specific reference to Pollio which made scholars begin to doubt that Virgil’s alleged prophecy could possibly refer to Christ. Pollio was Virgil’s friend and also Mark Antony’s supporter (14). Pollio entered his consulship at Rome after Octavian defeated Lucius Antonius and made peace with Antony (Mattingly 14). It was Pollio who helped to establish this treaty of Brundisium. The peace such a treaty might bring was indeed a welcome prospect. In the century before Augustus, approximately 133-31 B.C., Italy had experienced twelve separate civil wars, a long series of political murders and five intentional, legalized massacres (Conway 34). It was a time of political upheaval, economic disorder, and military decay (35). The Eclogue anticipates the birth of a child during Pollio’s consulship (13).

Virgil’s Eclogue has been interpreted as a messianic prophecy about Jesus Christ for over fourteen centuries (Conway 11). In fact, as Conway asserts, some of Virgil’s other writings parallel the Jewish expectation of a messiah, “a national hero and ruler, divinely inspired, and sent to deliver not his own nation only, but mankind, raising them to a new and ethically higher existence” (13). Many have asked if Virgil was influenced by Jewish ideas. Garrod entertains the possibility that Pollio himself had Jewish relatives and was therefore familiar with Jewish thought. If this is so, Garrod surmises, it makes sense that Virgil, writing a poem in honor of Pollio, might embody in his poetry the thought and sentiment of Hebrew poetry (Note 37). Messianic expectation, however, may not have been merely a Jewish phenomenon. The ancient Greeks were highly influenced by Hesiod and several traditions that had been built upon his foundation (Hardie 5). One of these traditions was that of a past Golden Age which existed long before the present Age of Iron. The world had gradually digressed from Gold to a race of Silver and then of Bronze. Next was the race of Heroes and after that came the Iron Age of crime, misery and oppression (6).

Another piece of evidence which suggests the existence of messianic hope in the Graeco-Roman world are the messianic inscriptions at Priene, a city in Asia Minor. Paul Carus cites these inscriptions in his book, Virgil’s Prophecy on the Savior’s Birth. These proclaim the introduction of the Julian calendar reform which ordained that the birthday of Augustus (Sept. 23) should be celebrated as a New Year Festival. The inscription depicts Augustus as one sent by Providence (πρόνοια) as a Savior (Σωτήρ), “who should stop all war and ordain all things.” Further, the inscription claims this Caesar as the fulfillment of the prophecies and states that “the birthday of this God” has brought about the beginning of the gospel (εὐαγέλλιον). These inscriptions are not the only writings which bear witness to messianic ideas. Carus gives several examples of similar inscriptions found in other cities of Asia Minor.

It was Emperor Constantine the Great who first attempted to interpret the poem christocentrically. Eusebius, Constantine’s biographer, writes that the Emperor delivered an exposition of Virgil’s Eclogue around 312 or 313 A.D. in a speech entitled, Speech to the Assembly of the Saints (Conway 22-23, Bourne 390). Several lines were omitted from the Eclogue, mainly because of the reference to Pollio (Bourne 390-91). Constantine began by quoting from a “Sibylline” oracle upon which he supposed Virgil’s work to be based (in fact, parts of this oracle were of Christian date). Constantine declared that Virgil knew he was writing of Christ, yet hid the prophecy in allegory in order to escape persecution (Conway 23, Royds 2, 79). He identified Virgo as the Virgin Mary, the lions as the persecutors of the church, and the serpent as the same one that first tempted Eve. “One may be thankful,” Conway dryly remarks, “that he has not laid hands on the saffron-coloured rams” (24). Royds also thinks this is a sloppy way of handling prophecy, for Constantine failed to take into account the historical circumstances surrounding Virgil’s writing and jumped immediately to a christocentric interpretation. This method, Royds opines, is “after the manner of those who turn Sennacherib into the German Emperor” (2).

Not all who interpreted the poem christocentrically did so through dishonest rearrangement and omission of lines. Saint Augustine (354-430 A.D.) saw portents of Christ’s birth in the Eclogue, however, he attributed this not to Virgil, but to the Sibylline oracle. Although he had a high regard for Virgil, he believed the actual prophecy was from the mouth of the Sibyl rather than the poet himself (Conway 24). Virgil, therefore, prophesied of Christ’s birth unwittingly. Jerome (327-420 A.D.) expressed skepticism about the prophecy (Royds 2), saying that Virgil could not have been a Christian without Christ (Bourne 393). However, as Bourne points out, the very fact that Jerome denied this possibility indicates the prevalence of christocentric readings of the Eclogue.

One of the best-known interpretations of the Eclogue is found in Divina Commedia by Dante Alighieri (1265-1321), wherein Virgil is portrayed as the poet’s guide through much of the unseen world. It is clear that Dante’s admiration of Virgil was not simply on account of his skill as a poet; Dante believed Virgil to be a bearer of divine truth (Conway 25). In one portion of the text, Dante has the poet Statius, whom Dante supposed to be a Christian, attribute his interest in Christianity to Virgil’s writings, specifically to the Fourth Eclogue (26).

Alexander Pope (1688-1744), an eighteenth century English poet, wrote a poem about the birth of Christ entitled, Messiah: A Sacred Eclogue, in Imitation of Virgil’s Pollio. Pope agreed with Augustine on the matter of the Sibylline oracle; the Sibyl had prophesied concerning Christ and Virgil was merely the poetic bearer of another’s divine message (Conway 27-28). Pope also made a unique contribution to the criticism of the Eclogue by collecting several passages from the Fourth and Fifth Eclogues which contained poetic images that were similar to the pictures of the new Edenic world in the Book of Isaiah (28).

Although the Eclogue has been interpreted most often as a prophecy concerning Christ, this is by no means its only use as a messianic prophecy. A poem published in 1703 bears the title, The Golden Age from the Fourth Eclogue of Virgil, &c. It was printed a year after Anne Stuart became Queen of England, Scotland and Ireland on March 8, 1702. The poem expresses the hope that Anne would produce a Protestant heir. Although the author of this poem is unknown, it has sometimes been attributed to William Walsh, a friend of John Dryden. Dryden himself published a translation of the Eclogue in 1684 and some scholars have questioned the legitimacy of his work. Earl Miner claims that Dryden’s original translation was an imitative version to celebrate the birth of Queen Anne’s first child. In order to ensure national unity after the death of James Stuart, a Protestant heir was needed, thus Anne’s child would have been viewed as a messianic figure. Dryden’s translation, Miner writes, omits and changes several aspects of the Fourth Eclogue in order to give tribute to Anne and her unborn child.

Bibliography

Author Unknown. The Golden Age from the Fourth Eclogue of Virgil, &c. Godu Pamph. 1489. Worthy: London, 1703.

Baldry, H.C. “Who Invented the Golden Age?” The Classical Quarterly. New Series, 2.1/2 (Jan. – Apr., 1952): 83-92.

Bourne, Ella. “ The Messianic Prophecy in Vergil’s Fourth Eclogue.” The Classical Journal. 11.7 (Apr., 1916): 390-400.

Carus, Paul. Virgil’s Prophecy on the Savior’s Birth. Open Court Publishing Co: London and Chicago, 1918.

Clausen, Wendell. Virgil: Eclogues. Clarendon Press: Oxford, 1994.

de Witt, Norman W. “The Influence of the Saviour Sentiment upon Virgil.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association. 54 (1923): 39-50.

Garrod, H.W. “Note on the Messianic Character of the Fourth Eclogue.” The Classical Review. 19.1 (Feb., 1905): 37-38.

—. “Virgil’s Messianic Eclogue.” The Classical Review. 22.5 (Aug., 1908): 149-151.

Gillespie, Stuart. “Dryden’s Second Poem on the Royal Wedding of 1683?” The Review of English Studies, New Series. 41.163 (Aug., 1990): 365-369.

Hardie, W.R. “The Age of Gold: A Lecture Suggested by the Fourth Eclogue.” Privately printed. University of Edinburgh. October 1901.

Kerlin, Robert T. “Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue.-An Over-Looked Source.” The American Journal of Philology. 29.4 (1908): 449-460.

Mackail, J.W. “Virgil and Virgilianism: A Study of the Minor Poems Attributed to Virgil.” The Classical Review. 22.3 (May, 1908): 65-73.

Mattingly, Harold. “Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue.” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 10 (1947): 14-19.

Mayor, J.B., W. Warde Fowler, and R.S. Conway. Virgil’s Messianic Eclogue. London: Conway, 1907.

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The Cato Institute has run this ad in several newspapers. Very insightful. It looks like Obama’s plan is losing traction, thanks to the Blue Dog Dems.