At Aen. 1.25–7, the Virgilian narrator describes Juno’s anger at the outcome of the Judgement of Paris:Footnote ¹

Scholars have observed that the Judgement of Paris is mentioned in Hom. Il. 24.25–30 (lines 29–30 were athetized by Aristarchus) and that it featured in the lost poem from the Epic Cycle entitled Cypria, seemingly towards the beginning (Arg., Procl. Chrest. 86–90 Severyns; fr. 4 Bernabé).Footnote ² Virgil gives the story particular prominence in the opening of his own poem by listing it as one of the two main causes of Juno’s anger against the Trojans, the other being the rape of Ganymede (Aen. 1.8 causas, 1.25 causae).

In addition to these parallels in Homer and the Cypria, a further Greek text may be cited: a prologue to the Rhesus attributed to Euripides, which is spoken by Hera and in which she cites the Judgement of Paris as a reason to take revenge against the Trojans. This prologue is transmitted in an anonymous hypothesis of unknown date, Diggle’s hypothesis (b), contained in some of our manuscripts of the play.Footnote ³ The author of the hypothesis quotes eleven lines of a prologue which he reports could be found in some manuscripts (ἐν ἐνίοις δὲ τῶν ἀντιγράφων) and which he judges to be ‘banal’ and unworthy of Euripides (πϵζὸς πάνυ [sc. πρόλογος] καὶ οὐ πρέπων εὐριπίδῃ), suspecting them rather to have been interpolated by an actor (καὶ τάχα ἄν τινϵς τῶν ὑποκριτῶν διϵσκϵυακότϵς ϵἶϵν αὐτόν).Footnote ⁴ In this prologue, Hera enjoins Athena to avenge the slight that both of them suffered at the Judgement of Paris.Footnote ⁵ These are the lines of the prologue to which, I argue, Virgil is alluding (hypothesis (b), [Eur.] Rhes. 39–44 = Adesp. fr. *81.6–11 TrGF):

It should first be considered how these lines fit into the context of the prologue and, assuming that this prologue was in fact written for the extant Rhesus (on this question, see below), how they might fit into the context of that play. The full prologue is not transmitted, but it is plausible that, in what followed, Hera and Athena plotted to thwart Rhesus’ attempt to join forces with the Trojans.Footnote ⁷ Athena achieves this at Rhes. 595–667, when she first persuades Odysseus and Diomedes not to return to the Greek camp immediately after slaying Dolon (595–621). Then, taking the form of Aphrodite, she allays Paris’ concerns that the Trojans are under attack and assures him that she, ‘Aphrodite’, remains mindful of the honour he paid her at the Judgement of Paris (642–67, especially 647–8). Athena’s trickery might thus be seen as the fulfilment of a plot to punish the Trojans outlined in the prologue by Hera and Athena, in which the Judgement is cited as an important motivation for the goddesses’ revenge.

Let us now consider the passage itself in more detail and how it might have influenced Virgil. The Judgement of Paris is a story which seems to have been particularly appealing to Euripides (Andr. 274–92, Hec. 629–56, Hel. 23–5, 676–8, IA 182–4, 573–89, 1283–314, Tro. 924–33, 970–82).Footnote ⁸ The language used in this Rhesus prologue, when compared with the other passages, looks fairly conventional: κριν- words and μορφ- words are especially common in Euripides’ versions and elsewhere, though in none of the passages just referred to is the emphasis placed specifically on Hera’s anger at the outcome of the Judgement.Footnote ⁹ A further sign of the conventionality of the language is the high number of allusions to fifth-century Athenian tragedy that have been noted in these lines, an observation that has been used in support of the theory that these lines are not by Euripides.Footnote ¹⁰ Where Virgil’s account of the Judgement of Paris is concerned, earlier adaptations into Latin of the episode that survive only in fragmentary condition—such as Ennius’ Alexander, a play seemingly related to Euripides’ Alexandros, in which Paris’ decision is already described as a iudicium (Inc. fr. 151.17–18 TrRF = Alexander 48–9 Jocelyn), and a hexameter poem entitled Cypria Ilias (frr. 1–2 Blänsdorf) attributed to a Naevius who is not the same man as Cn. Naevius, author of the Bellum Punicum—may also be relevant.Footnote ¹¹

Some readers may prefer to believe that Virgil is not alluding to any specific version of the Judgement of Paris. It must also be admitted that the status of the Rhesus prologue is not unproblematic, given that it is transmitted only in one of the hypotheses to the play and not in the actual text. While there is no doubt whatsoever that Virgil knew and alluded elsewhere in the Aeneid to the Rhesus itself,Footnote ¹² there is debate among scholars about whether this alternative prologue would have been known in Virgil’s time.

Let us address, therefore, the potential objections to the suggestion that at Aen. 1.25–7 Virgil is alluding to this prologue of the Rhesus attributed to Euripides. First, its provenance. The statement by the author of hypothesis (b) that the prologue in question was written by an actor is generally accepted as true.Footnote ¹³ The interpolation is believed to have occurred on the occasion of a reperformance of the play in the fourth or early third century b.c.e.:Footnote ¹⁴ in such contexts, prologues seem to have been particularly susceptible to interpolation by actors.Footnote ¹⁵ Much of the rest of the information provided by hypothesis (b) has, however, given rise to debate. For instance, it is unclear whether this prologue was composed for the genuine Rhesus of Euripides, listed in Aristotle’s Didascaliae as a genuine Euripidean play, or whether, assuming that the Rhesus that has come down to us is not by Euripides but by a later unknown imitator, this prologue was written for the extant inauthentic play.Footnote ¹⁶ It therefore cannot be proved with absolute certainty that the play for which this prologue was written is the same play as the one to which Virgil alludes elsewhere in the Aeneid (see footnote 12), although it is plausible that the prologue was indeed written for the extant Rhesus (see above). Furthermore, on the one hand, some scholars argue that this prologue was already known to, and cited by, the Peripatetic Dicaearchus (fl. c.320–300 b.c.e.).Footnote ¹⁷ Hypotheses on the plays of Euripides are ascribed to him and he is mentioned by the author of hypothesis (b) as the source for the quotation of the first line of another prologue to the Rhesus also preserved in this hypothesis (Eur. fr. 660a TrGF).Footnote ¹⁸ Other scholars, on the other hand, believe that our prologue was unknown to Dicaearchus and was quoted by a later source.Footnote ¹⁹ As stated above, it is not known who the author of the hypothesis was or when they were active, but those scholars who reject the idea that the source for the text of our prologue and for the negative judgement expressed about it is Dicaearchus generally hold that this information in fact probably rather derives, at least in part, from Aristophanes of Byzantium.Footnote ²⁰ So our prologue could in theory have been quoted by Dicaearchus, by Aristophanes himself, or by a later grammarian or commentator. Some even go so far as to suggest that it may have been quoted by Arius Didymus, active during the reign of Augustus (c.65 b.c.e.–10 c.e.).Footnote ²¹

Two recent editors of the play, Liapis and Fries, however, argue that Aristophanes of Byzantium did not know our prologue. They do so on the grounds that, in the hypothesis explicitly assigned in our manuscripts to Aristophanes of Byzantium, Diggle’s hypothesis (c), Aristophanes writes that a chorus of Trojan guards performs the prologue to the play (ὁ χορὸς συνέστηκϵν ἐκ φυλάκων Τρωϊκῶν, οἳ καὶ προλογίζουσι, ‘the chorus is composed of Trojan guards, who also perform the prologue’, Ar. Byz. hypothesis (c), [Eur.] Rhes. 52–3).Footnote ²² On their account, this statement implies that Aristophanes did not know our prologue, because, if he had known it, he would have mentioned it, since, as both of them point out, the usual practice of Alexandrian scholars was not to omit without comment passages they deemed spurious.Footnote ²³ In support of their claim, both of them adduce Pfeiffer’s explanation of the scholarly methods of Zenodotus and Aristophanes of Byzantium, without mentioning that Pfeiffer’s explanation in fact concerns not Zenodotus’ and Aristophanes’ work on Greek tragedy but their work on the text of Homer.Footnote ²⁴ It is not obvious that the methods the Alexandrian scholars employed on the text of Homer can straightforwardly be considered identical to those that they employed on the text of a Greek tragedy.

Indeed, as Pfeiffer himself surmises, Zenodotus’ text of the Iliad may have been based on a single manuscript which he considered the best among the many available in the library of Alexandria, which presumably contained widely diverging texts.Footnote ²⁵ One could imagine that, while Aristophanes did adopt the Alexandrian practice of not deleting from a text lines which were contained in the manuscripts of Homer, he left unmentioned a prologue added by an actor which survived only in ‘wild’ copiesFootnote ²⁶ to which he may or may not have had access.Footnote ²⁷ The argument of Liapis and Fries that Aristophanes of Byzantium did not know our prologue of the Rhesus based solely on the fact that he did not mention it in his hypothesis is one that is made from silence. In fact, it cannot be argued with certainty that Aristophanes did not know our prologue. And, even if he did not know it, our prologue was clearly circulating in some manuscripts at the time hypothesis (b) was written, which is likely either around the time of Aristophanes or after it.Footnote ²⁸ It does not matter a great deal for my argument whether our prologue was originally cited by Dicaearchus, by Aristophanes or by a later grammarian. In any case, it cannot have disappeared from circulation completely before reappearing in the tradition represented by the Byzantine manuscripts of Euripides, and therefore it seems difficult to rule out the possibility that Virgil could have known and alluded to it.

Now that it has been established with a reasonable degree of plausibility that Virgil could have accessed a manuscript of the Rhesus containing this prologue, let us consider the similarities between the Greek and the Latin texts in greater detail:

dolor corresponds to ἄλγιον (TLL 5.1.1837.31–2), which is also recalled by iniuria, and two words denoting emotional suffering are in both passages placed at line-end. A temporal perspective is essential to both passages: the temporal indication necdum etiam … manet corresponds to ἐξ οὗ, ‘since’ (LSJ ἐκ II), which itself is reminiscent of Il. 1.5–6 Διὸς δ’ἐτϵλϵίϵτο βουλή, | ἐξ οὗ δὴ τὰ πρῶτα …, a passage which is concerned not only with the origin of a conflict in the general context of the Trojan War but precisely with a conflict set in motion by the anger of Achilles, a theme alluded to markedly by Virgil at the beginning of the Aeneid.Footnote ²⁹ Athena is Hera’s interlocutor in the Rhesus prologue, and she is in the Virgilian Hera’s thoughts, as will be revealed at Aen. 1.39–41 (Pallasne exurere classem | Argiuum … potuit …, ‘yet Pallas had the power to burn down the fleet of the Argives …’). Both sentences begin from negation (necdum; οὐδέν). While it may be true, as the author of the hypothesis says, that the style of this passage is ‘banal’ (πϵζός), there is one crucial point that makes the notion that Virgil is alluding specifically to this passage particularly attractive. Indeed, both passages present the Judgement of Paris as a particularly significant motive for Hera/Juno’s anger against the Trojans, emphasizing the pain caused by not having been selected as the most beautiful goddess (κάλλϵι, ϵὐμορφίας; formae). In the Greek prologue, it is actually Hera who is speaking: the Virgilian narrator proceeds ‘as if he were quoting her [sc. Juno]’.Footnote ³⁰ Accounts of the Judgement of Paris given from the perspective of Hera/Juno are not common.

There is therefore good reason to believe that Virgil is alluding to the Rhesus prologue. Yet, to the best of my knowledge, this is a parallel which has never been cited by any Virgilian commentator. At the very least, future commentators should consider mentioning this allusion to the Rhesus prologue in their notes on Aen. 1.25–7. Furthermore, accepting this allusion may open the way to some profitable interpretative possibilities which I survey here by way of conclusion.

The striking fact that, in the Iliad, the Judgement is mentioned for the first time only in the final book of the poem (Il. 24.25–30) makes it particularly striking that Virgil should include a reference to it so early and at such a prominent position in Aeneid Book 1.Footnote ³¹ Indeed, as already mentioned above, the lateness of this reference in Homer, as well as the belief that Homer did not even know the story of the Judgement of Paris, led Aristarchus to athetize Il. 24.29–30, a decision rejected by most, but not all, modern editors.Footnote ³² Davies has highlighted the significance of this passage within the context of the Iliad by showing that the reference to divine strife in Iliad Book 24, at a moment when reconciliation on the human level is imminent, gains by being understood in relation to the situation in Iliad Book 1, where anger among humans is rife, but potential strife among the gods is easily quelled.Footnote ³³ It would be perfectly in keeping with what we know about Virgil’s allusive technique that he should be particularly attentive to lines that had received special scrutiny in Homeric scholarship. Moreover, Virgil’s reference to the Judgement comes at the beginning of a series of allusions to what Farrell has recently called a ‘Long Iliad’, a full account of the Trojan War as told in a series of epic poems including Homer’s Iliad as well as poems from the Epic Cycle such as the Cypria.Footnote ³⁴ That Virgil is alluding to the Cypria, as scholars have suggested (see note 2 above), is plausible, and it is particularly attractive to imagine him alluding at the beginning of his poem to an episode which not only featured towards the beginning of the Cypria but also constitutes what stands chronologically as one of the earliest causes of Juno’s anger against the Trojans. It is widely recognized that the question of possible alternative beginnings is one that Virgil thematizes again and again in Aeneid Book 1.Footnote ³⁵

Throughout the Aeneid, Virgil also often enriches his epic material with allusions to tragedy, and in Book 1 there is evidence that he engages with tragic prologues in particular. For instance, Mac Góráin has argued that, as early as the second line of his epic, Virgil alludes to the prologue of Euripides’ Bacchae.Footnote ³⁶ Venus’ epiphany disguised as a huntress wearing buskins in front of Aeneas (1.314–37) has been seen to echo the prologue (and ending) of Euripides’ Hippolytus,Footnote ³⁷ and thus may potentially be seen to form a pendant with Juno’s earlier ‘tragic’ opening. And by alluding to the Rhesus so early in the epic, Virgil sets into motion a pattern of allusion which extends at least until Book 9 and the Nisus and Euryalus episode. In particular, during the description of Juno’s temple in Carthage later in Book 1, Aeneas’ tearful reaction to seeing an image depicting the fate of Rhesus, which occupies a full five lines of text (1.469–73), would gain extra point after the allusion to the Rhesus tragedy in the prologue: the Trojan hero could be perceived as misreading the scene and not understanding that he himself, as another victim of Juno’s wrath, is in a sense another Rhesus.Footnote ³⁸ More generally, Virgil’s allusion to the Rhesus prologue fits well within what Farrell calls the ‘culminating re-integration of tragedy into a totalizing epic structure that rivals Homer’.Footnote ³⁹