AOC Presents: Virgil's Aeneid, Book Four

Blog post 7/6/08

So Aeneas was rocking the sympathy vote when last we saw him. Wow. I wish I could write poetry like this: “longing withholds calm rest for her limbs.” That's iambic, I'm pretty sure. Even the translation rox. Huh. Dido has a sister! She wasn't mentioned any time before this. Her sister's name is Anna. I wonder if that's where the name and its commonality comes from?

Dido is doing the girl talk thing with Anna. She's all “I totally want to nail him, but I'm still sort of feeling married to Sychaeus, even though he was a prick, and also, dead now.” Anna is all “You gonna wait forever? You need to get laid, girlfriend. Also, he's a honey, and brings good soldiers with him to help you protect Carthage from the local bully boys.” So Dido's all “Right on.” Dido and Anna sacrifice to the relevant gods: Ceres, Phoebus, Lyceus, and Juno—the guardian of marriage! Aha! ROTFLMFAO Juno is the epitome of the wronged wife! Dido would be better off sacrificing to Hades and Athena!

Ah so. [69] She's referred to as “unhappy Dido” for the first time. I know all these guys get epithets, and this is the first time she's referred to by the one that will be hers for all time. “Infelix Dido.”

Dido is so besmitten that she neglects the work of building the city. Construction stops on the half-built citadel while she crunches on Aeneas. Juno sees what's going on, and reproaches Venus and Cupid for the nasty ensorcellment Dido is suffering under. Venus wants Aeneas to leave Dido eventually and she tells Juno (because she doesn't want to see the marriage Juno has suggested come to pass between Aeneas and Dido) that she is unsure if that's what Jupiter would want—in essence sending Juno to her hubby to get his permission for arranging a marriage between Aeneas and Dido. Juno falls for it and says she she'll take care of that, sounding like a wife sure she can manipulate her husband—sort of like Felicity Huffman's character Lynette Scavo on Desperate Housewives.

So Dido and Aeneas go hunting the next day. Little Ascanius is along for the ride and hoping to kill a boar or a lion. I can totally see him on a fat pony, going “Look at me, dad! Look at me!” [156]

You know, it just occurred to me. If Aeneas is Venus' son, Ascanius is Aeneas' son, and Cupid is Venus' son and hence Aeneas' brother—when Cupid possessed Ascanius, does that mean that Aeneas was his own son's brother? That sounds like a Kentucky family tree—a circle!

I'm not sure I understand what happens next—Juno uses the “force of nature” to marry Dido and Aeneas. “Fires flashed in heaven” and so forth. [167] What I don't understand is that Dido considers herself married from that moment. It doesn't say that Juno talked to her—why would Dido connect lightning and so forth with her being suddenly married to Aeneas?

Regardless, Juno seems to have spread the word, because Rumour (apparently a female devil of some kind, and I can't help that Virgil is being a little punitive, assigning female gender to Rumour) starts running through the cities of Libya telling everyone Aeneas and Dido are married and (because all they do is eat and screw) neglecting their realms. Some guy named King Iarbus hears about this and is NOT happy. [196] Apparently, Iarbus is the son of someone named Hammon and the nymph Hammon raped. Iarbus is mad about Dido and Aeneas being married because he sacrifices to Jupiter all the time, wanting to gain Jupiter's favor for his conquests in Libya—oh wait—it's because Iarbus has been turned down by Dido in his marriage suit.

He's all to Jupiter “That nancy boy with his pretty hair is schtupping MY rightful wife; what are you going to do about it?” So Jupiter tells his son Mercury to go and remind Aeneas that Venus promised Jupiter that Aeneas would go to Italy, not marry Dido and stay in Africa.

Mercury is supposed to tell Aeneas that he is supposed to win glory in Italy and get a kingdom for his son, not hang back in Carthage with his sexy love-muffin. So Mercury straps his flying shoes on and goes to see Aeneas. Mercury's all “Are you sticking around here to please a woman? Dad said to tell you to get gone, so you can build a kingdom in Italy to give to your kid.” Aeneas is freaked by the appearance of a God—and really, who wouldn't be? He starts wondering what the hell he's going to tell Dido. So he tells his men to get the ships ready in secret while he figures out how to break the news to his honey. The queen catches wind of the ships' preparation, however, and storms up to Aeneas to bitch him out. She's all “Are you stupid? It's winter, and you're going to sail off? Are you running away from me? Don't go, baby! You're leaving me in the lurch with my neighbors with no Trojan soldiers to protect me from the men I turned down for you! At least if I was knocked up, you wouldn't be leaving me with jack all to show for my time with you!”

This reminds me of the speech Petra Arkanian lets off to Bean when he keeps trying to leave her for her own good in Shadow of the Giant, by Orson Scott Card.

Aeneas is all “I never promised to marry you. If I'd had a choice, I never would have left Troy to begin with; Apollo told me to go to Italy and that's where I'm supposed to be! I can't cheat my son out of the kingdom I promised to win for him. Quit complaining—it's not what I want, either.”

OMFG—that's the harshest thing I've ever heard. Not even so much as a “we can still be friends.” It's more closely related to “It's not you, it's me.” Ouch!

So Dido's all “You BASTARD. I took you in! Fine, leave, but if you go, I'll kill myself and haunt you forever!” Aeneas wants to make her feel better (and I think a good way to have done that would have been to NOT say that if it was up to him, they never would have met), but goes and launches the ships anyway.

Virgil actually breaks into authorial commentary, here. I don't remember him doing that before, and says “What feelings then were yours, Dido, at such a sight!” [409] Wow. Poor lady. She got literally royally screwed. Dido says to Anna “Can you believe they're leaving? Please go and beg Aeneas to stay—tell him it's not MY fault Troy got sacked. Why won't he listen to me? Ask him just to stay for a little while until I can deal.” So Anna goes to Aeneas and relays Dido's request, but Aeneas won't change his mind.

Damn. Dido is “awed by her doom.” [450] I would be, too. Her brother kills her husband, she has to leave her home, sail across the ocean, build a new city, fend off suitors a la Penelope, falls for a smoking hottie by the will of the goddess of freaking sexual passion, and said smoking hottie not only leaves her, but literally tells her he wishes they'd never met. Now that is just harsh. Whoa. Dido is dreaming on that last night that Aeneas left—just listen to this: “In her sleep fierce Aeneas himself drives her in her frenzy; and ever she seems to be left lonely...” [466] Hot damn. No wonder the poor woman's about to go nuts. She's getting dream-nailed by Aeneas, and never actually finishes, as it were. I'd go starkers, too. Venus is a bitch. “So when, outworn with anguish, she caught the madness and resolved to die,” [474] Dido tricks her sister into taking all the stuff Aeneas has left behind and burning it in a giant pyre. Dido is literally consigning her hopes to the flames.

If it wasn't so sad, I'd be thinking about the time Harmony burned Spike's Sex Pistols albums. You know, we often burn the mementos of our past loves. Cordelia burned Xander's picture after she caught him with Willow. I've burned things before that belonged to previous lovers. I wonder if that old tradition of burning stuff that belongs to a previous love dates from this poem?

Aeneas was down on his ships that night, it seems, sleeping on the deck of his ship. He was probably there to wait for the morning's tide. I know you have to sail very early in the morning to catch the tide. Aeneas dreams of Mercury, who comes to him and tells him to watch out for Dido's revenge, 'cuz ain't no thang like a woman scorned. Mercury specifically says “varium et mutabile semper femina.” [569], meaning “A fickle and changeable thing is woman ever.” I wonder if that's where “Woman is fickle” comes from?

So Aeneas wakes up and tells his sailors to make tracks. I think it's pretty harsh to call DIDO fickle when Aeneas is the cowering bastard who's taking off in the middle of the night like he just left the money on the dresser. It's lightening up outside as Dido burns Aeneas' stuff—she looks outside and sees Aeneas' fleet leaving the harbor of Carthage. When she sees this, “Thrice and four times she struck her comely breast with her hand, and t[ore] her golden hair...” [586], thus answering the age-old question: yes, Buffy. Men ALWAYS turn evil after you sleep with them.

Dido fantasizes about killing Aeneas before letting him leave her—ew. She thinks about killing Ascanius and serving him up to his father as a meal. I seem to recall a story like that about Agamemnon and the House of Atreus. I'll have to see when I get to reading that play. I'm going to do the Iliad and the Odyssey next, but I should do Aeschylus' trilogy about Agamemnon after that—is it called the Oresteia? Hmm.

OMG—she calls on Hecate for vengeance [609]--now I KNOW Joss has read the Aeneid! Oooh. Dido curses the Trojans with the vengeance of her descendants—foreshadowing the Punic Wars, much?

“This is my prayer; this last utterance I pour out with my blood. Then do you, Tyrians, persecute with hate his stock and all the race to come, and to my dust offer this tribute! Let no love or treaty unite the nations! Arise from my ashes, unknown avenger [Gee. Could this be Hannibal??], to harass the Trojan settlers with fire and sword—today, hereafter, whenever strength be ours! May coast with coast conflict, I pray, and sea with sea, arms with arms, war may they have, themselves and their children's children!” [621]

Now THAT'S a curse, y'all.

So, Dido dashes off, through the house, finds the Dardan Sword (is this THE sword? Given to Aeneas when fleeing the sack of Troy?), casts herself down on the bed, cries out one last time, and falls on the sword. The servants dash in, screaming—her sister rushes in, and starts wailing, holding Dido up to stanch her wounds. Dido looks around for the light she sees (wow—how long has that concept of “going towards the light” at the moment of death been around, anyway?), when Juno finally takes pity on her and sets her spirit free. Damn. Dido had the roughest deal of just about anyone I can think of right off the top of my head. I think the thing that surprises me is (1) how long I managed to go WITHOUT mentioning a Joss Whedon TV show, and (2) how exact the parallels are. There is so much archetype creation in this book of the Aeneid that I can't even believe it.

AOC Presents: Virgil's Aeneid, Book Three

So the no TV experiment is one of the most valuable things I’ve ever done; I am now convinced. I have gotten so much done, and read so much more in the last few days, than I’d normally do in a month. This is definitely going to continue.

Onward into Book 3. Wow. Aeneas is really laying it on thick. He tells Dido that after the sack of Troy and the destruction of “Priam’s guiltless race” [1] (horsefeathers—Paris stole Helen, and you don’t get much more guilty than that), he took his people to Ida, where they build a fleet of ships. In the beginning of summer, they left the Anatolian peninsula (although I don’t think they call it Anatolia yet).

They sailed to the shores of Thrace, where Aeneas met with Polydorus for the first time. Apparently, Polydorus was sent by Priam to be some kind of Trojan sleeper agent in Thrace—OMG—He’s the first Trojan virus!! I can’t quite tell if Polydorus is a ghost or not. Aeneas had been offering sacrifices in thanks for having made it to the Thracian shore, and he went to gather branches to put on the altar. He harvested some branches from a hill [25] but heard groans from this mound.

(Possibly) Polydorus speaks from it. Oh—I get it. The problem was that I couldn’t tell without reading further who was speaking, but it IS Polydorus. Sometimes these guys refer to themselves in the third person, and there’s no convention like “he said” or “she replied.” Grr. It turns out that the Thracian king, on hearing of the defeat of Troy, killed Polydorus and took the gold that Priam had sent him with. It doesn’t say how the Thracian king found out about Polydorus’ allegiance. It would seem that it’s not a smart thing to do, to go to a foreign country as a spy, then TELL everyone about it. It reminds me of that story about Nathan Hale, how he oh-so-courteously answered people at a dinner party he was at that, yes, he was indeed a spy. Like it’s ok to be a spy and not a liar or something. One wonders why the CIA has a big fat statue of him at Langley. He doesn’t seem to have been very good at it.

Anyway, Aeneas tells Dido that they were appalled at the fact that Polydorus had been improperly buried, a fellow Trojan—so they reburied him and got out. Aeneas says specifically that they didn’t want to stay in a land where they profaned hospitality—presumably referring to the fact that the Thracian king had killed his guest, Polydorus. Wow. So it’s ok to be a spy, but not ok to kill that spy. What an odd conception of hospitality.

So Aeneas tells Dido that they got back on the sea ASAP. They landed on Delos—the birthplace of Apollo and Diana. I think Diana is the Roman equivalent of Artemis—the virgin huntress, but I’m not sure what the Greek/Roman conception of Apollo is. I guess that the ruler of Delos, King Anius, is friends with Anchises, and so he welcomed the Trojan fragment to Delos. Aeneas tells Dido that he went to the temple and was paying homage there, and he prayed for a home for his people. A voice came out of the air [93] (if I recall correctly, temples like the one Aeneas was at had amplification acoustics, so like the Oracle at Delphi would boom out the answers to people’s questions in the temple, so maybe that’s where the disembodied voice Aeneas is hearing was coming from) and told Aeneas that “the land which bore you first from your parent stock shall welcome you back to her fruitful bosom.” [96] This seems again to be going back to Virgil’s desire to show that the Trojan remnant that will end up in Italy really belonged there. Also, I see some grapes, wine, and women images here—I’m thinking that the images of wine and women are the Trojan equivalent to a “land flowing with milk and honey.”

Anchises, hearing the voice too, says that they should go to Crete—after all, that’s the “cradle of our race.” [105] Also, Anchises says that it’s only a 3-day journey to Crete. Aeneas tells Dido that he had heard a rumor than the Cretan chieftain, Idomeneus, had abandoned Crete, and that the cities of that island were abandoned, ready for resettlement.

Aeneas says they left Delos for Crete, and upon reaching it, started fortifying a city’s walls there that they’d named Pergamum, in homage to the old city of Pergamum in Troy. I wonder if this tendency to name cities like this, to call up the memory of a previously occupied town—is that common to humans? We name places “New…” as if it were the old town come again—New Amsterdam (ooh—I wish that show hadn’t been cancelled), New Guinea, New Jersey. Or even just flat out naming it after the original place, like Athens, Georgia, or Ithaca, New York.

Unfortunately, Aeneas tells Dido, sickness started spreading among his people. Anchises was telling everyone they should go back to the Oracle and ask for the help of Phoebus and Ortygia (I wonder what goddess she is?) Intriguing. Aeneas tells Dido that his household gods came alive in the middle of the night to deliver Apollo’s message to him, thus saving him the trip back to Delos. I am completely envisioning Battlestar Galactica right now, and not just because of the name Apollo. This reminds me of how all the characters in Battlestar Galactica get visions conveniently just before they’re going to do the wrong thing or go the wrong way. One envisions Gaius Baltar right before the glass crashes in his ginormous pent-mans-abode in Vancouver…I mean, Caprica…with his jaw hanging at Number Six’s revelations. I can totally see that expression on Aeneas’ face. Minus the brilliant sleaziness of James Callis (who should have a bloody Emmy by now but there’s no real justice). The idol of Apollo tells Aeneas to go to Italy—and man, Virgil is pounding home the propaganda again like a White House spokesman—“[Italy] is our abiding home…from whom first came our race.” [168] I think if Scott McClellan could have declaimed the presidential schedule in epic verse, or if Ari Fleischer would have used heroic metaphor to announce bill passages, Bush would have sounded better—or at least more plausible—with the whole inventing of new and strange words thing. Seriously—“misunderestimated” sounds like something Jupiter would do on an off day, right?

Aeneas, shaking in fear and awe before the gods, offers sacrifices to them (possibly because now he won’t have to make return trip arrangements through freaking Expedia, and also because now he can tell his dad that Aeneas was right to leave Delos after all. There’s nothing like winning an argument with your same-gendered parent to give you a warm glow of self-satisfied maturity.

Ooh—see? “I gladly tell Anchises the tale and reveal all in order.” [179] Told you so.

Anchises responds by slapping a hand to his forehead and saying that he just now remembered what Cassandra told him about how the Trojans really belong in Hesperia (apparently another name for Italy, like Ilium/Troy). I still can’t tell if Phoebus and Apollo are the same person or not. Oh, wait. I remember in Sherrilyn Kenyon’s Darkhunter series that the Apollonians are the children of the Sun God, and Phoebus is the sun god. Ok, I’m going to treat them as the same person until I see otherwise. ANYWAY (BATBC—back at the Bat Cave), Aeneas takes his people and his dad back on the ocean from New Pergamum (hmm—the King of Pergamum will one day will his kingdom to Rome—I think during the first Roman civil wars with Marius and Sulla. Interesting that Virgil—who’s writing 100 years or so after that happened—notes that this New Pergamum on Crete was deserted and then pestilential. I wonder what it means?)

BATBC—Aeneas tells Dido that his fleet was tossed about for three days [205] on the Mediterranean. I know that 3 and 7 were very mystical numbers to the people around the Mediterranean, like how there’s a Holy Trinity, or God created the world in seven days, or Jesus rose from the dead in three days, or that there were three realms in Greek theology. Zeus was the ruler of the Heavens, Poseidon was the ruler of the Earth (though he mostly stuck to the sea), and Hades ruled the Underworld. Hmm. As a result, I wonder if Aeneas is actually just saying that his fleet was in a storm that lasted more than one day, and not quite a week.

Aeneas tells Dido that they landed on the Strophades, which are apparently in the Ionian Sea (where is that, exactly?) *I need to get a Google Map of the world and start sticking pins in it. Ooh. Aeneas tells Dido that this is where “dread Celaeno and the Harpies” live. [212] Gross. The Harpies have the faces of girls and gaunt, clawed bodies, wings, and they apparently are continually soiling themselves and smearing it everywhere. This is like someone mated a gorilla, a vulture, and Dakota Fanning. Also, I’m snickering because I am totally remembering when Autolycus in Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (played by the apotheosis of all actors, Bruce Campbell) tells Hercules upon walking into his befouled home, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but…you’ve got Harpies.” !!!!

So Aeneas tells his men to exterminate the Harpies, because they are fouling up the meal that the fleet had prepared upon landing.

Huh. Celaeno is apparently the “eldest of the Furies.” [252] She tells Aeneas that he’ll eventually get to Italy, but not until suffering because of the violence Aeneas did to her pet Harpies. This seems to echo, in a strange way, how the Greeks had to suffer, even though they would eventually win, because they killed Agamemnon’s daughter, still-can’t-remember-her-name. I wonder why there’s the contrast between the virgin Greek maiden and the disgusting female beast? Is it Virgil? Just something to think about.

Anyway, Aeneas pulls up stakes, and they hit the road again, metaphorically speaking. They sail past Ithaca, and “curse the land that nursed cruel Ulysses.” [273] I never noticed this before, but Ulysses in Latin is Ulixi. [273] I guess I thought it would be ULYSSES! It’s already not in its original language as Odysseus. $20 says I’m going to start reading Homer and find out that Odysseus isn’t spelled that way either. What, no takers?

So, Aeneas makes it to the Actian shores. Now, Aeneas erects a trophy that says “AENEAS HAEC DE DANAIS VICTORIBUS ARMA.” “THESE ARMS AENEAS FROM VICTORIOUS GREEKS.” [288] Now, I KNOW Virgil is flattering Augustus Caesar. ‘Member back in the day that Octavian defeated Mark Antony and Cleopatra (a Ptolemy, and therefore a Greek of Alexander’s line) at the BATTLE OF FREAKING ACTIUM in 31 BC.

So Aeneas puts the shield of Abas on the trophy pillars and takes off again. Really—the whole 20 lines of the poem devoted to Aeneas landing at Actium and putting up that trophy don’t seem to serve any narrative purpose, though it might be back later. I can recognize a literary seed when planted, even if it never bears fruit. I completely remember the Battle of Actium because of Margaret George’s awesome novel, The Memoirs of Cleopatra.

Aeneas says that then he and his ships entered “the Chaonian harbor.” [294] I don’t know where that is, which is frustrating me. Aeneas says that in this harbor, he heard that Andromache was there, and that Priam’s son Helenus was reigning there as the husband of dead Pyrrhus’s woman (this is the same Pyrrhus that was Achilles’ son). Weird. Aeneas meets Andromache near the harbor where she’s offering sacrifices. They meet like two émigrés in a foreign land—this sounds like something out of a Great Russian Novel as they both cry and hug and ask about those left behind.

I guess Andromache had been taken captive by Pyrrhus and served as a sex slave to him—the son of the man who killed her husband! Damn—that would bite. She specifically references her sexual slavery—“…we have endured the pride of Achilles’ son and his youthful insolence, bearing children in slavery…” [326] So, she might have even gotten pregnant by her captor. No wonder Hector was so worried about her before going to fight Achilles outside the walls of Troy—if that’s what was waiting for her if he failed!

Apparently, Pyrrhus was killed by Orestes, though not before he had both raped Andromache and shuffled her off to Helenus, also a slave. Somehow, though, Neoptolemus’ death passed an inheritance to Helenus, who took Andromache as his wife. I don’t understand how that happened; it doesn’t explain it here. That’s the big problem with these epics—they assume I know all the back story.

Anyway, Andromache asks Aeneas about Ascanius to see if he’s ok—now that sounds more motherly than Creusa. I don’t know whether that’s meant to illustrate a difference between the concerns of the dead and the living or the difference between the kind of woman Andromache is as opposed to the woman Creusa was. Anyway, at this point, Helenus (why the HELL does Priam have a son named Helenus? Helen rained destruction down on Troy—it’s weird that Priam has a son with her name…) comes down to meet his wife, and sees Aeneas. The Trojan remnant gets a warm welcome at this “Ilian citadel.” Aeneas heads up to the city, and he says that he “recognize[s] a little Troy, with a copy of great Pergamus…” [350] It would seem Aeneas isn’t the only refugee who is trying to recreate Troy.

Another sucker bet says Aeneas is going to include elements of Trojan architecture and nomenclature when he gets to Italy and founds Lavinium.

Once everyone is rested up and fed, Aeneas and Helenus offer some sacrifices and ask a priest of Phoebus whether he should believe the auguries and promises of all the gods so far that he’s going to be ok as soon as he reaches Italy, or if he should believe the prediction of Celaeno the Harpy, apparently a seer as well as a Fury, that he’s going to suffer a great deal before founding his city? The priest tells him that Italy is further off than he thinks, in a figurative, literal, and temporal sense. The priest tells Aeneas that when he sees a white pig with 30 piglets under an oak tree, there will be the future site of Rome. [392] The priest also tells Aeneas to suck up to Juno or else, and to visit the Sibyl (a prophetess).

Helenus restocks Aeneas’ fleet. Oh wow. Another heartbreaker. As Aeneas is getting ready to leave, Andromache brings rich gold robes for Ascanius and says “Take these last gifts of your kin, you sole surviving image of my Astyanax! [486] Such was he in eyes, in hands and face; even now would his youth be ripening in equal years with yours!” Andromache is basically giving Ascanius beautiful baby clothes that were meant for Astyanax—I know that Astyanax was Hector and Andromache’s son, and that he was killed by the Greeks, but not much else. Virgil really knows how to pull the heartstrings.

Again Virgil does the propaganda thing, as Aeneas says to Andromache that if he ever founds his city, he’ll ally with Epirus (Ah! That’s where they are—Epirus), and says “May that duty await our children’s children!” [505] Maybe they liked laying it on that thick back in the day.

They’re sailing; they’re sailing—when Achates spots Italy. Here’s the wine imagery again. Upon Achates’ cry, Anchises fills a big bowl of wine and toasts the gods with it. I guess I’ll find out eventually why all the wine/grapes metaphors when referring to Italy.

They’re sailing; they’re sailing. They see the town of Tarentum, which Aeneas says is “a town of Hercules, if the tale be true.” [551] Hmm. The Latin is “sic vera est fama.” Interesting. “Tale” is “fama,” so spreading tales of Hercules is literally spreading his fame.

Aeneas sees Aetna in the distance, so they must be passing by Sicily at this point. I don’t know exactly where Mount Aetna is, but I think they’re sailing between the boot tip and Sicily, crawling up the Italian coast. Anchises says this is where Charybdis is [558]—so I think that’s right.

Aeneas says they drift up the Cyclopes Coast—I don’t know where that is. I need a map of the ancient world. They land, but the eruptions of Aetna keep them up all night. They must be on the Sicilian coast. While they were on Sicily, a Greek comes out of the woods; he’s all ragged and starving. He begs them to take him with them, and tells them if they have to kill him, since he was an enemy combatant, he’d rather die at the hands of men. He tells his story: he’s Achaemenides, an Ithacan. He was one of Ulysses’ companions, and was left behind when Ulysses escaped from Polyphemus, the Cyclops. Aeneas tells Dido that just as Achaemenides was finishing his story, the Trojans all saw the Cyclops himself—they dashed, taking the poor Ithacan with them. I see a lot of parallels here between the Achaemenides and the story of Lord Rhoop, one of the seven Telmarine Lords that Miraz the Usurper exiled when he was still ruling Narnia before Caspian’s rule and voyage on the Dawn Treader. Hmm. Come to think of it, I see a lot of parallels between the story of the Odyssey and the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I bet I’ll find more when I actually READ the Odyssey all the way through!

BATBC: Aeneas tells Dido that they left in a hurry, but that the warning Helenus gave him tells him NOT to pass between Scylla and Charybdis. I guess that means they’re not going to hug the boot, but sail around the bottom of Sicily and back north once they’re around it. So they’re sailing. Aeneas describes the trip around (presumably) Sicily, and tells Dido that he lost Anchises at last. He doesn’t say how Anchises died [710], so he presumably died of old age. This must be where Juno intervened in the winds and the sea, and drove them across the Mediterranean to the Carthaginian shore. Here’s where Aeneas finishes the tale he’s telling to Dido.

The saddest thing about this whole book is Andromache giving those baby clothes to Ascanius. Bless her heart.

Virgil; The Aeneid, Book 2

Perhaps, before jumping into Book Two, I should note that I’m starting with the Aeneid because it is such a foundational text for the rest of Western literature. Augustine, Aquinas, Dante, Milton, etc—all would be the poorer without Virgil’s masterwork. I think normally people embarking on an odyssey like this one (pun most definitely intended) probably start with the Iliad and Odyssey, and then traipse along through the Big Three (Socrates, Plato, Aristotle) before ever getting to the Roman poets. I think that the Aeneid acts as a kind of focus—a bottleneck of ideas—for all the works that have gone before. Since I’m familiar with the stories of the Iliad and the Odyssey and the philosophy of the Big Three (even though I’ve never actually READ all of them), I choose to begin with a sort of representative sample of the best of Western literature as a jumping-off place. I can go to the Iliad next, and then make up my mind where to travel after that.

So we left our hero at the feast Dido put on for him; he was about to tell the Carthaginians what happened during the war. He mentions the Myrmidons, Dolopians, and Ulysses’ soldiers (Odysseus), and says that even they would cry at what he had to relate, [7] thereby placing himself in the company of the greatest of all warriors, and also excusing himself if he has to cry. I know that the Myrmidons were Achilles’ men (thank you, Oliver Stone—or possibly Ridley Scott—Ah-Wolfgang Peterson), but I don’t know who the Dolopians are/were. Aha! For the first time we get to hear about the Trojan Horse! [15] (The one in Troy looked so dumb, but as I was mooning over Eric Bana as Hector the Tamer of Horses, I just couldn’t bring myself to care too much)

So Aeneas tells Dido how the Danaans (Greeks, apparently, but I don’t know how they got that name) hid in the belly of the beast. I wonder if that’s where the metaphor came from? The Greeks had gone and hid themselves on the isle of Tenedos, an anchorage for ships, probably near the coastline. Damn. Even then the Balkans and the Anatolians were duking it out for control of the Aegean Islands! ANYWAY—Aeneas tells Dido and the assembled feast that the Trojans had thought the Greeks were gone. So everyone parties like the rave scene in Matrix 2. However, Laocoon (who is he?) dashes down to spoil the party, and hollers that they’re all nuts, that Ulysses is a trickster, and that there are probably Achaeans in the horse. “I fear the Greeks, even when bringing gifts.” “timeo Danaos et dona ferentis.” So, it was Laocoon who said it! [49]

So Laocoon tosses a spear at the horse, but nothing happened other than a hollow thumping sound. Aeneas says that the gods prevented them from taking Laocoon seriously. Meanwhile, some Dardan shepherds (that must mean they lived closer to the Dardanelles than the location of Ilium—maybe—so that would be north of the city, I guess) were bringing an Argive youth back to Troy. The kid says to the assembled Trojans that Ulysses screwed over his dad, and in so doing, caused his dad’s death, and so the youth is resolved to betray the Greeks. This kid tells the Trojans that when the Greeks built the horse, the sky suddenly started clouding up, and some storms rolled in. When queried, the Oracle of Phoebus (the sun god, right?) tells the Greeks that because they slew a virgin as a sacrifice BEFORE coming to Ilium (a reference to Agamemnon killing his daughter, whats-her-name), an Argive blood sacrifice will be required before they can leave the shores of Troy. [119] The youth then tells the Trojans that he was the one chosen by the Oracle to be sacrificed for the Greeks. So the youth managed to escape, and is essentially claiming asylum in Troy in exchange for information. Aeneas says that Priam was moved by the youth’s pleas, and orders him unbound. Priam is kind of a sucker. Seriously. First with not blaming Helen for leaving her husband and bringing war to Troy, and now releasing a turncoat. Apparently, says the youth, the Greeks have pissed off Minerva (must remember to refer to them by their Latin names, no matter HOW much Xena: Warrior Princess is floating through my mind!) The kid says that the Greeks build the horse in tribute to Minerva, and as a gift to the Trojans to make up for their depredations. This kid has therefore established that the Trojan Horse is a sacred offering to the gods, and that the Trojans will be in SERIOUS trouble with Minerva if they mess with the horse.

An ill omen also seems to befall Troy at that point too, as Laocoon gets killed by a sea serpent—the Trojans believed that it was because he threw that spear into the side of the horse. [213] Cassandra the soothsayer(ess) is mentioned here as having also foretold doom, but she wasn’t believed by anyone.

Quel surprise.

Aeneas tells Dido that at this point, once everyone had gone to sleep, that the Myrmindons were sneaking up on the walls of Troy. Inside the horse were Ulysses, Thessandrus, Sthenelus, Acamas, Thoas, Neoptolemus, Machaon, Menelaus, and Epeus (Virgil says Epeus came up with the idea for the Horse [264]). They snuck out of the horse, slew the guard, and opened the gates to the Greek army.

Aeneas tells Dido that Hector appeared to him in a dream that night. Hector claims there’s no hope for Troy; he tells Aeneas to take Ilium’s treasures and go establish a “mighty city.” More of the coming Rome. Damn, but all these ghosts are prophetic. I wonder if the ghosts make time with Jupiter or something, since they all seem to know the future.

So, Aeneas wakes up in a sweat from his dream to find the city being sacked. Aeneas tells Dido about the terrible sack, and the night of hell the Trojans went through. As Aeneas is describing a counterattack he’d waged that night, he says “adspirat primo Fortuna labori.” [385] Fairclough translates it as “Fortune favors our first effort.” I wonder if this is where “Fortune favors the bold” comes from?

Aeneas then describes how Cassandra, Priam’s daughter, is being dragged by her hair from Minerva’s temple. Presumably this is where she gets raped. Aeneas tells Dido that they’d retreated to the palace. There could be found a secret passage where Andromache (Hector’s widow) had been known to bring little Astyanax (Hector’s son) to visit Grandpa Priam. Why she’d need to bring the king’s grandson to him secretly, I don’t know.

I think Neoptolemus is the one who rapes Cassandra, but I’m not sure.

Wow. This is some powerful imagery. As the Trojans are retreating into the palace (presumably towards Andromache’s secret passage), old King Priam has gotten himself up in his armor—I can just picture him in armor 40 years out of date, raising a shaking sword to defend his aged wife Hecuba—and sees his son Polites running towards him, away from Pyrrhus, a Greek. Right in front of Priam, Pyrrhus kills Priam’s son, and does it bloody. This is reminiscent of the moment that Priam had to confront Achilles after the madman killed Hector. I think this is the first moment this poem has really hit home for me. It’s easy to see the Trojan War as like the French and Indian War—something I really only know by name and a few stories, facts, and dates with a little Daniel Day-Lewis in buckskin and moccasins thrown in. This image of Priam watching ANOTHER one of his sons gratuitously slain right in front of his face as he’s helpless to stop it—I think I need a bourbon. Whew.

Priam yells at Pyrrhus, saying that even Achilles gave back the corpse of Hector and respected Priam’s rights as a father. Oh hell. Pyrrhus answers Priam by telling him in essence to go to Hades and complain to Pyrrhus’ father if Priam doesn’t like the way he’s being treated. Whereupon Pyrrhus chops off Priam’s head. Oof. I keep seeing Peter O’Toole doing that scene with tears running down his wrinkly face.

Aeneas says to Dido that though he watched all this and was filled with rage at Helen for bringing this about, his mother Venus appears and tells him to escape, to go find Creusa (apparently Aeneas’ WIFE, though not mentioned until now), Ascanius, and Anchises, and get the hell out of Troy. Venus informs Aeneas that it’s not Helen’s fault, nor even Paris’s fault, but that the gods themselves have decreed the fate of Troy, thereby neatly robbing Aeneas of his capacity and desire to get vengeance.

Venus tells Aeneas to GET OUT, and that she’ll eventually “set you safely on your father’s threshold.” [621] I think this is something of a reference to Jupiter as well as Anchises—Jupiter is the great patron god of Rome, right? I seem to remember a big temple of Jupiter in the “Rome” BBC/HBO show. Ooh. James Purefoy as Marcus Antonius. He’s got a GREAT…talent. He was SO hot as the Black Prince of Wales with that cross tattoo. Damn you, Joan, Fair Maid of Kent.

Back on it: Aeneas tells Dido he watched the final burning of Troy, and employs heroic metaphor here to do it. I don’t remember Virgil using heroic metaphor before now…though I know Homer uses a lot of it. He compares the fall of Troy to a mighty tree that is attacked by tiny woodsmen with axes, and finally comes tumbling down all at once. SO the Iliad.

Aeneas tells Dido that he finally reached his father, Anchises, and that Anchises refused to leave Troy even as it was burning down around him. Anchises is eventually persuaded by Creusa and by seeing a sign from Jupiter where Iulus (Ascanius) gets a tonge of fire on his head—such the flattery for his eventual namesake Julius Caesar. This is almost as bad as that smarmy “dedication” to Lorenzo di Medici that Machiavelli oozes out at the beginning of The Prince.

Aeneas ends up taking Anchises PIGGYBACK out of the city. That had to have been something. These guys really WERE heroes. So, Aeneas has collected his whole family (specifically noting that his wife was lagging behind). Aeneas tells Dido that Creusa was taken from the streets somehow—that Aeneas had had no idea where she went or what happened to her. Aeneas tells Dido that he actually went back into the burning city to seek out his lost wife (depending on whether or not Aeneas is already attracted to Dido, I can completely see him playing this up to get maximum sympathy).

Aeneas has been searching, calling out her name. In the smoking ruins, the ghost of Creusa appears to him (another spirit!). Creusa prophesies to him, saying that he shouldn’t grieve—he’s got too much to live for. He’s got to take a long trip, and a royal wife waits for him at the end of his journeys. Oddly, Creusa only mentions that he should take care of their son in passing. I find this to be a flaw. If she’s really the mother of a son, she should be pestering Aeneas to take care of the boy, where’s he going to go to school, make sure he gets enough sleep, etc, and the oh-so-happy news that he’ll get a wife of higher station than her probably would have waited until the end. [788]

Anyway, Aeneas, grieving his lost wife, goes back to the meeting place where he’s left his dad and son, and finds a bunch of pitiful refugees, just waiting for someone to tell them where to go and what to do. So, Aeneas tells Dido, he took the remnant, and sought the hills. I wonder if that’s where the phrase “to head for the hills” comes from?

That’s the end of Book 2. What horrifying images of warfare. The fires of war burn on a torch head as well as in a warhead. People still die.

Virgil; The Aeneid, Book 1

Some introductory notes: The translation I'm using is the revised H. R. Fairclough, found in vol. 63 of the Loeb Classical Library. It has the Latin on the left, and the English on the right. I LOVE these! The title clicks through to a site containing this exact text. I see that it has the first six books of the Aeneid, but seemingly not the last six, so I might switch over to the Project Gutenberg version for the link if this site has problems in the future. I will refer to line numbers in the Latin, since the English translation is oh-so-prosaic.

If I want to swear, I will. This is not Cliff's Notes. This is my personal interpretation of Virgil's poem, and when something reminds me of my life, or current events, or another book, or anything I feel like talking about, I will use it as a reference. This is for MY use, and if you like it, read it, and tell your friends. I will engage with people who have something to say about these texts, and I will occasionally place my open questions in bold text, meaning I don't know the answer to them, and I'd appreciate comments. If I'm asking a rhetorical question, I probably already know the answer, and if I don't, I probably don't care what you think, unless you are funny.

So, the Aeneid, Book 1. I'm given to understand that Virgil didn't finish the Aeneid, and wanted it burned after he died because it wasn't done yet. Thank the merciful heavens that Augustus Caesar was an interfering despotic literary gourmand. He forbade the burning of the text in opposition to Virgil's will. Crisis averted.

Virgil starts the whole thing off with the phrase "Arma virumque cano," meaning"Arms and the man I sing," which is a reference to the beginnings of both the Iliad and the Odyssey, in what I have to say is either brilliant writing, or a completely awful pun. The Iliad was about arms (battles), and the Odyssey about a man. The first thing I'm introduced to is the wrath of Juno at the Trojan remnant fleeing the broken towers of Ilium (Troy). Why IS Juno so mad at Aeneas? She was partial to the Greeks, I know, so since the Aeneid begins about twenty seconds after the sack of Troy, why would she be so upset? The Greeks won, man. Let it go.

Juno muses over the loss of so many Greeks, which might be why she's so pissed. I think it's intriguing that she mentions the Carthaginians at this point; the Phoenicians traversed the whole Mediterranean, making the Tyrians (Phoenicians in ethnic origin, so the progenitors of the modern Palestinians) who will settle Carthage go through some of the same experiences that the ancient Jews were going through at the time of Virgil's writing (resettlement by the Roman authorities, dispersal into a diaspora, etc.).

Ah so. Juno liked the Carthaginians, and knew that the ex-Trojans would be coming along to sack the city eventually (like hundreds of years later kind of eventually) during the Punic Wars. The implication is that Rome is the convergence of the efforts of all the Gods, when Juno starts talking about how Jupiter, Venus, and the others are conspiring against her to bring about the rise of the city of Rome and hence the destruction of her favorite children in Carthage.

Geez. It's possible I just have a sick mind, but we zero in on the heroes of our tale sailing the Mediterranean away from Troy, and they're "merrily plowing the foaming brine with brazen plow." [35] Sexual imagery, much? In Juno's mind, the Trojan remnant are raping the sea.

Hmm. So it was Minerva (Pallas Athena) who burned the Argive fleet because she was still angry at Paris over picking Venus (Aphrodite) as being the most beautiful.

So Juno (Hera) goes to talk to Aeolus, the king of the wind and of Aeolia, to get him to sink the Trojan fleet. She offers him Deiopea, the hottest of her seven Nymphs, and promises him really good sex for the rest of his life [72]. Ok. I'm thinking it's not me that has a sick mind at this point. I'm going to guess that if I think I'm seeing sexual imagery, it's probably because I'm seeing sexual imagery. Aeolus agrees, and sends the winds to sink the Trojans.

Orontes' ship is sunk (three ships are mentioned at this point). So is Ilioneus', son of Achates. Also in that ship were Abas and Aletes. At this point, Neptune gets pissed off at Juno and basically calls her a spoiled, entitled little wench. He's mad that Juno had anything to do with riling up the sea, since that's his province. Neptune calms the sea, and the Trojans head for the coast of Libya.

Ok, I guess there are seven ships, since once they've landed, Aeneas goes hunting with Achates, and kills seven stags "equal in number to his ships." [192]

He takes the beasties back to the shore--surely he had more help than just Achates--and gets his men sloshed on the wine that was fortuitously rescued from the ships. He tells his men that a better home waits for them in Latium where Troy will rise again. Kinda funny, since they're on the WRONG BLOODY SIDE OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. He's also scared and depressed when making these promises.

Now the men start mourning and eating. Orontes is now declared officially dead, as is Amycus, Lycus, Gyas, and Cloanthus. There seem to be elements of funereal sacrifices in this meal on the beach, as they "flay the hides from the ribs" and so forth for burning them over fires. [211]

At this point, Jupiter (Zeus) and Venus are floating about in the sky overhead, and Venus pleads for mercy for her pet Trojans (she still likes them from the Judgment of Paris). So Jupiter promises Venus that her children will find a home in Lavinium (the city Aeneas will found), and his son Ascanius (Iulus --could this be the forerunner of the Julii?) will found Alba Longa, an intermediate city-state between Lavinium and Rome. Jupiter also promises that Juno will come to love the Romans. Hmm. Jupiter says that the "House of Assaracus" will eventually rule. Who are they? Jupiter also now foretells the birth of Julius Caesar. [288] Who the heck are the Teucrians? Anyway, Jupiter intervenes to make the Phoenicians welcome Aeneas, especially Dido.

Aeneas is worried, though, and sets out exploring from the Libyan beach he's shipwrecked upon. He goes with Achates--and only Achates, this time; Virgil specifies--after hiding the fleet. He meets up with Venus in the form of a huntress in the woods, and Aeneas praises her beauty in terms very like those that Odysseus uses with Nausicaa, and probably for the same reasons. He wants to reassure this maiden that she isn't in any danger of being raped by Aeneas or Achates. Venus answers his queries about where they are by telling him that he's in the Punic realm, where Dido rules.

Damn. She really IS "unhappy" Dido. Her brother killed her original husband, Sychaeus. Fortunately, Dido filched Pygmalion's (her brother's) ready stash of gold, and took a fleet of dissidents to new Carthage. This is interesting. The refugees bought a "bull's hide" of land from the previous inhabitants. A bull's hide meant that they cut a bull's hide into VERY thin strips and encompassed as much land as they could with the strips. This might not be true--it might be an etymological muck-up. Phoenician for citadel = bosra; Greek for bull's hide = Beta upsilon rho sigma alpha

Hmm. When replying to Venus, Aeneas says he's looking for Italy, his "father's land." [380] In addition to being referential to "patria," the Roman word for "fatherland" in much the same way as the Russians have the "Rodina" or "motherland," this seems to me to be an attempt by Virgil to increase the historic claim to Italia.

Venus interrupts Aeneas as he's whining about how cold and hungry he is, and tells him to go to the queen's palace (why is this italicized?), and as she's turning away, Aeneas recognizes her as his mother. He wants to know why she won't just be straight with him. This is interesting--why WOULDN'T Aeneas suspect that a randomly helpful, stunningly beautiful goddess was his mother? OTOH, Venus is going back [415] to her temple on Paphos which smells fragrant and has flowers. Maybe she's only helping Aeneas because it amuses her to do so? She seems like a child with a new kitten.

So Aeneas goes to Carthage, where his fleet has been led by Venus and Jupiter, and sees the Carthaginians still in the process of building their citadel.

[446] "Sidonian Dido"? This must mean she's from the city of Sidon, not Tyre. I guess Tyre was the kingdom, and Sidon was the city she's from. Aeneas is walking through the city, and sees artisans working on depicting scenes from the Trojan War, interestingly enough. He bemoans to Achates (who seems to still be with him) the fact that his war has touched the whole earth. In the crowds, Aeneas sees his men, Antheus, Sergestus, Cloanthus, and the other Trojans. Aeneas and Achates choose not to make themselves known to the other Trojans, though. Aeneas wanted to know how they'd be received. This seems kinda cowardly, and not at all in the vein of the great Trojan heroes.

Ilioneus (the oldest) appeals to Dido as she's holding open court, in essence asking her for shelter and then safe passage to the shores of Italy (implying that the Trojans weren't there to make war on the Carthaginians). Dido grants it and asks if they want any help finding Aeneas. The cloud hiding Aeneas and Achates lifts magically at that point (Venus is SUCH the showboat), and Dido falls HARD.

At this point, it is mentioned for the first time that Anchises is Aeneas' father [617], and Ascanius is Aeneas' son [643].

Aeneas also tells Achates to bring some stuff back from the ships when he sends him down to the shore to tell Ascanius and the rest of their happy welcome. One of the items is a veil fringed with yellow acanthus flowers once worn by Helen. Venus gets to worrying, though, and wonders if the friendly welcome of Dido will last. So, she replaces Ascanius with Cupid (her son) and asks him to infest Dido with love (more like Obsession by Calvin Klein kind of love). Ooo, pretty. Oscula dulcia is Latin for sweet kisses. So, as Aeneas is feasting with Dido that night, the adorable child Ascanius (Cupid in disguise) comes into the hall (perhaps the fact that Ascanius is a child and was on the ships down at the shore is an excuse for Aeneas' cowardice earlier--he was more worried about his son than his friends).

Aeneas has given Dido the veil of Helen--what a gift! Dido "cannot satiate her soul." [713] What a way to describe love--or Eros, as the case may be. Dido takes Ascanius into her lap. Wow. What an image--the god of sexual passion IN HER LAP. Poor wench never had a chance. She prolongs the feast with entertainments, then begs Aeneas to tell the whole story of the Trojan War. Interestingly, she says [754] "tell us...of the treachery of the Greeks..." Everybody knows it was the treachery of the Trojans that started the whole thing, what with filching Helen from Menelaos and all. Perhaps the infestation of Eros has influenced her thought. After all, it was his mum that began the whole thing with the Judgment of Paris and giving Helen to a Trojan prince.

What a great experience! I'm definitely going to continue doing this.

Inaugural

All blogs begin with trauma or a resolution.

I've discovered a rather disturbing tendency in myself. I watch too much TV. I LOVE TV. I love visual stories, and the tendency to get a happy ending in 41.5 minutes. I've noticed that I watch far too much of it, though. Hence, this blog is the result and motivation for a full month with no television. NONE. Going to the movies doesn't count, though (since asking me to forgo Batman: The Dark Knight would be cruel and unusual, and not a motivator for personal betterment).

What shall I do with all the time I've been wasting on television? I'll be writing about the classics of Western and Eastern literature. I'm starting with the Aeneid, and continuing from there. I'll be posting the amount I've read, and comments on the text on each day. I'll also include a link, if one is available, to an online copy of the text. The title of each post will lead to a page containing that day's readings.

I'm trying to better myself. Here goes.