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Aeneas and the Aeneid
I have been thinking about Aeneas, recently. There are a number of reasons for this: a few stories I've read recently have echoed to the Aeneid, it's been a theme in some of the BSG discussion I've seen, and of course I'm teaching Roman stuff again now, although not the poem itself. I have a deep and abiding love for the Aeneid, and it always saddens me a little when people dismiss the poem and its hero. I wrote about this a couple years ago, in this journal, but my friends list has changed a bit since then. What I wrote then still holds.
Of the three epics we read about the Trojan War, it's the one people (in my experience) like least. In part, I still think that it's because we read it too young: the Iliad is all living fast and dying young, the majestic, horrific brutality of war, the Odyssey can be read as an adventure story, but the Aeneid is a poem about losing, Aeneas loses everything: his city, his wife, his friends, the life he makes for himself, again and again, his father, the woman he loves, most of his people and finally even his identity. We want him to rail at the unjustness of the universe more than he does, but it's hardly surprising that he knuckles under to his fate: whenever he tries to avoid it, people he cares about get killed.
I forgot to bring my copy home to work from, so there will be further Aeneas posts in the future with references to the text. But on the way home I was thinking of Creusa. You know the story--making their way out of Troy, Aeneas is holding his son's hand and carrying his father on his shoulders; he tells Creusa to stay close, but when they make it past the walls he realizes she's missing. No one knows where she is: they had (IIRC--I'm reconstructing the whole episode from memory) at this stage picked up quite a trail of refugees, and she was walking at the rear to keep them together. Aeneas goes crazy for the second time that night and rushes back into the city, determined to find her or die trying.
And it just struck me, what a perfectly Roman situation. First of all, only a Roman would rush back into a burning city full of his enemies to rescue his wife. Seriously, no Greek hero would ever do this (except Odysseus, probably), and even if he did, there's basically a 100% chance that his wife would end up trying to kill him. A Greek hero would do this for his boyfriend, but never his wife. The second thing that's very Roman is that Creusa ends up holding the rear. Again, Greek heroes don't tend to give their wives positions of responsibility; considering the frequency with which their wives try to kill them, that's probably sensible. Romans are much more likely to leave their wives in charge, while they're off doing something important. "Bye, honey! Look after the house and land while I'm off conquering Asia, OK? Oh, and it might be a few years, so here's a preliminary list of men I won't mind you having an affair with, if you get lonely. Have fun!" Seriously. That's how marriage in the Late Republic works.
Right. Aeneas rushes back into Troy to find her, and he fails. Of course he fails. Creusa's ghost appears to him to reassure him: she's been stolen away by the Mother of the Gods, whose priestess she was. She didn't suffer. Aeneas tries to embrace her before she disappears forever: three times, his hands reach out to her, and three times they pass through her body like the air it is.
Story of his life, really.
Of the three epics we read about the Trojan War, it's the one people (in my experience) like least. In part, I still think that it's because we read it too young: the Iliad is all living fast and dying young, the majestic, horrific brutality of war, the Odyssey can be read as an adventure story, but the Aeneid is a poem about losing, Aeneas loses everything: his city, his wife, his friends, the life he makes for himself, again and again, his father, the woman he loves, most of his people and finally even his identity. We want him to rail at the unjustness of the universe more than he does, but it's hardly surprising that he knuckles under to his fate: whenever he tries to avoid it, people he cares about get killed.
I forgot to bring my copy home to work from, so there will be further Aeneas posts in the future with references to the text. But on the way home I was thinking of Creusa. You know the story--making their way out of Troy, Aeneas is holding his son's hand and carrying his father on his shoulders; he tells Creusa to stay close, but when they make it past the walls he realizes she's missing. No one knows where she is: they had (IIRC--I'm reconstructing the whole episode from memory) at this stage picked up quite a trail of refugees, and she was walking at the rear to keep them together. Aeneas goes crazy for the second time that night and rushes back into the city, determined to find her or die trying.
And it just struck me, what a perfectly Roman situation. First of all, only a Roman would rush back into a burning city full of his enemies to rescue his wife. Seriously, no Greek hero would ever do this (except Odysseus, probably), and even if he did, there's basically a 100% chance that his wife would end up trying to kill him. A Greek hero would do this for his boyfriend, but never his wife. The second thing that's very Roman is that Creusa ends up holding the rear. Again, Greek heroes don't tend to give their wives positions of responsibility; considering the frequency with which their wives try to kill them, that's probably sensible. Romans are much more likely to leave their wives in charge, while they're off doing something important. "Bye, honey! Look after the house and land while I'm off conquering Asia, OK? Oh, and it might be a few years, so here's a preliminary list of men I won't mind you having an affair with, if you get lonely. Have fun!" Seriously. That's how marriage in the Late Republic works.
Right. Aeneas rushes back into Troy to find her, and he fails. Of course he fails. Creusa's ghost appears to him to reassure him: she's been stolen away by the Mother of the Gods, whose priestess she was. She didn't suffer. Aeneas tries to embrace her before she disappears forever: three times, his hands reach out to her, and three times they pass through her body like the air it is.
Story of his life, really.