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Sisyphus, Painted By Giovanni Battista Langetti (c. 1635 – 1676)

By
thehistorianshut
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This painting, by the Italian artist Giovanni Battista Langetti (c. 1635 – 1676), was inspired by a hellish myth about Sisyphus. According to ancient Greek mythology, Sisyphus was the founder of Ephyra (but later became associated with Corinth) and was the grandfather of the mighty hero, Bellerophon. Sisyphus was not too shabby himself, and had a reputation for cunning and cleverness. He was once said to have cheated death by instructing his wife to not give him proper burial rights, and because of this negligence, Sisyphus was able to return to the land of the living on the pretense of chastising his wife. Instead, upon returning to life, Sisyphus just thanked his wife for following their plan, and then he refused to return to the underworld. While that trick was controversial enough, Sisyphus was said to have further angered the gods by tattling on the high-god, Zeus, when the powerful deity kidnapped the nymph, Aegina. Zeus’ involvement in the kidnapping was revealed by Sisyphus to Aegina’s father, the river god, Asopos, who then tried to take Aegina back from the lightning-wielding divinity. Although the minor river deity could not defeat the high-god of Olympus, Zeus was still annoyed by the situation and he particularly grew wrathful against Sisyphus for speaking to Asopos. When Sisyphus died a second time (and this time could not escape death), the gods arranged a special punishment for him in the underworld. On this, the ancient scholar known as Pseudo-Apollodorus (c. 1st-2nd century) wrote, “Sisyphus undergoes the punishment in Hades of rolling a rock with his hands and head in an attempt to roll it over the top of a hill; but however hard he pushes it, it forces its way back down again. He suffers this punishment because of Aegina, a daughter of Asopos; for Zeus had carried her off in secret, and Sisyphus is said to have revealed this to Asopos, who went in search of her” (Apollodorus, Library, I.9.3). Such, then, is the story behind Giovanni Battista Langetti’s painting. It shows Sisyphus in his endless struggle against the unconquerable rock and hill of Hades.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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How Dionysus’ Thyrsus Staff Design Allegedly Protected Against Drunken Brawling

By
thehistorianshut
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A wand or staff called a thyrsus, was associated with the wine-god Dionysus (and his Roman equivalent Bacchus). A thyrsus generally consisted of a straight rod, topped with a plant-themed ornament—most often a pinecone. The material recommended for the main staff of the religious scepter was a large stalk of giant fennel, called a narthēx. It was a curious choice, but Dionysus was allegedly looking out for the wellbeing of his inebriated followers when he suggested that each thyrsus should be made out of giant fennel. A scholar named Diodorus Siculus (1st century BCE) preserved the tale of Dionysus’ giant fennel endorsement:

“When wine was first discovered, the mixing of water with it had not as yet been devised and the wine was drunk unmixed; but when friends gathered together and enjoyed good cheer, the revellers, filling themselves to abundance with the unmixed wine, became like madmen and used their wooden staves to strike one another. Consequently, since some of them were wounded and some died of wounds inflicted in vital spots, Dionysus was offended at such happenings, and though he did not decide that they should refrain from drinking the unmixed wine in abundance, because the drink gave such pleasure, he ordered them hereafter to carry a narthex and not a wooden staff” (Diodorus Siculus, Library, 4.4).

According to this tale, Dionysus chose to equip his followers with giant fennel rods instead of wooden canes so as to reduce the damage that would occur if a drunken brawl erupted among his followers. Nevertheless, Dionysus’ troupes of fanatic followers, such as the Bacchae and Maenads still could not be underestimated. When riled up by Dionysus’ powers of inebriation and madness, his followers could still quite literally tear people apart with their bare hands.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped scene from a terracotta bell-krater (bowl for mixing wine and water) ca. 450 B.C., [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

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Oedipus At Colonus, Painted By Jean Antoine Théodore Giroust (c. 1753 – 1817)

By
thehistorianshut
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This painting, by the French artist Jean Antoine Théodore Giroust (c. 1753 – 1817), was inspired by the life of Oedipus, perhaps one of the unluckiest figures of ancient Greek myth. Oedipus is represented in the painting by the shirtless man with his legs draped in red cloth, seen sitting on a carved stone. He is surrounded by his daughters: Antigone and Ismene. As for the man wearing a helmet on the left side of the painting, he is Polynices—one of Oedipus’ sons.

In the chronology of Oedipus myths, this painting is set near the end of the long and tragic saga, but we can briefly summarize the preceding events of his unfortunate life. Oedipus was the son of King (or Tyrant) Laius and Queen Jocasta of Thebes. When Oedipus was still a baby, King Laius learned from an oracle that he would be killed by his son. Due to this prophesy, baby Oedipus was abandoned by his family, but the agents tasked with disposing of the child decided to give the baby another chance and arranged for him to be brought to King Polybus and Queen Merope of Corinth, who adopted Oedipus and raised him as their son. Although Oedipus loved his adoptive family, he still had questions about his true lineage. His search for the truth led Oedipus to another prophesy—that he would kill his father and marry his mother. Hearing this, Oedipus decided to never return to Corinth (to spare his adopted parents from possible harm), and he instead turned to a life of wandering and adventure. Unfortunately, Oedipus chose to travel in the direction of Thebes.

On the road, he ended up killing a man who turned out to be his real father, King Laius. Continuing on, Oedipus encountered and defeated a sphinx near Thebes, which led him to marry the widowed Queen Jocasta and become king of the Thebans. Oedipus and Jocasta (who were not aware of their mother-son connection at the time) had four children—the fourth, not shown in the painting, was Eteocles. Although the family lived in happy ignorance for a time, the truth eventually came out, which had devastating consequences for Oedipus’ family. After discovering the truth, Jocasta ended her own life; Oedipus, in turn, blinded himself and abdicated his power to go into exile.

Oedipus’ daughters stood by their father and continued to actively care for him as he wandered in exile. In response to the devotion of his daughters, Oedipus truly doted upon Antigone and Ismene.  The relationship between Oedipus and his sons, however, was not warm at all. Whereas Antigone and Ismene followed Oedipus into exile, caring for their blind father’s every need, the sons contrastingly abandoned dear old dad to wage war for the throne of Thebes. Nevertheless, a prophecy soon emerged that claimed whichever city hosted Oedipus’ tomb would be granted victory. When this prophecy was spread, both of Oedipus’ sons immediately had a change of heart and wanted to see their father again…at least so they could build his tomb on their territory in the near future. And that brings us to the scene painted above—in it, Oedipus’ son, Polynices, has come in an attempt to convince his father to join his faction in the civil war. Polynices was on the losing side of the conflict, forced to flee from Thebes and relocate to Argos, and it was that Argive city that he wanted to bring his father. Oedipus, as can be seen in the painting, was not keen on his son’s offer. Instead, Oedipus launched into a vitriolic tirade that was filled with curses for the sons that had spent years not displaying any affection, love or respect for their exiled father. For this scene, the Athenian playwright, Sophocles (c. 496-405 BCE), armed Oedipus with linguistic daggers such as:

“But off to damnation with you, abhorred by me and disowned! Take these curses which I call down on you, most evil of evil men: may you never defeat your native land, and may you never return to the valley of Argos; I pray that you die by a related hand, and slay him by whom you have been driven out. This is my prayer. And I call on the hateful darkness of Tartarus that your father shares, to take you into another home; and I call on the divinities of this place, and I call on the god of war, who has set dreadful hatred in you both. Go with these words in your ear; go and announce to all the Cadmeans, and to your own faithful allies, that Oedipus has distributed such portions to his sons” (Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus, approximately lines 1380-1395).

After hearing this emphatic speech, Polynices gracefully accepted defeat and walked away, disappointed and doomed. Oedipus’ prophecy came true, as Polynices later attacked Thebes, which was held by his brother, Eteocles. In the ensuing battle, both brothers were killed and their uncle, Creon, became the undisputed leader of the city. Meanwhile, Oedipus met a mysterious, supernatural end in the region of Colonus, Athens, and his daughters thereafter returned to Thebes. There, as could be expected from people in Oedipus’ family, their fates were not kind.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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The Horrific Trial Of Vestal Minucia

By
thehistorianshut
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A woman named Minucia was a member of the prestigious religious order of the Vestal Virgins in Rome during the second half of the 4th century BCE. She, like the other members of her religious order, had been selected for the priestly office when she was between six and ten years of age, at which point she was shepherded away by the pontifex maximus of Rome to join the cult of the hearth goddess, Vesta. As a Vestal Virgin, Minucia led a privileged and prominent life, yet her ascendance up the social hierarchy came at a price. As the name of the group suggests, the Vestal Virgins were required to remain chaste during their period of active service in the religious order, with their terms typically lasting for thirty years. During those decades, Vesta’s priestesses had to be on their best behavior, for enforcement of the rules and restrictions imposed on the Vestal Virgins in Rome was no joke. A Vestal found guilty of neglecting her religious duties could be legally beaten as punishment, and an exponentially worse fate was reserved for Vestals who were deemed to have broken their vow of chastity. Minucia’s story, unfortunately, became a prime example of the horrors potentially faced by Vestal Virgins that ran afoul of the authorities in Rome.

According to Roman tradition and its early folkloric history, the breach of trust between Minucia and the pontiffs of Rome began innocently enough. As told by the ancient Roman historian, Livy (c. 59 BCE-17CE), “Vestal Minucia first attracted suspicion by her dress, which was more elegant than was proper…” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.15). Now, other Vestals in the past had been charged with similar accusations of improper wardrobe and only received a strict talking-to in way of punishment, as was the case of a certain Vestal named Postumia who was criticized but acquitted in a trial that was said to have taken place around 420 BCE. Minucia, however, would not prove to be so lucky as her ancient predecessor. Perhaps, she had made enemies among the authorities in Rome. Whatever the case, the Roman investigators spared no effort in digging up (or manufacturing) evidence that could seal Minucia’s fate in trial.

When Minucia was first charged with dressing improperly, she was banned from performing her religious duties. Curiously, it was also forbidden for her to free any slaves that worked in her household, presumably so that the authorities would have free reign to implement torture during the questioning of the enslaved workers. During interrogations under torture, tortured individuals often respond to leading questions and regurgitate the narrative that interrogators want to hear. Something of this kind might have occurred during the interrogation of Minucia’s servants, for the questions and answers gradually led into topics that were more incriminating than mere improper dress. Instead of building a case around solid evidence, the authorities based their argument around the dubious torture-coerced testimony. Unfortunately, in the ancient world, this was enough to condemn an accused woman to an abysmal end. On the trial that ensued, Livy wrote:

“[Minucia] was subsequently charged before the pontiffs on the evidence of a slave. She was ordered by their decree to abstain from performing sacred rites and to retain her household slaves in her power; after sentence was passed she was buried alive near the Colline Gate, to the right of the paved road, in the Polluted Field—a place so named, I believe, from her unchastity” (Livy, Roman History, 8.15).

Such was the fate of the Vestal Virgin, Minucia. After being accused of having too elegant of a wardrobe, the resulting investigation spiraled out of control, ending with her being charged with unchastity. The trial, and her resulting execution by being buried alive, reportedly occurred around the year 337 BCE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Lucius Albinius Rescues the Vestal Virgins, attributed to Antonio Giuseppe Basoli (c. 1774–1843), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Smithsonian Institute).

 

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Family Of Darius Before Alexander, Painted By Francesco Salvator Fontebasso (c. 1709 – 1769)

By
thehistorianshut
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This painting, by the Italian artist Francesco Salvator Fontebasso (c. 1709 – 1769), draws its inspiration from an event that occurred during the remarkable reign of Alexander the Great of Macedonia (r. 336-323 BCE). In particular, the artwork re-creates (albeit with some touches of fashion from Fontebasso’s own age) a scene that occurred after Alexander defeated the forces of Darius III of Persia at the Battle of Issus in 333 BCE. As the Persian ruler was chased off the battlefield, he had to leave behind his camp, as well as anything and anyone that had been in it at the time of the battle. Unfortunately for the defeated Persian king, he had left many of his loved ones in that camp, including his mother, wife and children. Therefore, when Darius was defeated and forced to flee, his family was subsequently captured by Alexander the Great. Arrian (c. 90-173+), a Roman biographer of Alexander, wrote, “Darius’ headquarters were stormed and captured; his mother was taken, together with his wife (who was also his sister) and his infant son; in addition to these, two of his daughters fell into Alexander’s hands with a few noble Persian ladies who were in attendance upon them” (Anabasis Alexandri, Book 2, chapter 12). When Alexander the Great became aware that he had captured the family of Darius, the first thing that he did was to send one of his companions to reassure the captives that Darius was still alive. On another day, he visited the captured Persian royals in person and made sure that they were kept safe. This meeting between Alexander the Great and the captive Persian royals is what inspired Francesco Salvator Fontebasso’s painting. Darius’ family remained with Alexander the Great until around 331 BCE, when he left them behind in the city of Susa.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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The Tale Of The Catastrophic Rivalry Between Duke Ferdulf And Magistrate Argait

By
thehistorianshut
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A man named Ferdulf was the Lombard duke of the Friuli region at the turn of the 7th and 8th centuries. While he was duke, Ferdulf’s realm was said to have been ravaged by raids from Slavic warbands. Unfortunately for the Friulan population under his care, Duke Ferdulf proved to be an abysmal military leader. Perhaps due the duke’s insufficient leadership and protection, local magistrates felt the need to raise their own militias in order to defend themselves. Of these borderland militias, one of the most prominent groups was led by a magistrate named Argait. Nevertheless, to the detriment of the Friuli region, even Argait turned out to be a terrible strategist when he actually led his followers into battle.

Duke Ferdulf and Magistrate Argait naturally began working together to combat the threat of the Slavic raids. Yet, the combination of these two ineffective and egotistical leaders unfortunately resulted in a particularly toxic military environment. They became bitter and unfriendly rivals, and as an odd result of their abrasive partnership, the two eventually began to angrily challenge each other to attempt bolder and more dangerous feats in their ongoing struggle against the raiders. Such competition sometimes provides beneficial results, but it was regrettably not so for this peculiar pair. As neither the duke nor the magistrate performed well in battle, their wordy bravado could never be re-created on the battlefield. Regardless of this disconnect between talk and action, Ferdulf and Argait kept on unhealthily pushing each other toward catastrophe.

During one fateful campaign season in the time of the unfruitful partnership between Duke Ferdulf and Magistrate Argait, the Friulan forces evidently cornered a notably large army of Slavic marauders on a steep slope of a mountainside. At this point, one might expect the duke and the magistrate to implement some sort of siege or blockade; or, perhaps, they would try to lure the raiders away to a better battleground. Such ideas, however, were not bold or brazen enough for the dysfunctional Lombard duo. Instead, either Ferdulf or Argait decided to toss basic strategy to the wayside and alternatively chose to charge straight up the mountainside against the sizable entrenched force. The other leader, not willing to let his rival look braver than himself, also committed his troops to the fool’s errand of marching up the mountain. As one might easily imagine, the battle did not end well for them. A Lombard historian and Friuli native, Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799), lamentingly described the battle:

“There all the nobility of the Friulans perished. There duke Ferdulf fell and there too he [Argait] who had provoked him was killed. And there so great a number of brave men were vanquished by the wickedness and thoughtlessness of dissension as could, with unity and wholesome counsel, overthrow many thousands of their enemies…We put these things into this history especially for this purpose, that nothing further of a like character may happen through the evil of dissension” (Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, 6.24).

After Duke Ferdulf and his army was slaughtered in their ill-planned uphill charge, a man named Corvolus became the next duke of Friuli. Perhaps, he was somehow held accountable for his predecessor’s failings. Whatever the case, Duke Corvolus almost immediately fell afoul of the Lombard king, Aripert II (r. 701-712), who ordered that Corvolus be blinded and removed from power.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (14th-century illustration included in a manuscript for the Book of the Maccabees, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

Sources:

  • History of the Lombards by Paul the Deacon, translated by William Dudley Foulke (c. 1904). University of Pennsylvania Press, 1907, 1974, 2003.

Erminia And The Shepherds, Painted By Guillaume Lethière (c. 1760 – 1832)

By
thehistorianshut
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This painting, by the French artist Guillaume Lethière (c. 1760 – 1832), was inspired by a scene from a poem called Gerusalemme liberata, written by the Italian poet, Torquato Tasso (c. 1544-1595). Tasso’s poem, which translates as The Liberation of Jerusalem, is a fictitious tale that is set in the times of the First Crusade (c. 1095/1096-1099). Despite the deceptive name of the poem, the Gerusalemme liberata more closely resembles ancient epic poems such as the Iliad and the Aeneid than an actual account of the First Crusade. Instead of Greeks besieging Troy, Tasso’s epic has Crusaders besieging Jerusalem. Whereas Greco-Roman gods helped or hindered the ancient heroes of old, Tasso’s newer characters instead meet angels, demons, wizards, witches, and a diverse host of other supernatural creatures. Nevertheless, this particular painted scene re-creates one of Tasso’s more mundane and earthly episodes from his poem. Guillaume Lethière’s painting focuses on the fictional character, Erminia, and an encounter she had with a community of shepherds.

As Torquato Tasso tells it in his fictional poem, Erminia was a refugee who fled from the Crusader armies and found sanctuary in the then unconquered city of Jerusalem. While she was being driven from her home, only one crusader was kind to her. This crusader was Tancred (a historical figure spliced into this fictional plot), and his kindness caused Erminia to fall in love with him. During the siege of Jerusalem, the two were on opposite sides of the wall, but Erminia watched Tancred’s actions with interest. When she eventually saw that Tancred was injured during a duel, she was compelled to slip out of Jerusalem’s defenses to treat her beloved crusader’s wounds. To do this, she stole a suit of armor and a horse, and was able to bluff her way out of the gates. Nevertheless, Erminia was not able to reach Tancred at that time, for she was discovered by Crusader scouts and was chased away. It is this turn of events that led the armored Erminia to stumble upon a community of shepherds, who were understandably shocked and startled by her appearance. Torquato Tasso poetically described the scene:

“She sees an old man in the pleasant shade,
braiding (his flock close by) some basket thing
and listening while three striplings play and sing.
They, struck with terror at the sudden view
of unaccustomed arms, stare in surprise,
but then Erminia greets them kind and true,
and heartens them, uncovering her eyes
and golden hair. ‘Pursue,’ she says, ‘oh you,
beloved by Heaven, your fair enterprise.
These arms shall never urge a war to wrong
your wholesome labour or your lovely song.’”
(Torquato Tasso, Gerusalemme liberata, Canto 7, stanzas 6-7)

It is this passage that inspired Guillaume Lethière’s painting. Erminia can be seen standing before the shepherding family, who view her from the pleasant shade cast by their home and its arbor. As described in Tasso’s poem, Ermenia is depicted in the act of uncovering her eyes and hair, and the old shepherd has put down the basket he was weaving. Guillaume Lethière curiously chose to situate the scene in front of the wall of the family home, relegating the picturesque scenery of the nearby landscape and livestock to the background on the right side of his painting.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

Sources:

William Shakespeare

By
thehistorianshut
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William Shakespeare (c. 1564 [?] – 1616)

“Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgment taste;
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.”

  • From William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Act I, scene 1, approximately between lines 230-240). The edition used here is the Wolfgang Clemen and Sylvan Barnet version (Signet Classic/New American Library, 1963, 1964).

Antium’s Opportunistic Raids Of 340 BCE

By
thehistorianshut
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In the year 340 BCE, the city of Antium watched with interest as its long-time foe, Rome, committed itself in a war against the Latin League. The League’s network of members and allies included such regions as Pedum, Lanuvium, Aricia, Nomentum, Tusculum, Velitrae, Tibur, Praeneste, Fundi, Formiae, Cumae, Suessula, and segments of Campania, but not all of the cities were equally committed to waging war against the Romans. Nevertheless, the war was serious enough for both of Rome’s governing consuls at that time, Titus Manlius “Imperiosus” Torquatus and Publius Decius Mus, to be dispatched with the military to wage war against the Latin League. During their campaign in 340 BCE, Publius Decius Mus was killed in battle and the surviving consul became embroiled in controversy for executing his own son. Rome’s ongoing war, its bogged-down military, and its consulship problem (with Publius Decius Mus’ death and Titus Manlius Torquatus’ scandal), provided Antium with ample opportunities that they could exploit militarily. This was too tempting for Antium to resist, so while Rome was battling with the Latin League in 340 BCE, the city of Antium launched raids against the territory of Rome and its subjects.

According to Roman tradition, the military of Antium focused its attacks on three particular regions. These locations were listed by the ancient Roman historian, Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE), who claimed that “The Antiates raided the lands of Ostia, Ardea, and Solonium” (Livy, History of Rome, 8.12). Antium’s raids had to be quickly reduced in scope and scale, however, because the Romans were able to negotiate a momentary truce with the Latin League before the year 340 BCE was over. Curiously, Rome’s military seemingly had a complicated time redeploying its forces against Antium during that campaign season. Perhaps, Titus Manlius Torquatus’ political scandal hampered his efforts to lead Rome’s forces on another military operation. Whatever the case, the consul pleaded illness, and a dictator was reportedly put in place to respond to Antium’s raids. The dictator, however, allegedly put on a lackluster performance. The aforementioned historian, Livy, commented on the dictator’s odd campaign, saying, “[Rome] appointed as dictator Lucius Papirius Crassus, who happened to be praetor at the time; and he named Lucius Papirius Cursor master of Horse. The dictator achieved nothing remarkable against the Antiates, although he had a permanent camp in their land for several months” (History of Rome, 8.12).

Although the dictator did not win any spectacular battles, it should be noted that his threatening gesture did evidently put a stop to Antium’s raids in 340 BCE. Nevertheless, warfare between the two feuding cities would continue. When the Roman-Latin conflict renewed with a passion in 339 and 338 BCE, Antium became caught up in it again. In 338 BCE, the Latin League was dealt a definitive defeat, and Antium was conquered and occupied along with the Latins.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Roman Soldiers Defending a City Plagued by Famine, drawn by Louis Fabritius Dubourg (c. 1693–1775), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the MET).

 

Sources:

  • The History of Rome (Rome and Italy) by Livy, translated by Betty Radice. New York: Penguin Classics, 1982.

Aeneas Carrying Anchises Out Of Burning Troy, Painted By An Unidentified 17th-Century Artist

By
thehistorianshut
-

This painting, created by an unidentified 17th-century Flemish artist who signed it with “W. D.”, is a copy of a different painting created by the 16th-century Italian artist, Frederico Barocci. The anonymous copiest, however, did make noticeable changes in colors, lighting and style. Depicted in the scene is a family that links the myths and legends of Troy to the tales of ancient Rome. It is the Trojan hero Aeneas (along with his family) who can be seen escaping from his doomed homeland at the end of the legendary Trojan War. According to ancient Greek myth, Aeneas was a demigod, born of the goddess Aphrodite, and it was she who encouraged Aeneas to gather up his family and flee as the Greeks began ransacking and burning the Trojan capital. The hero obeyed his divine mother and rushed to collect his elderly father, his frightened wife, and their young son while time remained to escape. Virgil (70-19 BCE), a poet from Rome, assumed the point of view of Aeneas and described in verse the scene featured here in the painting:

“So come, dear father, climb up onto my shoulders!
I will carry you on my back. This labor of love
will never wear me down. Whatever falls to us now,
we both will share one peril, one path to safety.
Little Iulus, walk beside me, and you, my wife,
follow me at a distance, in my footsteps.
…With that,
over my broad shoulders and round my neck I spread
a tawny lion’s skin for a cloak, and bowing down,
I lift my burden up. Little Iulus, clutching
my right hand, keeps pace with tripping steps.
My wife trails on behind. And so we make our way
along the pitch-dark paths, and I who had never flinched
at the hurtling spears or swarming Greek assaults—
now every stir of wind, every whisper of sound
alarms me, anxious both for the child beside me
and burden on my back.”
(The Aeneid, Book II, approximately lines 880-910)

In Virgil’s account, Aeneas’ wife later became separated from the rest and ultimately did not survive the sack of the city. In other accounts, however, she successfully survived alongside her husband. Virgil, in his poem, may have killed the poor woman off to allow Aeneas to uninhibitedly partner with new women that the Trojan hero would soon meet on his odyssey toward Italy, where, according to legend, Aeneas would become an ancestor of Romulus and Remus, who were said to have founded Rome.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

 

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