Meta Description: Join Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe in Ad Navseam Episode 92 as they tackle the bitter breakup of Dido and Aeneas in Aeneid Book IV. Explore the Stoic coldness of Aeneas, the blazing wrath of a betrayed Carthaginian queen, and the tragic parallels to Jason and Medea. Plus, a dive into the Latin language, the worst Jell-O dessert in collegiate history, and a Jim Gaffigan parting shot.
Introduction: The Men in Black and the Introvert’s Drain
Welcome back, classical gourmands, to Episode 92 of the Ad Navseam Podcast! Broadcasting late at night from the hermetically sealed, underground bunker known as Vomitorium South, your hosts, Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe, are bringing a deeply contrasting set of energies to the microphone.
Both hosts happen to be wearing black t-shirts, leading Dr. Winkle to declare they are channeling the “Johnny Cash” aesthetic of the “Man in Black” . However, their moods could not be more different. Dr. Winkle is completely drained and cranky. As a self-proclaimed hardcore introvert, he spent the entire day wrangling young children at the beach (joking that it was like the movie Children of a Lesser God, though the pop-culture reference flies completely over Dave’s head). Having received zero alone time to recharge, Jeff is firmly in his grumpy era.
Conversely, Dr. Noe is practically glowing. Having spent the day getting plenty of exercise and alone time, he has layered a thick coat of joviality right over his typical baseline crankiness—creating what Dr. Noe accurately describes as an emotional “ice cream sandwich” . Because Dave is a natural contrarian, encountering Jeff’s bad mood only pushed him further into an irrepressibly good one.
The Grisly Dessert: Jell-O, Grapes, and Darwinian Blobs
Continuing the grand culinary metaphor that structures the podcast, the hosts declare that they have finished the appetizers and the main course of the Aeneid. Tonight, they are serving the “grisly dessert” that is the end of Book IV.
This prompts an absolutely horrific walk down collegiate culinary memory lane. When asked for his least favorite dessert, Dr. Noe admits he prefers savory, bitter treats (like dark chocolate) or fruit pies with heavy cinnamon over anything overly cloying or sweet. Dr. Winkle, however, recalls a specific, traumatic dessert from their undergraduate days at Calvin College’s “Knollcrest” dining hall. The dining staff would regularly wheel out a cart featuring a small white ceramic plate. On that plate sat a single leaf of lettuce. Resting upon that lettuce was a translucent cube of Jell-O with a single grape suspended in the center. Dr. Noe notes that this sad, unappetizing cube perfectly matches Charles Darwin’s 1860s description of the human cell: a “shapeless blob of albuminous gel”. While the collegiate Jell-O was completely devoid of complexity, the tragic, grisly dessert of Aeneas and Dido is filled with what Dr. Winkle brilliantly dubs “grimplexity”.
The Opening Quote: Aeneas the Stoic Hero?
To set the academic table, Dr. Noe reads an opening quote from William S. Anderson’s slim but essential 1969 volume, The Art of the Aeneid.
Anderson analyzes the final, tragic movement of Book IV, which centers around a pair of highly unbalanced speeches. When Dido realizes Aeneas is preparing to secretly leave Carthage, she confronts him in a state of utter irrationality. Anderson argues that Aeneas’s response—which is pained but highly controlled—represents a massive “heroic achievement”. By conquering his own passion and dealing strictly in facts rather than feelings, Aeneas executes his duty to the gods and attempts to bring Dido back to reality.
The hosts debate this vehemently. Dr. Noe points out that Aeneas’s response is the ultimate display of Roman Stoicism—achieving apatheia (the mastery and suppression of all emotional feeling). However, Dr. Winkle views Aeneas’s emotional suppression not as heroism, but as cold, unfeeling callousness. As Winkle notes, the average reader cannot sympathize with a hero who actively refuses to feel anything. Aeneas’s strict adherence to fate makes him a deeply frustrating, maddening protagonist.
The Mænad and the Irony of Punica Fides
Vergil sets the stage for the confrontation by comparing the betrayed Dido to a raving Mænad (a Bacchant). Upon hearing the “evil rumor” (Impia Fama) that the Trojan fleet is preparing to sail, Dido races wildly through the city, much like the ecstatic, frenzied worshippers of Bacchus tearing through Mount Cithaeron. Dr. Winkle points out the layered brilliance of this simile: while Mænads look completely insane to outsiders, they are actually participating in deeply solemn, meaningful religious mysteries. Dido’s madness, too, is deadly serious.
When she corners Aeneas, she immediately launches her first furious volley, addressing him with the vocative perfide (traitor / faithless one) . Dr. Noe pauses to highlight a deeply ironic reversal in the Latin language here. In the ancient world, the Romans famously stereotyped the Carthaginians as inherent, cultural liars, a concept known as Punica fides (Carthaginian “faith”). Here, Vergil completely flips the script: it is the Carthaginian Queen who is the victim of a broken promise, hurling the insult of perfidia squarely at the proto-Roman hero.
Dido’s first speech is an agonizing mix of grief, pleading, and despair. She reminds Aeneas of their pledge (the data dextra, or giving of the right hand), arguing that they are legally and spiritually married. She points out that she sacrificed all of her political capital for him; her Tyrian subjects despise her, and the surrounding nomadic kings (like Iarbas) want to destroy her. Finally, in a heartbreaking admission, she tells Aeneas that if he had only left her with a parvulus Aeneas (a little baby Aeneas) to remind her of his face, she might have survived the abandonment.
The Courtroom Defense: Pro re pauca loquar
Aeneas’s response is the absolute antithesis of pitching woo. While Dido is drowning in emotion, Aeneas brings out a mental clipboard and begins checking off facts.
In the original Latin language, Aeneas begins with the phrase, Pro re pauca loquar (“I will say a few things on behalf of my case” / “in my defense”). As Dr. Noe notes, this is sterile, legalistic courtroom language. Aeneas formally addresses her as Regina (Queen), distancing himself entirely. He systematically dismantles her claims: he never formally agreed to a marriage, he never intended to sneak away, and if he had total free will, he would simply go back to the ashes of Troy to rule his own people. He concludes by blaming the gods. The messenger god Mercury appeared to him “in broad daylight,” commanding him to sail to Italy. He coldly tells Dido, “Stop wounding both of us with your pleas. It is not my own will, this quest for Italy”.
Dr. Noe highlights a translational debate here regarding Aeneas’s internal state. The text says Aeneas suppressed his curam. While Stanley Lombardo beautifully translates this as suppressing his “love,” Dr. Noe argues that the word cura more accurately means “apprehension” or “anxiety”. Aeneas might not be heroically pushing down his deep romance; he might simply be terrified of how the crazed Queen is going to react.
Stuck in the Wrong Story: The Tragedy of Book IV
Dr. Winkle next presents a literary theory regarding Aeneas’s maddening behavior: Aeneas is acting this way because he is fundamentally stuck in the wrong genre. The entire exchange between Aeneas and Dido maps closely onto the tragedy of Jason and Medea. Like Jason, Aeneas is coldly abandoning a foreign woman who sacrificed everything for him, telling her he has to move on to fulfill a royal destiny.
But Aeneas is an epic hero, not a tragic one. Dido (like Medea, or like Antigone’s sister Ismene) belongs in a tragedy. Tragedies end with funerals; comedies end with weddings. Dido falsely believed she was in a comedy (a wedding), but she is actually headed for a funeral. Aeneas simply has to survive the tragedy of Book IV so he can get back to his own epic destiny.
Dido’s second speech proves this tragic shift. She moves entirely past pleading and erupts into a blazing, Achillean rage. She calls him improbe (wicked/cruel) and hurls a terrifying curse at his retreating back. She prays that he will suck down his punishment on jagged ocean rocks, and promises that her ghost will pursue him with “black fire” even after she is dead.
Sponsors: Fuel for the Classical Renaissance
To recover from the emotional devastation of Carthage, the hosts take a moment to thank the sponsors that make Ad Navseam possible:
- Ratio Coffee: Avoid the “brackish tang” (a Peter Green historical reference) of terrible hotel coffee . The Ratio 8 perfectly executes a bloom cycle to off-gas bitter CO2 at precisely 200 degrees, brewing a flawless cup into a hand-blown borosilicate carafe. Keep an eye out for the new, smaller form-factor Ratio 4 coming soon! Visit ratiocoffee.com and use code ANCO7C for 15% off.
- Hackett Publishing: Celebrating their 50th anniversary, Hackett took a chance on the podcast early on. They provide incredible, highly affordable academic translations, including Stanley Burstein’s new Essential Greek Historians and C.D.C. Reeve’s Aristotle translations. Go to hackettpublishing.com and use code AN2022 for 20% off and free shipping.
- The Moss Method & Latin Per Diem: Want to read Vergil’s poetry in the original Latin language? Go to latinperdiem.com/llpsi to take Dr. Noe’s comprehensive Hans Ørberg Familia Romana course for just $199. Or, take your ancient Greek from “neophyte to erudite” (with a 10% discount starting August 15th!)
The Gustatory Parting Shot
Before the hosts pack up and leave the bunker, Dr. Winkle shares a highly relatable Gustatory Parting Shot from comedian Jim Gaffigan’s book, Food: A Love Story:
“There are people who eat only organic food, and then there are people who don’t have tons of money to eat.”
As Dido and Aeneas prove, sometimes the most expensive meals leave the most bitter taste. Valete!
