Meta Description: Join Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe in Ad Navseam Episode 101 as they journey deeper into the Underworld of Virgil’s Aeneid Book VI. Discover the horrors of Tartarus, Aeneas’s tragic reunion with Dido, the “soul laundry” of Elysium, and resources to master the Latin language.


Introduction: Fall Weather and Vomitorium South

Welcome back, classical gourmands, to Episode 101 of the Ad Navseam Podcast! Broadcasting from Vomitorium South, conveniently located in the basement of the Reformation Heritage Bookstore, your hosts, Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe (where the “C” in David C. Noe stands for “controversial” or “curmudgeon”), are settling in for another deep dive into Roman epic poetry.

It is mid-to-late October in West Michigan, meaning the hosts have the impending gloom of winter weather to complain about for the next several months. While Jeff’s street is currently blanketed by a beautiful layer of gold deciduous leaves, Dave notes that the blustery winds are already ripping the trees bare, signaling that the cold is officially here to stay. Retreating from the gray skies, the hosts turn their attention back to the gloomy Underworld of Vergil’s Aeneid Book VI.

Listener Mail: The Resisting Bough and Jacob’s Angel

Before picking up the narrative, the boys open the mailbag to address a thought-provoking question from a listener named Matt McCravey. Matt asks if the magical Golden Bough’s resistance (described with the Latin word cunctantem, meaning slow or sluggish) reflects a Roman conception that one must work hard to earn their fate, and how this compares to Jacob wrestling the angel in Genesis.

Jeff agrees that building the Roman Empire was an immense task forged in blood, and the resisting bough serves as a constant reminder that fulfilling destiny is never a simple cakewalk. Dave adds that while the Romans were bound by the mos maiorum to work hard for everything they earned, fate simply happens to a Roman whether they want it or not.

Regarding the comparison to Jacob, Dave points out that the external physical struggles are remarkably similar, but the internal motives differ completely. Jacob is a trickster desperately trying to survive and reconcile with his brother Esau; his wrestling match is intensely personal. Aeneas, however, is simply checking the required boxes of his prescribed fate, making his struggle less personally intimate and more dutifully bureaucratic.

Tolkien, Jung, and Uroboric Incest

To set the academic stage, Jeff reads an excerpt from a 1993 comparative literature article by James Obertino titled “Moriah and Hades, Underworld Journeys in Tolkien and Vergil”.

The article likens the wizard Gandalf to the Cumaean Sibyl and Anchises, as he guides the young hobbit Frodo through the dark ways of Moria just as Aeneas is guided through the Underworld. However, the academic quote quickly jumps off a bizarre Jungian cliff. Obertino argues that the warmth and darkness of Moria tempt Frodo into surrendering to the “charm of Uroboric incest” (referencing the mythological snake eating its own tail), requiring the “light of consciousness” from his mithril coat to protect his weak ego from the subterranean abyss.

Jeff immediately admits this latter half is total gobbledygook. Dave then lodges a formal, highly spirited complaint against Tolkien enthusiasts who continuously elevate the 20th-century author as the absolute pinnacle of literary excellence while completely ignoring the vast wealth of older classics. While Dave freely admits Tolkien was highly educated in classical texts, he refuses to rank Tolkien alongside the true ancient greats, jokingly placing him down in the lower tiers with minor poets like Tibullus.

The Fields of Lamentation and Dido’s Cold Shoulder

Returning to the specific text of the Aeneid, Aeneas and the Sibyl successfully cross the River Styx and enter the gloomy Fields of Lamentation. This specific section of the Roman Underworld is tragically reserved for those individuals who died from unrequited or disastrous love. Here, Aeneas encounters the sad ghosts of mythological women like Phaedra, Procris, and, most notably, the Phoenician Queen Dido, with her tragic suicide wound still fresh and visible.

Seeing her dim, ethereal form in the murky gloom, Aeneas completely breaks down in tears. He passionately swears by the stars and the gods below that it was never his active choice to leave her behind in Carthage; he was forced by divine decrees to abandon her and continue his difficult journey to Italy. He begs her not to turn away, but Dido gives him the ultimate, devastating cold shoulder, refusing to speak a single word and silently retreating into the shadowy woods.

Dave notes that Aeneas’s emotional plea feels incredibly genuine and sympathetic. The entire scene is an astute, direct homage to Odyssey Book 11, where Odysseus attempts to speak to the ghost of Ajax, who also angrily turns away in absolute silence because of Odysseus’s past deceits.

Deiphobus, Helen’s Betrayal, and the Crossroads

Next, Aeneas encounters Deiphobus, a brave son of King Priam, whose ghost is horrifically mutilated and chopped up. Aeneas is deeply shocked by the gruesome sight, having fled the burning city of Troy with very little specific information about the violent fates of his fellow countrymen.

Deiphobus explains that his gruesome death was directly orchestrated by his new bride, Helen of Troy. He claims that Helen completely betrayed the Trojans by secretly signaling the Greek army from the high citadel and deliberately removing all the defensive weapons from his house so he could not fight back. Unlike the Odyssey, where Helen is peacefully restored to her royal throne in Sparta, Vergil paints her as the ultimate villain and cruel betrayer. Deiphobus prays for violent vengeance, but as Dave points out, this is an act of completely futile, impotent rage. Much like the angry ghost of Achilles in Homer’s epic, Deiphobus is hopelessly trapped in the afterlife, utterly unable to affect the living world or enact any real justice upon his enemies.

The Sibyl soon interrupts the sorrowful reunion, reminding Aeneas that night is rapidly falling and they must keep moving. They arrive at a highly liminal, defining space: a grand subterranean crossroads. The path to the right (the dexter path) leads to Elysium, while the path to the left (the sinister path) leads straight to the eternal torments of Tartarus.

Tartarus: The Bureaucratic Roman Hell

Looking down the dreaded left-hand path, Aeneas sees the terrifying stronghold of Tartarus. Vergil describes it as a massive, imposing fortification surrounded by a triple iron wall and the Phlegethon, a violent river of blazing fire rolling thunderous rocks in its current.

Sitting high on an iron tower is the avenging Fury, Tisiphone, draped in a bloody cloak and sleeplessly guarding the gates night and day. Hearing the echoing groans, the sharp crack of the lash, and the heavy clanking of dragging iron chains, Aeneas is frozen in absolute terror.

Unlike Homer’s vague, disorganized free-for-all depiction of the Underworld, Vergil’s Tartarus is a highly organized, strictly bureaucratic hell. Dave and Jeff debate which scenario is conceptually worse: an eternity of chaotic, unmanaged suffering, or a highly structured DMV of the damned where a terrifying, unblinking Fury meticulously directs your individual torture. Interestingly, the worst sins punished in this Roman version of hell are not mere slights against personal pride, but rather calculated acts of deep betrayal—patrons cheating dependent clients, or traitors deceiving their own families—which directly violate the core, foundational Roman value of pietas.

Elysium: Dude Heaven and Soul Laundry

Taking the fortunate right-hand path, Aeneas finally enters Elysium, known as the Blissful Groves. The beautiful landscape is bathed in a pleasant amethyst glow and amazingly possesses its own dedicated sun and stars. The noble inhabitants—the ancient, high-souled founders of Troy like Ilus, Assaracus, and Dardanus—are engaged in highly athletic, masculine activities. They happily wrestle on the yellow sand and perform traditional choral dances while the legendary Orpheus accompanies them on his seven-toned lyre, plucking the strings with an ivory quill.

Jeff jokingly calls this exclusive environment a sort of “dude heaven” or “Valhalla 2.0,” where brave warriors eternally enjoy the athletic feats of their past without suffering any lingering battle wounds or worldly concerns.

Here in the groves, Aeneas finally locates his father, Anchises, who is busy reviewing a massive, organized parade of souls waiting to be born into the world above. After Aeneas tries and fails three consecutive times to physically embrace his father’s insubstantial shade, Anchises carefully explains the deep mysteries of reincarnation.

Anchises reveals that human souls accumulate dark “corporeal taints” and deep stains from their mortal lives. In the Underworld, these heavily burdened souls must undergo a rigorous metaphysical cleansing—what the hosts highly entertainingly dub “soul laundry”. Some souls are hung in the wind, others are washed in swirling waters, and some are intensely purged by fire to remove the deep stains of sin. Once completely cleansed by this cosmic detergent, the souls drink directly from the River Lethe (the river of forgetfulness) to erase all past memories before being sent back into human bodies for a completely new life.

Sponsors: Fueling the Classical Renaissance

Before the hosts are interrupted by the imaginary International Launderers Association attempting to break into the bunker, they thank their fantastic sponsors.

The Gustatory Parting Shot

To wrap up Episode 101, Jeff delivers an entertaining Gustatory Parting Shot from Heidi Schultz’s novel, Hook’s Revenge (a clever retelling of the Peter Pan story told from the unique perspective of Captain Hook):

“Jocelyn’s stomach lodged another complaint with the management regarding the length of time.”

Feed your stomach, keep your bough handy, and keep taking in the classics. Valete!

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