Meta Description: Join Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe in Ad Navseam Episode 115 as they explore Vergil’s Aeneid Book 11, the warrior Camilla, and resources to master the Latin language.


Introduction: Greek Yogurt and Outliving Vergil

Welcome back, classical gourmands, to Episode 115 of the Ad Navseam Podcast! Broadcasting directly from the subterranean depths of Vomitorium South, your hosts, Dr. David Noe and Dr. Jeff Winkle, return to the microphones for another delectable discussion of Greco-Roman civilization.

The episode opens with an amusing breakdown of the hosts’ respective wardrobes. Dave arrives in the bunker wearing a sharp blue blazer and dress pants, but intentionally omits a tie. He explains that wearing a sport coat without a tie creates a perfect state of “sartorial liminality”—he exists on the threshold, free to pivot toward formal or casual depending on the classroom mood. Jeff laughs, noting that his own wardrobe is firmly entrenched in fuddy-duddy casualness, featuring a single, unworn tie that perpetually mocks him from the closet.

The banter shifts to Jeff’s incredibly enviable travel plans. In just two weeks, Jeff and his family are jetting off to Greece for a photography project in Eleusis. Dave notes that Athens—the legendary “violet-crowned city”—is absolutely stunning in the springtime when the flowers in the Agora and the National Gardens begin to explode with color. Jeff admits he used the promise of authentic, thick Greek yogurt—the kind that resembles spackle and requires a massive wooden dipper for the honey—to help sell his wife on the trip.

This upcoming voyage prompts a reflection on the Roman poet Vergil, who famously loved Greece but died at the age of fifty-one in Naples after falling ill on a journey from Brindisium. Realizing he recently turned fifty-two, Dave solemnly announces that he has officially outlived Vergil. The hosts liken this depressing milestone to the famous historical anecdote of Julius Caesar weeping at the tomb of Alexander the Great, realizing he had accomplished so little compared to the Macedonian conqueror.

The Mystery of Camilla

The primary academic focus of Episode 115 resumes the podcast’s ongoing, multi-part journey through Vergil’s epic masterpiece, the Aeneid. Before diving into the Latin text, Jeff reads a dense, fascinating quote from Thomas Rosenmeyer’s 1960 article, Vergil and Heroism: Aeneid Book 11.

Rosenmeyer’s article focuses heavily on Camilla, the Volscian warrior maiden who dominates the latter half of the book. Scholars widely believe Camilla is a pure invention of Vergil, possessing no actual historical or mythological precedent. Rosenmeyer praises Camilla as one of Vergil’s “most glittering personalities,” noting that her incredible battlefield prowess demands both grandeur and absolute isolation. Unlike Dido or Lavinia, Camilla is an uncompromisingly solitary character; she never establishes a romantic connection, a complex human relationship, or even a brief face-to-face encounter with Aeneas himself. Rosenmeyer classifies her as an Aeschylean heroine, driven by raw, solitary force rather than the complex, relational suffering of a Sophoclean protagonist.

Dave pushes back slightly against Rosenmeyer’s analysis, arguing that the scholar over-argues his point by unfairly comparing Camilla to Aeneas. While Aeneas begins the epic as a blank slate and slowly develops emotional complexity through his relationships, Camilla is introduced purely for her spectacular, fleeting aristeia (a momentary spotlight of unmatched battlefield skill). Her lack of backstory or romantic entanglement does not make her a tragic, isolated cipher; it simply highlights her unique role as a fierce, masculine-coded Amazonian spear-thrower who briefly steals the show.

Rosy-Fingered Dawn and the Trophies of War

Turning directly to the text, Dave reads the opening lines of Book 11. Vergil begins the book with a classic, highly Homeric framing device: “Dawn left ocean and ascended the sky.” Dave notes the enduring power of this literary trope, recalling a breathtaking morning in Kefalonia where he looked across the water toward Ithaca and witnessed his very own “rosy-fingered dawn” breaking over the Mediterranean horizon.

Following the horrific, bloody slaughter of Book 10, Aeneas wakes up and immediately fulfills his religious vows. Utilizing Stanley Lombardo’s translation, the hosts describe Aeneas erecting the massive trunk of a mighty oak tree on a mound. He clothes the wood in the gleaming, blood-dewy armor stripped from the slain Etruscan king, Mezentius, offering it as a grand trophy to the Lord of War.

Dave notes that this highly elaborate, ritualistic behavior signals a massive tonal shift in Aeneas’s character. Throughout Book 10, Aeneas was entirely consumed by a terrifying, Achilles-like bloodlust, slaughtering enemies without mercy. Now, Aeneas has seemingly snapped out of his violent rage. By meticulously performing these pious rites and honoring the body of his fallen enemy, Vergil rehabilitates Aeneas. He is portrayed once again as a civilized, compassionate leader and a builder of society, preparing the audience for the epic’s final, fateful conflicts.

The Funeral of Pallas and Saving Private Ryan

Following the trophy dedication, a twelve-day truce is declared so both the Trojans and the Latins can gather and bury their dead. Aeneas organizes a massive, thousand-man funeral procession to carry the body of the young prince, Pallas, back to his father, King Evander, in Arcadia. The somber procession is filled with captured battlefield trophies and Pallas’s own riderless horse, Aethon.

When the motorcade arrives in Arcadia, King Evander is completely heartbroken by the sight of his dead son. Yet, in a stunning display of honor, Evander explicitly refuses to blame Aeneas or the Trojans for the tragedy. Instead of abandoning the alliance in a fit of grief, Evander remains fiercely dedicated to the cause, demanding only that Aeneas take rightful revenge by killing Turnus.

Jeff notes that Evander’s reaction completely subverts modern pop-culture tropes. Today, writers frequently rely on the cliché where a grieving character instantly abandons their duty and turns against their allies following a personal tragedy. Jeff compares Evander to Captain Miller (Tom Hanks) in the 1998 film Saving Private Ryan. Despite watching his men die to save a single soldier, Miller never abandons the mission, demanding only that Private Ryan “earn this” sacrifice. Evander represents that same ancient ideal: hewing to one’s duty despite overwhelming sorrow, a narrative choice that feels incredibly rare and profound to modern sensibilities.

Diomedes, Drances, and the Rage of Turnus

While Pallas’s body journeys home, Latin envoys arrive at the Trojan camp to officially request the truce. Aeneas graciously agrees, delivering a gentle, conciliatory speech. He assures the Latins that he is not at war with their people, but rather with Turnus, who foolishly broke the alliance. Aeneas boldly proposes a one-on-one duel (monomachia) between himself and Turnus to finally settle the conflict without spilling any more innocent blood.

Meanwhile, the Latin assembly is thrown into chaos by a terrifying message from the Greek hero Diomedes. The Latins had begged Diomedes to join their fight against Aeneas, but the grizzled veteran vehemently refused. Diomedes reminds them that fighting the Trojans cost the Greeks everything, resulting in a hollow Pyrrhic victory that saw Agamemnon murdered and Odysseus lost at sea. Diomedes warns the Latins that it is absolute madness to resist a fate-driven demigod like Aeneas, inflating the Trojan’s martial prowess to terrifying heights. Jeff jokes that Diomedes—famous for his Homeric epithet boen agathos (good at the war cry)—was essentially the Robert Plant or Axl Rose of the ancient battlefield, capable of belting out a terrifying, superhuman howl.

Upon hearing Diomedes’s rejection, King Latinus completely folds, realizing the war is a catastrophic mistake. An angry Latin elder named Drances openly mocks Turnus, blaming him for the senseless slaughter and demanding he face Aeneas in single combat. Stripped of his nobility, Turnus explodes in a selfish, defensive rage. Rather than acting as a patriotic champion of his people, Turnus viciously attacks Drances ad hominem, boasting of his own personal body count. Turnus stubbornly refuses to surrender, desperately clinging to the hope that the imminent arrival of Camilla and her Volscian cavalry will finally turn the tide of the war.

Sponsors: Fueling the Classical Renaissance

Before sharing the parting shot, the hosts extend their gratitude to the generous sponsors keeping the bunker fully operational.

The Gustatory Parting Shot

To officially close out Episode 115, Jeff delivers a delightfully bizarre Gustatory Parting Shot courtesy of the incomparable comedic actor, Bill Murray.

Murray offers this deeply inspirational, entirely absurd culinary observation:

“Every pizza is a personal pizza if you try hard and believe in yourself.”

A special thanks goes out to Mishka the sound engineer for her consistently flawless editing, and to Scott Van Zen and Ken Tamplin for providing the blistering guitar riffs that bookend the academic lectures. Check out the “Lurch with Merch” section on the website, beware of Homeric war cries, and keep taking in the classics. Valete!

Sizing Guide

0