Meta Description: Join Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe in Ad Navseam Episode 75 as they explore the bizarre and tragic ends of antiquity’s greatest figures. From Aeschylus and the tortoise to Nero’s final dramatic act, discover the legends surrounding the deaths of Greeks and Romans. Plus, learn why you should never split an oak tree with your bare hands and how the Latin language preserves these tales of mortality.


Introduction: The Lingering Guest of Winter

Welcome back to the “Vomitorium,” listeners! It is Episode 75 of the Ad Navseam Podcast. We are broadcasting from a bitterly cold late February evening in Michigan, where the winter weather is behaving like an unwanted dinner guest. Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe discuss the feeling of a season that just won’t leave. You hand it its coat, you show it the door, but it fakes losing its wallet and stays on your couch. Despite the chill, the hosts are ready to warm things up with a topic that is inextricably linked to the human condition: Death. Specifically, the strange, ironic, and often legendary deaths of famous Greeks and Romans. It is a night for Memento Mori and for exploring how the ancients viewed the end of life as a commentary on the life lived.

Shout-Out: The Theologian Latinist

Before we open the book of the dead, we have a shout-out to a remarkable listener: Dr. Joan Crist. Joan is a Latin teacher at an urban core charter school in Northwest Indiana. She is a former professor of Catholic theology with a doctorate from Notre Dame, but she admits she is being “slowly converted to Protestantism by Theodore Beza“. Joan is a “Latin Per Diem” addict (in the best way) and uses the podcast’s sponsors to stock her classroom. To Joan, bridging the gap between theology and the Latin language: Macte virtute!

Opening Quotes: Famous Last Words

To set the mood, Dr. Winkle has assembled a collection of famous last words from modern history. These quotes illustrate how we expect a person’s final utterance to encapsulate their character.

The Greek Tragedians: Irony and Gravity

The hosts begin their tour of the underworld with the “Big Three” of Greek Tragedy. Their deaths, recorded by Roman author Valerius Maximus in his Memorable Deeds and Sayings, often read like myths themselves.

1. Aeschylus and the Tortoise

Aeschylus, the grand old man of tragedy, reportedly died in Sicily. He had received an oracle that he would be killed by a “falling object” (or a “blow from heaven”). To avoid this, he stayed outdoors, away from shelves and roofs.

Fate, however, has a sense of humor. An eagle, mistaking Aeschylus’s bald head for a rock, dropped a tortoise on him to crack the shell.

“By that blow, the beginning of a more perfect tragedy was stifled at its origin.” Dr. Noe notes the irony: the lyre (the instrument of poetry) was traditionally made from a tortoise shell. Thus, Aeschylus was killed by the very symbol of his art.

2. Euripides and the Dogs 

Euripides, the edgy psychologist of the three, died in Macedonia at the court of King Archelaus. According to legend, he was walking home after dinner when he was set upon and torn to pieces by dogs. This gruesome death mirrors the plot of his final masterpiece, the Bacchae, where King Pentheus is torn limb from limb (sparagmos) by his own mother and aunts. It is a case of life imitating art in the most violent way possible.

3. Sophocles and the Grape 

Sophocles, the beloved favorite of Athens, lived to be 90. His death reflects his charmed life. One tradition says he died of “insuperable jubilation” after winning first prize at the Dionysia for the 18th time. He was literally so happy he died. Another, more pedestrian tradition says he choked on an unripe grape. Dr. Noe suggests this might be the revenge of Dionysus (the god of the vine). Perhaps Sophocles had won too many times, committing a kind of hubris, and the god silenced him with a grape.

Milo of Croton: The Trap of Hubris

Moving from art to athletics, we meet Milo of Croton, the greatest wrestler of antiquity. He was a man of superhuman strength who could burst a headband with his veins and balance on a greased quoit (an iron ring) while people tried to push him off.

His death, however, is a cautionary tale against pride. Walking in the forest, he saw an oak tree that had been split with wedges. Trusting his strength, he tried to pull the tree apart with his bare hands. The wedges slipped out, the tree snapped shut, and Milo was trapped. Unable to free himself, he was eventually devoured by wolves. It is a terrifying image—the strongest man in the world, helpless against nature.

Sponsors: Essentials for the Living

Before we cross the Rubicon to the Roman deaths, a word from those who sustain us:

The Roman Deaths: Emperors and Poets

1. Vergil and the Burning Poem

Vergil, the author of the Aeneid, died in 19 BC at the age of 51. He had traveled to Greece to finish his epic but fell ill with a fever after a visit to Megara in the scorching sun. On his deathbed, Vergil famously begged for his book boxes so he could burn the Aeneid. He felt the poem was imperfect and unfinished. His friends Varius and Tucca refused to bring them. Augustus himself intervened to save the manuscript. Dr. Noe reads a moving poem by Sulpicius of Carthage:

“All but twice in the flames unhappy Pergamum perished, / Troy on a second pyre narrowly failed of her doom.” We have the Aeneid today only because Virgil’s friends disobeyed his dying wish.

2. Nero: The Artist Dies 

Nero, the emperor who famously “fiddled while Rome burned” (or played the lyre), met a pathetic end in 68 AD. Abandoned by his guards and declared an enemy of the state, he fled to a freedman’s villa. He hid in a bramble-choked pit, drinking muddy water he called “Nero’s Distilled Water”. As he prepared to commit suicide, he wept, not for his crimes, but for the loss to culture. His famous last words, recorded by Suetonius, were:

Qualis artifex pereo (“What an artist dies in me!” or “Such a connoisseur I die”).  It is the ultimate expression of narcissism.

3. Pontius Pilate: The Wandering Corpse

Finally, the hosts discuss the medieval legends surrounding Pontius Pilate.

In the Mors Pilati (Death of Pilate), the Emperor Tiberius summons Pilate to Rome to answer for killing Jesus. Pilate protects himself by wearing the Seamless Tunic of Christ. As long as he wears it, Tiberius cannot punish him.

Eventually, Christians strip him of the tunic, and he commits suicide.

But the earth refuses to accept his body.

The Gustatory Parting Shot

We wrap up this macabre episode with a lighter note from the alternative rock band The Flaming Lips. The song “She Don’t Use Jelly” offers a surreal take on breakfast that seems fitting for a show about strange endings:

“I know a girl who thinks of ghosts. She’ll make you breakfast. She’ll make you toast. But she don’t use butter and she don’t use cheese. She don’t use jelly or any of these. She uses Vaseline.”

It sounds awful, but as Dr. Winkle says, it’s a great song.

Valete! (And watch out for eagles).


Resources for the Latin and Greek Learner:MossMethod: Want to read Suetonius’s life of Nero in the original Latin language? Visit latinperdiem.com to start your journey today!

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