Meta Description: Join Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe in Ad Navseam Episode 111 as they conclude Virgil’s Aeneid Book 9. Discover the tragic aftermath of Nisus and Euryalus, the boast of Numanus, and resources to master the Latin language.
Introduction: Sun, Snow, and Corporate Acronyms
Welcome back, classical gourmands, to Episode 111 of the Ad Navseam Podcast! Broadcasting directly from the subterranean depths of the bunker, your hosts, Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe, return to the microphones for another deep dive into Greco-Roman civilization.
The episode opens on a surprisingly bright note. A sunny, beautiful winter day finally breaks through the frigid Michigan temperatures, melting the ice and elevating the mood in the bunker. Daved proudly declares that he has entirely refrained from complaining about the miserable “Smarch” weather, having recently braved the frozen tundra to fetch snacks without needing to slice open a Tauntaun for warmth.
Before diving into epic poetry, the hosts issue a highly critical corrigendum regarding the previous episode. Dave sheepishly retracts his previous claim that Nabisco (the National Biscuit Company) produces Uncrustables, clarifying that Smucker’s actually manufactures the crustless sandwiches. This amusing correction leads the hosts down a rabbit hole of corporate acronyms. Dave reveals that NECCO stands for the New England Candy Company, and he shares that Welch’s grape juice takes its name from the man who figured out how to pasteurize the juice so it wouldn’t ferment into wine.
The Cost of War: Nisus, Euryalus, and Maternal Grief
With the snack-food trivia out of the way, Dave and Jeff turn their attention to the back half of Vergil’s Aeneid Book 9. The narrative picks up immediately following the tragic night raid of Nisus and Euryalus.
To bridge the gap with the previous episode, Jeff reads an insightful quote from George Duckworth’s 1967 article, The Significance of Nisus and Euryalus for Aeneid Nine through Twelve. Duckworth argues that the two Trojan youths committed a brutal, completely unnecessary slaughter. Their bloody rampage and Euryalus’s greedy decision to steal a heavy, shining helmet delayed their escape and directly caused their demise. Unlike Homer’s Doloneia, where Athena actively aids the Greek heroes, Vergil completely removes divine intervention. He leaves the young men to suffer the fatal consequences of their own unbridled free will and mistakes.
The Rutulians discover the carnage and retaliate with gruesome ferocity. They place the severed heads of Nisus and Euryalus on pikes and parade them before the Trojan walls. Dave notes that while this macabre detail feels excessively grim, decapitation and the public display of heads remained a common, brutal trope of warfare throughout history. He points out that this gruesome practice persisted even into the brutal final days of the American Civil War when soldiers hauled bodies in wheelbarrows to taunt the enemy.
Vergil profoundly magnifies the horror of the moment by focusing on the reaction of Euryalus’s mother. The poet dedicates significant space to her agonizing lament as she fiercely questions the ultimate value of their journey to Italy. Jeff and Dave compare her grief to Hecuba’s famous lament for Hector in the Iliad. However, they agree that Vergil brings the tragedy down to a deeply human, domestic level by focusing on the mother of a relatively anonymous, minor character rather than a divine demigod. The hosts suspect Vergil drew heavy inspiration from the playwright Euripides, who famously explored the psychological toll of war on ordinary people, particularly women.
Invoking Calliope: The Muse as a Junior Partner
Following the grim display, the Rutulian forces launch a full-scale assault on the Trojan camp. The Trojans essentially find themselves trapped in a mini-Troy, besieged behind defensive walls, only this time they act as the foreign invaders rather than the native defenders.
Right before the massive battle scene commences, Vergil deliberately pauses the narrative to invoke the Muse. He specifically calls upon Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry, asking her to “unroll with me the great scroll of war.”
To explore this artistic choice, Jeff introduces a fascinating 1934 article by Samuel Bassett. Bassett observes a distinct theological and structural difference between Homer and Vergil. Homer simply commands the Muse to sing the story through him, making her entirely responsible for the epic narrative. Vergil, on the other hand, asks Calliope to unroll the scroll with him, effectively positioning the Muse as a junior partner in the creative process.
Dave and Jeff find this distinction perfectly aligns with Vergil’s broader approach to the divine. In the Aeneid, the gods frequently operate at an arm’s length. Unlike the Iliad, where Athena literally drops down to grab Achilles by the hair to stop him from drawing his sword, Vergil forces his characters to navigate their world with far less direct divine meddling. The characters operate under the overarching, unyielding weight of fate, rendering the traditional Olympic gods somewhat distant and secondary to the grand machinery of Roman destiny.
The Boast of Numanus and the First Kill
As the battle rages, Vergil injects a moment of grim humor and character development through a Rutulian warrior named Numanus Remulus. Numanus steps to the front lines and delivers a massive, over-the-top, chest-thumping boast designed to emasculate the Trojan forces.
Jeff highlights A.S. Kline’s translation of the soliloquy, which beautifully captures the stark cultural contrast Numanus draws between the hardy Italians and the luxurious Trojans. Numanus brags that Rutulian fathers dunk their newborn sons in freezing rivers to toughen them up, and their old men eagerly continue to wage war with white hair under their helmets. Numanus then turns his verbal cannons on the Trojans, mocking them as “Phrygian dandies” who wear embroidered purple cloaks, tunics with long sleeves, and ribboned hats. He outright calls them “Phrygian women” who prefer dancing and the music of the boxwood flute over the harsh realities of the battlefield.
Dave and Jeff laugh at the absolute nerve of this ancient “shade throwing.” They imagine Vergil sitting in the Tuscan countryside feeling quite satisfied with his own clever writing after penning the vicious insult. Dave points out that the taunt deliberately evokes Hector’s earlier rebukes of his brother Paris in the Iliad, calling to mind the old stereotype of the decadent, feminine East clashing with the rugged, masculine West.
Unfortunately for Numanus, his loud mouth invites swift retribution. Ascanius, the young son of Aeneas, silently notches an arrow, draws back his bowstring, and shoots Numanus directly through the head. The hosts love the brilliant, David-and-Goliath incongruity of the moment: the loudest, most aggressive veteran on the battlefield falls instantly to a young boy securing his very first kill.
Turnus in the Camp and the Tiber River
Book 9 hurtles toward its dramatic conclusion when two massive Trojan brothers, Pandarus and Bityas, foolishly throw open the camp gates to challenge the enemy. Turnus, the fierce Rutulian champion, immediately capitalizes on the fatal error and rushes inside the Trojan walls.
Turnus swiftly slaughters Bityas, and Pandarus frantically manages to heave the gates shut again. However, closing the gates traps Turnus inside the Trojan camp. Pandarus immediately challenges Turnus to a duel to avenge his brother, but Turnus brutally cuts his head in half with a sword.
At this precise moment, Vergil explicitly notes that Turnus holds the power to end the war entirely. If he simply unbarred the gates from the inside and let his army flood in, the Trojans would fall. Instead, his bloodlust and unquenchable desire for personal glory completely blind him to tactical strategy. Turnus goes on a wild killing spree until the Trojan commanders finally rally their terrified men.
Vastly outnumbered and exhausted, Turnus slowly backs away to the edge of the camp. With nowhere else to go, he leaps fully armed into the Tiber River. The river gently catches him, washes the blood from his armor, and returns him safely to his men. Dave points out the rich symbolic irony of the escape: Turnus falls into the embrace of the Tiber, a local river god who explicitly allied himself with Aeneas back in Book 8.
Sponsors: Fueling the Classical Renaissance
Before sharing the final segment, the hosts express their gratitude to the sponsors keeping the Ad Navseam microphones powered.
- Ratio Coffee: If you remain deeply frustrated by the brackish, tangy results produced by cheap, squirty plastic coffee makers, you need to upgrade your morning routine. Entrepreneur Mark Hellweg crafted the Ratio 8 and Ratio 6 machines to deliver a pristine automated pour-over. The device expertly handles the critical bloom stage, off-gassing the trapped carbon dioxide to yield an impeccable cup of coffee. Visit ratiocoffee.com and enter the promo code ANCOB4 for a generous 15% discount on your order.
- Hackett Publishing: For over five decades, Hackett Publishing has operated out of Indianapolis and Cambridge, providing academics and casual readers with beautiful, highly affordable translations. If you want to study the nuanced syntax of the Latin language (perhaps by reading Dave’s upcoming translation of Samuel Rutherford’s 17th-century works) or read a fresh translation of an epic poem without taking out a second mortgage for the textbook, Hackett offers the perfect solution. Head to hackettpublishing.com, fill your cart, and enter the code AN2023 to receive 20% off your entire order plus free shipping.
The Gustatory Parting Shot
To officially wrap up Episode 111, Jeff delivers a delightfully pompous Gustatory Parting Shot to carry the listeners through the week.
The quote originates from Carol Truex’s dramatic culinary guide, The Art of Salad Making:
“Every salad you serve is a picture you have painted, a sculpture you have modeled, a drama you have created.”
Dave marvels at the sheer theatricality of the statement. He admits that his own salad preparation usually just involves tossing some lettuce and vegetables into a bowl and worrying about over-dressing the leaves. Now fully aware of the intense artistic stakes, he promises to never look at a mixed-greens side dish the same way again.A special thanks goes out to Mishka the sound engineer for her record turnaround times (and a happy birthday!), and to Scott Van Zen and Ken Tamplin for the blistering blues guitar riffs that bookend the academic lectures. Watch out for corporate acronyms, never open the gates to Turnus, and keep taking in the classics. Valete!
