This week’s fun-size offering tackles the mysterious, quasi-historical object known as the Palladium. Readers of myth might remember this as the talisman held in the Trojan citadel which protected the city until it was stolen away by Odysseus and Diomedes. But the story doesn’t end there. Rumor says it went to Athens or Sparta, and then maybe Rome. Is the Palladium something that makes the jump from mythic symbol to historical artifact? Was it something like the ξόανον the Athenians kept in the Erechtheion? Did Elagabalus move the Palladium into his Rumpus Room? Did Constantine bury it under his column? Could it still be there?

Tune in for Part 2 of our Gvrgle on memorizing Latin. In this brief episode we look at selections from King David , Appendini, Verinus, Gatti, Wegeler, the Apostle John, and more. Add some famous Latin quips and bon mots to your memory storehouse and repertoire. If you want to join the project, become a LatinPerDiem patron (patreon.com/latinperdiem) for $1.99/mo or sign up for Dr. Noe's LLPSI class (latinperdiem.com/llpsi). This will get you the master document of the 20 sayings with translations, plus two high quality audio files (Latin only, and Latin with English translation).

The one who wants to give to others should not say: ‘Do you want it?’

             But he should simply state: Take this, sweet friend! - Wegeler

There's no going back now—in this episode we follow along as Aeneas enters the Underworld proper. And if you were expecting a DMV-esque experience like Odysseus had in his jaunt, you’d be sadly mistaken. Turns out the Roman afterlife is more like the 7-story Macy’s on West 34th Street. Oh, you’re looking for the place where the souls of deceased children reside? Up the escalator past housewares and knick-knacks. The shades of warriors who were just “ok”? Hang a left at kitchen accessories and general appliances. Do we also see an Underworld that is literally becoming more “demonized” in Vergil’s hands? Why is the Roman Charon all skeletal and glowing-eyed, while his Greek counterpart is more like Joe Six-Pack? Well, whatever questions you have, get in that leaky boat, drop your obol in the bucket, and hang on for the ride (and don’t forget a Milkbone or two for Cerberus).  

Wait a minute…this sounds like rock and/or roll! Indeed, after some digging through attic boxes stuffed with 45s, 8-tracks, and cassettes, the guys sit down to puzzle over a number of classical allusions in pop songs from the ‘60s to the present day. The references are all over the place—from prog rock to new wave to folk to jazz-fusion to regrettable dabblings by Bob Dylan in cheese-ball ‘80s production. What purposes do these allusions serve? Is it just to make the singer look smart (looking at you, Sting)? To comment wryly on an ankle injury (sorry to hear about that, Mr. Plant)? To apply core themes of Plato’s Euthyphro to social commentary (Jay-Z and Kanye, really?)? So clean that wax out of your ears, strap yourself to that mast, and tune in as Jeff attempts to defend his title as “Johnny Pop” and Dave wrestles with jazz aversions and the over-cutesiness of folk.  

Do you smell that? Could it be the warm smell of colitas rising up through the air? Or did Dave over-microwave his gas station burrito again? Well, whatever the odor is, this path paved with good intentions (and a little cement) is leading Aeneas and company to you know where. Our Trojan exiles have finally reached the stillettoed boot of Italy. But before they can plant a flag and put up their feet, Aeneas has to take a detour down into the Underworld for one last chat with dad. But how to get there? As the Cumaean Sybil says, the gettin’ in is the easy part, it’s the leaving that’ll give you fits. So, keep your eye out for lost comrades, watch those birds, and “bough down”, ut dicunt. Such a lovely place, such a lovely face.

This week the guys close out their look at Book V with continued questions about the relevance of this break in the epic's main action. Are we really supposed to find deep meaning in flaming arrows? Is there coded symbolism when Dares starts flexing and popping his pecs like Schwarzeneggar auditioning for Conan: This Time He's Even More Greased Up? And what's with that "Trojan Game"? Maybe there's a reason it never translated to the board or video variety. Is its sole function to bring out Dave's grim loathing of parades? But hold tight--there's also some genuine, keel-smoldering pathos here. Juno's intent on barbecuing the Trojan fleet and there's poignant loss at the end.  So don't throw in the towel, go the full ten rounds.

Remember when you were a kid and eagerly waiting for that next episode of Family Ties, so you could pick up the continuing action of the Keaton family from the week before? But then they hit you with some weak-sauce clip show where nothing happens except Michael J. Fox getting some time off to film Teen Wolf VI? Well, many have suspected that Vergil is up to something similar in Book 5. We seem to go from the high drama and pathos of Book 4 to competitive paddling and “everybody gets a trophy” day. What happened to the “epic”? But maybe this isn’t just time-killing filler. Maybe Vergil is letting us catch our breath and setting up the next dark turn in these exiles’ fate.  Hang on to that rudder, keep an eye on those rocks, and be prepared to nudge your pilot into the brine if need be.

This week Jeff and Dave take a sustained look at an-oft discussed but ill-defined notion: what, if anything, gives people dignity? Drawing on the work of famous, late scholar Charles Trinkaus (The Scope of Renaissance Humanism), the guys trace this notion from Cicero through the Greek and Latin fathers and into the trecento. Thanks to the diligent spadery of Chuck T., you'll enjoy a who's who of what's what when it comes to key themes and ideas surrounding what separates man (and woman) from animal, the noble brute. In the end it all comes down to Petrarch, Ficino, Mirandola, and Peter 'Et' Cetera of Chicago fame. The jinx here may be lower than normal, but the substance is swole. Don't miss it!

This week we at last reach the grim, tragic climax of Book IV of the Aeneid, where the height of Dido’s madness is matched only by the depth of Aeneas’ strange indifference. When Jeff innocently pauses to comment on the “cinematic” nature of Vergil’s language and pacing, Dave pushes back, and the guys tussle over whether literary narratives are always superior to visual ones. Would Vergil be a Scorsese today? Or would that make him a lesser artist by default, if he set down his pen? Are there genres that are better served on he screen? At any rate, things are getting bleak in Carthage—Dido’s flirting with black magic, raving about the citadel, preparing for a grisly end - and what does Aeneas decide to do? Catch a nap on the poop deck. What is going on with this guy?

We’re getting to the “dessert” portion of this banquet of a book; sounds great, right? Well, dismiss those visions of truffles and gelato from your mind because these “afters” are more akin to lettuce-plated Jell-O replete with creepy, suspended fruits. Why? Because in this episode we get the big breakup scene and it is a doozy. Dido gets wind that Aeneas is trying to shuffle out the back door without so much as a text and corners him. Does Aeneas get the tongue-lashing he deserves or is her response so unhinged as to be completely irrational? Is Fate’s prodding of Aeneas toward Italy the ultimate get-out-of-the-relationship card or is he just this year’s C. Caddy McCadderson?  See if you agree with William Anderson’s hot take that Aeneas is actually “heroic” in his response. There’s a pyre on fire and baby it’s getting dire. More Jell-O, anyone?