Roman Legends Brought to Life

Abstract

The early history of ancient Rome is a fascinating mixture of fact and fiction. The Romans traced their legendary ancestry back to Troy, ultimately even to Mt. Olympus. The Trojan hero Aeneas, son of Venus and grandson of Jupiter, became the ancestor of the Romans; Romulus, another grandson of Jupiter, founded the city of Rome. In the 22 short chapters of his new book, Robert Garland retells a number of famous episodes in the Romans’ mythic-legendary story, ranging from the fall of Troy to the assassination of Julius Caesar. The book is a companion volume to Garland's Greek Mythology: Gods and Heroes Brought to Life (2020). Garland does not strictly distinguish between myth and legend. The ancient traditions about the past contain numerous and often irreconcilable variants, even contradictions, so Garland allows himself the freedom to include his own inventions. These will be immediately noticeable to readers who know the ancient sources.Garland's first chapter, “Aeneas’ Escape from Troy,” is representative of all that follows in both content and style and will serve as the basis of this review. The chapter's principal source is Virgil's account of the fall of Troy in Book 2 of the Aeneid. Here, it is stripped of Virgil's literary elegance, to say nothing of its tragic dignity. Garland's opening sets the entire book's faux-breezy tone: “Let's not make any bones about it. Rome's ancestors, the Trojans, were losers” (p. 1). The Greek winners, by contrast, were apparently even smarter than their ancient reputation made them out to be: they vote on Odysseus’ trick with the gigantic Wooden Horse with “all those in favour say[ing] aye” (p. 2), and they build it overnight because “next morning” (p. 3) there it is. Garland's additions are meant to infuse the story with You are there! vividness, but frequently add only vulgarity. For instance, redundant language describes Sinon, the Greek who hoodwinks the Trojans to move the Horse into Troy: “He produced a large gob of spit and spat on the ground” (p. 4).By contrast, Garland's condensations of source materials also cause distortions, as when two monstrous sea serpents kill the Trojan priest Laocoön, along with his two sons, almost immediately after Laocoön has warned his people against the Horse. Apparently it is of no significance to Garland that, in Virgil, Laocoön is at that time conducting a sacrifice. And the way Garland has Aeneas, antiquity's most famous model of a dutiful son, address his father is a travesty of everything in Virgil's portrayal of pius Aeneas.A level of carelessness about minor details is already in evidence in this chapter as well. Sinon calls Minerva “silver-footed” (p. 4), a Homeric epithet that characterizes only Achilles’ mother, the sea goddess Thetis. And so it goes, for another 195 pages. Hence caveat lector: much in the book is inauthentic.Although intended to bring Roman legends to life, Garland's colloquialisms—early ones like ‘‘Duh” or “Big problemo” (pp. 4, 6) are random examples—instead bring a monotony that is finally grating. Garland thanks historian Paul Cartledge for his “grace and esprit” (p. ii), but there is no trace of these admirable qualities.The book's illustrations confirm such a conclusion. All chapters except one contain black-and-white drawings without attribution. The jacket informs readers that Garland is “a practising artist,” so the images are presumably his. And they are in keeping with his text. Many are caricatures; none are appealing. The first is of Helen of Troy who, as a femme fatale, is topless (p. 2). So is the Great Mother, a goddess (p. 179). Juno, as queen of the gods, wears a crown that is medieval and thus anachronistic (p. 15). Dour Dido, queen of Carthage (p. 26), does not look as if she could make anyone fall in love with her, even if Garland then endows her with “callipygian buttocks” (a tautology) and a “creamy thigh” (pp. 27–8) in his soft-core version of her and Aeneas’ first lovemaking. Romulus and Remus are holding swords, again anachronistic, because the swords, too, are medieval (p. 61). A building, probably a temple, has five pillars across its façade (p. 168); Garland seems unaware that Greek and Roman architecture never had an odd number of pillars at the front because the central one would obstruct the entrance. If the real Cleopatra had looked like Garland's version (p. 192), the course of history would doubtless have been different. Male genitalia can be savored prominently, from Laocoön (p. 5) to Julius Caesar ascending to heaven (p. 205). The nadir is reached in Garland's final image (p. 206), whose text makes any comment superfluous: “The great god Pan in the latrine.” Which legend might such a scene come from? Since Pan is not mentioned anywhere, this picture is as gratuitous as it is tasteless. But then, readers had earlier been treated to Sextus Tarquinius in mid-rape of Lucretia (p. 102). Hence caveat spectator: some images are in poor taste.It is difficult to fathom for what readership this book of basse vulgarisation is intended. Those who know and love the subject are likely to be put off by Garland's trivializations and distortions. Those eager to learn about Roman legends and lured by the book's title are apt soon to tire of his relentless attempts at thinly humorous with-it-ness, as it might be termed. Younger readers, such as teenagers or college students, may enjoy his tone for a while (and snicker at some of the illustrations). Parents who consider the book as an incentive to introduce their children to Roman myth or history are bound to object to the crude drawings. Let's not make any bones about it: the author of The Greek Way of Death (1984), which established Garland as a scholar, has not done his reputation any favor.