#i translated my finnish translations to english you'll just have to trust me on this

[wildkitte]

Creusa’s disappearance: longe, pone, fefellit and Aeneas’ duty

Creusa’s disappearance is a curious part of Book II and has captivated me ever since I first read (and then reread and reread and reread) the book. Aeneas’ sorrow at losing his wife is so acute and palpable even after years on the run, but it’s still awfully… vague, isn’t it? What really happens to Creusa? And whose fault was her disappearance anyway? And how does this reflect on pius Aeneas, when he can’t follow his duty towards his wife?

I’ll be paraphrasing my thesis quite a lot here and I am leaning quite heavily on the Servius/Servius Auctus commentary, kind of as a jumping board to interpretations of this part of the book. (Also, in my first post I talked about the juicy bits starting from 2.768, and I must admit that I just glanced at my thesis summary and picked the wrong lines to start with. So, let’s actually start from 2.667 up to 2.760 and then finish with 2.768-795. These are the lines I spent 5 months staring at and hitting my head against a brick wall until the brick wall broke. Also, special un-thanks to Servius for being such a bitch to translate.)

So disaster unfolds and it all comes down to Aeneas’ plan

Let’s recap: Anchises will climb on Aeneas’ shoulders, and Aeneas clasps hands with little Iulus, and finally “let my wife follow our footsteps at a distance” – longe servet vestigia coniunx (2.711). Alright, solid plan there – but how far actually is this longe? This has been an issue of debate especially among modern feminist critiques (I once again raise Perkell (1981, 2021), Grillo (2010) and Hughes (1997) as ones whose articles I found the most useful for my thesis topic) but apparently this has been enough of an issue, a weird imperfection in Aeneas’ perfect image (I say image, because he is unwell and kind of not perfect at all), that it deserves its own comments in Servius’ commentary. So how long is ���at a distance”? Or is it “a long way off” or “far away” (LSJ gives all these options)? How far away exactly did Aeneas order Creusa to follow behind?

Servius states that longe can’t be that long of a distance, since later (2.725) follows pone subit coniunx (“wife walks behind”). Pone, according to Servius, does not signify time – so it must express distance. Creusa does not follow some time behind, there is no significant delay between Aeneas & co. and Creusa, and with that logic she must have started out close by. Servius also defends Aeneas’ plan: it makes more sense to go individually like this, as a bigger group is easier to capture. I also do not think Aeneas meant for this distance to be so long – he clearly expected her to be right behind them, as she clearly should have been within sight (and also hey let’s talk about vidi crudelius soon, that’s a fun one). But why did she have to stay behind in the first place? This kind of leaves a bad taste in the reader’s mouth. Does pius Aeneas, the man embodying pietas, only extend his duty towards family to its male members? How could he be this neglectful of his wife? What is the reason for this?

Here I must bring up the curious case of fefellit in 2.774 (et comites natumque virumque fefellit). In Kline’s translation this line goes: “[she] had escaped the notice of friends, child and husband.” Sarah Ruden’s translation also uses this “escape notice” translation, but there is actually some disagreement on the meaning of this line. Fallo is quite rare in the Aeneid, and only appears a few times. Here Perkell points out, that in these other locations, fallo signifies “to betray, deceive” instead. Perkell argues, that we should interpret fefellit to mean deception instead. In a way this would fall into line with Aeneas’ desperate attempts to put the blame on someone, anyone else than himself.

Quem non incusavi amens hominumque deorumque, what man or god did I not blame in my madness? Himself, Perkell argues (and this is a compelling argument – though I always interpreted the genetivus partitivus also included Aeneas himself). He talks about some hostile power taking control of his wits, and even Servius says that this sounds like an excuse (and wow would you look at what happens in 12-948-949?). With the fefellit argument I don’t really have much to say myself – I think turning fallo into “Creusa was deceived OF her companions, child and husband” rather than she herself deceiving them is maybe more accurate.

There is no reason to believe that Aeneas is being dishonest about this progression of events – in general he is treated as a trustworthy narrator when it comes to Books II and III. But it does not escape my notice that while the description of Troy’s fall is so detailed and brutal and graphic throughout Book II, Creusa’s disappearance is almost… sanitized? And Servius actually points out the same: she disappears “pure and non-violent [like the wind]” (Serv. Aen. 2.794), she is the only one whose death gets a vague, sterilized description (if we compare to literally anyone else in this book). But for what reason?

My professor pointed out that one reason might simply be trauma. Losing Creusa is simply too painful to talk about. Perhaps he did come across Creusa’s corpse on the way (he actually reacts the same way to Polydorus’ corpse in Book III; obstipui, steteruntque comae et uox faucibus haesit, 3.48) but he does not wish to repeat this private tragedy, “the cruelest sight” in the entire fall of Troy: the loss of Creusa.

But hey let’s finally talk about that vidi crudelius. Servius makes a fascinating comment about this line:

VIDI CRUDELIUS bene se futurus commendat maritus, qui apud feminam sic ostendit priorem se amasse uxorem. (Serv. Aen. 2.746)

“future husband recommends himself well. thus, he demonstrates to [Dido] that he loved his previous wife.”

This comment changes the perspective, doesn’t it? Because suddenly Servius reminds us, that this is Aeneas’ performance to Dido, and it would kind of be bad optics to admit that you were so careless with your wife that she died due to your negligence and failure to perform your duty as pater familias. Austin suggests that Aeneas self-inflicted blame and sorrow moved Dido, making him a more desirable husband – it must be a relief for Dido to find someone who understands her pain of having lost her spouse. Could this be a calculated move from Aeneas? (Perkell does kind of think that Aeneas is being purposefully deceptive, but here is where I disagree with her)

But even with all this, it is probably safe to blame the gods and fate here (almost like that’s a theme that comes up over and over again).

In Creusa’s first words to Aeneas, it kind of seems that she already knows what’s to come: cui parvos Iulus, cui pater et coniunx quondam tua dicta relinquor (to whom do you abandon little Iulus, to whom father and the wife, who was once called yours? 2.677-678)? Servius directs attention to coniunx quondam, saying quod eventurum timet, quasi iam contigerit, deflet (she laments as if what she fears to happen had already happened; Serv. Aen 2.678). It’s like she can feel it coming, the fate about to steal her away.

She does in fact confirm this herself in 2.777: non haec sine numine divum eveniunt (this did not happen without the will of gods)! There is further proof in the scene where Aeneas dashes back to Troy. Previously in the book danger was everywhere, streets littered with corpses and the city on fire, Greeks and Trojans clashing in mad bloodletting all over the city – and yet now, as Aeneas tracks back his steps and calls out for Creusa over and over again (the “iterumque iterumque vocavi” is so phonetically delightful isn’t it), the enemy does not see him. Servius comments on two things in the passage 2.767-769: Aeneas shouting explicitly exposes him to danger – and this also proves that he had himself evaded this fate, while he lost his spouse to it (hic ostendit, et se fato evasisse, et fato coniugem perdidisse, Serv. Aen. 2.768). (Edit: holy shit how could I forget: Aeneas literally calls her fatone erepta, snatched away by fate. So there it is.)

As said, in my opinion there is no reason to believe Aeneas is lying or being dishonest, while it is kind of convenient that Creusa herself comforts Aeneas with this “oh well, that’s what the gods want, no can do” speech. Still I tend to agree with my professor: the trauma is simply too fresh and painful to share (“Infandum, regina, iubes renovare dolorem” applies here too). We’ll never know what truly happened to Creusa, and that is part of what makes her disappearance so compelling. What use is there to indulge in such mad grief, after all?

 Here's all I have to say about Creusa’s disappearance for now. In the next post, let’s talk about how cute Aeneas and Creusa are and why there should be more fanfiction of them on AO3.