Myth moves me-


 
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Reading Robert Hellenga's novel Fall of a Sparrow about the effect of the Bologna Railway Bombing on an American family, I was impressed by the observation of his central character, a classics tutor, that history "began" when Aeneas, the mythical refugee of the Trojan War, arrived on Italian shores to establish Rome. I think the spirit of this observation was spot on: to the Greeks life was cyclical, psychological, mythical. Humanity was essentially subject to the whims of capricious Gods, and always would be. 
Although the Romans too made obsequies to the Gods, there was no doubt about who was in charge. Everything came second to the will of Rome. The world would be shaped according to their vision, whatever the Gods might say. Hence Hellenga’s (character’s) observation that the modern era began with them.
I can't mention Aeneas without referring to my favourite opera (and not only because it is blessedly short) Purcell's Dido and Aeneas, which features the doomed love affair of our Trojan hero and the Queen of Carthage. 
In the final stanza, as well as featuring some of the most beautiful music ever composed, there is the following exchange between the departing Aeneas and the Queen:
 AENEAS
     In spite of Jove's command, I'll stay.
     Offend the Gods, and Love obey.
     
     DIDO
     No, faithless man, thy course pursue;
     I'm now resolv'd as well as you.
     No repentance shall reclaim
     The injur'd Dido's slighted flame.
     For 'tis enough, whate'er you now decree,
     That you had once a thought of leaving me.
     
     AENEAS
     Let Jove say what he will: I'll stay!
     
     DIDO
     Away, away! No, no, away!
     
     AENEAS
     No, no, I'll stay, and Love obey!
     
     DIDO
     To Death I'll fly
     If longer you delay;
     Away, away!.....
     [Exit Aeneas]
     But Death, alas! I cannot shun;
     Death must come when he is gone.
     
     CHORUS
     Great minds against themselves conspire
     And shun the cure they most desire.
     
     DIDO
     [Cupids appear in the clouds o're her tomb]
     Thy hand, Belinda, darkness shades me,
           On thy bosom let me rest,
        More I would, but Death invades me;
     Death is now a welcome guest.
     When I am laid in earth, May my wrongs create
                 No trouble in thy breast;
                 Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
Great minds against themselves conspire, and shun the cure they most desire: Aeneas, brutal youth, presses on to Italy and the city he will build, leaving love behind.
But as I grow older the emotional sum of my life seems to count for more than my supposed accomplishments. When we are dust so too are our deeds, to us. Love, in its many guises, feels more important in the here and now.
We might fancy ourselves the builders of our lives but despite our grand designs we are only ever tenants. 
While others may remember us, even benefit from our legacy, as individuals we leave life with nothing except our experience. In the end emotions are all we own.
This the Greeks understood, embodying our merry-go-round lives in their myths, which remain alive in modern drama and psychology. 
The ancient world is our world, and we travel through it even if we’re not on the deck of a Mediterranean cruise liner.