Myth and the City: Foundation Stories

The contest between Athena and Poseidon did more than explain a name. It gave Athens a founding story rooted in divine competition — the city was not just built by humans, it was claimed by gods. The choice of Athena over Poseidon was also a statement of Athenian values: wisdom and the gifts of peacetime (the olive) were valued over raw power and the sea. For a city that prided itself on its intellectual and cultural achievements, this was exactly the right founding myth.

The birth story establishes Theseus as a hero in the same mould as Heracles — divine parentage, a destiny hidden until he proved himself worthy, a choice of the harder path. The rock and the sword are a test of character as much as strength: Theseus could have taken the easy sea route and arrived in Athens safely. He chose the land route because he wanted to earn his place. That choice is what makes him a hero rather than simply a prince.

The kylix does for Theseus what the Temple of Zeus metopes did for Heracles — it presents the hero's labours as a coherent series of achievements that define his character and his city. But there is a key difference: the Minotaur labour, placed at the centre, is specifically Athenian. Heracles's labours were pan-Hellenic — they belonged to all Greeks. Theseus's labours culminate in freeing Athens from its humiliating tribute to Crete. The kylix is not just a celebration of heroism — it is a statement of Athenian pride.

Theseus's greatest achievement was not any single labour but the political act of uniting Attica. Heracles was a stronger fighter; Theseus was a better king. By founding democracy and making all citizens equal, he gave Athens the political identity that defined it for centuries. The vision of Theseus at Marathon shows how deeply embedded he was in Athenian civic consciousness — centuries after his mythological lifetime, soldiers still believed he fought alongside them. His tomb as a refuge for the powerless shows the other side of his legacy: Athens valued not just strength but justice.

Livy is an unusual source because he tells you his own weaknesses. He admits the records were lost, the traditions were oral, and that ancient writers mixed human and divine without embarrassment. That honesty is itself valuable — it tells us that even in antiquity, educated Romans knew their founding myths were not straightforward history. What Livy gives us is not a factual account of Rome's origins but a record of what Rome chose to believe about itself, written at the precise moment when Augustus was using those beliefs to legitimise his own rule.

Aeneas is defined by pietas above all else. Where Heracles is defined by strength and Theseus by intelligence, Aeneas is defined by duty — to his father (carried on his back from burning Troy), to his son (led by the hand through the chaos), to his gods (the Penates carried into exile), and to his city (even a city that no longer existed). This made him the perfect Roman hero — not a lone warrior seeking glory, but a man whose heroism consisted entirely of responsibility to others.

Aeneas was politically useful in a way that Romulus was not. Romulus was a founder, but he was also a fratricide — he killed his own brother. Aeneas was untainted by that kind of violence; his story was one of loss, duty, and perseverance. Augustus needed a founder figure who embodied Roman virtues without moral complications, and Aeneas provided exactly that. By tracing his lineage to Aeneas and through him to Venus, Augustus was not just claiming noble ancestry — he was claiming that Rome's imperial destiny had been divinely ordained from the moment Troy fell.

The death of Remus is the most uncomfortable moment in Rome's founding story — the city was literally built on fratricide. Livy does not dwell on it, moving quickly past the killing to focus on Romulus's establishment of the city. But the detail cannot be ignored: Rome's founder killed his own twin brother. The Romans seem to have accepted this as the price of unity — one city, one leader, one name. The augury scene is also significant: the founding of Rome was not a human decision but a divine one, settled by the gods through the flight of birds.

The Romans needed both figures and could not do without either. Aeneas gave Rome its divine origins, its connection to Troy, and its moral framework — pietas as the foundation of everything. Romulus gave Rome its name, its site, its first king, and its martial identity. Augustus understood this: he claimed descent from Aeneas for divine legitimacy, but he also rebuilt the temple of Quirinus (the deified Romulus) and used the image of the she-wolf on his coinage. Rome's founding required both a man of duty and a man of action — and conveniently, the myths provided one of each.

Plutarch is a valuable source precisely because he is doing something no other ancient writer does for this topic — systematically comparing a Greek and a Roman hero side by side. His lack of a firm conclusion is not a weakness; it is an invitation. He lays out the evidence and lets the reader weigh it. For the exam, Plutarch gives you the framework for the "who was the better man" question — his six categories of comparison are effectively a ready-made essay structure.

The most revealing comparison is their political legacy. Theseus introduced democracy and made himself accountable to the people; Romulus established a monarchy and ruled as king. This difference reflects something real about the values of each city: Athens prided itself on equality and collective decision-making; Rome was built on hierarchy, military authority, and the power of a single leader. The heroes each city chose to celebrate tell you what that city valued most.

The strongest answers on this question will not simply list the achievements of each man but will engage with their flaws. Theseus forgot the black sail and his father died; Romulus killed his brother and a city was born. Both are stories about what heroism costs. Plutarch's refusal to reach a firm conclusion is an invitation to the reader — and to the exam candidate — to make the argument themselves. Pick a position, acknowledge the counter-argument, and use specific evidence to support your conclusion.

A founding myth is not just a story — it is a tool. Athens's myth told its citizens they were chosen by wisdom's goddess and governed by a hero who valued equality. Rome's myth told its citizens they were descended from gods, destined for empire, and led by men whose authority was divinely ordained. Both myths did their job perfectly. Athens's founding myth shaped a democratic city-state; Rome's founding myth shaped an empire. The scale of what Rome became is arguably the measure of how much more work its founding myths had to do — and did.