“I sing of arms and the man destined for exile,” begins Virgil, and it is precisely on the question of this man-at-arms that the debate criticizes of recent years tends to become more centralized. Scholars remain in disagreement over whether or not Aeneas is presented as a good soldier, although the issue itself is certainly far from black and white, complicated by the culturally relative nature of terms such as "conflict ” and “courage”, as well as by the rather oblique definition of “good” itself. In this essay, I will attempt to resolve these complexities and ambiguities by juxtaposing Aeneas with the Roman and Homeric ideals of the warrior, exemplified by Aemilius Paullus and Odysseus respectively. I will argue that Aeneas does not meet the criteria set by either model and that ultimately he is an emotionally unstable, morally questionable, and even incompetent military leader. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why violent video games should not be banned”?Get an original essayHowever, the very fact that he is the protagonist must be emphasized: his character is necessarily sympathetic, dynamic and complex. My intention is not to assert that Aeneas is a villain or a coward; it is obviously neither of these things and such an interpretation of the Aeneid, a rich and ambiguous text in its meaning, would simply be reductive. And in this way it must have, and does have, positive, somewhat redeeming characteristics. KW Gransden notes that "Virgil created in Aeneas a new type of Stoic hero,"1 a point which is perhaps most evident in Book Four, when Aeneas leaves Carthage. His speech to Dido is indicative of his determination to suffer both in silence, Aeneas did not move his eyes and struggled to fight the anguish in his heart and wanted: Do not continue to cause yourself distress and me by these complaints. It is not of my own will that I am still looking for Italy. (Bk. 4, p.92) Emotional restraint and acquiescence in one's own fortunes and torments are intrinsic to the Roman concept of the warrior. Plutarch, for example, emphasizes exactly this in his description of the life of the potentate Aemilius Paullus, who stoically accepts the death of his son and heir as "punishment" for the successful Roman military campaign against the Macedonians.2 Likewise, the presentation of Aeneas In Book Four, we can see a parallel with that of Odysseus in Book Nineteen of the Odyssey, where the reader learns that, despite his wife's tears, the hero's "eyes were fixed ".3 Aeneas therefore conforms to both Roman and Homeric paradigms in his ability to endure the suffering that fate has assigned to him. However, his main characteristic is not his endurance, as is the case of Odysseus, but rather his pietas, an essential quality for a Roman warrior. Many times in the Aeneid, he is called Pius Aeneas, “famous for his devotion” (6, p. 145), as the Sibyl praises. This devotion is threefold in that it is not only religious and extends both to his family and to his duty as “Father” of Rome. The latter has already been demonstrated by his separation from Dido, in which he subordinates his personal desires to fulfill his destiny, while the first two aspects of this pietas can be seen very clearly at work in Book Five, in which the funeral games, “organized in honor of the divine father of Aeneas” (5, p. 122), combine a celebration of the familial and the sacred. Yet this pietas, as much as it seems to permeate Virgil's characterization of the hero, could be called into question. Aeneas, on frequent occasions, seems reluctant to implement his Fatum and alsouncertain about the rewards it offers. In the fifth book, the poet externalizes Aeneas' thoughts as he wonders "whether he should forget his destiny and settle in the fields of Sicily" (5, p. 126), and throughout the first half of the poem, he needs constant encouragement to continue his search for hispatria (homeland): by the shadow of his wife in Book Two, by the shadow of his father in Book Five, and two times by Mercury in Book Four: Mercury wasted no time: “So now you lay the foundations of the tall towers of Carthage and build a splendid city to please your wife? Have you completely forgotten your own kingdom and your own destiny? (Bk. 4, p. 89) Aeneas seems rather undevoted to his duty at this time. He appears quite content in Carthage and it seems unlikely that he would have left its "sweet" shores of his own free will. Gordon Williams notes that "Dido is Aeneas's first serious test, and he seems to give in without a struggle"4, and here the character can be seen as close to the antithesis of Odysseus who, in his stubborn determination to return to Ithaca even rejects Calypso's offer of immortality. Indeed, Aeneas, “whose sword was studded with yellow jasper stars” (4, p. 88), is an image of decadence and almost a parody of Mark Antony in the way he was softened and seduced by an exotic land. Devotion to duty is also not the only aspect of his pietas that may be lacking, and while Aeneas appears to be a genuinely devoted son, it is worth noting that he repeatedly fails to protect his family. When we consider the characters in the poem who might be considered intimate with Aeneas, we must realize that virtually none survive: Cruesa, his first wife, is lost at Troy; Dido, undoubtedly his second, commits suicide; Anchises, his father, died in the port of Drepanum; and finally Pallas, whose surrogate parent Aeneas is surely, is killed by Turnus. Only his son and heir, Ascanius, is still standing at the end of book twelve. Of course, it can be argued that the hero is not guilty of any of these deaths if it were not for the fact that, with the exception of Anchises, Aeneas readily admits his personal failure in the role of warrior-protector. For example, he admits to being "confused" and "deprived" of his "mind" when, in volume two, he literally loses his wife: I never saw her again. I also didn't look behind me, or think about her, or realize that she was lost. (Bk. 2, p.53) By his own admission, he simply forgets about Cruesa and, as a result, the invading Greek forces massacre it. He also pleads guilty to Dido's fall when he greets her shadow in the Underworld by saying: “Alas! Alas! Was I the cause of your death? (6, p.146-7); her question is never answered, but the widow's telling silence speaks louder than any words. And this pattern of self-condemnation continues in his response to the murder of Pallas, his ward, where his turn of phrase is also unequivocal: "This is not what I promised Evander when he took in his arms” (11, p.273). It is important to understand that it is impossible to remove Aeneas the warrior from the various other roles he fills in the poem, as lover, as husband, as father, and as son. The character is a complex composite in which all of these facets are inextricably linked and, therefore, his flaws as a guardian of his family impact his position as a warrior and guardian of the citizens of Troy. Once again, Aeneas seems to fall short of the Homeric model and it is worth recalling the value that Odysseus places on the oikos (household); his actions throughout the final section of the Odyssey are motivated by a determination to secure not only his possessionsmaterial, but also to protect Penelope and Telemachus from the threat of suitors. However, there are times in the poem where Aeneas appears careless and ineffective as a military leader, such as on the home front. This is particularly and surprisingly the case for his total absence from the conflict in Book Nine. Through Iris's speech, Virgil elucidates the hero's incredible blunder: Aeneas left his city, his allies and his fleet, and went to visit the royal seat of Evander on the Palatine. And even if that wasn't enough, he traveled to the most remote towns. What are you waiting for? (Bk. 9, p.214) Aeneas made two crucial errors: first, he “left” his troops leaderless and therefore vulnerable; and second, he compounded this initial error by traveling such a great distance that communication with his army and rapid return in the event of attack became logistically impossible. His "no-show" nature in this book could not offer a greater contrast with Plutarch's description of Aemilius Paullus at the Battle of Pydna (168 BC), who, although "filled with fear," showed a happy and smiling face. and "surpassed [?] them without helmet or breastplate."5 If one were to look for a parallel with such courageous and assertive leadership in Book Nine, one might instead find it in the figure of Turnus, whose tenacity and His fearlessness also allows him to charge onto the battlefield before his men.6 While Aeneas' disorganized and directionless people "turn and run in terror" (9, p. 239), he savors the "juice of Bacchus” (8, p. 195) at the court of King Evander. It is surely an intentional irony that he is called "the greatest of warriors" (9, p. 215) in this book and was it not divine intervention, on the part of the ships-turned-nymphs who inform Aeneas of the Rutulian invasion. attack, its absence could have resulted in much more destruction. Yet even upon his return, his competence as a military potentate is sometimes doubted, and as the truce develops into a new conflict in book twelve, he demonstrates both an inability to manage his troops and a lack awareness of the seriousness and immediacy of the situation. of the situation: Where are you rushing? What is this sudden discord that is rising among you? Control your anger! (Bk. 12, p.312) Aeneas is standing at this moment, unarmed, in the center of a battlefield and rather than defending himself or trying to organize his forces, he gives this rather pathetic and probably unheard of speech . He is, however, punished for such hesitation and slowness when he is wounded by an arrow and forced to withdraw from combat, leaving his army leaderless for a second time. Only the mysterious healing potion of Venus, his mother, allows him to resume the fight, because once again it is the gods who come to Aeneas' aid. Indeed, Aeneas is constantly prey to an ambiguity of mind. Later in the same book, the poet notes that “contradictory tides boiled in his mind” (12, p. 317) and it is precisely for this hesitation that the Sibyl of Cumae chastises him (6, p. 134). In retrospect, it should be noted that Aeneas' actions are only emphatic when he himself is out of control and in the grip of fury. Nowhere is this more true than in his response to Pallas's death: first, he captures two groups of four sons as, shockingly, human sacrifices; second, he kills Tarquitus and mocks the mutilated corpse with “you will be left for the wild birds” (10, p. 259)7; third, he kills the prostrate Lucagus, cutting short his appeals for mercy; and finally, he puts the father and the son, Mezentius and Lausus, to the edge of the sword. It would be possible to cite here the actionsof Aeneas as indicative of a “good warrior” and yet, in truth, he is nothing more than a frighteningly successful killing machine who “simply deals out death” (10, p. 261). As WA Camps states, such "brutality is quite at odds with the usual humanity of the hero."8 The word "fury" resonates throughout this passage to emphasize that the character's conduct is not calm or thoughtful, but rather the result of global reflection. -a devouring and completely unbridled rage. Plutarch notes that it was Aemilius's "detachment" that the Romans found most impressive, and that in book ten Aeneas could not be less rational nor more emotional. However, it is the moral ambiguity pervasive in this passage that, more than the protagonist's lack of restraint, undermines his position as a soldier, and even Aeneas seems horrified by his own cruelty as he holds Lausus' young body: But when Aeneas, son of Anchises, saw the dying face and features, the face strangely white, he groaned from the bottom of his heart with pity. (Bk. 10, p.268) As before, Aeneas is the judge and jury of his own actions and a poignant sense of guilt is infused into this moment of realization. A Roman warrior is also a moral warrior, and it is the words of Anchises in book six, "you must be the first to show mercy" (6, p. 159), which the hero violates when he kills Lucagus and Lausus. And yet, for all his regrets and self-condemnation in book ten, Aeneas is unable to control his passions when he finally defeats Turnus at the end of the poem. The rutted prince, kneeling in supplication, begs for his life, but the sight of Pallas's baldric deafens Aeneas to his supplications: flaming with rage, he plunges the iron straight into the enemy's chest. Turnus's limbs were dissolved in the cold and his life left him with one groin, fleeing angrily into the shadows. (Bk. 12, p.332) Jasper Griffin, in his examination of this final image, highlights Virgil's use of the word fervidus ("flaming with rage") as a denunciation of the hero's "lack of self-control"9, and moral deficiency is once again the corollary of Aeneas' uninhibited rage. This incident appears all the more shameful in relation to the paradigm proposed by Aemilius Paullus: Perseus, however, made a shameful spectacle of himself: he threw himself to the ground and hugged Aemilius' knees, groaning and begging . Despite his displeasure, Aemilius raised Perseus and held out his right hand to him.10 The parallel between Aeneas and Turnus, and Aemilius and Perseus is striking in that, by omitting the names, Plutarch's description could easily provide an antithetical ending to the 'Aeneid. Aemilius here shows the correct and Roman response to his enemy's entreaties and it is precisely his clemency, rather than his barbarity, that makes him a "good warrior". Likewise, although mercy towards one's adversaries is less intrinsic to Greek morality, Odysseus spares the herald Medon, while he massacres the suitors11. He is able to contain his passions in a way that Aeneas is not able to contain. The Roman model, and more implicitly the Homeric model, requires that a warrior have as much moral force as physical and intellectual muscle, and Aeneas simply cannot achieve this balance. In book eight, Aeneas is presented with the shield forged for him by Vulcan. , on which the God of Fire has hammered various scenes and figures from the illustrious history of Rome (or rather from the future of Aeneas). Cato, Augustus and Agrippa are particularly notable in his conception, and yet it is questionable whether Aeneas deserves such an award. He seems inadequate to his descendants, both as a domestic protector and as a military protector: renowned for his pietas, yet easily seduced by Dido; tenuous