'Song of weapons and of the man destined for exile', begins Virgil, and it is precisely on the question of this man of arms that the critical debate of recent years has opened it tended towards the center. Scholars continue to disagree on the question of whether or not Aeneas is presented as a good soldier, although the question itself is certainly far from black and white, complicated by the culturally relative nature of terms such as "conflict" and "courage". ", as well as the rather oblique definition which in itself is "good". 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 Paulus and Ulysses respectively. I will argue that Aeneas does not meet the criteria established by either model and that, ultimately, he is an emotionally unstable, morally dubious, and even incompetent military leader. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essayHowever, it is necessary to emphasize the very fact that he is the protagonist: his character is necessarily sympathetic, dynamic and intricate. My intention is not to claim that Aeneas is a villain or a coward; evidently it is neither of the two things and a similar interpretation of the Aeneid, a text rich and ambiguous in meaning, would be reductive to say the least. And in this way it must have, and has, some positive, somehow redeeming traits. KW Gransden notes that "Virgil created in Aeneas a new type of Stoic hero"1, a point which is perhaps most evident in the fourth book when Aeneas leaves Carthage. His speech to Dido is indicative of his determination to both suffer in silence, Aeneas did not move his eyes and struggled to fight the anguish in his heart and wanted: Do not continue to cause anguish to yourself and me with these complaints. It is not by my will that I am still looking for Italy. (Book 4, p.92) Emotional restraint and acquiescence regarding one's fortunes and torments are intrinsic to the Roman conception of the warrior. Plutarch, for example, emphasizes precisely this in his description of the life of the powerful Aemilius Paulus who stoically accepts the death of his son and heir as "punishment" for the Romans' victorious military campaign against the Macedonians.2 Likewise, the presentation of Aeneas in Book Four can be seen to parallel that of Odysseus in Book Nineteen of the Odyssey, where the reader is told that, despite his wife's tears, the hero's "eyes were stop".3 Aeneas, therefore, conforms to both the Roman and Homeric paradigms in his ability to endure the suffering that Destiny has reserved for him. Yet his main characteristic is not resistance, as in the case of Ulysses, but rather his pietas, an essential quality for a Roman warrior. Over and over again in the Aeneid he is calledpiù Aeneas, «famous for his devotion» (6, p. 145), thus he praises the Sibyl. This devotion is threefold in that it is not just religious and extends to both his family and his duty as the "Father" of Rome. The latter has already been demonstrated by his separation from Dido, in which he subordinates his personal desires to the fulfillment of his destiny, while the first two aspects of this pietas are clearly seen at work in Book Five, in which the funeral games , “held in honor of the divine father of Aeneas” (5, p. 122), combine a celebration of the familiar and the sacred. Yet this pietas, as much as it seems to pervade Virgil's characterization of the hero, could be questioned. Aeneas, on frequent occasions, seems reluctant to carry out his Fatum and also uncertain about the rewards it offers. In the fifth book the poet externalizes Aeneas' thoughts as he wonders "whether he shouldforget his fate and settle in the fields of Sicily" (5, p. 126), and throughout the first half of the poem he needs to be constantly urged to continue in his search for patria (homeland): from the shadow of his wife in the Book Second, from his father's shadow in Book Five, and twice from Mercury in Book Four: Mercury wasted no time: 'So now you are laying the foundations for the high towers of Carthage and building a splendid city to please your wife? Have you completely forgotten your kingdom and your destiny?' (Book 4, p. 89) At this time Aeneas seems less than devoted to his duty. He appears quite content in Carthage and it seems unlikely that he would have left her “sweet” shores of his own free will. Gordon Williams observes that “Dido is the Aeneas's first serious test, and he seems to give in without a fight"4, and one can see the character here as close to the antithesis of Odysseus who, in his stubborn determination to return to Ithaca, even rejects Calypso's offer of immortality. In fact, 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 dedication to duty is the only aspect of his pietas that can be found lacking, and although Aeneas seems a truly devoted son it should be noted that he repeatedly fails to protect his family Aeneas, one must realize that practically no one survives: Cruesa, his first wife, is lost in Troy; Dido, probably his second, commits suicide; Anchises, his father, dies in the port of Drepanum; and finally Pallas, of whom Aeneas is certainly a surrogate parent, is killed by Turnus. Only his son and heir, Ascanius, is still standing at the end of Book Twelve. Of course, it could be argued that the hero is not guilty of any of these deaths were it not for the fact that, with the exception of Anchises, Aeneas readily confesses his personal failure in the role of warrior-protector. For example, he admits to being "confused" and "robbed" of his "wit" when, in the second book, he literally loses his wife: I never saw her again. Nor did I look over my shoulder, nor think of her, nor realize that she was lost. (Book 2, p.53) By his own admission he simply forgets about Cruesa and as a result the invading Greek forces massacre her. He pleads equally guilty of 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); his question is never answered, but the widow's revealing silence speaks louder than any words. And this pattern of self-condemnation continues in his response to the killing of Pallas, his protégé, where his way of expressing himself is equally unequivocal: "It is not what I promised Evander, when he took me in his arms" (11, p.273). It is important to understand that it is impossible to disentangle the warrior Aeneas from the various other roles he plays in the poem, as lover, as husband, as father, and as son. The character is a composite complex in which all these facets become inextricably linked together and consequently 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 not to live up to the Homeric model and it is worth remembering the value that Odysseus attributes to the oikos (house); his actions during the final section of the Odyssey are motivated by a determination to protect not only his material possessions, but also to protect Penelope and Telemachus from the threat of the Suitors. However, there are moments in the poem where Aeneas appears as negligent and ineffective as a military leader, as oninternal front. This is especially true, and surprisingly so, in the case of his complete absence from the conflict in Book Nine. Through Iris' speech, Virgil clarifies the hero's incredible mistake: Aeneas left his city, his allies and his fleet, and went to visit Evander's royal seat on the Palatine. And as if that wasn't enough, he traveled to the most remote cities. What are you waiting for? (Book 9, p.214) Aeneas made two crucial mistakes: firstly he 'left' his troops leaderless and therefore vulnerable; and second, he compounded this initial mistake by traveling such a great distance that both communication with his army, and a rapid return in the event of an attack, became logistically unfeasible. His "no-show" nature in this book could not provide a greater contrast to Plutarch's description of Aemilius Paulus at the Battle of Pydna (168 BC), who, although "full of fear", "wore a happy face and smiling" and "overtook them [?] without helmet or armor".5 If one were to look for a parallel with such courageous and assertive leadership in Book Nine, one might rather find it in the figure of Turnus, whose tenacity and fearlessness allow him also to charge onto the battlefield before his men.6 While Aeneas's disorganized and directionless people "turn and run in terror" (9, p.239), he enjoys the "juice of Bacchus" (8, p.195) at the court of King Evander. It is surely an intended irony that in this book he is called the "greatest of warriors" (9, p.215) and if it were not for divine intervention, by the ships transformed into nymphs who inform Aeneas of the Rutulia attack, her absence could have caused considerably more destruction. However, even upon his return, his competence as a military potentate is, at times, questioned, and when the truce leads to further conflict in Book Twelve, he demonstrates both an inability to manage his troops and a lack of awareness the severity and immediacy of the conflict. of the situation: where are you running? What is this sudden discord that is arising between you? Control your anger! (Book 12, p.312) Aeneas at this moment finds himself unarmed in the center of a battlefield and instead of defending himself or attempting to organize his forces he makes this rather pathetic and most likely unheard speech. However, he is punished for such hesitation and slowness when he is wounded by an arrow and consequently forced to retreat from the fight, leaving his army leaderless for the second time. Only the mysterious healing potion of Venus, his mother, allows him to resume the fight, since once again it is the gods who come to Aeneas' aid. In fact, Aeneas is constantly tormented by a mental equivocality. Later in the same book the poet notes that "conflicting tides boiled in his mind" (12, p. 317) and it is precisely for this hesitation that the Cumaean Sibyl chastises him (6, p. 134). In retrospect it should be noted that Aeneas' actions are only ever emphatic when he himself is out of control and in a rage. Nowhere is this truer than in his response to Pallas's death: first he captures two sets of four sons as, astonishingly, human sacrifices; second, he kills Tarquito and proceeds to taunt the mangled corpse with “you will be left to the wild birds” (10, p.259)7; third, he kills the prostrate Lucagus, cutting off his pleas for mercy; and finally he puts father and son, Mezentius and Lausus, to the sword. It would be possible to cite Aeneas's actions here as indicative of a "good warrior" and yet in truth he is nothing more than a terrifyingly effective killing machine who simply "deals out death" (10, p. 261). As WA Camps states, such “brutalities are entirelyin contrast to the hero's usual humanity."8 The word "fury" resonates throughout this passage so as to emphasize that the character's conduct is not calm or thoughtful, but rather the result of an all-consuming and entirely unbridled rage. Plutarch notes that it was Aemilius's "detachment" that the Romans found most impressive and in book ten Aeneas could not have been less rational or more emotional. However, it is the pervasive moral ambiguity present in this passage that, more than the lack of restraint of the protagonist, undermines his position as a soldier, and even Aeneas seems horrified by his own ruthlessness as he holds the young body of Lausus in his arms: but when Aeneas, son of Anchises, saw the dying face and features, the strangely white face, he groaned with pity from heart (Book 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. Roman warrior is also a moral warrior of Anchises in the sixth book, "you must be the first to show clemency" (6, p.159), which the hero violates when he kills Lucago and Lauso. Yet, for all his remorse and self-condemnation in the tenth book, Aeneas is unable to keep his passions in check when he finally defeats Turnus at the end of the poem. The Rutulian prince, on his knees as a supplicant, begs for his life, but the sight of Pallas's bandolier deafens Aeneas to his pleas: burning with anger, he plunges the steel full into the enemy's chest. Turnus' limbs melted into the cold and his life left him with a crotch, fleeing angrily down into the shadows. (Book 12, p.332)Jasper Griffin, in his examination of this final image, highlights Virgil's use of the word fervidus ("burning with anger") as a denunciation of the hero's "lack of self-control". and moral deficiency is once again the corollary of Aeneas' uninhibited anger. This episode appears all the more shameful when compared with the paradigm offered by Emilio Paolo: Perseus, however, gave a shameful spectacle: he threw himself on the ground and hugged Emilio's knees, whimpering and begging. Despite his displeasure, Aemilius lifted Perseus to his feet and gave him his right hand.10 The parallel between Aeneas and Turnus, and Aemilius and Perseus is striking insofar as, by omitting the names, Plutarch's description could easily provide an antithetical ending to the Aeneid. Emilio shows here the correct and Roman response to his enemy's pleas and it is precisely his clemency, rather than his barbarity, that makes him a 'good warrior'. Likewise, although mercy towards one's adversaries was less intrinsic to Greek morality, Odysseus spares the herald Medon while slaughtering the suitors.11 He is able to contain his passions in a way that Aeneas cannot. The Roman model, and more implicitly the Homeric one, requires a warrior to have as much moral strength as physical and intellectual muscle, and Aeneas simply fails to achieve this balance. In the eighth book Aeneas is presented with the shield forged for him by Vulcan. , and on it the God of Fire has hammered various scenes and figures from the illustrious history of Rome (or rather future of Aeneas). Cato, Augustus, and Agrippa are particularly important in his design, yet one might ask 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, but easily seduced by Dido; deemed "devoted" by his father, yet responsible for the deaths of Cruesa and Pallas; seen as a stoic hero, although his behavior in books ten and twelve is demonstrative of a lack of self-control and emotional instability. Aeneas' actions are always emphatic, such as killing Laucus or Turnus, when they are even