Maaira Khan, London
Homer’s Odyssey and Virgil’s Aeneid both narrate the tumultuous voyages of travellers following the sack of Troy. In the Odyssey, Odysseus endures ten years of hardship before returning home to Ithaca, finding his household in havoc with suitors attempting to court his wife. Aeneas, in the Aeneid, travels far and wide as he follows his fate to found a new city in Italy—Rome. Though both epics explore similar themes, they too differ greatly due to shifts in values and ideals in the centuries lapsing between the two epics.
The homecoming tale of the Odyssey has continued to hold its grip on popular consciousness for nearly three millennia, and, along with its particularly universal themes, this could be attributed to the ambiguous identity of its poet. Very little is known of the class of bards that Homer is likely to have come from. The power and sophistication of the Odyssey and the Iliad are due to the long oral tradition, yet near to nothing is knows about the audience, situation or bards of these poems. It is practically impossible to piece together a contextual backdrop to the events of the Odyssey, making it necessary for us as readers to enjoy the epic as an ancient myth passed down through generations.
The Aeneid, however, could not be any more different contextually. In the 3rd Century BCE the struggle for control over the Mediterranean between Rome and Carthage had set off the Punic Wars, in which Rome was eventually successful. However, Rome continued to suffer great unrest, particularly during the shift from republic to empire, with civil wars and bloodshed started by the assassination of Julius Caesar in 44BCE. The Aeneid, written when peace had at last established itself during Augustus’ reign, shows what it means to be Roman, with Aeneas being an exemplar of Roman ideals.
Though the epics have contextual differences, Homeric works had incredible influences on Roman poetry. Virgil himself was aspiring to emulate the works of Homer in his Aeneid, which, in itself, was considered a near-impossible feat. Some of Virgil’s contemporaries criticised him for imitating Homer too much, but, as a response, Virgil stated “Why don’t my critics also attempt the same thefts? They will realise that it is easier to steal Hercules’ club from him than a line of Homer.” (Aelius Donatus, Life of Virgil, 4th Century CE).
The most obvious place to start comparing the content of the two epics is through their openings, known as the proem:
“Wars and a man I sing—an exile driven on by Fate, he was the first to flee the coast of Troy, destined to reach Lavinian shores and Italian soil, yet many blows he took on land and sea […] Tell me, Muse, how it all began.” (Aeneid, translated by R. Fagles)
“Tell me, Muse, of that man of many resources, who wandered far and wide, after sacking the holy citadel of Troy. Many the men whose cities he saw, whose ways he learned. Many the sorrows he suffered at sea...” (Odyssey, translated by A. S. Kline)
Virgil interestingly starts with his famous three words ‘arma virumque cano’ (‘I sing of arms and man’); through this he immediately demonstrates how he intends to emulate the works of the great poet Homer by condensing the subject matter of the Iliad and Odyssey in three words. The ‘arma’, bringing about connotations of ‘arms’ and ‘battle’ is an allusion to the war of the Iliad, and the ‘virum’ (man) is a reference to the first word of the Odyssey, ‘ανδρα’ (man), and the tale of Odysseus. Virgil seems to show his audience his aim within three words, setting these words aside and continuing to tell his own tale. The most obvious similarity within both of these openings is the invocation to a Muse. The Muses in Greek mythology were goddesses of various different forms of the arts and sciences, and such invocations are an inherent characteristic of the epic form. The epic writer is praying to one of these goddesses for divine inspiration to allow them to retell their poem in the correct manner. Both openings also share the theme of cities; Virgil names cities such as Troy, Latium, Rome and Carthage in his first lines, and Homer describes Odysseus as a man who has seen many cities and their ways. Both poets set the scene for their epics and place the overarching theme of travel and voyage, yet also suffering and hardship, at the foreground of their narrative.
It is also necessary for us to analyse both protagonists and their heroism. The ‘age of heroes’ for both Homer and Virgil is a race of men described as hemītheōn genos andrōn (a race of men who are half-gods) in Hesiod’s Works and Days. Such heroes possess mental and physical excellence, but also have the ability to be propelled to extreme rage due to this. Odysseus and Aeneas both show such excellence at different parts of their respective epics. In Odyssey 21, Odysseus (at this point disguised as a beggar), is able to easily string a bow that none of Penelope’s suitors are able to string, which Homer beautifully portrays in his triumphant description:
“…so he strung the bow with no effort or haste. Then with his right hand he tested the string, and it sang as he plucked it with a sound like a swallow’s note.” (translated by E. V. Rieu)
Aeneas too demonstrates such physical prowess, and also nemesis (a feeling of indignation upon seeing a wicked person) in, for example, Aeneid 10, upon returning to his camps after forming an alliance with Evander of Pallantium:
“Aeneas dashes his head to the ground and rolling the man’s warm trunk along and looming over him vaunts with all the hatred in his heart.” (translated by R. Fagles)
Both heroes also show a great loyalty and duty to their family. Odysseus, though tantalised by many women along his journey such as Calypso, Nausicaa and Circe, does, through all this, remain loyal to his wife Penelope till the end. Aeneas too shows this kind of duty in Aeneid 2 where he carries his old and frail father upon his back as the family attempts to escape Troy, a powerful image of reverence that has made its ways into countless pieces of artwork, both ancient and modern (c.f. Renaissance painter Frederico Barrocci’s Aeneas’ flight from Troy and a plethora of black and red figure amphorae from the 5th and 6th centuries BCE). Of course, some of his actions may also seem questionable to a modern audience, such as the careless loss of his wife Creusa; the blame is placed on a malevolent spirit that ‘snatched away’ Aeneas’ senses. Aeneas later falls for Dido, the queen of Carthage, and in Book 4 Jupiter sends down Mercury to remind Aeneas of his destiny to found a city in Italy:
“The King of the Gods, […] sends me down from brilliant Olympus, bearing commands for you […] Wasting time in Libya—what hope misleads you so?” (translated by R. Fagles)
Aeneas abandons Carthage and continues on his voyage, leaving behind an understandably devastated Dido. Aeneas here shows a loyalty and duty towards his divinely decreed fate. A word to describe Aeneas’ duty towards his family, the gods and his destiny is pietas, or ‘dutifulness.’ In fact, Aeneas possesses so much pietas that one of his epithets is ‘pius Aeneas’ (‘dutiful Aeneas’). Pietas is an interesting idea, especially in its relevance to a Roman audience. The Romans, unlike the Greeks who rarely acted as a united nation, had a strong sense of unity, a necessary sentiment for empire-builders of their sort, making pietas a virtue necessary to be upheld.
Aeneas’ epithet has a much more moral gravitas to it compared to ‘wily Odysseus’ who is ‘πολυτροπον’ (‘the man of many turns’), which could be attributed to the exemplary purpose of the Aeneid. Odysseus’ cunning may seem quite a surprising attribute for a hero. Though his deceiving ways and fabricated tales may seem morally ambiguous for a modern reader, the narrator greatly reveres this characteristic, and Athene herself, out of admiration for Odysseus’ wily ways, aids him along his journey and helps him carry out his plan to overthrow the suitors.
The narrator also demonstrates Odysseus’ heroism through his storytelling skills, a characteristic that Aeneas shares. Both Odysseus and Aeneas play the role of a bard when they both retell their voyages to their own listeners. It’s a very clever tactic used by Homer and Virgil, as the audience listening to these poems through a bard or some form of recital witnesses this event mirrored within the words of the poem itself. The change in perspective from omniscient narrator to soldier means that the actions of the gods that play such an integral part to both plots can easily be misunderstood, leading to a shift in the dynamic of the narrative.
Finally, the endings of these two epics:
“Aeneas, ferocious in armour, stood there, still, shifting his gaze, and held his sword-arm back, holding himself back too as Turnus’ words began to sway him […] when all at once he caught sight of the fateful swordbelt of Pallas, swept over Turnus’ shoulder. […] ‘Decked in the spoils you stripped from one I loved—escape my clutches? Never—[…] blazing with wrath he plants his iron sword hilt-deep in his enemy’s heart. […] His life breath fled […] down to the shades below.” (Aeneid, translated by R. Fagles)
“Then Odysseus and his glorious son attacked the leading men, thrusting at them with their swords and double-edged spear-blades. They would have killed the lot […] if Athene, Zeus’ aegis-bearing daughter, had not shouted loudly, and restrained the combatants. Odysseus obeyed Athene’s words, delighted at heart. Then Pallas Athene […] forged a solemn truce between the warring sides.” (Odyssey, translated by A. S. Kline)
Both epics end with a spectacularly dramatic show of nemesis; Aeneas kills Turnus who had declared war against the Trojans, and Odysseus, having killed the suitors who brought havoc to his household, starting to kill the fathers of the suitors who have attempted to seek revenge. Both endings hold a sense of finality and retribution, with the protagonists enacting justice, yet these endings also have a different atmosphere to one another. Aeneas, rather than having mercy on Turnus, murders him upon remembering how Turnus had mercilessly slaughtered Pallas, Aeneas’ young comrade. Odysseus, however, spares the remaining suitors’ fathers and the epic ends on a slightly higher note. The reunion between Odysseus and his father Laertes is left till the last book, even after the reunion of Odysseus and Penelope, demonstrating how the father-son relationship is of the greatest importance. The Aeneid’s ending is astonishingly abrupt, without any form of epilogue, and, rather than focusing on the protagonist, instead focuses on the death of the antagonist. There are many theories surrounding this: Virgil’s death left the Aeneid incomplete (a particularly radical theory being that Virgil intended to write another 12 books relating the story up until the reign of Augustus!), Virgil was using this disturbing scene to demonstrate the immorality of Augustan values, or, perhaps more simply, Virgil was placing great emphasis on this one point in time that marked the beginning of Rome.
To conclude, though similarities between the two epics and their heroes are prevalent due to Virgil’s aim of emulating Homeric epic, differences in heroic moral values and the nature of the finales to the epics testify the differing attitudes and values that were present in the eras of the two composers.
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