Justin Chen
English 129—Section 3
Professor Welsh
2/6/00

Paper #2: The Aeneid

In both Homer’s The Odyssey and Virgil’s The Aeneid, female characters play a central role in both progression of the overall plot and in the character development of those with whom they interact. For instance, in The Odyssey, women such as Nausikaa and Arêtê are key to Odysseus’ eventual homecoming, but they also provide insight into the “clever tactician’s” own thoughts and strategies. In The Aeneid, women actually play a relatively smaller role in plot development. If anything, their actions serve only to delay Aeneas’ inevitable founding of Troy. For instance, the romance between Dido and Aeneas is portrayed as a distraction that hinders Aeneas’ duties and that exists in direct opposition to the will of the gods. Similarly, it is the Trojan women who set fire to the ships in a fit of desperate madness, an action that nearly destroys all chance of ever reaching the final destination. However, Virgil’s treatment of women in The Aeneid is more sympathetic than Homer’s in The Odyssey. Although women in both the ancient Greek and Roman societies were confined to certain roles or functions, Virgil attempts to represent the feelings of the women trapped in those positions, whereas Homer merely typecasts his female characters into static casts that persist throughout the duration of his poem.

The first female character encountered in Homer’s The Odyssey is Penelope, Odysseus’ wife. She requests to the bard Phêmios, who is regaling his audience with the story of the Trojan war, “sing no more/ this bitter tale that wears my heart away./ It opens in me again the wound of longing/ for one incomparable, ever in my mind” (Od. I, 391-394) . Penelope’s statements demonstrate her extraordinary faithfulness—after all, with no guarantee that her husband will return or that he is even alive, it seems truly amazing that he should continue to occupy her thoughts even after so many years. Further, Penelope’s continuous refusal to accept the advances of the multitudes of suitors living off of her estate verges on irrationality—a more ordinary, pragmatic woman would surely have chosen a new husband after only a few years. Again, faithfulness seems to define Penelope’s character almost to the point of absurdity.

Penelope’s request for a change of song is immediately rejected by her son, Telemakhos, who argues, “Mother, why do you grudge our own dear minstrel/ joy of song, wherever his thought may lead?/ Poets are not to blame, but Zeus who gives/ what fate he pleases to adventurous men” (Od. I, 397-400). According to the Samuel Butler translation of The Odyssey, Telemakhos then proceeds to admonish his mother, “Go, then, within the house and busy yourself with your/ daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants;/ for speech is man's matter, and mine above all others- for it is I/ who am master here.” Telemakhos’ statements, which today would be considered shockingly sexist, demonstrate the role of women considered appropriate by the Greek society of Homer’s time. More revealing than Telemakhos’ comments, however, is Penelope’s response; rather than taking affront at his reprisal, she “gazed in wonder and withdrew,/ her son’s clear wisdom echoing in her mind” (Od. I, 408-409).

Thus, Homer portrays a male-dominated culture in which women are not expected to play an active role in any important matters, but he also suggests that women passively accept their inferior position in society. Penelope represents the stereotype of the virtuous, somewhat older wife-figure that acts a certain role but is careful never to cross the bounds of that role. This observation is strengthened by Agamemnon’s praise of Penelope: “The girl you [Odysseus] brought home made a valiant wife!/ True to her husband’s honor and her own” (Od. XXIV 218-219). Penelope’s point of view is never a part of the picture; her sole purpose in the eyes of others is to remain faithful against the day of her husband’s return.

Nausikaa, on the other hand, is an example of the young, virginal female archetype. This role can also be seen in The Aeneid in the characters of Dido and Camilla. In all three of these cases, virginity seems to lend a certain degree of higher power or distinction to the woman. For instance, Nausikaa is the only member of her company who is unafraid to approach Odysseus when he emerges unclothed from the bushes. Homer does mention that Nausikaa is “given/ a bold heart by Athena, and steady knees” (Od. VI, 150-151), but it still seems noteworthy that Homer would give such an important role to Nausikaa, a character who clearly demonstrates the virginal archetype. Similarly, before Dido’s “marriage” to Aeneas, she seems to be a rather extraordinary woman; she is described as “the tallest, taller by a head than any” (Ae. I, 683) , a description that sets her apart from the others. Although Dido is not a virgin in the strictest sense, she does possess many virginal traits, including her devotion to sexual abstinence, a product of her faithfulness for her deceased husband. Camilla, the “hard-riding warrior queen” (Ae. XI, 678) is described as an “awesome virgin” and the “glory of Italy” (Ae. XI, 691-692). In all these cases, virginal women are portrayed as possessing unusually strong traits, perhaps due to a culturally-based belief in the mystique that accompanies a virgin’s uncorrupted innocence and youthful vitality.

The final overarching female role used by Homer is that of the dishonorable woman or prostitute. In The Odyssey, both Helen and Klytaimnestra represent this archetype in that they share the curses of many Akhaians. As Agamemnon phrases it, “That woman [Klytaimnestra],/ plotting a thing so low, defiled herself/ and all her sex, all women yet to come,/ even those few who may be virtuous” (Od. XI, 501-504). Odysseus replies, “Intrigues of women, even from the start./ Myriads died by Helen’s fault, and Klytaimnestra/ plotted against you half the world away” (Od. XI, 509-512). Thus, honor appears to be an even more sensitive concept for women than men. After all, if a man were to kill his wife, he would most assuredly not be referred to as having “defiled himself and all his sex, all men yet to come.” Again, this may be a result of a cultural view that women must be pure and untainted to ensure their virtue, and therefore worth.

In all these examples, Homeric roles define the major female characters in both The Odyssey and The Aeneid. The key difference between the two epics’ treatment of women, however, is Virgil’s apparent sympathy for the plight of his female characters. In numerous situations throughout The Aeneid, Virgil represents women in a sympathetic light that allows them, at least in the eyes of the reader, to escape from their predetermined archetypal roles.

A primary example of Virgil’s compassion for the female condition is his portrayal of Aeneas’ relationship with Dido. As stated above, Dido is at first described as being “taller by a head than any.” Furthermore, she appears to be quite a competent and just ruler. As Virgil describes it, “So Dido seemed, in such delight she moved

     Amid her people, cheering on the toil
     Of a kingdom in the making…
     [S]he began to give them
     Judgments and rulings, to apportion work
     With fairness, or assign some tasks by lot.”

               —(Ae. I, 685-692)

After the Trojans’ appearance, however, Dido slowly begins to lose control over her own kingdom. She asks Ilioneus, “Would you care/ To join us in this realm on equal terms?” (Ae. I, 776-777), adding, “The city I build is yours; haul up your ships;/ Trojan and Tyrian will be all one to me” (Ae. I, 778-779). Indeed, after the passage of only a fairly short period of time, Aeneas takes over construction of the city of Carthage, “laying foundations for new towers and homes” (Ae. IV, 354). In granting Aeneas such an important role in the founding of her kingdom, Dido actually sacrifices her own importance to a certain extent.

In addition to the gradual loss of political power Dido’s union with Aeneas engenders, the romance also greatly affects the queen emotionally. Even while falling in love with Aeneas, Dido reminds herself, “I… set my face against remarriage/ After my first love died and failed me, left me/ Barren and bereaved—and sick to death/ At the mere thought of torch and bridal bed” (Ae. IV, 22-25). Thus she realizes inwardly that her love for Aeneas is wrong. In the spirit of compassion, Virgil provides Dido with an excuse for her obsession with Aeneas, in the form of the gods. Venus has her son, Desire, create in Dido a passion for Aeneas, leaving the queen all the while “oblivious of how great a god sat there/ To her undoing” (Ae. I, 980-981). In fact, it is the god Desire that causes Dido to break her vow of celibacy, for “he had begun to make Sychaeus fade/ From Dido’s memory bit by bit, and tried/ To waken with new love, a living love,/ Her long settled mind and dormant heart” (Ae. I, 982-985).

As their relationship progresses, however, Dido seems to experience certain misgivings about her involvement. Even as she is consummating her love for Aeneas in the cave, Virgil describes the tenuous grounds for that love: “She [Dido] thought no longer of a secret love/ But called it marriage. Thus, under that name,/ She hid her fault” (Ae. IV, 236-238). Dido masks her true emotions by invoking the institution of marriage, although at some level she must recognize that she is being compelled to pursue Aeneas despite her best intentions and desire to remain faithful. Further, Virgil later describes Dido as a “prisoner of lust” (Ae. IV, 265), once again implying that Dido is a slave to her passions and not merely an unfaithful wife, as a more Homeric interpretation would make her.

The moment in which Dido’s plight is most sympathetic to the reader is when she literally collapses with knowledge of the consequences of Aeneas’ desertion. She accuses him, “Because of you, Libyans and nomad kings/ Detest me, my own Tyrians are hostile;/ Because of you, I lost my integrity/ And that admired name by which alone/ I made my way once toward the stars” (Ae. IV, 438-442). Only then does the reader realize how many sacrifices Dido made for the sake of her love of Aeneas. Of all the sacrifices she makes, however, the most important are her dignity and honor. The concept of honor in both the Greek and Roman societies, especially for women, was unusually serious and stringent, as demonstrated by Agamemnon’s descriptions of Klytaimnestra and Helen in The Odyssey and Aeneas’ description of Helen as “whorish,” a “Fury,” and a “hated thing” in The Aeneid (Ae. II, 751, 753, 756). In giving up much of herself to Aeneas, Dido had hoped to create a civilization grander than either of them alone could have, but after Aeneas’ sudden desertion Dido is left as a mere fragment of her former self. She can no longer live with the shame of her actions, and she eventually chooses to kill herself rather than face a life without Aeneas.

Several other incidents in The Aeneid demonstrate Virgil’s sympathy for the female condition. For instance, when the Trojan women burn the moored ships, Virgil does not simply condemn their actions, but rather attempts to represents their point of view to the reader: “Women of Troy,/ They looked now toward the ships, uncertainly,/ With animosity, half in unhappy love/ Of landscapes there before them” (Od. V, 845-848). Instead of branding these women as traitors or whores, Virgil demonstrates their thoughts to the reader, thereby providing grounds for sympathy. Thus women are not confined to rigid roles of “good” or “bad,” but rather are seen as having their own concerns and thoughts as individuals, in this case, that a new country be founded as soon as possible.

An interesting parallel to Telemakhos’ treatment of his mother (described above) is Turnus’ dismissal of the Fury Allecto, who assumes a woman’s shape to try and tempt Turnus to battle. Turnus haughtily states to who he thinks is Calybë, “Your mind should be/ On the gods’ images and on their shrines./ Men will make war and peace, as men should do” (Ae. VII, 611-613). Whereas Penelope accepted her son’s similar rebuke, however, “being so dismissed, Allecto blazed in wrath” (Ae. VII, 613). It is interesting to note how Virgil and Homer handled these parallel situations. Although Allecto is not a mortal woman, her response to Turnus is nevertheless revealing of Virgil’s feelings about Turnus’ of female stereotyping. Allecto is angry not merely because of Turnus’ rejection of her offer, but also because of his condescending treatment of her.

The final significant female character in The Aeneid is Camilla, the “hard-riding warrior queen.” The Greek treatment of a powerful female is almost always to assign her masculine properties. For instance, Klytaimnestra is seen in Aeschylus’ The Oresteia as manlike due to her attempts to gain power. Thus, one would imagine that in the Greek sense, Camilla would also be typified as a man. Indeed, much of her upbringing is consistent with this supposition. As Virgil describes it, during her childhood, “No gold headband, no flowing outer garment/ Covered her, but a tiger skin hung down/ Her back from head to foot” (Ae. XI, 786-788). Thus, Camilla certainly was not raised with all the traditional female trappings, to say the least. Camilla is further described as an “Amazon” and as a “savage girl” (Ae. XI, 882, 903). Yet despite all the signs pointing to Camilla’s wild and fairly masculine upbringing, it is “a girl’s love of finery” (Ae. XI, 1066) that eventually does her in. Once again, Virgil is conscientious about sidestepping the trap of female stereotyping—even a woman as powerful and warlike as Camilla is not designated a man, but rather a powerful woman with her own desires.

Thus, although both the ancient Greek and Roman cultures were prone to stereotyping women, Homer’s gender roles tend to be stiff and one-dimensional, whereas Virgil’s tend to acknowledge the valid independence of female thought. In The Aeneid, women who would otherwise be seen as evil or corrupt actually have their side of the issue represented to the reader. Virgil’s approach is a large improvement of representation of the female condition in literature.