Last Friday, some Sixth Form Classics students had the privilege to attend a conference at the Harrodian School. Richard Jenkyns spoke about heroism in Homer and Virgil, and in passing raised an intriguing question: could Aeneas be seen as a Stoic hero? The idea stayed with me. The familiar complaint that Aeneas is colourless, passive, and merely a pawn of fate has never quite convinced me. Yet his moments of irrational furor also fail to define a character who is, at his core, devoted, pious, and deeply reflective.
Stoicism is a philosophy that was founded c. 300 BC by a Greek philosopher called Zeno, and it valued the Greek concept apatheia (freedom from harmful emotion), virtue as the highest good, and wisdom - the ability to understand and accept the order of the universe (logos).
Furor and Wisdom
In Book 2, as Aeneas recounts the fall of Troy, his story begins with an immense passion and furor. When the Greeks destroy the city, Aeneas is driven by emotion and a desire for revenge, ready to throw away his life in a moment of passionate despair. This loss of control directly opposes the Stoic pursuit of apatheia, which demands freedom from such destructive impulses. However, within this chaos, Virgil begins to reveal the seeds of pietas – when Venus reminds him of his divine mission, Aeneas redirects his energy away from rage, to responsibility and control, rescuing his father Anchises and his son Iulus, and leading his family out of Troy, having despaired only momentarily at the loss of his wife Creusa. It is here that Aeneas first begins to exhibit the Stoic quality of virtue - moral strength grounded in rational action. Yet his lingering grief and despair after Creusa’s death reveal that, even as he learns self-control, complete emotional detachment remains beyond his reach.
The Illusion of Apatheia
Aeneas’ time in Carthage presents one of the clearest tests of his ability to live according to Stoic principles. At first, he appears composed and restrained; his bond with Dido develops gradually, without reckless passion and furor. Yet as the affair deepens, he loses that calm detachment. His emotional involvement with Dido clouds his judgement and temporarily distracts him from his telos - his divinely appointed purpose to found Rome in the current land of Latium, which cannot happen if he were to marry the queen of Carthage (a rival city which fought against Rome in the Punic wars).
When reminded by Mercury of his mission (yet another divine intervention required to keep Aeneas on track) Aeneas attempts to act with Stoic discipline, choosing his duty over his desire for Dido. His departure from Dido can easily be read as an act of apatheia, since he suppresses his emotion to follow reason. Yet Virgil makes it clear that this is an outward restraint rather than genuine freedom from emotion. His inner struggle – his guilt and reluctance to leave – show that his composure is learned. The Stoics taught that apatheia is not the absence of feeling but a mastery and control over it; Aeneas has not yet reached that balance. His conduct is virtuous in action, but not in spirit.
The Underworld and the Growth of Wisdom
Aeneas’ descent into the Underworld represents his most profound moral transformation and can be read as an allegory for the Stoic journey toward sophia, or wisdom. There he confronts the emotional consequences of his actions – Dido’s silence and rejection force him to face the damage caused by following his duty and leaving her in Book 4. This encounter teaches him that emotion, however human, brings suffering when it disrupts reason – Dido actually returns to her former husband Sychaeus after seeing Aeneas in the underworld, having made a vow to him that she would not re-marry.
Meeting Anchises deepens this lesson. His father’s explanation of Rome’s future and Aeneas’ role within it gives him a clearer understanding of the rational structure of fate. Having seen the procession of his Roman descendants in Elysium, including the emperor Augustus and the founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus, Aeneas emerges from the Underworld more self-aware and more committed to his purpose. The balance he displays afterwards – calm in leadership and measured in speech – suggests that he is beginning to approach the Stoic ideal. He now should act less from impulse and furor and more from understanding. His growing wisdom allows him to accept his destiny as part of a greater divine fate.
The Failure of Apatheia
Yet in the final book of the Aeneid, Virgil shows that Aeneas’ Stoic progress is incomplete. During the duel with Turnus, Aeneas at first embodies restraint. He subdues his anger and follows reason, seeking to end the conflict honourably. But this composure collapses when he sees Pallas’ belt on Turnus’ body. Consumed by emotion, he acts in vengeance rather than in reason.
This moment is the complete failure of apatheia. For the Stoics, anger was the most destructive passion, the emotion that most violently enslaved the mind. In killing Turnus out of a rash moment of furor and anger, Aeneas abandons the Stoic calm he has struggled to cultivate throughout the poem. Some may see his act as an assertion of justice or pietas, avenging Pallas’ death, as he promised his father Evander that he would take care of him, adopting a father-son relationship themselves. Yet the language of furor that surrounds him undercuts any moral clarity. Virgil leaves his reader with the notion that Rome was founded on an act of violence and anger (notably even more harrowing for a contemporary Roman audience); far from any Stoic principles Aeneas had ever displayed.
In the end, Aeneas cannot truly be called a Stoic hero. Though he strives toward the Stoic ideals of self-control, wisdom, and virtue, his humanity repeatedly draws him back into emotion and furor. Virgil presents a hero who aspires to Stoic calm but never fully attains it – revealing that Rome’s founder, and by extension Rome itself, is built not on pure reason, but on the tension between passion and duty.
