Divine Intervention in Homer's Iliad vs. Virgil's Aeneid

Introduction: Two Epics, Two Visions of the Gods

Both The Iliad and The Aeneid portray the horrors of warfare, and — albeit in a reverent fashion — place the blame for this horror squarely at the feet of the gods. However, whereas in Homer this intervention is largely capricious and relatively unmotivated, in Virgil's work it takes on a more purposeful and historically grounded character in which the gods may actually be seen as working toward some higher end.

Purpose and Audience: Nationalism vs. Personal Heroism

Part of the difference between these two treatments of divine interference relates to the purpose of each work. Homer's epic, as far as can be determined, was designed to educate and entertain, and perhaps to make a statement about the meaning of warfare and deity. It was not, however, designed primarily to create a national myth of identity. The Greeks and the Trojans they faced were more or less of the same culture and lineage, worshipping the same gods and practicing the same way of life. Whichever side prevailed, what was distinctive about Greek culture would have survived. It is likely that even among early listeners there would have been a definite kinship felt between the warring sides.

The purpose of the work was less nationalistic and more concerned with personal heroism — with the transformation from rage to tragedy to forgiveness in the story of Achilles and Hector. The primary purpose of the Aeneid, on the other hand, appears to be the construction of a nationalistic myth of the genetic foundations of Rome, one that might serve to justify its people, their national characteristics, and their dominion over fallen Carthage and much of the known world.

These separate purposes — each shaped by its intended audience — change the way the gods and the story are portrayed. In the Iliad, it is possible to depict the gods as capricious and even dangerous, because the war was history, and audiences could sit safely and reflect on its ruins without immediate doubt or fear. There is room in this context for philosophy, ethics, and other distractions. In the Aeneid, by contrast, there is less space for such philosophical wandering. The gods must be shown as the guides and founders of a proud nation, and their capriciousness must not interfere with the primary goal of the work: to provide an ethnic and historical justification for the imperialism of Rome.

Opening Invocations and the Role of the Divine

One of the first and most obvious ways this difference in approach is apparent is in each epic's opening description of its subject. The Iliad begins by inviting the goddess — the Muse — to sing through the poet himself, invoking from the outset a sense of mankind's place as a puppet of the gods. The goddess will sing of "the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. And which of the gods was it that set them on to quarrel? It was the son of Jove and Leto..." (Homer, Book 1). In short, the subject of the poem is the anger and actions of men — Achilles in particular — which is directed and guided by gods who are far more capricious than mankind itself.

The Aeneid, on the other hand, does not invoke a goddess in the production of the work. The gods, for all their agency throughout this epic and for all that they determine destiny through daily interference, are shown as more regional and limited in their power over humans. While it does not invoke a Muse, it does engage more directly with the actions of deity:

Forc'd by fate, / And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate... / What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate; / For what offense the Queen of Heav'n began / To persecute so brave, so just a man; / Involv'd his anxious life in endless cares, / Expos'd to wants, and hurried into wars! / Can heav'nly minds such high resentment show, / To exercise their spite in human woe? (Virgil, Book 1)

It is thus apparent that one of these two epics is founded primarily on humanist ideas of battle, even though the poet invokes the mystic Muses. The other is founded more directly on the concept of divine agency shaping the difficult creation of a future nation, even though the poet himself holds a more humanist perception of the world.

Capricious Gods: Allegiance-Switching in the Iliad

This difference in perspective naturally leads one to expect a difference in the behavior of the deities involved. In the Homeric epic, the gods are casually invested in the battle. When they gather together on Olympus at the beginning of Book 20, they recall almost nothing so much as spectators at a heated sporting event. Fans on both sides may be deeply attached to their team and might even riot if something goes wrong, but they have no conviction that one side is morally superior or personally preferable, nor do they believe the outcome will truly affect them. The gods' dedication is almost exactly that of sports fans: they choose sides based entirely on which hero fights more impressively or cuts a more appealing figure. The main interest is watching the battle and hedging bets on the various fighters. It is eagerness to return to the spectacle — rather than any genuine concern for humans — that rings through Neptune's voice: "Why... have you called the gods in council? Are you considering some matter that concerns the Trojans and Achaeans — for the blaze of battle is on the point of being kindled between them?" (Homer, Book 20).

This attitude is illustrated by two particular examples that reveal the tendency of deities to switch sides. In the Iliad, Poseidon/Neptune is officially allied with the Greeks. He aids them in battle and lends his support to their circle of protective gods because of his connection to Achilles' mother. Yet at one point he acts against his own allegiance to reach out and save Aeneas: "Why should this man suffer when he is guiltless, to no purpose, and in another's quarrel? Has he not at all times offered acceptable sacrifice to the gods that dwell in heaven?" (Homer, Book 20). An awareness of Aeneas' family and possible destiny moves Neptune to save him — and, notably, to become one of his protectors in the Aeneid as well. Other gods also switch allegiances. Hermes/Mercury, for instance, helps Priam avoid death at the hands of the Greeks as he steals into the Greek camp to beg Achilles for the return of Hector's body. That Mercury would not rather see Priam killed reveals a degree of detachment from the actual aims of the war. Similarly, Vulcan makes armor both for several Greek heroes and is willing to forge armor for Venus' favored Aeneas so that he may better lead his people into battle. These examples collectively show that the interest of the gods in the Iliad's war is largely peripheral to other concerns, and that it is the spectacle of combat — the survival and death of warriors — that truly pleases them.

Conclusion: From Arbitrary Power to Historical Design

When it comes to divine intervention, these two works certainly have a great deal in common. They both assume that the gods direct daily affairs and may even take an active combative role in controlling the world. However, whereas in Homer the gods are seen as arbitrary and ultimately foilable, in Virgil they are more "godlike" according to the modern Western tradition that defines divinity for us. In the clash between Venus and Juno, the entirety of opposing social forces is at work. It makes a kind of sense that divinity would be torn between these two roles: protecting a chosen refugee people on one hand, and safeguarding the future of a sacred city from the distant descendants of that same warlike people on the other. This tension gives Virgil's divine machinery a coherence and a historical weight that Homer's Olympians, for all their vivid energy, do not possess.