Hostname: page-component-78c5997874-g7gxr Total loading time: 0 Render date: 2024-11-03T08:42:34.716Z Has data issue: false hasContentIssue false
  • English
  • Français

The serpent and the sparrows: Homer and the parodos of Aeschylus’ Agamemnon

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  11 February 2009

John Heath
John Heath
Affiliation:
Santa Clara University, [email protected]
Get access Rights & Permissions [Opens in a new window]

Extract

The Homeric influence on two prominent avian images in the parodos of the Agamemnon—the vulture simile (49–50) and the omen of the eagles and the pregnant hare (109–10)—has long been noted. In 1979 West suggested that the animal imagery also derived in part from Archilochus’ fable of the fox and the eagle (frr. 172–81 West), and his discussion was quickly welcomed and supplemented by Janko's reading of the eagle and snake imagery used by Orestes at Cho. 246–7. Capping this triennium mirabile of critical interest in Aeschylus’ birds of prey, Davies argued that the convincing resemblances between the fable and the Aeschylean passages in West's thesis—the anthropomorphism implied in παίδων (Ag. 50) and δεγπνον (Ag. 137) and the concern of Zeus for aggrieved animals (Ag. 55–6)—derive more generally from the nature of fable rather than from any one particular tale. Thus we have, according to Davies, an example of Aeschylus ‘exploring the resources and familiar modes of expression of a popular and well-known genre’ and transforming it into ‘the purest and sublimest type of poetry’.

Type
Research Article
Information
The Classical Quarterly , Volume 49 , Issue 2 , December 1999 , pp. 396 - 407
Copyright
Copyright © The Classical Association 1999

Access options

Get access to the full version of this content by using one of the access options below. (Log in options will check for institutional or personal access. Content may require purchase if you do not have access.)

References

1 See discussion below; the text is that of Page's OCT with some orthographical changes.

2 West, M. L., ‘The parodos of the Agamemnon’, CQ 29 (1979), 1–6.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

3 Janko, R., ‘Aeschylus' Oresteia and Archilochus’, CQ 30 (1980), 291–3.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

4 Davies, M., ‘Aeschylus and the fable’, Hermes 109 (1981), 248–51.Google Scholar

5 Ibid., 251.

6 Peradotto, J. J., ‘The omen of the eagles and the HΘOΣ of Agamemnon’, Phoenix 23 (1969), 237–63CrossRefGoogle Scholar at 243, notes the Aeschylean conflation of the two gatherings at Aulis—the snake/sparrow omen and the sacrifice of Iphigenia (not mentioned by Homer)—in the eagle/hare omen, but does not consider the role of the vulture simile. Rosenmeyer, T. G., The Art of Aeschylus (Berkeley, 1982), 125–7Google Scholar, sees the vulture and eagle episodes as a pair, where a ‘syntactic’ and an ‘asyntactic’ simile combine forces, but he does not consider the Homeric antecedents. Other readers, ancient and modern, have heard echoes of the Homeric passage in the death of the hares; cf. Sideras, A., Aeschylus Homericus (Göttingen, 1971), 221CrossRefGoogle Scholar and Adrados, F. R., ‘E1 Tema del Aquila, de la Epica Acadia a Esquilo’, Emerita 32 (1964), 267–82Google Scholar at 270–2. Both this article and his ‘E1 Tema del Leon en el Agamenon de Esquilo (717–49)’, Emerita 33 (1965), 1–5, examine how Aeschylus may have adapted fable as filtered through Homer and archaic poetry. One ancient commentator thought he saw—no doubt wrongly—a direct allusion to this omen in Calchas’ prophecy. A gloss on Agamemnon 145, apparently explaining a slightly dangling τoὐτων in v. 144, adds στρoυθŵν (or τŵν στρουθŵν) to δεζιà μ⋯νĸατáμομøα δ⋯ øáσματα; see Fraenkel ad loc. and the twenty-two page discussion in Bollack, J. and Judet, P. de La Combe, L’ Agamemnon d' Eschyle: le texte et ses interprétations (Lille, 1981–)Google Scholar, ad loc. One passage in the Agamemnon may suggest that Aeschylus had the first half of the second book of the Iliad on his mind. When commenting on the deceptive nature of friendship (832–3), Agamemnon cites Odysseus as the single man who, though initially unwilling to go to war, once ‘yoked’ was a trace-horse dedicated to Agamemnon (841–2). What would inspire this statement? Of all the efforts by which Odysseus could be said to aid Agamemnon's cause in particular (see Thomson ad loc.), by far the most appropriate for this context would be the Ithacan's successful efforts to stop the Greeks from sailing home (II. 2. 188–9). And it is in pursuing this objective that Odysseus reminds the Greeks of the omen at Aulis and Calchas’ interpretation. Perhaps this will partially answer Winnington-Ingram's, R. P. question as to why Odysseus is introduced by Agamemnon at all; ‘Notes on the Agamemnon of Aeschylus’, BICS 21 (1974), 3–19Google Scholar at 15, n. 11. Of course, the larger dramatic point of Agamemnon's misunderstanding the chorus’ warning is to reveal once again his self-absorption and weakness.

7 The exact correspondence of the allusions in the vulture and eagle images has proven elusive; there is no room here to enter the fray. I discuss the possible analogies briefly below, but for the purposes of this paper perhaps it will be sufficient to suggest that it is this very slippery ambivalence or multivalence that lies at the heart of Aeschylus’ animal imagery until the last 300 verses of the Eumenides; for a more complete exposition of the connections between bestial images and the themes of the trilogy, see my ‘Disentangling the beast: humans and other animals in Aeschylus’ Oresteia’, JHS (forthcoming 1999).

8 Davies (n. 4), 251, n. 5, observes that the use of a fable is part of Aeschylus’ animal imagery, but he does not suggest (nor does West [n. 2] or Janko [n. 3]) how the poet's use of fable might fit into the larger issues of the trilogy.

9 West (n. 2), 1, n.1, asserts that there is no reason to accept Page's emendation of μέγαν to μεγáλ’ merely on the basis of the similar Homeric phrasing.

10 On bird imagery in the similes of Homer, see Moulton, C., Similes in the Homeric Poems (Göttingen, 1977), 135–9.Google ScholarScutum 405–6 develops the simile. Birds also shriek in flight: the Greeks shout (ĸεĸλὴγοτεs, II. 17.759) while fleeing from Hector and Aeneas as a cloud of birds cries (ĸεĸλὴγοτεs, II. 17.756) when it spots a falcon. Two omens also contain screaming birds: an eagle screeches when bitten by a snake (II. 12.207; see discussion below) and a heron sent by Athena at night is heard by the Greeks (II. 10.276). It should be noted that some scholars consider these αἰγυπιοí to be eagles, not vultures, equivalent in some fashion to the αἰετοí in the eagle/hare omen; see, for example, Zeitlin, F. I. ‘The motif of the corrupted sacrifice in Aeschylus’ Oresteia’, TAPA 96 (1965), 481Google Scholar; Thomson, 1, 21; Finley, J. H. Jr, Pindar and Aeschylus (Cambridge, MA, 1955), 9–10,CrossRefGoogle Scholar and Lattimore's translation. In fact the two were often confused in antiquity—they were considered by many to refer to the same bird; see the passages cited by Thompson, D. W., A Glossary of Greek Birds (London, 1936)Google Scholar in articles under both names: ‘The Vultures were, and are, frequently confused under the name ἀετóς’, and he suggests that this passage is one of the con- fused references (p. 5). Interestingly, vultures had a reputation in antiquity for inordinate affection for their young—and the young of other species; see Pollard, J.R.T., ‘Birds in Aeschylus’, G&R 17 (1948), 116–17,Google Scholar and Petrounias, E., Funktion und Thematik der Bilder bei Aischylos (Göttingen, 1976), 130CrossRefGoogle Scholar with n. 496.

11 There is one partial exception at Iliad 12.200–1. As the Trojan troops of Hector and Polydamas prepare to storm the wall and burn the Achaean ships, they spot an eagle carrying a snake. The snake bites its abductor and falls among the soldiers. Polydamas quickly interprets this ‘portent sent from Zeus’: the Trojans will retreat, leaving behind many of their own dead, just as the eagle let the snake fall before it could reach its nest to feed its offspring. Polydamas’ interpretation is correct, of course, and its rejection by Hector—‘one bird omen is best, to fight for one's country’—offers insight into Hector's character, present attitude, and ultimate folly. But it is Polydamas, not the poet, who adds the domestic touches to the actual event to support his interpretation. He supplies the motives of the eagle from his own imagination—to take food home (øíλα οἰí ἱĸέσθαι, 221) for the children (τεĸέεσΣιν, 222). The Greek οἰĸíα is used twice elsewhere in Homer of animal’ homes (II. 12.168, 16.261), both of wasps (and bees) who defend their children (τεĸνωĸ, II. 12.168; τέĸεσΣιι, 16.265). τέĸος is used twice elsewhere of animal young—of the fawn dropped by an eagle (II. 8.248) and in the comparison of Ajax’ protection of Patroclus’ body to that of a lioness for its τέĸεσσιν (17.133). These are all passages filled with pathos and emotion. Thus Homer shows us Polydamas putting his own domestic spin on the omen, revealing his warranted concerns for his city and family. For eagle omens in the Iliad, see Bushnell, R. W., ‘Reading“Winged Words”: Homeric bird signs, similes, and epiphanies”, Helios 9 (1982), 1–13Google Scholar, and Ahnhalt, E. K., ‘Barrier and transcendence: the door and the eagle in Iliad 24.314–21’, CQ 45 (1995), 280–95.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

12 This survey does not exhaust all the possible Homeric parallels. Other passages, not directly related to animals, have been suggested as influences on the hare and eagle omen; see, for example, Davies’ comments (n. 4), 248, n. 1, on H. R. Dawson's discussion of Agamemnon's ‘grim boast’ at II. 6.57ff. in CR 41 (1927), 214ff.

13 We sometimes forget how striking that episode is, and was, particularly the ending. Ancient commentators rejected the transformation into stone ( Kirk, G.S., The Iliad: A Commentary vol. I [Cambridge, 1985], on 2.318–19CrossRefGoogle Scholar, agrees; see his arguments there). The transformation seems un-Homeric, certainly un-Iliadic. Niobe's metamorphosis into stone was also athetized; the petrifacation of the Phaeacians’ ship is clearly motivated in the epic and seems more in keeping with the folk tale narrative of the Odyssey. For the dramatist's debt to Homer, I have found especially helpful Stanford, W. B., Aeschylus in his Style (Dublin, 1942), 15–27Google Scholar, the scattered comments of Dumortier, J., Les Images dans la Poésie d' Eschyle (Paris, 1975)Google Scholar, and Petrounias (n. 10). A. Sideras's study (n. 6) remains the standard work, but his analysis of the vulture simile is limited to noting the ‘strong Homeric coloring’ (p. 247). Dawson, H. R., ‘On Agamemnon 108–120’, CR 41 (1927), 213–14Google Scholar put the issue nicely: ‘But repeatedly Aeschylus finds in the simple Homeric narrative a suggestion which, transformed by his reflection and imagination, is given again to us in a beautiful development, original in every sense possible to nearly all literature, art, discovery and invention. Literature cannot be understood except in its relations.’ Aeschylus would have known other versions of the snake/sparrow omen, but Homer's would certainly have been foremost on his mind. The version in the Cypria seems to have been very close to Homer's; see Proclus’ summary, Apollod. Epit. 3.5, and Davies, M., The Epic Cycle (Bristol, 1989), 43–4.Google Scholar For Aeschylean manipulation of the mythological tradition, see also Prag, A. J. N. W., The Oresteia: Iconographic and Narrative Tradition (Warminister, 1985) andGoogle ScholarMarch, J. R., The Creative Poet (BICS Suppl. 49, 1987), 81–118.Google Scholar

14 The emphasis in the Oresteia on the maritime leadership of Agamemnon (cf. Ag. 184–5, 1227; Cho. 723; Eum. 637) is unusual. The centrality of Aulis, where the ships are held at bay until Iphigenia's sacrifice, is certainly one of the reasons. A. H. Sommerstein has recently argued that the omen in fact takes place in front of the palace at Argos, not at Aulis at all; ‘Aesch. Ag. 104–59 (the omen of Aulis or the omen of Argos?)’, Museum Criticum 30–1 (1995–6), 87–94. His strongest evidence is the fact that the eagles appeared ἲĸταρ μελáθρων (116)—what is a palace doing at Aulis? Frankel (ad loc.) notes that μέλαθρα can refer to the temporary lodging of the Atreidae, as in Euripides’ I A 440, 612, 678, 685, 820, 854. Sommerstein counters with two objections. (i) In Euripides the μέλαθρα refer to the skene, whereas the setting for Agamemnon is, of course, the house of Agamemnon; this argument must remain inconclusive, however—there is no obvious reason that the chorus, old men whose memories are travelling all over the Aegean, must be referring to the stage. (ii) More generally, the original audience would not have known of the link between the omen and the sacrifice until verse 134, and so all previous images in the parodos, including the omen, could not have conjured up anything to do with Aulis. Thus the most natural interpretation of μέλαθρα would be to the only house so far referred to, that of the Atreidae at Argos. I cannot do justice to Sommerstein's careful argument here—I hope to address it more fully elsewhere. Let me only suggest that I believe that Aeschylus provides numerous opportunities before verse 134 for an audience famiar with the Trojan myth and the Homeric omen to be reminded of Aulis. By verse 116 we have already been taken to Troy (especially at 60–7) through the words of the chorus, and we have been carefully reminded of the departure of the ships (στóλον ‘Aργεíων, 45). The omen appears to the ‘kings of ships’ (οἰωνῶν βασιλεῠσι νεῶν), surely a reference made much more meaningful if the ships are those off Aulis rather than Argos. The fact that Calchas is on hand to interpret the omen also suggests Aulis—the prophet's native city is variously presented in the tradition, but he is best known for his work at Aulis and Troy. At any rate, Sommerstein is surely right that those of us who retain the location in Aulis must not translate μέλαθρα here as ‘palace’ but rather ‘tents’. It ultimately makes no real difference for my argument. As Sommerstein acknowledges, “[i]t is, of course, clear that the Aeschylean omen is designated to put its audience in mind of the Homeric one’ (93). We agree that Aeschylus is adapting the Homeric model for his own thematic purposes.

15 See especially Zeitlin's important article (n. 10) with TAPA 97 (1966), 645–53. Homer's Aulis omen is the first ‘corrupted’ sacrifice in extant Greek literature.

16 For this necessary implication of έтέραν, see Fraenkel ad loc..

17 See Pool, E. H., ‘Clytemnestra's first entrance in Aeschylus’ Agamamenon. Analysis of a controversy’, Mnemosyne 36 (1983), 71–116CrossRefGoogle Scholar, for a complete survey of options and their supporting arguments. She argues for Clytemnestra's appearance at 83–103. If we are to imagine the queen actually doing something during this time, it would be tending to the sacrifices.

18 νεοσσóς is used only one other time by Homer, when Achilles compares himself to a bird who brings food to her young (νεοσσοῖσι), ultimately to her own detriment (II. 9.323–4). For τέĸνα by itself of animal young, see II. 11.113 (deer), 12.170 (wasps), and horses (19.400), all in contexts evoking pathos. νεοσσοí will be important in the trilogy (Ag. 825; Cho. 256); see Janko (n. 3). Electra repeats the image by referring to herself and Orestes as νεοσσοὐς sitting by the tomb (Cho. 501). E. Belfiore traces the death of the hare back to the destruction of Troy by the Trojan horse (ἲππου νεοσσóς, Ag. 825) through the imagery of inverted parent-child relationships; ‘The eagles’ feast and the Trojan Horse: corrupted fertility in the Agamemnon’, Maia 35 (1983), 3–12.

19 At least as far as the text of the Oresteia is concerned, the problems begin with Atreus and Thyestes. West (n. 2), 1–2 points out that the only use of παῖδες for animal young before Aeschylus is in Archilochus, but he does not suggest why Aeschylus may be alluding to that particular poem; cf. the general criticisms of Davies (n. 4) passim.

20 This translation of the phrase seems to have been generally accepted, although the Greek is unparalleled; see Fraenkel's note ad loc.

21 At Sept. 291–3, the chorus says it fears the enemy surrounding its walls as a dove fears for its τέĸνων … λεχαíων when snakes are present. For a Homeric pun involving ξὐλοχος for lion's den at Od. 4.333–4, see Edwards, M. W., The Iliad: A Commentary vol. V (Cambridge, 1991), 33.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

22 Actually, the vultures shout only by analogy, as the Atreidae cry war like vultures (τρóπον αἰγυπιῶν, 49).

23 Homer's similes are by no means simple, often changing directions in mid-course to match the shifting action, and can involve slight mixing of the animal and human worlds. At Odyssey 22.468–70, for example, the twelve hanging maids are compared to thrushes or doves that fall into a snare as they hurry towards their resting place (αὐλω), but instead a hateful bed (ĸοῖτος) welcomes them. The word for bed here is used in ten other places in Homer, always of a comfortable place for human sleep, occasionally for sleep itself. This ironic transference of ĸοῖτος to the animal world serves to tighten the analogy between the doves and the women, since the latter have abused their place of sleep, as Telemachus notes just a few lines before (παρá τεμνηστῆ⋯ρσιν ἲαυον, 464). Similarly, αùλω has appropriate meanings in both the human world (a place to set down tents, II. 9.232, its only other appearance in Homer) and animal kingdom (a place for cows to sleep, H. Merc. 71; H. Ven. 168). The verb used to describe the maids’ final kicks (ήσπαιρον) applies to the death throes of animals (fish, fawns, lambs, bulls, snakes) more often than to humans; see Sideras (n. 6), 79. Still, the reader has no trouble isolating the different elements of the comparison. For the close identification of Achilles with a lion at II. 20.164–73, see King, K. C., Achilles: Paradigms of the War Hero from Homer to the Middle Ages (Berkeley, 1987), 17–24.Google Scholar For an excellent summary of Homeric similes and their sophisticated connection with the narrative, see Edwards (n. 21), 27–34.

24 See the discussion by Fraenkel on 59.

25 See Fraenkel II, 96–9.

26 This aspect of perverted child-parent relationships or corrupted fertility is another central theme of the trilogy; see especially Belfiore (n. 18). Belfiore notes that the hare is depersonalized—she is not presented with emotions, no children separate and cowering as in the omen at Aulis (4–5). But in fact the snake/sparrow omen is spread out through three different passages—and the vultures are depicted reacting emotionally, and Agamemnon's lack of parental emotion is the focus of the chorus’ criticism (see below).

27 Stanford, W. B., Ambiguity in Greek Literature (Oxford, 1939), 143–4Google Scholar, citing Lawson's 1932 edition of the Agamemnon. It is perhaps worth noting that the word for hare here is different from that in the two previous references. πτáξ derives from a basic meaning of ‘cowering’ or ‘trembling’ (in place of λαγíναν, 119; cf. λαγοδαíτας, 124). Homer in fact uses the two roots together in a simile, where Hector's futile charge against Achilles is compared to an eagle's swoop upon a lamb or πτῶĸα λαγωóν (II. 22.310; cf. II. 17.676, discussed above, and II. 22. 191–2, for the comparison of Hector, fleeing Achilles, to a fawn cowering [ĸαταπτήξας] under a thicket). The word πτώς was originally an adjective, eventually becoming the name of the animal that best fulfilled its description. Perhaps the image of the hare was suggested to Aeschylus partly by the description of the cowering sparrows in the omen at Aulis (ὐποπεῶτες, 312) as well as the Homeric hare similes. Orestes is referred to both as ‘cowering’ (ĸαταπταĸν, 252) and as a hare (πτῶĸα, 326) in the Eumenides.

28 On serpent imagery in the Oresteia, see Petrounias (n. 10), 129–90; Dumortier (n. 13), 88–100; Whallon, W., ‘The serpent at the breast’, TAPA 89 (1958), 271–5Google Scholar; and the relevant sections scattered through Fowler, B., ‘Aeschylus’ imagery’, C&M 28 (1969), 23–74Google Scholar and Lebeck, A., The Oresteia: A Study in Language and Structure (Washington, 1971).Google Scholar

29 Half of all the extant uses of ĸλáξω in Aeschylus are found in the parodos of the Agamemnon. The central theme of the trilogy may be contained in the chorus’ hopeful cry in the ‘Hymn to Zeus’: Zῆνα δέ τις προøρóνως ἐπινíĸια ĸλáζων / τεὐξεται øρενῶν τò π⋯ν (174–5). The verb seems tied to portentous moments in the Oresteia—Clytemnestra jumps up from her prophetic dream of the suckling snake with a great shout: ἑξ ὒπνου ĸέĸλαγγεν ἐπτοημένη (Cho. 535).

30 Reviews of the standard interpretations of the meaning of the omen can be found in Lawrence, S. E., ‘Artemis in the Agamemnon’, AJP 97 (1976), 97–110Google Scholar and Conacher, D. J., Aeschylus’ Oresteia: A Literary Commentary (Toronto, 1987), 76–83.CrossRefGoogle Scholar For bibliography, see Fowler, B. H., ‘The creatures and the blood’, ICS 16 (1991), 85–100Google Scholar at 87, n. 11. Conacher disapproves of Lebeck's understanding of the omen because she sees in it both the sack of Troy and the sacrifice of Iphigenia. Similarly, Lloyd-Jones, H., ‘Artemis and Iphigenia’, JHS 103 (1983), 87–88CrossRefGoogle Scholar disagrees with the Page-Conington interpretation that Artemis is angry with the eagles themselves and not what they symbolize, because this ‘confuses’ the world of the portent with reality. As is clear by now, I think it is exactly this confusion that is significant. Clinton, K., ‘Artemis and the sacrifice of Iphigenia in Aeschylus’ Agamemnon’, in P., Pucci (ed.), Language and the Tragic Hero (Atlanta, 1988), 11Google Scholar answers Lloyd-Jones, but only by separating Artemis’ reaction to the event (unsymbolic) from the other characters’ response to the symbolism. The ambiguities here are directly linked with the double-meaning mentioned above of the expression αὐτóτοĸον πρò λóχον μογερáν πτáĸα θυομένοισω (136). Artemis bears a grudge against the eagles’ destruction of the hare, but also at the Atreidae's sacrifice of Iphigenia, a butchery the goddess herself will demand (cf. Ag. 201–2).

31 The bibliography on this issue is immense, but an important examination of the chorus’ (mis)understanding of the relative responsibility of Zeus and Agamemnon is Gantz, T., ‘The Chorus of Aischylos’ Agamemnon’, HSCP 87 (1983), 65–86.Google Scholar

32 The word δαίς is used of animal meals at II. 24.43, δεῖπνον at II. 2.383, Hes. Op. 209, and Archil. 179 West, as well as at Aesch. Supp. 801; see Pelliccia, H., Mind, Body, and Speech in Homer and Pindar (Göttingen, 1995), 79, n. 130.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

33 Fraenkel on line 58. He compares Cho. 382–3, where Zeus sends (or is asked to send) ὑστεέóποινον ἂταν.

34 Silk, M. S., Interaction in Poetic Imagery (Cambridge, 1974), 10–72CrossRefGoogle Scholar at 138–47. Smith, O., ‘Some observations on the structure of imagery in Aeschylus’, C&M 26 (1965), 10–72Google Scholar at 52–65, calls it fusion when parts of a simile coalesce and the poet does not distinguish strictly between the ‘illustrans’ and the ‘illustrandum’, terms invented by Johansen, H. Friis, General Reflection in Tragic Rhesis (Copenhagen, 1959).Google Scholar Rosenmeyer (n. 6), 121–5, calls it a transference from the ‘vehicle’ to the ‘tenor’. Long ago Headlam, W. put it simply, ‘no one has his [Aeschylus’] habitual practice of pursuing a similitude, of carrying a figure through’ (‘Metaphor, with a note on transference of epithets’, CR 16 [1902], 436).Google Scholar

35 In fact, one Aeschylean scholar recently suggested that this conflation of simile and omen with actual events—as well as their ‘confusion’ of Pan with Hermes—is a product of the Argive elders’ incipient senility: ‘The chorus are tending to wander in mind; we sense that they truly think like old men’ ( Whallon, W., ‘The Herm at Ag. 55–56: stocks and stones of the Oresteia’, Hermes 121 [1993], 496–9).Google Scholar This would be more convincing if it could be tied into the larger thematic issues of the trilogy.

36 Rosenmeyer (n. 6), 141, Petrounias (n. 10), 178.

37 I would like to thank the editor, referees, Nora Chapman, Mark Edwards, and Helen Moritz for many helpful suggestions.