THE
BIRDS differs markedly from all
the other Comedies of Aristophanes which have come down to us
in subject and general conception. It is just an extravaganza
pure and simple--a graceful, whimsical theme chosen expressly
for the sake of the opportunities it afforded of bright, amusing
dialogue, pleasing lyrical interludes, and charming displays
of brilliant stage effects and pretty dresses. Unlike other plays
of the same author, there is here apparently no serious political
motif underlying the surface burlesque and buffoonery.
Some critics, it is true, profess to find
in it a reference to the unfortunate Sicilian Expedition, then
in progress, and a prophecy of its failure and the political
downfall of Alcibiades. But as a matter of fact, the whole thing
seems rather an attempt on the dramatist's part to relieve the
overwrought minds of his fellow citizens, anxious and discouraged
at the unsatisfactory reports from before Syracuse, by a work
conceived in a lighter vein than usual and mainly unconnected
with contemporary realities. The play was produced in the year
414 B.C., just when success or failure in Sicily hung in the
balance, though already the outlook was gloomy, and many circumstances
pointed to impending disaster. Moreover, the public conscience
was still shocked and perturbed over the mysterious affair of
the mutilation of the Hermæ, which had occurred immediately
before the sailing of the fleet, and strongly suspicious of Alcibiades'
participation in the outrage. In spite of the inherent charm
of the subject, the splendid outbursts of lyrical poetry in some
of the choruses and the beauty of the scenery and costumes, The
Birds failed to win the first prize. This was acclaimed to
a play of Aristophanes' rival, Amipsias, the title of which,
The Comast, or Revellers, seems to imply
that the chief interest was derived from direct allusions to
the outrage above mentioned and to the individuals suspected
to have been engaged in it.
For this reason, which militated against
its immediate success, viz. the absence of direct allusion to
contemporary politics--there are, of course, incidental references
here and there to topics and personages of the day--the play
appeals perhaps more than any other of Aristophanes' productions
to the modern reader. Sparkling wit, whimsical fancy, poetic
charm, are of all ages, and can be appreciated as readily by
ourselves as by an Athenian audience of two thousand years ago,
though, of course, much is inevitably lost without the important
adjuncts of music, scenery, dresses and what we may call 'spectacle'
generally, which we know in this instance to have been on the
most magnificent scale.
The plot is this. Euelpides and Pisthetærus,
two old Athenians, disgusted with the litigiousness, wrangling
and sycophancy of their countrymen, resolve upon quitting Attica.
Having heard of the fame of Epops (the hoopoe), sometime called
Tereus, and now King of the Birds, they determine, under the
direction of a raven and a jackdaw, to seek from him and his
subject birds a city free from all care and strife. Arrived at
the Palace of Epops, they knock, and Trochilus (the wren), in
a state of great flutter, as he mistakes them for fowlers, opens
the door and informs them that his Majesty is asleep. When he
awakes, the strangers appear before him, and after listening
to a long and eloquent harangue on the superior attractions of
a residence among the birds, they propose a notable scheme of
their own to further enhance its advantages and definitely secure
the sovereignty of the universe now exercised by the gods of
Olympus.
The birds are summoned to meet in general
council. They come flying up from all quarters of the heavens,
and after a brief misunderstanding, during which they come near
tearing the two human envoys to pieces, they listen to the exposition
of the latters' plan. This is nothing less than the building
of a new city, to be called Nepheloccygia, or 'Cloud-cuckoo-town,'
between earth and heaven, to be garrisoned and guarded by the
birds in such a way as to intercept all communication of the
gods with their worshippers on earth. All steam of sacrifice
will be prevented from rising to Olympus, and the Immortals will
very soon be starved into an acceptance of any terms proposed.
The new Utopia is duly constructed, and the daring plan to secure
the sovereignty is in a fair way to succeed. Meantime various
quacks and charlatans, each with a special scheme for improving
things, arrive from earth, and are one after the other exposed
and dismissed. Presently arrives Prometheus, who informs Epops
of the desperate straits to which the gods are by this time reduced,
and advises him to push his claims and demand the hand of Basileia
(Dominion), the handmaid of Zeus. Next an embassy from the Olympians
appears on the scene, consisting of Heracles, Posidon and a god
from the savage regions of the Triballians. After some disputation,
it is agreed that all reasonable demands of the birds are to
be granted, while Pisthetærus is to have Basileia as his
bride. The comedy winds up with the epithalamium in honour of
his nuptials.
This article is reprinted
from Aristophanes: The Eleven Comedies. Trans. Anonymous.
London: The Athenian Society, 1922.
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