'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 Hermae,
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
Comastoe,' 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 our Author's
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 Pisthetaerus, 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 mis-understanding,
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 Nephelococcygia, 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 Pisthetaerus is to have Basileia as his bride. The comedy winds up
with the epithalamium in honour of the nuptials.