1

Aeschylus reading Homer: the case of the Psychagogoi1

Aeschylus’ fragmentary Psychagogoi has at its core, possibly as its theme, a

dramatised adaptation of a well-known Homeric episode – the Nekuia. The meager

surviving fragments suggest that in broad strokes the story goes as follows: Odysseus

travels to a “fearsome” lake (frr. 273, 273a.2; cf. 276) and, under the guidance of local

necromancers (frr. 273, 273a), contacts Teiresias who gives him a prophecy about his

death (fr. 275). The subject-matter per se points to a by definition “Homerising” play;

Book 11 of the Odyssey is used as a source of inspiration and a point of departure.

The aim of the present paper is to investigate this intertextual network between the

Homeric Nekuia and its Aeschylean version. As will emerge, Aeschylus opens a

persistent dialogue with the epic text and establishes a network of competitive

dynamics. Yet, as well as persistently recalling his archetype he also makes a

systematic attempt to revise it by endowing this distinctively Homeric episode with a

diametrically opposite meaning; while in Homer necromancy unfolds the full

proportions of Odysseus’ boldness, courage, and extraordinariness, in its Aeschylean

adaptation it is part of a process of bringing him closer to the ordinary man. The

normalisation of Odysseus is carried out both by his prophesied death, which is

ignominious and trivial (fr. 275), and by the introduction of realistic and familiar

elements into the necromantic ritual. Though the practice registers some exotic

features and retains a degree of its Homeric outlandishness, it is in many respects

brought closer to reality. As we shall see, the reduced exoticism of necromancy and

1 On this play see Kramer’s 1980, 11-23 edition of P. Köln 3.125 (= fr. 273a) and the discussions of

Gelzer 1981; Lloyd-Jones 1981; Katsouris 1982, 47-51; Rusten 1982; Henrichs 1991, 187-192; Bardel

2005, 85-92; Cousin 2005; Dios 2008, 665-672. Discussions prior Kramer’s edition are useful (see

Leeuwen 1890, 72f.; Mette 1963, 127-129), but ignore the existence of fragment 273a. The date of the

play is uncertain.

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the concomitant detachment of the Aeschylean Odysseus from the fantastic

atmosphere of the Odyssey produce some very complex effects.

The prediction of Odysseus’ death

The deconstruction of Odysseus’ Homeric presentation is first and foremost

evident in fr. 275, which is delivered by the summoned Teiresias and preserves a

prophecy about Odysseus’ death. The motif is clearly derived from the Homeric

Nekuia, where the seer concludes his predictions about the hero’s nostos and the due

propitiatory activities by referring to the end of his life (Od. 11.134-137). As he says,

a very gentle death will come to him ΕΞΑΛΟΣ when he reaches old age. According to

the ancient scholia, this prophecy lends itself to a double interpretation depending on

the rendering of ΕΞΑΛΟΣ. Odysseus may die “away from the sea” (ἔξαλος) or “from

the sea” (ἐξ ἁλός), namely a marine death. The poet of Telegony presents us with a

version that relies upon the inherent ambiguity of the Homeric passage, as it actually

combines both interpretations: Odysseus is killed on dry land by Telegonus’ arrow,

whose edge is made by the spine of a stingray (κέντρον τρυγόνος). Aeschylus chooses

to differentiate himself from both epics and put forward his own distinctive version

(fr. 275):2

ἐρωδιὸς γὰρ ὑψόθεν ποτώμενος

ὄνθῳ σε πλήξει νηδύος χαλώμασιν·

ἐκ τοῦδ’ ἄκανθα ποντίου βοσκήματος

σήψει παλαιὸν δέρμα καὶ τριχορρυές.

For a heron in flight

2 For the different versions of Odysseus’ death see Hartmann 1917, 106-112; Severyns 1928, 54f., 412-

415.

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will strike you from above with its dung when it opens its bowels;

and from this the barb of a sea-creature

will rot your aged, hairless skin.

The Aeschylean prophecy echoes the Homeric idea of the peaceful death in old age,

as well as the Telegonian motif of κέντρον τρυγόνος. However, in this version a heron

flying overhead will strike and infect Odysseus’ aged skin with his dung that will

contain a fatal spine of fish.3 In this way, Aeschylus keeps the authority of the epic

narrative, but at the same time adjusts it to serve his own dramatic ends.

In the Odyssey, the hero may not meet a glorious death in the battlefield, but

the rhetoric used by Teiresias elevates his predicted peaceful end to an ideal incident.

As the seer puts it, Odysseus’ death will be “very gentle” (ἀμβληχρὸς μάλα, Od.

11.135) and will come when the hero is overcome with “sleek old age” (γήρᾳ ὕπο

λιπαρῷ ἀρημένον, Od. 11.136) and his people will “dwell in prosperity” around him

(ὄλβιοι ἔσσονται, Od. 11.137). The adjective λιπαρός qualifies this old age as wealthy

and healthy-looking, strengthening the notion of the perfect death.4 In contrast, the

prophecy in fr. 275 gives an ignominious twist to the Homeric model by introducing

the factor of the dung and by presenting old age in a negative light. λιπαρὸν γῆρας

gives way to παλαιὸν δέρμα καὶ τριχορρυές that conjures up the image of a scrawny

and wretched old man. The Homeric echoes of ὄνθος are suggestive. There are only

three occurrences of the term in the Iliad, all in the context of the footrace between

Odysseus, Ajax, and Antilochus during the funeral games in honour of Patroclus.

There, Athena, wanting to help Odysseus, intervenes and makes Ajax slip on the dung

of the sacrificed bulls as he runs. The irony is obvious. While in the Homeric passage

3 The uniqueness of the Aeschylean version is underlined by the Scholiast V on Od. 11.134

(…Αἰσχύλος δὲ ἐν Ψυχαγωγοῖς ἰδίως λέγει ”ἐρρωδιὸς γὰρ…τριχορρυές”). 4 Cf. Hoekstra/Heubeck 1989, 86.

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ὄνθος grants an athletic victory to Odysseus in Troy, in the Aeschylean play it causes

him a totally unheroic and almost ridiculous death. The application of the epic

language to describe a reality that opposes the epic grandeur underscores the distance

from the epic world.5 The process of sepsis caused by the dung trivialises the hero’s

death yet more.

Aeschylus’ departure from the Homeric archetype with reference to Odysseus’

death must have resulted in diverse and complex effects. On the one hand, this is the

kind of bridging of the divide between heroic past and contemporary present which

finds expression in a whole range of tragic effects, most notably but not exclusively

anachronism. Part of the result is an enhanced sense of the relevance of what happens

in the play to the world of the audience rather than a dramatisation of a closed and

distant past. At the same time, the ignominious end reflects and further develops some

aspects of Odysseus’ tragic profile; as well as making him more ordinary and

contemporary, it also undermines his heroic status and undercuts his dignity. We may

even have something of the belittling of Odysseus later found in Sophocles’

Philoctetes. The Aeschylean version of the hero should be understood as part of a

larger tragic tendency to underscore the less elevated aspects that surrounded

Odysseus’ character, experience, and behaviour from the start and were already

magnified in the archaic period.6 This is not to say that the reduction of Odysseus’

heroic status is a dramatic end in itself. As will be noted below, it may be a means of

exploring larger issues, such as the idea of the human limitations.

The institutionalisation of necromancy

5 See Cousin 2005, 150. 6 See Stanford 1954, 90-117; cf. Deforge 1986, 259 n. 106; Cousin 2005, 137f.

5

The proximity of Odysseus to the audience is enhanced by the “normalisation”

of necromancy. This process is mostly achieved through the institutionalisation of the

practice, which distances the episode from the impromptu and mythical nature of the

Homeric prototype and presents us with an Odysseus who now engages not in a

dangerous and bold mission at the edge of the Ocean, but rather in an officially

prescribed ritual within historical and recognisable surroundings. There exist two

indications that point to the institutionalisation of necromancy: the locale of the ritual

and the introduction of professional practitioners.

Let us take the parameter of the locale first. The main features of the spot

where necromancy is performed can be deduced from fragments 273, 273a, and 276:

Fr. 273:

Ἑρμᾶν μὲν πρόγονον τίομεν γένος οἱ περὶ λίμναν

We, the folk that dwell around the lake, honour Hermes as our

ancestor.

Fr. 273a:

ἄγε νυν, ὦ ξεῖν’, ἐπὶ ποιοφύτων

ἵστω σηκῶν φοβερᾶς λίμνας

ὑπό τ’ αὐχένιον λαιμὸν ἀμήσας

τοῦδε σφαγίου ποτὸν ἀψύχοις

αἷμα μεθίει (5)

δονάκων εἰς βένθος ἀμαυρόν.

Χθόνα δ’ ὠγυγίαν ἐπικεκλόμενος

χθόνιόν θ’ Ἑρμῆν πομπὸν φθιμένων ̣

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αἰτοῦ χθόνιον Δία νυκτιπόλων

ἑσμὸν ἀνεῖναι ποταμοῦ στομάτων, (10)

οὗ τόδ’ ἀπορρὼξ ἀμέγαρτον ὕδωρ

κἀχέρνιπτον

Στυγίοις νασμοῖσιν ἀνεῖται.

Come now, stranger, stand on the grassy

precincts of the fearful lake and,

when you have cut the throat

of this victim, let fall the blood for the lifeless ones

to drink

into the dim depths of the reeds.

Invoking ancient Earth,

and chthonian Hermes, conveyor of the dead,

implore chthonian Zeus to send up

the swarm of the night-wanderers from the mouths of the river

the river whose branch, this unenviable water

which washes no hand,

is sent forth by the streams of the Styx.

Fr. 276:

σταθεροῦ χεύματος

of stagnant current

(Trans. Bardel 2005: 89f. with slight adjustments)

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The geomorphology and hydrography of the landscape are modeled upon the

topographical instructions of Circe (Od. 10.513-515).7 This is particularly noticeable

with reference to the dominant role of water, which becomes the hallmark of this

unusual place and evokes the Homeric description of the infernal rivers. A series of

oxymora employed for the description of the setting presage the abnormal reversion

of the natural order that necromancy inherently involves. For instance, in fr. 273a, the

notion of fertility denoted by ποιοφύτων σηκῶν is countered by the reeds (δονάκων)

that can only be found in marshy stagnant waters and are here closely connected with

death and the Underworld;8 the water, a natural source of life-giving and purification,

is unenviable (ἀμέγαρτον)9 and ἀχέρνιπτον,10 namely unsuitable for ritual use; and in

fr. 276, the lake is described as a “stagnant current” (σταθεροῦ χεύματος),11 combining

contradictory qualities. Also, terms that denote death (ἀψύχοις, φθιμένων, σφαγίου

αἷμα) and fear (φοβερά) or belong to the linguistic field of the Underworld (Χθόνα

ὠγυγίαν, χθόνιον, χθόνιον, Στυγίοις, ἀμαυρόν, νυκτιπόλων) endow the landscape with

strong infernal connotations.12

Notwithstanding these numinous elements of otherworldliness and the

awfulness that the description of the setting involves, the Aeschylean Odysseus is

unambiguously on the surface. The upward movement of the souls (ἀνεῖναι) and the

water (ἀνεῖται) cancels the Homeric blurring of necromancy and katabasis, and

locates the activities of the hero in the world of the living, removing a modicum of 7 See Ogden 2001a, 47f.; Cousin 2005, 139-146. Also, compare σηκός (fr. 273a.2) to πέτρη (Od.

10.515). In Python’s Agen the landscape of necromancy seems to be very similar (cf. κάλαμος, fr. 1.1;

ἄορνος, fr. 1.2). 8 Reeds often form part of the infernal vegetation; cf. Polygnotus’ painting in Paus. 10.28.1; Elpenor

vase (Boston 34.79, ARV2 1045.2.). On the vegetation in Psychagogoi see Cousin 2005, 146. 9 τομεγαρτουδωρ emended to ἀμέγαρτον ὕδωρ by Kramer 1980, 21f. 10 According to the necromantic traditions, the lake of Avernus exhaled noxious fumes that killed birds.

See Rusten 1982, 36-38; Ogden 2010, 108; cf. Paus. 8.18.4f.; Call. fr. 407.110 Pfeiffer. 11 For the meaning of this contradictory phrase see Cousin 2005: 144f. 12 See Cousin 2005: 148f.

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their boldness and dangerousness. Also, the Aeschylean Odysseus no longer operates

“off the map” and outside the world of human experience, as the necromantic incident

seems to have been relocated from its literal eschatological position at the end of the

Ocean to a more realistic environment, even though the place is not explicitly

specified. This transfer of the Nekuia into historical surroundings may also be dictated

by the nature of the tragic genre, as it tends to favour the unfolding of the action in

existing locations. In the Aeschylean plays, in particular, the first speaking character

reveals the spatial coordinates of the plot, which, even though they are not always

familiar to the audience, are still geographically identifiable.13

If the existence of the professional necromancers clearly points to an

institutionalised framework, the lake (frr. 273, 273a.2), which constitutes the focal

point of the ritual, gives clues as to the identification of the place with a real-life

nekuomanteion-site. Indeed, the lake is a distinct topographical trait of two important,

historical oracles of the dead, the Acheron and Avernus nekuomanteia.14 Each

identification has its supporters,15 but arguing for the former or the latter is, I think,

pointless. What really matters is the fact that Aeschylus deviates from the Homeric

example by locating his Nekuia in a remote, albeit historical, spot. Even if we assume

that by Aeschylus’ time the specific nekuomanteion fell into disuse, from the

audience’s viewpoint it would still form part of their cultural landscape and would be

13 See Ag. 24; Cho. 3 (corrupted text); Eu. 11, 16; Pers. 15-16; Pr. 1-2; Supp. 15; Th. 1. 14 See Ogden 2001a, 43-74 and 2001b, 173-178. 15 Acheron oracle: Katsouris 1982, 47 n. 3; Ogden 2001a, 48, 2001b, 176, and 2002, 26; Cousin 2005,

114. Avernus oracle: Max. Tyr. 8.2; Wilamowitz-Moellendorf 1914, 246 n. 1; Hartmann 1917, 109;

Wikén 1937, 126; Phillips 1953, 56; Hardie 1977, 284; Kramer 1980, 18; Gelzer 1981, 122f.; Rusten

1982, 34f.; Dunbar 1995, 711; Hurst 2008, 202. For further bibliography see Ogden 2001a, 49 n. 23. A

scholium in Ar. Ra. 1266 makes the chorus inhabit near the lake Stymphalus in Arcadia, where Hermes

was widely worshipped. Lloyd-Jones 1981, 22 and Dover 1993, ad 1266 were convinced by this, but

Wilamowitz-Moellendorf 1914, 246 n. 1 rightly rejected it as “modern”. Indeed, lake Stymphalus is not

a nekuomanteion site and Hermes was not there worshipped as a chthonic deity or as psychopompos.

Besides, this lake could not be reached by ship.

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connected with a real-life, identifiable, and accessible location. In such surroundings,

the practice loses a great deal of its exceptional character, something that certainly

pulls Odysseus and his heroic world closer to the audience.

Let us now move on the identity of the chorus, which is an additional evidence

for the localisation of the ritual at a nekuomanteion-site and its resultant

institutionalisation. Ancient testimonia support the existence of a resident staff at the

oracles of the dead, who were often called ψυχαγωγοί,16 while Maximus of Tyre

explicitly locates this institutionalised group of professional necromancers at

Avernus.17 In Psychagogoi, the title of the play is evidently borrowed from the

identity of the chorus.18 One could perhaps argue that their designation as

psychagogoi derives from their specific activities in the narrow context of the

dramatic plot rather than their actual and regular profession. In this case, their

instructive role, as can be seen in fr. 273a,19 would parallel that of Choephoroi; just as

the women instruct Electra on how to offer the libations, so do the choreutai here

guide Odysseus in the process of ghost-raising. However, fr. 273 suggests that the

members of the chorus actually profess expertise in this ritual practice.20 This

fragment is recited or sung by the chorus and, since it contains a self-introductory

16 See Ogden 2001b, 182f. 17 Max. Tyr. 8.2; cf. Ephor. FHG 70 F 134a = Str. 244; Plu. 2.560ef. According to tradition, Italian

psychagogoi were called to Sparta in order to lay the restless soul of Pausanias and release the city

from the plight (see Plu. 2.560e-f; fr. 126 Sandbach). On this episode see Burkert 1962, 49; Faraone

1991, 184-188; Ogden 2001a, 100-105. 18 The titles of the Aeschylean plays very often denote the chorus’ identity or performative activities

(e.g. Choephoroi, Eumenides, Suppliants, Persae). 19 Noteworthy is the fact that fr. 273 belongs to the few examples of tragic verses delivered in

hexameters (see West 1982, 98). This metrical pattern adds to the formality of the chorus’ language,

but it also points to the subversive attitude of Aeschylus toward Homer; epic style is adopted only to be

employed by a chorus that corresponds to one of the most conspicuous innovations in the dramatisation

of the Homeric Nekuia. 20 Besides, in ancient accounts, ψυχαγωγός, the term used to define the identity of the chorus, often

points to a regular and official profession rather than a one-off activity. See e.g. Phryn. PS 127.12;

schol. in E. Alc. 1128; Paus. 3.17.7. See also the oracular tablet from Dodona (Evangelidis 1935, no.

23): “Shall we hire Dorios the psychagogos or not?”.

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statement, it must be located near the opening of the play, perhaps at the beginning of

the first stasimon.21 It would seem that the chorus consists of native people, who live

by the shore of the lake and honour Hermes as their ancestor. The formal overtones of

the verb τίομεν, the designation of the group as a “race”, as well as their self-

presentation with reference to Hermes imply that the chorus is constituted by official

attendants that preside over the operation of the sanctuary, which is explicitly

mentioned in fr. 273a.2 (σηκῶν).

Aeschylus, therefore, introduces a chorus of specialised necromancers, who

reside in and attend the operation of a lake nekuomanteion, possibly located at

Cumae. This choice is not accidental. The dramatist could well remain close to the

epic prototype by presenting a chorus of sailors accompanying Odysseus in his

necromantic activities. However, the insertion of professionals reduces the exotic

element and contributes to the construction of less mythic and more real surroundings.

The fact that Odysseus now acts under their official authority and practical assistance

not only distances him from the fairytale world of the Homeric Nekuia, but also

subtracts from him part of his boldness. This controlled and guided performance of

the ritual differs from the Homeric version of the episode, where Odysseus had a

leading role. There, even though he followed Circe’s instructions, he was certainly

helpless and unprotected, for Circe was physically absent throughout the ritual.

It is tempting to suppose that Aeschylus, in line with the complex

intertextuality he develops with the Homeric text, assigns the role of the psychagogoi

to the Homeric Cimmerians. Just as the Homeric necromancy takes place at the “land

and city of the Cimmerians” (Od. 11.15ff.), so its Aeschylean dramatisation is

21 See Mette 1963, 128.

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spatially related to this tribe. In fact, the chorus represents the native population of the

place, from their viewpoint Odysseus is a stranger (ὦ ξεῖνε, fr. 273a.1), and they call

themselves a “race” (γένος). In Ephoros’ account (4th century BC), the mythical

Cimmerians are explicitly associated with the lake Avernus,22 but germs of this

tradition may be traced back to Sophocles’ time, if we assume that frr. 1060 and 682

Nauck belong to the same play. The latter refers to an oracle of the dead at Aornos

lake, probably meaning the lake Avernus, and comes either from Odysseus

Akanthoplex or from Euryalus.23 The former preserves the name Κερβέριοι, which is

in all likelihood an alternative designation of the Cimmerians. The association of the

Cimmerians with the oracle of the dead at Avernus seems reasonable enough in view

of the growing tendency to attribute an Italian background to Odysseus’ adventures.

The localisation of the Cimmerians in Italy turned out to be considerably influential

and it might well be the case that Aeschylus was the first to initiate it.24 If the tragic

chorus was indeed composed of representatives of this race, this would lend further

support to the already stated assumption that Aeschylus draws on his epic model with

a view to subverting it. The Cimmerians, like Odysseus, would be displaced into real

surroundings and their exotic “land and city” would become identifiable to a spot,

which, although remote, would still be accessible to an ordinary man.

The profile of the dead

The above analysis shows that Aeschylus plays with the Homeric necromancy

in a variety of ways. Inasmuch as he departs from it by imbuing it with realistic

elements, he also recalls it by using some distinctively Homeric features. Aeschylus’

22 See Ephor. FHG 70 F 134a (= Str. 5.4.5 C 244). 23 See Phillips 1953, 56 and n. 29. 24 See Plin. HN 3.61; Silius Italicus 12.132; Lactantius Diu. Inst. 1.6.9; Origo Gentis Romanae 10.2;

Lyc. 695; Orph. A. 1125ff.

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indebtedness to Homer is evident also in the profile of the dead. The Aeschylean dead

are defined as ἄψυχοι. In post-Homeric literature, the term psyche acquires an

expanded semantic field. While in Homer it denotes the spirit that abandons the body

at death, outside the epics it is also loaded with the sense of the Homeric phren, noos,

and thymos, qualities that refer to the seat of emotions or the emotions themselves.25

In this vein, a post-Homeric terminology is used to bring to the fore the Homeric

concept of the senseless shadows that lack φρένες (Od. 10.494-495) and μένος

(ἀμενηνά κάρηνα, Od. 10.521, 11.29, 49). Lloyd-Jones’ acute remark that the

adjective here contrasts with πάμψυχος in Sophocles’ Electra (839-840) corroborates

this view;26 as opposed to Amphiaraos who exceptionally retains his consciousness in

Hades, the Aeschylean souls are here deprived of it. It is not surprising that ἀψύχοις

appears closely connected with the motif of blood-drinking (ποτὸν ἀψύχοις),27 which

itself presupposes the idea of the witless shadow; as in the Homeric Nekuia,28 the

witless dead need the blood in order to regain their mental faculties. However, in an

episode that draws so heavily on Homer, psyche is expected to retain to some extent

its initial meaning, creating an ostensible and purposeful paradox: the same dead that

are mentioned throughout the Homeric Nekuia as ψυχαί are here defined as ἄψυχοι.29

This contradiction, which denies the dead the very essence of their existence, stresses

even more their insubstantiality.

The designation of the dead as νυκτίπολοι, as well as the description of their

gathering in terms of a ἑσμός, function as additional indications of their weakness.

25 See Solmsen 1984, 265-274; Sullivan 1989, 241-262; Bremmer 1994, 91-94. 26 Lloyd-Jones 1981, 21. See also Henrichs 1991, 188. 27 See Henrichs 1991, 188f. 28 See Sourvinou-Inwood 1995, 81-83; Ogden 2001a, 173; Heath 2005. 29 Contrast Bremmer 1983, 77 n.10 and Henrichs 1991, 188 n. 60, who endeavour to prove that the

contradiction is only superficial.

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Henrichs argues that the adjective νυκτίπολος alludes to the nocturnal activities of the

dead in the terrestrial world and thus illuminates their alternative, more active

dimension.30 He premises his assumption on the fact that in its pre-Hellenistic

occurrences the term bears Dionysiac, ritualistic, and mystic connotations that allow

its transference from the nighttime mystic celebrations to the nocturnal wanderings of

the dead in the world of the living under the guise of dream-apparitions.31 Although

Henrichs’ interpretation is possible, it is more likely that in the framework of the

Aeschylean Nekuia νυκτίπολοι refers to the inactive wanderers in the sunless and

gloomy Underworld.32 ἑσμός, together with the plural of their representation (ἀψύχοις,

φθιμένων, νυκτιπόλων), shed light on another aspect of the witless and weak dead –

their impersonal collectivity.33 This recalls the Homeric references to massive and

indiscriminate swarms of ψυχαί that rush toward the blood (Od. 10.529-30, 11.36-37,

42-43, 632-633) or are likened to birds (Od. 11.605-606; cf. S. OT 175) and throngs

of bats (Od. 24.6-9).34 In addition, given that in Aeschylus’ Suppliants (223-224) the

term is used to convey the state of the frightened Danaids, it may here qualify the

dead as skittish and cowardly. This idea is further corroborated by the term ἄψυχος, as

in some contexts psyche can acquire the meaning of courage.35 Last but not least, the

30 Henrichs 1991, 190. 31 So Rusten 1982, 36 n. 10 and Henrichs 1991, 190-192. For the association between dreams and the

nether powers see e.g. Od. 24.11-13; A. Cho. 32-41, 532-535, Pers. 219-223; S. El. 406-410, 453; E.

Hec. 70-71, IT 1262-1269; Trag. Adesp. 375; Ar. Ra. 1331-1332; cf. Od. 11.207-208, 222 (see Van

Lieshout 1980, 34-37; Padel 1992, 79-81). For the dead in dreams see e.g. Il. 23.65-107; Pi. P. 4.159-

164; A. Eu. 94-139, Pers. 197-199; E. Alc. 354-355, Hec. 1-58. 32 Cf. S. OC 1558. See Cousin 2005, 146 and n. 34. 33 On the association of this collectivity with a purposeless and insignificant infernal life see Bremmer

1994, 101; cf. Henrichs 1991, 194f. 34 Rusten 1982: 35f. assumes that Sophocles’ fr. 879 (βομβεῖ δὲ νεκρῶν σμῆνος, ἔρχεταί τ’ ἄνω) must

have been influenced by the Aeschylean perception of the souls. On the comparison of the dead to bats,

bees, and birds see Ogden 2001a, 221-224. For the concept of the winged soul see Vermeule 1979,

18f., 231 n. 13. 35 psyche as “courage”: e.g. Ar. Eq. 457; Th. 2.40.3; cf. E. Alc. 642, 696, 717, 956.

14

emphatic use of the blood sacrifice is consistent with the concept of the weak and

witless dead who need blood to restore their mental faculties.

The “Homerised” profile of the dead not only reflects the resourcefulness with

which Aeschylus interacts with the Homeric text, but also shows the flexibility with

which he deals with the same motif in different plays. On any reading, the dead, as

described in Psychagogoi, are far removed from the delineation of Darius, the other

Aeschylean summoned dead. These multiple and insubstantial souls that seem to be

without power have nothing in common with the fearsome and awe-inspiring Darius

that commands the stage in Persae. This discrepancy between two plays composed by

the same dramatist not only reflects the diverse treatments to which the necromantic

motif can be subjected or the fluidity of its adjacent eschatology, but also shows that

there is no single Aeschylean model of necromancy; the dramatist varies the motif

from play to play and manipulates it creatively to serve his ends.

Conclusion

To conclude, Aeschylus uses the Nekuia, a distinctively Homeric episode, to

achieve an effect that is the opposite of that achieved in the Homeric prototype;

Odysseus, the cleverest of men, is met with his limitations and human nature. Of

course, as pointed out above, this cannot just be about Odysseus. The play touches

upon broader issues, whose nature can be guessed at, even though we lack the

evidence to fully support our assumptions. The normalisation of Odysseus is perhaps

the concomitant of the line the play takes about heroism, human potential, and human

boldness. Aeschylus brings the symbol of ultimate endurance and intelligence closer

to the ordinary man and invites us to look at heroism in a different way; even the

greatest have limits. This idea is consistent with readings of myth in fifth-century

15

tragedy, which tend to place the emphasis as much on limit as on potential and

achievement. In the Sophoclean corpus, Oedipus, the cleverest of men, is unable to

escape his destiny; in Aeschylus’ Myrmidones (fr. 132c), Achilles is threatened with

stoning by the army; in Euripides’ Medea (1386-1388), Jason is destined to be killed

by part of his ship. Similarly, the normalisation of Odysseus in Psychagogoi probably

initiates the audience into the larger idea of the human limits. At the same time, the

Psychagogoi exemplifies the resourcefulness with which Aeschylus interacts with,

and manipulates, the Homeric text.

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