Lines 1–65:
Book 3 ends with Jason’s triumph over the fire breathing bulls and the earth born giants, an heroic exploit of Iliadic dimensions, undercut by the fact that he is dependent on Medea’s drugs and magic. The mission, however, is not complete in spite of the closural nature of 3.1407. Aietes is already plotting revenge. Will Medea escape retribution for the help that she has given the foreign intruders? How will the Fleece be finally gained? What future developments will there be in the relationship between Jason the Greek and Medea the barbarian Colchian princess.
At the beginning of Book 4, the poet seeks help in answering these and other questions from his Muse in the opening invocation (1–5). The theme of the book is to be the combination of δήνεα with κάματον which alludes to Medea’s two-sided character: knowing witch and magician and also a tragic figure who suffers for her love. The poet asks the Muse whether it is shame or panic which will drive her motivation.
Fearful panic does indeed play an important part in the atmospheric night scene with which A. opens this book. Aietes’ plotting is described first in an intricate sentence (6–10) which tightens the tension in a number of ways. He is in his palace with his advisors but there is no physical description of the scene. A. concentrates on the king’s great rage and the fact that he plots throughout the night. The hyperbaton of ὁ μὲν . . . Αἰήτης ensures that the King’s anger is felt throughout these opening lines.
Elsewhere in the palace (11) -again the details are left deliberately vague-Medea frets about her possible courses of action, her emotions apparently under the control of Hera. She is convinced that Aietes knows about the help that she has offered the Argonauts (14–5) and that she will suffer for this her servants have informed on her (16) and that. Her mood and reactions are vividly described and fluctuate between violent extremes(16–9). Suicide by use of her own drugs is a possiblity which is only prevented by Hera’s putting into her mind the idea of flight with the sons of Phrixos (20–3). She takes the drugs and stores them in a fold in her gown (24–5) and makes a formal farewell to her bedroom, her mother, her Maidenhood, her sister, Chalciope, and the palace itself (26–33). The drama of this moment is heightened by the use of Oratio Recta for the first time in this book, Medea using words which are at the same an expression of farewell and a curse on Jason for the trouble that he has brought to her native land.
Her clandestine departure from the palace, aided by spells which make the doors open automatically (40–3), is prefaced by a paradoxical simile which described her state of mind as she leaves (35–9). She is likened to a prisoner of war being dragged into slavery much against her will. The slave-girl unwillingly goes to face an immediate harsh fate, as Medea unwillingly (32–3) goes to find Jason and throw in her lot with him. The route that she takes is one that is well known to her from her activities as a sorceress. It’s where she goes to gather dead bodies and roots with special properties for her magical purposes (50–2)! Taking this path will allow her to arrive undetected (48–9) at the plain of Ares (50), where the contest has been held, on the south bank of the river Phasis, opposite the city.
This opening section, which, to this point, has been cloaked in secretive darkness, is brought to a bizarre but striking climax when the Moon, coming up over the horizon illuminates the scene with a sardonic commentary on the Medea’s predicament. The introduction of the goddess of the Moon alters the mood entirely. The past misfortunes of the goddess and her present unexalted emotion adds a delightful twist to the narrative whose chief note has previously been pathos, fear and excitement. Following the practice of Thessalian witchcraft, she had previously drawn down the moon to the cave of Endymion but is now to suffer a similar fate. Comparison of the love of Jason and Medea with the love of Endymion and the Moon is appropriate in that the sleep of Endymion is balanced by the indifference with which Jason later treats Medea in Book 4. A. makes the Moon say that she is not the only one to be driven to madness over an indifferent lover; Medea is now involved in a similar situation.
Taken at face value, this opening passage already constitutes a subtle reading experience. If one adds to that some reference to the literary heritage that A. shared with his ancient readers, meagre though our remaining knowledge of it is, that experience cannot help but be infinitely enriched. How does one follow Homer, must have been a question that occupied A. and his Hellenistic colleagues throughout their poetic careers. Their answer involved the production of new work that constantly alluded to both Iliad and Odyssey, together with the other poems of the Epic Cycle. This allusion could in no way be described as slavish copying but functioned through a range of revolutionary approaches such as variation of individual Homeric phrases, reminiscence of well-known scenes and motifs, creation of new formulaic patterns and, overall, a process by which the language of the epic was changed, developed and investigated, as part of the role in which Alexandrian and Hellenistic poets saw themselves as both ‘poets and critics’. With the resources of the Ptolemaic research library in Alexandria at his disposal-Apollonius was undoubtedly its chief librarian at some stage-it is not surprising that not only Homer but also the whole range of Classical Greek Literature enriched the work of this imaginative scholar poet. There is evidence to back up this assertion throughout this opening passage and the whole of Book 4.
The opening of Book 4 contains allusions that hint at how the poem might develop. A. may recall the invocations of both Iliad and Odyssey by combining θεά with Μοῦσα; cf. Il. 1.1 μῆνιν ἄειδε θεά and Od. 1.1 ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε Μοῦσα. Although the narrative of Medea’s love for Jason continues, the tone in Book 4 is primarily heroic, not erotic. Κολχίδος ἔννεπε Μοῦσα could also be based on the opening words of the Odyssey, with θεά then used to describe the Muse as at Od. 1.10, and the substitution of Διὸς τέκος for θύγατερ Διός of the same line. The allusion, however, may be more general. Μοῦσα often opens a poem. Callimachus probably began the fourth book of the Aetia Μοῦ]σαι μοι (Aet. fr. 86.1 Harder) Yet the double allusion arma virumque cano (Virg. Aen. 1.1) argues that A.’s best interpreter understood the allusion to be specifically Homeric.
With ὁρμαίνοντι / ἠὲ . . . ἦ . . . ἐνίσπω another nuance is added. The indirect question construction, often introduced by ὁρμαίνω, is Homeric, often of a warrior in a moment of doubt, not a poet worrying about his theme. Cf. particularly Il. 16.435–8 διχθὰ δέ μοι κραδίη μέμονε φρεσὶν ὁρμαίνοντι, / ἤ μιν . . . /. . . / ἦ, where Zeus is deciding Sarpedon’s fate: will he have an heroic death on the field of battle, or not? Hera provides the answer by insisting on Sarpedon’s death. At the opening of Book 4 the poet ponders which of two narratives he will follow – and again, Hera provides the answer, here by driving Medea to flight. A. portrays himself as being immersed in the psychological struggle that his character is undergoing and debates the decisions that he must make about his narrative in the manner of a warrior on the battlefield, a subtle reworking of an epic motif.
The narrative that follows the invocation picks up the end of Book 3 and also Aietes’ first Colchian assembly (4.7 with 3.578 ἀτλήτους Μινύῃσι δόλους καὶ κήδεα τεύχων and 3.1406 πορφύρων ~ 4.7 μητιάασκεν, 3.1407 ἦμαρ ἔδυ ~ 4.7 παννύχιος). Aietes’ temper is emphasised from the first (Arg. 2.1202) and its description can be of a violent nature (cf. Arg. 3.367–71, 3.396–400); cf. ὀλοόφρονος Αἰήταο (Od. 10.137). A. may be caricaturing the bad–tempered tyrants of Greek tragedy such as Creon, Oedipus and particularly Thoas in Euripides’ Iphigeneia in Tauris, whose plot bears great similarities to the Argonautica.
Night is a dramatic time to plan revenge: a significant example for A. would have been Od. 19.1–2 αὐτὰρ ὁ ἐν μεγάρῳ ὑπελείπετο δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς / μνηστήρεσσι φόνον σὺν Ἀθήνῃ μερμηρίζων and indeed it provides a significant backdrop for treachery in a later passage at John 13.30 λαβὼν οὖν τὸ ψωμίον ἐκεῖνος ἐξῆλθεν εὐθύς· ἦν δὲ νύξ. Aietes’ gathering of his best men recalls Agamemnon’s council of war in the Doloneia: Il. 10.197 αὐτοὶ γὰρ κάλεον συμμητιάασθαι and also 208 ἅσσα τε μητιόωσι μετὰ σφίσιν describes a similar scene to the present one.
παννύχιος is used in the context of plotting at Il. 7.478–9 παννύχιος δέ σφιν κακὰ μήδετο μητίετα Ζεὺς / σμερδαλέα κτυπέων. Deliberation at night plays a part at Hdt. 7.12.2 νυκτὶ δὲ βουλὴν διδούς, Eur. Hcld. 994 νυκτὶ συνθακῶν ἀεί and the theme of δόλος (Hom. Hym. 4.66 ὁρμαίνων δόλον αἰπὺν ἐνὶ φρεσίν, Od. 4.843 φόνον αἰπὺν ἐνὶ φρεσὶν ὁρμαίνοντες) is of prime importance in the story of Jason and Medea, particularly in their later plot against Apsyrtus.
The simile that A. uses to elaborate his description of Medea’s fear has multiple points of comparison, tying it closely to the action It is typical of the Homeric battlefield and seems to be modelled on Il. 11.546–51 τρέσσε δὲ παπτήνας ἐφ ὁμίλου θηρὶ ἐοικὼς / . . . / ὡς δ᾽ αἴθωνα λέοντα βοῶν ἀπὸ μεσσαύλοιο / ἐσσεύαντο κύνες (4.13∼ κυνῶν . . . ὁμοκλή) τε καὶ ἀνέρες ἀγροιῶται, / . . . / πάννυχοι ἐγρήσσοντες (4.7∼ παννύχιος δόλον αἰπύν), where Ajax, put to flight by Zeus, is likened to a lion driven from the fold by men and dogs. A. adapts this to fit Medea; so instead of the λεών, we have the κεμάς whose behaviour is more appropriate to the fearful heroine, though one who will later exhibit warrior characteristics (see below on 16–17 ἐν δέ οἱ ὄσσε / πλῆτο πυρός).
Apart from the above, the simile contains a number of subsidiary allusions which to the subtlety of the detail: The timidity of deer is a frequent topos in Homer (Il. 11.473–81, 22.189–93). ἠύτε τις κούφη κεμάς finds Homeric parallel in the phrases τεθηπότες ἠύ̈τε νεβροί (Il. 4.243, 21.29) or πεφυζότες ἠύ̈τε νεβροί (22.1) and also the passage at Il. 10.360–1 in which Diomedes and Odysseus in pursue Dolon ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε καρχαρόδοντε δύω κύνε εἰδότε θήρης / ἢ κεμάδ᾽ ἠὲ λαγωὸν ἐπείγετον ἐμμενὲς αἰεί. The adjective applied to the fawn, κούφη, may recall Anacr. fr. 417.1–5 PMG πῶλε Θρηικίη . . . κοῦφά τε σκιρτῶσα παίζεις or Aesch. Eum. 111–13 ὁ δ᾽ ἐξαλύξας οἴχεται νεβροῦ δίκην / καὶ ταῦτα κούφως ἐκ μέσων ἀρκυστάτων / ὤρουσε where Clytemnestra describes Orestes’ escaping the ‘hounds of justice’, the Erinyes., κυνῶν ἐφόβησεν ὁμοκλή reinforces the idea of vengeful pursuit on Aietes’ part with the origins of the idea perhaps coming from Aesch. Cho. 1054 ἔγκοτοι κύνες or Eum. 246–7 ὡς κύων νεβρὸν / πρὸς αἷμα καὶ σταλαγμὸν ἐκματεύομεν.
As A. describes Medea’s changes of mood before she finally decides to escape, a range of literary motifs contribute to the power of the writing. Her fear that all has been discovered (14–15 αὐτίκα γὰρ νημερτὲς ὀΐσσατο . . .) must be a reminiscence of Od. 19.390–1 αὐτίκα γὰρ κατὰ θυμὸν ὀΐσατο, μή ἑ λαβοῦσα / οὐλὴν ἀμφράσσαιτο καὶ ἀμφαδὰ ἔργα γένοιτο where another important secret is being revealed: Odysseus is worried that Eurycleia will recognise him from his hunting wound. The use of indirect speech to describe Medea’s fears and the vagueness of the vocabulary (ἀρωγήν and κακότητα at opposite ends of the subordinate clause cover a range of threatening possibilities) maintain the tension. Direct speech is saved for Medea’s farewell (30–3).
ἐν δέ οἱ ὄσσε / πλῆτο πυρός, δεινὸν δὲ περιβρομέεσκον ἀκουαί (16–17) is another example of the way in which A. mixes both heroic and erotic elements throughout his opening psychological investigation of Medea. The lines mix epic and lyric elements, referring both to Sappho (fr. 31.11–2 Voigt: quoted below) and the Homeric battlefield. A warrior’s eyes often blaze with fire. As Hector attempts to burn the Greek ships at Il. 15. 605–8, he is said to rage ὡς ὅτ᾽ Ἄρης ἐγχέσπαλος ἢ ὀλοὸν πῦρ / . . . βαθέης ἐν τάρφεσιν ὕλης / . . . τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε / λαμπέσθην βλοσυρῇσιν ὑπ᾽ ὀφρύσιν in a passage which must echo A.’s description of Medea. In Homer similar references to the eyes (τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε and the like) are followed by a phrase saying that they were either full of fire or full of tears (e.g. Od. 4.704–5 δὴν δέ μιν ἀμφασίη ἐπέων λάβε τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε / δακρυόφι πλῆσθεν). At the beginning of line 17, instead of the expected tear formula, we get the description usually used of warriors. A. is already hinting at unexpected complexities in the character of Medea (‘every lover is also a warrior’) and using subtle manipulation of Homeric phraseology to underline it. The allusion to Sappho fr. 31.10–12 Voigt χρῷ πῦρ ὐπαδεδρόμηκεν, / ὀππάτεσσι δ᾽ οὐδ᾽ ἒν ὄρημμ’, ἐπιρρόμ / βεισι δ᾽ ἄκουαι adds further refinement to A.’s portrayal of Medea’s volatility. Medea’s fear is changing into a desperation close to anger. Realisation of the literary heritage behind this picture deepens the reader’s understanding and appreciation. A. is seeking new ways of describing old sensations, common to the poetry of a range of cultures: the Indian epic Bhagavad Gita (chapter 1.29–30 = Zaehner, R.C. (1969) The Bhagavad-Gītā: With a Commentary based on the Original Sources (Oxford) 117): ‘ . . . My limbs give way (beneath me) / My mouth dries up, and trembling / Takes hold upon my frame: / My body’s hairs stand up (in dread). / (My bow) Gandiva, slips from my hand, / my very skin is all ablaze; / I cannot stand, my mind seems to wander (all distraught)’ shows remarkable similarity to the Sappho passage and A.’s reminiscence of it.
When Medea eventually decides, encouraged by Hera that she must leave her native land and throw herself on the mercy of Jason and the Argonauts, her final farewell is made more dramatic by the weight of literary reference that it carries. The allusions that A. makes throughout to scenes involving other heroines, in similar but different situations to that of Medea, helps to deepen the intensity of the moment and the inherent tension within the narrative. This recognition on the part of the reader perhaps helps to increase the degree of empathy that they may feel for the character whose emotions are illuminated through the use of such references.
This scene is foreshadowed at Arg. 3.635–64. The kiss is one of farewell to her family and the life, symbolised by the bedroom (and its structural elements) that she has known as an unmarried girl. Alcestis, in contrast to Medea, sees her bed as a symbol of her married life, as she prepares to die for her husband; Eur. Alc. 175–7 κἄπειτα θάλαμον ἐσπεσοῦσα καὶ λέχος / ἐνταῦθα δὴ ’δάκρυσε καὶ λέγει τάδε· / ὦ λέκτρον ἔνθα παρθένει᾽ ἔλυσ’ ἐγώ, 183–4 κυνεῖ δὲ προσπίτνουσα, πᾶν δὲ δέμνιον / ὀφθαλμοτέγκτῳ δεύεται πλημμυρίδι.
Medea herself will seek revenge for the sake of her bridal bed (Eur. Med. 999 νυμφιδίων ἔνεκεν λεχέων, 1354 σὺ δ᾽ οὐκ ἔμελλες τἄμ’ ἀτιμάσας λέχη). Deianeira marks Heracles’ abandonment of her by a suicide carried out in a place that epitomises her married life: Soph. Trach. 920–1 ὦ λέχη τε καὶ νυμφεῖ᾽ ἐμά, / τὸ λοιπὸν ἤδη χαίρεθ᾽, (~ 4.32 χαίροις), ὡς ἔμ’ οὔποτε δέξεσθ᾽ ἔτ᾽ ἐν κοίταισι ταῖσδ᾽ εὐνάτριαν. Jocasta similarly carries out her suicide in her bedroom: OT 1241–3 παρῆλθ᾽ ἔσω / θυρῶνος, ἵετ᾽ εὐθὺς ἐς τὰ νυμφικὰ / λέχη, κόμην σπῶσ᾽ ἀμφιδεξίοις ἀκμαῖς (~ 4.28 ῥηξαμένη πλόκαμον). Finally Virgil exploited these same associations when he makes Dido sees her bed as epitomising the marriage that she thought she had: Aen. 4.650 incubuitque toro dixitque novissima verba. The common context is the importance of the thalamos in a woman’s life.
Book 3 ends with Jason’s triumph over the fire breathing bulls and the earth born giants, an heroic exploit of Iliadic dimensions, undercut by the fact that he is dependent on Medea’s drugs and magic. The mission, however, is not complete in spite of the closural nature of 3.1407. Aietes is already plotting revenge. Will Medea escape retribution for the help that she has given the foreign intruders? How will the Fleece be finally gained? What future developments will there be in the relationship between Jason the Greek and Medea the barbarian Colchian princess.
At the beginning of Book 4, the poet seeks help in answering these and other questions from his Muse in the opening invocation (1–5). The theme of the book is to be the combination of δήνεα with κάματον which alludes to Medea’s two-sided character: knowing witch and magician and also a tragic figure who suffers for her love. The poet asks the Muse whether it is shame or panic which will drive her motivation.
Fearful panic does indeed play an important part in the atmospheric night scene with which A. opens this book. Aietes’ plotting is described first in an intricate sentence (6–10) which tightens the tension in a number of ways. He is in his palace with his advisors but there is no physical description of the scene. A. concentrates on the king’s great rage and the fact that he plots throughout the night. The hyperbaton of ὁ μὲν . . . Αἰήτης ensures that the King’s anger is felt throughout these opening lines.
Elsewhere in the palace (11) -again the details are left deliberately vague-Medea frets about her possible courses of action, her emotions apparently under the control of Hera. She is convinced that Aietes knows about the help that she has offered the Argonauts (14–5) and that she will suffer for this her servants have informed on her (16) and that. Her mood and reactions are vividly described and fluctuate between violent extremes(16–9). Suicide by use of her own drugs is a possiblity which is only prevented by Hera’s putting into her mind the idea of flight with the sons of Phrixos (20–3). She takes the drugs and stores them in a fold in her gown (24–5) and makes a formal farewell to her bedroom, her mother, her Maidenhood, her sister, Chalciope, and the palace itself (26–33). The drama of this moment is heightened by the use of Oratio Recta for the first time in this book, Medea using words which are at the same an expression of farewell and a curse on Jason for the trouble that he has brought to her native land.
Her clandestine departure from the palace, aided by spells which make the doors open automatically (40–3), is prefaced by a paradoxical simile which described her state of mind as she leaves (35–9). She is likened to a prisoner of war being dragged into slavery much against her will. The slave-girl unwillingly goes to face an immediate harsh fate, as Medea unwillingly (32–3) goes to find Jason and throw in her lot with him. The route that she takes is one that is well known to her from her activities as a sorceress. It’s where she goes to gather dead bodies and roots with special properties for her magical purposes (50–2)! Taking this path will allow her to arrive undetected (48–9) at the plain of Ares (50), where the contest has been held, on the south bank of the river Phasis, opposite the city.
This opening section, which, to this point, has been cloaked in secretive darkness, is brought to a bizarre but striking climax when the Moon, coming up over the horizon illuminates the scene with a sardonic commentary on the Medea’s predicament. The introduction of the goddess of the Moon alters the mood entirely. The past misfortunes of the goddess and her present unexalted emotion adds a delightful twist to the narrative whose chief note has previously been pathos, fear and excitement. Following the practice of Thessalian witchcraft, she had previously drawn down the moon to the cave of Endymion but is now to suffer a similar fate. Comparison of the love of Jason and Medea with the love of Endymion and the Moon is appropriate in that the sleep of Endymion is balanced by the indifference with which Jason later treats Medea in Book 4. A. makes the Moon say that she is not the only one to be driven to madness over an indifferent lover; Medea is now involved in a similar situation.
Taken at face value, this opening passage already constitutes a subtle reading experience. If one adds to that some reference to the literary heritage that A. shared with his ancient readers, meagre though our remaining knowledge of it is, that experience cannot help but be infinitely enriched. How does one follow Homer, must have been a question that occupied A. and his Hellenistic colleagues throughout their poetic careers. Their answer involved the production of new work that constantly alluded to both Iliad and Odyssey, together with the other poems of the Epic Cycle. This allusion could in no way be described as slavish copying but functioned through a range of revolutionary approaches such as variation of individual Homeric phrases, reminiscence of well-known scenes and motifs, creation of new formulaic patterns and, overall, a process by which the language of the epic was changed, developed and investigated, as part of the role in which Alexandrian and Hellenistic poets saw themselves as both ‘poets and critics’. With the resources of the Ptolemaic research library in Alexandria at his disposal-Apollonius was undoubtedly its chief librarian at some stage-it is not surprising that not only Homer but also the whole range of Classical Greek Literature enriched the work of this imaginative scholar poet. There is evidence to back up this assertion throughout this opening passage and the whole of Book 4.
The opening of Book 4 contains allusions that hint at how the poem might develop. A. may recall the invocations of both Iliad and Odyssey by combining θεά with Μοῦσα; cf. Il. 1.1 μῆνιν ἄειδε θεά and Od. 1.1 ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε Μοῦσα. Although the narrative of Medea’s love for Jason continues, the tone in Book 4 is primarily heroic, not erotic. Κολχίδος ἔννεπε Μοῦσα could also be based on the opening words of the Odyssey, with θεά then used to describe the Muse as at Od. 1.10, and the substitution of Διὸς τέκος for θύγατερ Διός of the same line. The allusion, however, may be more general. Μοῦσα often opens a poem. Callimachus probably began the fourth book of the Aetia Μοῦ]σαι μοι (Aet. fr. 86.1 Harder) Yet the double allusion arma virumque cano (Virg. Aen. 1.1) argues that A.’s best interpreter understood the allusion to be specifically Homeric.
With ὁρμαίνοντι / ἠὲ . . . ἦ . . . ἐνίσπω another nuance is added. The indirect question construction, often introduced by ὁρμαίνω, is Homeric, often of a warrior in a moment of doubt, not a poet worrying about his theme. Cf. particularly Il. 16.435–8 διχθὰ δέ μοι κραδίη μέμονε φρεσὶν ὁρμαίνοντι, / ἤ μιν . . . /. . . / ἦ, where Zeus is deciding Sarpedon’s fate: will he have an heroic death on the field of battle, or not? Hera provides the answer by insisting on Sarpedon’s death. At the opening of Book 4 the poet ponders which of two narratives he will follow – and again, Hera provides the answer, here by driving Medea to flight. A. portrays himself as being immersed in the psychological struggle that his character is undergoing and debates the decisions that he must make about his narrative in the manner of a warrior on the battlefield, a subtle reworking of an epic motif.
The narrative that follows the invocation picks up the end of Book 3 and also Aietes’ first Colchian assembly (4.7 with 3.578 ἀτλήτους Μινύῃσι δόλους καὶ κήδεα τεύχων and 3.1406 πορφύρων ~ 4.7 μητιάασκεν, 3.1407 ἦμαρ ἔδυ ~ 4.7 παννύχιος). Aietes’ temper is emphasised from the first (Arg. 2.1202) and its description can be of a violent nature (cf. Arg. 3.367–71, 3.396–400); cf. ὀλοόφρονος Αἰήταο (Od. 10.137). A. may be caricaturing the bad–tempered tyrants of Greek tragedy such as Creon, Oedipus and particularly Thoas in Euripides’ Iphigeneia in Tauris, whose plot bears great similarities to the Argonautica.
Night is a dramatic time to plan revenge: a significant example for A. would have been Od. 19.1–2 αὐτὰρ ὁ ἐν μεγάρῳ ὑπελείπετο δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς / μνηστήρεσσι φόνον σὺν Ἀθήνῃ μερμηρίζων and indeed it provides a significant backdrop for treachery in a later passage at John 13.30 λαβὼν οὖν τὸ ψωμίον ἐκεῖνος ἐξῆλθεν εὐθύς· ἦν δὲ νύξ. Aietes’ gathering of his best men recalls Agamemnon’s council of war in the Doloneia: Il. 10.197 αὐτοὶ γὰρ κάλεον συμμητιάασθαι and also 208 ἅσσα τε μητιόωσι μετὰ σφίσιν describes a similar scene to the present one.
παννύχιος is used in the context of plotting at Il. 7.478–9 παννύχιος δέ σφιν κακὰ μήδετο μητίετα Ζεὺς / σμερδαλέα κτυπέων. Deliberation at night plays a part at Hdt. 7.12.2 νυκτὶ δὲ βουλὴν διδούς, Eur. Hcld. 994 νυκτὶ συνθακῶν ἀεί and the theme of δόλος (Hom. Hym. 4.66 ὁρμαίνων δόλον αἰπὺν ἐνὶ φρεσίν, Od. 4.843 φόνον αἰπὺν ἐνὶ φρεσὶν ὁρμαίνοντες) is of prime importance in the story of Jason and Medea, particularly in their later plot against Apsyrtus.
The simile that A. uses to elaborate his description of Medea’s fear has multiple points of comparison, tying it closely to the action It is typical of the Homeric battlefield and seems to be modelled on Il. 11.546–51 τρέσσε δὲ παπτήνας ἐφ ὁμίλου θηρὶ ἐοικὼς / . . . / ὡς δ᾽ αἴθωνα λέοντα βοῶν ἀπὸ μεσσαύλοιο / ἐσσεύαντο κύνες (4.13∼ κυνῶν . . . ὁμοκλή) τε καὶ ἀνέρες ἀγροιῶται, / . . . / πάννυχοι ἐγρήσσοντες (4.7∼ παννύχιος δόλον αἰπύν), where Ajax, put to flight by Zeus, is likened to a lion driven from the fold by men and dogs. A. adapts this to fit Medea; so instead of the λεών, we have the κεμάς whose behaviour is more appropriate to the fearful heroine, though one who will later exhibit warrior characteristics (see below on 16–17 ἐν δέ οἱ ὄσσε / πλῆτο πυρός).
Apart from the above, the simile contains a number of subsidiary allusions which to the subtlety of the detail: The timidity of deer is a frequent topos in Homer (Il. 11.473–81, 22.189–93). ἠύτε τις κούφη κεμάς finds Homeric parallel in the phrases τεθηπότες ἠύ̈τε νεβροί (Il. 4.243, 21.29) or πεφυζότες ἠύ̈τε νεβροί (22.1) and also the passage at Il. 10.360–1 in which Diomedes and Odysseus in pursue Dolon ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε καρχαρόδοντε δύω κύνε εἰδότε θήρης / ἢ κεμάδ᾽ ἠὲ λαγωὸν ἐπείγετον ἐμμενὲς αἰεί. The adjective applied to the fawn, κούφη, may recall Anacr. fr. 417.1–5 PMG πῶλε Θρηικίη . . . κοῦφά τε σκιρτῶσα παίζεις or Aesch. Eum. 111–13 ὁ δ᾽ ἐξαλύξας οἴχεται νεβροῦ δίκην / καὶ ταῦτα κούφως ἐκ μέσων ἀρκυστάτων / ὤρουσε where Clytemnestra describes Orestes’ escaping the ‘hounds of justice’, the Erinyes., κυνῶν ἐφόβησεν ὁμοκλή reinforces the idea of vengeful pursuit on Aietes’ part with the origins of the idea perhaps coming from Aesch. Cho. 1054 ἔγκοτοι κύνες or Eum. 246–7 ὡς κύων νεβρὸν / πρὸς αἷμα καὶ σταλαγμὸν ἐκματεύομεν.
As A. describes Medea’s changes of mood before she finally decides to escape, a range of literary motifs contribute to the power of the writing. Her fear that all has been discovered (14–15 αὐτίκα γὰρ νημερτὲς ὀΐσσατο . . .) must be a reminiscence of Od. 19.390–1 αὐτίκα γὰρ κατὰ θυμὸν ὀΐσατο, μή ἑ λαβοῦσα / οὐλὴν ἀμφράσσαιτο καὶ ἀμφαδὰ ἔργα γένοιτο where another important secret is being revealed: Odysseus is worried that Eurycleia will recognise him from his hunting wound. The use of indirect speech to describe Medea’s fears and the vagueness of the vocabulary (ἀρωγήν and κακότητα at opposite ends of the subordinate clause cover a range of threatening possibilities) maintain the tension. Direct speech is saved for Medea’s farewell (30–3).
ἐν δέ οἱ ὄσσε / πλῆτο πυρός, δεινὸν δὲ περιβρομέεσκον ἀκουαί (16–17) is another example of the way in which A. mixes both heroic and erotic elements throughout his opening psychological investigation of Medea. The lines mix epic and lyric elements, referring both to Sappho (fr. 31.11–2 Voigt: quoted below) and the Homeric battlefield. A warrior’s eyes often blaze with fire. As Hector attempts to burn the Greek ships at Il. 15. 605–8, he is said to rage ὡς ὅτ᾽ Ἄρης ἐγχέσπαλος ἢ ὀλοὸν πῦρ / . . . βαθέης ἐν τάρφεσιν ὕλης / . . . τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε / λαμπέσθην βλοσυρῇσιν ὑπ᾽ ὀφρύσιν in a passage which must echo A.’s description of Medea. In Homer similar references to the eyes (τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε and the like) are followed by a phrase saying that they were either full of fire or full of tears (e.g. Od. 4.704–5 δὴν δέ μιν ἀμφασίη ἐπέων λάβε τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε / δακρυόφι πλῆσθεν). At the beginning of line 17, instead of the expected tear formula, we get the description usually used of warriors. A. is already hinting at unexpected complexities in the character of Medea (‘every lover is also a warrior’) and using subtle manipulation of Homeric phraseology to underline it. The allusion to Sappho fr. 31.10–12 Voigt χρῷ πῦρ ὐπαδεδρόμηκεν, / ὀππάτεσσι δ᾽ οὐδ᾽ ἒν ὄρημμ’, ἐπιρρόμ / βεισι δ᾽ ἄκουαι adds further refinement to A.’s portrayal of Medea’s volatility. Medea’s fear is changing into a desperation close to anger. Realisation of the literary heritage behind this picture deepens the reader’s understanding and appreciation. A. is seeking new ways of describing old sensations, common to the poetry of a range of cultures: the Indian epic Bhagavad Gita (chapter 1.29–30 = Zaehner, R.C. (1969) The Bhagavad-Gītā: With a Commentary based on the Original Sources (Oxford) 117): ‘ . . . My limbs give way (beneath me) / My mouth dries up, and trembling / Takes hold upon my frame: / My body’s hairs stand up (in dread). / (My bow) Gandiva, slips from my hand, / my very skin is all ablaze; / I cannot stand, my mind seems to wander (all distraught)’ shows remarkable similarity to the Sappho passage and A.’s reminiscence of it.
When Medea eventually decides, encouraged by Hera that she must leave her native land and throw herself on the mercy of Jason and the Argonauts, her final farewell is made more dramatic by the weight of literary reference that it carries. The allusions that A. makes throughout to scenes involving other heroines, in similar but different situations to that of Medea, helps to deepen the intensity of the moment and the inherent tension within the narrative. This recognition on the part of the reader perhaps helps to increase the degree of empathy that they may feel for the character whose emotions are illuminated through the use of such references.
This scene is foreshadowed at Arg. 3.635–64. The kiss is one of farewell to her family and the life, symbolised by the bedroom (and its structural elements) that she has known as an unmarried girl. Alcestis, in contrast to Medea, sees her bed as a symbol of her married life, as she prepares to die for her husband; Eur. Alc. 175–7 κἄπειτα θάλαμον ἐσπεσοῦσα καὶ λέχος / ἐνταῦθα δὴ ’δάκρυσε καὶ λέγει τάδε· / ὦ λέκτρον ἔνθα παρθένει᾽ ἔλυσ’ ἐγώ, 183–4 κυνεῖ δὲ προσπίτνουσα, πᾶν δὲ δέμνιον / ὀφθαλμοτέγκτῳ δεύεται πλημμυρίδι.
Medea herself will seek revenge for the sake of her bridal bed (Eur. Med. 999 νυμφιδίων ἔνεκεν λεχέων, 1354 σὺ δ᾽ οὐκ ἔμελλες τἄμ’ ἀτιμάσας λέχη). Deianeira marks Heracles’ abandonment of her by a suicide carried out in a place that epitomises her married life: Soph. Trach. 920–1 ὦ λέχη τε καὶ νυμφεῖ᾽ ἐμά, / τὸ λοιπὸν ἤδη χαίρεθ᾽, (~ 4.32 χαίροις), ὡς ἔμ’ οὔποτε δέξεσθ᾽ ἔτ᾽ ἐν κοίταισι ταῖσδ᾽ εὐνάτριαν. Jocasta similarly carries out her suicide in her bedroom: OT 1241–3 παρῆλθ᾽ ἔσω / θυρῶνος, ἵετ᾽ εὐθὺς ἐς τὰ νυμφικὰ / λέχη, κόμην σπῶσ᾽ ἀμφιδεξίοις ἀκμαῖς (~ 4.28 ῥηξαμένη πλόκαμον). Finally Virgil exploited these same associations when he makes Dido sees her bed as epitomising the marriage that she thought she had: Aen. 4.650 incubuitque toro dixitque novissima verba. The common context is the importance of the thalamos in a woman’s life.