Lysistrata (12 page)

L
YSISTRATA WAS
radiant. She had bathed and scented herself with perfumes and unguents and had put on a purple robe. Her hair was bound about her head in thick, bright braids.

“Lysistrata,” said Nausica, “you are at this moment as beautiful as any woman I have ever seen, and I doubt that Helen herself, in spite of all the claims made for her by Homer, was any more beautiful.”

“I agree,” said Calonice, “and this leads me to wonder if it is quite safe for you to venture among all these men, considering their condition after such long deprivation.”

“I am grateful for your compliments,” said Lysistrata, “and also for your concern. However, although I admit a slight danger, it is necessary for me to go and speak to the embassies which are now gathered in the Propylaea and waiting for me. They made the condition, you know, that I should appear and give their negotiations a direction. We cannot afford to jeopardize the final phase of our victory by an excessive concern for the safety of our virtue.”

“Yes,” Nausica said, “you must certainly go in spite of the danger, Lysistrata, for it has been established that Spartans and Athenians can never get together without a quarrel, and they would never accomplish anything without your assistance. If it will make you feel more secure, however, I’ll be happy to accompany you with my stick.”

“I don’t think so. You have acquired a reputation for ferocity that would not be beneficial in a peace conference, and might even work to the contrary of what we want.”

“I suppose that is so,” said Nausica. “I can see that I have nearly outlived my usefulness.”

“As for me,” said Calonice, “I still find difficulty in believing that we have brought it off. Do you suppose they will actually reach agreement on terms?”

“They will either reach agreement,” said Lysistrata, “or they will be sorry. Not, of course, that they will not quibble and fuss, for that is the nature of men, especially men who have become famous and are charged with affairs of state. But we must allow them their pretensions, which are essential to their vanity, and I am sure that it can be arranged so that each party will imagine that it has rooked the other. And now it is necessary that I go without further delay, for if I leave them waiting too long together in their present urgency, they may begin making use of each other and discover at the last moment that we are not so essential as they have been led to believe. That, you will admit, would be disastrous to our cause.”

“If you have no objection,” said Nausica, “we will walk to the Five Gates with you.”

“On the contrary,” said Lysistrata, “I shall be delighted with your company, and I tell you frankly that there is one aspect of peace which I do not anticipate with pleasure, and that is the termination of the fine fellowship we have developed under arms.”

“To tell the truth,” said Nausica sadly, “our stations will be reduced in a number of ways by the peace. I suppose, since the fable of masculine dominance is essential to a tolerable life at home, that I will have to give up threshing Cadmus with my stick.”

“Perhaps not entirely,” said Calonice. “You could thresh him with discretion in emergencies, I should think.”

“Do you really think so? It might be managed at that, now that I consider it. Anyhow, to be perfectly honest about it, I have been missing old Cadmus lately, and I’ll not deny it. I have it in mind to consider the signing of the peace a special occasion, which is the only time, if you will recall, that I am inclined to accommodate him.”

“For my part,” said Calonice, “I do not require anything special, and I wish Acron were here this instant instead of in Pylos.”

“Never mind, Calonice,” said Lysistrata. “He will be here soon enough after the peace is signed, as will Lycon, and it will not be necessary to endure prolonged abstinence in the future.”

While talking, they had been walking together toward a gate, and now, having reached it, Calonice and Nausica wished Lysistrata good luck in the negotiations and stood aside as she passed on through the gate alone. On the other side, Lysistrata faced the peace parties that had gathered among the Ionic columns, and she was pleased and gratified by the expressions on the faces turned toward her. When she had approached and taken her position, an Athenian stepped forward from his party and spoke.

“Lysistrata,” he said, “here are assembled, as you can easily see, some of the foremost men of Greece, and we have come to consider a treaty of peace, and we will have no one but you to guide our deliberations. This is most unusual, you being a woman, and it may set a precedent we will later regret.”

“It is true that I am a woman,” said Lysistrata, “and I can see that you are now exceptionally conscious of it, but I think it has been established that I am not, for that reason, to be discounted as a person, and on the contrary I have demonstrated clearly that I, as well as my companions, am much more clever than was previously acknowledged, and have, moreover, accomplished things which were not thought possible. Nor am I ignorant and untaught, having sat at the feet of my father and learned the wise precepts of the elders, and I remember from childhood the stories of great victories and common shrines where Greeks supported each other in the defeat of common enemies. It is a shame that you have forgotten the heritage which we all share, and have for many years devoted yourselves to the neglect of your homes and wives and the making of widows and orphans, and all the while, if you will be so sensible as to consider it, the barbarians to the north have been preparing to destroy us entirely, which may be unnecessary, after all, if we do not immediately refrain from destroying each other.

“Spartans, have you forgotten how Pericleidas, your countryman, came to ask for help when you were threatened by rebellious helots and angry Messenians? At that time, please remember, Cimon of Athens marched with four thousand hoplites to save you, and for this you have shown your gratitude by the systematic invasion and ravishing of Attica since the time of Pericles.

“Athenians, do not think that I consider you innocent in this foolishness just because I have chosen to speak directly to the Spartans first. Nothing could be farther from the truth, and I would like to remind you this instant how Spartan fought beside Athenian in the recovery of our freedom from the Thessalians, and the truth is, as we all know, nothing would have been won without Spartan spears.”

Having said all she cared to say at the moment, Lysistrata stopped speaking and waited for a response, and the spokesman for the Spartans stepped forward at once.

“This is all true enough,” he said, “and we will not deny that Athens on occasion has done us a good turn. On the other hand, it must be acknowledged that she has also on occasion done us a bad turn. In my judgment, it is as proper to remember the one as the other, and we are not inclined to assume an amicability that would make us vulnerable to deceit and deprive us of what is justly ours.”

“What do you mean?” said Lysistrata. “I would appreciate it if you would be a little more specific.”

“We want Pylos,” said the spokesman, “and that’s as specific as it is possible to be.”

Lysistrata turned to the Athenians, speaking to the man who had spoken first to her.

“What do you say to the return of Pylos?”

“I say that we are determined not to give it up. It was taken honorably by Demosthenes and Cleon the Tanner, and is considered essential to our welfare, and we have not forgotten, furthermore, that the Spartans were especially obstinate about giving it up at the time, and have been ever since.”

“Kindly do not be as obstinate as you have accused the Spartans of being. It is necessary to give and take in these matters if we are to reach an understanding.

Think, like sensible men, in terms of compensation. Conceding Pylos, what would be acceptable in return?”

“Echinus, at least, and the long walls known as the Megarean Legs.”

“I can see,” said the Spartan, “that the Athenians are as deceptive as ever, and do not really wish to come to terms, for they would not, if they did, make such ridiculous conditions.”

“As for me,” said Lysistrata, “I see nothing ridiculous at all in the exchange. Pylos for Echinus and the Megarean Legs, and peace for everyone.”

“You are not informed as to the relative values of such places,” said the Spartan. “That is perfectly evident.”

“Well,” said Lysistrata, “I may not be informed as to the relative values of this and that, but nevertheless I do not propose to countenance the interminable bickering over trifles that has gone on among informed men for two decades and has accomplished nothing. I tell you directly that Athens will have the Megarean Legs in return for Pylos, or you will all continue to be deprived of legs of another variety, and you can take my word for it.”

“Since you put it that way,” said the Spartan, “we are compelled to accept the exchange. This being our major difference, which is now settled, I suggest that we draw up the rest of the terms without delay so that we can get on with the celebration that is traditionally a part of such happy occasions.”

“Now you are truly being sensible,” said Lysistrata. “A celebration would be a pleasure to everyone, there is no question about that, and while you are completing the details of the treaty, which certainly do not require my personal attention, I shall go inside the Acropolis and see to the preparation of a feast, to which you are all invited. Afterward, each man may take his wife home, if she is here, or go at once to claim her, wherever she is.”

Turning, she went back through the gate into the Acropolis, and she wished very much that Lycon were available so that the celebration might be completed in her own case in an appropriate and pleasurable manner.

I
T WAS
quite late by the time Lycon and Acron reached the marketplace. All the way there they had found the streets of the city especially lively with dancing and merry-making and various degrees of roistering, and the marketplace itself was even livelier than the streets. As a matter of fact, everyone seemed to have lost his normal inhibitions to a great extent, and this was not unusual on festive occasions, but Lycon could not for the life of him recall what occasion this was.

“Acron,” he said, “it is perfectly apparent that something is being celebrated, and I wonder what it is.”

“So do I,” said Acron. “I don’t like to show my ignorance in such matters, but I think I’ll ask one of these happy fellows.”

“In my opinion, it would be justified. Here, coming toward us, is an old gentleman who has drunk far more wine than will be good for him in the morning. Perhaps he can tell us what is going on.”

The old man came dancing up and was stopped, and he leaned forward and cupped a hand behind his near ear in order to hear what was asked of him, and then, having heard, he straightened into as erect a position as his bent bones would permit and stared at Lycon and Acron with an expression of complete incredulity.

“Do you mean to say,” he asked finally, “that you have not heard?”

“We have just come from Pylos,” said Lycon, “and it is apparent that we have heard nothing about anything, or we would not now be wasting time in asking. Be so good as to tell us clearly what has happened to cause these festivities.”

“Why,” said the old roisterer, “peace has happened, that’s what. Lysistrata, wife of Lycon, a woman as remarkable as any in the history of Hellas, has compelled Athens and Sparta to come to terms. This very day the treaty was signed, and tonight in the Acropolis the victorious women sat down to a feast with all the parties to it. In the meanwhile, the good word was spread abroad, and this accounts for the liveliness of our public places. This is news to fill one with great satisfaction, is it not, my good fellows?”

“Well,” said Acron, “it may be, and it may not be, for owing to our particular connection with it, it is something that will have to be determined.”

The old man obviously did not understand a word of this, for he only cackled shrilly and nodded his head vigorously several times and went dancing away.

“They have accomplished it, Acron,” he said. “Incredible as it may seem, it cannot be denied. Whereas we were faced previously with terrifying alternatives, we are faced now with terrifying certainty.”

“Is that an improvement, do you think, or otherwise?”

“I don’t know. At least we are relieved of the discomfort of speculation.”

“Do you think we should walk up to the Acropolis and see if anything is still going on?”

“Not I. I have no confidence at all that I am wanted up there. What I intend to do is go home, which is all that I have the heart for, and I am by no means certain that I am wanted there, either.”

“Perhaps you are being too pessimistic, Lycon. It may be that things will return to normal, eventually if not immediately, and it is entirely possible that we may be respected again by our wives, and even accommodated.”

“It’s agreeable to think so,” said Lycon, “but I have no faith in it.”

“I do wish you would make a special effort not to be so gloomy, Lycon. I am trying to be an optimist and look on the bright side of things, and you seem determined to make it as difficult as possible.”

“I’m sorry if I depress you, but I am in no mood to pretend to a cheerfulness I do not feel. I simply haven’t the strength for it. In order to avoid depressing you further, however, I’ll leave you at once and go home as I said I would. Possibly you can find more congenial companions among these maniacs who are dancing and shrieking and drinking wine in the streets.”

“You needn’t be so touchy, Lycon. I have suffered as much in this as you have.”

“In that case, it would be foolish for us to add to the suffering of each other. Good-night, Acron. No doubt I’ll be seeing you soon at the market. I may be spending most of my time here in the future.”

“Good-night, Lycon. I’d walk along a little farther with you, but I feel inclined to hang around here for a while to see if anything exciting develops.”

Leaving Acron in the marketplace, Lycon walked alone through the streets to his house. He went directly to his chambers and sat for a while in darkness, thinking about what had happened and was likely to happen, and he became more and more dejected and certain that nothing would ever be acceptable again, and after a long time he decided that he might feel a little better if he had a bath. Getting up, he stripped and went out to the paved bathroom and filled the basin and bathed, but as a consequence he did not feel any better after all. Back in his room, he wondered if he should go get some wine and fill a bowl and drink it by himself, but this did not seem like a particularly good idea, or anything that he really wanted to do. Then, all of a sudden, he felt a compulsion to go to Lysistrata’s room and sit for a while on a bench there. So he went down the passage and into the room, and to his surprise the flat terra-cotta lamp was burning brightly beside the bed, and in the bed was Lysistrata in a transparent purple gown, and she was looking at him quite pleasantly, and even with a kind of eagerness.

“Hello, Lycon,” she said. “Theoris has been to tell me that you had arrived. I did not expect you home from Pylos for quite some time.”

“I simply came back,” he said. “I was made to feel miserable by my fellows and could not stand it any longer.”

“At any rate, I am happy to see you.”

“Are you? Somehow I felt that you might not be.”

“Whatever could possibly give you such an absurd idea?”

“Well, you were not happy to see me the last time I came home, and besides, you are now famous for having accomplished exceptional things and might not wish to devote yourself to a simple fellow like me who has done little or nothing to excite admiration. Do you know what I was told? I was told tonight by an old rogue in the marketplace that you are one of the most remarkable women in the history of Hellas.”

“Oh, well. You must not be excessively influenced by the opinions of others, no matter how correct they may be.”

“I understand you had a feast in the Acropolis to celebrate the peace.”

“Yes, we did. It was required as a courtesy to the embassies.”

“I suppose it is unnecessary to ask if you enjoyed yourself.”

“It was quite entertaining for a while, besides being satisfying as a symbol of our victory, but later it became dull.”

“It is a quality of exceptional people, I understand, to become bored with what they are doing and wish to be doing something a little more exceptional. If I am allowed to ask, now that you are famous, what do you intend doing next?”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

“To me? I don’t understand, I’m sure. Would you mind explaining?”

“Well, in the natural order of things, I must do almost immediately whatever I do next, and it might be to eat a grape, or paint my toes, or go to sleep, or do something else of your choosing.”

Lycon, having been made somewhat timid by misfortune, was hesitant to understand this as he was clearly meant to. Such an abrupt reversal of an established attitude was rather confusing and suspicious, to say the least, and he was naturally reluctant to expose himself to further humiliation and rejection after having suffered them sufficiently. On the other hand, things could hardly become any worse, whereas they could certainly become a great deal better, and he decided that it would be no less than cowardly if he failed to assert himself in the hope of achieving something.

“Lysistrata,” he said, stepping close to the bed,” I have asked you and asked you to make ready, and you have refused to do it, and now I am asking you again, and it will surely be the last time if you do not do it.”

“Why, it is entirely unnecessary for you to be so aggressive about it,” Lysistrata said. “Not only am I prepared to do my clear duty as a wife, I am even prepared to take pleasure in it.”