by Aristophanes
On ball bearings . . .
There!
Am I not good at it?
XANTHIAS: Absolutely not. You’re mentally unfit.
LOVECLEON: So you say! But I’ll issue a challenge.
Let any tragic actor who thinks he can manage
to dance step up here and dance against me.
Any takers? . . . No?
[SONS OF CARCINUS appear: a brotherly group of three squat and swarthy young men—all professional dancers. CARCINUS himself stands in the background.]
XANTHIAS: What about that one there?
LOVECLEON: Who’s the poor devil?
XANTHIAS: Carcinus’ middle son.
LOVECLEON: What, that? I’ll eat him alive,
annihilate him with a knuckle.
Rhythmically he’s nowhere.
XANTHIAS: Ah! I see another lumpkin arrive,
another Carcinus boy, his brother.
LOVECLEON: My God, what a feast!
XANTHIAS: Not in the least!
All you’ve got is three crabs, because
here comes the third son of Carcinus.
LOVECLEON: Crawling towards us,
a scorpion, is it, or a spider?
XANTHIAS: No, the family hermit crab,378
the runt of the litter.
LOVECLEON: Greeting, Carcinus!
Congratulations on your fab
set of sons! So like a set of testic—ahem—wrens.379
[LOVECLEON descends from the acting platform to the dance floor—orchestra—while XANTHIAS goes into the house.]
CHORUS: Come, you illustrious offsprings
of a briny sailor,380
Prance on the sandy shore
with your brothers the prawns.
Fleetly swing your foot in a ring,
high kick it now
With the Phrynichian toe
high in the air
And the audience will declare:
“Oh wow!”
Swivel and twist, go slapping your belly,
Kick up your hocks as high as the sky;
For the master father of the deep‡
Himself comes squirming to the fore
In raptures over his progeny:
The three thrice-balled Carcinus jocks.§
So dance us out of this orchestra, please,
And on the dot, for this has not
Ever been done before:
To dance a comic chorus out.
PEACE
Peace was first produced at the city Dionysia in
March 421 B.C., where it won second prize. Aristophanes would have been about twenty-seven.
THEME
After a twenty-seven-year war between Athens and Sparta, there seems to be a hope of peace and Aristophanes will do all he can to promote it. Negotiations have already begun but their progress is fragile. Each side must recognize that the terms of peace should be considered in a spirit of cooperation and the willingness to make concessions. Either we live in amity or we perish. War spells suffering and dearth, peace fruitfulness and plenty.
CHARACTERS
FIRST SERVANT, of Trygaeus
SECOND SERVANT, of Trygaeus
TRYGAEUS, a countryman of Athmonum, near Athens
FIRST DAUGHTER, of Trygaeus
SECOND DAUGHTER, of Trygaeus
HERMES, messenger god
WAR, Ares
RIOT, servant of War
HIEROCLES, a soothsayer
SICKLE SELLER
HELMET SELLER
BREASTPLATE SELLER
BUGLE SELLER
SPEAR SELLER
FIRST BOY, son of Lamachus
SECOND BOY, son of Cleonymus
CHORUS, of Attic farmers
SILENT PARTS
BEETLE
PEACE, a statue
CORNUCOPIA, horn of plenty serving Peace
FESTIVAL, friend of Peace
POTTER
THE STORY
The two worst warmongers have been killed in battle: Cleon the Athenian demagogue and Brassidas the Spartan commander in chief. Trygaeus, sick of war, flies to Olympus on a dung beetle to ask Zeus what he is doing about the conflict. But Zeus has washed his hands of humanity and is allowing the monster War (who has buried Peace in a cave) to have free rein. While War goes off to make a new pestle to hammer Greece with, Trygaeus and the Chorus seize the chance to excavate Peace, to the consternation of the warmongers and the rejoicing of all others.
OBSERVATIONS
As in all of Aristophanes’ plays, it is well to remember that they are written in verse and that music and dance paralleled the words. One would not be far wrong, as I have said, in regarding his comedies as musical revues.
Peace, though less pungent than his other comedies, and never strident, has a charm of its own: as fertile as ever in imagination, brilliant in its choral writing, and quite naughty in its naked coupling of war, politics, and deprivation with piss and shit, in joyous contrast to the sights and smells and plenitude of peace, with a blooming countryside, good sex in an honest bed, and good food and wine on the table.
TIME AND SETTING
It is early in the day outside TRYGAEUS’ house near Athens, where SECOND SERVANT sits by a tub of dung, from which he takes handfuls and pats them into small cakes. FIRST SERVANT comes running out from a shed next to the house.
FIRST SERVANT: Quick, quick—a bun for the Beetle!
SECOND SERVANT: ’ere y’are! Give it to the ugly thing.
I ’ope it never chomps on a daintier titbit.
[FIRST SERVANT hurries into the shed with the dung cake and immediately comes out again.]
FIRST SERVANT: Another bun quick—donkey shit’ll do.
SECOND SERVANT: There y’are—another!
But what ’appened to the first one? ’e can’t ’ave guzzled it.
FIRST SERVANT: Guzzled it? ’e grabbed it, nuzzled it around,
and wolfed it ’ole. . . . So quick
knead a pile of ’em—nice thick ’uns.
[hurries into the shed with a bun and immediately comes out again]
Another, gimme another!
Best from a pansy boy, ’e says, cuz that’s kneaded proper.
[As FIRST SERVANT goes back to the shed, SECOND SERVANT turns to the audience.]
SECOND SERVANT: Be sure of this, my buddies:
you won’t catch me eating what I knead.
FIRST SERVANT: [returning] Oh brother! Another bun and another . . .
keep ’em coming!
SECOND SERVANT: Not me! You can tell Apollo! I can’t take this crud any longer.
FIRST SERVANT: Okeydoke! I’ll shift the ’ole muck pile inside.
[He carries the tub into the shed.]
SECOND SERVANT: To ’ell with the lot, and you, too!
[to the audience]
Can any of yer tell me
where I can buy a nose with no ’oles in it,
cuz there ain’t nothing more disgusting
than making dinner for a damn beetle.
A ’og or a ’ound
just pounces on whatever drops, and gobbles,
but this ’ere stuck-up thing won’t look at anything
I’ve not spent the ’ole day mashin’ an’ pattin’
into a ball fit for a queen.
I’ll open the door a chink so’s not to be spotted,
and take a peek—see if it’s finished its dinner.
[He opens the shed door and squints inside.]
Go on, guzzle your guts out, you greedy thing!
The way that freak puts it away!
’e’s like a wrestler, crouching,
working ’is grinders back and forth
an’ all the time weaving ’is ’ead from side to side,
an’ ’is ’ands, too—
like ’e was plaiting a ship’s ’awser.
FIRST SERVANT: [emerging from the shed]
That darn creature’s a foul, voracious stinkpot.
I can’t think
what divinity’s sent it:
not Aphrodite, I don’t suppose,
and not the Graces neither.
SECOND SERVANT: Then oo’s it from?
FIRST SERVANT: This creep? Most likely one of Zeus’s thunder craps.
SECOND SERVANT: Any’ow, I expect some young smart-arse
in the audience is saying: “What’s ’appening?
What’s it with the beetle?”
FIRST SERVANT: You’re right, an’ the bloke sitting next to ’im,
some Ionian, says, “In moi opinyon ’es getting at Cleon,381
’oo openly eats neat shit.”
But I’m off to give the beetle a drink.
[He goes into the shed.]
SECOND SERVANT: Meanwhile, let me explain matters
to you children ’ere, and to you fellas and you men. . . .
Oh an’ to you supergeniuses—you especially.
My master’s off ’is rocker, ay, in a funny way—
not the same as yourn but peculiar just the same.
All day he gawps at the sky, like this, shouting at Zeus.
“Hey, Zeus,” ’e says, “what yer going to do?
Chuck out that broom. Don’t sweep Greece away.”
’ey, but what’s that?
Quiet! I think I hear a voice. [runs off ]
TRYGAEUS: [ from inside the shed]
Zeus, what d’you think you’re doing to our people?
Before you know it, you’ll have sucked our cities dry.
SECOND SERVANT: [returning]
Ay, that’s the problem I was talking about,
and now you’re getting a direct earful of ’is balminess.
I’ll tell you what ’e said
when the frenzy first struck ’im.
’e kept on muttering:
“ ’ow can I get meself to Zeus?”
Then ’e gets some flimsy ladders made
to scramble up to ’eaven on.
Of course ’e comes a right cropper
and cracks ’is noodle.
Then yesterday, off he goes—God knows where—
and comes ’ome with a ruddy great Etna beetle;
an’ ’e makes me be its groom,
while ’e ’isself strokes it like a bloomin’ pony, saying:
“My pet, wee Pegasus,382 my flying Thoroughbred,
you’ve gotta ’oist me up and whisk me off to Zeus.”
But I’ll ’ave a peek inside
and see what ’e’s up to.
[He goes over to the shed.]
Wow! No! . . . Neighbors come ’ere quick:
me master’s off the ground—
’e’s zooming into the air on the beetle’s back.
[TRYGAEUS appears, mounted on the BEETLE and hovering above the shed.]
TRYGAEUS:
Steady there, steady there, gently, horsey,
Not so frisky right from the start,
Full as you are of your pent-up prowess.
Wait till you sweat a bit, limber your limbs
Till your wings take over. And please stop blowing
Your stinking breath in my face. If you don’t,
You can darn well stay right here in our house.
SECOND SERVANT: Forgive me, lord and master, but yer cracked.
TRYGAEUS: Quiet with you! Quiet!
SECOND SERVANT: But what’s the point of yer hovering there?
TRYGAEUS: I’m hovering here for all of Hellas,
Off on a real original quest.
SECOND SERVANT:
And flying for what? Pie in the sky?
TRYGAEUS: Say something more sensible. Instead of this twaddle cheer me on.
The human race should bate its breath.
Wall up the privies and sewers with bricks.
Fasten a padlock on every bottom.
SECOND SERVANT: I’ll not shut up until yer tell me where yer flying off to.
TRYGAEUS: Where else but to Zeus in heaven.
SECOND SERVANT: What for?
TRYGAEUS: To question him about the Greeks, the lot,
and what he’s doing with them.
SECOND SERVANT: And if ’e won’t tell yer?
TRYGAEUS: I’ll take him to court
for betraying Hellas to the Persians.383
SECOND SERVANT: By Bacchus, yer won’t:
not over my dead body.
TRYGAEUS: There’s no other way.
SECOND SERVANT: [calling into the house and weeping]
Boohoo! Boohoo! Poor kiddies!
Yer father’s upped it and gone,
slipped off to heaven and left you alone.
[FIRST DAUGHTER and SECOND DAUGHTER of TRYGAEUS emerge from the house.]
FIRST DAUGHTER:
Daddy, oh Daddy, can it be true,
A story like this upsetting our home,
Leaving us here and going with the birds,
Sailing off on the breeze, off to the crows?
Can this be true? Oh tell me, Daddy,
If you love us at all.
TRYGAEUS: Girls, it looks like it’s true, and it’s true, too,
That upset though I am
When you call me dear Daddy and ask me for bread
And there’s not so much in the house as a crumb,
If I can come back triumphant from heaven
You’ll soon be enjoying a great big bun
Covered in jam.
SECOND DAUGHTER: But how will you get there? A ship’s no use.
TRYGAEUS: On a winged steed. I won’t go by sea.
FIRST DAUGHTER: But, Daddykins, what on earth is the point
of riding to heaven on a harnessed bug?
TRYGAEUS: According to Aesop, a tumblebug was the only thing
that ever got to heaven on the wing.384
SECOND DAUGHTER: Daddy, oh Daddy, it can’t be true
that a horrible thing like that reached the gods.
TRYGAEUS: Long, long ago, in revenge, a beetle set to best
an eagle and rolled its eggs right out of the nest.385
SECOND DAUGHTER: It would have been better
to have harnessed a winged Pegasus.
That would have struck a grander tragic note.
TRYGAEUS: But then, my girl, I’d have needed double rations.
This way what I eat does for two.
FIRST DAUGHTER: But what if it crashes into the wet, watery sea?
Winged though it is, how will it struggle free?
TRYGAEUS: [wagging his costume phallus]
In that case I’ve brought along an oar.
My ship will be a Naxion beetle boat.
FIRST DAUGHTER: And what port will you hobble into?
TRYGAEUS: Beetle Bay, of course, in the Piraeus.
SECOND DAUGHTER: Take care you don’t fall off that thing
and become a lame duck for Euripides to write a tragedy
about.
TRYGAEUS: I’ll bear it in mind. . . . Goodbye! Goodbye!
[Straddling the BEETLE with a riding crop held aloft, he addresses the audience.]
As for the rest of you for whom I’m doing this thing,
you mustn’t fart or shit for at least three days.
I don’t want the beetle on the wing
picking up the pong, or he’ll toss me headlong
and go swooping down to graze.
So giddyup, Pegasus, sprightly and on
With your tinkle of golden bridle and bit386
And both your ears so pertly pricked.
[He whips up the BEETLE and begins to ascend, as his daughters and servants gaze upwards.]
But now what’s got into you, what?
What are you training your nostrils on?
Not on the sewers? Zoom from the earth.
Open the beetle power of your wings
And yank the direction of your nose
From mortal fodder and man’s refuse
And head straight for the halls of Zeus.
[gazing down from the air]
Hey, man! What are you doing
Shitting away down in Piraeus
Among the brothels? You’ll do me in.
Yes, do me in. Cover it up.
Scatter plenty of dirt on top.
Plant some thyme and sprinkle scent
Because if I fall and come to grief
The state of Chios387 will get a brief
And be fined
Five talents for my demise—
All because of my behind.
[The scene shifters start making the change from the BEETLE’s flight to the BEETLE’s arrival on Zeus’s doorstep.]
Hey there, have a heart! This isn’t funny.
Stagehands, pay attention.
I’m feeling a breeze about my tummy.
With the slightest aberration
I’ll be the beetle’s yummy
Dinner,
But now I think I’m near
The gods’ abode. . . . Ah yes! I see
The house of Zeus down there.
[BEETLE lands on the other side of the stage, showing Zeus’s house and also the entrance to a cave. TRYGAEUS dismounts, knocks on the door, and waits.]
Hey, Zeus’s doorman—why don’t you open?
[HERMES appears in the doorway.]
HERMES: [drawling] Do I detect a mortal? . . . [seeing the BEETLE]
Hell’s bells and Heracles—what do we have here?
TRYGAEUS: A horsefly.
HERMES: [staring at the BEETLE]
You disgusting shameless repulsive thing!
Scum scumier scumiest scum!