Lysistrata
Page 7
“You persist in lying, I see. The Mistress is sound asleep in her bed.”
“On the contrary, she is wide awake. In fact, she is at this moment bathing, and I have been sent in the meanwhile to bring bread and wine for her breakfast.”
“Why should she have breakfast so early? When you trifle with the truth, you should at least make your stories reasonable.”
“I concede that you are fully qualified to instruct me in the art of lying, for you are known to everyone as the most accomplished liar alive. You have become so used to lies, however, that you have lost the capacity to recognize the truth when you hear it.”
“You still haven’t told me why the Mistress should breakfast so early.”
“Because she is going out on an important mission, that’s why.”
“Indeed! And I suppose she always confides in you concerning matters of importance?”
“Yes, she does. We are really quite intimate, as I have told you, and I am allowed to know what is going on.”
“Pardon me, please. I didn’t dream that you were of such tremendous importance around here.”
“You would do well to learn it and remember it the next time you are inclined to molest me.”
By this time, Theoris had inched her way to the bread. Helping herself, she moved with more boldness to the supply of wine, from which she also helped herself. She then moved toward the door with an exaggerated swaying of her slender hips. The cook, plainly uncertain as to the truth of her story, but strongly inclined to believe that she was brazenly taking the bread and wine for her own use, watched her for a minute in indecision. Then, regaining his assurance a fraction of a second too late, he made a powerful swipe at her behind that would certainly have knocked her sprawling if it had landed. With a skip and a squeal, holding tightly to the bread and wine, Theoris reached the door. Turning, she spat in the direction of the cook and then scurried back through the court to Lysistrata’s room.
Lysistrata had already returned from her bath and was clothed in the white peplos. She looked at Theoris curiously.
“Why are you breathing so hard?” she said. “Have you been running?”
“I know you wish to be about your business, so I hurried.”
“On the contrary, it seems to me that you took an unconscionable time.”
“I’m truly sorry, Mistress. I had to convince the cook, who was already in the kitchen, that I was not stealing the bread and wine for myself.”
“Well, no matter. In order to save time, I’ll eat while you are braiding my hair. Will that disturb you?”
“No, Mistress.”
While Lysistrata ate sparingly of bread dipped in wine, for she was far too excited to have an appetite, Theoris deftly braided her hair and bound the heavy braids around her head. After Theoris was finished, Lysistrata stood up and drew her heavy cloak about her shoulders.
“Now I must leave,” she said. “How long I shall be gone is impossible to predict. Theoris, my good companion as well as my slave, I charge you to look after my affairs until I return. And please don’t produce any tears, for they are not required. Do you think you can handle things competently?”
“I can handle everything, Mistress, except possibly the cook. I am not sure of the cook.”
“It’s true that he’s a sullen and insolent fellow, besides being a natural liar. I often find him difficult to handle myself. I advise you to stay out of the kitchen as much as possible, which is usually my own policy except in cases of strict necessity.”
“I shall do as you advise, I assure you, for he is in fact extremely naughty, as well as being the other things you mentioned.”
“Oh, well, naughtiness often lends a little interest to things if it is controlled properly. Good-by, Theoris.”
“Good-by, Mistress, and good luck.”
Turning away, Lysistrata went out through the rear garden into the street. Theoris sat down and began to finish the bread and wine that her mistress had left. She wondered how far the cook was likely to go in response to her baiting, and more important than that, how far she was willing for him to go.
11
THE AIR in the streets was chill. Holding her cloak about her, Lysistrata walked swiftly in the direction of the Acropolis, sustained by a rising sense of exhilaration. In the distance ahead of her, touched by a flickering of thin light, a Scythian policeman, armed with bow and arrows, crossed the street on his vigilant patrol. Reaching her through darkness from another street, there came the heavy rumbling of a wooden cart, a farmer of Attica on his way to market.
In the center of the city, a vital organ that Lysistrata could feel but not see, the slumbering marketplace seemed to send out through the streets, which were its arteries, the slow and rhythmic beat of its powerful pulse. Lysistrata felt the pulse as a supplement to her own, throbbing in her wrists and temples and breast. In her heart she felt the breath of Athens, in her flesh and bones its restless stirring before waking. It was very exciting to be abroad in the streets, a part of activity that was all too restricted in the dull days of respectable wives. Respectability was, in fact, an honorable estate in which she shared reluctantly. She did not wish to be a man, since this would entail the loss of advantages she now possessed, but she wished often for a man’s freedom, or even the relative freedom of the hetairai or the flower girls of the market, who were permitted to be in the thick of things. In the old days, she knew, the women of Athens had been allowed to move about and play a part in affairs, and they had then exerted an influence which had since been lost. Manners and customs had changed, as they do in time, and the modern wife was expected to remain circumspectly hidden within the walls of her house, which was, in Lysistrata’s judgment, dull business indeed.
Reaching at last the hill of the Acropolis, a rocky projection rising five hundred feet above the plain of Athens, she began to ascend the zig-zag terraced path to the summit. She paused at intervals to rest, but even so she was breathing hard from the climb when it was finished, and her breath was taken even more, as it always was, by the beauty of the Propylaea, which had been begun in the time of Pericles a quarter of a century before. Above her rose the six Doric columns of the portico, and beyond the portico, still filled with shadows of night in the final short while before dawn, was the great entrance hall itself, divided into three aisles by rows of Ionic columns. At the far end of the hall was the wall of five gates, beyond which was another portico identical to this, and from which one might look across the Acropolis and see enough of beauty in one small space to last for life and light a world. There stood the serene Parthenon, raised to the glory of the patron goddess of Athens. There stood the Erechtheum of ineffable grace. There stood the giant image of Athene Promachos, lifting her head almost fifty feet above the crest to stare eternally out to sea. There stood, in temple and shrine and image of deity, the best art of Athens. And it was almost beyond credence, Lysistrata thought, that the men who fostered it and loved it and paid for it could be capable at the same time of behaving perpetually like imbeciles.
After reaching the crest, Lysistrata had scarcely caught her breath before she heard her name called clearly. A moment later Nausica came out of the shadows of the Propylaea. She hurried down the broad flight of stairs with her elbows threshing at her sides as if the thinning darkness were a material resistance through which she had to beat her way. As she came near, it was evident that she was quite exuberant.
“There you are, Lysistrata,” she said. “I have been waiting and waiting for you, and I have been positively on the verge of prostration for fear something had occurred to upset our plans.”
“Not at all, Nausica. At least, not to my knowledge. You are up and about your duties early enough, I must say. And that is more than I can say for those who are pledged to meet me here for council. It’s simply disgusting, that’s what it is. If they had been called out to celebrate a festival, they would be cavorting and displaying themselves in all the streets by this time. As it is, they are probably ly
ing sluggishly in bed.”
“Perhaps you do them an injustice. After all, it is not a simple matter to get promptly away from home, especially if one has a suspicious husband to evade or children to provide for.”
“Such considerations must be temporarily set aside. As for husbands, Nausica, you have set a remarkably clear example for how that problem can be handled.”
“Oh, well, I simply beat Cadmus with a stick as the need arises. It is not to be expected that every woman can handle the matter so directly.”
“Nevertheless, it is plainly the duty of each of us to tolerate no interference. Strict adherence to the cause is required, Nausica, if we are to accomplish our objective, and it is obvious that we must watch diligently for weakness and signs of defection. Where are the women you are to lead against the old men of the Acropolis?”
“Inside.”
“What! Inside, did you say?”
“That’s what I’ve come to report, Lysistrata. The Acropolis is in our hands, and has been so for a full quarter of an hour.”
“So quickly and so easily? Nausica, you are an absolute genius. You must tell me this instant how you accomplished it.”
“Well, I gathered my troops early, all armed with stout sticks which we concealed under our cloaks. Without waiting for a pair of laggards who did not appear, we approached the gate and gained admission on the pretext of having come to offer sacrifices. Once inside, we had in practically no time at all assumed complete authority.”
“Didn’t the old men resist?”
“Not even enough to make it interesting. I had hoped for a little more action, to tell the truth. Oh, they howled and cried and called us the dirtiest kinds of names, but this did not deter us in the least, and only gave us an excuse for beating them with the sticks, which we enjoyed immensely. One ugly old fellow actually lost his chiton and ran away as naked as an eel. Anyhow, they have all been expelled and have no doubt gone for reinforcements.”
“Do you expect an attack?”
“Undoubtedly there will be an attempt to drive us out. I am looking forward to it with great pleasure.”
“What a stalwart you are, Nausica! I might even say a little bloodthirsty. I can see that I have made no mistake in assigning you critical responsibilities. Are you preparing the defense of our position?”
“Certainly. My troops even now are engaged in boiling many pots of water on fires we have built among the shrines. The old men will get a blistering reception when they come, never fear about that.”
“Good. You are loyal and competent beyond all my expectations, Nausica, and I apologize for thinking in the beginning that you might be somewhat erratic and unreliable.”
“That’s all right. I am frequently misjudged in the beginning. When are the envoys due to arrive?”
“They are due now, at this moment, and if they don’t get here soon, it will be completely light, and our situation will become precarious. It’s simply intolerable that they are so tardy.”
“Did everyone contacted agree to come?”
“Everyone. From all the cities and states with which Athens has been at odds so long in this dreary war. From Sparta and Boeotia and Corinth and all the rest. As I suspected and predicted, if you will remember, the wives there are as sick of foolishness and deprivation of pleasure as we are.”
“Well, they will all arrive shortly, I have no doubt, and in the meanwhile I had better get back into the Acropolis to see that the water is being boiled properly. As you said, one must carefully supervise the smallest details. I hear someone coming up the path now, if I’m not mistaken. Can you see who it is?”
“Not yet. It is still too dark to make her out at such a distance.”
“Is it a woman, then?”
“Yes. I’m sure of that. I can tell by her walk.”
“Your eyes are sharper than mine, I must confess. I declare, Lysistrata, she is panting like an overheated dog. Even such a climb as this cannot account entirely for such snorting and gasping.”
“She’s carrying something. If it’s a skin of wine, it’s Calonice. I told her to bring one. Yes, it is. It’s Calonice with the wine, and I will tell her frankly that it’s high time. Calonice means well and is a good friend of mine, but it is necessary to prod her at all turns if you expect her to accomplish anything.”
“Yes, you are right. I can now see myself that it is Calonice. I don’t believe it is necessary for me to talk with her at this time, which can become rather complicated and aggravating at any time, and so I will leave at once before she gets here. Will you come into the Acropolis after the council?”
“Yes. Immediately after. Perhaps even sooner if the old men return reinforced before we’re finished.”
“I doubt that they will. At any rate, we shall certainly be ready for them.”
Retreating up the broad stairs, Nausica disappeared into the shadows among the Ionic columns. Facing the path up which Calonice labored, Lysistrata waited for the former to attain the crest and deposit the skin of wine on the ground with a gusty sigh of relief.
“Well, Calonice,” Lysistrata said, “here you are at last, I see.”
Calonice did not reply at once. She glared at Lysistrata and waited until she had regained sufficient breath to express her indignation properly.
“Please don’t be critical, Lysistrata,” she said. “If you are determined to make a pack animal of me, you can hardly expect me to be anywhere at an exact moment.”
“Oh, well. Excuse me, Calonice. It is hardly appropriate for us to quarrel pettily at this time about something that can’t be remedied and has caused no harm. The truth is, the others have not yet come.”
“They are on the path now. When I stopped to rest, I saw them coming below me in a group.”
“What could be delaying them?”
“It’s a steep path. No doubt they are resting frequently.”
“I declare, it is apparent that they will have to be continually incited. Well, I have news for them that will certainly stimulate enthusiasm for our cause.”
“What news?”
“Nausica has taken the Acropolis, expelling the old men by threshing them with heavy sticks.
“It’s incredible! How did she accomplish it so quickly.”
“Nausica, as she demonstrated decisively in the case of Cadmus, is extremely efficient in such affairs. The old men, in her opinion, have retired for reinforcements and will attack our position later.”
“Really? If that is so, we should finish our business here quickly and disperse.”
“Exactly. Why do you think I am so impatient over the dawdling of the others? Is that the sound of voices below us now?”
“Yes, it is. They are nearing the crest at this moment. Wait a moment, Lysistrata. I can begin to make them out. There, in the lead, is Lampito of Sparta.”
“I am glad to hear it. Since Sparta is our strongest foe in this war, it is certainly a good omen that she is also leading the delegation for peace.”
After a couple of minutes, during which time Lysistrata and Calonice waited impatiently, Lampito of Sparta came upon the crest before the Propylaea. She was followed immediately by many other women, all breathing heavily from the climb, and Lysistrata recognized among them citizens of Acharnae and Anagyra, which were demes of Attica, as well as Spartans, Corinthians and Boeotians.
“Well,” said Lysistrata, “you are here at last and very welcome, I’m sure, though I admit I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come at all. Myrrhine, you are from Anagyra, which is in Attica and not a great distance away, and I should have thought that you and the women of Acharnae, which is also close, could have been a little more prompt.”
“Please don’t presume to abuse me, Lysistrata,” said Myrrhine testily. “It is not so easy to get up in the middle of the night and dress in the dark and make such a journey as this without even time for a proper breakfast. If we have committed such a grave offense in being a little late, you had better not make it worse by taki
ng the time to deliver a lecture. Why don’t you simply tell us at once why you called us here?”
“In a moment. First, however, I must speak to Lampito of Sparta, who is my friend.
“Lampito, you are truly lovely and look no older than when I last saw you, quite a long while ago. How on earth do you manage it?”
“Thank you, Lysistrata. You are also looking lovely, I must say. As to how I manage it, you know that Spartans are expected to take exercises regularly and keep in good shape.”
“Well, your shape is certainly good. There’s no question about that.”
Lysistrata turned to another woman who stood a little to the side of the Spartan.
“How stout you are!” she said. “Please tell me where you are from.”
“I am a Corinthian.”
“Truly? I have heard that the women of Corinth apply themselves to nothing but frivolity and are given greatly to prostitution. I am happy to see that this is not true in all cases.”
“Lysistrata,” said Myrrhine, “I am losing all patience. I swear I am. I am criticized and practically insulted because I am a trifle tardy, and now you seem determined to delay us indefinitely while you admire Spartan figures and comment on the bad habits of Corinthians. Will you tell us what you want, or will you not?”
“I am about ready to tell you. First, however, I must have the answer to a question. Would you like to see the war ended?”
“The Peloponnesian War?”
“Certainly. What other war is there?”
“None that I am aware of. I was only surprised to hear you speaking of its ending as if it were a possibility. It has been going on for as long as I can remember and will no doubt continue. It is as firmly established, so far as I can see, as this hill we stand on.”
“Nevertheless, would you like to see it ended?”
“I must say, Lysistrata, that I consider that a foolish question. The war is clearly an absolute bore that deprives us of much pleasure we would have without it. Of course, being sensible women, we would like to see it ended.”
“So we are agreed. I tell you, then, that I have called you here to enlist your collaboration in accomplishing what we all want.”