by Aristophanes
The play was produced at the Great Dionysia in 423 B.C., but proved unsuccessful, Cratinus and Amipsias being awarded first and second prize. This is said to have been due to the intrigues and influence of Alcibiades, who resented the caricature of himself presented in the sporting Phidippides. A second edition of the drama was apparently produced some years later, to which the ‘Parabasis’ of the play as we possess it must belong, as it refers to events subsequent to the date named.
The plot is briefly as follows: Strepsiades, a wealthy country gentleman, has been brought to penury and deeply involved in debt by the extravagance and horsy tastes of his son Phidippides. Having heard of the wonderful new art of argument, the royal road to success in litigation, discovered by the Sophists, he hopes that, if only he can enter the ‘Phrontisterion,’ or Thinking-Shop, of Socrates, he will learn how to turn the tables on his creditors and avoid paying the debts which are dragging him down. He joins the school accordingly, but is found too old and stupid to profit by the lessons. So his son Phidippides is substituted as a more promising pupil. The latter takes to the new learning like a duck to water, and soon shows what progress he has made by beating his father and demonstrating that he is justified by all laws, divine and human, in what he is doing. This opens the old man’s eyes, who sets fire to the ‘Phrontisterion,’ and the play ends in a great conflagration of this home of humbug.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
STREPSIADES.
PHIDIPPIDES.
SERVANT OF STREPSIADES.
SOCRATES.
DISCIPLES OF SOCRATES.
JUST DISCOURSE.
UNJUST DISCOURSE.
PASIAS, a Money-lender.
PASIAS’ WITNESS.
AMYNIAS, another Money-lender.
CHAEREPHON.
CHORUS OF CLOUDS.
SCENE: A sleeping-room in Strepsiades’ house; then in front of Socrates’ house.
THE CLOUDS
STREPSIADES. Great gods! will these nights never end? will daylight never come? I heard the cock crow long ago and my slaves are snoring still! Ah! ’twas not so formerly. Curses on the War! has it not done me ills enough? Now I may not even chastise my own slaves. Again there’s this brave lad, who never wakes the whole long night, but, wrapped in his five coverlets, farts away to his heart’s content. Come! let me nestle in well and snore too, if it be possible … oh! misery, ’tis vain to think of sleep with all these expenses, this stable, these debts, which are devouring me, thanks to this fine cavalier, who only knows how to look after his long locks, to show himself off in his chariot and to dream of horses! And I, I am nearly dead, when I see the moon bringing the third decade in her train and my liability falling due…. Slave! light the lamp and bring me my tablets. Who are all my creditors? Let me see and reckon up the interest. What is it I owe? … Twelve minae to Pasias…. What! twelve minae to Pasias? … Why did I borrow these? Ah! I know! ’Twas to buy that thoroughbred, which cost me so dear. How I should have prized the stone that had blinded him!
PHIDIPPIDES (in his sleep). That’s not fair, Philo! Drive your chariot straight, I say.
STREPSIADES. ’Tis this that is destroying me. He raves about horses, even in his sleep.
PHIDIPPIDES (still sleeping). How many times round the track is the race for the chariots of war?
STREPSIADES. ’Tis your own father you are driving to death … to ruin.
Come! what debt comes next, after that of Pasias? … Three minae to
Amynias for a chariot and its two wheels.
PHIDIPPIDES (still asleep). Give the horse a good roll in the dust and lead him home.
STREPSIADES. Ah! wretched boy! ’tis my money that you are making roll. My creditors have distrained on my goods, and here are others again, who demand security for their interest.
PHIDIPPIDES (awaking). What is the matter with you, father, that you groan and turn about the whole night through?
STREPSIADES. I have a bum-bailiff in the bedclothes biting me.
PHIDIPPIDES. For pity’s sake, let me have a little sleep.
STREPSIADES. Very well, sleep on! but remember that all these debts will fall back on your shoulders. Oh! curses on the go-between who made me marry your mother! I lived so happily in the country, a commonplace, everyday life, but a good and easy one — had not a trouble, not a care, was rich in bees, in sheep and in olives. Then forsooth I must marry the niece of Megacles, the son of Megacles; I belonged to the country, she was from the town; she was a haughty, extravagant woman, a true Coesyra. On the nuptial day, when I lay beside her, I was reeking of the dregs of the wine-cup, of cheese and of wool; she was redolent with essences, saffron, tender kisses, the love of spending, of good cheer and of wanton delights. I will not say she did nothing; no, she worked hard … to ruin me, and pretending all the while merely to be showing her the cloak she had woven for me, I said, “Wife, you go too fast about your work, your threads are too closely woven and you use far too much wool.”
A SLAVE. There is no more oil in the lamp.
STREPSIADES. Why then did you light such a guzzling lamp? Come here, I am going to beat you!
SLAVE. What for?
STREPSIADES. Because you have put in too thick a wick…. Later, when we had this boy, what was to be his name? ’Twas the cause of much quarrelling with my loving wife. She insisted on having some reference to a horse in his name, that he should be called Xanthippus, Charippus or Callippides. I wanted to name him Phidonides after his grandfather. We disputed long, and finally agreed to style him Phidippides…. She used to fondle and coax him, saying, “Oh! what a joy it will be to me when you have grown up, to see you, like my father, Megacles, clothed in purple and standing up straight in your chariot driving your steeds toward the town.” And I would say to him, “When, like your father, you will go, dressed in a skin, to fetch back your goats from Phelleus.” Alas! he never listened to me and his madness for horses has shattered my fortune. But by dint of thinking the livelong night, I have discovered a road to salvation, both miraculous and divine. If he will but follow it, I shall be out of my trouble! First, however, he must be awakened, but let it be done as gently as possible. How shall I manage it? Phidippides! my little Phidippides!
PHIDIPPIDES. What is it, father!
STREPSIADES. Kiss me and give me your hand.
PHIDIPPIDES. There! What’s it all about?
STREPSIADES. Tell me! do you love me?
PHIDIPPIDES. By Posidon, the equestrian Posidon! yes, I swear I do.
STREPSIADES. Oh, do not, I pray you, invoke this god of horses; ’tis he who is the cause of all my cares. But if you really love me, and with your whole heart, my boy, believe me.
PHIDIPPIDES. Believe you? about what?
STREPSIADES. Alter your habits forthwith and go and learn what I tell you.
PHIDIPPIDES. Say on, what are your orders?
STREPSIADES. Will you obey me ever so little?
PHIDIPPIDES. By Bacchus, I will obey you.
STREPSIADES. Very well then! Look this way. Do you see that little door and that little house?
PHIDIPPIDES. Yes, father. But what are you driving at?
STREPSIADES. That is the school of wisdom. There, they prove that we are coals enclosed on all sides under a vast extinguisher, which is the sky. If well paid, these men also teach one how to gain law-suits, whether they be just or not.
PHIDIPPIDES. What do they call themselves?
STREPSIADES. I do not know exactly, but they are deep thinkers and most admirable people.
PHIDIPPIDES. Bah! the wretches! I know them; you mean those quacks with livid faces, those barefoot fellows, such as that miserable Socrates and Chaerephon.
STREPSIADES. Silence! say nothing foolish! If you desire your father not to die of hunger, join their company and let your horses go.
PHIDIPPIDES. No, by Bacchus! even though you gave me the pheasants that
Leogoras rears.
STREPSIADES. Oh! my beloved son, I beseech you, go and follow their
teachings.
PHIDIPPIDES. And what is it I should learn?
STREPSIADES. ’Twould seem they have two courses of reasoning, the true and the false, and that, thanks to the false, the worst law-suits can be gained. If then you learn this science, which is false, I shall not pay an obolus of all the debts I have contracted on your account.
PHIDIPPIDES. No, I will not do it. I should no longer dare to look at our gallant horsemen, when I had so tarnished my fair hue of honour.
STREPSIADES. Well then, by Demeter! I will no longer support you, neither you, nor your team, nor your saddle-horse. Go and hang yourself, I turn you out of house and home.
PHIDIPPIDES. My uncle Megacles will not leave me without horses; I shall go to him and laugh at your anger.
STREPSIADES. One rebuff shall not dishearten me. With the help of the gods I will enter this school and learn myself. But at my age, memory has gone and the mind is slow to grasp things. How can all these fine distinctions, these subtleties be learned? Bah! why should I dally thus instead of rapping at the door? Slave, slave! (He knocks and calls.)
A DISCIPLE. A plague on you! Who are you?
STREPSIADES. Strepsiades, the son of Phido, of the deme of Cicynna.
DISCIPLE. ’Tis for sure only an ignorant and illiterate fellow who lets drive at the door with such kicks. You have brought on a miscarriage — of an idea!
STREPSIADES. Pardon me, pray; for I live far away from here in the country. But tell me, what was the idea that miscarried?
DISCIPLE. I may not tell it to any but a disciple.
STREPSIADES. Then tell me without fear, for I have come to study among you.
DISCIPLE. Very well then, but reflect, that these are mysteries. Lately, a flea bit Chaerephon on the brow and then from there sprang on to the head of Socrates. Socrates asked Chaerephon, “How many times the length of its legs does a flea jump?”
STREPSIADES. And how ever did he set about measuring it?
DISCIPLE. Oh! ’twas most ingenious! He melted some wax, seized the flea and dipped its two feet in the wax, which, when cooled, left them shod with true Persian buskins. These he slipped off and with them measured the distance.
STREPSIADES. Ah! great Zeus! what a brain! what subtlety!
DISCIPLE. I wonder what then would you say, if you knew another of
Socrates’ contrivances?
STREPSIADES. What is it? Pray tell me.
DISCIPLE. Chaerephon of the deme of Sphettia asked him whether he thought a gnat buzzed through its proboscis or through its rear.
STREPSIADES. And what did he say about the gnat?
DISCIPLE. He said that the gut of the gnat was narrow, and that, in passing through this tiny passage, the air is driven with force towards the breech; then after this slender channel, it encountered the rump, which was distended like a trumpet, and there it resounded sonorously.
STREPSIADES. So the rear of a gnat is a trumpet. Oh! what a splendid discovery! Thrice happy Socrates! ’Twould not be difficult to succeed in a law-suit, knowing so much about the gut of a gnat!
DISCIPLE. Not long ago a lizard caused him the loss of a sublime thought.
STREPSIADES. In what way, an it please you?
DISCIPLE. One night, when he was studying the course of the moon and its revolutions and was gazing open-mouthed at the heavens, a lizard shitted upon him from the top of the roof.
STREPSIADES. This lizard, that relieved itself over Socrates, tickles me.
DISCIPLE. Yesternight we had nothing to eat.
STREPSIADES. Well! What did he contrive, to secure you some supper?
DISCIPLE. He spread over the table a light layer of cinders, bending an iron rod the while; then he took up a pair of compasses and at the same moment unhooked a piece of the victim which was hanging in the palaestra.
STREPSIADES. And we still dare to admire Thales! Open, open this home of knowledge to me quickly! Haste, haste to show me Socrates; I long to become his disciple. But do, do open the door. (The disciple admits Strepsiades.) Ah! by Heracles! what country are those animals from?
DISCIPLE. Why, what are you astonished at? What do you think they resemble?
STREPSIADES. The captives of Pylos. But why do they look so fixedly on the ground?
DISCIPLE. They are seeking for what is below the ground.
STREPSIADES. Ah! ’tis onions they are seeking. Do not give yourselves so much trouble; I know where there are some, fine and large ones. But what are those fellows doing, who are bent all double?
DISCIPLE. They are sounding the abysses of Tartarus.
STREPSIADES. And what is their rump looking at in the heavens?
DISCIPLE. It is studying astronomy on its own account. But come in; so that the master may not find us here.
STREPSIADES. Not yet, not yet; let them not change their position. I want to tell them my own little matter.
DISCIPLE. But they may not stay too long in the open air and away from school.
STREPSIADES. In the name of all the gods, what is that? Tell me. (Pointing to a celestial globe.)
DISCIPLE. That is astronomy.
STREPSIADES. And that? (Pointing to a map.)
DISCIPLE. Geometry.
STREPSIADES. What is that used for?
DISCIPLE. To measure the land.
STREPSIADES. But that is apportioned by lot.
DISCIPLE. No, no, I mean the entire earth.
STREPSIADES. Ah! what a funny thing! How generally useful indeed is this invention!
DISCIPLE. There is the whole surface of the earth. Look! Here is Athens.
STREPSIADES. Athens! you are mistaken; I see no courts sitting.
DISCIPLE. Nevertheless it is really and truly the Attic territory.
STREPSIADES. And where are my neighbours of Cicynna?
DISCIPLE. They live here. This is Euboea; you see this island, that is so long and narrow.
STREPSIADES. I know. ’Tis we and Pericles, who have stretched it by dint of squeezing it. And where is Lacedaemon?
DISCIPLE. Lacedaemon? Why, here it is, look.
STREPSIADES. How near it is to us! Think it well over, it must be removed to a greater distance.
DISCIPLE. But, by Zeus, that is not possible.
STREPSIADES. Then, woe to you! And who is this man suspended up in a basket?
DISCIPLE. ’Tis he himself.
STREPSIADES. Who himself?
DISCIPLE. Socrates.
STREPSIADES. Socrates! Oh! I pray you, call him right loudly for me.
DISCIPLE. Call him yourself; I have no time to waste.
STREPSIADES. Socrates! my little Socrates!
SOCRATES. Mortal, what do you want with me?
STREPSIADES. First, what are you doing up there? Tell me, I beseech you.
SOCRATES. I traverse the air and contemplate the sun.
STREPSIADES. Thus ’tis not on the solid ground, but from the height of this basket, that you slight the gods, if indeed….
SOCRATES. I have to suspend my brain and mingle the subtle essence of my mind with this air, which is of the like nature, in order to clearly penetrate the things of heaven. I should have discovered nothing, had I remained on the ground to consider from below the things that are above; for the earth by its force attracts the sap of the mind to itself. ’Tis just the same with the water-cress.
STREPSIADES. What? Does the mind attract the sap of the water-cress? Ah! my dear little Socrates, come down to me! I have come to ask you for lessons.
SOCRATES. And for what lessons?
STREPSIADES. I want to learn how to speak. I have borrowed money, and my merciless creditors do not leave me a moment’s peace; all my goods are at stake.
SOCRATES. And how was it you did not see that you were getting so much into debt?
STREPSIADES. My ruin has been the madness for horses, a most rapacious evil; but teach me one of your two methods of reasoning, the one whose object is not to repay anything, and, may the gods bear witness, that I am ready to pay any fee
you may name.
SOCRATES. By which gods will you swear? To begin with, the gods are not a coin current with us.
STREPSIADES. But what do you swear by then? By the iron money of
Byzantium?
SOCRATES. Do you really wish to know the truth of celestial matters?
STREPSIADES. Why, truly, if ’tis possible.
SOCRATES. … and to converse with the clouds, who are our genii?
STREPSIADES. Without a doubt.
SOCRATES. Then be seated on this sacred couch.
STREPSIADES. I am seated.
SOCRATES. Now take this chaplet.
STREPSIADES. Why a chaplet? Alas! Socrates, would you sacrifice me, like
Athamas?
SOCRATES. No, these are the rites of initiation.
STREPSIADES. And what is it I am to gain?
SOCRATES. You will become a thorough rattle-pate, a hardened old stager, the fine flour of the talkers…. But come, keep quiet.
STREPSIADES. By Zeus! You lie not! Soon I shall be nothing but wheat-flour, if you powder me in this fashion.
SOCRATES. Silence, old man, give heed to the prayers…. Oh! most mighty king, the boundless air, that keepest the earth suspended in space, thou bright Aether and ye venerable goddesses, the Clouds, who carry in your loins the thunder and the lightning, arise, ye sovereign powers and manifest yourselves in the celestial spheres to the eyes of the sage.
STREPSIADES. Not yet! Wait a bit, till I fold my mantle double, so as not to get wet. And to think that I did not even bring my travelling cap! What a misfortune!
SOCRATES. Come, oh! Clouds, whom I adore, come and show yourselves to this man, whether you be resting on the sacred summits of Olympus, crowned with hoar-frost, or tarrying in the gardens of Ocean, your father, forming sacred choruses with the Nymphs; whether you be gathering the waves of the Nile in golden vases or dwelling in the Maeotic marsh or on the snowy rocks of Mimas, hearken to my prayer and accept my offering. May these sacrifices be pleasing to you.
CHORUS. Eternal Clouds, let us appear, let us arise from the roaring depths of Ocean, our father; let us fly towards the lofty mountains, spread our damp wings over their forest-laden summits, whence we will dominate the distant valleys, the harvest fed by the sacred earth, the murmur of the divine streams and the resounding waves of the sea, which the unwearying orb lights up with its glittering beams. But let us shake off the rainy fogs, which hide our immortal beauty and sweep the earth from afar with our gaze.