Lysistrata

17

Lysistrata 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.