Lysistrata

18

It 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.”