Fletcher Flora - Lysistrata

“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.

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.