EURIPIDES: “Would that the good ship Argo had never winged in
vain.”852
AESCHYLUS: “O river Sperchius and vale where graze the kine.”853
DIONYSUS: Cuckoo.
AESCHYLUS AND EURIPIDES: [as if at a race] We’re off.
DIONYSUS: Look, the scale of Aeschylus has dropped down.
EURIPIDES: Good grief!
DIONYSUS: That’s because he put a river in his line,
which made it wet, like a wool merchant wetting his wool,‡
whereas you endowed your line with wings.
EURIPIDES: All right, let him speak another line
and weigh it against mine.
DIONYSUS: Take hold of your scales again.
AESCHYLUS: Ready.
EURIPIDES: Ready.
DIONYSUS: Speak.
EURIPIDES: “A building made of words is Persuasion’s only shrine.”854
AESCHYLUS: “Alone of the gods Death doth never take a bribe.”855
DIONYSUS: Hands off scales.
AESCHYLUS AND EURIPIDES: They’re off.
DIONYSUS: Look, Aeschylus’ scale has dropped again. It’s because he weighted down his line with Death.
EURIPIDES: But I put in Persuasion, a word to conjure with.
DIONYSUS: I know, but Persuasion is a featherweight.
It doesn’t have the tonnage of its own conviction.
What you want now is a real heavyweight
to make your scales go down—something with heft and brawn.
EURIPIDES: Where, I wonder, can I find that? I wonder where.
DIONYSUS: Perhaps in “Achilles threw two singles and a four.”856
Get ready to speak your lines for the last weigh-in.
EURIPIDES: “In his right hand he took the handle heavy with iron.”857
AESCHYLUS: “Chariot piled on chariot and corpse on corpse.”858
DIONYSUS: I’m afraid Aeschylus has licked you once again.
EURIPIDES: I don’t see how.
DIONYSUS: The words “chariot” and “corpse” each put in twice. To lift that lot even a hundred Egyptians wouldn’t suffice.859
AESCHYLUS: Let’s stop this line-by-line stuff now. I’ve had enough. Even if he put himself on the scales complete with wife, brats, Cephisophon, as well as all his books, two lines of mine would outweigh the lot.
DIONYSUS: [to PLUTO] They’re friends of mine, these men, and I certainly don’t want to decide between them or make an enemy of either. One amuses me. The other is a master.
PLUTO: So it looks as if you won’t achieve what you came to do
here.
DIONYSUS: Unless, of course, I do decide to take one of them.
PLUTO: Whichever it is, him
you may take back with you, and you won’t have come down here
in vain.
DIONYSUS: That’s generous of you. [turning to AESCHYLUS and EURIPIDES] May I remind you both that I came here to save our city and ensure the choral festivals of drama would endure. So whichever of you is ready and willing to come to the aid of the State with sound thinking, he’s the one I’ll take upstairs with me. So first things first. Which of you, if either, is able to make head or tail of Alcibiades?§ The city’s in a turmoil because of him.
AESCHYLUS: What’s the general opinion of him please?
DIONYSUS: They pine for him, they hate him,
dismiss him, and want him back. . . .
But what do you two think of him?
EURIPIDES: I despise any citizen
who shows himself slow to help his own
but quick to do his country harm,
who’s out for himself and a dead loss to the State.
DIONYSUS: Holy Poseidon, that’s neat! [turning to AESCHYLUS] But what do you think?
AESCHYLUS: It’s not a good idea in a town
to rear a lion cub, but if you do,
make sure he’s happy when he grows up
and not liable to run amok.
DIONYSUS: By Zeus the Preserver, I can’t make up my mind which to
take.
One was clever, one was clear.
So once again I ask you both: have you any idea
of how best to serve our State?
EURIPIDES: Couldn’t Cleocritus and Cinesias be winged together860
and sent soaring into the air?
DIONYSUS: A hilarious sight, no doubt, but off the point.
EURIPIDES: You see, if a battle at sea were going on,
they could be armed with cruets of vinegar
and squirt these into the enemy’s eyes.
DIONYSUS: [sarcastically] Brilliant, my dear Palimedes,861
what a genius you are!
Did you think of that yourself or was it Cephisophon?862
EURIPIDES: Entirely mine . . . though Cephisophon thought of the
vinegar.
Here’s another brain wave of mine I’d like you to hear.
DIONYSUS: Shoot.
EURIPIDES: If we put faith in the faithful and stopped having
faith in the faithless . . .
DIONYSUS: Eh? You’ve lost me. Can’t you be less clever
and try to be more clear?
EURIPIDES: If we stopped trusting the citizens we’re trusting
and began to trust the citizens we don’t . . .
DIONYSUS: We’d be saved?
EURIPIDES: Well, we’re getting nowhere with the present lot,
so at least we might have a chance with their opposite.
DIONYSUS: [to AESCHYLUS] What’s your opinion?
AESCHYLUS: First tell me the kind of people the city is using—
is it the useful?
DIONYSUS: Certainly not. The city damns them as useless.
AESCHYLUS: But the useless the city thinks are fine?
DIONYSUS: Not exactly. The city’s forced to use them.
AESCHYLUS: How can anyone save a city like that? A city that’ll eat neither lean nor fat?863
DIONYSUS: Damn it, man! If you really want to go upstairs again
you’d better think of something.
AESCHYLUS: I can’t down here. I’d rather wait till I get up there.
DIONYSUS: Oh no, you won’t. You’ll ruddy well do your good right
here!
AESCHYLUS: All right, this for one thing. Treat the enemy’s domain as yours, and yours the enemy’s, and treat the fleet as everything and everything else as nothing.
DIONYSUS: All very well, but that “everything”
gets gobbled up by the jurymen.864
PLUTO: Make your choice then.
AESCHYLUS: My decision between you two
will be to choose the one my intuition tells me to.
EURIPIDES: Remember the gods you swore by
when you promised to take me home.
You’ve got to stick to your friends.865
DIONYSUS: It was my tongue that swore. . . . I’ve chosen Aeschylus.
EURIPIDES: What’s that? You scum!
DIONYSUS: I’ve just declared that Aeschylus has won. Why shouldn’t I?
EURIPIDES: How can you look me in the eyes? Swine!
DIONYSUS: What’s swinish if the audience don’t think it is?866
EURIPIDES: Shithead, d’you really mean to leave me dead?
DIONYSUS: Who knows if life be death and death be really breath,867
with supper, sleep, and a cozy bed?
[EURIPIDES departs in a huff.]
PLUTO: You two can go inside now.
DIONYSUS: Whatever for?
PLUTO: So we can prepare
a little celebration before you go.
DIONYSUS: I won’t say nay to that—a splendid idea!
[PLUTO leads DIONYSUS and AESCHYLUS into the palace.]
STROPHE
WOMEN: Happy the man who is endowed With the blessing of a clever brain—A fact that’s being verified. For here we have an intelligent man About to return to his home again: A godsend to his fellow men, A godsend to
his closest friends And of course to his family Because of his perspicacity.
ANTISTROPHE
MEN: This means not hanging about Blabbing away with Socrates And not caring a fig for art Or giving a damn for the very best Productions of the Tragedies, But fiddling around and killing time With never-ending futile chatter In a niggling senseless game. That is the mind of a downright nutter.
[PLUTO returns, escorting AESCHYLUS, DIONYSUS, and XANTHIAS. He puts into the hands of AESCHYLUS (or XANTHIAS) various “gifts” to mete out to sundry political scoundrels whom the world would do better without. Fifes, cymbals, and tambourines accompany the valedictory chants that follow.]
PLUTO: Aeschylus, now we must say goodbye. You have to go and save your city, Injecting sense into a senseless race Who seem forever to multiply. Offer this hemlock to Cleophon;868 And here’s a noose for the tax collector That Myrmex would like to share With Nichomachus, as well as this Dagger for Archenomus, and Tell him to hurry on down here Without delay. If they’re remiss I’ll clap them in irons and I’ll brand Them when they arrive here below. I’ll do the same to that nasty fellow Adeimantus, son of Leucolophos.
AESCHYLUS: All this I’ll do, and meanwhile you Must bequeath my chair to Sophocles For him to care for and preserve Until such time as I return Here again, and this because I count him second only to me. But remember this: on no account Allow that liar, that miscreant, That clown to sit himself down In my chair—even by accident.869
PLUTO: [to the CHORUS] With a flourish of your hallowed flares, Honor this man as he wends his way,
And go with him as he goes upstairs,
And sing him his hymns and songs today.
MEN AND WOMEN: First we ask you gods below To deign to bestow A favorable journey for our poet As he ascends Into the daylight, And we beg you to inspire Him with many a great idea As he departs so he may shower Our city with many a blessing to make amends For all our sufferings in war And bring them to an end. And if Cleophon wants to fight870—This goes for his friends—Let them do it in their own lands.
[The CHORUS of MEN and WOMEN—the Mystery novices—is joined by the CHORUS OF FROGS—which has been in the background throughout quietly dancing and miming—and together with AESCHYLUS and PLUTO they begin a slow march off the stage.]
A PARLIAMENT OF WOMEN
(Ecclesiazusae)
A Parliament of Women was probably produced in
392 B.C., but we do not know by whom or how it
fared in competition.
THEME
This comedy is about the establishment of a utopia along communist lines and managed by women, in which the assessment of worth would derive from a new set of values, based not on wealth and worldly success but on usefulness to the new State. Men would be released from the burdens of administration (which they habitually bungled) and be allowed to parade like peacocks, with no other role than to enjoy themselves and to be at the disposal of women. There would be free meals for all. The young and the beautiful of both sexes could copulate at will but only after they had offered their services to the old and the ugly.
CHARACTERS
PRAXAGORA,871 an Athenian housewife
MADAM A, neighbor of Praxagora
MADAM B, neighbor of Praxagora
BLEPYRUS, husband of Praxagora
NEIGHBOR, of Blepyrus
CHREMES, citizen of Athens
MEAN MAN, devoid of public spirit
REPORTER, a girl employed by Praxagora
FIRST CRONE, old woman of Athens
GIRL, living next door to First Crone
EPIGENES, a young man in love
SECOND CRONE, old woman of Athens
THIRD CRONE, old woman of Athens
MAID
CHORUS, women of Athens
SILENT PARTS
SICON, servant of Neighbor
PARMENON, servant of Neighbor
GIRL PIPER
TWO GIRLS
THE STORY
A group of determined women convened by Praxagora dress up as men with the intention of packing the Parliament and by a coup d’état saving Athens from the blunders of their men. Blepyrus wakes up and wonders what has happened to his wife, his cloak, and his boots so early in the morning. From a balcony his neighbor spots him wandering among the bushes. Then Chremes returns from Parliament and recounts what is going on there. Meanwhile, Praxagora, mission accomplished, returns home, where she, Blepyrus, and their neighbor have a long conversation about the pros and cons of the new order. A mean man appears and vows that he’s not going to let go of any of his property in the interests of common ownership, at the same time expecting to be fed at the communal dinner that is in the offing. A young man coming from the dinner and hoping to meet his girlfriend is met by and dragged off by the three crones, who insist that they now have a legal right to him. In the final scene, Blepyrus appears on his way to the dinner with his arms around two young girls. It is evident that he is full of sap and already transformed by the new regime. A boozy maid grabs him, and amid dance and song everyone, including the Chorus, heads for the feast.
OBSERVATIONS
It is not the intention of Praxagora and the women to usurp or take on the obligations of men but simply to implement their own. They are, after all, the managers of their households and are merely extending the scope of their competence. It is a time when Athens is at the lowest ebb of her history: without money, without a fleet, without an empire, and in her dealings with the rest of Greece playing second string to Sparta. Whatever has been tried before no longer works, and in a mood of unacknowledged despair Praxagora and her women are saying: “We may as well try communism.” What follows is a kind of parody of what Plato was later to expand on in his Republic.
As to my translation, let me—at the risk of being tedious—return once again to the problem and fascinating challenge of translating Greek into English. People in general have no idea what it entails. Once long ago, when I told a friend that I was translating Antigone, my friend came out with: “Oh, I thought that had already been translated.”
So what is required? Fidelity to the original, of course, but even fidelity can be a stumbling block. I think of the village in Mexico called Santo Tomas de los Platanos near which I once lived. How romantic! What if I rendered this, quite accurately, as Saint Thomas of the Bananas! Then there’s the Latin tag Laudator temporis acti to describe someone who lives in the past. One could just say A lover of times gone by, and that’s not bad, but it gets nowhere near the piquancy of Those were the days.
What’s in a word? Just about everything. Even among the synonyms of one’s own tongue, we cannot ignore the emotive charge of words without being ridiculous. You might, for instance, decline an invitation to dinner when the bill of fare is dead calf with fungus in heated dough, scorched ground tubers, and cabbage stalks, all swilled down with rotten German grape juice and topped off with the powder of burned berries in scalding water diluted with drops squeezed out of a cow’s udder. You might well be excused from attending such a dinner, but you would have missed an excellent meal of veal-and-mushroom pie, roast potatoes, and spring greens, chased by a bottle of hock, and finished off with a steaming cup of coffee and cream.
TIME AND SETTING
It is a little before dawn on a street in Athens not far from the Assembly (Parliament). From a house flanked by two others a young woman emerges dressed as a man and carrying a staff. She swings a lantern from time to time as if signaling and looks around anxiously. Now she holds the lantern up and addresses it in the mock accents of High Tragedy.
PRAXAGORA: “Luminous eye in the wheeling axis of light,”872
brilliant evolution of the craftsman’s skill on the potter’s wheel,
I make no excuse for saluting you as you peep through
your eyeholes like an imprisoned sun, the way you do.
Beam out the signal we arranged and do your part,
for to you, and you alone, we confide our plot,
not
least because in our bedrooms every night
when our bodies in the acrobatic spell
of Aphrodite writhe and merge and you are there, voyeur,
Licking into the ecstatic niches between our thighs,
searing the bristling thickets while standing near.
And when we sneakily open a larder door
to raid the shelves of food and wine, you’re there,
a conniver who does not go off prattling to a neighbor.
That is why we’re trusting you with our present plans as well
the plans my friends and I have hatched at the Scira festival.873
But no one’s yet arrived. I cannot understand.
It’s almost daybreak and the Assembly’ll soon begin . . .
time we women-men set our bottoms down
and quietly took our seats . . . but why have they not come?
Are they trying still to get themselves false beards
or are they funking snaffling hubby’s clothes? The cowards!
[A woman dressed as a man and carrying a lamp comes into view.]
But I see a light coming this way. . . .
Better dodge out of sight in case it is a man.
[PRAXAGORA hides behind a pillar as women dressed as men appear in twos and threes until there is a full muster that will constitute the CHORUS.]
LEADER: Get moving, ladies. I’ve heard the cock crow twice.
PRAXAGORA: [stepping forward] I should think so:
I’ve been waiting for you all night.
My friend next door ought to be here. I’ll stroke her door.
Her husband mustn’t hear.
[She does so and MADAM A comes out.]
MADAM A: I was just dressing when I heard your fingers scratching.
I wasn’t asleep, and you know how my man, darling,