“That’s all very well for you to say, Lysistrata, for you have nothing to lose at the moment in advocating such a scheme, but I predict that you will think otherwise when Lycon comes home.”
“It is apparent,” said Lysistrata, “that you are truly just as eager as Acron is.”
“As for that,” said Calonice, “I’ll not deny it. There is great satisfaction for both parties in accommodation, and you know it perfectly well.”
“I know it and admit it, but you should take the long view. If Acron could be prevailed upon to stay at home more, even at the price of some sacrifice now, you would achieve more accommodation over a period of time, which would be an improvement. Surely that is obvious.”
“What’s obvious,” said Calonice, “is that I must leave at once to prepare for Acron, and I absolutely will not waste any more time listening to such nonsense, which must have been put into your head by prolonged abstinence. At least,” she said, “I will not listen to any more of it until I have completed the short run and Acron has gone off to war again.”
After so qualifying herself, she went, and Lysistrata decided that she would have just a few more swallows of the good wine. Far from befuddling her, the wine actually seemed to sharpen her wits and make them active, and she began to amuse herself by imagining what would happen if all the wives of Athens refused to accommodate their husbands, as she had suggested impetuously to Calonice, and it seemed to her that this would surely have some very entertaining consequences. Soon she began to consider specifically the consequences of refusing accommodation to Lycon when he returned, if ever, and though she didn’t know it, Lycon was at that moment on his way home.
3
He arrived early in the morning, before dawn, and what he had in mind was to slip into the house and have a quick bath and scent himself in the accepted fashion and then duck down to his wife’s chambers for what he’d been thinking of for a long time in Pylos and with mounting enthusiasm all the way home. After rousing a slave to fill the marble basin in the bathroom, he undressed in his quarters and went through the Proitas past the statue of Hestia. Bathed and scented, he hurried back to his room and through into the passage to Lysistrata’s boudoir.
It was still very dark, and he carried a torch to light his way. Beside Lysistrata’s bed, he touched the flame to the wick of the terra-cotta lamp, and the light of the lamp flickered and flared and spread softly — and Lycon stood looking down at Lysistrata for a long moment — and finally he shook her gently and woke her up. When she opened her eyes and saw him bending over her, she was clearly aware at once of what he wanted, which was nothing she didn’t want herself, so far as that went. At first she thought she would participate, and then she remembered her advice to Calonice.
“Well,” she said in a very cool voice, “if it isn’t Lycon. My husband, as I recall. Have you actually decided to come home for a change? Where in the world have you been for the last six, eight months?”
Having naturally anticipated a more ardent welcome, Lycon was momentarily paralyzed. He stood looking at Lysistrata with a kind of stricken expression on his face, and he could in no way understand the meaning of such an incredible attitude. What he did understand, though, was that this certainly wasn’t a proper way for a wife to welcome a husband home from the wars.
“What do you mean, where have I been?” he said finally. “You know very well where I’ve been. I’ve been off fighting the war in Pylos, that’s where I’ve been.”
“Pylos?” she said. “Where’s Pylos?”
“Why, Pylos is down in Messenia on the Bay of Sphacteria, that’s where it is, and you know it as well as I do. What’s the matter with you, anyhow? Why do you want to waste time asking questions about geography? Just move over a little and let me lie down.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t seem to be in the mood or something.”
This was something he had never expected to hear, Greek women being generally eager to cooperate in matters of this kind, and Lysistrata even a little more eager than most. He finally began to understand that he was getting the treatment, and it made him feel frustrated and angry.
“Now isn’t that just too bad!” he said. “I surely wouldn’t want to bother you if you’re not in the mood, especially since it’s only been seven months and ten days since I’ve been accommodated, and if you want to know what I think, I think it’s been a lot less since you’ve been accommodated, or you’d certainly be in the mood.”
“That’s right,” she said. “Go ahead and abuse me and accuse me of infidelity and anything else you can think of that isn’t true. It’s to be expected, I suppose, from someone who’s always off at the Bay of Sphacteria or someplace like that and never home taking care of his business like a sensible person.”
“Well, I can’t believe it!” he said. “It’s just absolutely impossible to tell what’s going to get into the head of a woman, and that’s no lie. Maybe you don’t even think I’ve been at Pylos. Maybe you think I’ve been down at the Piraeus all this time drinking wine and having fun with the girls. Maybe you haven’t heard that there’s a war going on at all, and if you haven’t, I’m the one to assure you that there is, and I’ve been there, and I’m bound to say that this is a wonderful reception for a man to get from his wife when he’s just back from it for a few days.”
“Oh, the war,” she said, sounding bored. “I’ve heard of the war, all right. As a matter of fact, I’ve been hearing about it all my life. It started just about the time I was born, and I don’t mind telling you that I’m sick of it and don’t ever want to hear of it again.”
“It’s all right for you to talk this way to me,” he said, “because I’m your husband and know very well that you have surely lost your mind, but you’d better not let anyone else hear you say such crazy things. You might find yourself in more trouble than you can handle. Women, of course, are of inferior intelligence, as you are plainly demonstrating, and can’t be expected to understand masculine enterprises.”
Lysistrata looked at him and laughed scornfully, and he was tempted for a moment to give her a beating immediately, which was his prerogative, but he didn’t do it because he still had hopes of giving her something else more satisfactory to both.
“The superiority of men to women,” she said, “is a myth which men have developed in order to avoid exposing their own idiocy by comparison. The truth is, women are much more sensible than men, and if it had been left to the women, this silly war would have been over long ago, or never started, and everyone would be much better off as a consequence.”
“That’s all,” he said. “I tell you I am sick of this foolish evasion. I came here for a little pleasure, which would incidentally be a pleasure to you also, and all I get are insults and an invitation to discuss the Peloponnesian War from the time of Pericles. As a husband with certain rights, I must insist that you move over and make ready.”
“If you insist on your rights,” she said, “there’s nothing I can do about it, and I guarantee that I’ll do exactly that. Nothing, I mean. It will be a very dull performance.”
“Perhaps a good beating would change your mind,” he said.
“I’m quite prepared to have you beat me,” she said, “because you are a superior person and have learned to handle all problems by hitting someone with your fist or an axe, or by sticking him with a spear. There is really no reason why you should make an exception of your wife. Nevertheless I don’t wish to move over and make ready for the simple reason that I have got out of the habit. You are gone so much of the time that I have learned to amuse myself in other ways, and I may even take up philosophy in the manner of Aspasia.”