by Aristophanes
HERALD. Hearken, all of you! this is the decree passed by the Senate of the Women under the presidency of Timoclea and at the suggestion of Sostrata; it is signed by Lysilla, the secretary: “There will be a gathering of the people on the morning of the third day of the Thesmophoria, which is a day of rest for us; the principal business there shall be the punishment that it is meet to inflict upon Euripides for the insults with which he has loaded us.” Now who asks to speak?
FIRST WOMAN. I do.
HERALD. First put on this garland, and then speak. Silence! let all be quiet! Pay attention! for here she is spitting as orators generally do before they begin; no doubt she has much to say.
FIRST WOMAN. If I have asked to speak, may the goddesses bear me witness, it was not for sake of ostentation. But I have long been pained to see us women insulted by this Euripides, this son of the green-stuff woman, who loads us with every kind of indignity. Has he not hit us enough, calumniated us sufficiently, wherever there are spectators, tragedians, and a chorus? Does he not style us gay, lecherous, drunken, traitorous, boastful? Does he not repeat that we are all vice, that we are the curse of our husbands? So that, directly they come back from the theatre, they look at us doubtfully and go searching every nook, fearing there may be some hidden lover. We can do nothing as we used to, so many are the false ideas which he has instilled into our husbands. Is a woman weaving a garland for herself? ’Tis because she is in love. Does she let some vase drop while going or returning to the house? her husband asks her in whose honour she has broken it, “It can only be for that Corinthian stranger.” Is a maiden unwell? Straightway her brother says, “That is a colour that does not please me.” And if a childless woman wishes to substitute one, the deceit can no longer be a secret, for the neighbours will insist on being present at her delivery. Formerly the old men married young girls, but they have been so calumniated that none think of them now, thanks to the verse: “A woman is the tyrant of the old man who marries her.” Again, it is because of Euripides that we are incessantly watched, that we are shut up behind bolts and bars, and that dogs are kept to frighten off the gallants. Let that pass; but formerly it was we who had the care of the food, who fetched the flour from the storeroom, the oil and the wine; we can do it no more. Our husbands now carry little Spartan keys on their persons, made with three notches and full of malice and spite. Formerly it sufficed to purchase a ring marked with the same sign for three obols, to open the most securely sealed-up door; but now this pestilent Euripides has taught men to hang seals of worm-eaten wood about their necks. My opinion, therefore, is that we should rid ourselves of our enemy by poison or by any other means, provided he dies. That is what I announce publicly; as to certain points, which I wish to keep secret, I propose to record them on the secretary’s minutes.
CHORUS. Never have I listened to a cleverer or more eloquent woman. Everything she says is true; she has examined the matter from all sides and has weighed up every detail. Her arguments are close, varied, and happily chosen. I believe that Xenocles himself, the son of Carcinus, would seem to talk mere nonsense, if placed beside her.
SECOND WOMAN. I have only a very few words to add, for the last speaker has covered the various points of the indictment; allow me only to tell you what happened to me. My husband died at Cyprus, leaving me five children, whom I had great trouble to bring up by weaving chaplets on the myrtle market. Anyhow, I lived as well as I could until this wretch had persuaded the spectators by his tragedies that there were no gods; since then I have not sold as many chaplets by half. I charge you therefore and exhort you all to punish him, for does he not deserve it in a thousand respects, he who loads you with troubles, who is as coarse toward you as the green-stuff upon which his mother reared him? But I must back to the market to weave my chaplets; I have twenty to deliver yet.
CHORUS. This is even more animated and more trenchant than the first speech; all she has just said is full of good sense and to the point; it is clever, clear and well calculated to convince. Yes! we must have striking vengeance on the insults of Euripides.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh, women! I am not astonished at these outbursts of fiery rage; how could your bile not get inflamed against Euripides, who has spoken so ill of you? As for myself, I hate the man, I swear it by my children; ’twould be madness not to hate him! Yet, let us reflect a little; we are alone and our words will not be repeated outside. Why be so bent on his ruin? Because he has known and shown up two or three of our faults, when we have a thousand? As for myself, not to speak of other women, I have more than one great sin upon my conscience, but this is the blackest of them. I had been married three days and my husband was asleep by my side; I had a lover, who had seduced me when I was seven years old; impelled by his passion, he came scratching at the door; I understood at once he was there and was going down noiselessly. “Where are you going?” asked my husband. “I am suffering terribly with colic,” I told him, “and am going to the closet.” “Go,” he replied, and started pounding together juniper berries, aniseed, and sage. As for myself, I moistened the door-hinge and went to find my lover, who embraced me, half-reclining upon Apollo’s altar and holding on to the sacred laurel with one hand. Well now! Consider! that is a thing of which Euripides has never spoken. And when we bestow our favours on slaves and muleteers for want of better, does he mention this? And when we eat garlic early in the morning after a night of wantonness, so that our husband, who has been keeping guard upon the city wall, may be reassured by the smell and suspect nothing, has Euripides ever breathed a word of this? Tell me. Neither has he spoken of the woman who spreads open a large cloak before her husband’s eyes to make him admire it in full daylight to conceal her lover by so doing and afford him the means of making his escape. I know another, who for ten whole days pretended to be suffering the pains of labour until she had secured a child; the husband hurried in all directions to buy drugs to hasten her deliverance, and meanwhile an old woman brought the infant in a stew-pot; to prevent its crying she had stopped up its mouth with honey. With a sign she told the wife that she was bringing a child for her, who at once began exclaiming, “Go away, friend, go away, I think I am going to be delivered; I can feel him kicking his heels in the belly … of the stew-pot.” The husband goes off full of joy, and the old wretch quickly picks the honey out of the child’s mouth, which sets a-crying; then she seizes the babe, runs to the father and tells him with a smile on her face, “’Tis a lion, a lion, that is born to you; ’tis your very image. Everything about it is like you, even to its little tool, which is all twisty like a fir-cone.” Are these not our everyday tricks? Why certainly, by Artemis, and we are angry with Euripides, who assuredly treats us no worse than we deserve!
CHORUS. Great gods! where has she unearthed all that? What country gave birth to such an audacious woman? Oh! you wretch! I should not have thought ever a one of us could have spoken in public with such impudence. ’Tis clear, however, that we must expect everything and, as the old proverb says, must look beneath every stone, lest it conceal some orator ready to sting us. There is but one thing in the world worse than a shameless woman, and that’s another woman.
THIRD WOMAN. By Aglaurus! you have lost your wits, friends! You must be bewitched to suffer this plague to belch forth insults against us all. Is there no one has any spirit at all? If not, we and our maid-servants will punish her. Run and fetch coals and let’s depilate her cunt in proper style, to teach her not to speak ill of her sex.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! no! have mercy, friends. Have we not the right to speak frankly at this gathering? And because I have uttered what I thought right in favour of Euripides, do you want to depilate me for my trouble?
THIRD WOMAN. What! we ought not to punish you, who alone have dared to defend the man who has done us so much harm, whom it pleases to put all the vile women that ever were upon the stage, who only shows us Melanippés Phaedras? But of Penelopé he has never said a word, because she was reputed chaste and good.
MNESILOCHUS. I know the reason
. ’Tis because not a single Penelopé exists among the women of to-day, but all without exception are Phaedras.
THIRD WOMAN. Women, you hear how this creature still dares to speak of us all.
MNESILOCHUS. And, ‘faith, I have not said all that I know. Do you want any more?
THIRD WOMAN. You cannot tell us any more; you have emptied your bag.
MNESILOCHUS. Why, I have not told the thousandth part of what we women do. Have I said how we use the hollow handles of our brooms to draw up wine unbeknown to our husbands.
THIRD WOMAN. The cursed jade!
MNESILOCHUS. And how we give meats to our lovers at the feast of the
Apaturia and then accuse the cat….
THIRD WOMAN. She’s mad!
MNESILOCHUS. … Have I mentioned the woman who killed her husband with a hatchet? Of another, who caused hers to lose his reason with her potions? And of the Acharnian woman …
THIRD WOMAN. Die, you bitch!
MNESILOCHUS. … who buried her father beneath the bath?
THIRD WOMAN. And yet we listen to such things?
MNESILOCHUS. Have I told how you attributed to yourself the male child your slave had just borne and gave her your little daughter?
THIRD WOMAN. This insult calls for vengeance. Look out for your hair!
MNESILOCHUS. By Zeus! don’t touch me.
THIRD WOMAN. There!
MNESILOCHUS. There! tit for tat! (They exchange blows.)
THIRD WOMAN. Hold my cloak, Philista!
MNESILOCHUS. Come on then, and by Demeter …
THIRD WOMAN. Well! what?
MNESILOCHUS. … I’ll make you disgorge the sesame-cake you have eaten.
CHORUS. Cease wrangling! I see a woman running here in hot haste.
Keep silent, so that we may hear the better what she has to say.
CLISTHENES. Friends, whom I copy in all things, my hairless chin sufficiently evidences how dear you are to me; I am women-mad and make myself their champion wherever I am. Just now on the market-place I heard mention of a thing that is of the greatest importance to you; I come to tell it you, to let you know it, so that you may watch carefully and be on your guard against the danger which threatens you.
CHORUS. What is it, my child? I can well call you child, for you have so smooth a skin.
CLISTHENES. ’Tis said that Euripides has sent an old man here to-day, one of his relations …
CHORUS. With what object? What is his purpose?
CLISTHENES. … so that he may hear your speeches and inform him of your deliberations and intentions.
CHORUS. But how would a man fail to be recognized amongst women?
CLISTHENES. Euripides singed and depilated him and disguised him as a woman.
MNESILOCHUS. This is pure invention! What man is fool enough to let himself be depilated? As for myself, I don’t believe a word of it.
CLISTHENES. Are you mad? I should not have come here to tell you, if I did not know it on indisputable authority.
CHORUS. Great gods! what is it you tell us! Come, women, let us not lose a moment; let us search and rummage everywhere! Where can this man have hidden himself escape our notice? Help us to look, Clisthenes; we shall thus owe you double thanks, dear friend.
CLISTHENES (to a fourth woman). Well then! let us see. To begin with you; who are you?
MNESILOCHUS (aside). Wherever am I to stow myself?
CLISTHENES. Each and every one must pass the scrutiny.
MNESILOCHUS (aside). Oh! great gods!
FOURTH WOMAN. You ask me who I am? I am the wife of Cleonymus.
CLISTHENES. Do you know this woman?
CHORUS. Yes, yes, pass on to the rest.
CLISTHENES. And she who carries the child?
MNESILOCHUS (aside). I’m a dead man. (He runs off.)
CLISTHENES (to Mnesilochus). Hi! you there! where are you off to? Stop there. What are you running away for?
MNESILOCHUS. I want to relieve myself.
CLISTHENES. The shameless thing! Come, hurry yourself; I will wait here for you.
CHORUS. Wait for her and examine her closely; ’tis the only one we do not know.
CLISTHENES. You are a long time about your business.
MNESILOCHUS. Aye, my god, yes; ’tis because I am unwell, for I ate cress yesterday.
CLISTHENES. What are you chattering about cress? Come here and be quick.
MNESILOCHUS. Oh! don’t pull a poor sick woman about like that.
CLISTHENES. Tell me, who is your husband?
MNESILOCHUS. My husband? Do you know a certain individual at
Cothocidae…?
CLISTHENES. Whom do you mean? Give his name.
MNESILOCHUS. ’Tis an individual to whom the son of a certain individual one day….
CLISTHENES. You are drivelling! Let’s see, have you ever been here before?
MNESILOCHUS. Why certainly, every year.
CLISTHENES. Who is your tent companion?
MNESILOCHUS. ’Tis a certain…. Oh! my god!
CLISTHENES. You don’t answer.
FIFTH WOMAN. Withdraw, all of you; I am going to examine her thoroughly about last year’s mysteries. But move away, Clisthenes, for no man may hear what is going to be said. Now answer my questions! What was done first?
MNESILOCHUS. Let’s see then. What was done first? Oh! we drank.
FIFTH WOMAN. And then?
MNESILOCHUS. We drank to our healths.
FIFTH WOMAN. You will have heard that from someone. And then?
MNESILOCHUS. Xenylla relieved herself in a cup, for there was no other vessel.
FIFTH WOMAN. You trifle. Here, Clisthenes, here! This is the man of whom you spoke.
CLISTHENES. What is to be done then?
FIFTH WOMAN. Take off his clothes, I can get nothing out of him.
MNESILOCHUS. What! are you going to strip a mother of nine children naked?
CLISTHENES. Come, undo your girdle, you shameless thing.
FIFTH WOMAN. Ah! what a sturdy frame! but she has no breasts like we have.
MNESILOCHUS. That’s because I’m barren. I never had any children.
FIFTH WOMAN. Oh! indeed! just now you were the mother of nine.
CLISTHENES. Stand up straight. Hullo! what do I see there? Why, a penis sticking out behind.
FIFTH WOMAN. There’s no mistaking it; you can see it projecting, and a fine red it is.
CLISTHENES. Where has it gone to now?
FIFTH WOMAN. To the front.
CLISTHENES. No.
FIFTH WOMAN. Ah! ’tis behind now.
CLISTHENES. Why, friend, ’tis for all the world like the Isthmus; you keep pulling your tool backwards and forwards just as the Corinthians do their ships.
FIFTH WOMAN. Ah! the wretch! this is why he insulted us and defended
Euripides.
MNESILOCHUS. Aye, wretch indeed, what troubles have I not got into now!
FIFTH WOMAN. What shall we do?
CLISTHENES. Watch him closely, so that he does not escape. As for me, I go to report the matter to the magistrates, the Prytanes.
CHORUS. Let us kindle our lamps; let us go firmly to work and with courage, let us take off our cloaks and search whether some other man has not come here too; let us pass round the whole Pnyx, examine the tents and the passages. Come, be quick, let us start off on a light toe and rummage all round in silence. Let us hasten, let us finish our round as soon as possible. Look quickly for the traces that might show you a man hidden here, let your glance fall on every side; look well to the right and to the left. If we seize some impious fellow, woe to him! He will know how we punish the outrage, the crime, the sacrilege. The criminal will then acknowledge at last that gods exist; his fate will teach all men that the deities must be revered, that justice must be observed and that they must submit to the sacred laws. If not, then woe to them! Heaven itself will punish sacrilege; being aflame with fury and mad with frenzy, all their deeds will prove to mortals, both men and women, that the deity
punishes injustice and impiety, and that she is not slow to strike. But I think I have now searched everywhere and that no other man is hidden among us.
SIXTH WOMAN. Where is he flying to? Stop him! stop him! Ah! miserable woman that I am, he has torn my child from my breast and has disappeared with it.
MNESILOCHUS. Scream as loud as you will, but he shall never suck your bosom more. If you do not let me go this very instant, I am going to cut open the veins of his thighs with this cutlass and his blood shall flow over the altar.
SIXTH WOMAN. Oh! great gods! oh! friends, help me! terrify him with your shrieks, triumph over this monster, permit him not to rob me of my only child.
CHORUS. Oh! oh! venerable Parcae, what fresh attack is this? ’Tis the crowning act of audacity and shamelessness! What has he done now, friends, what has he done?
MNESILOCHUS. Ah! this insolence passes all bounds, but I shall know how to curb it.
CHORUS. What a shameful deed! the measure of his iniquities is full!
SIXTH WOMAN. Aye, ’tis shameful that he should have robbed me of my child.
CHORUS. ’Tis past belief to be so criminal and so impudent!
MNESILOCHUS. Ah! you’re not near the end of it yet.
SIXTH WOMAN. Little I care whence you come; you shall not return to boast of having acted so odiously with impunity, for you shall be punished.
MNESILOCHUS. You won’t do it, by the gods!
CHORUS. And what immortal would protect you for your crime?
MNESILOCHUS. ’Tis in vain you talk! I shall not let go the child.
CHORUS. By the goddesses, you will not laugh presently over your crime and your impious speech. For with impiety, as ’tis meet, shall we reply to your impiety. Soon fortune will turn round and overwhelm you. Come! bring wood along. Let us burn the wretch, let us roast him as quickly as possible.
SIXTH WOMAN. Bring faggots, Mania! (To Mnesilochus.) You will be mere charcoal soon.
CHORUS. Grill away, roast me, but you, my child, take off this Cretan robe and blame no one but your mother for your death. But what does this mean? The little girl is nothing but a skin filled with wine and shod with Persian slippers. Oh! you wanton, you tippling woman, who think of nothing but wine; you are a fortune to the drinking-shops and are our ruin; for the sake of drink, you neglect both your household and your shuttle!
