‘Isn’t that Luxos the oarsman’s son?’ shouted someone in the audience.
‘What does he know about poetry?’
‘Booooo! Booooo!’
An onion flew over Luxos’s head, missing him by inches. Aristophanes was expecting him to flee, and wouldn’t have blamed him. The young poet held his ground, even striding forward to the front of the stage. He raised his lyre, took a deep breath, and addressed the audience in a surprisingly strong, clear voice.
‘Fellow Citizens of Athens — this is a poem I wrote about the Goddess Athena.’
Pallas Athena, glorious child of almighty Zeus
Righteous, blissful and blessèd goddess
Striding over mountains,
through groves and caverns
Rejoicing in mastery of sword and spear
Fierce in battle,
Strengthening weak mortal souls
With the terrible spirit of the Furies
Athletic maiden
Free from marriage
You wrath descends on the wicked
And your wisdom on the good
Raging destroyer of Gorgons and joyful Mother of the Arts
Mistress of wisdom
Master of strategy
Male, female, natures combined
Shapeshifter
Form-changer
Great-spirited dragon of war
Slayer of giants
Thundering tamer of stallions,
Destroy every evil
And bring us victory!
Goddess, Warrior, Artist,
Grey-eyed Athena
Hear our prayers, night and day,
Grant us peace, health,
Victory and wealth,
We praise you, and ask
That our lives may be ever joyful under your protection.
I dedicate this hymn to you,
Great Goddess Athena.
When Luxos finished his poem, there was complete silence. Aristophanes held his breath, his fists clenched so tightly his fingernails dug into his palms. He expected the worst. Suddenly the whole theatre erupted into tremendous applause. The shock of hearing such a beautiful poem about the Goddess Athena, from the lips of young Luxos the oarsman’s son, had temporarily stunned the audience, but as they regained their voice, there was one of the loudest cheers ever heard in the theatre.
The Goddess Athena
The Goddess Athena did not always watch the comedies at the Dionysia. They were not particularly to her taste. However, on this occasion she was observing, knowing the importance of the event. So it was that she saw Luxos on stage, and heard his poem. She watched the Athenian crowd applaud him and cheer so loudly for an encore that Luxos was obliged to recite it again. After that, he waved to the audience before retreating backstage and slumping to the floor, worn out by the stress of the occasion. Luxos had craved an audience, but he hadn’t expected his first performance to be in front of more than twelve thousand inebriated Athenians. He was thrilled that his poem had been so well received, but at the moment his legs had turned to jelly and it would be some time before he could walk again.
Aristophanes
Aristophanes had hardly recovered from the shock of Luxos’s triumph when the strange foreign woman, Bremusa, ran into the backstage area carrying a huge box. A scenery painter who got in her way was sent sprawling. She walked swiftly towards Aristophanes and dumped the box at his feet.
‘We rescued your phalluses.’
Aristophanes could have jumped for joy, and might have, had time not been so short. As it was he wrenched open the box and screamed at all the stagehands and dressers who were milling around.
‘Strap these penises on the chorus and get them out there before there’s a riot!’
Overcome with gratitude, he grabbed hold of Bremusa and embraced her. Her body went rigid in shock.
‘Thank you for bringing them back.’
The Athenian stagehands could work quickly in a crisis. It took very little time to get the phalluses strapped on. The audience were still in a good mood following Luxos’s poem to Athena when the chorus emerged onto the stage. They went into their opening dance, huge phalluses flopping and flying in every direction. The audience cheered. Applause rang round the auditorium. It was a better start than could have been hoped for only a few minutes before.
Aristophanes noticed Luxos lying on the floor, his face still pale.
‘Thank you, Luxos.’
‘That was very stressful,’ mumbled Luxos.
‘The Athenian theatre is grateful for your efforts. The muses will reward you generously.’
The Play
Philippus, wearing the comic mask of the lead character, Trygaeus the farmer, had mounted the giant beetle. Lifted by the stage crane, he flew over the heads of the audience.
‘I’m off to heaven to visit the gods! I’ll find out why they’d abandoned us!’
On stage below, his daughter looked up in alarm.
‘My father’s gone mad!’
Trygaeus used his phallus as a rudder, steering the beetle from one side of the arena to the other. Below him, the audience howled with laughter.
‘Mad?’ he cried. ‘I’m the only sane person in Athens!’
Kleonike
It was rather beneath the dignity of a priestess to directly involve herself in bribery. Kleonike felt it was impious of Euphranor even to ask her. On the other hand, it did involve being paid a healthy commission. The upkeep of her temple required money, and that had been in short supply recently.
You could say that I was doing my religious duty, bringing in much-needed drachmas, thought Kleonike.
She intercepted Mnesarete on her way into the theatre. Mnesarete was a pretty young girl. Kleonike could see that she might well impress the judges if she walked onstage naked, as apparently she was intended to do.
‘Mnesarete. About your appearance at the end of the play.’
‘Yes?’
Kleonike produced a bag of silver coins, and showed her one of them, a bright, new tetradrachm.
‘What if a sudden unfortunate headache made you unable to appear?’
Mnesarete looked at the gleaming coin, and then at the bag.
‘Now you mention it,’ she said. ‘I am feeling rather unwell.’
She held out her hand. Kleonike gave her the bag of coins.
‘I should probably go home and rest,’ said Mnesarete.
The Play
Trygaeus flew to heaven and dismounted from the beetle. In heaven — which was of course the same wooden stage he’d taken off from a few minutes before — he was surprised to find there was no one there. All the gods and goddesses seemed to have departed. Only Hermes remained.
The actor playing Hermes, in a mask less comic and more dignified than those worn by the other performers, looked imperiously down at Trygaeus as he approached. Meanwhile the chorus moved smoothly into position, ready to assist in the conversation.