Scholarship on Aristophanes’ Lysistrata over the last three decades has almost without exception supported the view that the play models its portrayal of the sex-striking wives on hetaeras. Henderson first proposed that the teasing delay tactics of Myrrhine in the seduction scene resemble those of a courtesan1. He subsequently hypothesizes that the play, with its emphasis on female bibulousness, sexual appetites, adornment and depilation, may have been based on the hetaera comedy of Pherecrates2. Stroup further describes the women as «pseudo-hetaerai» based on the play’s «vivid sympotic imagery and sexual innuendo» (Stroup 2004: 41). Faraone argues for a double identification of the women as both housewives and «sex-crazed ‘whores’» over whom Lysistrata rules as a «hard-hearted madame» (Faraone 2006: 213). Gilhuly concurs that the wives are represented «in the idiom of the hetaera», which she views as intertwined with ritual discourse (Gilhuly 2008: 154). Although Aristophanes’ play operates at several levels of meaning and invites multiple and often contradictory readings, the recent emphasis on courtesan imagery has resulted in a concomitant neglect of the play’s central theme, the preservation of the family and production of legitimate children. This paper argues that Aristophanes’ Lysistrata establishes a domestic context for female sexuality that is crucial to a full understanding of the plot and its resolution at the end of the play. The young wives must be viewed primarily as free citizen wives rather than as hetaeras, given the domestic setting of the sex strike and the close connection of female sexuality with reproduction. Indeed, the play portrays desiring and desirable wives as a necessary component of marriage and its aim – the production of legitimate children and citizens. In this respect, it reflects a contemporary concern for the survival of the family in the shadow of the disastrous loss of men in the Sicilian expedition in 414 BCE and the concomitant weakening of Pericles’ citizenship law of 451/0 BCE3.

Most scholarly discussions of Greek terms for prostitutes in the classical period begin with this Apollodorus’ statement in pseudo-Demosthenes’ Against Neaera:

τὸ γὰρ συνοικεῖν τοῦτ᾽ ἔστιν, ὃς ἂν παιδοποιῆται καὶ εἰσάγῃ εἴς τε τοὺς φράτερας καὶ δημότας τοὺς υἱεῖς, καὶ τὰς θυγατέρας ἐκδιδῷ ὡς αὑτοῦ οὔσας τοῖς ἀνδράσιν. τὰς μὲν γὰρ ἑταίρας ἡδονῆς ἕνεκ᾽ ἔχομεν, τὰς δὲ παλλακὰς τῆς καθ᾽ ἡμέραν θεραπείας τοῦ σώματος, τὰς δὲ γυναῖκας τοῦ παιδοποιεῖσθαι γνησίως καὶ τῶν ἔνδον φύλακα πιστὴν ἔχειν.

For this is what living with a woman in marriage means: to produce children and introduce his sons to the members of the phratry and the deme and to betroth his daughters, who are his own, to men. We have courtesans for pleasure, concubines for the daily care of our bodies, and wives for the production of legitimate children and to serve as the trusted guardian of the things within ([Dem.] 59.122).

The passage distinguishes citizen wives from all other types of women, mainly in their capacity as mothers of legitimate children, e.g. sons who will become citizens and marriageable daughters (Ogden 1996: 102). But as the case of Neaera suggests, it could be difficult to ascertain a woman’s actual status (Davidson 1997: 73)4. Apollodorus himself acknowledges the possibility that the daughters of citizens could turn to prostitution (πορνῶν ἐργασία) if unable to marry through poverty ([Dem. 59.113). Moreover, the terminology for female prostitution involves a considerable amount of ambiguity: although it is agreed that a hetaera differs from a πόρνη (common prostitute) in her ability to choose her relationships, the two terms are often used of the same woman, not to mention various types of musicians and dancers could also work as prostitutes, resulting in significant linguistic «slippage» (Kurke 1999: 178: McClure 2002: 11-13). This paper will argue that Aristophanes’ Lysistrata is largely engaged with the first part of Apollodorus’ statement, wedlock for the purpose of producing legitimate children and citizens, or female sexuality within a domestic context. It is contrasted by the mute nude figure of Diallage at the end of the play who is characterized as a πόρνη, since her body is available to all.

Women in Vase Painting

Visual depictions of domestic life on Attic pottery from the last half of the fifth century BCE, particularly scenes of textile production and wedding preparations, provide valuable parallels not previously considered for insight into the representation of women in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata. Images of women engaging in feminine activities such as wool-working, dressing and bathing, primarily in the company of other women in an imaginary, transitional domestic space, proliferate during this period5. The iconography undergoes a radical shift from the early part of the fifth century as erotic imagery becomes less sexually graphic and more allusive and emotionally expressive6. I consider here two basic types: scenes of adornment, often nuptial, in which female accoutrements such as sandals, mirrors, perfumes and alabastra, and even occasional nudity, evoke a kind of domesticated eroticism and scenes of textile production, which portray women working wool or its implements. The atmosphere of domesticated sexuality in the latter has prompted scholars to identify some of these women as hetaeras, particularly in the case of a small group of vases that feature mixed-gender interactions in which men extend money pouches to women engaged in textile production. This apparent allusion to sex-for-pay has prompted some scholars to interpret the figures as “spinnende Hetären” working wool on the side for extra cash or to give the appearance of social respectability7. This parallel debate illustrates the difficulty of determining the social status of the women in vase painting because no consistent visual indicator of prostitution has yet been found8. Even signifiers commonly associated with hetaeras such as nudity, money pouches, cropped hair and garter amulets have been shown to be inconclusive9. And some of the commonly accepted markers of prostitution, such as nudity, luxurious clothing, perfume and gold jewelry, can also be securely identified with free citizen women in certain contexts, such as nuptial vases (Lee 2015: 184, 208-10). Context is thus an important determinant; only the naked women engaged in explicit sexual activity on sympotic kylikes can be definitively identified as prostitutes, although we will probably never know whether they should be labeled hetaera or πόρνη (Lewis 2002: 112).

In the absence of any reliable visual criterion, scholars have recently questioned the identification of women as hetaeras in some of the domestic scenes depicted on Attic vases during the last half of the fifth century. Many now interpret these female figures as free citizen women at home rather than in the brothel, «These pots are about the seductive appeal of women as part of marriage» (Lewis 2002: 104). Central to this reassessment is the perception that eroticism is not incompatible with either the representation of marriageable young girls or with legitimate wives. Ferrari argues that the spinners in these scenes are parthenoi (maidens) who dwell in a nymph-like community where they prepare for marriage. Like their literary counterparts, they are «beautified by scents, rich clothes, and ornaments and attract suitors who come bringing tasteful gifts»10. Far from alluding to prostitution, the eroticism of these scenes underscores the sexual allure of the maiden and her readiness for marriage. While also agreeing that these women are not prostitutes, Bundrick offers a different interpretation: the wool workers are citizen wives and mothers. In her view, the presence of textile production, along with glimpses of the nuptial bed, occasional images of children and the inclusion females who tie sashes or girdles linked to nuptial adornment, alludes to marriage or evokes domestic life. These scenes combine eroticism and industry to advertise Athenian ideals about marriage and affirm the important contributions of women as mothers and managers of the household (Bundrick 2011: 318). We also find eroticism – personified by a winged Eros – predominates on nuptial vases during the last third of the fifth century BCE. These paintings re-conceptualize the traditional wedding scene by emphasizing the emotional and erotic bond of husband and wife (Sutton 1997/8: 27). Such scenes suggest the importance of erotic attraction between husband and wife as the pre-condition of the family and therefore the social stability of the Athenian state.

The goal of this domesticated eroticism is marriage and the birth of legitimate offspring, as represented by an idealized family group on an Attic red figure hydria from Vari and attributed to Polygnotan group c. 430 BCE (Figure 1). To the right a young husband stands dressed in a cloak and carrying a walking stick. He looks on as a seated woman passes a male infant to another woman at left, probably either a nurse or servant. The standing loom balances out the composition and suggests the industry and wealth of the family. The baby boy shows both that the woman has fulfilled her primary duty to the household and the city through childbirth, ensuring the continuity of the family line and the future citizenship of Athens11. The wreath draws attention to the seated woman and perhaps alludes to her wedding or the birth of her son, both happy events in the household (Bundrick 316-17). Note that the drapery of the seated woman is semi-transparent, showing the outline of her left arm, a muted hint at her sexuality. This is the χιτών (long tunic), a generic term for the finely woven undergarment worn by women at home and almost completely covered by a mantle when outdoors (Stone 1981: 172-3). According to Lee, this type of bodily display stressed female sexuality and women’s reproductive potential as part of their role in marriage (Lee 2015: 113). It is also a key weapon deployed by the sex-striking wives.
 

These recent analyses of women on Athenian red figure vases from a period contemporary with Aristophanes’ Lysistrata demonstrate that displays of female sexuality in a nuptial or domestic context are entirely compatible with the representation of marriageable girls and free citizen women. This reassessment of the visual record argues for a parallel reconsideration of the characterization of the wives in Aristophanes’ play12.

A Context for Sex

Since the main indicator of prostitutes on Attic vases is context –female figures engaged in sympotic activities on sympotic vessels – let us consider first the setting of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata for clues as to the wives’ representation. It has been argued that the play evokes a form of Hetärensymposion, an early genre scene featured on the sympotic cup (Stroup 2003: 41). Given that such scenes predate Aristophanes’ Lysistrata by at least fifty years, it is unlikely that the poet or the audience would have had them in mind13. A better parallel, I argue, are the contemporary images of women at home presented on Attic pottery in the last third of the fifth century BCE. Stroup further identifies the setting of the sex-strike as a public space where «the private negotiations of the marriage bed [are] displaced onto – and made public on – the comic stage» (Stroup 2003: 40). From the perspective of the viewers, however, the context of the all-women gathering and the subsequent sex-strike cannot be considered strictly public. To be sure, they use male political forms, such as the oath, to further their plan, much like the women in Thesmophoriazusae and Ecclesiazusae, but their assembly takes place in private and away from men. As the women gather in front of Lysistrata’s house, their conversation constructs a notional domestic space, similar to that of contemporary vase representations of women at home. The male spectators are thus allowed a voyeuristic glimpse into a feminine world normally off-limits, one that reveals free citizen women at their toilette or shows them engaged in bawdy conversation.

The women’s direct allusions to sex and crude joking reinforces the idea of a sex-segregated private realm, since females on the comic stage – with the notable exception of crones – rarely use direct sexual language in the presence of men14. It is the very conversation among women, the «sex talk,» from which the virtuous bee woman abstains in Semonides’ iambic fragment (ἀφροδισίους λόγους, fr. 7.92; Loraux 1993: 147). Within this framework we must understand the explicit sexual vocabulary deployed in the opening scene by Lysistrata and some of the other women not as «incompatible with any public expression of the social category of wife» (Stroup 2003: 41), but rather as a male fantasy of female conversation. Indeed, the fact that Lysistrata pronounces or initiates almost all of the obscenities spoken by women in the play suggests a distinction between her characterization and that of the wives, who come across as almost demure in comparison15. So Lysistrata complains conspiratorially that the war has deprived women of lovers and dispos (μοιχοῦ, 107; ὄλισβον ὀκτωδάκτυλον, 109), two wifely propensities much mocked and exaggerated in comedy16. A further parallel is found in the sexual joking and incitements to adultery characteristic of women-only religious festivals17. Moreover, the knowledge of sexual postures» – raising the feet to the ceiling» (οὐ πρὸς τὸν ὄροφον ἀνατενῶ τὼ Περσικά, 229-30) and the «lion on the cheese-grater» (οὐ στήσομαι λέαιν᾽ ἐπὶ τυροκνήστιδος, 231-2) – should also be considered the fantasized subject of this private female talk. As Henderson notes, the raising of the legs «seems to have be almost de rigueur for women in lovemaking»18. Praxigora in Aristophanes’ Ecclesiazusae further apostrophizes the oil lamp as witness to the wives’ «various postures of Aphrodite» (κἀν τοῖσι δωματίοισιν/Ἀφροδίτης τρόπων πειρωμέναισι πλησίον παραστατεῖς, Eccl. 8-9), thereby lending support to the notion that wives practiced a variety of sexual poses19.

Much like the visual tableaux of women at home, the gathering of women and the subsequent sex strike in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata constructs an imaginary, transitional space that is both private and domestic and yet voyeuristically on display to the male viewers20. A key point often overlooked is that the sex strike is intended to occur at home: Lysistrata repeatedly instructs the women to “remain indoors” (καθῄμεθ᾽ ἔνδον, 149; cf. αἳ καθήμεθα, 43) and has the women swear in the oath that they will stay chastely at home, like virgins (οἴκοι δ᾽ ἀταυρώτη διάξω τὸν βίον, 217). The sex strike is later moved to the Athenian Acropolis where it becomes merged with the occupation plot (240-53), although some of the women, such as Lampito, do return home to carry out the plan there (Henderson 1987: 75-76 and 97). Even this sacred space cannot be considered completely public as the women effectively convert it into a private household (Foley 1982: 7; Vaio 1973). The verb κάθημαι (sit) used to describe the sedentary life of women indoors suggests not simply idleness but also chastity and fidelity, since it is used in praise of Penelope for remaining loyal to her husband during his long absence (ἧσται ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν, Hom. Od. 13.337)21. Twice the term applies to maidens as a sign of their respectability in the play: the old women of the chorus wish to remain virtuously at home, like unmarried girls (ἐπεὶ θέλω ‹γὼ σωφρόνως ὥσπερ κόρη καθῆσθαι, 473-4) while Lysistrata laments the impact of the war on virgins grown old in their chambers (κάθηται, 596). Indeed, the sex strike symbolically restores virginity to the wives while the occupation of the sacred precinct of Athena conveniently guarantees their continued abstinence22. One is reminded of the static immobility of the idealized brides and wives on Attic vases, whose seated postures embody their connection to the household (Blundell and Rabinowitz 2008: 123). The play thus situates the women within a domestic context: it is the place from which they emerge, with difficulty, as Calonice observes (χαλεπή τοι γυναικῶν ἔξοδος, 16) and to which the strike-weary wives long to return (οἴκαδε, 726, 728, 746; οἴκοι, 729, 736).

The household not only represents the proper place for free Athenian women, it also functions as the symbol of marriage and the “privileged and protected space of legitimate procreation”23. It is where the misogynist Melanion, “fleeing marriage” (φεύγων γάμον, 786), refuses to go in the fable later sung by the chorus of old men (οἴκαδε, 792). In art, one of the most reliable criteria for identifying the household is the presence of children who embody its procreative function (Sutton 2004: 331). In Figure 1, the addition of a child to a man and woman identifies a family group; the husband or guardian admires his wife in her maternal capacity and for her industry in wool-working. The numerous references to children and childbirth in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata similarly underscore the representation of the young wives as the mothers of legitimate children24. So Calonice in describing the difficulties that confront women trying to leave the house mentions caring for children as an obstacle, «She has to wake the servant, put the baby to sleep, then wash him, then feed him little bits of food» (ἡ δ᾽ οἰκέτην ἤγειρεν, ἡ δὲ παιδίον/κατέκλινεν, ἡ δ᾽ ἔλουσεν, ἡ δ᾽ ἐψώμισεν, 18-20). Of course, these are just the duties the wives neglect during the sex strike. When Lysistrata attempts to persuade the women to agree to her plan, she asks them whether they long for the fathers of their children away on active duty (τοὺς πατέρας οὐ ποθεῖτε τοὺς τῶν παιδίων/ἐπὶ στρατιᾶς ἀπόντας, 99-100). Framed in this way, sexual desire is procreative and directed toward legitimate husbands rather than toward lovers. The allusions to children and childbirth culminate in the feigned pregnancy of Third Woman (741-52), followed by the actual stage presence of a child in the seduction scene between Myrrhine and Cinesias, discussed more fully at the end of this paper. As in contemporary visual representations of women at home such as Figure 1, Aristophanes situates his female characters in Lysistrata squarely within a domestic milieu.

In contrast, hetaeras are associated with pleasure (ἡδονῆς, [Dem.] 59.122) and not with the bearing of legitimate children to the men who patronize them. Indeed, Isaeus adduces a woman’s childlessness as evidence of her status as a hetaera25. Medical writers associate the use of abortifacients with hetaeras in particular (Hp. Nat. Puer. 13.1). Smicrines in Menander’s Epitrepontes complains that a new husband, even after taking a huge dowry, does not consider himself to be a true partner (οἰκέτ[ην) of his wife because he sleeps away from home and continues to frequent courtesans (Men. Epitr. 134-5, cf. 645-6; Ogden 1996: 101). Hetaeras and other types of prostitutes thus had no place in the household and the production of legitimate children, although they could be brought into the house on a temporary basis to provide entertainment at the symposium. So we hear that Neara «drank and dined in the company of many men, as though she were a hetaera» ([Dem.] 59.24; Davidson 1998: 92-93). To install a hetaera permanently in one’s house could serve as grounds for divorce: Hipparete purportedly left Alcibiades because of his habit of bringing hetaeras home26. Demeas in Menander’s Samia expresses shame at keeping a hetaera and allowing her into the house (Men. Sam. 23, 27). Hetaeras may have felt the same way. In Terence’s Hecyra, the hetaera Bacchis reluctantly agrees to go to Laches house and meet his female kin, but doubts that any other woman of her profession would do the same and show herself to a “wedded wife” (nuptae mulieri, Ter. Hec. 757). Instead, courtesans and prostitutes inhabited the public spaces of the city or attended the symposium inside the house, areas out of bounds for free citizen women. Rather than sitting passively inside the house like wives and daughters, they openly plied their trade, walking the streets or standing before the brothel27.

The Well-Groomed Wife

Allusions to female adornment in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata have similarly been construed as evidence that the wives are portrayed as hetaeras, despite the fact that seductive female dress is also associated with wives, beginning with Hera (Hom. Il. 14.153-351) and Pandora (Hes. Th. 570-89; Erg. 69-105)28. As with the visual sources, it is often difficult to distinguish the two types of women in literary texts because so “many of the dress behaviors employed by hetairai, such as bathing, hairdressing, and depilation, are shared by proper women” (Lee 2015: 183-4). Dalby has argued that courtesans were costumed more expensively and more elaborately than other women, wearing patterned or richly dyed textiles and extravagant jewelry (Dalby 2002: 114). Xenophon describes the courtesan Theodote and her mother as lavishly costumed, with a large entourage of servants in tow and an expensively decorated house (αὐτήν τε πολυτελῶς κεκοσμημένην, Xen. Mem. 3.11.4). Gold jewelry, again as a sign of wealth, may have been particularly associated with courtesans: Neara takes both “dress and gold”, perhaps a formulaic phrase indicating the courtesan’s costume, when she leaves Phrynion (ἱμάτια καὶ χρυσία, [Dem.] 59.35, cf. 46)29. But as we saw earlier, jewelry also has a strong association with marriage in the visual evidence30. This slippage again underscores the difficulty of distinguishing the heteara from the free citizen wife. In this section, I argue that there is nothing in the women’s clothing, footwear and grooming practices that points to their identification with hetaeras but rather points to the standard adornment of the Athenian housewife.

The women’s stage costumes are common female apparel: both Myrrhine and Lysistrata wear a type of outer garment, exclusive to women (ἔγκυκλον τουτί, 113, 1162-3), while Calonice dons or holds the belt (ζώνιον, 72) that girds her robe despite the difficulty of finding it in the darkness31. Lysistrata in turn gives the Proboulos the veil from her head (τουτὶ τὸ κάλυμμα, 532; cf. 530). The overtly feminine nature of these objects makes them the perfect fodder for comedy when worn by men. In Thesmophorizousae, Euripides’ kinsman aspires to resemble a typical Athenian wife and so requests footwear (ὑποδημάτων, Ar. Thesm. 262), a saffron gown (κροκωτόν, 253), breast band (στρόφιον, 250, 251), outerwear (ἱμάτιον, 250; ἔκυκλον, 261, 499) and headgear (κεκρυφάλου, μίτρας, 256) in order to infiltrate the women-only festival. This typical outerwear contrasts what, according to Calonice, the women wear as they sit idly at home, “saffron gowns and makeup, long inner garments and slippers» (αἳ καθήμεθ᾽ ἐξηνθισμέναι,/κροκωτοφοροῦσαι καὶ κεκαλλωπισμέναι/καὶ Κιμβερίκ᾽ ὀρθοστάδια καὶ περιβαρίδας, 43-45). As their best and most expensive clothes, these are in fact the very weapons that they must deploy to save Hellas, “little saffron gowns and perfume and slippers and rouge and transparent dresses” (τὰ κροκωτίδια καὶ τὰ μύρα χαἰ περιβαρίδες/
χἤγχουσα καὶ τὰ διαφανῆ χιτώνια, 46-7). Calonice’s eager assent – she will dye her garment saffron (κροκωτὸν ἄρα νὴ τὼ θεὼ ‘γὼ βάψομαι, 51), put on her transparent gown (Κιμβερικὸν ἐνδύσομαι, 52) and get the shoes (κτήσομαι περιβαρίδας, 53) – seems to contradict her earlier statement that women usually wear these things at home (43-45). Perhaps she simply means that she will need to return her house to acquire them; in any case, these items are readily available and not out of the ordinary. Lysistrata thus instructs the wives to utilize their customary clothing and adornment to activate the sex-strike. She further elaborates that not only will the women stay home anointed with cosmetics, they will wear finely woven translucent garments (τοῖς χιτωνίοισι τοῖς Ἀμοργίνοις/γυμναί, 150) with their pubic hair neatly trimmed (δέλτα παρατετιλμέναι, 151)32. Lampito’s comparison of the plan to Menelaus dropping his sword at the sight of Helen’s exposed breast introduces an appropriate mythic parallel that highlights the sexual attractiveness of wife to her husband while simultaneously reinforcing a conjugal context for this nudity (ὁ γῶν Μενέλαος τᾶς Ἑλένας τὰ μᾶλά πᾳ/ γυμνᾶς παραυιδὼν ἐξέβαλ᾽, οἰῶ, τὸ ξίφος, 155-56; cf. E. An. 629-30).

Despite their epigraphic complexity, the inventories of Artemis at Brauron recorded on stelae set up on the Acropolis provide important external evidence for the types of clothing worn by Athenian citizen women, since they record textile offerings dedicated to the goddess after use (Cleland 2005a: 91). In these lists, references to the ἔγκυκλον (113), the κροκωτός (44, 48, 51, 219-20) and the χιτthoserance puble view thatveral times as standard items of femalenian citizen women (Cleland : ). for this nudity (, 156; cf. E.ών (49, 150) all occur several times as standard feminine apparel. The χιτών was an “essential element of the clothing of an Athenian woman” and differed from that of men by its more delicate fabric and full length33. The κροκωτός (saffron colored robe) was a variation of this common female undergarment and is distinctive in the Brauron catalogues because it appears both as a substantive and as a descriptive term, indicating that the significance of the saffron color subsumed garment type34. In literary texts, both saffron dye and the crocus flower from which it derived were associated with female adolescence and emergent sexuality35. Elite Athenian girls donned the κροκωτός to perform rites in honor of Artemis at Brauron; indeed, the old women of the chorus once wore saffron garments in service of the goddess (καὶ χέουσα τὸν κροκωτὸν ἄρκτος ἦ Βραυρωνίοις, 645). The costliness of such textiles is illustrated in Nubes, where saffron clothing, along with perfume, convey the sophistication and sex appeal of Strepsiades’ aristocratic wife on their wedding night (μύρου κρόκου, Nub. 51)36. Hence the color saffron probably also had nuptial associations37. The equation of the κροκωτός with femininity creates an opportunity for comic incongruity in scenes of transvestism, as well as in the attempted seduction of the Youth by Old Woman A who attempts to appear youthful and attractive by painting her face and donning a saffron robe at the end of Ecclesiazusae (καταπεπλασμένη ψιμυθίῳ/ ἕστηκα καὶ κροκωτὸν ἠμφιεσμένη, Eccl. 879)38. Clearly, the κροκωτός was not the garb of “working girls” but rather a costly and alluring feminine undergarment reserved for special occasions and typically worn by wives39.

The other clothing descriptors in the play similarly point to normative female clothing. While ὀρθοστάδιος is not well attested, it seems to refer to a type of χιτών that reached to the feet and hung in straight folds without a belt40. The main characteristic of this item is its transparency, as indicated by the term Κιμβερικός ( 45, 52; Stone 1981: 178 and 195 n. 84). The garment is further described as ἀμόργινος (made of fine flax), by far the most common descriptor applied to a garment whose fabric is specified in the Brauron inventories. The term refers to a garment finely woven of vegetable fiber such as linen and used only for female clothing41. The fact that Second Woman in the desertion scene wishes to abandon the citadel on the pretext of caring for her ἀμόργινος suggests that it was a type of fabric commonly found in the Greek household (ἀμοργίδος, 735; ἄμοργιν, 737; Stone 1981: 193 n. 66). The women’s finely woven, transparent draperies render them γυμναί (naked, 150), a word that seldom means absolute nudity in Aristophanes but rather points to the χιτών worn alone without the mantle, as was customary inside the house (Stone 1981: 145). In this regard, we must understand the women as wearing what they normally would at home, undergarments, without the mantle and veil that would have concealed their bodies outside the house, as they do onstage in the play42.

Footwear

The footwear worn by the wives has also been taken as evidence of their similarity to hetaeras43. In Greek literary sources, female feet, ankles and footwear are often erotically charged44. Like clothing, shoes represented a common form of female adornment geared to attracting husbands, as shown in Ischomachus’ complaint about his wife wearing high-heeled shoes to make herself appear taller (ὑποδήματα δ᾽ ἔχουσαν ὑψηλά, Xen. Oec. 10.2). The cross-dressing male Kinsman in Thesmophoriazusae must change shoes in order to pass for a woman (ὑποδημάτων, Thesm. 262) while Blepyrus in Ecclesiazusae, unable to find his shoes in the middle of the night, must borrow his wife’s «Persian slippers» in order to leave the house (τὰς ἐκείνης Περσικάς, Eccl. 319). The latter term appears interchangeable with κόθορνος, a type of soft boot that could be worn on either foot and largely associated with women; indeed the female chorus leader in Lysistrata refers to her shoes as such (τῷ κοθόρνῳ, 657; τὼ κοθόρνω, Eccl. 346)45. Infants and children also apparently wore Persian slippers: the wineskin that the Kinsman pretends is a little girl wears a miniature version and Socrates’ flea also sports them (Περσικάς, Thesm. 734; cf. Nub. 151)46. They were thus probably delicate, soft ankle boots less substantial than male footwear and therefore suitable for women and children who did not spend as much time walking outdoors (Stone 1981: 229). These are the ordinary shoes of the young wives of Lysistrata (τὼ Περσικά, 229-30), not the footwear of courtesans. Another type of shoes, περιβαρίδες, possibly a flimsy, inexpensive slipper, is also mentioned (45, 47, 53); since there are no other references in Aristophanes or contemporary texts, it has been conjectured that it is a generic term used interchangeably with the other two47.

Like diaphanous clothing, seductive female footwear need not mark the wearer as a hetaera but could also indicate a bride. Ferrari has recently argued that the presence of boots in scenes of adornment on Attic vase painting comprise part of the equipment of the «maiden with many suitors» rather than the courtesan’s costume (Ferrari 2002: 48). Nuptial sandals are often the focus of wedding vases and suggest the sexual availability of the bride to her new husband and her transitional journey to his home upon marriage48. The sexual connotations of female footwear is underscored later in Lysistrata when the Proboulos, complaining about female licentiousness, imagines a beleaguered husband requesting that a well-endowed cobbler «loosen» the sandal strap that pinch his wife’s little toe (414-19). The removal of the shoes as the last act before getting into bed suggests it was an erotic gesture that portended intercourse; indeed, before disappointing her husband for the final time, Myrrhine in the seduction scene exclaims, «See, I’m just removing my shoes!» (ὑπολύομαι γοῦν, 950)49. The wives’ dainty footwear in Lysistrata should be read as a “low-key sexual hint” of the pleasures that await their husbands in peacetime rather than as a direct sign of prostitution (Kilmer 1993: 119).

Cosmetics, Perfume and Depilation

Cosmetics in the form of white powder (lead carbonate) and rouge (alkanet) were also widely used by all women in ancient Greece, not just by courtesans and prostitutes, and in fact seem to have met with fewer restrictions than female clothing at various periods (Glazebrook 2009: 234). Indeed, Ischomachus rebukes his young wife not only for wearing heels but also for rubbing her face with a great amount of these two substances (ἐντετριμμένην πολλῷ μὲν ψιμυθίῳ . . . πολλῇ δ᾽ ἐγχούσῃ, Xen. Oec. 10.2), suggesting that this practice was common for married women. Even marriageable girls seem to have worn white powder, as in the case of the kanephoros alluded to in Aristophanes’ Ecclesiazusae (ἐντετριμμένη κανηφορῇς, Eccl. 732)50. So we find in Lysistrata a similar emphasis on cosmetic enhancement: the wives are described as putting effort into their appearance (κεκαλλωπισμέναι, 44, 219-20) in the form of white powder, implied by the participle ἐντετριμμέναι (149), and rouge (ἔγχουσα, 48), two terms commonly paired51. Their use of these two types of coloring moderately applied underscores their representation as wives rather than as hetaeras because the latter also seem to have worn eye-makeup52. Another common component of the repertoire of Athenian women to be deployed in the sex-strike is perfume (μύρα, 48; cf. 938, 940, 942, 946). It is associated both with adulterous assignations (Ar. Eccl. 525) and with weddings (Oakley and Sinos 1993: 16), confirming that it also cannot be understood as a definitive sign of the courtesan.

The final weapon in the women’s sexual arsenal is the grooming of the pubic hair, «trimming it into a triangle» (δέλτα παρατετιλμέναι, 151). Like cosmetics and sheer clothing, the plucking or singeing of pubic hair was thought to make all women more attractive53. Kilmer in his survey of erotic scenes on Attic red-figure vases has argued that women only trimmed rather than completely removed their pubic hair, based on the fact that almost all of the depictions of nude women on vases show some pubic hair54. In addition to donning the κροκωτός and ἔγκυκλον, Euripides’ kinsman must be shaved and singed in his pubic region to convincingly impersonate a woman (Thesm. 216-17). Conversely, one of the women in Ecclesiazusae says she has let her armpit hair grow in order to impersonate a man (ἔχω τὰς μασχάλας λόχμης δασυτέρας, Eccl. 60-70). Praxagora later rules that dressed up slave prostitutes should be made to sleep among male slaves rather than free men with their pubic regions plucked into a coarse fringe (κατωνάκην τὸν χοῖρον ἀποτετιλμένας, Eccl. 723-4). In other words, they must leave their pubic hair too long or too thick to be sexually attractive like a citizen women (Kilmer 1986: 106). The Boeotian woman in our play is a source of admiration among the wives for her «most smartly trimmed patch» (κομψότατα τὴν βληχώ γε παρατετιλμένη, 89)55. Even the stalwart embodiment of mature civic womanhood, the female members of the chorus, state that despite their advanced age, they do not keep their pubic hair long but rather have depilated with a lamp (ἀλλ᾽ ὅμως ἂν οὐκ ἴδοις/καίπερ οὔσης γραὸς ὄντ᾽ αὐ–/τὸν κομήτην, ἀλλ᾽ ἀπεψι–/λωμένον τῷ λύχνῳ, 825-8; Faraone 2006: 211). The carefully groomed pubic hair of the wives in Lysistrata suggests not prostitution but rather delicacy and refinement. As we can see from this brief discussion, the conversation, clothing, footwear, adornment and comportment of the female characters in the play reinforce their representation as free citizen wives rather than as hetaeras. Their domesticated eroticism recalls some of the vase images of women at home, enabling the male spectators a voyeuristic glimpse of other men’s wives, while underscoring their function as mothers and producers of future Athenian citizens, a commodity that has been jeopardized by the war.

Home Economics

The play’s representation of the women as citizen wives is further reinforced in the encounter between Lysistrata and the Proboulos, who has come to restore order to the city (387-538). To rebut the charge of female licentiousness, Lysistrata characterizes herself and her comrades as well-behaved wives reluctant to intervene in male affairs. Their sense of modesty and propriety, denoted by the term σωφροσύνη, at first kept them from expressing political opinions (ὑπὸ σωφροσύνης τῆς ἡμετέρας, 508). As good wives, they struggled to stay silent (οὐ γὰρ γρύζειν εἰᾶθ᾽ ἡμᾶς, 509; ἐσίγων, 515, 516) while remaining within the confines of home (ἔνδον ἂν οὖσαι, 510; τἄνδοθεν, 513; ἔνδον, 516). The poet draws upon the encounter of Hector, and his young wife, Andromache, at the end of Iliad 6 in sketching this scene (Henderson 1987: 134). Indeed, their husbands are made to quote the words of the hero when they admonish their wives to tend to their spinning (εἰ μὴ τὸν στήμονα νήσω, 519-20) and stay out of political matters, because «War is the business of men!» (πόλεμος δ᾽ ἄνδρεσσι μελήσει, 520). Lysistrata in turn uses the tools of female modesty and submission against the Proboulos: she repeatedly exhorts him to be silent (σιώπα, 528, 529, 534), gives him the veil from her head (κάλυμμα, 533) and then provides him with a wool basket (καλαθίσκον, 535). She concludes by reversing the injunction of Hector, “War is the business of women!” (πόλεμος δὲ γυναιξὶ μελήσει, 535)56.

Lysistrata justifies female intervention in the war by emphasizing the valuable contributions of women to both household and city in the form of childbirth, household management and textile production, all activities associated with legitimate wives rather than courtesans. Indeed, she argues that the women in their capacity as mothers have endured more than twice the suffering of men, «because we bear sons and send them out as hoplites!» (τεκοῦσαι/κἀκπέμψασαι παῖδας ὁπλίτας, 588-9). The men have squandered this female currency for the war effort, she argues, just as they have drained the Athenian treasury. And yet the salvation of Hellas depends on just such domestic and economic contributions, much as it does on the Persian slippers and transparent gowns of the opening scene. When the incredulous Proboulos asks how the women will manage the city’s finances, Lysistrata responds that they will use their skills as household managers, using the verb ταμιεύω (493; cf. 494-5). Xenophon employs the same word when he describes how the well-trained wife will manage the household finances and teach others to do the same (διὰ τῶν τῆς γυναικὸς ταμιευμάτων, Xen. Oec. 3.15.5, 7.41.4).

But the primary female skill that will restore order and political harmony to the city is textile production, as Lysistrata describes in her extended wool-working metaphor (567-87). Indeed, Xenophon mentions it as another skill of the competent wife, who will both be able to weave mantle herself as well as train and supervises the slaves in this craft (Xen. Oec. 7.6.1, 7.41.4). The finished product she refers to as a χλαινίς (586), a large, finely woven piece of woolen cloth for a blanket or man’s coat which a bride presented the groom upon marriage as part of the wedding ceremony57. The nuptial and erotic associations of this textile are evidenced by Deianira’s comment in Sophocles’ Trachiniae that she must now share her marriage bed with Iole, “and now we are two waiting under one blanket for the same embrace” (καὶ νῦν δύ᾽ οὖσαι μίμνομεν μιᾶς ὑπὸ χλαίνης ὑπαγκάλισμα, S. Trach. 539-40)58. This metaphor positions Lysistrata as the symbolic wife of the city who through her status as a mother and knowledge of textile production and household management can solve its problems and bring about political unity.

The connection between textile production and childbirth is underscored in the next scene when the wives, their enthusiasm for the strike on the wane, resort to various pretexts for returning home. The series of sexual innuendos that revolve around textile production – one longs to “spread out” her wool on the bed (διαπετάσασ᾽ ἐπὶ τῆς κλίνης, 732) and another to “scutch” her flax (τῆς ἀμοργίδος,/ ἣν ἄλοπον, 735-6) – have been taken as evidence that we are to view the women as sex-workers59. Just because the women conflate textile production with sexual activity need not imply that they are meant to resemble courtesans. As we have seen, such bawdy humor is characteristic of women-only gatherings in Aristophanic comedy. The sexual context is clearly domestic as indicated by the numerous references uses of the word οἶκος (household). First Woman longs to go “home, home to my wool!” (οἴκαδ᾽ ἐλθεῖν βούλομαι,/
οἴκοι γάρ ἐστιν ἔριά μοι, 729-30), while Second Woman worries about the flax she left at home (οἴκοι, 736). Moreover, the term κλίνη at 732 possibly alludes to the conjugal bed. Aristophanes here brilliantly assimilates women’s contributions to the household economy to their reproductive capacities as citizen wives. Another old chestnut that has been brought to bear this passage is the tendency to align textile production with prostitution, beginning with the “spinnende Hetären” debate discussed above and furthered by the more recent discovery of loom weights in brothel remains60. Since nearly every woman in the ancient world engaged in wool-working, it cannot be taken as an indicator of social status. Rather, the first two women set up the punch line, which is provided by the Third Woman. Whereas they use textile metaphors to convey their desire for procreative conjugal sex, Third Woman demonstrates its consequence. The latter invokes the goddess of childbirth, Eileithyia, in an attempt to forestall her feigned labor (ὦ πότνι᾽ Εἰλείθυ᾽, ἐπίσχες τοῦ τόκου, 742). She soon delivers a “boy” in the form of a helmet (ἄρρεν παιδίον, 748). This object recalls Lysistrata’s earlier equation of babies with hoplites and points to the role of citizen women in producing legitimate male offspring to repopulate the city and help to win the war. The old women of the chorus similarly argue for their right to advise the city by stating that they, too, as mothers have provided the city with men (καὶ γὰρ ἄνδρας ἐσφέρω, 651).

Not in Front of the Baby!

Although the seduction scene between Myrrhine and Cinesias has been frequently cited in support of the claim that Aristophanes’ associates the wives with hetaeras, I argue to the contrary that it in fact represents the culmination of the play’s domestic ideology that privileges the conjugal bond and idealizes the role of citizen women as producers of legitimate children61. Let us first put to rest the idea that Myrrhine’s name definitively associates her with prostitution, mainly because it was one of the commonest names in Attica62. The spectators possibly associated it with the contemporary priestess of Athena Nike, a woman who was definitely not a hetaera63. This proposal fits well with the prevailing view that Lysistrata’s name evokes that of Lysimache, the powerful priestess of Athena Polias64. More important for my argument, however, is an oft-neglected dramatic detail: Myrrhine and Cinesias negotiate sex in front of their baby. Just as the helmet symbolized the procreative function of the household in the desertion scene, so, too, the inclusion of an actual infant in the seduction scene underscores the status of the wives as mothers through their ability to produce legitimate heirs and future citizens in contrast the hetaeras and concubines ([Dem.] 59.122). In the same way, the presence of a child, usually male, in Attic vase painting often denotes a family unit and reflects contemporary domestic ideology about its importance to the city-state (Figure 1 above; Sutton 2004: 331). Aristophanes creates just such a tableau in his triangulation of father, mother and infant in the seduction scene. Thus when the hugely frustrated Cinesias arrives at the citadel with baby in tow, it is as a husband, not as a customer.

Because Lysistrata controls access to the women and directs the negotiations between husband and wife (845-64), just as she does in the next scene when she brokers the treaty over the body of Diallage, many scholars have argued that we are to view her as a madame65. Although her demand for compensation (δώσεις τί μοι, 861) suggests as a form of sex trafficking, it is counterbalanced by Cinesias’ exclusive desire for his wife. He wants not just any woman, but only Myrrhine (ἐκκάλεσόν μοι Μυρρίνην, 850). The proliferation of kin terms underscores the familial aspect of their encounter, emphasizing first their relationship as husband and wife (οὑμὸς ἀνὴρ, 839; ἀνὴρ ἐκείνης, 852; ἡ γυνή, 855; ἡ σὴ γυνὴ, 859) and then their role as parent s (πατὴρ, 882, 890; μαμμίαν, 878-9, 890; παιδίῳ, 877, 880, 883, 907, 910; τεκνίδιον, 889).

Another way that the poet privileges the conjugal bond is through allusion to Euripides’ Alcestis, a play that idealizes marriage in the form of a wife’s willingness to die for her husband66. Cinesias uses language similar to the tragic Admetus when he describes the impact of his wife’s absence on the family: he no longer takes any pleasure in life (ὡς οὐδεμίαν ἔχω γε τῷ βίῳ χάριν, 865; cf. λυπρὸν διάξω βίοτον, E. Alc. 941) and cannot bear the thought of entering the house (εἰσιών, 867; cf. εἰσίδω, E. Alc. 942) now that it is so desolate (ἔρημα, 967; cf. ἐρημία, E. Alc. 944). When Myrrhine continues to reject him, he urges her to take pity on the baby. The addition of the child, whether real or a prop, probably alludes to Euripides’ penchant for putting children onstage, especially since his Alcestis includes the first extant use of this device. The scene in which the little boy laments over his mother’s lifeless corpse seems to have been exceptionally memorable for the Athenian audience67. But here the baby’s inarticulate cries of “mama” – μαμμία, μαμμία, μαμμία (879) – comically contrast the sophisticated emotional lyrics of the earlier play. Unwashed and unfed for six days (ἄλουτον ὂν κἄθηλον ἕκτην ἡμέραν, 880), the neglected child embodies the consequences of a house with no mother, much like that of Admetus, with its unswept floors and weeping children (στέγας αὐχμηρὸν οὖδας, τέκνα δ᾽ ἀμφὶ γούνασι πίπτοντα κλαίῃ μητέρα, E. Alc. 947-8). As earlier predicted by the female deserters, the sex strike has indeed adversely impacted “the things within” normally under the supervision of women (τὰ δ’ ἔνδον ὄντα, 894). Myrrhine’s wool has been torn to pieces by the hens in her absence (τῆς κρόκης φορουμένης/ὑπὸ τῶν ἀλεκτρυόνων, 896-7). Cinesias’ ploy proves effective as the combination of maternal instinct (οἷον τὸ τεκεῖν, 884; cf. E. IA 917; Pho. 355-6) and concern for her weaving compels her to come down from the citadel.

Even as the baby facilitates Myrrhine’s departure, bringing her face-to-face with her husband, he ultimately hinders their sexual encounter. She lavishes upon the baby the kisses and blandishments she will deny her husband, “oh sweetest little baby, son of a bad father, come, let me kiss you, sweetest to mommy” (ὦ γλυκύτατον σὺ τεκνίδιον κακοῦ πατρός, φέρε σε φιλήσω γλυκύτατον τῇ μαμμίᾳ, 889-90). In her effort to follow Lysistrata’s instructions, Myrrhine promises her husband she will sleep with him and then keeps inventing excuses to keep from doing it: she objects to their location in a sacred precinct, then demands a series of comforts, such as a bed, a mattress, a pillow, a blanket and perfume68. But the biggest obstacle of all to their union is the presence of their child, “not in front of the baby!,” Myrrhine protests (ὦ καταγέλαστ᾽ ἐναντίον τοῦ παιδίου, 908)69. Now that the child has served the rhetorical function of inspiring pity in his mother, Cinesias readily passes him off to a servant to take home (μὰ Δί᾽ ἀλλὰ τοῦτό γ᾽ οἴκαδ᾽, ὦ μανῆ, φέρε, 909). His presence constructs a triad of mother, father and child that asserts the primacy of the family as the building block of the city even as it emphasizes the threat to its stability posed by the war. Like the helmet-baby in the previous scene, the boy serves as a tacit reminder that the war has not only resulted in the deaths of countless sons but has also disrupted the production of legitimate heirs and citizens.

One final point supports the view of the negotiations between Myrrhine and Cinesias as primarily conjugal. His lust thwarted, Cinesias laments his unresolved situation using a mix of paratragic and comic language:

οἴμοι τί πάθω; τίνα βινήσω
τῆς καλλίστης πασῶν ψευσθείς;
πῶς ταυτηνὶ παιδοτροφήσω;
ποῦ Κυναλώπηξ;
μίσθωσόν μοι τὴν τίτθην (954-8).

Alas, what do I do now? Who will I fuck
now that I’ve been deceived by the most beautiful of women?
How will I raise this here child?
Where is Cynalopex?
Hire a wet nurse for me!

He calls for the pimp Philostratus, nicknamed Cynalopex (Ar. Eq. 1069), to help him procure a prostitute to “nurse” his “child”, that is, perform oral sex. This coarse sexual transaction, indicated by the verb μίσθόω, contrasts the earlier exchange of husband and wife in its reference to prostitution. Myrrhine’s victory over Cinesias is complete. Aphrodite has afflicted him (οἷος ὁ σπασμός μ᾽ ἔχει/χὠ τέτανος, 845-6) in just the same way as Lysistrata had earlier prayed (τέτανον τερπνόν, 553). And in a reversal of the opening scene, she forces her husband to swear an oath that he will stop the war before agreeing to have sex with him (ἔπειτ᾽ ὀμόσασα δῆτ᾽ ἐπιορκήσω, τάλαν, 914). The scene demonstrates the exclusive and reciprocal nature of the conjugal bond earlier expressed by Lysistrata, “you desire your husbands equally – don’t you think they also desire you?” (ποθεῖτ᾽ ἴσως τοὺς ἄνδρας· ἡμᾶς δ᾽ οὐκ οἴει/ποθεῖν ἐκείνους, 763-4). In this regard, the play reflects the contemporary discourse on marriage that idealizes the emotional and sexual attachment between husbands and wives as an important component of Athenian marriage70. The chorus in Sophocles’ Antigone, for instance, speaks of the bride’s erotic gaze, «Desire conquers clearly seen from the eyes of the well-wed bride» (νικᾷ δ᾽ ἐναργὴς βλεφάρων ἵμερος εὐλέκτρου νύμφας, S. Ant. 795-6; Sutton 1997/8: 35). Ischomachus similarly stresses affection and sexual desire as the foundation of the domestic partnership of husband and wife (τῶν σωμάτων κοινωνήσοντες ἀλλήλοις, Xen. Oec. 10.4.2). The well-trained wife is expected to feel affection for her husband (ἀξιοφίλητον, 10.3.1; cf. 10.5.2) while he in turn should find her sexually attractive (κινητικόν, 10.12.1) such that he takes greater pleasure in sleeping with her than with a slave. The presence of Myrrhine and Cinesias’ baby in the seduction scene affirms the importance of sexual desire within marriage as the precondition of legitimate offspring, in contrast to the fleeting and non-procreative attractions of prostitutes, as we see in the next scene.

The Body of Hellas

The truce brokered by Lysistrata between Athens and Sparta over the body of Diallage at the end of the play provides one final argument against viewing the wives predominantly as courtesans. Aristophanes frequently uses the device of sexualized female personifications in his plays to represent the benefits of peace: in Equites, the treaties take the form of two alluring young women, described as καλαί (Eq. 1390) and in Pax, the companions of Peace are represented as the girls Opora and Theoria (Pax 520-26, 842-908)71. These women are scantily clad or naked (ἄγε δὴ σὺ κατάθου πρῶτα τὰ σκεύη χαμαί, Pax 886), readily available for fondling (ξυνὼν τῶν τιτθίων ἔχωμαι, Pax 863), oral sex (λείχειν ἄρ᾽ αὐτῇ κἀνθάδε, Pax 855) or intercourse (κατατριακοντουτίσαι, Eq. 1391; Pax 895-909) and hale from the brothel (πορνοβοσκοῦσι, Pax 849). They are obviously modeled on prostitutes and may have even been performed by them in the theater72. They also serve an important symbolic function, evoking the physical pleasures afforded by peace73. Diallage fits with this pattern, although her representation as a πόρνη is even more pronounced than elsewhere in Aristophanic comedy: as if being pimped out by a madame, she stands naked before the Spartan and Athenian representatives, who, swollen with desire (ὀργῶντας, 1113), cannot possibly resist her nor peace74. The injunction that she should lay hold of any unwilling man «by the prick» corroborates her status as a prostitute, since it is a gesture frequently associated with whores (ἢν μὴ διδῷ τὴν χεῖρα, τῆς σάθης ἄγε, 1119)75.

The coarseness of the language that accompanies the men’s graphic fondling as they map out their territorial claims stresses the status of her body as available to all. The Athenian representative prefers the front bits, exclaiming, «I have never seen a more beautiful crotch!» (ἐγὼ δὲ κύσθον γ᾽ οὐδέπω καλλίονα, 1158), and requests the return of «Echinus» (τὸν Ἐχινοῦντα, 1169), «the Gulf of Melia» (τὸν Μηλιᾶ/κόλπον, 1169-70) and the «legs of Megara» (τὰ Μεγαρικὰ σκέλη, 1170), all sexual allusions to parts of her lower body. The Spartan characteristically voices a preference for the back, «Pylos» (τὰν Πύλον, 1163). The Athenian exclaims that he can hardly wait to strip down naked and «plough her!» (ἤδη γεωργεῖν γυμνὸς ἀποδὺς βούλομαι, 1173) while the Spartan desires rear penetration (κοπραγωγῆν, 1174). The frenzy culminates with the acknowledgement that both factions, impaired by erections, desperately want to forget about politics and just have sex (ἐστύκαμεν . . . βινεῖν, 1178-80). The presence of explicit sexual vocabulary in this scene marks out Diallage as a prostitute available to all, much like the explicit sexual activities of naked women and their male companions depicted on sympotic cups. In this respect, she provides a striking contrast to the wives in the earlier scenes: whereas they seduce their husbands with expensive clothing, good grooming and fancy slippers, she appears completely naked, putting even the most private parts of her body on display. While the wives can actively resist their husbands’ advances, as promised in the oath (224-34) and demonstrated by Myrrhine’s skillful sexual manipulation of her husband in the seduction scene, Diallage cannot reject the advances of the assembled men. The wives enjoy the putative seclusion of the domestic sphere where no one but their husbands can view their bodies while Diallage endures the lecherous gazes of unfamiliar men. Sex with her is not procreative but rather a source of physical pleasure and temporary relief. And yet as the instrument of the treaty, her body reunites the husbands and wives of Greece and ensures the production of legitimate children for the city-state. So Lysistrata, in her final act of leadership, instructs the assembled men to take pledge peace «and each, taking his wife, depart» (κἄπειτα τὴν αὑτοῦ γυναῖχ᾽ ὑμῶν λαβὼν/ἄπεισ᾽ ἕκαστος, 1186-87). Stimulated by Diallage, the husbands prepare to go off with their wives and have the procreative sex that will benefit the city.

Conclusion

This paper has attempted to reframe our view of the representation of the young women in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata by arguing that they should be principally viewed as citizen wives and mothers rather than as hetaeras. The accoutrements of the sex strike – the sheer draperies and saffron gowns, the Persian slippers, cosmetics and pubic grooming – comprise the standard equipment of free citizen wives in classical Athens and work their desired effect on the husbands. This domesticated sexuality represents a desirable component of Athenian marriage rather than suggests the brothel, affording the male spectators an illicit glimpse into the private world of other men’s wives. The purpose of this eroticism is not simply pleasure, as in the case of prostitutes, but rather the production of legitimate heirs and future Athenian citizens, as demonstrated by the onstage presence of the baby in the encounter of Myrrhine and Cinesias. By contrasting citizen wives with the silent, prostituted Diallage, the play stresses the important contributions of women to the city as mothers, household managers and textile producers. This emphasis fits with a pattern of heightened symbolic interest in women and the family after the passage of Pericles’ citizenship law in 451/0 BCE that limited citizenship to those freeborn men whose mothers, in addition to their fathers, were Athenians. While the reform probably had little impact on actual Athenian marriage practices, it led to an increased focus women and the family in the visual arts and in the theater, particularly in Euripides’ domestic tragedy76. However, the shortage of men at Athens in the wake of the disastrous Sicilian expedition may have led first to a revision of the law and finally its revocation in 411 BCE77. It is tempting to speculate that the emphasis on marriage and legitimate offspring in the play represents a response to this social crisis. By highlighting women’s economic and reproductive contributions, Aristophanes’ Lysistrata dramatizes just what was at stake – the breakdown of the family and therefore the fabric of Athenian society – during the last years of the Peloponnesian war.