Fairytale, Satire and Politics in Aristotle

Ioannis M.
Konstantakos
Fairytale, satire, and politics in Aristophanic comedy
The combination of fantasy and political satire determines the hybrid nature of
Old Comedy — this idiosyncratic type of comic drama which flourished in fifth-
century Athens, betwἷἷὀΝthἷΝglamὁuὄΝὁἸΝἢἷὄiἵlἷὅ’ΝἕὁlἶἷὀΝχgἷΝaὀἶΝthἷΝtumultΝὁἸΝ
the Peloponnesian War, between the marbles of the Acropolis and the quarries of
Sicily. On one hand, we find marvellous adventures and unrealistic utopias,
magical qualities and supernatural creatures, castles in the air and beasts talking
with human voice — all of them elements of fairytale and popular imagination,
as though drawn from the pages of the Brothers Grimm or the Baron
Munchausen. On the other hand, there is intense preoccupation with political
actuality and caustic ridicule of the leaders and institutions of the democratic
polis. This kind of comedy flies towards the clouds of phantasmagoria, and at the
same time walks in the Pnyx and the Athenian Agora. From the tension between
these two opposite movements arises the rough harmony of a unique poetic
genre. In fact, the same conjunction of contradictory elements can be traced in
the heart of everything that counts for genuinely Greek. The Hellenic cosmos has
always been Heraclitean. East and West, dionysian and apollonian, Socrates and
Meletus, Alexander the Great and Karagiozis, fantasy and reality: these contrasts
have determined for centuries our cultural identity. The counterbalancing
elements coexist and indissolubly merge, without ever losing their independent
self-existence; not like the distinct parts of different animals that are joined
together in a sphinx or a griffin, but rather like the two inseparable sides of a
woven fabric, or like the counterpointed melodies of a great national fugue.
The same applies to the ingredients of the mature comedies by
Aristophanes, Cratinus, and Eupolis. Fairytale fantasy and political satire
mutually function and are expressed via each other. The extravagant conceptions
become the means for bringing on stage and ridiculing the public life of the city.
And conversely, the issues and personalities of Athenian politics are the
materials that are metamorphosed, as though with the touch of a magic wand, and
become the bricks for the building of the fantastic world.
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This eccentric amalgam finds almost no match in the history of world
theatre. How did it come into existence? The Hellenic comic tradition, at least in
its literary origins, begins without a suspicion of political commitment. The
Siciliot playwright Epicharmus, the first to create a merry drama with poetic
aspirations in the Greek world, is distinguished for his elaborate, subtle and artful
texts: brilliant witticisms, keen observation of social mores, complex parodies of
Homeric epic, of Pythagorean and Eleatic philosophy, high gastronomy.
ϋpiἵhaὄmuὅ’Ν pὄὁἶuἵtiὁὀὅΝ wὁulἶΝ ὅuitΝ aΝ ἵὁuὄtΝ pὁἷtΝ wὄitiὀgΝ ἸὁὄΝ thἷΝ wἷll-educated
and demanding audience of the milieu of the Syracusan tyrants, or at least for the
bourgeois classes of the rich Sicilian city. However, no mockery of political
figures or public affairs is discerned anywhere in the remains of this poet’s
oeuvreέΝ ϋpiἵhaὄmuὅ’Ν aὄtiὅtὄyΝ ἸὁἵuὅἷὅΝ ὁὀΝ twὁΝ thἷmatiἵΝ aὄἷaὅμ on one hand
hilarious dramatization of traditional myths; and on the other hand caricature of
everyday life, with emphasis on the creation of typified characters (such as the
rustic, the parasite, the braggart soldier, the pretentious philosopher) and on the
depiction of social customs and morality.
The same kind of non-political comedy was subsequently bequeathed to
the Athenian stage, which was influenced from Epicharmean drama. As testified
by Aristotle, the beginnings of comic theatre in Athens were artless, extempore,
the products of a humble craftsmanship to which no-one paid much attention.
The Attic poets were taught the composition of well-constructed plots from
Sicilian comedy. Presumably texts of Epicharmus were brought to Athens during
the 470s or 460s, thanks to the cultural contacts established by Hiero of Syracuse,
who among other things invited Aeschylus to Sicily. The imported Siciliot texts
were keenly studied by the small theatrical guild of Athens and conditioned the
development of artful poetic comedy in the Attic theatre.
χἵἵὁὄἶiὀgΝ tὁΝ χὄiὅtὁtlἷ’ὅΝ iὀἸὁὄmatiὁὀΝ agaiὀ,Ν thἷΝ ἸiὄὅtΝ χthἷὀiaὀΝ ἵὁmiἵΝ
dramatist to learn plot crafting from the Sicilian dramas was Crates. And
precisely Crates stands in the centre of an important group of Attic authors who
cultivated for long a type of comedy without political orientation. Crates’Ν
surviving fragments point to fairytale themes: animals talking with human voice
and negotiating with men; automatic production of cooked food from nature;
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riddle contests. The most important disciple and successor of Crates was
ἢhἷὄἷἵὄatἷὅ,ΝwhὁΝtὁὁkΝὁvἷὄΝhiὅΝmaὅtἷὄ’ὅΝἸaὀtaὅtiἵΝὄἷpἷὄtὁiὄἷΝ—with its Cockaigne
utopias, wondrous travels, and hybrid half-human, half-animal creatures— but
enriched it with further materials: chiefly, the merry presentation of social and
family life, focusing especially on love affairs, banquets, and intrigues around
beautiful courtesans; the ethological delineation of comic types, such as the
misanthrope, the wily hetaira, or the senex amator; and also the parody of well-
known myths; in short, all the familiar thematic repertoire of Epicharmean
drama. The same tendencies were followed also by younger writers, to the end of
the fifth century, such as Archippus and Phrynichus.
The remains of Crates and Pherecrates do not contain a single trace of the
public concerns and the mockery against named leaders, which abound in the
works of other comic poets of the time, such as Cratinus, Eupolis, Plato Comicus,
or Theopompus. The testimonia of ancient critics, who had access to the entire
dramatic corpus of these writers, confirm the same impression. Aristotle
expressly declares that Crates abandoned the ἰα ὴ ἰ α, the poetics of blame
and topical satire, and applied himself to the creation of general fictional plots.
An Alexandrian treatise on the history of ancient comedy, distinguished for the
precision and wealth of its information, similarly notes that Pherecrates followed
ἑὄatἷὅ’ example, set aside the element of mockery, and excelled in the
composition of inventive storylines.
From early on, therefore, there was a thriving tradition of non-political
comedy in Athens. In fact, artistic Attic comedy, as a developed poetic genre,
begins before the middle of the fifth century without political pungency, based on
the mythological and moral themes of Epicharmean drama or on the
polymorphous substratum of folk fantasy. Even Cratinus, the patriarch of
political comic theatre, will present during his career some plays without public
concerns, such as the Odysseuses (Ὀ υ ῆ , in the plural), an ingenious comic
ὄἷwὁὄkiὀgΝ ὁἸΝ ἡἶyὅὅἷuὅ’Ν aἶvἷὀtuὄἷΝ withΝ thἷΝ ἑyἵlὁpὅ,Ν ὄiἵhΝ iὀΝ paὄὁἶiἷὅΝ ὁἸΝ thἷΝ
ἘὁmἷὄiἵΝἷpiἵ,ΝἸullyΝiὀΝthἷΝtὄaἶitiὁὀΝὁἸΝϋpiἵhaὄmuὅ’ΝmythiἵalΝἶὄamaὅέ
The politicization of the thematic repertoire of comedy becomes manifest
only after the radical reform of the Athenian constitution at the hands of the
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democratic leader Ephialtes. The public and satirical aspect of Attic comic
theatre is the child of radical democracy, born and bred from the all-powerful
demos and the demagogic populism which characterized the Athens of Pericles
and his successors. The political tendency is initiated by Cratinus, the greatest
ἵὁmiἵΝgἷὀiuὅΝὁἸΝἢἷὄiἵlἷὅ’ΝagἷνΝthἷΝtὄuἷΝacme will come one generation afterwards
with Aristophanes, Eupolis, and Plato Comicus, the poets whose youth and
maturity was gloomed by the Peloponnesian War. It is hardly fortuitous that
political comedy flourished precisely at this period. The radical power of the
demos gave occasion for the first time to transport the public strife of the Pnyx
onto the theatrical stage. And the great war, causing incendiary political conflicts
and a deep civic crisis, kindled the concern of dramatists and audiences alike for
the fate of the city.
Political comedy was thus the reaction of the theatre world to the critical
historical emergencies and the crucial dilemmas which agitated Athenian public
life in the second half of the fifth century. It was not something congenital to the
comic spirit of the Greek or the Attic population at large. Both in Sicily and in
Athens the comic tradition arose from non-political origins, as it also did later in
the western world, sparked off by the spirit of free fantasy and merriment. The
political dimension was a secondary ingredient acquired with time; it was
consciously introduced into the comic repertoire by specific authors, who
invested comic writing with a public conscience and a standpoint on the affairs of
the polis, so as to give voice to the agonies of the democratic city-state in times
of crisis and turbulence.
These writers systematically politicized the older comic tradition, which
was non-political by birth. The materials of their scenic fictions were no different
from what existed in the comic repertoire since the very beginning: the famous
myths of gods and heroes, the fantastic concepts of fairytales, stock characters,
social and family life. But the politically oriented authors imbued those age-old
materials with political meaning and turned them into aesthetic means for the
theatrical reflection of public affairs and personages. This is how political
comedy was born, when the familiar tools of comic art were used as sharp
satirical weapons.
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An eloquent example is offered by Cratinus, an excellent connoisseur of
mythological parody in the Epicharmean style, as shown by his Odysseuses. In
other plays, however, Cratinus employed the mythical stuff in a politically alert
manner. The comedy named Dionysalexandros, staged near the beginning of the
Peloponnesian War, is fairly well known thanks to a plot synopsis that survives
on a papyrus. In this play the womanizer Dionysus disguised himself as Paris
(this is the Alexandros of the title, the Iliadic name of the grand amorist of Troy);
and with this assumed identity, the philandering god became the arbiter in the
fatal beauty contest of the three goddesses, Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite.
Afterwards Dionysus, always in the guise of Paris, travelled to Sparta, kidnapped
Helen and brought her to the pasturelands of Troy, but the Achaeans persecuted
him. To escape them, the cowardly god transformed himself into a sheep and hid
Helen in a cheese basket. Then, finally, the real Paris appeared and discovered
the illegal couple. At first Paris threatened to hand both of them over to the
Achaeans; but pretty Helen cajoled him, so that the Trojan hero accepted at last
to keep her. As for Dionysus, he was sent willy-nilly to the Greek ships.
This amusing scenario was not merely a mythological farce of
Epicharmean type. The last sentence of the papyrical synopsis notes that the real
target of the satire was Pericles, who was ridiculed by innuendo ( ’ ἐ φ ω )
because he caused the involvement of Athens in the war. It is impossible now to
assess how far-reaching and well-developed was the political allegory behind the
mythical story. Nonetheless, the main outline is discernible thanks to the papyrus
summary and to some fragments. The pusillanimous and amorous Dionysus was
clearly a laughaἴlἷΝ ἵaὄiἵatuὄἷΝ ὁἸΝ ἢἷὄiἵlἷὅέΝ Ἑὀἶἷἷἶ,Ν ἢἷὄiἵlἷὅ’Ν ἶἷἸἷὀὅivἷΝ taἵtiἵὅΝ iὀΝ
thἷΝ ἢἷlὁpὁὀὀἷὅiaὀΝ WaὄΝ waὅΝ ἵὄitiἵiὐἷἶΝ aὀἶΝ ἴὄaὀἶἷἶΝ aὅΝ “ἵὁwaὄἶiἵἷ”Ν ἴyΝ thἷΝ mὁὅtΝ
belligerent Athenians, while his love affairs with Aspasia and several other
women were a constant source of gossip. The side-splitting episode in which the
cowardly god pretended to be a sheep and concealed Helen in a basket was
equally charged with symbolisms. The spectators wὁulἶΝὄἷἵallΝἢἷὄiἵlἷὅ’ΝἶἷἵiὅiὁὀΝ
to barricade the Attic population behind the walls of Athens and leave the
Spartans free to ravage the countryside, instead of bringing out the hoplites to
valiantly face the enemies. The Trojan War, in any case, corresponded to the
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Peloponnesian one; the Spartans, who persecuted the kidnapper of Helen, were
identical with the real opponents of Athens in the historical conflict. Paris
possibly stood for the Athenian people, who were obliged to shoulder the cause
of the war (in the person of the fateful Helen) because of the imprudence or the
dark personal motives of Dionysus/Pericles. Another play by Cratinus, the
Nemesis, contained an analogous political parable.
With scripts of this kind, Cratinus politicized the Epicharmean type of
mythological burlesque. The parody of the mythical story was no longer an
amusing end in itself; it was invested with symbolic meaning and made to refer
to the historical and political conditions of contemporary Athens. The same
method, the politicization of traditional comic material, was then adopted by
subsequent comic writers, especially by Aristophanes and Eupolis, who proved
to be diligent pupils of Cratinus in this respect. (It is a favourite hypothesis of
mine that both these comic poets, the most talented authors of their generation,
were apprentices of Cratinus, from whom they learned and borrowed plenty of
techniques and themes.)
ϋὅpἷἵiallyΝiὀΝχὄiὅtὁphaὀἷὅ’Νὁἷuvὄἷ,ΝthἷΝpὄὁἵἷὅὅΝὁἸΝpὁlitiἵalΝὅigὀiἸiἵatiὁὀΝiὅΝ
applied par excellence to the materials of fantasy and fairytale. What Cratinus
repeatedly did with epic myth, Aristophanes attempts with motifs and patterns
from the folk tradition of magical εärchen. This practice is the trademark of
Aristophanic comedy, which reconstructs political reality in the guise of a
ἸaiὄytalἷέΝ χὄiὅtὁphaὀἷὅΝ takἷὅΝ ὁvἷὄΝ thἷΝ gἷὀὄἷΝ ὁἸΝ “ἸaiὄytalἷΝ ἵὁmἷἶy”Ν
(Märchenkomödie), which had been perfected by Crates and Pherecrates in the
preceding generation; and he mixes it with the art of political allegory invented
by Cratinus.
A miniature example of the Aristophanic method is offered by a small
passage of the Clouds (340–355), where Socrates explains to his slow-witted
pupil Strepsiades the marvellous qualities of the personified Nubes. In
Shakespearean terms, we see here the infinite space of Aristophanic drama bound
in a nutshell. The divine Nephelai have just entered the orchestra, in the form of
ethereal women making up the Chorus of the play. Strepsiades is bewildered: if
these are indeed the personified Clouds, whom Socrates reveres as divinities,
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why do they look like mortal women? The clouds in the sky have a different
form, like spread-out tufts of wool, for example. The wise Socrates explains the
phenomenon. The Clouds can take any shape they want; they may metamorphose
and look like any creature of nature or myth. They become at will centaurs,
leopards, tigers, bulls, wolfs, or deer.
This is a familiar fantastic conception, widespread in the folk tradition of
all peoples: namely, the so-called shape-changer or shape-shifter, the
miraculously endowed creature that can assume multiple appearances and be
assimilated every time to a different living or inanimate being. From the wizards
and witches of European εärchen to the tricksters of Native American legends,
from the avaricious dwarf Alberich of the Niebelungen cycle to the demonic
δἷmmiὀkäiὀἷὀΝ ὁἸΝ thἷΝ ἔiὀὀiὅhΝ Kalevala, examples of all sorts come easily to
memory.
The same motif was also popular in the imaginary tradition of Greece and
its neighbours from a very early age. Zeus displays unsurpassable capacities as a
shape-shifter in the course of his erotic adventures: he transforms himself into a
bull, an eagle, a swan, a cuckoo, Amphitryon, or liquid gold, in order to mate
with any female or male he desires. For other deities or heroes, sucessive
metamorphoses are their main distinctive trait, the recognizable mark of their
mythical identity. In such cases, the transmutations are usually accomplished in
close succession, one after the other, and all together make up the basic episode
ὁἸΝ thἷΝ hἷὄὁ’ὅΝ ὅtὁὄyΝ withiὀΝ thἷΝ mythiἵalΝ ὄἷpἷὄtὁiὄἷέΝ ἘἷὄἷΝ ἴἷlὁὀgΝ ἢὄὁtἷuὅΝ aὀἶΝ
Nereus, the cunning old men whom one must hold tight and inescapably, as long
as they are performing their interminable metamorphoses, if one wishes to learn
their secrets. The same is true of Thetis and Nemesis, who take the forms of
various beasts and natural elements while trying to escape from the amorous
persecution of a male suitor. Periclymenus, the grandson of Poseidon, used his
abilities of transformation in battle, so as to perplex his enemies; he would fly
away like an eagle, disappear like an ant into the earth, or come out again in the
shape of a snake and bite. Only in the end did he make the mistake of changing
himself into a small insect, a bee or a fly, and Heracles crashed him with one
blow of his club — a stratagem that recalls somewhat the fate of the dwarf
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Alberich, when Loki lures him to turn into a small frog and thus traps him.
Similarly, Mestra, daughter of the voracious Erysichthon, used the gift of
metamorphosis, which she had received from her lover Poseidon, in order to
nourish her eternally hungry father. She would take the form of a game or
domestic animal (a mare, cow, bird, or deer), and her father would sell her off in
this form to buy food; then the girl resumed her human appearance and returned
home. The same storyline is found in the international folktale of the apprentice
sorcerer, who is taught the art of transformation from the master wizard and
employs it to enrich himself and his parents.
Aristophanes was fond of this magical motif, which ultimately symbolizes
the inexhaustible metamorphoses of his own poetic art, along with the
overflowing vitality and versatility of his protagonistic characters. In the Wasps
the comic poet dramatizes a virtual representation of the shape-shifter on stage.
The protagonist Philocleon is an old juror obsessed with trials; his son has
therefore locked him up inside the house, so as to keep him away from the courts.
In a sequence of side-splitting scenes (125–210, 367ff.), Philocleon attempts to
escape by imitating the habits of all kinds of creatures or even of inanimate
materials. He flows like water through the gutters; he sticks himself through the
toilet hole like a rat. He walks about on the tiled roof or gnaws the protective net
of the window like a rodent. He tries to fly like a sparrow from the roof or like a
jackdaw from the pegs of the courtyard walls. He pretends to be the smoke, so as
to climb up the chimney and get out. He suspends himself under the belly of a
donkey taken ὁutΝtὁΝthἷΝmaὄkἷt,ΝlikἷΝἡἶyὅὅἷuὅΝiὀΝthἷΝἑyἵlὁpὅ’ΝἵavἷέΝἢhilὁἵlἷὁὀ’ὅΝ
metamorphoses are not completed in a physical sense; the old man does not
really disguise himself into a beast or into smoke. But he visibly assumes the
movement and behaviour or all these entities in space. Thus, Aristophanes
renders in theatrical terms, through a visual metaphor, the fantastic idea of the
creature that changes shapes.
In the Clouds the same magical capacity is attributed to the deified
Nephelai. I do not think that the poet has a particular myth in mind. Rather he
borrows the shape-shifter motif from the repository of the popular imagination.
In the Greek legendarium, the figures of this kind are usually connected to the
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watery element; they are marine or river divinities, or at least owe their gift to the
sea-god Poseidon. In this respect, it is apt to transfer the motif to the personified
Clouds. The cloud goddesses also come from water, as Socrates teaches in
various scenes of the play. They are born from the evaporation of rivers, roam
about in the sky filled with water, and bring rain.
However, the Aristophanic description includes another element which
turns the fairytale image into an acute satirical missile. The Clouds do not
generally become whatever they wish. Rather they choose each time their shape
according to the man they find in front of them, as they are surveying the world
from above. They then assume such an appearance as to match the peculiar
criminal physiognomy and the wrongdoings of the particular person whom they
encounter. For example, they become wolves before a greedy man, or deer if
they see a coward. With this device, the mutable Clouds end up resembling
somewhat the weird boggart from the magical universe of Harry Potter: the
formless being which guesses every time what is the most frightening thing for
the observer standing before it, and takes precisely the form of this object of fear.
This idea has no match in the ancient Greek imaginarium. It is clearly an
invention of Aristophanes, who combines in a novel way the εärchen motif of
the shape-shifter with the ethological typology of animals according to the
popular worldview — and especially according to the allegorical practice of
χἷὅὁpiἵΝ Ἰaἴlἷὅ,Ν aὀὁthἷὄΝ ἸὁlkΝ gἷὀὄἷΝ ἶἷaὄΝ tὁΝ thἷΝ ἵὁmiἵΝ pὁἷt’ὅΝ hἷaὄtέΝ ἙὀΝ χἷὅὁp’ὅΝ
tales every creature of the animal kingdom incarnates a particular character
quality, which conditions its actions and behaviour in the narrative. The fox and
the cat are the symbols of cunning and resourcefulness. The wolf is the model of
the greedy grabber. The hare represents cowardice, the monkey stands for vanity,
the deer for fatalistic victimization, and so on for the other animal species.
Aristophanes projects this network of symbolisms, which had deep roots in the
collective imaginary of the Hellenic people, onto the metamorphoses of the
Clouds, so as to mock the faults of his contemporaries.
Thus the stuff of folktales is exploited in order to taunt a series of
celebrities of the Athenian polis. With their metamorphosing capacities, the
Clouds become a mythopoeic version of the polymorphous comic art, as they
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illustrate in a visual manner the flaws of public men. Seeing Hieronymus the son
of Xenophantus, a shaggy poet notorious for his paederastic appetites, the cloud
goddesses take the form of Centaurs, the emblems of lust and lewdness. In front
of Simon, the embezzler of public money, they transform themselves into
wὁlvἷὅ,Ν piἵtuὄiὀgΝ iὀΝ thἷΝ ὅkyΝ thἷΝ maὀ’ὅΝ gὄἷἷἶΝ aὀἶΝ ὄapaἵiὁuὅὀἷὅὅέΝ ἙἸΝ thἷyΝ ἵὁmἷΝ
across the cowardly Cleonymus, who did whatever he could to avoid the
battlefield, they become timorous and swift-footed deer. And in view of the
effeminate Cleisthenes, they assume the appearance of women. By merging the
shape-shifter with Aesopic allegory, Aristophanes harnesses the materials of folk
tradition to the yoke of the iambic idea and the onomasti komoidein.
With the exception of Hieronymus, all the other komoidoumenoi of this
passage were persons of political standing. Even the womanly Cleisthenes served
as a trierarch and an ambassador; later, in 411 B.C., he would play a leading part
in the purges against the oligarchic statesmen which followed the fall of the
shortlived regime of the Four Hundred. His political position against the
oligarchs, and hence in favour of radical democracy, is not fortuitous. The other
two politicians mentioned in the same passage, Simon and Cleonymus, are
closely associated in the sources with Cleon and Theorus, the prime exponents of
pὁpuliὅtΝἶἷmagὁguἷὄyέΝἙὀΝχὄiὅtὁphaὀἷὅ’Νhaὀἶὅ,ΝthἷΝἸaiὄytalἷΝimagἷΝὁἸΝthἷΝὅhapἷ-
shifter becomes an instrument of his broader political programme: to attack the
party of Cleon and his collaborators, the leaders of radical democracy, who were
then controlling civic power in Athens. It should be kept in mind that, apart from
the embezzlement of public money, defection from battle and effeminacy also
counted as offences of political significance in antiquity; they were charges
serious enough to deprive the guilty man of his civic rights. In the eyes of the
Athenian people, such accusations would seem to be synonymous with political
corruption and incompetence.
Another example of political reworking of fairytale motifs is traced in the
description of the wondrous Persia in the phantasmagoric prologue of the
Acharnians (65–114). The background here consists of narratives about utopian
countries with inexhaustible wealth and automatic production of food — the kind
of wonderland that is called Cockaigne or Schlaraffenland in the popular
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traditions of the West. Tales of this kind abound in ancient literature, from
Ἐἷὅiὁἶ’ὅΝ ἕὁlden Age to the travel novels of Iambulus and Lucian. The idea of
Cockaigne was greatly favoured in Attic comedy, especially in the generation
before Aristophanes. It is one of the most impressive fairytale ingredients that
survive from the Märchenkomödien of Crates, Pherecrates, and Telecleides.
Later it found imitators among the last representatives of Old Comedy, the minor
writers that were active at the transition from the fifth to the fourth century, such
as Metagenes and Nicophon. The fragments of all these poets provide ample
descriptions of marvellous lands in which abundant cooked foodstuffs are
magically produced from nature. The rivers flow with meat soup. Sausages lie on
the banks instead of shells. Baked loaves of bread compete and struggle to get
ἸiὄὅtΝ iὀtὁΝ thἷΝ pἷὁplἷ’ὅΝ mὁuthὅέΝ ἦhἷΝ ἸiὅhἷὅΝ ἶὄἷὅὅΝ thἷmὅἷlvἷὅΝ iὀΝ ἸlὁuὄΝ aὀἶΝ jumpΝ
willingly into the pan. Fried birds fly around and enter by themselves into any
mouth that they find open. The rain consists of pea-soup, the snow of flour. And
whatever one consumes of all these delicacies, this is immediately replenished
and becomes twice as much. Many of these motifs occur later without change in
descriptions of Cockaigne or Schlaraffenland given in popular chapbooks during
the Renaissance or the Baroque period. This is one of the most pure and
unadulterated fairytale patterns encountered in ancient comedy.
In the international folktale tradition, these Cockaigne-like utopias are
usually equipped with a second supernatural feature: the profusion of precious
materials. Diamonds, rubies, gold and silver, so rare in the real world, are found
there in inexhaustible abundance, handily available in front of the amazed
traveller. The elements of nature (mountains, fields, forests, rivers, soil and
stones, vegetables and plants) consist of valuable metals or gems; the same is
true of the human constructions, houses and palaces, walls and paved streets. So
great is the profusion of gold and jewels that the inhabitants of the marvellous
land attach no special value to them. They use the precious materials to fabricate
everyday utensils or cheap paraphernalia, e.g. kitchen pots, drinking cups,
tὄiὀkἷtὅΝἸὁὄΝaἶὁὄὀiὀgΝὅlavἷὅΝaὀἶΝaὀimalὅ,ΝὁὄΝ ἵhilἶὄἷὀὅ’ΝtὁyὅέΝἕὁlἶΝaὀἶΝὅilvἷὄΝaὄἷΝ
held to be of equal value to the pebbles of the thoroughfare or the dung in the
fields. These phenomena coexist with the automatic production of food and drink
11
in countless popular fictions, from Scandinavian legends to the Thousand and
One Nights, from European fairytales to the Sanskrit Mahabharata and the early
Buddhistic parables.
The extant fragments of the Attic εärchenkomödien do not contain such a
combination. These passages focus solely on the dream-like plenty of ready-
made foodstuffs. Of course, it cannot be excluded that the lost parts of some of
these plays did refer to the riches of the comic utopias and the omnipresent
valuaἴlἷΝ matἷὄialὅέΝ χllΝ thἷΝ ὅuὄviviὀgΝ ἵὁmiἵΝ ἷxἵἷὄptὅΝ ἵὁmἷΝ ἸὄὁmΝ χthἷὀaἷuὅ’Ν
Deipnosophistae, a kind of culinary encyclopedia which would naturally
emphasize the theme of feasting at the expense of other components. Especially
ἢhἷὄἷἵὄatἷὅ’ΝἵὁmἷἶyΝThe Miners (Μ α ῆ ) concerned a group of mine-diggers
from Laurium, who dug their tunnels too deeply and discovered the blessed
utopia of the Underworld. In such a context, it is easy to imagine that this
posthumous paradise of trenchermen would also be furnished with rich veins of
gold or gems contained in the underground.
Other ancient stories present indeed this kind of juxtaposition. The
lἷgἷὀἶaὄyΝϋthiὁpia,ΝiὀΝἘἷὄὁἶὁtuὅ’Νaἵἵὁuὀt (3.17–23), includes a wondrous field
where cooked meat grows from the ground; at the same time, gold is available
there in so great quantities that the Ethiopians use it even for the chains of
pὄiὅὁὀἷὄὅέΝ ἦhἷΝ iὅlaὀἶΝ ὁἸΝ thἷΝ ἐlἷὅὅἷἶΝ iὀΝ δuἵiaὀ’ὅΝ True History (2.11–14) is
endowed with vines and fruit-trees that bear crops every month, loaves of bread
that grow ready-baked atop the ears of corn, rivers of milk and honey, and trees
on whose branches hang cups of wine instead of fruit. On the other hand, the
capital of the island is made entirely of gold and has walls of emerald and altars
carved out of huge solid amethysts.
In the Acharnians this kind of fairytale fantasy is placed in the mouth of
the Athenian ambassadors who had been sent to Persia for negotiations and are
now returning to report on their mission. They describe the Persian Empire as a
marvellous land of plenty with an incredible cornucopia of physical resources.
The paradisiacal utopia was set in the distant Persia already in a play by
Pherecrates, the Persians. However, the Aristophanic version diverges from the
other comic examples. The abundance of food is much enfeebled. There is no
12
mἷὀtiὁὀΝ ὁἸΝ autὁmatiἵΝ pὄὁἶuἵtiὁὀΝ ὁἸΝ ἸὁὁἶὅtuἸἸὅΝ ἸὄὁmΝ ὀatuὄἷέΝ ἦhἷΝ amἴaὅὅaἶὁὄὅ’Ν
account highlights only the lavish feasts and the consumption of enormous
amὁuὀtὅΝὁἸΝἸὁὁἶΝἴyΝthἷΝlὁἵalὅέΝἡὀΝthἷΝἕὄἷatΝKiὀg’ὅΝtaἴlἷΝthἷΝguἷὅtὅΝἷὀjὁyΝwhὁlἷΝ
roasted oxen and gigantic birds, larger in size than the fattest Athenian glutton. In
general, the natives consider as worthy men only those that gulp down the
greatest quantities of food and drink. This last motif recalls indeed the fictions of
Cockaigne or Schlaraffenland in medieval and Renaissance chapbooks. In these
latter utopias, analogously, whoever can drink most, earns the highest rewards;
those that devour sausages and roast geese with the greatest relish, are made
noblemen; and whoever does no other job than eating, drinking, and feasting, is
given the title of count.
By contrast, Aristophanes places the greatest emphasis on the profusion of
gold in the Persian land, which is piled up in whole mountains. There is so much
gold that the king may go to the golden mountains and defecate on the precious
stuff for eight months. With this characteristically obscene, scatological detail,
Aristophanes reflects the motif of the degradation of valuable materials, which is
common in such utopian fictions. This shift of focus in the Aristophanic passage
is not fortuitous, but serves the political purposes of the play. The fairytale
fantasy is again subdued to a political agenda. The main targets of satire in the
Acharnians are the belligerent demagogues of Athens, those that advocated the
continuation of the armed conflict and opposed peace with Sparta. They artfully
cultivated among the demos the hopes that Persia would soon provide financial
assistance to the Athenians, thus allowing them to definitively win the war. There
are indeed historical indications of diplomatic contacts between Athens and the
Persian Empire during the 430s and 420s, in the critical years before and after the
outbreak of the great military conflict. The warmongering politicians exploited
these missions to maintain the combative spirit of the Athenian people during the
hard times of the Archidamian War.
These demagogues, especially Cleon and his party, the radical successors
of Pericles who carried on the tactics of relentless confrontation with Sparta —
thἷyΝ aὄἷΝ thἷΝ ἴuttὅΝ ὁἸΝ χὄiὅtὁphaὀἷὅ’Ν ἵὄitiὃuἷέΝ ἦhἷΝ ἵὁmiἵΝ pὁἷtΝ ὄἷpἷatἷἶlyΝ aἵἵuὅἷὅΝ
them of exploiting the troubled conditions of the war in order to keep their power
13
in the city, get elected in well-paid public offices, and extract large bribes from
the allied states. In many scenes Aristophanes reveals the tricks by which these
ruthless politicians deceived the Attic people and torpedoed every initiative for
peace. The false report of the ambassadors, who claim that the Persian monarch
will soon send gold to the tormented city of Athens, fits into the same context.
ἦhἷΝ ἵὁmiἵΝ hἷὄὁΝ DiἵaἷὁpὁliὅΝ ἶἷὀὁuὀἵἷὅΝ thἷΝ amἴaὅὅaἶὁὄὅ’Ν ἵlaimὅΝ aὅΝ ὅhἷἷὄΝ liἷὅέΝ
And it is true that the Persian king Artaxerxes I, up to his death in 424, remained
neutral and did not finance any one of the opposed parties in the Greek war.
The same political programme underlies the εärchen-like portrayal of
Persia. The ambassadors surreally inflate the wealth of the Achaemenid Empire
precisely in order to evoke the idea of a robust financial aid that will be
dispatched from Persia to Athens. This is why the narrative focuses on the motif
of precious materials, at the expense of the other traditional ingredients of the
tale, such as the automatic production of food. If the Persian king possesses so
fabulous quantities of gold as to defecate on them, it will hardly cost him to
bestow a little of his gold to those poor Athenians. The fantasy world of
Cockaigne is suitably chiaroscuroed and adapted to the historical conditions of
Athens and the ideological message of Aristophanic comedy. The political poet
transformed the fairytale conceptions of Crates and Pherecrates into a means of
denunciation against the false, warmongering demagogues. When the leaders of
the demos promise mountains of gold and gigantic roasts, this means that in the
end the population will remain penniless and starving.
The political refurbishment of fairytale patterns also provides the basis for
entire episodes or the main skeleton of the comic plot. Take for example the
Peace, which offers, together with the Birds, the purest specimen of
εärchenkomödie in the Aristophanic oeuvre. The storyline of the Peace
dramatizes a well-known narrative pattern contained in several tale-types from
the international folk tradition. The protagonist, the Athenian vine-dresser
Trygaeus, decides to rise to heaven and protest before Zeus himself for the
devastation caused to Greece by the catastrophic war. He therefore rides a giant
flying beetle, which he has fattened himself. Upon reaching heaven, the hero
only finds Hermes, who guards the divine household like a janitor. The rest of
14
the gods have fled, disgusted with the stupidity of mortals, and have left the
human world in the hands of Polemos, the personified War. This latter figure has
imprisoned the goddess Peace in a deep cave nearby. Soon War himself appears
on stage, violent and terrifying, threatening to crash the Greek cities in his huge
mortar. Trygaeus is forced to hide himself out of fear for the ogre. Afterwards,
however, the hero resumes action: he gathers the peace-loving farmers from the
whole of Greece, and all of them together, making use of their mattocks and
strong pulling ropes, manage to remove the heavy rocks from the entrance of the
cave and drag out Peace. Hermes, who initially threatened to denounce the plan,
is finally persuaded, by means of a small bribe, to collaborate in this operation.
Together with the goddess Peace, her two young and lovely companions are also
liberated: they are Theoria and Opora, graceful representations of the pleasures of
peacetime, respectively the festival and the fruit-crop. Trygaeus takes all three
female figures to earth, where joyous celebrations take place. He himself marries
the delicious Opora, and the play ends triumphantly with the marriage feast.
Even this bare synopsis demonstrates the affinity between the plotline of
Peace and a certain category of folk narratives, the so-called quest tales.
ἦὄygaἷuὅ’Ν ὁpἷration and achievement, in particular, bring to mind a specific
narrative string, a characteristic sequence of motifs familiar from many magical
εärchen. This is the story of the princess who is abducted by an ogre (dragon,
demon, ghost, giant, black wizard, goblin or troll, depending on the version) and
kἷptΝimpὄiὅὁὀἷἶΝiὀΝthἷΝὁgὄἷ’ὅΝlaiὄέΝἦhἷΝhἷὄὁΝἶἷἸἷatὅΝthἷΝὁgὄἷΝἴyΝἸὁὄἵἷΝὁὄΝtὄiἵkἷὄy,Ν
liberates the princess, and brings her back to her homeland. In the end, after the
two of them have undergone other adventures, the hero and the princess are
married, and the tale ends with feasts and dancing.*
*
See e.g. the folktale types ATU 300, 301, 301D*, 302, 302B, 302C*, 303, 303A, 304, 310,
312D, 317, 551, 653 in the standard inventory of H.-J. Uther, The Types of International
Folktales. A Classification and Bibliography Based on the System of Antti Aarne and Stith
Thompson, Helsinki 2004, vol. 1, 174–187, 190–191, 194, 204–205, 320–322, 358–359 (with
abundant bibliography and references to the international narrative tradition). The most detailed
folkloristic studies of these tale types are E. S. Hartland, The Legend of Perseus. A Study of
Tradition in Story, Custom and Belief, London 1894–1896, vol. 1, 11–70, vol. 3, 1–65, 148–
190; F. Panzer, Studien zur germanischen Sagengeschichte, Mὸnchen 1910–1912, vol. 1, 1–
245, vol. 2, 1–33; E. Cosquin, δes contes indiens el l’τccidentέ Petites monographies
folkloriques à propos des contes maures recueillis à Blida par εέ Desparmet, Paris 1922, 487–
494, 557–612; K. Ranke, Die Zwei Brüderέ Eine Studie zur vergleichenden εärchenforschung,
Helsinki 1934; W. Hierse, Das Ausschneiden der Drachenzunge und der Roman von Tristan,
15
The similarities to the plotline of the Peace are obvious. Even details in
which the Aristophanic scenario seems to diverge and follow a way of its own,
find their equivalent in the multifarious variants of the rich folktale tradition. The
personified Peace and War play the roles of the princess and the ogre
respectively. Very often the unapproachable prison of the fairytale princess is a
cave or something similar, for example an underground chamber, tunnel, or deep
miὀἷ,Ν juὅtΝ aὅΝ iὀΝ thἷΝ χὄiὅtὁphaὀiἵΝ playέΝ ἙὀΝ ὁthἷὄΝ ὅpἷἵimἷὀὅ,Ν thἷΝ mὁὀὅtἷὄ’ὅΝ laiὄΝ iὅΝ
situated on a steep reef or a rocky mountain, which recalls again the cavern of
Peace, carved as it is in the solid rock and sealed with many heavy stones. Even
when the place of incarceration is different, for example a castle, isolated house,
or desert island, this carries again the conspicuous marks of the Underworld, like
the dark den of the PeaceέΝἙὀΝaΝtalἷΝἸὄὁmΝthἷΝἕὄimmὅ’Νἵollection, the enchanted
princess is enclosed in a castle guarded by fierce lions, and the hero must throw
loaves of bread into their huge mouths to placate them, like the Cerberus of
Hades. In Italian and Breton folktales the tower of the kidnapper is dark and
terrifying like the kingdom of death. In some stories the princess is kept in the
ἷvilΝwiὐaὄἶ’ὅΝpalaἵἷΝiὀΝἵὁὀὅtaὀtΝaὀἶΝἶἷἷpΝὅlἷἷp,ΝὅὁΝthatΝὅhἷΝὅἷἷmὅΝtὁΝἴἷΝἶἷaἶέ
Frequently in the folktales of this kind the hero receives guidance and
assistance from some supernatural being, which points out for him the royal
maiἶἷὀ’ὅΝ pὄiὅὁὀέΝ ἦhἷΝ ὅamἷΝ ἵὄἷatuὄἷΝ mayΝ ὅupplyΝ thἷΝ pὄὁtagὁὀiὅtΝ withΝ magiἵalΝ
equipment, which helps him vanquish the terrible monster. In modern fairytale
tὄaἶitiὁὀΝthiὅΝhἷlpἷὄ’ὅΝὄὁlἷΝiὅΝuὅuallyΝaὅὅigned to a lesser demon, a chthonic being,
or a spirit of the wild: a dwarf, gnome, giant, ghost, elf, imp, or spook, more
seldom a witch, wizard, or speaking animal. In the Aristophanic play the same
function is given to Hermes, who reveals to Trygaeus the cave in which the
goddess Peace lies captive. It is noteworthy that in many fairytales the demonic
assistant initially appears with hostile intentions, pestering and violently
manhandling the protagonist and his comrades. But the brave lad manages to
tame him and win him over to his own side, or at least extract from him the
necessary information about the abducted girl. Hermes undergoes an analogous
change. In the beginning, as soon as Trygaeus and the Chorus start implementing
Tὸbingen 1969; and M. Alexiades, πα α α α ο α ο ο ό ο ωα

(Aarne - Thompson 300, 301A α 301B). α α υ ο ο , Ioannina 1982.
16
their plan of liberating Peace, Hermes reacts with hostility, threatens Trygaeus
with death, and is ready to denounce the operation to Zeus. Soon, however, the
hero dissuades him with entreaties and tempting bribes. Hermes is so utterly
brought around, that he even accepts to assist in the salvation of the captive
goddess and supervises, together with Trygaeus, the task of unsealing the cave.
Hermes is also an entity of supernatural power, although he belongs to the
illustrious Olympian pantheon, not to the lower demons or nature spirits, like the
helpers of modern fairytales. Yet, among all the Olympian deities, Hermes is the
closest to the human world, as well as the least ponderous and awe-inspiring one.
By comparison to the other great gods, such as Zeus, Poseidon, or Apollo,
Hermes seems to occupy in the popular conscience a position at once humbler
and more accessible to the experience of common mortals. He is hierarchically
iὀἸἷὄiὁὄΝ tὁΝ thἷΝ ὁthἷὄΝ ἶiviὀitiἷὅ,Ν ἴἷiὀgΝ Zἷuὅ’Ν mἷὅὅἷὀgἷὄΝ aὀἶΝ ὅἷὄvaὀtνΝ atΝ thἷΝ ὅamἷΝ
time, he is more familiar to the popular imaginary. He provides, therefore, an apt
equivalent to the lesser demons of later fairytales — at least the aptest available
figure in the society of the classical Hellenic gods. Anyhow, even in modern
folktale traditions a proper god may sometimes appear in the role of the
counsellor and assistant. In some Chinese tales the hero spends the night in a
tἷmplἷ,Ν aὀἶΝ thἷὄἷΝ thἷΝ gὁἶ’ὅΝ ὅtatuἷΝ iὀἸὁὄmὅΝ himΝ aἴὁutΝ thἷΝ aἴἶuἵtiὁὀΝ ὁἸΝ thἷΝ
princess and gives him a magical sword to fight the dragon.
In Aristὁphaὀἷὅ’Ν ἵὁmἷἶyΝ ἢἷaἵἷΝ haὅΝ ἴἷἷὀΝ iὀἵaὄἵἷὄatἷἶΝ tὁgἷthἷὄΝ withΝ hἷὄΝ
two companions, Theoria and Opora, who incarnate the most pleasurable aspects
of peacetime, according to the practice of scenic allegory that the comic poet is
so fond of. In many folktales as well, the imprisoned princesses are three; the
hero frees them all and marries the youngest one, as Trygaeus does with Opora.
Very often in the folk tradition the protagonist of the tale is a man of the common
people exercizing a useful but humble profession: a hunter, tailor, cobbler,
farmer, soldier, woodcutter, blacksmith, basket-maker, or swineherd, who makes
his fortune when he takes the royal maiden for his wife. The same world of plain
manual labour is incarnated in the figure of Trygaeus, the hard-working farmer
rewarded with the hand of the goddess of fertility. In several specimens the
folktale hero has companions who assist him in his efforts, like the Chorus of
17
farmers who help Trygaeus. Indeed, in one tale-type widespread in Europe and
the Orient, the companions are partners in the venture and cooperate all together
in order to liberate the maiden, each one putting to practice the particular craft of
his profession. For instance, the astronomer locates the girl from afar through his
telescope; the shipbuilder constructs the boat for the long journey; the thief
stealthily takes the girl away from the sleeping dragon; the hunter shoots and
kills the monster with his gun; the tailor knits and joins together the pieces of the
destroyed boat, so that all may sail away. In a similar way, by utilizing the skills
and the tools of their profession, the digging mattocks and hoes, the farmers of
the Peace unseal the cave and reclaim the goddess.
Some peculiar components of the Aristophanic storyline are due to the
amalgamation of the fairytale pattern with other materials. As usual, the
exuberant comic poet is not content with reproducing a ready-made pattern, but
blends together elements of varying provenance into a free personal composition.
Even for such divergent details, however, the international folktale repertory
does offer characteristic parallels. Trygaeus does not begin his journey with the
intention of freeing Peace. At the start of the play he does not even know that the
goddess has been imprisoned by War. He flies to heaven because he wants to
personally protest before the gods for the misfortunes of war-ridden Greece. At
thiὅΝ pὁiὀt,Ν thἷΝ ἵὁmἷἶyΝ paὄὁἶiἷὅΝ aΝ ἸamὁuὅΝ tὄagiἵΝ mὁἶἷl,Ν ϋuὄipiἶἷὅ’Ν
Bellerophontes; the hero of this tragedy, a kind of Euripidean Hamlet full of
existential agony and embitterment, decided to ride on the winged horse Pegasus
and meet the gods in heaven, so as to ask them directly about the evil inherent in
the world. Nevertheless, there are also fairytales in which the hero does not know
ἸὄὁmΝ thἷΝ ἴἷgiὀὀiὀgΝ aἴὁutΝ thἷΝ ἵaptivἷΝ pὄiὀἵἷὅὅέΝ ἘἷΝ aὄὄivἷὅΝ atΝ thἷΝ ὁgὄἷ’ὅΝ ἶἷὀΝ ἴyΝ
chance, in the course of his wanderings around the world or of his search for
another magical substance, e.g. the water of life or a miraculous medicament for
his ailing father. On the spot he is informed about the fate of the unfortunate
maiden and devises a plan to save her, just like Trygaeus.
ἦhἷΝχὄiὅtὁphaὀiἵΝhἷὄὁ’ὅΝὄiὅἷΝtὁΝthἷΝὅky,ΝtὁΝthἷΝἶὁmaiὀΝὁἸΝthἷΝgὁἶὅ,ΝiὅΝalὅὁΝ
determined by the parody of Bellerophontes. As for the means of transportation,
the gigantic winged dung beetle, this also comes from another source: the
18
familiar Aesopic fable about the humble beetle which managed to fly up to the
throne of Zeus. Again, however, there is no lack of analogous folk narratives, in
whiἵhΝ thἷΝ pὄiὀἵἷὅὅ’ὅΝ pὄiὅὁὀΝ iὅΝ plaἵἷἶΝ iὀΝ thἷΝ ὅkyΝ ὁὄΝ iὀΝ aΝ gὄἷatΝ hἷight,Ν aὀἶΝ thἷΝ
protagonist needs to fly in order to reach her. Therefore he harnesses a winged
hὁὄὅἷΝΧlikἷΝἐἷllἷὄὁphὁὀtἷὅ’Νἢἷgaὅuὅ,ΝpaὄὁἶiἷἶΝiὀΝthἷΝχὄiὅtὁphaὀiἵΝἶuὀgΝἴἷἷtlἷΨΝὁὄΝ
he is himself magically transformed into an eagle. In other cases he climbs to
hἷavἷὀΝἸὄὁmΝaΝvἷὄyΝtallΝtὄἷἷ,ΝaΝmὁtiἸΝthatΝἴὄiὀgὅΝtὁΝmiὀἶΝἦὄygaἷuὅ’ΝἸiὄὅtΝaὀἶΝἸailἷἶΝ
attempt of ascension: the vine-dresser of the Peace tried at first to construct a
very long ladder, so as to climb with it to the area of the gods. Even the
combination of the fairytale stuff with elements from a famous myth is not a
phenomenon exclusive to Aristophanes. An Armenian version combines the
story of the captive princess with the age-old episode of the Cyclops. The
monstrous kidnapper is a one-ἷyἷἶΝ giaὀt,Ν aὀἶΝ thἷΝ hἷὄὁΝ kὀὁἵkὅΝ ὁutΝ thἷΝ giaὀt’ὅΝ
only eye before escaping with the maiden. In a Lithuanian tale thἷΝhἷὄὁ’ὅΝὅtὄugglἷΝ
withΝ thἷΝ kiἶὀappiὀgΝ ἶὄagὁὀΝ aὅὅimilatἷὅΝ mὁtiἸὅΝ ἸὄὁmΝ Ἐἷὄaἵlἷὅ’Ν ἸightΝ agaiὀὅtΝ thἷΝ
Lernaean HydraέΝἦhἷΝlaἶΝἵutὅΝὁἸἸΝὁὀἷΝὁἸΝthἷΝἶὄagὁὀ’ὅΝhἷaἶὅ,ΝἴutΝtwὁΝὁthἷὄΝhἷaἶὅΝ
spring up in its place; then the hero uses a fire torch to cauterize the neck of each
head he chops off, and thus he defeats the monster. In a Spanish story the dragon
is slain with the use ὁἸΝaΝmiὄὄὁὄ,ΝwhiἵhΝὄἷἵallὅΝἢἷὄὅἷuὅ’ΝἸightΝagaiὀὅtΝthἷΝἕὁὄgὁὀέΝ
In general, the more versions we read of these tale-types, the more similarities we
find with the scenario of the Peace.
There is no doubt that Aristophanes has taken inspiration from popular
imagination. In no other of his extant plays has he rendered with such fidelity and
completeness a fully-fledged narrative sequence drawn as a whole from the folk
tradition. In Hellenic lore this type of tale is reflected in heroic myths, such as
Perseus and Andromeda, and in local legends of monster-slayers, such as
Euthymus in Temesa and Eurybatus in Delphi. The same pattern was also spread
throughout the ancient Orient. It occurs in the Iranian legend of Fredun and the
dragon Azhi Dahhak, from the first millennium B.C., and in the Sou shen chi, a
Chinese collection of tales about the supernatural, datable to the fourth century
A.D. Clearly, the storyline was well loved by ancient peoples.
19
The Peace is related to the fairytale world also for another reason: the
simplicity of the moral foundations of the dramatic myth, the clarity of
distinction between good and evil, the unadulterated ethological constitution of
the characters and the conflicts. The poet paints with the black-and-white palette
of popular wisdom. Trygaeus is a wholly positive figure, the purest and most
altruistic ideologue among all the male protagonists of Aristophanes. His purpose
is the happiness of all Greeks, the fertility of the fields, and the punishment of
warmongers. His eventual cunning artifices are placed in the service of this good
cause and do not raise moral doubts. Trygaeus displays neither the reprehensible
iὀἶiviἶualiὅmΝὁἸΝDiἵaἷὁpὁliὅ,ΝὀὁὄΝἢἷiὅἷtaἷὄuὅ’ΝimmἷaὅuὄaἴlἷΝamἴitiὁὀΝἸὁὄΝpὁwἷὄ,Ν
nor the base background of the Sausage-SἷllἷὄΝ ὁὄΝ ἐἶἷlyἵlἷὁὀ’ὅΝ ἴὁὄiὀgΝ
rationalism. He is like a εärchen hero, without dark sides. The personified
Polemos, on the other hand, is the perfect villain of fairytale: fierce and
terrifying, but with that characteristically child-like, almost enjoyable kind of
terror that is inspired by the big bad wolf or the enormous giant; a boorish and
ἶullΝaὀtagὁὀiὅt,Νwhὁ,ΝwἷΝkὀὁw,ΝwillΝἴἷΝἵhἷatἷἶΝaὀἶΝἴἷatἷὀΝiὀΝthἷΝἷὀἶέΝἦhἷΝὀaïvἷΝ
spirit of folk fantasy breathes through the entire play.
Up to now we have only told half the truth. For the Peace is not merely a
magical fairytale. Behind the popular story of the dragon and the princess,
references to the historical circumstances and the political interrelations of the
time are again discernible. The captive maiden is the personified idea of peace,
the end of the great war — the war which was maintained and exploited above
all,ΝaἵἵὁὄἶiὀgΝtὁΝχὄiὅtὁphaὀἷὅ’Νviἷw,ΝἴyΝἑlἷὁὀΝaὀἶΝthἷΝὁthἷὄΝἵὁὄὄuptΝὄaἶiἵalὅΝὁἸΝ
Athens. The salvation project represents in scenic terms the treaty that was being
negotiated between Athens and Sparta exactly at that period, with the Athenian
side led by the moderately conservative Nicias. Ceasefire was already effective,
and the hopes for a definitive agreement were tangible. Peace was officially
declared soon after the Dionysia at which the Aristophanic play premiered. The
populist demagogues, Cleon and company, are again the main targets of the
comic mockery. They used to chase away Peace, every time she made an
appearance in the city; they terrified and misled the populace, so as to blackmail
the allied states and extract bribes. Cleon is presented as a basic instrument in
20
Waὄ’ὅΝ haὀἶὅνΝ hἷΝ waὅΝ thἷΝ pἷὅtlἷΝ withΝ whiἵhΝ thἷΝ hὁὄὄἷὀἶὁuὅΝ mὁὀὅtἷὄΝ plaὀὀἷἶΝ tὁΝ
grind the Hellenic cities inside his huge mortar. Hyperbolus, Cleon’ὅΝὅuἵἵἷὅὅὁὄΝiὀΝ
the leadership of the demos, is abhorred by the Peace goddess, who reacts with
disgust at the mere sound of his name. Other public figures of the same party,
such as Peisandros and Cleonymus, are ridiculed as cowards and braggarts.
In essence, the fairytale plot expresses the same ideological stance that
Aristophanes had been putting forward since the Acharnians. The arsenal of the
Brothers Grimm is rallied to attack once again the radical demagogues that
ἵὁὀtiὀuἷἶΝἢἷὄiἵlἷὅ’ΝiὀὅiὅtἷὀtΝwaὄΝpὁlicy. The dragon makes his lair in the rocks of
the Pnyx and selects his victims from among the farmhouses of Attica. In this
context, the most conspicuous difference of the Aristophanic version from the
typical folktale pattern can also be explained. The comic hero is not a young lad
of marriageable age, as in the folk narratives. He is a middle-aged farmer, a
geron in ancient Greek terms, like the most emblematic Aristophanic
protagonists from Dicaeopolis to Chremylus. Aristophanes of course adapts the
tradtional material to his own mannerisms, to the type of dramatic character that
he favoured par excellence.
Still, the choice of this particular ethological type is not without political
ὅigὀiἸiἵaὀἵἷέΝχὄiὅtὁphaὀἷὅ’Νgὄἷy-haired farmers are the smallholders of the Attic
countryside, who strove to make a living from cultivating their moderate plots of
land. These were the proprietors and carried the main responsibility for the fields
and the crops, while their young sons served in military campaigns. This
particular class of Athenians was the one most afflicted by the war, given that
their properties were repeatedly ravaged by the raids of the Spartan infantry.
These people, nourished by the Attic soil, by nature conservative and suspicious
towards the political and intellectual innovations of the urban asty, are chosen by
Aristophanes to be his heroes and express his opposition to the radical urban
demagogues. All conservative authors of fantasy show affection for the class of
smallholders and workers of the land. Let us recall how much C. S. Lewis and J.
R. R. Tolkien exalt the English farmers, with their practical commonsense and
their inherent feeling for justice. Mutatis mutandis, the Aristophanic old men are
the equivalent of the Hobbits for ancient Athens: they represent the mythopoeia
21
of the prudent, honest, and full of joie de vivre people of the countryside in the
mind of a master of fantasy.
There is another substantial difference between the plot of the Peace and
the typical folktale pattern, and this leads to the core of the Aristophanic
worldview. A standard component of the outcome, in all the myths and fairytales
under examination, is the slaying of the monster: the brave hero always defeats
and kills the ogre and thus liberates the captive maiden. The Aristophanic
comedy lacks this fundamental motif. The personified Polemos is not slain.
Trygaeus does not even dare to face him in an open fight, much less to overcome
and exterminate him. The hero simply waits until the terrible ogre has gone
away, and then frees Peace and her companions stealthily, under constant fear
lest he be discovered during his attempt. War does not appear again on stage; he
is simply forgotten after the liberation of Peace, and no-one mentions him any
longer.
This divergence is of course due to the peculiar identity of the ogre, which
is dictated by the political message of the play. The monster of this Aristophanic
drama is not merely a dragon, giant, or goblin. It is war incarnate, an evil of
cosmic proportions, to which no man can put a definitive end. One may discern
here the bitter sagacity of the Greek spirit, which found its epigrammatic
ἷxpὄἷὅὅiὁὀΝ latἷὄΝ iὀΝ ἢlatὁ’ὅΝ Laws: war between human communities is the
standard and constant condition of the world, the natural order of things, which
cannot be eliminated or avoided. Perhaps some dark premonitions of the comic
poet are also audible, with regard to the specific historical circumstances faced
by Athens in 421 B.C. The panegyrical tone and the enthusiastic celebrations of
the finale barely let the worries about the future break through. Nonetheless,
Aristophanes may well have feared that the longed-for peace treaty between
Athens and Sparta might not last for long. As is well known, the so-ἵallἷἶΝ“ἢἷaἵἷΝ
ὁἸΝ ἠiἵiaὅ”Ν waὅΝ uὀἶἷὄmined by both sides almost immediately after its
conclusion. The ominous signs of this development would probably have been
visible from earlier. In the text of the comedy, Aristophanes emphasizes the
obstacles caused by various allied states of both camps to the common effort for
the liberation of the goddess.
22
This is why War is neither defeated nor slain by the hero, but simply
walks off stage. This divergence from the familiar and beloved fairytale pattern
leaves, at least momentarily, a taste of bitter wariness and sage pessimism, the
likes of which are also found in other plays of Aristophanes. Similarly, for
example, in the Plutus, Penia, i.e. Lady Poverty, is cast out of the stage with
insults and curses, but she is not annihilated or overcome by force. Even in the
fantastic world of comic mythopoeia, some constants of reality are not ignored.
The poet and his audience know well that the real monsters, such as war and
poverty, cannot be killed.
23
Ioannis M. Konstantakos European Cultural Centre of Delphi
http://uoa.academia.edu/IoannisKonstantakos Seminars on Greek Literature and Culture
http://scholar.uoa.gr/iokonstan 20 July 2017
I. Political and non-political comedy in the Attic theatre
1. Aristotle, Poetics 1449a 38–b 9.

επηῳ α δ η πκυ α γαδ ι λξ μ ζαγ θ· εα ΰ λ ξκλ θ επηῳ θ ο πκ λξπθ
πε θ, ζζ’Ν γ ζκθ α αθ. β ξ ηα δθα α μ ξκ βμ κ ζ ΰ η θκδ α μ πκδβ α
ηθβηκθ κθ αδ. μ πλ ππα π πε θ πλκζ ΰκυμ πζ γβ πκελδ θ εα α κδα α,
ΰθ β αδ. η γκυμ πκδ ῖθ [ π ξαληκμ εα Φ ληδμ] η θ ι λξ μ ε ΢δε ζ αμ ζγ , θ
Ἀγ θβ δθ Κλ βμ πλ κμ λι θ φ η θκμ μ αηίδε μ αμ εαγ ζκυ πκδ ῖθ ζ ΰκυμ εα η γκυμ.
Comedy has had no history, because it was not at first treated seriously. It was late before the Archon
granted a comic chorus to a poet; the performers were till then amateurs. Comedy had already taken
definite shape when comic poets, distinctively so called, are heard of. Who furnished it with masks, or
prologues, or increased the number of actors — these and other similar details remain unknown. As
for the crafting of plots, it came originally from Sicily (Epicharmus and Phormis); of Athenian writers
Crates was the first who abandoned the form of invective and created generalized themes and plots.
2. Anonymous Prolegomena de Comoedia (III pp. 8.29–31 Koster).

Φ λ ελΪ βμ Ἀγβθαῖκμ (...) ΰ θση θκμ <εα > πκελδ μ αάζπ ΚλΪ β α, εα α κ η θ
ζκδ κλ ῖθ πΫ β, πλΪΰηα α βΰκτη θκμ εαδθ β κεέη δ ΰ θση θκμ λ δε μ ητγπθ.
Pherecrates the Athenian (...) he too was an actor and followed the example of Crates. So he also
refrained from invective, introduced novel material and had great success in the invention of plots.
3. Cratinus, Dionysalexandros, hypothesis on papyrus (P.Oxy. 663 = test. i Kassel-Austin).

]. col. i
]αβ ( )
]παθ
]αυ κθ ηβ
ε]λ ϲδθ λη( ϲ) . . . judgement, Hermes goes away, and they
π λξ] αδ ε(α ) κ κδ address some remarks to the spectators about the
η( θΨΝπλΧ ϲ) κ ϲ γ α ϲ making of sons; and after Dionysus appears, they
δθαΝπΧ λ ) θΝπκδάΧϲ πϲ) make fun of him and jeer him. And when the
δαζ ΰκθ αδΝεΧα )
goddesses appear, Dionysus . . .
παλαφαθ θ αΝ θΝ
δ θυϲκθΝ πδϲε Χπ κυϲδΨΝΧεα )
ξζ υ ακυΧϲδθΨ·Ν Χ ΨΝπα-
λαΰ θκη θπθΝΝξΝ
ρΝα δΝ
παλ ηΧ θΨΝ λα[ϲ]Ν υλαθθ κΧϲ) Hera offers him unshakable royal power, Athena
24
εδθ κυ,Νπα[λ] ’ΝἈγβθ ϲ offers him courage in war, and Aphrodite offers
ουξ ΧαϲΨΝεΧαΨ Χ ΨΝπ ζ ηκΧθΨ,Ν ϲ that he be the best-looking and most sexually
’ΝἈφλκ Χ βϲΨΝε ζζδϲ ΧθΨΝ ΝεΧα ) attractive man there is. Dionysus judges her the
π λαϲ κθΝα θΝ π λ- winner. After this, he sails to Sparta and takes
ξ δθ,Νελ θ δΝ α βθΝθδε θέΝ
Helen away, and returns to Ida; shortly thereafter
ηΧ Ψ Χ ΨΝ Χ ΨΝ α Χ αΨΝπζ ϲαϲ ϲ
Λαε α ηκΧθαΨΝΧεα ΨΝ θΝ ζ θβθΝ
he hears that the Achaeans are laying the country
ιαΰαΰ θΝ παθ λξ ΧαδΨΝ waste and looking for Alexandros.
ϲ θΝἼ βθέΝ εκ Χ δΨΝ Χ ΨΝη -
’Ν ζ ΰκθΝ κ ϲ Ἀξαδκ ϲ πυλ-
πκζ] ῖθΝ θΝξ ΧλαθΨΝΧεα ΨΝ[αβ ῖθΝ
col. ii
θ Ἀζ ιαθ[ (λκθ). θ η( θ) κ θ ζ θβ(θ) He hides Helen as quickly as he can in a basket,
ϲ ζαλκθ ϲ [ξδϲ α changes his own appearance to make himself look
ελ οαϲ, αυ θ ’Ν ϲ ελδ [θ like a ram, and waits for what will happen next.
η( ) (α)ϲε υ ϲαϲ πκη θ δ After Alexandros appears and catches them, he
η ζζκθ. παλαΰ θ -
orders (his men) to take them both to the ships
η θκϲ ’ΝἈζ ιαθ (λκϲ) ε(α ) φπλ -
ϲαϲ ε λκ(θ) ΰ δθ π ϲ
and turn them over to the Achaeans. But when
θα ϲ πλ(κϲ) δ ϲ παλα ϲπθ Helen is reluctant, he pities her and detains her to
κῖϲ Ἀξαδκῖ(ϲ). εθκ ϲβϲ ( ) ϲ be his wife; but he sends Dionysus off to be
ζ θβ(ϲ) α βθ η( θ) κ ε λαϲ surrendered. The satyrs follow along, encouraging
ϲ ΰυθαῖξ’Ν ιπθ πδεα ξ( δ), (him) and saying that they will not abandon him.
θ ( ) δ θυ(ϲκθ) ϲ παλα κγβ- Pericles is made fun of quite persuasively in the
ϲ η θκΧθΨΝ πκϲ ζζ δ,Νϲυθ- play via innuendo for having brought the war on
αεκζκυγΧκ ϲδΨΝ ’Νκ ϲ υΧλκδΨΝπαλαεαζκ θ- the Athenians.
ϲ ΝεΧα ΨΝκ εΝ θΝπλκ ϲ δθΝ
α θΝφ ϲεκθ ϲέΝΝΝΝΝΝΝεπηπδ-
ῖ αδΝ ’ θΝ δΝ λ ηα δΝΠ -
λδεζ ϲ η ζαΝπδγαθ ϲ δ’Ν
ηφ ϲ πϲ ϲ παΰβκξ ϲ
κῖϲ Ἀγβθα κδϲ θΝπ ζ ηκθέ
II. The shape-shifter
4. Aristophanes, Clouds 340–355.

΢ΣΡ ΦΙ ΢ ζ ικθ ηκδ, παγκ αδ,
π λ θ φ ζαδ ΰ᾿ θ ζβγ μ, γθβ αῖμ ια δ ΰυθαδι θν
κ ΰ λ ε ῖθα ΰ᾿ κδα αδ. ΢ΧΚΡ Σ ΢ φ λ , πκῖαδ ΰ λ δθ μ δθν
΢Σ. κ ε κ α αφ μ· ια δθ ᾿ κ θ λ κδ δθ π π αη θκδ δθ,
εκ ξ ΰυθαδι θ, η ᾿, κ ᾿ δκ θ· α αδ ῖθαμ ξκυ δθ.
΢Χ. π ελδθα θυθ ᾿ θ λπηαδ. ΢ΣέΝΝζ ΰ ΝθυθΝ αξ πμΝ δΝίκ ζ δέΝ
΢Χέ βΝπκ ᾿ θαίζ οαμΝ μΝθ φ ζβθΝε θ α λῳ ηκ αθΝ
25
παλ ζ δΝ ζ εῳ α λῳν ΢ΣέΝΝθ ᾿ ΰπΰ᾿. αΝ κ κνΝ

΢Χ. ΰ ΰθκθ αδΝπ θγ᾿ δΝίκ ζκθ αδ·Νεᾆ ᾿ θΝη θΝ π δΝεκη βθΝ
ΰλδ θΝ δθαΝ θΝζα πθΝ κ πθ,Νκ θπ λΝ θΝΞ θκφ θ κυ,Ν
ε π κυ αδΝ θΝηαθ αθΝα κ ε θ α λκδμΝᾔεα αθΝα μέΝ
΢Σ. ΰ λΝ θΝ λπαΰαΝ θΝ βηκ πθΝεα π δΝ΢ ηπθα,Ν λ δθνΝ
΢Χ. πκφα θκυ αδΝ θΝφ δθΝα κ ζ εκδΝ ια φθβμΝ ΰ θκθ κέΝ
΢Σ. α ᾿ λα,Ν α αΝΚζ θυηκθΝα αδΝ θΝ οα πδθΝξγ μΝ κ αδ,Ν
δΝ δζ α κθΝ κ κθΝ λπθ,Ν ζαφκδΝ δ κ ᾿ ΰ θκθ κέΝ
΢Χ. εα θ θΝΰ᾿ δΝΚζ δ γ θβΝ κθ,Ν λ μ,Ν δ κ ᾿ ΰ θκθ κΝΰυθαῖε μέΝ
STREPSIADES: ἐutΝtἷllΝmἷ,Νwhat’ὅΝthἷΝὄἷaὅὁὀ they look exactly like mortal women, if they are really
and truly clouds? ἦhὁὅἷΝὁὀἷὅΝupΝthἷὄἷΝἶὁὀ’tΝlὁὁkΝlikἷΝwὁmἷὀέΝ
SOCRATES: Well what do you think they are like?
STREPSIADES: I am not quite sure. They look, say, like pieces of wool that lie stretched out, but not
like women, by Zeus! Not even remotely. Why, these ones here even have noses!
SOCRATES: Come on then, answer whatever I ask.
STREPSIADES: Fire away then, ask what you like.
SOCRATES: Have you ever looked up and seen in the sky a cloud resembling a centaur, or perhaps a
leopard, a wolf, or a bull?
STREPSIADES: Yes of course, but why does it matter?
SOCRATES: The Clouds can become whatever they want. So suppose they spot down here a long-
haired brute of the shaggy brigade, like the son of Xenophantus. In order to mock his crazy obsession,
they assume the shape of centaurs.
STREPSIADES: And what if they spot a person who filches the public funds, like Simon?
SOCRATES: Their appearance reflects his nature at once: they take on the shape of wolves!
STREPSIADES: ἦhat’s why when they saw Cleonymus yesterday, that shield-discarder, they thought
he is such a colossal coward they turned themselves into deer!
SOCRATES: And when just now they saw Clἷiὅthἷὀἷὅ,Νthat’ὅΝwhy they turned into women!
5. Aristophanes, Wasps 125–149, 169–210, 367–372.

Ξ ΝΘΙ ΢ θ γ θ κ ε ᾽ α θ ι φλ η θ, XANTHIAS: Well, since then we decided to keep him shut up in the
᾽ ι λα ε δ θ λκλλκ θ house, but he kept escaping, crawling through the water pipes or
εα θ π θ· η ῖμ ᾽ ᾽ θ λβη θα nipping out a little hole, so we have stopped up all the chinks with rags
θ ί αη θ αε κδ δ ε παε αη θ, and filled in all the gaps. Then we discovered him knocking pegs into
the courtyard wall and scuttling up onto the roof like a pet jackdaw. So,
᾽ π λ εκζκδ μ α πα ζκυμ
wἷ’vἷΝputΝὀἷtὅΝὄightΝaἵὄὁὅὅΝthἷΝyaὄἶέΝἙt’ὅΝὁuὄΝjὁἴΝtὁΝpatὄὁlΝthἷΝpἷὄimἷter
θ ελκυ θ μ θ κῖξκθ, ᾽ ι ζζ κ. ὁἸΝthἷΝhὁuὅἷΝtὁΝmakἷΝὅuὄἷΝhἷΝὅtayὅΝputΞΝYὁu’llΝὀἷvἷὄΝἴἷliἷvἷΝwhatΝthἷΝ
η ῖμ θ α ζ θ πα αθ δε κδμ old codger is called — ἢhilὁἵlἷὁὀ,ΝἙΝὅwἷaὄΝit’ὅΝtὄuἷΞΝχὀἶΝhiὅΝὅὁὀΝhἷὄἷΝiὅΝ
εα απ αθ μ θ ε εζῳ φυζ κη θ. ὀamἷἶΝἐἶἷlyἵlἷὁὀέΝἘἷ’ὅΝaΝἴitΝὅtuἵkΝup,ΝlikἷὅΝtὁΝlivἷΝthἷΝgὁὁἶΝliἸἷέ
δθ ᾽ θκηα η θ ΰ λκθ δ Φδζκεζ πθ, BDELYCLEON: Xanthias! Sosias! Are you two asleep?
θα η α, ᾽υ ῖΰ ῳ ζυεζ πθ, XANTHIAS: Oh no!
ξπθ λ πκυμ φλυαΰηκ ηθ εκυμ δθΪμ. SOSIAS: What! What!
ΛΤΚΛ ΧΝ Ξαθγ α εα ΢π α, εαγ ν XANTHIAS: Bdelycleon has woken up.
Ξ . κ ηκδ. ΢Χ. δν Ξ . ζυεζ πθ θ α αδ. BDELYCLEON: Quickly, one of you run around to the back! Father is
. κ π λδ λαη ῖ αδ φ θ αξ πμ λ᾽ λκμν gone into the kitchen, and he is scurrying around like a mouse. Make
ὅuὄἷΝhἷΝἶὁἷὅὀ’tΝtὄyΝaὀἶΝἶiὅappἷaὄΝἶὁwὀΝthe plug hole in the sink! You
ΰ λ πα λ μ θ πθ θ ζ ζυγ
keep watch on the door.
εα ηυ πκζ ῖ δΝεα α υε μέΝ ζζ᾽ γλ δ XANTHIAS: Yes, master.
εα μΝπυ ζκυΝ λ η᾽ ππμΝη ᾽ε αδ· BDELYCLEON: By Poseidon! Whatever is that noise coming from the
γ λᾳ πλ ε δ κέΝΞ έ α ᾽, πκ αέ chimney? What are you doing? Who are you?
έΝ θαιΝΠ δ κθ,Ν πκ ᾽ λ᾽ ε πθβΝοκφ ῖν ἢἘἙδἡἑδϋἡἠμΝἙ’mΝjuὅtΝaΝlittlἷΝpuἸἸΝὁἸΝὅmὁkἷέ
κ κμ, μΝ ν ΦΙΛέ εαπθ μΝ ΰπΰ᾽ ι λξκηαδέ BDELYCLEON: Smoke? From what kind of wood?
έΝεαπθ μνΝφ λ᾽ π, ι ζκυΝ θκμΝ τνΝΦΙΛέΝ υε θκυέ PHILOCLEON: Sycamore.
έΝθ θΝ ᾽, π λΝΰ᾽ λδη α κμΝεαπθ θέ ἐDϋδYἑδϋἡἠμΝεὁὄἷΝlikἷΝἥyἵὁphaὀtΞΝἦhat’ὅΝaΝlὁaἶΝὁἸΝhὁtΝaiὄ,ΝaὀἶΝitΝ
λΝκ εΫ ’Ν εφλά δΝΰ ·Νπκ ᾽ γ᾽ βζ αν wὁulἶΝ ἵhὁkἷΝ aὀyὁὀἷέΝ YὁuΝ gἷtΝ ἴaἵkΝ iὀὅiἶἷΝ thiὅΝ miὀutἷΞΝ Whἷὄἷ’ὅΝ thatΝ
κυΝπ ζδθ·Νφ λ᾽ παθαγ κδΝεα ι ζκθέ ἵhimὀἷyΝἵὁvἷὄΝgὁὀἷΝtὁςΝYὁuΝgἷtΝἴaἵkΝiὀὅiἶἷ,ΝἴlaὅtΝyὁuΞΝἙ’llΝmakἷΝὅuὄἷΝ
you never try this one again by putting a block of wood over the cover.
θ α γ θυθΝα δΝ δθ᾽ ζζβθΝηβξαθ θέ
..................................................................................... ....................................................................................................
26
ΦΙΛ. η θ ᾽κ ᾽, ζζ᾽ πκ γαδ ίκ ζκηαδ ἢἘἙδἡἑδϋἡἠμΝἠὁ,ΝὀὁΝἙΝ wὁὀ’t. I just want to take the donkey to
θ θκθ ΰπθ α κῖ δ κῖμ εαθγβζ κδμ· the market and sell him as an all-inclusive deal, including panniers,
θκυηβθ α ΰ λ δθ. . κ εκυθ ε θ ΰ it’ὅΝmaὄkἷtΝἶayΝtὁἶayέ
α θ πκ κ ηβθ ᾽ θν ΦΙΛ. κ ξ π λ ΰ᾽ ΰ . BDEδYἑδϋἡἠμΝἑὁulἶὀ’tΝἙΝὅἷllΝitΝἸὁὄΝyὁuς
PHILOCLEON: Not half as well as I could.
. η έ’,Ν ζζ᾽ η δθκθ. ΦΙΛ. ζζ θ θκθ ιαΰ .
BDELYCLEON: Exactly! I could do it twice as well.
Ξ . κ αθ πλ φα δθ εαγ ε θ, μ λπθδε μ, PHILOCLEON: What? All right, then, if you insist, bring the
θ᾽ α θ επ ηο δαμ. . ζζ᾽ κ ε πα θ donkey out.
α ῃ ΰ᾽· ΰ ΰ λ ᾐ γ ηβθ ξθπη θκυ. XχἠἦἘἙχἥμΝἦhatΝwaὅΝaΝgὁὁἶΝὁὀἷ,Νhἷ’ὅΝἸiὅhiὀgΝtὁΝgἷtΝὁutέΝ Ἐἷ’ὅΝaΝ
ζζ᾽ δ θ ηκδ θ θκθ ι ΰ δθ κε , slippery customer, this one.
ππμ θ ΰ λπθ ηβ παλαε οῃ π ζδθ. BDELYCLEON: Wἷll,Ν ἙΝ ἶiἶὀ’tΝ takἷΝ thἷΝ ἴait,Ν ἙΝ ἵaὀΝ ὅἷἷΝ juὅtΝ whatΝ
ε θγπθ, εζ δμν δ π πλ δ η λκθν hἷ’ὅΝ upΝ tὁέΝ ἙΝ thiὀkΝ Ἑ’llΝ gἷtΝ thἷΝ ἶὁὀkἷyΝ myὅἷlἸΝ juὅtΝ iὀΝ ἵaὅἷΝ thἷΝ ὁlἶΝ
ί δα γ κθ. θ δμ, η φ λ δμ maὀΝtὄiἷὅΝtὁΝὀὁὅἷΝhiὅΝwayΝὁutέΝἑὁmἷΝὁὀ,Νἠἷἶἶy,ΝmὁvἷΞΝWhat’ὅΝthἷΝ
Ὀ υ α δθ’ν Ξ . ζζ θα η αφ λ δ matter? Are you sad that yὁu’ὄἷΝgὁiὀgΝtὁΝἴἷΝὅὁlἶΝtὁἶayςΝἑὁmἷΝὁὀέΝ
ε π ΰ κυ κθ δθ᾽ πκ υε α. What are you groaning for? Anyone would think that you had
Odysseus hanging down there.
. πκῖκθν φ λ᾽ πηαδ. Ξ . κυ κθ . . κυ θν
XANTHIAS: By Zeus! He has got someone down there!
μ πκ ᾽, θγλππ᾽, θν ΦΙΛ. Ο δμ, θ α. BDELYCLEON: What? Let me see.
. Ο δμ ν πκ απ μν ΦΙΛ. Ἴγαεκμ Ἀπκ λα δππ κυ. XANTHIAS: Here, this one!
. Ο δμ η θ έ’Νκ δ ξαδλ πθ ΰ . ἐDϋδYἑδϋἡἠμΝWhat’ὅΝgὁiὀgΝὁὀ,Νwhὁ’ὅΝἶὁwὀΝthἷὄἷς
φ ζε γ κθ α θ. ηδαλ α κμ, PHILOCLEON: No one, by Zeus!
θ᾽ πκ υε θ· ᾽ ηκδΰ᾽ θ ζζ αδ ἐDϋδYἑδϋἡἠμΝἠὁΝὁὀἷςΝχὀἶΝwhἷὄἷΝaὄἷΝyὁuΝἸὄὁm,Ν“εὄέΝἠὁΝὁὀἷ”ς
ηκδ α κμ εζβ λκμ θαδ ππζ ῳ. ἢἘἙδἡἑδϋἡἠμΝἙ’mΝἸὄὁmΝἙthaἵa,ΝthἷΝὅὁὀΝὁἸΝἔlἷἷ-on-an-ass.
ΦΙΛ. η η᾽ γ᾽ υξκθ, ηαξκ η γα. ἐDϋδYἑδϋἡἠμΝWἷllΝ“εὄέΝἠὁΝὁὀἷ”, thἷὄἷ’ὅΝὀὁΝwayΝyὁu’ὄἷΝgἷttiὀgΝ
. π λ κ ηαξ ῖ θ θ αν ΦΙΛ. π λ θκυ εδ μ. away with this. Pull him out from under there! Ugh! You disgusting
. πκθβλ μ π λλπ ξθβμ εα παλ ίκζκμ. ὁlἶΝmaὀέΝJuὅtΝlὁὁkΝwhἷὄἷΝhἷ’ὅΝὅtuἸἸἷἶΝhimὅἷlἸΞΝἦhiὅΝmuὅtΝὅuὄἷlyΝἴἷΝ
the first time a donkey has ever given birth to a complete ass!
ΦΙΛ. ΰ πκθβλ μν κ η έ’,Ν ζζ᾽ κ ε κ γα
ἢἘἙδἡἑδϋἡἠμΝἙ’mΝwaὄὀiὀgΝyὁu,ΝἙΝwὁὀ’tΝgὁΝwithὁutΝaΝἸightΞ
θ θ η᾽ θ ᾽ λδ κθ· ζζ᾽ πμ, αθ φ ΰῃμ ἐDϋδYἑδϋἡἠμΝYὁu’ἶΝἴἷΝἸlὁgging a dead horse.
πκΰ λδκθ ΰ λκθ κμ ζδα δεκ . ἢἘἙδἡἑδϋἡἠμΝἙt’llΝἴἷΝἶὁὀkἷy’ὅΝyἷaὄὅΝἴἷἸὁὄἷΝyὁuΝἷvἷὄΝὅtὁpΝmἷΞ
. γ δ θ θκθ εα αυ θ μ θ κ ε αθ. ἐDϋδYἑδϋἡἠμΝ Yὁu’ὄἷΝ aὅΝ ὅtuἴἴὁὄὀΝ aὅΝ aὀΝ ὁlἶΝ mulἷΝ aὀἶΝ twiἵἷΝ aὅΝ
ΦΙΛ. ιυθ δεα α εα Κζ πθ, η θα . rotten.
. θ κθ ε ελαξγδ μ γ λαμ ε εζῃη θβμ. ἢἘἙδἡἑδϋἡἠμΝἤὁttἷὀ,ΝmἷΞΝἙΝamΝἵἷὄtaiὀlyΝὀὁt,ΝἴyΝZἷuὅΞΝἙ’llΝhavἷΝ
γ δ πκζζκ μ θ ζ γπθ πλ μ θ γ λαθ, you know that I am regarded by some as quite a dish, and very
εα θ ί ζαθκθ ηίαζζ π ζδθ μ θ ηκξζ θ, tasty. Perhaps you would like to sample a prime upper cut of
εα θ κε θ πλκ γ μ θ ζηκθ θ η ΰαθ matured juryman!
θ αμ δ πλκ ε ζδ κθ. Ξ . κ ηκδ ζαδκμ· ἐDϋδYἑδϋἡἠμΝ ἕἷtΝ ἴaἵkΝ iὀὅiἶἷ,Ν aὀἶΝ takἷΝ thiὅΝ ὅtupiἶΝ “ἶὁὀkἷy”Ν
with you!
π γ θ πκ ᾽ ηπ π πε ηκδ ίπζ κθν
PHILOCLEON: Help! Help me! Fellow jurors, Cleon, help!
. πμ θπγ θ η μ θ ίαζ κ πκγ θ. BDELYCLEON: You can shout as much as you like, but the door
Ξ . η μν κ η έ’,Ν ζζ᾽ πκ υ η θ μ δμ κ κ stays shut. Pile up a heap of stones against the door! Put the knob
π θ ε λαη πθ ζδα μ λκφ αμ. back in the hole! Wedge that plank of wood against the door! Roll
έΝκ ηκδΝεαεκ α ηπθ,Ν λκ γκμΝ θ λΝΰ ΰθ αδ· that big grinding stone . . .
επ αδέΝπκ πκ ᾽ ηκδΝ ε υκθν XANTHIAS: Ouch! Poor me! A clod of earth just fell on me!
κ , κ ,Νπ ζδθ,Ν κ έΝθ έ’Ν ηκδΝελ ῖ κθΝ θ BDELYCLEON: PeὄhapὅΝ thἷὄἷ’ὅΝ aΝ mὁuὅἷΝ ὅἵuttliὀgΝ aἴὁutΝ iὀΝ thἷΝ
βλ ῖθΝ΢εδ θβθΝ θ κ κυΝ κ πα λ μέ eaves.
XχἠἦἘἙχἥμΝἦhat’ὅΝὀὁΝmὁuὅἷ,Νthat’ὅΝaΝhὁuὅἷ-juὄὁὄ,ΝaὀἶΝhἷ’ὅΝtὄyiὀgΝ
........................................................................................... to squeeze out from under the roof tiles!
BDELYCLEON: AlasΞΝ ἘἷΝ thiὀkὅΝ thatΝ hἷ’ὅΝ aΝ ὅpaὄὄὁwΞΝ Ἐἷ’ὅΝ gὁiὀgΝ
tὁΝtakἷΝἸlightΝaὀyΝmiὀutἷΞΝWhἷὄἷ’ὅΝmy net? Shoo! Shoo! Get back!
ἥhὁὁΞΝἐyΝZἷuὅ,ΝἙ’ἶΝὅὁὁὀἷὄΝjὁiὀΝthἷΝaὄmyΝaὀἶΝἸὄἷἷὐἷΝὁὀΝthἷΝἸὄὁὀtiἷὄ,Ν
than keep watch on my father.
...........................................................................................................
ΦΙΛ. δα λαΰ ῖθ κ θυθ ελ δ θ ηκδ ε υκθ. PHILOCLEON: I suppose Ἑ’llΝjuὅtΝhavἷΝtὁΝtὄyΝaὀἶΝ nibble my way
ηκδΝ ε υθθαΝ υΰΰθ ηβθΝ ξκδΝ κ δε κυέ through this net. May Dictynna forgive me for making a mess of
ΥΟΡΟ΢ her mesh!
α α η θ πλ μ θ λ μ ᾽ θκθ κμ μ π βλ αθ. CHORUS: ἦhat’ὅΝ what I like to hear, fighting talk! Commence
ζζ᾽ παΰ Ν θΝΰθ γκθέ nibbling!
ΦΙΛ. δα λπε αδ κ ΰ᾽. ζζ η ίκ ηβ αη μ, PHILOCLEON: Shsh,Ν kἷἷpΝ ὃuiἷtΞΝ WἷΝ ἶὁὀ’t want Bdelycleon to
catch us at it. I’vἷΝἵhἷwἷἶΝit through!
ζζ βλ η γ᾽ ππμΝη ζυεζ πθΝα γ αδέ
27
III. Cockaigne
6. Aristophanes, Acharnians 65–114.

ΠΡ ΢ ΤΣ ΢ παλ γβε θΝ ηῖθ·Ν θκηαΝ ᾽ θΝα φ θαιέ
π ηοαγ᾽ η μ μ ία δζ α θ η ΰαθ ΙΚέΝ α ᾽ λ’ φ θ εδα μΝ κΝ λαξη μΝφ λπθέ
ηδ γ θ φ λκθ αμ κ λαξη μ μ η λαμ ΠΡ. εα θ θ ΰκθ μ εκη θ Φ υ αλ ίαθ,
π᾽ γυη θκυμΝ λξκθ κμέΝ θΝία δζ πμΝ φγαζη θέΝ ΙΚέΝ εε ο δ ΰ
ΙΚ ΙΟΠΟΛΙ΢Νκ ηκδΝ θΝ λαξη θέ ε λαιΝπα ιαμ,Ν θΝ Ν θΝ κ πλ ί πμέ
ΠΡέΝεα ᾽ λυξ η γαΝ δ Κας λ πθ Κ ΡΤΞΝ ία δζ πμΝ φγαζη μέ
π πθΝ κδπζαθκ θ μΝ εβθβη θκδ, (...)
φ᾽ ληαηαι θΝηαζγαε μΝεα αε η θκδ,Ν ΠΡέΝ ΰ Ν τ,Νία δζ μΝ αΝ ᾽ π π ηο θΝφλ κθ
πκζζ η θκδέΝ ΙΚέΝ φ λαΝΰ λΝ ῳα ηβθΝ ΰ ζ ικθ ᾽ Ἀγβθα κδ δθ,Ν Φ υ αλ ίαέ
παλ θΝ παζιδθΝ θΝφκλυ εα αε η θκμέ Φ Τ ΡΣ ΢
ΠΡέΝι θδα η θκδΝ πλ μΝί αθΝ π θκη θ αλ αηαθΝ ιαλιαθΝ πδ κθαΝ α λαέ
ιΝ αζ θπθΝ εππη πθΝεα ξλυ πθ ΠΡέΝιυθ εαγ᾽ ζ ΰ δνΝ ΙΚέΝη θΝἈπ ζζπΝ᾽ΰ η θΝκ .
ελα κθΝκ θκθΝ θέΝ ΙΚέΝ Κλαθα π ζδμ, ΠΡέΝπ ηο δθΝία δζ αΝφβ θΝ ηῖθΝξλυ κθέΝ
λ᾽ α γ θῃ θΝεα ΰ ζπθΝ θΝπλ ί πθν ζ ΰ Ν η ῖακθΝεα αφ μΝ ξλυ κθέ
ΠΡέ κ ί λίαλκδΝΰ λΝ θ λαμΝ ΰκ θ αδΝη θκυμ Φ ΤέΝκ ζ οδΝξλυ σ,Νξαυθ πλπε ᾽ ακθα .
κ μΝπζ ῖ αΝ υθαη θκυμΝφαΰ ῖθ εα πδ ῖθέ ΙΚέΝκ ηκδΝεαεκ α ηπθ,Ν μΝ αφ μέΝΠΡέΝ α ζ ΰ δν
ΙΚέΝ η ῖμΝ ζαδεα μΝΰ Νεα εα απ ΰκθαμέ ΙέΝ δνΝξαυθκπλ ε κυμΝ κ μΝ κθαμΝζ ΰ δ,Ν
ΠΡέΝ δΝ λ ῳ ᾽ μΝ ία ζ δ᾽ ζγκη θ· πλκ κε δΝξλυ κθΝ εΝ θΝίαλί λπθέ
ζζ᾽ μΝ π πα κθΝᾤξ κΝ λα δ θΝζαί θ, ΠΡέΝκ ε,Ν ζζ᾽ ξ θαμΝ Νΰ Νξλυ κυΝζ ΰ δέ
ε ξ α θΝ ε η θαμΝ π ξλυ θΝ λ θ,Ν— ΙΚέΝπκ αμΝ ξ θαμνΝ η θΝ ζαα θΝ η ΰαμέ
ΙΚέ π κυΝ θΝπλπε θΝξλ θκυΝιυθ ΰαΰ θν ζζ᾽ πδγ᾽· ΰ ία αθδ κ κθΝη θκμέ
παθ ζ θῳνΝΠΡέΝ— εᾆ ᾽ π ζγ θΝκ εα έ ΰ Ν τ,Νφλ κθΝ ηκ αφ μΝπλ μΝ κυ κθ ,
᾽ ι θδα , παλ γ δΝγ᾽ ηῖθΝ ζκυμ θαΝη Νί οπΝί ηηαΝ΢αλ δαθδε θ·
εΝελδί θκυΝίκ μέΝ ΙΚέΝεα μΝ Νπ πκ ία δζ μΝ η ΰαμΝ ηῖθΝ πκπ ηο δΝξλυ κθνΝ[ θαθ δέ
ίκ μΝελδίαθ αμνΝ θΝ ζαακθ υη πθέ ζζπμΝ λ᾽ ιαπα η γ᾽ π θΝπλ ί πθνΝ[ πδθ δέ
ΠΡέΝεα θα η ᾽ λθδθΝ λδπζ δκθΝΚζ πθ ηκυ
AMBASSADOR: You sent us off to the Great King at a salary of two drachmas per day eleven years
ago —
DICAEOPOLIS: Now that’ὅ money wasted!
AMBASSADOR: — and we had a terrible time of it. We suffered immensely, travelling through the
plains of the River Cayster on top of fancy little Persian wagons, parasols over our heads, enjoying all
sorts of delicious goodies. Truly, wἷΝwἷὄἷΝalmὁὅtΝatΝἶἷath’ὅΝἶὁὁὄέ
DICAEOPOLIS: Meanwhile, I was having a great time at home, lying on top of the garbage piles by
the city walls!
28
AMBASSADOR: And whenever we stopped for the night, they forced us to drink sweet wine out of
crystal goblets and gold bowls. We were absolutely forbidden to mix any water in with it.
DICAEOPOLISμΝἑityΝὁἸΝχthἷὀὅΞΝDὁὀ’tΝyὁuΝὅἷἷΝthatΝthἷὅἷΝamἴaὅὅaἶὁὄὅΝaὄἷ making fools out of us?
AMBASSADOR: Because, you see, as far as the barbarians are concerned, only someone who eats
and drinks huge amounts is counted as a real man.
DICAEOPOLIS: We Athenians, on the other hand, prefer cocksuckers and queers!
AMBASSADOR: Finally, after travelling for three years, we reached the royal palace. But the King
had taken an expeditionary force and gone off to Crappadocia, and he spent the next eight months
shitting on the Golden Mountains.
DICAEOPOLIS: Really? So how long did it take him to get his arsehole closed up again? Until the
full moon?
AMBASSADOR: And then he came home and started to entertain us. He served us whole baked oxen.
DICAEOPOLISμΝἡh,Νwhὁ’ὅΝἷvἷὄΝhἷaὄἶΝὁἸΝwhὁlἷΝἴakἷἶΝὁxἷὀςΝWhatΝaΝἴuὀἵhΝὁἸ nonsense!
AMBASSADOR: He also served us a bird three times as big as Cleonymus; thἷyΝἵallΝitΝaΝ“ὄὁἴiὀέ”
DICAEOPOLISμΝἥὁΝthat’ὅΝwhyΝyou were a-ὄὁἴἴiὀ’Νus of two drachmas a day!
AMBASSADORμΝἐutΝὀὁwΝwἷ’ὄἷΝἴaἵk,ΝaὀἶΝwἷΝhavἷΝwithΝuὅΝShamiran, the Eye of the King.
DICAEOPOLIS: Hah! I wish a bird would peck this eye out! And yours too, Mr. Ambassador!
HERALD: Let the Eye of the King come forward! (...)
AMBASSADOR: All right, Shamiran, give the Athenians the message from the King!
SHAMIRAN: Yarta mana khsharkhsha pishshouna khshatra.
AMBASSADORμΝDὁἷὅΝἷvἷὄyἴὁἶyΝuὀἶἷὄὅtaὀἶΝwhatΝhἷ’ὅΝὅaying?
DICAEOPOLIS: By Apollo, I ἵἷὄtaiὀlyΝἶὁὀ’tέ
AMBASSADORμΝ ἘἷΝ ὅayὅΝ thἷΝ Kiὀg’ὅΝ gὁiὀgΝ tὁΝ send you gold. Hey you! Speak louder and clearer
about the gold.
SHAMIRAN: No take goldo you openarse Iawoniaws.
DICAEOPOLIS: Oh damnation! How clearly he said it this time!
AMBASSADOR: Well, what is he saying?
DICAEOPOLIS: What is he saying? He says us Ionians are a bunch of openarseholes, iἸΝ wἷ’ὄἷΝ
expecting any gold from barbarians!
AMBASSADOR: No, no! He is speaking about tons of gold!
DICAEOPOLIS: What tonsςΝYὁu’ὄἷΝa great crook indeed. Get out of here; I will cross-examine this
man myself. All right, you — now kἷἷpΝwhatΝἙ’vἷΝgὁtΝhἷὄἷΝiὀΝmiὀἶΝaὀἶΝtἷllΝmἷΝὅtὄaight ὁut,ΝὅὁΝἙΝἶὁὀ’tΝ
have to dye you a nice exotic crimson: Is the Great King going to send us any gold? (Shamiran shakes
his head “σo”.) So these Ambassadors are trying to make fools of us? (Shamiran shakes his head
“Yes”.)
7. Crates, The Beasts (Thēria).

fr. 16. (A.) So no one is going to own a male or female slave, and an
( .) π δ α κ ζκθ κ με ε ’Νκ κ ζβθ, old man is going to do all his work himself?
ζζ’ α μ α ’Ν θ λ ΰ λπθ δαεκθ δ; (B.) Certainly not, ἴἷἵauὅἷΝ Ἑ’llΝ makἷΝ ἷvἷὄythiὀg capable of
( .) κ γ’,Ν κδπκλκ θ α ΰ λ π θ ’ ΰ πκδ π. moving itself.
(A.) How will this help them?
( .) α κ ’Να κῖμ πζ κθ;
(B.) All his household equipment will come of its own accord,
( .) πλ δ δθ α γ’Ν εα κθ whenever someone ὅhὁutὅΝ “Table! Set yourself beside me!
θΝ ε υαλ πθ,Ν αθΝεαζ δμΝ“παλα γκυΝ λ π αα· And get yourself ready with no help! Knead, my little grain-
α παλα ε αα Ν αυ άθέΝη Νγυζαε ε έΝ ὅaἵkΞΝ ἢὁuὄΝ ὅὁmἷΝ wiὀἷ,Ν laἶlἷΞΝ Whἷὄἷ’ὅΝ thἷΝ ἵupςΝ ἕὁΝ waὅh
ΰξ δ ε αγ έΝπκ ’ γ’Ν ε ζδινΝ δ θδα’Ν κ αΝ αυ θέΝ yourself! Get up on the table, barley-cake! The cookpot
θ ίαδθ Νη ααέΝ θΝξ λαθΝξλ θΝ ι λ θΝ ζαέΝ should already have been pouring out the beets. Fish! Get over
ξγ ί δα’έ”Ν“ ζζ’ κ ππΝ’π γ λ’Ν π μΝ ηδέ”Ν here!”Ν“ἐutΝἙ’mΝὀὁtΝὄὁaὅtἷἶΝὁὀΝthἷ ὁthἷὄΝὅiἶἷΝyἷt”έΝ“Then turn
“κ εκυθΝη α λ οαμΝ αυ θΝ ζ π δμΝ ζ φπθν” yourself over, baste yourself, and sprinkle on some salt!”
fr. 17.
ζζ’Ν θ γ μ κδ· ’ΰ ΰ λ α λαπΫηπαζδθ But just consider the other side. For I shall do the exact opposite and
γ λη ζκυ λ πλ κθ ιπ κῖμ ηκῖμ provide hot baths for my people, straight from the sea on columns, just like
π εδ θπθ, π λ δ κ Παδπθ κυ atΝthἷΝἘὁuὅἷΝὁἸΝἘἷaliὀg,ΝὅὁΝthatΝitΝwillΝἸlὁwΝiὀtὁΝἷvἷὄyὁὀἷ’s bathtubs. The
π μ γαζ βμ γ’Ν ε ῳ αδ water will say “Turn me off now, people”, and immediately will arrive on
μ θ π ζκθ· λ ῖ γ πλ “ θ ξ έ”Ν its own a jar full of scented oil, a sponge, and sandals.
γ’Ν ζ ία κμ γ πμ ι δ η λκυ
α ηα κμ π ΰΰκμ εα θ αζα
29
fr. 19.
( .) εα θ αφ θπθ ο δθ ξλ (A.) Also you may boil cabbages and roast fresh and
ξγ μ ’Ν π θ κ μ αλ ξκυμ, η θ ’Ν πκ ξ ῖλαμ ξ γαδ. salted fish, but keep your hands away from us.
( .) κ ε λ’Ν ’Νκ θ ελ αμ, μ η ῖμ ζ ΰ ’,Ν ΧἐέΨΝἥὁ,ΝaὅΝyὁuΝὅay,ΝwἷΝwὁὀ’tΝἴἷΝἷatiὀgΝmἷatΝaὀyΝmὁὄἷΝ
κ ’Ν δκ θ η γα, from the market? We wὁὀ’tΝ ἴἷΝ makiὀgΝ aὀyΝ mἷatΝ piἷὅΝ
or sausages?
κ ’Ν ι ΰκλ μ, κ επθαμ πκδβ η γ’Νκ ’Ν ζζ θ αμ;
8. Pherecrates, The Miners (Metallēs), fr. 113.

πζκ ῳ ’ ε ῖθ’Ν θ π θ α υηπ φυλη θα, παλ θΝ ξ θ λκμΝΰ ζα δΝεα αθ θδηη θκμ
θ π δθ ΰαγκῖμ π θ α λ πκθ λΰα η θα· θΝεα αξ ζκδμΝζ ε θαδ δΝεα πυκ ηκδέΝ
πκ αηκ η θ γ λβμ εα η ζαθκμ απηκ πζ ῳ Χ έΨΝκ η’Ν μΝ πκζ ῖμΝη’Ν θ α γαΝ δα λ ίκυ ’Ν δ,
δ θ θππ θ κθγκζυΰκ θ μ λλ κθ παλ θΝεκζυηί θΝ μΝ ξ ’Ν μΝ θΝΣ λ αλκθέΝ
α αῖ δ ηυ ζαδ δ, εα θα θ λ φβ, Χ έΨΝ αΝζ ι δμ,Ν π ζκδπ’Ν θπ λΝπ γῃ;
’Ν ηαλ ΰ εα κη βθ θ θγ δθ π α ε ξζαδΝΰ λΝ μΝ θ ίλα ’ λ υη θαδΝ
ξπλ ῖθ ζδπαλ θ εα κ ζ λυΰΰκμ κῖμ θ ελκῖμ. π λ η’ π κθ ’ θ δίκζκ αδΝεα απδ ῖθ,Ν
φ εαδ εα α κθ μ ζζ θ πθ ηκδ π ηυλλ θαδ δΝε θ η θαδμΝε ξυη θαδέΝ
παλ κῖμ πκ αηκῖμ ακθ ’Ν ε ξυ ’Ν θ ’Ν λ επθ. η ζ’ ελ ηα κ, εαζ θΝεαζ θΝ ῖθ,
εα η θ παλ θ η ξβ η θ ιππ βη θα π λΝε φαζ μ,Ν ιΝκ θ μΝπ φυε αέΝ
εα αξυ ηα κδ δ παθ κ απκῖ δθ λ π , ε λαδΝ ’ θΝ ηπ ξ θαδμΝ λδξ π κδμ, λ πμΝ
ζκδ ’Ν ΰξ ζ δα υΰε εαζυηη θα. ίυζζδ αδΝεα αΝε εαλη θαδ,
ξ ζ μ ’Ν ζ εθβηκδ πζβ κθ αε λ α αδ πζ λ δμΝε ζδεαμΝκ θκυΝη ζαθκμΝ θγκ η κυΝ
π πδθαε εκδμ, εα φγ’Ν ελκε ζδα θ ζκυθΝ δ ξ θβμΝ κῖ δΝίκυζκη θκδμΝπδ ῖθέΝ
δ κθΝ η ακθ α,Νεα ξ ζδε μΝίκ μ,Ν εα θ ’ ε κ ’ φ ΰκδΝ δμΝ π κδ,Ν
εα πζ υλ ζφ ε δ’Ν π ιαθγδ η θαΝ δπζ δ’ ΰ ΰθ ’ γ μΝ ιΝ λξ μΝπ ζδθ
ξθαυλ α αΝπαλ ε δ ’Ν π’Ν η ζκδμΝεαγ η θαέΝ
(A.) There everything was mixed together by Wealth and made from all good things in every possible
way. Rivers full of porridge and black broth with scoops of bread would gurgle and flow through the
narrow passageways, and delicious flat-cakes as well. So a morsel would slide easily and smoothly by
itself down the gullets of the dead. Beside the rivers instead of shells were scattered sausages and
steaming slices of sizzling black pudding. Moreover, there were baked fish fillets nicely prepared with
every sort of seasoning, and eels smothered in beets. Close by on little platters lay melt-in-your-mouth
ὅiἶἷὅΝὁἸΝἴἷἷἸ,ΝlἷgὅΝaὀἶΝall,ΝaὀἶΝἴὁilἷἶΝpig’ὅΝtὄὁttἷὄὅΝwithΝthἷΝmὁὅtΝhἷavἷὀlyΝὅmἷll,ΝaὀἶΝἴἷἷἸΝὅauὅagἷὅ,Ν
and delicious pork ribs browned and resting on the finest wheat rolls. There was polenta too, snow-
covered with milk in colanders as big as tubs and slices of beestings.
(B.) Woman, you will kill me if you stay here any longer, when you can dive into the Underworld.
(A.) What will you say, when you learn the rest? Roast thrushes ready for stewing flew round our
mouths, begging us to eat them, spread out beneath myrtle trees and anemones. Overhead hung apples,
the fairest of the fair to see, growing from nowhere. And the girls in fine-spun shawls, just recently
ἵὁmἷΝtὁΝwὁmaὀhὁὁἶΝaὀἶΝthἷiὄΝ“ὄὁὅἷὅ”Νὅhὁὄὀ,ΝwἷὄἷΝlaἶliὀgΝὁutΝἵupὅΝἸullΝὁἸΝἸὄagὄaὀtΝἶaὄkΝwiὀἷΝthὄὁughΝ
a funnel for those who wanted to drink. And when someone had eaten or drunk anything of these,
immediately twice as much appeared all over again.
9. Pherecrates, The Persians (Persai), fr. 137.

μ ’Ν γ’Ν ηῖθ θ θ λκ θ αυΰκπκδ θ δ ξλ α,
λ παθκυλΰ θ ξαζεκ ππθ π ληα κμ ξαλαεδ ηκ ;
α ηα κδ ΰ λ δ θ λδ πθ πκ αηκ ζδπαλκῖμ πδπ κδμ
απηκ η ζαθκμ εα Ἀξδζζ κδμ η ααδμ εκξυ κ θ μ πδίζ ι
π θ πβΰ θ θ κ Πζκ κυ κθ αδ, φ θ λ γαδ.
μ ’Ν πθ κ θῳ εαπθ ᾳ εα κ ε λ ηκυ ίαζαθ δ,
π θ ΰ θ ξ κ ίκ λ πθ η θα επθ πκζυ λπθ
ξ κθ αδ γ λη θ θ δ εα ζ δλδκπκζφαθ η θαδμ.
θ λβ θ κῖμ λ δθ ξκλ αῖμ π αῖμ λδφ κδμ
φυζζκλκ δ, εα υγδ κδμ παζκῖ δ ε ξζαδμ ’Ν θαίλ κδμ
What need will we have any longer for your ploughs, yokemakers, sicklemakers, or smiths, or for
sowing or staking? Rivers of black broth, gushing abundantly with rich sprinkle-bread and cakes of the
finest barley, will flow ὅpὁὀtaὀἷὁuὅlyΝthὄὁughΝthἷΝἵὄὁὅὅὄὁaἶὅΝἸὄὁmΝWἷalth’ὅΝὅpὄiὀgὅ, so that we can
30
draw from them. Zeus will rain fumé wine, dumping it over the roof-tiles like a bathman. Streams of
grape-clusters will pour down from the roofs, accompanied by cakes stuffed full of cheese, as well as
by hot pea-soup and lilyporridge-cakes. The trees in the mountains will shed not leaves but roasted
kid-meat sausages, soft baby squid, and stewed thrushes.
10. Telecleides, Amphiktyones, fr. 1.

ζ ιπ κ θυθ ί κθ ι λξ μ θ ΰ γθβ κῖ δ παλ ῖξκθ.
λ θβ η θ πλ κθ π θ πθ θ π λ πλ εα ξ δλ μ.
ΰ ’Ν φ λ’Νκ κμ κ θ κυμ, ζζ’Να ηα ’Ν θ κθ α·
κ θῳ ΰ λ πα ’Ν λλ δ ξαλ λα, η ααδ ’Ν λ κδμ η ξκθ κ
π λ κῖμ ηα δθ θ θγλ ππθ ε κυ αδ εα απ θ δθ,
δ φδζκῖ θ, μ ζ υεκ αμ. κ ’Ν ξγ μ κ εα ’Ν θ μ
ικπ θ μ φ μ α κ μ θ παλ ε δθ ’Ν π αῖ δ λαπ ααδμ.
απηκ ’Ν λλ δ παλ μ εζ θαμ πκ αη μ ελ α γ λη ευζ θ πθ,
πκ λδηηα πθ ’Ν ξ κ κ πθ κῖμ ίκυζκη θκδ δ παλ αθ,
’Ν φγκθ α θ θγ δθ θ λ κθγ’Ν παζ θ εα απ θ δθ.
ζ εαθ εαδ δθΝ ’ΝόΝ θ παδ αΝόΝπαλ θΝ υ ηα κδμΝεα πα αέΝ
πα ε ξζαδΝη ’Ν ηβ επθΝ μΝ θΝφ λυΰ’Ν π κθ κ·Ν
θΝ πζαεκ θ πθΝ δακη θπθΝπ λ θΝΰθ γκθΝ θΝ ζαζβ μέΝ
η λαμΝ ηκδμΝεα ξθαυηα κδμΝκ παῖ μΝ θΝ λαΰ ζδακθέΝ
κ Ν ’ θγλππκδΝπ κθ μΝ αθΝ Νεα Νη ΰαΝξλ ηαΝΰδΰ θ πθ
Wἷll,ΝἙ’llΝἶἷὅἵὄiἴἷΝthἷΝὅὁὄtΝὁἸΝliἸἷΝἙΝἸuὄὀiὅhἷἶΝmὁὄtalὅΝwithΝiὀΝthἷΝὁlἶΝἶayὅέ Peace, first of all, was as
readily available as washing-water. And the ἷaὄthΝἶiἶὀ’tΝpὄὁἶuἵἷΝἸἷaὄΝὁὄΝὅiἵkὀἷὅὅἷὅνΝἷvἷὄythiὀgΝthἷyΝ
needed was there spontaneously. For every torrent-gully flowed with wine, and barley-cakes fought
withΝ lὁavἷὅΝ ὁἸΝ ἴὄἷaἶΝ aὄὁuὀἶΝ pἷὁplἷ’ὅΝ mὁuthὅ,Ν ἴἷggiὀgΝ thἷmΝ tὁΝ gulp down the whitest ones, if they
would be so kind. The fish would come home, roast themselves, and serve themselves on the tables. A
river of broth flowed next to their couches, rolling along warm chunks of meat. There were streams of
little sauces for anyone who wanted some of this food, so there was no reason to begrudge a man
soaking his mouthful until it was soft and gulping it down. There were boiled meats sprinkled with
seasonings in little dishes. Roast thrushes accompanied by milk-cakes flew into their mouths, and
there was an uproar as the baked cakes jostled one another around their jaws. The children used to
playΝkὀuἵklἷἴὁὀἷὅΝwithΝὅliἵἷὅΝὁἸΝὅὁw’ὅΝwὁmἴΝaὀἶ meat-trimmings. People were fat back then and as
big as the Giants.
11. Herodotus 3.17–18, 20.1, 22.2, 23.4.

To Ethiopia Cambyses would send first spies, to see what truth there were in the story of a Table of
the Sun in that country, and to spy out all else besides, under the pretext of bearing gifts for the
Ethiopian king. Now this is said to be the fashion of the Table of the Sun. There is a meadow outside
the city, filled with the roast flesh of all four-footed things; here during the night the men of authority
among the townsmen are careful to set out the meat, and all day he that wishes comes and feasts
thereon. These meats, say the people of the country, are ever produced by the earth of itself. (...)
When the Fish-eaters came from Elephantine at Cambyses’ message, he sent them to Ethiopia,
charged with what they should say, and bearing gifts, to wit, a purple cloak and a twisted gold
necklace and armlets and an alabaster box of incense and a cask of palm wine. (...) Next the Ethiopian
king inquired about the twisted gold necklace and the bracelets; and when the Fish-eaters told him
how they were made, the king smiled, and, thinking them to be fetters, ὅaiἶμΝ“We have stronger chains
than these”έΝΧέέέΨ
When they left the spring, the king led them to a prison where all the men were bound with fetters
of gold. Among these Ethiopians there is nothing so scarce and so precious as bronze. Then, having
seen the prison, they saw what is called the Table of the Sun.
12. Lucian, True History 2.11–14.

Thereupon our garlands fell away of themselves, and we were set free and taken into the city and to
the table of the blessed. The city itself is all of gold and the wall around it of emerald. It has seven
gates, all of single planks of cinnamon. The foundations of the city and the ground within its walls are
ivory. There are temples of all the gods, built of beryl, and in them great monolithic altars of amethyst,
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on which they make their great burnt-offerings. Around the city runs a river of the finest myrrh, a
hundred royal cubits wide and five deep, so that one can swim in it comfortably. (...) The country
abounds in flowers and plants of all kinds, cultivated and otherwise. The grape-vines yield twelve
vintages a year, bearing every month; the pomegranates, apples and other fruit-trees were said to bear
thirteen times a year, for in one month, their Minoan, they bear twice. Instead of wheat-ears, loaves of
bread all baked grow on the tops of the halms, so that they look like mushrooms. In the neighbourhood
of the city there are three hundred and sixty-five springs of water, as many of honey, five hundred of
myrrh —much smaller, however—, seven rivers of milk and eight of wine.
Their table is spread outside the city in the Elysian Fields, a very beautiful mead with thick woods
of all sorts round about it, overshadowing the feasters. The couches they lie on are made of flowers,
and they are attended and served by the winds, who, however, do not pour out their wine, for they do
not need anyone to do this. There are great trees of the clearest glass around the table, and instead of
fruit they bear cups of all shapes and sizes. When anyone comes to table he picks one or two of the
cups and puts them at his place. These fill with wine at once, and that is the way they get their drink.
Instead of garlands, the nightingales and the other song-birds gather flowers in their bills from the
fields hard by and drop them down like snow, flying overhead and singing. Furthermore, the way they
are scented is that thick clouds draw up myrrh from the springs and the river, stand over the table and
under the gentle manipulation of the winds rain down a delicate dew.
13. Hans Sachs, Das Schlaweraffenland (1530).

In fabulous Schlaraffenland The Fount of Youth flows down past benches
The Sluggards sit in full command. Filled with oldsters mad for wenches;
It lies three leagues past Christmas Day; For ὁthἷὄὅΝthἷὄἷ’s the target shoot,
χὀἶΝhἷΝwhὁ’d go must eat his way Where he who misses gets the loot.
(Digging a tunnel like a mole) The last man wins in every race,
Through hills of porridge, to his goal. And being first is a disgrace.
But once he does, with breeches tight, Thus if you loose while rolling dice
He’ll belch at all the wealth in sight: The winning player pays you twice;
There peaked roofs are Pancake-shingled, If you owe money past one year,
Walls and halls are solid Cake, The lender pays you back, I hear.
Porches Pork, and ceilings Steak; A whpping Fib is worth a crown:
Stout Sausage strings, all crisp and brown, Great Liars gather great renown;
Are strung for fences in the town. Whereas the man with honest wit
From every well you crank up Wine; Provokes the populace to spit.
Malmsey and Mulberry and Rhine; There is no place in all the land
The hemlock trees are hung with Scones, For anyone who works by hand,
Buttered well and shaped like cones; And he who calls for Trust and Order
The pine produces Pies forsooth, Is promptly shooed across the border.
ἦhἷΝἶὁgwὁὁἶΝDὁughὀutὅέΝἙt’s God's truth! But any good-for-nothing Ass
The willows bend with Rolls and Bread Is honored as a man of class;
By waters that run Milk instead; The laziest lout is crowned the King,
And all streams teem with toothsome Fish The Boor becomes an Atheling;
Fried, baked, roasted, as you wish; With steak and geese if you give fight,
In fact they swim so close to land Yὁu’ὄἷΝpὄὁmptlyΝmaἶἷ a gallant Knight.
You reach and catch them with your hand. If you just eat and drink and feast,
Roast Chickens, Geese and Pigeons go Yὁu’re created count, at the least.
Flying within reach, and slow: And every kind of Rotter can
And when the birds are winging South Announce himself a Nobleman.
Just gape — they'll fly into your mouth! Are you like that? Alack-a-day!
The Hogs you meet on every side Go to Schlaraffenland and stay!
Are sleek and fat and crisply fried: To warn my hearers this was writ;
They carry knives —it’s very nice— Now go and do the opposite!
And stand by while you carve your slice! Not greedy, gross, nor lazy be,
The very horses drop poached Eggs! And shun, my friends, iniquity;
And Figs pile up by donkey's legs; Be diligent, and work, and pray,
For Fruit you never climb a tree: For laziness will never pay.
ἑhἷὄὄiἷὅΝhaὀgΝἶὁwὀΝtὁΝἷaἵhΝmaὀ’s knee.
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IV. Peace and the tales of the kidnapped princess
14. Folktale types according to Aarne-Thompson-Uther (ATU).

H.-J. Uther, The Types of International Folktales. A Classification and Bibliography Based on the System of
Antti Aarne and Stith Thompson, vol. 1, Helsinki 2004.
ATU 300
The Dragon-Slayer. A youth acquires (e.g. by exchange) three wonderful dogs. He comes to a town
where people are mourning and learns that once a year a (seven-headed) dragon demands a virgin as a
ὅaἵὄiἸiἵἷέΝἙὀΝthἷΝἵuὄὄἷὀtΝyἷaὄ,ΝthἷΝkiὀg’ὅΝἶaughtἷὄΝhaὅΝἴἷἷὀΝἵhὁὅἷὀΝtὁΝἴἷΝὅaἵὄiἸiἵἷἶ,ΝaὀἶΝthἷΝkiὀgΝὁἸἸἷὄὅΝ
her as a prize to her rescuer. The youth goes to the appointed place. While waiting to fight with the
dragon, he falls into a magic sleep, during which the princess twists a ring (ribbons) into his hair; only
one of her falling tears can awaken him.
Together with his dogs, the youth overcomes the ἶὄagὁὀέΝἘἷΝὅtὄikἷὅΝὁἸἸΝthἷΝἶὄagὁὀ’ὅΝhἷaἶὅΝaὀἶΝἵutὅΝ
out the tongues (keeps the teeth). The youth promises the princess to come back in one year (three
years) and goes off.
χὀΝimpὁὅtὁὄΝΧἷέgέΝthἷΝἵὁaἵhmaὀΨΝtakἷὅΝthἷΝἶὄagὁὀ’ὅΝhἷaἶὅ,ΝἸὁὄἵἷὅΝthἷΝpὄiὀἵἷὅὅΝtὁΝὀamἷ him as her
rescuer, and claims her as his reward. The princess asks her father to delay the wedding. Just as the
princess is about to marry the impostor, the dragon-slayer returns. He sends his dogs to get some food
ἸὄὁmΝthἷΝkiὀg’ὅΝtaἴlἷΝaὀἶΝiὅΝὅummὁὀἷἶΝto the wedding party. There the dragon-slayer proves he was
thἷΝ ὄἷὅἵuἷὄΝ ἴyΝ ὅhὁwiὀgΝ thἷΝ ἶὄagὁὀ’ὅΝ tὁὀguἷὅΝ ΧtἷἷthΨέΝ ἦhἷΝ impὁὅtὁὄΝ iὅΝ ἵὁὀἶἷmὀἷἶΝ tὁΝ ἶἷath,Ν aὀἶΝ thἷΝ
dragon-slayer marries the princess.
ATU 301
The Three Stolen Princesses. This type combines various introductory episodes with a common main
part:
(1) A king banishes his three daughters to the underworld (they are abducted by monsters). Three
brothers (a supernatural hero with his extraordinary companions) go to find the daughters.
[...]
Main part: The companions (brothers) come to a well (pit, cave) and lower the hero (youngest brother)
into it. The hero overcomes monsters (dragons, devils) and rescues (the three) princesses (with the
pὄiὀἵἷὅὅἷὅ’Ν hἷlp,Ν uὅiὀgΝ aΝ wἷapὁὀ,Ν ὁὀlyΝ ἴyΝ hiὅΝ ὅtὄἷὀgth,Ν ἴyΝ magiἵΝ mἷans). The princesses give him
presents. His treacherous companions pull the princesses up but leave the hero below (cut off the rope,
overturn the basket). They force the maidens to name them as their rescuers.
The hero returns to the upper world with the help of a spirit, which gives him the ability to fly (a
bird to whom he has to feed his own flesh; he ascends on a climbing plant which he himself planted,
etc.). The princesses delay their wedding (for a year). On the wedding day, the hero comes to the
castle and is imprisoned. But the truth comes to light (the hero is recognized by the princesses when he
33
shows the presents), and the impostors are punished (banished, killed). The hero marries the youngest
princess and becomes king.
ATU 301D*
The Princess’s Ring (previously Dragons Ravish Princesses). When she goes for a walk, a princess
(daughter of a tsar) disappears. Her father promises her to whoever finds and rescues her. A soldier
takes a ship and goes out to search for the princess. On a lonely island he meets a dragon (giant, devil),
makes him drunk with wine, cuts off his head and takes away his keys. He finds the princess and takes
her to the ship.
Just when they are about to sail, the princess asks for a ring she forgot, and the soldier goes back to
get it. Meanwhile the ship sails away and the treacherous captain forces the princess to name him as
her rescuer.
The soldier takes service with robbers (devils, magician) and finds magic objects in a forbidden
room of their house (castle) (gets them as payment). With the help of these objects he gets back home.
On her wedding day with the captain, the princess recognizes the soldier by her ring, tells her father
the truth, and marries the soldier.
ATU 302C*
The Magic Horse. At the wish of the dead king, his youngest son permits his three sisters to marry the
first suitors who come for them. Visiting his brothers-in-law, he learns that they are the masters of the
three kingdoms of animals.
The prince wins a wife who forbids him to enter a certain room. He disregards her prohibition and
revives a dragon (demon) who is impaled on a wall (contained in a hoop). The dragon frees himself
aὀἶΝaἴἶuἵtὅΝthἷΝpὄiὀἵἷ’ὅΝwiἸἷέΝἦhἷΝpὄiὀἵἷΝὅἷaὄἵhἷὅΝἸὁὄΝhἷὄΝaὀἶΝthὄἷἷΝtimἷὅΝtὄiἷὅΝtὁΝἸlἷἷΝwithΝhἷὄέΝἤiἶiὀgΝ
on his magic horse, the dragon overtakes the two but does not kill the prince, because he promised to
spare his life three times; the fourth time, he cuts him up.
Signals of distress tell the brothers-in-law that the prince is in danger, and they come and
resuscitate him. He goes back to the dragon, asks his wife to find out where the magic horse came
from, and learns that a certain witch owns one.
On his way to the witch, the prince wins the gratitude of three animals which help him to tend the
witἵh’ὅΝthὄἷἷΝhὁὄὅἷὅΝΧἶaughtἷrs) that live in the earth, the clouds, and the sea. In payment, the prince
chooses a scabby foal which turns into a magic horse (with extra legs), and he and his wife flee on his
ἴaἵkέΝἦhἷΝmagiἵΝhὁὄὅἷΝiὅΝthἷΝἴὄὁthἷὄΝὁἸΝthἷΝἶὄagὁὀ’ὅΝhὁὄὅἷ,ΝaὀἶΝitΝἵὁmpἷlὅΝthe latter to throw off its
rider, the dragon. The dragon is killed, and the prince returns home together with his wife.
ATU 303A
Brothers Seek Sisters as Wives (previously Six Brothers Seek Seven Sisters as Wives). A number of
brothers (usually six, twelve or one hunderd) set out to find a number of sisters as wives for
themselves and their youngest brother who remained home. On the way an old man (giant, troll)
transforms the brothers and their brides into stone and takes the youngest bride for himself.
The youngest bὄὁthἷὄΝgὁἷὅΝtὁΝlὁὁkΝἸὁὄΝhiὅΝlὁὅtΝἴὄὁthἷὄὅΝaὀἶΝἵὁmἷὅΝtὁΝthἷΝὁlἶΝmaὀ’ὅΝhὁuὅἷέΝἘἷὄἷΝhἷΝ
finds the youngest bride who tells him that the heart (life) of the old man is enclosed in a bird. With
the help of grateful animals which he had fed on his way, the youngest brother catches the bird and
kills it, thus killing the old man (he rescues his brothers and the brides by performing different tasks).
Brothers and brides are restored to life.
ATU 304
The Dangerous Night-Watch (previously The Hunter). Together with his brothers (companions), a
youth (youngest of three brothers, hunter, prince, soldier, etc.) has various hunting adventures, or he
defeats dragons (wild animals, monsters) during one (three) night-watch(es) in the forest (at his
Ἰathἷὄ’ὅΝgὄave). While the youth fights, his fire (light) goes out (the youth loses his way, is tempted
away by a bird). He (stops time and) meets giants (robbers, supernatural beings) whom he impresses
by shooting tricks or by his extraordinary physical strength.
The giants go to plunder a castle (town) or to carry off a princess, and take the youth with them.
The youth shoots a watchdog (rooster), enters the castle first, calls the giants and, as they enter, he cuts
off their heads one at a time. Often he cuts off their tongues (heads, other parts of the body) which he
takes away as trophies.
In the castle, the youth comes to a room where a princess lies sleeping. He looks at her (falls in
love, kisses her, rapes her) and, before leaving, takes a souvenir (jewelry, handkerchief, shoes, etc.)
34
which later becomes a token. Then he returns with a burning log (lets time resume) and kindles the fire
again.
An impostor pretends that he had killed the giants and claims the (pregnant) princess for his wife.
The princess refuses to marry him. She sets up (is made to live in) an inn where guests need not pay
anything if they tell a tale (life-history, news). (Accompanied by his brothers and mother,) the youth
stops at this inn, proves his identity by means of his tale and the tokens, and marries the princess. The
impostor is punished.
ATU 312D
Rescue by the Brother (previously Brother Saves his Sister and Brothers from the Dragon). A
dragon (devil) carries off a girl (three girls) and kills her brothers when they try to rescue her. After a
magic conception (often by swallowing a pea), the mother of the siblings gives birth to a strong son.
This son kills the dragon, rescues his sister, and resuscitates his brothers. The envious brothers plan to
kill the youngest. But because of his strength he is able to free himself and punish his brothers.
ATU 317
The Tree That Grows up to the Sky (previously The Stretching TreeΨέΝἙὀΝaΝkiὀg’ὅΝyaὄἶΝaΝtὄἷἷΝgὄὁwὅΝ
up to the sky. A dragon (giant) living in the tree carries off the princess. The king promises her as a
wife to whoever can bring her back. (...)
After noble candidates have failed, a young swineherd succeeds in climbing the tree wearing iron
ἴὁὁtὅέΝ ἙὀΝ thἷΝ uppἷὄΝ wὁὄlἶΝ thἷΝ yὁuthΝ guaὄἶὅΝ thἷΝ ἶὄagὁὀ’ὅΝ magiἵΝ hὁὄὅἷΝ whiἵhΝ tἷllὅΝ himΝ ΧhἷΝ aὅkὅΝ thἷΝ
prinἵἷὅὅΝtὁΝἸiὀἶΝὁutΨΝwhἷὄἷΝthἷΝἶὄagὁὀ’ὅΝpὁwἷὄΝiὅΝhiἶἶἷὀέΝἦhἷΝyὁuthΝkillὅΝthἷΝἶὄagὁὀ,ΝὄἷtuὄὀὅΝtὁΝἷaὄthΝ
together with the princess, and marries her.
35

Fairytale, Satire and Politics in Aristotle

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Fairytale, Satire and Politics in Aristotle

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Ioannis M.

Tὸbingen 1969; and M. Alexiades, πα α α α ο α ο ο ό ο ωα

I. Political and non-political comedy in the Attic theatre

1. Aristotle, Poetics 1449a 38–b 9.

2. Anonymous Prolegomena de Comoedia (III pp. 8.29–31 Koster).

3. Cratinus, Dionysalexandros, hypothesis on papyrus (P.Oxy. 663 = test. i Kassel-Austin).

II. The shape-shifter

4. Aristophanes, Clouds 340–355.

παλ ζ δΝ ζ εῳ α λῳν ΢ΣέΝΝθ ᾿ ΰπΰ᾿. αΝ κ κνΝ

5. Aristophanes, Wasps 125–149, 169–210, 367–372.

6. Aristophanes, Acharnians 65–114.

7. Crates, The Beasts (Thēria).

8. Pherecrates, The Miners (Metallēs), fr. 113.

9. Pherecrates, The Persians (Persai), fr. 137.

10. Telecleides, Amphiktyones, fr. 1.

11. Herodotus 3.17–18, 20.1, 22.2, 23.4.

12. Lucian, True History 2.11–14.

13. Hans Sachs, Das Schlaweraffenland (1530).

IV. Peace and the tales of the kidnapped princess

14. Folktale types according to Aarne-Thompson-Uther (ATU).

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