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The procession is outside. Torches flare and shouted jokes split the night, answered by yells from nearby houses as the sleepy occupants protest the noise. No one is seriously annoyed, though. Raucous wedding processions are a fact of Athenian life, and generally welcomed by the community as a whole.
Phaedra and her parents leave the hall. At the door her husband is waiting to complete another of the steps that will seal their marriage. There is no ‘I do’ moment in an Athenian wedding. Rather, the process started with the engagement and continued when the couple took a ritual bath of purification that morning. They became more married as the day went on, the most important moment being the ceremonial lifting of Phaedra’s veil.
Now, the groom seizes Phaedra’s forearm, wrenching her from her mother, who steps aside. This ‘capture’ of the bride comes from a prehistoric time when brides were literally taken in raids or as prisoners of war. Phaedra’s father formally recognizes the change of guardianship: ‘With those here as witness, I now give you this maiden in marriage that you may have children together.’
That’s it. This is no longer Phaedra’s home. Her childhood toys are gone, given away or sacrificed to the goddess. She is now the mistress of her own home, where her mother-in-law is waiting to welcome her. Phaedra is pleased that this house is close to her own – close to the house that was once hers, she firmly reminds herself.
Phaedra has been impatient to marry for years now – she will be sixteen soon. Most of her childhood friends have long been married, and on their visits her mother treated them as near-equals, while she remained a child.
Phaedra will boss her own household (she has been taking lessons from her mother) and in a few years she will have her own brood of children.
All she knows of those children’s father is that he is Caendies, son of Agoron. He has no physical defects and is the only remaining child in his family, having lost a brother in the disastrous battle at Mantinea last year. That loss helped to get Phaedra married at last. The parents of Caendies had just one son remaining in an uncertain world. Therefore it was time to get started on grandchildren, lest their family perish altogether.
The other thing Phaedra knows is that with this marriage Caendies has gained his family two acres of prime farmland in the deme of Kephisia, close to his family’s other land holdings. It was the proximity of the family lands, above all else, that led to today’s marriage.
Phaedra hopes that her new husband will spend maximum time out in the fields and minimal time interfering with her household. Apart from the sex, of course. He has to be home for that. Phaedra wants to know lots more about the sex. She gives a shy, yet thoughtful look at the man who still holds her tentatively by the arm as he guides her into the courtyard and into a noisy shower of the traditional fruit and nuts.
Before them stands the mule-cart that will carry Phaedra to her new home. She knows that the axle is a bit suspect because she heard her father worrying about it before the ceremony. Made from an applewood off-cut, it is intended for just the one trip. When she reaches her new home Phaedra will burn that axle as a sign that there is no going back.
Thereafter, her next public appearance will probably be her husband’s funeral. Since Caendies is almost twice Phaedra’s age she feels certain to outlive him, even if an enemy spear doesn’t get him before old age does. As to her own mortality, Phaedra has heard dark whispers from friends about the dangers of childbirth. But given that she has hips wide as a barn door, she feels no worry about predeceasing her husband on that account.
The procession swings on to the street, with Phaedra’s mother alongside the cart holding high two torches, as is traditional. Beside her sits her new husband, who says nothing. Phaedra will later discover that this is because he is almost paralysed with terror. A new home, wife and household is a big step for him, too. The silence of the spouse allows the bride to eavesdrop on a shouted conversation between her mother and an aristocratic friend called Xanthippe. (‘What kind of parents name their daughter Yellow Horse?’ she wonders.)
‘No, he isn’t here. Obviously, because I am.’ The cart lurches, throwing Phaedra against her husband. She is so preoccupied with his close proximity that she misses her mother’s reply. Xanthippe speaks again.
‘A symposium spouting quips which sound wise to the drunken, and drunken to the wise. I promised your husband he would be here. But if I tell Socrates to do something, he does the opposite. Curse him!’
Again Phaedra misses the next bit of the conversation because a friend of the groom comes alongside and shouts some innuendo that Phaedra does not understand. It is evidently obscene, because there is a degree of violence in the ‘friendly’ cuff her husband gives in reply.
Xanthippe is recalling her recent dinner – a meal that became the talk of Athens. Socrates had spontaneously invited a group of friends to his home, confidently assuming that Xanthippe could put together a dinner for six at a moment’s notice. Regrettably, the household larder contained nothing but a few vegetables and a rack of lamb.
Xanthippe had complained bitterly that even if she went hungry, this wasn’t enough for a decent meal for the guests. ‘If they’re good friends, they won’t care,’ said Socrates. ‘If they are not good friends, then I don’t care.’
Socrates didn’t think to ask if Xanthippe cared, even if it was her reputation as a housekeeper at stake. Phaedra reflects that, while exceptional in many ways, Socrates is still an Athenian male.
WEDDING REVELLERS HITCH A RIDE ON THE BRIDAL CART
Xanthippe explains to Phaedra’s mother that, contrary to rumour, the pair didn’t fight about it. As Socrates often says, it takes two people for a fight, and he doesn’t fight with his wife. On this occasion, the more Xanthippe had screamed at Socrates the more reasonable Socrates became. Finally, Xanthippe had thrown him out of the house before she brained him with an urn.
Phaedra looks to see how her mother reacts to the astounding (but wonderful) idea of a wife throwing her husband out of the house. Sadly, her mother is turned away and she can only see the vine-wreathed bun at the back of her head. Xanthippe’s face is earnest in the torchlight as she continues to try to explain the exasperations of life with the man they call the ‘gadfly of Athens’.
So, Socrates was on a bench in the courtyard. From upstairs Xanthippe could see that he had started up a conversation with some admirers who just wandered in off the street. He was about to invite them to dinner as well, so what could Xanthippe do? She was carrying a bucket of water, so she just tipped it. Over his head.
Phaedra’s mother looks at Xanthippe in amazement. ‘How did Socrates take it?’
‘You haven’t heard?’ asks Xanthippe sourly. ‘He just looked up, and remarked, “Well, after the thunder, you can expect rain.” Since then everyone repeats that back at me – which hurts more than if he had taken a stick to my buttocks. But Socrates would not hit me. He’s too gentle.’ That last word is uttered with venom.
The conversation continues, but high on her mule-cart, Phaedra sees something else. They are on a narrow street alongside the Eridanus, and there are some twenty torches winding towards them. The two advancing groups exchange shouts and mock-threats. The wedding party has run into a komos, a common danger when you leave the wedding procession until late.
A komos is a street party on the move. Usually the group is made up of young aristocrats and their retainers. Sometimes it is because they have become drunk enough for one household to evict them and they have staggered off to inflict themselves on some unsuspecting friend. Or perhaps the entire party has decamped to merge with another party across town. Either way, everyone gives precedence to a wedding procession. The komos should now step aside.
Instead, Phaedra’s husband groans with a mixture of resignation and dread. ‘Oh, by Athena’s grace! Please, no. Not Alcibiades.’
A young man shoulders through the crowd, a garland of ivy and violets askew on his beribboned head, copper curls of hair shining in the torchlight. He looks at Phaedra with a wide, happy smile and gives her an elegantly over-exaggerated salutation. Phaedra giggles and hides her face. So, this is the notorious Alcibiades. He looks much younger than she would have imagined. Her parents are stony-faced, while Xanthippe gives Alcibiades an outright glare. Alcibiades now ignores the blushing bride and turns his attention to Xanthippe, asking her solicitously, ‘I trust you have recovered from your recent disastrous dinner party. Did Socrates get the cake I sent so that he wouldn’t starve?’
Phaedra knows what happened to that cake. Almost certainly Alcibiades does, too. When it comes to Socrates, the Athenian rumour mill is very efficient. Xanthippe had taken the cake and trampled it into the street. Afterwards the dogs ate what was left.
Socrates was philosophical about the entire incident. He had just shrugged and asked if Xanthippe realized that she had trampled her share of the cake as well. Now the fuming Xanthippe takes a half-step towards Alcibiades. Phaedra is somewhat relieved that Xanthippe has no weapons near to hand. In her current mood, she would probably use them.
Xanthippe
Most of the interactions between Xanthippe and Socrates come verbatim from Diogenes Laërtius’ Lives and Opinions of the Eminent Philosophers, Book 5 passim, though the trampling of Alcibiades’ cake comes from Aelian’s Assorted Histories 12.12. The feuding couple never divorced because they seemed, despite everything, to actually love each other. Socrates frequently defended Xanthippe, and she was completely distraught at his execution, as seen in Plato’s Phaedo 60.
‘This is not well,’ says one of the older men angrily. ‘Alcibiades, tell your party to stand aside.’ The speaker is Hipponicus, a man of great reputation and wealth. Phaedra’s mother had been in ecstasies when he accepted the wedding invitation. Even Alcibiades seems impressed. Giving Phaedra a wave, he returns to his group who greet him with laughter.
‘What does he want now?’ asks Caendies suddenly. Alcibiades has turned around, and is walking back to Hipponicus with a strange smile on his face. Swiftly and unexpectedly, Alcibiades hits Hipponicus hard, sending the man crumpling to the ground. A whoop goes up from Alcibiades’ retinue, while the wedding party watch, appalled.
‘Why did you do that?’ demands Phaedra’s father. Even Alcibiades seems surprised by his action. He rubs his fist.
‘I didn’t have any quarrel with him,’ he explains. ‘I wasn’t angry. It was just for the joke of the thing.’ Alcibiades gestures at his friends, who are doubled up with laughter. ‘They dared me.’
A nephew of Hipponicus lunges forward and the companions of Alcibiades rush to their leader’s defence. The young men of the wedding party cast aside their torches and spring into battle. Within moments, the shadowy street is filled with brawling, cursing men and screaming women. Phaedra sits above the fray and watches it all with open-mouthed fascination. Who could have imagined that married life was so exciting?
The street battle lasts less than a minute before a new force joins the fight. These are lean, tattooed men wielding short whips with ruthless efficiency. Though fewer than a dozen, these are sober and experienced practitioners of violence, which they use unhesitatingly on anyone who shows the slightest bellicosity. Soon half of the banqueters are hog-tied in the street alongside bruised and complaining young men from the wedding party. Discarded torches splutter in the mud beside trampled garlands.
The Scythian archers who have so brutally restored order are the Athenian equivalent of a police force. Their commander is a stocky official from the Athenian Assembly. He comes over to give a report to Phormio, and the old general listens innocently, his left hand discreetly covering the bleeding knuckles on his right. The official nods at the remnants of the komos procession.
‘Been expecting trouble from this lot, sir. So we were following at a discreet distance. Sorry about your group’s young men. We’ll give it a half-hour and cut everyone loose. They can rejoin your party later. Just keep it indoors, please.’
He once struck Hipponicus a blow with his fist – Hipponicus, the father of Callias, a man of great reputation through his family and influence owing to his wealth. He had no quarrel with him, nor was he afflicted with anger, but simply as a joke, on a bet with his friends.
PLUTARCH LIFE OF ALCIBIADES 8
Xanthippe has been examining the prisoners (and Phaedra notes that she gave one of them a hearty kick when she thought no one was looking). She asks, ‘Where’s Alcibiades?’
‘That’s one thing about that young man,’ says Phormio dryly. ‘When all the trouble he’s caused is over, when the dust has settled and it’s time to face the consequences, then Alcibiades is never there.’
Scythian Archers
It is believed that these were introduced by Pericles. Their job was to maintain order in the streets and to act as enforcers for Athenian officials. In Aristophanes ( Assemblywomen 143), we see them trying (and failing) to subdue an unruly crowd. ‘My archer force came off badly,’ admits the magistrate. They are more successful later, when a spectator comments, ‘You can see the archers dragging more than one unruly drunk out of the marketplace.’