Here the action of the drama might have ended; but the dramatist had not yet driven his moral home. He had to show what Athens might yet be if she could get rid of the incubus of her demagogues. A choral ode is introduced--quite independent, as is so often the case, of the subject of the comedy--chiefly perhaps, in this case, in order to give opportunity for what we must conclude was a change of scene. The doors in the flat, as we should call it, are thrown open, and disclose to view the citadel of Athens. There, seated on a throne, no longer in his shabby clothes, but in a magnificent robe, and glorious in renewed youth, sits Demus, such as he was in the days of Miltiades and Aristides. His new minister has a secret like Medea’s, and has boiled him young again. “The good old times are come again,” as he declares, thanks to his liberator. There shall be no more ruling by favour and corruption; right shall be might, and he will listen to no more flatterers. To crown the whole, his new minister leads forth Peace--beautiful Peace, in _propria persona_, hitherto hid away a close prisoner in the house of the Paphlagonian--and presents her to Demus in all her charms. And with this grand tableau the drama closes; it is not difficult to imagine, without being an Athenian, amid what thunders of applause. If the satire had been bitter and trenchant as to the faults and follies of the present--that unfortunate tense of existence, social and political, which appears never to satisfy men in any age of the world--this brilliant reminiscence of the glories of the past, and anticipation of a still more glorious future, was enough to condone for the poet the broadest licence which he had taken. Not indeed that any such apology was required. There was probably not a man among the audience--not a man in the state, except Cleon himself--who would not enjoy the wit far more than he resented its home application. That such a masterpiece was awarded the first prize of comedy by acclamation we should hardly doubt, even if we were not distinctly so informed. Those who know the facile temper of the multitude--and it may be said, perhaps, especially of the Athenian multitude--will understand, almost equally as a matter of course, that the political result was simply nothing. As Mr Mitchell briefly but admirably sums it up--“The piece was applauded in the most enthusiastic manner, the satire on the sovereign multitude was forgiven, and--Cleon remained in as great favour as ever.”[17] CHAPTER III. COMEDIES OF THE WAR: THE ACHARNIANS--THE PEACE--LYSISTRATA.