by Petronius
This setting summoned Venus to the green and tender sod,
Bright day smiled kindly on the secret amour of the God.
Side by side upon the grassy plot we lay, exchanging a thousand kisses, the prelude to more poignant pleasure, (but alas! My sudden loss of vigor disappointed Circe!)
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT.
(Infuriated at this affront,) “What’s the matter,” demanded she; “do my kisses offend you? Is my breath fetid from fasting? Is there any evil smelling perspiration in my armpits? Or, if it’s nothing of this kind, are you afraid of Giton?” Under her eyes, I flushed hotly and, if I had any virility left, I lost it then; my whole body seemed to be inert. “My queen,” I cried, “do not mock me in my humiliation. I am bewitched!” (Circe’s anger was far from being appeased by such a trivial excuse; turning her eyes contemptuously away from me, she looked at her maid,) “Tell me, Chrysis, and tell me truly, is there anything repulsive about me? Anything sluttish? Have I some natural blemish that disfigures my beauty? Don’t deceive your mistress! I don’t know what’s the matter with us, but there must be something!” Then she snatched a mirror from the silent maid and after scrutinizing all the looks and smiles which pass between lovers, she shook out her wrinkled earth-stained robe and flounced off into the temple of Venus (nearby.) And here was I, like a convicted criminal who had seen some horrible nightmare, asking myself whether the pleasure out of which I had been cheated was a reality or only a dream.
As when, in the sleep-bringing night
Dreams sport with the wandering eyes,
And earth, spaded up, yields to light
Her gold that by day she denies,
The stealthy hand snatches the spoils;
The face with cold sweat is suffused
And Fear grips him tight in her toils
Lest robbers the secret have used
And shake out the gold from his breast.
But, when they depart from his brain,
These enchantments by which he’s obsessed,
And Truth comes again with her train
Restoring perspective and pain,
The phantasm lives to the last,
The mind dwells with shades of the past.
(The misfortune seemed to me a dream, but I imagined that I must surely be under a spell of enchantment and, for a long time, I was so devoid of strength that I could not get to my feet. But finally my mental depression began to abate, little by little my strength came back to me, and I returned home: arrived there, I feigned illness and threw myself upon my couch. A little late: Giton, who had heard of my indisposition, entered the room in some concern. As I wished to relieve his mind I informed him that I had merely sought my pallet to take a rest, telling him much other gossip but not a word about my mishap as I stood in great fear of his jealousy and, to lull any suspicion which he might entertain, I drew him to my side and endeavoured to give him some proofs of my love but all my panting and sweating were in vain. He jumped up in a rage and accused my lack of virility and change of heart, declaring that he had for a long time suspected that I had been expending my vigor and breath elsewhere. “No! No! Darling,” I replied, “my love for you has always been the same, but reason prevails now over love and wantonness.”) “And for the Socratic continence of your love, I thank you in his name,” (he replied sarcastically,) “Alcibiades was never more spotless when he left his master’s bed!”
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINTH.
“Believe me, ‘brother,’ when I tell you that I do not know whether I am a man or not,” (I vainly protested;) “I do not feel like one, if I am! Dead and buried lies that part in which I was once an Achilles!” (Giton, seeing that I was completely enervated, and) fearing that it might give cause for scandal if he were caught in this quiet place with me, tore himself away and fled into an inner part of the house. (He had just gone when) Chrysis entered the room and handed me her mistress’s tablets, in which were written the following words:
CIRCE TO POLYAENOS — GREETING.
Were I a wanton, I should complain of my disappointment, but as it is I am beholden to your impotence, for by it I dallied the longer in the shadow of pleasure. Still, I would like to know how you are and whether you got home upon your own legs, for the doctors say that one cannot walk without nerves! Young man, I advise you to beware of paralysis for I never in my life saw a patient in such great danger; you’re as good as dead, I’m sure! What if the same numbness should attack your hands and knees? You would have to send for the funeral trumpeters! Still, even if I have been affronted, I will not begrudge a prescription to one as sick as you! Ask Giton if you would like to recover. I am sure you will get back your strength if you will sleep without your “brother” for three nights. So far as I am concerned, I am not in the least alarmed about. finding someone to whom I shall be as pleasing as I was to you; my mirror and my reputation do not lie.
Farewell (if you can).
“Such things will happen,” said Chrysis, when she saw that I had read through the entire inditement, “and especially in this city, where the women can lure the moon from the sky! But we’ll find a cure for your trouble. Just return a diplomatic answer to my mistress and restore her self-esteem by frank courtesy for, truth to tell, she has never been herself from the minute she received that affront.” I gladly followed the maid’s advice and wrote upon the tablets as follows:
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTIETH.
POLYAENOS TO CIRCE — GREETING.
Dear lady, I confess that I have often given cause for offense, for I am only a man, and a young one, too, but I never committed a deadly crime until today! You have my confession of guilt, I deserve any punishment you may see fit to prescribe. I betrayed a trust, I murdered a man, I violated a temple: demand my punishment for these crimes. Should it be your pleasure to slay me I will come to you with my sword; if you are content with a flogging I will run naked to my mistress; only bear in mind that it was not myself but my tools that failed me. I was a soldier, and ready, but I had no arms. What threw me into such disorder I do not know, perhaps my imagination outran my lagging body, by aspiring to too much it is likely that I spent my pleasure in delay; I cannot imagine what the trouble was. You bid me beware of paralysis; as if a disease which prevented my enjoying you could grow worse! But my apology amounts briefly to this; if you will grant me an opportunity of repairing my fault, I will give you satisfaction.
Farewell
After dismissing Chrysis with these fair promises, I paid careful attention to my body which had so evilly served me and, omitting the bath, I annointed myself, in moderation, with unguents and placed myself upon a more strengthening diet such as onions and snail’s heads without condiments, and I also drank more sparingly of wine; then, taking a short walk before settling down to sleep, I went to bed without Giton. So anxious was I to please her that I feared the outcome if my “brother” lay tickling my side.
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIRST.
Finding myself vigorous in mind and body when I arose next morning, I went down to the same clump of plane trees, though I dreaded the spot as one of evil omen, and commenced to wait for Chrysis to lead me on my way. I took a short stroll and had just seated myself where I had sat the day before, when she came under the trees, leading a little old woman by the hand. “Well, Mr. Squeamish,” she chirped, when she had greeted me, “have you recovered your appetite?” In the meantime, the old hag:
A wine-soaked crone with twitching lips
brought out a twisted hank of different colored yarns and put it about my neck; she then kneaded dust and spittle and, dipping her middle finger into the mixture, she crossed my forehead with it, in spite of my protests.
As long as life remains, there’s hope;
Thou rustic God, oh hear our prayer,
Great Priapus, I thee invoke,
Temper our arms to dare!
When she had made an end of this incantation she ordered me to spit three times,
and three times to drop stones into my bosom, each stone she wrapped up in purple after she had muttered charms over it; then, directing her hands to my privates, she commenced to try out my virility. Quicker than thought the nerves responded to the summons, filling the crone’s hand with an enormous erection! Skipping for joy, “Look, Chrysis, look,” she cried out, “see what a hare I’ve started, for someone else to course!” (This done, the old lady handed me over to Chrysis, who was greatly delighted at the recovery of her mistress’s treasure; she hastily conducted me straight to the latter, introducing me into a lovely nook that nature had furnished with everything which could delight the eye.)
Shorn of its top, the swaying pine here casts a
summer shade
And quivering cypress, and the stately plane
And berry-laden laurel. A brook’s wimpling waters strayed
Lashed into foam, but dancing on again
And rolling pebbles in their chattering flow.
’Twas Love’s own nook,
As forest nightingale and urban Procne undertook
To bear true witness; hovering, the gleaming grass above
And tender violets; wooing with song, their stolen love.
Fanning herself with a branch of flowering myrtle, she lay, stretched out with her marble neck resting upon a golden cushion. When she caught sight of me she blushed faintly; she recalled yesterday’s affront, I suppose. At her invitation, I sat down by her side, as soon as the others had gone; whereupon she put the branch of myrtle over my face and emboldened, as if a wall had been raised between us, “Well, Mr. Paralytic,” she teased, “have you brought all of yourself along today?” “Why ask me,” I replied, “why not try me instead?” and throwing myself bodily into her arms, I revelled in her kisses with no witchcraft to stop me.
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SECOND.
The loveliness of her form drew, me to her and summoned me to love. Our lips were pressed together in a torrent of smacking kisses, our groping hands had discovered every trick of excitation, and our bodies, clasped in a mutual embrace, had fused our souls into one, (and then, in the very midst of these ravishing preliminaries my nerves again played me false and I was unable to last until the instant of supreme bliss.) Lashed to fury by these inexcusable affronts, the lady at last ran to avenge herself and, calling her house servants, she gave orders for me to be hoisted upon their shoulders and flogged; then, still unsatisfied with the drastic punishment she had inflicted upon me, she called all the spinning women and scrubbing wenches in the house and ordered them to spit upon me. I covered my face with my hands but I uttered no complaint as I well knew what I deserved and, overwhelmed with blows and spittle, I was driven from the house. Proselenos was kicked out too, Chrysis was beaten, and all the slaves grumbled among themselves and wondered what had upset their mistress’s good humor. I took heart after having given some thought to my misfortunes and, artfully concealing the marks of the blows for fear that Eumolpus would make merry over my mishaps or, worse yet, that Giton might be saddened by my disgrace, I did the only thing I could do to save my self-respect, I pretended that I was sick and went to bed. There, I turned the full fury of my resentment against that recreant which had been the sole cause of all the evil accidents which had befallen me.
Three times I grasped the two-edged blade
The recreant to cut away;
Three times by Fear my hand was stayed
And palsied Terror said me nay
That which I might have done before
’Twas now impossible to do;
For, cold with Fear, the wretch withdrew
Into a thousand-wrinkled mare,
And shrank in shame before my gaze
Nor would his head uncover more.
But though the scamp in terror skulked,
With words I flayed him as he sulked.
Raising myself upon my elbow I rebuked the shirker in some such terms as these: “What have you to say for yourself, you disgrace to gods and men,” I demanded, “for your name must never be mentioned among refined people. Did I deserve to be lifted up to heaven and then dragged down to hell by you? Was it right for you to slander my flourishing and vigorous years and land me in the shadows and lassitude of decrepit old age? Give me some sign, however faint, I beg of you, that you have returned to life!” I vented my anger in words such as these.
His eyes were fixed, and with averted look
He stood, less moved by any word of mine
Than weeping willows bending o’er a brook
Or drooping poppies as at noon they pine.
When I had made an end of this invective, so out of keeping with good taste, I began to do penance for my soliloquy and blushed furtively because I had so far forgotten my modesty as to invoke in words that part of my body which men of dignity do not even recognize. Then, rubbing my forehead for a long time, “Why have I committed an indiscretion in relieving my resentment by natural abuse,” I mused, “what does it amount to? Are we not accustomed to swear at every member of the human body, the belly, throat, or even the head when it aches, as it often does? Did not Ulysses wrangle with his own heart? Do not the tragedians ‘Damn their eyes’ just as if they could hear?
“Gouty patients swear at their feet, rheumatics at their hands, blear-eyed people at their eyes, and do not those who often stub their toes blame their feet for all their pain?
“Why will our Catos with their frowning brows
Condemn a work of fresh simplicity’?
A cheerful kindness my pure speech endows;
What people do, I write, to my capacity.
For who knows not the pleasures Venus gives?
Who will not in a warm bed tease his members?
Great Epicurus taught a truth that lives;
Love and enjoy life! All the rest is embers.
“Nothing can be more insincere than the silly prejudices of mankind, and nothing sillier than the morality of bigotry,”
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THIRD.
I called Giton when I had finished my meditation: “Tell me, little brother,” I demanded, “tell me, on your honor: Did Ascyltos stay awake until he had exacted his will of you, the night he stole you away from me? Or was he content to spend the night like a chaste widow?” Wiping his eyes the lad, in carefully chosen words took oath that Ascyltos had used no force against him. (The truth of the matter is, that I was so distraught with my own misfortunes that I knew not what I was saying. “Why recall past memories which can only cause pain,” said I to myself. I then directed all my energies towards the recovery of my lost manhood. To achieve this I was ready even to devote myself to the gods; accordingly, I went out to invoke the aid of Priapus.) {Putting as good a face upon the matter as I could} I knelt upon the threshold of his shrine and invoked the God in the following verses:
“Of Bacchus and the nymphs, companion boon,
Whom fair Dione set o’er forests wide
As God: whom Lesbos and green Thasos own
For deity, whom Lydians, far and wide
Adore through all the seasons of the year;
Whose temple in his own Hypaepa placed,
Thou Dryad’s joy and Bacchus’, hear my prayer!
To thee I come, by no dark blood disgraced,
No shrine, in wicked lust have I profaned;
When I was poor and worn with want, I sinned
Not by intent, a pauper’s sin’s not banned
As of another! Unto thee I pray
Lift thou the load from off my tortured mind,
Forgive a light offense! When fortune smiles
I’ll not thy glory shun and leave behind
Thy worship! Unto thee, a goat that feels
His primest vigor, father of the flocks
Shall come! And suckling pigs, the tender young
Of some fine grunting sow! New wine, in crocks
Shall foam! Thy grateful praises shall be sung
By youths who thrice shall dance around t
hy shrine
Happy, in youth and full of this year’s wine!”
While I was engaged in this diplomatic effort in behalf of the affected member, a hideous crone with disheveled hair, and clad in black garments which were in great: disorder, entered the shrine and, laying hands upon me, led me {thoroughly frightened,} out into the portico.
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOURTH.
“What witches” (she cried,) “have devoured your manhood? What filth did you tread upon at some crossroads, in the dark? Not even by the boy could you do your duty but, weak and effeminate, you are worn out like a cart-horse at a hill, you have lost both labor and sweat! Not content with getting yourself into trouble, you have stirred up the wrath of the gods against me {and I will make you smart for it.”} She then led me, unresisting, back into the priestess’s room, pushed me down upon the bed, snatched a cane that hung upon the door, and gave me another thrashing: I remained silent and, had the cane not splintered at the first stroke, thereby diminishing the force of the blow, she might easily have broken my arms or my head. I groaned dismally, and especially when she manipulated my member and, shedding a flood of tears, I covered my head with my right arm and huddled down upon the pillow. Nor did she weep less bitterly:
The sailor, naked from his foundered barque,
Some shipwrecked mariner seeks out to hear his woe;
When hail beats down a farmer’s crop, his cark
Seeks consolation from another, too.
Death levels caste and sufferers unites,
And weeping parents are as one in grief;
We also will beseech the starry heights,
United prayers climb best, is the belief.
She seated herself upon the other side of the bed and in quavering tones commenced to accuse the delays of old age. At last the priestess came in. “Why,” she cried, “what has brought you into my cell as if you were visiting a newly made grave? And on a feast-day, too, when even mourners ought to smile!” “OEnothea,” the old hag replied, “this young man here was born under an unlucky star: he can’t dispose of his goods to either boy or girl. Such an unfortunate fellow you never saw. He has no tool at all, only a piece of leather soaked in water! I wish you would tell me what you think of a man who could get up from Circe’s bed without having tasted pleasure!” On hearing these words, OEnothea sat down between us and, after shaking her head for a while, “I’m the only one that knows how to cure that disease,” said she, “and for fear you think I’m talking to hear myself talk, I’ll just have the young fellow sleep with me for a night, and if I don’t make it as hard as horn!
