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 thy shrine Happy, in youth and full of this year’s wine!”