CHAPTER THE SIXTY-FIFTH.
The dainties that followed this display of affability were of such a
nature that, if any reliance is to be placed in my word, the very mention
of them makes me sick at the stomach. Instead of thrushes, fattened
chickens were served, one to each of us, and goose eggs with pastry caps
on them, which same Trimalchio earnestly entreated us to eat, informing us
that the chickens had all been boned. Just at that instant, however, a
lictor knocked at the dining-room door, and a reveler, clad in white
vestments, entered, followed by a large retinue. Startled at such pomp, I
thought that the Praetor had arrived, so I put my bare feet upon the floor
and started to get up, but Agamemnon laughed at my anxiety and said, “Keep
your seat, you idiot, it’s only Habinnas the sevir; he’s a stone mason,
and if report speaks true, he makes the finest tombstones imaginable.”
Reassured by this information, I lay back upon my couch and watched
Habinnas’ entrance with great curiosity. Already drunk and wearing several
wreaths, his forehead smeared with perfume which ran down into his eyes,
he advanced with his hands upon his wife’s shoulders, and, seating himself
in the Praetor’s place, he called for wine and hot water. Delighted with
his good humor, Trimalchio called for a larger goblet for himself, and
asked him, at the same time, how he had been entertained. “We had
everything except yourself, for my heart and soul were here, but it was
fine, it was, by Hercules. Scissa was giving a Novendial feast for her
slave, whom she freed on his death-bed, and it’s my opinion she’ll have a
large sum to split with the tax gatherers, for the dead man was rated at
50,000, but everything went off well, even if we did have to pour half our
wine on the bones of the late lamented.”
CHAPTER THE SIXTY-SIXTH.
“But,” demanded Trimalchio, “what did you have for dinner’?” “I’ll tell
you if I can,” answered he, “for my memory’s so good that I often forget
my own name. Let’s see, for the first course, we had a hog, crowned with a
wine cup and garnished with cheese cakes and chicken livers cooked well
done, beets, of course, and whole-wheat bread, which I’d rather have than
white, because it puts strength into you, and when I take a crap
afterwards, I don’t have to yell. Following this, came a course of tarts,
served cold, with excellent Spanish wine poured over warm honey; I ate
several of the tarts and got the honey all over myself. Then there were
chick-peas and lupines, all the smooth-shelled nuts you wanted, and an
apple apiece, but I got away with two, and here they are, tied up in my
napkin; for I’ll have a row on my hands if I don’t bring some kind of a
present home to my favorite slave. Oh yes, my wife has just reminded me,
there was a haunch of bear-meat as a side dish, Scintilla ate some of it
without knowing what it was, and she nearly puked up her guts when she
found out. But as for me, I ate more than a pound of it, for it tasted
exactly like wild boar and, says I, if a bear eats a man, shouldn’t that
be all the more reason for a man to eat a bear? The last course was soft
cheese, new wine boiled thick, a snail apiece, a helping of tripe, liver
pate, capped eggs, turnips and mustard. But that’s enough. Pickled olives
were handed around in a wooden bowl, and some of the party greedily
snatched three handfuls, we had ham, too, but we sent it back.”
CHAPTER THE SIXTY-SEVENTH.
“But why isn’t Fortunata at the table, Gaius? Tell me.” “What’s that,” Trimalchio replied; “don’t you know her better than that? She wouldn’t touch even a drop of water till after the silver was put away and the leftovers divided among the slaves.” “I’m going to beat it if she don’t take her place,” Habinnas threatened, and started to get up; and then, at a signal, the slaves all called out together “Fortunata,” four times or more.
She appeared, girded round with a sash of greenish yellow, below which a
cherry-colored tunic could be seen, and she had on twisted anklets and
sandals worked in gold. Then, wiping her hands upon a handkerchief which
she wore around her neck, she seated herself upon the couch, beside
Scintilla, Habinnas’ wife, and clapping her hands and kissing her, “My
dear,” she gushed, “is it really you?” Fortunata then removed the
bracelets from her pudgy arms and held them out to the admiring Scintilla,
and by and by she took off her anklets and even her yellow hair-net, which
was twenty-four carats fine, she would have us know! Trimalchio, who was
on the watch, ordered every trinket to be brought to him. “You see these
things, don’t you?” he demanded; “they’re what women fetter us with.
That’s the way us poor suckers are done! These ought to weigh six pounds
and a half. I have an arm-band myself, that don’t weigh a grain under ten
pounds; I bought it out of Mercury’s thousandths, too.” Finally, for fear
he would seem to be lying, he ordered the scales to be brought in and
carried around to prove the weights. And Scintilla was no better. She took
off a small golden vanity case which she wore around her neck, and which
she called her Lucky Box, and took from it two eardrops, which, in her
turn, she handed to Fortunata to be inspected. “Thanks to the generosity
of my husband,” she smirked, “no woman has better.” “What’s that?”
Habinnas demanded. “You kept on my trail to buy that glass bean for you;
if I had a daughter, I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t cut off her little ears.
We’d have everything as cheap as dirt if there were no women, but we have
to piss hot and drink cold, the way things are now.” The women, angry
though they were, were laughing together, in the meantime, and exchanging
drunken kisses, the one running on about her diligence as a housekeeper,
and the other about the infidelities and neglect of her husband. Habinnas
got up stealthily, while they were clinging together in this fashion and,
seizing Fortunata by the feet, he tipped her over backwards upon the
couch. “Let go!” she screeched, as her tunic slipped above her knees;
then, after pulling down her clothing, she threw herself into Scintilla’s
lap, and hid, with her handkerchief, a face which was none the more
beautiful for its blushes.
CHAPTER THE SIXTY-EIGHTH.
After a short interval, Trimalchio gave orders for the dessert to be
served, whereupon the slaves took away all the tables and brought in
others, and sprinkled the floor with sawdust mixed with saffron and
vermilion, and also with powdered mica, a thing I had never seen done
before. When all this was done Trimalchio remarked, “I could rest content
with this course, for you have your second tables, but, if you’ve
something especially nice, why bring it on.” Meanwhile an Alexandrian
slave boy, who had been serving hot water, commenced to imitate a
nightingale, and when Trimalchio presently called out, “Change your tune,”
we had another surprise, for a slave, sitting at Habinnas’ feet, egged on,
I have no doubt, by his own master, bawled suddenly in a singsong voice,
“Meanwhile AEneas and all of his fleet held his course on the billowy
deep”; never before had my ears been assailed by a sound so discordant,
for in addition to his barbarous pronunciation, and the raising and
lowering of his voice, he interpolated Atellane verses, and, for the first
time in my life, Virgil grated on my nerves. When he had to quit, finally,
from sheer want of breath, “Did he ever have any training,” Habinnas
exclaimed, “no, not he! I educated him by sending him among the grafters
at the fair, so when it comes to taking off a barker or a mule driver,
there’s not his equal, and the rogue’s clever, too, he’s a shoemaker, or a
cook, or a baker a regular jack of all trades. But he has two faults, and
if he didn’t have them, he’d be beyond all price: he snores and he’s been
circumcised. And that’s the reason he never can keep his mouth shut and
always has an eye open. I paid three hundred dinars for him.”
CHAPTER THE SIXTY-NINTH.
“Yes,” Scintilla broke in, “and you’ve not mentioned all of his
accomplishments either; he’s a pimp too, and I’m going to see that he’s
branded,” she snapped. Trimalchio laughed. “There’s where the Cappadocian
comes out,” he said; “never cheats himself out of anything and I admire
him for it, so help me Hercules, I do. No one can show a dead man a good
time. Don’t be jealous, Scintilla; we’re next to you women, too, believe
me. As sure as you see me here safe and sound, I used to play at thrust
and parry with Mamma, my mistress, and finally even my master got
suspicious and sent me back to a stewardship; but keep quiet, tongue, and
I’ll give you a cake.” Taking all this as praise, the wretched slave
pulled a small earthen lamp from a fold in his garment, and impersonated a
trumpeter for half an hour or more, while Habinnas hummed with him,
holding his finger pressed to his lips. Finally, the slave stepped out
into the middle of the floor and waved his pipes in imitation of a
flute-player; then, with a whip and a smock, he enacted the part of a
mule-driver. At last Habinnas called him over and kissed him and said, as
he poured a drink for him, “You get better all the time, Massa. I’m going
to give you a pair of shoes.” Had not the dessert been brought in, we
would never have gotten to the end of these stupidities. Thrushes made of
pastry and stuffed with nuts and raisins, quinces with spines sticking out
so that they looked like sea-urchins. All this would have been endurable
enough had it not been for the last dish that was served; so revolting was
this, that we would rather have died of starvation than to have even
touched it. We thought that a fat goose, flanked with fish and all kinds
of birds, had been served, until Trimalchio spoke up. “Everything you see
here, my friends,” said he, “was made from the same stuff.” With my usual
keen insight, I jumped to the conclusion that I knew what that stuff was
and, turning to Agamemnon, I said, “I shall be greatly surprised, if all
those things are not made out of excrement, or out of mud, at the very
least: I saw a like artifice practiced at Rome during the Saturnalia.”
CHAPTER THE SEVENTIETH.
I had not done speaking, when Trimalchio chimed in, “As I hope to grow
fatter in fortune but not in figure, my cook has made all this out of a
hog! It would be simply impossible to meet up with a more valuable fellow:
he’d make you a fish out of a sow’s coynte, if that’s what you wanted, a
pigeon out of her lard, a turtle-dove out of her ham, and a hen out of a
knuckle of pork: that’s why I named him Daedalus, in a happy moment. I
brought him a present of knives, from Rome, because he’s so smart; they’re
made of Noric steel, too.” He ordered them brought in immediately, and
looked them over, with admiration, even giving us the chance to try their
edges upon our cheeks. Then all of a sudden two slaves came in, carrying
on as if they had been fighting at the fountain, at least; each one had a
water-jar hanging from a yoke around his neck. Trimalchio arbitrated their
difference, but neither would abide by his decision, and each one smashed
the other’s jar with a club. Perturbed at the insolence of these drunken
ruffians, we watched both of them narrowly, while they were fighting, and
then, what should come pouring out of the broken jars but oysters and
scallops, which a slave picked up and passed around in a dish. The
resourceful cook would not permit himself to be outdone by such
refinements, but served us with snails on a silver gridiron, and sang
continually in a tremulous and very discordant voice. I am ashamed to have
to relate what followed, for, contrary to all convention, some long-haired
boys brought in unguents in a silver basin and anointed the feet of the
reclining guests; but before doing this, however, they bound our thighs
and ankles with garlands of flowers. They then perfumed the wine-mixing
vessel with the same unguent and poured some of the melted liquid into the
lamps. Fortunata had, by this time, taken a notion that she wanted to
dance, and Scintilla was doing more hand-clapping than talking, when
Trimalchio called out, “Philargyrus, and you too, Carrio, you can both
come to the table; even if you are green faction fans, and tell your
bedfellow, Menophila, to come too.” What would you think happened then? We
were nearly crowded off the couches by the mob of slaves that crowded into
the dining-room and almost filled it full. As a matter of fact, I noticed
that our friend the cook, who had made a goose out of a hog, was placed
next to me, and he stunk from sauces and pickle. Not satisfied with a
place at the table, he immediately staged an impersonation of Ephesus the
tragedian, and then he suddenly offered to bet his master that the greens
would take first place in the next circus games.
CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-FIRST.
Trimalchio was hugely tickled at this challenge. “Slaves are men, my friends,” he observed, “but that’s not all, they sucked the same milk that we did, even if hard luck has kept them down; and they’ll drink the water of freedom if I live: to make a long story short, I’m freeing all of them in my will. To Philargyrus, I’m leaving a farm, and his bedfellow, too. Carrio will get a tenement house and his twentieth, and a bed and bedclothes to boot. I’m making Fortunata my heir and I commend her to all my friends. I announce all this in public so that my household will love me as well now as they will when I’m dead.” They all commenced to pay tribute to the generosity of their master, when he, putting aside his trifling, ordered a copy of his will brought in, which same he read aloud from beginning to end, to the groaning accompaniment of the whole household. Then, looking at Habinnas, “What say you, my dearest friend,” he entreated; “you’ll construct my monument in keeping with the plans I’ve given you, won’t you? I earnestly beg that you carve a little bitch at the feet of my statue, some wreaths and some jars of perfume, and all of the fights of Petraites. Then I’ll be able to live even after I’m dead, thanks to your kindness. See to it that it has a frontage of one hundred feet and a depth of two hundred. I want fruit trees of every kind planted around my ashes; and plenty of vines, too, for it’s all wrong for a man to deck out his house when he’s alive, and then have no pains taken with the one he must stay in for a longer time, and that’s the reason I particularly desire that this notice be added:
--THIS MONUMENT DOES NOT--
--DESCEND TO AN HEIR--
“In any case, I’ll see to it through a clause in my will, that I’m not insulted when I’m dead. And for fear the rabble comes running up into my monument, to crap, I’ll appoint one of my freedmen custodian of my tomb. I want you to carve ships under full sail on my monument, and me, in my robes of office, sitting on my tribunal, five gold rings on my fingers, pouring out coin from a sack for the people, for I gave a dinner and two dinars for each guest, as you know. Show a banquet-hall, too, if you can, and the people in it having a good time. On my right, you can place a statue of Fortunata holding a dove and leading a little bitch on a leash, and my favorite boy, and large jars sealed with gypsum, so the wine won’t run out; show one broken and a boy crying over it. Put a sun-dial in the middle, so that whoever looks to see what time it is must read my name whether he wants to or not. As for the inscription, think this over carefully, and see if you think it’s appropriate:
HERE RESTS G POMPEIUS TRIMALCHIO
FREEDMAN OF MAECENAS DECREED
AUGUSTAL, SEVIR IN HIS ABSENCE
HE COULD HAVE BEEN A MEMBER OF
EVERY DECURIA OF ROME BUT WOULD
NOT CONSCIENTIOUS BRAVE LOYAL
HE GREW RICH FROM LITTLE AND LEFT
THIRTY MILLION SESTERCES BEHIND
HE NEVER HEARD A PHILOSOPHER
FAREWELL TRIMALCHIO
FAREWELL PASSERBY”
CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-SECOND.
When he had repeated these words, Trimalchio began to weep copiously,
Fortunata was crying already, and so was Habinnas, and at last, the whole
household filled the dining-room with their lamentations, just as if they
were taking part in a funeral. Even I was beginning to sniffle, when
Trimalchio said, “Let’s live while we can, since we know we’ve all got to
die. I’d rather see you all happy, anyhow, so let’s take a plunge in the
bath. You’ll never regret it. I’ll bet my life on that, it’s as hot as a
furnace!” “Fine business,” seconded Habinnas, “there’s nothing suits me
better than making two days out of one,” and he got up in his bare feet to
follow Trimalchio, who was clapping his hands. I looked at Ascyltos. “What
do you think about this?” I asked. “The very sight of a bath will be the
death of me.” “Let’s fall in with his suggestion,” he replied, “and while
they are hunting for the bath we will escape in the crowd.” Giton led us
out through the porch, when we had reached this understanding, and we came
to a door, where a dog on a chain startled us so with his barking that
Ascyltos immediately fell into the fish-pond. As for myself, I was tipsy
and had been badly frightened by a dog that was only a painting, and when
I tried to haul the swimmer out, I was dragged into the pool myself. The
porter finally came to our rescue, quieted the dog by his appearance, and
pulled us, shivering, to dry land. Giton had ransomed himself by a very
cunning scheme, for what we had saved for him, from dinner, he threw to
the barking brute, which then calmed its fury and became engrossed with
the food. But when, with chattering teeth, we besought the porter to let
us out at the door, “If you think you can leave by the same door you came
in at,” he replied, “you’re mistaken: no guest is ever allowed to go out
through the same door he came in at; some are for entrance, others for
exit.”
CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-THIRD.
What were we miserable wretches to do, shut up in this newfangled
labyrinth. The idea of taking a hot bath had commenced to grow in favor,
so we finally asked the porter to lead us to the place and, throwing off
our clothing, which Giton spread out in the hall to dry, we went in. It
was very small, like a cold water cistern; Trimalchio was standing upright
in it, and one could not escape his disgusting bragging even here. He
declared that there was nothing nicer than bathing without a mob around,
and that a bakery had formerly occupied this very spot. Tired out at last,
he sat down, but when the echoes of the place tempted him, he lifted his
drunken mouth to the ceiling, and commenced murdering the songs of
Menacrates, at least that is what we were told by those who understood his
language. Some of the guests joined hands and ran around the edge of the
pool, making the place ring with their boisterous peals of laughter;
others tried to pick rings up from the floor, with their hands tied behind
them, or else, going down upon their knees, tried to touch the ends of
their toes by bending backwards. We went down into the pool while the rest
were taking part in such amusements. It was being heated for Trimalchio.
When the fumes of the wine had been dissipated, we were conducted into
another dining-room where Fortunata had laid out her own treasures; I
noticed, for instance, that there were little bronze fishermen upon the
lamps, the tables were of solid silver, the cups were porcelain inlaid
with gold; before our eyes wine was being strained through a straining
cloth. “One of my slaves shaves his first beard today,” Trimalchio
remarked, at length, “a promising, honest, thrifty lad; may he have no bad
luck, so let’s get our skins full and stick around till morning.”
CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-FOURTH.
He had not ceased speaking when a cock crowed! Alarmed at this omen,
Trimalchio ordered wine thrown under the table and told them to sprinkle
the lamps with it; and he even went so far as to change his ring from his
left hand to his right. “That trumpeter did not sound off without a
reason,” he remarked; “there’s either a fire in the neighborhood, or else
someone’s going to give up the ghost. I hope it’s none of us! Whoever
brings that Jonah in shall have a present.” He had no sooner made this
promise, than a cock was brought in from somewhere in the neighborhood and
Trimalchio ordered the cook to prepare it for the pot. That same versatile
genius who had but a short time before made birds and fish out of a hog,
cut it up; it was then consigned to the kettle, and while Daedalus was
taking a long hot drink, Fortunata ground pepper in a boxwood mill. When
these delicacies had been consumed, Trimalchio looked the slaves over.
“You haven’t had anything to eat yet, have you?” he asked. “Get out and
let another relay come on duty.” Thereupon a second relay came in.
“Farewell, Gaius,” cried those going off duty, and “Hail, Gaius,” cried
those coming on. Our hilarity was somewhat dampened soon after, for a boy,
who was by no means bad looking, came in among the fresh slaves.
Trimalchio seized him and kissed him lingeringly, whereupon Fortunata,
asserting her rights in the house, began to rail at Trimalchio, styling
him an abomination who set no limits to his lechery, finally ending by
calling him a dog. Trimalchio flew into a rage at her abuse and threw a
wine cup at her head, whereupon she screeched, as if she had had an eye
knocked out and covered her face with her trembling hands. Scintilla was
frightened, too, and shielded the shuddering woman with her garment. An
officious slave presently held a cold water pitcher to her cheek and
Fortunata bent over it, sobbing and moaning. But as for Trimalchio, “What
the hell’s next?” he gritted out, “this Syrian dancing-whore don’t
remember anything! I took her off the auction block and made her a woman
among her equals, didn’t I? And here she puffs herself up like a frog and
pukes in her own nest; she’s a blockhead, all right, not a woman. But
that’s the way it is, if you’re born in an attic you can’t sleep in a
palace I’ll see that this booted Cassandra’s tamed, so help me my Genius,
I will! And I could have married ten million, even if I did only have two
cents: you know I’m not lying! ‘Let me give you a tip,’ said Agatho, the
perfumer to the lady next door, when he pulled me aside: ‘don’t let your
line die out!’ And here I’ve stuck the ax into my own leg because I was a
damned fool and didn’t want to seem fickle. I’ll see to it that you’re
more careful how you claw me up, sure as you’re born, I will! That you may
realize how seriously I take what you’ve done to me-- Habinnas, I don’t
want you to put her statue on my tomb for fear I’ll be nagged even after
I’m dead! And furthermore, that she may know I can repay a bad turn, I
won’t have her kissing me when I’m laid out!”
CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-FIFTH.
When Trimalchio had launched this thunderbolt, Habinnas commenced to beg
him to control his anger. “There’s not one of us but goes wrong
sometimes,” argued he; “we’re not gods, we’re men.” Scintilla also cried
out through her tears, calling him “Gaius,” and entreating him by his
guardian angel to be mollified. Trimalchio could restrain the tears no
longer. “Habinnas,” he blubbered, “as you hope to enjoy your money, spit
in my face if I’ve done anything wrong. I kissed him because he’s very
thrifty, not because he’s a pretty boy. He can recite his division table
and read a book at sight: he bought himself a Thracian uniform from his
savings from his rations, and a stool and two dippers, with his own money,
too. He’s worth my attention, ain’t he? But Fortunata won’t see it! Ain’t
that the truth, you high-stepping hussy’? Let me beg you to make the best
of what you’ve got, you shekite, and don’t make me show my teeth, my
little darling, or you’ll find out what my temper’s like! Believe me, when
once I’ve made up my mind, I’m as fixed as a spike in a beam! But let’s
think of the living. I hope you’ll all make yourselves at home, gentlemen:
I was in your fix myself once; but rose to what I am now by my own merit.
It’s the brains that makes the man, all the rest’s bunk. I buy well, I
sell well, someone else will tell you a different story, but as for
myself, I’m fairly busting with prosperity. What, grunting-sow, still
bawling? I’ll see to it that you’ve something to bawl for, but as I
started to say, it was my thrift that brought me to my fortune. I was just
as tall as that candlestick when I came over from Asia; every day I used
to measure myself by it, and I would smear my lips with oil so my beard
would sprout all the sooner. I was my master’s ‘mistress’ for fourteen
years, for there’s nothing wrong in doing what your master orders, and I
satisfied my mistress, too, during that time, you know what I mean, but
I’ll say no more, for I’m not one of your braggarts!”
CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-SIXTH.
“At last it came about by the will of the gods that I was master in the
house, and I had the real master under my thumb then. What is there left
to tell? I was made co-heir with Caesar and came into a Senator’s fortune.
But nobody’s ever satisfied with what he’s got, so I embarked in business.
I won’t keep you long in suspense; I built five ships and loaded them with
wine--worth its weight in gold, it was then--and sent them to Rome. You’d
think I’d ordered it so, for every last one of them foundered; it’s a
fact, no fairy tale about it, and Neptune swallowed thirty million
sesterces in one day! You don’t think I lost my pep, do you? By Hercules,
no! That was only an appetizer for me, just as if nothing at all had
happened. I built other and bigger ships, better found, too, so no one
could say I wasn’t game. A big ship’s a big venture, you know. I loaded
them up with wine again, bacon, beans, Capuan perfumes, and slaves:
Fortunata did the right thing in this affair, too, for she sold every
piece of jewelry and all her clothes into the bargain, and put a hundred
gold pieces in my hand. They were the nest-egg of my fortune. A thing’s
soon done when the gods will it; I cleared ten million sesterces by that
voyage, all velvet, and bought in all the estates that had belonged to my
patron, right away. I built myself a house and bought cattle to resell,
and whatever I touched grew just like a honeycomb. I chucked the game when
I got to have an income greater than all the revenues of my own country,
retired from business, and commenced to back freedmen. I never liked
business anyhow, as far as that goes, and was just about ready to quit
when an astrologer, a Greek fellow he was, and his name was Serapa,
happened to light in our colony, and he slipped me some information and
advised me to quit. He was hep to all the secrets of the gods: told me
things about myself that I’d forgotten, and explained everything to me
from needle and thread up; knew me inside out, he did, and only stopped
short of telling me what I’d had for dinner the day before. You’d have
thought he’d lived with me always!”
CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-SEVENTH.
“Habinnas, you were there, I think, I’ll leave it to you; didn’t he
say--’You took your wife out of a whore-house’? you’re as lucky in your
friends, too, no one ever repays your favor with another, you own broad
estates, you nourish a viper under your wing, and--why shouldn’t I tell
it--I still have thirty years, four months, and two days to live! I’ll
also come into another bequest shortly. That’s what my horoscope tells me.
If I can extend my boundaries so as to join Apulia, I’ll think I’ve
amounted to something in this life! I built this house with Mercury on the
job, anyhow; it was a hovel, as you know, it’s a palace now! Four
dining-rooms, twenty bed-rooms, two marble colonnades, a store-room
upstairs, a bed-room where I sleep myself, a sitting-room for this viper,
a very good room for the porter, a guest-chamber for visitors. As a matter
of fact, Scaurus, when he was here, would stay nowhere else, although he
has a family place on the seashore. I’ll show you many other things, too,
in a jiffy; believe me, if you have an as, you’ll be rated at what you
have. So your humble servant, who was a frog, is now a king. Stychus,
bring out my funereal vestments while we wait, the ones I’ll be carried
out in, some perfume, too, and a draught of the wine in that jar, I mean
the kind I intend to have my bones washed in.”
CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-EIGHTH.
It was not long before Stychus brought a white shroud and a
purple-bordered toga into the dining-room, and Trimalchio requested us to
feel them and see if they were pure wool. Then, with a smile, “Take care,
Stychus, that the mice don’t get at these things and gnaw them, or the
moths either. I’ll burn you alive if they do. I want to be carried out in
all my glory so all the people will wish me well.” Then, opening a jar of
nard, he had us all anointed. “I hope I’ll enjoy this as well when I’m
dead,” he remarked, “as I do while I’m alive.” He then ordered wine to be
poured into the punch-bowl. “Pretend,” said he, “that you’re invited to my
funeral feast.” The thing had grown positively nauseating, when
Trimalchio, beastly drunk by now, bethought himself of a new and singular
diversion and ordered some horn- blowers brought into the dining-room.
Then, propped up by many cushions, he stretched himself out upon the
couch. “Let on that I’m dead,” said he, “and say something nice about me.”
The horn-blowers sounded off a loud funeral march together, and one in
particular, a slave belonging to an undertaker, made such a fanfare that
he roused the whole neighborhood, and the watch, which was patrolling the
vicinity, thinking Trimalchio’s house was afire, suddenly smashed in the
door and rushed in with their water and axes, as is their right, raising a
rumpus all their own. We availed ourselves of this happy circumstance and,
leaving Agamemnon in the lurch, we took to our heels, as though we were
running away from a real conflagration.
VOLUME III.
FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ENCOLPIUS AND HIS COMPANIONS
CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-NINTH.
There was no torch to light the way for us, as we wandered around, nor did the silence of midnight give promise of our meeting any wayfarer with a light; in addition to this, we were drunk and unfamiliar with the district, which would confuse one, even in daylight, so for the best part of a mortal hour we dragged our bleeding feet over all the flints and pieces of broken tile, till we were extricated, at last, by Giton’s cleverness. This prudent youngster had been afraid of going astray on the day before, so he had taken care to mark all the pillars and columns with chalk. These marks stood out distinctly, even through the pitchy night, and by their brilliant whiteness pointed out the way for us as we wandered about. Nevertheless, we had no less cause for being in a sweat even when we came to our lodging, for the old woman herself had been sitting and swilling so long with her guests that even if one had set her afire, she would not have known it. We would have spent the night on the door-sill had not Trimalchio’s courier come up in state, with ten wagons; he hammered on the door for a short time, and then smashed it in, giving us an entrance through the same breach. (Hastening to the sleeping-chamber, I went to bed with my “brother” and, burning with passion as I was, after such a magnificent dinner, I surrendered myself wholly to sexual gratification.)
Oh Goddesses and Gods, that purple night
How soft the couch! And we, embracing tight;
With every wandering kiss our souls would meet!
Farewell all mortal woes, to die were sweet
But my self-congratulation was premature, for I was overcome with wine,
and when my unsteady hands relaxed their hold, Ascyltos, that
never-failing well-spring of iniquity, stole the boy away from me in the
night and carried him to his own bed, where he wallowed around without
restraint with a “brother” not his own, while the latter, not noticing the
fraud, or pretending not to notice it, went to sleep in a stranger’s arms,
in defiance of all human rights. Awaking at last, I felt the bed over and
found that it had been despoiled of its treasure: then, by all that lovers
hold dear, I swear I was on the verge of transfixing them both with my
sword and uniting their sleep with death. At last, however, I adopted a
more rational plan; I spanked Giton into wakefulness, and, glaring at
Ascyltos, “Since you have broken faith by this outrage,” I gritted out,
with a savage frown, “and severed our friendship, you had better get your
things together at once, and pick up some other bottom for your
abominations!” He raised no objection to this, but after we had divided
everything with scrupulous exactitude, “Come on now,” he demanded, “and
we’ll divide the boy!”
CHAPTER THE EIGHTIETH.
I thought this was a parting joke till he whipped out his sword, with a murderous hand. “You’ll not have this prize you’re brooding over, all to yourself! Since I’ve been rejected, I’ll have to cut off my share with this sword.” I followed suit, on my side, and, wrapping a mantle around my left arm, I put myself on guard for the duel. The unhappy boy, rendered desperate by our unreasoning fury, hugged each of us tightly by the knee, and in tears he humbly begged that this wretched lodging-house should not witness a Theban duel, and that we would not pollute--with mutual bloodshed the sacred rites of a friendship that was, as yet, unstained. “If a crime must be committed,” he wailed, “here is my naked throat, turn your swords this way and press home the points. I ought, to be the one to die, I broke the sacred pledge of friendship.” We lowered our points at these entreaties. “I’ll settle this dispute,” Ascyltos spoke up, “let the boy follow whomsoever he himself wishes to follow. In that way, he, at least, will have perfect freedom in choosing a ‘brother’.” Imagining that a relationship of such long standing had passed into a tie of blood, I was not at all uneasy, so I snatched at this proposition with precipitate eagerness, and submitted the dispute to the judge. He did not deliberate long enough to seem even to hesitate, for he got up and chose Ascyltos for a “brother,” as soon as the last syllable had passed my lips! At this decision I was thunder-struck, and threw myself upon the bed, unarmed and just as I stood. Had I not begrudged my enemy such a triumph, I would have laid violent hands upon myself. Flushed with success, Ascyltos marched out with his prize, and abandoned, in a strange town, a comrade in the depths of despair; one whom, but a little while before, he had loved most unselfishly, one whose destiny was so like his own.
As long as is expedient, the name of friendship lives,
Just as in dicing, Fortune smiles or lowers;
When good luck beckons, then your friend his gleeful service gives
But basely flies when ruin o’er you towers.
The strollers act their farces upon the stage, each one his part,
The father, son, the rich man, all are here,
But soon the page is turned upon the comic actor’s art,
The masque is dropped, the make-ups disappear!
CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-FIRST.
Nevertheless, I did not indulge myself very long in tears, being afraid
that Menelaus, the tutor, might drop in upon me all alone in the
lodging-house, and catch me in the midst of my troubles, so I collected my
baggage and, with a heavy heart, sneaked off to an obscure quarter near
the seashore. There, I kept to my room for three days. My mind was
continually haunted by my loneliness and desertion, and I beat my breast,
already sore from blows. “Why could not the earth have opened and
swallowed me,” I wailed aloud, between the many deep-drawn groans, “or the
sea, which rages even against the guiltless? Did I flee from justice,
murder my ghost, and cheat the arena, in order that, after so many proofs
of courage, I might be left lying here deserted, a beggar and an exile, in
a lodging-house in a Greek town? And who condemned me to this desolation’?
A boy stained by every form of vice, who, by his own confession, ought to
be exiled: free, through vice, expert in vice, whose favors came through a
throw of the dice, who hired himself out as a girl to those who knew him
to be a boy! And as to the other, what about him? In place of the manly
toga, he donned the woman’s stola when he reached the age of puberty: he
resolved, even from his mother’s womb, never to become a man; in the
slave’s prison he took the woman’s part in the sexual act, he changed the
instrument of his lechery when he double-crossed me, abandoned the ties of
a long-standing friendship, and, shame upon him, sold everything for a
single night’s dalliance, like any other street-walker! Now the lovers lie
whole nights, locked in each other’s arms, and I suppose they make a
mockery of my desolation when they are resting up from the exhaustion
caused by their mutual excesses. But not with impunity! If I don’t avenge
the wrong they have done me. in their guilty blood, I’m no free man!”
CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-SECOND.
I girded on my sword, when I had said these words, and, fortifying my
strength with a heavy meal, so that weakness would not cause me to lose
the battle, I presently sallied forth into the public streets and rushed
through all the arcades, like a maniac. But while, with my face savagely
convulsed in a frown, I was meditating nothing but bloodshed and
slaughter, and was continually clapping my hand to the hilt of my sword,
which I had consecrated to this, I was observed by a soldier, that is, he
either was a real soldier, or else he was some night-prowling thug, who
challenged me. “Halt! Who goes there? What legion are you from? Who’s your
centurion?” “Since when have men in your outfit gone on pass in white
shoes?” he retorted, when I had lied stoutly about both centurion and
legion. Both my face and my confusion proved that I had been caught in a
lie, so he ordered me to surrender my arms and to take care that I did not
get into trouble. I was held up, as a matter of course, and, my revenge
balked, I returned to my lodging-house and, recovering by degrees from my
fright, I began to be grateful to the boldness of the footpad. It is not
wise to place much reliance upon any scheme, because Fortune has a method
of her own.
CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-THIRD.
(Nevertheless, I found it very difficult to stifle my longing for revenge, and after tossing half the night in anxiety, I arose at dawn and, in the hope of mitigating my mental sufferings and of forgetting my wrongs, I took a walk through all the public arcades and) entered a picture-gallery, which contained a wonderful collection of pictures in various styles. I beheld works from the hand of Zeuxis, still undimmed by the passage of the years, and contemplated, not without a certain awe, the crude drawings of Protogenes, which equalled the reality of nature herself; but when I stood before the work of Apelles, the kind which the Greeks call “Monochromatic,” verily, I almost worshipped, for the outlines of the figures were drawn with such subtlety of touch, and were so life-like in their precision, that you would have thought their very souls were depicted. Here, an eagle was soaring into the sky bearing the shepherd of Mount Ida to heaven; there, the comely Hylas was struggling to escape from the embrace of the lascivious Naiad. Here, too, was Apollo, cursing his murderous hand and adorning his unstrung lyre with the flower just created. Standing among these lovers, which were only painted, “It seems that even the gods are wracked by love,” I cried aloud, as if I were in a wilderness. “Jupiter could find none to his taste, even in his own heaven, so he had to sin on earth, but no one was betrayed by him! The nymph who ravished Hylas would have controlled her passion had she thought Hercules was coming to forbid it. Apollo recalled the spirit of a boy in the form of a flower, and all the lovers of Fable enjoyed Love’s embraces without a rival, but I took as a comrade a friend more cruel than Lycurgus!” But at that very instant, as I was telling my troubles to the winds, a white-haired old man entered the picture-gallery; his face was care-worn, and he seemed, I know not why, to give promise of something great, although he bestowed so little care upon his dress that it was easily apparent that he belonged to that class of literati which the wealthy hold in contempt. “I am a poet,” he remarked, when he had approached me and stood at my side, “and one of no mean ability, I hope, that is, if anything is to be inferred from the crowns which gratitude can place even upon the heads of the unworthy! Then why, you demand, are you dressed so shabbily? For that very reason; love or art never yet made anyone rich.”
The trader trusts his fortune to the sea and takes his gains,
The warrior, for his deeds, is girt with gold;
The wily sycophant lies drunk on purple counterpanes,
Young wives must pay debauchees or they’re cold.
But solitary, shivering, in tatters Genius stands
Invoking a neglected art, for succor at its hands.