Delphi Complete Works of Petronius

by Petronius

  All that you see in the world must give heed to my mandates;

  Blossoming earth, when I will it, must languish, a desert.’

  Riches pour forth, when I will it, from crags and grim boulders

  Waters will spurt that will rival the Nile at its flooding

  Seas calm their billows before me, gales silence their howlings,

  Hearing my step! And the rivers sink into their channels;

  Dragons, Hyrcanian tigers stand fast at my bidding!

  Why should I tell you of small things? The image of Luna

  Drawn by my spells must descend, and Apollo, atremble

  Backs up his horses and turns from his course at my order!

  Such is the power of my word! By the rites of a virgin

  Quenched is the raging of bulls; and the sun’s daughter Circe

  Changed and transfigured the crew of the wily Ulysses.

  Proteus changes his form when his good pleasure dictates,

  I, who am skilled in these arts, can the shrubs of Mount Ida

  Plant in the ocean; turn rivers to flow up the mountains!”

  CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIFTH.

  At this declaration, which was so awe-inspiring, I shuddered in terror, and commenced to scrutinize the crone more narrowly. “Come now,” said OEnothea, “obey my orders,” and, carefully wiping her hands, she bent over the cot and kissed me, once, twice! On the middle of the altar OEnothea placed an old table, upon which she heaped live coals, then with melted pitch she repaired a goblet which had become cracked through age. Next she replaced, in the smoke-stained wall, a peg which had come out when she took down the wooden goblet. Then, having donned a mantle, in the shape of a piece of square-cut cloth, she set a huge kettle upon the hearth and at the same time speared with a fork a cloth hanging upon the meathooks, and lifted it down. It contained some beans which had been laid away for future use, and a very small and stale piece of pig’s cheek, scored with a thousand slashes. When she had untied the string which fastened the cloth, she poured some of the beans upon the table and ordered me to shell them quickly and carefully. I obey her mandate and with careful fingers separate the beans from the filthy pods which contain them; but she, accusing my clumsiness, hastily snatched them and, skillfully tearing off the pods with her teeth, spat them upon the ground, where they looked like dead flies. I wondered, then, at the ingenuity of poverty and its expedients for emergency. (So ardent a follower of this virtue did the priestess seem that it was reflected in everything around her. Her dwelling, in particular, was a very shrine of poverty.)

  No Indian ivory set in gold gleamed here,

  No trodden marble glistened here; no earth

  Mocked for its gifts; but Ceres’ festive grove:

  With willow wickerwork ’twas set around,

  New cups of clay by revolutions shaped

  Of lowly wheel. For honey soft, a bowl;

  Platters of green bark wickerwork, a jar

  Stained by the lifeblood of the God of Wine;

  The walls around with chaff and spattered clay

  Were covered. Flanging from protruding nails

  Were slender stalks of the green rush; and then

  Suspended from the smoky beam, the stores

  Of this poor cottage. Service berries soft,

  Entwined in fragrant wreaths hung down,

  Dried savory and raisins by the bunch.

  An hostess here like she on Attic soil,

  Of Hecate’s pure worship worthy she!

  Whose fame Kallimachos so grandly sang

  ‘Twill live forever through the speaking years.

  CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXTH.

  In the meantime, (having shelled the beans,) she took a mouthful of the meat and with the fork was replacing the pig’s cheek, which was coeval with herself, upon the meat-hook, when the rotten stool, which she was using to augment her height, broke down under the old lady’s weight and let her fall upon the hearth. The neck of the pot was broken, putting out the fire, which was just getting a good start, her elbow was burned by a flaming brand, and her whole face was covered by the ashes raised by her fall. I jumped up in dismay and, not without laughing, helped the old lady to her feet. She hastily scurried out into the neighborhood to replenish the fire, for fear anything should delay the sacrifice. I was on my way to the door of the cell when lo! and behold! three sacred geese which were accustomed, I suppose, to demand their feed from the old woman at midday, made a rush at me and, surrounding me, made me nervous with their abominable rabid cackling. One tore at my tunic, another undid the lacings of my sandals and tugged at them, but one in particular, the ringleader and moving spirit of this savage attack, did not hesitate to worry at my leg with his serrated bill. Unable to see the joke, I twisted off one of the legs of the little table and, thus armed, began to belabor the pugnacious brute. Nor did I rest content with a light blow, I avenged myself by the death of the goose.

  ’Twas thus, I ween, the birds of Stymphalus

  To heaven fled, by Herakles impelled;

  The Harpies, too, whose reeking pinions held

  That poison which the feast of Phineus

  Contaminated. All the air above

  With their unwonted lamentations shook,

  The heavens in uproar and confusion move

  {The Stars, in dread, their orbits then forsook!}

  By this time the two remaining geese had picked up the beans which had been scattered all over the floor and bereft, I suppose, of their leader, had gone back into the temple; and I, well content with my revenge and my booty, threw the dead goose behind the cot and bathed the trifling wound in my leg with vinegar: then, fearing a scolding, I made up my mind to run away and, collecting together all my belongings, started to leave the house. I had not yet stepped over the threshold of the cell, however, when I caught sight of OEnothea returning with an earthen vessel full of live coals. Thereupon I retraced my steps and, throwing off my garments, I took my stand just inside the door, as if I were awaiting her return. She banked her fire with broken reeds, piled some pieces of wood on top, and began to excuse her delay on the ground that her friend would not permit her to leave until after the customary three drinks had been taken. “But what were you up to in my absence?” she demanded. “Where are the beans?” Thinking that I had done a thing worthy of all praise, I informed her of the battle in all its details and, that she might not be downcast any longer, I produced the dead goose in payment for her loss. When the old lady laid eyes upon that, she raised such a clamor that you would have thought that the geese had invaded the room again. Confounded and thunderstruck at the novelty of my crime, I asked her why she was so angry and why she pitied the goose rather than myself.

  CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY SEVENTH.

  But, beating her palms together, “You villain, are you so brazen that you can speak?” she shrieked. “Don’t you know what a serious crime you’ve committed? You have slaughtered the delight of Priapus, a goose, the very darling of married women! And for fear you think that nothing serious has happened, if the magistrates find this out you’ll go to the cross! Until this day my dwelling has been inviolate and you have polluted it with blood! You have conducted yourself in such a manner that any enemy I have can turn me out of the priesthood!”

  She spoke, and from her trembling head she tore the snow-white hair,

  And scratched her cheeks: her eyes shed floods of tears.

  As when a torrent headlong rushes down the valleys drear,

  Its icy fetters gone when Sprint appears,

  And strikes the frozen shackles from rejuvenated earth

  So down her face the tears in torrents swept

  And wracking sobs convulsed her as she wept.

  “Please don’t make such a fuss,” I said, “I’ll give you an ostrich in place of your goose!” While she sat upon the cot and, to my stupefaction, bewailed the death of the goose, Proselenos came in with the materials for the sacrifice. Seeing the
dead goose and inquiring the cause of her grief, she herself commenced to weep more violently still and to commiserate me, as if I had slain my own father, instead of a public goose. Growing tired of this nonsense at last, “See here,” said I, “could I not purchase immunity for a price, even though I had assaulted you’? Even though I had murdered a man? Look here! I’m laying down two gold pieces, you can buy both gods and geese with them!” “Forgive me, young man,” said OEnothea, when she caught sight of the gold, “I am anxious upon your account; that is a proof of love, not of malignity. Let us take such precautions that not a soul will find this out. As for you, pray to the gods to forgive your sacrilege!”

  The rich man can sail in a favoring gale

  And snap out his course at his pleasure;

  A Dance espouse, no Acrisius will rail,

  His credence by hers he will measure;

  Write verse, or declaim; snap the finger of scorn

  At the world, yet still win all his cases,

  The rabble will drink in his words with concern

  When a Cato austere it displaces.

  At law, his “not proven,” or “proved,” he can have

  With Servius or Labeo vieing;

  With gold at command anything he may crave

  Is his without asking or sighing.

  The universe bows at his slightest behest,

  For Jove is a prisoner in his treasure chest.

  In the meantime, she scurried around and put a jar of wine under my hands and, when my fingers had all been spread out evenly, she purified them with leeks and parsley. Then, muttering incantations, she threw hazel-nuts into the wine and drew her conclusions as they sank or floated; but she did not hoodwink me, for those with empty shells, no kernel and full of air, would of course float, while those that were heavy and full of sound kernel would sink to the bottom. {She then turned her attention to the goose,} and, cutting open the breast, she drew out a very fat liver from which she foretold my future. Then, for fear any trace of the crime should remain, she cut the whole goose up, stuck the pieces upon spits, and served up a very delectable dinner for me, whom, but a moment before, she had herself condemned to death, in her own words! Meanwhile, cups of unmixed wine went merrily around (and the crones greedily devoured the goose which they had but so lately lamented. When the last morsel had disappeared, OEnothea, half-drunk by this time, looked at me and said, “We must now go through with the mysteries, so that you may get back your virility.”)

  CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHTH.

  (As she said this OEnothea brought) out a leathern dildo which, when she had smeared it with oil, ground pepper, and pounded nettle seed, she commenced to force, little by little, up my anus. The merciless old virago then anointed the insides of my thighs with the same decoction; finally mixing nasturtium juice with elixir of southern wood, she gave my genitals a bath and, picking up a bunch of green nettles, she commenced to strike me gently all over my belly below the navel. {The nettles stung me horribly and I suddenly took to my heels, with the old hags in full pursuit.} Although they were befuddled with wine and lust they followed the right road and chased me through several wards, screaming “Stop thief.” I made good my escape, however, although every toe was bleeding as the result of my headlong flight. (I got home as quickly as I could and, worn out with fatigue, I sought my couch, but I could not snatch a wink of sleep for the evil adventures which had befallen me kept running through my brain and, brooding upon them, I came to the conclusion that no one could be so abjectly unfortunate. “Has Fortune, always inimical to me, stood in need of the pangs of love, that she might torture me more cruelly still,” I cried out; “unhappy wretch that I am! Fortune and Love have joined forces to bring about my ruin. Cruel Eros himself had never dealt leniently with me, loved or lover I am put to the torture! Take the case of Chrysis: she loves me desperately, never leaves off teasing me, she who despised me as a servant, because, when she was acting as her mistress’s go-between, I was dressed in the garments of a slave: she, I say) that same Chrysis, who looked with contempt upon your former lowly lot, is now bent upon following it up even at the peril of her life; (she swore that she would never leave my side on the day when she told me of the violence of her passion: but Circe owns me, heart and soul, all others I despise. Who could be lovelier than she?) What loveliness had Ariadne or Leda to compare with hers? What had Helen to compare with her, what has Venus? If Paris himself had seen her with her dancing eyes, when he acted as umpire for the quarreling goddesses, he would have given up Helen and the goddesses for her! If I could only steal a kiss, if only I might put my arms around that divine, that heavenly bosom, perhaps the virility would come back to this body and the parts, flaccid from witchcraft would, I believe, come into their own. Contempt cannot tire me out: what if I was flogged; I will forget it! What if I was thrown out! I will treat it as a joke! Only let me be restored to her good graces!

  At rest on my pallet, night’s silence had scarce settled down

  To soothe me, and eyes heavy-laden with slumber to lull

  When torturing Amor laid hold of me, seizing my hair

  And dragging me, wounding me, ordered a vigil till dawn.

  ‘Oh heart of stone, how canst thou lie here alone?’ said the God,

  ‘Thou joy of a thousand sweet mistresses, how, oh my slave?’

  In disarrayed nightrobe I leap to bare feet and essay

  To follow all paths; but a road can discover by none.

  One moment I hasten; the next it is torture to move,

  It irks me again to turn back, shame forbids me to halt

  And stand in the midst of the road. Lo! the voices of men,

  The roar of the streets, and the songs of the birds, and the bark

  Of vigilant watch-dogs are hushed! Alone, I of all

  Society dread both my slumber and couch, and obey

  Great Lord of the Passions, thy mandate which on me was laid.”

  CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH.

  (Such thoughts as these, of lovely Circe’s charms so wrought upon my mind that) I disordered my bed by embracing the image, as it were, of my mistress, (but my efforts were all wasted.) This obstinate (affliction finally wore out my patience, and I cursed the hostile deity by whom I was bewitched. I soon recovered my composure, however, and, deriving some consolation from thinking of the heroes of old, who had been persecuted by the anger of the gods, I broke out in these lines:)

  Hostile gods and implacable rate not me alone pursue;

  Herakles once suffered the weight of heaven’s displeasure too

  Driven from the Inachian coast: Laomedon of old

  Sated two of the heavenly host: in Pelias, behold

  Juno’s power to avenge an affront; and Telephus took arms

  Knowing not he must bear the brunt; Ulysses feared the storms

  Angry Neptune decreed as his due. Now, me to overwhelm

  Outraged Priapus ever pursues on land and Nereus’ realm.

  (Tortured by these cares I spent the whole night in anxiety, and at dawn, Giton, who had found out that I had slept at home, entered the room and bitterly accused me of leading a licentious life; he said that the whole household was greatly concerned at what I had been doing, that I was so rarely present to attend to my duties, and that the intrigue in which I was engaged would very likely bring about my ruin. I gathered from this that he had been well informed as to my affairs, and that someone had been to the house inquiring for me. Thereupon,) I began to ply Giton with questions as to whether anyone had made inquiry for me; “Not today,” he replied, “but yesterday a woman came in at the door, not bad looking, either, and after talking to me for quite a while, and wearing me out with her far-fetched conversation, finally ended by saying that you deserved punishment, and that you would receive the scourging of a slave if the injured party pressed his complaint.” (This news afflicted me so bitterly that I levelled fresh recriminations against Fortune, and) I had not yet finished grumbling when Chry
sis came in and, throwing herself upon me, embraced me passionately. “I have you,” she cried, “just as I hoped I would; you are my heart’s desire, my joy, you can never put out this flame of mine unless you quench it in my blood!” (I was greatly embarrassed by this wantonness of Chrysis and had recourse to flattery in order that I might rid myself of her, as I feared that her passionate outcries would reach the ears of Eumolpus who, in the arrogance of success, had put on the manner of the master. So on this account, I did everything I could think of to calm Chrysis. I feigned love, whispered compliments, in short, so skillfully did I dissimulate that she believed I was Love’s own captive. I showed her what pressing peril overhung us should she be caught in that room with me, as Eumolpus was only too ready to punish the slightest offense. On hearing this, she left me hurriedly, and all the more quickly, as she caught sight of Giton, who had only left me a little before she had come in, on his way to my room. She was scarcely gone when) one of the newly engaged servants rushed in and informed me that the master was furiously angry with me because of my two days’ absence from duty; I would do well, therefore, to prepare some plausible excuse, as it was not likely that his angry passion would be placated until someone had been flogged. (Seeing that I was so vexed and disheartened, Giton said not a word about the woman, contenting himself with speaking of Eumolpus, and advising me that it would be better to joke with him than to treat the matter seriously. I followed this lead and appeared before the old fellow, with so merry a countenance that, instead of showing severity, he received me with good humor and rallied me upon the success of my love affairs, praising the elegance of my figure which made me such a favorite with the ladies. “I know very well,” he went on, “that a lovely woman is dying for love of you, Encolpius, and this may come in handy for us, so play your part and I’ll play mine, too!”)