BOOK III
ITHE ARRIVALBacchis had been a courtesan for more than twenty-five years. That is equivalent to saying that she was nearly forty, and that her beauty had changed its character several times.Her mother, who had long been the directress of the house and her general adviser, had given her principles of conduct and economy which had enabled her gradually to acquire a great fortune, which she was in a position to spend freely, at an age when the magnificence of the bed supplies the place of physical splendour.Thus it was that instead of buying adult slaves at the market at a high rate, an expense which so many others considered necessary, and which ruined the young courtesans, she had been content for ten years with a single negress, and had provided for the future by making her beget a child every year, in order to create for herself, for nothing, a numerous staff of domestics who should be a source of riches later on.As she had chosen the father with care, seven very beautiful mulatto girls had been born of her slave, and also three boys whom she had killed, because male slaves give useless suspicions to jealous lovers. She had named the seven daughters after the seven planets, and had chosen them diverse functions, in harmony, as far as possible, with the names they bore. Heliope was the slave for the day-time, Selene for the night, Aretias guarded the door, Aphrodisia tended the bed, Hermione did the buying, and Cronomagira, the cooking. Finally, Diomeda, the housekeeper, kept the books and superintended the staff.Aphrodisia was the favourite slave, the prettiest and best-loved. She often shared her mistress’s bed at the request of lovers who took a fancy to her. Consequently, she was dispensed from all servile work in order that her arms might be kept delicate and her hands soft. By an exceptional favour, her hair was not covered, so that she was often taken for a free woman, and that very night she was to be freed in reality at the enormous price of thirty-five minæ.ill-043Bacchis’s seven slaves, all tall and admirably trained, were such a source of pride to her that she never went out without having them in her train, at the risk of leaving her house empty. Thanks to this imprudence, Demetrios had been able to enter her house without difficulty; but when she gave the festival to which Chrysis was invited she was still in ignorance of the calamity.That evening Chrysis was the first arrival.She was dressed in a green robe worked with enormous rose-branches which flowered over her breasts.Aretias opened the door for her without her having to knock, and, according to the Greek custom, took her aside into a little room, untied her red shoes, and gently washed her naked feet. Then, raising the robe, or parting it, according to the place, she perfumed wherever there was necessity for it: for the guests were spared every kind of trouble, even that of making their toilette before going in to dinner. Then she offered a comb and pins to restore the lines of her head-dress, together with cosmetics, both dry and moist, for her lips and cheeks.At last, when Chrysis was ready:“Where are theshades?”she said to the slave.This was the term applied to all the diners, except to one alone, the guest par excellence. The guest in honour of whom the dinner was given brought whomsoever he pleased with him, and the “shades” had nothing to do but to bring their bed-cushions and prove themselves people of breeding.Aretias answered:“Naukrates has invited Philodemos with his mistress, Faustina, whom he has brought back from Italy. He has also invited Phrasilas and Timon, and your friend Seso of Cuidos.”ill-044Aretias opened the door for her.Seso entered at this precise moment.“Chrysis!”“My darling!”The two women embraced, and enlarged with many an exclamation upon the happy chance which had brought them together.“I was afraid of being late,” said Seso. “That poor Archytas has kept me. . .”“What, Archytas again?”“It is always the same thing. Whenever I go out to dine, he imagines that my body is to be at everybody’s disposal in turn. Then he insists on having his revenge beforehand, and that takes such a time! Ah! my dear, if he knew me better! I am far from wanting to deceive my lovers. I have quite enough of them as it is.”“And the baby that is coming? It does not show yet, however.”“I hope not indeed. It is the third month. It is growing, the little wretch. But it does not bother me yet. In six weeks I shall begin to dance. I hope that will prove very unpleasant to it, and that it will disappear quickly.”“You are right,” said Chrysis. “Don’t let your shape get disfigured. I saw Philemation yesterday, our former little friend, who lived three years at Boubaste with a grain merchant. Do you know the first thing she said to me? ‘Ah! if you saw my breasts!’ and she had tears in her eyes. I told her she was still pretty, but she repeated: ‘If you saw my breasts! ah! ah! if you saw my breasts!’ weeping like a Byblis. Then I saw that she was almost anxious to show them, and I asked to see them. My dear, two empty bags! And you know what beauties she had. They were so white that the points were invisible. Don’t spoil yours, my Seso. Leave them fresh and firm as they are. A courtesan’s two breasts are worth more than her necklace.”During this conversation, the two women were making their toilette. Finally they entered the banqueting-room together, where Bacchis was standing waiting, with her waist encircled by breast-bands and her neck loaded with rows of gold necklaces reaching up to the chin.“Ah, my pretty dears, what a good idea on the part of Naukrates to invite you both together this evening!”“We congratulate ourselves on its being to your house that we are invited,” answered Chrysis without appearing to understand the innuendo. And, in order to say something venomous immediately, she added:“How is Doryclos?”Doryclos was a young and extremely rich lover who had just deserted Bacchis to marry a Sicilian woman.ill-045“Ah, my pretty dears, what a good idea . . .”“I . . . I have turned him away,” said Bacchis, brazenly.“Is it possible?”“Yes; they say he is going to marry out of spite. But I expect him the day after his marriage. He is madly in love with me.”While asking: “How is Doryclos?” Chrysis had thought: “Where is your mirror?” But Bacchis did not look one in the face, and the only expression to be read in her eyes was a vague embarrassment devoid of meaning. Besides, there was time for Chrysis to elucidate this question, and, in spite of her impatience, she knew how to wait with resignation for a more favourable opportunity.She was about to continue the conversation, when she was prevented by the arrival of Philodemos, Faustina, and Naukrates, which involved Bacchis in fresh interchanges of politeness. They fell into ecstasies over the poet’s embroidered garment and the diaphanous robe of his mistress. This young girl, being unfamiliar with Alexandrian usage, had thought to Hellenize herself in this manner, not knowing that a dress of the kind was inadmissible at a festival where hired dancing-women, similarly unclothed, were to appear.Bacchis affected not to notice this error, and in a few amiable phrases complimented Faustina on her heavy blue hair swimming in brilliant perfumes. She wore her hair raised high above the neck in order to avoid staining her light silken stuffs with myrrh.They were about to sit down to table when the seventh guest arrived; it was Timon, a young man whose want of principle was a natural gift, but who had discovered in the teaching of the philosophers of his time some superior reasons for self-satisfaction.“I have brought someone with me,” he said laughing.“Whom?” asked Bacchis.“A certain Demo, a girl from Mendes.”“Demo! What can you be thinking of, my dear fellow? She is a street girl. She can be had for a fig.”“Good, good. We won’t insist on it.” said the young man. “I have just made her acquaintance at the corner of the Canopic way. She asked me to give her a dinner, and I brought her to you. If you don’t want her. . .”“Timon is really extraordinary,” declared Bacchis.She called a slave:“Heliope, go and tell your sister that she will find a woman at the door and that she is to drive her away with a stick. Off you go!”She turned and looked round:“Has not Phrasilas come yet?”
Bacchis had been a courtesan for more than twenty-five years. That is equivalent to saying that she was nearly forty, and that her beauty had changed its character several times.
Her mother, who had long been the directress of the house and her general adviser, had given her principles of conduct and economy which had enabled her gradually to acquire a great fortune, which she was in a position to spend freely, at an age when the magnificence of the bed supplies the place of physical splendour.
Thus it was that instead of buying adult slaves at the market at a high rate, an expense which so many others considered necessary, and which ruined the young courtesans, she had been content for ten years with a single negress, and had provided for the future by making her beget a child every year, in order to create for herself, for nothing, a numerous staff of domestics who should be a source of riches later on.
As she had chosen the father with care, seven very beautiful mulatto girls had been born of her slave, and also three boys whom she had killed, because male slaves give useless suspicions to jealous lovers. She had named the seven daughters after the seven planets, and had chosen them diverse functions, in harmony, as far as possible, with the names they bore. Heliope was the slave for the day-time, Selene for the night, Aretias guarded the door, Aphrodisia tended the bed, Hermione did the buying, and Cronomagira, the cooking. Finally, Diomeda, the housekeeper, kept the books and superintended the staff.
Aphrodisia was the favourite slave, the prettiest and best-loved. She often shared her mistress’s bed at the request of lovers who took a fancy to her. Consequently, she was dispensed from all servile work in order that her arms might be kept delicate and her hands soft. By an exceptional favour, her hair was not covered, so that she was often taken for a free woman, and that very night she was to be freed in reality at the enormous price of thirty-five minæ.
ill-043
Bacchis’s seven slaves, all tall and admirably trained, were such a source of pride to her that she never went out without having them in her train, at the risk of leaving her house empty. Thanks to this imprudence, Demetrios had been able to enter her house without difficulty; but when she gave the festival to which Chrysis was invited she was still in ignorance of the calamity.
That evening Chrysis was the first arrival.
She was dressed in a green robe worked with enormous rose-branches which flowered over her breasts.
Aretias opened the door for her without her having to knock, and, according to the Greek custom, took her aside into a little room, untied her red shoes, and gently washed her naked feet. Then, raising the robe, or parting it, according to the place, she perfumed wherever there was necessity for it: for the guests were spared every kind of trouble, even that of making their toilette before going in to dinner. Then she offered a comb and pins to restore the lines of her head-dress, together with cosmetics, both dry and moist, for her lips and cheeks.
At last, when Chrysis was ready:
“Where are theshades?”she said to the slave.
This was the term applied to all the diners, except to one alone, the guest par excellence. The guest in honour of whom the dinner was given brought whomsoever he pleased with him, and the “shades” had nothing to do but to bring their bed-cushions and prove themselves people of breeding.
Aretias answered:
“Naukrates has invited Philodemos with his mistress, Faustina, whom he has brought back from Italy. He has also invited Phrasilas and Timon, and your friend Seso of Cuidos.”
ill-044
Aretias opened the door for her.
Seso entered at this precise moment.
“Chrysis!”
“My darling!”
The two women embraced, and enlarged with many an exclamation upon the happy chance which had brought them together.
“I was afraid of being late,” said Seso. “That poor Archytas has kept me. . .”
“What, Archytas again?”
“It is always the same thing. Whenever I go out to dine, he imagines that my body is to be at everybody’s disposal in turn. Then he insists on having his revenge beforehand, and that takes such a time! Ah! my dear, if he knew me better! I am far from wanting to deceive my lovers. I have quite enough of them as it is.”
“And the baby that is coming? It does not show yet, however.”
“I hope not indeed. It is the third month. It is growing, the little wretch. But it does not bother me yet. In six weeks I shall begin to dance. I hope that will prove very unpleasant to it, and that it will disappear quickly.”
“You are right,” said Chrysis. “Don’t let your shape get disfigured. I saw Philemation yesterday, our former little friend, who lived three years at Boubaste with a grain merchant. Do you know the first thing she said to me? ‘Ah! if you saw my breasts!’ and she had tears in her eyes. I told her she was still pretty, but she repeated: ‘If you saw my breasts! ah! ah! if you saw my breasts!’ weeping like a Byblis. Then I saw that she was almost anxious to show them, and I asked to see them. My dear, two empty bags! And you know what beauties she had. They were so white that the points were invisible. Don’t spoil yours, my Seso. Leave them fresh and firm as they are. A courtesan’s two breasts are worth more than her necklace.”
During this conversation, the two women were making their toilette. Finally they entered the banqueting-room together, where Bacchis was standing waiting, with her waist encircled by breast-bands and her neck loaded with rows of gold necklaces reaching up to the chin.
“Ah, my pretty dears, what a good idea on the part of Naukrates to invite you both together this evening!”
“We congratulate ourselves on its being to your house that we are invited,” answered Chrysis without appearing to understand the innuendo. And, in order to say something venomous immediately, she added:
“How is Doryclos?”
Doryclos was a young and extremely rich lover who had just deserted Bacchis to marry a Sicilian woman.
ill-045
“Ah, my pretty dears, what a good idea . . .”
“I . . . I have turned him away,” said Bacchis, brazenly.
“Is it possible?”
“Yes; they say he is going to marry out of spite. But I expect him the day after his marriage. He is madly in love with me.”
While asking: “How is Doryclos?” Chrysis had thought: “Where is your mirror?” But Bacchis did not look one in the face, and the only expression to be read in her eyes was a vague embarrassment devoid of meaning. Besides, there was time for Chrysis to elucidate this question, and, in spite of her impatience, she knew how to wait with resignation for a more favourable opportunity.
She was about to continue the conversation, when she was prevented by the arrival of Philodemos, Faustina, and Naukrates, which involved Bacchis in fresh interchanges of politeness. They fell into ecstasies over the poet’s embroidered garment and the diaphanous robe of his mistress. This young girl, being unfamiliar with Alexandrian usage, had thought to Hellenize herself in this manner, not knowing that a dress of the kind was inadmissible at a festival where hired dancing-women, similarly unclothed, were to appear.
Bacchis affected not to notice this error, and in a few amiable phrases complimented Faustina on her heavy blue hair swimming in brilliant perfumes. She wore her hair raised high above the neck in order to avoid staining her light silken stuffs with myrrh.
They were about to sit down to table when the seventh guest arrived; it was Timon, a young man whose want of principle was a natural gift, but who had discovered in the teaching of the philosophers of his time some superior reasons for self-satisfaction.
“I have brought someone with me,” he said laughing.
“Whom?” asked Bacchis.
“A certain Demo, a girl from Mendes.”
“Demo! What can you be thinking of, my dear fellow? She is a street girl. She can be had for a fig.”
“Good, good. We won’t insist on it.” said the young man. “I have just made her acquaintance at the corner of the Canopic way. She asked me to give her a dinner, and I brought her to you. If you don’t want her. . .”
“Timon is really extraordinary,” declared Bacchis.
She called a slave:
“Heliope, go and tell your sister that she will find a woman at the door and that she is to drive her away with a stick. Off you go!”
She turned and looked round:
“Has not Phrasilas come yet?”