THE ART OF LOVE
BOOK I
BOOK I
IF there be
anyone among you who is ignorant of the art of loving, let him read this poem
and, having read it and acquired the knowledge it contains, let him address
himself to Love. By art the swift ships are propelled with sail and oar; there
is art in driving the fleet chariots, and Love should by art be guided.
Automedon was a skilled charioteer and knew how to handle the flowing reins;
Tiphys was the pilot of the good ship Argo. I have been appointed by Venus as
tutor to tender Love. I shall be known as the Tiphys and Automedon of Love.
Love is somewhat recalcitrant and ofttimes refuses to do my bidding; but ’tis a
boy, and boys are easily moulded. Chiron brought up the boy Achilles to the
music of the lyre, and by that peaceful art softened his wild nature; he,
before whom his enemies were destined so oft to tremble, who many a time struck
terror even into his own companions was, so ’tis said, timid and submissive in
the presence of a feeble old man, obedient to his master's voice, and held out
to him for chastisement those hands whereof Hector was one day destined to feel
the weight. Chiron was tutor to Achilles; I am tutor to Love; both of them
formidable youngsters, both of them goddess-born. But the fiery bull has to
submit to the yoke; the mettled steed vainly champs at the curb that masters
him. I, too, will bring Love to heel, even though his arrows pierce my breast
and he brandish over my head his flaming torch. The keener his arrows, the
fiercer his fires, the more they stir me to avenge my wounds.
I shall not
try, O Apollo, to convey the notion that it was from thee I learned the art
which I impart; no birds came and sang it in my ear. Clio and her sisters
appeared not to me, grazing my herds, O Ascra, in thy vales. Experience is my
guide; give ear to the adept; true are the things I sing. Mother of Love, smile
on my undertaking. Hence, ye narrow frontlets, insignia of chastity, and ye
trailing robes that half conceal the feet. I sing of love where danger is not;
I sing permitted pilferings; free of all offence my verses are. You, who for
the first time are taking up arms beneath the standard of Venus, find out, in
the first place, the woman you are fain to love. Your next task will be to bend
her to your will; your third to safeguard that your love shall endure. This is
my plan, my syllabus. This is the course my chariot will pursue; such is the
goal that it will endeavour to attain.
Now, that
you still are fancy-free, now is the time for you to choose a woman and say to
her: "You are the only woman that I care for." She's not going to be
wafted down to you from heaven on the wings of the wind. You must use your
own-eyes to discover the girl that suits you. The hunter knows where to spread
his nets in order to snare the stag; he knows the valley where the wild boar
has his lair. The birdcatcher knows where he should spread his lime; and the
fisherman, what waters most abound in fish. And thou who seekest out the object
of a lasting love, learn to know the places which the fair ones most do haunt.
You won't have to put to sea in order to do that, or to undertake any distant
journeys. Perseus may bring home his Andromeda from sun-scorched India, and the
Phrygian swain may go to Greece to bear away his bride; Rome alone will give
you a choice of such lovely women, and so many of them, that you will be forced
to confess that she
gathers
within her own bosom all the treasures that the world can show. As numerous as
the ears of corn on Gargarus, grapes in Methymna, fish in the ocean, birds in
the thickets, stars in the heavens, so numerous are the beautiful girls you'll
find in Rome: Venus has made her seat of empire the city of her beloved Æneas.
If your.
tastes incline to a young beauty, in the very flower of girlhood, a really
inexperienced girl will offer herself to your gaze; if you prefer one rather
more mature, there are hundreds of young women who will take your fancy: ’twill
be a veritable embarras de richesses. But perhaps you would rather have
someone still older, still more experienced. In that case you've got a yet
larger number to choose from. When the sun begins to enter the sign of the
Lion, you've only got to take a stroll beneath the cool shade of Pompey's portico,
or near that building adorned with foreign marbles erected by a loving mother
who united her offerings to those of a dutiful son. Omit not to visit that
portico which, adorned with ancient pictures, is called the portico of Livia,
after its foundress. There you will see the Danaides plotting the death of
their unhappy kinswomen, and their fell sire grasping in his hand a naked
sword. And do not miss the festival of Adonis, mourned of Venus, and the rites
celebrated every seventh day by the Syrian Jews.
Shun not the
Temple of the Cow of Memphis, who persuades so many women to play the part she
played to Jupiter. Even the Forum, strange though it sound, is propitious to
love-making. Lawyers are by no means proof against the fiery shafts of Love.
Hard by the marble temple sacred to Venus, where play the waters of the Appian
fount, many an advocate has fallen a victim to the snares of Love; for the man
who defends his client cannot always defend himself. In such a pass, words
sometimes fail even the most learned orator. The tables are turned and he finds
himself obliged to plead his own cause. From her temple close at hand, Venus
laughs to see him in such a quandary. A patron but a little while ago, he would
now rejoice to be a client.
But it is
especially at the theatre you should lay your snares; that is where you may
hope to have your desires fulfilled. Here you will find women to your taste:
one for a moment's dalliance, another to fondle and caress, another to have all
for your own. Even as the ants that come and go in long battalions with their
stores of food, or as the bees, when they have found plants to plunder of their
honey, hover hither and thither among the thyme and the flowers, so, and no
less numerous, you may see crowds of lovely women, gaily dressed, hastening
away to the theatre. I have often found it difficult to choose from such a
galaxy. They come to see and, more important still, to be seen! The theatre's
the place where modesty acts a fall. It was you, Romulus, who first mingled the
cares of love with public games, that far-off day when the rape of the Sabine
women gave wives to your warriors who had waited for them so long. No curtains
then hung in the marble theatre, nor was the stage made red with liquid
saffron. In those days branches from the woods of the Palatine were the only
adornment of our simple stage. The people sat on seats of turf, their heads
canopied with boughs.
As soon as
he had sat him down, each Roman looked about, marking the woman whom he most
desired, giving free play to the thoughts that surged within him. Whilst to the
sound of a rustic pipe an actor strikes his foot three times upon the levelled
earth, amid the unforced applause of the expectant throng (for in those days
applause was neither bought nor sold), Romulus signed to his men to seize upon
their prey. In a trice, with shouts that made their object clear, they laid
their eager hands upon the cowering women. Even as the weak and timid doves
flee before an eagle, even as a young lamb quails at
the sight of a wolf, so shuddered the Sabine women when they beheld these
fierce warriors making towards them. Every one turned pale, terror spread
throughout the throng, but it showed itself in different ways. Some tore their
hair; some swooned away; some wept in silence; some called vainly for their
mothers; some sobbed aloud; others seemed stupefied with fear; some stood
transfixed; others tried to flee. Nevertheless, the Romans carry off the women,
sweet booty for their beds, and to many of them, terror lends an added charm.
If one shows
herself too rebellious and refuses to follow her ravisher, he picks her up and,
pressing her lovingly to his bosom, exclaims, "Why with tears do you thus
dim the lovely radiance of your eyes? What your father is to your mother, that
will I be to you." O Romulus, you are the only one who has ever known how
to reward his soldiers; for such pay, I would willingly enrol myself beneath
your banners. Ever since those days, the theatres, faithful to this ancient
custom, have always been a dangerous lure to loveliness.
Forget not
the arena where mettled steeds strive for the palm of Victory. This circus,
where an immense concourse of people is gathered, is very favourable to Love.
There, if you would express the secret promptings of your heart, there is no
need for you to talk upon your fingers, or to watch for signs to tell you what
is in your fair one's mind. Sit close beside her, as close as you are able;
there's nothing to prevent. The narrowness of the space compels you to press
against her and, fortunately for you, compels her to acquiesce. Then, of
course, you must think of some means of starting the conversation. Begin by
saying the sort of thing people generally do say on such occasions. Some horses
are seen entering the stadium; ask her the name of their owner; and whoever she
favours, you should follow suit. And when the solemn procession of the
country's gods and goddesses passes along, be sure and give a rousing cheer for
Venus, your protectress. If, as not infrequently befalls, a speck of dust
lights on your fair one's breast, flick it off with an airy finger; and if
there's nothing there, flick it off just the same; anything is good enough to
serve as a pretext for paying her attention. Is her dress dragging on the
ground? Gather it up, and take special care that nothing soils it. Perchance,
to reward you for your kindness, she'll grant you the favour of letting you see
her leg. And then again, you must keep an eye on the people seated in the row
behind and see that no one thrusts his knee into her soft shoulders. The merest
trifle is enough to win these butterfly ladies. Why, hosts of men have
succeeded with a woman merely by the attentive manner in which they have
arranged a cushion for her, or fanned her with a fan, or put a stool beneath
her dainty feet. Both the circus and the forum afford opportunities for a
love-affair. Love often delights to try his strength there, and many a man, who
came to see another wounded, finds that he has been pinked himself. While he is
talking and stroking her hand, asking for the race-card and, having put his
money on, is inquiring what has won, an arrow pierces him before he knows where
he is; he heaves a sigh and, instead of being a mere spectator of the combat,
he finds himself a victim.
Did we not
see this happen quite recently, when Caesar offered us the spectacle of a
sea-fight showing the Persian and the Athenian ships in action. Then indeed,
from both seas, youths and maidens flocked to see the show and the whole world
was gathered within the City. Which of us, in that vast throng, found not a
woman worthy of his love; and, alas, how many were tortured by a foreign flame.
But lo, Caesar makes ready to complete the conquest of the world! Ye far-off
countries of the East, to our laws shall ye submit; and you, ye arrogant
Parthians, shall be punished as ye deserve. Rejoice, shades of Crassus, and you,
ye Roman Eagles, ashamed at your long sojourn in barbarian hands, be of good
cheer, your avenger is at hand. Scarce has he essayed to wield his arms, and
yet he proves himself a skilful leader. Though he himself is but a boy, he
wages a war unsuited to his boyish years. O, ye of little faith, vex not your
souls about the age of the gods! Courage in a Caesar does not wait upon the
years. Genius divine outpaces time and brooks not the tedium of tardy growth.
Hercules was still no more than a child when he 'crushed the serpents in his
baby hands. Even in the cradle he proved himself a worthy son of Jove. And you,
Bacchus, still glowing with youthful radiance, how mighty wast thou when India
trembled at thy conquering Thyrsi! With the auspices and with the courage of
thy sire shalt thou wield thine arms, young Caesar; with the courage and with
the auspices of thy sire shalt thou overthrow thine enemies. Such a beginning
becomes the name thou bearest. To-day thou art Prince of the Youths; one day
thou shalt be Prince of the Elders. Since thou hast brothers, avenge thy
slaughtered brethren; and since thou hast a sire, defend thy father's rights.
It is thy father, thy country's father, who hath armed thee, what time the foe
is violently wrestling the sceptre from a parent's struggling hand. Thy sacred
cause shall triumph o’er the perjured foe; justice and piety shall march
beneath thy standards. The righteousness of our cause shall overcome the
Parthians; arms shall drive the victory home, and so to Latium's riches, the
wealth of the Orient shall my young hero add. Mars, his sire, and thou Caesar,
his sire too, a god the one, the other soon a god to be, watch over him and
keep him from all harm. I can read the hidden secrets of the future. Aye, thou
wilt conquer. I will sing thy glory in verses consecrate to thee; with a loud
voice I will sound thy praise. Standing erect will I depict thee, and urging
thy warriors to the combat. Grant that my song be not unworthy of the prowess
that it celebrates! I will sing of the Parthian turning to flee, and of the
Roman facing the arrows aimed at him by the flying foe. What, Parthian, dost
thou leave to the conquered, who seekest victory in flight? Henceforth, for
thee Mars forebodeth nought but ill.
That day
shall dawn, O fairest of mankind, when, resplendent with gold, by four white
horses drawn, thou shalt pass within the City walls. Before thee, laden with
chains, shall walk the conquered leaders; nor shall they then, as erst they
did, seek safety in flight. Young men and maidens shall with joy behold the
sight, and with gladness shall all hearts be filled. Then if some fair one
shall ask of thee the name of this or that defeated monarch, what all these
emblems mean, what country this, what mountain that, or what that river yonder
represents, answer at once, anticipate her questions, speak up with confidence,
and even when your mind's a blank, speak up as if you had the knowledge pat.
" Here's the Euphrates, with his sedgy crown; and that old fellow there,
with sky-blue hair, why, he's the Tigris; and those? . . hum! . . . well,
they're Armenians. That woman yonder? She is Persia, where the son of Danaë was
born. That town till lately rose up amid the vales of Achæmenes. That prisoner
there, or that other one yonder? Oh., they are captured generals." And if
you know them, give their names. If you don't, invent them.
Dinners and
banquets offer easy access to women's favour, and the pleasures of the grape
are not the only entertainment you may find there; Love, with rosy cheeks,
often presses in her frail hands the amphora of Bacchus. As soon as his wings
are drenched with wine, Cupid grows drowsy and stirs not from his place. But
anon he'll be up and shaking the moisture from his wings, and woe betide the
man or woman who receives a sprinkling of this burning dew. Wine fills the
heart with thoughts of love and makes it prompt to catch on fire. All troubles
vanish, put to flight by copious draughts.
Then is the
time for laughter, the poor man plucks up courage and imagines he's a
millionaire. To the deuce with worries and troubles! Brows unpucker and hearts
expand; every tongue's inspired by frankness, and calls a spade a spade. We've
often lost our heart to a pretty girl at dinner. Bringing love and wine
together is adding fuel to fire indeed. Don't judge a woman by candle-light, it's
deceptive. If you really want to know what she's like, look at her by daylight,
and when you're sober. It was broad daylight, and under the open sky, that
Paris looked upon the three goddesses and said to Venus, "You are lovelier
than your two rivals." Night covers a multitude of blemishes and
imperfections. At night there is no such thing as an ugly woman! If you want to
look at precious stones, or coloured cloth, you take them out into the light of
day; and it's by daylight you should judge a woman's face and figure.
But if I'm
to mention all the places favourable to woman-hunting, I might as well attempt
to number the sands of the seashore. Of course, there's Baiæ, with white sails
gleaming out in the bay, and its hot sulphur spring. Many a bather, who has
gone there for his health, comes away saying, "Those precious baths are
not such healthy things as people make out." Not far from the gates of
Rome, behold the temple of Diana shaded by trees, the scene of many a
hard-fought contest for the prize of Love. Because she's a virgin and hates the
darts of Love, Diana has inflicted many a wound there, and will inflict many
more.
Thus far my
Muse, borne in her chariot with wheels of different height, has, told you,
would-be lover, where to seek your prey, and how to lay your snares. Now I'll
teach you how to captivate and hold the woman of your choice. This is the most
important part of all my lessons. Lovers of every land, lend an attentive ear
to my discourse; let goodwill warm your hearts, for I am going to fulfil the
promises I made you.
First of
all, be quite sure that there isn't a woman who cannot be won, and make up your
mind that you will win her. Only you must prepare the ground. Sooner would the
birds cease their song in the springtime, or the grasshopper be silent in the
summer, or the hare turn and give chase to a hound of Mænalus, than a woman
resist the tender wooing of a youthful lover. Perhaps you think she doesn't
want to yield. You're wrong. She wants to. in her heart of hearts. Stolen love
is just as sweet to women as it is to us. Man is a poor dissembler; woman is
much more skilful in concealing her desire. If all the men agreed that they
would never more make the first advance, the women would soon be fawning at our
feet. Out in the springy meadow the heifer lows with longing for the bull; the
mare neighs at the approach of the stallion. With men and women love is more
restrained, and passion is less fierce. They keep within bounds. Need I mention
Byblis, who burned for her brother with an incestuous flame, and hanged herself
to expiate her crime? Or Myrrha, who loved her father, but not as a father
should be loved, and now her shame is hidden by the bark of the tree that
covered her. O sweetly scented tree, the tears which she distils, to us give
perfume and recall the ill-fated maid's unhappy name.
One day in
wood-crowned Ida's shady vale, a white bull went wandering by. The pride of all
the herd was he. Between his horns was just a single spot of black; save for
that mark, his body was as white as milk; and all the heifers of Gnossus and of
Cydonia sighed for the joy of his caress. Pasiphaë conceived a passion for him
and viewed with jealous eye the loveliest among the heifers. There's no
gainsaying it, Crete with her hundred cities, Crete, liar though she be, cannot
deny it. ’Tis said that Pasiphaë, with hands unused to undertake such toil,
tore from the trees their tenderest shoots, culled from the meadows bunches of
sweet grass and hastened to offer them to her beloved bull. Whithersoever he
went, she followed him; nothing would stay her. She recked not of her spouse;
the bull had conquered Minos. "What avails it, Pasiphaë, to deck yourself
in costly raiment? How can your lover of such riches judge? Wherefore, mirror
in hand, dost thou follow the wandering herd up to the mountain top? Wherefore
dost thou for ever range thy hair? Look in thy mirror: ’twill tell thee thou
art no meet mistress for a bull. Ah, what wouldst thou not have given if Nature
had but armed thy brow with horns! If Minos still doth hold a corner in thy
heart, cease this adulterous love; or if thou must deceive thy spouse, at least
deceive him with a man." She hearkens not, but, fleeing from his royal
couch, she ranges ever on and on, through forest after forest, like to a
Bacchante full of the spirit that unceasingly torments her. How often, looking
with jealous anger on a heifer, did she exclaim) "How then can she find
favour in his sight? See how she prances before him on the green. Fool, she
doubtless deems that thus she is lovelier in his eyes." Then, at her
command, the hapless beast is taken from the herd and sent to bow her head
beneath the yoke; or else, pretending to offer sacrifice to the gods, she
orders her to be slain; at the altar; and then with joy fingers o’er the
entrails of her rival. How often, under the guise of one who offers sacrifice,
hath she appeased the alleged displeasure of the gods, and waving the bleeding
trophies in her hand exclaimed, "Go, get thee to my lover, please him now!"
Now she would be Europa; now she would be lo; the one because she was a heifer,
the other because a bull bore her on his back. Howbeit, deceived by the image
of a cow of maple wood, the king of the herd performed with her the act of
love, and by the offspring was the sire betrayed.
Had that
other Cretan girl been able to forego her passion for Thyestes (but how hard it
is for a woman to love one man alone), Phœbus would not have been compelled to
stay his steeds in mid-career, and to have driven his chariot back again
towards the Dawn. The daughter of Nisus, because she had stolen from the
father's head the fatal lock of hair, is evermore beset by ravening dogs. The
son of Atreus, though he escaped the perils of the battlefield and the ocean,
died beneath the dagger of his cruel spouse. Who has listened to the love story
of Creusa? Who has not hated the mad fury of Medea, a mother stained with her
children's blood? Phœnix, the son of Amyntor, wept with his sightless orbs.
You, ye steeds, in your terror, tore Hippolytus in pieces. Wherefore, Phineus,
didst thou put out the eyes of thy innocent sons? Upon thine own head will that
punishment return.
Such are the
consequences of woman's unbridled passion. Fiercer it is than ours, with more
of frenzy in it. Be, then, of
good cheer, and never doubt that you will conquer. Not one woman in a thousand
will seriously resist. Whether a pretty woman grants or withholds her favours,
she always likes to be asked for them. Even if you are repulsed, you don't run
any danger. But why should a woman refuse? People don't resist the temptation
of new delights. We always deem that other people are more fortunate than
ourselves. The crop is always better in our neighbour's field; his cows more
rich in milk.
Now the
first thing you have to do is to get on good terms with the fair one's maid.
She can make things easy for you. Find out whether she is fully in her
mistress's confidence, and if she knows all about her secret dissipations.
Leave no stone unturned to win her over. Once you have her on your side, the
rest is easy. Let her watch for a favourable time (that's a precaution that
doctors do not neglect); let her take advantage of the moment when her mistress
may more easily be persuaded, when she is more likely to surrender to a lover's
solicitations. At such times, the whole world seems couleur de rose to
her; gaiety dances in her eyes as the golden wheat-ears
dance in a fertile field. When the heart is glad, when it is not gripped by
sorrow, it opens and expands. Then it is that Love slips gently into its inmost
folds. So long as Ilion was plunged in mourning, her warriors kept the Greeks
at bay; it was when she was rejoicing and making merry that she received within
her walls the fatal horse with its armèd freight. Choose, too, the moment when
your charmer is smarting from the insult of a rival; make her see in you a
means of wiping off the score. When, in the morning, she is doing her
mistress's hair, let the maid foment her anger, let her press on with sail and
oar and, sighing, murmur, "Why not, Madam, pay him out in his own
coin?" Then let her talk of you; let her adroitly sing your praises and
swear that you, poor fellow, are wildly in love with her. But don't lose any
time, for fear the wind should drop and the sails hang limp. Fragile as ice, a
woman's anger is a transient thing.
"What
about the maid herself?" you ask. "Is it well to win her favours
first?" Now that's a ticklish business. Sometimes it stimulates their
zeal; sometimes the opposite's the case. One girl will do her utmost for her
mistress, another will want to keep you for herself. The only thing is just to
try, and see how it turns out. On the whole, my advice to you is
"Don't." I shouldn't risk these steep and dangerous by-ways myself. If
you keep with me, you'll be on the right road. If, however, you are taken with
the servant's charms, if you find her as pretty as she's zealous, win the
mistress first, and afterwards turn your attention to the maid; but don't begin
with her. Only I warn you, if you have any faith in my teaching, if my words
are not dispersed by the winds over the seas, don't make the attempt at all
unless you carry it right through. Once she herself is well involved, she won't
give you away. The bird, with its wings well limed, won't fly far; the
boar can't escape from the nets; once a fish is on the hook, he can't get away.
So my advice to
you is, push your attack well home, and don't be in a hurry to withdraw your
forces when the victory's won. Thus she'll be your companion in crime, and
she'll never betray you; she'll tell you everything you want to know about her
mistress. The great thing is to be careful. If you keep your goings-on with the
maid quite dark, you'll hear about everything her mistress does.
Some people
think that time and the seasons only concern farmers and seafaring men. They're
wrong. just as there's a time to sow, and a time to sail, so there's a time to
begin on a pretty girl. Success often depends on your seizing the right moment
to open the attack. Keep clear of her birthday, for example, and shun the
Kalends of March. Don't begin when there's a big show on at the circus. That
would prove the winter of your discontent, when the stormy winds would blow,
and you'd do well to hold off. If you launch the ship then, you'll be lucky if
you're washed ashore clinging to a spar. If you want a really good opportunity,
wait for the anniversary of the fatal day when Roman blood incarnadined the
waters of the Allia, or for that one day out of the seven on which the Syrian
Jew will do no manner of work. Above all, don't go near her on her birthday; or
indeed on any day when you're expected to give a present. However much you try
to wriggle out of it, she'll make you buy her something. A woman always knows how
to exploit an ardent lover. Some pedlar fellow will be sure to turn up, and
since buying's a mania with them all, she'll be sure to find the very things
she wants. She'll ask you to look at ’em; then she'll kiss you, and say, "
Oh, do buy me that. It'll last for years; it's just the very thing I want, and
you couldn't buy me anything I should like more." It's no good saying you
haven't got the money on you; she'll ask you to draw a cheque, and then you'll
curse the day you learned to write. And how many times you'll have to give her
something for her birthday! Every time she wants anything very special, she'll
have a birthday.
And then she'll come grieving some pretended loss; she'll come to you with eyes
all red with weeping and tell you she's lost one of her precious ear-rings.
That's the little game they play. Then they'll keep on asking you to lend them
money; and once they've got it, I wouldn't give much for your chances of
getting it back. You can look on that as gone, and they won't give you so much
as a "thank you." Why, if I'd got ten mouths and ten tongues, I
couldn't tell you all the tricks our ladies of the demi-monde get up to.
In the first
place, it's best to send her a letter, just to pave the way. In it you should
tell her how you dote on her; pay her pretty compliments and say all the nice
things lovers always say. Achilles gave way to Priam's supplications. Even the
gods are moved by the voice of entreaty. And promise, promise, promise.
Promises will cost you nothing. Everyone's a millionaire where promises are
concerned. Hope, if only she is duly fostered, holds out a long time. She's a
deceitful goddess, but a very useful one. If you give your mistress something,
she may give you your congé. She will have had her quid pro quo.
Always make her think you're just about to give, but never really do so. Thus
your farmer will keep on manuring a barren field, hoping it will produce a crop
some day. Your gambler will keep throwing good money after bad, in hopes of
redeeming all his losses; and thus his greed falls a victim to his hope of
gain. The really great problem, the problem that takes all a man's skill to
solve, is to win a woman's favours without making her a present. If you succeed
in that, she will go on giving, so as not to lose the guerdon of the favours
she has already bestowed. So send off your letter and couch it in the sweetest
terms; it should be a sort of preliminary reconnaissance and pave the way to
her heart. A few characters written on an apple led the young Cydippe astray
and, when she had read them, the rash girl found she was ensnared by her own
words.
Take my
advice, my youthful fellow-citizens, and study the fine arts, not only that you
may champion the cause of some trembling dependent. The common herd, the
austere judge, and those superior people, the senators, are not the only people
who are moved by eloquence. But don't show your hand, and don't be in too much
of a hurry to display your powers of speech. And don't put on the professorial
style. Who but an idiot would write to his mistress as though he were
addressing a meeting. A show-off letter will often turn a woman against you. Be
quite natural, quite simple, but engaging. In a word, say just what you would
say if you were speaking to her. If she refuses your letter and sends it back
unread, don't give up; hope for the best and try again. The unruly bull bows to
the yoke in time, and, in time, the most obstreperous colt gets broken in. You
can wear through an iron ring by continuous friction; the ploughshare wears
away every day against the soil it cleaves. What could you have harder than a
rock, or less hard than water? Nevertheless, water will wear away the hardest
rock. So keep pegging away, and, given time, you'll get your way with Penelope
herself. Troy held out a long time, but it fell at last. Suppose she reads your
letter but doesn't answer. So be it. Only keep her busy reading. Since she has
condescended to read, she'll answer some fine day. Everything comes gradually
and at its appointed hour. Peradventure she'll write in a huff and tell you to
cease annoying her. If she does, she's trembling lest you take her at her word.
She wants you to go on, although she tells you not to. So go on, and soon
you'll have your heart's desire.
If you see
your mistress being borne along on her litter, go up to her as if by accident,
and say what you've got to say in vague ambiguous language, for fear some
busybody should be listening. If you see her hanging about under some portico,
as if she didn't know what to do with herself, go and walk there too. Sometimes
get in front of her, and sometimes drop behind. Don't be bashful about getting
clear of the crowd and crossing over to her side. Don't, on any account, let
her go to the theatre, looking her loveliest, without your being there to see.
Her bare shoulders will give you something charming to contemplate. And you can
look at her and admire her at your leisure; and speak to her with eyes and
gestures. Applaud the actor that plays the girl's part; applaud still more the
man that plays the lover. If she stands up, stand up too; and while she is
sitting, keep your seat; don't worry about the time, squander it as your
mistress may require.
And don't,
for heaven's sake, have your hair waved, or use powder on your skin. Leave such
foppishness as that to the effeminate priests who wail their Phrygian chants in
honour of Cybele. Simplicity in dress is what best befits a man. Theseus
conquered Ariadne without troubling about the way his hair was done. Phædra
fell in love with Hippolytus, who certainly was not a dandy. Adonis, a simple
woodlander, was the idol of a goddess. Study to be clean, let your skin be
tanned in the open air, wear well-cut clothes, and see there are no spots on
them. Have a clean tongue, and let your teeth be free from tartar; and don't
slop about in boots that are two or three sizes too big for you.
Don't let
your hair stick up in tufts on your head; see that your hair and your beard are
decently trimmed. See also that your nails are clean and nicely filed; don't
have any hair growing out of your nostrils; take care that your breath is
sweet, and don't go about reeking like a billy-goat. All other toilet
refinements leave to the women or to perverts.
But lo,
Bacchus is summoning his bard; propitious to lovers, he fosters the fires with
which he is consumed himself. Ariadne was wandering distraught along the lonely
wave-beaten shores of Naxos. Scarce had sleep departed from her eyes, and she
wore but an airy shift; her feet were bare and her fair tresses were blowing
about her shoulders. To the heedless billows she was crying wildly for her
Theseus, and tears flowed in torrents down her cheeks. She cried aloud and wept
at the same time. But both enhanced her beauty. "Oh, the faithless
one," she cried, beating her tender bosom again and again, "he has
abandoned me. Oh, what will become of me! What will be my fate!" She
spake. And on a sudden, drums and cymbals beaten and tossed by frenzied hands
resounded along the shore. Stricken with terror, she fell gasping out a few
broken words, and the blood faded from her lifeless corpse. But lo, the Mænads,
with their hair floating wildly out behind them, and the light-footed Satyrs,
the rout that leads the procession of Apollo, came upon the scene. Behold, old
Silenus, reeling-ripe as usual, who can scarce keep his seat on the ass that
staggers beneath the heavy burden. He pursues the Mænads, who flee from him and
mock him as they flee, and as he belabours his long-eared beast with his staff,
the unskilful cavalier tumbles head-foremost from his steed. And all the Satyrs
shout, "Up with you, old man Silenus, up with you again!"
Meanwhile
from his lofty chariot with vine branches all bedecked, the god, handling the
golden reins, drives on his team of tigers. The girl, in losing Theseus, had
lost her colour and her voice. Thrice she attempted flight, thrice did fear
paralyse her steps; she shuddered, she trembled like the tapering stem or the
slender reed that sways at the slightest breath. "Banish all thy
fears," cried the god. "In me thou findest a tenderer, more faithful
lover than Theseus. Daughter of Minos, thou shalt be the bride of Bacchus. Thy
guerdon shall be a dwelling in the sky; thou shalt be a new star and thy bright
diadem shall be a guide to the pilot uncertain of his course." So saying
he leapt from his chariot lest his tigers should affright her. The sand yielded
beneath his feet. Clasping to his breast the swooning, unresisting girl, he
bore her away. For a god may do as he wills, and who shall say him nay. Then
some sang Hymenæe! and some Evion Evoë! and to these strains the
god and his bride consummated their spousals on the sacred couch.
When, then,
you find yourself at a feast where the wine is flowing freely, and where a
woman shares the same couch with you, pray to that god whose mysteries are
celebrated during the night, that the wine may not overcloud thy brain. ’Tis
then thou mayest easily hold converse with thy mistress in hidden words whereof
she will easily divine the meaning. A drop of wine will enable you to draw
sweet emblems on the table wherein she will read the proof of the love you have
for her. Fix well thine eyes on her and so confirm the message of thy love.
Ofttimes, without a word being spoken, the eyes can tell a wondrous tale. When
she has drunk, be thou the first to seize the cup, and where her lips have
touched, there press thine own and drink. Choose thou the dainties that her
fingers have lightly touched, and as thou reachest for them, let thy hand
softly encounter hers.
Be courteous
to her husband too. Nothing could better serve your plans than to be in his
good graces. If, when the dice are thrown, chance crowns thee king of the
feast, yield him the honour; take off thy wreath and place it on his brow.
Whether he be thy equal or inferior matters not. Let him be served the first,
and flatter him in everything you say. The surest and most common means to
success is to deceive him under the cloak of friendship. But though ’tis sure
and common, ’tis none the less a crime. Sometimes in love the ambassador goes
too far and doth exceed the terms of his mandate.
Now I will
lay down the limits thou shouldst observe in drinking: never drink enough to
cloud your brain or make your gait unsteady; avoid the quarrels that are born
of wine and be not prompt to take offence. Follow not the example of Eurytion,
who, like a fool, gave up the ghost because he had drunk too much. The food and
the wine should inspire a gentle gaiety. If you have a voice, sing; and if your
limbs are supple, dance; in short, do everything you can to make a good
impression. Downright drunkenness is a loathsome thing; simulated inebriety may
serve a useful purpose. Let your tongue falter with a cunning stammer; pretend
it's difficult for you to pronounce your words, so that whatever you do or say
a little on the risky side may be put down to the fact that you've had too much
liquor. Drink to your mistress, and do it openly, and drink to the man that
shares her bed-and, under your breath, curse her lawful spouse. When the guests
rise up to go, you'll have a good chance to get very close to your lady. Mingle
in the crowd, contrive to get near her, press her side with your fingers and
rub your foot against hers.
And now,
we'll say, you've got her to yourself. Now you can talk to her. Avaunt then,
rustic modesty! Fortune and Venus favour the brave. Don't ask me to tell you
what to say. just take and begin, the words will come fast enough without your
having to search for them. You must play the lover for all you're worth. Tell
her how you are pining for her; do everything you know to win her over. She
will believe you fast enough. Every woman thinks herself attractive; even the
plainest is satisfied with the charms she deems that she possesses. And, then,
how often it has happened that the man who begins by feigning love ends by
falling in love in real earnest. Ali, my fair ones, look with indulgent eye on
those that give themselves a lover's airs; the love, now feigned, will soon be
love indeed.
By subtle
flatteries you may be able to steal into her heart, even as the river
insensibly o’erflows the banks which fringe it. Never cease to sing the praises
of her face, her hair, her taper fingers and her dainty foot. The coldest
beauty is moved by praises of her charms, and even the innocent and greenest
girl takes pride and pleasure in the care of her good looks. If it were not so,
wherefore should Juno and Minerva blush even now to have failed to carry off
the prize for loveliness, in the woods of Ida? See that peacock there; if you
belaud his plumage, he'll spread his tail with pride; but if in silence you
look at him, he'll never show his treasures. The courser, in the chariot race,
is proud of the admiration bestowed on his well-groomed mane and his proudly
arched neck. Be not backward in your promises; women are drawn on by promises;
and swear by all the gods that you'll be as good as your word. Jove, from his
high abode, looks down and laughs on lovers' perfidies, and gives them to Æolus
for the winds to sport with. Often he swore to Juno by the Styx that he'd be
faithful, and he broke his vows. His example should lend us courage.
’Tis well
that the gods should exist and well that we should believe in them. Let us
bring offerings of wine and frankincense to their immemorial altars. They are
not sunk in indolent repose and slothful ease. Live then in innocence, for the
gods are omnipresent. Fulfil the trust that has been reposed in you; observe
the precepts of religion; have nought to do with fraud; stain not your hands
with blood. If you are wise, practise deceit on women alone, for that you may
do with impunity; but in all other matters let your word be your bond. Deceive
them that are deceivers; women for the most part are a perfidious race; let
them fall into the snares which they themselves have prepared. Egypt, so they
tell, being deprived of the rains which fertilise its soil, had suffered nine
years of continuous drought when Thrasius came to Busiris and announced that
Jove could be propitiated by the shedding of a stranger's blood.
"Then," said Busiris, "thou shalt be the first victim offered to
the god; thou shalt be that stranger-guest to whom Egypt shall owe the rain
from heaven." Phalaris, too, caused the ferocious Perillus to be burnt
within the brazen bull which he had fashioned, and the ill-fated craftsman was
the first to put his handiwork to the proof Both penalties were just; and
indeed there is no law more righteous than that the contrivens of death should
perish by their own inventions. Wherefore, since a lie should pay for a lie,
let woman be deceived and let her blame no one but herself for the treachery
whereof she set the example.
Tears, too,
are a mighty useful resource in the matter of love. They would melt a diamond.
Make a point, therefore, of letting your mistress see your face all wet with
tears. Howbeit, if you cannot manage to squeeze out any tears--and they won't
always flow just when you want them to--put your finger in your eyes. What
lover of experience does not know how greatly kisses add. cogency to tender
speeches? If she refuse to be kissed, kiss her all the same. She may struggle
to begin with. "Horrid man!" she'll say; but if she fights, ’twill be
a losing battle. Nevertheless, don't be too rough with her and hurt her dainty
mouth. Don't give her cause to say that you're a brute. And if, after you've
kissed her, you fail to take the rest, you don't deserve even what you've won.
What more did you want to come to the fulfilment of your desires? Oh, shame on
you! It was not your modesty, it was your stupid clownishness. You would have
hurt her in the struggle, you say? But women like being hurt. What they like to
give, they love to be robbed of. Every woman taken by force in a hurricane of
passion is transported with delight; nothing you could give her pleases her
like that. But when she comes forth scathless from a combat in which she might
have been taken by assault, however pleased she may try to look, she is sorry
in her heart. Phœbe was raped, and so, too, was her sister Elaira; and yet they
loved their ravishers not a whit the less.
A well-known
story, but one that may well be told again, is that of Achilles and the maid of
Scyros. Venus had rewarded Paris for the homage he had paid to her beauty when
at the foot of Mount Ida she triumphed over her two rivals. From a far-off
country a new daughter-in-law has come to Priam, and within the walls of Ilion
there dwells an Argive bride. The Greeks swore to avenge the outraged husband;
for an affront to one was an affront to all. Howbeit, Achilles (shame on him if
he had not yielded to a mother's prayers) had disguised his manhood beneath the
garments of a girl. "What dost thou there, descendant of Æacus? Dost thou
busy thyself with carding wool? Is that a task for a man? It is by other arts
of Pallas that thou shouldst seek for fame. What hast thou to do with
work-baskets? Thine arm is made to bear the shield. How comes this distaff in
the hand that should lay Hector low? Cast from thee these spindles, and let thy
doughty hand brandish a spear from Pelion." Once chance brought Achilles
and the royal maiden together in the same bedchamber, and then the onslaught
she underwent swiftly revealed to her the sex of her companion. Doubtless she
yielded only to superior force; so we must of course believe; but at least she
was not angry that force gained the day. "Stay yet awhile," she said
entreatingly, when Achilles, eager to be gone, had laid aside the distaff to
seize his valiant arms. What then has become of this alleged violence?
Wherefore, Deidamia, wilt thou retain with pleading tones the author of thy
downfall?
True, if
modesty does not permit a woman to make the first advance, it nevertheless
delights her to yield when her lover takes the initiative. In truth a lover
reposes too much confidence in his good looks if he thinks that a woman will be
the first to ask. ’Tis for him to begin, for him to entreat her; and to his
supplications she will incline her ear. Ask and thou shalt receive; she only
waits to be implored. Tell her the cause and origin of your desire. Jove bent
the knee to the heroines of old times, and for all his greatness, none ever
came of her own accord
to entreat him. If, however, you only get disdain for all your pains, draw back
and press your suit no farther. Many women long for what eludes them, and like
not what is offered them. Cool off; don't let her think you too importunate. Do
not betray the hope of too swift a victory; let Love steal in disguised as
Friendship. I've often seen a woman thus disarmed, and friendship ripen into
love.
A pale
complexion ill becomes a sailor. The rays of the sun and the salt spray should
have tanned his features; nor does it suit the husbandman who, with plough or
heavy rakes, is for ever turning up the soil in the open air; and ye who strive
for the athlete's crown of olive, it would ill beseem you to have too white a skin.
But every lover should be pale; pallor is the symptom of Love, it is the hue
appropriate to Love. So, deceived by your paleness, let your mistress be
tenderly solicitous for your health. Orion was pale with love when he wandered
after Lyrice in the woods of Dirce. Pale, too, was Daphnis for the Naiad that
disdained him. Thinness, too, is an index to the feelings; and be not ashamed
to veil your shining hair beneath the hood. Sleepless nights make thin a young
man's body. So that thou mayest come to the fruition of your desires, shrink
not from exciting pity, that all who behold you may exclaim, "Why, poor
wretch, you are in love!" Shall I complain aloud or only whisper it, how
virtue is on every side confounded with vice? Friendship and constancy are both
but empty names. You cannot with safety tell your friend all the charms of the
woman you adore; if he believed what you said of her, he would straightway
become your rival. But, you will argue, the grandson of Actor stained not the
couch of Achilles; Phædra erred not, at least, not in favour of Pirithoüs;
Pylades loved Hermione with a love as chaste as that which Phœbus bore for
Pallas, or as the love of Castor and Pollux for their sister Helen. But if you
count on miracles like that, youmight as
well expect to cull apples from the tamarisk, or to gather honey in the middle
of a river. Vice is so inviting, and each man seeks but to gratify his own
pleasure. And pleasure is sweetest when ’tis paid for by another's pain. Shun
those men you think you can rely on, and you'll be safe. Beware alike of
kinsman, brother, and dear friend. They are the people who generally make the
trouble.
I was on the
point of ending here; but let me add that women are things of many moods. You
must adapt your treatment to the special case. The same soil is not equally
good for everything. This land is good for the vine, and this for olives; and
here's the place for corn. You'll find as many dispositions in the world as you
meet with different figures and faces. A clever man will know how to adapt
himself to this diversity of temper and disposition, and suit his conversation
to the needs of the hour, even as Proteus, who is now a graceful wave, now a
lion, now a tree, and now a boar with bristling hide. It's the same with fish;
some you spear, others you take with the line, and others again in the
encircling net. Different methods suit different people. You must vary them
according to the age of your mistresses. An old hind will descry your
machinations from afar. If you display too much skill to the novice, and too
much enterprise to the bashful, you'll frighten her and put her on her guard.
Thus it sometimes happens that a woman, who has feared to yield to the caresses
of a man of breeding, will fall into the arms of a worthless knave. A part of
my enterprise is now achieved, though more remains behind. Here then let us
heave the anchor and give ourselves a little rest.
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