Rome -- Fiction; Satire, Latin -- Translations into English
Having put on our clothes, in the meantime, we commenced to stroll around
and soon, the better to amuse ourselves, approached the circle of
players; all of a sudden we caught sight of a bald-headed old fellow,
rigged out in a russet colored tunic, playing ball with some long haired
boys. It was not so much the boys who attracted our attention, although
they might well have merited it, as it was the spectacle afforded by this
beslippered paterfamilias playing with a green ball. If one but touched
the ground, he never stooped for it to put it back in play; for a slave
stood by with a bagful from which the players were supplied. We noted
other innovations as well, for two eunuchs were stationed at opposite
sides of the ring, one of whom held a silver chamber-pot, the other
counted the balls; not those which bounced back and forth from hand to
hand, in play, but those which fell to the ground. While we were
marveling at this display of refinement, Menelaus rushed up, “He is the
one with whom you will rest upon your elbow,” he panted, “what you see
now, is only a prelude to the dinner.” Menelaus had scarcely ceased
speaking when Trimalchio snapped his fingers; the eunuch, hearing the
signal, held the chamber-pot for him while he still continued playing.
After relieving his bladder, he called for water to wash his hands,
barely moistened his fingers, and dried them upon a boy’s head.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH.
To go into details would take too long. We entered the bath, finally,
and after sweating for a minute or two in the warm room, we passed
through into the cold water. But short as was the time, Trimalchio had
already been sprinkled with perfume and was being rubbed down, not with
linen towels, however, but with cloths made from the finest wool.
Meanwhile, three masseurs were guzzling Falernian under his eyes, and
when they spilled a great deal of it in their brawling, Trimalchio
declared they were pouring a libation to his Genius. He was then wrapped
in a coarse scarlet wrap-rascal, and placed in a litter. Four runners,
whose liveries were decorated with metal plates, preceded him, as also
did a wheel-chair in which rode his favorite, a withered, blear eyed
slave, even more repulsive looking than his master. A singing boy
approached the head of his litter, as he was being carried along, and
played upon small pipes the whole way, just as if he were communicating
some secret to his master’s ear. Marveling greatly, we followed, and met
Agamemnon at the outer door, to the post of which was fastened a small
tablet bearing this inscription:
NO SLAVE TO LEAVE THE PREMISES
WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE MASTER.
PENALTY ONE HUNDRED LASHES.
In the vestibule stood the porter, clad in green and girded with a
cherry-colored belt, shelling peas into a silver dish. Above the
threshold was suspended a golden cage, from which a black and white
magpie greeted the visitors.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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