The Cena Trimalchionis
Now had come the third day where there was the expectation of a free dinner, but we had received so many injuries that running away seemed a better idea than napping. However, while we poor fools were deliberating by what means we might escape from the gathering storm-clouds of this ordeal, a slave of Agamemnon's burst in on us while we were trembling in a huddle.
"What?" he says. "Do y'not know at whose home ye dine today? Why, Trimalchio! He's a most admirable man! He's got a clock in his dining room and a trumpeter whose job it is to constantly let him know how much of his life has slipped away!"
"What?" he says. "Do y'not know at whose home ye dine today? Why, Trimalchio! He's a most admirable man! He's got a clock in his dining room and a trumpeter whose job it is to constantly let him know how much of his life has slipped away!"
And so, all our ills forgotten, we clothed and bid Giton, who played a slave's part so willingly, follow us to the baths.
[XXVII] When we got there, we began to wander around, still in our clothes, more joking around than not. And then we approached the rings, when suddenly we see this old bald man clothed in a ruddy tunic playing ball with some long-haired youths. It was not so much the young guys who had led our eyes to gaze upon this sight which laid before us -- though they were worth the price of admission -- as the man of the house himself; he was also wearing sandals and playing with a leek-green ball. However, he would no longer go after the ball when it hit the ground, so a slave held a sack full of balls and kept throwing them out to the players. Then we realized something really revolutionary: two eunuchs were standing on opposite ends of the ring: one was holding a silver chamber pot, while the other was counting the balls, though not the ones the players were tossing back and forth between their hands, but the ones which kept falling to the ground. And while we were open-jawed at these admirable delights, Menelaus ran up to us:
"That's him!" he says, "It's at his place ye're dining tonight! What you see now is just the prelude to the dinner."
And no sooner had Menelaus spoken than Trimalchio snapped his fingers, at which signal the one eunuch with the chamber pot rushed onto the ring and stuck it underneath him as he played. His bladder emptied, the old man asked for water for his hands and then rubbed his wet fingers and palms in a slave's hair.
"That's him!" he says, "It's at his place ye're dining tonight! What you see now is just the prelude to the dinner."
And no sooner had Menelaus spoken than Trimalchio snapped his fingers, at which signal the one eunuch with the chamber pot rushed onto the ring and stuck it underneath him as he played. His bladder emptied, the old man asked for water for his hands and then rubbed his wet fingers and palms in a slave's hair.
[XXVIII] It would take too long to detail every single thing, and so we entered the baths. Once we worked up a sweat in the hot room for a short time, we left for the cold room. Already was Trimalchio oiled up and was being rubbed down, not with linens, but with towels of softest wool. In the meantime, three masseurs were drinking Falernian wine in front of him, and, when they got to squabbling, spilled a good deal of it; in response, Trimalchio said they tipped it in his own honor. Here he was wrapped in a scarlet cloak, set on a litter by four decorated runners who went before him, and in a hand-drawn cart went his darling, an aged-looking youth with bleary eyes, a poor soul more ill-formed than his master Trimalchio. And so, while the man was trotted off, at his head a musician went along with a very tiny flute, whistling the whole way as if whispering secrets into the man's ear. We follow, taking in everything in amazement, and we arrive with Agamemnon at the door, where a little placard was nailed to the post and ran with this writing:
At the entrance itself sat a porter dressed in leek-green and girded with a cherry-colored belt; he was cleaning peas in a silver pot. Above the threshold hung a cage made of gold in which a magpie greeted the guests as they entered.
While I stared dumbfounded at all of this, I fell and nearly broke my legs, for at the left of the entrance, not far from the porter's post was a huge dog bound by chain, but actually just painted on the wall and over which had been written the words in block-letters:
My friends laughed at me, but I collected myself and did not stop from taking in the rest of the frescoes on the whole of the wall: there was a slave-auction with little titles painted on everything, and lo! there was Trimalchio himself, a young, long-haired boy holding a caduceus and entering Rome with Minerva guiding him. Then he learned accounting to some degree, and then was made treasurer -- everything a careful painter had marked. But at the end of the portico was depicted Mercury, seizing Trimalchio roughly by the chin and lifting him up on a raised dais. Nearby stood Fortune holding a cornucopia and the three Parcae spinning golden threads.
And then I noticed a flock of runners in the portico exercising with their trainer. Besides that, I saw an enormous armoire in a corner where there was an altar for the silver-wrought statuettes placed for the Lares. Also there was a marble statue of Venus and a golden box of not-insignificant size in which I was told contained the first trimmings of Trimalchio's beard. I began to question one of the room's attendants as to what was painted on the other frescoes in the middle.
"Scenes from The Iliad and The Odyssey," he says. "Right next to the gladiatorial games given by Laenas."
[XXX] I wasn't allowed any more time for a closer look, for then we had arrived at the dining room, in the first part of which a manager was taking down accounts. And I was particularly impressed that on the doorposts of the dining room were fasces fixed with ax-heads, but the lowest part of them ended in what was made to look like the brass ram of the ship, upon which was written:
Under the same placard hung a two-wicked chandelier, and two tablets on either doorpost, of which the one read, if I remember rightly, the following:
Filled up with these delights, when we try to enter into the dining room itself, one of the boys who had taken up this duty barked: "RIGHT FOOT FIRST!" Doubtlessly we were shaken up, lest we cross the threshold in violation of this command. But as we took our right step, a slave who had been stripped naked fell to the floor before us and began to beg us that we save him from a whipping. Not was the wrong for which he was about to be punished a great one, he said, for someone had made off with the treasurer's clothes while he was in the baths, and the things could scarcely have cost ten sestertii. And so, we each withdrew his own right foot, and besought the treasurer counting in the atrium to rescind the slave's punishment.
Haughtily, treasurer lifted high his face and said, "It's not so much the theft that bothers me, but the negligence of a worthless slave. He lost my dinner jacket, which a certain client had gifted me on my birthday. Tyrian-dyed doubtless it was, but it had been a-washed once already. But what is it to me? I give him to you as a gift."
[XXXI] After being obliged by so grand an offering, when we entered the dining room the selfsame slave ran up to us, the very one for whom we had made the request, and plastered kisses upon kisses on us while we stood gawking. Thanking us for our charity towards another human, he says, "Here's the deal: immediately shall y'know for whom y've done this deed! The master's wine is the butler's thanks!"
Finally we reclined, and Alexandrian youths poured snow-cooled water over our hands, followed by other young men who sat at our feet and made quick and keen work of our hangnails. But not even in this task, so annoying as it was, were they quiet, but all the while they sang. I wanted to test whether the whole household carried on in singing like this, so I asked for a drink -- a very eager boy took my order in a song no less shrill, and if anyone was asked to give anything, they sang about it likewise. You would think this a more a dance production for the stage than a host's dining room. Nevertheless, some very refined treats were brought in, for now all had reclined except Trimalchio himself, for whom the foremost place was kept, as in keeping with the new style. Handing out other kinds of hors d'oeuvres was a small Corinthian ass decked out in saddle-bags, one holding white olives, the other black. Two platters covered the ass itself, and on the platters' rims were engraved with Trimalchio's name and their weight in silver. Little bridges welded thereon held dormice rolled in honey and poppy-seeds. Further were sausages set over a blazing hot silver gridiron, and underneath the grill were Syrian plums with Punic apple-seeds.
[XXXII] We were tucking in among such fine delicacies, when the man himself, Trimalchio, was brought in with musical fanfare, and placed upon very small, tiny cushions -- he drew laughter from only the unwise. For he had covered his shorn head with a scarlet coverlet, and about his already-burdened neck he had thrown a napkin sporting a broad purple stripe and with fringe hanging every-which-way. On the pinky-finger of his left hand he wore a large gilt ring, while on the topmost joint of the ring-finger he wore a smaller ring which seemed to me to be all gold, but really made of iron and set with iron meant to be stars. And lest he only show off this much wealth, his bare right arm bore a golden bracelet and an ivory circlet clasping a gleaming sheet of metal.
[XXXIII] Then, while he picked at his teeth with a silver toothpick, said: "Friends! I really didn't want to come to this dinner -- but, so that y'd not be kept waiting any longer, I put off any more of my pleasures. However, you will allow us to finish our game."
A boy followed him carrying a tablet made of terebinth and crystal pieces. It was then I noticed quite a swanky thing: instead of counters, colored either white or black, they played with silver and gold coins. While Trimalchio spent their game talking about all sorts of things and while we continued to feast on the appetizers, a tray was then brought in with a basket upon it, in which there was a hen carved from wood, her wings open in a circle, just as hens do when they sit on their eggs. Two slaves immediately approached and, while the orchestra wailed, began to hunt through the straw under the wooden bird. They withdrew peahens eggs and divided them up amongst the diners.
Turning himself to face his scene, Trimalchio said, "Friends! I told them to put peahen's eggs under a common hen. But by Hercules! I'm afraid they're no good anymore for eating! But whatever, let's try 'em -- we can suck on 'em at least."
We take up our spoons, which weigh no less than half a pound each, and hammer away at the eggs, which turn out to be made of fine meal. I nearly threw my egg away for it seemed a chick had already formed within. But then I heard a veteran diner say: "Ha! What we have here I don't know, but it ought to be something good!" So, poking through the mealy "shell", I found a very fat fig-pecker set in peppered egg yolk.
[XXXIV] His game interrupted, Trimalchio now demanded for himself all the same dishes we had had, and then, in a very loud voice, asked if any of us would like another cup of honey-wine, when suddenly a signal was given by the orchestra and the appetizers were whisked away by a troupe of singing dancers. But when a small plate had by chance fallen amidst the uproar and a boy bent to pick it up off the ground, Trimalchio saw him and bid the boy be punished by being boxed about the ears and made the throw the dish back to the ground. A litter-bearer followed, using a broom to sweep out the silver dish with the rest of the rubbish. Then entered two long-haired Aethiopians with very tiny wineskins, and, just like men in the amphitheater who spread out fresh sand, gave us wine for washing our hands, for no one offered us any water. Praised for his fashionable tastes, the lord of the house said, "Mars loves a level field for engagements. And so I bid that each be assigned his own table, so these stinking slaves will make us less hot as they hustle and bustle past us."
"ANY SLAVE WHO GOES OUT-OF-DOORS WITHOUT MASTER'S PERMISSION WILL RECEIVE A HUNDRED LASHES."
While I stared dumbfounded at all of this, I fell and nearly broke my legs, for at the left of the entrance, not far from the porter's post was a huge dog bound by chain, but actually just painted on the wall and over which had been written the words in block-letters:
"BEWARE THE DOG"
And then I noticed a flock of runners in the portico exercising with their trainer. Besides that, I saw an enormous armoire in a corner where there was an altar for the silver-wrought statuettes placed for the Lares. Also there was a marble statue of Venus and a golden box of not-insignificant size in which I was told contained the first trimmings of Trimalchio's beard. I began to question one of the room's attendants as to what was painted on the other frescoes in the middle.
"Scenes from The Iliad and The Odyssey," he says. "Right next to the gladiatorial games given by Laenas."
[XXX] I wasn't allowed any more time for a closer look, for then we had arrived at the dining room, in the first part of which a manager was taking down accounts. And I was particularly impressed that on the doorposts of the dining room were fasces fixed with ax-heads, but the lowest part of them ended in what was made to look like the brass ram of the ship, upon which was written:
FOR C. POMPEIUS TRIMALCHIO, SEVIR OF AUGUSTUS, FROM HIS TREASURER, CINNAMUS
Under the same placard hung a two-wicked chandelier, and two tablets on either doorpost, of which the one read, if I remember rightly, the following:
ON THE 30TH AND 31ST OF DECEMBER OUR MASTER DINES OUT-OF-DOORSAnd on the other were painted pictures of the moon's course and the seven planets. And there were also the days marked lucky and unlucky by knobs.
Filled up with these delights, when we try to enter into the dining room itself, one of the boys who had taken up this duty barked: "RIGHT FOOT FIRST!" Doubtlessly we were shaken up, lest we cross the threshold in violation of this command. But as we took our right step, a slave who had been stripped naked fell to the floor before us and began to beg us that we save him from a whipping. Not was the wrong for which he was about to be punished a great one, he said, for someone had made off with the treasurer's clothes while he was in the baths, and the things could scarcely have cost ten sestertii. And so, we each withdrew his own right foot, and besought the treasurer counting in the atrium to rescind the slave's punishment.
Haughtily, treasurer lifted high his face and said, "It's not so much the theft that bothers me, but the negligence of a worthless slave. He lost my dinner jacket, which a certain client had gifted me on my birthday. Tyrian-dyed doubtless it was, but it had been a-washed once already. But what is it to me? I give him to you as a gift."
[XXXI] After being obliged by so grand an offering, when we entered the dining room the selfsame slave ran up to us, the very one for whom we had made the request, and plastered kisses upon kisses on us while we stood gawking. Thanking us for our charity towards another human, he says, "Here's the deal: immediately shall y'know for whom y've done this deed! The master's wine is the butler's thanks!"
Finally we reclined, and Alexandrian youths poured snow-cooled water over our hands, followed by other young men who sat at our feet and made quick and keen work of our hangnails. But not even in this task, so annoying as it was, were they quiet, but all the while they sang. I wanted to test whether the whole household carried on in singing like this, so I asked for a drink -- a very eager boy took my order in a song no less shrill, and if anyone was asked to give anything, they sang about it likewise. You would think this a more a dance production for the stage than a host's dining room. Nevertheless, some very refined treats were brought in, for now all had reclined except Trimalchio himself, for whom the foremost place was kept, as in keeping with the new style. Handing out other kinds of hors d'oeuvres was a small Corinthian ass decked out in saddle-bags, one holding white olives, the other black. Two platters covered the ass itself, and on the platters' rims were engraved with Trimalchio's name and their weight in silver. Little bridges welded thereon held dormice rolled in honey and poppy-seeds. Further were sausages set over a blazing hot silver gridiron, and underneath the grill were Syrian plums with Punic apple-seeds.
 |
| The classic cinema Trimalchio from the suitably bizarre 1969 "Fellini Satyricon". |
[XXXIII] Then, while he picked at his teeth with a silver toothpick, said: "Friends! I really didn't want to come to this dinner -- but, so that y'd not be kept waiting any longer, I put off any more of my pleasures. However, you will allow us to finish our game."
A boy followed him carrying a tablet made of terebinth and crystal pieces. It was then I noticed quite a swanky thing: instead of counters, colored either white or black, they played with silver and gold coins. While Trimalchio spent their game talking about all sorts of things and while we continued to feast on the appetizers, a tray was then brought in with a basket upon it, in which there was a hen carved from wood, her wings open in a circle, just as hens do when they sit on their eggs. Two slaves immediately approached and, while the orchestra wailed, began to hunt through the straw under the wooden bird. They withdrew peahens eggs and divided them up amongst the diners.
Turning himself to face his scene, Trimalchio said, "Friends! I told them to put peahen's eggs under a common hen. But by Hercules! I'm afraid they're no good anymore for eating! But whatever, let's try 'em -- we can suck on 'em at least."
We take up our spoons, which weigh no less than half a pound each, and hammer away at the eggs, which turn out to be made of fine meal. I nearly threw my egg away for it seemed a chick had already formed within. But then I heard a veteran diner say: "Ha! What we have here I don't know, but it ought to be something good!" So, poking through the mealy "shell", I found a very fat fig-pecker set in peppered egg yolk.
 |
| The Garden Warbler, which the Italians call beccafico, a "fig-pecker". Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, a famous French epicure and gastronome, once said of the warbler when cooked as ortolan bunting: "If it were the size of a pheasant, it would be worth an acre of land." |
[XXXIV] His game interrupted, Trimalchio now demanded for himself all the same dishes we had had, and then, in a very loud voice, asked if any of us would like another cup of honey-wine, when suddenly a signal was given by the orchestra and the appetizers were whisked away by a troupe of singing dancers. But when a small plate had by chance fallen amidst the uproar and a boy bent to pick it up off the ground, Trimalchio saw him and bid the boy be punished by being boxed about the ears and made the throw the dish back to the ground. A litter-bearer followed, using a broom to sweep out the silver dish with the rest of the rubbish. Then entered two long-haired Aethiopians with very tiny wineskins, and, just like men in the amphitheater who spread out fresh sand, gave us wine for washing our hands, for no one offered us any water. Praised for his fashionable tastes, the lord of the house said, "Mars loves a level field for engagements. And so I bid that each be assigned his own table, so these stinking slaves will make us less hot as they hustle and bustle past us."
At once were glass jars brought in, carefully fastened with gypsum, and bearing on their necks this label:
FALERNIAN WINE FROM THE CONSULSHIP OF OPIMIUS!
100 YEARS OLD!
While we were reading through the labels, Trimalchio clapped his hands and said: "Alas! Alack! Wine lasts longer than any wretched man! So let us make merry! Wine is life! Here is the good stuff, from Opimius' Consulship! Yesterday at dinner I set out some stuff not as good as this, yet my diners were much better quality."
And so, while we drank and admired each of these delights with most rapt attention, a slave carried in a silver skeleton so constructed that each of its joints and vertebrae were linked so it could bent in every-which-way. When it was set down once or twice on the table and the movable limbs were made to effect several poses, Trimalchio added the following:
And so, while we drank and admired each of these delights with most rapt attention, a slave carried in a silver skeleton so constructed that each of its joints and vertebrae were linked so it could bent in every-which-way. When it was set down once or twice on the table and the movable limbs were made to effect several poses, Trimalchio added the following:
"Alas! Oh, wretches we, how nothing a poor man be!
As the bones before your gaze, after Orcus bears us aways!
And so let us live, as long as it goes well for all our days!"
 |
| Skeleton cup-bearer, a species of memento mori. Mosaic from Pompeii, A.D. 1st Century |
[XXXV] After applauding this outburst, a dish followed which certainly did not live up to our great expectation, yet its novelty drew everyone's eyes: for a round plate held twelve Zodiac signs set equally apart in a circle, over which some artist had placed food appropriate and proper to each sign, so over Aries were chickpeas; over Taurus a cut of beef; over Gemini testicles and kidneys; over Cancer a crown; over Leo an African fig; over Virgo the womb of a barren sow; over Libra scales holding a tart on one side and cake on the other; over Scorpio little sea-fish; over Sagittarius a bulls-eye; over Capricorn a lobster; over Aquarius a goose; and over Pisces two mullets; In the middle of the whole thing was a clump of grassy sod holding a honeycomb. An Egyptian boy made the rounds with bread from a silver breadpan [...]
And then Trimalchio himself belted out a tune from the musical comedy "The Silphium-Picker" in the most terrible and tortured voice.
"For m'self, I grudge no-one nothin' if a god 'ave giv'n 'im anythin'. Ev'n though he's somethin'a boasteh, he don't mean no 'arm to 'imself. 'E once advertised a lease with the followin' announcement: 'C. Pompeius Diogenes on the 1st'a July is a-rentin' 'is crawl-space, for he 'ath 'imself bought the 'ouse!' Whassat? What 'bout that one in the freedman's place? 'Uh! 'E's doin' awful well! I don't blame 'im. 'E once looked on a cool mil-a 'is own, but now he's fallin' ta some bad times. I don't think 'is 'air is unmortaged. But by 'Ercules, t'ain't 'is fault. T'ain't no better man, but a fuckeh of a freedman did a numbah on 'im. Know this: too many cooks spoil a pot and when things go south, so go all y'all friends. What a fine, good business he ran -- oh, for y'all ta see 'im like this! 'E used tah be an undertakeh. 'E used to dine like a king: boars in blankets serv'd like the Etruscans used to; birds cooked like the Etruscans used to. More wine spillin' undeh the table than anyone else got in their cellehs. Now 'e's like a ghost instead'a a man. When 'is shit was tumblin' down'ill, when he a-feared 'is lenders would think 'im in trouble, he advertised an auction with the followin': 'C. Julius Proculus will 'ave an auction of 'is sup-perfluous fortune!'"
[XXXIX] It was here that Trimalchio interrupted these fabulous tales, for the course was just now being taken away, and the banqueters, made lively by the wine, began to engage in loud conversation. He leaned back on his chair and cried, "Please, make this wine better with your fine talk. The fish you just ate must have something to swim in, after all. Please! Oh come on, did you think that I'd be happy with this puny meal you saw under those trays?
[XL]"A philosopher!" we all shouted as one, and, with our hands upturned to the ceiling, swore that Hipparchus and Aratus ("What contemptible fellows"!) were not comparable to our host. We made such remarks until the butlers arrived and moved valances over the couches, upon which were embroidered nets and hunters armed with stabbing spears and all the other trappings of a hunt. We had little idea what to expect next, when suddenly outside the dining room came an ear-splitting din and crash! Spartan mastiffs began to bound helter-skelter around the tables as a tray was carried in train, upon which was placed a boar of particularly large size. The creature was crowned with a slave's cap, and from its tusks were hanging little baskets woven from palm leaves, one of which had juicy dates and the other dry dates from Egypt. About it were little piglets made from hard pastry, arranged as if suckling at teats, and so indicated that our beast was a sow. Further, the piglets were meant to be swag-gifts for diners to take home.
And then Trimalchio himself belted out a tune from the musical comedy "The Silphium-Picker" in the most terrible and tortured voice.
[XXXVI] But we seemed a little down in attacking such cheap fare, so Trimalchio said: "Come on, let's eat! We're just at the sauce of the meal!" As he said this, the orchestra sounded, and four dancers rushed in and carried off the top part of the dish: lo! we then saw on another dish below were fatted birds, sows bellies, and a hare tricked out with wings made to look like Pegasus. We then noted around the dish were four figures of Marsyas, from whose bellies ran peppered garum which then flowed over the fish to make them look like they were swimming in a narrow channel.
,_from_Rome,_Louvre_Museum_(7462768132).jpg) |
| Marsyas, marble, Roman copy of the 1st-2nd century after a Hellenistic original. Found in Rome, Italy, part of the Borghese Collection at The Louvre. |
We took up the applause begun by the household slaves and attacked these choice delights while laughing. No less happy at his trick, Trimalchio then shouted: "Carv'er!" At once came a slave to cut the meat. The man timed his strokes to the flourish of the orchestra, which made you think you were watching a charioteer fight in the arena to the accompaniment of a water organ. But no less did Trimalchio carry on in his very soft voice, saying, "Carver, Carver, Carver..." I began to suspect that repeating the word so many times must have some witty and clever purpose, and so I blushed to ask the man who was sitting next to me. He, who had oft seen performances such as these, replied, "Y'all see that man? The carver? Well, 'e's called 'Carv'er. So ev'ry time someone says 'Carv'er!', they're both callin' 'is name and orderin' 'im to 'carve 'er'."
[XXXVII] Well, that was that -- I could eat no more. But I turned towards my fellow diner so that I might get some more out of him and I began to ask after some far-fetched tales and inquire who that woman was, and why she ran to and fro.
"'Tis 'is wife," said he. "Trimalchio's. Fortunata she's called, and she counts 'er money by the bushel. And just recently, just recently mind yah, what was she? Mah good seh will pardon me, but yah would not'ave tak'n from 'er 'and a slice of bread. Now? Without neither why nor wherefore she's gone off in 'eaven, for she's Trimalchio's all in all. To get to the point, if she were tah tell 'im that it was dark at 'igh noon, 'e'd believe it. The man don't know what 'e owns 'imself, 'e's rich as fuck -- oh! do pardon mah Greek, seh. But this 'ooker has put away a plan for everythin', e'en where yah wouldsn't think tah look. She's dry; sober; she's got gold'n ideas; but she 'as a wicked tongue and caws like a magpie on 'er sofa. If she likes yah, she likes yah, if she don't...well, she don't. Trimalchio 'imself 'as many estates as kites can fly in a day. He's the quadrillionaire of quadrillionaires. There's more silver lyin' 'bout in 'is doorman's cell than anyone else 'as in their 'ole fortunes. But 'is 'ousehold, slaves, and dependents -- fuck! I don't fuck'n think a tenth of the slaves would e'en be able to recognize their mastah on sight. To get to the point, 'e'll knock any of these other rich fucks you please off their asses and into a rue patch.
[XXXVIII] "And don't get it into y'all's 'ead that he buys anything -- everythin' is born and bred and made at 'ome: yah name it, wool, citron, pepper, cock's milk if yah want it -- it's 'ere, y'all find it. To get to the point, 'e wasn't producin' wool good enough, so he bought rams from Tarentum and set them loose on his flock. Because 'e wanted Attic 'oney made at 'ome, 'e ordered bees be sent from Athens -- incidentally, our local bees will soon be improved by this Greek variety. Oh, just these last few days 'e wrote that mushroom spores be sent from India. 'E don't 'ave a mule which wasn't born from a wild ass. Y'all see these cushions? T'ain't a one without purple or scarlet stuffin'! Such is 'is lord's divine magnificence! But as for the rest of his friends, the ex-slave crowd -- take care not to offend, for they're a v-e-r-y juicy bunch. Y'all see that one reclinin' on the low couch, at the low end? Today 'e's worth eighty-thousand. 'E came from nothing, but just second ago 'e 'ad a collar and a wooden nameplate 'angin' 'round his neck. Well, it's as they say -- well, actually, I know nothin' 'bout it, but I'ave 'eard it -- that he once stole a gnome's cap and found a treasure.
[XXXVIII] "And don't get it into y'all's 'ead that he buys anything -- everythin' is born and bred and made at 'ome: yah name it, wool, citron, pepper, cock's milk if yah want it -- it's 'ere, y'all find it. To get to the point, 'e wasn't producin' wool good enough, so he bought rams from Tarentum and set them loose on his flock. Because 'e wanted Attic 'oney made at 'ome, 'e ordered bees be sent from Athens -- incidentally, our local bees will soon be improved by this Greek variety. Oh, just these last few days 'e wrote that mushroom spores be sent from India. 'E don't 'ave a mule which wasn't born from a wild ass. Y'all see these cushions? T'ain't a one without purple or scarlet stuffin'! Such is 'is lord's divine magnificence! But as for the rest of his friends, the ex-slave crowd -- take care not to offend, for they're a v-e-r-y juicy bunch. Y'all see that one reclinin' on the low couch, at the low end? Today 'e's worth eighty-thousand. 'E came from nothing, but just second ago 'e 'ad a collar and a wooden nameplate 'angin' 'round his neck. Well, it's as they say -- well, actually, I know nothin' 'bout it, but I'ave 'eard it -- that he once stole a gnome's cap and found a treasure.
"For m'self, I grudge no-one nothin' if a god 'ave giv'n 'im anythin'. Ev'n though he's somethin'a boasteh, he don't mean no 'arm to 'imself. 'E once advertised a lease with the followin' announcement: 'C. Pompeius Diogenes on the 1st'a July is a-rentin' 'is crawl-space, for he 'ath 'imself bought the 'ouse!' Whassat? What 'bout that one in the freedman's place? 'Uh! 'E's doin' awful well! I don't blame 'im. 'E once looked on a cool mil-a 'is own, but now he's fallin' ta some bad times. I don't think 'is 'air is unmortaged. But by 'Ercules, t'ain't 'is fault. T'ain't no better man, but a fuckeh of a freedman did a numbah on 'im. Know this: too many cooks spoil a pot and when things go south, so go all y'all friends. What a fine, good business he ran -- oh, for y'all ta see 'im like this! 'E used tah be an undertakeh. 'E used to dine like a king: boars in blankets serv'd like the Etruscans used to; birds cooked like the Etruscans used to. More wine spillin' undeh the table than anyone else got in their cellehs. Now 'e's like a ghost instead'a a man. When 'is shit was tumblin' down'ill, when he a-feared 'is lenders would think 'im in trouble, he advertised an auction with the followin': 'C. Julius Proculus will 'ave an auction of 'is sup-perfluous fortune!'"
[XXXIX] It was here that Trimalchio interrupted these fabulous tales, for the course was just now being taken away, and the banqueters, made lively by the wine, began to engage in loud conversation. He leaned back on his chair and cried, "Please, make this wine better with your fine talk. The fish you just ate must have something to swim in, after all. Please! Oh come on, did you think that I'd be happy with this puny meal you saw under those trays?
'Know ye not of Ulysses?'What now, huh? Well, it would be a very good idea for us to have some philosophy between our dinners. My patron's bones, god rest his soul. That was a man who wished that I become as good as the next man. For there's not nothing I don't know which confuddles me -- for instance the meaning of that tray y'just now saw: this represents Heeven, in which there are twelve gods, in which turn around in these shapes, just like the Ram -- and so, everyone born under this sign has many flocks; a lot of wool; a hard head; a blushing brow; sharp horns. Most rhetoricians are born under this sign. As well as baby rams." We all praised and applauded the chic urbanity of this well-learned fellow. And then he cried out: "Next! The whole Heeven turns into a young Bull. Then are born the hard-neckers and shit-kickers. People who feed themselves. Next, under the Twins y'got pairs of horses, pairs of cattle, and good, hard balls, and people who fuck on both sides of the street. I myself was born under the Crab, and it's because of this that I've got lots of legs and some of 'em are in the sea, and others of 'em are on land -- a crab is at home here and there. And that's why I didn't put anything next to the Crab, 'cuz I don't want nothin' fucking up my own birth-sign. Under Lion are born gluttons and big-shots. Under the Virgin are women, runaways, and chattel. Under the Scales are butchers and perfumers and whoever weights anything. Under the Scorpion are poisoners and assassins. Under the Archer are cock-eyed people who stare at the vegetables while stealing the lard. Under the Kid are poor wretches who are cuckolded. Under the Waterer are innkeepers who water down their wine and people who have water in the head. Under the Fishies are the shouting fishmongers and lawyers. Thus the whole world turns as if a millstone, and always some shit is happening as humans either get born or get dead. But if y'all see that grassy bit and the honeycomb above it? Well, I didn't do that without no reason! Mother Earth is in the middle, rounded as if she were an egg, and all her bounty she keeps like a honeycomb."
[XL]"A philosopher!" we all shouted as one, and, with our hands upturned to the ceiling, swore that Hipparchus and Aratus ("What contemptible fellows"!) were not comparable to our host. We made such remarks until the butlers arrived and moved valances over the couches, upon which were embroidered nets and hunters armed with stabbing spears and all the other trappings of a hunt. We had little idea what to expect next, when suddenly outside the dining room came an ear-splitting din and crash! Spartan mastiffs began to bound helter-skelter around the tables as a tray was carried in train, upon which was placed a boar of particularly large size. The creature was crowned with a slave's cap, and from its tusks were hanging little baskets woven from palm leaves, one of which had juicy dates and the other dry dates from Egypt. About it were little piglets made from hard pastry, arranged as if suckling at teats, and so indicated that our beast was a sow. Further, the piglets were meant to be swag-gifts for diners to take home.
Anyway, the job of carving up this sow did not fall to our man Carv'er who had sliced up the fatted fowls, but instead to a huge bearded individual with sticks tied about his legs and wearing a damask hunting cloak; his hunting knife drawn, he violently attacked the sow's side, and from out of the gash flew thrushes. Bird-catchers stood ready nearby with nets, and in no time at all they had caught each bird flitting about the dining room. Then, after bidding each diner be given one, Trimalchio added, "Look what excellent acorns that wooded boar had fed upon!" Thereupon slaves approached the baskets which were hanging from the tusks, and began to equally divvy up both kinds of dates.
[XLI] While all this was happening, I decided to put on my own thinking cap and figure out why the sow had been brought in wearing a freedman's cap. After I had exhausted every silly guess I could imagine, I dared to ask again my interpreter the thing which was torturing me. He replied: "'Ah! Why yah slave could figure it out! T'ain't no riddle, the thing's obvious! This 'ere's a boar, right? Well, 'e got spared at the end of yesterday's dinner, and so 'e was dismissed by the guests, as in 'freed' -- that's why tah-day 'e's returned to our company as if 'e's a freedman!" I cursed my stupidity and asked nothing resembling a question again, lest I appear to have never dined among proper gentlepeople before.
While we chatter away, a good-looking young man with a wreath of ivy about his temples went about carrying grapes in a little basket and acting like the different aspects of Bacchus: Roaring Bacchus, now Drunk Bacchus, now Dreaming Bacchus; as he went, he sang his master's poetry in a very shrill voice. Turning to him, Trimalchio said: "Dionysus, be liberated!" The youth yanked the freedman's cap from off the sow's head and plopped it on his own. Then Trimalchio added, "No one here will say that my father was not Bacchus Liberator!" We applauded Trimalchio's turn-of-phrase, and plastered the new-made freedman with kisses as he made his rounds.
It was at this dish that Trimalchio rose to use the toilet, and we diners, having obtained our own freedom from the tyranny of our host, began to wrangle some words from our fellows. And so, Dama first spoke up after calling for a bowl of wine: "There's nothing to a day -- when you turn around, it's night! So there's nothing better than to go right from your bed to your dinner table. Oh, but I'm so cold -- a bath barely warms me! But a hot drink is like a coat. Woooooah, I've fallen into some deep cups tonight, so now I'm really soaked. The booze has really gone to my head!"
Here Seleucus picked up his share of the talking: "I don't bathe every day. Bathing is like going to the launderer -- water has teeth and it melts our heart away each day. But when I down a cup of honeyed wine, I tell the cold to fuck off. And I wasn't able to properly wash today, as I was at a funeral. The corpse was hot shit when he was alive, and good to boot -- oh ol' Chrysanthus. Just the other day -- just the other day, mind you -- he said hello to me. I feel like I'm talking with him now!" Here he let out two great sighs before continuing: "We walk around like puffed up wineskins. We're counted lesser than flies, but at least flies have some courage in them, while we're not much more than bubbles! And what if the dead guy had not been so abstemious? For five days he threw nothing down his gullet -- no water, not a crumb of bread! And yet, there he went, going off with the rest of 'em! The doctors fucked him over bad..." His voice trailed off as he seemed to reconsider this claim; pausing for only a moment's thought, he continued: "Well no, actually, it came down more to a bad luck of the draw, 'cuz doctors are nothing more than consolation. Anyway, he was carried out well enough on his own bed, the one he used to sleep on when he was alive, covered with some good palls. The mourning wails were done very tastefully, for he freed quite a few slaves, even if his wife was stingy with her weeping -- and what if he had not treated the bitch so well, I ask you? But women are like screeching kites and not a one's ever worth the effort -- you might as well throw her down a well. An old love is cancerous tumor."
[XLI] He had already grown tedious by this time, so all of a sudden Phileros shouted, "LET US REMEMBER THE LIVING!" Here he motioned towards Seleucus with his cup and, now having gotten everyone's attention, continued: "He got what he was owed! Honestly he lived, honestly he died. What does he have to bitch about? He grew from a penny and was always ready to pick up a quarter from a pile of shit with his teeth. And so he got richer and richer, just like a honeycomb. Fuck, I think he left behind a cool hundred and all of it in cash!" Judging by the nods and approving looks of the audience, I took the "hundred" Phileros mentioned to mean some unexpressed number much more than a mere literal one hundred. Phileros didn't skip a beat: "I've eaten dog's tongue, so I can only speak the truth: he was a foul-mouthed, cheeky shit-stirrer, and no true man. His brother was a strong fellow, a man's man, always ready with a hand extended, always a place at his table for ya. But he made a bad choice when he started out, but his first vintage set him up for life, 'cuz he sold wine at whatever price he wanted. Then he got his head even more above water when he came into an inheritance from which he stole more than what was left to him. Your idiot friend got mad at his brother and he bequeathed his portion to some fuck-knows-who. Far must he run who would escape his family. But he took bad advice from his slaves whom he had listen at keyholes -- they totally fucked him over. He who believes too readily when dealing with anyone will never do rightly. Ah, still -- he enjoyed life while he lived. Happy is he who actually gets the inheritance, not he who was supposed to get it. Clearly he was Fortune's son, and lead changed to gold in his hand. It must be easily when everything runs the way it's meant to. And how long do you think he lived? More'n seventy years! He was tough as horn, he carried his age well, and black as a raven. I'd known the man for years 'n' years, and he was a horny bastard up to the end -- fuck, I don't think he left the family dog alone! He was a total chicken-hawk, a jack-of-all-trades!"
[XLI] Here Phileros finished and Ganymedes took up speaking: "What you're saying don't mean shit to Heaven or Earth -- ain't no one care how big a bite the price of grain is taking out of us? I couldn't find a fucking mouthful of bread today! And the drought be carrying on, ugh! We've been starving all year! And fuck the aediles, since they're working hand-in-hand with the bakers: 'You cover my ass, I'll cover yours,' -- that's their motto. And so the little people toil on while the rich fucks are always partying like it's Saturnalia." Here he sighed and took a great swig of his drink before carrying on: "Oh, only if we had such lion-hearted men here as when I first came from Asia. Ah, that was living. Back then, if the flour was shit quality, they would've beat those bastard to a pulp, like if Juppiter hisself had been pissed at 'em. But I remember Safinius -- he lived near the old arch when I was boy; he seemed more a hot pepper than a man, for wherever he went the ground caught fire! But he was straight-talker, reliable, a man's man, you could play liar's dice with him in a dark room. Oh, how he used to needle and drag them all in the Senate House -- and he did it directly, not beating around the bush! His voice carried like a trumpet into the forum! He neither sweated nor spat -- you know, I think there was something Asiatic in him, but the hell if I know. How kindly he would say hello back to you, call everyone by name, as if he was one of us. Anyways, back then grain was as cheap as dirt, and you couldn't finish off the bread you bought with a penny even if you ate it with someone else; nowadays I've seen eye of round steaks bigger'n than the loaves you can't buy, grain's so pricey!" Here two heavy sighs from the depths of the speaker's soul interrupted his tirade. "Everyday is worse! This town, for instance -- backwards as a calf's tail. And why must we have an aedile who's worth three Carian figs? The asshole cares more to make a penny than to make our lives better! He makes more at home in a day than others get in their inheritances! I know where he once got a million in one swoop. If we grew some balls, he'd not be so happy with hisself. Now people are lions at home, but foxes out-a-doors. What concerns me is that I've already eaten through my clothing budget -- I've been reduced to rags as it is, and if they keep gouging us with the price of grain, then I'm gonna have to sell my smaller houses. What is it going to come to if neither the gods nor decent folk have mercy on this town? I like my family as much as I think everything comes from the gods. No one these days thinks heaven is heaven, no one keeps a fast, and no one gives a fuck about Jove -- but everyone got their eyes wide open and alert on their bank accounts. Back in the day, females be going uphill barefoot, hair disheveled, hearts 'n' minds pure, to pray to Jove for rain -- and he'd answer either right then or never, dropping jars 'n' jugfulls worth of rainwater on 'em, and they'd all come back down wet as drowned rats. But now? The gods can't be bothered to move, they're so sick of us, 'cuz we ain't religious. Our crops just lie there and --"
[XLI] "Please," interrupted Echion, a self-described vintage sartorialist who sold nothing but old rags, "do try to speak more positively -- 'The wind bloweth this way, now that,' as the country folk say after losing track of a spotted pig. What does not happen today will happen tomorrow. And so, life trudges on. I mean, what fucking country can you possibly name is better off if it had any real men? This country is going through a tough time, but we ain't alone. We ought to be happy, cuz everywhere is as far away from heaven as everywhere else. If you lived anywhere else, you would say that pigs walked around here already roasted -- the grass is always greener. Look here: we're about to get a three-day party with gladiator games! None of that training-school shit, but most of them will be freedmen! Our Titus will be giving these games. He's big-brained and hot-headed -- they'll either go one way or another, but they'll certainly be something. I'm like family to him, and he's not the changeable sort. He'll put up the best blades there are, the kind which never back down -- it'll be like butchery on display, for all the crowd to see. And he's got the funds too: he was left thirty mil when his dad off'd it -- the old man didn't go well...But Titus could blow through four hundred-kay; his inheritance wouldn't feel a thing, and his name would live forever!
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