Tag: Martial

Baldness and Hair Care in Imperial Rome

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Martial, 6.12 and 6.57

“Fabulla claims as her own the hair she buys!
Hey Paul—wouldn’t you say that she lies?

Iurat capillos esse, quos emit, suos
Fabulla: numquid illa, Paule, peierat

57

“You make fake hair with gel, Pheobus—
Your filthy scalp is covered with drawn-in hair
You don’t need to summon a barber for that head:
A sponge can give you a better shave, Phoebus.”

Mentiris fictos unguento, Phoebe, capillos
et tegitur pictis sordida calua comis.
Tonsorem capiti non est adhibere necesse:
radere te melius spongea, Phoebe, potest.

The loss of hair was a sensitive issue in antiquity too. Suetonius (Life of Domitian, 18) records the emperor Domitian was extremely touchy about his premature loss of hair:

“His baldness offended him so much that he took it as a personal insult if anyone else was slighted for it in humor or seriousness. Nevertheless, in the pamphlet he published addressed to a friend On Haircare, he offered these words to console both of them: “Don’t you see how beautiful and big I am?”* And even so, my hair’s fate awaits me. I endure with a strong spirit the aging of my hair in youth. Know this: nothing is more gripping or brief than beauty.”

*Here, Domitian quotes from Homer’s Iliad where Achilles “consoles” Lykaon before he kills him by pointing to their shared mortality.

caluitio ita offendebatur, ut in contumeliam suam traheret, si cui alii ioco uel iurgio obiectaretur; quamuis libello, quem de cura capillorum ad amicum edidit, haec etiam, simul illum seque consolans, inseruerit: ‘οὐχ ὁράᾳς, οἷος κἀγὼ καλός τε μέγας τε; eadem me tamen manent capillorum fata, et forti animo fero comam in adulescentia senescentem. scias nec gratius quicquam decore nec breuius.’

I guess we can say that not only was Domitian the princeps of the Roman Hair Club for Men, but he was also a member!

Everyone Should Read Sulpicia

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Martial, 10.35

“All girls who desire to please one man
Should read Sulpicia.
All husbands who desire to please one wife
Should read Sulpicia.
She doesn’t write the rage of the Colchian woman
Or repeat the dinners of dire Thyestes.
She doesn’t believe there ever was a Scylla, or Byblis
But she teaches chaste and honest love,
And games, both sweet and a little naughty.
Anyone who judges her poems well
Will say that there never was a cleverer girl,
There never was a girl more reverent!
I think that the jokes of Egeria
In Numa’s dark cave were something like this.
You would have been more humble and learned
With Sulpicia as a teacher or a peer, Sappho:
But if he had seen her by your side,
Harsh Phaon would have loved Sulpicia.
Uselessly: for she would not be wife of the Thunderer
Nor girlfriend to Bacchus or Apollo
Should she live after her Calenus was taken away.”

Omnes Sulpiciam legant puellae,
Uni quae cupiunt viro placere;
Omnes Sulpiciam legant mariti,
Uni qui cupiunt placere nuptae.
Non haec Colchidos adserit furorem 5
Diri prandia nec refert Thyestae;
Scyllam, Byblida nec fuisse credit:
Sed castos docet et probos amores,
Lusus, delicias facetiasque.
Cuius carmina qui bene aestimarit, 10
Nullam dixerit esse nequiorem,
Nullam dixerit esse sanctiorem.
Tales Egeriae iocos fuisse
Udo crediderim Numae sub antro.
Hac condiscipula vel hac magistra 15
Esses doctior et pudica, Sappho:
Sed tecum pariter simulque visam
Durus Sulpiciam Phaon amaret.
Frustra: namque ea nec Tonantis uxor
Nec Bacchi nec Apollinis puella 20
Erepto sibi viveret Caleno.

(there is no way to get Latin hendecasyllables easily into English. I bet Sulpicia could have done it.)

Martial is not referring to the first Sulpicia (whose poetry is recorded with that of Tibullus, book 3) but a second Sulpicia from the time of Domitian. Hmmm. Ten plus books, only one Martial?

Tawdry Tuesday: More (Misogynistic) Mayhem with Martial

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Martial, Epigrams 11.21

As usual, these Tuesday entries will seem truly abominable to some. Caveat Lector.

 

“Lydia is as wide as the ass of a bronze rider’s horse,
Or a fast hoop that sounds its clattering bronze,
Or a wheel crossed untouched by an acrobat,
Or an old shoe wet with muddy water,
Or as the wide nights that wait for wandering birds,
Or the awnings which close Pompey’s theater to the South Wind,
Or as arm-jewelry slipped off a diseased male-hooker,
Or a mattress separated from its Leuconian stuffing,
Or the old trousers of a British pauper,
Or the foul throat of a Revennian Pelican.
I am reputed to have fucked her in a salty fishpond.
I am not sure: I think I fucked the fishpond.”

Lydia tam laxa est equitis quam culus aeni,
quam celer arguto qui sonat aere trochus,
quam rota transmisso totiens inpacta petauro,
quam vetus a crassa calceus udus aqua,
quam quae rara vagos expectant retia turdos,
quam Pompeiano vela negata Noto,
quam quae de pthisico lapsa est armilla cinaedo,
culcita Leuconico quam viduata suo,
quam veteres bracae Brittonis pauperis, et quam
urpe Ravennatis guttur onocrotali.
Hanc in piscina dicor futuisse marina.
Nescio; piscinam me futuisse puto.

A Tawdry Tuesday Trio from Martial

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Warning: As usual, these are not for the faint of heart or those with delicate sensibilities.

 

11.62

“Lesbia swears that she has never been fucked for free.
This is true, when she wants to be fucked, she has to pay.”

Lesbia se jurat gratis numquam esse fututam.
Verum’st. Cum futui vult, numerare solet.

11.63

“You spy on me when I bathe, Philomusus,
And then you ask me why my smooth boys
Are so well-hung? Philomusus,
I’ll answer your query simply:
So they can ass-fuck peeping Toms.”

Spectas nos, Philomuse, cum lavamur,
et quare mihi tam mutuniati
sint leves pueri subinde quaeris.
Dicam simpliciter tibi roganti:
pedicant, Philomuse, curiosos.

11.66
“You are a spy and a gossip;
you are a liar and a crook,
And you are a cock-sucker and a pimp.
I am amazed, Vacerra
That you don’t have any money.”

Et delator es et calumniator,
et fraudator es et negotiator,
et fellator es et lanista. Miror
quare non habeas, Vacerra, nummos.

Tawdry Tuesday: Sex Therapy and Extreme Erectile Function with Martial

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Martial, Epigrams 11.71

“Leda informed her ancient husband that she is crazy
And complains that she needs to be fucked.
But as she weeps and groans, she denies that sanity is worth the price
And claims instead that she prefers to die.
Her husband pleads for her to live, not to squander her best years—
And the act he does not perform himself to others he allows.
Immediately the gentleman doctors arrive and the lady medics leave:
Feet are raised! What a serious treatment!”

Hystericam vetulo se dixerat esse marito
et queritur futui Leda necesse sibi;
sed flens atque gemens tanti negat esse salutem
seque refert potius proposuisse mori.
Vir rogat ut vivat virides nec deserat annos,
et fieri quod iam non facit ipse sinit.
Protinus accedunt medici medicaeque recedunt,
tollunturque pedes. O medicina gravis!

11.72
“Natta swallows his own Draucus’ ‘little penis’—
Compared to him, Priapus is a Eunuch!”

Drauci Natta sui vorat pipinnam,
collatus cui gallus est Priapus.

Tawdry Tuesday: Martial Turns a “Butter Face” Joke into a Poem

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Epigram XI, 102

 

“He didn’t lie when he told me, Lydia,
That you have a beautiful body but not a face.
It’s like this, if you are quiet and lie back silent
As a picture in wax or in paint.
But every time you speak you ruin your flesh too,
No one’s tongue inflicts as much self-harm as yours.
Make sure that the aedile neither sees nor hears you.
It is a bad omen whenever a statue breaks into speech.

 

Non est mentitus qui te mihi dixit habere
formosam carnem, Lydia, non faciem.
Est ita, si taceas et si tam muta recumbas
quam silet in cera vultus et in tabula.
Sed quotiens loqueris, carnem quoque, Lydia, perdis
et sua plus nulli quam tibi lingua nocet.
Audiat aedilis ne te videatque caveto:
portentum’st, quotiens coepit imago loqui.

 

 

If you need something a little simpler or less mean as a palate cleanser after that, might we suggest the following couplet?

Epigrams, XI, 97

 

“I can perform four times in one night, but I’ll be damned
If I can manage once in four years with you, Telesilla.”

 

Una nocte quater possum: sed quattuor annis
si possum, peream, te Telesilla semel.

[Martial Wants] A Lucretia on the Street, but a Lais Between the Sheets (Epigram 11.104)

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“Wife, leave my house or adopt my ways!
I am not a Curius, a Numa or a Tatius.
Nights made happy with drink please me:
But you hurry to leave with water to drink.
You love the shadows, but I’m happy to play
With a lamp as witness or with light let in on my ‘bulge’.
Tunics and obscuring robes must cover you:
But no girl could ever be naked enough for me!
Kisses to mimic eager doves delight me;
But you give those from a grandmother’s ‘good morning’.
It is beneath you to help out with movement or voice,
Not even fingers, as if you were readying incense and wine.
Phrygian slaves used to masturbate outside the door
Whenever the wife sat atop her Hectorean ‘horse’;
Chaste Penelope always used to keep her hand down there,
Even when the Ithacan was snoring!
You won’t abide anal sex! Cornelia permitted this to Gracchus!
Julia allowed Pompey; Porcia bent for you, Brutus!
When the Dardanian was not yet his servant mixing sweet wine,
Juno was Jupiter’s Ganymede.
If you want to be grave, then be Lucretia all day
But at night I want a Lais.”

Uxor, vade foras aut moribus utere nostris:
non sum ego nec Curius nec Numa nec Tatius.
Me jucunda juvant tractae per pocula noctes:
tu properas pota surgere tristis aqua.
Tu tenebris gaudes: me ludere teste lucerna
et juvat admissa rumpere luce latus.
Fascia te tunicaeque obscuraque pallia celant:
at mihi nulla satis nuda puella jacet.
basia me capiunt blandas imitata columbas:
tu mihi das aviae qualia mane soles.
Nec motu dignaris opus nec voce juvare
nec digitis, tamquam tura merumque pares:
masturbabantur Phrygii post ostia servi,
Hectoreo quotiens sederat uxor equo,
et quamvis Ithaco stertente pudica solebat
illic Penelope semper habere manum.
Pedicare negas: dabat hoc Cornelia Graccho,
Julia Pompeio, Porcia, Brute, tibi;
dulcia Dardanio nondum miscente ministro
pocula Juno fuit pro Ganymede Jovi.
Si te delectat gravitas, Lucretia toto
sis licet usque die: Laida nocte volo.

*Lais was a name for a prostitute from the time of the Peloponnesian War.

My Book Doesn’t Have My (Chaste) Taste: Martial on His Dirty Little, um, Book

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Martial, Epigrams Book 11.15

“I do have drafts that Cato’s wife
And those dreadful Sabine women might read:
But I want this whole little book to laugh
and to be dirtier than other little books.
Let it soak up wine and not shudder
To be died dark with Cosmian ink,
Let it play with the boys and love the girls
And let it just name directly that ‘thing’
From which we are born, the parent of all
Which holy Numa called a little dick.
Remember still, Apollinoris, that
These verses are Saturnalian.
This little book’s morals aren’t mine!”

Sunt chartae mihi quas Catonis uxor
et quas horribiles legant Sabinae:
hic totus volo rideat libellus
et sit nequior omnibus libellis.
Qui vino madeat nec erubescat
pingui sordidus esse Cosmiano,
ludat cum pueris, amet puellas,
nec per circuitus loquatur illam,
ex qua nascimur, omnium parentem,
quam sanctus Numa mentulam vocabat.
Versus hos tamen esse tu memento
Saturnalicios, Apollinaris:
mores non habet hic meos libellus.

Lesbia’s Dirty Dress (NSFW) Martial, 11.99

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WARNING: This is another of Martial’s dirty poems, and I have done nothing to soften the Latin into more “decent” English.

 

“I noticed, Lesbia, that whenever you get up from your chair, that dirty little dress of yours gives you a good assfucking. When you try to dig it out, with right hand or left, it’s always with tears and a groan: it’s all caught up when it passes too far between the Symplegades* that are those giant buttcheeks of yours. You want to fix this nasty little problem? I’ll tell you how, Lesbia: I think that you should neither sit down nor get up!”

De cathedra quotiens surgis—iam saepe notavi—,
pedicant miserae, Lesbia, te tunicae.
Quas cum conata es dextra, conata sinistra
vellere, cum lacrimis eximis et gemitu:
sic constringuntur gemina Symplegade culi
et nimias intrant Cyaneasque natis.
Emendare cupis vitium deforme? docebo:
Lesbia, nec surgas censeo nec sedeas.

*The mythical “clashing rocks” which were supposed to pose an incredible danger to ships attempting to pass through them.

 

Tantalizing Testimonia: A Collection of Tidbits on the Homeric Batrakhomuomakhia

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Yes, we are obsessed with the Homeric “Battle of Frogs and Mice”–but that obsession is nearing its telos as we get closer to completing our commentary.  Here is a random collection of ancient testimonies about the poem:

Greek Anthology, Exhortatory Epigrams 90.1–2:

῞Ομηρος αὐτοῦ γυμνάσαι γνῶσιν θέλων, / τῶν βατράχων ἔπλασε καὶ μυῶν μῦθον.

“Because he wanted to exercise his mind / Homer made up the tale of frogs and mice”

Preface to the Scholia to the Batrakhomuomakhia

“[Homer] adapted epic for young children who were especially excited for games [paignia], those whom a general education still milk-fed”.

ἁρμόζει μείραξιν ἁπαλοῖς ὲπτοημένοις περὶ τὰ παίγνια, ὅσους δηλαδὴ ἔτι ἐγκύκλιος παίδευσις γαλακτοτροφεῖ

Plutarch, On the Malice of Herodotus

“And last of all, [he made] the Greeks who were stationed at Plataia ignorant of the contest right up to the end of it, as if there were a Frog-War going on, the kind of thing Pigres wrote while playing around nonsensically in epic verse.”

τέλος δέ, καθημένους ἐν Πλαταιαῖς ἀγνοῆσαι μέχρι τέλους τὸν ἀγῶνα τοὺς ῞Ελληνας, ὥσπερ βατραχομαχίας γινομένης, ἣν Πίγρης ὁ ᾿Αρτεμισίας ἐν ἔπεσι παίζων καὶ φλυαρῶν ἔγραψε.

Statius, Preface to Silvae 8-10

“But we read the Culex and we know the Batrachomachia too / there is no famous poet who has not toyed in style more relaxed than in his other works”

sed et Culicem legimus et Batrachomachiam etiam agnoscimus, nec quisquam est inlustrium poetarum qui non aliquid operibus suis stilo remissiore praeluserit 

Martial, Epigram 14.183

“Read the frogs sung in Maeonian song / or my trifles to smooth out your brow”

, Perlege Maeonio cantatas carmine ranas / Et frontem nugis solvere disce meis ().

Plut. Life of Agesilaos. 15.5:

“Men, when we were defeating Darius there, it was like a Mouse-battle in Arcadia”

῎Εοικεν, ὦ ἄνδρες, ὅτε Δαρεῖον ἡμεῖς ἐνικῶμεν ἐνταῦθα, ἐκεῖ τις ἐν ᾿Αρκαδίᾳ γεγονέναι μυομαχία