"You mistake me," said I, "that's not the occasion of my sighs, there's another and much greater cause:" And, as all men are naturally inclin'd to communicate their grief; I laid open my case to him, beginning with Ascyltos's treachery, which I aggravated; and, with repeated sighs, often wisht his injustice to me might have deserv'd pardon: but that now he was a staunch villain, and in lust more subtle than the bawds themselves.
The old man, seeing me sincere, began to comfort me; and the better to effect it, told me what formerly had happen'd to himself on the like occasion.
"In Asiam cum a quaestore essem stipendio eductus, hospitium Pergami accepi. Ubi cum libenter habitarem non solum propter cultum aedicularum, sed etiam propter hospitis formosissimum filium, excogitavi rationem, qua non essem patri familiae suspectus amator. Quotiescunque enim in convivio de usu formosorum mentio facta est, tam vehementer excandui, tam severa tristitia violari aures meas obsceno sermone nolui, ut me mater praecipue tanquam unum ex philosophis intueretur. Iam ego coeperam ephebum in gymnasium deducere, ego studia eius ordinare, ego docere ac praecipere, ne quis praedator corporis admitteretur in domum. . . .
"Forte cum in triclinio iaceremus, quia dies sollemnis ludum artaverat pigritiamque recedendi imposuerat hilaritas longior, fere circa mediam noctem intellexi puerum vigilare. Itaque timidissimo murmure votum feci et 'domina' inquam 'Venus, si ego hunc puerum basiavero, ita ut ille non sensiat, cras illi par columbarum donabo.' Audito voluptatis pretio puer stertere coepit. Itaque aggressus simulantem aliquot basiolis invasi. Contentus hoc principio bene mane surrexi electumque par columbarum attuli expectanti ac me voto exsolvi.
"Proxima nocte cum idem liceret, mutavi optionem et 'si hunc' inquam 'tractavero improba manu, et ille non senserit, gallos gallinaceos pugnacissimos duos donabo patienti.' Ad hoc votum ephebus ultro se admovit et, puto, vereri coepit, ne ego obdormiscerem. Indulsi ergo sollicito, totoque corpore citra summam voluptatem nne ingurgitavi. Deinde ut dies venit, attuli gaudenti quicquid promiseram. Ut tertia nox licentiam dedit, consurrexi . . . ad aurem male dormientis 'dii' inquam 'immortales, si ego huic dormienti abstulero coitum plenum et optabilem, pro hac felicitate cras puero asturconem. Macedonicum optimum donabo, cum hac tamen exceptione, si ille non senserit.' Nunquam altiore somno ephebus obdormivit. Itaque primum implevi lacentibus papillis manus, mox basio inhaesi, deinde in unum omnia vota coniunxi. Mane sedere in cubiculo coepit atque expectare consuetudinem meam. Scis quanto facilius sit, columbas gallosque gallinaceos emere quam asturconem, et praeter hoc etiam timebam, ne tam grande munus suspectam faceret humanitatem meam. Ego aliquot horis spatiatus in hospitium reverti nihilque aliud quam puerum basiavi. At ille circumspiciens ut cervicem meam iunxit amplexu, 'rogo' inquit 'domine, ubi est asturco?'
"Cum ob hanc offensam praeclusissem mihi aditum, quem feceram, iterum ad licentiam redii. Interpositis enim paucis diebus, cum similis casus nos in eandem fortunam rettulisset, ut intellexi stertere patrem, rogare coepi ephebum, ut reverteretur in gratiam mecum, id est ut pateretur satis fieri sibi, et cetera quae libido distenta dictat. At ille plane iratus nihil aliud dicebat nisi hoc: 'aut dormi, aut ego iam dicam patri.' Nihil est tam arduum, quod non improbitas extorqueat. Dum dicit: 'patrem excitabo,' irrepsi tamen et male repugnanti gaudium extorsi. At ille non indelectatus nequitia mea, postquam diu questus est deceptum se et derisum traductumque inter condiscipulos, quibus iactasset censum meum, 'videris tamen' inquit 'non ero tui similis. Si quid vis, fac iterum.' Ego vero deposita omni offensa cum puero in gratiam redii ususque beneficio eius in somnum delapsus sum. Sed non fuit contentus iteratione ephebus planae maturitatis et annis ad patiendum gestientibus. Itaque excitavit me sopitum et 'numquid vis?' inquit. Et non plane iam molestum erat munus. Utcunque igitur inter anhelitus sudoresque tritus, quod voluerat, accepit, rursusque in somnum decidi gaudio lassus. Interposita minus hora pungere me manu coepit et dicere: 'quare non facimus?' tum ego totiens excitatus plane vehementer excandui et reddidi illi voces suas: 'aut dormi, aut ego iam patri dicam.'"
This discourse diverting my grief, I began to question the old gentleman about the antiquity of some pieces, the stories of others I was not acquainted with, the reason why this age don't come up to the former, and why the most excellent arts are lost, of which painting has not left the least sign of its being? "Our love of riches," reply'd he, "has been the only occasion: for in old time, when virtue was admir'd for its own sake, all liberal arts flourisht, and the only emulation among men, was to make discoveries that might profit the age. 'Twas in those times Democritus, content with poverty, found out the vertue of most herbs; and lest there might be any hidden excellence in stones and trees, spent the rest of his life in experiments about them: 'Twas then Eudoxus abandon'd the world, to live on the top of a high mountain, to discover the motions of the heavens and Crisippus, the better to qualify his mind for invention, went thrice through a course of physick.
"But to return to imagery, Lysippus with that diligence imploy'd himself about one statue, that, neglecting his living, he dyed, for want: and Myron, whose brazen images of men and beasts, you might have mistaken for living ones, dy'd very poor: but our age is so wholly devoted to drinking and whoring, we're so far from inventing, that we don't acquaint our selves even with those arts that are found to our hands: But, accusing antiquity, our schools become seminaries of vice only: what's our logick? How little do we know of astronomy? Where's our philosopher? What master of eloquence could indure to hear it so murdred in a pulpit? What wise man cou'd suffer the noise? Our business in the temple is not to inform our minds, or correct our lives; but as soon as we enter the place, one out of love to his friend, being made his heir, promises a sacrifice to the gods, if they'd please to take him out of this troublesome world; another, if they'd direct him to a treasure: the like a third promises if they'd make him happy in a small estate of 300l. per an. or so: The very Senate that shou'd show an exemplary conduct, in occasions of doubtful events, have devoted mighty sums of gold to religious uses: And who wou'd not but admire, that, he is perswaded hath charms enough to make the gods themselves comply! You need not wonder why painting is lost, when gold appears more beautiful both to gods and men, than any thing Apelles or Phidias are now esteem'd madly to have spent their time about: But seeing your curiosity is wholly taken up with that piece, that shews you a contracted history of the Siege of Troy: I'll try to give you the story more at large in verse.
"Now Troy had felt a siege of ten long years,
Concern and sorrow in each face appears:
The Grecian prophet too, with terrour fill'd,
What fate decree'd, but doubtfully reveal'd:
When thus Apollo——
From the proud top of Ida's rising hill
A lofty pile of mighty cedars fell,
Whose trunks into a dreadful fabrick force,
And, let it bear the figure of a horse:
The spacious hollows, of whose mountain-womb,
The choice and flower of your troops entomb.
The Greeks, enrag'd to be so long repell'd,
With their chief troops the beasts vast bowel's fill'd,
And thus their arms and all their hopes conceal'd.
Strange was the fate the rul'd unhappy Troy,
Who thought them gone, and lasting peace t'enjoy,
So the inscription of the machine said,
And treacherous Synon, for their ruin made.
All from their arms at once, and troubles run
To view the horse, and left th' unguarded town
So over-joy'd they wept: Thus even fears
When joy surprizes, melt away in tears.
Enrag'd Laocoon, with prophetick beat,
Prest thro' the crowd, that on his humour wait;
And with a javelin pierc'd the fatal horse,
But fate retards the blow, and stopt its force:
The spear jumpt back upon the priest, so nigh,
It gave new credit to the treachery.
Yet to confirm how weak was the attempt
'Gainst what the gods will have, his javelin sent,
Resum'd with double fury, thro' his side,
And the large concave of the machine try'd:
When from within the captive Grecians roar;
And the beast trembles with another's fear.
Yet to the town the present they convey,
Thus a new stragem does Troy betray;
While to the taken, she becomes a prey.
But other monsters there enform our eyes,
What mighty seas from Teuedos arise!
The frighted Neptune seems to seek the shore,
With such a noise, with such a dreadful roar:
As in a silent night, when, from afar,
The dismal sound of wrecks invades the ear:
When rolling on the waves two mighty snakes,
Unhappy Troy descry'd; whose circling stroaks,
Had drove the swelling surges on the rocks.
Like lofty ships they on the billows ride,
And with rais'd breasts the foaming flood divide:
Their crests they brandish and red eye-balls raise,
That all around dispence a sulphurous blaze.
To shore advancing, now the waves appear
All fire; unwonted ratlings fill the air.
The ocean trembles at their dreadful hiss;
All are amaz'd: When in a Trojan dress;
And holy wreaths their sacred temples bind,
Laocoon's sons were by the snakes entwin'd:
Now t'wards heaven their little hands are thrown
Each for his brother, not himself does moan,
And prays to save his ruin by his own.
Both dye at last, thro' fear each other shou'd,
And to give death a greater pomp, the good
Laocoon to their rescue vainly run,
Now gorg'd with death, they drag him on the ground
Up to the altar, where devoted lies
The priest himself, a panting sacrifice.
Thus with his blood the temple they prophane;
Losing their gods; Troy's ruin thus began:
Now the bright taper of the night appears,
Gayly attended with a train of stars:
When midst the Trojans, dead in sleep and wine,
The Grecians execute their dire design:
When from the open'd caverns of the horse,
Like a large flood, their hidden troops did gush;
And now deliver'd, leave their horse and fear,
With the same wanton motions colts appear:
When from the plow, and heavy collar freed,
They shake their rising crests, and try their speed.
Their swords they brandish, and their shields they rear,
And fix their helmets, then begin the war:
A party here o' th' drunken Trojans light,
And send them snoring to eternal night;
Another there now made their altars smoke,
And against Troy, Troy's guardian gods invoke."
When Eumolpus had gone thus far in his story, the people that were walking there, began to fling stones at him: But he, conscious of his merit, cover'd his head, and took up his heels: I, fearing they wou'd have taken me for a poet too, made after him: When we were out of stone shot of the enemy, "I beseech you, sir," said I, "what will you do with this disease of yours? I don't wonder at the peoples humour, since I have hardly been acquainted with you two hours, and your entertainment has been more poetry than the conversation of a man. I think I must fill my pocket with stones, that when I perceive you going into a fit, I may bleed you in the head for it, with one of 'em."