[A guest-post yet again. A nervous affliction of the Limbs has paralyzed poor Epaph., leaving yr humble Correspondent bereft of his typickal vigor. In my distress, a Friend from the crowded Cittie of Williamsbourg has volunteer'd to write. Soon enough ye shall be acquaint'd; Learning crowds his Stile, sometime to Disadvantage. His Brains are dusty & coiled as an old Scroll - and as easily, come apart.]
Insofar as I am able, please allow me, under yr kind & expansive Graciousness, to offer sincerest & most eloquent Greetings to you, my Reader. Under yr Eyes, shou'd you agree to such an insolent & impetuously daring Imposition, shall pass a Rivulet, a coursing Flood of images. Myself, a mere Waif with roll'd Pantaloons on the Shore, shall assay a Poke, with my fishing-stick, whereby I might angle-out some delicious Catch - both to sate the Soul, & repast the Mind.
Ovidius gives out the Tale thus, in barbarous & low Manner, as usual:
That nigh on Halicarnassus, in the cool, dark Shadows of a Forest-glade, Hermaphroditus bathed, washing his youthful Limbs in the purest water of auld Anatolia. Born of Hermes, by the noble & pure Aphrodite's loins, Hermaphroditus had grown to be the comeliest of Youths. The Souls of his parents, Heaven-born, had drawn the Lines of his Face - so that none cou'd deny the beauty of Hermaphroditus, nor anyone begin to approach him.
But for one - Salmacis. This most uncouth Chapter, where we do see the moist Depths of Woman's cavernous Vanity, warns & cautions all those young Boys who might be tempted to stray from Study, and to ennervate their poor, pure Limbs, in the Bed of some lusty Temptress. These lusty Maids most afflict our Quarter of the Globe, most specially Williamsbourg; for we are just as Hermaphroditus was - mere Youths, a gentle Foundling with no more uncouth & bloody Desires than cou'd a Dandelion have! Yet all besides, the Rude Manners of the frontier surround us - the toga'd yester-strumpets, replaced now with buckskinn'd & cotton'd Hussies, always hawking their wares.
And none do they please, so much as themselves!:
"...oft would bathe her in the chrystal tide,
Oft with a comb her dewy locks divide;
Now in the limpid streams she views her face,
And drest her image in the floating glass:
On beds of leaves she now repos'd her limbs,
Now gather'd flow'rs that grew about her streams..."
So do we see the auto-Erotic, the self-caressing Tendency of these Women. Not to be trusted, not a single one, for they spiral & snare with their soft, their sweet & perfum'd, their tumescent bosoms - But! I anticipate myself.
Whilst caressing herself in loathsome Desire, Salmacis did regard her prey:
Here the innocent Laddie is nearly obscur'd by those monstrous, unearthly Buttocks, and that Arm that hangs jellied, like a Sausage fill'd with Pudding. She is most unnaturally contort'd, twist'd & turn'd into the 1,000 Arabesques of feminine Witchery. See how even her very Garments, even her Scarlett rag of whore-dom, weaves & twines about her sinful Legs, the very Causeway to Hermaphroditus' Ruin!
& yet her naif Modesty makes her shield her eyes. Oh Woman! That ye cou'd acknowledge the hollow'd Hunger of yr Desires!
And yet another, more robust View:
"...behold a willing bride in me!"
And now we come to the Conclusion of this wretch'd Tale. Overcome with Lust, Salmacis jump'd to Hermaphroditus. But, like a good little Stripling, Herm. had no understanding:
"The boy knew nought of love, and toucht with shame,
He strove, and blusht, but still the blush became..."
Alas! That even in his Struggle to escape the uicious Tart, he comes to yet greater Beauty! And in the above Depicktion, the Artist has again shown us her sturdy Buttocks, well-fortified by much bed-exercise. She has, true, comely-arrang'd her Hair, but left so much of the Graces behind, in her Pursuit, that she seems most lumbering.
The poor Gamin cries, No, no, take me not!
This most pleasing Aspeckt shows the full Beauty of young Hermaphroditus. But yet worse things wait, for the poor Youth! See how he turns, and tries to repel, with commendable Delicacy, Lust, as she tries to drag him into the Ripples of dissolving Water! That water, which:
"...with weak enfeebling streams
Softens the body, and unnerves the limbs."
And, once dragg'd into the Water, then does Salmacis cry her treacherous Prayer, that they might never part.
"So pray'd the nymph, nor did she pray in vain:
For now she finds him, as his limbs she prest,
Grow nearer still, and nearer to her breast;
Till, piercing each the other's flesh, they run
Together, and incorporate in one:
Last in one face are both their faces join'd,
As when the stock and grafted twig combin'd
Shoot up the same, and wear a common rind:
Both bodies in a single body mix,
A single body with a double sex..."
So poor Hermaproditus did become Hermaphrodite; so does the Original come to be mutilated, in the manifold Hybrids of mutant Fancy. How cou'd such Monstrosity stalk the Earth? for keep well in Hand the fact - that Hermaphrodite is nowhere near so warp'd, as is Salmacis' simple-minded Longing, to never be sunder'd from her Folly.
[And Folly, just the other-day, did put me in mind of these speculations.
The Rambles of my Friend Anglus, tho' instructive in some musty way, give way at this Point. Having rubb'd himself raw in the Course of his Speculation, he retreated to his Quarters at college, and no more heard of him this Week past. He is fond of these Letters to me, these Examinations of recondite Subjects, that tend him towards the full unveiling of his obfuscatory Powers.
And yet his twist'd speech recalls me to a Conversation I had. To be resumed...presently:]
I, un-italicised Bainton, was in the midst of heady Negotiations. A squad of rumptious & rambuncting Ministers of state jostled at my Door, whilst many other robed Notables tapp'd their Counters, waiting for my Lecteur of the day. My very Bones buzz'd with the incessant Syllables, the continual hum of their suffocating Chatter.
Then, as I was to take the Lectern, a most astonishing Wonder of the Lecture-hall occur'd. A light Ringing, something like the clinking of a Champagne glass off the Pearls of a Provencal hussy, sound'd from the back of the Room. One of the Councillors, a Magistrate in knickers, suggest'd I answer this Ring. I pick'd up the bone-shaped Conveyance, and was astonished when a tinny & worn Voice bark'd thro' my ear!
"Epaph! Epaph Bainton!"
"Aye, Madam."
"Have ye written a walking-pass for young Sire Quincy?"
"Aye."
"Why?" At this I quite lost my Tongue. Insult to Honor & Name was plain enough; but the Idiocy of the Query hung in the Air, heavy as the scent of a rott'd Mind.
"He had been detain'd by other Worthies. I thought it suitable that he ought not suffer Punishment for leaving his Bookes in my Quarters."
"Mmm. Yes. They need their books at all Times. You cannot write such a Pass. Don't write that again. We'll dialogue about this."
Sputtering, I resumed my quaestio on the Import of Naturall Law. But I cannot lie - I was discomfort'd. For what kind of World, wou'd hermaphrodite a Noun, into a Verb?
No comments:
Post a Comment