SOURCE: "Chapter VII, Part II" in A Romantic Interpretation of Propertius: Vincenzo Padula, translated by Paola Valeri Tomaszuk, L. U. Japadre L'Aquila, 1971, pp. 73-82.

[In the following excerpt from a work first published in 1871, Padula discusses Propertius's passionate love for Cynthia and asserts that it brought forth a new kind of love poetry.]

… First of all we must realize that the love that made [Propertius] burn for Cynthia—from now on I shall call her thus—was of a very passionate kind. He wanted her alone²⁶, lived for her alone. War is near, young men are arming. Does he care? He stays in Rome and says: "My battles, hard battles, I wage only with my lady." (III, 5) Someone driven by desire of gain loses his life in the waves? He exclaims: "Cruel Aquilo, you shall never see sail of mine: let me lie hidden before my lady's door and seek no adventure." (III, 7) Before the door, yet not inactive, excluded and ill-treated by his mistress, he groans and suffers: but what happens? To Vergil's remark²⁷ "Happy is he who has been able to know the causes of things", Propertius, instructed in a more refined philosophy, gives a most charming reply: "Happy is he who is able to weep in front of his darling." (I, 1.2)

Furthermore his mistress angrily upsets the table, throws goblets into his face, pulls and tears his hair. He not only does not grieve but actually enjoys it and ends up with these words of wisdom that in their brevity and force would make even our Alfieri envious: "I want to suffer in love or hear you suffering: my own tears or yours I want to see." (III, 8)

In vain Bassus, a poet of some ability whose works are not extant, tried to dissuade his friend from that love. As he admonishes and scolds the poet, Propertius answers: "This beauty of hers is but the least part of what drives me to madness: there are greater charms, Bassus, for which it is worth while dying of love: a fair complexion, a grace resulting from many skills, and those undercover delights she allows me to enjoy." (I, 4)

In vain Tullus too (1,6), a friend of Propertius, asked the poet to accompany him on a journey to Asia, for nothing could move the poet from Rome and from Cynthia's doorway, in front of which he lay awake through the nights.

Cynthia returned his love. Although she had the soul of a harlot and sheared her rich lovers as if they were stolid rams with golden fleeces²⁸, yet Propertius whom the confiscation²⁹ had deprived of his property, she loved without payment, with no thought of gain, won not by rich gifts, but by his fame as a poet and by the charming verses he wrote in her honour³⁰. This is obvious from his own words: "Yet not a single night have I bought with costly gifts." (II, 20); therefore those critics who think otherwise are wrong, nor does II, 24 confirm their opinion. In that elegy the poet attempts to show that men are less affected by slander if they seek common street-walkers than if they have a liaison with an upperclass woman: therefore when he says: "and now she wants [me] to carry a fan made of proud peacock's feathers, now a cool hard ball of crystal; and she makes me lose my temper when she requests me to get ivory dice for her and such worthless gifts as glitter in the Via Sacra. Yet, may I be struck dead if I begrudge her the expense …", anybody would realize that Cynthia did not want the poet to buy her a fan or a ball; she merely wanted him to play the part of the maid and carry them for her when she grew tired of carrying them. As far as the dice are concerned, one should notice that to buy (emere) is one thing and to demand (poscere) is another; and the poet complains not because he had to buy the dice, but because by purchasing those trifles^30b in public, in Cynthia's name and with Cynthia's money, with the whole city talking, he was covering himself with infamy and clearly playing the part of the servant. Therefore the cost which he did not begrudge did not refer to money, but to his reputation which he was ruining in this way; and this is in agreement with what he says in the preceding lines about women of the lowest class "who cause you less talk". On the other hand let us assume for a moment that Cynthia sometimes demanded presents; what does this prove? What kind of presents were they anyway? Cheap presents that were for sale on the Via Sacra. When did she demand them? Of course when she felt that her lover was angry with her. So who can fail to see that when that bewitching girl demanded those little presents she only wanted to tease Propertius? Moreover this is obvious from the fact that since Cynthia's mother and sister, living on what she earned, could not bear to have Propertius contribute nothing to their welfare and therefore shut him out of the house, Cynthia, smitten by love, deceived their watchful eyes and often, by means of a rope lowered from her window, let herself down and into the arms of her lover. But this would not have happened if Propertius had enjoyed the right and the power of a lover who is solvent and actually paying in cash, and had been able to enter her house freely, like a master, not like a thief

Therefore Cynthia loved Propertius sincerely; but since the more cultured she was the more intolerant she was of any binding relationship, she clearly laid down the following rules for Propertius to follow: when a rich lover, who paid with ready cash, came, Propertius was to depart; when the lover went, Propertius was to return; if he was willing to obey, all was well; if not, he was on his own. Therefore Cynthia was allowed to do whatever she wanted, not so Propertius. It was not difficult to abide by those terms at the beginning, when he was impatient to attain the longed for delights, but he could not put up with them all the time. For Cynthia was a glittering diamond with many facets and, beseiged by many rich lovers, passed from one to the other; the poet on the other hand suffered from the pangs of jealousy. He says: "Everything fills me with jealousy: the portraits of young men, of gods³¹", an infant boy in his cradle, even your mother's kisses to you, your sister, any of your girl friends who may chance to sleep with you. All things fill me with the fear of losing you. Forgive my cowardice. Alas, I even suspect, wretch that I am, every woman to be a man in disguise." (II, 6)

Hence his anger, hence his tears. Therefore a sympathetic reader who has a sense of justice feels sorry for Propertius, yet does not disapprove of Cynthia. For whatever that cultured girl did, she was within her rights and kept her side of the bargain with her lover.

But surely nothing, even in our times, is more common in Italy, especially in Naples, than this kind of love based on the same terms. Among the lower classes one can see daily young couples deeply in love, where the lover gives nothing and obtains all, while the woman, who loves in return, gives all and feels free to do as she pleases. This has not been understood by the critics, since they never compare what has happened in the past with what is still happening now and as a result of this they slandered Cynthia and Propertius with unjust accusations while the poetic force of his verse escaped their grasp³².

This kind of love equally familiar to us and to our ancestors was depicted also by Terence in his Eunuchus where Thais entreats her lover Phaedria to let the soldier Thraso take precedence for two nights since she wanted to take a slave girl away from Thraso. She asks him, I say, and since the request seemed natural even in those times, he agrees, with these words: "Of course one must do what you wish." (1.2, v. 105)

Then, from a love based on such conditions, a new kind of love poetry was born, as new as the love itself on whose billowing waves the poet was tossed. He says to Cynthia: "You alone are my home, you are my parents." (I, 11); "Since you have no brother and no son, may I alone be a brother and a son to you." (II, 18)

What feeling! What truth! Since he did not pay to enjoy his mistress, but just stood by her and helped her with his advice, he could rightly be called a brother; moreover since Cynthia was older he rightly could be considered her son. Therefore three kinds of love had come together into one. Propertius at times loves like a son and so he bears what is just and what is unjust with a spirit of submission; at times like a lover and is driven, carried away, swept off his feet by the tide of passion; at times like a brother and with his arm gently around her he scolds her and gives friendly advice to help her find the straight path^32b.

All these elements which make up the world of beauty that is peculiar to Propertius and is not found in other elegists, ought to be discussed in detail.

Cynthia had gone to take the waters at Baiae, a place that, as the poet neatly puts it, is the foe of chastity; since playboys flocked there from all sides, not so much for the springs as for banquets, drinking parties and love-making. It happened that there Cynthia, forgetting the absent Propertius, defected to a certain individual, apparently a praetor whom we shall meet later. When the poet found out, realizing that his mistress had only availed herself of her right, he not only swallowed the insult, but also kept it hidden in his heart and considered these words a sufficiently strong utterance: "Distance changes women." (I, 13) Cynthia had promised the same praetor who was about to leave for Illyria³³ to accompany him. But since nothing is farther from her mind than entrusting herself to a ship, what does the poet do, what does he devise? He does not disapprove, he does not complain: only he reminds her, to deter her from her plan, of all the dangers and discomforts of travel. No one is so lacking in perception as not to realize that when the poet says: "Do you value this man, whoever he is, so much as to wish to sail anywhere without me?" (I, 8) he grieves not because his sweetheart gives herself to another but because she, at the same time, deserts him.

When that praetor came back rich from Illyria, soon after, Cynthia gave him seven nights and Propertius was shut out all that time. Who would believe how calmly he endured the scorn and the rejection? He does not even dare complain or, when he must, he seeks a deserted and rough spot where, in fear that Cynthia may find out even from the stones, he says: "Here I may safely pour out my secret sorrows if only these lonely crags can keep faith." (I, 18) One should note in the above lines that impune which confirms what I have said before, namely that whatever Cynthia did, she did in her own right, while the poet was not even allowed to be angry. If he became angry, he was punished; if he looked at another woman, he was shut out; as is clear from the following lines: "Against me her hands have no mercy" "I sinned once and was rejected for a whole year." (III, 16) Therefore lying under the sky, at her door, while that praetor was pleading his case in Propertius' bed, he blamed Cynthia's levity yet did not admit that any wrong on her part could force him to leave her: "Do whatever you wish as long as you remain mine." (I, 15) Then kissing her haughty door: "But whatever you are, the woods still echo "Cynthia" for me" (I, 18). And now he cried, now he whispered words through the cracks of the door until it was stealthily opened and, while the exhausted praetor was sleeping, Cynthia let in the poet covered with morning dew³⁴.

Thus Propertius did his tumbling, now falling, now getting up on his feet. No doubt many delights went along with this type of love, for when Cynthia, not able to endure any longer his continuous supplications, decided not to go to Illyria as she had promised the praetor and swore to remain in Rome, who cannot see the overwhelming joy inspiring these lines: "She has preferred to sleep with me in my poor narrow bed and be mine at whatever cost, rather than to own the ancient realm that was Hippodomia's dowry" (I, 8)? Now if you, reader, give a brief thought to that "narrow bed", the sweetest pleasure will slowly flow into your soul.

However, he often casts his obedience aside and acting no more the part of a son, but that of a lover, forgets the bargain struck on that night on which he called the stars to witness, and recalling only her unjust treatment does not abstain from anger, nor spare threats and abuse; this is why those critics err who, judging Cynthia from the insults which the poet, carried away by passion, hurled upon her, gave her the character of a wicked person. Let us now analyse this extraordinary conflict of emotions.

For now, controlling his inner grief, he says: "A boorish lover who never wore ivy on his head would brawl with you; but I am a child of the Muses and for me it will be sufficient to deal lightly with your faithlessness. (II, 5) But suddenly anger rises and he cries out: "But you shall not escape, you must die with me, your blood and mine shall stain this same blade. No matter how shameful this death will be for me, yet however shameful, you shall die." (II, 8)

Now he barks at his rivals, among whom were not only praetors, but also friends of the poet who were ready to set snares for his love; then, as his anger simmers down, he suddenly feels sorry for his rival and gives him advice: "You meanwhile, although she loves you, keep that joy hidden in your silent heart. For in love it is always one's own boasting that, somehow, leaves the deepest wound. Though she invites you often, remember to go only once; what attracts the jealousy of others does not last long." (II, 25)

At times he proposes to leave his flighty and scornful mistress. Now his resolve remains fixed, now his love changes direction, he is really leaving her. But what happens? Soon he repents, changes his mind, and broken by grief he beseeches Cynthia's slave, Lygdamus, to tell him the truth about her: "So you saw her weeping, her hair dishevelled? Did a flood of tears fall from her eyes? And you saw no mirror on her couch? No jewelled ring on her snow-white hands? A sombre robe draped over her soft shoulders? And her perfume caskets closed at the foot of the bed? The house was sad, sad the women at their spinning, and she was spinning among them? They used the wool to dry her tears? She repeated my words of anger with a plaintive voice?" (III, 6)

Now he decides to go away in order to recover from the disease of love: he boards a ship, sets out from Brindisi for Greece. But a storm arises. Then, comparing the threat of the winds, the overcast sky, and the treacherous billows with Cynthia's anger, he exclaims: "Would it not have been an easier task to conquer my lady's heart? Cruel as she is, yet she is unique." (I, 17)

Hence comes his extraordinary conflict of emotions. He accuses her and at the same time, fearing to irritate her excessively, defends her; praises her and calls her an old woman; champs at the bit, yet does not break it; chafes under the yoke, yet does not shake it off; laughs and weeps at the same time; complains, yet is witty while lamenting. For example, Io, as everybody knows, changed first into a heifer, then restored to her former shape, was worshipped in Egypt under the name of Isis. Her cult was becoming very popular in Rome at that time. When Cynthia, intending to take part in this rite, used to leave Propertius' bed, Propertius, angry with Isis, exclaims: "What do you gain in making girls sleep alone? Believe me, your horns will sprout again." (II, 33) Is this not amusing? Is this not pure wit? And here it is worth noting that the poet grieves less from the fact that Cynthia is inconstant, liable to be swayed by the breath of love, than from the fact that she gives herself to others, rejecting him, and not keeping her promises. For these lines: "Hardly ever does she let me come and only after refusing often. Or if she comes to me, she sleeps on the edge of the bed fully clothed" (III, 21), these lines, where the expression "sleeps on the edge of the bed fully clothed" is a charming and delightful picture of feminine cunning, show very clearly that Propertius had surrendered all his personal freedom to Cynthia, yet not to the extent of renouncing the privilege of making love to her as often as he wanted.

But why go any further? Even a casual reader can appreciate the humour which the poet displays in such a striking way when he plays the part of the brother. Without anger, without hatred, he gives Cynthia kindly advice, tries to dissuade her from an excessive cult of the body, recommends seclusion within private walls, praises modesty, belauds chastity etc. Accept the evidence of his own words. Cynthia sits at a table laden with Falernian wine, she bows her head and the garlands on her hair hang low and droop over the cups; fallen petals float in goblets just as the bright blush spreads over the snow-white milk of her cheeks³⁵. The poet is there. Nothing is farther from his mind than going to bed with her. Therefore he urges her to curb her revelry, beseeches her to stop drinking, casting dice, and lowering his eyes and assuming an air of the utmost gravity, he sounds quite like Xenocrates when he preaches: "You drink relentlessly: can midnight not weary you? Is your hand not yet tired of casting dice? A curse on the man who first introduced the strong juice of the grape and polluted wholesome water with his wine … Wine ruins beauty, spoils youth; because of wine often a woman does not recognize her lover."³⁶

But while he throws these words at her, with pompous frowning, and dins his preaching into her ears, he looks up by chance and then at her. She is beautiful: the more she drinks, the more beautiful she becomes. He stares at her, gapes, turns pale and suddenly he says: "What a fool I am: she has not changed at all in spite of all this wine! Drink on: you are beautiful; wine harms you not." (II,33)

O father Apollo, 0 most holy Muses, may your blessing be as certain as my conviction that these sweet lines have dropped from the soft parting lips of Cupid himself! …

Notes

²⁶…Ei unice cupiebat. For cupio used intransitively cf. Caesar, B.G. I, 18: Favere et cupere Helvetiis; Cicero, ad Q. I, Fr. 2.3.10: Quid? ego Fundanio non cupio?

²⁷ Padula's slip. Cf. Vergil, Geo. II, 490.

²⁸ Prop. II, 16, 8.

²⁹pertica: measuring rod of property assessor. See Prop. IV, 1, 130.

³⁰ Prop. I, 8, 40.

^30breculas illas conquirens. For recula = trifle cf. Plautus, fragm. apud Priscian. 3.p.613: Si quidem imperes pro copia, pro recula; Apuleius, Met. IV, p. 148; Donatus, Vit. Virg. init.

³¹ The reading numina instead of the more acceptable nomina is found in C. T. Kuinoel's edition of Propertius (1805).

³² Recently it has not escaped the grasp of J. P. Sullivan who identified it with the Freudian dirneliebe "(Castas odisse puellas: a reconsideration of Propertius I, 1" in Wiener Studien 74, p. 98).

^32bquo se ad bonam frugem recipiat. Cf. Plautus, Trin. 1,2,81: Quin ad frugem corrigis? Cicero, Coel. 12,28: et se ad frugem bonam, ut dicitur, recepisse.

³³ Prop. I, 8.

³⁴ Prop. II, 9, 40-41.

³⁵ Prop. II, 3, 12.

³⁶ Prop. II, 33, 25-28, 33-35.…