Podagra

THE GOUT (A Mock-Tragedy)

Characters: The Gout-Sufferer, Chorus, Lady Gout, A Messenger, The Doctors, The Tortures (Pains)

GOUT-SUFFERER O hateful name, O name detested by the gods, Gout, much-lamented, child of Cocytus, whom in the deep-shadowed hollows of Tartarus Megaera the Fury bore forth from her womb and nursed at her breast, and into your bitter infant lips Alecto let her milk drip down — which of the powers, then, sent you up into the light, ill-named as you are? You came to mankind as a curse. For if upon the dead there followed some requital for the sins they did in the light of day, then Tantalus need not be punished with his drink, nor Ixion whirled upon his wheel, nor Sisyphus with his stone, there in the house of Pluto; no — all who have done evil should simply be handed over to your joint-racking torments, seeing how my own wretched and afflicted body, from the tips of my hands to the soles of my feet, with foul humour and the bitter flux of bile, this violent vapour binding tight my passages, stands fast, and clenched, draws out my pains. A burning evil runs over my very vitals, my flesh set ablaze by whirling fires, as in a crater brimming with the fire of Etna, or the Sicilian strait, the channel of the sea-girt gulf, where, swelling hard to unwind, the crooked surge coils through the caverns of the rocks. O end ill-foreseen by all mankind, how vainly we all cherish you, deluded by foolish, empty hope.

CHORUS On Dindymus of Cybele the Phrygians raise their inspired cry to tender Attis; and to the note of the Phrygian horn, along the heights of Tmolus, the Lydians shout their revel-song; and frenzied about their tambourines the Corybantes sound in Cretan rhythm their chant, the cry of "Euan!" The trumpet, swelling, rings out, striking up for furious Ares the call of war. But we, for you, Gout, in the first hours of spring, your initiates, fulfil our lamentations, when all the meadow blooms with green-engendering grass, and the trees, under the breath of Zephyr, grow leafy with tender foliage, and through the homes of men the ill-wedded swallow cries, and through the woods by night the Attic nightingale weeps for Itys with her dirges.

GOUT-SUFFERER Ah, helper of my pains, O staff that has been allotted the office of a third foot, prop up my trembling tread and guide my path straight, that I may set a firm footing on the ground. Rise, long-suffering limbs, up from the bed, and leave behind the sheltered roof of the house. Scatter from my eyes the deep night-darkness of the air, going out of doors, and toward the light of the sun draw in the unclouded breeze of bright air; for this is now the fifteenth day since, shut up in gloom, deprived of the sun, I have worn out my body on an unmade bed. My spirit indeed and my eagerness are ready, set on changing my steps and pressing toward the door, but my sluggish body does not serve my longings. Still, hurry on, my heart, knowing that a beggar with the gout, if he wishes to walk and cannot, you may count him among the dead. But come. Who are these, wielding staffs in their hands, their heads crowned with leaves of the elder-tree? For which of the powers do they lead this revel-dance? Can it be, Phoebus Paean, that they honour your worship? But they are not crowned with the leaf of Delphic laurel. Or is some hymn being sung in revel to Bacchus? But there is no ivy-seal upon their hair. Who, then, are you, strangers, that have come to us? Speak, and let fall a true account. Tell me, friends — who is she whom you hymn?

CHORUS And you, who are you, and of what stock, that address us? For as your staff and your gait declare, we see in you an initiate of the unconquered goddess.

GOUT-SUFFERER Am I too, then, one worthy of the goddess?

CHORUS Cyprian Aphrodite, fallen from the drops of heaven, Nereus reared to comely harmony amid the salt sea-waves. And by the springs of Ocean, the white-armed consort of Olympian Zeus, Hera, in her broad embrace Tethys nursed. And from the crown of his immortal head the son of Cronus brought to birth a maiden of fearless nature, far the best of the Olympians, the battle-rousing Athena. But our own goddess, the blessed one, old Ophion first brought forth in his gleaming arms, when the dark chaos ceased and the radiant dawn arose and the all-shining splendour of the sun. Then too the might of Gout appeared. For when the Fate, Clotho, having borne you from her loins, then bathed you, all the light of heaven laughed, and the calm air resounded loudly; and at his milk-rich breasts wealthy Pluto reared you.

GOUT-SUFFERER With what rites does she hold revel over her servants?

CHORUS We pour out no streaming blood by cuts of iron, no neck is twisted in the writhings of loosened hair, nor are our backs struck with rattling knuckle-bones, nor do we feed on the raw, torn flesh of bulls; but when in spring the slender blossom of the elm bursts forth, and the loud-singing blackbird sings upon the branches, then through our limbs a sharp shaft is fixed in us, the initiates, unseen, hidden, sunk into the inmost recesses of our limbs: the foot, the knee, the socket, the ankles, the hips, the thighs, the hands, the shoulder-blades, the arms, the elbows, the wrists — it eats, it grazes, it burns, it masters, it sets afire, it softens, until the goddess bids the pain depart.

GOUT-SUFFERER Then I too, it seems, was unknowingly one of those consecrated to her rites. Come, then, gracious divinity, appear. And together with the initiates I will lead off the hymns, singing the song of the gout-afflicted.

CHORUS Let the windless air be silent, and let every sufferer from the gout keep holy hush. Behold, toward the altars the couch-loving goddess comes, steadying her tread upon a crutch. Hail, far gentlest of the blessed ones, and may you come kindly to your servants, with a beaming eye. Grant a swift release from pains in these spring hours.

LADY GOUT Who among mortals on the earth does not know me, the unconquered mistress of pains, Gout? me, whom neither the vapour of incense propitiates, nor blood poured upon the burning altars, nor a temple hung about with rich statues; whom not even Paean, the physician of all the gods in heaven, has the strength to overcome with drugs, nor Phoebus's son, the deeply-learned Asclepius. For ever since the race of men first sprang into being, all of them dare to cast out my power, forever brewing the contrivances of their drugs. For one man and another tries his art against me: they grind up plantain for me, and parsley, and the leaves of lettuce, and common purslane. Others grind horehound, others water-pepper, others grind nettles, others comfrey, others bring lentils gathered from the marshes, boiled carrot, others the leaves of peach, henbane, poppy, bulbs, pomegranate-rind, fleawort, frankincense, root of hellebore, soda, fenugreek with wine, tadpole-weed, lentil-paste, cypress-gall, barley-meal, the leaves of boiled cabbage, gypsum from Paros, the droppings of the mountain goat, human dung, bean-flour, the bloom of Assian stone; they boil up toads, shrew-mice, lizards, weasels, frogs, hyenas, goat-stags, foxes. What mineral has not been tried by mortals? What juice has not? What tree's gum has not? The bones of every living thing, their sinews, their hides, their fat, their blood, their marrow, their urine, their dung, their milk. Some drink the remedy compounded of four ingredients, others that of eight, and more still that of seven. Another, drinking, is purged with the sacred remedy, another is mocked by quacks with their incantations, a Jew takes another foolish fellow and sings his spells over him. This one took his cure from the Cyrrhanian woman. But to all of these I say: go to your ruin! And to those who do these things and put me to the test, I am wont to come more wrathful still; yet to those who set nothing in opposition to me I keep a gentle mind and become kindly. For whoever shares in my mysteries is first of all taught at once to speak fair, delighting everyone, telling witty tales; and by all he is seen amid laughter and applause when he is carried, borne off to the baths. For I am Ate, of whom Homer spoke, walking upon the heads of men and keeping her feet tender; but among the common run of mortals I am called Gout, being the snare that takes the feet. Come then, all you initiates of my rites, honour with hymns the unconquered goddess.

CHORUS Maiden of adamantine temper, mighty, strong-willed goddess, hear the voices of your sacred mortals. Great is your power, O blessed-minded Gout, at which even the swift shaft of Zeus has shuddered; the waves of the deep sea tremble before you, and the king of the dead below, Hades, trembles — you who love the bandage, who bring men to their couches, who hobble the runner, who rack the ankle-bones, who set the ankles ablaze, who scarce let the foot touch ground, who make a man dread the pestle, who keep the burning knee awake, who love the knobs and swellings about the joints, you who bow the knee and bend it crooked, Gout.

MESSENGER Mistress — for at a timely moment you have met my foot — hear me, for the word I bring is not in vain, but the deed travels as companion to the word. For I, as you commanded, with quiet foot went tracking through the cities, searching every house, longing to learn whether any man dishonours your power. And among the rest I found their minds at peace, overcome, my queen, by the force of your two hands; but these two men, in their reckless audacity, were fencing themselves about with their fellows and swearing that your power is no longer to be revered, but that they will cast you out from the life of men. Therefore, having shackled my foot with a strong bond, on the fifth day I arrive, having covered two stades.

LADY GOUT How swiftly you have flown, fleetest of my messengers! And from what land's hard-to-cross borders have you come, leaving them behind? Tell me clearly, that I may know at once.

MESSENGER First I left behind a ladder of five rungs, trembling at the loosened joints of its timbers, from which a cobbled ground receives me, fighting back against my tender soles with its hard blows. When I had crossed it with painful steps, I entered a road paved with gravel, hard to tread, with the sharp points of stones. After that, having stumbled on the slip of a smooth road, I hurried forward, and the soft, dissolving mud dragged my weak ankles backward; and as I passed through it the damp sweat ran from my limbs down over my unsteady, undone tread. Then a broad highway receives me, every limb of me worn out, broad indeed, but not safe; for on this side and on that the wagons pressed me, forced me, drove me to run. But I, lightly lifting my sluggish foot, sidled along to the narrow edge of the road, until the wheel-driven wagon might run past; for, being your initiate, I had no strength to run fast.

LADY GOUT Not in vain, my excellent fellow, has this task been rightly performed by you. And for your zeal I will repay the favour with equal honours. Let this be a gift dear to your heart: for the next three years you shall feel only light pains. But you, foul men, most hateful to the gods, who are you, and of what stock born, that you dare to contend against the power of Gout, whose might not even the son of Cronus knows how to overcome? Speak, you basest of men. For of the heroes I subdued very many, as the wise well know. Priam Podarces was carried off, being gout-stricken; Achilles, son of Peleus, died gout-stricken; Bellerophon endured, being gout-stricken; Oedipus, lord of Thebes, was gout-stricken; of the line of Pelops, Plisthenes was gout-stricken; the son of Poeas, gout-stricken, led the host; another Podarces was the leader of the Thessalians, who, after Protesilaus fell in battle, still, though gout-stricken and suffering, led the host; the lord of Ithaca, Laertes's son Odysseus, I struck down — it was no spine of a stingray. So that, far from rejoicing, you wretches, you shall suffer a punishment to match what you have done.

DOCTORS We are Syrians, of Damascus by birth, and overcome by great hunger and poverty, we wander over land and sea; and we have this salve, a gift from our father, with which we soothe the pains of sufferers.

LADY GOUT And what is this salve, and what its preparation? Tell me.

DOCTOR The oath of initiation that binds me to silence does not let me tell, nor the last command of my dying father, who charged us to keep hidden the great power of the drug, which knows how to stop even you, when you rage.

LADY GOUT So then, you accursed men, doomed to perish miserably, is there on earth some action of a drug so great that, when applied, it knows how to halt my force? But come. Let us make this compact, and let us test whether the power of the drug is the stronger, or my fires. Come, you grim ones, flying from every side, Tortures, attendants of my revels, draw near; and you, set the soles of the feet ablaze, from heel to the very toes; you, get inside the ankles; and you, from the thighs down to the knees, pour the bitter flood of humours; and you others, twist crooked the fingers of the hands.

PAINS See, all that you ordered we have done for you; the wretches lie there crying out aloud, their every limb wrenched by our assault.

LADY GOUT Bring it, strangers, that we may learn most exactly whether this drug, when applied, helps you. For if this is clearly something opposed to me, I will leave the earth and go into the recesses of the ground, unseen, vanished, to the lowest depths of Tartarus.

DOCTOR There — it is applied; and it does not slacken the blaze of his pains.

GOUT-SUFFERER Alas, ah me, I am worn out, I perish, my every limb is pierced with unaccountable evil; not such a bolt does Zeus poise of his thunder, no surge of the sea rages like this, no whirling violence of the hurricane is so great. Does the jagged bite of Cerberus ravage me? Does some viper's venom feed upon me, or a robe drenched in the gore of a Centaur? Have pity, queen; for no drug, neither mine nor any other, has power to turn back your course; by every vote you conquer the whole race of mortals.

LADY GOUT Cease, Tortures, and lessen the pains of those who repent of coming into strife with me. And let everyone know that I alone of the gods, unmelting, am not won over by drugs.

CHORUS Salmoneus's might did not contend with the thunders of Zeus, but he died, subdued in his mind by the god's smoky bolt. The satyr Marsyas did not rejoice when he contended with Phoebus, but to this day his skin quivers shrilly about that pine. For the sake of her strife, Niobe the mother won unforgettable grief, but even now, still mourning, she pours much weeping on Sipylus. Maeonian Arachne came into strife with the Tritonian goddess, but, having lost her form, even now she weaves her threads; for the daring of mortals is no match for the wrath of the blessed ones, of Zeus, of Leto, of Pallas, of the Pythian. Gentle, O goddess of all the people, may you bring an affliction, Gout, light, easy, not sharp, doing little harm, free of pain, easy to bear, easy to be rid of, weak, letting a man walk about. Many are the shapes of the unfortunate, and let the practice of pains and what is habitual console those who suffer from the gout. Therefore in good cheer, my fellow-sufferers, you shall forget your pains, if what was hoped for was not accomplished, yet for the unhoped-for the god has found a way. Let every one of the sufferers endure being mocked and jeered at; for such is the nature of this affair.