Read Teleny or the Reverse of the Medal Online

Authors: Oscar Wilde,Anonymous

Tags: #Classics, #Gay & Lesbian, #M/M, #victorian pornography

Teleny or the Reverse of the Medal (18 page)

—Please finish this digression on Briancourt's paintings, and tell me something of the more realistic scene.

—Well, on faded old damask couches, on huge pillows made out of priests' stoles, worked by devout fingers in silver and in gold, on soft Persian and Syrian divans, on lion and panther rugs, on mattresses covered over with electric cats' skins, men, young and good-looking, almost all naked, were lounging there by twos and threes, grouped in attitudes of the most consummate lewdness such as the imagination can never picture to itself, and such as are only seen in the brothels of men in lecherous Spain, or in those of the wanton East.

—It must indeed have been a rare sight, seen from the cage in which you were cooped; and I suppose your cocks were crowing so lustily that the naked fellows below must have been in great danger of receiving a shower of your holy water, for you must have brandled each other's sprinklers rapturously up there.

—The frame was well worth the picture, for, as I was saying before, the studio was a museum of lewd art worthy of Sodom or of Babylon. Paintings, statues, bronzes, plaster casts— either masterpieces of Paphian art or of Priapean designs, emerged from amidst deep-tinted silks of velvety softness, amidst sparkling crystals, gem-like enamel, golden china or opaline majolica, varied with yataghans and Turkish sabers, with hilts and scabbards of gold and silver filigree mark, all studded with coral and turquoise, or other more sparkling precious stones.

From huge Chinese bowls rose costly ferns, dainty Indian palms, creeping plants and parasites, with wicked-looking flowers from American forests, and feathery grasses from the Nile in Sevres vases; while from above, ever and anon, a shower of full-blown red and pink roses came pouring down, mingling their intoxicating scent with that of the attar which ascended in white cloudlets from censers and silver chafing-dishes.

The perfume of that over-heated atmosphere, the sound of smothered sighs, the groans of pleasure, the smack of eager kisses expressing the never-satiated lust of youth, made my brain reel, while my blood was parched by the sight of those ever-changing lascivious attitudes, expressing the most maddening paroxysm of debauchery, which tried to soothe itself or to invent a more thrilling and intense sensuality, or sickening and fainting away under their excess of feeling, while milky sperm and ruby drops of blood dappled their naked thighs.

—It must have been a rapturous sight.

—Yes, but just then it seemed to me as if I were in some rank jungle, where everything that is beautiful brings about instant death; where gorgeous, venomous snakes cluster together and look like bunches of variegated flowers, where sweet blossoms are ever dropping wells of fiery poison.

Here, likewise, everything pleased the eye and galled the blood; here the silvery streaks on the dark-green satin, and there the argentine tracery on the smooth, prasinous leaves of the water-lilies, were only the slimy trail—here of man's creative power, there of some loathsome reptile.

'But look there,' I said to Teleny; 'there are also women.'

'No,' he replied, 'women are never admitted to our revels.'

'But look at that couple there. See that naked man with his hand under the skirts of the girl clasped against him.'

'Both are men.'

'What! also that one with the reddish-auburn hair and brilliant complexion? Why, is it not Viscount de Pontgrimaud's mistress?'

'Yes, the Venus d'Ille, as she is generally called; and the Viscount is down in a corner, but the Venus d'Ille is a man!'

I stared, astonished. What I had taken for a woman looked, indeed, like a beautiful bronze figure, as smooth and polished as a Japanese cast
a cire perdue,
with an enamelled Parisian cocotte's head.

Whatever the sex of this strange being was, he or she had on a tight-fitting dress of a changing color—gold in the light, dark green in the shade—silk gloves and stockings of the same tint as the satin of the dress, fitting so tightly on the rounded arms and most beautifully-shaped legs that these limbs looked as even and as hard as those of a bronze statue.

'And that other one there, with black ringlets,
accrochecoeurs,
in a dark blue velvet tea-gown, with bare arms and shoulders, is that lovely woman a man, too?'

'Yes, he is an Italian and a Marquis, as you can see by the crest on his fan. He belongs, moreover, to one of the oldest families of Rome. But look there. Briancourt has been repeatedly making signs to us to go down. Let us go.'

'No, no!' said I, clinging to Teleny; 'let us rather go away.'

Still, that sight had so heated my blood that, like Lot's wife, I stood there, gloating upon it.

'I'll do whatever you like, but I think that if we go away now you'll be sorry for it afterwards. Besides, what do you fear? Am I not with you? No one can part us. We shall remain all the evening together, for here it is not the same as in the usual balls, where men bring their wives in order that they may be clasped and hugged by the first comer who likes to waltz with them. Moreover, the sight of all those excesses will only give a zest to our own pleasure.'

'Well, let us go,' said I, rising; 'but stop. That man in a pearly-grey Eastern robe must be the Syrian; he has lovely almond-shaped eyes.'

'Yes, that is Achmet effendi.'

'Whom is he talking with? Is it not Briancourt's father?'

'Yes, the general is sometimes a passive guest at his son's little parties. Come, shall we go?'

'One moment more. Do tell me who is that man with eyes on fire? He seems, indeed, lust incarnate, and is evidently past-master in lewdness. His face is familiar, and still I cannot remember where I have seen him.'

'He is a young man who, having spent his fortune in the most unbridled debauchery without any damage to his constitution, has enlisted in the Spahis to see what new pleasures Algiers could afford him. That man is indeed a volcano. But here is Briancourt.'

'Well,' said he, 'are you going to stay up here in the dark all the evening?'

'Camille is abashed,' said Teleny, smiling.

'Then come in masked,' said the painter, dragging us down, and giving us each a black velvet half-mask before ushering us in.

The announcement that supper was waiting in the next room had almost brought the revel to a standstill.

As we entered the studio, the sight of our dark suits and masks seemed to throw a dampness on everyone. We were, however, soon surrounded by a number of young men who came to welcome and to fondle us, some of whom were old acquaintances.

After a few questions Teleny was known, and his mask was at once snatched off; but no one for a long time could make out who I was. I, in the meanwhile, kept ogling the middle parts of the naked men around me, the thick and curly hair of which sometimes covered the stomach and the thighs. Nay, that unusual sight excited me in such a way that I could hardly forbear handling those tempting organs; and had it not been for the love I bore Teleny, I should have done something more than finger them.

One phallus, especially—that of the Viscount—caused my intense admiration. It was of such a size that had a Roman lady possessed it she would never have asked for an ass. In fact, every whore was frightened at it; and it was said that once, abroad, a woman had been ripped up by it, for he had thrust his tremendous instrument up into her womb, and slit the partition between the front and the back hole, so that the poor wretch had died in consequence of the wound received.

His lover, however, throve upon it, for he was not only artificially but also naturally of a most florid complexion. As this young man saw that I seemed to doubt what sex he belonged to, he pulled up the skirts he wore and showed me a dainty, pink-and-white penis, all surrounded by a mass of dark golden hair.

Just when everybody was begging me to take off my mask, and I was about to comply, Dr. Charles—usually called Charlemagne—who had been rubbing himself against me like an overheated cat, all at once clasped me in his arms and kissed me lustily.

'Well, Briancourt,' said he, 'I congratulate you upon your new acquisition. Nobody's presence could have given me more pleasure than Des Grieux's.'

Hardly had these words been uttered than a nimble hand snatched off my mask.

Ten mouths at least were ready to kiss me, a score of hands were fondling me; but Briancourt put himself between them and me.

'For this evening,' said he, 'Camille is like a sugar-plum on a cake, something to be looked at and not touched. Rene and he are on their honeymoon yet, and this
fete
is given in their honor, and in that of my new lover Achmet effendi.' And, turning round, he introduced us to the young man whom he was to portray as Jesus Christ. 'And now,' said he, 'let us go in to supper.'

The room, or hall, into which we were led was furnished something like a triclinium, with beds or couches instead of chairs.

'My friend,' said the general's son, 'the supper is a scanty one, the courses are neither many nor abundant, the meal is rather to invigorate than to satiate. I hope, however, that the generous wines and stimulating drinks will enable us all to return to our pleasures with renewed eagerness.'

—Still, I suppose it was a supper worthy of Lucullus?

—I hardly remember it now. I only recollect that it was the first time I tasted
bouillabaisse,
and some sweet spiced rice made after the Indian recipe, and that I found both delicious.

I had Teleny on my couch beside me, and Dr. Charles was my next neighbor. He was a fine, tall, well-built, broad-shouldered man, with a fair-flowing beard, for which—as well as for his name and size—he had been nicknamed Charlemagne. I was surprised to see him wearing round his neck a fine Venetian gold chain, to which was hanging—as I first thought —a locket, but which, on closer examination, proved to be a gold laurel wreath studded with brilliants. I asked him if it were a talisman or a relic?

He, thereupon, standing up, — 'My friends, Des Grieux here—whose lover I fain would be —asks me what this jewel is; and as most of you have already put me the same question, I'll satisfy you all now, and hold my peace forevermore about it.

'This laurel wreath,' he said, holding it up between his fingers, 'is the reward of merit— or rather, I should say, of chastity: it is my
couronne de rosiere.
Having finished my medical studies and walked the hospitals, I found myself a doctor; but what I could never find was a single patient who would give me not twenty, but a single franc piece for all the physic I administered him. When, one day, Dr. N—n seeing my brawny arms—and in fact he had arms like a Hercules—recommended me to an old lady, whose name I'll not mention, for massage. In fact I went to this old dame, whose name is not Potiphar, and who, as I took off my coat and tucked up my sleeves, cast a longing glance upon my muscles and then seemed lost in meditation; afterwards I concluded that she was calculating the rule of proportions.

'Dr. N—n had told me that the weakness of the nerves in her lower limbs was from the knees downwards. She, however, seemed to think that it was from the knees upwards. I was ingenuously puzzled, and—not to make a mistake—I rubbed from the foot upwards; but soon I remarked that the higher I went the more softly she purred.

'After about ten minutes,—“I am afraid I am tiring you,” said I; “perhaps it is enough for the first time.”'

'“Oh,” replied she, with the languishing eyes of an old fish, “I could be rubbed by you the whole day. I already feel such a benefit. You have a man's hand for strength, a woman's for softness. But you must be tired, poor fellow! Now, what will you take — Madeira, or dry sherry?”

'“Nothing, thank you.”

'“A glass of champagne and a biscuit?”

'“No, thanks.”

'“You must take something. Oh, I know!—a tiny glass of Alkermes from the Certosa of Florence. Yes, I think I'll sip one with you myself. I already feel so much better for the rubbing.” And thereupon she pressed my hand tenderly. “Will you have the kindness to ring?”

'I did so. We both sipped a glass of Alkermes, which a servant-man brought in soon afterwards, and then I took my leave. She, however, only allowed me to go, after full assurance that I'd not fail to call the following day.

'On the morrow I was there at the appointed hour. She first made me sit down by the bedside, to rest awhile. She pressed my hand and tenderly patted it—that hand, she said, which had done her so much good, and which was to operate marvelous cures ere long. “Only, doctor,” added she, simpering, “the pain has gone higher up.”

'I could hardly keep from smiling, and I began to ask myself of what nature this pain was.

'I set myself to rub. From the broad ankle my hand went up to the knee, then higher, and always higher, to her evident satisfaction. When at last it had reached the top of her legs,— “There, there, doctor! you have hit it,” she said, in a soft, purring voice; “how clever you are to find the right spot. Rub gently all around there. Yes, like that; neither higher up nor lower down—a little more broadwise, perhaps —just a
leetle
more in the middle, doctor! Oh, what good it does me to be rubbed like that! I feel quite another person; ever so much younger—quite frisky, in fact. Rub, doctor, rub!” And she rolled in the bed rapturously, after the fashion of an old tabby.

'Then, all at once,—“But I think you are mesmerizing me, doctor! Oh, what fine blue eyes you have! I can see myself in your luminous pupils as in a mirror.” Thereupon, putting an arm round my neck, she began to pull me down on her, and to kiss me eagerly—or I ought rather to say, to suck me with two thick lips that felt against mine like huge horseleeches.

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