Chalk and cheese

Martial wrote fourteen books that we know about, and was witty, funny, a keen observer and a deft user of language. He saw Catullus as a model, and wrote some poetry of huge tenderness and sensitivity.

He also wrote poetry that was thought scandalous in later centuries, particularly in England, where he was air-brushed from the curriculum - from any curriculum - for far too long. 

Martial was not considered safe. Even Housman, who loved Martial and wrote insightful scholarly commentaries on the poems, did so in Latin so as not to frighten the horses.

Martial was a Roman of the first century BCE and unfettered by the mores and political correctness of today. He had, naturally, a view of relationships and sexuality which reflected the social norms of the Empire.

Here's a poem which gives a slight clue as to why he has offended the puritan tendency down the years. I have tried to catch the feeling and sense of the poem rather than worry about word-to-word correspondence.

Wife, you can get with my program or go:

I am no stuffy patriarch.

I like to drink into the small hours

You’re stern and rise early with a drink of water.

You love the dark, while I like 

to rattle the headboard with all the lights on.

You like to keep well hidden in layers of clothing

But for me, no girl can be naked enough in bed.

Kisses soft as doves excite me, but yours 

would be right for greeting a granny in the morning.

You don’t help things along with a wriggle,

A giggle or a touch: it’s more like a rite for you.

Whenever Hector’s wife rode him, 

the servants jerked off outside the door, 

and when he was snoring, you know where she kept her hand.

You say no to anal sex: Cornelia gave it to Gracchus, 

Julia to Pompey, and Porcia even gave in to Brutus.

While Ganymede was mixing the drinks Juno took his place with Jupiter.

If you want to be a blue-stocking, 

that’s fine by day: but I need a tiger at night.

Uxor, vade foras aut moribus utere nostris:
non sum ego nec Curius nec Numa nec Tatius.
Me jucunda juvant tractae per pocula noctes:
tu properas pota surgere tristis aqua.
Tu tenebris gaudes: me ludere teste lucerna
et juvat admissa rumpere luce latus.
Fascia te tunicaeque obscuraque pallia celant:
at mihi nulla satis nuda puella jacet.
basia me capiunt blandas imitata columbas:
tu mihi das aviae qualia mane soles.
Nec motu dignaris opus nec voce juvare
nec digitis, tamquam tura merumque pares:
masturbabantur Phrygii post ostia servi,
Hectoreo quotiens sederat uxor equo,
et quamvis Ithaco stertente pudica solebat
illic Penelope semper habere manum.
Pedicare negas: dabat hoc Cornelia Graccho,
Julia Pompeio, Porcia, Brute, tibi;
dulcia Dardanio nondum miscente ministro
pocula Juno fuit pro Ganymede Jovi.
Si te delectat gravitas, Lucretia toto
sis licet usque die: Laida nocte volo.