No More Learning

A few typical elements of the Greek Romances appear in the _True
History_. There is a suggestion of a court-room scene where Rhadamanthus
judges Helen’s accomplices in escape. One letter is inserted, Odysseus’
to Calypso, for the purpose of ironic satire of Homeric characters. An
inscription on bronze is discovered and a laudatory couplet in hexameter
is composed and inscribed on stone. But love and religion, the commonest
themes of the Greek Romances, are eliminated from this tale of
marvellous adventures.

Satire though this story is, it ranks easily first among imaginary
voyagings both in fantasy and style. In his narration Lucian pours all
his spirit, his liveliness of observation, his brilliant imagination,
his vivacious wit. His own enjoyment in his facile, marvellous
inventions is contagious. As he rushes his breathless readers over the
earth, through the air, under the sea, as he introduces us to
innumerable natural phenomena and monstrous beings, he convinces us that
this world of fantasy is a real world. He has made many others wish to
record similar travels, for the _True History_ is the model of all those
imaginary voyages with which Rabelais, Cyrano de Bergerac, Swift,
Voltaire and others amused their contemporaries. No work of Lucian found
so many imitators as this. [353]

The readers of Lucian’s _True History_ on finishing it feel that they
have drunk with him more from his eternal springs of joy and laughter
than from his irony, in fact that his irony gives only a few drops of
angostura bitters to the heady cocktails of his wit. And at the end the
readers of this romance are ready today to salute the shade of Lucian as
Andrew Lang did:[354]

“In what bower, oh Lucian, of your rediscovered Islands Fortunate are
you now reclining; the delight of the fair, the learned, the witty,
and the brave? . . .

“There, among the vines that bear twelve times in the year, more
excellent than all the vineyards of Touraine, while the song-birds
bring you flowers from vales enchanted, and the shapes of the Blessed
come and go, beautiful in wind-woven raiment of sunset hues; there, in
a land that knows not age, nor winter, midnight, nor autumn, nor noon,
where the silver twilight of summer-dawn is perennial, where youth
does not wax spectre-pale and die; there, my Lucian, you are crowned
the Prince of the Paradise of Mirth. ”

It may seem anti-climax to turn from the _True History_ to Lucian’s
other romance, the _Metamorphoses_, for the second exists only in an
epitome by another hand. Since however this epitome is included in all
the best manuscripts and has been proved conclusively by B. E. Perry to
be a condensation of an original _Metamorphoses_ by Lucian on the basis
of spirit, vocabulary, syntax and phraseology, we must try to form some
idea of this other romance. [355]

As the _True History_ is a satire of travellers’ tales, this epitome,
_Lucius or Ass_, is primarily a satire of magic and magic rites. Just as
in the _True History_ not only epic poets and historians were parodied,
but philosophers came in for their share of ironic comment, so in
_Lucius or Ass_ satire is directed not merely against magicians, but
also against corrupt priests and frail women. The satire is of the
earth, earthy, very near the folk-story from which it may have
originated. _Lucius or Ass_ is Everyman in his credulity, gullibility
and bestiality. The only heroines in his murky world are a witch-woman
and a corrupt maid. This epitome has two great values: it gives us some
idea of Lucian’s lost _Metamorphoses_, and hence affords a basis for
comparison with Apuleius’ great Latin novel _Metamorphoses_. It will
prove convenient I hope, to have a rather full outline presented here in
English for purposes of discussion and comparison. This Greek _Lucius or
Ass_ like the _True History_ is written in the first person, but Lucius
of Patrae, the hero, not the author, is the narrator. In my brief
résumé, I have found it clearer to write Lucius’ account in the third
person.

Once upon a time on a journey to Thessaly Lucius inquires of some fellow
travellers whereabouts in the city of Hypata a man named Hipparchus
lives, for he is carrying a letter of introduction to him. On his
arrival he stays at Hipparchus’ house. Only his wife and a maid
Palaestra lived with him. On his host’s inquiring the object of his
travels, Lucius says he is on his way to Larissa. He conceals the fact
that he is searching for women who deal in magic. While walking around
the city, he meets an old friend of his mother named Abroea, who warns
him against the wife of Hipparchus because she is a witch. Lucius,
delighted with this news, returns to Hipparchus’ house and in the
absence of his host and hostess makes love to Palaestra with the purpose
of persuading the maid to acquaint him with her mistress’ magic powers.
At the close of a night of revel, Lucius persuades Palaestra to show him
her mistress at her magic rites.

A few nights later Palaestra fulfills her promise by leading Lucius at
dead of night to the door of her lady’s bedroom where through a crack he
can watch her proceedings. She mutters to her lamp. She strips. She rubs
her naked body with ointment from a little box. Gradually she is
transformed into an owl and flies away to her lover. Lucius then
prevails upon Palaestra to let him attempt the same transformation. By
ill luck the maid brings him the wrong box of ointment so that he is
changed not into a bird, but into an ass. Palaestra soothingly assures
him that the antidote is simple, just a meal of roses, and if her
dearest will pass the night quietly in the stable, in the morning she
will gather the flowers and recover her Lucius.

But this simple plan gangs a-gley, for in the night robbers raid the
house, secure much booty and to carry it steal also the horse and the
real ass of Hipparchus and Lucius. So the man-ass, heavily burdened, is
driven to the robbers’ home. One old woman is their care-taker. Several
days later the robbers return from one of their forays bringing in as
booty a young woman whom they have kidnapped. Later on in the absence of
the brigands the girl tries to escape riding on the ass, but both are
captured by the robbers. On their return, they find that the old woman
in terror has hanged herself.

The robbers plan a dreadful punishment for the culprits: to kill the
ass, disembowel him and sew the girl up alive in his paunch to die by
slow torture. But before they achieve this horror, a company of soldiers
arrives, captures the whole band and carries them off to a magistrate.
They had been conducted to the robbers’ den by the fiancé of the girl.
He now escorts her home on the honored ass Lucius.

After the wedding of the happy pair, the bride persuades her father to
reward the ass her benefactor so he is to be turned out into pasture
with the she-asses. But the servant to whom the care of the ass is
intrusted wickedly takes him home and makes him labor first in a mill,
then carrying fagots on a steep mountain, where a cruel driver mistreats
him. In the midst of his sufferings, news comes that the bride and groom
have been drowned on the seashore. So since their new masters are dead,
the servants all flee, taking the ass with them. They sell him in a city
of Macedonia to a eunuch priest of a Syrian goddess. In his life with
the priests, Lucius is so horrified by their impure practices that he
brays loudly in protest. The noise brings up some passing peasants who
go off to tell the village the obscenities they have witnessed. The
priests have to flee for their lives, but first they nearly kill the ass
by beating him for his braying.

Lucius is in danger of his life again at the house of a rich man where
they stop. For the servants who have lost the meat of a wild ass which
was to be the dinner (the dogs stole it), plot to kill Lucius and serve
up his flesh. He saves himself only by running away from the cook. The
priests are now arrested because they are found in possession of a
golden phiale which they stole from a temple, and the ass is sold to a
baker. In the mill Lucius is so worn down by the hard work that he is
sold as worthless to an old gardener. On the way to town, this gardener
has a quarrel with a soldier and nearly kills him so the gardener and
the ass have to go into hiding. Stupid Lucius betrays their hiding place
by putting his head out of an upper window to see what is going on.
Captured he is given to the soldier, but he soon sells him to a cook.
Now Lucius fattens on good food by surreptitious filching of choice
portions which the cook and his brother had reserved for themselves. By
a little detective work the brothers discover that the thief is the ass.
They show him eating men’s food to their master, who promptly buys the
ass, has a servant train him to act like a man (easy lessons for
Lucius! ) and exhibits him for admission fees. A woman buys a night with
him and has intercourse with him.

Then his master purposes to exhibit him couched with a woman (a
condemned criminal) at a public festival. The scene is all set when some
one comes up to Lucius and the woman at the banquet table bearing, among
other flowers, roses. At last the ass has his meal of restorative
flowers and becomes once more Lucius. He appeals to the magistrate for
protection against those who cry he is a magician and must be killed. He
informs the governor that his name is Lucius, he has a brother Gaius,
both have the same two other names; that he himself is a writer of
stories and his brother is an elegiac poet and a good prophet. The
magistrate believing his story gives him hospitality. Lucius’ brother
comes to take him home, but first Lucius thought it fitting to call on
the woman who had given him her love when he was an ass. He is chagrined
to find that as a man he has no charm for her! He sails with his brother
to Patrae and there sacrifices to the gods who have saved him.

No other work attributed to Lucian has aroused greater controversy than
_Lucius or Ass_. All the literature about it is reviewed in Ben Edwin
Perry’s epoch-making book _The Metamorphoses Ascribed to Lucius of
Patrae_, which conclusively proves that _Lucius or Ass_ is an epitome of
Lucian’s _Metamorphoses_, made by another writer. Perry analyzes
Photius’ description of the lost Greek _Metamorphoses_ with its theory
of the three versions of the ass-story,[356] and proves that Photius’
one mistake was in thinking that the name Lucius of Patrae referred to
an author of a third _Metamorphoses_, which was probably the original of
Lucian’s and Apuleius’ stories: Lucius of Patrae in _Lucius or Ass_ is
the hero-narrator, not the author. Perry then with convincing logic
reconstructs the probable content of the _Metamorphoses_ of which
_Lucius or Ass_ is an epitome and with the same irrefutable reasoning
discusses the nature of this original Greek novel. The basis of it was a
folk-lore story of a transformation. The style was plain, the narrative
rapid, the tone ironic. The narrator keeps the character of the hero of
the adventures and never identifies himself with the author. The
character of the hero is that of “an unique clown” with an absorbing and
credulous interest in strange phenomena especially transformations. The
final proof that the _Metamorphoses_ was satirical is “the simple fact
that the _Eselmensch_ is a litterateur and an investigator of marvels. ”
“The generic title shows that the author regarded his story as a kind of
commentary on the subject of metamorphoses, and writers who interested
themselves in such things. ”[357]

This author, “second century Atticist, humorist, and satirist,” can be
none other than Lucian himself, for the Greek _Metamorphoses_ is
Lucianic in type, is a relaxation from serious work as is the _True
History_; it shows the same satire of credulity that other works of
Lucian (for example the _Alexander_) did; and it is colored by the same
ironic humor. The epitome contains a striking Lucianic element although
this is overlaid by philological errors. Perry also analyzes
resemblances and differences between the reconstructed _Metamorphoses_
of Lucian and Apuleius’ novel, but this discussion I shall reserve for
the next chapter.

_Lucius or Ass_ is valuable in proving that Lucian wrote not one but two
romances; that in both he developed a new type of romance, the satiric;
that in each he maintained the same great qualities which mark his other
writings: the quest for truth, intolerance of fraud and credulity; keen
observation and realistic description; condensation, rapidity, clarity;
dramatic irony. The two romances also show more than any other of
Lucian’s writings his brilliant imaginative powers.

A postscript to this discussion of Lucian’s satiric romances may well
include an account of a novel in miniature which appears in one of his
dialogues. Writing in the second century he was of course thoroughly
familiar with the conventional type of the Greek romance. Though this
statement might be accepted _a priori_, certain evidence of it is
furnished by his insertion in his _Toxaris_ of an epitome of a Scythian
romance of love and adventure. The _Toxaris_ is a Platonic dialogue
written probably about A. D. 165, in Lucian’s period of transition from
purely rhetorical writings to those of moral or religious satire. [358]
In it a Greek Mnesippus and a Scythian Toxaris discuss friendship each
giving five illustrations of famous instances in his own country. The
longest one related is a Scythian romance told by Toxaris. [359]
Rostovtzeff has shown that Lucian probably had in his hands a Greek
romance with a Scythian background, for papyri fragments furnish
incontrovertible evidence of a similar Scythian romance in Greek dating
from the second century A. D. [360]

The story as told by Lucian is melodramatic. It relates the devotion of
three Scythians, Macentes, Lonchates and Arsacomas, who had pledged to
each other friendship for life and death in the old Scythian way of
shedding some of their blood into a cup and quaffing it together. Now
Arsacomas, who had gone on a mission to Leucanor, king of Bosporus,
there fell madly in love at first sight with his daughter Mazaea. At a
banquet when suitors were bidding for the hand of the princess with
proud lists of their possessions, all Arsacomas could boast of was his
two fair, brave friends. The Bosporans laughed him to scorn and the girl
was awarded to Adyrmachus, who the next day was to convey his bride to
the land of the Machlyans.

The outraged Arsacomas rushing home told his friends how he and their
friendship had been ridiculed and the three as one man planned immediate
vengeance. Lonchates promised to bring Arsacomas the head of Leucanor.
Macentes was to kidnap the bride. Arsacomas was to stay at home and
raise an army on the ox-hide for the war that would surely follow. All
proceeded according to schedule. Arsacomas slew an ox, cut up and cooked
the meat, spread the hide on the ground and sat on it with his hands
held behind him. This is the greatest appeal for aid possible for a man
who desires to secure help for vengeance. His friends and kinsmen coming
accepted each a portion of the meat, set right foot on the hide and
pledged as much aid as he could. So a goodly army was raised.

Lonchates went to Bosporus, pretending he had come as a friend to offer
aid against Arsacomas’ planned invasion. King Leucanor alarmed by the
news of an imminent Scythian attack was lured alone into the temple of
Ares to take a secret oath of friendship with Lonchates. There Lonchates
murdered him, cut off his head and escaped with it under his cloak
before the guards outside knew what had happened.

Macentes too used subterfuge, for hurrying to the Machlyans he reported
King Leucanor’s death, said falsely that the Bosporans called Adyrmachus
as his son-in-law to be their king, and offered while Adyrmachus rode at
full speed to them, to escort after him his bride Mazaea in the
wagon-train, for she, he claimed, was a relative of his own. This plan
worked so smoothly that Macentes, when night came on, took Mazaea from
her carriage, put her on his horse with himself and galloped off with
her to Arsacomas. The horse dropped dead at the end but the kidnapped
bride was delivered. Then all three friends united in the battle against
Adyrmachus, slew him on the field, and by nightfall had won a victory.
The next day peace was negotiated. Such are the deeds of daring which
Scythians perform for their friends.

In the papyrus fragments a lady in distress is weeping and lamenting in
the tent of a general Eubiotus. He clears his tent because of her woe,
hears her declare that she wishes she had never seen Eraseinus
(apparently her lover) and prevents her attempted suicide by wresting
her sword from her. She then tells Eubiotus that she is not the Amazon
Themisto though she is so disguised, but a Greek girl Calligone. Here
the fragments end. The only points in common with Lucian’s story are the
geographical background and the name Eubiotus (in Lucian the
illegitimate brother of Leucanor and an aspirant to his throne),[361]
but both stories as Rostovtzeff points out look to history for
characters and setting as the Ninus Romance did.

In the _Toxaris_ the coloring is only quasi-historical through the
mention of names of kings and their lineage: the story is not history,
but an historical novel. And the connection of the Scythians with the
Sarmatians, the Alans, the Maeotians and the Bosporans corresponds only
in part with their actual relations at the time. The Sauromatians are a
relic of the past; the Alans represent actual conditions in the time of
the author. The geographical coloring is likewise only partly
historical. The picture of the Scythians even with its tendency to
idealization represents the people fairly. They are nomadic, poor, with
a free democratic political organization without kings, and they are
warriors. Their gods are the sword and the wind. Their customs are
primitive. They make war on their neighbors and have special relations
with the Greek states on the Bosporus and Olbia and visit those on the
south side of the Black Sea.

Lucian in composing his _Toxaris_ probably had in hand a Greek romance
with a Scythian background, containing certain historical and
ethnographical material. This he worked over making his story represent
what his public then knew or could know of the Scythians and their
neighbors. The discovery of the papyrus fragments of the Calligone novel
confirms this thesis. [362] The type of the _Toxaris_ story and the
papyrus story is the same. Both were love romances, though in each the
erotic motif is subordinated to adventure. The interest of the age in
the unfamiliar, the strange is manifested in the selection of Scythia
for the background.

Lucian’s narrative is intensely exciting as well as picturesque and
although it is only a miniature story it gives us an idea of another
love romance of a wild type with a king’s head cut off for vengeance, a
bride kidnapped on horseback and an army raised on the ox-hide. The
whole _Toxaris_ indeed, as Croiset remarked,[363] with its ten anecdotes
furnishes rich examples of Lucian’s art of narration.




VIII
_A COMPARISON OF THE GREEK ROMANCES AND APULEIUS’_ METAMORPHOSES


Apuleius, the author of the greatest ancient novel extant, might, if he
had chosen, written his book in Greek instead of Latin. Though he was
born in North Africa (at Madaura) he was educated in Athens as well as
Roman Carthage and Rome, indeed was completely bi-lingual. The letter
from his wife produced as evidence in his trial for having won her
affections by magic was in Greek. And private correspondence
demonstrates fluency in the language even more than does the fact of his
translation of a work by Plato and his Latin style richly colored by
Greek syntax and vocabulary.

Some reader may now ask as Apuleius anticipated: “Who is this man? ”[364]
So I must refer all to my other writings about him and briefly
characterize him here for the uninformed. [365] Apuleius was born about
A. D. 125 in the Roman colony of Madaura where his father was a leading
citizen and official. He was educated at Carthage, Athens and Rome, was
certainly bi-lingual and probably tri-lingual as he must have known
Punic as well as Latin and Greek. Returning to Africa, he practiced
successfully the art of a sophist, giving public discourses, many of
them impromptu. Specimens of these are extant in a collection of
extracts from his speeches called the _Florida_. He married a wealthy
widow, mother of a university friend at Athens, and was promptly sued by
his in-laws for having gained her hand by magic practices. The brilliant
speech in which he defended himself at Sabrata against their charges,
the _Apologia_, is extant and constitutes his autobiography. St.
Augustine called him a Platonist and he did indeed try to convey Plato’s
ideas to his contemporaries in works on _The God of Socrates_, _Plato
and his Doctrine_ and other lost writings. His fame when he was alive
rested on his oratory and it was so great that he was honored by statues
and made priest of Aesculapius at Carthage. But his undying glory comes
from his novel, the _Metamorphoses_. The date of its composition is
uncertain as indeed are most of the dates of his life. He lived from
about A. D. 125 to A. D. 171, that is, in the time of Antoninus Pius and
Marcus Aurelius. He was therefore a contemporary of Lucian and may have
met him as Walter Pater imagines in _Marius the Epicurean_. What
concerns us here is his novel and its relation to the Greek Romances.

The _Metamorphoses_ of Apuleius is a long story written in eleven books.
It is an ego-romance with Lucius a Greek acting as narrator and hero.

“The plot is simple. The hero Lucius who is greatly interested in
magic is enabled by the aid of the maid-servant of a witch to achieve
transformation. But a mistake in the use of the unguents changes him
not into a bird as he had planned, but into an ass. Although he knows
that the antidote is a meal of roses, he is kept by Fortune from
securing release through long months and meets various adventures
until at last through the aid of the goddess Isis Lucius the Ass
becomes again Lucius the Man. ”[366]

The similarity of this plot to that of the Greek _Lucius or Ass_ is
apparent at once. But its unique differences caused by diversification
of anecdotes and long additions become clear as we read the narrative.

Lucius in the beginning was travelling in Thessaly riding his white
horse over the high mountains when he fell in with two other travellers.
One of these as they rode on together related a horrible story of how
his friend Socrates saw a companion murdered by a witch. The scene of
the story was set in Hypata, the very city to which Lucius was going.
And the narrative of it by its effect on Lucius reveals all his
credulity and curiosity about witchcraft.

Lucius was entertained at the house of Milo to whom he brought a letter
of introduction and soon he learned from a relative in Hypata, named
Byrrhaena, that Milo’s wife Pamphile was a witch. Hypata was full of
stories of marvellous happenings and soon Lucius heard another of these
thrillers at a dinner-party given by Byrrhaena. It was the story told by
a guest Tlelyphron of how he watched a corpse for pay and thereby
suffered mutilation of his face by a foul beldam. It was on the way home
from the party that Lucius, jittery and drunk, fought his fatal battle
with three bold robbers who afterwards, at his trial for murder at the
Festival of Risus, god of laughter, were proved to be wine-skins!

Now Lucius was determined to investigate magic rites by personal
experience so he made ardent love to Pamphile’s servant Fotis until the
enamored girl consented to let him peer through a crack in the door of
Pamphile’s bed-room and see her mistress transform herself into an owl.
This marvel witnessed, nothing would satisfy Lucius but to attempt a
similar transformation.
Unfortunately Fotis gave him the wrong unguent
for the necessary lubrication of his body and he became not a bird, but
an ass! The careless maid swore that the antidote was simple, merely a
meal of roses, and if he would quietly spend the night in the stable, in
the morning she would bring him a breakfast of the flowers.
Unfortunately before dawn robbers arrived, pillaged the house and stole,
along with Lucius’ own horse and Milo’s ass, Lucius the ass to carry the
plunder. This was the beginning of a long series of adventures for the
man-ass before he could achieve re-transformation.

In the robbers’ hide-out in the mountains Lucius heard the robbers tell
three fine stories of their brave chieftains. There too he saw a band of
robbers bring in a captive beauty Charite and heard her piteous tale of
how she was kidnapped on her wedding-night for ransom. To cheer this
weeping girl the old woman who cooked for the robbers told in their
absence the story of Cupid and Psyche.

An old wives’ tale she called it, but Apuleius lifted the folk-tale to
the realm of the Olympian gods by making it the love romance of Venus’
son Cupid and Psyche, a mortal maid. Venus herself was the cruel
step-mother who tried to separate the lovers and set all sorts of
impossible tasks for Psyche. But the heroine triumphed over every task
by the aid of Cupid’s minions on earth and in air. Finally the king of
heaven, Jupiter himself, called Psyche to his high throne to receive the
gift of immortality and summoned all the great gods and goddesses to
celebrate her nuptials with the god of love himself.

This happy love romance diverted Charite only briefly, but soon her
lover disguised as a robber came and rescued her and after causing the
destruction of all the robber band carried her away with Lucius to
safety. Charite’s story, however, unlike Psyche’s was not to end
happily. For after her marriage to her Tlepolemus, a former suitor
Thrasyllus because of jealousy made way with her husband in a boar hunt,
pretending his death was an accident. Later when the villain was making
ardent love to the widow, the shade of her husband appeared and
recounted his murder at the hands of his friend. Charite by subtle plans
was able to put out Thrasyllus’ eyes for vengeance and then stabbed
herself over her husband’s tomb. Thrasyllus in repentance starved
himself to death.

Lucius the Ass again left to the mercy of Fortune had a series of
degrading adventures which tended to make him a pessimist. He witnessed
the obscene orgies of a lewd band of Syrian priests. He heard four
naughty Milesian Tales of corrupt women: “The Lover under the Tub,” “The
Baker’s Wife,” “The Sandals under the Bed,” “The Fuller’s Wife. ” These
Milesian Tales of triangular sex episodes are succeeded in the novel by
another group of tragic stories which stir deeper waters. The first is a
record of the terrible oppression of the poor by an arrogant young
nobleman and how three fine young brothers who went to the defense of
the poor family lost their lives in a noble cause. Then follows a tragic
story of an amorous step-mother and her attempt to poison her
unresponsive step-son. And finally comes the awful narrative of five
murders committed by one sadistic woman. Book Ten concludes with the
plan to display Lucius the ass in obscene union with this condemned
criminal at a public exhibition. To avoid this horror, Lucius ran away
from Corinth to the sea-shore at Cenchreae and there found his
salvation.

For lying asleep on the sea-shore that night he had a vision in the
moonlight of the goddess Isis. In all her refulgent beauty she told him
of herself and gave him hope. For she assured him that at the spring
festival of the launching of her sacred vessel she would give him
certain aid. And indeed it was at that festival in the midst of all its
brilliant pageantry that the priest of Isis offered the ass a garland of
roses and munching them he became man again. No wonder that after that
Lucius had only one desire: to serve his savior.

Night after night he had new visions of the goddess and under the
direction of her priest he fulfilled all the arduous preparations for
the initiation into her rites. Finally one night left alone in her
temple he was vouchsafed that mystic experience which only the elect may
achieve, death, rebirth, revelation.

“I approached the borderland of death, trod the threshold of
Proserpina, was borne through all the elements and returned; at
midnight I saw the sun shining with a brilliant light; I approached
the gods of the nether and the upper world and adored them in person
near at hand. ”[367]

After such exaltation Lucius consecrated himself forever to the service
of Isis. Soon going to Rome he continued his worship at her temple there
and by her direction was twice initiated into the mysteries of the god
Osiris though the expense was great for “this poor man of Madaura. ”
Under the blessing of Osiris he prospered greatly as an advocate in the
Roman Forum and finally under the god’s direction he was allowed to
become one of the Pastophores or high-priests of the cult. So ends his
metamorphosis and the novel.

Let us now return to the beginning. In the first chapter Apuleius
announced that he is telling a Greek story. The main outline of his plot
is indeed identical with that of the Greek _Lucius or Ass_, which as we
have seen, is an epitome of the Greek _Metamorphoses_ by Lucian.
Apuleius’ novel is clearly later than Lucian’s because of rich and
notable additions to the plot of the epitome _Lucius or Ass_. These
additions are Milesian Tales, the Cupid and Psyche story and the great
eleventh book portraying the worship of Isis, who redeemed Lucius from
ass to human shape.

The change in the tone of telling the whole story is significant for
while the earthy character of the original folk-tale occasionally
appears and there are recurrent glimpses of Lucianic wit and satire,
Apuleius’ _Metamorphoses_ is neither a comic romance nor a satire as
Lucian’s clearly was. Apuleius wrote a serious novel, a sort of
Pilgrim’s Progress of the Ass-Man in his quest for knowledge of marvels.
Whereas Lucian through satire degraded a simple folk-tale, Apuleius
exalted it by making the journeyings of Lucius a search for the
spiritual meaning of life. His hero walks alone. The love romance in his
story, the Cupid and Psyche tale, starts with the Platonic conception of
the relation of Eros and Psyche, Love and the Soul, and therefrom is
lifted to the realm of the Olympian gods. And finally the
retransformation of Lucius is no chance event, but a salvation wrought
out by the mystic worship of Isis.

The subjectivity infused in the plot by these additions is enhanced by
the fact that the hero-narrator Lucius is identified with the author,
implicitly at first in the Preface and in incidental comment of author
to reader; in the last book by the identification of Lucius with “the
poor man of Madaura” so that the whole narrative becomes personal
experience. This fact involves another difference from the structure of
the Greek love romances. The action of these love romances, as Riefstahl
points out,[368] is a “closed” one: in the misfortunes which threaten
the lovers through Fortune, they must always remain faithful to each
other and stout-hearted in order to be re-united. So the circle of the
action is “closed,” for it is a great cycle in the life of the hero
which places him at the end just where he was in the beginning. The
action in Apuleius is “open,” for the hero is bound and pledged to
nothing. He goes through his adventures with a light heart. He does not
need to prove his faith to any one. He does not need to stand up to a
test or even to remain true to himself. He must needs wander, but there
is no set purpose in his journeyings. His sufferings are as spiritual as
corporeal. He is aware too of the misery of others in the world. And in
profound despair he must beg divine aid.

It is absurd to compare the plot of the whole novel with the typical
pattern of the Greek love romances and Fotis with their heroines as
Riefstahl does. [369] The only great human love-story in Apuleius’ main
plot, that of Charite, is a tragedy. It is like the Greek Romances in
being a story of high life and in this too is unique among Apuleius’
novelle. But it is utterly different from the Greek love romances in
structure and tone. The only parallel to them is to be found in the
inset story of Cupid and Psyche. Here the tale is of two young lovers
unhappily separated by the cruelty not of Fortune but of a greater
goddess, Venus herself. And only after the hard testing of one of the
pair, this time the lady, are the two lovers reunited. Thus the
conventional happy ending of the plot is achieved. But for the author’s
philosophical mind such a beautiful story must start with a touch of
Platonic symbolism in the very names of the lovers, Cupid and Psyche,
and must be concluded in high heaven, for only among the immortals may
such perfect happiness be won forever.

From this account of Apuleius’ _Metamorphoses_ it is already clear that
his great novel is a synthesis of various types of Greek Romances. Its
closest parallel is in the Greek _Lucius or Ass_, for the bare outline
of the plot of the first ten books is like that of the Greek work. But
all recent research tends to prove that Lucian’s original
_Metamorphoses_ was satiric in character, therefore very different in
tone from Apuleius’ serious work. So although they share the
characteristics of a romance of adventure, with stories of magic and of
robbers forming principal episodes, the motivation and the aim of the
two romances are utterly different. This difference is emphasized by
Apuleius’ two longest and most startling additions to the plot, the
love-story of Cupid and Psyche and the story of Lucius and Isis.

Apuleius writes a love romance like the Greek only in the story of Cupid
and Psyche. For the episode with Fotis is a sex-story of convenience and
the Milesian Tales added to the plot of _Lucius or Ass_ carry out this
Fotis-motif of sex and lechery. [370] The one long love-story of human
beings, Charite’s story, is indeed a love romance of a noble lady and
her noble lord, but it is a complete tragedy in episodes, tone and
ending. Only the Cupid and Psyche story is the true type of Greek love
romances.

The third great interest in the Greek Romances besides adventure and
love was religion. To this Apuleius gave a new emphasis and a new
importance. In the center of his novel in the inset story of Cupid and
Psyche he pictures the old familiar Olympian gods in their conventional
mythological characters, but as realistically and with as implicit a
satire as Lucian used in his “Dialogues of the Gods. ” Venus is a very
jealous and cruel step-mother. Jupiter is a lusty, amorous, irresistible
king. Cupid is at first undutiful, mischievous and wanton. The story of
Lucius and Isis is, however, a serious story of a great religious
experience. Through prayer, visions, priestly instruction, ceremonials,
initiation and communion Apuleius becomes one with the goddess to whom
he is to devote the rest of his life. The worship of Isis is pictured
spiritually from the depths of experience by Apuleius who according to
his own statements had actually been many times initiated in her
cult. [371]

Throughout these three parts of Apuleius’ novel with their successive
emphasis on adventure, love and religion, virtually all the conventional
devices of the Greek Romances are employed. In the stories of adventure
there are rapidly shifting scenes, though in a more limited spatial
area. The Greek love romances lie according to the time of their action
in the geography of the colonies of great Greece or within the
boundaries of the hellenistic-oriental world from Byzantium to Egypt,
from Sicily to Babylon. The action is carried out through long sea
voyages, varied with storms and shipwreck. The wide world, the spatial
separations are overcome only through the faithfulness of the lovers.
The Ass-story takes place in narrower compass, in old Greece between
Patrae, Hypata and Corinth. To Lucian’s geographical set Apuleius adds
Rome. In these two versions of the Ass-story all the life of mankind is
represented concretely and in close perspective. The action concerns
little people living in one locality or for purposes of trade taking
short journeys hither and thither on land. [372] Other conventional
devices in Apuleius’ stories of adventure are the introduction as
important characters of robbers and robber chieftains, narratives with
emphasis on external events, descriptions like that of the robbers’
cave.

In the love-story of Charite the interest centers in a lover and his
lass; both are persons in high life, both are faithful. A dream
furnishes an apparition of the dead husband. But the villainy of a
treacherous friend makes the story a tragedy involving murder and
suicide. The story of Cupid and Psyche, true to the type of the Greek
love romance, starts with a religious beginning, the worship of a mortal
girl Psyche as the goddess of love; is motivated by a Greek oracle;
describes at length the proving of the heroine in tasks imposed by the
will of an unfriendly deity; depicts Psyche’s apparent sleep of death;
and finally consummates a happy ending for the lovers through a saving
god, who is Cupid the hero himself. A pastoral note which affiliates the
story with _Daphnis and Chloe_ is introduced by the presence of the
friendly god Pan, who acts as a wise old adviser and comforter to Psyche
in her great despair. And the conventional use of _excursus_ creates a
new pictorial character in brilliant descriptions of Venus charioted
over the sea, of the Palace of Cupid, of Cupid asleep, of the wedding
banquet of the lovers.

In the story of Lucius and Isis in Book Eleven, many of the conventional
devices of the Greek Romances appear: dreams, epiphanies, religious
festivals, a _dea ex machina_. So in Chariton Aphrodite and Fortune
contend for the control of the lovers; in Xenophon of Ephesus Artemis
and Isis are the two saving goddesses; in Heliodorus Apollo and Isis are
prominent though the philosophies of the Gymnosophists and of the
Neo-Pythagoreans have a share in the plot; in Achilles Tatius Artemis
reigns supreme; in Longus Pan and the Nymphs guide the destinies of the
young lovers. The difference in Apuleius is that the whole quest of the
hero is for some meaning in life and when magic, adventure, mythology
and human amours can not supply it, he finds through conversion a union
with a mystic goddess who sublimates his emotion and absorbs his life
into her service.

The greater subjectivity of the Apuleius’ romance as compared to the
Greek Romances is attained by the aloneness of the hero, his quest and
its implicit meaning, his individual satisfaction. This subjectivity is
intensified by the complete adoption of the ego-narrative. Far more
attention is paid by Apuleius than by the Greek romancers to the
narrator and to his point of view in telling the whole romance. Achilles
Tatius was afterwards to attempt the use of this device of narration in
the first person, but he soon lost sight of the narrator in the
narrative and even at the end he never let him reappear. Lucian adopted
completely the _ich-roman_ form, but, as far as can be known, without
rich characterization of the teller. Apuleius uses to the full the
advantage of having a man-ass as narrator, for his composite hero has a
duplex view-point of man and animal and displays a double humor, of man
and beast. All this keeps the hero-narrator before our eyes and we
become ever more and more interested in the effect of the events
narrated on his inner life and on his final solution of life.

Riefstahl points out that in the Greek love romances there is some
striving after subjectivity in the presentation of external events. The
possibility of expression is not yet rich, but by soliloquies, by
descriptions of emotions, by reflections on events expressed in γνῶµαι
the romancers are working from objective to subjective presentation of
their material. The soul is treated as an individual entity separated
from the body and contrasted to it. On this foundation in the love
romances rests the inner structural arch of spatial separation and
spiritual fidelity. The relation of the objective and the subjective
creates somehow the scale on which all these romances take their place.
The love romances are at the objective end of the scale, the older ones
particularly, dynamic events holding writer and reader spell-bound. In
Longus a peaceful atmosphere is created because there are few exciting
events, little travel, only the study of the development of love in two
adolescents in a quiet pastoral setting, but the expression is not
adequate. Longus senses the dual conception of Eros, in man and in
nature, for the love of the two young shepherds is set in the teeming,
growing life of the outer world, but he does not develop fully this
subtle implication. Achilles Tatius inclines toward the subjective
direction through his attempted use of the ego-narrative. But the
fullest subjective treatment is found in Apuleius. In Achilles Tatius as
in Apuleius, the aim of the hero is a µυστήριον but with him it is the
µυστήριον of love; in Apuleius it is the _sacrorum arcana_. [373] The
powerful cosmic force of love appears only in Apuleius and there it is
embodied in the personality of Isis. The goddess describes herself to
Lucius as “the natural mother of all things, mistress and governess of
all the elements, the initial progeny of worlds, chief of the powers
divine, queen of all that are in hell, the principal of them that dwell
in heaven, manifested above and under one form of all the gods and
goddesses. ”[374]

The whole story of Apuleius pictures, according to Riefstahl, the
striving of the individual towards the All. The cosmic Eros has taken
the place of the ancient Greek Eros, who was a terrible power, often
identified with the blind, cruel Τύχη. To this cosmic Eros Apuleius has
given the name of Isis. [375] Riefstahl to be sure pushes too far his
theory of an underlying philosophical content in Apuleius, representing
the romance “as an artistic unit . . . and as an issue of the writer’s
intellectual interests and personality,” “ein künstlerisch gestaltetes
Anschauungsbild der existenziellen Lebensgrundlage des
Neuplatonismus. ”[376] Yet he does point out astutely the fundamental
difference in Apuleius which makes his _Metamorphoses_ another distinct
type of romance, the subjective philosophical.

A word now in retrospect. By the end of the second century A. D. , this
new genre of literature, the romance, had developed to full stature.
Already besides the author of the Ninus romance, Chariton, Lucian and
Apuleius had written their stories, and perhaps also Xenophon of
Ephesus. The different types of romance were already established: the
historical romance, the love romance with its secondary interests of
adventure and religion, satirical romance, the subjective philosophical
romance. The pastoral was soon to be added. That is, in the second
century of our era, a new type of literature was created, a type which
was to be the most popular in the modern world. [377]

It is strange to find that so distinguished and perceptive an historian
as Rostovtzeff in his histories of Rome does not recognize the
significance for the early empire of this new literary form. In
describing the second century, he writes:[378]

“Except for the troubled reign of Marcus Aurelius, the Roman Empire
under the Antonines enjoyed profound peace, broken only by distant
wars on the frontier. Within the empire life appeared to be, as it had
been in the first century, a steady forward movement for the diffusion
and enrichment of civilization. The creative power of Rome seemed to
have reached its zenith. There was, however, one disquieting symptom:
after the brilliant age of the Flavians we note an almost complete
sterility in literature and art. After Tacitus, and after the artists
who worked for Trajan . . . the decades that followed failed to produce
a single great writer or a single notable monument of art. . . .

“Even before the time of war and pestilence in the reign of Marcus
Aurelius, we mark in the whole of intellectual life not merely a pause
but even a backward movement. The only exception is a revival of Greek
rhetorical prose, perfect in form but monotonous in substance. Its
chief representative is the sophist and rhetorician, Aristides, and
his best work is his _Panegyric_ on Rome. The _Dialogues_ of Lucian
are witty and interesting; he was a sceptic and a humorist who mocked
all ideals both new and old. In the West there are only two names to
be quoted, that of the satirist Juvenal, a gloomy and bitter observer
of the dark side of human life, and that of Pliny the Younger, a
shallow orator and a brilliant representative of the epistolary style.
The rest both in Greece and in Italy are writers of handbooks,
text-books, and of miscellaneous collections of entertaining stories
for the amusement and instruction of the reader. ”

Rostovtzeff’s omission of all reference to the Greek Romances (even to
Lucian’s) and to Apuleius shows how completely they have been
disregarded. Yet for a picture of the social life of the second and the
third centuries and of the psychology of the men of the time the Greek
Romances and Apuleius are a revelation.

The Roman empire had checked both political activity and oratory, indeed
the orator had been succeeded by the rhetor in Greece and Rome. In the
unified Mediterranean world trade had developed greatly and travellers
had followed traders from one country to another, among them the
lecturing sophists. The new lands visited had their curiosities and
splendors so travellers’ tales multiplied with descriptions often worthy
of a natural history. Men, diverted from the aims of personal ambition
which military conquest or a democratic state had afforded, now sought
release and excitement in the personal relations. Women achieved a new
freedom and a new importance. The emotional life came to have a new
interest and this led to the development of the prose romance.

From the east came, with rich material resources, a wealth of new ideas,
a mingling of superstition, magic, religion and philosophy. Just as
man’s emotions were turned inward so was his thought. The greatest new
adventure became the quest for a solution of life itself. The romances
of the early empire whatever their type reflect the age: its craving for
excitement, its desire for adventure, its dread of brigands, its
curiosity about the new, its interest in art, its wish for fulfillment
of emotion in romantic love, its awareness of unsolved mysteries in man
and the universe. With even the partial re-dating of the Greek Romances
all sorts of subjects open up for investigation such as the apparatus of
religion in the use of oracles, dreams, epiphanies; the interest in
works of art; the new position of women. At any time in the future new
fragments of romances may be discovered, or new dating of some of the
old ones may be made possible. But even now while archaeological
discoveries are suspended and publication of new editions is delayed, we
may read and re-read these amazing old stories and see what escape
literature was in the second and third centuries. The Greek Romances
have much to tell us of the psychology of their authors, their
characters, and their readers. They have a deep human value.

“Homo sum: humani nil a me alienum puto.