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THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 A P U L E I U S 
 
 COMPRISIXG THE 
 
 METAMORPHOSES, OR GOLDEN ASS, 
 
 THE GOD OF SOCKATES, ^KE FLOEIDA, 
 
 AXD 
 
 HIS DEFENCE, OR A DISCOURSE ON MAGIC. 
 
 A NEW TRANSLATION. 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 
 
 A METRICAL VERSION OF CUPID AND PSYCHE, 
 
 AND 
 
 MRS. TIGHE'S PSYCHE, 
 
 LONDON : GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1878. 
 

 y^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND S0S8, 
 
 STAiirORD 8TRSST AND CHARING CB08S. 
 
y 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The author of the celebrated romance of " The Golden Ass" 
 lived in tke early part of the second century, under the Antonines. 
 By most modern biographers he is called Lucius Apuleius, or 
 Appuleius, but the authority on which they assign him that prse- 
 nomen is very questionable. He was a native of Madaura, an 
 inland African town, and he styles himself, in allusion to its po- 
 sition on the borders of two kingdoms, " a half-and-half Numi- 
 dian and Getulian ;" adding that, in that respect, he resembled 
 the elder Cyrus, who was " a Semi-Median and Semi-Persian." 
 Madaura, after having formed part of the kingdom of Syphax, 
 was bestowed by the Homans on their ally Masinissa, and being 
 eventually resumed and peopled by veterans, it obtained the 
 rank and immunities of a " colony," and rose to considerable 
 splendour. The father of Apuleius filled the office of duumvir, 
 the highest magisterial dignity in his native place, and bequeathed 
 at his death the sum of nearly two millions of sesterces to his 
 two sons, one of whom, the subject of our present inquiries, 
 succeeded to his office. These facts we learn from the direct 
 testimony of the son in his Apologia or Defence ; but most of 
 the biographers of Apuleius add other particulars, drawn from 
 the assumption that, under the character of Lucius, the imagi- 
 nary hero of the story of "the Golden Ass," the author 
 has related sundry details of his own personal history. Upon 
 this supposition, we are told that our author's praenomen was 
 Lucius, that his father's name was Theseus, his mother's Salvia, 
 and that she was of a Thessalian family, and descended from the 
 illustrious Plutarch ; furthermore, that Apuleius was ignorant of 
 the Latin language until he visited Rome, where he acquired it 
 
 in*:*i^*> 
 
iv 
 
 BIOGEAPHICAL INTEODirCTIOjS". 
 
 without tlie aid of a master; and tliat by the time he amved at 
 the capital of the empire, he had so completely dissipated his 
 patrimony, as to be under the necessity of selling his clothes, in 
 order to defray the cost of his initiation into the mysteries of 
 Osiris. This latter statement is at variance with the account 
 which he gives of his fortune in the Apologia, where he says, 
 merely, that it had been, " modice imminutum," somewhat im- 
 paired ; the other particulars may or may not be true. There 
 is, no doubt, such a resemblance between Apuleius and Lucius, 
 both as regards mental characteristics and outward incidents, that 
 we can hardly suppose it to be fortuitous. It is highly probable 
 that the author drew his hero from his own likeness ; but on the 
 other hand, it is absurd to look for literal fidelity in such a por- 
 trait. It is not likely, for instance, that Apuleius would have 
 deemed it consistent with decorum to speak of himself, his father 
 and his mother, by their real names, in so frolicsome a work of fiction 
 as " The Golden Ass," since we find, that when addressing the sons 
 of a friend in some complimentary verses of a peculiar character, 
 such as the habits of his day allowed, he thought it his duty to 
 invent pseudonymes for the objects of his flattery.* 
 
 Apuleius received the first rudiments of education at Carthage, 
 renowned at that time as a school of literature, and there he 
 adopted the Platonic system of philosophy, in which he perfected 
 himself by his subsequent studies at Athens. There, too, he 
 laid the foundations of that copious stock of various and profound 
 learning, through which he became the most distinguished lite- 
 rary character of his age. Still thirsting for knowledge, and 
 impelled, like his own Lucius, by an insatiable curiosity to ex- 
 plore all that was hidden from the vulgar gaze, he travelled 
 through Greece, Asia, and Italy, and became a member of 
 many religious fraternities, and a proficient in their mys- 
 teries. After his return to Africa, lie was about to renew his 
 travels, and on his way to Alexandria was taken ill at Oea, a 
 maritime town, which some geographers have identified with 
 the modem Tripoli. A young man, named Pontianus, whom 
 * See Defence, p. 256. 
 
BIOGRAFHICAL rNTEODTJCTIOJiT. T 
 
 he liad known as a fellow-student at Athens, invited the inyalid 
 to become the guest of his mother, a wealthy widow, named 
 Pudentilla. In making this hospitable proposal, Pontianus 
 had more in view than the comfort of his friend, and the 
 restoration of his health. Pudentilla was herself also an invalid, 
 being affected with a chronic complaint, which had lasted thir- 
 teen years — the duration of her widowhood — and for which her 
 medical advisers all agreed in prescribing marriage as a remedy. 
 The son, seeing his mother prepared to try the effect of tlrat 
 nostrum, was desirous that her new husband should be one of 
 his own choosing. Accordingly, he begged Apuleius would do 
 him the favour to beconje his stepfather, putting the affair to 
 him, says the latter, in the light of an onerous service, such as 
 one might ask a friend and a philosopher to undertake. The 
 widow was neither young nor handsome, but she was virtuous, 
 fond, and very rich. Apuleius, if not poor, was, at least, reduced 
 in circumstances, in consequence of his long-continued course of 
 study, his protracted residence in foreign countries, and various 
 acts of generosity towards his friends and instructors ; moreover, 
 he was a philosopher ; so in fine he married the widow. 
 
 But this act involved some unpleasant consequences. Before 
 it was accomplished, Pontianus had married the daughter of 
 one E-ufinus', who, long eager to secure to his son-in-law as 
 large a share as possible in the fortune of Pudentilla, did 
 all he could to prevent her marriage with Apuleius ; and in 
 this he was seconded by Pontianus, over whom he had acquired 
 such an influence, as to make him look with aversion on the suc- 
 cess of his own project. But notwithstanding all opposition, 
 Pudentilla persisted in her resolution ; and soon after her mar- 
 riage, Pontianus died. His uncle, J]]milianus, then united with 
 Eufinus in endeavours to ruin Apuleius. They gave out that he 
 had poisoned Pontianus, that he was a magician, and had gained 
 the affections of Pudentilla by witchcraft. They even prosecuted 
 him upon the latter charge, and the cause was tried at Sabrata, 
 before Claudius Maximus, the proconsul of Africa. It was on 
 that occasion he delivered the Defence, a translation of which 
 
VI BIOGEAPHTCAI, IJyTEODTJCTION. 
 
 will be found in this volume. It is a clever and amusing per- 
 formance, having nothing of the tragic earnestness of a man who 
 is pl-eading for his life ; on the contrary, Apuleius appears, from 
 first to last, to have felt quite secure as to the issue, and to have 
 flung himself with great glee into a contest which afforded him 
 such capital opportunities for displaying his wit, his learning, and 
 his powers of rhetoric. His adversaries had a bad game to play ; 
 they played it into his hands, and he made good use of their blun- 
 ders. The main charge was ridiculous enough, and Apulems had for 
 it a ready and sufficient answer : " You are surprised," he said, 
 " that a woman should have married again after thirteen years of 
 widowhood ; but the real wonder is, that she should have remained 
 unmarried so long. You pretend that magic alone could have 
 forced a widow of her years to marry a young man ; but that is 
 just the sort of case in which magic would be quite superfluous." 
 As if to give the more force to this argument, the prosecutors 
 were indiscreet enough to lay great stress on the graces and ac- 
 complishments of the accused, and to press upon the notice of 
 the court that Apuleius was altogether such a man as was most 
 likely, in the natural course of things, to find favour in a woman's 
 eyes ; for he was handsome, and not negligent of his person ; he 
 used a mirror ; he combed his hair ; he actually cleaned his teeth ! 
 and this handsome man, who cultivated cleanliness as well as phi- 
 losophy, had a ready wit and a fluent tongue ! 
 
 After the discomfiture of his wife's relations, it seems probable 
 that nothing very remarkable occurred to disturb the even tenour 
 of a life of literary labour to which Apuleius devoted himself. 
 All that is known of this latter part of his career, is, that he was 
 a most voluminous writer ; that he frequently declaimed in public 
 with great applause ; he was a priest of -3llsculapius, the pa- 
 tron god of Carthage ; he had the charge of exhibiting gladi- 
 atorial shows and wild beast hunts in the province, and statues 
 were erected in his honour by the senate of Carthage and of other 
 states. It was probably in his latter days that he composed his 
 most cftlebrated work, " The Metamorphoses, or the Golden Ass ;" 
 for neither does he allude to it in those passages in which he boasts 
 
FJOGEAPHICAL INTRODTJCTION. VU 
 
 of the extent and variety of Iiis literary productions ; nor was any 
 mention made of it upon the occasion of his trial for magic, as 
 would certainly have been done had his prosecutors been aware 
 of the existence of such a book. This celebrated romance pur- 
 ports to be the autobiography of a certain Lucius of Madaura, 
 whose curiosity with respect to magic has been rewarded by his 
 tranformation into the form of a jackass, in which he undergoes 
 many curious and ludicrous adventures, until he is at last restored 
 to human shape by the interposition of the goddess Isis, to whose 
 service he devotes himself. Had this amusing story appeared 
 before the trial at Sabrata, it might have been used with formid- 
 able effect against its author, whose contemporaries, anticipat- 
 ing the opinions of a subsequent age, might have identified 
 Lucius with Apuleius, and believed the latter to be a great 
 magician. 
 
 Lactantius informs us that the early pagan controversialists 
 used to rank Apuleius with Apollonius of Tyana, as a thauma- 
 turgus, and to cite various miracles performed by him as equal, or 
 superior to those of Christ. A generation later, St. Augustine 
 permitted himself to doubt whether the account given by Lucius, 
 or Apuleius, of his change into an ass was not a true relation : 
 " Aut indicavit," says he, " aut finxit." 
 
 The Golden Ass, in which many writers, especially Bishop "War- 
 burton, have been at pains to discover a profound theological 
 purpose, appears to have been written with a view to little else 
 than the amusement of a profane public. It is enriched with 
 numerous episodes, of which the best known, and by far the most 
 beautiful, is the story of Cupid and Psyche. Another forms the 
 second story of the seventh day of the Decameron. An adventure 
 which befel Lucius, probably suggested to Cervantes the dreadful 
 combat which took place at an inn between Don Quixote and the 
 Wine- skins ; and there is a striking resemblance between the occur- 
 yences seen by Lucius at the habitation of robbers, and some of the 
 early incidents in Gil Bias. Apuleius, who is now comparatively 
 neglected, was familiarly known to all readers of the classics 
 during the three centuries preceding our own j but it is only 
 
nn BioGBArniCAL inteobuctton-. 
 
 througli tlie medium of a translation that Englishmen, at least, 
 are likely to make much acquaintance with him for the future. 
 His Latin is very troublesome to read, and it is not worth reading 
 for its own sake. He is a most amusing writer, with an execrable 
 style, and therefore he is one of the few who ought to gain rather 
 than lose by translation. "No one," says Professor Eamsay, 
 " can peruse a few pages of Apuleius without being at once im- 
 pressed with his conspicuous excellencies and his glaring defects. 
 We find everywhere an exuberantplay of fancy, liveliness, humour, 
 wit, learning, acuteness, and not unfrequently real eloquence. On 
 the other hand, no style can be more vicious. It is in the high- 
 est degree unnatural, both in its general tone and in the phrase- 
 ology employed. The former is disfigured by the constant recur- 
 rence of ingenious but forced and learned conceits and studied 
 prettinesses, while the latter is remarkable for the multitude of 
 obsolete words ostentatiously paraded in almost every sentence. 
 The greater number of these are to be found in the extant com- 
 positions of the oldest dramatic writers, and in quotations pre- 
 served by the grammarians ; and those for which no authority can 
 be produced, were, in all probability, drawn from the same source, 
 and not arbitrarily coined to answer the purpose of the moment, 
 as some critics have imagined. The least faulty perhaps, of all, 
 is the Apologia. Here he spoke from deep feeling ; and although 
 we may in many places detect the inveterate afiectation of the rhe- 
 torician, yet there is often a bold, manly, straightforward hearti- 
 ness and truth, which we seek in vain in those compositions where 
 his feelings were less couched." 
 
 Of all the voluminous writings of Apuleius there are only six 
 extant of unquestioned authenticity. Two we have already named ; 
 the third is a dissertation on the God of Socrates, a work which 
 has been rouglily attacked by St. Augustine ; the fourth a treatise 
 on the Doctrines of Plato ; the fifth the book entitled Florida, 
 which is commonly supposed to be an anthology from the orations 
 of Apuleius, collected either by himself or one of his admirers, 
 but more probably a collection of passages intended as proemia 
 to sundry declamations, or to be introduced, as occasion might 
 
BIOGEAPHICAL rNTJaODUCTIOW. US 
 
 serve, into tlie body of an extemporaneous harangue. The sixth 
 and last is the De Mundo Liber, a translation of an anonymous 
 Greek treatise, erroneously ascribed to Aristotle, which we have 
 not thought worth inserting. The treatise on Plato is not in- 
 cluded here, as it has already been given in the sixth volume of 
 Mr. Bohn's edition of the entire works of Plato. 
 
 The Golden Ass has been several times presented to the English 
 public, but, it is believed, never yet so completely or faithfully. The 
 God of Socrates has once previously been translated, (by Thomas 
 Taylor), but the Florida, and the Apologia or Defence, are now 
 given in English for the first time. The able metrical version of 
 Cupid and Psyche, first published in 1801 anonymously, but at- 
 tributed to the pen of Hudson Gurney, Esq., and the well-known 
 poem of Psyche by Mrs. Tighe, are adjoined, because of their 
 appropriateness and merit. The latter was highly popular at the 
 time of its first pubhcation, went through several large editions, 
 and was elaborately reviewed and praised in the Quarterly Eeview 
 of May, 1811. 
 
THE 
 
 METAMORPHOSES, 
 
 OK GOLDEN* ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 In the following Milesian f narrative, I will string together 
 various stories, and regale your listening ears with some meriy 
 whispers, if only you will not disdain to look upon this Egyp- 
 tian pap3^rus, ^Titten with the subtle point of a IS'ilotic 
 reed ; and I will proceed to astonish you with the adventures 
 of men changed into different shapes, and, after various vicis- 
 situdes, restored to their original forms. Who I am, I will 
 tell you in a few words : 
 
 Hymettus of Attica, the Isthmus of Ephyre,J andTasnarusg of 
 Sparta, famous lands, immortalized in books still more famous, 
 
 * Golden.] — The following remarks relative to this epithet are from Dr. 
 Smith's ' Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography :' — " The epithet 
 * aureus' is generally supposed to have been bestowed in consequence of the 
 admiration in which this tale was held, for, being considered as the most 
 excellent composition of its kind, it was compared to tiie most excellent 
 of metals. Warburton, however, ingeniously contends that ' aureus' was 
 the common epithet bestowed upon all Milesian tales, because they were 
 such as strollers used to rehearse for a piece of money to the rabble in a 
 circle, after the fashion of oriental story-tellers. He founds his conjec- 
 ture upon an expression in one of Pliny's Epistles ( ii. 20), ' Assem para, 
 et accipe auream fabulam,' — ' give me a piece of copper, and receive in 
 return a story worth a piece of gold,' or, ' precious as gold,' which brings 
 us back to the old explanation.*' 
 
 t Milesian.'] — The people of Miletus were famed for their love of merri- 
 ment and luxury ; hence stories of an amatory or mirthful nature wera 
 generally known by the name of ' Milesian stories.' 
 
 X Ephyre'] — The ancient name of Corinth. 
 
 i Tcenarm.] — This seems a preferable reading to Tenedos. 
 
 3 
 
2 PREFACE. 
 
 are my old nurseries.* There, in the early studies of my youth, 
 I learned the Attic tongue. Soon after, a stranger in the 
 Latian city, I applied mj^self to the study of the native lan- 
 guage of the Eomans ; which I acquired with painful labour, 
 without the help of a master. 
 
 Behold, then, I preface with asking pardon, should I in any 
 way oifend by my unskilful use of a strange and foreign tongue. 
 Indeed this very change of language well befits the description 
 of the transformatory art of magic, of which we purpose here 
 to treat. We will begin, then, a Grecian story :f Eeader, 
 attend, you will be delighted. 
 
 * My old nurseries.'] — 'Mea vetus prosapia est.' Taylor, following 
 the Delphin interpretation, takes this to mean : ' are the ancient originals 
 of my race.' This version is either expressly warranted or tacitly ad- 
 mitted by all the commentators ; but, however respectable the authorities 
 in its favour, it wants that of common sense. If Lucius, who was a 
 native of Medaura, in Africa, had intended to tell us where his progenitors 
 had lived, why should he have omitted Thessaly, the country of his 
 mother's ancestors ? It is just possible that his father might have traced 
 back his pedigree, through a pair inhabiting one of the places named, 
 to a male and female ancestor belonging severally to the other two ; but 
 would it have followed thence that Lucius should have pursued his early 
 studies in those very three places ? What he desires to make known to 
 the reader is, that Greek was the language of his youth, and Latin a 
 later acquirement, a fact upon which the nationality of two of his remote 
 ancestors could have no bearing whatever. We incline to think that the 
 word ' prosapia,' which literally means, lineage, is here used in a figurative 
 sense, akin to that in which Englishmen speak of their university as their 
 
 * alma mater.' Unfortunately we cannot decide the question by references 
 to other authors ; for prosapia, as we learn from Quintilian, is one of 
 those antiquated and obsolete words to the use of which Apuleius and his 
 contemporary Aulus Gellius were inordinately addicted. At all events, 
 
 * original seat of a race,' is quite as arbitrary a rendering of ' prosapia ' 
 as that which we have ventured to assign to it. — K. 
 
 t A Grecian story.] — This name is probably given to the story, from the 
 scene being laid in Thessaly. It is also not improbable that he calls the 
 work by this epithet in consequence of having derived it from Lucius of 
 Patrse, a Grecian writer, from whom, also, Lucian derived his work, which 
 is somewhat similar, called qvoq, ' the ass.' 
 
BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 LrClTJS, JOTJENETING FEOM COEINTH TO THESSALY, OVERTAKES 
 
 AND CONVEKSES WITH TWO TEAVELLEES FIEST EPISODE: TALE 
 
 OF AEISTOMENES, THE COMMEECIAL TEAVELLEE LrCItTS AEEIVE8 
 
 AT HTPATA BECOMES THE GUEST OF MILO MEETS AN OLD AC- 
 QUAINTANCE IN THE FISH MAEKET A ZEALOtTS MAGISTEATE. 
 
 I HAD occasion to visit Thessaly on business ; for it was there 
 that our origin on the maternal side w^as derived, in the first 
 place, from the celebrated Plutarch,* and afterwards from his 
 grandson, Sextus, the philosopher, a thing which reflects so 
 much honour upon us. I had travelled over lofty mountains, 
 slippery valleys, dewy turf, and thick-clodded plains, being 
 mounted on a milk-white horse of that country ; and as he 
 was now much fatigued, I jumped upon my feet, in order that 
 I too might shake off the numbness of my limbs by walking; 
 then carefully wiped the sweat from my horse with a handful 
 of leaves, f stroked his ears, threw the reins over his head, and 
 walked him along at a gentle pace, until the usual functions 
 of nature had relieved his weariness. 
 
 And now, while bending down his head, and cropping the 
 grass sideways, he was taking his ambulatory breakfast, I made 
 a third with two persons who were travelling together, and who 
 happened to be on the road a little before me. While I listened 
 to hear what was the subject of their conversation, one of them, 
 bursting into a loud laugh, said to the other, ''Deleave off tell- 
 ing such absurd, such monstrous :]: lies." 
 
 Hearing this, 1, who am generally athirst after novelty, struck 
 
 * Plutarch.'] — Plutarch, the historian, was a native of Boeotia, and his 
 nephew, Sextus, the preceptor of Marcus Antoninus, in all probability 
 lived later than the time of Apuleius. It consequently follows either that 
 Plutarch of Chaeronsea is not the person here meant, or that, if he is, the 
 allusion to Sextus is a mere gloss. There seems no reason to suppose 
 that Apuleius refers here to his own descent from Plutarch through his 
 mother, Salvia, though most of the early commentators adopted that notion. 
 
 t A handful of leaves.'] — ' Fronde.' Some read ' fronte,' i. e. ' I wiped 
 the sweat from my horse's forehead.' 
 
 + Monstrous.] — * Immania' seems a preferable reading to ' inania.' 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE GOLDEI^r ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 in, and said, ''May I beg you will make me acquainted with 
 your story ; not, indeed, that I would be impertinently inqui- 
 sitive, but I long to know everything, or at least as much as 
 I can ; besides, some pleasa,nt amusing tales will smooth the 
 ruggedness of this hill we are just ascending." 
 
 " Decidedly," said the first speaker, ** this lying story is 
 about as true as if a person should think fit to assert, that by 
 magical mutterings rapid rivers can be made to run back- 
 wards, the ocean be congealed, the winds robbed of breath, the 
 sun stopped in his course, the moon made to drop her foam,* 
 the stars plucked from their spheres, the day annihilated, and 
 the night' indefinitely prolonged." 
 
 On this, assuming a somewhat confident air, ''Do not you," 
 said I, '' who began the story, repent of having so done, nor 
 think it a trouble to tell the remainder." And then, turning 
 to the other : " But as for you," said I, " you reject with dull 
 ears and stubborn disposition, a statement of things which, 
 perhaps, are true. Little are you aware, by Hercules ! by 
 what perversity of opinion those things are thought to be lies, 
 which appear either novel to the hearing, or strange to the 
 sight, or at least exalted beyond the range of thought; whereas, 
 if you examine them a little more attentively, you will find 
 them not only manifest to the senses, but even easy of accom- 
 plishment. Why, it was only last evening, that, while I was 
 endeavouring to eat faster than my fellow -guests, and to swallow 
 too large a mouthful of cheesecalce, I was all but choked 
 through the spongy nature of the glutinous morsel sticking 
 in my throat, and stopping up my breath at the bottom of my 
 windpipe. And yet, it was but very lately that at Athens, in 
 front of the Poecile Portico, f I beheld with these two eyes a 
 juggler I swallow a horseman's two-edged broad-sword, sharp 
 
 * Her foam.] — It was a common notion with the ancients, that the 
 moon shed a noxious or poisonous venom or foam, and that sorcerers or 
 magicians were able to draw her down to the earth by their incantations. 
 The so-called ' Lunar virus' was a principal ingredient in spells and 
 magical compositions. 
 
 t Poecile Portico.'] — This portico was so called from the Greek word 
 -rroiKiXri — ' variegated,* or * painted.' It was at Athens, and was adorned 
 with numerous pictures, the works of Polygnotus and Mycon. The battle 
 of Marathon was there represented. 
 
 X A juggler.] — It is not improbable that the mountebanks and jugglers 
 of the ancients received their name of ' circulatores' from their exhibit- 
 ing in a ring of people, like those of the present day. 
 
BOOK I. TALE OF AEISTOMEjVfES. 5 
 
 ill the extreme, blade foremost, and afterwards, foi a tri- 
 fling inducement, huvj deep in his entrails a hunter's spear, 
 with that part of it downward which threatens destruction. 
 And, wondrous to tell ! behind the iron head of the spear, at 
 the part where the handle of the immersed weapon * passed up 
 the throat,! towards the hinder part of the head, a beautiful 
 boy mounted up, and wriggled and twisted himself about as 
 if he had been without sinew or bone in his body, to the ad- 
 miration of all of us who were present. You would have said 
 it was the noble serpent, clinging with its slippery coils to the 
 knotted staff, with half-clipped branches, which the God of 
 Medicine carries. But you, who began the story, be good 
 enough to repeat it again, I pray you. I will believe you if 
 he will not, and will ask you to dinner at the first inn we 
 come to. This I propose as your remuneration." 
 
 ''I thankfully decline your offer," | he replied, *' but will 
 begin my story over again. And, in the first place, I will 
 swear to you by that sun, the all- seeing god, that what I re- 
 late I know by experience to be true. Nor w411 you any longer 
 doubt that such is the fact, when once you come to the next 
 city of Thessaly, for there the story is in every body's mouth, 
 as it relates to matters that publicly took place there. But, 
 that you may first know who I am, and of what country, and 
 by what pursuits I live, listen to my narrative." 
 
 FIRST EPISODE. 
 
 TALE OP AE.IST0MENES, THE COMMEECIAL TEAVELLEE. 
 
 "I AM a native of ^gina, and I travel to and fro through 
 Thessaly, ^tolia, and Boeotia, for the purpose of purchasing 
 honey of Hypata, as also cheese, and other articles of traffic 
 
 * Immersed weapon.'} — "We follow the Delphm editor, who with mani- 
 fest propriety substitutes ' imrnersi ' for the common reading, ' inversi.' 
 t Up the throat.'] — ' Ingluviem' seems a preferable reading to 'inguen.' 
 X Decline your offer P\ — ' ^Equi bonique facio,' is a form of thanks which 
 implies refusal without expressing it, just like the French word ' merci.' 
 ' iilqui bonique consulere,' means, on the contrary, to accept in good part. 
 Neither Taylor nor Head seem to have been aware of the distinction. 
 They both make A ristomenes accept the invitation, though . the event 
 shows that Lucius did not understand his reply in that sense. — K. 
 
6 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULKTTJS. 
 
 used in cookery. Having understood that at Hypata,* which 
 is the principal city of all Thessaly, new cheese of exqui- 
 site flavour was to be sold *at a very reasonable price, I made 
 the best of my way to that place, with the intention of buy- 
 ing up the whole of it. But, as generally is the case, start- 
 ing unluckily with the left foot foremost,'f all my hopes of 
 gain were utterly disappointed. Tor a person named Lupus, 
 a merchant in a large way of business, had bought the whole 
 of it the day before. 
 
 *' Weary with my rapid journey, undertaken to so little pur- 
 pose, I proceeded, early in the evening, to the public baths, 
 when, to my surprise, I espied an old companion of mine, named 
 Socrates. He was sitting on the ground, half covered with a 
 Borry, tattered cloak, and looked almost another person, he was 
 so miserably wan and thin ; just like those outcasts of Fortune, 
 who beg alms in the streets. Consequently, although he had 
 been my friend and particular acquaintance, I yet accosted 
 him with feelings of hesitation. 
 
 " ' How now, friend Socrates,' said I, ' what is the meaning 
 of this ? Why this appearance ? What crime have you been 
 guilty of? Why, you have been lamented at home, and for 
 some time given up for dead.]: Guardians have been as- 
 signed to your children, by decree of the provincial magistrate. 
 Your wife, having fulfilled what was due to the dead,§ all dis- 
 figured by grief and long-continued sorrow, and having almost 
 cried herself blind with excessive weeping, is being womed 
 by her parents to repair the misfortune of the family by the 
 joys of a new marriage. But here you come before our eyes 
 like some spectral apparition, to our extreme confusion.' 
 
 * Hypata ] — This was a famous city of Thessaly, situate on the banks 
 of the river Spercheus. 
 
 t Left foot foremost.'] — To start on a journey by putting the left foot 
 foremost was considered to be especially significant of ill luck ; so much 
 so, that the expression came to be generally used to denote a bad omen. 
 
 X Given up for dead.'] — * Conclamatus es.' After a person was dead 
 it was the custom of the Romans to call on him by name, for the purpose 
 of recalling him to life, in case he should be only in a trance. This cere- 
 mony was called ' conclamatio,' and was generally performed while the 
 body was being washed, once a day for seven days ; after which period 
 the body was burnt. 
 
 § Due to thedead.'\ — Ovid, in his Fasti, b. i. 1. 36, mentions ten months 
 as the period assigned by Numa for widows to mourn the loss of their 
 husbands. 
 
BOOK 1. TALE OF AEISTOirE.VES. 7 
 
 *' ' Aristomenes ! ' said he, * it is clear that you are igno- 
 rant of the slippery turns, the unstable freaks, and the ever- 
 changing vicissitudes of Fortune.' 
 
 "As he said this, he hid his face, which was crimsoned with 
 shame, in his cobbled covering of tatters, so that he left the rest 
 of his body naked, from the navel downward, as far as the 
 groin. At last, unable to endure the sight of such a miserable 
 spectacle of woe, I took hold of him, and endeavoured to raise 
 him from the ground. But, with his head covered up as it 
 was, he exclaimed, ' Let me alone, let me alone ; let Eortune 
 still enjoy the trophy she has erected.' 
 
 '^ However, I prevailed upon him to accompany me : and at 
 the same time pulling off one of my own two garments, I 
 speedily — clothed, or covered him, shall I say ? immediately 
 after which, I took him to a bath, and, myself, applied to him 
 the requisite anointing and scrubbing processes, and laboriously 
 rubbed off the coat of filth with which he was defiled. Having 
 paid every attention to him, though tired myself, I supported 
 his enfeebled steps, and with great difficulty brought him to 
 my inn ; where I made him rest on a couch, gave him plenty 
 of food, cheered him with wine, and entertained him with 
 the news of the day. And now our conversation took quite 
 a merry turn, we cracked jokes, and grew noisy in our prattle ; 
 when, heaving a bitter sigh from the bottom of his breast, and 
 violently striking his forehead with his right hand : 
 
 "'Miserable man that I am!' said he; 'to have fallen 
 into these misfortunes while intent on gratifying myself with 
 a famous gladiatorial spectacle. For, as you are very well 
 aware, I went to Macedonia on an affair of business; and 
 after being detained there for the space of ten months, I was 
 on my return homewards, having gained a very pretty sum of 
 money. I had nearly reached Larissa, * which I had included 
 in my route for the purpose of seeing the spectacle I mentioned, 
 when I was attacked by some desperate robbers, in a lonely and 
 rugged valley, and only effected my escape, after being plundered 
 by them of all I possessed. Being thus reduced to extreme dis- 
 tress, I betook myself to a certain woman named Meroe, who 
 kept a tavern, and who, though old, was remarkably engaging ; 
 and to her I related the circumstances of my lengthened ab- 
 sence, of my earnest desire to reach home, and of my being 
 * Larissa. '[ — A city of Thessaly, situated near the river Peneus. 
 
8 THE GOLDEX ASS OF APULEItJS. 
 
 plundered of my property on that day. After I, unfortunate 
 wretch, had related such particulars as I remembered, she 
 treated me with the greatest kindness, supplied me with a 
 good supper, all for nothing, and afterwards, instigated by 
 lust, admitted me to her bed. But from the very moment that 
 I, unhappy man, first lay with her, my mind contracted a last- 
 ing malady ; and I even made her a present of those garments 
 which the robbers, in their humanity, had left me to cover my 
 nakedness. I likewise presented her with the little earnings I 
 made by working as a cloakmaker while I was yet in good con- 
 dition of body ; until at length this worthy partner, and ill 
 fortune together, reduced me to that state in which you just 
 now saw me.' 
 
 " 'By Pollux, then,* said I, ' you deserve to suffer extreme 
 misfortunes, if there is anything still more extreme than that 
 which is most extreme, for having preferred the pleasures of 
 dalliance and a wrinkled harlot, to your home and children.' 
 
 **' ' Hush ! hush !' said he, raising his forefinger to his mouth, 
 and looking round with a terror-stricken countenance to see if 
 he might speak with safety; * Forbear to revile a woman skilled 
 in celestial matters, lest you do yourself an injury through an 
 intemperate tongue.' 
 
 " ' Say you so? ' said I. ' What kind of woman is this tavern- 
 keeper, so powerful and queenly ? ' 
 
 '' ' She is a sorceress,' he replied, ' and endowed with powers 
 divine ; she is able to draw down the heavens, to uplift the 
 earth, to harden the running water, to dissolve mountains, to 
 raise the shades of the dead, to dethrone the Gods, to extin- 
 guish the stars, and to illumine the depths of Tartarus itself.' 
 
 *' 'Come, come,' said I, 'do draw asunder this tragic curtain,* 
 and fold up the theatric drop-scene, and let's hear your story 
 in ordinary parlance.' 
 
 " ' Should you like,' said he, ' to hear of one or two, ay, or a 
 
 * Tragic curtain.] — The * siparium' was a piece of tapestry, stretched 
 on a frame, and, rising before the stage, answered tlie same purpose as the 
 curtain or drop-scene with us in concealing the stage till the actors ap- 
 peared. Instead of drawing up this curtain to discover the stage and 
 actors, according to our present practice, it was depressed when the play 
 began, and fell beneath the level of the stage ; whence * aulaea premuntur, 
 meant that the play had commenced. ' Aulaea' seems here to mean the 
 stage curtain, which divided in the middle and was drawn aside : while 
 the * siparium ' would more nearly correspond with our drop-scene. 
 
BOOK I. TALE OP AEISTOMENES. 9 
 
 great many of her performances r Why, as for making not 
 only her fellow-countrymen love her to distraction, but the 
 Indians even, or the inhabitants of both the ^Ethiopias,* 
 and even the Antichthones f themselves ; these are only the 
 leaves, as it were, of her art, and mere trifles. Listen, then, 
 and hear what she has performed in the presence of many 
 witnesses. Ey a single word only, she changed a lover of hers 
 into a beaver, because he had by force debauched another 
 woman ; since that beast, when in fear of being taken, escapes 
 from its pursuers by the abscission of its genitals ; and she de- 
 sired that the same might likewise befall him, as a punishment 
 for having been connected with another woman. She likewise 
 changed an innkeeper, who was her neighbour, and of whom 
 she was envious on that account, into a frog ; and now the old 
 fellow, swimming about in a cask of his own wine, or buried 
 in the dregs, croaks hoarsely to his old customers, quite in the 
 way of business. She likewise transformed another person, an 
 advocate of the Forum, into a ram, because he had conducted 
 a cause against her ; and to this very day that ram is always at 
 loggerheads..]: Then there was the wife of a lover of hers, whom 
 she condemned to perpetual pregnancy, when on the point of 
 increasing her family, by closing her womb against the egress 
 of the infant, because she had chattered scandal against the 
 witch ; and, for these eight years, according to the general 
 computation, this poor creature has been swelling Avith her 
 burden, as if she were about to be brought to bed of an elephant. § 
 "After this woman, however, and many other persons, had 
 been injured by her arts, the public indignation became 
 aroused against her ; and it was determined that on the follow- 
 ing day a most dire vengeance should be wreaked upon her, 
 by stoning her to death. But, by the power of her enchant- 
 
 * The J^tJiiopias.'] — The eastern and the western, separated from each 
 other by the river Nile, which the ancients (as we are informed by Strabo, 
 Geoyraph. hb. ii.) considered as the boundary of Asia and Africa. 
 
 t J" he Antichthones.'] — So called from inhabiting rr/»' kvavriav \66va, 
 i.e. earth contrary to that on which we dwell. Hence they are either the 
 same with the Antipodes, or, at least, are those who dwell in the inferior 
 hemisphere which is contrary to ours. 
 
 j Is always at logyerheads.'] — ' Causas agit.' This Sir G. Head cleverly 
 renders, ' and gives rebutters and surrebutters as he used to do.' 
 
 § Brought to bed of an elephant.'] — Pliny asserts that the elephant goes 
 with young ten years. 
 
10 
 
 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APELEIIIS. 
 
 ments, she frustrated this design : and as Medea, having 
 obtained by entreaty from Creon the truce of a single day, 
 prior to her departure, burned his whole palace, his daughter, 
 together with the old man himself, with flames issuing from 
 a garland, so, likewise, did this sorceress, haying performed 
 certain deadly incantations in a ditch,* (as she herself lately 
 told me in a fit of drunkenness), confine all the inhabitants 
 of the town, each in his own house, through a secret spell of 
 the daemons ; so that, for two whole days together, neither 
 could the bars be wrenched off, nor the doors be taken off the 
 hinges, nor, in fine, could a breach be made in the walls ; until, 
 by mutual consent, the people unanimously cried out, and 
 swore in the most sacred manner, that they would not lift a 
 hand against her, and would, in case any one should think of 
 so doing, afford her timely assistance. Being after this man- 
 ner appeased, she liberated the whole city. 
 
 " In the middle of the night, however, she conveyed the 
 author of this conspiracy, together with all his house, that is 
 to say, with the walls, the very ground, and all the foundations, 
 close shut as it was, into another city, situate at the hundredth 
 milestone hence, and on the summit of a craggy mountain, 
 in consequence of which it is deprived of water. And, as the 
 dwellings of the inhabitants were built so close together, that 
 they did not afford room to this new comer, she threw down 
 the house before the gate of the city, and took her departure." 
 
 " * You narrate,' said I, * marvellous things, my good Socra- 
 tes, and no less terrible than marvellous. In fine, you have 
 excited in me too, no small anxiety, indeed, I may say, fear, 
 not inoculating me with a mere grain of apprehension, but 
 piercing me with dread as with a spear, lest this old hag, em- 
 ploying in a similar manner the assistance of some da3mon, 
 should come to know this conversation of ours. Let us, there- 
 fore, with all speed, betake ourselves to rest, and when we 
 have relieved our weariness by a night's sleep, let us fly henct 
 as far as we possibly can, before daylight.' 
 
 " "While I was yet advising him thus, the worthy Socrates, 
 overcome by more wine than he had been accustomed to, and 
 ty the fatigue of the day, had fallen asleep, and was now 
 
 * Incantations in a ditch."] — Sacrifices to celestial gods were offered on 
 raised altars ; those to terrestial gods, on the ground ; those to infernal 
 gods, in a pit or ditch. 
 
BOOK I. TALE OF AElST0MEXEt5. 11 
 
 Bnoring aloud. Shutting the door, therefore, securing the 
 bolts, and placing my bed close against the hinges, I tossed it 
 up well, and lay down upon it. At first, indeed, I lay awake 
 some time through fear, but closed my eyes at last a little about 
 the third watch.* 
 
 "I had just fallen asleep, when suddenly the door was burst 
 open with too groat violence for one to believe that it was 
 robbers ; nay, ih.e hinges being entirely broken and wrenched 
 off, it was tlirown to the ground. The bedstead, too, which 
 war but small, wanting one foot, and rotten, was thrown down 
 witn tne violence of the shock, and falling upon me, who had 
 been rolled out and pitched upon the ground, completely covered 
 and concealed me. Then was I sensible that certain emotions 
 of the mind are naturally excited by contrary causes. For as 
 tears very often proceed from joy, so, amid my extreme fear, 
 T could not refrain from laughing, to see myself turned, 
 from Aristomenes, into a tortoise. f And so, while prostrate 
 on the floor, peeping askance to see what was the matter, and 
 completely covered by the bed, I espied two women, of ad- 
 vanced age, one of whom carried a lighted lamp, and the other 
 a sponge and a drawn sword. Thus equipped, they planted 
 themselves on either side of Socrates, who was fast asleep. 
 
 " She who carried the sword then addressed the other, ' This, 
 sister Panthia, is my dear Endymion,| my Ganymede, § who 
 by day and by night, hath laughed my youthful age to scorn. 
 This is he who, despising my passion, not only defames me with 
 abusive language, but is preparing also for flight — and I, for- 
 sooth, deserted through the craft of this Ulysses, just like 
 another Calypso, am to be left to lament in eternal loneliness.' 
 
 " Then extending her right hand, and pointing me out to her 
 friend Panthia; 'And there,' said she, * is his worthy coun- 
 sellor Aristomenes, who was the proposer of this flight, and 
 who now, half dead, is lying flat on the ground beneath 
 the bedstead, and is looking at all that is going on, while he 
 fancies that he is to relate disgraceful stories of me with im- 
 
 * Third watch.'] — The beginning of this would be midnight. 
 
 t Into a tortoise.l — From his bed and bedstead being turned over him. 
 
 t My dear Endymion] — Alluding to the secret of Diana and the shep- 
 herd Endymion, on Mount Latraus. 
 
 § My Ganympde. ^—CsiWedi ' Catamitus' in the text ; by which name h« 
 \& also called in the Menaechmi of Plautus. 
 
12 THE GOLDEIS' ASS OF IPULEITJS. 
 
 punity. I '11 take care, however, that some day, ay, and le- 
 Ibre long too, this very instant in fact, he shall repent of his 
 recent loquacity, and his present inqiiisitiveness.' 
 
 ** On hearing this, wretch that I was, I felt myself streaming 
 with cold perspiration, and my vitals began to throb with agi- 
 tation ; so much so, that even the bedstead, shaken by the 
 violence of my palpitations, moved up and down upon my back. 
 
 " * Well, sister,' said the worthy Panthia, ' shall we hack him 
 to pieces at once, after the fashion of the Bacchanals, or, shall 
 we bind his limbs and deprive him of virility ? ' 
 
 " To this, Meroe replied — for I perceived from the circum- 
 stances, as well as from the narrative of Socrates, how well that 
 name fitted her* — ^ Rather let him live, if only that he may 
 cover with a little earth the body of this wretched creature.' 
 Then, moving the head of Socrates to one side, she plunged 
 the whole sword into him up to the hilt, through the left side 
 of his throat, carefully receiving the flowing blood into a small 
 leathern bottle, placed under it, so that not a drop of it was any- 
 where to be seen. All this did I witness with my own eyes ; 
 and, what is more, the worthy Meroe, that she might not, I 
 suppose, omit any due observance in the sacrifice of the victim, 
 thrusting her right hand through the wound, into the very 
 entrails, and groping among them, drew forth the heart of my 
 unhappy companion ; while, his windpipe being severed by the 
 thrust of the weapon, he emitted through the wound a voice, 
 or rather I should say, an indistinct gurgling noise, and poured 
 forth his spirit with his bubbling blood. Panthia then stopped 
 the gaping wound with the sponge, exclaiming, ' Beware, 
 sea-born sponge, how thou dost pass through a river.' 
 
 "When she had thus said, they lifted my bed from the ground, 
 and squatting astride over my face, discharged their bladders, 
 until they had entirely drenched me with their most filthy 
 contents. 
 
 * How well that name fitted her. "] — Ausonius, Epigram xix., explains 
 this allusion : 
 
 Et tu sic Meroe : non quod sic atra colore, 
 
 Ut quae Niliaca nasciturin Meroe ; 
 Infusum sed quod viniim non diluis undis, 
 Potare immixtum sueta nierunique nierum. 
 You are named Meroe, not because you are of a swarthy complexion 
 like one born in Meroe, the island of the Nile ; but because you do not 
 dilute your wine with water I ut are used to drink it unmixed and con- 
 centrated. — K. 
 
BOOK I. TALE OF AEISTOMEXES. 13 
 
 " Hardly had they passed over the threshold, when the door 
 resumed its former state ; the hinges resettled on the pannels ; 
 the posts returned to the hars, and the holts flew back once more 
 to their sockets. But I, left in such a plight, prostrate on the 
 ground, scared, naked, cold, and drenched in chamber-lye, just 
 like some babe that has recently emerged from the womb of 
 its mother, indeed, I may say, half dead, but still surviving 
 myself, and pursuing, as it were, a posthumous train of reflec- 
 tions, or, to say the least, like a candidate for the cross, to which 
 JL was surely destined : * "What,' said I, ' will become of me, 
 when this man is found in the morning with his throat cut ? 
 Though I tell the truth, who will think my story probable ? 
 You ought at least, they will say, to have called for assistance, 
 if you, such a stout man as yoti are, could not resist a woman. 
 Is a man's throat to be cut before your eyes, and are you to be 
 silent ? How was it you were not likewise assassinated ? Why 
 did the barbarous wretch spare you, a witness of the murder, 
 and not kill you, if only to put an end to all evidence of the 
 crime ? Inasmuch, then, as you have escaped death, now re- 
 turn to it.' 
 
 " These remarks I repeated to myself, over and over again, 
 while the night was fast verging towards day. 
 
 " It appeared to me, therefore, most advisable to escape 
 by stealth before daylight, and to pursue my journey, though 
 with trembling steps. I took up my bundle, and putting the 
 key in the door, drew back the bolts. But this good and 
 faithful door, which during the night had opened of its own 
 accord, was now to be opened but with the greatest difficulty, 
 after putting in the key a multitude of times. 
 
 ^' ' Hallo ! porter,' said I, * where are you ? Open the gates 
 of the inn ; I want to be off before break of day.' 
 
 ''The porter, who was lying on the ground behind the door of 
 the inn, still half asleep, replied, ' Who are you, who would 
 begin your journey at this time of night ? Don't you know 
 that the roads are infested by robbers ? Ay, ay, though 
 you may have a mind to meet your death, stung by your con- 
 science, belike for some crime you have committed, still, I 
 haven't a head like a pumpkin, that I should die for your sake.' 
 
 *"It isn't veiy far from day-break,' said I; 'and besides, 
 what can robbers take from a traveller in the greatest po- 
 verty ? Are you ignorant, you simpleton, that he who is naked 
 "jannot be stripped by ten athletes even ?' 
 
 M\^\'^ 
 
14 XnE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEITJS. 
 
 " The drowsy porter, turning himself on his other side, made 
 answer, ' And how am I to know that you have not mur- 
 dered that fellow-traveller of yours, with whom you came 
 hither last night, and are now consulting your safety in flight ? 
 And now I recollect that just at that hour I saw the depths 
 of Tartarus''^ through the yawning earth and in them the dog 
 Cerberus, looking ready to devour me.' 
 
 '' Then truly I came to the conclusion that the worthy Meroe 
 had not spared my throat through any compassion, but that 
 she had cruelly reserved me for the cross. f Accordingly, on 
 returning to my chamber, I thought about some speedy mode 
 of putting an end to myself : but as Fortune had provided me 
 with no weapon with which to commit self-destruction, except 
 the bedstead alone — ' Now, bedstead,' said I, ' most dear to my 
 soul, who hast been partner with me in enduring so many 
 sorrows, who art fully conscious, and a spectator of this night's 
 events, and whom alone, when accused, I can adduce as a 
 witness of my innocence, do thou supply me, who would fain 
 hasten to the shades below, with a welcome instrument of 
 death.' 
 
 ''Thus saying, I began to undo the rope with which the 
 bed was corded, and throwing one end of it over a sonall beam 
 which projected above the window, and there fastening it, 
 and making a strong slip-knot at the other end, I mounted 
 upon the bed, and thus elevated for my own destruction, I 
 put my head into the noose. But while with one foot I was 
 kicking away the support on which I rested, so that the 
 noose, being tightened about my throat by the strain of my 
 weight, might stop the functions of my breath ; the rope, 
 which was old and rotten, broke asunder, and falling from aloft, 
 I tumbled with great force upon Socrates (for he was lying 
 close by), and rolled with him on to the floor. 
 
 " Lo and behold ! at the very same instant the porter burst 
 into the room, bawling out, * Where are you, you who were 
 
 * Saw the depths of Tartarus,'] — Of course in a dream. Jtist at that 
 hour : — He knows all about it, even to the precise time. The prompti- 
 tude with which the porter decides from the evidence of his dream that 
 the murder had been actually committed, and at the very moment when 
 the dream occurred, is a fine touch of nature. — K. 
 
 t For the cross.] — The cross was the instrument of punishment for 
 slaves and foreigners, especially in cases of murder. 
 
BOOK I. TALE OF AEISTOMENES. 15 
 
 in such monstrous haste to be off at midnight, and now lie 
 snoring, rolled up in the bed-clothes ?' 
 
 *'At these words, whether awakened by my fall, or by 
 the discordant notes of the porter, I know not, Socrates was 
 the fii'st to start up, and exclaim, * Assuredly, it is not 
 without good reason that all travellers detest these hostlers. 
 For this troublesome fellow, intruding so impertinently, with 
 the intention, no doubt, of stealing something, has roused me 
 out of a sound sleep, by his outrageous bellowing.' 
 
 " On hearing him speak, I jumped up briskly, in an ecstasy 
 of unhoped-for joy : * Faithfullest of porters,' I exclaimed, 
 * my friend, my own father, and my brother, behold him whom 
 you, in your drunken lit, fakely accused me of having mur- 
 dered.' So saying, I embraced Socrates, and was for loading 
 him with kisses ; but he, being assailed by the stench of the 
 most filthy liquor with which those hags* had drenched me, 
 repulsed me with considerable violence. ' Get out with you,' 
 he cried, * for you stink like the bottom of a sewer,' and then 
 began jocularly to enquire the cause of this nasty smell. 
 Sorely confused, I trumped up some absurd story on the spur 
 of the moment, to give another turn to the conversation, and, 
 taking him by the right hand, ' Why not be off,' said I, * and 
 enjoy the freshness of the morning on our journey ?' So I took 
 my bundle, and, having paid the innkeeper for our night's 
 lodging, we started on our road. 
 
 ''We had proceeded some little distance, and now every 
 thing being illumined by the beams of the rising sun, I keenly 
 and attentively examined that part of my companion's neck, 
 into which I had seen the sword plunged. * Foolish man/ 
 said I to myself, ' buried in your cups, you certainly have had a 
 most absurd dream. Why look, here's Socrates safe, sound, 
 and hearty. Where is the wound ? where is the sponge ? 
 where, in fine, is the scar of a wound, so deep, and so recent ?' 
 
 '' Addressing myself to him, ' Decidedly,' said I, ' skilful 
 doctors have good reason to be of opinion that it is those who 
 are stuffed out with food and fermented liquors who are trou- 
 bled with portentous and horrible dreams. jMy own case is an 
 
 * Those hays.'] — ' Lamiae' were enchantresses, who were said to prowl 
 about at midnight to satisfy their lustful propensities, and their fond- 
 ness for human flesh. They correspond very nearly with the ' Giiouls' men- 
 tioned in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments. 
 
16 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEITJS. 
 
 instance of this: for having in my evening cups exceeded the 
 bounds of temperance, a wretched night has been presenting 
 to me shocking and dreadful visions, so that I still fancy my- 
 self besprinkled and defiled with human gore.* 
 
 *' ' 'Tis not gore,' he replied with a smile, ' you are sprinkled 
 with, but chamber-lye ; and yet I too, thought, in my sleep, 
 that my throat was cut : some pain, too, I felt in my neck, 
 and I fancied that my very heart was being plucked out : and 
 even now I am quite faint, my knees tremble, I stagger as I 
 go, and feel in want of some food to refresh my spirits.' 
 
 '^ 'Look,' cried I, 'here's breakfast all ready for you;' and 
 so saying, I lifted my wallet from off my shoulders, and at 
 once handed him some cheese and bread, saying, ' Let us sit 
 down near that plane-tree.' 
 
 " We did so, and I also helped myself to some refresh- 
 ment. While looking at him somewhat more intently, as 
 he was eating with a voracious appetite, T saw that he was 
 faint, and of a hue like box-wood ; his natural colour in 
 fact had so forsaken him, that as I recalled those nocturnal 
 furies to my frightened imagination, the very first piece of 
 bread I put into my mouth, though a very tiny bit, stuck in the 
 middle of my throat, so that it could neither pass downward, 
 nor yet return upward. And then besides, the number of people 
 passing along increased my apprehensions ; for who would be- 
 lieve that one of two companions could meet with his death 
 ■without any harm done by the other ? 
 
 "Meanwhile, after having devoui'ed a sufficient quantity 
 of food, he began to be impatient for some drink ; for he had 
 voraciously eaten a good part of a most excellent cheese ; and 
 not very far from the roots of the plane tree, a gentle stream 
 flowed slowly along, just like a placid lake, rivalling silver or 
 glass in its lustre. ' Look,' said I, ' drink your fill of the water 
 of this stream, bright as the Milky "Way.' 
 
 ** He arose, and, wrapping himself in his cloak,* with his 
 knees doubled under him, knelt down upon the shelving bank, 
 and bent greedily towards the water. Scarcely had he 
 touched the dewy surface of the water with the edge of his 
 lips, when the wound in his throat burst wide open, the 
 sponge suddenly rolled out, a few drops of blood accom- 
 panying it ; and then, his body, bereft of life, would have 
 * In his cloak.'} — * Palliolo' seems a preferable reading to * paululum.' 
 
BOOK I. LTJCnJS ARRIVES AT HTPATA. 17 
 
 fallen into the river, had I not laid hold of one of his feet, and 
 dragged it with the utmost difficulty and labour to the top of the 
 bank ; where, having, as well as the time permitted, lamented 
 my unfortunate companion, I buried him in the sandy soil 
 that eternally begirt the stream. For my own part, trem- 
 bling and terror-stricken, I fled through various and unfre- 
 quented places ; and, as though conscious of the guilt of homi- 
 cide, abandoning my country and my home, and embracing a 
 voluntary exile, I now dwell in JEtolia, where I have married 
 another wife." 
 
 END OF THi: FIRST EPISODE. 
 
 Here Aristomenes ended his story, but his companion, who 
 from the very first had rejected it with obstinate incredulity, 
 at once exclaimed, " Nothing is there in fable more fabulous 
 than this story, nothing more absurd than these lies." Then 
 turning to me : *' And you," said he, " who are a person of 
 liberal education, as your dress and appearance bespeak, do you 
 give credit to this story ?" 
 
 I replied, ''I consider nothing impossible, but hold that 
 just as the Fates have preordained, so all things happen to 
 mortals. For both to me and to you, and to all men, many 
 things do happen of so wonderful a nature, that they are nigh 
 to not happening at all ; which, nevertheless, if narrated to 
 an ignorant person, would fail to obtain belief. But this 
 story, by Hercules, I do believe, and I return right hearty 
 thanks to the narrator, for having so Avell entertained us by his 
 pleasant recital, that I have got over a rough and tedious por- 
 tion of my journey without labour or weariness. With this 
 good service, I fancy that this nag of mine is also much grati- 
 fied, inasmuch as I have been carried, without fatigue to him, up 
 to the very gate of this city, not on his back, but by my ears." 
 
 This was the termination of our conversation and of our 
 journey together ; for both my fellow-travellers turned away 
 to some neighbouring villages on the left ; while I approached 
 the first inn I cast eyes upon, and at once accosted the old 
 woman who kept it: " Is this the city of Hypata?" said I; 
 she gave me to understand, by a nod, that it was. " Do you 
 know,'* said I, " a certain person of the name of Milo, who is 
 
 c 
 
18 THE GOLDr.N ASS OF APULEirS.' 
 
 one of the first men of the city r" She smiled, and replied, 
 *' With good reason is this Milo considered one of the first* 
 men, inasmuch as he dwells beyond the Avhole city, and in 
 the Pomoerium."! "Joking apart," said I, *' tell me, I beg 
 of you, good mother, what kind of man he is, and in what 
 house he lives." 
 
 *' Do you see," said she, *' those last windows which look on 
 this side towards the city, and that gate on the other side, 
 looking upon the blind alley in front ? There it is that Milo 
 dwells, a man abounding in money, and extremely opulent ; 
 but disgraced by inordinate avarice and shameful sordidness. 
 In short, he entirel}' devotes himself to usury, taking, pledges 
 of gold and silver. Shut up in a scanty house, and always 
 bending over his pelf, there he dwells Mdth a wife, the partner 
 of his misery. And no one besides does he keep in his house, 
 except one servant girl ; and when he goes abroad, he is al- 
 ways dressed like a common beggar." 
 
 "' Well," said I to myself, with a smile, " my friend De- 
 meas has taken excellent care of me, in giving me a letter 
 of introduction to such a man ; while I stay Avith him I need 
 not be afraid of smoke, or the smell of the kitchen.'* 
 
 Thus saying, and proceeding to a little distance, I came to 
 the gate, which was strongly bolted, and began to hallo and 
 knock. 
 
 At length, a damsel came out, and said, " Hallo ! you who 
 have been knocking at our door so violentl}-, what is the pledge 
 on which you want to borrow money ? Are you tlie only 
 person that doesn't know that we take in no pledge except it 
 is gold or silver ?" 
 
 " Meet me with words of better omen," said I, '' and rather 
 inform me, whether I have found your master at home r" 
 
 " Certainly," she replied; "but what is the cause of your 
 enquiry :" 
 
 * One of the firitt.'\ — The landlady puns on the word * primus.' He 
 may well be called ' the first ' man, as you come to his house first of all 
 on approactiing the city. 
 
 t The Fomoerium.] — The word ' Pomoerium ' was probably com- 
 pounded of ' post,' ' behind,' and ' moerium,' the old name for ' a wall,' 
 and signified a space of ground adjoining the city walls, within which 
 I lie city auspices were to be taken. The limits of the * Pomoerium * were 
 umrked by stone pillars at certain distances. 
 
BOOK I. THE LETTER OF INTRODrCTIOX. l9 
 
 " I have brought a letter," said I, *' written to him by 
 Demeas, the duumvir of Corinth."'^** 
 
 "■ Wait here," said she, " while I deliver your message to 
 him." And so saying, she fastened the door again, and re- 
 turned into the house. 
 
 She came back in a few minutes, and, opening the door^ 
 said, " My master requests you to come in." I accordingly 
 entered, and found him reclining on a very small couch, and 
 just beginning his dinner. His wife was sitting at his feet,f 
 and a scantily furnished table was before them ; pointing at 
 which, he said, *' Behold your entertainment." 
 
 " 'Tis well," said I, and immediately delivered him the 
 letter from Demeas. Having hastily read it, he said, '' I thank 
 my friend Demeas for having introduced to me such a worthy 
 guest :" and then he ordered his wife to leave the room,+ and 
 invited me to sit in her place ; at the same time taking hold of 
 my garment, and drawing me towards him, as I still hesitated 
 through bashfulness. " Sit down there," said he, " for through 
 fear of robbers, we cannot provide ourselves with seats, nor 
 even as much other furniture as we have need of." 1 did so. 
 
 "From the genteel appearance of your person," he conti- 
 nued, "and from this maiden bashfulness of yours, I might 
 reasonably conjecture that you are sprung from a good family. 
 Besides, my friend Demeas also asserts the same thing in his 
 letter. I beg, therefore, you will not despise the poverty of 
 our little cottage ; and, look you, you will have the little bed- 
 chamber adjoining to this room, where you will be very com- 
 fortable. Do not, therefore, hesitate to take up your abode 
 with us. For you will magnify our poor house through your 
 condescension, and will, besides, procure for yourself no small 
 
 * Duumvir of Corinth.'] — The * duum viri ' here mentioned were the 
 chief magistrates who presided over the Roman colonies and ' municipia.' 
 
 f Sitting at his feet.] — His couch was so scanty in dimensions that it 
 would not admit of more than one to recline on it ; consequently, his wife 
 had to sit on a chair or stool at his feet. Although, however, this expla- 
 nation may be admitted in the present instance, as consonant with Milo's 
 stinginess, it was not uncommon for wives among the Greeks to take their 
 seats by the couches as their husbands reclined at meals. We learn from 
 Plautus that parasites were frequently obliged to content themselves with 
 stools or benches, while the other guests were reclining. 
 
 X To leave the room.] — He orders his wife to leave the room, because 
 the dinner was only enough for two. 
 
 c2 
 
20 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APTJLEIUS. 
 
 renown, if, content with a humble dwelling, you emulate the 
 virtues of Theseus, your father's namesake,* who did not dis- 
 dain the slender hospitality of the aged woman Hecale,"f 
 
 Then, calling to the maid-servant, "Fotis," said he, ''take 
 the baggage of our guest, and put it with care in that bed- 
 chamber, and at the same time, bring quickly from the store- 
 room some oil for anointing, towels for drying, and other needful 
 things useful, and then conduct my guest to the nearest baths ; 
 for he must be weary after his very long and toilsome journey." 
 
 On hearing these directions, I reflected upon the mode of liv- 
 ing, and the parsimonious habits of Milo, and wishing to in- 
 gratiate myself with him in a still greater degree — ** I do not 
 stand in need of any of these things," said I, '' as I generally 
 carry them with me on a journey. And as to the baths, I can 
 easily find my way thither by enquiring where they are. My 
 principal concern is for my horse, who has so stoutly carried 
 me hither ; do you, therefore, Fotis, take this money, and buy 
 me some hay and barley." 
 
 When matters were arranged, and my things had been put 
 into the bedchamber, I went into the provision market on my 
 road towards the baths, that I might first provide us with 
 something in the way of eating. There I saw a splendid sup- 
 ply of fish on sale, and after asking the price of some, and 
 decKning it, because the dealer asked a hundred pieces J of 
 money, I finally bought it for twenty denars. Just as I was 
 going away from there, I was followed out by one Pytheas, 
 who had been a fellow-student of mine at Athens ; who, after 
 having recognised me at last, embraced me in a friendly manner, 
 and exclaimed, ''By Gemini, friend Lucius, what a time it is 
 since I last saw you ! By Hercules ! not since we left our mas- 
 ter and quitted the city.§ But what is the cause of this journey 
 of yours ?" 
 
 * Your father's namesake.'] — Many of the commentators rush to the 
 conclusion that Theseus was the name of the father of Apuleius ; founding 
 the notion upon the present passage, 
 
 + Aged woman Hecale.} — Hecale was a poor old woman, who received 
 Theseus, on his travels, with marked hospitality; for which that hero 
 established a festival in her honor. She is also mentioned by Callimachus, 
 Ovid, and Plutarch. 
 
 X A hundred pieces."}— The * nummus* here mentioned was probably 
 a * didrachra,' the same in value as two ' denarii.* 
 
 § Quitted the city.] — ' Astu,'   the city,' was the name by which, 
 in familiar discourse, Athens was generally called among the Greeks. 
 
BOOK I. THE MAGISTRATE. 21 
 
 " You will know," said I, " to-morrow. But what is the 
 meaning of this ? I heartily congratulate you ; for I perceive 
 attendants and the fasces, and a dress that fully bespeaks the 
 magisterial office." 
 
 He replied, *' I have the inspection of the markets* and hold 
 the office of aedile, and if it is your wish to buy any provisions, I 
 will take care and accommodate you." I declined his oifer, 
 as I had already provided myself with a sufficient quantity of 
 fish for my dinner. 
 
 Pytheas, however, having caught sight of my basket, and 
 shaking up the fishes, that he might inspect them the better — 
 *'And pray," said he, ''what sum may you have given for 
 this rubbish?" 
 
 " It was with considerable trouble," said I, '' that I could 
 get the fishmonger to take twenty denars for them." On 
 hearing this, he immediately seized me by the right hand, 
 and bringing me back again into the market : 
 
 "From which of these men did you buy this worthless 
 stuff?" said he. 
 
 I pointed out to him a little old man, who was sitting in one 
 comer ; upon which, immediately rebuking him in a most se- 
 vere tone of voice, in virtue of his authority as aedile, " How 
 now !" said he, '* have you no consideration for our friends, 
 not to say for strangers, to sell your pitiful fish at such an 
 exorbitant price, and thus bring this city, the flower of the 
 province of Thessaly, to be as bad as a desert and a rock, 
 through the deamess of provisions ? But you shall not escape 
 with impunity. Por I will soon make you know how rogues 
 are to be kept in order, as long as I am magistrate." 
 
 Then, emptying the basket upon the ground, he ordered one 
 of his officers to jump upon the fish, and trample the whole 
 of them to pieces under his feet. Content with this infliction 
 of moral discipline, my friend Pytheas, recommended me to de- 
 part; *'for," said he, "my dear Lucius, I have sufficiently 
 disgraced this little old fellow." 
 
 Astonished and dumb- foundered, at finding myself deprived 
 of both money and supper, through the clever device of my 
 knowing fellow- student, I betook myself to the baths. After 
 bathing, I returned to the house of Milo, and was going to 
 
 * Inspection of the markets'} — This officer, whose duties corresponded 
 with those of the -lEdile at Rome, was called by the Greeks ' Agoranomus.' 
 
22 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS, 
 
 my bedchamber, when the maid-serrant, rotis, said, " Your 
 host invites you to supper." 
 
 I, however, who was already aware of the parsimony of 
 Milo, courteously endeavoured to excuse myself by saying, that 
 I thought the fatigue of the journey would be repaired not 
 so much by food, as by sleep. Milo, however, on receiving this 
 message, came himself, and taking me by the right hand, 
 politely tried to lead me in to supper ; and when I hung back, 
 made a little resistance — ''I will not quit you," said he,'' un- 
 til you accompany me." At the same time, enforcing his 
 words with an oath, he led me, thus obliged reluctantly to give 
 way to his perseverance, to that same couch of his. 
 
 When I was seated — "And how is our friend Demeas?" 
 said he. '' Are things going on prosperously with him ? How 
 is his wife ? Are his children well ? What about his ser- 
 vants ?" I answered every one of his enquiries. He then 
 minutely questioned me as to the object of my journey ; after 
 I had fully informed him, he next asked me, with the most 
 scrupulous inquisitiveness, concerning my country, and tho 
 principal people there ; and, lastly, he was enquiring about our 
 prefect, ""hen, on perceiving that, weary from my long jour- 
 ney, as 1/ell as from the length of my narration, I nodded, and 
 stopped short in the middle of my sentences, and that, quite 
 knocked up, I was stammering away at different words, so as 
 to render them unintelligible, he at length permitted me to go 
 to rest. 
 
 Glad to escape from the prosy and famishing entertainment 
 of the shabby old fellow, overpowered with sleep, and not 
 with good cheer, having made my meal on talk alone : I re- 
 turned to my chamber, and surrendered myself to the repos€ I 
 BO much longed for. 
 
BOOK n. LrCIIJS in a WAXir^a PREAM. 23 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 CUEIOSITT OF LUCIUS TVITH EESrECT TO WITCHCEAFT — HE MEETS 
 
 nis mother's eeiend btreh^na — the atkium op hee house 
 
 DESCEIBED SHE CAUTIONS HIM AGAINST THE WITCH PAMPHILE, 
 
 MILO'S WIFE HEE WAENINGS ONLY INFLAME HIS CUEIOSITT 
 
 HE MAKES LOVE TO FOTIS SUPS WITH MILO AND PAMPHILE — 
 
 SECOND EPISODE : DIOPHANES THE CHALDEAN LUCIUS SUPS 
 
 WITH BTEEHiENA THIED EPISODE : TELEPHEOn's TALE THE 
 
 FESTITAL OF THE GOD OF LAUGHTEE — LUCIUS KILLS THEEE 
 BUEGLAES. 
 
 So soon as a new sun had dispersed the night, and ushered in 
 the day, I awoke and jumped out of bed ; being by nature 
 anxious and, indeed, over-desirous of becoming acquainted with 
 ^rhatever is rare and admirable, I called to mind that I was 
 in the very heart of Thessaly,* celebrated, by the unanimous 
 consent of the whole world, as the land where the incantations 
 of the magic art are indigenous,, and in that very city which 
 was the scene of the story of my worthy fellow-traveller Aris- 
 tomenes. Excited in the highest degree by my longing de- 
 sire and my ardent temperament, 1 examined everything with 
 eager curiosity. 
 
 Indeed, there was nothing in that city, which on beholding, 
 I could believe to be what it really was ; but I fancied that 
 everything was utterly transformed into another shape by 
 means of some deadly spell, that the stones I kicked against 
 were petrified men, that the birds I heard singing, were men 
 transformed and feathered, that the trees which surrounded the 
 pomcerium, were people in like manner, covered with leaves, 
 and that tlie fountains of water flowed forth from the liquefied 
 human bodies. 
 
 I was every instant expecting that the statues and pictures 
 would take to walking, that the walls would speak, that oxen 
 
 * Heart of Thessaly."] — Thessaly is spoken of by many of the ancient 
 writers as the fruitful source of magic and incantation. Indeed, we find 
 the name ' Thessala' used by Plautus and Horace to denote a witch or 
 sorceress. 
 
24 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 and cattle of all kinds would utter prophecies,^' and that an oracle 
 would issue on a sudden from the rays of the sun in heaven. 
 
 Thus bewildered, indeed I may say stupefied with torment- 
 ing anxiety, perceiving no likelihood or even trace of the ob- 
 jects of my wishes, I perambulated the whole city. Wandering 
 in this way just like one intoxicated, from door to door, I 
 suddenly, without knowing where I was, found myself in the 
 provision market. 
 
 Here, as it happened, quickening my pace, I overtook a 
 lady, who was walking along, attended by a great retinue 
 of domestics. The gold that hung on her cheeks and her 
 embroidered garments, bespoke her to be, beyond a doubt, a 
 woman of the highest rank. Close by her side walked a man 
 considerably advanced in years, who, the moment he saw me, 
 exclaimed, '' By Hercules ! here is Lucius," and at the same 
 moment embraced me, after which he whispered in the lady's 
 ear something I could not hear. 
 
 " And will you not, then," said he, *' approach and salute 
 your parent ? "f 
 
 " I dare not," I replied, '' salute a lady whom I do not 
 know ;" and immediately the colour rising to my cheeks, I 
 turned away my head and stood stock still ; while the lady 
 looked at me with a steady gaze. 
 
 "Behold," said she, "the high-born breeding of his most 
 virtuous mother Salvia ;% and then, his person bears an inex- 
 pressible resemblance to hers in every particular; tall, yet 
 not too tall; a slender but well-rounded figure, clear rosy 
 complexion, hair yellow, and arranged without foppery, § eyes 
 
 * Utter prophecies.'} — Lucan, in the Pharsalia, i. 561, mentions as an 
 evil omen, ' the tongues of cattle being adapted to human accents.' 
 Livy and Valerius Maximus inform us that an ox spoke and warned Rome 
 of the disasters which would ensue on Hannibal's arrival in Italy. One 
 of the Scholiasts on Lucan says, that in the civil wars between Caesar 
 and Pompey, an ass spoke ; another informs us that an ox spoke while 
 ploughing, in reproof of his driver, and told him that it was useless to 
 urge him on, for soon there would be no people left in Italy to consume 
 the produce of the fields. 
 
 f Salute your parents.} — The word * parens ' here is indicative of es- 
 teem and veneration, but does not imply relationship in blood. 
 
 X Mother Salvia.} — She recognises him by this resemblance to his 
 mother Salvia. Aptitude to blush was, among the ancients, considered 
 a mark of high birth. 
 
 § Arranged without fop2)ery.} — Yellow or flaxen hair much admired by 
 
TX 
 
 BOOK I. THE ATKTUM IN BTEEH^.NA S HOrSE. 
 
 grey but keen, and glancing in all directions as brightly as an 
 eagle's ; in short, he is comely in every point, and his carriage 
 is graceful and unaffected." 
 
 Then addressing herself to me, she added, " In these yery 
 arms of mine, Lucius, have I nursed you, and, indeed, how 
 could it be otherwise? seeing that I not only participated 
 with your mother in blood, but was brought up along with 
 her. For we are both descended from the family of Plutarch, 
 both of us sucked the breast of the same nurse, and grew up to- 
 gether in the ties of sisterhood ; nor is there any other differ- 
 ence between us, except that of rank ; for while she contracted 
 a splendid alliance, I married a person in a private station. I 
 am that Byrrhaena, whose name, probably, you may recollect, 
 as having been frequently mentioned among those who brought 
 you up. Come, therefore, with all confidence to our house, 
 or rather, I would say, to your own home." 
 
 Having had time to digest my bashfulness while the lady 
 was speaking, I replied, " Far be it from me, my parent, that 
 I should leave my entertainer, Milo, without any just cause of 
 complaint. Nevertheless I will take care not to fail in what- 
 ever can be done without a breach of the courtesies of hos- 
 pitality. And as often as I shall have occasion hereafter to 
 come this way, I will be sure to call upon you." 
 
 Conversing in this way, we had proceeded but a few paces, 
 ere we arrived at Byrrhaena's house. The hall* was most 
 beautiful, and had statues of the goddess of Victory,! raised 
 on pillars which stood at the four corners. The wings of the 
 figures were expanded ; their dewy feet seemed to brush the 
 surface of a rolling sphere, although it moved not ; and they 
 looked, not as if they were attached to it, but hovered in the 
 air. A statue of Diana, in Parian marble, occupied a level space 
 in the middle of the enclosure. The figure was singularly beau- 
 
 the ancients, but only fops and debauchees expended their time on curling 
 or dressing the hair, Apuleius inveighs against the practice in his ' Apo- 
 logia.' 
 
 * The hall.'] — The 'atrium' was not properly the 'hall' of a house 
 in our sense of the word, but was a spacious room beyond the vestibule, 
 lighted from above, and into which the other rooms on the ground floor 
 opened. 
 
 t Goddess of Victory.'] — * Palmaris Deae.' Literally, the ' palm-holding 
 goddess,' in reference to the branch of palm which the Goddess of Victory 
 was represented as holding in her hand. 
 
26 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIdS. 
 
 tiful; the garments of the goddess were blown back by the -wind; 
 she seemed in the act of running directly towards you as you 
 entered, and awed you by the majesty of her godlilve form. 
 Dogs supported the goddess on either side, and these, too, "were 
 of marble. Their eyes were fierce and threatening, their ears 
 erect, their nostrils open, their jaws agape to devour ; and had 
 any barking been heard in the neighbourhood, you would have 
 thought it proceeded from those marble throats. A thing, also, 
 in which the excellent sculptor had given proof of the most 
 consummate art, was this, that the fore feet of the dogs, up- 
 lifted to their chests, were in the act of running, while the 
 hind feet pressed the ground. At the back of the goddess 
 stood a rock, wrought to resemble a grotto, overgrown with 
 moss, grass, leaves, and brushwood ; with vines ami shrubs 
 here and there ; and the reflection of the statue gleamed from 
 the polished marble within the grotto. Over the extreme edge 
 of the rock hung apples and grapes, most exquisitely wrought, 
 and in which art, rivalling nature, had so counterfeited their 
 originals, that you would have thought they might be gathered 
 for eating, when fragrant autumn had breathed upon them the 
 tints of maturity. And if, leaning forward, you had beheld the 
 streamlets, which gently rippled as they ran beneath the feet 
 of the goddess, you would have thought that, like clusters of 
 grapes which hang from the vine, they too resembled real life 
 in the faculty of motion. 
 
 In the midst of the foliage was Actason, carved in marble, 
 peering over his shoulders, and at the very instant changed 
 into the wild form of a stag ; and both in the marble and in 
 the reflection of the stream he was seen lying in ambush, await- 
 ing the coming of Diana to bathe. 
 
 While I was inspecting these various objects with eager 
 curiosity and delight, " Everything you see," said B}Ti*h8Gna, 
 " is yours ;" and she then privately ordered all the other per- 
 sons to depart. After they were gone, " I take this goddess* 
 to witness," said she, ''my dearest Lucius, how great are the 
 anxious apprehensions I entertain for you, and how earnestly 
 I desire that you, who are as it were my son, should be put 
 upon your guard. Beware, resolutely beware of the wicked 
 arts and nefarious blandishments of that Pamphile, the wife 
 
 * This goddess. ] — Diana. 
 
BOOK II. THE WITCH PAMPHILE. 2? 
 
 of Milo, who you say is your host. She is a notorious sor- 
 ceress, and is believed to be mistress of every kind of necroman- 
 tic incantation ; so much so, that by merely breathing on twigs, 
 stones, and such other trifling things, she knows how to sub- 
 merge all this light of the starry universe beneath the depths 
 of Tartarus, and into original chaos. Moreover, the instant 
 she has beheld* an}- j'outh of handsome appearance, she is capti- 
 vated by his good looks, and immediately rivets her eyes and 
 her affections upon him. She inveigles him with blandish- 
 ments, takes possession of his heart, and enthrals him in eternal 
 fetters of profound love ; but as for those who are not suffi- 
 ciently compliant, she loathes and scorns them, and either 
 changes them in a moment into stones, cattle, and animals of 
 every kind,* or utterly annihilates them. I tremble for you, 
 therefore, and entreat you to be on your guard. For this 
 woman inflames with a passion that is eternal, and you, with 
 your youth and your good looks, are exactly fitted for her pur- 
 pose." 
 
 Thus did Byrrhaena counsel me in a most anxious tone. 
 
 I, however, who was naturally of an inquisitive turn, as 
 soon as I heard the name of the magic art, a name that had 
 ever been the object of my aspirations, was so far from feel- 
 ing inclined to be on my guard against Pamphile, that, moved 
 by an irresistible impulse, I even longed to devote myself to 
 such pursuits, even though it should cost me dear, and to pre- 
 cipitate myself, with a running leap, into the very abyss oj 
 
 "Wild with excitement, then, I quickly released myself from 
 the grasp of her hand, as though from some chain, and hastily 
 bidding her adieu, I flew at the top of my speed to the house 
 of Milo ; and while I thus scoured along, just like a person 
 out of his senses, " Now then, Lucius," said I, *' look sharp, 
 and have your wits about you. You have now the long- 
 wished-for opportunity, and may satiate your mind with mira- 
 culous stories, as for many a day you have been longing to do. 
 Away then with puerile apprehensions, grapple with this ad- 
 venture hand to hand, like a man ; but, at all events, ab- 
 
 * Animals of every kind.'\ — Homer and Ovid relate the same of Circe, 
 a Greek sorceress, but evidently of the same stock as the enchantress 
 queen Labe, vphose incantations are so amusingly described in the story 
 of Beder and Giauhare, in the Arabian Nights. 
 
28 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEITTa. / 
 
 stain liom amorous dalliance with the wife of your host, and 
 religiously respect the conjugal bed of the worthy Milo. But, 
 on the other hand, you may lay siege to the maid- servant Fotis; 
 for she is of charming form, of lively manners, and a pleasant 
 tongue. Yesterday evening too, when you went to rest, she 
 politely escorted you into the bedchamber, helped you atten- 
 tively into bed, tucked you up very lovingly, and then giving 
 you a kiss, betrayed by her countenance how loth she was to leave 
 you ; and lastly, she stood still more than once, and turned 
 round to look at you. Good luck be your speed then !* but 
 come what may, have at this Fotis.'* 
 
 While forming these resolutions, I came to Milo's door, and, 
 as the saying is, entered hot-foot f into the execution of my 
 project. However, I did not find either Milo or his wife at 
 home, but only my charmer Fotis, who was preparing sausages 
 for her master and mistress ; she had some minced meat on 
 a platter, ready to mix with gravy, which, as my nostrils 
 augured, was very savoury. 
 
 She was neatly dressed in a linen garment, gathered in by 
 a bright red sash, just below her breasts, and as she stirred the 
 saucepan round and round by a circular movement of her rosy 
 hand, her supple form partook in the motion, her loins vi- 
 brated, and her flexible spine was thrown into charming un- 
 dulations. 
 
 Entranced by the sight, I stood gazing in admiration ; all 
 my passions, which before lay dormant, were aroused. At 
 last I said to her, " With what a graceful, what a delightful 
 twist of your hips, you stir that saucepan, my Fotis ! what 
 honeyed dish are you preparing? Happy, and most surely 
 blessed is he, who is allowed by you to dip his finger therein.'* 
 
 '' Begone, unhappy wight," cried the sprightly chatter-box, 
 
 * Good Itick be your speed then!'} — ' Quod bonura, felix et faustum.' This 
 formula, somewhat similar to our, * I wish you health, happiness, and 
 prosperity,' was made use of by persons about to undertake anything 
 of importance, and was supposed not only to avert an evil omen, but to 
 ensure a good one. 
 
 t Entered hot -foot.} — This is not the literal translation of the phrase 
 
 * pedibus in sententian vado.' It alludes to the practice of taking divi- 
 sions in the Roman senate, when those who voted in the affirmative, 
 
 • in dextram partem pedibus ibant,' * arose and took the right side of the 
 house.' The author's meaning is, that Lucius resolutely determined to 
 carry out his project. 
 
BOOK II. THOUGHTS ON" FEMALE BE4rrTT. 29 
 
 " begone as far as you can from my fire ; for if but a spark of 
 it touch you, you will be burnt to the vitals ; and there will 
 be no one to extinguish your heat but myself, who know 
 equally well how to provide a zest for bed and board." Thus 
 saying, she looked at me and smiled. 
 
 I did not leave her, however, till I had carefuUy surveyed 
 the whole contour of her person. But why speak of other 
 particulars r since it has ever been my sole care, in the first 
 place, to scrutinize the head and the hair in "public, and after- 
 wards to enjoy their loveliness in private : and in this I pro- 
 ceed upon sure and iaxed principles, first, because these are the 
 most important features of the person, and from their conspi- 
 cuous position, they are the first to present themselves to our 
 sight ; and, secondly, because the natural brilliancy of the 
 hair eff'ects for the head what the cheerful colour of a showy 
 garment effects for the other members of the body. 
 
 Besides, most women, in order to display their native charms 
 and loveliness, divest themselves of all neck mufflings, throw 
 open their outer garments, ami delight to show their naked 
 beauty ; being conscious that they shall please more by the 
 roseate hue of their skin, than by the golden tints of their 
 robes. But, on the other hand, (I shudder to speak of such a 
 thing, and may there never be an instance of a catastrophe 
 so dreadful,) if you deprive the most surpassingly beautiful 
 woman of her hair, and thus strip her face of its native orna- 
 ments ; though she were begotten by heaven, conceived by the 
 sea, and nurtured amid the waves ; though, I say, she were 
 Venus herself, surrounded by all the choir of the Graces, at- 
 tended by a whole multitude of Cupids, girt with her cestus 
 redolent of cinnamon, and bedewed with balsams — still, if 
 she were bald, she would not find favour even in the eyes of 
 her own Yulcan. 
 
 How exquisitely charming is hair of a beautiful hue and 
 rich lustre, when it flashes back the rays of the sun, or shines 
 with milder radiance, and varies its lovely aspect with every 
 change of light ! now emitting a brightness like that of gold, 
 now shaded off into the softer hue of honey ; raven-black at 
 one moment, at the next reflecting the myriad blossom tints 
 of the pigeon's neck ; or, when anointed with Arabian drops,* 
 
 * Arabian dropsJ] — Myrrh or spikenard is probably meant. 
 
/ 
 
 30 THE GOLDEN" ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 parted by the slender tooth of the comb, and gathered up be« 
 hind the head, it presents itself to the eyes of the lover, and 
 like a mirror reflects his overjoyed features. How beautiful, 
 when its luxuriant mass is accumulated on the crown of the 
 head, or suffered to flow down the back in profuse curls. Such, 
 in short, is the dignity of the hair, that though a woman 
 should go adorned with jewels of gold, rich garments, precious 
 stones, and every other kind of ornament, still she could not 
 possibly seem well dressed, unless she had duly arranged her 
 hair. 
 
 But in my Fotis, not studied artifice, but the neglect of orna- 
 ment, added graces to her person. For her copious hair, thrown 
 loosely back and falling adown her neck, rested lightly on the 
 fiexuous fringe of her garment ; then, after being gradually 
 drawn together, the ends were looped up, and fastened by a 
 knot to the crown of her head. I could no longer sustain the 
 torturing suspense of such exquisite delight, but bending for- 
 ward gave her a most luscious kiss, on that part where the hair 
 was drawn up to the top of the head. 
 
 She looked at me over her shoulder, and her eyes lit into my 
 heart with their sidelong glances : " So then, you school-boy,'* 
 said she, ''you have taken a sweet, and at the same time, a 
 bitter draught. Beware, lest the excessive sweetness of the 
 honey turn into the lasting bitterness of gall." 
 
 ** Why do you say so, my charmer ?" I replied, '' since I am 
 ready to be laid at full length and roasted upon that fire, so my 
 pain be soothed by a single kiss." So saying, I clasped her in 
 my arms, and fell to kissing her. 
 
 And now, with responsive desire waxing with mine into 
 an equality of love, exhaling from her open mouth the odour 
 of cinnamon, she ravished me with the nectareous touch of her 
 tongue, so that I exclaimed, *'' I shall perish, nay, rather, I am 
 a lost man already, unless you will be propitious." 
 
 Smothering me with kisses, she replied, '' Be of good cou- 
 rage, for I am become your bondsmaid through mutual desire, 
 nor shall our delights be long deferred : but as soon as torches 
 are lighted, I will come to your chamber. Depart, then, and 
 hold yourself in readiness, for I will do battle witli you all 
 night long, as bravely as heart can wish.'* After we had 
 prattled thus for some time, we parted. 
 
 It was just about noon, when Byrrhjena sent me a com- 
 
BOOK II. A GOSSIP Q-N DITINATION". 31 
 
 plimentary present,* consisting of a fat pig, two couple and a 
 half of fowls, and a jar of choice old wine. Calling Fotis, 
 *' Look," said I, ''Bacchus, the exciter and armour-bearer of 
 Yenus, has come here of his own accord. Let us quaff all 
 this wine to-day, in order that it may extinguish in us all 
 bashful hesitation, and stimulate our lusty vigour. For the 
 voyage of Venus stands in need only of such provision as this : 
 that through the whole of the wakeful night, the lamp may 
 be plentifully supplied with oil, and the cup with wine." 
 
 The rest of the day I passed in bathing, and at supper : for, 
 being invited by the worthy Milo, I took mj'' place at his epi- 
 tome of a table, as much as possible out of the view of his wife, 
 as I kept in mind the admonitions of BjTrhaena ; while every 
 now and then, I cast a trembling glance upon her features, as 
 if I was beholding the lake Avernus.f But as I continually 
 followed Fotis, who waited on us, with my eyes, my feelings 
 were refreshed by looking at her. 
 
 And now, as the evening had advanced, Pamphile, looking at 
 the lamp, remarked, ''We shall have a terrible fall of rain to- 
 morrow." 
 
 On her husband asking her how she knew that to be the 
 case, she answered, that the lamp had predicted^ it to her. 
 At this speech, Milo, bursting into a laugh, exclaimed, " In 
 this lamp, we feed a mighty Sibyl, who looks down from the 
 socket, § as from a watch-tower, upon all that is going on in 
 the heavens, and even the sun himself." 
 
 Mingling in the conversation, I said, " This is only a simple 
 instance of this kind of divination, and, indeed, it ought not 
 to seem wonderful, that this flame, small though it is, and 
 ignited by human hands, should still have a consciousness of 
 
 *■ A complimentary present.'] — Xeniola. This was the name given to 
 presents sent to strangers at their lodgings, as tokens of hospitality ; which, 
 as in the present case, consisted of the various delicacies of the season. 
 
 f Avernus.'} — Avernus was a lake of Campania, near to Baiae, and was 
 tailed as if it was aopvog, destitute of birds, because, by its foul exhala- 
 tions, it destroyed the birds that flew over it. This lake, dedicated to 
 Pluto, was thought to be the entrance to the realms beneath, and is fre- 
 quently, as in this place of Apuleius, assumed for those realms. 
 
 i The lamp Jiad predicted.] — So in the first Georgic of Virgil, we find 
 that the growth of a fungus on the wick of a burning lamp, is considered 
 to prognosticate rain. 
 
 § From the socket. ] — The 'candelabra' of the ancients were frequently 
 placed on high, in a recess made for the purpose in the wall. 
 
82 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEItTS. 
 
 the greater and celestial fire, as of its parent, and should thus, 
 by divine presage, know and announce to us what the source 
 of its existence is about to efi'ect in the summit of the firmament. 
 For with us, at Corinth, a certain Chaldean stranger is just now 
 disturbing the whole city with his wonderful replies to questiona 
 asked him, and is disclosing the secrets of the Fates to the public 
 for paj^ment. Thus, for instance, he would tell the day on which 
 a marriage should be contracted that was destined to last long, 
 or when the foundations of walls should be laid so as to re- 
 main for ever ; what day would be advantageous to the mer- 
 chant ; or which one would be suited to the traveller, or adapted 
 for setting sail. In fine, when I consulted him as to what would 
 be the result of this journey of mine, he told me many things 
 of a very wonderful and an extremely varied nature. He said, 
 for instance, that I should shortly obtain a very considerable 
 renown, and that I should be the writer of an incredible story, 
 and of sundry books." 
 
 "What was the appearance of this Chaldean?" said Milo, 
 with a smile, " and what was his name r" 
 
 *' He was a tall man," replied I, *' of a dark complexion, 
 and his nam.e was Diophanes." 
 
 *' It is the very same person," said Milo, '' and no other, and 
 here also, among us, he made many similar predictions to vari- 
 ous persons, and realized thereby no little wealth, indeed, I 
 may say, a considerable sum of money ; but at last experienced 
 an inauspicious, or, to speak more truly, a cruel lot."* 
 
 SECOND EPISODE. 
 
 DIOPHANES THE CHALDEAN. 
 
 Onc day, when, encircled by a great crowd of people, he was 
 dealing out the fates to the bystanders, a certain merchant, 
 Cerdo by name, came to him, desirous to know what day would 
 be suitable for a journey. After Diophanes had named one, 
 Cerdo took out his purse, poured out the money, and counted 
 a hundred denars, which Diophanes was to receive as the price 
 
 * Tnauspiciotis — cruel lot."] — He puns on the resemblance of the words 
 * scaeva ' and ' saeva j' but the play on these words cannot be preserved 
 in Gnglish. 
 
BOOK II. DI0PHANE3 THE CHALDEAN. 33 
 
 of his predictions, when a young man of a noble family, com- 
 ing softly behind him, pulled him by the garment, and on his 
 turning round, embraced and kissed him in the most affectionate 
 manner. 
 
 Diophanes having returned the embrace, desired the young 
 man to take a seat beside him, and, under the surprise of his 
 unexpected appearance, quite forgot the business with which 
 he was just then engaged. 
 
 *' How long is it," said he, " since you, w^hom I have so 
 much wished for, arrived in this neighbourhood ?" 
 
 ''I arrived early last evening," replied the other. ''But 
 tell me, brother, in your turn, how it happened that you sailed 
 so quickly from the island of Euboea to this city, and how 
 you travelled hither by sea and land." 
 
 Then, Diophanes, this egregious Chaldean, taken aback, and 
 not altogether himself, replied, *' May our enemies and evil- 
 wishers meet with the like cruel, indeed, I may say, Ulyssean 
 peregrination. For the ship in which we sailed, being shat- 
 tered by various storms and whirlwinds, after losing both mast 
 and rudder, was with the utmost difficulty brought to the verge 
 of the opposite shore, and went down, head foremost ; and we, 
 having lost all our property, with difficulty saved our lives by 
 swimming. Whatever we could scrape together, either from 
 the pity of strangers, or the benevolence of our friends, a band 
 of robbers laid hands oa the whole of it ; and my only brother, 
 Arisuatus, resisting their violence, was murdered, poor fellow ! 
 before these eyes." 
 
 "While Diophanes was dolefully relating these particulars, the 
 merchant Cerdo, snatching up the money he had paid as the 
 price of the prediction, instantly took to his heels. Then, in- 
 deed, Diophanes at length aroused from his fit of abstraction, 
 perceived the blunder he had made, especially when he saw 
 all of us who stood around him burst into loud fits of laughtei*. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND EPISODE. 
 
 *' Nevertheless, master Lucius, I sincerely wish that the 
 Chaldean may have predicted the truth to you if to no one 
 else, and that you may be fortunate, and make a prosperous 
 journey." 
 
 While ]Milo was thus prosing on at interminable length, I 
 
 D 
 
34 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIFS 
 
 groaned inwardly, and was not a little vexed with myself for 
 having voluntarily introduced a series of wearisome stories, 
 and thus losing a good part of the evening, and its deiightfnl 
 enjoyments. At length, therefore, gulping down all my bash- 
 fulness, I said to Milo, " Let Diophanes carry his destiny with 
 him, and again expose the plunder of the public to land and 
 sea. But permit me, who am still sore from the fatigues of 
 yesterday, to retire early to rest." 
 
 So saying, I rose up and betook myself to my bedchamber ; 
 and there I found a very nice assortment of good cheer. 
 The bed of the servant boys was laid on the floor, at a con- 
 siderable distance outside the door ; in order, I suppose, that 
 they might not be within hearing of our chatter in the night. 
 Close by my bed stood a small table, laden with the choice 
 remains of the whole supper, and some fair cups already 
 half filled with- wine, only waiting for the admixture of water. 
 'Near these, also, was a flagon, with a gradually dilated orifice, 
 for the more convenient pouring forth of the wine ; the whole 
 being a whet, as it were, for what was to follow. 
 
 I had scarcely laid me down, when, behold ! my Fotis (her 
 mistress having now retired to rest) came in throwing a gar- 
 land of roses upon the bed, and wearing a single rose in full 
 bloom in her bosom. After pressing me close and kissing me, 
 tying a garland round my head, and strewing flowers upon me, 
 she took up a cup, and pouring warm water into it, handed 
 it to me that I might drink a little. Before I had drunk 
 the whole, she gently took it from me, and gradually di- 
 minishing with her lips what was left, sipped it sweetly, with 
 her eyes fixed on me all the while. Again and again we 
 pledged each other ; until at last, flushed with wine, turbulent 
 in mind and body, and tingling and smarting with desire, 1 
 gave my Fotis ocular proof of my amorous impatience : 
 
 *' Pity me," I said, *' and relieve me without delay ; for you 
 may perceive how I have been kept on full stretch by the 
 thought of that combat to which you challenged me without 
 the intervention of a herald. Ever since I received the first 
 of cruel Cupid's arrows in my vitals, I have been standing to 
 my arms, and I am greatly afraid my bow-string will be 
 snapped by its excessive tension. But if you would gratify 
 me still more, untie your hair, let it flow freely over your 
 shoulders, and come and give me loving kisses." 
 
BOOK II. FOTIS KEEPS HER APPOINTiTFNT. 35 
 
 In an instant she had snatched away all the eating and 
 drinking apparatus ; then, stripping off all her garments, with 
 her hair dishevelled in joyous wantonness, she stood trans- 
 formed into the image of Yenus rising from the sea, her rosy 
 hand shading, with coquettish art rather than through modesty, 
 the beauties it did not conceal. 'Tight," she said, "and 
 fight bravely, for I will not give way an inch, nor turn my 
 back. Face to face, come on, if you are a man ! Strike home ; 
 do your worst, and die ! The battle this day is without quarter." 
 
 So saying, she jumped into the bed, threw herself upon me, 
 and like an athlete, bending on his haunches over his prostrate 
 but still struggling antagonist, she assailed me with astonish- 
 ing rapidity of movement and lubricity of spine ; till wearied 
 in body and spirit, we lay powerless and gasping for breath in 
 each other's arms. Many times we renewed our wrestling, and 
 so we passed the sleepless night until dawn, refreshing our- 
 selves at intervals with wine, and rekindling our ardour for 
 the pleasant strife. In like manner we passed many other 
 nights. 
 
 Cum ego jam vino madens, nee animo tantum verum etiam 
 corpore ipso adlibidinem inquies alioquin et petulans, etiam 
 saucius paulisper inguinum fine, lacinia remota, impatientiam 
 Veneris Fotidi meaB monstrans, Miserere, inquam, et subveni 
 maturius. Nam, ut vides, prailio, quod nobis sine fecialis ofiicio 
 indixeras, jam proximante vehementer, inteutus, ubi primam 
 sagittam saevi cupidinis in ima praecordia mea delapsam excepi, 
 arcum meum en ! ipse vigor attendit, et oppido formido, ne nervus 
 rigoris nimietate rumpatur. Sed ut mihi morem plenius ges- 
 seris, ineffusum laxa crinem, et capillo fluenter undante, ede 
 complexus amabiles. 
 
 Nee mora, cum omnibus illis cibariis vasculis raptim remotis, 
 laciniis cunctis suis renudata, crinibusque dissolutis ad hila- 
 rem lasciviam, in speciem Yeneris, qu£e marines fluctus subit, 
 pulchre reformata, paulisper etiam glabellum feminale* rose3, 
 palmula potius obumbrans de industria, quam tegens verecun- 
 dia: Praeliare, inquit, et fortiter prseliare, nee enim tibi 
 cedam, nee terga vcrtam. Cominus in aspectum, si vir es, 
 
 * Glabellum feminale.'] — Muliebre pudendum, quod Fotis meretricio 
 more depilaverat. 
 
 3)2 
 
A 
 
 36 THE GOLDEN ASS 0? APTJLEnJS. 
 
 It happened one day that Eyrrhaena pressingly invited me 
 to sup with her ; and though I made many excuses, she would 
 not let me off. I, therefore, had to resort to Potis, and take 
 counsel from her, as from an oracle ; and though unwilling 
 that I should depart from her the breadth of a nail, yet she 
 kindly indulged me with a little respite from our amatory 
 warfare. 
 
 ** Eut, look you," said she, '' take care that you return early 
 from this supper, for a frantic faction of the young nobles has 
 been disturbing the public tranquillity, and you will see mur- 
 dered men lying here and there in the streets ; nor can the 
 forces of the prefect of the province, in consequence of the re- 
 moteness of their stations, relieve the city from these outrages. 
 1^0 w, your superior fortune, and contempt for you, as a foreigner, 
 may possibly cause you to be waylaid." 
 
 ''Do not be under any apprehensions, my Fotis," said I; 
 " for besides that I prefer my own pleasures to the banquets of 
 others, I will return early, in order to remove these fears of 
 yours. However, I shall not go unattended ; for girded with 
 my trusty sword, I shall carry a protector of my safety." 
 
 Thus equipped I proceeded to the entertainment. There was 
 a numerous assembly of guests, and as Eyrrhaena was a woman 
 of rank, it comprised some of the first-rate people of the city. 
 The repast was sumptuous ; the couches, framed with polished 
 ivorj^, were covered with cloth of gold ; the cups were ca- 
 pacious, of various graceful designs, and all unique in value. 
 Some were of glass, with figures exquisitely embossed : others of 
 the purest crystal ; others, again, of burnished silver, or of 
 
 dirige, et grassare naviter, et occide moriturus. Hodierna 
 pugna non habet missionem. Haec simul dicens, inscenso 
 grabbatulo, super me cossim residens, ac crebra subsiliens, 
 lubricisque gestibus mobilem spinam quatiens, pendulae Veneris 
 fructu me satiavit ; usque dum, lassis animis et marcidis artu- 
 bus defatigati, simul ambo corruimus inter mutuos amplexus, 
 animas anhelantes. 
 
 His et hujuscemodi coUuctationibus ad confinia lucis usque 
 pervigiles egimus, poculis interdum lassitudinem refoventes, 
 et libidinem incitantes, et voluptatem integrantes. Ad hujua' 
 noctis exemplar similes adstruximus alias plusculas. 
 
BOOK II. btehh^ita's suppes. 37 
 
 glittering gold, or of amber, admirably wrought and hollowe(i 
 out into beakers. In short, whatever one thought impossible 
 to be made by man, was there. 
 
 The carvers* were numerous, and their dresses splendid ; 
 the dishes M^ere abundant, damsels waited gracefull}" at table, 
 while youths with curled locks, and beautifully attired, ever 
 and anon handed to the guests old wine in cups of precious 
 stone. 
 
 And now, lights being brought in, the conversation gradually 
 became more convivial ; there was abundance of laughter, and 
 good-humoured quips and jokes flew about in every direction, 
 when Byrrheena thus addressed me : " How do you enjoy your- 
 self in this country of ours ? If I am not mistaken, we greatly 
 excel all other cities in temples, baths, and other public works. 
 And then we have an extraordinary abundance of all the commo- 
 dities of life. Beyond a doubt here one enjoys full liberty, and 
 may live at his ease : for the stranger who is a man of busi- 
 ness, there is all the bustle of Home, while for the new-comer 
 who is of retiring habits, the quiet of a country-house is here 
 to be found. In fine, our city is a place of resort for all the plea- 
 sure-seekers of this province." 
 
 " What you say is quite true," I replied, " and no where 
 have I felt myself more perfectly at liberty than I am here. 
 But I am sadly frightened at the dark mysteries and irresis- 
 tible spells of the magic art. For it is said, that here not 
 even the sepulchres of the dead are unmolested, but that 
 certain remnants and cuttings from the dead bodies are sought 
 from the tombs and funeral-piles, to ensure deadly misfortune 
 to the living. I am told also that when foreigners are buried, 
 old hags of sorceresses are in the habit of outstripping the 
 funeral procession, in their speed to ravage the corpse." 
 
 "No doubt of it," observed one of the guests; "and what 
 is more, in this place they do not even spare the living. There 
 is a certain person — I don't name him — who suffered from an 
 attack of this nature, and whose face was mutilated and de- 
 formed in all manner of ways." 
 
 At these remarks, an uncontrollable fit of laughter burst 
 forth from all the guests, and the faces and ej-es of all were 
 
 * The carvers.'] — ' Diribitores.' It was probably the duty of these 
 servants to carry round the viands and distribute them among the guests. 
 
88 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULE1TJ8. 
 
 t 
 
 turned towards a person who sat in a corner, apart from the 
 rest of the company. This person, confused by the long-con- 
 tinued merriment, and indignantly muttering between his teeth, 
 was preparing to rise and leave the room, when Byrrhaena ad- 
 dressed him, and said, " Nay, my good Telephron, do not go, 
 but stop a little while, and with your usual good humour, do 
 tell us that adventure of yours over again, that my son, Lucius, 
 here, may also enjoy the pleasure of hearing your entertaining 
 story." 
 
 To this the other replied, ''You, indeed, madam, always 
 preserve a scrupulous regard for good breeding, but the inso- 
 lence of some people is such as not to be tolerated." 
 
 These words were pronounced by him in a tone of great ex- 
 citement. Byrrhaena, however, reiterated her request, and 
 conjuring him as he valued her life to tell the story, forced 
 him at last to comply, whether he liked or not. Accordingly, 
 gathering up the coverings of the couch in a heap, resting his 
 elbow thereon, and raising his body a little on the couch, he 
 extended his right hand and arranged his fingers after the 
 manner of our orators, closing the last two, and pointing the 
 rest straight forward, with the thumb upturned.* Then, with 
 a courteous smile, he began as follows : — 
 
 THIRD EPISODE. 
 
 STOEY OF TELEPHEON, THE STUDENT. 
 
 '' "WTiile I was yet pursuing my studies, I went from Mile- 
 tus,! to see the Olympic games; and as I wished also to pay a 
 visit to the chief places of this celebrated province, I travelled 
 over all Thessal)^, and arrived under unlucky auspices at Larissa. 
 As the money I had brought with me for my journey had been 
 nearly all got rid of in my rambles, I was put to my shifts to 
 repair my impoverished state. While so doing, I saw a tall 
 
 * With the thumb upturned,] — Contrary to our practice, the ancients 
 used considerable gesticulation with the thumb, when speaking in pubhc 
 or engaging in a dispute. The upturned thumb was the sign of emphatic 
 and impressive discourse. 
 
 f Went from Miletus.^ — * Mileto profectus ' seems necessarily to have 
 this meaning, though, singularly enough, Taylor and Sir G. Head concui 
 ia rendering it, ' went to Miletus.' 
 
BOOK II. STOEY OF TELEPHRON, THE STUDENT. 39 
 
 old man, standing on a stone* in the middle of the fonim, and 
 making proclamation in a loud voice : ' If any one will under- 
 take to guard the body of a dead man, he shall be well rewarded 
 for his services.' 
 
 " On this, I said to one of the bystanders, * What am I to 
 understand by this ? Are the dead in the habit of running 
 away in this country ? ' 
 
 *' ' Hold your tongue,' replied he, * for you are a boy, and a 
 green one too, and a foreigner all over, not to know that you 
 are in Thessaly, where it is a universal practice with witches 
 to tear off pieces from the faces of the dead with their teeth, 
 in order to use them as ingredients in the magic art.' 
 
 " ' Pray, tell me,' said I, ' in what does this funeral war- 
 denship consist ? ' 
 
 '"In the first place,' he replied, ' you must watch inces- 
 santly the livelong night, with eyes fixed steadily on the corpse, 
 wide open and not indulging in a wink ; nor must your gaze 
 ever be turned away to the one side or the other, no, not even 
 may you cast a glance aside it. For these most abominable 
 shifters of their skins, changing, in appearance, into any ani- 
 mal they please, creep upon you unawares, so that they can 
 easily elude the very eyes of Justice and of the Sun. For they 
 assume the forms of birds, dogs, mice, ay, and even of flies ; 
 and thus disguised, they exert their dire incantations, and 
 overwhelm the guardians with sleep. Nor can any person 
 sufficiently describe the extent of the devices which they make 
 use of, for the sake of gratifying their libidinous appetite. 
 And yet, after all, no larger pay than four or six pieces of 
 gold is offered as the reward of such a dangerous service as 
 this. But stop ; there is one thing I had almost forgotten : 
 if the person who watches does not on the foUoAving morning 
 give up possession of the dead body in an entire state, he is 
 compelled to make good the whole of it with strips cut from 
 his own face, to match whatever has been torn off from that of 
 the corpse.' 
 
 " On learning these facts, I summoned up all my courage, and 
 going straightway to the crier, ' Cease from making proclama- 
 
 * Standing on a stone.'] — We learn from the Bacchides of Plautus and 
 other works that it was the general custom for the ' praeco,* or * crier,' 
 to mount a stone before making his proclamation. 
 
40 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APTJLEirS. 
 
 tion/ said I ; ' here is a guardian ready to your hand ; teli me 
 what is to be the reward.' 
 
 " * A thousand pieces of money will be paid you/ said he. 
 * But look, young man, you must be very careful to preserve 
 the dead body, which is that of the son of one of the principal 
 persons of this city, from the abominable Harpies.' 
 
 *' * You are talking nonsense to me,' said I, ' and mere 
 trifles. You behold in me a man of iron nerve, proof against 
 sleep, and, beyond a doubt, more sharp- sighted than Lynceua 
 himself, or Argus ; in fact, one who is eyes all over.' 
 
 *' I had no sooner said this, than he at once led me to a 
 certain house, the main entrance of which being closed, he in- 
 troduced me through a low back door, and into a darkened 
 bedchamber, with closed window shutters, where there was a 
 lady dressed in black garments, and weeping. Going up to her, 
 the crier said, ' This person has agreed to your terms, and 
 confidently undertakes to watch the body of your husband.' 
 
 " On this, the lad}', throwing back on each side the hair that 
 hung down over her face, which even in grief was beautiful, 
 and turning towards me, said, * Take care, I beg of you, to 
 perform vigilantly the duty which you have undertaken.' 
 
 " ' jSTever fear,' said I, ' only have in readiness something 
 to throw into the bargain as a present.' 
 
 * ' Assenting to this request, she hastily arose, and bade me fol- 
 low her into another bedchamber. There, in the presence of 
 seven witnesses who had been introduced into the room, she 
 pointed with her hand to a dead body that was covered with 
 a linen cloth of the purest white ; and having wept for a con- 
 siderable time at the sight of it, she called upon those present 
 to bear testimony, and carefully pointed out to them every par- 
 ticular ; while a person made notes on tablets of the parts of 
 the body, which were severally touched for that purpose. 
 
 " ' Behold,' said she, ' the nose entire, the eyes in a sound 
 condition, the ears safe, the lips untouched, and the chin per- 
 fect. Do you, worthy citizens,* bear testimony to this.' 
 Having thus said, and the tablets duly signed and sealed, she 
 was departing, when I said to her, 
 
 " 'Have the goodness, madam, to order that all things may 
 be furnished to me which are requisite for my use.' 
 
 •* *And what are they?' said she. 
 
 * Worthy citizens.'} — ' Quirites,' more properly 'Roman citizens."' 
 
BOOK II. STOEY OF TELEPHKON". TTEE STUDENT. 4! 
 
 " ' A good large lamp,' I replied, * sufficient oil for keeping 
 it alight till daylight, some warm water, with wine vessels dird 
 a cup, and a dish furnished with the remains of the dinner.' 
 
 " ' Begone, foolish man,' said she, shaking her head, ' do you 
 expect to find in a house of sorrow remains of suppers, in which 
 no smoke whatever has been seen for these many days ? Do 
 you think you have come hither for the purpose of eating and 
 drinking ? Eather betake yourself to sorrow and tears, as best 
 suited to this place.' Then turning to her maid- servant, she 
 said, 'Myrrhina, give him the lamp and oil directly,' and so 
 saying, she went out, and left the guardian shut up in the bed- 
 chamber. 
 
 " Being thus left alone to comfort the corpse, I rubbed my 
 eyes, to fortify them for their duty of watchfulness, and kept 
 up my spirits by singing. And now behold twilight came on, 
 night fell, then night deeper and deeper still, and at last the 
 hour of midnight ; then, of a truth, my fears, that had some 
 time been increasing, became redoubled. All of a sudden a 
 weasel, creeping into the apartment, stopped close before me, 
 and fixed its eyes most intently upon me, so much so, that the 
 little creature quite agitated my mind by its unusual confi- 
 dence. At length, however, I said to it : ' Out with you, 
 nasty little beast ! and go hide yourself to the mice that are 
 just like you, before you get a knock-down blow from me. Be 
 off with you, I say ! ' 
 
 '* The animal turned tail, and immediately ran out of the 
 chamber : and at the very instant a profound sleep suddenly 
 seized and engulphed me ; so that not even the God of Delphi 
 himself could have easily determined which of us two, who 
 there lay prostrate, was the more dead. In fact, I was so in- 
 sensible, and so much in need of some one else to take care of 
 me, that I might just as well have not been there at all. 
 
 '' Hardly had the clarion of the crested cohort sounded a 
 truce to the night, when I, at length aroused, and terrified in 
 the extreme, ran up to the dead body ; holding the light to it, 
 and uncovering its face, I scrutinized every feature, and found 
 everything in proper order. Presently, the poor widow burst 
 into the room in tears and great distress, with the witnesses 
 of yesterday ; and, immediately throwing herself on the body, 
 and kissing it again and again, she began to examine it all 
 over, with the assistance of the lamp. Then turning, she called 
 
42 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 Philodespotus,* the steward of her house, and ordered him, 
 without delay, to pay the promised reward to one who had 
 acted as so good a guardian. 
 
 " This being given me without delay, ' "We thank you sin- 
 cerely, young man,' said she, 'and, by Hercules! for having 
 so well performed this service, we will henceforth enrol you 
 among the rest of our household.' 
 
 " Overjoyed at this unlooked-for piece of good fortune, and en- 
 chanted at the sight of the glittering pieces of gold, which every 
 now and then I shook up and down in my hand, ' By all 
 means, madam,' said I, 'consider me one of your servants; 
 and, as often as you stand in need of my services, jou may 
 confidently command me.* 
 
 ''Hardly had I thus spoken, when all the servants, heaping 
 curses upon the dreadful ominousnessf of my words, snatched 
 up whatever came to hand, and fell upon me. One began to 
 strike me in the face with his fist, another to dig me in the 
 back and ribs with his elbows, a third to kick me with his 
 feet, a fourth to pull out my hair, a fifth to tear my clothes. 
 Thus, mauled and mangled almost as badly as was Adonis or 
 Orpheus, J I was thnist out of doors. 
 
 " I stopped to recover myself in the next street, and reflect- 
 ing too late on my inauspicious and imprudent remark, I could 
 not but acknowledge that I had fully deserved to suff'er even 
 still more blows than I had received. By and by the dead 
 person was carried out, accompanied, for the last time, by 
 lamentations and outcries ; and, according to the custom of the 
 country, was borne with all the pomp of a public funeral, as 
 being one of the principal men, through the forum. To the 
 side of the corpse there runs up an old man, bathed with 
 
 * Philodespotus.'] — A name, composed of the two Greek words ^iXoc 
 and dicT-TTOTrjg, and signifying one who wiUingly submits to the domination 
 of another ; or, in the language of Horace, 
 
 ' Amicum mancipium domino.* 
 
 f Dreadful ominousnesa.'] — Omen seems a preferable reading here to 
 omnes.' His expressions certainly were not replete with auspicious 
 omens : as, unwittingly, he anticipated a period when he might have to 
 wait over the corpse of a second dead husband. 
 
 X Orphetis ] — In this most corrupt passage, the reading 'Musaei vatis* 
 has been adopted. It is possible that Orpheus, the son of the Musi 
 Calliope, may be referred to under that name. 
 
BOOK II. STOKY OF TELEPHEOJf, THE STUDENT. 4^ 
 
 tears, and t(.armg his venerable white hair; and then, seizing 
 the bier with botli his hands, and with a voice raised to the 
 highest pitch, though interrupted with frequent sobs, '0 
 E-omans,' exclaimed he, * by your faith, and by the public 
 morality, espcise the cause of your murdered fellow- citizen, 
 and wreak your severe vengeance on this abominable and 
 wicked woman, for her most atrocious crime ; for she, and 
 no one else, has cut off by poison this unfortunate young man, 
 my sister's son, for the sake of her paramour, and made a prey 
 of the inheritance.' 
 
 " After this manner, the old man loudly uttered complaints 
 and lamentations, broken by his sobs. In the meantime, the 
 people began to express their indignation, being impelled to a 
 belief in the charge, on the grounds of its probability alone. 
 They shouted for fire ; for stones ; they incited the boys to the 
 destruction of the woman ; but she, pretending to shed tears, 
 and adjuring all the Divinities, denied most solemnly that she 
 had perpetrated a crime of such great enormity. 
 
 " * Well then,' said the old man, ' Jet us refer the decision 
 of the truth to divine providence. Here is Zachlas, the Egj^ptian, 
 a first-rate prophet,* who has already agreed with me, for a 
 considerable sum, to recall the soul for a few moments from 
 the realms beneath, to reanimate this body.' Thus saying, he 
 brought forward into the midst of the people a young man, 
 clothed in linen garments,! with his head close shaven, and 
 having on his feet sandals made of palm leaves. | After 
 having for some time kissed his hands and embraced his very 
 knees, ' priest,' said he, ' take pity on me, by the stars 
 of the heavens, by the Gods of the infernal regions, by the 
 elements of nature, by the silence of night, by the Coptic en- 
 
 * Prophet.'] — The Egyptians were consummately skilled in astrology 
 and magic ; their priests were prophets, and were believed to be divinel / 
 wise. Hence Pythagoras, Plato, and the most famous of the Greek 
 philosophers, are said to have associated with them. 
 
 f Linen garments.'} — See book xi., where the linen garments of the 
 priests of Isis are more copiously mentioned. Woollen garments were, 
 according to the doctrine of Orpheus and Pythagoras, profane ; but those 
 of linen were considered as most pure. 
 
 t Sandals made of palm leaves.} — ' Baxae/ or * Baxeae,' were sandals 
 with wooden soles, made of twigs of fibres. They were worn on the stage 
 by comic actors, and philosophers much affected the use of them. The 
 Egyptians made them of palm leaves or the papyrus. 
 
44 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIFS. 
 
 closures,* by the overflowing of the J^ile, by the mysteries of 
 the Memphis, and by the sistrum of Pharos, I implore you. 
 Give to this dead body a short enjoyment of the sun, and infuse 
 a portion of light into eyes that have been buried in eternal 
 night. We are not offering resistance to fate, nor do we deny 
 to the earth what is her property ; but we only request a short 
 Bpace of life, that we may have the consolation of avenging 
 her death.' 
 
 " The prophet being thus propitiated, laid a certain herb 
 three times on the mouth of the corpse, and placed another 
 on its breast. He then turned towards the east, and silently 
 prayed to the rising disk of the glorious Sun, whilst an intense 
 interest was excited among the byestanders, by the sight of 
 such awful preparations, and the prospect of a miracle. I 
 mingled with the crowd, and standing on an elevated stone, 
 close behind the bier, observed every thing with inquisitive 
 eyes. 
 
 " Presently the breast of the corpse began to be inflated, the 
 artery to throb with pulsation, the body to be filled with breath ; 
 at last the corpse arose, and thus addressed the young man: 
 ' Why, I beseech thee, dost thou bring me back to the duties of 
 a momentary existence, after having drunk of the Lethoean cup, 
 and floated upon the Stygian lake ? Cease, I beseech thee, 
 cease and leave me to my repose.' These were the words heard 
 to proceed from the body. 
 
 ** On this, the prophet, becoming still more excited, exclaimed, 
 * Why dost thou not relate to this crowd each particular, and 
 disclose the mysteries of thy death r Knowest thou not that the 
 Furies can be summoned by my imprecations to rack thy wearied 
 limbs ?' 
 
 " The body looked up from the bier, and with a deep groan 
 thus addressed the people : ' Cut ofl:' through the nefarious arts 
 of my newly-married wife, and by a poisonous draught, I have 
 yielded my yet warm bed to her paramour.' 
 
 ** Then that choice specimen of a v/ife, arming herself with 
 audacity, began to contradict the accusation of her husband in 
 a, wrangling and sacrilegious manner. The excited mob took 
 * T/te Coptic enclosures.] — This probably alludes to certain embank- 
 ments wliich were said to be thrown up annually by swallows around au 
 island near Coptos, which was sacred lo Isis. They were said to labour 
 so hard in thus attempting to preserve the island from the overflowing 
 of the Nile, that numbers died at the work. 
 
BOOK n. STOET OF TELEPHEON-, THE SITIDEIS'T. 45 
 
 diiFerent sides ; one party contended that this most iniquitous 
 woman should be immediately buried alive, with the corpse of 
 her husband ; the other declared that credit ought not to be 
 given to the lying testimony of the dead body. The subsequent 
 disclosures, however, of the young man put an end to this dis- 
 pute ; for, again heaving a deep groan, ' I will give you,' he 
 said, ' I will give you incontrovertible evidence of the truth 
 of my statements, and will disclose to you what is known to 
 no other person whatever.' 
 
 " Then, pointing to me with his finger : ' ^Tien that most 
 sagacious guardian of my body,' said he, * was diligently keep- 
 ing watch over me, the hags of sorceresses who eagerly hovered 
 over my mortal spoils, and who, to gain possession thereof, had 
 often changed themselves in vain into other forms, on finding 
 that they could not deceive his unwearied vigilance, at length 
 threw over him a cloud of drowsiness, and buried him in a 
 profound sleep ; after which, they did not cease to call upon 
 me by my name, till my weakened joints and chilled limbs strug- 
 gled, with convulsive efforts, to obey the mandates of the magic 
 art. Then this person, who though alive was still dead, so 
 far as sleep goes, happening to be of the same name as myself, 
 unconsciously arose on hearing his name called, and spontane- 
 ously walking just like an inanimate shadow, suffered the in- 
 tended mutilation instead of myself ; for although the doors of 
 the bedchamber were carefully bolted, the witches entered 
 through a chink, and cut off his nose first, and then his ears. 
 And, that the rest of the transaction might correspond with 
 their artful doings, they with the greatest exactness fitted on 
 to him wax, fashioned in imitation of his ears that had been 
 cut off, and provided him with a nose of the same substance, 
 just like his own. And here now stands the unfortunate 
 wretch who has obtained the reward dearly earned, not by his 
 vigilance, but by his sore mutilation.' 
 
 *' Exceedingly terrified on hearing this, I began to test my 
 fortune. Clapping my hand to my nose, I took hold of 
 it, and off it came : I touched my ears, and they fell to the 
 ground. Meanwhile the spectators pointed their fingers at 
 me, nodded their heads, and greeted me with loud roars of 
 laughtej-, until streaming with cold perspiration I dashed 
 through the surrounding crowd, and effected my escape. JS'or, 
 thus mutilated and an object of ridicule, could I return to my 
 
46 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APUI^IUS. 
 
 cative place ; * but, with my hair falling on each side of my 
 lace, I concealed the wounds of my ears, and decently covered 
 the disgrace of my nose with this linen cloth, closely applied 
 to it by means of glue." 
 
 END OF THE THIRD EPISODE. 
 
 As soon as Telephron had ended this story, the guests, elated 
 with wine, again renewed their bursts of laughter. While 
 they were proposing his health, f Byrrhsena thus addressed 
 me : *' To-morrow is a day which it has been usual to cele- 
 brate from the earliest infancy and very foundation of this city, 
 a day on which we exclusively, among mankind, propitiate the 
 most sacred God of Laughter, :J: with ceremonies of joviality 
 and mirth. Your presence will render the festival still more 
 pleasing to us ; and I wish that with your native wit, you 
 would devise something of a right joyous nature in honour 
 of the God, in order that we may the more becomingly and 
 abundantly shew our veneration for so great a Divinity." 
 
 '* Yery well," said I; *' what you request shall be done. And, 
 by Hercules ! I wish I may invent some piece of merriment 
 with which a god so mighty may be becomingly graced." 
 
 By this time, having had my fill of wine, and being warned 
 by my servant it was now night, I immediately arose, and 
 having hastily bid farewell to Byrrhaena, took my way home- 
 ward, with unsteady steps. But while we were going through 
 the first street, the light upon which we relied was extin- 
 
 * My native place.] — Miletus. 
 
 t Proposing his health.] — ' Bibere salutaria' is the reading which has 
 been adopted. 
 
 t God of Laughter.'] Pausanias mentions this solemnity, where he 
 «peaks of the Ilypatensians. Plutarch also, in his life of Cleomenes, men- 
 tions a temple which was dedicated to the God of Laughter ; and he like- 
 wise relates that a statue was erected to this divinity by Lycurgus. Every 
 providential energy of deity, about a sensible nature, was said, by ancient 
 theologists and philosophers, to be the sport of divinity. Hence the ancient 
 authors of fables call this peculiarity of the providence of the Gods, ener- 
 gising about the world, laughter. So that, as Proclus well observes, (in 
 Plat. Polit.) we must define the laughter of the Gods to be their exube- 
 rant energy in the universe, and the cause of the gladness of all mundane 
 natures. And, as this energy is never-faihng, the laughter of the Gods 
 is very properly said by Homer to be unextinguished. The source, 
 therefore, of this exuberant energy and mundane gladness, is the Gad of 
 Laughter. — Taylor. 
 
BOOK III. GALLANT CONFLICT WITH EOBBEES. 47 
 
 guished by a sudden gust of wind ; so that, with difficulty 
 groping our way through the darkness of the night against 
 which we were so badly provided, and continually knocking our 
 toes against the stones, we w^ere quite wearied before we arrived 
 at home. 
 
 When we had now entered our own street, lo and behold, 
 three men, of lusty and stout appearance, were pushing with all 
 their might against our door, and were not in the smallest 
 degree alarmed at our coming up ; on the contrary, they kicked 
 at it more and more repeatedly with all their might, so that 
 to us, and to myself especially, they appeared unquestionably 
 to be robbers, and of the most desperate character. Accord- 
 ingly, I instantly drew forth my sword, w^hich I carried with 
 me concealed under my cloak against such an emergency. 
 Without delay I rushed into the midst of the robbers^ and 
 plunged my sword to the hilt into the body of each, as I en- 
 gaged with him in combat, till at length, pierced with many 
 and deadly wounds, they breathed their last before my very feet. 
 
 Awakened by the tumult of this combat, Potis came and 
 opened the door. I crawled into the house, panting for breath 
 and bathed in perspiration, and immediately threw myself on 
 my bed and fell asleep, as much fatigued with the slaughter of 
 these sturdy robbers, as if I had killed Geryon.* 
 
 BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
 BEFLECTIONS ON THE MOENING AFTEK A CAEOUSE. LUCIUS AE- 
 
 KESTED ON A CHAEGE OF MUEDEE. THE TEIAL. ITS UNEX- 
 PECTED ISSUE. FESTIVAL OF THE GOD OF LAUGHTEE. EEMOESE 
 
 AND CONFESSION OF FOTIS. SHE PEOMISES TO LET LUCIUS WIT- 
 NESS PAMPHILE's magic PEEFOEMANCES. HE SEES PAMPHILE 
 
 TEANSFOEM HEESELF INTO AN OWL. HE ATTEMPTS TO IMITATE 
 
 HEE, AND IS CHANGED INTO A DONKEY. HE IS ILL-TEEATED BY 
 
 HIS HOESE, AND THEASHED BY HIS SEEVANT. MILO's HOUSE 
 
 PLUNDEEED BY EOBBEES. LUCIUS IS LOADED WITH THE BOOTY, 
 
 AND DEIVEN OFF. 
 
 AuEOEA, with her rosy arm uplifted, had just begun to drive 
 
 * Killed Geryon.'] — The slaying of Geryon, king of Spain, who had 
 three bodies, was one of the twelve celebrated labours of Hercules. 
 
48 THE GOLDEX ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 her purple-caparisoned steeds through the heavens ; and de- 
 parting night surrendering me up to day, roused me from placid 
 slumbers. Compunction then seized my mind at the recollec- 
 tion of the deed I had perpetrated on the previous evening. 
 Gathering my feet beneath me, locking my fingers upon my 
 knees, and so sitting up in bed on my haunches, I wept 
 abundantly; picturing to myself, in imagination, now the 
 "Forum and the trial, now the condemnation, and lastly, the 
 executioner himself. 
 
 '* Shall I," said I to myself, '' shall I meet with any judge 
 so mild and so considerate as to be able to pronounce me inno- 
 cent, when here I am, imbrued with the blood of a threefold 
 homicide, and reeking with the gore of so many citizens ? Is 
 this the journey so glorious in its results which Diophanes, 
 the Chaldaean, so confidently predicted for me ?" While with 
 such reflections ever and anon crossing my mind, I deplored my 
 evil fortune, a violent knocking at the door, and shouting was 
 heard at the gate : without more ado, it was thrown open, and 
 a great multitude rushing into the house, every part of it was 
 filled with the magistrates and their officers, and a miscel- 
 laneous gathering of people. Instantly two of the lictors, 
 laying hands upon me, by order of the magistrates, began to 
 drag me along, whilst I ofiered no resistance. When we had 
 got to the end of the lane,* we were immediately met by such 
 an astonishing multitude, that it seemed as if the whole city 
 was pouring forth. And though I \valked sorrowfully along, 
 with my head bowed down towards the ground, or rather, I 
 may say, to the shades below, yet, on casting a glance aside, I 
 saw a thing which caused me the greatest surprise. For among 
 the many thousands of people that surrounded me, there was 
 not a single one who was not ready to split his sides with 
 laughter. 
 
 At length, having passed through all the principal streets, 
 and turning corner after corner, like the victim of a lustral sa- 
 crifice, led all round the city before it is slain, to expiate the 
 anger of the Gods, I was marched into the Forum, and placed 
 before the judgment seat. And now, the magistrates being 
 seated on an elevated platform, the public crier proclaimed 
 
 * End of the lane-l— The ' mgiiportns' here mentioned was probably 
 the lane or blind alley into which the door of the house opened. 
 
BOOK III. LUCITJS TKIED rOH MTJKDEB. 49 
 
 silence, when suddenly the people, with one unanimous voice, 
 requested that, in consequence of the multitude of spectators, 
 whose lives were in peril from the enormous pressure, this im- 
 portant trial might take place in the theatre. Forthwith the 
 Forum was evacuated in every direction, the people filled every 
 seat in the body of the theatre* with extraordinary celerity; and 
 in the very entrances also, and over the whole of the roof, they 
 crowded as thick as they could stand. Great numbers clung to 
 the columns ; some hung on to the statues ; others were only 
 half visible through windows and between the beams of the 
 ceiling; and all, in their ardent desire to witness the sight, paid 
 no attention whatever to their own safety. 
 
 The public officers now led me through the proscenium, f 
 just like some victim, and placed me in the midst of the 
 orchestra. The accuser being again summoned by the loud 
 bellowing of the crier, arose, and after water had been poured 
 into a certain vessel, J which was finely perforated like a cullen- 
 der, and through which it flowed drop by drop, for the purpose 
 of regulating the time for speaking, he thus addressed the 
 people : 
 
 '* A case is now brought before you, most worthy fellow- 
 citizens, which is of no trifling magnitude, but one which es- 
 pecially regards the peace of the whole city, and is likely to 
 prove a momentous example, profitable to future ages. Where- 
 fore, it is the more requisite that each and all of you should 
 have due regard for the public dignity, that so this nefarious 
 homicide, who has murdered so many citizens, may not go un- 
 punished, for having thus cruelly butchered them. And do 
 not suppose that I am actuated by any private grudge, or 
 moved by personal animosity, in making this charge against 
 
 * Body of the theatre.'] — ' Caveae conseptum.* The * cavea' was the 
 part of the theatre in wh.ch the spectators sat. The * cavea' at Rome 
 was threefold. In the lowest part sat the ' Equites' and Senators ; in the 
 uppermost, the lowest of the people ; and in the middle, the more respec- 
 table classes. 
 
 t The proscenium.] — The * proscenium' was the elevated part in front of 
 the stage, on which the actors came forward when speaking. 
 
 J Into a certain vessel.] — He here alludes to the ' clepsydra,' or * water- 
 clock,' which was used in Greece for the purpose of measuring the time 
 during which persons might speak in courts of justice. Aristotle de- 
 scribes it as being a hollow globe, having a neck at the upper part like that 
 of a bottle, through which the water was poured into it. 
 
 £ 
 ' 4 
 
50 fHE GOLXEN ASS OF APULEIXJS. 
 
 him. For I am the prefect of the night-watch : and I fally 
 believe there is not one person who can impeach my vigil- 
 ance and attention. Accordingly, I will faithfully relate the 
 exact circumstances, and the transactions that took place last 
 night. 
 
 " When about the third watch,* I had nearly gone my rounds 
 of the whole city, and had examined every corner from door to 
 door with scrupulous attention, I perceived this most blood- 
 thirsty young man laying about him on every side, and slaugh- 
 tering with his drawn sword ; and I saw that three persous, 
 who had just fallen victims to his rage, were laid at his feet, 
 still breathing, and their bodies palpitating amid streams of 
 gore. Then, conscience-stricken, and with good reason, at the 
 commission of such a heinous deed, he immediately took to 
 flight, and having, through the protection of the darkness, es- 
 caped into a certain house, he there lay concealed the whole 
 night. By the providence of the gods, however, which 
 allows no crime to pass unpunished, I took care to arrest him 
 in the morning, and bring him hither for the most august 
 judgment of your venerable tribunal, before he could make his 
 escape clandestinely. You have, therefore, before you a ctil- 
 prit defiled with so many murders, a culprit taken in the very 
 fact, a culprit who is a foreigner. Unhesitatingly, then, pass 
 sentence on this stranger, for a crime, for the commission of 
 which you would severely punish one of your own citizens." 
 
 My most unsparing accuser having thus spoken, closed his 
 tremendous harangue. 
 
 The moment he ceased, the crier ordered me to begin, if I 
 wished to make any reply to what had been said. But as for 
 me, at that moment I could do nothing but weep ; not, by 
 Hercules ! so much on account of the dreadful accusation, as of 
 my own wretched conscience. At last, however, inspired by the 
 gods with some degree of boldness, I thus answered the charge : 
 
 " I am far from ignorant how difficult it is for any one, 
 when three corpses of citizens are lying exposed, and he is 
 accused of the murder, to persuade so vast a multitude that he 
 is really innocent, while he speaks the truth, and readily con- 
 fesses that he committed the deed. But if your humanity will 
 allow me a public hearing for a short time, I shall have no 
 
 * Third watch] — The night was divided by soldiers into four parts, 
 each of which was called a watch, and consisted of three hours. 
 
BOOK 111 Si LECH OF LUCIUS TOE HIS DEFENCE. 51 
 
 difficulty in showing you that I now stand in peril of my life^ 
 not through any ill-deserts of my own, but that it is through a 
 fortuitous result of justifiable indignation, that I am innocently 
 subjected to the reproach of so great a crime. 
 
 'Tor, as I was returning from an entertainment, somewhat 
 later than usual, and besides, being in a state bordering on 
 intoxication, which indeed I will not deny was really my 
 crime, I beheld before the door of the place where I reside 
 (for I am staying with your worthy fellow- citizen Milo), I be- 
 held, I say, some most desperate robbers trying to force an 
 entrance, and to wrench the door off its hinges. Already they 
 had with great violence torn away all the bars which had 
 been put up with the greatest care, and at that very moment 
 they were meditating the murder of the inhabitants within. 
 One of them, in fact, who was the most active with his hands, 
 and the largest in bulk, was encouraging the others with these 
 words, ' Come on, my lads, let us fall upon those within while 
 they are asleep, with manly spirits and vigorous hands. Be 
 all hesitation, all sluggishness, banished from your breasts. 
 Let slaughter stalk, sword in hand, from one end of the house 
 to the other. Let him who lies sound asleep be put to death ; 
 let him who endeavours to resist be knocked down. Thus shall 
 we get oft' in safety, if we don't leave a single person in safety 
 in the house.' 
 
 ''I confess it, citizens; seeing that I entertained extreme 
 fears both on account of my entertainers and myself, and that 
 I was armed with a sword which I carried with me as a pro- 
 vision against dangers of this kind, I thought it was the duty 
 of a good member of the community, to endeavour to alarm 
 and put to flight these most desperate robbers. But the 
 barbarous and bloodthirsty villains were far from taking 
 to flight ; and though they saw that I was armed, they still 
 offered a bold resistance, and stood their ground in battle 
 array. In fact, the leader and standard-bearer, as it were, 
 of the rest, attacking me at once with great impetuosity, 
 seizing me by the hair with both his hands, and bend- 
 ing me backward, tried to smash me with a stone. But 
 while he was crying out for one to be handed to him, making 
 a sure thrust at him, I fortunately laid him prostrate. Pre- 
 sently, I slew another, who was clinging to my legs and biting 
 my feet, piercing him with a well-aimed blow through th© 
 
 c 2 
 
52 THE GOLDEX ASS OP APULEIUS. 
 
 middle of his shoulder-blade ; and the third I ran through the 
 breast while rushing upon me off his guard. Thus, the cause 
 of peace being vindicated, and the house of my host, and the 
 safety of the public, being protected, I did suppose that I 
 was not only not liable to punishment, but was even worthy 
 of the public praise : I who have never been accused even of 
 the smallest crime, but have been always highly respected in 
 my own country, and have ever preferred a character without 
 guile to every earthly good. Neither am I able to compre- 
 hend why I am now exposed to this accusation for a justifiable 
 feeling of vengeance with which I was incited against these 
 most abominable robbers, since there is not a person who can 
 either prove that prior to this affair there was any private ani- 
 mosity between us, or that these robbers were ever in any way 
 known by me. At all events, let something of which I stripped 
 them be shown, ere it be believed that I perpetrated such a 
 heinous crime through the desire of obtaining booty." 
 
 Having thus said, my tears again burst forth, and with hands 
 stretched out in a suppliant attitude, I earnestly invoked 
 first one and then another, appealing to the public com- 
 miseration, and the love they bore to their children, pledges 
 of affection. And when I now thought that they were all 
 moved by humanity, and that they were sufiiciently affected 
 with commiseration for my tears, calling to witness the eye of 
 Justice and the Sun, and commending to the providence of the 
 gods my present case, I raised my eyes a little, and beheld the 
 entire body of the people ready to burst with laughter, and 
 even Milo, that worthy host of mine, who had professed the 
 affection of a father for me, laughing as immoderately as the 
 rest. Amazed at such a sight, I said to myself, ''Alas! where 
 is probity, where is conscience ? Here am I become a homi- 
 cide, and capitally convicted, in defence of the safety of my 
 host; while he, not content with abstaining from affording me the 
 comfort of his assistance, is grinning besides at my destruction." 
 
 In the meantime a certain woman, dressed in black, and 
 carrying an infant at her bosom, came running through the 
 middle of the theatre, crying and lamenting, while behind her 
 followed an aged crone in ragged and dirty apparel, who also 
 testified her grief by similar wailings, while both of them 
 shook branches of olive in their hands. Then, hanging over 
 the bier on which the dead bodies lay covered up, and beating 
 
BOOK III. LUCIUS CONDEMNED TO THE TOETUEE. 53 
 
 their breasts and howling dismally, they exclaimed, "In the 
 name of public compassion, as you revere the common law of 
 humanity, take pity upon these young men who have been so 
 unworthily slain, and give to our widowed and solitary state 
 the solace of vengeance. At least afford assistance to this un- 
 fortunate child, who is left destitute in its infancy, and make 
 a propitiatory sacrifice to your laws and the public well-being 
 with the blood of the cutthroat." 
 
 After this appeal, the senior magistrate arose, and thus 
 addressed the people : " That this crime must be visited with 
 a severe punishment, not even he himself, who committed it, 
 is able to deny. Therefore one duty only remains for us, and 
 that of a secondary nature, namely, that we should discover 
 the other persons who were the accomplices in such an atro- 
 cious deed. Tor it is by no means probable, that one solitary 
 individual could have deprived of life three such robust young 
 men as these. The truth, therefore, must be plucked from 
 him by means of torture. For the servant who attended him 
 has secretly taken flight, and the matter is brought to this issue 
 that he must himself be put to the question, and compelled to 
 declare who were his partners in his crime, in order that we 
 may be thoroughly freed from the fear of so dreadful a gang." 
 
 Without any delay, the instruments of torture in use among 
 the Greeks, namely, fire and the wheel, "^^ and various sorts of 
 scourges besides, were brought in. Then indeed my misery 
 was infinitely increased, because I was not to be allowed, at 
 least, to die unmutilated. But the old hag, who had aggra- 
 vated everything by her weeping, exclaimed, ''Most worthy 
 citizens, before you fasten to the cross this cutthroat thief, the 
 destroyer of my wretched sons, allow the corpses of the dead 
 to be uncovered, in order that being still more and more in- 
 cited to a just indignation, by a contemplation of the beauty 
 as well as the youth of the slain, you may vent your rage upon 
 their murderer, with a severity proportioned to the magnitude 
 of his crime." 
 
 These words were received with applause, and immediately 
 the magistrate ordered me with my own hands to uncover the 
 dead bodies Avhich were laid on the bier. The lictors used most 
 Btrenuous efi'orts to enforce obedience to the command of the 
 magistrates, whilst I resisted and struggled as long as I could, 
 
 * Fire and the wheel.} — Achilles Tatius also mentions the wheel and 
 fire as being used by the Greeks for the purpose of extorting confessioa. 
 
54 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIIJS. 
 
 unwilling to revive, as it were, the crime of the .day before by 
 a new display of the victims. At last, however, forcing away 
 my hand from my side, they extended it, to its own destruc- 
 tion, over the dead bodies. Overcome at length by necessity, 
 I yielded; and, though with extreme reluctance, withdrew 
 the pall and exposed the corpses. But, good gods ! what a sight 
 was there ! what a prodigy ! what a sudden change in my for- 
 tunes ! A moment before, I was the property of Proserpine, 
 and was reckoned one of the family of Orcus, * but now the 
 aspect of affairs was totally changed ; and I stood staring like 
 an idiot in mute amazement; nor is it in the power of language 
 to give a fitting description of the sight that now met my eyes. 
 
 For these bodies of the murdered men were three inflated 
 wine skins,! pierced in various parts, and, as far as I could call 
 to my recollection my battle of the night before, they were 
 slashed in the very same places in which I had wounded the 
 robbers. Then the laughter which, through the sly manage- 
 ment of some persons, had been for a while repressed, burst 
 forth among the people without restraint. Some congratu- 
 lated me, in the exuberance of their hilarity, others pressed 
 their hands to their stomachs, to relieve their aching; all, 
 indeed, were drowned in floods of mirth as they left the theatre, 
 pausing every now and then to look back at me. 
 
 For my own part, from the moment I lifted up that cloth, 
 I stood fixed and ice-cold as a stone, precisely as though I 
 had been one of the statues or columns of the theatre. JSTor 
 had I yet emerged from the shades below, when my host, 
 Milo, came up, and taking me by the hand, drew me towards 
 him with gentle force, reluctant as I was to move, and in- 
 cessantly sobbing with the tears again gushing forth ; and 
 then, avoiding the main streets, he led me through certain 
 bye- ways to his house, consoling me all the way with various 
 remarks, for I had not yet got over my grief and trepidation. 
 !Nor, indeed, could he by any means assuage my indignation at 
 the insult I had received, which took deep root in my breast. 
 Presently, the magistrates, with their insignia, entered the house, 
 and endeavoured to appease me by addressing me as follows * 
 
 * Family of Orcus.'] — Orcus was one of the names of Plutus. 
 
 t Inflated wine skins."] — The ' litres/ used for holding wine, were mostly 
 made of goatskins, which were tightly sewed together, and then well 
 pitched over. Sometimes several goat skins were fastened together to 
 make one vessel. 
 
BOOK III. LTJCItrS COMPLIMENTED BY THE MAGISTEATES. 55 
 
 *' We are not ignorant, Master Lucius, of your high posi- 
 tion, or of 5' our lineage ; for the nohle name of your illustrious 
 family extends through the whole of this province. Nor was 
 it for the sake of contumely that you were made to suffer that 
 which you take so sorely to heart. Dismiss, therefore, all your 
 present sorrow and anguish of mind. For this festival, which we 
 solemnly celebrate in public as each year returns,* in honor of 
 the most jocund God of Laughter, is always graced with soma 
 new invention. This God will every where propitiously and 
 lovingly attend you as his promoter, nor will he ever suffer 
 your mind to be oppressed with grief, but will perpetually ex- 
 hilarate your brow with a serene cheerfulness. All this city, 
 likewise, has presented you with the highest honors, for the 
 favour which you have conferred on it. Tor it has enrolled 
 you as its patron, and has passed a vote that your statue shall 
 be erected in brass." 
 
 In reply to this address, I said, " To you, and to your most 
 splendid and singularly excellentf city of Thessaly, I return com- 
 mensurate thanks for such honors. But I would recommend 
 you to keep your statues and images for those who are more 
 worthy and of more advanced years than myself." Having spoken 
 thus modestly, and for a moment smiling with a cheerful coun- 
 tenance, and pretending as much as I possibly could to be more 
 joyful, I courteously saluted the magistrates at their departure. 
 
 Just then, a servant came running into the house, and said 
 to me, " Your relation, Byrrhaena, repeats her invitation, and 
 begs to remind you that the hour of the banquet is close at 
 hand, at which you promised last evening to be present." 
 
 Full of horror at these words, and shuddering at the very 
 mention of her house, ''Tell your mistress," said I, ''that I 
 would most willingly obey her commands, if it were possible 
 to do so without violating my promise. But my host, Milo, 
 conjuring me by the deity who presides over this day, has 
 made me pledge myself to sup with him to-day ; and he has 
 neither gone out of the house, nor will he suffer me to leave 
 him. On this account, I must put off my engagement to sup 
 with your mistress to another time." 
 
 * As each year returns. '\ — If this practice really did prevail with the 
 people of Thessaly, it bore a considerable resemblance to our April Fool Day. 
 
 t Singularly excellent.^ — It is somewhat singular that Solinus, when 
 enumerating the principal cities of Thessaly, does not "mention Hypata in 
 the list. It is probably thus called by Apuleius, or rather Lucius, solely 
 by way of compliment. 
 
56 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 All this while Milo held me fast by the hand, and when the 
 servant was gone, he took me to the nearest bath, having pre- 
 viously ordered that the bathing utensils* should be sent after 
 us. But I, avoiding the gaze of all men, and shrinking from 
 the laughter of those I met, and of which I was myself the 
 subject, stuck close to his side, and screened myself under its 
 shadow, such was the shame I felt. But how I washed or 
 how I dried myself, or how I got home again, was more than 
 I could tell ; so much was I confounded and bereft of my 
 senses on seeing myself pointed out by the eyes, the nods, and 
 the fingers of the people. At last, having hastily despatched a 
 paltry meal with Milo, and excusing myself on the ground of 
 a severe head-ache, occasioned by my long-continued weeping, 
 I readily obtained permission to retire to rest. 
 
 Throwing myself upon my bed, I reflected painfully upon 
 all that had happened to me, till at length my Fotis, having 
 put her mistress to bed, came to me, very much changed fron^ 
 her usual appearance ; for she did not bring with her a joyoua 
 face, nor mirthful prattle, but a gloomy and wrinkled brow. 
 At length, spealdng with hesitation and timidly, "I freely con- 
 fess," said she, ''that I have been the cause to you of this 
 day's trouble ; " and so saying, she drew forth a kind of lash 
 from her bosom, and offering it to me, thus continued : " Take 
 your revenge, I pray you, upon a perfidious woman ; ay, inflict 
 on me any punishment you please. Yet do not, I entreat you, 
 believe that of my own will I have occasioned you this an- 
 guish. May the gods be more merciful to me, than that you 
 should sufi'er even the very smallest annoyance on my account ! 
 iNay rather, if any disaster impend over your head, may it be 
 forthwith atoned for mth my blood. It is a thing I was or- 
 dered to do for quite another reason, that, with a sort of ill luck 
 peculiarly my own, has turned out to your injury." 
 
 Urged by my usual curiosity, and longing to have the secret 
 cause of this transaction disclosed, I thus replied : ''This most 
 abominable and most audacious of all whips, which you in- 
 tended for me to beat you with, shall be cliopped, and torn 
 to pieces, and utterly destroyed, before it shall touch your 
 
 * The bathing ute7i8tls.'\ — The * balnearia,' or bathing apparatus, gene- 
 rally taken to the baths, were ' strigils,' or scrapers, ' ampullae,' or bottlei 
 containing oil or pinguents, linen, towels, &c. See the soliloquy of the 
 parasite Gelasinus, in the Stichus of Plautus, act ii. sc 1, where he re 
 counts the requisites for the bath. 
 
BOOK in. COA'FESSION 0¥ TOTIS. 57 
 
 downy, milk-white skin. But tell me faithfully, I heseech 
 you, what act of yours is it, that the malignity of fortune has 
 converted to my detriment ? I swear by that face of yours, 
 most dear to me, that not any person whatsoever, not even your 
 own self, could make me believe that you harboured a thought 
 that could do me harm. And besides, no adverse results of 
 chance can cause harmless intentions to become culpable." 
 
 "When I had finished this little speech, with eager thirst and 
 close kisses, I sucked in love from the lips of my Fotis, whose 
 moist and tremulous eyes, half hidden by their drooping lids 
 were dull with the languor of desire. Her spirits being thus 
 revived: "First let me carefully shut the door," she said, *'lest 
 I be guilty of a great offence, through the unguarded freedom 
 of the words that may escape me." Thus saying, she bolted 
 and locked the door securely, and then returning to me, and 
 clasping my neck with both her hands, she said, in a low and 
 very subdued tone of voice : " I am terrified, and tremble all 
 over, to disclose the mysteries of this house, and reveal the 
 secret doings of my mistress. But I have too high an opinion 
 of you and your breeding, not to trust you ; for besides 
 your high -born dignity, and your own elevated mind, having 
 been initiated into various sacred mysteries, you have fully 
 learned the holy faith of secrecy ; whatsoever, therefore, I shall 
 entrust to the inmost depths of this breast of yours, keep it 
 ever religiously concealed, I beseech you, within its recesses, 
 and repay the frankness of my narrative, by the strictest si- 
 lence. For it is the power of tliat love by which I am bound 
 to you, that compels me to disclose to you matters which are 
 known to me alone, of all mortals. You will now learn every- 
 thing that relates to our house ; you shall now be made aware 
 of the wondrous secret powers of my mistress, to which the 
 spirits of the dead pay obedience, and by which she disturbs 
 the stars in their course, sways the elements, and enthrals the 
 divinities. Nor does she ever more readily resort to the powers 
 of this art, than when she has cast the eyes of desire upon a 
 good-looking young man, a thing, in fact, that happens to her 
 not unfrequently. 
 
 "At the present moment, she is desperately in love with a 
 certain young man of Boeotia, who is extremely handsome, and 
 she is ardently employing the whole power, and every ma- 
 noeuvre of her art. I heard her yesterday evening, with theso 
 ears of mine, I heard her, I say, threaten the Sun himself, that 
 
68 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APTJLEIUS. 
 
 she would involve him in a cloud of mist, and interminable 
 darkness, if that Sun did not make haste in his course through 
 the heavens, and speedily give place to the night, that she 
 might the sooner begin to exert her magic spells, 
 
 " Yesterday, happening to catch sight of this youth in a bar- 
 ber's shop,* as she was retui-mng from the bath, she secretly 
 gave me orders to bring away the cuttings of his hair, which 
 were lying on the ground. As I was in the act of carefully 
 and stealthily collecting them, the barber caught me ; and, be- 
 cause from other circumstances we are publicly notorious as 
 exercising the black art, he laid hold on me, and rudely abused 
 me: 'What, you good-for-nothing jade, you can't leave off 
 pilfering the hair of the good-looking young men every now 
 and then ? If you don't, once for all, put an end to this, I 
 will take you without more ado before the magistrates.' Then, 
 suiting the action to the words, thrusting in his hands between 
 my breasts, and groping about them in a rage, he drew out 
 the hair I had previously concealed there. Grievously afflicted 
 by this treatment, and rejecting on the temper of my mistress, 
 who is always excessively enraged, and beats me in the most 
 cruel manner, when she is thwarted in a matter of this nature, 
 I had serious thoughts of running away, but when I thought 
 of you, I instantly abandoned that design. On my way home, 
 sad and empty handed, I espied a man clipping some goat 
 skins with a pair of shears. Seeing them so nicely sewn toge- 
 ther, inflated, and standing by themselves, I took up a parcel 
 of the hair from them which lay scattered on the ground, and 
 being of a yellow colour, resembled that of the young Boeotian ; 
 and this goat's hair T gave to my mistress, concealing the truth. 
 
 "Accordingly, at night-fall, before you returned from the 
 entertainment, Pamphile, my mistress, now in a state of frenzy, 
 went up into a belvedere covered with shingles, which she 
 secretly frequents, as being especially adapted to these pursuits 
 of hers, for it is open on every side to the winds, and commands 
 a prospect of the eastern and all the other points. There she 
 began by arranging in lier deadly workshop all the customaiy 
 implements of her art, such as aromatics of all kinds, plates of 
 metal engraved with talismanic characters, nails from ship- 
 wrecked vessels, as also, multitudes of limbs and fragments 
 
 * In a barber's shop.'] — Among the ancients, tlie ' tonstrinae,' or barbers' 
 sliops, were places devoted to news and gossip; as such, nednd them 
 frequently alluded to in the plays of Plautus and Terence. 
 
BOOK III. THE WALKING "VVINEBAGS. 59 
 
 Stolen from graves. Here, ^Yere noses and fingers, there, the 
 nails by which culprits had been fixed to the cross, and to 
 which portions of flesh adhered ; and, in another place, the 
 blood of murdered persons, bottled up, and mangled skulls of 
 men who had been devoured by wild beasts. 
 
 "Next, having pronounced an incantation over entrails still 
 warm and palpitating, she makes a libation with various 
 liquors, first, with water from the spring; next, with the 
 milk of cows; and then, with mountain honey and mead. 
 Then, after plaiting the goats' hairs together, and tying them 
 in a knot, she burns them on live coals, with abundance of 
 perfumes. That instant, through the in-esistible power of the 
 magic art, and through the occult might of the coerced divi- 
 nities, those same bodies, the hairs of which were smoking 
 and crackling, received human breath, were endowed with un- 
 derstanding, heard, and walked. Whither the odour of the 
 burning spoils attracted them, thither came they ; and instead 
 of that Eoeotian j^outh, it was they who bumped away at the 
 door, endeavouring to effect an entrance. Just at that mo- 
 ment up came you, well steeped in liquor, and deceived by the 
 darkness of the night, you drew your sword, just like the frantic 
 Ajax, but not like him to slay whole flocks of sheep 'j^' a far 
 more valiant deed was yours, for you deprived of breath three 
 inilated goat skins, so that, having laid your adversaries prostrate, 
 without staining yourelf with a drop of blood, I can now clasp 
 you in my arms, not as a homicide, but as a wine-bagicide." 
 
 Hesponding in the same strain to the jocular remarks of Fotis, 
 I said: *'Now, then, I may match this first exploit of my prowess 
 with one of the twelve labours of Hercules, comparing the 
 three wine skins I slaughtered to the three-fold body of Geryon, 
 or to the triple form of Cerberus. But, that I may forgive 
 you with all my heart for the fault through which you in- 
 volved me in miseries so extreme, comply with one most ear- 
 nest request of mine. Let me have sight of your mistress 
 when she next makes any use of this supernatural power, so 
 that when she is invoking the gods, I may at least see her as- 
 sume another form. For I am most ardently desirous of ob- 
 taining a nearer acquaintance with the arts of magic ; though, 
 by the b}^, you yourself seem to me to he cot altogether a no- 
 vice in such matters. This I know, and feel most sensibly ; 
 
 * Whole flocks of sheep.'] — Tn his madness consequent upon his being 
 refused the arms of Achilles, which were awai'ded to Ulysses. 
 
60 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 for whereas I have always been averse to the overtures of 
 highborn ladies, now by those brilliant eyes of yours, your 
 rosy lips, your shining hair, your open-lipped kisses, and your 
 perfumed bosom, you hold me voluntarily enthralled, and sub- 
 jected to you as much as any slave. In fact, I am neither an- 
 xious to return home, nor am I making any preparations for that 
 purpose, and nothing is there which I could prefer to this night." 
 
 "How gladly, Lucius, would I accomplish what you desire," 
 she replied, " but my mistress is so afraid of the malice and 
 curiosity of the public, that she always performs her mysterious 
 ceremonies in the strictest solitude and privacy. Still, I will 
 consider your gratification more than my own danger, and will 
 look out for a suitable opportunity to accomplish what you 
 wish. Do you only, as I admonished you at the beginning, 
 faithfully preserve silence upon a matter of such importance." 
 
 While we thus conversed together, mutual desire seized us ; 
 and inspired with a Bacchanalian frenzy, as it were, we rushed 
 into each other's arms. At last, after long wakefulness, sleep 
 fell upon our weary eyes, and detained us in bed till late in the 
 following day. 
 
 After some few nights delightfully passed in this manner, 
 Potis came running to me one day in great excitement and 
 trepidation, and informed me that her mistress, having hitherto 
 made no proficiency by other means in her present amour, in- 
 tended to assume feathers like a bird, and so take flight to 
 the object of her love ; and that I must prepare myself with 
 all due care for the sight of such a wonderful proceeding. 
 And now, about the first watch of the night, she escorted me, 
 on tip-toe and with noiseless steps, to that same upper cham- 
 ber, and bade me to peep through a chink in the door, which 
 I did accordingly. 
 
 In the first place, Pamphile divested herself of all her gar- 
 ments, and having unlocked a certain cabinet, took out of it 
 several little boxes. Taking the lid off of one of them, and 
 pouring some ointment then^from, she rubbed herself for a con- 
 siderable time with her hands, smearing herself all over from 
 the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. Then, after she 
 had muttered a long while in a low voice over a lamp, she 
 Bhook her limbs with tremulous jerks, then gently waved them 
 to and fro, until soft feathers burst forth, strong wings dis- 
 played themselves, the nose was hardened and curved into a 
 beak, the nulls w ere compressed and made crooked. Thus did 
 
BOOK III. PAMPHILe's TEA^^SrOEMATIO>\ 61 
 
 Pamphile become an owl. Then, uttering a qnerulous scream, 
 she made trial of her powers, leaping little by little from 
 the ground ; and presently, raising herself aloft, on full wing^ 
 she flies out of doors. And thus was she, of her own will, 
 changed, by her own magic arts. 
 
 But I, though not enchanted by any magic spell, still, rivetted 
 to the spot by astonishment at this performance, seemed to 
 myself to be any thing else rather than Lucius. Thus de- 
 prived of my senses, and astounded, even to insanity, I was 
 in a waking dream, and rubbed my eyes for some time, to 
 ascertain whether or not I was awake at all. At last, however, 
 returning to consciousness of the reality of things, I took hold 
 of the right hand of Fotis, and putting it to my eyes, ** Suffer 
 me," said I, ''I beg of you, to enjoy a great and singular 
 proof of your affection, while the opportunity offers, and give 
 me a little ointment from the same box. Grant this, my 
 sweetest, I entreat you by these breasts of yours, and thus, by 
 conferring on me an obligation that can never be repaid, bind 
 me to you for ever as your slave. Be you my Yenus, and let 
 me stand by you a winged Cupid." 
 
 "And are you then, sweetheart, for playing me a fox's trick, 
 and for causing me, of my own accord, to let fall the axe upon 
 my legs ? Must I run such risk of having my Lucius torn from 
 me by the wolves of Thessaly ?* Where am I to look for him 
 when he is changed into a bird ? "When shall I see him again?" 
 
 " May the celestial powers," said I, *' avert from me such a 
 crime ! Though borne aloft on the wings of the eagle itself, 
 soaring through the midst of the heavens, as the trusty mes- 
 senger, or joyous arm-bearer, of supreme Jove, would I not, 
 after I had obtained this dignity of wing, still fly back every 
 now and then to my nest ? I swear to you, by that lovely 
 little knot of hair, with which you have enchanted my spirit, 
 that I would prefer no other to my Fotis. And then besides, 
 I bethink me, that as soon as I am rubbed with that ointment, 
 and shall have been changed into a bird of this kind, I shall 
 be bound to keep at a distance from all human habitations ; 
 for what a beautiful and agreeable lover will the ladies gain in 
 an owl ! Why ! do we not see that these birds of night, when 
 
 * Wolves of Thessaly /] — There is some doubt among the Commenta- 
 tors which is meant here by the wolves of Thessaly ; but it seems most 
 probable that iu her jealousy, Fotis intends to call the damsels of Thessaly 
 by that name. 
 
62 TKE GOLDEN ASS OJ? APTJLEIUS. 
 
 tliey have got into any house, are eagerly seized and nailed t« 
 the doors,* in order that they may atone, by their torments, 
 for the evil destiny which they portend to the family by their 
 inauspicious flight ? Eut one thing I had almost forgot to in- 
 quire : what must I say or do, in order to get rid of my wings, 
 and return to my own form as Lucius r" 
 
 *' Be in no anxiety," she said, "about all that matter ; for my 
 mistress has made me acquainted with every thing that can 
 again change such forms into the human shape. But do not 
 suppose that this was done through any kind feeling towards 
 me, but in order that I might assist her with the requisite 
 remedies when she returns home. Only think with what 
 simple and trifling herbs such a mighty result is brought 
 about : for instance, a little anise, with some leaves of laurel 
 infased in spring water, and used as a lotion and a draught." 
 
 Having assured me of this over and over again, she stole into 
 her mistress's chamber with the greatest trepidation, and took 
 a little box out of the casket. Having first hugged and kissed 
 it, and offered up a prayer that it would favour me with a 
 prosperous flight, I hastily divested myself of all my garments, 
 then greedily dipping my fingers into the box, and taking 
 thence a considerable quantity of the ointment, I rubbed it all 
 over my body and limbs. And now, flapping my arms up and 
 down, I anxiously awaited my change into a bird. But no 
 down, no shooting wings appeared, but my hairs evidently be- 
 came thickened into bristles, and my tender skin was hardened 
 into a hide ; my hands and feet, too, no longer furnished with 
 distinct fingers and toes, formed as many massive hoofs, and a 
 long tail projected from the extremity of my spine. My face 
 was now enormous, my mouth wide, my nostrils gaping, and 
 my lips hanging down. In like manner my ears grew hairy, 
 and of immoderate length, and I found in every respect I had 
 become enlarged. f Thus, hopelessly surveying all parts of my 
 body, I beheld myself changed not into a bird, but an ass. 
 
 I wished to upbraid Fotis for the deed she had done ; but, 
 now deprived both of the gesture and voice of man, I could only 
 expostulate with her silently with my under- lip hanging down, 
 
 * Nailed to the doors.'] — We see the same sort of thing done at the 
 present day in some parts of England, where owls, hawks, bats, &c., are 
 nailed in great numbers to the stable doors. 
 
 t Enlarged.] — The original is : Nee uUum miser reformationis video so- 
 latium nisi ouod mihi jam nequeunti tenere Fotidem natura crescebat. 
 
BOOK III. LI cms MJrrAlIOEPEOSED. 63 
 
 and looking sideways at her with tearful eyes. As for her, as 
 soon as she beheld me thus changed, she beat her face with her 
 hands, and cried aloud, " Wretch that I am, I am undone ! In 
 my liaste and flurry I mistook one box for the other, deceived 
 by their similarity. It is fortunate, however, that a remedy 
 for this transformation is easily to be obtained ; for, by only 
 chewing roses, you will put off the form of an ass, and in an 
 instant will become my Lucius once again. I only wish that 
 I had prepared as usual some garlands of roses for us last even- 
 ing ; for then you would not have had to suifer the delay even 
 of a single night. But, at the break of dawn, the remedy shall 
 be provided for you." 
 
 Thus did she lament ; and as for me, though I was a per- 
 fect ass, and instead of Lucius, a beast of burden, I still re- 
 tained human sense : long and deeply, in fact, did I consider 
 with myself, whether I ought not to bite and kick that most 
 wicked woman to death. However, better thoughts recalled 
 me from such rash designs, lest, by inflicting on Fotis the 
 punishment of death, I should at once put an end to all chances 
 of efiioient assistance. So, bending my head low, shaking -my 
 earo, I silently swallowed my wrongs for a time, and submitting 
 to my most dreadful misfortune, I betook myself to the stable 
 to the good horse which had carried me so well, and there I 
 found another ass also, which belonged to my former host 
 Milo. Now it occurred to me that, if there are in dumb animals 
 any silent and natural ties of sympathy, this horse of mine, 
 being influenced by a certain feeling of recognition and com- 
 passion, would afford me room for a lodging, and the rights of 
 hospitality.* But, Jupiter Hospitalis, and all you the guardian 
 divinities of Faith ! this very excellent nag of mine, and the 
 ass, put their heads together, and immediately plotted schemes 
 for my destruction ; and as soon as they beheld me approach- 
 ing the manger, laying back their ears and quite frantic with 
 rage, they furiously attacked me with their heels, fearing I 
 had design upon their food ; consequently I was driven away 
 into the farthest corner from that very barley, which the even 
 ing before I had placed, with my own hands, before that most 
 grateful servant of mine. 
 
 Thus harshly treated and sent into banishment, I betook my- 
 
 * Rights of hospitality.'] — ' Lautias,' This was properly the name given 
 to the entertainment provided by the Qusestors at Rome, for foreign am- 
 bassadors, when maintained at the pubUc expense. 
 
64 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 self to a corner of the stable. And while I reflected on the inso- 
 lence of my companions, and formed plans of vengeance against 
 the perfidious steed, for the next day, when I should have be- 
 come Lucius once more by the aid of the roses, I beheld against 
 the central square pillar which supported the beams of the 
 stable, a statue of the goddess Hippona,^' standing within a 
 shrine, and nicely adorned with garlands of roses, and those, too, 
 recently gathered. Inspired with hope, the moment I espied 
 the salutary remedy, I boldly mounted as far as ever my fore 
 legs could stretch ; and then with neck at full length, and ex- 
 tending my lips as much as I possibly could, I endeavoured to 
 catch hold of the garlands. But by a most unlucky chance, 
 just as I was endeavouring to accomplish this, my servant lad, 
 who had the constant charge of my horse, suddenly espied me, 
 sprang to his feet in a great rage, and exclaimed, ''How long 
 are we to put up with this vile hack, which, but a few mo- 
 ments ago, was for making an attack upon the food of the 
 cattle, and is now doing the same even to the statues of the 
 Gods ? But if I don't this very instant cause this sacrilegious 
 beast to be both sore and crippled" — and searching for some- 
 thing with which to strike me, he stumbled upon a bundle of 
 sticks that lay there, and, picking out a knotted cudgel, the 
 largest he could find among them all, he did not cease to be- 
 labour my poor sides, until a loud thumping and banging at 
 the outer gates, and an uproar of the neighbours shouting 
 thieves ! struck him with terror, and he took to his heels. 
 
 The next moment the doors were burst open, an armed band 
 of robbers rushed in, and surrounded the house on all sides ; 
 people ran from all quarters to help the defence, but the rob- 
 bers beat them off. Being all furnished with swords and 
 torches, they illuminated the darkness of the night ; and their 
 swords gleamed like the rays of the rising sun. Then with 
 their strong axes they broke open the stout bars and fastenings 
 of a strong room in the middle of the house, which was filled 
 with Mile's treasures, and having completely ransacked it, 
 they hastily divided the booty, and tied it up in separate pack- 
 ages. Now the number of packages exceeded that of the men 
 who were to carry them. Hence, being brought to extraor- 
 dinary shifts, through a superabundance of wealth, they led 
 forth us, the two asses, and my horse, from the stable, loaded 
 
 * The goddess Hippona.] — This was the guardian goddess of horses and 
 stables. * Hippona' seems a preferable reading to ' Epona.' 
 
BOOK III. TdClUS rOECED TO EEITAIN AX ASS. 0.5 
 
 \i8 with the heaviest burdens they possibly could, and drove ua 
 before them from the empty house, flourishing their sticks over 
 us. Leaving one of their companions behind as a spy, to bring 
 them word as to any proceedings taken in consequence of the 
 robbery, they hurried us along through the bye-paths of the 
 mountains, beating us every now and then, so that through the 
 weight of my load, the steepness of the mountain, and the in- 
 terminable length of the way, I was no better than a dead 
 donkey. At last I very seriously thought of resorting to the 
 aid o£ the civil power, and liberating myself from so many 
 miseries, by invoking the august name of the Emporor. 
 
 Accordingly, when, in broad daylight, we were passing 
 through a certain populous village, which was thronged with 
 people celebrating a fair, I strove, in the midst of that 
 crowd of Greeks, to utter the august name of Caesar, in the 
 native language, and I cried out ! * distinctly and sono- 
 rously ; but that was all, for the name of Caesar I was not able 
 to pronounce. The robbers abominating my discordant cla- 
 mour, thumped and gored my miserable hide, and left it 
 hardly fit for a corn sieve. f But at last, that good Jupiter :]: 
 bestowed on me an unexpected chance of deliverance. For 
 after we had passed by many small farms and fine country 
 houses, I espied a delightful little garden, in which, besides 
 other sweet flowers, there were virgin roses, § dripping with the 
 morning dew. With longing desire, and overjoyed by the 
 hope of safety, I moved towards them. But while, with 
 quivering lips, I was preparing to seize them, this very im- 
 portant reflection came across me : if I divested myself of the 
 asinine form, and again became Lucius, while in the hands of 
 the robbers, they would surely kill me, either as a supposed 
 magician, or for fear that I should inform against them. For 
 the present, therefore, as a matter of necessity, I abstained 
 from roses, and putting up with my present misfortune, was 
 fain to champ my bridle under the guise of an ass. 
 
 * Cried out /] — He wished to invoke the emperor, in the words ' Oh, 
 Caesar !' but could not get beyond the interjection. One of the commen- 
 tators justly remarks, that * au' would be the sound uttered by him. 
 
 t A corn sieve.'] — Such as, made of sheepskin pierced with holes, are 
 in use in Italy and elsewhere at the present day. — Head. 
 
 X Good Jupiter.'] — Itis well observed by the Delphin editors, that Jupitef 
 ille is an emphatic expression, signifying that Jupiter who providentially 
 attends to all things, and regards the miserable.-^Tayloic-.   
 
 § Virgin roses.] — Roses not fully blown. 
 
 F 
 
66 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APrLEIFS. 
 
 BOOK THE FOURTH. 
 
 LUCIUS ENTERS A KITCHEN GARDEN IN SEARCH OF FOOD AND E08ES 
 
 HE IS CAUGHT BY THE GARDENER HAS TO FIGHT FOE HIS 
 
 LIFE, AND ESCAPES, PURSUED BY MEN AND DOGS HE IS CAUGHT 
 
 AND SEVERELY BEATEN, BUT HAS HIS REVENGE TAKES WARN- 
 ING FROM THE FATE OF HIS FELLOW ASS ARRIVES AT THE ROB- 
 BERS' DEN THE ROBBERS' CRONE — THEIR CONVERSATION. 
 
 FOURTH EPISODE : THE ROBBER's TALE — THE ROBBERS DEPART 
 
 ON AN EXPEDITION RETURN WITH A CAPTIVE DAMSEL HER 
 
 HISTORY THE OLD WOMAN ENTERTAINS HER WITH A STORY. 
 
 FIFTH EPISODE ; TALE OF CUPID AND PSYCHE. 
 
 Towards the middle of the day, when everything was scorched 
 by the burning heat of the sun, we turned aside into a certain 
 village, to the house of some old men, who were friends and 
 acquaintances of the robbers ; for so their first salutations, their 
 lengthened conversation, their exchange of embraces, enabled 
 me, ass as I was, to perceive. They made them presents of 
 some things which they took off my back ; and with secret 
 whispers seemed to inform them that they had been obtained 
 by burglary. At length, having lightened us of all our burden, 
 they turned us into the next meadow, to graze as we pleased. 
 My sense of conviviality, however, was not sufficient to keep me 
 in the company of the ass, or of my horse, especially as I was 
 not habituated to making my dinner upon grass. But as I 
 was now perishing with hunger, I boldly effected an entrance 
 into a little garden I caught sight of, behind the stable, and 
 ate my bellyful of the vegetables, raw as they were. Then 
 invoking all the gods, I looked about in every quarter to see if 
 by chance I might any where espy in the neighbouring gar- 
 dens a rose-tree in full bloom. For the solitude of the spot, 
 its distance from the public road, and the fruit trees that con- 
 cealed it, now afforded me great hopes, that if, on taking the 
 remedy, I should quit the grovelling gait of a four-footed beast 
 of burden and become erect again, in the shape of a man, I 
 might do so, unobserved by any body. 
 
 Whilst, then, I was fluctuating amid this sea of contempla- 
 tion, I beheld, a little fui-ther on, a dell shaded by a leafy 
 
BDOK TT LUCrCJS FIGHTS FOR HIS LIFE. G7 
 
 grove ; and among its various plants and delightful foliage, 
 shone the vermilion tint of blooming roses. In my imagina- 
 tion, which was not entirely that of a brute, I pictured this to 
 myself as the grove of Venus and the Graces ; among whose 
 shady recesses, the regal splendour of that genial flower was 
 brilliantly glowing. So, invoking Prosperous Event,* I ran 
 with such speed, that, by Hercules ! I fancied myself no longer 
 an ass, but an exceedingly swift racer of the circus. Still this 
 remarkable effort of activity was unable to outstrip my evil 
 fortune. For when I had now arrived at the spot, I no longer 
 saw those fresh and charming roses, wet with divine dews 
 and with nectar, which happy brambles and thrice-blessed 
 thorns produce, nor, indeed, any dell whatever, but only the 
 margin of a river's bank, planted with thickset trees. These 
 trees had long leaves like those of the laurel, and bore a sort of 
 inodorous blossom of a cup-like form and red colour. These 
 scentless flowers the ignorant common people call, in their 
 rural vocabulary, rose-laurels, to eat which is sure death to all 
 cattle. 
 
 Finding myself ensnared by such a fatality, and casting 
 aside all regard for safety, I determined voluntarily to eat of 
 those envenomed roses. But, while I was hesitatingly ap- 
 proaching in order to pluck them, a young felloAV, the very 
 gardener, as I saw, whose vegetables I had so shockingly laid 
 waste, perceiving the loss he had sustained, ran furiously at 
 me with a great stick in his hand, and having caught me, 
 belaboured me so, that I should have been in danger of losing 
 my life, had I not at last had the wisdom to take my own part. 
 For throwing up my rump, I struck out at him rapidly and 
 repeatedly with my hind feet, and having severely punished 
 him, and laid him prostrate against a bank on the mountain's 
 side, sought safety in flight. 
 
 Instantly, however, a certain woman, his wife, I suppose, 
 catching sight of him from an elevated spot, as he lay prostrate 
 and half dead, flew towards him, with shrieks and yells, evi- 
 
 * Prosperous Event.] — Good Event y or the cause of prosperity in our 
 undertakings, was adored by the ancients as a God. According to Pliny 
 (lib. XXXV. cap. 6), there was a statue of this divinity, as also of Good 
 Fortune, in the Capitol at Rome. This deity is one of the twelve Dii 
 Consentes, from the invocation of whom Varro begins his treatise on Agri« 
 «uhure. — Taylor. 
 
 F 2 
 
68 TUE GOLDEX ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 dently on purpose, that by her lamentations she might be the 
 occasion of my instant destruction. For all the villagers, being 
 aroused by her screams, straightway called out their dogs, and 
 from all quarters hounded them on, in order that, exasperated 
 by fury, they might rush upon me and tear me in pieces. I 
 made no doubt whatever but that I was on the brink of death 
 when I saw the dogs, very large ones too, and many in number, 
 and fit to fight with bears and lions, rushing furiously against 
 me from all quarters. Adopting, therefore, what seemed my 
 only chance, I gave up all thoughts of flight, and galloped back 
 to the inn at which Ave had put up. But the country people 
 keeping off the dogs with much difficulty, seized and bound 
 me with a very stout thong of leather to a staple, and would 
 no doubt have beat me to death, had it not been that my 
 stomach, compressed by the pain of the blows, and disordered 
 by those raw vegetables with which it was stuffed, squirted 
 out its contents, and drove away my persecutors from my 
 aching sides, besprinkling some of them with the most abo- 
 minable liquid, and choking others with the stench. 
 
 Not long afterwards, as the sun was now declining from the 
 meridian, the robbers again led us forth from the stable heavily 
 laden, myself especially, whose burden was far heavier than that 
 of the rest. We had now completed a good part of the journey ; 
 I was exhausted by its length and the weight of my burden, 
 Bore from the cudgelling I had got, and lame and staggering 
 from my hoofs being quite worn to the quick ; so, as I was 
 passing along the winding course of a gently flowing rivulet, I 
 was thinking that I would cunningly seize that excellent oppor- 
 tunity, and lie down, bending my legs under me, fully deter- 
 mined not to rise from the spot, whatever blows might be in- 
 flicted on me ; ay, ready even, not only to be beaten with a stick, 
 but pierced with a sword, rather than budge. For I imagined 
 that being now fully half dead and exhausted, I should receive 
 an honourable discharge,* on account of bodily infirmity : or, 
 that at least the robbers, irritated at the delay, and desirous of 
 hastening their flight, would divide the load which I carried 
 on my back between the two other beasts of burden, and that, 
 by way of a still more severe revenge, they would leave me a 
 prey to the wolves and vultures. 
 
 * Jn honourable discharge.] — ' Causariam missionem.' This was a terra 
 used in military law to denote a discharge given to a soldier worn out m 
 ihe servrfce. 
 
BOOK IV. LUCIUS HAS A TEEEIBLi: WAEIS'I>'G. 
 
 e^) 
 
 My most cruel destiny, however, thwarted the execution of 
 so admirable a plan. For that other ass, divining and antici- 
 pating my intention, immediately pretended to be overcome 
 with fatigue, and fell sprawling on the ground with all his bag* 
 gage, and lying as if he was dead, made no attempt to rise for 
 all their whacking or goading, no, nor even when they tried 
 to pull him up on all sides by the tail, the ears, and the legs* 
 At last the robbers grew tired of the hopeless job, and having 
 conferred together, they resolved that their flight should not 
 be further retarded by wasting time upon an ass that was as 
 good as stone dead. So, having divided his load between me 
 and the horse, and drawing a sword, they cut both his ham- 
 strings ; then they dragged him, still breathing, a little out of 
 the public road, and threw him down a very lofty precipice 
 into the valley below. Then, indeed, taking warning by the 
 destiny of my unfortunate comrade, I determined to lay aside 
 all tricks and stratagems, and prove myself to my masters to 
 be a diligent, deserving ass. Besides, I had heard them say to 
 each other, that we should soon come to a stop, and make an 
 end of our journey and our toils, for yonder was the place of 
 their abode. 
 
 At length, having passed a little hill of easy ascent, we ar- 
 rived at the place of our destination. All the things were un- 
 packed and stowed away indoors ; and being now relieved from 
 my burden, I took a refreshing roll in the dust in lieu of a 
 bath. The ^occasion itself, as well as the nature of my story, 
 demands that I should here give a description of the locality 
 and of the cave in which the robbers dwelt. For thus I shall 
 make trial of my own abilities, and at the same time enable 
 you to judge if I was an ass in sense and understanding as 
 well as in form. 
 
 It was a rugged mountain, covered with dark forests, and of 
 extraordinary height. Winding athwart its declivity, flanked 
 by steep, inaccessible rocks, ran deep and intricate gullies, 
 choked with brambles, and thus affording a natural defence. 
 A spring burst forth from the summit of the mountain in great 
 bubbling gushes, and rolling its silvery waters down the steeps, 
 parted into a number of rivulets, formed pools in the valleys, 
 and encompassed the base of the mountain with large sheets of 
 standing water. On the rock, over the mouth of the cavern, 
 there was a sort of fort, constructed with strong posts and hur- 
 
70 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIFS. 
 
 dies, enclosing a space well suited for penning sheep. Before 
 the door there were small shrubs * extending along in place of 
 a wall, and this enclosure you may fairly denominate, on my 
 authority, the robbers' receiving room. There was no other 
 edifice in the place, except a small hut roughly covered with 
 reeds ; in which sentinels, selected by lot from the band of 
 robbers, as I afterwards learned, kept watch by night. 
 
 Leaving us secured by a stout leather thong before the door, 
 they crept into the cave, one after another, with their limbs 
 squeezed together, and bawled angrily to an old woman, who, 
 though bent with age, seemed to be entrusted with the entire 
 charge of so many young men. 
 
 '' What ! you old corpse, whom Life is ashamed to own, and 
 Death scorns, do you mean to make game of us, sitting idly at 
 home, and not providing a supper to comfort us at this late 
 hour, after all our toil and peril ? You who do nothing day 
 and night but swill down wine into that craving stomach of 
 yours." 
 
 ''Nay, now,'' the frightened and trembling old woman 
 squeaked out, ** nay, now, my brave and honourable young 
 masters, there is plenty of nice stewed meat of all kinds, loaves 
 in abundance, wine without stint, in polished cups, and warm 
 water ready as usual for your hasty bath." When she had 
 said this, they immediately undressed, and standing naked be- 
 fore a great fire, sluiced themselves ■with hot water, anointed 
 themselves with oil, and then went and reclined at a table 
 abundantly supplied with dishes. 
 
 Hardly had they taken their places, when another and much 
 more numerous party of young men entered, whom you would 
 without hesitation have taken to be robbers also ; for they, too, 
 brought with tliem booty in the shape of gold and silver money, 
 drinking vessels, and silken garments embroidered with threads 
 of gold. The new-comers having likewise refreshed themselves 
 by bathing, joined their comrades ; and some who were chosen 
 by lot waited upon the rest. They ate and drank in a most 
 disorderly manner, with meat piled up in heaps, bread in hil- 
 
 * Small shrubs'] — * Exigui ramices,* means very probably what we 
 should call a ' quick-set hedge.' This seems a superior reading to that 
 in Valpy's edition, ' trainites.' There is a considerable resemblance 
 between the robber's den and the solitar)* dwelling of Defoe's here 
 Robinson Crusoe. 
 
BOOK TV. THE ROBBER 8 TALE. 71 
 
 locks, and tankards ranged in whole platoons upon the hoard. 
 They were obstreperous in their mirth, sang as loud as they 
 could bawl, exchanged scurrilous jokes, and behaved in all 
 respects like Theban Lapithae,* or half-brute Centaurs. At 
 last the burliest among them all thus addressed the rest : — 
 
 ** Right bravely have we ransacked that house of Milo, at 
 Hypata ! And besides the vast booty we gained by our prowess, 
 we have brought back our full number to camp, safe and sound, 
 with an increase, too, of eight feet,t if that is worth men- 
 tioning. But you, who have been pillaging the cities of Bceotia, 
 have brought back thinned numbers, having lost that bravest 
 of leaders, Lamachus, whose safety I should certainly have 
 preferred, and with good reason, to all these packages you have 
 brought home. Be that as it may, it was his own excess of 
 bravery that was his destruction, and the memory of so great 
 a hero will be celebrated among illustrious kings and leaders 
 in battle. But as for you, who are very careful robbers, you 
 do a trumpery trade J in petty, dastardly thefts, sneaking 
 timidly about baths, and old women's bits of houses." 
 
 To this, one of the new-comers replied, ''You don't know,, 
 then, what is notorious to everybody, that large houses are 
 much the easiest to sack ? For though a great number of ser- 
 vants is kept in them, still each of these has more regard for 
 his own safety than for his master's property. But people who 
 lead a frugal and retired life, vigorously defend their little 
 store, at the hazard of their lives : or else, if it is ample, they 
 keep it, to say the least, pretty carefully concealed. And, in 
 fact, the thing itself will verify what I have asserted." 
 
 FOURTH EPISODE. 
 
 THE robber's tale. 
 
 ''^No sooner had we arrived in the seven-gated city of 
 Thebes, than we diligently made enquiries about the wealth 
 
 * Theban Lapithce.]— lie alludes to the broil between the Centaurs 
 and Lapithae at the marriage of Pirithous and Hippodamia, which is 
 finely described by Ovid in the Twelfth Book of the Metamorphoses. 
 
 t Eight feet.] — Viz. the two quadrupeds, Lucius and his horse. 
 
 X Do a trumpery trade ] — ' Scrutariam facere,' properly means to deal 
 in lumber, rags, or second-hand furniture. It was the custom for thieves 
 to prowl about tlie baths for the purpose of taking such articles as lay ia 
 their way, strigils, for instance, or the clothes of bathers. 
 
*i^ THE GOLDEN ASS OF ArULEIUS. 
 
 of each of the citizens, that being always the first thing to be 
 looked after by men of our profession : and so we came to hear 
 of a certain banker, by name Chryseros, a man Avlio possessed 
 much money, but took great pains to conceal his vast wealth, 
 lest he should be required to serve in public capacities. Id 
 fact, content with a small but remarkably well barred and 
 bolted house, he lived there all alone, ragged and dirty, and 
 brooded over his bags of gold. 
 
 " Accordingly, we agreed to pay our first visit to him ; for, 
 despising the resistance of a single pair of hands, we thought 
 we should, without any difficulty, carry off all his wealth. 
 Without delay, therefore, as soon as it was night, we met to- 
 gether before his gate ; but as we did not think it prudent 
 either to take it off its hinges, or force it opi'u, much less to 
 smash it, lest the noise of its two wings''^' should alarm all the 
 neighbourhood, to our destruction, that magnanimous standard- 
 bearer of ours, Lamachus, confident in his well-tried valour, 
 gradually introduced his arm through an aperture made for 
 tlie purpose of putting the key inside, and endeavoured to 
 draw back the bolt. But Chryseros, that most villanous of all 
 bipeds, having been on the watch all the time, and aware of all 
 that was going on, crept softly to the door, preserving a profound 
 silence, and with a sudden violent effort, fastened the hand 
 of our leader, with a great nail, to a pannel of the gate. Then, 
 leaving him transfixed, like a wretch on the cross, he ascended 
 to the roof of his hovel, and shouted with all his might to his 
 neighbours, calling to them by their respective names, and 
 advising them to have regard for their common safety, for 
 his house had caught fire unexpectedly. Accordingly, terrified 
 by the proximity of the imminent danger, every one ran 
 anxiously to render assistance. 
 
 " In this dilemma, on the point of being overwhelmed by 
 numbers unless we deserted our comrade, w^e adopted, with his 
 own consent, a desperate remedy, suggested by the circum- 
 stances. For we cut off our leader's f arm by a blow right 
 through the joint ; and leaving it there, we bound up the 
 
 * Its two wings.'] — The doors of the ancients, whether opening in the 
 street or in the interior of the houses, were generally in the form of folding- 
 uoors. 
 
 t Off" our leader^ s.] — * Antesignani.' Properly speaking, the antesignani 
 were picked men, who fought in front of the standard, and mostly in tiie 
 first line. They were never ' velites,' or skirmishers, but heavy armed troop*. 
 
mOK IV. THE nOBBEll S TALE. I 3 
 
 etump with plenty of rags, lest the drops of blood might betray 
 our track, and hastily carried off with us what remained of Lama- 
 chus. The whole neighbourhood was now alarmed, and pursued 
 us \^-ith loud outcries ; and we, in the fear of impending peril, 
 quickened our flight, Avhilst he could neither keep up with" our 
 swirt pace, nor yet remain where he was with an}- safety. Then 
 this most magnanimous and transcendently brave man besought 
 us with all manner of prayers and entreaties, by the right hand 
 of Mars, and by our mutual oaths, to rescue a brave comrade 
 from torture and captivity. ' For how is it possible,' said he, 
 * that a brave robber can survive the loss of his right hand, 
 with which alone he can plunder and cut throats r It w^ould 
 be happiness for him to meet a voluntary death hj the hand of 
 one of liis comrades. As, however, he could not persuade any 
 one of us, with all his entreaties, to commit a voluntary act of 
 parricide, he drew his sword with his remaining hand, and 
 after kissing it repeatedly, plunged it with a mighty stroke 
 into the middle of his breast. Filled with veneration for the 
 courage of our magnanimous leader, we carefully wrapped his 
 mutilated dead body in a linen garment, and committed it to 
 the sea,* there to find a place of concealment. And now does 
 our Lamachusf lie entombed, with the whole ocean for his 
 burying-place, after having ended his life in a manner worthy 
 of his heroic deeds. 
 
 ''And Alcimus likewise, with all his well- concerted enter- 
 prises, could not escape the sinister influence of fortune. He 
 had broken into an old woman's cottage while she was asleep, 
 and having ascended into an upper bedchamber, when he ought 
 instantly to have strangled her, he thought proper first to 
 throw all the things down to us, one by one, from the wide 
 window, in order that we might make off with them. Having 
 now cleared the room in a workmanlike manner, he had no 
 mind to spare even the mattress on which the old woman slept ; 
 
 * Committed it to the sea."] — As Thebes was situate many miles from 
 the sea, either Apuleius is caught napping here, or he must have a rather 
 far-fetched meaning assigned to his words, and we must suppose that the 
 body was committed to the river Ismenius, to he carried down to the sea. 
 
 t Our Lamachus.] — We may here remark, that the several Greek 
 names found in this part of the narration, have their distinct meanings. 
 Lamachus may be rendered ' a cliampion ;' Alciinus, a ' valiant man ;' 
 Chryseros, ' a lover of g»>ld ;' Demochares, ' beloved by the people ;' aud 
 Thrasyleon, ' a bold lion.' 
 
74 THE GOLDEX ASS OF ArULElIJS. 
 
 SO, rolling her out of it, he was preparing to throw the coun- 
 terpane after the other things, when the abominable old Lag 
 fell on her knees before him, crying ; ' Why, my son, I be- 
 seech you, do you cast the poor and worn-out furniture of a 
 most wretched old woman to my wealthy neighbours, upon 
 whose house this window looks out ?' 
 
 *' Alcimus, deceived by these crafty words, and believing what 
 she said to be true, was alraid that the things he had already 
 thrown out, and those he was about to send after them, might, 
 through his mistake, fall not into the hands of his associates, 
 but into other people's houses ; he therefore thrust his body 
 out of the window, in order that he might make a judicious 
 Burvey of the environs, and particularly that he might look 
 with an eye to future business at that adjoining house she had 
 mentioned. While, however, he was intent upon this, and 
 quite careless of his own safety, that old miscreant took him 
 unawares, as he leaned outwards, with his body balancing un- 
 steadily, and with a push which, though feeble, was sudden and 
 unexpected, she pitched him out headlong. Besides falling from 
 a great height, he dropped upon an enormous great stone 
 which happened to lie near the house, so that he smashed all 
 his ribs, and lay vomiting streams of blood, till, after he had 
 first related* to us what had taken place, death put a speedy 
 end to his torments Him also we buried in the same manner 
 as our former leader, and sent him, as a worthy comrade, to 
 follow Lamachus. 
 
 *' Having thus suffered a double loss, we now abandoned our 
 Theban enterprises, and departed for the next city, which is 
 Plate®. Here we heard a great deal of talk about a person 
 named Demochares, who was about to exhibit a spectacle of 
 gladiators. For, being a man of high birth, and distinguished 
 for his great wealth and liberalit}', he catered for the public 
 amusement with a splendour commensurate with his fortune. 
 Where is the man with genius and eloquence enough to de- 
 scribe, in appropriate words, all the various details of the 
 manifold preparations? There Avere gladiators famous for 
 dexterity of hand ; hunters of well-tried swiftness of foot ; and 
 criminals who, liaving forfeited their right to live in safety, 
 were being fattened as food for wild beasts. There were great 
 
 * He had first related.'] — ' Primitus' is perhaps a better reading here 
 thuu ' imitus.' 
 
BOOK IT. THE EOBBEli's TALE. 75 
 
 wooden stages, with towers formed of planks, like moveahU 
 houses, adorned outside with pictures, and serving as hand- 
 some receptacles for the performers in the exhibition. And 
 then what a number, what a diversity of wild beasts ! Por 
 he had been at great pains to procure, even from abroad, those 
 noble living tombs of condemned men. 
 
 " Among his other costly preparations, he had procured, in 
 one way or other, with all the resources of his fortune, a great 
 number of huge bears. For, besides those captured by his own 
 servants in the chase, and those which he had bought at much 
 cost, others had been presented to him by his friends, who vied 
 with each other in showing him these attentions; and the 
 whole collection was maintained with great care and cost. 
 These noble and splendid preparations, however, for the public 
 amusement, could not escape the evil eye of invidious Fortune. 
 For these bears, pining and wasting away under their length- 
 ened confinement, the burning heat of the summer, and the 
 debilitating efi^ects of want of exercise, were attacked by a 
 sudden mortality, and reduced to a very inconsiderable num- 
 ber. Hence, you might everywhere have seen bodies of half- 
 dead bears lying in the streets, like so many shipwrecked 
 vessels ; and the ignoble mob, whose poverty compelled them 
 to fill their pinched bellies with any filthy otfal, began to flock 
 about the food that was lying in all directions. 
 
 ''Prompted by this circumstance, Babulus here and I 
 thought of the following clever stratagem. "We carried the 
 fattest of these bears to our lodging, as though intending to pre- 
 pare it for food ; and having entirely stripped the skin from the 
 flesh, carefully preserving all the claws, and leaving the head of 
 the beast entire, as far as articulation with the neck, we care- 
 fully scraped the hide, sprinkled it with fine ashes, and exposed 
 it in the sun to dry. While it was being purified of its oily 
 juices by the heat of that celestial fire, we gorged ourselves 
 with its pulpy flesh, and made those of the troop who were pre- 
 sent take an oath to this efiect : that one of our number — one 
 who surpassed the rest, not so much in stoutness of body as of 
 heart, and above all, one who should undertake it voluntarily — 
 being covered with this skin, should assume the form of a bear, 
 and then, being brought into the house of Demochares, should, 
 on a seasonable occasion, afford us an easy entrance through 
 the door, in the dead of night. 
 
76 THI GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 " "No few of our gallant troop did the cleverness of this 
 scheme encourage to undertake its execution : but Thrasjdeon 
 was elected by the suffrages of the band as the fittest to per- 
 form the hazardous service. "With a serene countenance, he 
 enclosed himself in the hide, which was now rendered soft and 
 pliable ; then with fine stitches we drew the edges together, 
 and covered the fine seams with the thick shaggy hair, fitting 
 Thrasyleon's head into the part close by the back of the mouth, 
 where the neck of the beast had been, and leaving small holes for 
 breathing about the nostrils and the eyes. Lastly, we enclosed 
 our most valorous comrade, now changed into a wdld beast, 
 within a cage which we had bought for a small sum, into 
 which he sprang with unflinching courage ; and having thus 
 completed the preliminaries of the stratagem, we proceeded to 
 the execution of the remainder. 
 
 "Having learned, on enquiry, the name of a person called 
 Nicanor, who was sprung from a Thracian family, and between 
 w^hom and Demochares there were the strongest ties of friend- 
 ship, we wrote a counterfeit letter, intimating that this kind 
 friend had dedicated the first fruits of his hunting to Demo- 
 chares, by way of a graceful present. And now, the evening 
 being far advanced, availing ourselves of the favourable dark- 
 ness, we presented to Demochares the cage in which Thrasy- 
 leon was enclosed, together with the counterfeit letter ; on 
 which, admiring the huge size of the beast, and overjoyed at 
 the opportune liberality of his friend, he immediately gave 
 orders that ten pieces of gold should be counted out from his 
 coff'ers to us who had brought him a present that afforded him 
 so much delight. Meanwhile, as novelty always excites the 
 curiosity of men and attracts them to unexpected sights, mul- 
 titudes flocked together about the brute, admiring its size ; but 
 our friend Thrasyleon very cleverly restrained their rather too 
 prying curiosity, by frequently rushing at them in a very 
 alarming way. By the unanimous voice of the citizens, Demo- 
 chares was pronounced most lucky and fortunate, in that, after 
 BO heavy a loss among his wild beasts, he had been able, in some 
 way or other, to repair his losses by this new supply. He or- 
 dered the beast, therefore, to be immediately taken to his farm, 
 and that it should be conveyed with the greatest care. 
 . ** On this, I interrupted him, and said, ' Be careful, sir, how 
 you suffer this animal, which has suffered severely from the heat 
 
BOOK IV. THE EOBBEK S TALE. 77 
 
 of the sun, and the length of the distance, to be trusted among 
 a herd of many others, and those, according to what I hear, not 
 yet recovered. Why not provide some spot in your own house 
 for it, which is open and exposed to the breezes, and, if possible, 
 bordering upon some cool lake ? Are you not aware tliat 
 animals of this kind always couch in shady groves and dripping 
 caverns, on breezy hills, and near pleasant fountains ?' Demo- 
 chares, taking the alarm at these admonitions, and reflecting 
 on the great number of wild beasts he had already lost, as- 
 sented, without hesitation, to what I said, and readily permitted 
 us to place the cage wherever we pleased. * Besides,' said I, 
 * we ourselves are ready to watch here by night, before this 
 cage, in order that we may as carefully as is requisite give the 
 beast its food at the proper time, and its usual drink, as it is 
 distressed by the heat, and the harass it has suffered in being 
 brought hither.' Demochares, however, made answer : * We 
 do not stand in need of your services ; for nearly every one in 
 my household is now, from long custom, well skilled in feeding 
 bears.' 
 
 *' After this, we bade him farewell ; and going out of the gate 
 of the city, we espied a certain monument, standing at a con- 
 siderable distance from the public road, in a solitary and retired 
 spot. Here we opened some coffins,* which, through rottenness 
 and age, had lost half of their lids, and which were tenanted 
 by dead bodies, that were now nothing but dust and ashes. 
 These we intended to use as so many hiding-places for our an- 
 ticipated booty. Then having, according to the observance 
 of our craft, watched for that season of a moonless night in 
 which sleep most powerfully invades and overcomes the 
 hearts of mortals with its first impetus, our band drew up, 
 well-armed with swords, before the gates of Demochares, ready 
 to perform our agreement to plunder his house. In like man- 
 ner, Thrasyleon crept forth from his cage, availing himself of 
 that precise moment of the night which is adapted to theft, and 
 instantly slew with his sword every one of the house guards 
 that lay fast asleep beside his cage, and lastly, the porter him- 
 self. Then, taking the key, he opened the folding doors of the 
 
 * Some coffins.'] — ' Capulus' ordinarily signifies the litter or bier on 
 which the dead body was laid out previous to burial. In this instance, 
 however, it seems to mean a wooden coffin. It was probably much the 
 •ame as the ' sandapila' used by the lower classes. 
 
78 THE GOLDEl? ASi OF A-PULErCTS: 
 
 gate, and as we immediately rushed in, he pointed out to ua 
 the strong room, where he had sagaciously observed a quantitj 
 of silver plate deposited in the evening. This being instantly 
 broken open by the combined force of our band, I recommended 
 each of my comrades to carry away as much gold and silver as 
 he could, and conceal it in those abodes of the dead, the most 
 trusty of all people, and then returning with speedy steps, get 
 ready a second burden, whilst I would remain alone, for our 
 common good, before the door of the house, and keep a careful 
 watch, until such time as they should return. Moreover, it 
 appeared to me that the figure of a bear, running about in the 
 middle of the house, was adapted to terrify any member of the 
 family who might happen to be awake. For who, however 
 brave and intrepid he might naturally be, would not, on behold- 
 ing the huge form of such an enormous beast, in the night espe- 
 cially, immediately betake himself to flight, and pulling to the 
 bolt, shut himself in, terrified and trembling, in his chamber ? 
 
 ^' A sinister event, however, thwarted all these judicious ar- 
 rangements. For while I was waiting, in anxious suspense, 
 for the return of my comrades, one of the servant lads, happen- 
 ing, so the Gods ordained, to be awoke by the noise, I suppose, 
 of the bear, crept gently forward, and seeing the wild beast 
 running loose, and wandering over the whole house, he silently 
 retraced his steps, and, as quickly as he could, gave notice to 
 all of what he had seen ; immediately upon which, the whole 
 house was filled with a numerous assemblage of the domestics. 
 The darkness was illuminated with torches, lamps, wax tapers, 
 tallow candles, and other appliances for giving light by night. 
 And not one was there in the throng without arms of some de- 
 scription, but all were furnished with clubs, spears, and drawn 
 swords, with which they guarded the approaches to the house. 
 And then they hallooed on some of those hunting dogs, with 
 long ears and shaggy hair, to attack the wild beast. 
 
 ** Upon this, the tumult still increasing, I made my way 
 stealthily out of the house, and concealing myself behind the 
 gate, I saw Thrasyleon defending himself in a wonderful manner 
 against the dogs. For, though he had now arrived at the very 
 uttermost goal of life, still, forgetful neither of himself nor of 
 U8, nor his former valour, he struggled, as it were, in the very 
 jaws of Cerberus. In fact, acting with spirit up to the scenio 
 chai'acter which he had voluntarily assumed^ at one moment 
 
BOOK IV. THE EOBBEll S TALE. 79 
 
 flying and at another resisting, with various gestures and con- 
 tortions of his body, he at length escaped from the house. 
 Still, though he had gained his liberty, so far as being in the 
 public road, he was not able to ensure his safety by flight ; for 
 all the dogs belonging to the next lane, and they were very 
 savage and numerous, joined in whole troops with the hunting 
 dogs, wliich had rushed out of the house, in full pursuit of him. 
 I was then witness of a shocking and frightful spectacle, — our 
 friend Thrasyleon, surrounded and hemmed in by troops of 
 raging dogs, and lacerated all over by their teeth. 
 
 *' At last, unable to endure so shocking a spectacle, I mingled 
 wdth the surrounding crowds of people, and this being the 
 only way in which I could secretly give assistance to my brave 
 comrade, I thus attempted to divert the promoters of the at- 
 tack from their purpose, ' Oh what an enormous shame,' said 
 I, * thus to destroy such a fine and remarkably valuable beast.* 
 The artifice failed, however, and all I could say had no in- 
 fluence in favour of the unfortunate young man. For a tall 
 strong fellow came running out of the house, and instantly 
 thrust a spear through the bear's vitals ; another followed his 
 example ; and then a great many took courage to assault him 
 at close quarters, and vied with each other in piercing him 
 with their swords. But as for Thrasyleon, that distinguished 
 honor to our band, his heroic life, so worthy of immortality, 
 being at length vanquished, though not his fortitude, he 
 did not forfeit the oath he had plighted by any vociferation, 
 shrieks, or cries. But, lacerated as he was by tooth and steel, 
 he imitated to the last with all his might the growling and 
 bellowing of a wild beast, and thus enduring his present cala- 
 mity with magnanimous fortitude, he kept his glory intact, 
 while he yielded up his life to fate. Still, so great was the 
 terror and dismay with which he had struck the crowd, that 
 until the dawn, ay, even when it was broad day, not one dared 
 to lay a finger even on the beast, dead as it lay, until at last, a 
 certain butcher, who was a little bolder than the rest, advanc- 
 ing slowly and timidly, cut open the belly of the beast, and 
 stripped the bear's hide off the mighty robber. Thus, then, 
 was Thrasyleon also lost to us, but not lost to glory. 
 
 "And now, immediately collecting those packages which the 
 trusty dead had taken care of for us, we made all haste to quit 
 the limits of Platese, while ever and anon the reflection came 
 
80 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 across OTir minds, that it is no wonder if fidelity is not to he 
 found among the living, since, abominating their perfidy, it Las 
 descended to the dead. In fine, here we are, all of us fatigued 
 with the weight of our loads, as well as the rough roads along 
 which we have travelled ; we have lost three of our comrades, 
 and brought home the booty you see." 
 
 END OF THE FOUETH EPISODE. 
 
 After the robber had concluded his narrative, they poured out 
 libations of pure wine from golden cups, to the memory of their 
 deceased comrades ; and then, having propitiated the god Mars 
 by some songs, they went to sleep for a short time. Mean- 
 while, the old woman served out to us fresh barley in such un- 
 measured abundance, that my horse, in fact, amid such great 
 plenty, and having it all to himself, might have fancied he was 
 supping with the Salii.* But as for me, though I had been m 
 the habit of eating barley, well crushed, and long boiled in 
 broth, having found out a corner in which the remains of the 
 bread, belonging to the whole band, had been stored away, I 
 strenuously exercised my jaws, which ached with long-con- 
 tinued fasting, and began to be covered with spiders' webs. 
 
 When the night was far advanced, the robbers arose from 
 sleep, struck their tents, and, being variously equipped, some 
 of them being armed with swords, and others disguised as 
 spectres,! with hasty steps, they sallied forth from their abode. 
 But as for me, not even impending sleep could hinder me from 
 chewing on incessantly and eagerly. And though in former 
 times, when I was Lucius, I could get up from table contented 
 with one or two loaves, yet now, having to fill so capacious a 
 belly, I had nearly eaten up a third basketful of bread, when 
 broad daylight found me still intent upon this emplojTuent. 
 At length, however, moved by the modesty of an ass, I quitted 
 my food, but n«)st reluctantly, and slaked my thirst at a rivulet 
 close by. 
 
 * Supping with the 5fl/«.] — The Salii were priests of Mars, whose 
 duty it was to keep the sacred ' ancilia.' or shields. Like the other priests, 
 they were noted for their fondness of good living and generous wine. 
 Hence, ' Czeiia Saliaris,' a dinner fit for a Salian, became a popular saying. 
 
 t Disguised as spectres.'] — ' Lemures.' It will be found stated at 
 length by the author, what were the Lemures, in his treatise on the God 
 of Socrates. 
 
BOOK IV. THE CAPTIVE DAMSEL. 81 
 
 Not long after tliis, the robbers returned, full of anxiety and 
 alarm, bringing with them no booty whatever, not so much as 
 a worthless garment. With all their swords, with all their 
 hands, ay, and with all the force of their band, they brought 
 but a solitary prisoner, a damsel of genteel figure, and, as her 
 style of dress indicated, one of the first rank in those parts ; a 
 girl, by Hercules I far from an object of indifierence even to 
 me, ass as I was. As soon as they had brought her into the 
 cave, lamenting and tearing her hair and her garments, they 
 addressed her in words intended to alleviate her distress : 
 
 " You really are in perfect security, both as to your life and 
 your honor ; so have patience for a few days, if only out of 
 regard for our profit, for it is the pinch of necessity that has 
 compelled us to adopt this profession. Of course, your parents, 
 avaricious as they are, will give without delay, out of their 
 great hoards of wealth, a sum of money adequate to the ransom 
 of their own offspring." 
 
 The maiden's grief was far from alleviated by such rough 
 comforting as this ; and no wonder ; on the contrary, she wept 
 immoderately, with her face bent down upon her knees. So 
 they called in the old woman, and ordered her to sit by the 
 damsel, and amuse her as much as possible with soothing con- 
 versation ; and then they betook themselves to their customary 
 avocations. But not by any words which the little old woman 
 employed could the maiden be made to cease her lamentations ; 
 on the contrary, she cried louder than ever, and shook her sides 
 with such unintermitting sobs, that she drew tears from me also. 
 
 '* Is it possible, that I can cease to weep, or bear to live at 
 all ? miserable wretch that I am ! torn from such a home, from 
 such friends, from such kind servants, such revered parents ; 
 become the prey of nefarious rapine, a captive and a slave, 
 servilely shut up in this rocky prison, and deprived of all those 
 comforts amid which I was born and nurtured ; not safe a mo- 
 ment from the butcher's knife ; in the power of such a num- 
 ber of outrageous robbers, such a horrible crew of gladiators I " 
 Thus she continued to lament, until, worn out with grief of 
 mind, the spasmodic tension of her throat, and fatigue of body, 
 at last she closed her languid eyes in slot p. 
 
 Scarcely, however, had she dozed ofi*, when, suddenly start- 
 ing up again, as if bereft of her senses, she began to afflict 
 herself much more violently than before, and with cruel hands 
 
 o 
 
82 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APrLEIUS. 
 
 to beat her bosom and her beautiful face. And althoiigh the 
 old woman most urgently enquired the cause of this fresh burst 
 of grief, she only replied with a deep groan : 
 
 *'Now, alas! beyond a doubt, I am utterly undone, now I 
 renounce all hope of safety. A halter, a sword, or a precipice, 
 that is what I must come to." 
 
 On hearing this, the old woman grew a little angry, and 
 bade her, with a severe expression of countenance, say why the 
 plague she was crying so ; or why, after having been fast 
 asleep, she thus suddenly renewed her ungovernable lamenta- 
 tions. •' It is your design, I suppose," said she, "to defraud 
 my young men of the pretty sum of money which they vvdll 
 get for your ransom. However, if you persist any farther, 
 without caring at all for those tears, of which robbers are in 
 the habit of making little account, I will pretty soon have you 
 burnt alive." 
 
 Terrified by this threat, the maiden kissed her hand, and 
 said, " Spare me, my good mother, and, for the sake of hu- 
 manity, bear a little with my most sad misfortune. Nor, in- 
 deed, do I imagine that compassion is entirely extinguished in 
 you, so full of years, so venerable with your gray hairs. In 
 fine then, listen to the story of my misfortune. 
 
 " A handsome youth, of the first rank among his fellow-citi- 
 zens, whom the whole city elected to serve its public offices,* and 
 who besides was my first cousin, only three years older than 
 myself, had been reared along with me from infancy, and was 
 my inseparable companion, dwelling with me in the same house, 
 indeed, sharing the same chamber and couch, and affianced to 
 me by mutual ties and the bonds of holy love. We had long 
 been engaged to each other in marriage, we had even been 
 registered on the tablets,! as wedded by the consent of our 
 parents ; and the youth was engaged in sacrificing victims in 
 the temples and sacred edifices, accompanied by a numerous 
 throng of relatives and neighbours. The whole house was 
 covered with laurel, lighted up with torches, and re-echoed 
 
 * Elected to serve its public offices.] — Literally, 'had chosen as the son 
 of the public' This phrase denotes that the youth had become an univer- 
 sal object of interest to his fellow-townsmen, who had made it their care to 
 promote him to the highest offices. 
 
 t On the tablets ?^ — The register on wliich the marriage was entered bj 
 Ute ()uUlic officers. 
 
BOOK lY. THE CAPTIVE DAMSEL. S3 
 
 with Iiymeneal song. My unhappy mother, supporting me on 
 her bosom, had dressed me becomingly in nuptial apparel, and 
 frequently loading me with honeyed kisses, was now, with 
 anxious hopes, looking forward to a future line of descendants; — 
 when, on a sudden, a band of robbers armed like gladiators, 
 rushed in with swords drawn and glittering, in fierce battle 
 array. They made no attempt to slay or plunder, but made 
 straight for our chamber in a compact column ; and without 
 any struggle, or indeed, any resistance whatever on the part 
 of our servants, they tore me away, wretched creature, half 
 dead with fear, from the bosom of my trembling mother- 
 Thus were our nuptials dissolved, like those of the daughter of 
 Athrax,* or of Protesilaus. 
 
 '* And now again is my misery renewed, nay rather, increas- 
 ed, by a most horrible dream. For I seemed to myself to be vio- 
 lently dragged away from my home, from my chamber, from 
 my very bed, and to be hurried through desert wildernesses, 
 where I called aloud on the name of my most unfortunate 
 husband ; and he, methought, as soon as he was deprived of 
 my embraces, still perfumed with essenced ointments, and 
 adorned with wreaths of flowers, was following my track as 
 I fled on other feet than my own.f And while with loud 
 cries he bewailed the loss of his lovely wife, and implored the 
 assistance of the people, one of the robbers, moved with anger 
 at his persevering pursuit, snatched up a great stone, and 
 slew the unfortunate youth, my husband. It was this horrible 
 sight that aroused me in terror from my dreadful dream." 
 
 Sighing in response to her tears, the old woman thus ad- 
 dressed her: "Be of good cheer, my young mistress, and do 
 not terrify yourself at the idle fancies of dreams. Tor not 
 to mention that dreams dreamt in the daytime are said to be 
 false, even nightly visions sometimes forebode events quite con- 
 trary to what really comes to pass. In fact, to dream of weep- 
 ing, of being beaten, and occasionally, of having our throats 
 
 * Daughter of Athrax.'] — Hippodamia was the daughter of Athrax : on 
 her marriage with Pirithous, the famous battle of the Centaurs and La- 
 pithae took place. It is difficult to say what is the precise allusion made 
 here to the marriage of Protesilaus -, but it not improbably alludes to his 
 premature separation from his wife Laodamia, shortly after their marriage, 
 in the expedition against Troy, where he was slain immediately on landing, 
 
 t Feet than my ow/t.] — With the feet of robbers, who carried her away 
 elevated from the ground. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 cut, announce a lucky and prosperous event ; while, on the 
 other hand, to laugh, to be stuffing the stomach with sweet- 
 meats, or to dream of amorous enjoyments, predicts that a 
 person is about to be afflicted with sorrow of mind, disease of 
 body, and other evils.* However, I will proceed to divert you, 
 by some pretty stories, and old women's tales." 
 Accordingly, she thus began : 
 
 PIFTH EPISODE. 
 
 THE OLD woman's STOKY. CUPID AND PSYCHT!. 
 
 *' In a certain city there lived a king and queen, who had three 
 daughters of remarkable beauty. The charms of the two elder 
 — and they were very great — were still thought not to exceed 
 all possible measure of praise ; but as for the youngest sister, 
 human speech was too poor to express, much less, adequately 
 to extol, her exquisite and surpassing loveliness. In fact, 
 multitudes of the citizens, and of strangers, whom the 
 fame of this extraordinary spectacle gathered to the spot, 
 were struck dumb with astonishment at her unapproachable 
 beauty, and moving their right hand to their lips, f with the 
 forefinger joining the elevated thumb, paid her religious adora- 
 tion, just as though she were the goddess Venus herself. 
 
 ''And now the tidings spread through the neighbouring 
 cities and adjacent countries that the goddess whom the azure 
 depths of the ocean had brought forth, and the spray of the 
 foamy billows had nurtured, dwelt in the midst of mortals, 
 and suffered them indiscriminately to behold her divine form ; 
 or at least, that once again, impregnated by a new emanation" 
 fmm the starry heavens, not the sea, but the earth, had brought 
 forth another Yenus, gifted with the flower of virginity. Thus 
 did her fame travel rapidly every day ; thus did the news soon 
 traverse the neighbouring islands, a great part of the con- 
 
 * And other evils.] — Thus also Astrarapsychus, in his Oneirocriticon, 
 says : 
 
 * If you laugh in your sleep, it indicates to you troublesome events ; 
 but if you weep in your sleep, it signifies that you will be perfectly joyful. 
 — Taylor. This is in accordance with the popular belief of our own day. 
 
 t To their lips.] — We learn from Plihy that this was the usual attitude 
 assumed by worshippers when in the act of adoration. The act seems 
 somewhat to have resembled what we call ' kissing the hand.' 
 
BOOK IV. THE STOET OF CUPID AND PSYCHE. 85 
 
 tinent, and multitudes of provinces. Many were the mortals 
 who, by long journeys over land, and over the deep sea, flocked 
 from ail quarters to behold this glorious specimen of the age. 
 No one set sail for Paphos,* no one for Cnidus, nor even for 
 Cythera, to have sight of the goddess Venus. Her sacred 
 rites were abandoned, her temples suffered to decay, her 
 cushions f trampled under foot, her ceremonies neglected, her 
 statues left without chaplets, and her desolate altars defiled 
 with cold ashes. A young girl was supplicated in her stead, 
 and the divinity of the mighty goddess was worshipped under 
 human features ; and the maiden was propitiated in her morn- 
 ing walks with victims and banquets offered her in the name 
 of the absent Yenus. And ever, as she passed along the 
 streets, the people crowded round, and adoringly presented her 
 with garlands, and scattered flowers on her path. 
 
 '* This extraordinary transfer of celestial honors to a mortal 
 maiden, greatly incensed the real Yenus ; and, unable to sup- 
 press her indignation, and shaking her head, in towering 
 wrath, she thus soliloquized : ' Behold how the primal parent 
 of all things, behold how the first source of the elements,| 
 behold how I, the genial Yenus of the whole world, am 
 treated ! The honor belonging to my majesty shared by a 
 mortal girl ! My name, that is registered in heaven, profaned by 
 the dross of earth ! I must be content, forsooth, ^ith the un- 
 certain homage of a vicarious worship, and With my share in 
 expiations offered to me in common with another! And a 
 mortal girl shall go about in my likeness ! It is all for nought 
 that the shepherd Paris, whose justice and good faith the 
 mighty Jupiter approved, preferred me to such mighty God- 
 desses, § on account of my unparalleled beauty. But this crea- 
 
 * Set sail for Paphos."] — Paphos was a city in the isle of Cyprus. 
 Cnidus was a city in Caria. Cythera, now Cerigo, was an island situate 
 to the south of Laconia. These places were all famous for the worship of 
 Venus. 
 
 t Her cushions.'] — The * pulvinaria' were couches on which the statues 
 of the gods reclined in the temples, with delicate viands placed before 
 them. 
 
 X First source of the elements. 1 — The ancient philosophers considered 
 Venus to be the first source of all things. See the opening lines of the 
 poem of Lucretius. 
 
 § Mighty Goddesses."] — The well-known fable to which this allu les, 
 is thus beautifully unfolded by the Platonic Sallust, in his treatise or 
 
86 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 ture, whosoever she be, shall not so joyously usurp my 
 honors ; tor I will soon cause her to repent of her contraband 
 good looks.' 
 
 ** Thus saying, the goddess forthwith summons her son ; that 
 winged and very malapert boy, who, with his evil manners, 
 sets at nought all ordinary institutions, and, armed with flames 
 and with arrows, runs by night from one man's house to 
 another, and blighting matrimonial happiness on all sides, com- 
 mits such mighty mischiefs with impunity, and does nothing 
 whatever that is good. 
 
 "Mischievous as he was by inborn licentiousness, she in- 
 cites him to still more evil, by her words : she brings him to 
 that city I mentioned, and points out Psyche to him* (for that 
 was the name of the maiden), and after telling him the whole 
 story about that mortal's rivalry of her own beauty, groaning 
 with rage and indignation, she said, 
 
 " ' I conjure you by the ties of maternal love, by the 
 sweet wounds inflicted by your arrow, by the warmth, de- 
 lightful as honey, of that torch, to afibrd your parent her 
 revenge, ay, and a full one too, and as you respect myself, 
 severely punish this rebellious beauty: and this one thing, 
 above all, use all your endeavours to efi'ect ; let this maiden bo 
 seized with the most burning love for the lowest of mankind, 
 one whom fortune has stripped of rank, patrimony, and even 
 of personal safety; one so degraded, that he cannot find his 
 equal in wretchedness throughout the whole world.' 
 
 " Having thus said, and long and tenderly kissed her son, 
 she sought the neighbouring margin of the shore on which 
 
 the Gods and the World. * In this fahle, which is of the mixed kind, it 
 is said, that Discord, at a hanquet of the Gods, threw a golden apple, and 
 that a dispute about it arising among the Goddesses, they were sent by 
 Jupiter to take the judgment of Paris, who, charmed with the beauty of 
 Venus, gave her the apple in preference to the rest. But the banquet de- 
 notes the super-mundane powers of the Gods ; and on this account they 
 subsist in conjunction with each other. And the golden apple denotes the 
 world, which, on account of its composition from contrary natures, is not 
 improperly said to be thrown by Discord, or strife. Again, however, since 
 different gifts are imparted to the world by different Gods, they appear to 
 contest with each other for the apple. And a soul living according to sense, 
 (for this is Paris), not perceiving other powers in the universe, eays, that 
 the beauty of Venus alone is the contended ajjple.' — Taylor. 
 
 * Psyche to him.'] — This was the Greek name for the soul ; a moth 
 also was called by the same name. 
 
BOOK rV. THE STOEY OF CUPID AND PSTCHE. 87 
 
 the -waves ebb and flow, and, with rosy feet, brushing along 
 the topmost spray of the dancing waters, behold ! she took 
 her seat on the watery surface of the main; where the 
 powers of the deep, the instant that she conceived the 
 wish, appeared at once, as though she had previously com- 
 manded their attendance. The daughters of IN'ereus were 
 present, singing in tuneful harmony ; Portunus,* too, rough 
 with his azure-coloured beard, and Salacia,f weighed down 
 with her lapful of fish, with little Palsemon, their charioteer, 
 upon a dolphin, and then troops of Tritons, ftirrowing the main 
 in all directions. One softly sounded his melodious shell, 
 another, with a silken canopy J protected her from the un- 
 pleasant heat of the sun, a third held a mirror before the eyes 
 of his mistress, while others, again, swam yoked to her car. 
 Such was the train that attended Venus, as she proceeded to 
 the palace of Oceanus. 
 
 " In the meantime, Psyche, with all her exquisite beauty, 
 derived no advantage whatever from her good looks; she 
 was gazed on by all, praised by all, and yet no one, king, 
 noble, or plebeian even, came to woo her for his bride. They 
 admired, no doubt, her divine beauty, but then they all ad- 
 mired it as they would a statue exquisitely wrought. Long 
 before this, her two elder sisters, whose more moderate 
 charms had not been bruited abroad among the nations, had 
 been wooed by kings, and happily wedded to them ; but 
 Psyche, forlorn virgin, sat at home, bewailing her lonely condi- 
 tion, faint in body and sick at heart ; and hated her own 
 beauty, though it delighted all the rest of the world. 
 
 "The wretched father of this most unfortunate daughter, sus- 
 pecting the enmity of the gods, and dreading their wrath, con- 
 sulted the very ancient oracle of the Milesian God,§ and sought 
 
 * Portunus-I — By Portunus here, or Portumnus, who, by the Greeks, 
 was called Palaemon, Neptune is denoted, as the Delphin editor well ob- 
 serves. For Palaemon, who is properly Portunus, is shortly after men- 
 tioned as being present. 
 
 t And Salacia.] — The Goddess Salacia was so called from ' Salum,' the 
 ' salt sea.' She presided over the depths of the ocean. 
 
 t With a silken canopy.] — So in the Fasti of Ovid, b. ii., we find 
 Hercules holding a canopy or umbrella over queen Omphale, to protect 
 her from the rays of the sun. 
 
 § Milesiw^i God.'] — i. e. Of Apollo, who had a temple and oracle at 
 
88 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 of that mighty divinity, with prayers and victims, a husband 
 for the maiden vrhom no one cared to have. Eut Apollo, 
 though a Grecian and an Ionian, by right of the founder of 
 [Miletus, delivered an oracle in Latin verse to the following 
 effect : 
 
 ' Montis in excelsi scopulo desiste puellam 
 
 Ornatam mundo funerei thalami : 
 Nee speres generum mortali stirpe ereatura, 
 
 Sed saevum atque ferum, vipereuraque malum ; 
 Qui, pinnis volitans super aethera, cuncta fatigat, 
 
 Fiammaque et ferro singula debilitat ; 
 Quern tremit ipse Jovis ; quo numina terrificantur ; 
 
 Flumina quern horrescunt, et Stygias tenebrae.'* 
 
 '' The king, who had led a happy life tiU then, on hearing 
 the announcement of the sacred oracle, returned home sad and 
 slow, and disclosed to his wife the behests of inauspicious fate. 
 Many days together were passed in grief and tears, and 
 lamentation. But time pressed, and the dire oracle had now 
 to be fulfilled. The procession was formed for the deadly 
 nuptials of the ill-fated maiden ; the lighted torch burns ashy, 
 black, and sooty ; the strains of Conjugal Juno's pipes are 
 changed for the plaintive Lydian melody ; the joyful hyme- 
 neal song sinks into a dismal wailing, and the bride wipes away 
 her tears with the nuptial veilf itself. The whole city groaned 
 in sympathy with the sad destiny of the afflicted family, and a 
 public mourning was immediately proclaimed. 
 
 " The necessity, however, of complying with the celestial 
 mandates, importunately called the wretched Psyche to her 
 
 Miletus, a city bordering on Ionia and Caria, and founded by a son of 
 Apollo, whose name it bore. 
 
 * " On some high mountain's craggy summit place 
 
 The^ virgin, deck'd for deadly nuptial rites ; 
 
 Nor hope a son-in-law of mortal race, 
 
 But a dire mischief, viperous and fierce ; 
 
 Who flies through aether, and with fire and sword 
 
 Tires and debilitates whate'er exists, 
 
 Terrific to the powers that reign on high. 
 
 E'en mighty Jove the wing'd destroyer dreads. 
 
 And streams and Stygian shades abhor the pest." — Taylor. 
 t The nuptial veiLl—ThiSy which was called ' flammeum,' was of a 
 bright yellow, or flame colour. If the torches that were carried before 
 the bride shed a dim light, or sent forth much smoke, or were extinguished 
 by the wind, it was coasidered a bad omen. 
 
BOOK IV. THE STOET OF CUPID AND PSYCHE 89 
 
 doom. The solemn preliminaries, therefore, of this direful 
 marriage being completed in extreme sorrow, the funeral pro- 
 cession of the living dead moves on, accompanied by all the 
 people ; and the weeping Psyche walks not to her nuptials, but 
 to her obsequies. And while her woe-begone parents, over- 
 whelmed with horror, strove to delay the execution of the 
 abominable deed, the daughter herself thus exhorted them to 
 compliance : 
 
 " ' Why torment your unfortunate old age with continual 
 weeping ? Why waste your breath, which is more dear to 
 me than to you, with repeated lamentations ? Why deform 
 your features, to me so venerable, with unavailing tears ? Why 
 lacerate my eyes in ajfflicting your own? Why tear your 
 hoarj' locks? Why beat your bosoms and those hallowed 
 breasts ? Are these to be the glorious results to you of my 
 surpassing beauty ? Too late do you perceive that you have 
 been smitten by the deadly shaft of envy. Alas ! then should 
 you have wept and lamented, then bewailed me as lost, when 
 tribes and nations celebrated me with divine honors, and when, 
 with one consent, they styled me a new-bom Yenus. Now 
 do I feel and see that through that name of Yenus alone I 
 perish. Lead me away, then, and expose me on the rock to 
 which the oracle has devoted me j I am in haste to encounter 
 these auspicious nuptials ; I am in haste to see this noble 
 bridegroom of mine. Why should I delay ? Why avoid his 
 approach, who has been born for the destruction of the whole 
 world ?' 
 
 *' The maiden, after these words, said no more, but with un- 
 faltering steps, took her place in the multitudinous procession. 
 They advanced to the destined rock on a lofty mountain, and 
 left the maiden alone on the summit ; the nuptial torches, with 
 which they had lighted their way, were now extinguished 
 in their tears, and thrown aside, the ceremony was at an end, 
 and with drooping heads they took their homeward way. As 
 for her wretched parents, sinking under the weight of a calamity 
 so great, they shut themselves up in their darkened palace, 
 and abandoned themselves to perpetual night. Meanwhile, 
 as Psyche lay trembling and weeping in dismay on the summit 
 of the rock, the mild breeze of the gently-blowing. Zephyr 
 played round her garments, fluttering and gradually expanding' 
 them till they lifted her up, and the god, wafting her with his_ 
 
 v 
 
90 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULE1U8. 
 
 tranquil breath adown the lofty mountain side, laid her softly 
 on the flowery turf in the lap of the valley."* 
 
 * The valley. 1 — The translation of this beautiful story would hardly 
 be complete were we to omit the following remarks on its various ex- 
 planations, found in Mr. Keightley's valuable and entertaining ' Classical 
 Mythology.* " This beautiful fiction is evidently a philosophic allegory. 
 It seems to have been intended by its inventor for a representation of the 
 mystic union between the divine love and the human soul, and of the trials 
 and purifications which the latter must undergo, in order to be perfectly 
 fitted for an enduring union with the Divinity. It is thus explained by 
 the Christian mythologist Fulgentius : * The city in which Psyche dwells 
 is the world ; the king and queen are God and matter : Psyche is the 
 soul : her sisters are the flesh and the free-will ; she is the youngest, be- 
 cause the body is before the mind ; and she is the fairest, because the soul 
 is higher than free-will, more noble than the body. Venus, i. e. lust, envies 
 her, and sends Cupido, i. e. desire, to destroy her : but as there is desire 
 of good as well as of evil, Cupid falls in love with her ; he persuades her 
 not to see his face, that is, not to learn the joys of desire. At the impul- 
 sion of her sisters, she put the lamp from under the bushel that is, 
 reverted the flame of desire which was hidden in her bosom, and loved it 
 when she saw how delightful it was : and she is said to have burned it 
 by the dripping of the lamp, because all sin burns in proportion as it is 
 loved, and fixes its sinful marks on the flesh. She is, therefore, deprived 
 of desire and her splendid fortune, is exposed to perils, and driven out of 
 the palace." This fanciful exposition will probably not prove satisfactory 
 to all readers. The following one, of a modern writer, may seem to come 
 nearer the truth. " This fable, it is said, is a representation of the destiny 
 of the human soul. The soul, which is of Divine origin, is here below 
 subjected to error in its prison the body. Hence trials and purifications 
 are set before it, that it may become capable of a higher order of things, 
 and of true desire. Two loves meet it — the earthly, a deceiver, who draws 
 it down to earthly things ; the heavenly, who directs its view to the ori- 
 ginal, fair and divine, and who, gaining the victory over his rival, leads oflF 
 the soul as his bride." According to a third expositor, the mythus is a 
 moral one. It is intended to represent the dangers to which nuptial 
 fidelity was exposed in such a degenerate country as Greece, and at the 
 same time to present an image of a fidelity exposed to numerous tempta- 
 tions, and victorious over them all. "We must not omit to observe that 
 Psyche i^vxri) was also a Greek name for the moth. The fondness of this 
 insect for approaching at night the flame of the lamp or candle, in which 
 it so frequently finds its death, reminds a mystic philosopher of the fate of 
 the soul destroyed by the desire of knowledge, or absorbed and losing its 
 separate existence in the Deity, who dwelt in light, according to the phi- 
 losophy of the East. But, further, the world presents no illustration so 
 striking or so beautiful, of the immortality of the soul, as that of the moth 
 or butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the dull grovelling caterpillar 
 state in which it had previously existed, fluttering in the blaze of day, and 
 feeding on the most fragrant and sweetest productions of the spring. Hence 
 
BOOK V. THE STOEY OF CUPID AND PSYCHE. 91 
 
 BOOK THE FIFTH. 
 
 coxtinijatiojS' of the fifth episode. 
 
 CUPID AKD PSYCHE. 
 
 4 
 
 " Psyche, therefore, delightfully reclining in this pleasant and 
 grassy spot, upon a bed of dewy herbage, felt her extreme 
 agitation of mind allayed, and sank into a sweet sleep, from 
 which she awoke refreshed in body, and with a mind more 
 composed. She then espied a grove, thick planted with vast 
 and lofty trees ; she likewise saw a fountain in the middle 
 of the grove, with water limpid as crystal. JN'ear the fall of 
 the fountain there was a kingly palace, not raised by human 
 hands, but by divine skill. You might know, from the 
 very entrance of the palace, that you were looking upon the 
 splendid and delightful abode of some God. For the lofty 
 ceilings, curiously arched with cedar and ivory, were sup- 
 ported by golden columns. The walls were encrusted all 
 over with silver carving, with wild beasts and domestic ani- 
 mals of all kinds, presenting themselves to the view of those 
 who entered the palace. A wonderful man was he, a demigod, 
 nay, surely, a god, who with such exquisite subtlety of art, 
 moulded such vast quantities of silver into various ferii.e 
 forms. 
 
 *' The very pavement itself consisted of precious stones cut out 
 and arranged so as to form pictures of divers kinds. Blessed, 
 thrice blessed, those who can tread gems and bracelets under 
 foot ! The other parts, as well, of this palace of vast extent, 
 were precious beyond all computation ; and the walls being 
 everywhere strengthened with bars of gold, shone with their 
 
 it was, in all probability, that the Greeks named the butterfly the soul, 
 A correspondent of the Notes and Queries remarks of tliis story (vol. ii. 
 p. 29) — ' This is probably an old Folk-tale, originally, perhaps an antique 
 philosophical temple-allegory. Apuleius appears only to have dressed it 
 up in a new shape. The tale is still current, but in a form not derived 
 from him, among the Swedes, Norwegians, Danes, Scots, Germans, French, 
 Wallachians, Italians, and Hindoos.' 
 
92 
 
 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEITS. 
 
 own lustre, so that even were the sun to withhold his light, 
 the palace could make for itself a day of its own ; so effulgent 
 were the chambers, the porticos, and the doors. The furni- 
 ture, too, was on a scale commensurate with the majesty of 
 this abode ; so that it might well be looked upon as a palace 
 built by mighty Jove, where he might dwell among mankind. 
 
 " Invited by the delightful appearance of the place, Pysche 
 approached it, and, gradually taking courage, stepped over the 
 threshold. The beauty of what she beheld lured her on, and 
 everything filled her with admiration. In another part of the 
 palace, she beheld magnificent repositories, stored with im- 
 mense riches ; nothing, in fact, is there which was not there 
 to be found. But besides the admiration which such enormous 
 wealth excited, this was particularly surprising, that this 
 treasury of the universal world was protected by no chain, no 
 bar, no guard. 
 
 ''Here, while Psyche's gaze was ravished with delight, a 
 bodiless voice thus addressed her ; * Why, lady,* it said, ' are 
 you astonished at such vast riches ? All are yours. Betake 
 yourself, therefore, to your chamber, and refresh your wearied 
 limbs on your couch, and, when you think proper, repair to 
 the bath ; for we, whose voices you now hear, are your hand- 
 maidens, and will carefully attend to all your commands, and, 
 when we have dressed you, a royal banquet will be placed be- 
 fore you without delay.' 
 
 ''Psyche was sensible of the goodness of divine providence, 
 and, obedient to the admonitions of the unembodied voices, 
 relieved her fatigue, first with sleep, and afterwards with the 
 bath. After this, perceiving, close at hand, a semicircular dais 
 with a raised seat, and what seemed to be the apparatus for a 
 banquet, intended for her refreshment, she readily took her 
 place; whereupon nectareous wines, and numerous dishes 
 containing various kinds of dainties, were immediately served 
 up, impelled, as it seemed, by some spiritual impulse, for 
 there were no visible attendants. Not one human being could 
 she see, she only heard words that were uttered, and had voices 
 alone for her servants. After an exquisite banquet was served 
 up, some one entered, and sang unseen, while another struck 
 the lyre, which was no more visible than himself. Then, a 
 swell of voices, as of a multitude singing in full chorus, was 
 wafted to her ears, though not one of the vocalists could she 
 descry. 
 
BOOK V. THE STORY OF CUPID AND PSYCHE. 93 
 
 "After these delights had ceased, the evening now persuading 
 to repose, Psyche retired to bed : and when the night was far 
 advanced, a certain gentle, murmuring sound fell upon her ears. 
 Then alarmed for her honor, in consequence of the profound 
 solitude of the place, she trembled and was filled with terror, 
 and dreaded that of which she was ignorant more than any 
 misfortune. And now her unknown bridegroom ascended the 
 couch, made Psyche his wife, and hastily left her before break 
 of day. Immediately the attendant voices of the bedchamber 
 came to aid the wounded modesty of the new-made bride. 
 This course was continued for a length of time ; and, as by 
 nature it has been so ordained, the novelty, by its constant 
 repetition, afforded her delight, and the sound of the voices 
 was the solace of her solitude. 
 
 " In the meantime, her parents were wasting their old age 
 in sorrow and lamentation ; and the report of her fate, be- 
 coming more widely extended, her elder sisters had learnt all 
 the particulars ; whereupon leaving their homes in deep grief, 
 they hastened to visit and comfort their parents. On that 
 night, did Psyche's husband thus address her — for she could 
 discern his presence with her ears and hands, though not with 
 her eyes : 
 
 " ' Most charming Psyche, dear wife, cruel fortune now 
 threatens you with a deadly peril, which needs, I think, to be 
 guarded against with the most vigilant attention. For ere 
 long, your sisters, who are alarmed at the report of your 
 death, in their endeavours to discover traces of you, will arrive 
 at yonder rock. If, then, you should chance to hear their 
 lamentations, make them no reply, no, nor even so much as 
 turn your eyes towards them. By doing otherwise, you will 
 cause most grievous sorrow to me, and utter destruction to 
 yourself.' 
 
 ** Psyche assented, and promised that she would act agreeably 
 to her husband's desire. But when he and the night had de- 
 parted together, the poor thing consumed the whole day in tears 
 and lamentations, exclaiming over and over again, that she was 
 now utterly lost, since, besides being thus confined in a splen- 
 did prison, deprived of human conversation, she was not even 
 allowed to relieve the minds of her sisters, who were sorrowing 
 for her, nor, indeed, so much as to see them. "Without having 
 refreshed herself, therefore, with the bath or with food, or, in 
 
94 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 fact, with any solace whatever, but weeping plenteously, sli ? 
 retired to rest. Shortly afterwards, her husband, coming to 
 her bed earlier than usual, embraced her as she wept, and thxifi 
 expostulated with her : 
 
 *' * Is this, my Psyche, what you promised me ? What am 
 I, your husband, henceforth to expect of you r "What can I 
 now hope for, when neither by day nor by night, not even in 
 the midst of our conjugal endearments, you cease to be dis- 
 tracted with grief? Very well, then, act now just as you 
 please, and comply with the baneful dictates of your inclina- 
 tion. However, when you begin too late to repent, you will 
 recall to mind my serious admonitions.' 
 
 " Upon this, she had recourse to prayers; and threatening 
 that she would put an end to herself if her request were de- 
 nied, she extorted from her husband a consent that she might 
 see her sisters, to soothe their grief, and enjoy their con- 
 versation. This he yielded to the entreaties of his new-made 
 wife, and he gave her permission, besides, to present her sis- 
 ters with as much gold and as many jewels as she pleased; 
 but he warned her repeatedly and so often as to terrify her, 
 never, on any occasion, to be persuaded by the pernicious advice 
 of her sisters, to make any enquiries concerning the form of her 
 husband ; lest by a sacrilegious curiosity, she might cast her- 
 self down from such an exalted position of good fortune, and 
 never again feel his embraces. 
 
 *' She thanked her husband for his indulgence ; and now, 
 having quite recovered her spirits, ' Nay,' said she, ' I would 
 suffer death a hundred times rather than be deprived of your 
 most delightful company, for I love you, yes, I doat upon 
 you to desperation, whoever you are, ay, even as I love my 
 own soul, nor would I give you in exchange for Cupid him- 
 self. But this also I beseech you to grant to my prayers ; bid 
 Zephyr, this servant of yours, convey my sistei-s to me, in the 
 same manner in which he brought me hither.' Then, pressing 
 his lips with persuasive kisses, murmuring endearing words, 
 and enfolding him with her clinging limbs, she called him 
 coaxingly, ' My sweet, my husband, dear soul of thy Psyche.' 
 Her husband, overcome by the power of love, yielded reluc- 
 tantly, and promised all she desired. After this, upon the 
 approach of morning, he agtdn vanished from the arms of his 
 wife. 
 
THE STOEY OF CrPlD AND PSYCHE, 95 
 
 " Meanwhile^ the sisters, having inquired the way to the rock 
 on which Psyche was abandoned, hastened thither ; and there 
 they wept and beat their breasts till the rocks and crags re- 
 sounded with their lamentations. They called to their unfor- 
 tunate sister, by her own name, until the shrill sound of their 
 shrieks descending the declivities of the mountain, reached the 
 ears of Psyche, who ran out of her palace in delirious trepi- 
 dation, and exclaimed : 
 
 " ' Why do you needlessly afflict yourselves with doleful 
 lamentations ? Here am I, whom you mourn ; cease those 
 dismal accents, and now at last dry up those tears that have so 
 long bedewed your cheeks, since you may now embrace her 
 whom you have been lamenting.' 
 
 ** Then, summoning Zephyr, she acquaints him with her hus- 
 band's commands, in obedience to which, instantly waiting 
 them on his gentlest breeze, he safely conveyed them to Psyche. 
 Now do they enjoy mutual embraces, and hurried kisses ; and 
 their tears, that had ceased to flow, return, after a time, sum- 
 moned forth by joy. 'Now come,' said Psyche, 'enter my 
 dwelling in gladness, and cheer up your afflicted spirits with 
 your Psyche.' Having thus said, she showed them the vast 
 treasures of her golden palace, ma^e their ears acquainted 
 with the numerous retinue of voices that were obedient to her 
 commands, and sumptuously refreshed them in a most beauti- 
 ful bath, and with the delicacies of a divine banquet ; until, 
 satiated with this copious abundance of celestial riches, they 
 began to nourish envy in the lowest depths of their breasts. 
 One of them, especially, very minute and curious, persisted in 
 making enquiries about the master of this celestial wealth, 
 what kind of person, and what sort of husband he made. 
 
 " Psyche, however, would by no means violate her husband's 
 injunctions, or disclose the secrets of her breast; but, de- 
 vising a tale for the occasion, told them that he was a young 
 man, and very good looking, with cheeks as yet only shaded 
 with soft down, and that he was, for the most part, engaged 
 in rural occupations, and hunting on the mountains. And 
 lest, by any slip in the course of the protracted conversation, 
 her secret counsels might be betrayed, having loaded them 
 with ornaments of gold and jewelled necklaces, she called 
 iJephyr, and ordered him at once to convey them back again. 
 
 " This being immediately executed, these excellent sisters, 
 
Q6 THE GOLDEN AS** O-p APrLEIXJS. 
 
 as they were returning home, now burning more and more 
 with the rancour of envy, conversed much with each other ; 
 at last one of them thus began : "Do but see how blind, cruel, 
 and unjust. Fortune has proved ! Were you, my sister, de- 
 lighted to find that we, bom of the same parents, had met 
 with such a different lot ? "We, indeed, who are the elder, are 
 delivered over as bondmaids* to foreign husbands, and live in 
 banishment from our home, our native land, and our parents ; 
 and this, the youngest of us all, the last production of our 
 mother's exhausted powers of parturition, is raised to the en- 
 joyment of such boundless wealth, and has a god for her hus- 
 band, she who does not even know how to enjoy, in a proper 
 manner, such an abundance of blessings ? You saw, sister, 
 what a vast number of necklaces there were in the house, and 
 of what enormous value, what splendid dresses, what brilliant 
 gems, and what heaps of gold she treads upon in every direc- 
 tion. If, besides all this, she possesses a husband so handsome 
 as she asserts him to be, there lives not in the whole world a 
 happier woman than she. Perhaps, however, upon continued 
 acquaintance, and when his affection is strengthened, her hus- 
 band, who is a god, will make her a goddess as well. Ey 
 Hercules ! it is so already ; she comporteH^and demeaned herself 
 just like one : the woman must needs assume a lofty bearing, 
 and give herself the airs of a goddess, who has voices for her 
 attendants, and commands the very winds themselves. But I, 
 wretched creature, am tied to a husband who, in the first place, 
 is older than my father ; and who, in the next place, is balder 
 than a pumpkin, and more dwarfish than any boy, and who 
 fastens up every part of his house with bolts and chains.' 
 
 '' ' But I,' replied the other sister, ' have got to put up with 
 a husband who is tormented and crippled with gout ; and who, 
 on this account, seldom honours me with his embraces, while 
 I have to be everlastingly rubbing his distorted and chalky 
 fingers with filthy fomentations, nasty rags, and stinking poul- 
 tices ; scalding these delicate hands, and acting the part not of 
 
 * Over OH bondmaids.'] — It was a prevalent notion with many of the an- 
 cients, that the wife stood towards the husband in relation of a bondmaid. 
 In reference to this notion, Isidore, in his Origines, b. iv. c. 24, informs 
 us, ' One of the ceremonies of marriage anciently was this ; the husband 
 and the wife purchased each other, in order that the latter might not be 
 considered as a servant.' 
 
p?()e: t. the stoey of cupid and psyche. 97 
 
 B wife, but of a female doctor. You, sister, seem to bear all 
 this with a patient, or rather a servile spirit, for I shall speak 
 out fully what I think ; but, for my part, I can no longer en- 
 dure that such a fortunate destiny should have so undeservedly 
 fallen to her lot. And then, recollect in what a haughty and 
 arrogant manner she behaved towards us, and how, by her boast- 
 ing and immoderate ostentation, she betrayed a heart swelling 
 with pride, and how reluctantly she threw us a trifling portion 
 of her immense riches ; and immediately after, being weary of 
 our company, ordered us to be turned out, and to be puffed and 
 whisked away. But may I be no woman, nor indeed may I 
 breathe, if I do not hurl her down headlong from such mighty 
 wealth. And if this contumely offered to us stings you, too, 
 as it ought, let us both join in forming some effective plan. 
 In the first place, then, let us not show these things that we 
 have got, either to our parents or to any one else ; in fact, we 
 are to know nothing at all about her safety. It is quite enough 
 that we ourselves have seen what it vexes us to have seen, 
 without having to spread the report of her good fortune among 
 our parents and all the people ; for, in fact, those persons are 
 not wealthy whose riches no one is acquainted with. She 
 shall know that in us she has got no handmaids, but elder sis- 
 ters. For the present, then, let us away to our husbands, and 
 revisit our poor and plain dwellings, that after long and 
 earnest consideration, we may return the better prepared to 
 humble her pride.' 
 
 *' This wicked project was voted good by the two wicked 
 sisters. Concealing those choice and sumptuous presents which 
 they had received from Psyche, tearing their hair, and beating 
 their faces, which well deserved such treatment, they redoubled 
 their pretended grief. In this manner, too, hastily leaving 
 their parents, after having set their sorrows bleeding afresh, 
 they returned to their homes, swelling with malicious rage, and 
 plotting wicked schemes, nay, actual parricide against their 
 innocent sister. 
 
 " In the mean time. Psyche's unknown husband once more 
 admonished her thus in their nocturnal conversation : ' Are 
 you aware what a mighty peril Fortune is preparing to launch 
 against you from a distance, one too, whioh, unless you take 
 Btrenuous precautions against it, will ere long confront you,* 
 
 * Confront you."] — * Velitatur.' This is a metaphorical expression. 
 
98 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APIJLE1I7S. 
 
 hand to hand ? Those perfidious she-wolves are planning base 
 stratagems against you with all their might, to the end that 
 they may prevail upon you to view my features, which, as I 
 have often told you, if you once see, you will see no more. If, 
 then, these most abominable vampires* come again, armed with 
 their baneful intentions, and that they will come I know full 
 well, do not hold any converse whatever with them ; but if, 
 through your natural frankness and tenderness of disposition, 
 you are not able to do this, at all events, be careful not to listen 
 to or answer any inquiries about your husband. For before 
 long we shall have an increase to our family, and infantine as 
 you are, you are pregnant with another infant, which, if you 
 preserve my secret in silence, will be bom divine, but if you 
 profane it, will be mortal.' 
 
 "Eadiant with joy at this news. Psyche exulted in the 
 glory of this future pledge of love, and in the dignity of a 
 mother's name. Anxiously did she reckon the increasing tale 
 of the days and the elapsing months, and wondered in simple 
 ignorance at the structure of this unknown burden, and how 
 her wealthy womb could have gathered such an increase from 
 a tiny point. 
 
 " But now those pests and most dire Furies, breathing 
 viperous virulence, were hastening towards her with the speed 
 of ruthless hate. Then again her husband warned his Psyche 
 to this effect during his brief visit : — * The day of trial, and 
 this most utter calamity, are now at hand. Your own mali- 
 cious sex, and your own blood, in arms against you, have 
 struck their camp, drawn up their forces in battle array, and 
 sounded the charge. Now are your wicked sisters aiming 
 with the drawn sword at your throat. Alas ! darling Psyche, 
 by what mighty dangers are we now surrounded ! Take pity 
 on yourself and on me ; and by an inviolable silence, rescue 
 your home, your husband, yourself, and that little one of 
 ours, from this impending destruction. Shun those wicked 
 women, whom, after the deadly hatred which they have con- 
 ceived against you, and having trampled under foot the ties 
 of blood, it were not right to call sisters ; neither see, nor 
 
 taken from the mode of attack by the * velites,* or light-armed infantry, 
 who sent their darts and arrows from a distance. 
 
 * J bominable vampires. } — ' Lamiae.* These witches, or hags, havebeea 
 referred to in a preceding note. 
 
BOOK V. THE STOET OF CUPID AND PSYCHE. 99 
 
 listen to them, when, like Sirens, hanging over the crag, they 
 shall make the rocks resound with their ill-omened voices.' 
 
 " Psyche, in accents interrupted by sobs and tears, thus re- 
 plied : ' Already, methinks, you have experienced convincing 
 proofs of my fidelity and power of keeping a secret ; and the 
 constancy of my mind shall be no less approved of by you in the 
 present instance. Only order Zephyr once again to discharge 
 his duties, and at least grant me a sight of my sisters, by way 
 of compensation for your own hallowed form. By those aro- 
 matic locks^ curling on every side ! by those cheeks, tender, 
 smooth, and so like my own ! by your breast that glows with 
 I know not what a warmth ! and by my hopes that in this 
 babe at least I may- recognise your features, I beseech you to 
 comply with the affectionate prayers of your anxious sup- 
 pliant; indulge me with the gratification of embracing my 
 sisters, and refresh with joyousness the soul of Psyche, who is 
 so devoted and so dear to you. Then no longer I shall be 
 anxious to view your features. Henceforth, not even the 
 shades of night will have any effect on me. I clasp you in my 
 arms, and you are my light.' 
 
 ** Enchanted by these words, and by her honeyed embraces, 
 her husband brushed away her tears with his locks, and as- 
 suring her that he would do as she wished, instantly anti- 
 cipated the light of the dawning day by flight. But the pair 
 of sisters who had engaged in this conspiracy, not having so 
 much as visited their parents, direct their course with precipi- 
 tate haste straight from the ships towards the rock, and not 
 waiting for the presence of the buoyant breeze, leap into the 
 abyss with ungovernable rashness. Zephyr, however, not for- 
 getful of the royal commands, received them, though reluc- 
 tantly, in the bosom of the breathing breeze, and laid them on 
 the ground. 
 
 **With rapid steps and without a moment's delay, they 
 entered the palace, and deceitfully screening themselves under 
 the name of sister, embraced their prey; then, covering a 
 whole store-house of deeply hidden treachery beneath a joyous 
 countenance, they thus addressed her in flattering terms: 
 * Psyche, you are not quite so slender as you used to be. 
 Why, you will be a mother before long. Can you fancy what 
 delight you have in store for us in that reticule* of yours.-' 
 • In that reticuleJ}—' Perula.* Her womb. 
 
 H 2 
 
100 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APrLEITTS. 
 
 With what exceeding joy you will gladden our whole house ! 
 how delighted we shall be to nurse this golden baby, for if 
 it only equals the beauty of its parents, it will be bom a per- 
 fect Cupid.' 
 
 '* Thus, by a false appearance of affection, they gradually stole 
 upon the heart of their sister, while she, after making them sit 
 awhile to recover from the fatigue of their journey and re- 
 fresh themselves with warm baths, regaled them in a marvel- 
 lously splendid manner with innumerable exquisite dainties. 
 She bade the harp discourse, and its chords were struck ; flutes 
 to play, and they were heard ; vocalists to sing in concert, and 
 they sang ; and though invisible, they ravished the souls of 
 the hearers with the most delicious music. 
 
 ''But the malice of those wicked women was not softened or 
 lulled to rest even by the dulcet sweetness of the music ; but/ 
 shaping their conversation so as to lead Psyche into the' in- 
 tende<i snare, they began insidiously to inquire what sort of 
 a person her husband was, and from what family he/was 
 descended. She, in her extreme simplicity, having forgotten 
 her former account, invented a new story about her husband, 
 and said he was a native of the adjoining province ; that he 
 was a merchant, with abundance of money, a man of middle 
 age, with a few grey hairs sprinkled here and there on his 
 head. Then, abruptly terminating the conversation, she again 
 committed them to their windy vehicle, after having loaded 
 them with costly presents. 
 
 '' While they were returning homewards, soaring aloft on 
 the tranquil breath of Zephyrus, they thus interchanged their 
 thoughts with each other : ' What are we to say, sister, of the 
 monstrous lies of that silly creature ? At one time her hus- 
 band is a young man, with the down just beginning to show 
 itself on his chin ; at another he is of middle age, and his hair 
 begins to be silvered with grey. Who can this be, whom a 
 short space of time thus suddenly changes into an old man ? 
 You may depend upon it, sister, that this most abominable 
 woman has either invented this lie to deceive us, or else that 
 she does not herself know what is the appearance of her hus- 
 band. But whichever of these is the case, she must as soon as 
 possible be deprived of these riches. And yet, if she really is 
 ignorant of the appearance of her husband, she must no doubt 
 have married a god, and then through this pregnancy of hers. 
 
BOOK V. THE STORY OF CTJPID AND PSYCHE. 101 
 
 phe will be presenting ns with a god. At all events, if she 
 does happen, which heaven forbid ! to become the mother of a 
 divine infant, I shall instantly hang myself. Let us therefore 
 in the meantime return to our parents, and let us devise some 
 scheme, as nearly as possible in accordance with the import of 
 our present conversation/ 
 
 " The sisters, thus inflamed with passion, called on their 
 parents in a careless and disdainful manner, and after being 
 kept awake all night by the turbulence of their spirits, made 
 all haste at morning to the rock, whence, by the usual assist- 
 ance of the breeze, they descended swiftly to Psyche, and with 
 tears squeezed out, by rubbing their eyelids, thus craftily ad- 
 dressed her : ' Happy indeed are you, and fortunate in your 
 very ignorance of a misfortune of such magnitude. There you 
 sit, without a thought upon your danger ; while we, who watch 
 over your interests with the most vigilant care, are in anguish 
 at your lost condition. ^For we have learned for a truth, nor 
 can we, as being sharers in your sorrows and misfortunes, 
 conceal it from you, that it is an enormous sei'pent, gliding 
 along in many folds and coils, with a neck swollen with 
 deadly venom, and prodigious gaping jaws, that secretly sleeps 
 with you by night. Do for a moment recall to mind the 
 Pythian oracle, which declared that you were destined to be- 
 come the wife of a fierce and truculent animal. Besides, many 
 of the husbandmen, who are in the habit of hunting all round 
 the country, and ever so many of the neighbours, have observed 
 him returning home from his feeding-place in the evening, 
 and swimming across the shoals of the neighbouring stream. 
 All declare, too, that he will not long continue to pamper jou 
 with delicacies, but that as soon as ever your pregnancy shall 
 have arrived at maturity, he will devour you, as being in that 
 state a most exquisite morsel. Wherefore, it is now for you to 
 consider whether you shall think fit to listen to us, who are so 
 anxious for your precious safety, and avoiding death, live with 
 us secure from danger, or be buried in the entrails of a most 
 savage monster. But if you are fascinated by the vocal solitude 
 of this country retreat, or the charms of clandestine embraces 
 so filthy and perilous, and the endearments of a poisonous ser- 
 pent, we have, at all events, done our duty towards you like 
 affectionate sisters.' 
 
 ''Poor simple, tender-hearted Psyche, was aghast with 
 
102 THE GOLDEX ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 norror at this dreadful story ; and, quite bereft of her senses, 
 lost all remembrance of her husband's admonitions and of her 
 own promises, and hurled herself headlong into the very abyss 
 of calamity. Trembling, therefore, with pale and livid cheeks, 
 and with an almost lifeless voice, she faltered out these broken 
 words : 
 
 " ' Dearest sisters, you have acted towards me as you ought, 
 and with your usual affectionate care ; and indeed it appears to 
 me that those who gave you this information, have not in- 
 vented a falsehood. For, in fact, I have never yet beheld my 
 husband's face, nor do I know at all whence he comes. I only 
 hear him speak in an undertone by night, and have to bear 
 with a husband of an unknown appearance, and one that has 
 an utter aversion to the light of day : I consequently have full 
 reason to be of your opinion, that he may be some monster or 
 other. Besides, he is always terrifying me from attempting to 
 behold him, and threatens some shocking misfortune as tho 
 consequence of indulging any curiosity to view his features. 
 Now, therefore, if you are able to give any saving aid to your 
 sister in this perilous emergency, defer it not for a moment.* 
 
 " Finding the approaches thus laid open, and their sister's 
 heart exposed all naked to their attacks, these wicked women 
 thought the time was come to sally out from their covered ap- 
 proach, and attack the timorous thoughts of the simple girl with 
 the drawn sword of deceit. Accordingly, one of them thus be- 
 gan : * Since the ties of blood oblige us to have no fear of peril 
 before our eyes when your safety is to be ensured, we will dis- 
 cover to you the only method which will lead to your preserva- 
 tion, and one which has been considered by us over and over 
 again. On that side of the bed where you are accustomed to lie, 
 secretly conceal a very sharp razor, one that you have whetted 
 to a keen edge by passing it over the palm of your hand ; and 
 hide likewise under some covering of the surrounding tapestry* 
 a lamp, well trimmed and full of oil, and shining with a bright 
 light. Make these preparations with the utmost secrecy, and 
 after the monster has glided into the bed as usual, when he is 
 now stretched out at length, fast asleep, and breathing heavily, 
 then slide out of bed, go softly along with bare feet and on 
 tiptoe, free the lamp from its place of concealment in the dark, 
 
 * Surrounding tapestry.'} — * Auleae' seems a preferable reading nere to 
 • Aululae.' 
 
BOOK V. THE STOEY OF CUPID AND PSYCHE. 103 
 
 and borrow the aid of its light to execute your noble purpos<i ; 
 then at once, boldly raising your right hand, bring down the 
 keen weapon with aU your might, and cut off the head of the 
 noxious serpent at the nape of the neck. Nor shall our assist- 
 ance be wanting to you ; for we wiU keep anxious watch, and 
 be with you the very instant you shall have effected your own 
 safety by his death ; and then, immediately bringing you away 
 with all these things, we will wed you, to your wish, with a 
 human creature like yourself. 
 
 " Having with such pernicious language inflamed the mind 
 of their sister, and wrought her to a perfect pitch of determi- 
 nation, they deserted her, fearing exceedingly even to be in the 
 neighbourhood of such a catastrophe ; and, being laid upon the 
 rock by the wonted impulse of their winged bearer, they im- 
 mediately hurried thence with impetuous haste, at once got on 
 board their ships, and sailed away. 
 ^'^^^ But Psyche, now left alone, except so far as a person who is 
 ^agitated by maddening Furies is not alone, fluctuated in sorrow 
 like a stormy sea ; and though her purpose was fixed, and her 
 lieart was resolute when she first began to make preparations 
 for the impious work, her mind now wavers, and is distracted 
 ^vith numerous apprehensions at her unhappy fate. She 
 liurries, she procrastinates ; now she is bold, now tremulous ; 
 now dubious, now agitated by rage ; and what is the most 
 singular thing of all, in the same being she hates the beast, 
 —loves the husband. Nevertheless, as the evening drew to a 
 close, she hurriedly prepared the instruments of her ruthless 
 enterprise. 
 
 '* The night came, and with it came her husband, and after 
 their first dalliance was over, he fell into a deep sleep. Then 
 Psyche, to whose weak body and spirit the cruel influence of 
 fate imparted unusual strength, uncovered the lamp, and 
 seized the knife with masculine courage. But the instant she 
 advanced the lamp, and the mysteries of the couch stood re- 
 vealed, she beheld the very gentlest and sweetest of all wild 
 creatures, even Cupid himself, the beautiful God of Love, there 
 fast asleep ; at sight of whom, the joyous flame of the lamp 
 shone with redoubled vigour, and the sacrilegious razor re- 
 pented the keenness of its edge. 
 
 *' But as for Psyche, astounded at such a sight, losing the 
 control of her senses, faint, deadly pale, and trembling all 
 
104 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APXTLEIUS. 
 
 over, she fell on her knees, and made an attempt to hide the 
 blade in her own bosom ; and this no doubt she would hav6 
 done, had not the blade, dreading the commission of such a 
 crime, glided out of her rash hand. And now, faint and un- 
 nerved as she was, she feels herself refreshed at heart by 
 gazing upon the beauty of those divine features. She looks upon 
 the genial locks of his golden head, teeming with ambrosial 
 perfume, the orbed curls that strayed over his milk- white neck 
 and roseate cheeks, and fell gracefully entangled, some before, 
 Bomei behind ; causing the very light of the lamp itself to flicker 
 by their radiant splendour. On the shoulders of the volatile 
 god were dewy wings of brilliant whiteness ; and though the 
 pinions were at rest, yet the tender down that fringed the 
 feathers wantoned to and fro in tremulous unceasing play. 
 The rest of his body was smooth and beautiful, and such as 
 Yenus could not have repented of giving birth to. At the foot 
 of the bed lay his bow, his quiver, and his arrows, the auspi- 
 cious weapons of the mighty God. 
 
 '' While with insatiable wonder and curiosity Psyche is ex- 
 amining and admiring her husband's weapons, she draws one 
 of the aiTows out of the quiver, and touches the point with the 
 tip of her thumb to try its sharpness ; but happening to press 
 too hard, for her hand still trembled, she punctured the skin, 
 so that some tiny drops of rosy blood oozed forth ; and thus 
 did Psyche, without knowing it, fall in love with love. Then, 
 burning more and more with desire for Cupid, gazing passion- 
 ately, on his face, and fondly kissing him again and again, her 
 only fear was, lest he should wake too soon. 
 
 **But while she hung over him bewildered with delight 
 so extreme at heart, the lamp, whether from treachery or 
 baneful envy, or because it longed to touch, and to kiss, as 
 it were, such a beautiful object, spirted a drop of scalding 
 oil from the summit of its flame upon the right shoulder 
 of the god. rash, audacious lamp ! vile minister to love ! 
 thus to ,bum the god of all fire ; you whom some lover, 
 doubtless, first invented, that he might prolong even through 
 the night the bliss of beholding the object of his desire! 
 The God, thus scorched, sprang from the bed, and seeing 
 the disgraceful tokens of forfeited fidelity, without a word, 
 was flying away from the eyes and arms of his most unhap])y 
 wife. But Psyche, the instant he arose, seized hold of his 
 
BOOK V. THE STOEr OF CUPID AND PSTCHE. 105 
 
 right leg with both hands, and hung on to him, a wretched 
 appendage to his flight through the regions of the air, till at 
 last her strength ftiiled her, and she fell to the earth. 
 
 "Her divine lover, however, not deserting her as she lay on 
 the ground, alighted upon a neighbouring cypress tree, and 
 thus angrily addressed her from its lofty top : — ' simple, 
 simple Psyche, for you I have been unmindfal of the commands 
 of my mother Yenus ; for when she bade me cause you to bo 
 infatuated with passion for some base and abject man, I 
 chose rather to fly to you myself as a lover. That in this I 
 acted inconsiderately, I know but too well. I, that redoubtable 
 archer, have wounded myself with my own arrow, and have 
 made you my wife, that I, forsooth, might be thought by you 
 to be a serpent, and that you might cut off my head, which 
 bears those very eyes which have so doated upon you. This 
 was the danger that I told you again and again to be on your 
 guard against, this was what I so benevolently forewarned you 
 of. But as for tliose choice counsellors of yours, they shall 
 speedily feel my vengeance for giving you such pernicious ad- 
 vice ; but you I will punish only by my flight.' And so say- 
 ing, he soared aloft, and flew away. 
 
 ** Meanwhile Psyche lay prostrate on the ground, gazing on 
 the flight of her husband as long as ever he remained in sight, 
 and afliicting her mind with the most bitter lamentations. 
 But when the reiterated movement* of his wings had borne 
 her husband through the immensity of space till she saw him 
 no more, she threw herself headlong from the bank of the 
 adjacent river into its stream. But the gentle river, honouriug 
 the God, who is in the habit of imparting his warmth to the 
 waters f themselves, and fearing his power, bore her on the 
 surface of a harmless wave to the bank, and laid her safe on 
 its flowery turf. 
 
 " It chanced that just then the rural god Pan was seated 
 on the margin of the river, embracing the goddess Canna,;}; and 
 teaching her to sing all kinds of pleasant ditties. Close by, 
 
 * Reiterated movement .\ — In the original, ' remigio.* ' Remigium ala- 
 rum,' ' the rowing of the wings,' is a phrase much used hy the classical 
 writers. 
 
 t To the waters."] — That is to say, to the deities and nymphs who in- 
 hahit them — not to mention the fish. 
 
 X The goddess Canna.'] — This alludes to the well-known fable of Syrinx 
 arid Pan. Canna is the Latin for ' cane,' or ' reed.' 
 
106 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 some she-goats gambolled as they browsed along the grassy 
 bank. The goat-legged god, aware of Pysche's misfortune, 
 kindly called the fainting, heart-stricken girl to him, and thus 
 comforted her in soothing language: — * Pretty damsel, though 
 I am a countryman and a shepherd, still, through the benefit 
 of a prolonged old age, I have acquired considerable experience; 
 wherefore, if I rightly conjecture — a thing that wise men no 
 doubt consider as good as the power of divination — if I rightly 
 conjecture, from those tottering and repeatedly faltering steps, 
 from the excessive paleness of your countenance, from your 
 frequent sighs, and from the sad expression of your eyes, you 
 are desperately in love. Listen, then, to me ; attempt no more 
 to put an end to yourself by leaping from a precipice, or by 
 any kind of self-inflicted death ; cease to grieve, lay aside your 
 sorrow, and rather in your prayers worship Cupid, the greatest 
 of the Gods, and as he is a delicate and spoilt stripling, use your 
 best endeavours to please him by soothing attentions.* 
 
 " The shepherd God having thus said, Psyche made him no 
 reply, but simply paying her homage to the propitious divinity, 
 departed from the spot. After she had toiled some little way 
 along the road, she came at last to an unknown byepath, 
 and following it, she arrived at a certain city, of which the 
 husband of one of her sisters was king. On learning this cir- 
 cumstance, Psyche requested that her arrival might be an- 
 nounced to her sister. Being immediately conducted to her, 
 when they had mutually embraced, and the forms of salutation 
 were over, on her sister inquiring the cause of her visit, she 
 replied : 
 
 *' ' Of course you remember the advice you gave me, when 
 you persuaded me to destroy with a sharp razor the beast that 
 lay with me under the assumed name of a husband, before he 
 should swallow me, poor creature, in his voracious maw. I 
 proceeded to do as we had arranged ; but as soon as ever I dis- 
 cerned his features by the light of the lamp, I beheld a sight 
 truly wonderful and divine, the very son himself of the goddoss 
 Venus, Cupid I say, sunk in tranquil repose. Just, however, 
 as, struck with astonishment at the sight of such a boundless 
 blessing, and in utter ecstasy through an over-abundance of 
 pleasure, I was at a loss how sufficiently to enjoy my fortune, 
 Dv a most shocking accident, the lamp spirted out some scald- 
 ing oil upon his right shoulder. Instantly awakened by the 
 
BOOK V. THE STORY OF CUPID AND PSYCHE. 107 
 
 pain, and seeing me armed with the weapon and the light, 
 'For this shameful conduct,' said he, 'quit my bed this instant, 
 I divorce you for ever>* I will at once marry your sister,' — 
 mentioning you expressly by name, — and then he ordered 
 Zephyr to waft me beyond the precincts of the palace.' 
 
 " Scarcely had Psyche ended her narrative, when the other, 
 goaded by maddening lust and baneful envy, deceived her hus- 
 band by a story which she had ready invented, as though she 
 had heard something about the death of her parents, and im- 
 mediately embarking, proceeded to the same rock. When she 
 arrived there, though another wind was blowing, yet, elated 
 with blind hope, she exclaimed, 'Eeceive me, Cupid, a wife 
 worthy of thee, and thou. Zephyr, acknowledge thy mis- 
 tress.' Then with a great bound, she threw herself headlong 
 from the mountain; but neither alive nor dead was she 
 able to reach the spot she sought. Por her limbs were 
 torn in pieces by the crags, and scattered here and there as she 
 fell, h(;r entrails were rent asunder, just as she deserved ; and 
 so, furnishing a banquet for birds and beasts of prey, she 
 perished. 
 
 '*Nor was the other sister's punishment long delayed; for 
 Psyche's wandering steps led her to another city, in which 
 that sister dwelt ; and she also, deceived by the same tale, and 
 impiously desirous of supplanting Pysche as a wife, hastened 
 to the rock, and there met with her death in a similar manner. 
 
 *' In the meantime, while Psyche wandered through various 
 nations, anxiously searching for Cupid, he himself, with the 
 wound from the lamp, lay in his mother's chamber groaning. 
 A snow-white sea-gull, the bird which skims along the waves 
 of the sea, flapping them with its wings, dived down into the 
 bosom of the ocean. There, approaching Venus, as she bathed 
 and swam, he informed her that her son was confined to his 
 bed by a severe bum, was in great pain, and his cure was 
 doubtful : that all sorts of scandalous reports were flying about 
 concerning the whole family of Yenus ; and it was in every- 
 body's mouth that mother and son had gone ofi", the one to a 
 mountain, to carry on an intrigue with a girl ; the other to 
 
 • I divorce you for ever,'] — * Tibi tuas res habetc' Literally, 'take your 
 things to yourself.' This was the ordinary formula used among the 
 Romans in cases of divorce, when the husband returned to the wile her 
 separate property. 
 
108 TFE GOLDEIf ASS OF A-PULEIFS. 
 
 amuse herself with swimming in the sea. In consequence 
 of all this, Pleasure, Grace, and Elegance are no longer to be 
 found, but everything is rude, rustic, and slovenly; nuptial 
 ties, social friendships, and love of children, exist no more ; but 
 unbounded disorder, and a bitter loathing of sordid alliances. 
 Thus did this talkative and very meddling bird chatter in the 
 ear of Venus, to lower her son in her estimation. 
 
 *' Venus, exceedingly enraged, instantly exclaimed, * So then 
 this hopeful son of mine has already got some mistress or 
 other. Come, now, you who are the only one to serve me 
 with true affection, what is the name of her who has thus de- 
 coj-ed the ingenuous and beardless boy? is she one of the tribe 
 of lymphs, or of the number of the Hours, or of the choir of 
 the Muses, or belonging to my own train of Graces ? ' 
 
 '^ The talkative bird was only too ready to reply, *I am not 
 quite sure, mistress. I think, though, if I remember right, he 
 is said to have fallen desperately in love with a girl, whose 
 name is Psyche.' 
 
 " 'What!' exclaimed Venus, in a burst of indignation, *ol 
 all wenches in the world, is he in love with Psyche, the 
 usurper of my beauty, and the rival of my fame ? And by 
 way of additional insult, he takes me for a go-between, through 
 whose instrumentality he made acquaintance with the girl.' 
 
 *' Thus exclaiming, she forthwith emerged from the sea, and 
 hastened to her golden chamber, where finding her son lying 
 ill, as she had been informed, she bawled out"^ as loud as ever 
 she could before she entered the door — 'This is pretty conduct, 
 indeed ! and very becoming our dignified birth, and your so- 
 briety of character. In tlie first place, to trample under foot 
 the commands of your mother, your sovereign mistress, and 
 refrain from tormenting my enemy with an ignoble love;, and 
 then at your age, a mere boy, to take her to your profligate and 
 immature embraces, on purpose, I suppose, that I might en- 
 dure the vexation of having my enemy for ray daughter-in-law. 
 But doubtless you suppose, you scamp, you seducer, you unlove- 
 able boy, that you are my only high-born son, and that I am 
 too old to have another. I would have you know then, that I 
 
 * Bawled out.'] — It is with much concern we find the goddess of grace 
 and beauty guilty of the unseemly act of bawling, as well as of other ter- 
 magant behaviour ; but it stands so on the record : * jam inde a foribua 
 quam maxime Loans.' 
 
BOOK V. THE STOE,Y OP CIJriD AND PSrCHE. 109 
 
 will have another son, a much better one than you ; nay, what's 
 more, that you may be fully sensible of the disgrace, I will 
 adopt one of the sons of my slaves, and to him will I give 
 those wings and that torch, that bow and those arrows, and all 
 that equipment which I bestowed on you, for purposes very 
 different from these ; for no part whatever of this apparatus 
 was supplied at your father's expense. But from your very 
 childhood, you have been badly inclined, and have always had 
 pugnacious hands. Many a time, too, have jou most dis- 
 respectfully struck your elders : and even myself, your mother, 
 myself, I say, you parricide, you are everyday exposing before 
 the world. Many a time you have struck me, and you pay 
 no more attention to me than if I were a widow ; yon do not 
 even fear your step-father, that most brave and mighty warrior; 
 quite the contrary, indeed, for you are evermore setting him 
 after Avenches, to my torment. But I will make you repent of 
 these tricks of yours, and that you shall find this match a 
 sour and bitter one.' 
 
 " 'But now, made a laughing-stock of, what shall I do ? 
 WTiither betake myself? How shall I coerce this slippery little 
 lizard.^ Shall I solicit the assistance of my old foe Sobriety, 
 whom I have so often afi&:onted for sake of this spoiled boy ? 
 Must I have intercourse with that coarse, vulgar being ? I 
 shudder at the thought ; and yet the comfort of revenge is not 
 to be despised, come whence it may. I must have recourse 
 then to her, and to her alone ; that she may most soundly chas- 
 tise this scamp. She shall rifle his quiver, blunt his arrows, 
 unstring his bow, extinguish his torch, aye, and keep his body 
 in order by the sharpest remedies. "When I shall have shorn 
 off those golden locks, which these hands have so often sorted, 
 and have clipped off those pinions, which I have dyed in my 
 bosom's nectareous fountain, then, and not till then, I shall 
 believe that atonement has been made for the injury I have 
 received. 
 
 *' Having thus vented her wrath, she rushed impetuously 
 out of doors, and was immediately accosted by Ceres and 
 Juno, who, observing her angry countenance, asked her why 
 she marred the beauty of her sparkling eyes by such a sullen 
 frown. ' Most opportunely are you come,' she replied, ' to 
 appease*' that violence which has taken possession of my 
 
 * To appease,} — * Perplacatura' seems to be a preferable reading here.. 
 to * perpetraturae.* 
 
110 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 raging bosom. Enquire for me, I beg, with the utmost c«re 
 and diligence after that runaway vagabond. Psyche ; for tho 
 infamous stories about my family, and the conduct of my son 
 who does not deserve to be named, cannot be unlmown to you.' 
 
 **The two Goddesses, knowing what had happened, thus 
 endeavoured to mitigate the rage of Venus. * What mighty 
 offence, good mistress, has your son committed, that you should 
 thwart his pleasures with such stubborn resolution, and be 
 impatient to destroy her with whom he is in love ? Is it a 
 crime, if he has freely indulged his liking for a pretty girl ? 
 Are you ignorant of his sex, and his youth ? Surely, you have 
 forgotten how many years old he is, or is it because he carries 
 his years so prettily, that you would for ever fancy him a boy? 
 Is it possible, that you, who are his mother, and a woman of 
 understanding, can persist in prying inquisitively into the 
 gaieties of your handsome son, finding fault with his indis- 
 cretions, taking him to task for his amours, and reproving in 
 him your own arts and voluptuous suggestions ? But what 
 God or what man will bear with you, when you are everywhere 
 scattering amorous desires among people, and at the same time 
 would restrain the gallantries of your own house, and shut up 
 the universal magazine of female frailties ? ' 
 
 "Thus did they, through fear of his darts, flatter, and gra- 
 ciously defend Cupid in his absence. But Venus, indignant 
 that her injuries were thus treated with ridicule, turned her 
 back upon them, and with hasty steps again betook herself to 
 the ocean." 
 
 BOOK THE SIXTH. 
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE FIFTH EPISODE : CTJPID AND PSYCHE LUCITJS 
 
 ACCOMPANIES THE EOBBEKS TO A CAVE WHERE THEY HAVE DE- 
 POSITED BOOTY, AND INCUKS THEIR DISPLEASITEE HE ATTEMPTS 
 
 TO ESCAPE — IS SEIZED BY THE OLD WOMAN ; BUT, AIDED BY THE 
 
 DAMSEL, GALLOPS OFF, WITH HIS ALLY ON HIS BACK LUCIUS 
 
 AND THE DAMSEL RETAKEN BY THE ROBBEllS DEATH OF THE 
 
 OLD WOMAN — LUCIUS AND THE DAMSEL CONDEMNED TO A HOR- 
 ■MhLE LINGERING DEATH. 
 
 " In the meantime Psyche wandered about, day and night, 
 restlessly seeking her husband, and the more anxious to find 
 
BOOK VI. THE STOEY OF CUPID AND PSYCHJE. Ill 
 
 him, because, though she had incurred his anger, she hoi)ed to 
 appease him, if not by the tender endearments of a wife, at 
 least by entreaties as humble as a slave could urge. Perceiving 
 a temple on the summit of a lofty mountain, ' How can I tell,' 
 said she, * but yonder may be the residence of my lord ?' and 
 immediately she hastened thither, while, wayworn and ex- 
 hausted as she was, hope and affection quickened her steps, 
 and gave her vigour to climb the highest ridges of the moun- 
 tain, and enter the temple. There she saw blades of wheat, 
 some in sheaves, some twisted into chaplets, and ears of barley 
 also. There were scythes likewise, and all the implements of 
 harvest, but all Ijmg scattered about in confusion, just as such 
 things are usually thrown down, in the heat of summer, from 
 the careless hands of the reapers. 
 
 ** Psyche began carefully to sort all these things, and arrange 
 them properly in their several places, deeming it her duty not 
 to fail in respect for the temples and ceremonies of any deity, 
 but to implore the benevolent sjnnpathy of all the Gods. 
 Bounteous Ceres found her thus diligently employed in her 
 temple, and cried to her, from a distance : * Ah, poor unfor- 
 tunate Psyche ! Yenus, ftill of rage, is eagerly tracking your 
 footsteps, craving to inflict upon you the deadly penalties, 
 and the whole force of her divine vengeance. And can you 
 then busy yourself with my concerns, and think of anything 
 else but your own safety r* 
 
 " Psyche, prostrating herself before the goddess, moistening 
 her feet with abundant tears, and sweeping the ground with 
 her locks, besought her protection with manifold prayers. * I 
 implore thee,* said she, * by thy fruit-bearing right hand, by 
 the joyful ceremonies of harvest, by the mysterious rites of thy 
 cists,* by the winged car of the dragons thy servants, by the 
 furrows of the Sicilian soil, by the chariot of the ravisher,! by 
 the earth that closed upon him, by the dark descent and un- 
 lighted nuptials of Proserpine, by the torch-illumined return 
 of thy recovered daughter, and by the other mysteries which 
 Eleusis, the sanctuary of Attica, conceals in silence : succour, 
 
 * Of thy cists.'] — In the processions of Ceres, at Athens, were carried 
 chests or baskets, made of osier, enclosing mystic images of the Deity, 
 which it was not lawful for any uninitiated person to look upon 
 
 + The chariot (^ the ravisher.] — 'Per currura rapacem.^ The chariot 
 ©f Pluto, in which he carried off Proseipine from the plains of Enna, ia 
 t»cily, aad de&cended through a cha&m uf the earth to the shades below. 
 
112 THE GOLDE^T ASS OF APrLEIITS. 
 
 ^ccour tlie life of the wretched Psyche, thy suppliant! 
 Suffer me, if for a few days only, to conceal myself in that 
 heap of wheatsheaves, till the raging anger of the mighty 
 Goddess be mitigated by the lapse of time ; or at least until my 
 bodily powers, weakened by long-continued labour, be renewed 
 by an interval of rest/ 
 
 "'I am touched by your tears and entreaties,* Ceres re- 
 plied, * and fain would render you assistance ; but I cannot 
 provoke the displeasure of my relative, to whom I am also 
 united by ties of friendship of old date, and who besides is a 
 very worthy lady. Begone, therefore, from this temple di- 
 rectly, and be very thankful that I do not seize and detain 
 you as a prisoner.' 
 
 "Psyche, thus repulsed, contrary to her expectations, ani 
 afflicted with twofold grief, retraced the way she came, and 
 presently espied in a gloomy grove of the valley below the 
 mountain, a temple of exquisite structure. Unwilling to omit 
 any chance of better fortune, though ever so remote, but re- 
 solving rather to implore the protection of the god, whoever 
 he might be, she approached the sacred doors. There she be- 
 held splendid offerings, and garments embroidered with golden 
 letters, fastened to the branches of trees and to the door-posts 
 of the temple ; upon which was recorded the name of the god- 
 dess to whom they had been dedicated, and also the particular! 
 of the favour received. 
 
 *' Then Psyche fell upon her knees, and with her hands 
 embracing the yet warm {Lctar, having first ^ Iped away her 
 tears, she thus offered up a prayer : ' sister and consort of 
 mighty Jove ! whether thou dost inhabit the ancient temples 
 of Samos,* which glories in thy birth, thy complaining infancy, 
 and thy nurture ; or whether thou dost frequent the happy 
 mansions of lofty Carthage, which adores thee as a virgin, 
 passing through the heavens in a car drawn by lions ; or dost 
 preside over the renowned walls of the Argives, near the banks 
 of Inachus, where thou art celebrated as the spouse of the Thun- 
 derer, and the Queen of the Gods ; thou whom all the East vene- 
 rates under the name of Zygia,f and all the West denominates 
 
 * Temples of Samos.'] — The goddess Juno was especially worshipped in 
 ■fee island of Samos, and the city of Carthage. The Samians boasted tliat 
 ghe was born in tiiat island, near the river Imbrasus, whence she was called 
 Xmbrasia. 
 
 T Name of Zygia.]—iwno was so called from KvyoQ, & ' yoke,' as pre- 
 iding over the rites of wedlock . 
 
BOOK VI. THE STORY OF CTJPII) AlfD PSYCHE. 113 
 
 L-icina ! be thou, Juno Sospita, a protectress to me in these my 
 overwhelming misfortunes, and deliver me, worn out with long 
 sufferings, from the fear of my impending danger ; for I know 
 that thou art accustomed readily to succour pregnant women 
 in time of peril.' 
 
 " While Psyche thus prayed, Juno appeared before her, in 
 all the august majesty of her divinity, and said, ' How readily 
 would I lend an ear to your entreaties ; but propriety will not 
 permit me to act contrary to the wishes of Venus, my daughter 
 in-law,* whom I have always loved as my own child. Then, 
 besides, the laws forbid f me to receive into my protection any 
 fugitive servant, without the consent of her mistress.' 
 
 " Dismayed by this second shipwreck of her fortunes, and 
 being no longer able to make search for her volatile husband. 
 Psyche gave up all hopes of safety, and thus communed with 
 herself. 'What other relief for my sorrows can now be looked 
 for or procured, since even goddesses cannot, though willing, 
 afford me any assistance ? In what direction shall I once more 
 bend my wandering steps, entangled, as I am, in snares so 
 inextricable ? Concealed in what habitations, in w^hat dark- 
 ness even, can I escape the ever-vigilant eyes of the mighty 
 Venus ? Assume, then, a masculine courage, my soul, boldly 
 renounce vain hopes, voluntarily surrender yourself into the 
 hands of your mistress, and try, though late, to soften her rage 
 by submissive behaviour. Besides, who knows whether you 
 may not perhaps find in his mother's house him whom you 
 have been so long seeking in vain.' Thus prepared for this 
 doubtful experiment of duty, or rather for certain destruction, 
 she considered with herself how she was to preface her en- 
 treaties. 
 
 ''Venus, meanwhile, declining to employ earthly means in 
 pursuing her inquiries after Psyche, returned to heaven. She 
 ordered the chariot to be got ready, which Vulcan had con- 
 structed wdth exquisite skill, and presented to her before the 
 celebration of hi3r marriage. The nuptial gift was of burnished 
 gold, and was even the more precious through the diminution 
 of its material by the file. J Pour white doves, out of the many 
 
 * Ml/ daughter-in-law.'] — Venus being the wife of Vulcan, the son of 
 Juno. 
 
 t The laws forbid.'} — Probably by this expression reference is made to 
 the Fabian law, entitled ' De Piagiariis.' 
 
 X More precious through the diminution, 8fc j — That is to say, the loss 
 
114 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 that nestled about the chamber of their mistress, advanced 
 with joyous flutterings, and bending their painted necks to 
 the jewelled yoke, flew forward with the chariot that contained 
 the goddess. Around it wantoned chattering sparrows, and 
 other birds of sweet note, which announced the approach of 
 Venus in melodious strains. 
 
 "And now the clouds dispersed, heaven unfolded itself be- 
 fore its daughter, and the lofty aether received the goddess 
 Avith joy ; nor did the tuneful retinue of Yenus dread the 
 attack of eagles, or rapacious hawks. She went straightway 
 to the royal citadel of Jove, and with a haughty air demanded, 
 as especially necessary, the services of the crier god ; nor did 
 the azure brow of Jupiter refuse its assent. Exulting Venus, 
 accompanied by Mercury, immediately descended from heaven, 
 and thus anxiously addressed him : ' My Arcadian brother, you 
 well know that your sister, Venus, never did anything without 
 the presence of Mercury, nor are you ignorant how long I 
 have been unable to find my absconded female slave. Nothing 
 remains, therefore, to be done, but for you to proclaim her in 
 public, and announce a reward to him who shall find her. 
 Take care, therefore, that my commands are speedily executed, 
 and clearly describe the marks by which she may be recog- 
 nized; that no one may excuse himself on the plea of ignorance, 
 if he incurs the crime of unlawfully concealing her.' 
 
 " So saying, she gave him a little book, in which were 
 written Psyche's name, and sundry particulars. This done, she 
 immediately returned home. IS'or did Mercury neglect her 
 commands ; for going about among all nations, he thus per- 
 formed his duties as crier : ' If anj- one can seize in her flight, 
 and bring back, a fugitive daughter of a king, a handmaid of 
 Venus, and by name Psyche, or discover where she has con- 
 cealed herself, let such person repair to Mercury, the crier, 
 behind the boundaries of Murtia,* and receive, by way of re- 
 of the precious material was more than compensated by the value of tlie 
 workmanship. Materiam superahat opus. 
 
 * The boundaries of Murtia.] — The spot here mentioned was at tlie 
 back of the temple of Venus Murtia, or guardian of the myrtle, which 
 was built on Mount Aventine, at Rome. In the first idyl of Moschus, 
 Venus thus proclaims the reward for her fugitive child : 
 * On him who the haunts of my Cupid can show, 
 A kiss of the tenderest stamp I'll bestow ; 
 But he who can Irring me the wanderer here, 
 Shall have something more rapturous, something more dear.' 
 This * something more' is the quicquid post oscula dulce of Secundus 
 
BOOK VI. THE STOEY OF CUPID A.IfD PSYCHE. 115 
 
 ward, for the discovery, seven sweet kisses from Yenus herself, 
 and one exquisitely delicious touch of her charming tongue.' 
 
 "Mercury having thus made proclamation, the desire of oh- 
 taining such a reward excited the emulous endeavours of all 
 mankind, and this circumstance it was that quite put an end 
 to all Psyche's hesitation. She was already near her mistress's 
 gates, when she was met by one of the retinue of Venus, whose 
 name was Habit, and who immediately cried out, as loud as 
 she could bawl, ' So, you most good-for-nothing wench, have 
 you at last begun to discover that you have a mistress? And 
 do yoii pretend, too, in your abundant assurance, that you don't 
 know what immense trouble we have had in endeavouring to 
 find you out ? But it is well that you have fallen into my 
 hands, of all others, and have got within the very jaws of 
 Orcus, to receive, without delay, the penalty of such obstinate 
 contumacy.' 
 
 " So saying, she instantly twisted her hands in Psyche's hair, 
 and dragged the unresisting captive along. But Yenus, the 
 moment she was dragged into her presence, burst into a loud 
 laugh, such as people laugh who are furiously angry; and 
 shaking her head and scratching her right ear.* 'At length,' 
 Baid she, 'have you deigned to pay your respects to your 
 moth(T-in-law ? Or rather, are you come to see your sick 
 husband, who is yet dangerously ill from the wound you gave 
 him ? But make yourself easy ; for I shall at once give you 
 a reception such as a good mother-in-law ought to give. 
 Where,' she cried, ' are those seiwants of mine. Anxiety and 
 SoEROw ? ' These attending, at her call, she delivered her to 
 them to be tormented.' Thereupon, in obedience to the com- 
 mands of their mistress, they scourged and inflicted other tor- 
 ments on the wretched Psyche, and after they had tortured 
 her, brought her back again into the presence of Yenus. 
 
 " ' Just look at her,' said Yenus, again setting up a laugh ; 
 * her interesting state quite moves my compassion, since it is 
 through that, forsooth, that she is to make me a happy grand- 
 mother. Fortunate, indeed, am I, who, in the very flower of 
 my age, am to be called a grandmother ! And the son of a 
 vile handmaid is to hear himself called the grandson of Yenus ! 
 And yet I talk nonsense in calling him my grandson ; for ill' 
 assorted marriages, contracted, too, in a country place, without 
 
 * Scratching her right ear.'] — According to Pliny, the throne of Nemesis, 
 the goddess of revenge, is behind the right ear. 
 
116 THE GOLDEX ASS OF APTTLEIITS. 
 
 any witnesses, and without the father's consent, cannot pos- 
 sibly be deemed legitimate ; consequently this child will be a 
 bastard, even if I do suffer you to bring it into the light at all.* 
 
 '' Having thus said, she flew upon her, tore her clothes in a 
 great many places, pulled out her hair, shook her by the head, 
 and grievously maltreated her. Then, taking wheat, barley, 
 millet, poppy, vetches, lentils, and beans, and, mixing them all 
 together in one heap, she said to her : * You seem to me, such 
 an ugly slave as you now are, to be likely to gain lovers in 
 no other way than by diligent drudgery. I will, therefore, 
 myself, for once, make trial of your industrious habits. Take 
 and separate this promiscuous mass of seeds, and having pro- 
 perly placed each grain in its place, and so sorted the whole, 
 give me a proof of your expedition, by finishing the task before 
 evening.' Then having delivered over to her the vast heap of 
 seeds, she at once took her departure for a nuptial banquet. 
 
 " But Psyche astounded at the stupendous task, sat silent and 
 stupified, and did not move a hand to the confused and inex- 
 tricable mass. Just then, a tiny little ant, one of the inhabi- 
 tants of the fields, became aware of this prodigious difficulty ; 
 and pitying the distress of the partner of the mighty god, and 
 execrating the mother-in-law's cruelty, it ran busily about, 
 and summoned together the whole tribe of ants in the neigh- 
 bourhood, crying to them, * Take pity on her, ye active children 
 of the all-producing earth ! Take pity, and make haste to help 
 the wife of Love, a pretty damsel, who is now in a perilous 
 situation.' 
 
 " Immediately the six-footed people came rushing in whole 
 waves one upon another, and with the greatest diligence sepa- 
 rated the whole heap, grain by grain ; then, having assorted 
 the various kinds into different heaps, they vanished forthwith. 
 
 " At nightfall, Venus returned home from the nuptial ban- 
 quet, exhilarated with wine, fragrant with balsams, and having 
 her waist encircled with blooming roses. As soon as she saw 
 with what marvellous expedition the task had been executed, 
 
 * This is no work of your hands, wicked creature,' she said, 
 
 * but his whom you have charmed, to your own sorrow and 
 his ;' and throwing her a piece of coarse bread, she went to bed. 
 
 " Meanwhile, Cupid was closely confined in his chamber, 
 partly that he might not inflame his wound by froward indul- 
 gence, and partly lest he should associate with his beloved. 
 The lovers, thus separated from each other under one roof, 
 
 I 
 
BOOK VI. THE STOltr OF CUPID AND PSYCUE. 117 
 
 passed a miserable night. Eut as soon as Aurora had ushered 
 in the morning, Venus called Psyche, and thus addressed her : 
 ' Do you see yonder grove, stretching along the margin of a 
 river, whose deep eddies receive the waters of a neighbouring 
 fountain ? There shining sheep of a golden colour wander 
 about, feeding without a shepherd. I desire that you bring 
 me immediately a flock of that precious wool, get it how you 
 may.* 
 
 " Psyche willingly set out, not with any intention of exe- 
 cuting this command, but to procure rest from her misfortunes, 
 by hurling herself headlong from the rock into the river. But 
 when she came to the brink, a green reed, the nurse of sweet 
 music,* divinely inspired by a gentle breath of air, thus pro- 
 phetically murmured : * Psj^che ! exercised in mighty sorrows, 
 neither pollute my sacred waters by your most miserable death, 
 nor venture yet to approach the formidable sheep on the oppo- 
 site bank. While heated by the burning radiance of the sun, 
 they are transported with savage rage, and are the destruction 
 of mortals, either by their sharp horns, their stony foreheads, 
 or their venomous bites. Therefore until the sun has declined 
 from the meridian, and the serene spirit of the flood has 
 lulled the animals to rest, you may hide yourself under yonder 
 lofty plane tree, which drinks of the same river with myself ; 
 and as soon as the sheep have mitigated their fnij, if you shake 
 the branches of the neighbouring grove, you will find the woolly 
 gold every where sticking to them.' Thus the artless and 
 humane reed taught the wretched Psyche how to accomplish 
 this dangerous enterprise with safety. 
 
 " Psyche, therefore, observing all the directions, found her 
 obedience was not in vain, but returned to Venus with her 
 bosom fuUf of the delicate golden fleece. Yet she was not able 
 to win the approbation of her mistress by this her second peri- 
 lous labour. But Venus, smiling bitterly with knitted brows, 
 thus addressed her : ' I do not fail to perceive another's hand 
 in the performance of this task also ; but I will now try whe- 
 ther you are endowed with a courageous mind and singular 
 prudence. Do you see the summit of yonder lofty mountain ? 
 From that peak fall the dusky waters of a black fountain, which. 
 
 * Nurse of sweet music] — So called because the pipe of Pan was 
 formed of reeds joined together. 
 
 t Her bosom full.] — I'he ancients used the part of the robe that 
 covered the bosom, as a pocket. 
 
118 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULETTTS 
 
 after being confined in the neighbouring valley, irrigate the 
 Stygian marshes, and supply the hoarse streams of Cocytus ? 
 Bring me immediately in this little urn, ice-cold water drawn 
 from the very midst of the lofty fountain.' Thus speaking, 
 she gave her a vessel of polished crystal, and at the same time 
 threatened her more severely than before. 
 
 ^' But Psyche started off with the utmost celerity to reach 
 the very summit of the mountain, presuming that there, at 
 least, she would find the period of her most miserable life. 
 However, when she arrived at its confines, she saw the 
 deadly difficulty of the stupendous undertaking. Tor a rock, 
 enormously lofty, and inaccessibly rugged, vomits from its 
 middle the horrid waters of the fountain, which, immediately 
 falling headlong, are carried unseen through a deep, narrow, 
 and covered channel into the neighbouring valley. On the 
 right and left hand they creep through hollow rocks, over 
 which fierce dragons stretch out their long necks, and keep a 
 perpetual watch with unwinking vigilance. And the vocal 
 waters exclaim ever and anon as they roll along, ' Begone ; 
 what are you about ? Mind what you do ; take care ; fly ; 
 you will perish.' 
 
 " Psyche, therefore, petrified through the impossibility of 
 accomplishing the task, though she was present in body was 
 absent in mind, and being perfectly overwhelmed by the in- 
 extricable danger, was even deprived of the benefit of tears, 
 the last solace of the wretched. But the sorrow of the inno- 
 cent soul is not concealed from the penetrating eyes of Provi- 
 dence. The rapacious eagle, Jove's royal bird, on a sudden 
 flew to her with expanded wings, remembering his ancient 
 obligations to Cupid, who enabled him to carry the Phrygian 
 cup-bearer up to Jove ; therefore, in gratitude to the young 
 god, the eagle deserted the lofty paths of Jupiter, and bringing 
 seasonable assistance to Cupid's wife in her distress, ho thus 
 addressed her : ' Can you, simple as you are, and inexperienced 
 in attempts of this kind, ever hope to steal one drop of this 
 most holy and no less terrible fountain ? Have you not heard, 
 at least, that these Stygian waters are formidable even to 
 Jupiter himself, and that as you swear by the divinity of the 
 gods, so they are accustomed to swear by the majesty of Styx } 
 But give me that little urn.' Snatching it in haste, he sailed 
 away on his strong wings, steering his course to the right and 
 to the left, between the rows of raging teeth, and the three- 
 
BOOK VI. THE STOEr OF CTTPID AND PSYCHE. 119 
 
 forked vibrating tongues of the dragons until he reached and 
 drew the reluctant waters, which warned him to begone while ho 
 might in safety. But he pretended that Yenus herself wanted 
 some of the water, and had ordered him to procure it ; and on 
 this account his access to the fountain was somewhat facilitated. 
 
 *' Psyche, therefore, joyfully receiving the full urn, returned 
 with all speed to Yenus. Yet not even by the accomplishment of 
 this dangerous enterprise, could she appease the anger of the 
 raging goddess. For designing to expose her to still more outra- 
 geous trials, Yenus thus addressed her, a smile, the harbinger of 
 ruin, accompanying her words : ' You appear to me to be a pro- 
 found and malevolent sorceress, or you never could with so 
 much dexterity have performed my commands : but there is 
 one task more, my dear, which you must perform. Take this 
 box,' she said, delivering it to her, ' and direct your course to 
 the infernal regions and the deadly palace of Pluto. Then pre- 
 senting the box to Proserpine, say, Yenus requests you to send 
 her a small portion of your beauty, at least as much as may be 
 sufficient for one short day; for she has consumed all the 
 beauty she possessed, through the attention which she pays to 
 her sick son. But return with the utmost expedition ; for I 
 must adorn myself with this beauty of Proserpine, before I go 
 to the theatre of the gods.* 
 
 ''Psyche was now truly sensible that she was arrived at the 
 extremity of her evil fortune ; and clearly perceived that she 
 was openly and undisguisedly impelled to immediate destruc- 
 tion, since she was forced to direct her steps to Tartarus and 
 the shades below. Without any further delay, therefore, she 
 proceeded towards a lofty tower, that she might thence hurl 
 herself headlong; for she considered that she should thus 
 descend by a straight and easy road to the infernal regions. 
 But she was no sooner arrived there, than the tower suddenly 
 addressed her in the following words : 
 
 '' ' AYhy, miserable creature, dost thou seek to destroy thy- 
 self by falling headlong hence ? And w^hy dost thou rashly 
 sink under this thy last danger and endurance ? For as soon 
 as thy breath shall thus be separated from thy body, thou wilt 
 indeed descend to profound Tartarus, but canst not by any 
 means return thence. Listen, therefore, to me. Lacedaemon, 
 a noble city of Achaia, is not far from hence. Near this city, 
 concealed in devious places, is Tenarus, which you must seek ; 
 for there you will find a cavity, which is Pluto's breathing 
 
r 
 
 120 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 hole, and an untraversed road presents itself to the view through 
 the yawning gap. As soon as you have passed the threshold 
 of this cavity, you will proceed in a direct path to the palace 
 of Pluto. You ought not, however, to pass through those 
 shades with empty hands, bat should take a sop of barley 
 bread, soaked in hydromel, in each hand, and in your mouth 
 two pieces of money. And when you have accomplished 
 a good part of your deadly journey, you will meet a lame 
 ass laden w^ith wood, with a driver as lame as himself, who 
 will ask you to reach him certain cords to fasten the bur- 
 den which has fallen from the ass : but be careful that you 
 pass by him in silence. Then, without any delay, proceed till 
 5'ou arrive at the dead river, where Charon, immediately de^ 
 manding his fee, ferries tlie passengers over in his patched 
 boat to the farthest shore. 
 
 " 'Avarice, it appears, lives among the dead ; nor does Charon 
 himself, nor the father Pluto, though so great a god, do any 
 thing gratuitously. The poor man dying, ought to prepare his 
 viaticum ; but if he has no money at hand, will no one suffer 
 him to expire ? To this squalid old man give one of the pieces 
 of money which you carry with you ; yet in such a manner, 
 that he may take it with his own hand from your mouth. 
 "While you are passing over the sluggish river, a certain dead 
 old man, floating on its surface, and raising his putrid hand, 
 will entreat you to take him into the boat. Beware, however, 
 of yielding to any impulse of unlawful pity. Having passed 
 over the river, and proceeded to a little distance beyond it, 
 you will see certain old women, weaving a web, who will re- 
 quest you to lend them a helping hand ; but it is not lawful 
 for 5'ou to touch the web. For all these, and many other par- 
 ticulars, are snares prepared for you by Venus, that you may 
 drop one of the sops out of your hands. But do not suppose 
 that this would be a trifling loss ; since the want of only one 
 of these sops, would prevent your return to light. For a huge 
 dog, with three large, fierce, and formidable necks and heads, 
 barking with his thundering jaws, terrifies in vain the dead, 
 whom he cannot injure; and always watcliing before the 
 threshold and black palace of Proserpine, guards the void Plu- 
 tonian mansion. Having appeased this dog with one of your 
 sops, you may easily pass by him, and then you will imme- 
 diately enter the presence of Proserpine herself, who will re- 
 ceive you in a very courteous and benignant manner, desire 
 
BOOK YI. THE STOEY OF CUPID AND PSYCHE. 121 
 
 you to repose on a soft seat, and persuade you to partake of a 
 sumptuous banquet. But seat yourself on the ground, ask for 
 a piece of common bread, and eat it ; then deliver your mes- 
 sage, and having received what you came for, bribe the cruel 
 dog with the remaining sop. Afterwards, having given to the 
 avaricious ferryman the piece of money which you have re- 
 served, and having passed his river, you will return by the 
 way you came to the choir of the celestial stars. But, above 
 all things, I warn you, be particularly cautious not to open or 
 look on the box which you carry, or explore that concealed 
 treasury of divine beauty.' In this manner, the propitious 
 tower delivered its prophetic admonitions. 
 
 " Psyche, therefore, without delaj^, proceeded to Tenarus, 
 and duly taldng her pieces of money and her sops, ran down 
 the infernal avenue. Here, having passed by the lame ass in 
 silence, given the ferryman his fee, neglected the entreaties of 
 the floating corpse, despised the fraudulent prayers of the 
 spinsters, and lulled the rage of the horrid dog with a sop, she 
 entered the palace of Proserpine. jS'or did she accept the deli- 
 cate seat, or delicious banquet ; but humbly sat at the feet of 
 Proserpine, and contented with a piece of common bread, deli- 
 vered her embassy from Venus. Immediately after this, she 
 received the box secretly filled and shut ; and having stopped 
 the barking mouth of the dog with the remaining sop, and 
 given the ferryman the other piece of money, she returned from 
 the infernal regions much more vigorous than before. 
 
 " Having again beheld and adored the fair light of day, 
 though she was in haste to finish her errand, she was seized 
 Vv^ith a rash curiosity : ' Behold,' said she, ' what a foolish 
 bearer am I of divine beautj', who do not even take the least 
 portion of it, that I may by this means appear pleasing in the 
 eyes of my beautiful lover.' As she ended this soliloquy, she 
 opened the box ; but it contained no beauty, nor indeed any- 
 thing but an infernal and truly Stygian sleep, which being freed 
 from its confinement, immediately seizes her, suff'uses all her 
 members with a dense cloud of somnolence, and holds her 
 prostrate on the very spot where she opened the box ; so that 
 she lay motionless, and nothing else than a sleeping corpse. 
 
 " But Cupid, being now recovered of his wound, and unable 
 to endure the long absence of his Psyche, glided through the 
 narrow window of the bedchamber in which he was confined. 
 
122 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APFLEIUS. 
 
 His wings, invigorated by repose, flew far more swiftly than 
 before ; he hastened to his Psyche, and carefully brushing off 
 the cloud of sleep, and shutting it up again in its old recep- 
 tacle, the box, he roused Psyche with an innoxious touch of 
 one of his arrows. * Behold,' said he, * unhappy girl, again 
 you have all but perished, a victim to curiosity. Now, how- 
 ever, strenuously perform the task imposed upon you by my 
 mother, and I myself will take care of the rest.' Having thus 
 spoken, the lover soared aloft on his wings, and Psyche imme- 
 diately carried the present of Proserpine to Yeuus. 
 
 *' In the meantime, Cupid, wasting away through excess of 
 love, and dreading his mother's sudden prudery, betakes him- 
 self to his usual weapons of craft, and having with rapid wings 
 penetrated the summit of heaven, supplicates the mighty Ju- 
 piter, and defends his cause. Then Jupiter, stroking the little 
 cheeks of Cupid, and kissing his hand, thus addressed him : — 
 * Though you, my masterful son, never pay me that reverence 
 which has been decreed me by the synod of the Gods, but per* 
 petually wound this breast of mine, by which the laws of the 
 elements and the revolutions of the stars are governed, and 
 frequently defile it with earthly intrigues, contrary to the laws, 
 the Julian edict, '^* and public discipline, injuring my reputa- 
 tion and fame by base adulteries, and sordidly changing my 
 serene countenance into serpents, fire, wild beasts, birds, and 
 cattle ; nevertheless, remembering my own moderation, and 
 that you have been nursed in these hands of mine, I will ac- 
 complish all that you desire. At the same time you must 
 be sensible that you ought to guard against rivals, and to re- 
 compense me for this service, by presenting me with any girl 
 of transcendent beauty that may now happen to be upon the 
 earth.' 
 
 *' Having thus spoken, he ordered Mercury immediately 
 to summon an assembly of all the Gods; and at the same 
 time to proclaim, that if any one of the celestials absented 
 himself, he should be fined ten thousand pieces of money. 
 The fear of such a penalty caused the celestial theatre to be 
 filled immediately; whereupon lofty Jupiter, sitting on his 
 sublime throne, thus addressed the assembly of Gods : — * Ye 
 conscript Gods, whose names are registered in the white roll of 
 
 * The Julian edict."] — Alluding to the law against adultery, instituted 
 by Augustus Cscsar, 
 
BOOK VI. THK STOKY OF CrPID AND PSYCHE. 123 
 
 the Muses, you are all well acquainted with that youth whom 
 I have reared with my own hands, and the impetuous fire of 
 whose juvenile years I deem it necessary to restrain by some 
 bridle or other. It is sufficient that he is every day defamed in 
 conversation, for the adulteries and all manner of corruption 
 of which he is the cause. Every occasion of this must be taken 
 away, and his youthful libertinism must be bound in nuptial 
 fetters. He has made choice of a girl, and deprived her of her 
 virginity. Let him, therefore, hold her, let him possess her, and 
 embracing Psyche, always enjoy the object of his love.' Then 
 turning his face to Venus, ' Nor do you, my daughter,' said 
 he, * be sorrowful on this occasion, nor fearful that your pedi- 
 gree and rank will be disgraced by a mortal marriage ; for I 
 will now cause the nuptials not to be unequal, but legitimate, 
 and agreeable to the civil law.' Immediately after this, he 
 ordered Mercury to bring Psyche to heaven ; and as soon as 
 she arrived, extending to her a cup of ambrosia, * Take this,' 
 said he, ' Psyche, and be immortal ; nor shall Cupid ever 
 depart from your embrace, but these nuptials of yours shall 
 be perpetual.' 
 
 " Then, without delay, a sumptuous wedding supper w^as 
 served up. The husband, reclining at the upper end of the 
 table, embraced Psyche in his bosom ; in like manner, Jupiter 
 was seated with Juno, and after them, the other gods and 
 goddesses in their proper order. Then Jupiter was presented 
 with a bowl of nectar, the wine of the Gods, by the rustic 
 youth Ganymede, his cup-bearer ; but Bacchus supplied the 
 rest. Yulcan dressed the supper ; the Hours empurpled every- 
 thing with roses and other fragrant flowers ; the Graces 
 scattered balsam ; the Muses sang melodiously ; Apollo accom- 
 panied the lyre with his voice ; and beautiful Yenus danced 
 with steps in unison with the delightful music. The order, 
 too, of the entertainment was, that the Muses should sing 
 the chorus, Satyrus play on the flute, and Peniscus"^' on the 
 pipe. Thus Psyche came law^fully into the hands of Cupid ; 
 and at length, from a mature pregnancy, a daughter was born 
 to them, whom we denominate PLEAsuEE."f 
 
 END OE THE EIFTH EPISODE. 
 
 * Peniscus.] — One of the satyrs of the wood- 
 
 + The following explanation of this heautiful fable is, for the most part, 
 
124 THE G0LDE3T ASS OF APULEITJS. 
 
 Such was the tale told to the captive damsel by that delirious 
 and tipsy old woman ; but I, who stood not far from her, 
 
 extracted from the Introduction to a translation of it, formerly made by 
 me, and published in the year 1795. 
 
 This fable, which was designed to represent the lapse of the soul from 
 the intelligible world to the earth, was certainly not invented by Apuleius; 
 for, as it will appear in the course of this note, it is evidently alluded to by 
 Synesius, in his book on Dreams, and obscurely by Plato and Plotinus. It 
 is clear, therefore, that Plato could not derive his allusion from Apuleius ; 
 and as to Plotinus and Synesius, those who are at all acquainted with the 
 writings of the Greek philosophers, well know that they never borrowed 
 from Latin authors, from a just conviction that they had the sources of 
 perfection among themselves. 
 
 I have said, that this fable represented the lapse of the human soul ; of 
 the truth of which, the philosophical reader will be convinced by the fol- 
 lowing observations. In the first place, the Gods, as I have elsewhere 
 shown, are super-essential natures, from their profound union with the 
 first cause, who is super-essential without any addition. Bat though the 
 Gods, through their summits or unities, transcend essence, yet their unities 
 are participated either by intellect alone, or by intellect and soul, or by 
 intellect, soul, and body ; from which participations the various orders of 
 the Gods are deduced. When, therefore, intellect, soul, and body, are in 
 conjunction, suspended from the super-essential unity, which is the centre, 
 flower, or blossom, of a divine nature, then the God from whom they are 
 suspended is called a mundane God. In the next place, the common pa- 
 rents of the human soul are the intellect and soul of the world : but its 
 proximate parents are the intellect and soul of the particular star about 
 which it was originally distributed, and from which it first descends. In 
 the third place, those powers of every mundane God, which are partici- 
 pated by the body suspended from his nature, are called mundane; but 
 those who are participated by his intellect, are called super-mundane ; and 
 the soul, while subsisting in union with these super-mundane powers, is 
 said to be in the inteUigible world ; but v.hen she wholly directs her at- 
 tention to the mundane powers of her God, she is said to descend from 
 the intelhgible world, even while subsisting in the heavens. 
 
 Thus much being premised, let us proceed to the explanation of the 
 fable. Psyche, then, or soul, is described as transcendently beautiful, and 
 this is indeed true of every human soul, before it profoundly merges itself 
 in the defiling folds of dark matter. In the next place, when Psyche is 
 represented as descending from the summit of a lofty mountain, into a 
 beautiful valley, this signifies the descent of the soul from the intelligible 
 world into a mundane condition of being, but yet without abandoning its 
 establishment in the heavens. Hence, the palace which Psyche beholds 
 in the valley, is, with great propriety, said to be ' a royal house, which 
 was not raised by human, but by divine hands and art.' The gems, too, 
 on which Psyche is said to have trod in every part of this palace, are 
 evidently symbolical of the stars. Of this mundane, yet celestial condi. 
 
BOOK VI. THE STOUT OF CUPID AND PSYCHE. 125 
 
 lamented, by Hercules, that I had not the means of committing 
 to writing such a beautiful fable. 
 
 And now the robbers returned laden with booty, having 
 
 tion of being, the incorporeal voices which attended upon Psyche, are 
 likewise symbolical : for outward discourse is the last image of intellectual 
 energy, according to which the soul alone operates in the intelligible world. 
 As voices, therefore, they signify an establishment subordinate to that 
 which is intelHgible, but so far as denuded of body, they also signify a 
 condition of being superior to a terrene allotment. 
 
 Psyche, in this delightful situation, is married to an invisible being, 
 whom she alone recognises by her ears and hands. This invisible hus- 
 band proves afterwards to be Cupid, or Love ; that is to say, the soul, 
 while established in the heavens, is united to love of the purest kind, i e. 
 to intellectual love, or, in other words, is not fascinated with outward 
 form. But in this beautiful palace she is attacked by the machinations of 
 her two sisters, who endeavour to persuade her to explore the form of her 
 unknown husband. The sisters, therefore, signify those two powers of 
 the irrational part of the soul, anger and desire, the latter of v^hich powers 
 is well defined by tlie Pythagoreans to be a certain tendency, impulse, and 
 appetite -of the soul, in order to be filled with something, or to enjoy 
 something present, or to be disposed according to some sensitive energy ; 
 just as reason or the rational soul is signified by Psyche. The stratagems 
 of these sisters at length take effect, and Psyche beholds and falls in love 
 with Love ; that is to say, the rational part, through the incentives of 
 anger and desire, becomes enamoured of, and captivated with, outward 
 form ; in consequence of which Cupid, or intellectual love, flies away, and 
 Psyche, or the rational soul, is precipitated to earth. It is remarkable 
 that Psyche, after falling to the ground, is represented as having ''a stum- 
 bling and often reeling gait ;' for Plato, in the Phaedo, says, that the soul 
 is drawn into body with a staggering motion. 
 
 After this, commence the wanderings of Psyche in search of Cupid, 
 or intellectual love, from whose embraces she is unhappily torn away. 
 In the course of her journey, she arrives at the temples of Ceres and 
 Juno, whose aid she suppliantly implores. Her conduct, indeed, in this 
 respect, is highly becoming. For Ceres comprehends in her essence 
 Juno, who is the fountain of souls ; and the safety of the soul arises from 
 converting herself to the divine sources of her being. 
 
 In the next place, Venus is represented desiring Mercury to proclaim 
 Psyche through all lands, as one of her female slaves, that had fled from 
 her service. It is likewise said that she gave hioii a small volume, in 
 which the name of Psyche was written, and every other particular re- 
 specting her. Now, I think, it cannot be doubted that Synesius alludes 
 to this part of the fable, in the following passage from his treatise ou 
 Dreams : * When the soul descends spontaneously to its former life, with 
 mercenary views, it receives servitude as the reward of its mercenary 
 labours. But this is the intention of descent, that the soul may accom- 
 plish a certain servitude to the nature of the universe, presci'ibed by tha 
 
126 THE GOLDEN" ASS OP APULEIUS. 
 
 apparently fought a severe battle. Nevertheless, some of the 
 more active spirits among them leaving the wounded at home 
 
 laws of Adrastia, or inevitable fate. Hence, when the soul is fascinated 
 with material endowments, she is affected in a manner similar to those 
 who, though born free, are, for a certain time, hired to employments, 
 and, in this condition, captivated by the beauty of some female servant, 
 determine to act in a menial capacity, under the master of their beloved 
 object. Thus, in a similar manner, when we are profoundly dehghted 
 with external and corporeal good, we confess that the nature of mattep 
 is beautiful, who marks our assent in her secret book ; and if, considering 
 ourselves as free, we at any time determine to depart, she proclaims us 
 deserters, and endeavours to bring us back, and, openly presenting her 
 mystic volume to the view, apprehends us, as fugitives from our mistress. 
 Then, indeed, the soul particularly requires fortitude and divine assistance, 
 as it is no trifling contest to abrogate the confession and compact which 
 she has made. Besides, in this case force will be employed ; for the 
 material inflicters of punishments will then be roused to revenge, by the 
 decrees of fate, against the rebels to her laws.' 
 
 Venus, however, must not be considered here as the nature of matter ; 
 for though she is not the celestial Venus, but the offspring of Dione, yet, 
 according to Proclus in Cratylum, she is that divine power which governs 
 all the co-ordinations in the celestial world and in the earth, binds them 
 to each other, and perfects their generative progressions, through a 
 kindred conjunction. As the celestial Venus, therefore, separates the 
 pure soul from generation, or the regions of sense, so she that proceeds 
 from Dione binds the impure soul, as her legitimate slave, to a corporeal 
 life. 
 
 After this, follows an account of the difficult tasks which Psyche is 
 obliged to execute, by the commands of Venus ; all which are images of 
 the mighty toils and anxious cares which the soul must necessarily endure 
 after her lapse, in order to atone for her guilt, and recover her ancient 
 residence in the intelligible world. In accomplishing the last of these 
 labours, she is represented as forced to descend even to the dark regions 
 of Hades, which indicates that the soul, through being enslaved to a cor- 
 poreal life, becomes situated in obscurity, and is deprived of the light of 
 day, i. e. of the splendour of truth and reality ; agreeably to which, Em- 
 pedocles sings, 
 
 * I fled from deity and heavenly light, 
 To serve mad discord in the realms of night,' 
 
 But Psyche, in returning from Hades, is oppressed with a profound sleep, 
 through indiscreetly opening the box given her by Proserpine, in which 
 she expected to find a portion of divine beauty, but met with nothing 
 but an infernal Stygian sleep. This obscurely signifies, that the soul, by 
 expecting to find that which is truly beautiful in a corporeal and terrene 
 life, passes into a profoundly dorniant state ; and it appears to me, that 
 both Plato and Plotinus allude to this part of the fable, in the following 
 
BOOK YI. IllE EOBBEES ILLTEEAT LTJCIUS. 127 
 
 to be cured, proposed to go and bring away the other 
 bundles of plunder, which, as they said, they had concealed in 
 a certain cave. So having hastily devoured their dinner, they 
 turned me and my horse into the road, intending to loud us with 
 those bundles ; and striking us with staves, they marched us 
 over many ups and downs, and through many windings, until 
 we arrived, towards evening, very weary, at a certain cavern, 
 from whence they quickly brought us back, heavily loaded, 
 without having allowed us a moment's rest. Such was their 
 haste and trepidation, that ther drove me by their blows 
 against a stone which lay in the road, and caused me to fall 
 down ; and then the blows fell thicker and faster to compel 
 me to rise, which I could hardly do being severely hurt in 
 my off leg and near hoof. *' How long," cried one of them, 
 " shall we waste food on this worn-out ass, and who is now 
 gone lame too ?" " He has brought us ill-luck," said another ; 
 *'and ever since we had him we have gained little else than 
 blows, and the loss of our brave comrades." ''Decidedly," 
 
 passages, the originals of which may he seen in p. 10 of my Dissertation 
 on the Eleusinian and Bacchic Mysteries. In the first place, then Plato 
 in book vii. of his RepubHc observes, ' that he who is not able, by the 
 exercise of his reason, to define the idea of the good, separating it from 
 all others, and piercing, as in a battle, through every kind of argument ; 
 eagerly striving to confute, not according to opinion, but according to 
 essence, and in all these, marching forward with undeviating reason, — 
 such a one knows nothing of the good itself, nor of any good whatever ; 
 but if he has attained to any image of the good, we must say he has at- 
 tained to it by opinion, not by science ; that in the present life he is 
 sleeping, and conversant with dreams, and that, before he is roused, lie 
 will descend to Hades, and there be prqfoundly and perfectly laid asleep. 
 And Plotinus, in Ennead. I. lib. viii. p. 80, says, ' The death of the soul 
 is for it, while merged, as it were, in the present body, to descend into 
 matter, and be filled with its impurity, and, after departmg from this body, 
 to lie absorbed in its filth, till it returns to a superior condition, and ele- 
 vates its eye from the overwhelming mire. For to be plunged into matter, 
 is to descend to Hades, and fall asleep.' 
 
 Cupid, however, or intellectual love, at length recovering his pristine 
 vigour, rouses Psyche, or the rational part of the soul, from her deadly 
 lethargy. In consequence of this, having accomplished her destined 
 toils, she ascends to her native heaven, becomes lawfully united to Cupid, 
 (for, while descending, her union with him might be called illegitimate), 
 lives the life of the immortals, and the natural result of this union is 
 pleasure or delight. And thus much for an explanation of the fable oi 
 Cupid and Psyche. — Taylor. 
 
128 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 Baid a third, " as soon as he has brought home this burden, 
 which he carries so unwillingly, I will immediately hurl him 
 down a precipice as dainty food for vultures." 
 
 While those mildest of men were debating with each other 
 about the death I was to die, we had now reached our home ; 
 for fear had made wings of my hoofs. Then having hastily 
 removed our burdens, and paying no attention to our wants, 
 nor even thinking of my death, they took their woundcjd com- 
 rades with them and started off again, to make up, as they said, 
 for the time lost through my sluggishness. 
 
 Meanwhile, I was made not a little uneasy by thoughts of 
 the death with which I was threatened ; and I said to myself: 
 " Why do you stand still, Lucius ? Why do you tamely await 
 the last calamity that can befall you ? Death, and that of the 
 most cruel kind, is decreed for you by the robbers, nor is the 
 execution of the sentence a thing to cause them any great diffi- 
 culty. You see those neighbouring precipices, and those sharp 
 rocks projecting from their sides, which, fall wherever you 
 may, will penetrate your body and tear you limb from limb. 
 For that illustrious magic you were so fond of has given 
 you only the form and the labours of an ass, but has invested 
 you not with the thick hide of that animal, but with the deli- 
 cate skin of a horse-leech. Why do you not, therefore, assume 
 a masculine spirit, and consult your safety while yet you 
 may ? You have an excellent opportunity for flight while the 
 robbers are away. Are you afraid of a half-dead old woman, 
 whom you may finish with one blow of your lame foot .'^ But 
 whither on earth shall I fly, or who will receive me under his 
 roof ? Nay, that is a stupid, and perfectly asinine reflection ; 
 for where is the traveller who would not gladly ride off upon 
 a beast that fell in his way ?" And with that I made a strong 
 effort, broke the thong by which I was tied, and was off as 
 fast as my four legs could carry me. 
 
 Yet I could not escape the hawk's eyes of the crafty old 
 woman ; for, as soon as she saw me free, she laid hold of the 
 thong, with a boldness above her sex and age, and strove to 
 lead me back again. I, however, bearing in mind the deadly 
 purpose of the robbers, was moved by no pity, but immedi- 
 ately knocked her down with a stroke of my hind feet. Eut 
 even when sprawling on the ground, she held on to the thorfg 
 with a tenacious gripe, so that for a while I dragged her along, 
 
BOOK VI. LUCmS A??D THE DAMSEL GALLOP OFF. 129 
 
 in my gallop. She immediately began, too, with clamorous howl- 
 ings, to implore the assistance of a stronger hand ; but all the 
 noise she made was of no use ; for there was no one but the 
 captive virgin that could afford her aid ; and she, startled by 
 the uproar, ran out of the cave, and saw, by Hercules, a most 
 remarkable scene, the old woman, like another Dirce, only 
 hanging not to a bull, but to an ass.* Then did the virgin, 
 with virile daring, perform an admirable exploit. For, wrest- 
 ing the thong from the hands of the old woman, she checked 
 my speed with bland words, mounted cleverly on my back, 
 and again incited me to hasten away. Besides my own spon- 
 taneous desire to escape, I was now impelled by a wish to 
 liberate the virgin, and further urged by the blows with which 
 she frequently admonished me ; so that my four feet beat the 
 ground at the rate of a courser's gallop ; and all the while I 
 endeavoured to reply by my braying to the sweet words of the 
 virgin. Sometimes, also, turning my neck, and pretending to 
 scratch my back, I kissed her beautiful feet. 
 ' At last, sighing deeply, and looking anxiously to heaven, 
 *' ye Gods," she said, *' give me your aid, now or never, 
 in my extreme danger ; and thou, cruel Fortune, now 
 cease thy rage. Thou hast surely been suificiently appeased 
 by these my miserable torments. And you (addressing her- 
 self to me), in whom I rely for liberty and life, if you 
 bring me home safe, and restore me to my parents and my 
 beautiful lover, what thanks shall I not give you, what honours 
 shall I not bestow upon you, and what food shall I not afford 
 you? In the first place, I will comb that mane of yours 
 nicely, and adorn it with my virgin hands ; next, I will grace- 
 fully part and curl the hairs that hang over your forehead ; 
 and then I will, with all diligence, comb out and disentangle 
 the rough and matted bristles of your long-neglected tail. I 
 will stud you all over, my preserver, with many golden or- 
 naments, which will make you as resplendent as the stars of 
 heaven ; I will lead you along in triumph, while the people 
 joyfully follow ; and I will daily fatten you, bringing to you 
 nuts and tit-bits in my silken apron. 
 
 * To an ass.'] — Apuleius here alludes to the story of Dirce, the wife of 
 Lyciis, king of Thebes, whom he married after he had divorced Antiope. 
 Zethus and Amphion tied her to the tail of an untamed bull, and turned 
 the animal loose ; but the Gods compassionately changed her into a foua- 
 tain. 
 
130 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEniS. 
 
 "But think not that amidst that delicate food, complete 
 leisure, and the blessedness of your whole life, a glorious dig- 
 nity shall be wanting to you. For I will leave a perpetual 
 monument of my present fortune, and of divine providence ; 
 and will dedicate, in the vestibule of my house, an image of 
 my present flight, depicted on a tablet. This history, also, 
 though rude, shall be narrated in fables, and delivered to pos- 
 terity in the writings of the learned ; viz. the history op a 
 
 ROYAL VIRGIN FLYING FROM CAPTIVITY ON THE BACK OF AN ASS. 
 
 You shall likewise be numbered among the miracles of anti- 
 quity. For, from the example of your true history, we shall 
 believe that Phryxus crossed the sea on the back of a ram, that 
 Arion piloted a dolphin, and that Europa sat on a bull. And, 
 truly, if Jupiter lowed under the form of a bull, something 
 human or divine may be concealed in my ass." 
 
 "While the virgin ran on in this way, mingling frequent sighs 
 with her ebullitions of hope, we came to a certain place where 
 three roads met ; and there, seizing me by the headstall, she 
 strove hard to turn me into the road on the right hand, because 
 it led to the abode of her parents. But I, who knew that 
 the robbers had taken that path, in order to bring away the 
 remainder of their spoil, strenuously resisted, and thus silently, 
 in my own mind, expostulated with her : " What are you do- 
 ing, unhappy virgin ? What are you about ? Why will you 
 hasten to Hades ? What sort of use is this you want to make 
 of my feet ? You will be the cause not only of your own de- 
 struction, but of mine likewise." 
 
 "While we were thus at variance about the road we should 
 take, and were contending like coheirs in a law-suit about the 
 lordship of the ground and the division of the path, the robbers, 
 laden with their plunder, perceived us, and recognizing us at 
 a considerable distance, by the light of the moon, saluted us 
 with a malignant laugh; and one of their number thus addressed 
 us : " Whither away so fast by moonlight ? Do you not fear 
 the shades and ghosts that roam by night ? Are you hasten- 
 ing, most dutiful maiden, to pay a clandestine visit to your 
 parents ? Well, you shall not travel all alone, we will escOTt 
 you, and show you a shorter way to your friends." And with 
 that, he laid hold on my rein, and turned mo round, at the 
 same time beating mc unmercifully with the knotted staff he 
 carried in his hand. Then I, returning full loth to prompt de- 
 
BOOK VI. THE EGBBEES* COIJI^CIL. 131 
 
 Btruction, recollected the pain of my hoof, and began to walk 
 lame, with my head bobbing up and down ; upon which, said 
 the robber who had turned me back : "So, then, you stumble 
 and stagger again. Your rotten feet are able to gallop away, 
 but cannot walk. Yet, just now, you surpassed the winged 
 speed of Pegasus." 
 
 While my kind conductor thus jeered me, whacking me at 
 the same time with his staff, we had now arrived at the out- 
 ward enclosure of the robbers' abode. And there, behold, we 
 found the old woman, with a rope tied about her neck, sus- 
 pended from a branch of a lofty cypress tree. The robbers took 
 her down, and dragging her along by her own rope, pitched 
 her over the brink of a precipice. Then, having put the virgin 
 in chains, they fell savagely upon the supper which the un- 
 happy old woman had prepared for them, with posthumous 
 diligence, as it were. And now, while they were devouring 
 everything with greedy voracity, they began to discuss the 
 question of our punishment, and their own revenge, and the 
 opinions expressed on the subject were various, as is usually 
 the case in a turbulent crowd. One proposed that the virgin 
 should be burnt alive ; a second was for exposing her to wild 
 beasts ; a third was of opinion that she should be crucified ; 
 and a fourth, that she should be mangled by various torments. 
 At all events, she was condemned to die, in one way or other, 
 by the suffrage of all. 
 
 At last one of them, having prevailed on the rest to cease 
 the tumult, addressed them thus, in a mild and placid tone : 
 *' It does not accord with the ordinances of our association, 
 nor with the clemency of each of us, nor indeed with my 
 own moderation, to suffer you to inflict punishment which 
 exceeds the magnitude of the crime; nor that you should 
 employ for this purpose wild beasts, or the cross, or fire, or 
 torments, or invoke the hasty darkness of a rapid death. 
 Hearken, then, to my counsel, and grant life to the maiden, 
 but such life as she deserves. You have not, of course, forgotten 
 what you some time ago decreed respecting that ass, who was 
 always sluggish, indeed, but a prodigious eater, and who now 
 also has counterfeited lameness, and has made himself the in- 
 strument and servant of the virgin's flight. It will be well, 
 therefore, to cut his throat to-morrow, and, having taken out 
 all his intestines, to sew up the virgin, naked, in the belly 
 
 k2 
 
l32 THE Q0LDE2? ASS OP APULEITJS. 
 
 of the ass, who has preferred her to us ; so that, her face 
 alone may project and be visible, and the rest of her body 
 may be confined in the beastly embrace of his belly. Then 
 let the ass, with the virgin thus sewn up in him, be exposed, on 
 some stony cliff, to the heat of the burning sun. Thus both of 
 them will suffer everything which you have rightly decreed. 
 For the ass will be put to death, as he has long ago deserved; while 
 she will endure the bites of creatures of prey, when her limbs 
 are gnawed by worms ; the scorching heat of fire, when the 
 blazing sun shall have burnt up the belly of the ass ; and the 
 torment of the cross, when dogs and vultures tear out her en- 
 trails. Reckon up, too, her other miseries and tonnents. In 
 the first place, she will remain alive in the belly of a dead 
 beast ; in the next place, her nostrils will be tiJIed with a 
 most fetid vapour ; and, in the third place, she will waste 
 away with protracted hunger, and will not have her hands at 
 liberty to end her ag-onies by death." ' 
 
 After he had spoken to this effect, the robbers agreed to his 
 proposal, which they relished to their very heart's content. 
 On hearing their decision with my long ears, what could I do 
 but bewail my poor body that was to be a dead carcase next 
 mornins: ? 
 
 BOOK THE SEVENTH. 
 
 iRElVAL OF THE SPY WHOM THE llOBBEES HAD LEFT AT HTPATA 
 
 HE REPORTS THAT THE ROBBERY OF MILo's HOUSE IS TJNIVER- 
 
 TERSALLY IMPUTED TO LUCIUS THE ROBBERS ARE JOINED BY 
 
 A NEW RECRUIT. SIXTH EPISODE : THE RECRUIT* S STORY 
 
 HE IS CHOSEN LEADER OF THE BAND HE DISSUADES THEM FROM 
 
 KILLING THEIR CAPTIVE A GRAND FESTIVAL LUCIUS SHOCKED 
 
 BY THE damsel's HEARTLESS LEVITY THE PRETENDED ROBBER 
 
 EEVEAL8 HIMSELF ESCAPE OF THE DAMSEL, TLEPOLEMUS AND 
 
 CHARITE THEIR TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO THE NATIVE CITY OF 
 
 THE LOVERS — DESTRUCTION OF THE WHOLE BAND OF ROBBERS 
 
 LUCIUS IS PETTED, BUT UNHAPPY — HE IS SENT TO PASTURE, 
 
 AND AGAIN DISAPPOINTED MADE TO TURN A MILL ILL-USED 
 
 BY THE HORSES MADE TO FETCH WOOD FROM THE FOREST — 
 
 CEO ELL Y TREATED BY HIS DRIVER — IS ABOUT TO BE CASTRATED 
 
BOOK ni. AEEIVAL 01 THE SPY. 133 
 
 DEATH OF HIS DRIVER LTJCnjS SEIZED BY A STRAl!fGEK 
 
 THE STRANGER AND LUCIUS TAKEN BY HIS MASTER* S SERVANTS 
 LUCIUS BEATEN AND TORTURED BY HIS DRIVER* S MOTHER. 
 
 As soon as darkness gave place to the fair light of day, and 
 all things were illuminated by the splendid chariot of the sun, 
 a certain person, one of the robbers' comrades, arrived ; for so 
 he appeared to be, by their mutual salutations. This man sat 
 down at the entrance of the cavern, and after he had reco- 
 veied his breath, and was able to speak, he made the following 
 narration to his companions : — 
 
 *' With respect to the house of Milo, of Hypata, which we 
 lately plundered, we may now be quite at our ease, and fear 
 nothing. For after you, brave men, had returned to our cave, 
 carrying off with you all Mile's property, I mingled with the 
 crowd of the citizens, and assuming the appearance of one who 
 was grieved and indignant at what had happened, observed 
 what course was taken for an investigation of the affair, and 
 whether, and to what extent, they would inquire after the 
 robbers ; in order that I might relate to you eveiy particular, 
 conformably to your injunctions. Now one Lucius, whoever 
 he may be, was accused, by the unanimous voice of all the mul- 
 titude, as the manifest author of the robbery, and this not upon 
 dubious surmises, but upon convincing evidence. This Lucius, 
 not long before, by false commendatory letters, passing himself 
 pff for a respectable man, strongly ingratiated himself with 
 Milo, so that he was hospitably received by him, and ranked 
 among his intimate friends. And when he had remained there 
 not a few days, having ensnared the mind of a maid servant of 
 Milo with false love, he diligently explored the bolts and bars 
 of the house, and curiously surveyed those parts of it in which 
 all the property was usually deposited. This, also, was con- 
 sidered as no small indication of his guilt, that he fled on the 
 very same night, and at the very moment the robbery was 
 committed, and has not been lieard of since. He had ready 
 means of flight too, whereby he could rapidly elude his pur- 
 suers, and get farther and farther away from their search ; for he 
 rode away on his own white horse. Moreover, his servant was 
 found in the same house, and, being accused as accessary to the 
 felony and escape of his master, was, by order of the magis- 
 trates, committed to the common gaol, and subjected on the fol- 
 lowing day to many torments. But though tortured till he 
 
134 THE GOLDEN" ASS OF APFLEKTS. 
 
 was almost dead, he confessed, after all, nothing of the kind- 
 Keverthelcss, many persons were sent to the country of tha* 
 Lucius in search of him, in order that he might undergo the 
 punishment of his crime." 
 
 While he was narrating these things, my vitals were wrung 
 with grief at the comparison they suggested between my an- 
 cient fortune and my present calamity, between that once 
 happy Lucius and a miserable jackass. It also occurred to me, 
 that not without reason had ancient sages pronounced Tortune 
 to be blind, and entirely deprived of eyes ; since she always 
 bestows her riches on the unworthy and the wicked, and never 
 judiciously makes any mortal the object of her regard; but 
 indeed attaches herself for the most part to men from whom, 
 if she could see, she ought to fly far away. And what is worst 
 of all, she causes opinions to be entertained of us that are at 
 variance with our real character, or even contrary to it ; so as 
 to enable the bad man to exult in the renown of the good man, 
 and, on the other hand, to cause the most innocent to suffer 
 such punishment as befits the most guilty. Here, methought, 
 am I, to whom she has done her worst in changing me into a 
 beast, and a quadruped of the vilest condition, I, whose mis- 
 fortune would strike the most hardened reprobate as worthy to 
 be lamented and commiserated, I am here accused of the crime of 
 burglary, committed upon my most dear host ; a crime for which 
 burglary is too mild a name, and which one may more rightly 
 denominate parricide. Yet I was not permitted to defend 
 myself, or to utter so much as one word in denial of the charge. 
 Kow, however, when it was made in my presence, lest my 
 silence should be mistaken for the acquiescence of a guilty 
 conscience, I was racked with impatience to speak, were it 
 only to say, Noii feci, I did not do that deed. The former 
 word, indeed, [non] I roared out again and again, but the 
 other \_feci^ I could by no means pronounce, but I continued 
 to vociferate non non ; and no more could I get out, though I 
 made my pendulous lips vibrate with excessive rotundity. 
 
 Why, however, do I prolixly complain of the spitefulness of 
 Fortune, since she was not ashamed to make me a fellow- 
 servant and yoke-mate with my own horse. While these 
 thoughts were floating through my mind, a concern of a more 
 important nature engaged my attention, viz., the recollection 
 that I was destined by the decree of the robbers to be a victin: 
 
booe: yii. the eobbers aee joined by a eecruit. 135 
 
 to the manes of the virgin ; and frequently casting a look at 
 my belly, I seemed to myself to have the unhappy damsel 
 enclosed within it. 
 
 The robber who had just brought 1 he news of that false 
 accusation against me, having drawn out a thousand pieces of 
 gold coin, which he had sewn up and concealed in his garment, 
 and which he had taken, as he said, from different travellers, 
 and had conscientiously brought to the common treasury, began 
 to inquire anxiously concerning the welfare of his comrades. 
 Finding that some of them, and indeed all the bravest, had 
 perished by various deaths, but all with great gallantry, he 
 advised them to leave the highways at peace for some time, 
 and rather apply themselves to searching after other associates^ 
 and to supplying the deficiency of their warlike band by the 
 election of new hands from among the youths of the country. 
 For, he observed, those that were unwilling might be com- 
 pelled by fear, and the willing be incited by reward ; and not 
 a few would gladly abandon an abject and servile life, and 
 unite themselves to an association which possessed a power 
 like that of royalty. For his own part, he had some time 
 since met with a certain man of a lofty stature, young, of vast 
 bodily dimensions, and of great strength; and after much ar- 
 gument had at length persuaded him to make better use of his 
 hands, which had become torpid through long idleness ; to enjoy 
 while he might the advantages of a prosperous condition of 
 body ; and instead of holding out his powerful hand for alms, 
 to exert it rather in helping himself to gold. All present 
 assented to what he said, and decreed to receive the man he had 
 spoken of, as he fippeared to be a tried man, and also to search 
 after others who might supply the places of those they had lost. 
 
 He went out, and returning shortly after, brought with him, 
 as he had promised, a certain tall young man, with whom I do 
 not think any one present could have stood a comparison ; for, 
 besides the great bulk of his body, he surpassed all the rest in 
 height by a whole head, and yet the down had but just begun 
 to overspread his cheeks. He was only half clothed, with odds 
 and ends <3f cloth, cobbled together, through the joinings of 
 which his brawny breast and belly seemed ready to burst 
 forth. Thus entering, " All hail," said he, " ye, who are under 
 the protection of the most powerful God Mars, and who are 
 now become my trusty comrades ; receive willingly a willing 
 
136 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 recruit, a man of magnanimous spirit, who more cheerfully 
 receives wounds in his body than gold in his hand, and who 
 dc^spises death, which others dread. And think not that I am 
 a needy or abject man, nor judge of my merits from these 
 rags ; for I have been the leader of a most powerful band, and 
 have, in fact, plundered all Macedonia. I am tliat ftmious 
 robber Haeraus the Thracian, whose name whole provinces 
 dread ; and am the offspring of Thero, who was an equally 
 illustrious robber ; nourished in human blood ; educated among 
 bands of men of this description, and the heir and imitator of 
 my father's valour. But I lost in a short space of time all 
 my old band, all my brave comrades, and, all the great wealth 
 we had amassed. For passing by Oratum,* I attacked one of 
 Caesar's commissaries, who had been high in office, but was 
 afterwards deprived of his employment through the malignitj^ 
 of fortune. I will, however, relate the whole affair in order 
 that you may understand it the better. 
 
 SIXTH EPISODE. 
 
 THE recruit's STORY. 
 
 ** There was a certain person honourably distinguished by 
 the many offices he held in the palace of CiEsar, and who was 
 also well esteemed by Caesar himself. Malignant envy, and 
 the crafty accusations of certain persons, hurled him into exile. 
 But his wife, Plotina, a woman of rare fidelity and singular 
 chastity, who had given stability to the family of her husband 
 by the birth of ten children, spurned and despised the plea- 
 sures of city luxury, and became the companion of her 
 husband's fliglit, and a partaker of his misfortune. For this 
 purpose she cut off her hair, changed her dress, so that she 
 might appear like a man ; and begirt with necklaces of the 
 greatest value and with zones of gold coin, she moved intre- 
 pidly amidst the drawn swords of the soldiers that guarded her 
 husband, a partaker of all his dangers, maintaining an ever- 
 wakeful care for liis saCcty, and enduring continual labours 
 with the fortitude of a man. And now having vamjuished the 
 greater part of the difficulties of the journey, and the dangers 
 of the sea, she Avent with her husband to Zacynthus,f which 
 
 * Oratum.'] — Thei)recise situation of Oratum has not been determined, 
 f Zaci/nthus.} — Now the island of Zante. 
 
BOOK VII. THE EECRXJIT S STQ-RV, 137 
 
 their fatal destiny had decreed to be their temporary habita- 
 tion. As soon, however, as they had arrived on the shores of 
 Actiiira, where we were then roving about on our return 
 from Macedonia, they went late at night to a certain cottage 
 w^hich was near the shore and their ship, and there they slept 
 in order to avoid the tossing of the sea. In this cottage we 
 attacked and plundered them of every thing. Yet we did not 
 depart without great danger. For as soon as the mistress of 
 the house heard the first noise of the gate, she ran into the 
 bedchamber, and disturbed all that were in the house by her 
 tumultuous clamours. She likewise called on her servants by 
 name, and on all her neighbours ; but it so happened that we 
 escaped with impunity through the general fear, each conceal- 
 ing himself out of regard to his own safety. 
 
 *' This excellent woman, however, (for the truth must be 
 spoken), who was a pattern of fidelity and was beloved for her 
 virtues, immediately pouring forth her prayers to the majesty 
 of Ciesar, obtained both a speedy return for her husband, and 
 a complete revenge of the assault. In short, Caesar was un- 
 willing that the band of the robber Haemus should any longer 
 exist, and it was forthwith immediately destroyed. So much 
 can the mere wish of a great prince eff'ect. At length, when, 
 by the pertinacious pursuit of the emperor's army, all our 
 band was destroyed, I scarcely saved myself, and escaped from 
 the midst of the jaws of hell, after the following manner. 
 I clothed myself in the florid vestment of a woman, with nume- 
 rous flowing folds, covered my head with a small woven 
 mitre, and put on my feet those white and thin shoes which are 
 worn by women ; and thus, as it were, implanted and concealed 
 in the other sex, I passed through the midst of the troops of 
 Hostile soldiers, riding on an ass laden with sheaves of barley. 
 For, believing me to be a female ass- driver, they let me pass 
 free ; because at that time my beardless cheeks were still soft 
 and smooth as a boy's. Yet I have not degenerated from my 
 paternal glory, or forgotten my fortitude, though somewhat 
 fearful in consequence of being placed in the midst of martial 
 blades ; but protected by the disguise of a dress foreign to my 
 sex, and attacking villas or towns, single handed, I have pro- 
 3ured for myself this small viaticum by plunder." 
 
 END or THE SIXTH EPISODE. 
 
138 THE GOLDEN" ASS OF APTTLEIUS. 
 
 Ripping open his rags as lie spoke, lie poured forth into the 
 midst of them two thousand pieces of gold coin. " There," 
 said he, ''I willingly offer to your band this contribution, 
 and myself al'so (if you do not reject mj^ offer), as a most 
 faithful leader, w^ho, in a short space of time, will make this 
 your habitation, to be no longer rocky, but golden." The rob- 
 bers, without hesitation, unanimously elected him their leader. 
 They also brought forth a tolerably fair garment, which he put 
 on, throwing away his rich rags. And having thus changed 
 his attire, and embraced each of them, he was placed on the 
 couch at the head of the table, and his leadership was inaugu- 
 rated by a supper, and copious bowls. 
 
 In the conversation that ensued, the robber was made aware 
 of the flight of the damsel, of my carrying her, and of the 
 monstrous death to which each of us w^as destined. He asked 
 where the virgin was, and being taken to her, and seeing her 
 laden Avith chains, he turned away from her, with a contemp- 
 tuous curl of his nose, and said : '' I am not indeed so stupid, 
 or at least so rash, as to oppose your decree ; but I should have 
 to endure the reproaches of my own conscience, if I dissembled 
 what appears to me to be for your benefit. But, in the first 
 place, suffer me, who am solicitous for your sake, to speak 
 boldly, especially since, if my views are not acceptable to you, 
 you may fall back on what you have decreed concerning the 
 virgin and the ass. ISTow, I think that those robbers who are 
 truly wise ought to prefer nothing to their own gain, not even 
 vengeance itself, whicli is often detrimental to those who inflict 
 it as well as to others. If, then, j^ou destroy the virgin in the 
 body of the ass, you will gratify nothing but your indig- 
 nation, without any profit to youi'selves. It is my opinion 
 that she should rather be taken to some city, and there sold ; for 
 a virgin of her age may be sold for no small price. I myself, 
 some time ago, knew certain bawds, one of whom might, as I 
 think, give a great sum of money for this virgin, and place her 
 in a brothel, suitable to her birth, and from which she will not 
 be likely to run away again. She will also have afforded you 
 some revenge, when she has passed into bondage at a brothel. 
 I have sincerely offered this counsel to you, as conducive to 
 your advantage ; but you are the masters of your own judg- 
 ments and acts." Thus it was that this advocate of the rob- 
 bers' exchequer, and no less excellent saviour of the virgin and 
 ass, pleaded our cause. 
 
BOOK Til. CAEOUSE OF THE E0B2ERS. 139 
 
 The rest of the robbers, after tormenting my entrails and my 
 miserable spirit by their tedious deliberations, at length cor- 
 dially acceded to the opinion of the new robb&r, and immedi- 
 ately freed the virgin from her bonds. But as for her, from 
 the moment she beheld that young man, and heard him men- 
 tion a brothel and a bawd, she began to be elated, and to smile 
 most joyfully, so that I felt inclined, with good reason, to vitu- 
 perate the whole sex, when I saw a virgin, who pretended that 
 she was enamoured of a young lover, and was desirous of a 
 chaste marriage, now suddenly delighted with the name of a 
 vile and filthy brothel. It was a case in which the character of 
 the whole female sex was in question, and the verdict de- 
 pended on the judgment of an ass. The young man, how- 
 ever, resuming his discourse, said : " Why do we not proceed 
 to supplicate Mars to be propitious to us in selling the virgin, 
 and searching for other associates ? But, as far as I see, we 
 have not any beast for sacrifice, nor sufficient wine for drink- 
 ing largely. Send with me, therefore, ten of our comrades, 
 with whom I may go to the next town, and bring you thence 
 meat and drink fit for priests." Accordingly, he departed, 
 attended by ten of the robbers, and the rest prepared a great 
 fire, and raised an altar of green turf to the god Mars. 
 
 The foragers soon returned, bringing with them skins full 
 of wine, and driving before them a great number of cattle; from 
 among which they selected a large he-goat, old and shaggy, 
 and sacrificed it to Mars the Secutor"^* and Associate. A 
 sumptuous supper was immediately prepared. Then the stran- 
 ger said : " You must consider me as a strenuous leader not 
 only of your plundering expeditions, but also of your pleasures." 
 And with that he went cleverly to work, and performed every 
 thing that was requisite with admirable dexterity. He swept 
 the floor, made the couches smooth, cooked the meat, seasoned 
 the dishes, and served them up handsomely ; but especially 
 he plied each of them, and that frequently, with large bowls 
 of wine. Nevertheless, under pretence of fetching v/hat 
 he wanted from time to time, he often went to the virgin, 
 and gaily presented her with fragments which he had se- 
 cretly taken away, and cups of wine, of which he had pre- 
 viously tasted. And she most willingly received what he 
 brought her, and sometimes, when he washed to kiss her, she 
 readily responded to his wdsh, and kissed him quite lovingly 
 * f. The gladiator, or sword- player. 
 
140 THE GOLDEl^ ASS OF APULEITJS. 
 
 These things greatly displeased me; and I said to myself: 
 Shame upon you, girl, do you forget your faithful lover and 
 your nuptials ? Do you prefer this foreign and cruel homicide 
 to that young man, whoever he be, to whom your parents have 
 betrothed you ? Does not your conscience prick you, that you 
 thus trample on affection, and are pleased to act libidinously 
 among gleaming spears and swords ? What if the other rob- 
 bers, likewise, should, by some means or other, perceive what 
 you are doing, would you not again return to the ass, and again 
 procure my destruction ? Eeally you are playing your game 
 at the risk of another's skin. 
 
 Whilst I was thus cogitating in great indignation, and falsely 
 accusing the virgin in my own mind, I gathered from certain 
 words of theirs, which though dubious, were not obscure to an 
 intelligent ass, that the young man was not the famous robber 
 Haemus, but Tlepolemus, the bridegroom of the virgin. For, 
 in the course of their conference, caring nothing for my pre- 
 sence, he said somewhat more distinctly : ** Be of good cheer, 
 dearost Charite ; for you shall presently have all these your 
 enemies in captivity." And I observed that while he himself 
 refrained from drinking immoderately, he never ceased to ply 
 the robbers more and more with wine, now unmingled with 
 water, and moderately heated, so that they began to be over- 
 come with intoxication. And, by Hercules, I suspect that 
 he had mingled in their cups a certain soporiferous drug. At 
 last, when they all, without a single exception, lay dead drunk 
 on the floor, then Tlepolemus, having without any difficulty 
 bound them strongly with ropes, and tied them together as he 
 thought proper, placed the damsel on my back, and directed 
 his steps to his own home. 
 
 As soon as we arrived there, the whole city turned out at 
 the wished-for sight. Parents, kindred, retainers, bondmen, 
 and servants, joyfully ran out to meet us. You might see a 
 procession of every age and sex, and, by Hercules, a new and 
 memorable spectacle, a virgin riding in triumph on an ass.* As 
 for myself, rejoicing with all my might, and not choosing to 
 be at variance with the present display, as if I had no concern 
 in it, I brayed strenuously, with erect ears and expanded nos- 
 trils, or rather, I trumpeted with a noise like thunder. 
 
 * Riding in triumph on an ass.'] — It has been conjectured that the 
 plgan Apuleius intemls by this a covert sneer ui Christ's entry into 
 »*erusalem. 
 
BOOK VII. DESTRUCTION OF THE BAlfD OF EOBBEES. 141 
 
 The damsel having now retired to her chamber, where her 
 parents cherished and caressed her, Tlepolemus immediately 
 took me back to the cave, accompanied by a great number of 
 beasts of burden, and a multitude of his fellow-citizens. Nor 
 did I return unwillingly ; for, curious at all times, 1 was then 
 particularly desirous to be a spectator of the captivity of the 
 robbers, whom we found still fast bound, with wine even more 
 than with ropes. Having, therefore, ransacked the cave, and 
 brought out every thing that was in it, and wo, and all the 
 rest being loaded with gold and silver, Tlepolemus and his at- 
 tendants rolled some of the robbers, bound as they were, over 
 the neighbouring cliffs, and others they beheaded with their 
 own swords. Then we returned to the city, exulting and re- 
 joicing in so complete a revenge. The robbers* wealth was 
 deposited in the public treasury ; but the damsel, who had been 
 recovered by Tlepolemus, was given to him according to law. 
 
 Then that noble woman paid the greatest attention to me, 
 whom she called her saviour; and, on the very day of her 
 nuptials, ordered my manger to be completely filled with bar- 
 ley, and as much hay to be given me as would be enough for 
 a Bactrian camel, liut what sufficiently dire execrations could 
 I imprecate on Fotis, who had transformed me not into a dog, 
 but an ass, when I saw all the dogs stuffed and crammed with 
 the relics of the most abundant supper, and with the food they 
 had pillaged r After the first night, the bride did not cease 
 to tell her parents and her husband bft)w greatly she was in- 
 debted to me, till they promised that they would confer on me 
 the highest honours. Convoking, therefore, their most inti- 
 mate friends, they held a consultation as to how I might most 
 worthily be rewarded. One was of opinion that I should be 
 shut up in the hoiise, and there, leading an idle life, be fattened 
 with choice barley, beans, and vetches. Eut the opinion of 
 another prevailed, who regarded my liberty, and persuaded 
 them rather to give me the run of the plains and meadows, 
 where I might take my pleasure among the herds of horses, 
 and procreate many mules, for the masters of the mares. 
 The keeper of the horses was accordingly summoned, and 
 I was delivered over to him, with many injunctions that 
 he should take care of me. And righi gaily did I trot 
 along by his side, rejoicing at the thought that I was now 
 to have nothing more to do with packs and bags, and so 
 forth, and that having obtained my liberty, 1 should doubtless 
 
142 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 find some roses in the meadows, when they began to blossom 
 in spring. Frequently, too, it occurred to me, that since such 
 great marks of gratitude and so many honours were conferred 
 on me when but an ass, so much the greater would be the re- 
 spect and favour shown me when I had recovered the human 
 form. 
 
 But when the keeper of the horses had taken me to the 
 country, I found there none of the pleasure or the liberty I ex- 
 pected. Eor his wife, an avaricious, bad woman, immediately 
 yoked me to the mill, and frequently striking me with a green 
 stick, prepared bread for herself and her family at the expense 
 of my hide. And not content to make me drudge for her own 
 food only, she also ground corn for her neighbours, and so made 
 money by my toil. Nor, after all my weary labours, did she 
 even afford me the food which had been ordered for me ; for 
 she sold my barley to the neighouring husbandmen, after it had 
 been bruised and ground in that very mill, by my own round- 
 about drudgery ; but to me, who had worked during the whole 
 of the day at that laborious machine, she only gave, towards 
 evening, some dirty, unsifted, and very gritty bran. I was 
 brought low enough by these miseries ; but cruel Fortune ex- 
 posed me to fresh torments, in order, I suppose, that I might 
 boast of my brave deeds, both in peace and war, as the saying 
 is. For that excellent equerry, complying, rather late, indeed, 
 with his master's orders, for a short time permitted me to as- 
 sociate with the herds of horses. 
 
 At length a free ass, I capered for joy, and softly ambling 
 up to the mares, chose out such as I thought would be the 
 fittest for my concubines. But here my joyful hopes gave 
 place to extreme danger. For the stallions, who had been fed 
 high for the sake of copulating with the mares, and who, 
 independently of this, were terribly strong creatures, more 
 than a match for any ass, regarding me with suspicion, and 
 anxious to preserve the purity of their race, furiously pursued 
 me as their rival, without respect for the laws of liospitable 
 Jupiter. One of them, with his head and neck and ample 
 chest aloft, struck at me like a pugilist with his forefeet ; 
 another, turning his brawny back, let fly at me with his 
 hind feet ; and another, with a vicious neigh, his ears thrown 
 back, and showing his white teeth, sharp as spears, bit me all 
 over. It was like what I have read in history of the King of 
 
BOOK Til. lUCirS CRUELLY TKEATEl) BY HIS DEIYKE. 143 
 
 Thrace,"^' T\'ho exposed his unhappy guests to be lacerated and 
 devoured by wild horses. For so sparing was that power- 
 ful tyrant of his barley, that he appeased the hunger of his 
 voracious horses by casting human bodies to them for food. 
 In fact, I was so worried and distracted by the continual 
 attacks of the horses, that I wished myself bark again at the 
 mill round. 
 
 Fortune, however, who could not be satiated with my tor- 
 ments, soon after visited me with another calamity. For I 
 was employed to bring home wood from a mountain, and a 
 boy, the most villanous of all boys, was appointed to drive 
 me. It was not only that I was wearied by toiling up and 
 down the steep and lofty mountain, nor that I wore away my 
 hoofs by running on sharp stones, but I was cudgelled without 
 end, so that all my bones ached to the very marrow. More- 
 over, by continually striking me on the oif-hauuch, and 
 always in the same place, tiU the skin was broken, he occa- 
 sioned a great ulcerous cavity, gaping like a trench or a 
 window; yet he never ceased to hit me on the raw. He 
 likewise laid such a load of wood on my back, that you 
 might have thought it was a burden prepared for an elephant, 
 and not for a jackass. And whenever the ill-balanced load 
 inclined to one side, instead of taking away some of the 
 faggots from the heavier side, and thus easing me by somewhat 
 lightening, or at least equalizing the pressure, he ahvays 
 remedied the inequality of the weight by the addition of stones. 
 I»[or yet, after so many miseries which I had endured, was he 
 content with the immoderate weight of my burden ; but when 
 it happened that we had to pass over a river, he would leap on 
 my back in order to keep his feet dry, as if his weight was 
 but a trifling addition to the heavy mass. And if by any acci- 
 dent I happened to fall, through the weight of my burden, and 
 the slipperiness of the muddy bank, instead of giving me a 
 helping hand as he ought to have done, and pulling me up by 
 the headstall, or by my tail, or removing a part of my load, 
 till at least I had got up again ; this paragon of ass- drivers 
 gave me no help at all, however weary I might be, but begin- 
 ning from my head, or rather from my ears, he thrashed all the 
 hair oif my hide with a huge stick, till the blows stirred me 
 up and served me instead of a stimulating medicament. 
 * Diomede, Vid. Hygin, Fab. 30, et Ovid, in Ibin. v. 381. 
 
144 THE GOLDEN ASS OE APULKIUS, 
 
 Another piece of cruelty he practised on me, was this. ITe 
 twisted together a bundle of the sharpest and most venomous 
 thorns, and tied them to my tail as a pendulous torment ; so 
 that, jerking against me when I walked, they pricked and 
 stabbed me intolerably. Hence, I was in a sore dilemma. 
 For when I ran away from him, to escape his unmerciful 
 drubbings, I was hurt by the more vehement pricking of the 
 thorns ; an-d if I stood still for a short time, in order to avoid 
 that pain, I was compelled by blows to go on. In fact, the 
 rascally boy seemed to think of nothing else than how he 
 might be the death of me by some means or other ; and that he 
 sometimes threatened with oaths to accomplish. And, indeed, 
 there happened a thing by which his detestable malice was 
 stimulated to more baneful efforts ; for on a certain day, when 
 his excessive insolence had overcome my patience, I lifted 
 up my powerful heels against him ; and for this he retaliated 
 by the following atrocity. He brought me into the road 
 heavily laden with a bundle of coarse flax, securely bound 
 together with cords, and placed in the middle of the burden a 
 burning coal, which he had stolen from the neighbouring 
 village. Presently the fire spread through the slender fibres, 
 flames burst forth, and I was all over in a blaze. There 
 appeared no refuge from immediate destruction, no hope of 
 safety, and such a conflagration did not admit of delay, or 
 afford time for deliberation. Fortune, however, shone upon 
 me in these cruel circumstances ; perhaps for the purpose of 
 reserving me for future dangers, but, at all events, liberating 
 me from present and decreed death. 
 
 For by chance perceiving a neighbouring pool muddy wdth 
 the rain of the preceding day, I threw myself headlong into 
 it ; and the flame being immediately extinguished, I came out, 
 lightened of my burden, and liberated from destruction. But 
 that audacious young rascal threw the blame of this most 
 wicked deed of his on me, and affirmed to all the shepherds, 
 that as I was passing near the neighbours' fires, I stumbled on 
 purpose, and set my load in a blaze ; and he added, laughing 
 at me, *'How long shall we waste food on this fiery monster?" 
 
 A few days after this, he had recoui'se to still worse artifices 
 against me. After having sold my load of wood at the nearest 
 cabin, he led me home unladen, declaring that he could not 
 marage so vicious a brute, and that he renounced the miserable 
 
BOOK Til. PllOPOSAL TO KILL THE ASS. 145 
 
 o> 
 
 office of being my driver. " Look at that lazy, crawling, 
 out-and-out jackass," said he. '' Besides all his other miss- 
 deeds, he is now worrying me with new ones that put me in 
 mortal fear. Eor whenever he sees a traveller, be it a comely 
 woman, or a marriageable girl, or a tender youth, he imme- 
 diately makes at them as if he was mad, upsetting his burden, 
 and sometimes pitching off his very pack-saddle, and throws 
 them down with abominable intentions, makes up his great 
 ugly mouth as if to kiss them, and bites and tramples them 
 most indecently. All this occasions lis no small strife and 
 quarrels, and will perhaps bring us into trouble with the ma- 
 gistrates. Just now, espying a decent young woman, this 
 I'rolicksome gallant ran at her, scattering all his wood, threw 
 her down in the mud, and wanted to have his wicked will of 
 her there and then. Had not her shrieks brought some people 
 to her help, who were passing that way, and who snatched her 
 half dead from under his hoofs, she must have died a horrible 
 death, and left us to suffer the last penalty of the law." 
 
 With these and other such lies, which hurt my modesty the 
 more because I could not reply to them, he desperately incensed 
 the herdsmen against me. At last said one of them, " Why 
 do we not immolate as he deserves this public paramour, this 
 universal adulterer ? Hark ye, boy ; cut off his head, throw 
 his entrails to the dogs, and keep his flesh to feed the work- 
 people ; then we will carry his skin, well rubbed with ashes 
 and dried, to our master, and easily make up a story of his 
 having been killed by a wolf. 
 
 Without delay my viUanous accuser prepared joyfully to 
 execute the herdsman's sentence with his own hand, and began 
 to sharpen his knife on a whetstone, mocking my woe, and 
 maliciously calling to mind the kick I had given him, and which, 
 by Hercules ! I wished had finished him. But one of the 
 rustics exclaimed that it was a shame to slaughter so fine an 
 ass. " Why lose the services of so useful a beast," he said, 
 " merely because he is too lustful ? Only geld him, and he 
 can no how play his pranks any more ; wu shall be safe from 
 danger on his account, and besides, he will grow stouter and 
 fatter than ever. I have known many an animal, not asses 
 merely, but even high-spirited horses, that were so hot after 
 mares, as to be quite furious and unmanageable, and which, 
 after being cut, became quiet and fit to carry loads or do any- 
 
 L 
 
146 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 thing else that was required of them. So if you have no oh- 
 jection to what I say, after I have been to the market, which 
 will not detain me long, I will fetch the implements from home, 
 and immediately come back and geld this terrible rude gallant, 
 and make him gentler than any wether." 
 
 Snatched by this proposal from the very clutches of death, 
 but reserved for a most cruel punishment, I grieved as though 
 I were about to perish wholly in losing an appendage to my 
 body, and thought of destroying myself by continual fasting, 
 or by leaping down a precipice : in that way I should die 
 none the less, but I should die entire. Whilst I was pondering 
 my choice of deaths, morning came again, and that boy, who 
 was my tormentor, led me as usual up the mountain, where 
 fastening me to a branch of great oak, he went a little way oif, 
 and began to cut down a load of wood with his axe. Just 
 then, I saw a horrid bear lift up its great head, and creep out 
 of a cave close by. Appalled at the sudden sight, I started 
 back, sinking down with all mj' might upon my haunches, 
 while my head and neck were held up by the thong, uutil it 
 broke ; whereupon I dashed down the mountains, not on my feet 
 only, but projecting myself bodily, reached the plains beneath, 
 and scoured across them, running with all my might from the 
 dreadful bear, and the boy that was worse than the bear. 
 
 A man who was passing that way, seeing me roam at large, 
 caught me, got on my back, and thumping me with a stick, 
 turned me into a side road unknown to me. I carried liim 
 along with good will, thinking I was running awaj^ from that 
 cruel operation, and caring little about the blows I received, 
 for I was used to that sort of thing. But Fortune, with her 
 iuveterate malice, anticipated so opportune a chance of escape, 
 and gave me over to fresli sufferings. For my master's herds- 
 men having gone out in all directions to look for a stray heifer. 
 Happened to fall in with us, and seizing me by the head stall, 
 which they readily identified, they began to lead me away. 
 My rider, however, making a bold resistance, called gods and 
 men to witness agidust them. " Why do you pull me about in 
 this violent way ?" he said, " Why do you lay hands on me r" 
 
 ** Do we behave unjustly to you," said the herdsmen, 
 ** when we find you making off with our ass ? Tell us where 
 you have hid the body of his driver, whom you have killed, no 
 doubt." So saying, they knocked him to the ground, and 
 
BOOK yn. THE OPERATION TTPON THE ASS POSTPONED. 147 
 
 kicked and pummelled him with their fists, he swearing all 
 the while that he had seen no one with the ass, but had found 
 it running away, alone, and had caught it, that he might restore 
 it to its owner, and he rewarded for his trouble. 
 
 *' Would to heaven !" he cried, " that I had never seen this 
 ass, or that he could speak with a human voice, and bear testi- 
 mony to my innocence. You would surely be ashamed of the 
 way in which you treat me." 
 
 But all his protestations were of no avail, for the angry 
 herdsmen marched him along, with a rope round his neck, to 
 the forest on the mountain, where the boy used to fetch wood. 
 He was no where to be found ; but at last they discovered what 
 were plainly the remains of his body, torn to pieces and strewed 
 here and there. I knew well it was the bear's teeth had done 
 this, and I would certainly have said so, had I possessed the fa- 
 culty of speech. All I could do was to rejoice silently at seeing 
 myself revenged at last. 
 
 After they had with much pains collected the scattered frag- 
 ments of the body, they buried them on the spot, and marched 
 my Belerophon* to their cottages, there to remain tied fast, as 
 a thief taken in the fact, and a bloody assassin, until they de- 
 livered him up next morning, for condign punishment, into the 
 hands of the magistrates. Meanwhile, in the midst of the 
 lamentations raised by the parents of the dead boy, up came 
 that rustic who had promised to perform the operation upon me, 
 and who now proposed to keep his word. " Our present loss is 
 not of his causing," said one of the byestanders ; " nevertheless 
 you may cut what you please to-morrow from this villanous 
 jackass — his head if you have a mind, and you shall not want 
 for help." 
 
 Thus it came to pass that my calamity was postponed for 
 another day, and I gave thanks to that kind boy, whose death, 
 at all events, procured me one little day's respite from the knife. 
 But I was not allowed even that short space of time to be 
 grateful to him or to enjoy repose ; for his mother rushed into 
 my stable, weeping and bewailing her son's premature death, 
 dressed in a black robe, tearing out her white hair, bestrewed 
 with ashes, and vehemently beating her breasts. 
 
 • My Belerophon."} — Lucius jocularly compares his rider to Belerophon, 
 and himself, by implication, to the winged steed Pegasus, which that here 
 bestrode. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APTJLEII7S- 
 
 **Look at him," she screamed, "how easily he takes it, that 
 cursed ass, with his head stuck in the manger, indulging his 
 gluttony, and for ever stuffing his insatiable belly. He has 
 no pity for my affliction, nor does he bestow a thought upon the 
 horrible fate of his deceased driver ; no, he despises my age and 
 weakness, and thinks that he shall get off with impunity after 
 his enormous crime ; perhaps he has the audacity to suppose 
 he shall be thought innocent ; for it is the nature of the worst 
 criminals to expect impunity, even in spite of the reproaches of 
 their own guilty conscience. Now, in the name of all the Gods, 
 most infamous of quadrupeds, though you could borrow the 
 use of speech for a while, do you think you could persuade any 
 one, aye the veriest fool, that you were without fault in that 
 horrid disaster, when you could have fought for my poor boy, 
 and defended him with heels and teeth ? You could often lift 
 your heels against himself ; why could you not use them with 
 the same alacrity in his defence ? You should have galloped off 
 with him on your back, and saved him from the bloody hands 
 of the robber ; above all, you should not have fled alone, after 
 throwing and deserting your fellow- servant, your conductor, 
 your comrade, the friend who fed you. Do you not know that 
 those who refuse help to persons in mortal peril are punished, 
 because therein they offend against all good principles ? But you 
 shall no longer rejoice over my calamities, murderer that you 
 are ; I will let you know what strength there is in violent 
 grief." 
 
 So saying, she took off her girdle, and tied my feet separately, 
 and as tightly as she could, so as to deprive me of the means 
 of revenging myself. Then snatching up a great stake, which 
 was used to bar the stable door, she never ceased whacking me 
 with it until her strength was quite spent, and it fell from her 
 wearied hands. Then complaining of the too speedy ex- 
 haustion of her arms, she ran back into the house, fetched a 
 live coal from the hearth, and thrust it between my thighs ; 
 until, employing the only means of defence left me, I squirted 
 a volley of liquid ordure into her face and eyes, and thus put- 
 ting her to the rout, blinded and stinking, I saved myself from 
 destruction ; otherwise the ass would have perished like another 
 Meleager by the brand of this raving Althea.* 
 
 • Meleager — Althea.'] — When Althea was delivered of Meleager, she 
 Mw the three Fates sitting by the fire, and heard them say, ** The child 
 
BOOK VIII. DEATH OF CHAEITE AND TLEPOLEMUS. 1 49 
 
 BOOK THE EIGHTH. 
 
 AKEIVAL OF A SEKYANT OF CHARITE SIXTH EPISODE : DEATH OP 
 
 CHAKITE AKD TLEPOLEMTJS FLIGHT OF THE KEEPEES OF THE 
 
 HORSES WITH LUCIUS AND OTHER ANIMALS ALARM OF WOLVES 
 
 THE PARTY ATTACKED BY DOGS A MARYELLOUS AND SHOCKING 
 
 ADVENTURE SEVENTH EPISODE : SINGULAR PUNISHMENT OF A 
 
 CRIMINAL LUCIUS OFFERED FOR SALE AT A FAIR IS BOUGHT 
 
 BY AN ITINERANT PRIEST THE FRAUDS OF THE PRIESTS OF THE 
 
 SYRIAN GODDESS THEIR EXPOSURE LUCIUS IN GREAT PERIL 
 
 OF HIS LITE. 
 
 At that time of the night when the cocks crow, a young man 
 came from the next city, who, as I perceived, was one of the 
 servants of that virgin Charite, who had endured equal sorrows 
 with myself among the robbers. Sitting near the fire, in the 
 company of his fellow- servants, he related, as follows, the 
 wonderful and execrable particulars of her death, and the de- 
 struction of her whole house. "Grooms, shepherds, and 
 cow-herds, we have lost our unfortunate mistress, Charite, and 
 by a most grievous catastrophe. Yet she did not depart to the 
 shades alone. But, that all of you may know the particulars, 
 I will narrate to you from the beginning what happened, and 
 which deserves to be committed to writing, in the form of a 
 history, by more learned men, on whom Fortune has conferred 
 the ability of writing with facility and elegance. 
 
 SIXTH EPISODE. 
 
 DEATH OF CHARITE AND TLEPOLEMUS. 
 
 '* There was a young man in the next city, whose name was 
 Thrasyllus, of noble birth, of knightly rank, and very rich ; 
 but he was a man addicted to the luxury of taverns, and to 
 harlots, and potations by day. On this account he iniquitously 
 
 will live as long as this brand lasts." As soon as they were gone, Althea 
 rose, took the brand off the fire, extinguished it, and put it carefully 
 away. When Meleager was grown up, he slew the famous boar that ra 
 vaged all the country of Calydonia, and presented its head to Atalanta 
 Althea's two brothers wanted the head, and quarrelled for it with Meleager, 
 who killed them both. To revenge their death, Althea slowly burned the 
 fatal brand, and so caused her son to die in lingering torture. 
 
150 THE GOLDEX ASS OF APXJLEIUS. 
 
 associated with a factious band of robbers, and his hands were 
 dyed with human blood. Such was the man, and such was 
 the report concerning him. Now, as soon as Charite was mar- 
 riageable, he was among her principal suitors, and most ar- 
 dently endeavoured to obtidn her in wedlock. And, though 
 he surpassed in nobility all the rest of her lovers, and solicited 
 her parents with splendid gifts, yet he was rejected by them, 
 on account of his morals, and suffered the disgrace of a fepulse. 
 When, therefore, Charite, my master's daughter, came into the 
 hands of the worthy Tlepolemus, Thrasyllus, though disap- 
 pointed in his hopes, yet iirndy cherishing his love, and adding 
 to his passion the rage he felt on account of his rejected suit, 
 sought for an opportunity of perpetrating a bloody deed. At 
 length, a seasonable occasion presenting itself, he prepared to 
 execute the wickedness which had for a long time been the 
 subjects of his thoughts. On the day on which the virgin had 
 been liberated, by the cunning and fortitude of her spouse, 
 from the deadly swords of the robbers, he mingled with the 
 crowd of those that congratulated her, and made himself re- 
 markable by the exulting joy he professed in the present safety 
 of the new married pair, and in the hopes of their future off- 
 spring. Hence, being received into our house, among the 
 principal guests, as the nobility of his race demanded, and con- 
 cealing his wicked designs, he falsely personated the character 
 of a most faithful friend. 
 
 ''And now, gradually ingratiating himself more and more 
 by his assiduity, by frequent conversation, and sometimes also 
 by sitting as a guest at the young couple's table, he fell, by 
 imperceptible degrees, into deeper love than ever. Kor is this 
 wonderful, since the flame of love, small at first, delights with 
 a gentle glow ; but, when fanned by continued familiar inter- 
 course, it waxes fierce, and burns a man up wholly. Thra- 
 syllus for a long time pondered how he might find an oppor- 
 tune place for clandestine conference. He perceived that he 
 was more and more excluded from the avenues to an adulterous 
 intercourse by the multitude of observers, and that the strong 
 bonds of a new and increasing affection could not be severed ; 
 and, further, that even if Charite were willing to comply with 
 his desires, which she never would be, her ignorance of the 
 art of deceiving a husband would hinder such a purpose. Yet, 
 in spite of all Ursi' obstacles, he was bent with desperate ob- 
 
BOOK VlII. DEATH OF TLEPOLEMUS. 151 
 
 stinacy on the accomplishment of what was impossible, as 
 though it had not been so. Things which seem difficult in the 
 beginning of love, appear easy when it has been strengthened 
 by time. Hear now, and carefully note, I pray you, to what 
 deed he was driven by the violence of his furious lust. 
 
 *' One day Tlepolemus, accompanied by Thrasyllus, went to 
 hunt wild beasts, if, indeed, the roe comes under that denomi- 
 nation ; for Charite would not allow her husband to pursue 
 beasts armed with tusk or horn. The toils were spread round 
 a hill thickly covered with trees, and the high-bred hounds 
 were turned in to rouse the beasts from their lairs. Their good 
 training was immediately seen, for they spread abroad bo as to 
 enclose every avenue. Por a while they followed the scent in 
 silence, till at last one gave tongue, and then they all burst out 
 with impetuous, dissonant yells, that made everything ring 
 again. But it was not a roebuck, nor a timid doe, nor a hind, 
 the gentlest of all wild creatures, that was started, but an enor* 
 mous boar, the like of which was never seen — a brawny, thick- 
 hided, filthy brute, with bristles standing upright on his back, 
 foaming and gnashing his teeth, with eyes that darted fire, and 
 rushing along like a thunderbolt. The keenest of the hounds 
 that pressed upon his flanks were ripped up by his tusks, and 
 flung here and there ; then he broke through the toils at the 
 first charge, and got clear off". We, meanwhile, were terror- 
 stricken, having been used only to such hunting as was without 
 danger, and being, besides, A\dthout weapons or means of de- 
 fence ; so we hid ourselves the best way we could under thick 
 foliage and behind trees. 
 
 " Thrasyllus now seeing a favourable opportunity for accom- 
 plishing his intended treachery, said insidiously to Tlepolemus : 
 * Why do we remain stupified with surprise, or even dismayed, 
 like these low-souled slaves, and trembling like women, whilst 
 we sufier such a fine prey to escape us r Why not mount and 
 pursue ? You take a javelin, and I will take a lance.' 
 
 ''Without more said, they jumped at once on their horses, 
 and made after the brute with all speed. But the boar, confi- 
 dent in its strength, wheeled round, and looking horribly fero- 
 cious as it gnashed its teeth, stood glaring at them uncertain 
 which to attack first. Tlepolemus hurled his javelin, and 
 lodged it in the animal's back ; but Thrasyllus, leaving the boar 
 alone, charged the horse Tlepolemus rode with his lance, and 
 
152 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APDLKlCTs. 
 
 cut its hamstrings. The quadruped, sinking down in a poo* 
 of its own blood, rolled over on its back, and inyoluntarily 
 threw its master, whom the boar immediately rushed at in 
 fury, and after tearing his clothes, rent his body in many 
 places as he was endeavouring to rise. Meanwhile, his good 
 friend felt no remorse for the infamous deed he had begun, nor 
 was his cruelty yet satisfied ; for whilst Tlepolemus was striv- 
 ing to defend his gored legs, and Avas piteously calling to him 
 for help, he pierced him through the middle of the right thigh 
 with his lance ; which he did the more boldly, because he 
 judged that the wound would resemble those made by the brute's 
 tusks. Afterwards he ran the boar through and through with- 
 out difficulty. 
 
 "After the young man was thus slain, we were all called 
 out from our hiding-places, and ran to him in great grief. But 
 Thrasyllus, though he had accomplished his purpose, and re- 
 joiced in having slain him whom he looked on as his enemy, 
 yet concealed his joy under a countenance that simulated 
 sorrow ; and ardently embracing the corpse that he himself had 
 made, he cleverly counterfeited all the signs of mourning, only 
 his tears refused to flow. Thus imitating us who lamented 
 truly, he falsely cast upon the boar the odium of the deed his 
 own hand had done. 
 
 ''The news of this crime spread quickly, and first of all 
 reached the family of Tlepolemus, and smote the ears of his 
 unhappy wife. The moment she heard it — she will never hear 
 news more — she lost her senses, and ran like a frantic bacchanal 
 through the crowded streets, and away over the fields, scream- 
 ing out her husband's name, and bewailing his fate. The com- 
 passionate citizens flocked after her ; all who met her followed 
 jier, sympathizing in her grief ; and the whole city M'as emptied 
 to see tlie sad spectacle. At last, she reached the spot where 
 lay the body of her husband ; there, swooning away, she fell 
 prostrate on his corpse, and all but yielded up on the spot the 
 soul that was devoted to him ; but her friends with difficulty 
 forced her away, and she remained unwillingly alive. 
 
 ''At last, the body was carried to the tomb, the whole city 
 joining in the funeral procession. Then did Thi'asyllus cry, 
 and roar, and beat his breast, and even weep, for the tears 
 which he had been unable to shed in his first feigned sorrow, 
 were now fiupplicd him by his augmented jo5\ He concealed 
 
BOOK VIII. CHARITE REJECTS THE PEOPOSAL OF THRASTLLUS. 153 
 
 his real feelings with all sorts of affectionate words, calling 
 piteously to the deceased by name, as his friend, his playmate 
 in boyhood, his comrade, his brother. And ever^^ now and 
 then he would take hold of Charite's hands to hinder her from 
 beating her bosom ; would try to mitigate her grief and wail- 
 ing with words expressive of the liveliest sympathy, and with 
 various examples of the uncertainty of life. And amidst all 
 these false shows of humanity and friendship, he took every 
 opportunity of touching the person of the bereaved wom.an, 
 and nourishing his own odious passion by that stolen pleasure. 
 
 '' The funeral being ended, the widow was now impatient to 
 join her husband, and thought over all means to that end. 
 At last, she chose one that was gentle, cost no effort, needed 
 no weapon, and was like quietly falling asleep. She abstained 
 from food, neglected her person, and would have passed away 
 from daylight to the darkness of the grave, but for the urgent 
 pertinacity of Thrasyllus, who, partly by his own efforts, 
 partly through those of her friends and her parents, prevailed 
 on her to refresh her disfigured and almost perishing body with 
 the bath and with food. 
 
 " Charite, who revered her parents, yielded against her will 
 to a religious sense of duty, and with a somewhat more serene 
 countenance did what was necessary for the preservation of her 
 life ; but still her inmost soul was consumed with grief. She 
 spent all her daj's and nights in pining remembrance, and in 
 paying divine honours to an image of the deceased, which she 
 had caused to be made in the costume of the god Bacchus, so 
 that she tortured herself, even by that kind of consolation. 
 Meanwhile, the reckless, headlong Thrasj^llus, without waiting 
 until the tears she shed had satisfied her grief, nor till the 
 commotion of her spirits had partly subsided, and time had 
 gradually blunted the keenness of her sorrow, did not forbear 
 to speak to her of marriage while she was still weeping for her 
 husband, rending her garments, and tearing her hair, and to 
 reveal to her by his indecent importunity the secret of his 
 breast and his ineffable treachery. 
 
 " Charite was seized with horror and loathing at the abo- 
 minable proposal, which came upon her like a clap of thunder, 
 or a blast from some malignant star, and she fell senseless as 
 if smitten by lightning. Recovering after a while, with wild 
 shrieks, she called to mind what had passed between her and 
 
154 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEirS. 
 
 the villain Thrasyllus, and postponed her reply to his suit untii 
 she should have maturely considered it. 
 
 ''During that delay, the shade of the cruelly-slam Tlepo- 
 lemus, lifting up its ghastlj^, gory face, thus addressed her as 
 she slept : ' My own wife, a name which none else shall call 
 you, if my memory dwells in your heart — if my cruel death 
 has broken the bonds of affection that united us, contract a 
 happier marriage with whom you will, only give yourself not 
 into the sacrilegious hands of Thrasyllus : neither talk with 
 him, nor sit at the same board, nor share the same bed with 
 him. Shun the blood-stained hand of my murderer ; begin 
 not your marriage with parricide.* Those gory wounds which 
 you have washed with your tears were not all inflicted by the 
 tusks of the boar ; but the lance of the wicked Thrasyllus has 
 parted me from you.' And then he told her all the circum- 
 stances, and set before her the whole scene of the crime. 
 
 '' When Charite had first laid her head upon her pillow, her 
 tears flowed over her beautiful cheeks even while she slept ; 
 but roused by the vision of her restless sleep as by the wrench 
 of the rack, she broke out again into loud and long wailing, 
 tore her night-dress, and beat her lovely arms with merciless 
 hands. Yet she imparted to no one the story of the appari- 
 tion she had seen ; but concealing altogether the knowledge 
 she had obtained of the crime, she secretly resolved to punish 
 the nefarious murderer, and to deliver herself from the intoler- 
 able burthen of life. 
 
 "Again the odious and importunate suitor assailed her obdu- 
 rate ears with proposals of marriage ; but she gently declined 
 them, and dissembling her purpose with admirable artifice, she 
 thus replied to his urgent supplications : ' The sweet face of 
 your brother, my beloved husband, is still before my eyes ; the 
 cinnamon odour of his ambrosial body is stiD. in my nostrils ; 
 the beautiful Tlepolemus still lives in my bosom. You will do 
 best then if you allow a most wretched woman the necessary 
 time for mourning, and let the remaining months of the year 
 be spent in that legitimate duty. What I ask concerns not 
 only my own reputation, but your safety also, lest by a prema- 
 ture marriage we provoke the just indignation of my husband's 
 ghost to your destruction * 
 
 * With parricide.'] — The crime of Thrasyllus was a sort of parricide, 
 since he had murdered his friend ; and Chante would have been in a 
 iniinner its accomplice, if she had married him. 
 
BOOK VIII. THEASYLLUS ADMITTED TO THE NUPTIAL CHAMBER. 155 
 
 "Uncliecked in his importunity by these arguments, and even 
 by the promise that accompanied them, Thrasyllus persisted 
 in molesting her ears with his vile addresses, until, apparently 
 overcome, Charite said to him : * One thing at least, Thra- 
 syllus, you must grant to my earnest entreaties, and that is 
 that our cohabitation be quite secret and unknown to any of my 
 family until the year is out.' Thrasyllus was completely duped 
 by her feigned compliance with his suit ; he consented with 
 'alacrity to the clandestine intercourse, and passionately longed 
 for the return of night and darkness, caring for nothing in 
 comparison with the possession of Charite. ' But mind,' 
 said Charite, ' come well muffled up, without any attendant, 
 and approach my door in silence at the first watch. Only 
 whistle once, and wait for my nurse, who will be on the 
 watch behind the door, and will instantly open it for you, and 
 conduct you in the dark to my chamber.' 
 
 ''Thrasjdlus, suspecting nothing, was delighted with the 
 scheme of those funereal nuptials, and was only troubled with 
 impatience at the length of the day and the slow approach of 
 evening. At last, when daylight had disappeared, dressed as 
 Charite had directed, he was admitted by the watchful nurse, 
 and stole full of hope to the nuptial chamber. There the old 
 woman, treating him with obsequious attention by her mis- 
 tress's orders, noiselessly produced cups and a flagon con- 
 taining wine mixed with a soporiferous drug. Then excusing 
 her mistress's delay on the pretext that she was with her father, 
 who was ill, she plied him with the beverage, which he drank 
 freely, and without suspicion, until he fell fast asleep. 
 
 " As soon as he lay stretched on his back in that helpless 
 state, Charite was summoned, and rushing in with dire deter- 
 mination, stood quivering with rage over the murderer, * Be- 
 hold,' she cried, 'this faithful companion of my husband! 
 Behold this gallant hunter ! Behold this dear bridegroom ! 
 This is the hand that shed my blood ; this is the breast that 
 conceived treacherous plots for my undoing : those are the 
 eyes that to my sorrow I delighted, but that now anticipate 
 their coming punishment, wrapped in the darkness that will 
 cover them perpetually. Sleep securely; dream of delight; 
 I will not smite you with sword or spear. Far be it from 
 me to put you on an equality with my husband in the manner 
 of your death. Your eyes shall die in your living head, and 
 
156 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 you shall never see more but in dreams. I will make you 
 think your enemy's death happier than your own life. I*sever 
 shall you see the light ; you shall need to be led by the hand ; 
 you shall not clasp Charite ; you shall not enjoy your pro- 
 mised nuptials ; you shall know neither the repose of death 
 nor the pleasure of life ; but you shall wander like an erring 
 phantom between the infernal regions and the sun ; and you 
 shall long seek the hand that has blinded you, and, what is 
 the most miserable thing in calamity, you shall not know 
 whom to complain of. I will make a libation of the blood of 
 5'^our eyes at the tomb of my Tlepolemus, and sacrifice those 
 eyes to his sacred shade. But why do I suffer you to have 
 a respite from your deserved torture, while you are dreaming 
 perhaps of embracing me, who am your bane ? Wake from 
 the darkness of sleep to a worse darkness ; lift up your sightless 
 face ; recognize my vengeance ; comprehend your misfortune ; 
 compute the sum of your miseries. Thus have j^our eyes 
 charmed your modest bride ; thus have the nuptial torclies 
 lighted your chamber ; you shall have the Furies for brides- 
 maids, and blindness and the perpetual stings of conscience for 
 companions.' 
 
 ** Having poured out these words like one inspired, Charite 
 drew out the pin from her hair, and plunged it over and ovei 
 again into the eyes of Thrasyllus ; then leaving him to awake 
 in pain and blindness from his lethargic sleep, she caught up 
 the naked sword which Tlepolemus used to wear, and rushed 
 frantically through the city towards her husband's tomb, mani- 
 festly bent on some desperate deed. All of us, servants, and 
 the whole population, anxiously pursued her, crying out to 
 each other to wrest the weapon from her insane hands. Eut 
 Charite standing by the coffin of Tlepolemus, kept everybody 
 off with the glittering blade ; and when all around her were 
 Tveeping and lamenting, she cried : * Away with these impor- 
 tunate tears ! Away with this wailing, which ill accords 
 with my fortitude. I have taken vengeance upon the bloody 
 murderer of my husband. I have punished the accursed de- 
 stroyer of my nuptials ; it is now time that with this sword 1 
 make my way straight to my Tlepolemus.' 
 
 ** Then having related all that her husband had told her in 
 the dream, and the artifice by which she had inveigled Thra- 
 syllus, she plunged the sword beneath her right breast, fell 
 
look: VIII. DEATH OF CHARITE AND THEASYLLFS. 1^7 
 
 bathed in blood, murmured a few broken' words, and breathed 
 out her magnanimous spirit. The friends of the unfortunate 
 Charite immediately washed her body with care, and depositing 
 it by the side of Tlepolemus, re-united her for ever to the 
 husband she loved. 
 
 *' When ThrasyUus was aware of all this, he thoug-ht he could 
 not intiict on himself a death commensurate witli the cala- 
 mities he had caused, and that the sword could not suffice to 
 expiate his guilt ; therefore he had himself carried to the tomb 
 of Tlepolemus and Charite, where, crying out repeatedly, ' Be- 
 hold, ye injured manes, here is your voluntary victim,' he 
 caused the doors to be firmly closed upon him ; and there he 
 suffered the doom pronounced by himself, and perished by 
 starvation." 
 
 END OF THE SEVENTH EPISODE. 
 
 Such was the story, interrupted with many siglis and tears, 
 which the servant told to the sorrowing rustics, who fearing a 
 change of master, and deeply commiserating the misfortune of 
 the house to which they had belonged, determined to run away. 
 The master of the stud, the same to whom I had been given 
 in charge with such impressive orders to be kind to me, plun- 
 dered the cottage of everj^thing valuable in it, and loading me 
 and other beasts of burden with the spoil, deserted his old 
 abode. We carried women and children, cocks and hens, 
 geese, kids, whelps ; in short, whatever was unable to keep up 
 with our pace, was made to walk with our feet. But enormous 
 as my load was, I did not care for it, so glad was I of tlie 
 flight that saved me froiji the knife of that abominable gelder. 
 
 Having crossed a steep mountain covered with a forest, and 
 descended to the plain on the other side, we arrived, just as 
 evening was throwing its shadows on our road, at a certain 
 po])ulous and thriving town, whence the inhabitants would not 
 allow us to proceed by night, nor even in the morning. The 
 reason of this was, that the whole district was infested by mul- 
 titudes of fierce wolves of enormous bulk and strength, that 
 even beset the roads and fell like highway robbers on those 
 who travelled by them. IS'ay, sometimes impelled by the rage 
 of hunger, they stormed the neighbouring farms, and the men 
 were no more safe from their fury than their defenceless flocks. 
 Thej told us too, that the road we should have to travel was 
 Btrewn with half-eaten human bodies, and whitened with flesh- 
 
158 THE GOLDEN ASS OF ArULEITS. 
 
 less bones ; and therefore, that we ought to proceed with ex- 
 treme caution, and be especially careful to travel only in broad 
 day-light, while the sun was high in the heavens, since its 
 light checks the fury of those dreadful creatures ; and that we 
 should move, not stragglingly, but in close compact order, 
 through those dangerous places. 
 
 But our rascally fugitive conductors, in blind haste to escape 
 the risk of pursuit, despised these salutary warnings, and with- 
 out waiting for day-light, loaded and drove us forward. Then 
 I, aware of the danger, took all possible care to keep between 
 the other beasts in the veiy middle of the throng, so as to save 
 my buttocks from the fangs of the wolves ; and all our con- 
 ductors were much surprised to see me beat the horses in speed. 
 But this was not the result of my natural quickness of limb, 
 but of my fear ; and I thought within myself that it was 
 nothing else than fright which had given such agility to the 
 renowned Pegasus, and that the reason why he had been styled 
 winged, was, doubtless, because he had skipped and bounded up 
 to the very sky, in his dread of being bitten by the fire-breath- 
 ing Chimaera. 
 
 Meanwhile the herdsmen who drove us had armed themselves 
 as if for battle. This one carried a lance, that one a hunting 
 spear, another a bundle of javelins, another a club ; and some 
 had provided themselves with stones, which the rough road 
 sup})lied in abundance. A few carried sharpened stakes, and 
 a great number waved blazing torches to frighten the beasts ; 
 and nothing but the trumpet was wanting to give our troop 
 the appearance of an army in battle array. But after having 
 terribly frightened ourselves, we escaped the threatened danger 
 only to fall into a worse one. For, whether scared by the 
 shoutingof solargeabodyof men, and by the glare of the torches, 
 or being engaged elsewhere, the wolves never approached us, 
 nor did one of them come in sight even at a distance. But 
 the labourers on the farm which we were then passing, taking 
 us for a gang of robbers, and letting slip enormous dogs, which 
 had been carefully trained for their masters' defence, and were 
 fiercer than any wolves or bears, urged them against us with 
 all sorts of shouts and cries. With their natural ferocity 
 thus encouraged and exasperated, tlic dogs rushed at us, at- 
 tacked ns on all sides, men and cattle v, ithout distinction, and 
 after mauling them a long time, laid many of them low. It 
 
BOOK Tin. PLIGHT OF THE KEEPERS OF THE HOESES. 159 
 
 was certainly a remarkable, and still raore a pitiable spectacle, 
 to see all those dogs seizing those that fled, ravening at those 
 who stood their ground, mounting upon the bodies of those 
 who were down, and overrunning our whole troop, biting all 
 that came before them. 
 
 This was terrible indeed, but worse was added to it ; for the 
 peasants poured down showers of stones upon us from the 
 roofs of their cottages and from an adjacent hill, so that we 
 were quite at a loss to know wliich we should most avoid, the 
 dogs that attacked us at close quarters, or the stones that were 
 launched at us from a distance. One of the latter fell upon 
 the head of a woman who was seated on my back, and who, 
 smarting from the blow, immediately began to scream and roar 
 for her husband to come to her aid. Wiping the blood from 
 her wound, the herdsman cried out, " In the name of all the 
 gods, why do you so ci-uelly assault and maltreat poor liard- 
 working travellers ? Have we oifered to rob you ? What harm 
 have we ever done you r You do not live in dens like wild 
 beasts, or in caves like savages, that you should take delight 
 in shedding human blood." 
 
 As soon as he had said this, the shower of stones ceased, 
 the ferocious dogs were called off, and one of the peasants 
 cried out from the top of a cypress tree. on which he was 
 perched: *' And we too, are no robbers, and do not want to 
 plunder you ; we only tight to protect ourselves from suifering 
 the like at your hands, so now you may go your ways in peace 
 and safety.'* Therefore we continued our journey, but wounded 
 in all manner of ways, some with stones, others by the teeth 
 of the dogs, but all more or less hurt. 
 
 Having gone a little way further, we reached a grove of tall 
 trees, with pleasant green glades, where our leaders thought 
 good to rest and take some refreshment, and dress the wounds 
 of their bruised and mangled bodies. So they threw them- 
 selves on the ground in all directions, and after lying awhile 
 to recover from their fatigue, they began to apply various re- 
 medies to their wounds, washing the blood from them in the 
 running stream ; applying wet sponges to their contusions, and 
 tying up their gaping wounds with bandages. In this way each 
 did the best he could for himself. Meanwhile, an old man was 
 descried on the top of a hill, with goats feeding round him, and 
 plainly showing that he was a goat-herd. One of our peoplo 
 
160 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APTILKIUS. 
 
 called out, and asked liim had he any milk or new cheese to 
 sell. But he, shaking his head a long while, replied : ''And 
 are you thinking of food or drink, or of any refresliment at all ? 
 Do you not know what sort of a place you are in ?" So saying, 
 he turned his back upon us, and went off with his flock. 
 
 His words, and the manner of his departure, struck our 
 people with no small fear ; and while they were all anxious 
 to ascertain the nature of the spot where they lay, but could 
 find no one to tell them, another old man made his appearance. 
 He was a tall man, bent with age, and dragged his feet slowly 
 and wearily along, leaning heavily on his staff, and weeping 
 profusely. AVhen he came up with our men, he threw himself 
 on his knees before them, and embracing them one after the 
 other, thus besought in most piteous accents : "By your for- 
 tunes, by your genii,* and as you hope to live strong and 
 hearty till you reach my age, help an unfortunate old man, 
 who has lost his only hope, and save my little boy from the 
 jaws of death. My grandson, the sweet companion of my 
 journey, tried to catch a sparrow chirping on a hedge, and he 
 fell into a ditch close by here, that was hidden with low shrubs, 
 and there he lies in extreme peril of his life. I know indeed, 
 by his cries to me for help, that he is still alive. But being so 
 weak in body, as you see, I cannot succour him. But you, who 
 enjoy youth and strength, can easily aid an unhappy old man, 
 and save for him this child, the last and only scion of my stock." 
 
 As the old man made these entreaties and tore his white 
 hdir, we were all moved with pity ; and one of the party, the 
 youngest, boldest and strongest of them all, who besides, was 
 the only one that had come off unwoimded from the late con- 
 flict, sprang to his feet, and enqutiring w^here it was the boy 
 had fallen, went with the old man towards some rough bushes 
 which the latter pointed out a little way off. Meanwhile, 
 after the cattle had done feeding, and their drivers had finished 
 their meal and the dressing of their wounds, each of tliem 
 packed up his baggage again, and- made ready for another start. 
 They called loudly to the young man who had gone away with 
 the old stranger, and afterwards, surprised by his long delay, 
 they sent one qf their number to look for him, and tell him it 
 
 * Your genii.] — The Romans believed that to every human being be- 
 longed a special protecting deity, who lived and (iied with his protege, as 
 the hamadryad did with her oak. These personal gods were called the 
 Genius, or the Juno, according as they belonged to a man or a woman. 
 
^^^ of 
 
 BOOK Vril. SINGULAK PrN^ISHMENT OF A CEIMINAl. '^-VWi 
 
 was time to be off. The messenger came back soon, trembling, 
 and ghastly pale, and brought strange news of his fellow- ser- 
 vant. He had seen him, he said, lying on his back, half eaten, 
 and a monstrous dragon squatting over him ; whilst the un- 
 fortunate old man was not to be seen at all. 
 
 Considering this matter, and comparing it with the words 
 of the shepherd on the hill, which had doubtless been intended 
 to warn them against that terrible inhabitant of the neighbour- 
 hood, our men hurried away as fast as they could from the 
 deadly spot, drubbing us briskly with their sticks. After 
 getting over a long stage at a very quick rate, we arrived at a 
 village where we halted for the night, and there I learned a 
 very extraordinary occurrence which I will relate. 
 
 EIGHTH EPISODE. 
 
 SINGULAK PUNISHMENT OF A CKIMINAL. 
 
 Theee was a servant to whom his master had committed the 
 management of all his affairs, and who was bailiff of that large 
 farm where we had taken up our quarters. He had married 
 one of his fellow-servants, but fell in love with a free woman 
 who was not of the household. Enraged by his adultery, his 
 wife burned all his account books, and all the contents of his 
 store-room. And not content with having thus avenged the 
 wrongs of her bed, but turning her fury against her own flesh 
 and blood, she put a rope round her neck, fastened to it also an 
 infant she had borne to her husband, and threw herself into a 
 deep well along with her little one. Her master was exceed- 
 ingly incensed at her loss, and seizing the servant who had pro- 
 voked his own wife to the commission of such a dyeadful deed, 
 had him stripped naked, smeared all over with honey, and bound 
 fast to a fig-tree, the rotten trunk of which was filled with the 
 nests of a prodigious multitude of ants, that were continually 
 running to and from all directions. As soon as these ants smelt 
 the honey with which the bailiff's body was smeared, they 
 fastened upon him, and with minute, but innumerable and in- 
 cessant bites, gradually consumed his flesh and his entrails ; 
 and after the miserable man had been thus tortured a long 
 while, his bones were at last picked clean ; and so they were 
 still to be seen, quite dry and white, attached to the fatal tree. 
 
 END OF THE EIGHTH EPISODE. 
 
162 THE GOLDEIT ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 Quitting this detestable dwelling, and leaving the rustics in 
 great sorrow, we proceeded on our journey. After travelling 
 all day over a level country, we came much fatigued to a hand- 
 some populous town. There our men resolved to stop and 
 take up their permanent abode, both because the place offered 
 them every convenience for hiding from those who might come 
 from a distance in pursuit of them, and because the town was 
 abundantly blessed with provisions. Myself and the other 
 beasts were allowed three days' rest to improve our condition, 
 and then we were led out for sale. The crier proclaimed the 
 price of each of us with a loud voice, and all were bought by 
 wealthy persons, except myself, whom all the purchasers passed 
 by with contempt. I lost patience at the manner in which I 
 was handled, and my teeth examined to ascertain my age ; 
 there was one man especially, who was alwaj^s poking his nasty 
 dirty fingers against my gums ; but at last, I caught his hand 
 between my teeth, and nearly crushed it. That deterred every 
 one from buying me, as a ferociously vicious brute. Then the 
 crier, bawling till his throat was almost split, cracked all sorts 
 of ridiculous jokes upon me. " What is the use," said he, " of 
 offering for sale this old screw of a jackass, with his foundered 
 hoofs, his ugly colour, his sluggishness in everything but vice, 
 and a hide that is nothing but a ready-made sieve ? Let us 
 even make a present of him, if w^e can find any one who will 
 not be loth to throw away hay upon the brute." In this way 
 the crier kept the byestanders in roars of laughter. 
 
 But my merciless fortune, which I had been unable to leave 
 behind me, far as I had fled, or to appease by all my past suf- 
 ferings, again cast its evil eye upon me, and for a wonder, pro- 
 duced a purchaser, the fittest of all men to prolong my hard 
 sufferings. He was an old eunuch, partly bald, with what 
 grizzled hair he had left hanging in long curls, one of those 
 lowest dregs of the rabble who compel the Syrian goddess 
 to beg, hawking her about the highways and the towns, 
 and playing on cymbals and castanets. This man having a 
 great mind to buy me, asked the crier of what coimtry I was. 
 The latter replied that I was Cappadocian,* and a fine strong 
 
 * Cappadocian.} — Part of the crier's fun consists in talking of the ass as 
 if he was a human slave. Hence his mention of Cappadocia, which had 
 no particular reputation for its breed of asses, but -which surpassed all the 
 other provinces of (he empire in the number and value of the slaves it 
 supplied to Rome. 
 
BOOK VIII. SALE OF LUCIUS. 163 
 
 animal. Again, the other asked my age. " The mathema- 
 tician who cast his nativity," replied the joking crier, " cal- 
 culated that he was five years old ; but no doubt he is better 
 informed on this point than any one else, from the register of 
 his birth. Now though I make myself liable to the penalties of 
 the Cornelian law if I knowingly sell you a Eoman citizen for 
 a slave, what should hinder you from buying a good and useful 
 servant, who will do your pleasure at home and abroad }'' 
 
 The odious purchaser went on asking questions without end, 
 and at last came to the important point, was I gentle ? "Gen- 
 tle?" said the crier ; " it is not an ass, but a wether you see 
 before you, such a quiet thing you may do what j'ou will with 
 him ; none of your biters or kickers ; but altogether such an 
 animal that you might suppose there was a decent, honest man 
 under his ass's hide. You may convince yourself of the fact 
 without difficulty ; only stick your face between his thighs, and 
 you will see how patient he will be." 
 
 Thus did the crier make fun of the old vagabond ; but the 
 latter perceived that the other was mocking, and cried out in 
 a passion: ''What, you deaf and dumb carcase, you crazy 
 crier, may the omnipotent and all-procreant Syrian goddess, 
 and blessed Sabazius, and Bellona, and the Idoean mother, and 
 our mistress Yenus, with her Adonis, strike you blind, joi 
 that have been flinging your scurrilous jokes at me this evei 
 so long. Do you think me such a fool as to put the goddesf 
 on the back of a vicious brute, that he might pitch the divine 
 image to the ground, and that I should have to run about witb 
 my hair streaming, to look for some one to lift my goddesL 
 from the ground, and repair her hurts ?" 
 
 When I heard him talk in this strain, I thought of prancing 
 suddenly, like mad, that seeing how very wild I was, he 
 might give up the thought of buying me. But the anxious 
 purchaser anticipated my intention by at once paying down 
 the price, seventeen denars, which my master promptly took 
 up, to his own satisfaction and my vexation, and immediately 
 delivered me to my new owner, Philebus, with a rush halter 
 round my neck. Philebus took me home with him, and cried 
 out the moment he reached the door : '' Hallo, girls ! here is a 
 handsome servant I have bought for you." JS^ow these girls 
 were a set of eunuchs, who immediately broke out into screams 
 of joy, with broken, hoarse, effeminate voices, thinking it was 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEITJS. 
 
 a slave fit to render them good service. But when they per- 
 ceived the substitution, not of a stag for a virgin,* but of a 
 jackass for a man, they turned up their noses, and jeered at 
 their leader, saying he had not brought a servant for them, 
 but a husband for himself. '* Mind," said they, " you don't 
 keep this pretty dear all to yourself, but let us too, your doves, 
 have the use of him sometimes." Thus babbling, they took 
 and tied me to the manger. 
 
 There was among them a strapping young fellow, who played 
 extremely well on the horn, and whom they had bought at 
 the slave mart, with the money they had collected here and 
 there. Abroad he used to play before them when they led the 
 goddess in procession, and at home they employed him in other 
 ways. As soon as he witnessed my arrival, he was greatly 
 delighted, and gave me plenty of fodder, joyfully exclaiming : 
 ** You are come at last to relieve me in my terrible labours ; 
 long may you live, and be a pleasure to your masters, and give 
 me a chance to recruit my exhausted strength." Hearing him 
 talk thus, I pondered on the new troubles that were before me. 
 
 Next day they went out, all dressed in various colours, 
 Indeously bedizened, their faces and eyelids daubed with paint, 
 with small mitres on their heads, and wearing saffron-coloured 
 linen and silk vestments. Some of them had white tunics, 
 covered with narrow purple stripes in all directions ; and they 
 all wore girdles and yellow shoes. They laid the goddess, 
 covered with a silk mantle, on my back; and brandishing 
 enormous swords and axes, with their arms bared to the shoul- 
 der, they danced and bounded like maniacs to the sound of the 
 flute. After going about a good many cottages, they came to 
 a rich man's villa, and setting up their yells at the very gate, 
 they rushed frantically in. Bending down their heads, they 
 rolled their necks about, making their long hair stand out in a 
 circle ; from time to time they bit their flesh with their teeth, 
 and lastly, they cut their anns with the sharp weapon which 
 each of them carried. There was one of them who was trans- 
 ported with a more ecstatic fury than the rest, and heaving hia 
 breath rapidly from the bottom of his chest, as if filled with 
 the di\'ine spirit, he pretended to be stark mad ; as if the pre- 
 sence of the gods did not do men good, but weakened or disor- 
 dered them. But you shall see how by divine providence tney 
 
 * The subslitutum, not of a stay for a virgin.'] — As happened when 
 Iphigenia, the daughter of Agamemnon, was about to be sacrificed at Aulis. 
 
BOOK VIII. THE FRAUDS OF THE PEIESTS DETECTED, 165 
 
 received their due reward. The fellow began by delivering a 
 trumped-up story of his own guilt, and crying out aloud, in 
 the tone of a prophet, that he had committed some offence 
 against the holy laws of religion ; and then he called upon his 
 hands to inflict on him the chastisement due to his crime. At 
 the same time he took up one of the whips usually carried by 
 those half men, with several long lashes of twisted wool, strung 
 with knuckle-bones of sheep, and gave himself a severe flog- 
 ging, the pain of which he endured with astonishing firmness. 
 You might see the ground wet with the blood that flowed from 
 the gashes of the sword and the strokes of the whip. ^Now 
 the sight of all this blood and wounds caused me no slight 
 uneasiness, lest perchance the stomach of the foreign goddess 
 might crave for ass's blood, as some men's for ass's milk. ^ 
 
 When at last they were tired, or thought they had scarified 
 themselves sufficiently, they left off their butchery. Then the 
 byestanders vied with each other in dropping money, not only 
 brass, but silver too, into the open bosom of their robes. They 
 received, besides, a barrel of wine, milk, cheese, barley, and 
 wheaten meal, besides barley for myself, the bearer of the god- 
 dess. All these things they stuffed into bags provided for the 
 receipt of such doles, and laid them on my back ; so that being 
 doubly laden, I was at once a walking temple and a walking 
 granary. Roaming about in that manner, they plundered the 
 whole region. 
 
 One day, being highly pleased with an unusually large col- 
 lection they made in a certain town, they resolved to regale 
 themselves and be merry. They begged a very fat ram from 
 a farmer, whom they cajoled with a lying prophecy, and told 
 him they would sacrifice it to appease the hunger of the Syrian 
 goddess. Having made all their preparations for the banquet, 
 they went to the baths, and on their return they brought a 
 remarkably vigorous peasant home with them to supper. They 
 had only tasted a few morsels of the first course, when they 
 started up from table, and gathering round the young man, 
 began to assail him with execrable solicitations. 
 
 Unable to endure the abominable spectacle, I tried to shout, 
 CiTizEiss ! but could not get beyond the 0, which I uttered 
 in a fine sonorous tone, well becoming a jackass, but very un- 
 luckily timed. For several young men, who were looking for 
 an ass that had been stolen the night before, and who were 
 closely examining all the inns to see if the animal was not in 
 
166 THE GOLDEN ASS OF 4PULEIUS. 
 
 one of them, happening to hear me bray, and thinking it might 
 be their own ass that was hidden in the house, rushed in un- 
 expectedly, and caught these miscreants in the very midst of 
 their detestable turpitudes. Instantly calling in the neigh- 
 bours from all quarters, they made them aware of the horrible 
 discovery, bestowing at the same time sarcastic compliments 
 on the sanctimonious purity of those priests. Struck with 
 consternation at this disclosure of their infamy, which spread 
 rapidly among the people, and made them objects of universal 
 abhorrence, my masters packed up every thing, and secretly 
 quitted the town about midnight. 
 
 After getting over a good deal of ground before dawn, and 
 arrived by daylight in an unfrequented spot, they held a long 
 consultation, which ended in their proceeding to punish me 
 unmercifully. Tiiey lifted the goddess off my back, and laid 
 her on the ground, stripped off all my trappings, tied me to 
 a tree, and flogged me with their whip strung with sheep's 
 bones until I was all but dead. There was one who proposed 
 to hamstring me with an axe, because I had so foully scan- 
 dalised his modesty ; but the others voted for leaving me alone, 
 not from any good will to me, but in consideration of the image 
 that lay on the ground. 
 
 They replaced my load therefore on my back, and drove me 
 before them with blows of the flat of their swords, till we ar- 
 rived at a great town. One of its principal inhabitants, a very 
 religious man, who had a great reverence for the gods, hearing 
 the tinkling of the cymbals, the beating of the timbrels, and 
 the soft Phrygian music, came to meet us, and offer his devout 
 hospitality to the goddess. He lodged us all within his fine 
 spacious mansion, and sought to win the divine favour by the 
 most profound veneration and the finest victims 
 
 Here it was that my life was exposed to the greatest danger 
 i ever remember to have incurred. A certain person in the 
 country had sent as a present to our host, who was his land- 
 lord, the haunch of a very large and fat stag he had killed in 
 the chase. It had been carelessly hung rather low behind the 
 kitchen door, where a hound seized it, and carried it off. AYhen 
 the cook discovered his loss, which he imputed to his own 
 negligence, his lamentation was extreme, and for a long time 
 he shed unavailing tears, thinking that his master would pre- 
 sently call for his supper. Terrified at last at the punishment 
 
BOOK IX. 
 
 LUCIUS IN PEKIL OP HIS LIFE. 167 
 
 that awaited him, he tenderly kissed his little son, snatched 
 up a rope, and set about hanging himself. But his affectionate 
 wife became opportunely aware of his desperate case, and seizing 
 the fatal noose in both hands with all her might, '' What," she 
 cried, ''has this accident fit-ightened you out of your senses? 
 Do 5^ou not see the remedy which the providence of the gods 
 has offered to your hands ? If you have any sense left in this 
 whirlwind of disaster, rouse it up and listen to me. Take that 
 ass, that was brought here to-day, to some out-of-the-way place, 
 and cut his throat ; then take from the carcase a haunch just 
 like that which is lost, cook it nicely, dress it with the most 
 savoury sauce you can make, and serve it up before your mas- 
 ter, instead of the venison." 
 
 The rascally cook was delighted at the thought of saving his 
 own life at the cost of mine ; and highly extolling his wife's 
 sagacity, he set about sharpening his knives, to execute the 
 hutchery she had recommended. 
 
 BOOK THE NINTH. 
 
 LUCIUS, TO SAVE HIMSELF, EUNS INTO THE SUPPER KOOM HE IS 
 
 SUSPECTED OF HYDEOPHOBIA PERIL FROM WHICH IS DELIVERED 
 
 BY THE WATER TEST. NINTH EPISODE : WHAT THE POOR MAN 
 
 GOT FOR HIS CASK HOW THE PRIESTS OF THE SYRIAN GODDESS 
 
 WORKED THE ORACLE THEY ARE ARRESTED FOE THEFT AND 
 
 SACRILEGE LUCIUS SOLD TO A BAKER HIS HARD LIFE AT THE 
 
 MILL- — THE BAKEe's WICKED WIFE CONVEESATION BETWEEN 
 
 HEE AND HEE CONFIDANTE. TENTH EPISODE : THE JEALOUS 
 
 HUSBAND DUPED THE BAKEe's WIFE ENTEETAINS HEE LOVEE 
 
 UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL OF HER HUSBAND. ELEVENTH EPISODE : 
 
 STORY OF THE FULLEr's WIFE LUCIUS UNMASKS THE PERFIDY 
 
 OF THE BAKEE's WIFE THE BAKEE's REVENGE THE DIVORCED 
 
 WIFE RESORTS TO WITCHCRAFT DEATH OF THE BAKER LUCIUS 
 
 BOLD TO A GARDENER VISIT OF THE GAEDENEE TO A EICH MAN 
 
 SUPEENATUEAL OMENS. TWELFTH EPISODE; THE RURAL 
 
 TYRANT ADVENTURE OF THE GARDENER WITH A SOLDIER THE 
 
 GARDENER CONCEALS HIMSELF WITH LUCIUS IN A FRIEND's 
 HOUSE — THEY ARE DISCOVERED, AND THE GAEDENEE IS AR- 
 RESTED 
 
 Thus did that cursed butcher arm his nefarious hands against 
 
168 x'HE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS 
 
 me. There was no time to be lost ; the danger was too urg-ent 
 to allow of long cogitation ; I resolved to escape by flight from 
 the knife that was so near my throat, and instantly breaking 
 the halter with which I was tied, I galloped away as fast as 
 my legs could carry me, flinging out my heels as I ran for the 
 greater safety. Having quickly shot across the first portico, I 
 dashed without hesitation into the dining-room, where the 
 master of the house was feasting with the priests of the god- 
 dess on the sacrificial meats ; and I upset and smashed great 
 part of the supper things, and even the tables. The master of 
 the house, greatly annoyed by such unseemly havoc, ordered 
 one of his servants to take away *'the troublesome, frisky 
 brute," as be called me, and gave the man strict injunctions 
 to shut me up in some safe place, that I might not again dis- 
 turb the quiet of his guests by such pranks. For my part, 
 having saved myself from the knife by this clever feat, I was 
 very glad to enjoy the security of my prison. 
 
 But certainly it is not for mortal man to prosper against the 
 will of fortune, nor can all the contrivances of human wisdom 
 overthrow or alter the fatal disposition of divine providence.^ 
 That very device of mine, which seemed to have afforded me 
 a momentary deliverance, brought upon me another peril, 
 which went near to cause my instant destruction ; for one of 
 the servants, as I afterwards learned from what passed between 
 his fellows, rushed in great agitation into the supper-room, 
 and told his master that a mad dog had just before run into 
 the house through a back door, opening on a lane ; that he had 
 fallen furiously on the hounds ; then made for the stables, 
 where he had wreaked his rage on the horses ; and lastly, that 
 he had not spared the men either, for he had bitten MjTtilus, 
 the muleteer, Hephasstion, the cook, Hj^atius, the chamber- 
 
 * The fatal disposition of divine providence.'] — In the original, divines 
 providentiee fatalis dispositio, which the Delphin editors erroneously in- 
 terpret, ordo immutabilis providentice divines. For Providence, according 
 to the Platonic philosophy, (and Apuleius was a Platonist), is superior to 
 Fate ; and in consequence of this, whatever is produced by Fate is also 
 produced by Providence ; but not vice versa. Apuleius, therefore, rightly 
 ascribes the fatal disposition of things to Divine Providence, because this 
 disposition or order proceeds primarily from Providence, but secondarily 
 from Fate ; but the fatal is not the same with the immutable order of 
 things : for the latter pertains to Providence alone, but the former to 
 Providence in conjunction with Fate, — Taylor. 
 
BOOE IX. THE TEIAL BY THE WATER TES-^. 169 
 
 lain, and ApoUonius, the physician, besides a great many other 
 servants who had endeavoured to drive him out ; and sonaie of 
 the animals he had bitten, already showed undoubted symptoms 
 of rabidness. 
 
 The whole party was struck with dismay at this intelligence, 
 and guessing from my wild behaviour, that I was infected 
 with the same malady, they caught up such weapons as lay at 
 hand, and exhorted each other to despatch me for their com- 
 mon safety, though, in fact, it was they themselves who were 
 mad, and not I. They would doubtless have cut me to 
 pieces with the lances, spears, and even axes, with which the 
 servants readily supplied them, had I not run before the storm, 
 and burst into the bed-chamber of the priests, my masters. 
 My pursuers then fastened the door upon me, and kept me be- 
 sieged, that the deadly virus might do its work, and destroy 
 me, without their running the risk of coming in contact with 
 me. Finding, therefore, that I was left alone and free to do 
 as I pleased, I profited by the opportunity which fortune 
 offered me, lay down on a bed, and enjoyed what I had so 
 long foregone, a good sleep in human fashion. 
 
 Having slept off my fatigue on that good bed, I awoke when 
 it was already broad daylight, and jumped up fresh and 
 hearty. Then I heard the people who had kept watch all 
 night outside the door, thus debating with one another about 
 me. *' Is it likely that this unfortunate ass can go on raging 
 everlastingly ? Surely not. It is rather to be presumed that 
 the virus has spent itself, and his fit is over." As their opi- 
 nions differed on this question, they agreed to have a look at 
 me ; and peeping thr.ough a chink in the door, they saw me 
 standing at my ease, apparently as quiet and as well as ever. 
 Thereupon, they ventured to open the door and examine my 
 , state more fully ; and one of them, who was sent from heaven 
 to be my saviour, proposed to the rest a means of knowing 
 whether I was mad or not. This was to put a vessel full of 
 fresh water before me ; if I drank it without hesitation, in my 
 usual way, this would be a sure proof that I was quite free 
 from all distemper ; on the contrary, if I shunned the water 
 with manifest horror at the sight of it, it would be a clear 
 case that the dreadful malady had still fast hold of me ; for so 
 it was laid down in ancient books, and confirmed by frequent 
 experience. 
 
170 THE GOLDEN ASS OF ArULElUS. 
 
 This advice being voted good, they forthwith fetched a large 
 vessel full of fine clear water from the nearest fountain, and 
 placed it before me, still keeping on their guard. I went up 
 to it at once, being very thirsty, and plunging my head into 
 the vessel, drank up the water, which truly did me much 
 good in every way. Then I quietly suffered them to pat me 
 with their hands, rub my ears, lead me by the headstall, and 
 do whatever else they pleased by way of trjang me, until they 
 were all convinced of my gentleness, and of their own mistake 
 in supposing me to be mad. 
 
 Having thus preserved myself from two great dangers, I 
 was again loaded next day with the divine baggage, and 
 marched away to the sound of cymbals and castanets, to con- 
 tinue our mendicant rounds. After visiting a great number of 
 hamlets and towns, we arrived at a village built on the ruins 
 of a town that had formerly been very opulent, as the inhab- 
 itants reported. "We entered the first inn we came to, and 
 there we heard a pleasant story of the way in which the wife 
 of a poor man cuckolded her husband : and you shall hear it 
 too. 
 
 I^INTH EPISODE. 
 
 WHAT THE POOR MAN GOT FOE HIS TUB. 
 
 There was a poor man who had nothing to subsist on but his 
 scanty earnings as a journeyman carpenter. He had a wife 
 who was also very poor, but notorious for her lasciviousness. 
 One day, when the man had gone out betimes to his work, an 
 impudent gallant immediately stepped into his house. But 
 whilst he and the wife were warmly engaged, and thinking 
 themselves secure, the husband, who had no suspicion of such 
 doings, returned quite unexpectedly. The door being locked 
 and bolted, for which he mentally extolled his well-conducted 
 wife, he knocked and whistled to announce his presence. Then 
 his cunning wife, who was quite expert in such matters, released 
 the man from her close embraces, and hid him quickly in an 
 old empty butt, that was sunk half-way in the ground, in a 
 corner of the room. Then she opened the door, and began to 
 scold her husband the moment he entered. " So you are come 
 home empty-handed, are you r" said she, " to sit here mth 
 your arms folded, doing nothing, instead of going on with your 
 
BOOK IX. WHAT THE POOK MAN" GOT FOE HIS TUB. 171 
 
 regular work, to get us a living and buy us a bit of food ; while 
 I, poor soul, must work my fingers out of joint, spinning wool 
 day and night, to have at least as much as will keep a lamp 
 burning in our bit of a room. Ah, how much better off is my 
 neighbour Daphne, that has her fill of meat and drink from 
 daylight to dark, and enjoys herself with her lovers." 
 
 '' What need of all this fuss ?" replied the abused husband ; 
 *'for though our foreman has given us a holiday, having busi- 
 ness of his own in the forum, I have nevertheless provided for 
 our supper to-night. You see that useless butt, that takes up 
 so much room, and is only an incumbrance to our little place ; 
 I sold it for five denars to a man who will be here presently 
 to pay for it and take it away. So lend me a hand for a mo- 
 ment, till I get it out to deliver it to the buyer." 
 
 Ready at once with a scheme to fit the occasion, the woman 
 burst into an insolent laugh : " Truly I have got a fine fel- 
 low for a husband ; a capital hand at a bargain, surely, to go 
 and sell at such a price a thing which I, who am but a woman, 
 had already sold for seven denars, without even quitting the 
 house." 
 
 Delighted at what he heard, "And who is he," said the 
 Husband, *' who has bought it so dear ?" 
 
 ''He has been down in the cask ever so long, jou booby," 
 she replied, " examining it all over to see if it is sound." 
 
 The gallant failed not to take his cue from the woman, and 
 promptly rising up out of the butt, " Shall I tell you the truth, 
 good woman?" he said ; " your tub is very old, and cracked in 
 I don't know how many places." Then turning to the hus- 
 band, without appearing to know him: "Why don't you 
 bring me a light, my tight little fellow, whoever you are, that 
 I may scrape oft" the dirt from the inside, and see whether oi 
 not the tub is fit for use, unless you think I don't come honestly 
 by my money r" 
 
 That pattern of all quick-witted husbands, suspecting no- 
 thing, immediately lighted a lamp, and said, " Come out, bro- 
 ther, and leave me to make it all right for you." So saying, 
 he stripped, and taking the lamp with him into the tub, went 
 to work to scrape off the old hardened dirt. And while he 
 was polishing the inside, the charming gallant polished off the 
 carpenter's wife, laying her on her belly on the outside, she 
 meanwhile amusing herself, like a harlot as she was, with 
 
172 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 making fun of her husband, poking her head into the tub, and 
 pointing out this place and that to be cleaned, and then another, 
 and another ; until both jobs being finished, the unfortunate 
 carpenter received his seven denars, and had to carry the butt 
 on his back to the adulterer's house. 
 
 END OF THE NINTH EPISODE. 
 
 After staying a few days in this town, where they were 
 pampered by the bounty of the public, and made a great deal 
 by their soothsaying, these pious priests bethought them of a 
 new device for getting money. They composed a single 
 oracular response, which would fit a variety of cases, and thus 
 they gulled a great number of persons who came to consult 
 them upon all sorts of subjects. The oracle was as follows: 
 
 The steers are yoked, and till the ground, 
 That crops may rise, and joys abound.* 
 
 Suppose now that a person consulted the oracle with regard 
 to his marrying : to him it said plainly that he should take 
 upon him the yoke of matrimony, and raise a fine crop of chil- 
 dren. Suppose it was one who had a mind to buy land : the 
 yoked oxen and the abundant harvests were quite to the point. 
 If the applicant was anxious about a journey he had to take : 
 the meekest of quadrupeds were readv yoked, and the produce 
 of the soil signified a lucrative result. If he was one who had 
 to go into battle, or to pursue a gang of robbers : the priests 
 declared that the oracle promised him victory, and that he 
 should bring the necks of his enemies under the yoke, and reap 
 a rich harvest of booty 
 
 My masters had gained no little money by this cheating 
 method of divination ; but exhausted at last by perpetual in- 
 terrogations for which they had but one answer, they again 
 departed by a road much worse than that which we had tra- 
 velled the preceding night. The greater part of it was broken 
 up into deep ruts and holes full of water, and the rest was co- 
 vered with thick mud and very slippery. At last, greatly 
 fatigued, and with my legs bruised by continually slipping and 
 
 * The Steers, ^c.]— In the Latin : 
 
 Ideo conjuncti terram proscendunt boves, 
 Ut in futurum laetse germinent sata. 
 
BOOK IX. LUCIUS SOLD TO A BAKEK. lY3 
 
 falling, I had just reached a smooth bit of ground, when sud- 
 denly a body of armed men on horseback galloped down upon 
 us, and after pulling up with difficulty, seized Philebus and 
 his companions by the throat, and beat them with their fists, 
 calling them sacrilegious, obscene villains. Then they hand- 
 cuffed them all, and bellowed to them to produce the golden 
 bowl they had stolen. " Produce," they shouted, " that proof 
 of your crime, which you filched from the very shrine of the 
 Mother of the Gods, when you shut yourselves up in her tem- 
 ple, under pretence of solemnizing secret rites ; and then you 
 quitted the town before daylight without saying a word to any 
 one, as if you thought you could escape punishment for such 
 abominable guilt." Meanwhile, one of them searching the 
 goddess I carried on my back, found the gold cup in her bosom, 
 and drew it forth in the sight of all present. But even that 
 palpable evidence could not abash or dismay those nefarious 
 wretches, but affecting to laugh, and to turn the affair into a 
 joke, they exclaimed : " What an untoward accident ! How 
 often the innocent are put in jeopardy ! Here are ministers of 
 religion put in peril of their lives only for a cup which the 
 Mother of the Gods made a present to her sister, the Syrian 
 Goddess, as a pledge of hospitality." But in spite of all such 
 frivolous excuses, the rustics marched them back, and lodged 
 them in prison ; and the cup and the image I had carried 
 having been solemnly deposited in the temple, I was brought 
 forth on the following day, and again offered for sale by the 
 voice of the crier. A certain baker from the next town bought 
 me for seven denars more than Philebus had given for me ; 
 and putting on my back a good load of corn he had just bought, 
 he took me to his mill by a very rough road, full of stones and 
 roots of trees. 
 
 There were a good many beasts employed there, in turning 
 several millstones, and that not only by day, but all night long 
 too, for the mill was always kept going. Lest I should be 
 disgusted with the beginning of my servitude, my new master 
 treated me with all the honours due to a stranger of consider- 
 ation, and I had a holiday, and a manger abundantly supplied ; 
 but the beatitude of having nothing to do and plenty to eat did 
 not last beyond the first day. On the following day, I was 
 fastened up to turn what seemed to me the largest mill- 
 atone of all, and with my head covered I was put into a little 
 
174 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 hollow path in the form of a circle, in which I was to go round 
 and round perpetually. But I had not so far forgotten my old 
 cunning as to fall in easily with this new discipline ; and though 
 when I was a man I had often seen machines of that kind re- 
 volve, yet, as if I was quite a novice at the work, and did not 
 know what to do, I stood stock still, pretending stupefaction. 
 I imagined that when they saw I was not fit for the work, they 
 would put me to something else that was less fatiguing, or that 
 they would let me eat and do nothing. But my craft, instead 
 of doing me good, only brought me into trouble. For several 
 men armed with sticks came round me while I suspected no- 
 thing, for my head was covered and I could not see ; and at a 
 given signal they all shouted out together, and let fall upon 
 me a storm of blows. I was so terrified by the uproar, that, 
 abandoning all thoughts of trickery, and pulling at the trace 
 with all my might, I paced the ring nimbly, and excited a 
 general burst of laughter by my sudden change of behaviour. 
 
 The day was near its end, I was very tired, when they loosed 
 the rush ropes that fastened me to the mill, and let me go to the 
 manger. Though exhausted with fatigue and hunger, and in 
 great need of having my strength recruited, yet prompted by 
 my natural curiosity, I neglected the food that was before me 
 to observe with a sort of pleasure the economy of our detest- 
 able work-place. gods ! what a set of stunted men I saw 
 there ! Their skins were seamed all over with marks of the 
 lash; their scarred backs were shaded rather than covered 
 with tattered frocks ; some had only aprons ; and all were so 
 clothed, that their skin was visible through the rents in their 
 rags. Their foreheads were branded with letters ; their heads 
 were half shaved ; they had irons on their legs ; they were 
 hideously sallow ; their eyes were bleared, and sore and raw 
 from the smoke of the ovens ; * and they were covered with 
 flour, as athletes are with dust when they contend in the arena. 
 
 But how shall I describe my brute companions ? "What 
 worn-out old mules and geldings ! How they hung their heads 
 at the manger as they chewed the heaps of straw ! Their necks 
 were covered with putrid sores ; they coughed incessantly, and 
 panted through their gaping nostrils ; their chests were raAV 
 from the friction of the rush breast rope ; their flanks laid 
   The smoke of the ovens.']— Th& miller's and the baker's trade were 
 generally combined in those days. 
 
BOOK IX. THE BAKEE's WICKED WIFE. 175 
 
 open to the bone with continual cudgelling; their hoofs 
 lengthened to an extraordinary degree by dint of walking in 
 the mill round; and their hides were rough all over with 
 mange. Beholding the wretched plight of those animals, whom 
 I myself might be brought to resemble, and recollecting my 
 own happy fortune when I was Lucius, I hung my head and 
 sorrowed over the deep degradation into which I had fallen. 
 The only consolation I had was in the pleasure of indulging 
 my inborn curiosity, by observing all that was said and done 
 around me without reserve, for no one took any account of my 
 presence. Truly, it was with good reason that the divine 
 author of the ancient Greek epos, wishing to depict a man of 
 consummate wisdom and prudence, sang of one who had visited 
 many cities and become acquainted with many peoples.* I 
 myself hold my asinine days in grateful remembrance, be- 
 cause, being hidden under that form, I went through a great 
 number of adventures, which made me acquainted with many 
 things, if they have not rendered me wiser. Thus I picked 
 up an excellent story, which particularly interested me, and 
 which you shall hear. 
 
 The baker who had bought me was a worthy, well-conducted 
 man, but suffered the most cruel domestic affliction in conse- 
 quence of having to wife the wickedest of all women ; inso- 
 much, that even I often groaned in secret over his sad lot. 
 There was not one vice from which that nefarious woman was 
 free ; but every kind of iniquity had flowed into her soul, as 
 into a cesspool for the reception of all uncleanness. She was 
 mischievous, malignant, addicted to men and to wine, froward 
 and stubborn, vilely rapacious, unbounded in profusion, a foe 
 to faith and chastity. Moreover, despising and trampling 
 under foot the majesty of heaven, instead of the true religion, 
 she affected to entertain some fantastic and sacrilegious notion 
 of a God whom she declared to be the only one,t and under 
 
 • With many peoples."] — He alludes to Homer's account of Ulysses, in 
 the Odyssey. 
 
 + A God whom she declared to be the only one."] — Having to depict a 
 ■woman of the most flagitious character, Apuleius thought to give likelihood 
 to a portrait that might otherwise have seemed overcharged and unna- 
 tural, by making this paragon of wickedness a Christian. Nothing was 
 too bad to be believed on trust of that decried sect in those days. But 
 such virulent prejudice was not iieciiUar to i)ai£an times. 
 
176 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIFS. 
 
 pretence of certain frivolous observances with which she im- 
 posed upon the public and beguiled her unfortunate husband, 
 she got drunk in the morning, and prostituted her body at all 
 hours. 
 
 This woman persecuted me with amazing rancour. For 
 before the dawn of morning, as she lay still in bed, she used 
 to call out and bid them yoke the new ass to the mill ; as soon 
 as she was up she used to order me to be drubbed without 
 stint in her presence ; and when the cattle were unyoked at 
 breakfast-time, she would order me to be kept from the manger 
 long after the rest. These cruelties greatly whetted my natu- 
 ral curiosity to scrutinize her behaviour. I perceived that a 
 certain young fellow was continually going into her room, and 
 I greatly longed to catch sight of his face, if the covering put 
 on my head had only allowed me the use of my eyes ; in that 
 case I should not have wanted sagacity enough to discover in 
 some way or other the criminal proceedings of the abandoned 
 woman. 
 
 A certain old woman, who was her confidante, and the go- 
 between in her intrigues, was with her every day from morn- 
 ing to night. After breakfasting together, they used to sit and 
 drink neat wine as if for a wager, all the while devising schemes 
 to cheat the unfortunate husband, j^ow, though I was greatly 
 vexed at the blunder committed by Fotis, who had made an 
 ass of me when intending to change me into a bird, yet I had 
 at least this comfort in my lamentable deformity, that being 
 furnished with very long ears, I could hear what was said 
 even at a great distance. One day, for example, I heard the 
 squeaking old woman talk as follows : 
 
 " Make up your mind, mistress, what you will do with that 
 pluckless acquaintance you chose without consulting me, a 
 coward that shudders at the grim frown of your sour and 
 odious husband, and torments you by the laggard weakness of 
 his love, that corresponds so ill with your own warmth. What a 
 different man is Philesietaeros ! young, handsome, generous, met- 
 tlesome, and more than a match for all the useless vigilance of 
 husbands. By Hercules ! he is the only man that deserves to 
 enjoy the embraces of all the ladies of quality, he alone de- 
 serves to be crowned with gold, if it was only for that capital 
 trick he lately played on a jealous husband. Listen, now, and 
 see the difference between such a man and your lover. You 
 
BOOK IX. TTTE JEALOUS nrTSBAND OUTWITTED. 177 
 
 know one Barbams, the decurion* of our town, whom the 
 people nickname Scorpion, on account of his peevish, spiteful 
 disposition. He has a wife of a good family, and surpassing 
 beauty, whom he keeps shut up at home with all the caution 
 imaginable." 
 
 '*To be sure," said the miller's wife , ''I know her very 
 well. You mean my schoolfellow. Arete ?" 
 
 " Then you know the whole story about Philesietjerus r" 
 rejoined the old woman. 
 
 " Kot at all," replied the other ; ^'but I long to hear it, so 
 tell it all, mother, from beginning to end." Accordingly, the 
 old woman, who was an interminable chatterer, began as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 TENTH EPISODE. , 
 
 THE JEALOUS HUSBAND OUTWITTED. 
 
 ** This Barbarus, being obliged to go a journey which he could 
 not avoid, and wishing to take all possible measures to keep 
 his dear wife faithful to him, secretly communicated his inten- 
 tions to his slave Myrmex, the one in whom he had most con- 
 fidence, and ordered him to watch over the conduct of his mis- 
 tress, threatening him with chains, and prison, and starvation, 
 and a torturing death to end all, if any man so much as touched 
 her with the tip of his finger as he passed her in the street ; 
 and all these threats he confirmed with the most solemn oaths. 
 Having thus left Myrmex terribly frightened and disposed to 
 keep a most vigilant watch over his wife, Barbarus set out on 
 his journey without fear of bad consequences. 
 
 '' Intensely anxious about his charge, Myrmex would never 
 let his mistress go out alone. He kept her shut up all day 
 spinning wool, always under his own eye ; and when it was 
 necessary for her to go in the evening to the public baths, he 
 went with her, sticking like glue to her side, and holding the 
 skirt of her robe in his hand, so wonderfully awake was he to 
 all the duties of his trust. 
 
 '' But the beauty of the lady could not escape one who was 
 so keen-sighted in matters of gallantry as was Philesietaerus ; 
 but what piqued and incited him above all things, was the 
 repute of her impregnable virtue, and the extraordinary care 
 with which it was guarded. He resolved, then, to lay siege 
 
 • Decurion,'] — The * decuriones' were the senators of the lloman 
 * municipia,' or free towns. 
 
178 THE GOLDEX ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 with all his might to the house in which she was immured, 
 and to make his way in at all costs and hazards, in spite of its 
 commander's vigorous discipline. And knowing well the frailtj' 
 of human nature, and that gold can smooth down all difficul- 
 ties, and break open adamantine gates, he addressed himself to 
 Myrmex, whom he fortunately met alone, told him of his love 
 for his mistress, and conjured him to afford some remedy for 
 his torments ; assuring him that his speedy death was certain, 
 if his desires were not quickly fulfilled. ' Besides,' said he, 
 * you have nothing to fear in so easy a matter as that which I 
 ask of you ; since no more is required than that I should steal 
 into your house alone, under cover of darkness, and remain 
 there only a moment.' These insinuating arguments he fol- 
 lowed by the application of a wedge that Avas well adapted to 
 cleave asunder the stubborn toughness of the servant's resolu- 
 tion ; for holding out a handful of shining gold coin fresh from 
 the mint, he told him that twenty of them were for the lady, 
 and that ten of them should be freely at his own service. 
 
 '' Terrified at the stupendous proposal, M^Tmex took to his 
 heels at once, without listening to another word. But he could 
 not get the lustre of the yellow gold out of his sight ; and 
 though he had left it behind, and had never stopped running 
 till he got home, he still seemed to behold the beautiful coin, 
 and clutched it in imagination. Miserably was the poor 
 fellow distracted between opposite feelings : he thought of 
 the fidelity he owed his master, and then of his own gain ; 
 the fear of horrible punishment made him hang back ;' the 
 bewitching thought of that money lured him on. At last the 
 gold prevailed over the fear of death, and time by no means 
 allayed his longing for that lovely coin ; it clung to him like a 
 pestilence even through the anxious night ; so that while his 
 master's threats would have detained him at home, yet the 
 gold irresistibly summoned him abroad. Gulping down all 
 shame, therefore, he went straightway to his mistress, and de- 
 livered his message from Philesietaerus ; and she, a wanton 
 born, at once sold her vii'tue for cursed metal. So Myrmex, 
 deluged with joy at the wreck of his fidelity, and eager to 
 finger the gold which it was his ill fate to have seen, went in 
 quest of Philesietaerus, and told him that at last, with great 
 difficulty, he had effected his wishes. Then he asked on the 
 Bpot for the promised recompense, and suddenly found himself 
 
BOOK IX. THE JEALOUS HrSBAND OUTWITTED. 179 
 
 possessed of a handful of gold 3oin, he who had never in his 
 life been master of a copper. 
 
 ''When night was come, he conducted the bold gallant, 
 alone and with his face w^ell muffled, to the house, and into his 
 mistress's chamber. But just as the pair were paying their 
 first adorations to Love, just as the naked recruits in the war- 
 fare of Venus were performing their first service, the husband, 
 who had chosen that time of night on purpose, arrived sud- 
 denly at the moment when he was least expected. He knocked, 
 he called, he pounded at the door with a stone, and growing more 
 and more suspicious in consequence of the delay, he threat- 
 ened terrible vengeance against Myrmex, who was so bewildered 
 by the sudden calamity that he knew not what to do, and could 
 only excuse himself by saying that the darkness of the night 
 had hindered him from finding the key, which he had hidden 
 with great care. Meanwhile, Philesietosrus, alarmed- by the 
 noise, hastily put on his clothes, and ran out of the bedroom, 
 but forgot in his confusion to thrust his feet into his shoes. 
 
 " Then MyriAex put the key in the lock and let in his mas- 
 ter, who was still bawling and swearing with all his might ; 
 and whilst the latter hurried to his chamber, Myrmex let Phi- 
 iesietaerus slip out unperceived, shut the door behind him, and 
 went back to his bed with his mind quite at ease. But when 
 Barbarus got up in the morning, he saw a strange pair of shoes 
 under the bed ; and instantly suspecting what had happened, 
 but saying not a word to his wife or any of the servants, he 
 took up the shoes unobserved and hid them in his bosom ; then 
 ordering Myrmex to be bound and marched off to the forum, 
 he went thither himself, groaning inwardly, and assuring him- 
 self he should trace out the adulterer by means of the shoes. 
 
 *' As Barbarus walked along the street with lowering brows 
 and a face swollen with rage, Myrmex followed him in chains. 
 He had not, indeed, been taken in the fact, but overwhelmed 
 by a guilty conscience, he cried and lamented, so as to excite 
 the useless compassion of the beholders. Philesietserus hap- 
 pened very opportunely to pass that way, and though he had 
 business which called him elsewhere, yet being forcibly struck, 
 but not dismayed, by the spectacle that suddenly came before 
 him, he recollected the mistake he had made in his haste, and 
 immediately inferring all the consequences, he acted on the 
 spot with his usual cleverness and presence of mind. Pushing 
 
 n2 
 
180 THE GOLDEX ASS OF APULEITJS. 
 
 aside the other servants, he rushed upon Mymiex, bawling at 
 him with all his might, and hitting him on the face with his 
 fists, but so as not to hurt him much : ' Villain and liar !' he 
 cried, ' may your master and all the gods, by whose names 
 you forswear yourself, punish you as such a rascal deserves I 
 You that stole my shoes yesterday from the bath. You de- 
 serve, by Hercules, to have those chains upon you until they 
 are worn out, and to be shut up for ever in the darkness of a 
 dungeon.' 
 
 " Completely duped and befooled by the ready-witted strata- 
 gem of the bold youth, Barbarus went back to his house, called 
 Myrmex before him, and putting the shoes into his hands, for- 
 gave him with all his heart, and advised him to return them to 
 their owner from whom he had stolen them." 
 
 END OF THE TENTH EPISODE. 
 
 1^0 sooner had the old woman ended her story, ttian the 
 baker's wife cried out : " Happy is the woman who has such a 
 stout-hearted lover as that ; while I, poor thing, have got one 
 that trembles at the mere sound of the mill, and even at the 
 hoodwinked face of that maugy ass." 
 
 " Never mind," said the old woman. " I will engage to 
 bring you this brisk. lad presently, well inclined, and in good 
 courage." Then, having arranged to return in the evening, 
 she went away. 
 
 The chaste wife forthwith set about preparing a banquet fit 
 for priests. She filtered choice wine, made fresh savoury ra- 
 gouts, and furnished out an abundant table. In short, she 
 made ready for her paramour's arrival as for that of some god; 
 for it happened conveniently for her, that her husband supped 
 abroad with his neighbour the fuller. The hour of noon hav- 
 ing arrived, I was released from the mill, and let go to feed ; 
 but what pleased me most was, not that I had a respite from' 
 drudgery, but that having my head uncovered and the free use 
 of my eyes, I could watch all the doings of that wicked wo- 
 man. At last, when the sun had sunk beneath the ocean to 
 illuminate the inferior zones of the earth, in came the bold 
 gallant alongside of the wicked old hag. He was quite young, 
 with smooth blooming cheeks, and very handsome. The miller's 
 wife received him with all sorts of caresses, and the supper 
 being ready, she made him take his place at the table. 
 
BOOK IX. THE FTLLEr's WIFE. 181 
 
 But scarcely had he put his lips to the preparatory potion, 
 taken by way of a whet, when the husband was heard return- 
 ing much sooner than he had been expected. Thereupon, his 
 exemplary wife, heaping all sorts of curses upon him, and 
 wishing he had broken his legs, hid the pale and trembling 
 youth under a bin for sifting corn which happened to be at 
 hand ; then, with a face of perfect composure, she asked her 
 husband why he had so soon quitted the entertainment of his 
 crony, and returned home. 
 
 The miller, who seemed greatly distressed, replied, with a 
 sigh : ''I hurried away because I could not endure the abo- 
 minable guilt of his abandoned wife. Good gods ! what a 
 faithful, well-conducted matron she seemed, and how infa- 
 mously she has disgraced herself ! I swear by yonder sacred 
 Ceres, that even yet I can hardly believe the evidence of my 
 own eyes against such a woman." 
 
 The miller's impudent wife hearing her husband talk thus, 
 and being curious to hear the whole story, pressed him to re- 
 late all that had happened; and never ceased importuning 
 him until he yielded, and began to relate to her the disgrace 
 of his neighbour's house, while he yet knew not of his own. 
 
 ELEVENTH EPISODE. 
 
 THE FULLEE's wife. 
 
 "The wife of my old comrade, the fuller," said he, "who 
 appeared a very honest woman, and bore the best character, and 
 Beemed to manage her husband's house with great propriety, 
 fell in love with a certain man, and as they saw each other 
 frequently in secret, it happened that when the fuller and 
 I returned from the baths to supper, the pair were then in the 
 very act. 
 
 " Startled and confused by our sudden arrival, the woman 
 could do no better on the instant than hide her paramour under 
 a very high wicker cage, hung round with cloths, which were 
 exposed there to the bleaching fumes of sulphur burned be- 
 neath them. Having thus concealed him, quite safely as she 
 thought, she came and sat down with us to supper. Mean- 
 while, the young man was obliged to breathe the suffocating 
 vapour of the sulphur ; and, according to the usual effect of that 
 acrid and penetrating mineral, he was forced to sneeze re- 
 
182 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 peatedly. The husband, who was opposite his wife at table, 
 hearing the sound that came from behind her, thought it was 
 herself that sneezed, and said, 'Jove save you !' as usual on 
 such occasions. This happened a second, a third, and many 
 more times in succession ; till at last, surprised at these endless 
 sneezings, he began to suspect the real state of the case, and 
 pushing aside the table, he upset the cage, and discovered the 
 man, who lay panting for breath, and almost suffocated. 
 
 *' Transported with rage at the outrage done him, he shouted 
 for his sword, and would have cut the throat of the half-dead 
 wretch, had I not, with great difficulty, restrained him from an 
 act which would have been perilous to us all, by assuring him 
 that his enemy would soon die from the effect of the sulphurous 
 fumes, without our making ourselves guilty of his death. 
 Yielding not so much to m}- persuasions as to the necessity of 
 the case, he dragged the half-lifeless young man into the nex"; 
 lane ; and then I pressed his wife, and at last prevailed upon 
 her, to quit the house and take refuge with some of her friends, 
 until time should have somewhat cooled her husband's boiling 
 rage ; for I made no doubt but that, in the furious exaspera- 
 tion he then exhibited, he would proceed to some desperate 
 extremity against her and himself too. I had now had more 
 than enough of my friend's entertainment, and so I returned 
 home." 
 
 END OF THE ELEVENTH EPISODE. 
 
 Whilst the miller was telling this story, his wife, with un- 
 paralleled effrontery, broke out from time to time with invec- 
 tives and curses upon the fuller's wife, calling her a perfidious 
 wretch, a shameless strumpet, an opprobrium to her whole 
 sex, to fling aside all sense of honour and decency ; to trample 
 on the obligations of the marriage-bed ; to turn her husband's 
 house into an infamous brothel ; to have abandoned the dignity 
 cf a married woman, and earned for herself the name of a 
 prostitute. Such women, she said, ought to be burnt alive. 
 
 Conscious, however, of her own secret guilt, she pressed her 
 husband to go to bed early,, that she might the sooner relieve 
 her gallant from the misery of his confinement ; but the miller 
 having been disappointed of his supper at the fuller's, and 
 having returned home hungrj-, requested her to have the table 
 laid. She quickly served him up, but with anything but good 
 
BOOK IX. 
 
 THE BAKER*S KETEKGE. 183 
 
 will, the supper she had provided for another. Meanwhil-j, 
 my very entrails were racked when I thought of the late do- 
 ings and present effrontery of that abominable woman ; and I 
 pondered anxiously in my mind whether I could not find some 
 means of doing a service to my master by disclosing her 
 treachery ; and whether I could not expose the young fellow 
 to the eyes of every body, by upsetting the bin under which he 
 was squatting like a tortoise. 
 
 Whilst I was thus distracted by the thought of the oiitrage 
 done my master, the providence of the gods came to my aid. 
 For a lame old man, who had charge of the horses and other 
 beasts of burthen, seeing it was the time to give us water, 
 came to drive us all to the next pond. This afforded me a 
 most favourable opportunity for vengeance. I noticed, as I 
 passed, that the young gallant's fingers projected beyond the 
 edge of the bin, and pressing the point of my hoof on them I 
 squeezed them flat, so that yelling with the intolerable pain, 
 and throwing off his cover, he stood manifest to every eye, and 
 unmasked the falsehood of that libidinous woman. 
 
 The miller did not seem greatly shocked by the disclosure 
 of his wife's debauchery, but began with a mild and quiet 
 countenance to reassure the lad, wlio trembled all over, and 
 was pale as death. " Don't be afraid, my boy," he said ; *' I 
 am not a barbarian, or a man of rough and savage ways. I 
 will not smoke you to death with sulphur ; nor will I put such 
 a pretty boy as you into the hands of justice, to suffer the se- 
 vere penalties of the law against adultery. But I will come 
 to an arrangement with my wife, not, however, for a division 
 of property ; no, I will rather make a partnership affair of it, so 
 that, without any dispute or disagreement, we three may make 
 ourselves comfortable in one bed. I have always lived with 
 my wife on such harmonious terms, that, as became discreet 
 people, what the one liked the other liked also. But common 
 justice demands that the wife should not have more authority 
 than the husband." 
 
 After quietly joking in this way, he made the unwilling 
 youth go with him to his chamber, and shutting out his modest 
 wife, he exacted what he thought a pleasant sort of vengeance 
 for the wrong done to his bed. But when the sun had risen 
 next morning, he called for two of the strongest of his work- 
 people, who hoisted the lad, while the miller himself flogged 
 
184 THt GOLDEN ASS OF ArULEIirn. 
 
 his butt(icks with a rod. ''What!" said he, ''you, who are 
 so soft and tender, a mere boy, you hanker after women, do 
 you ? And nothing will suit you but women of free condition, 
 that have got husbands ; you have such a precocious longing 
 for the reputation of an adulterer." After reprimanding him 
 in this sort of way, and giving him a right good flogging, he 
 thrust him out of doors. And thus did that most enterprising 
 of all gallants escape far better than he had hoped for, but in 
 woful plight and with aching buttocks. 
 
 The baker, moreover, divorced his wife, and made her quit 
 his house forthwith. Thereupon the woman's natural malig- 
 nity being exasperated by this affront, however well deserved, 
 she had recourse to her familiar weapons, and to the customary 
 devices of women. She sought out with diligence a certain 
 nefarious woman, who was believed to be able to do whatever 
 she pleased by means of her enchantments and drugs ; her she 
 loaded with presents, and importunately besought her to do 
 one of two things : either to soften the heart of her husband, 
 that he might be reconciled to her ; or if that could not be 
 done, to send at least some ghost, or some dire demoniacal 
 power, to take away his life by violent means. Upon this, the 
 witch, who was capable of exercising an influence upon the 
 gods, employed at first only the milder resources of her wicked 
 art, and endeavoured to influence the feelings of the husband 
 that had been so seriously offended, and lead them back to their 
 former affection. "When, however, the result turned out to be 
 quite different from what she had anticipated, being incensed 
 with the gods, for the contempt with which they had treated 
 her, as well as by the loss of the gain which was to have been 
 hers, if she succeeded, she now began to level her attacks 
 against the life of the unfortunate husband, and to stimulate 
 to his destruction the ghost of a certain woman, who had met 
 with a violent death. 
 
 Perhaps, however, scrupulous reader, you will carp at my 
 story, and will reason as foUows : " How is it possible, you 
 silly ass, that you could know, as you say you did, what was 
 done by women in secret, when at the very moment you were 
 pent up within a bakehouse .^" Hear, then, how I, an inquisi- 
 tive man, wearing the shape of a beast of burden, came to know 
 all that was transacted with a view to the destruction of my 
 master, the baker. 
 
 About midday there suddenly appeared in the bakehouse a 
 
BOOK IX. DEATH OF THE BAKEE. 1Q5 
 
 woman of a hideous aspect, marked by guilt and extreme sor- 
 row ; she was half clad in a patched mourning mantle, her feet 
 were naked, and her haggard face was sallow as boxwood. 
 Her grizzly, dishevelled hair, defiled with ashes, hung over her 
 forehead, and concealed the greater part of her face. This 
 strange-looking woman, taking the baker gently by the hand, 
 led him aside into his chamber, as if she had something to 
 say to him in secret, and having shut the door, remained there 
 a very long time. 
 
 However, when all the wheat was ground which had been 
 delivered out to the workmen, and it became necessary to get 
 more, the servants went to the door of the chamber, and calling 
 to their master, asked for more wheat for the mill. But as no 
 master answered them, though they shouted to him again and 
 again, they began to knock more loudly at the door. Finding, 
 too, that it had been carefully bolted, they suspected something 
 tragical had occurred, and making a violent effort, they tore 
 the door off the hinges, and rushed in. The woman, however, 
 was no where to be found, but they saw their master hanging 
 lifeless from a beam. Loosening the rope from his neck, they 
 took him down, and with great lamentations and weeping, 
 bestowed upon the corpse the last ablution. Finally, having 
 performed the customary offices for the dead, they committed 
 him to the tomb, a great crowd attending the funeral. 
 
 On the following day, his daughter came running from the 
 neighbouring village, where she had lately been married, full 
 of sorrow, shaking her dishevelled hair, and ever and anon 
 beating her breasts with her hands. For she had discovered 
 aU that happened, although no one living had related to her 
 the misfortune that had befallen the family ; but the piteous 
 form of her father had presented itself to her in her sleep, 
 his neck still bound with the halter, and disclosed to her all 
 the wickedness of her stepmother, her infidelity, the en- 
 chantment, and how he had been strangled by a ghost, and 
 had descended to the realms below. After she had given way 
 to long-continued lamentations, at last, being prevailed upon 
 by the united entreaties of her friends and acquaintances, she 
 put an end to her wailings. And now, the funeral solemnities 
 being in the usual manner completed at the tomb, on the ninth 
 day, she had the slaves, the furniture, and all the beasts of 
 burden, brought forth to be sold by auction, for the benefit of 
 
186 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 the heiress. Then did capricious fortune, by the chance results 
 of a sale, disperse in various ways the property of one house. 
 
 A poor gardener made purchase of me for fifty pieces of 
 money, Avhich he said was a great price ; but he paid it in order 
 that he might procure subsistence for himself by our common 
 labour. The occasion appears to me to require that I shoul I 
 explain the nature of these services of mine. Every morning, 
 my master was in the habit of leading me to the next city, 
 with a heavy load of vegetables ; and after he had sold them 
 to the general dealers there, he returned to his garden, sitting 
 on my back. Then, while he was digging and watering, and 
 was iDUsied with other laborious employments, I was left to 
 take my ease, and refresh myself with silence and rest. But, 
 lo ! the revolving year had now, after the autumn delights of 
 the vintage, descended to the wintry frosts of Capricorn ;'^' 
 and then I was perished with continual cold, through the 
 constant rains and the nightly dews, being exposed to the open 
 air in a stable without a roof. For my master, in consequence 
 of his extreme poverty, could not purchase even for himself, 
 much less for me, any straw, or bed-clothes, his only protec- 
 tion from the cold being the thatch of his little cottage. 
 Besides this, in the morning I had to endure great fatigue, 
 in walking with unshod feet on clay that was quite frozen, 
 and pieces of very sharp ice ; and I never even got a bellyful 
 of food. For both my master and myself had meals alike in 
 quality and quantity, and very meagre they were ; since they 
 consisted of old and unsavoury lettuces, which had run to seed, 
 looked just like so many brooms, and were full of a clammy, 
 bitter juice, that smelt disgustingly. 
 
 One night, a householder who lived in the next village, 
 having lost his way through the darkness of a moonless night, 
 and got drenched to the skin with rain, turned with his wea- 
 ried horse into our garden ; and being as courteously received 
 as circumstances would allow of, and being invited to tako 
 there a night's repose, which, if not surrounded by many re- 
 finements, was at all events very welcome, he desired to make a 
 present to his hospitable entertainer, and promised that he 
 would give him from his farm some corn and oil, and two casks 
 of wine. My master therefore proceeded, without delay, to 
 
 * Capricorn.'} — The sun enters the sign Capricorn at the beginning of 
 winter. 
 
KOOK IX. SUPEENATTJliAl, OMENS. 187 
 
 the farm of the householder, which was distant from his garden 
 sixty stadia,* seated on my bare back, and carrying with him 
 a little sack, and some empty wineskins. 
 
 The journey accomplished, we arrived at the farm, and there 
 the kind host immediately asked my master to partake of a 
 sumptuous entertainment. But while they were drinking 
 jovially, a most astonishing prodigy took place. One of the 
 hens in the poultrj^-yard, running through the middle of the 
 yard, kept up a continual cackling, as if she wanted to lay. 
 On this her master, looking at her, said, "Notable servant that 
 you are, and remarkably prolific, for this long time you have 
 treated us with yoiu: daily productions. And now, too, I see, 
 you are thinking about helping us to a dainty morsel. Boy!" 
 said he, speaking to one of his servants, '' get the basket that 
 the hens lay in, and place it in the corner as usual." When 
 the boy had done as he was desired, the hen, refusing to go to 
 her nest as usual, produced before the very feet of her master 
 a premature offspring, and one of a singularly ominous nature. 
 For she did not bring forth an egg, as we usually see hens do, 
 but a chicken, perfectly formed, with feathers and claws, eyes 
 and voice; which immediately began to follow its mother 
 about. 
 
 Another prodigy also occurred, of a far more astonishing 
 nature than the former, and at which all men might with 
 great reason be terrified. For, under the very table which 
 held the remnants of the entertainment, the earth opened with 
 a yawning chasm from its inmost depths, and a copious foun- 
 tain of blood gushed forth; while numerous drops, as they 
 splashed about, sprinkled the table with gore. At that very 
 instant also, while every one was struck with astonishment 
 and dismay at these divine presages, one of the servants came 
 running from the wine cellar, and announced that all the wine, 
 that had long ago been racked off, was boiling up in all the 
 vessels, with a heat as if a large fii-e had been put under it. 
 In the meantime also, some weasels were observed, outside of 
 the house, dragging into it a dead serpent. Then, too, out of 
 the mouth of the sheep -dog jumped a small green frog ; and a 
 ram that stood near him rushing on the same dog, strangled 
 him at a single grip. These numerous portents, and others of 
 a like nature, filled the minds of the master of the house and 
 * Sia;ty stadia.j — Seven miles and a half. 
 
188 THE GOLDEJf ASS OF APULEIFS. 
 
 all his family with intense amazement and terror ; what was 
 to be done fii-st or what last ; what they ought especially to 
 do, and what they ought not to do to appease the anger of the 
 Gods ; with how many and what sort of victims they should 
 make atonement, they were quite at a loss to decide. 
 
 While all were stupefied with expectation of some dreadful 
 catastrophe, a servant came running in, and announced to the 
 master of the house a great and fearful visitation. 
 
 TWELFTH EPISODE. 
 
 THE EUEAL TYEANT. 
 
 This good man was the proud father of three sons, now 
 grown up, well educated, and remarkable for their good 
 conduct. 
 
 Between these young men and a poor man, the owner of a 
 small cottage, there had been an intimacy of long standing. 
 Now, close adjoining to the humble cottage lay the extensive 
 and fertile domain of a wealthy and powerful young man, who 
 made but bad use of the influence derived from his high birth. 
 As he was powerful from the number of his dependents, and 
 did what he pleased in the city, he behaved in a very un- 
 ceremonious manner to his poor neighbour, killing his sheep, 
 driving away his oxen, and trampling down his corn before 
 it was ripe. Already he had deprived him of all hopes of 
 a harvest, and now he wanted to expel him from the posses- 
 sion even of his land. To this end, raising a frivolous ques- 
 tion about the boundaries of the fields, he laid claim to the 
 whole of the land as his own. 
 
 Upon this, the countryman, who was otherwise a mild, 
 harmless man, seeing himself plundered, through the avarice 
 of his rich neighbour, collected together a considerable number 
 of his friends, for the purpose of ascertaining what were the 
 actual boundaries of his land, in order that, at all events, he 
 might keep enough of his paternal land to dig himself a 
 grave. Among others, the three brothers were present, to 
 give such small assistance as best they might, in their friend's 
 extreme need. Still, the mad oppressor was not in the least 
 daunted, or even moved, by the presence of many citizens, and 
 was so far from being disposed to abstain from acts of rapine, 
 that he would not even confine himself to civil language. Eor, 
 
BOOK IX. THE ETJEAL TYEAKT. 189 
 
 when they mildly expostulated with him, and endeavoured 
 to pacify his boisterous disposition by soothing words, he 
 swore in the most solemn manner by his own life and that 
 of his dearest relatives, that he cared but little for the inter- 
 ference of so many arbitrators ; and that, in fact, he would 
 forthwith order his servants to take that neighbour of his bj 
 the ears, and drag him far away from his cottage, and banish 
 liim altogether. 
 
 His words aroused the greatest indignation in the minds of 
 all who heard him ; and one of the three brothers answered, 
 without hesitation, and told him plainly, that it was in vain, 
 that trusting to his riches, he made such arrogant threats, 
 since the poor even can obtain redress against the insolence 
 of the wealthy, through the liberal protection of the laws. 
 What oil is to flame, what sulphur is to a conflagration, what 
 the whip is in the Fury's hand, such was the fuel afforded 
 by these words to the furious disposition of this man. Boused 
 to a perfect frenzy, and bidding them all, and their laws too, 
 go and be hanged, he ordered the shepherds' dogs to be let 
 loose, as well as those upon the farm, savage and blood-thirsty 
 creatures, accustomed to prey upon the dead carcases that were 
 thrown into the fields, and to bite and mangle the passing 
 traveller. Accordingly, incited by the well-known hallooing 
 of the shepherds, the dogs rushed upon the men, barking hor- 
 ribly, and tore the flesh off their bones. Nor even when the 
 men fled did they spare them; but pursued them with so 
 much the more ferocity. 
 
 In this scene of havoc and slaughter of the confused mul- 
 titude, the youngest of the three brothers stumbled against a 
 stone, and was thrown to the ground, where he was devoured 
 by those ferocious dogs. The moment his brothers recog- 
 nized his dying shrieks, they ran to help him, and wrapping 
 their cloaks around their left hands, used every effort to pro- 
 tect their brother, and to drive off the dogs, by volleys of 
 stones. But they were unable to quell their ferocity ; and 
 the unfortunate youth was torn in pieces, and died, entreating 
 with his breath, that they would avenge the death of their 
 youngest brother on that most villanous purse-proud man. 
 Then the two remaining surviving brothers, not, by Hercules, 
 BO much despairing of, as spontaneously disregarding their 
 
190 THE GOLDEir ASS OP APXTLEITTS. 
 
 own safety, made an attack upon the rich man, and with 
 furious impetuosity hurled a shower of stones against him. 
 Then the blood-thirsty wretch, who, before this, had been 
 trained by practice in many similar deeds of outrage, hurled a 
 lance, and pierced one of the two brothers through the middle 
 of the breast. And yet, though mortally wounded, the young 
 man did not fall to the ground. Tor the lance, which had 
 pierced him, and the greater part of which had come out 
 at his back, was by the force of the blow fixed in the earth, 
 and kept his body suspended by the fii'mness of the handle, 
 as it stood quivering in the ground. In addition to this, one 
 of the assassin's servants, a tall robust fellow, violently hurled 
 a stone from a distance, and tried to hit the third brother on 
 the right arm; but the stone, passing just by the tips of his 
 fingers, and so expending its force in vain, fell to the ground 
 without inflicting any injury, contrary to the expectation of 
 all who were present. iS'ow as the youth was endowed with 
 singular presence of mind, this fortunate circumstance afforded 
 him some hope of revenge. For, pretending that his hand 
 was disabled, he thus addressed his most savage antagonist : — 
 " Exult in the destruction of our whole family, glut your in- 
 satiable vengeance with the blood of three brothers, and com- 
 plete your glorious triumph over your prostrate fellow-citi- 
 zens ; only remember, that after you have deprived this poor 
 man of his lands, extend and extend as you may, you will still 
 always have some neighbour or other. But this right hand of 
 mine, which should undoubtedly have struck off" your head, 
 hangs powerless, smitten by the iniquitous decree of fate." 
 The furious cutthroat, exasperated by these words, seizing a 
 sword, rushed eagerly on the wretched 3'outh, with the inten- 
 tion of slaying him with his own hand. However, he had 
 provoked one who was not inferior to himself. For the youth, 
 quite contrary to his anticipation, seized hold of his right 
 hand with a most powerful grasp; and then brandishing his 
 sword, with repeated blows dismissed the impure soul of the 
 rich man from his body ; and lastly, to free himself from the 
 hands of the attendants who were running to give assistance, 
 he cut his own throat with the sword that was still reeking 
 with the blood of his enemy. 
 
 END OF THE TWELFTH EPISODE. 
 
BOOK IX. ADVENT rilK OF THE GAliDENER WITH A SOIDIEE. 191 
 
 These were the events which the astounding prodigies had 
 foreshown ; and these were the events which were related to 
 the most unfortunate master. The old man, overwhelmed by 
 so many misfortunes, could not so much as utter a single word, 
 or even shed a tear, but seizing the knife with which he had 
 just before been helping his guests to cheese and other viands, 
 he pierced his own throat with numerous gashes, thus following 
 the example of his most unhappy son ; so that falling with his 
 face on the table, he washed away, with a river of flowing 
 blood, the stains of that portentous gore which had before 
 fallen upon it. The gardener, commiserating the fate of this 
 house, which had thus come to destruction in the shortest space 
 of time, and deploring his own mischance, made a return for 
 his meal with his tears, and ever and anon clasping together 
 his empty hands, immediately mounted on my back, and re- 
 turned the way we came. 
 
 His return, however, was by no means free from accident. 
 For a certain tall fellow, who was a soldier belonging to one 
 of the legions,'^' as his dress and appearance seemed to indicate, 
 met us on the road, and asked the gardener, in a haughty and 
 insolent tone, whither he was leading that unladen ass ? My 
 master, who was still full of grief, and was ignorant, besides, 
 of the Latin language, passed on without making any reply. 
 Upon this, the soldier could not control the insolence that was 
 so natural to him, but considering his silence as a mark of 
 contempt, thrust him from my back, at the same time striking 
 him with a vine-8tick,f which he carried in his hand. The 
 gardener humbly declared that he did not understand what the 
 soldier said, being ignorant of the language in which he spoke. 
 The soldier, therefore, demanded in Greek, " Whither are you 
 leading that ass ?" The gardener replied, that he was going 
 to the next town. ^' But I am in want of it," said the soldier ; 
 
 * One of the legions.'] — The Roman armies were (omposed of two 
 orders of soldiers, legionaries and auxiliaries ; the fonrier were properly 
 Romans, the latter were drawn from nations allied to Rome. The legion- 
 aries were treated with much more consideration than the auxiUaries. 
 
 + A vine-stick.'] — This shows either that the soldier was a centurion 
 or that he assumed that rank to impose on the peasant ; for it was pecu- 
 liar to the centurions to carry vines, with which they chastised the soldiers 
 under their command. Hence, in Latin, a vine is metonymically used by 
 poets for the office of a centurion. 
 
192 THE GOLDEN AsiS OF APULEHTS. 
 
 ** it must help, with other beasts, to carrj- from the neigli- 
 bouring village the baggage of our commanding officer." With 
 that, laying hold of the rope by which I was led along, he 
 began to pull me away. The gardener, however, wiping away 
 the blood that trickled down his face from the blow he had 
 just received, again entreated the soldier to act more civilly 
 and humanely, and supplicated him to do so, by all his hopes 
 of future good fortune. ''This ass," said he, '' is very lazy, 
 and then besides, he has that abominable complaint, the falling 
 sickness ; it is as much as he can do to carry a few bundles of 
 vegetables from my garden close by ; it quite blows him ; so 
 he is not a likely beast for the carriage of larger burdens." 
 
 "When, however, he found that the soldier could not be 
 softened by entreaties, but was still more and more savagely 
 bent on plundering him, and that now he had shifted his hold 
 of the vine-stick, and was preparing to fracture his skull with 
 the large knob at the end, he had recourse to his last chance. 
 Peigning that he would embrace the soldier, in order to 
 excite his compassion, he bent down, and pulling both legs 
 from under him, dashed him violently to the ground; then 
 instantly throwing himself upon his sprawling antagonist, 
 he bit him, and thumped him, and jobbed him all over, 
 face, arms, and ribs, with his fists, his elbows, and with a 
 stone ^vhich he picked up in the road. As for the sol- 
 dier, he could neither resist nor at all defend himself, from 
 the very moment that he was laid prostrate on the ground ; 
 but could only threaten from time to time that the moment he 
 got up he would cut him to pieces with his sword. The gar- 
 dener, taking warning by this hint, snatched the sword from 
 his side, and throwing it far away, again pummelled him 
 harder than ever, so that the soldier, stretched on his back 
 and disabled with v.'ounds and bruises, had to counterfeit death, 
 as the only means of saving his life. The gardener, then taking 
 the sword away with him, mounted my loack, and made off at 
 my utmost speed straight towards the town ; and, not caring 
 to visit his own garden, at all events for the present, he directed 
 his steps towards the house of an intimate friend of his. After 
 relating all the circumstances, he begged and entreated his 
 friend to stand by him in his present dangerous position, and 
 to conceal him and his ass there for a short time, so that by 
 
BOOK IX. lilE GAEDENEh CONCEALS HIMSELF. 193 
 
 keeping out of the way two or three days, he might escape the 
 penalty of the capital offence he had committed. This man, 
 not being forgetful of their former friendship, he readily re- 
 ceived him, and having dragged me with my legs tied together 
 up stairs into an attic, the gardener crept into a chest that was 
 in the warehouse below, and covering himself with the lid, 
 there lay concealed. 
 
 Meanwhile the soldier, as I afterwards learned, like one 
 recovering from a violent fit of intoxication, made his way 
 to the town, staggering and tottering, sore with the pain of 
 so many wounds, and with difficulty supporting himself on 
 his stick. Ashamed to mention to any of the citizens the parti- 
 culars of his own violence and his ignominious defeat, he 
 silently digested the affront he had received, until meeting at 
 last with some of his fellow-soldiers, he told them of his mis- 
 fortune. They were of opinion, that he should conceal him- 
 self for some time in the barracks ; (for, besides the disgrace 
 to himself, he feared also the military oath sworn by the 
 Genius,* on account of the loss of his sword), while they, 
 noting down the description he gave of us, would make the 
 most zealous endeavours for our discovery, and the gratification 
 of their own vengeance. I^or was a perfidious neighbour want- 
 ing to tell them very speedily where we were concealed. 
 
 Thereupon, the soldier's comrades applied to the magis- 
 trates, and falsely assorted that they had lost on the road a 
 silver cup of considerable value, that belonged to their com- 
 manding officer, and that a certain gardener had found it, and 
 would not give it up, but was now lying concealed in the 
 house of a friend. The magistrates, on being made acquainted 
 with the loss, and the name of the commanding officer, came 
 to the door of our dwelling, and with a loud voice, gave notice 
 to our host that it would be better for him to deliver us up, 
 wlio were beyond a doubt concealed in his premises, than to 
 render himself liable to capital punishment. But our friend, 
 not being in the least daunted, and resolute to save the guest 
 
 * Military oath sworn by the Genius.'] — i. e. The Genius of the emperor, 
 by whom the Roman soldiers solemnly swore never to desert, &c. This 
 oath they deemed more sacred, as Tertullian remarks, than if they had 
 sworn by all the gods put together. The loss of the sword, the buckler, 
 or any other of their principal accoutrements, was punished as equivalent 
 CO desertion. 
 
194 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 he had taken under his protection, declared that he knew no- 
 thing about us, and that he had not seen that gardener for 
 several daj's. On the other hand, the soldiers, swearing by 
 the Genius of the emperor, maintained that he was concealed 
 there, and nowhere else. 
 
 At length the magistrates were determined, by making a 
 strict search, to confute him in this his obstinate denial. Ac- 
 cordingly, sending the lictors and other public officers into the 
 house, they ordered them carefully to search every hole and 
 corner. But, after all their search, the officers reported that 
 no human being, nor yet any ass, was to be found within the 
 threshold. The dispute now grew very warm on both sides ; 
 the soldiers swore by Caesar that they kncAV for certain we were 
 there, while the master of the house swore as stoutly by all 
 the gods in denial of the assertion. On hearing this conten- 
 tion and clamour, I, who was in general an ass of an inqui- 
 sitive and restless disposition, stretched my neck out of a little 
 window, and tried to see what all the noise was about ; but 
 one of the soldiers, by chance turning his eyes in the direction 
 of my shadow, instantly called out to all of them to observe it ; 
 whereupon they instantly raised a loud shout, and rushing up 
 the steps, some of them seized hold of me, and led me prisonei' 
 from my place of concealment. And now, without more de- 
 lay, they narrowly examined every corner, and opening the 
 chest, they found the wretched gardener, dragged him out, and 
 carried him before the magistrates, and finally to the public 
 gaol, in order that he might suffer capital punishment. Nor 
 .could they ever have done joking and laughing at the notion 
 of my looking out of the window. From this circumstance, 
 also, the well-knov/n proverb originated, about the peeping 
 ass and his shade w."^' 
 
 * Peeping ass and his shadow.] — This proverb, which Apuleius jocu- 
 larly says originated from the above-mentioned circumstance, is of naucb 
 greater antiquity. Lucianhas only t^ ovov TrapaKv^ti^Q, from the peep- 
 ing of an ass. There is also another Greek proverb, mentioned by Me- 
 nander, Plato, and many others, vrrfp ovov aKidg, concerning the s/iattow 
 of an ass, which is said of those who are anxious to know things futile, 
 frivolous, and entirely useless. These two proverbs Apuleius has mingled 
 into one. 
 
BOOK X. LUCIUS DEPAllTS WITH niS XEW MASTER 196 
 
 BOOK THE TENTH. 
 
 LUCIUS DEPARTS WITH HIS JSTEW MASTER, THE SOLDIER THIR- 
 TEENTH EPISODE : THE AVICKED STEPMOTHER LUCIUS SOLD TO 
 
 TWO BROTHERS, COOK AND CONFECTIONER TO A MAN OF HIGH 
 
 STATION DEPREDATIONS OF LUCIUS IN THE LARDER HIS 
 
 FONDNESS FOR HUMAN FOOD DISCOVERED HIS BEHAVIOUR AT 
 
 THE SUPPER-TABLE OF THE GREAT MAN WHO BUYS HIM LUCIUS 
 
 IS PAMPERED AND PETTED, AND EXCITES PUBLIC CURIOSITY 
 
 AND ADMIRATION CARRIES HIS MASTER TO CORINTH A LADY 
 
 OF QUALITY FALLS IN LOVE WITH HIM HIS MASTER PROPOSES 
 
 TO MAKE LUCIUS PERFORM STRANGE THINGS IN THE AMPHI- 
 THEATRE — FOURTEENTH EPISODE : HISTORY OF A WOMAN CON- 
 DEMNED TO BE TIIROAVN TO WILD BEASTS DRAMATIC EXHIBITION 
 
 IN THE AMPHITHEATRE LUCIUS MAKES HIS ESCAPE, AND GAL- 
 LOPS TO CENCHRE^. 
 
 What became of my master, the gardener, on the following 
 day, I know not. But the soldier, who had been so hand- 
 somely thrashed for his overbearing conduct, untied me from 
 my manger and took me away, there being no one to hinder 
 him. Then going to his barracks, as it appeared to me, he led 
 me into the public road, laden with his baggage, and equipped 
 quite in military style. Tor he put on my back a glittering 
 helmet, of remarkable brightness, a shield still more splendid, 
 and a long gleaming lance. The latter he took care to place 
 conspicuously on the top of the pole, which he had arranged in 
 the form of a trophy, not so much in compliance with the regu- 
 lations, as for the purpose of terrifying unfortunate travellers. 
 Having passed over a level country by an easy road, we came to 
 a little town, but we did not put up at an inn, but at the house 
 of a certain decurion. After having delivered me to the care 
 of a servant, the soldier repaired without delay to the presence 
 of hi<^ officer, who had the command of a thousand men. 
 
 I remember that a few days after our arrival, a most wicked 
 and dreadful crime was perpetrated in that town. I will re- 
 cord it in my book, tli:it you also may read it. 
 
 02 
 
,9n THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEHTS. 
 
 THIRTEENTH EPISODE. 
 
 THE WICKED STEPMOTHER. 
 
 The master of the house had a son, a young man of great 
 literary attainments, and consequently remarkable for his piety 
 and modesty ; so that any one would have wished to have 
 just such a son. The mother of this young man having been 
 dead many years, his father contracted a second marriage, and 
 his second wife had borne him another son, who had now just 
 passed his twelfth year. But the stepmother, who held 
 supreme sway in her husband's house, rather in consequence 
 of her good looks than her good morals, regarded her stepson 
 with lustful eyes, whether it was that she was naturally vici- 
 ous, or was impelled by Fate to such extreme criminality. 
 Know, therefore, excellent reader, that you are about to peruse 
 a tragic, and not a comic tale, and that you will have to ascend 
 from the sock* to the buskin. 
 
 Now as long as the little Cupid was in its infancy, this 
 woman easilj^ repressed her rising blushes, and concealed them 
 in silence. But when love, raging without control, wrapped 
 her whole soul in flame, she then succumbed to the cruel God ; 
 and, feigning illness, concealed the disease of the mind under 
 the pretence of bodily ailment. Now every one knows that 
 all the morbid changes in the bodily condition and appearance 
 are quite alike in those who are sick and those who are in 
 love ; such, for instance, as an unsightly paleness, languor of 
 the eyes, restless sleep, and sighs the more deep from the 
 slowness of the torment. You might have supposed that she 
 was only afflicted by fitful attacks of fever, had it not been 
 that she wept. Alas 1 for the unskilful impressions of her 
 doctors ! what meant the hurried pulse, the sudden flush, the 
 oppressed respiration, the frequent tossings and turnings from 
 side to side. Good Gods ! how easy is it even for one who is 
 no doctor, but is acquainted with the symptoms of love and 
 passion, to comprehend the true nature of the case, when he 
 sees a person burning without bodily heat ? 
 
 Unable any longer to control her raging passion, she at length 
 broke her long silence, and sent for her son to be called to her, 
 a name she wished he had never borne or might bear no more, 
 
 * The sock, 8fc.]—i. e. From com.e(Jy to tragedy; the sock was worn hj 
 •ctors in comedy, the buskia ii^ tragedy. 
 
BOOK X. THE •WICKED STEPMOTHES. 197 
 
 that she might not, by using it, be reminded of her shame. 
 The young man obeyed withont delay the command of his 
 h)ve-sick parent, and with a forehead wrinkled with sorrow, 
 like that of an old man, he went into the chamber of her who 
 was the wife of his father and the mother of his brother, pay- 
 ing that obedience to her which, to a certain degree, was her due. 
 As for her, fast aground, as it were, upon the shoals of doubt, 
 and long unable to break a silence that tortured her, she again 
 rejects every word which she had at first conceived to be most 
 adapted to the present interview, and even still in a state of 
 indecision, through shame, she cannot tell how to begin. The 
 young man, however, suspecting nothing wrong, with a down- 
 cast countenance, spontaneously asked her what was the cause 
 of her present malady. Upon this, availing herself of the per- 
 nicious opportunity afforded her, she took courage to falter out 
 these few words, while she wept profusely, and hid her face 
 with her garment : 
 
 '' You yourself are the sole cause and origin of my malady, 
 and you are the remedy too, and the only chance of life now 
 left me. For those eyes of yours, penetrating through my own 
 into the inmost core of my heart, have kindled there a most 
 vehement fire. Take pity, therefore, on me, who am perish- 
 ing for your sake ; and let no scruples on your father's ac- 
 count have the least weight with you, for, by complying with 
 my wishes, you will preserve for him a wife, who is otherwise 
 doomed to die. It is with reason that I love you, since in 
 your face I recognize his features. We are alone ; you have 
 nothing to fear ; you have full opportunity for this act, so ne- 
 cessary to my existence — a thing that no one knows." 
 
 The young man being in utter confusion at this unexpected 
 misfortune, although he recoiled from the mere thought of such 
 an abominable deed, yet did not think it right to exasperate 
 her by too abrupt a refusal of a denial, but rather that he ought 
 to appease her by a delusive promise. He promised, therefore, 
 without reserve, and earnestly persuaded her to keep up her 
 spirits, restore her strength by nutriment, and pay attention to 
 her health, till his father should go on some journey or other, 
 and leave them free to enjoy their pleasures. He then with- 
 drew from the baneful presence of his stepmother, and con- 
 ceiving likewise that this calamity with which his house was 
 threatened called for the deepest consideration, he immediately 
 
198 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APrrLEIUS. 
 
 related the aL'fair to an aged man of well-tried prudence, Avho 
 had been his tutor. After long deliberation, nothing seemed 
 to be so advisable as to escape this storm, let loose by adverse 
 fortune, by instant flight. 
 
 The woman, however, impatient at even the smallest delay, 
 invented some pretext or other, and found means cunningly to 
 persuade her husband to take a journey, with all speed, to 
 some small farms of his, which were situate at a very con- 
 siderable distance. This being done, in a state of frantic eager- 
 ness for the fulfilment of her hopes, she solicited her stepson 
 to perform his promise. The young m.an, however, now pre- 
 tending this thing, now that, as an excuse, avoids her execrable 
 presence, till at last, clearly perceiving, from the vaiying na- 
 ture of his messages, that he refused to fulfil his promise, 
 lier nefarious love became suddenly changed into hatred far 
 more intense. Immediately summoning a most villanous 
 slave of hers, who had formed a portion of the dowry she 
 brought her husband, and who was ready for the perpetration 
 of any crime, she communicated to him her perfidious designs, 
 and there was no course that seemed to them preferable to de- 
 priving the unfortunate youth of life. Accordingly, this vil- 
 lain was sent immediately to buy a poison of the most deadly 
 quality, and, having carefully mixed it in wine, she prepared 
 it for the destruction of her guiltless son-in-law. 
 
 As it so happened, while the wicked pair were deliberating 
 about a suitable opportunity for giving him the poison, the 
 younger boy, this most abandoned woman's own son, returning 
 home after his morning studies, and feeling thirsty from his 
 breakfast, found the cup of wine which contained the poison,, 
 and swallowed at a draught the contents ; but no sooner had he 
 drunk the deadly potion which had been prepared for his bro- 
 ther, than he fell lifeless on the ground. His tutor, horrified 
 at liis sudden death, alarmed the mother and the whole family 
 with his cries. And now, when the cause was ascertained to 
 have been the noxious draught, opinions varied as to who were 
 the authors of the crime. But this wicked woman, a singular 
 specimen of a stepmother's malice, not at all moved by the 
 shocking death of her son, nor by the consciousness of having 
 murdered him, nor by the misfortune of her house, nor by the 
 grief her husband would feel for the loss of his son, seized 
 upon the destruction of her own offspring as a ready means of 
 
BOOK X. THE WICKED STEPMOTHER. 199 
 
 vengeance. She imraediately sent a messenger to inform her 
 husband, who was on his journey, of the calamity which had 
 befallen his house ; and when he returned home with all pos- 
 sible haste, she, with enormous effrontery, pretended that her 
 son had been destroyed by poison, administered to him b)^ her 
 stepson. And in this she did not altogether speak falsely, 
 because the boy really had met with the death which had been 
 intended for the young man. She, however, pretended that 
 the younger brother had been put an end to through the wicked- 
 ness of her stepson, because she would not comply with the 
 licentious proposals the latter had made to her. Nor was she 
 contented with lies of such enormity, but even added, that he 
 had likewise threatened her with a sword, in consequence of 
 her detection of his wickedness. 
 
 Grievously was the unhappy man afflicted at the death of 
 both his sons ; for he saw his younger son buried before his 
 face, and he knew that his other son would certainly be con- 
 demned to death for incest and fratricide ; and then, besides, 
 he was impelled to extreme hatred of this son by the feigned 
 lamentations of a wife whom he held too dear. No sooner, 
 therefore, had the funeral rites of the unfortunate boy been 
 arranged, than the unhappy old man hastened straight from 
 the pile to the forum, with the tears still wet upon his cheeks, 
 and tearing his white hairs, begrimed with ashes ; and there, 
 giving loose to his passionate feelings, he used every endeavour 
 to procure the destruction of his remaining son, by tears and 
 by entreaties, even embracing the very knees of the decu- 
 rions ; and never imagining the treachery of his most infam- 
 ous wife, he exclaimed that his son was an incestuous wretch, 
 who had attempted to violate his father's bed ; that he was a 
 fratricide, and had threatened to kill his stepmother. In fine, 
 by his lamentations, he aroused not only the senate but the 
 people, to such a degree of pity and indignation, that, impatient 
 of the tedious formality of a judicial process, and waiving in- 
 contestable proofs in support of the accusation, and the studied 
 subterfuges of pleaders, they shouted out with one consent, 
 that a public crime ought to be punished by the public, and 
 that the author of it ought to be stoned to death. In the 
 meantime, the magistrates, apprehensive, on their own account, 
 lest the growing excitement should lead to results destructive of 
 all order and of the civic weal, began, partly by expostulating 
 
200 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEITJS. 
 
 with the decurions, and partly by soothing the feelings of the 
 public, to induce them that the trial might proceed in due 
 order, and in conformity with the customs of their ancestors, 
 the allegations on both sides being duly weighed, and the sen- 
 tence pronounced in a legal manner. They added, that no one 
 ought to be condemned without a hearing, after the manner of 
 fierce barbarians or lawless tyrants, since, by so doing, they 
 would leave, in those times of profound peace, a dreadful pre- 
 cedent for posterity. 
 
 This sound advice prevailed ; and immediately the crier 
 proclaimed aloud that the senators were to assemble in the 
 senate-house. These having immediately taken their accus- 
 tomed places, according to their rank and dignity, the crier 
 again made proclamation aloud, and the accuser first came 
 forward ; then the prisoner was called and brought into 
 court, and, lastly, the crier, in conformity with the law of 
 Athens and the process of the Areopagus, announced to the 
 advocates on both sides that they were to plead without pre- 
 amble, and to avoid all appeals for the purpose of exciting com- 
 miseration. That this was the manner of proceeding I learned 
 from overhearing the remarks of many people, as they were 
 talking with one another. But as I was not present at the 
 trial, but tied up to a manger, I shall only commit here to 
 writing what I ascertained to be exactly the truth. 
 
 As soon as the harangues of the orators Avere concluded, the 
 senators determined that the truth of the charges should be 
 established by certain proofs, and that a question of such great 
 consequence should not be left to suspicion and conjecture. 
 They, likewise, thought it requisite that the servant, who was 
 said to be the only person who knew the facts of the case, 
 should be brought forward. Nor was that candidate for the 
 gallows in the least dismayed, either by the doubtful result of 
 so serious an investigation, or by the view of the thronged 
 senate house, or even b}^ his own guilty conscience, but began 
 to state and affirm as true a number of things which he him- 
 self had invented. He said, that the young man, being indig- 
 nant at the repulse received from his step-mother, had sum- 
 moned him ; that, in order to avenge the affront, he had or- 
 dered him to destroy her son ; that he had promised him a 
 great reward to ensure his secrecy ; that on his refusal to do 
 what he wished, he liad threatened to put him to death ; that 
 
BOOK X. THE WICKED STEPMOTHER. 201 
 
 he had delivered to him the poison mixed with his own hand, 
 to be given to his brother ; and that the young man, suspecting 
 he had forborne to administer the potion, and had reserved it, 
 to produce as evidence of the crime, at last gave it to the boy 
 with his own hand." 
 
 When this villanous knave had, with an affected agitation, 
 uttered these egregious lies, which bore a most plausible re- 
 semblance to truth, the trial was brought to a conclusion, and 
 not one was there among the senators so favourably disposed 
 towards the young man, as not to pronounce him clearly guilty, 
 and condemn him to be sewed up in the leathern sack. The 
 verdicts, in which they all agreed, were about to be com- 
 mitted to writing, according to custom, and to be placed in 
 the brazen urn ; after which, the die being cast, no change 
 could lawfully be made, but the life of the criminal was placed 
 in the hands of the executioner. Just then, an aged physician, 
 a member of the senate, and a person of approved integrity, 
 and of remarkable influence, covering with his hand the mouth 
 of the urn, that no one might rashly put his billet into it, thus 
 addressed the court : 
 
 " I rejoice that, long as I have lived, I have ever enjoyed 
 your approbation ; and I will not suft'er a manifest act of homi- 
 cide to be perpetrated, by condemning a man to death on a 
 false accusation ; nor you to violate your oath, as judges, for 
 the lying testimony of a slave. I myself will not cheat my 
 own conscience, and trample on the reverence which is due to 
 the gods, by pronouncing an unjust sentence. Learn, there- 
 fore, from me, the real circumstances of the case. This vil- 
 lanous fellow came to me some time ago, and offered me a 
 hundred golden solidi for a prompt and deadly poison, telling 
 me he wanted it for a person who, being grievously afflicted 
 with an incurable disease, wished to rid himself from the tor- 
 ment of life. Noticing the confusion and incoherence of the 
 rascal's story, and feeling sure that he was about to perpetrate 
 some crime, I certainly gave him the potion, but as a precaution, 
 in case the aff'air should be looked into at some future time, I 
 did not immediately take the money that was agreed upon, 
 but said to him, ' Lest by chance any of these golden coins 
 which you off'er me should be found to be light or spurious, 
 put them in this bag, and seal it with your own seal, till they 
 are to-morrow examined in the presence of a money-changer.' 
 
202 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIIJS. 
 
 He complied, and sealed up the money ; as soon, therefore, 
 as he was brought into court to give evidence, T ordered one 
 of my servants to go with all haste and fetch the bag from my 
 shop, and here I now produce it before you. Let him look at 
 it, and examine the impression of his own seal. Now how can 
 the brother be accused of having procured the poison which 
 this fellow bought ?" 
 
 On the instant, a violent fit of trembling seized the villain ; 
 his natural hue gave place to a deadly paleness ; and a cold 
 perspiration suffused all his limbs. He began to shift about 
 his feet with irregular movements ; to scratch now this, now 
 that side of his head ; and, with his mouth half open, stam- 
 mering and stuttering, to utter I know not what silly nonsense, 
 insomuch that not a single person could reasonably suppose 
 him to be innocent of the crime. Recovering, however, his 
 craftiness once again, he unceasingly denied the charge, and 
 accused the phj^sician of lying. On this, the physician, inde- 
 pendently of his being bound by oath to give a just judgment, 
 when he saw that his honour was openly impeached, made 
 redoubled efforts to confute this villain ; till at last the public 
 officers, by order of the magistrates, seizing the slave's hand, 
 found the iron ring, and compared it with the impression on 
 the bag. As the result corroborated the suspicion previously 
 entertained, the rack and the wooden horse were put in opera- 
 tion, according to the Greek custom. Being upheld, however, 
 by a wonderful amount of boldness, he was proof against all 
 blows, and even fire itself. 
 
 At last, the physician exclaimed, '' I will not suffer, by 
 Hercules ! I will not suffer, either that this innocent young 
 man shall receive a punishment at your hands contrary to jus- 
 tice, or that this fellow shall stultify our judgment and escape 
 the punishment due to his crimes. I will give you an evident 
 proof on this matter under consideration. When this most 
 abandoned man was anxious to obtain the deadly poison, I was 
 of opinion that it ill accorded with my art to furnish any one 
 with the means of producing death, being sensible that medi- 
 cine was sought not for the destruction, but for the preservation 
 of mankind ; yet I feared that if I should refuse to give it him, 
 I should th(ireby prompt him to another method of perpetrating 
 the crime, and that he would accomplish the criminal purpose 
 upon which he had resolved, either by buying a de-dly potion 
 
BOOK X. XnE CllUEL STEl'MOTIIEn J'.AXISIIED. 203 
 
 from some other person, or, at all events, by the sword, or some 
 such weapon ; fearing this, I gave him indeed a drug, but it 
 was a preparation of the soporiferous plant called mandrake, 
 remarkable for the torpor which it is known to occasion, and 
 which produces a sleep exactly resembling death. Nor is it 
 to be wondered at, that this most desperate knave, being cer- 
 tain of undergoing, if convicted, the utmost penalty that can 
 be inflicted on him, conformably to the customs of our ances- 
 tors, should be ready to endure these tortures, as being lighter 
 evils. But if the boy has really taken the potion which was 
 mixed by my hands, he is still alive, in a torpid state, and 
 asleep : and immediately his drowsy slumbers are shaken off, 
 he will return to the light of day. But if he is really dead, 
 3'ou may look for some other way of accounting for his de- 
 cease." 
 
 The old man having addressed them to this effect, they as- 
 sented to what he said ; and immediately proceeded in great 
 haste to the pile on which the body of the boy was laid. Not 
 a member was there of the senate, nor a person of the first 
 rank, who did not run thither, impelled by curiosity. And 
 behold, the father himself, having with his own hands removed 
 the lid of the coffin, found his son rising that moment from 
 the dead, the deathlike sleep shaken off; and most ardently 
 embracing him, and unable in words to express his present joy, 
 he led him forth into the presence of the people, and the boy 
 was brought into court, just as he was, swathed and bound in 
 the grave-clothes. 
 
 And now the naked truth Avas obvious to every one, the 
 wickedness of the nefarious slave, and of the still more aban- 
 doned woman, being clearly exposed. Accordingly, the step- 
 mother was condemned to perpetual banishment, the slave was 
 crucified ; and by the consent of all, the golden solidi were 
 presented to the worthy physician, as a reward for the trance 
 he had produced with such happy results. Thus did the sin- 
 gular and romantic fortune of the old decurion come to a 
 termination worthy of Divine providence ; since, in a passing 
 moment, indeed an instant of time, he suddenly became the 
 father of two young men, after he had been in danger of losing 
 both. 
 
 END OP THE THIETEENTH EPISODE. 
 
204 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEITJS. 
 
 As for myself, you shall hear what changes of fortune I 
 experienced at that time. 
 
 The soldier who had made me his own without paying for me, 
 being about to carry letters to the great prince at Eome, in 
 obedience to the commands of his tribune, sold me for eleven 
 denars to two brothers, servants of a very wealthy personage in 
 the neighbourhood. One of them was a confectioner, who made 
 bread and sweetmeats ; the other was a cook, and dressed rich 
 stews seasoned with the relishing juices of pounded herbs and 
 aromatics. These two, dwelling together and living in common, 
 bought me for the purpose of carrying the numerous vessels 
 which were required for their master's use, when he was tra- 
 velling through different countries. I was admitted, there- 
 fore, as a third companion with these two brothers ; and never, 
 at any time, during my transformation, did I experience a 
 fortune so marked with good luck. For, in the evening, after 
 the supper, which was always on a magnificent scale, my 
 masters were in the habit of bringing home to their little 
 room numerous fragments that were left ; the one brought 
 ample remains of roast pig, chickens, fish, and delicate dishes 
 of that kind ; while the other brought bread, pastry, sugar- 
 plums, hook cakes, lizard cakes, and many kinds of honied 
 sweetmeats. Accordingly, after they had fastened the door 
 of their chamber, and had gone to the baths for the pur- 
 pose of refreshing themselves, I used to cram myself with the 
 dainties that fell in my way through the favour of the Gods. 
 For I was not so much a fool, nor so truly an ass, as to neglect 
 this most delicious fare, and feed upon coarse hay. My thie- 
 vish manoeuvres for a long time succeeded most beautifully, 
 because, as yet, I pilfered cautiously and sparingly, only a few 
 articles out of a great number, and they had no suspicion of 
 such tricks being played by an ass. But when, becoming still 
 more fearless of detection, I devoured all the nicest bits, and, 
 rejecting all that was stale, began to lick up the more choice 
 morsels, the brothers were not a little surprized and per- 
 plexed. And though even then they did not believe such a 
 thing of me, still they made diligent enquiry as to who was 
 the author of their daily losses. At length, indeed, they even 
 went so far as to accuse each other of this most base act of 
 theft ; and they began to keep sharper watch, and to count all 
 tliey put by. 
 
BOOK X. THE OWNERS OF LrCITJS PERPLEXED. 205 
 
 At length, throwing off all hesitation and reserve, one of 
 them thus addressed the other: ''Why, really now, this is 
 neither fair nor like a man, for you every day to be diminish- 
 ing what has been put by, and to be purloining the choicest 
 parts, and then to go and sell them, so as slily to increase your 
 own stock, and then cry halves of the remainder. If, in fact, 
 you are tired of our partnership, we may still live as brothers 
 in all other respects, and yet give up this partnership concern of 
 ours. For I see that when dissatisfaction at the loss has in- 
 creased to a very considerable extent, it will create very great 
 discord between us." 
 
 To this the other rejoined, " I do, by Hercules ! admire this 
 effrontery of yours, after you have secretly been pilfering the 
 articles, to forestall my complaints, which, in silence and 
 sorrow, I have kept to myself, being determined to put up 
 with it as long as ever I could, rather than accuse my biothei 
 of shabby theft. But it is well, that having spoken upon the 
 matter on both sides, we are put upon seeking a remedy for 
 our loss, lest our misunderstanding, gathering strength by si- 
 lence, should produce between us a strife like that of Eteocles 
 and his brother." 
 
 Bandying these and similar reproaches against one another, 
 they both of them solemnly declared that they had been guilty 
 of no fraud whatever, nor of the slightest purloining; but 
 agreed, that they ought by every possible contrivance try to 
 discover the thief who was the author of their common loss. 
 It was not possible, they said, that the ass, which was the 
 only being there, could take a fancy to such kind of food : and 
 still, every day the choicest portions were nowhere to be found ; 
 and certainly no flies found their way into their room, that 
 were as large as were the harpies of old, who robbed Phineas 
 of his dainties. 
 
 In the meantime, I, being bountifully crammed with dainty 
 morsels, and well stuffed with human food, found my body 
 plumped up, my hide softened with rich juices, and my coat 
 grown sleek and shining. But that same comeliness was the 
 cause of a great shock to my feelings. For being roused to 
 suspicion by the uncommon breadth of my back, and perceiv- 
 ing that my hay remained every day quite untouched, they 
 now directed all their attention to me. Accordingly, having 
 shut the door at the accustomed hour as usual, as though they 
 
206 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APUJ£IUS. 
 
 were going to the bath, they peeped at me througli a little 
 crevice, as I was intent upon eating the fragments which were 
 exposed in various directions. And now, forgetting all con- 
 sideration for their loss, they burst into a violent fit of laughter 
 at the monstrous epicurism of an ass ; and then calling toge- 
 ther a number of their fellow- servants, they pointed out to 
 th(;m the incredible appetite of an animal like me. Then 
 laughter so loud and so continued seized them all, that the 
 master, who happened to be passing by, asked what fun was 
 going on to make his servants laugh so excessively. Being- 
 told what it was, he came himself and peeped through the 
 same cranny. Then he too laughed until his stomach ached, 
 and opening the door of the room, he came nearer to me, and 
 observed me very attentively. But as for me, seeing that for- 
 tune was inclined to smile more propitiously upon me, I went 
 on eating quite at my ease, the merriment of those present in- 
 spiring me with additional confidence ; till at last tlie master 
 of the house, enchanted by the novelty of the sight, ordered me 
 to be led to the supper-room ; or rather he led me to it with 
 his own hands ; and the table being laid, he directed every 
 kind of substantial food to be placed before me, and dishes 
 that had not been tasted. Now, though I was well stuffed 
 already, yet desiring to render myself more agreeable, and 
 more pleasing to him, I ate of the food placed before me as if 
 I had been quite hungry. But they, prompted by extreme 
 curiosity, thinking of every thing which an ass Avould be most 
 likely to loathe, offered it to me, for the purpose of testing my 
 politeness; such as meat seasoned with assafoetida, fowls 
 sprinkled over with pepper, and fish soused in foreign pickle. 
 In the meantime, the banquet room resounded with roars of 
 laughter. 
 
 At last, a bit of a buffoon who was present, said, *' Give a 
 little wine to our comrade." " Well said, rogue," cried the 
 master ; "I dare say our friend would have no objection to a 
 cup of honied wine." *' Here, lad," said he, " wash well that 
 golden cup, fill it with honied wine, and offer it to my guest; 
 and at the same time, tell him that I have drunk his good 
 health." All the guests now awaited the result in a state of 
 intense curiosity ; the huge cup was handed to me, and withoii 
 more ado, I emptied it at a single draught quite deliberately, anu 
 with a very jovial air, screwing up the extremities of my lips, 
 
BOOK X. THE HISTOKY OF THE MASTER OF LI7CIUS. 207 
 
 in resemblance of a tongue. Then a shout of applause arose, 
 and all, with one accord, drank my health. 
 
 In the end, the master, being excessively pleased, after 
 calling the servants who had bought me, ordered that four 
 times the price they had paid for me should be given to them ; 
 thereupon he delivered me into the charge of a certain person, 
 a freedman of his, to whom he was much attached, and who 
 was very well off, and desired him to take all possible care of 
 me. This person treated me in a very humane and kind 
 manner ; and that he might still more deserve the esteem of 
 his patron, most studiously consulted his amusement by 
 teaching me clever tricks. In the first place, he taught me to 
 recline at table, leaning on my elbow ; next, to wrestle and to 
 dance even, raising my fore feet; and — a thing that won especial 
 admiration — to use signs instead of words, so as to indicate 
 what I disapproved of by throwing back, and what I approved 
 of by bowing my head. He also taught me, when I was 
 thirsty, to look towards the cup-bearer, and by winking first 
 one eyelid then another, to show that I wanted something to 
 drink. In all these matters I showed myself very ready and 
 obedient ; as I could have done them all, though no one had 
 shown me how. But I was afraid, lest, if I should happen to 
 perform them, in imitation of human beings, without the aid 
 of a master, most people would think that it portended sinister 
 events, and that I, as a monster and prodigy, might have to 
 part with my head, and be given as fat provender to the 
 vultures. 
 
 And now my renown was spread abroad in all directions, so 
 that I rendered my master quite famous and illustrious, in con- 
 sequence of my wonderful accomplishments. " This," said 
 the people, " is the man who has an ass for his guest and com- 
 panion ; an ass that wrestles, an ass that dances, and under- 
 stands the language of men, and expresses what he means by 
 signs." It is proper, however, that I should now, at all 
 events, inform you, though I ought to have done so in the be- 
 ginning, who this Thyasus was, and whence he came ; for 
 such was the name of my master. The countrj'- which gave 
 him birth was Corinth, a city which ranks as the chief of all 
 the province of Achaia. And, as he had gradually attained 
 all the honours which his pedigree and dignity demanded, he 
 had now been nominated to the office of quinquennial magis- 
 
208 THE GOLDEX A?8 OF APULEITTS. 
 
 trate. Accordingly, in order that he might act confomiably 
 to the splendour of that office, he liad promised to exhibit a 
 show of gladiators for the space of three days ; thus extending 
 his liberality to the greatest possible degree. In fact, it was 
 his desire of receiving the public applause that had now 
 brought him to Thessaly, in order to procure from thence the 
 most noble wild beasts and some celebrated gladiators. 
 
 And now, having made all his arrangements and completed 
 all his purchases quite to his satisfaction, he was preparing to 
 return home. Disdaining, however, his own splendid chariots, 
 which, some covered and some open, were drawn along in the 
 rear of the cavalcade ; regai'dless also of his Thessalian horses, 
 and his other beasts of Gallic breed, whose generous pedigree 
 bore testimonj^ to their rarit)'" and value; despising and neglect- 
 ing all these, he rode most lovingly on me, who Avas decked out 
 with golden trappings, a coloured saddle, purple cloths, a silver 
 bit, an embroidered girth, and some little bells that tinkled as 
 I went along, and sometimes he addressed me in the kindest 
 of words. Among- many other expressions too which he made 
 use of, he declared how extremely delighted he was at pos- 
 sessing in me, at one and the same time, a companion and a 
 bearer. 
 
 And now, having finished our journey, partly by land and 
 partly by sea, we arrived at Corinth, where vast numbers of 
 the citizens came out to meet us, not so much as it seemed to 
 me for the purpose of doing honour to Thyasus, as from a 
 desire of seeing me. For so great a rumour had pervaded that 
 city about me, that I was a source of no small emolument to 
 my keeper. For perceiving that many were eagerly desirous 
 to see my pastimes, he had the doors shut, and admitted them 
 one by one, charging each a good price for admission. By 
 this means he managed every day to pick up no small sums. 
 
 Among the number of spectators, there was a lady of rank 
 and fortune, who having purchased a sight of me, was quite 
 enchanted with my manifold tricks, and at last conceived a 
 wonderful desire of being more intimate with me. In short, 
 her passion grew to such a height, that, like an asinine Pasi- 
 phae, she prevailed on my keeper, for a considerable sum of 
 money, to let lier have my company for a single night : and 
 the good-for-nothing fellow consented, regardless of all con- 
 eiderations save only his own gain. 
 
BOOK X. LTJCms'S ADVENTIJEE WITH A LAUT OF QrALITT. 209 
 
 Jam denique coenati e tridinio domini decesseramns ; et 
 jamdudum praestitantem cubiculo meo matronam ofFendimus. 
 Dii boni ! qualis ille, quamque praeclarus apparatus ! Qua- 
 tuor eunuchi confestim, pulvillis compluribus ventose tu- 
 mentibus pluma delicata, terrestrem nobis cubitum prsestruimt ; 
 sed et stragula veste, auro ac murice Tyrio depicta, probe con- 
 sternunt ; ac desuper, brevibus admodum, set satis copiosis pul- 
 villis, aliis nimis modicis, quibus maxillas et cervices delicatae 
 mulieres suffulcire consueverunt, superstruunt. Nee dominae 
 voluptates diutina sua prsesentia morati, clausis cubiculi fori- 
 bus, facessunt. At intus cerei prseclara micaiites luce, noc- 
 turnas nobis tenebras inalbabant. 
 
 Tunc ipsa cuncto prorsus spoliata tegmine, taenia, quoque, 
 qua decoras devinxerat papillas, lumen prope assistens, de 
 stanneo vasculo, multo sese perungit oleo balsamo, meque in- 
 didem largissime perfricat ; sed multo tanto impensius crura 
 etiam natesque perfundit meas. Tunc exosculata pressule, non 
 qualia in lupanari solent basiola jactari, vel meretricura pos- 
 cinummia vel adventorum ncgotinummia, sed pura atque sin- 
 cera instruit, et blandissimos afFatus. *' Amo, et cupio, et te 
 solum diligo, et, sine te jam vivere nequeo ; et C£etera quis 
 mulieres et alios inducunt, et suas testantur affectiones, Capis- 
 troque me prehensum, more quo didiceram, declinat facile. 
 Quippe cum nil novi, nihilque difficile faoturus mihi viderer ; 
 praesertim post tan turn teniporis, tam formosse mulieris cupi- 
 entis amplexus obiturus. Nam etvinopulcherrimo atque copioso 
 memet madefeceram ; et unguento fragrantissimo proluvium 
 libidiuis suscitaram, Sed angebar plane non exili metu, 
 reputans, quemadmodem tantis, tamque magnis cruribus 
 possem delicatam matronam inscendere ; vel tam lucida, tam- 
 que tencra, et lacte ac melle confecta membra, duris ungulis 
 complecti : labiasque modicas ambrosio rore purpurantes, tam 
 amplo ore tamque enormi, et saxeis dentibus deformis saviari ; 
 novissime, quo pacto quanquam ex unguiculis perpruriscens, 
 mulier tam vastum genitale susciperet. Heu me qui dirupta 
 nobili fsemina, bestiis objectus, munus instructurus sim mei 
 domini ? MoUes interdum yoculas, et assidua savia, et dulces 
 gannitus, commorsicantibus oculis, iterabat ilia. Et in summa, 
 *' Teneo te," inquit, '' teneo meum palumbulum, meum pas- 
 serum." Et cum dicto, vanas fuisse cogitationcs meas, inep- 
 tumque monstrat metum. Arctissimo namque complexa totum 
 
21C THE GOLDEN" ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 me, prorsus sed totum recepit. Ilia vero, quotiens ei parcens, 
 nates recellebam, accedens totiens nisu rabido, et spinam pre- 
 hendens meam, appliciore nexii inhaerebat : ut, Hercules, etiam 
 deesse mihi aliquid ad supplendum ejus libidinem crederem ; 
 nee Minotauri matrem, frustra delectatam putarem adultero 
 mugiente. 
 
 And now, the laborious and wakeful night being finished, 
 the woman, to avoid being seen, withdrew from my embraces 
 before day -light, at the same time making a contract with my 
 keeper for some future night, at the same price. He was 
 willing enough to gratify her, partly for the large sum he re- 
 ceived from her, and partly for the opportunity afforded him 
 of displaying such a novel spectacle to his lord; to whom, 
 without delay, he unfolded the whole scene of our lust. There- 
 upon Thyasus, having liberally rewarded his freed man, des- 
 tined me to be shown in public. And, because that egregious 
 wife of mine could not be publicly connected with me, being 
 a person of quality, nor any other volunteer could be found for 
 the same purpose, a certain vile woman, who had been sen- 
 tenced by the prefect to be devoured by wild beasts, was pro- 
 cured, for a great sum of money, to have connexion with me 
 in the theatre, in the sight of all the spectators. Of this wo- 
 man I have heard the Ibilowing liistory : — 
 
 FOUllTEENTH EPISODE. 
 
 THE JEALOUS WIFE. 
 
 She had a husband, whose father, when setting out on a 
 journey, had given directions to his wife, the young man's 
 mother, v/hom he left in a state of pregnane)', that if she 
 brought forth an infant of the weaker sex, she should imme- 
 diately have it put to death. Kow she, having brought forth 
 a girl during her husband's absence, and being moved by the 
 natural affection of a mother, disobeyed the commands of her 
 husband, and delivered it to her neighbours to be brought up. 
 On her husband's return, she informed him that she had been 
 delivered of a daughter, who had been destroyed. When now 
 the bloom of age called for the maiden's nuptial day, as she 
 could not give her daughter a portion suitable to her parentage, 
 without the knowledge of her husband, the only way she could 
 
BOOK X. THE JEALOrS WIFE. 211 
 
 do was to disclose the secret to her son. Besides, she was 
 fery much afraid lest he, by some accident, might in the 
 ardour of youth inadvertently make some attempt on the chas- 
 tity of his sister, who was also ignorant that he was her bro- 
 ther. 
 
 The young man, who was remarkable for his affectionate 
 disposition, religiously obeyed tlie commands of his mother, 
 behaved like a good brother, and kept the family secret so 
 well, that to all appearance he entertained for his sister only 
 an ordinary degree of good will. But he undertook to perform 
 a brother s duties by receiving her into his own house, as if she 
 had been some orphan girl of the neighbourhood, who had 
 been deprived of the guardian care of her parents ; and he 
 proposed to many her, ere long, to a most dear companion of 
 his, with whom he was united by the closest ties of friend- 
 ship, and to bestow on her most liberally a dowry at his own 
 expense. 
 
 But these excellent and innocent arrangements could not 
 escape the deadly malevolence of Fortune, who caused a dire 
 jealousy to spring up in the young man's house, and drove the 
 wife to those crimes for which she was now condemned to be 
 thrown to the wild t)easts. She began by suspecting the girl 
 to be a rival, who supplanted her in her husband's affections ; 
 then she hated her, and finally she resolved to ]jut her to 
 death in the most inhuman manner. 
 
 Accordingly, she had recourse to the following wicked 
 stratagem : having stolen her husband's ring, she went to a 
 farm of theirs in the country, and from there sent a servant, 
 who, though faithful to her, was an utter villain, and told 
 him to inform the girl that the young man had come to the 
 farm and desired to see her, adding, that she was to come 
 alone, with all possible speed. And, lest any doubt might 
 happen to arise in her mind about the propriety of coming, she 
 delivered to him the ring which she had stolen from her hus- 
 band, to show as a token that his message was authentic. On 
 this, in compliance with the injunctions of her brother, for she 
 was the only one who knew that he was her brother, and 
 having also taken notice of his seal, which was shown to her, 
 she promptly did as she was desired. As soon, however, as, 
 through this most base stratagem, she had fallen into the snares 
 which were prepared for her, the wicked wife, goaded to mad- 
 
 p2 
 
212 THE GOLDEN ASS OF AITLEIXJS. 
 
 ness by lier jealous fury, stripped the girl naked, and had her 
 Hogged until she was nearly dead. It was in vain that the 
 poor girl confessed the truth, which was wrung from her by 
 the lash, and declared that she was wrongfully accused ; in 
 vain she cried out again and again that the young man was 
 her brother. Her sister-in-law treated her story as a false- 
 hood, and thrusting a burning brand between her thighs, 
 made her suffer a hideous death. 
 
 Immediately upon this, her brother and her husband being 
 informed of her cruel death, hastened to her, and in sore afflic- 
 tion committed her to the tomb. Nor was the young man 
 able patiently to endure the miserable fate of his sister, by the 
 hands of her, too, by whom, least of all, it ought to have been 
 occasioned ; but, being racked with grief and choler, he fell 
 into a burning fever, so that he seemed in urgent need of me- 
 dical aid. On this his wife, who had long since forfeited her 
 claim to that title, went to a certain physician, notorious for 
 his perfidy, who, being famous for his victories in many a 
 mortal struggle, could enumerate the mighty trophies which 
 his right hand had gained. To him she immediately offered fifty 
 thousand sesterces, if he would sell her poison so efficacious as 
 to destroy in an instant, that so she might purchase the death 
 of her husband. 
 
 This done, she and the physician pretended that tlie most 
 excellent potion which they had brought, and which the 
 learned call sacred, was necessary for mitigating pains of the 
 viscera, and carrying off the bile ; but, in its stead, was sub- 
 stituted another potion, sacred to the interests of Proserpine.* 
 And now, in the presence of the sick man's household, and 
 some of his relations and friends, the physician, with his ouu 
 hand, after having well stirred the contents, offered the cup. 
 But that audacious woman, in order that she might at the 
 same moment remove the accomplice in her crime, and save 
 the money which she had promised, held back the cup in the 
 presence of them all, and said, ''Most worthy of doctors, you 
 must not give this draught to my dearest husband till you 
 have swallowed a good portion of it yourself. For how am I 
 to know but that there may be some deadly poison in it ? And 
 this ought by no means to offend you, who are a man so pru- 
 dent and so learned, if I, as an affectionate wife, am anxious for 
 * Proserpine.'} — The goddess of death. 
 
BOOK X. THE JEALOUS WIFE. 213 
 
 the safety of my husband, and so perform a necessary act of 
 duty." The physician, quite confounded by the desperate 
 assurance of the bloodthirsty woman, and having no time to 
 think of any subterfuge, could not help drinking largely of the 
 potion, lest he should excite suspicion of his guilt if he showed 
 any hesitation or fear. Then the young man, confidently fol- 
 lowing his example, took the cup from his hand, and drank 
 what was left. 
 
 The matter being for the present finished, the physician was 
 preparing to return home as quickly as possible, in order that 
 he might counteract the deadly effects of the poison he had 
 taken, by a timely antidote. But the barbarous woman, bent 
 on completing her infernal work, would not sufi'er him to de- 
 part from her a hair's breadth till, as she said, the potion 
 should have been digested and its effect determined by actual 
 proof. However, after much importunate entreaty, she at 
 length reluctantly allowed him to go. In the meantime, the 
 virulence of the fatal poison had spread through all his inside, 
 and made havoc in his vitals. Stupified, and in excruciating 
 pain, it was with the utmost difficulty he reached home, where 
 he had barely time to relate what had happened, and give in- 
 junctions to his wife, at all events, to demand the promised re- 
 ward for thus ensuring the death of two persons. Thus cut off 
 by a violent death, did this very celebrated doctor breathe his 
 last. 
 
 !N^or did the young man live much longer, but perished by 
 the same kind of death, amid the feigned tears of his false 
 wife. After he had been committed to the tomb, and a few 
 days had intervened, during w'hich funeral obsequies were per- 
 formed for the dead, the widow of the physician came and 
 demanded the money which was due for the double homicide. 
 But the other widow, always consistent with herself, put on a 
 very unreal appearance of good faith, and replied with great 
 suavity, assuring the applicant that she would promptly pay 
 ner the stipulated sum, only she wished she would give her a 
 little of the same mixture, for the purpose of completing the 
 business she had begun. 
 
 Completely duped by her insidious perfidy, the doctor's 
 wddow readily consented to do as she was requested ; and that 
 she might ingratiate herself the more with this wealthy wo- 
 man, she hastened home, and immediately brought her the 
 
214 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEirS. 
 
 whole box of poison. Having, therefore, obtained that power- 
 ful instrument of crime, the wretch now prepared to indulge 
 her murderous propensities without stint. 
 
 She had an infant daughter, by the husband whom she had 
 lately murdered ; and she felt extremely galled that the laws 
 would give to this little child the inheritance of her father, as 
 being his next of kin. Coveting the whole patrimony of the 
 daughter, she waited only for an opportunity of depriving her 
 of life. Making sure, therefore, that wicked mothers come in 
 for the reversion of tjie inheritances of their deceased children, 
 she showed herself to be just such a parent as she had been a 
 wife. Accordingly, preparing a breakfast, she seized her op- 
 portunity, and with the same poison destroyed both the widow 
 of the physician and her own daughter. As for the child, the 
 baneful venom instantly stopped her breathing, and consumed 
 her tender life. But as for the doctor's widow, when she felt 
 the virus of the detestable drug creeping through her lungs, 
 she at once suspected the truth ; the increasing difficulty of 
 her breathing converted her suspicion into a certainty, and she 
 hastened at once to the house of the governor of the province, 
 clamorous for justice, and declaring she had enormous crimes 
 to reveal. A great concourse of people gathered round her, 
 and the governor immediately gave her a hearing. After she 
 had unfolded to him from first to last all the atrocities of that 
 horrible woman, she was seized with a fit ; her mouth, that 
 was open in the act of speaking, closed convulsively; she 
 ground her teeth violently together, and fell dead at the go- 
 vernor's feet. That able and energetic functionary would not 
 allow the manifold crimes of this execrable poisoner to lose 
 their terrors by delay, but immediately ordered her chamber- 
 maids to be brought before him, and extracted the truth from 
 them by means of torture. On their deposition he sentenced 
 the culprit to a punishment which was no doubt less than she 
 deserved, but as no other torment could be devised so well 
 adapted to the enormity of her guilt, he ordered that she should 
 be thrown to wild beasts. 
 
 END OF THE FOURTEENTH EPISODE. 
 
 With such a woman as this it was determined that I should 
 be publicly connected, as if I had been lawfully married to her. 
 It was with extreme anguish, therefore, that I looked forward 
 
BOOK X. LTJCirS LED TO THE AMPHITHEATEE. 215 
 
 to the day of the spectacle ; being frequently tempted rather 
 to destroy myself with my own hand, than be defiled by con- 
 tact with such an abandoned woman, or be disgraced by the 
 infamy of such a public spectacle. But, as I was destitute of 
 human hands and of fingers, I had no means of drawing a 
 sword with my round and stumpy hoof. However, I consoled 
 myself, as well as I could, in my extreme anguish, with a slen- 
 der hope ; for the spring now beginning to appear, would deck 
 all the country with flowering buds, and clothe the meadows 
 with a purple glow ; the roses would burst forth from their 
 thorny cells, exhaling aromatic odours, and these would restoi^e 
 me to my former shape as Lucius. 
 
 And now behold, the day destined for the show came ; and 
 amid shouts of applause, a long train escorting me, I was led 
 to the amphitheatre. During the first part of the performance, 
 which was devoted to the joyous choral dances of the players, 
 I was placed outside the gate, and was glad to crop some very 
 fresh grass which grew just at the entrance ; while I everj^ 
 now and then delighted my curious eyes with a most agreeable 
 view of the spectacle through the open gate. 
 
 Beautiful boys and maidens, in the bloom of youth, splen- 
 didly dressed, moved with great elegance of gesture through 
 the graceful evolutions of the Greek Pyrrhic dance. Now they 
 revolved in a circle ; now they deployed into an oblique line, 
 with hands joined ; at times they formed a wedge-like figure 
 enclosing an open square ; then they parted into two troops, 
 and went through a variety of intricate movements, till they 
 ceased at the sound of the trumpet. Then the screen was 
 lowered, the hangings were drawn aside, and a dramatic scene 
 was exhibited. 
 
 There was a wooden structure formed in imitation of that 
 celebrated mountain, Ida, of which the poet Homer has sung. 
 It was a fabric of considerable height, covered over with turf 
 and with growing trees up to the very top, whence, by the con- 
 trivance of the artist, a fountain was made to flow and pour down 
 a stream of water. A few goats cropped the grass, and a young 
 man, handsomely arrayed in flowing Barbaric vestments, and 
 having his head covered with a golden tiara, in resemblance of 
 Paris, the Phrygian shepherd, appeared to be employed in pas- 
 toral pursuits. A beautiful boy then came forward, his only 
 garment being the mantle generally worn by striplings, which 
 
2.16 THF GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 covered his left, shoulder. His beautiful yellow hair flowed 
 loosely, and from the midst of it issued a pair of little golden 
 wings ; these and the caducous he carried showed him to be 
 Mercury. He danced forward, holding in his hand a golden 
 apple, which he presented to the performer who personated 
 Paris, made known to him by signs what Jove commanded, 
 and gracefully retired. A girl then made her appearance, of 
 noble features, representing the goddess Juno : for her head 
 was surrounded with a white diadem, and she bore a sceptre 
 in her hand. Another then entered, who was easy to be recog- 
 nized as Minerva, having on her head a shining helmet, en- 
 circled with a wreath of olive. She raised her shield aloft, 
 and brandished her spear, like that goddess when engaged in 
 battle. After these came another female, of surpassing beauty; 
 the loveliness of her divine complexion declared her to be Yenus, 
 and Yenus such as she was while yet a virgin. Her perfect 
 form was naked, all but some charms imperfectly concealed by 
 a gauze scarf, which the wind played with amorously, some- 
 times uncovering the beauties beneath it, sometimes pressing 
 it against the limbs, and displaying their delicious contour. 
 The goddess appeared in two different colours ; her body was 
 dazzlingly white, because she had descended from the heavens, 
 while her silken garment was azure, because she had emerged 
 from the sea. 
 
 The virgins who represented the goddesses were accompanied 
 by their respective attendants : Juno by two young players, 
 representing Castor and Pollux, whose heads were covered with 
 helmets of semi-oval form, graced with a cluster of stars. She 
 advanced with a calm and unaffected air to the warbling of the 
 flute, and promised the shepherd, with modest gestures, that 
 she would bestow on him the empire of all Asia, if he adjudged 
 to her the prize of beauty. 
 
 She who personated Minerva was attended by two armed 
 youths. Terror and Pear, who danced before her with drawn 
 swords. Behind her a piper played a martial air, mingling shrill 
 and deep-braying tones, and excited the agility of the dancers 
 as with the blast of the trumpet. With restless head and 
 threatening glances, Pallas bounded forward, and with animated 
 gesture signified to Paris that if he pronounced her victorious 
 in the contest of beauty, she would render him illustrious for 
 his valour, and his achievements in war. 
 
BOOK X. DEAMATIC EXHIBITION IN THE AMPHITHEATKE. 217 
 
 Greeted with vast applause from tte spectators, Yenus ad- 
 vanced with a sweet smile, and stood still in a graceful attitude 
 in the middle of the stage, surrounded by a throng of merry- 
 little boys, such plump, round-limbed, fair-skinned little fel- 
 lows, 3^ou would have sworn they were real Cupids, who had 
 just flown from heaven or from the sea ; for they had little 
 wings, and arrows, and all other accoutrements conformable ; 
 and they carried gleaming torches before their mistress, as if 
 to light her way to a nuptial banquet. She had also in her 
 train a lovely choir of virgins, the charming Graces and the 
 Hours, who strewed the path of their goddess with loose flowers 
 and bouquets, and propitiated the queen of pleasure with the 
 pleasant off'erings of the spring. 
 
 Presently the flutes began to breathe soft Lydian airs, that 
 thrilled the audience with delight ; but greater still was their 
 delight, when Venus began to move in concert with the music, 
 and Mdth slow lingering steps, and gentle sinuous flexure of the 
 spine and head, and graceful movements of the arms, to respond 
 to the soft modulations of the flutes ; while now her eyes swam 
 with voluptuous languor, now flashed with the ardour of pas- 
 sion, and sometimes she seemed, as it were, to dance with her 
 eyes alone. As soon as she had approached close to the judge, 
 she was understood to promise, by the movements of her arms, 
 that if she was preferred to the other goddesses, she would 
 bestow on Paris a wife surpassing all women in beauty, in a 
 word, one like herself. Gladly, then, did the young Phrygian 
 deliver to her the golden apple he held in his hand, as a token 
 of her victory. 
 
 What wonder is it, then, you vilest of people, forensic cattle 
 rather, vultures clad in gowns, if all judges now sell their de- 
 cisions for a price ? Even in the early ages of the world, 
 favour was able to corrupt judgment in a question agitated 
 between Gods and men, and a young man, a rustic and a shep- 
 herd, elected judge by the counsels of mighty Jupiter, bartered 
 the first judicial decision for the lucre of lust, ensuring thereby 
 the destruction of all his race. Ay, by Hercules, and another 
 such judgment was given in later times, by the illustrious 
 leaders of the Greeks, when Palamedes, renowned for wisdom 
 and learning, was condemned on false accusations as a traitor ; 
 as also when the mendicant Ulysses was preferred to the 
 mighty ^^ jax, who excelled in military prowess. And what sort 
 
"218 THE GOLDEN" ASS OF APULEITS. 
 
 of judgment was that given by those renowned lawgivers, the 
 Athenians, .those clever people, and masters of all the sciences? 
 Was not that divinely wise old man, whom the Delphic god 
 pronounced superior in wisdom to all men, circumvented by 
 the treachery and envy of a most infamous faction, as a de- 
 clared corrupter of youth, though he restrained their excesses 
 as with a bridle ? "Was he not cut off by the deadly juice of a 
 pestilential herb, leaving to his fellow- citizens the stain of 
 indelible ignominy ? For even at this day the most excellent 
 philosophers make choice of his most holy sect before all others, 
 and swear by his name, in their highest aspirations for con- 
 summate happiness. 
 
 Lest, however, any one blame this outburst of indignation, 
 and say to himself. Look ye now, are we to suffer an ass to 
 philosophize to us r I shall again return to the point in the 
 narrative from which I digressed. After that judgment of 
 Paris was finished, Juno and Minerva retired from the stage 
 in sorrow and anger, and showed by their gestures the indig- 
 nation they felt at being rejected ; but Venus, full of joy and 
 merriment, testified her gladness by dancing with all her choir. 
 Then wine, mixed with safiron, burst forth on high from the 
 summit of the mountain, through a pipe that lay concealed, 
 and flowing in scattered streams, besprinkled as it fell, with 
 an odoriferous shower, the goats that fed around, and changed 
 their native whiteness for a more beautiful yellow tint. And 
 now, the whole theatre exhaling a sweet odour, a chasm of the 
 earth absorbed the wooden mountain. 
 
 One of the soldiers now ran down the street, to fulfil the 
 demands of the people, and bring from the public prison the 
 woman before-mentioned, who, as I have stated, was condemned 
 to the wild beasts, on account of her manifold crimes, and des- 
 tined to be my illustrious bride. "What was intended also to 
 be our genial bed was already prepared. It was brilliantly 
 adorned with the Indian tortoise-shell, swelling with feathery 
 heaps, and decorated with a silken coverlet. As for me, be- 
 sides the shame of being thus publicly exhibited, and besides 
 the contact of that wicked and polluted woman, I was also in 
 the highest degree tormented with the fear of death ; for it 
 struck me that if, while we were performing our prescribed 
 part in the exhibition, any wild beast should be let in on pur- 
 pose to destroy the woman, it would not be so remarkably woU 
 
BOOK X. LrCIUS MAKES HIS ESCArE. -219 
 
 trained or sagacious, or so temperate and abstemious, as to tear 
 the woman to pieces who was at my side, and spare me, as being 
 uncondemned, and guilty of no crime. 
 
 Being therefore alarmed, not on grounds of delicacy alone, 
 but on account of my life, while my master was intent on pre- 
 paring for the representation, and all his servants were partly 
 engaged in getting ready for the spectacle of hunting, and 
 partly in gazing at the grandeur of the show : and as no one 
 thought that so tame an ass required to be so yerj attentively 
 watched, and I was free to follow my own devices, accordingly 
 little by little I stole away softly and quietly. When I reached 
 the nearest gate, I hurried along at a most rapid pace. And 
 after I had travelled a hot gallop of six miles, I arrived at 
 Cenchreae ; a city which has the reputation of being the most 
 noble colony of the Corinthians, and is washed by the ^gean 
 and Saronic sea. Here, also, there is a port, which is a most 
 safe harbour for ships, and frequented by a vast concourse of 
 people. 
 
 Avoiding, therefore, the crowds, and choosing a sequestered 
 spot on the sea-shore, close to the spray of the waves, I stretched 
 my weary body on the soft bosom of the sand. The chariot of 
 the sun had sped onward to the end of its course ; and I re- 
 signed myself to repose, and was soon ^Tapped in sweet sleep. 
 
220 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APrLElIS. 
 
 BOOK THE ELEVENTH. 
 
 LUCniS ON THE SEA-SHORE AT NIGHT HIS PEAYEIl TO THE GOD- 
 DESS ISIS THE GODDESS RESPONDS IN PERSON PROCESSION OP 
 
 THE GODDESS LUCIUS RECOVERS HIS PROPER SHAPE ADDRESS 
 
 OF THE PRIEST OF ISIS TO LUCIUS DEDICATION OF A SHIP TO 
 
 THE GODDESS RELIGIOUS CEREMONY IN THE TEMPLE LUCIUS 
 
 RECOVERS HIS WHITE HORSE LUCIUS INITIATED AS A PRIEST 
 
 OF ISIS HE SAILS FROM CENCHRE^, AND ARPtTVES AT ROME 
 
 INITIATION INTO THE MYSTERIES OF OSIRIS AND SERAPIS LUCIUS 
 
 ADMITTED INTO THE COLLEGE OF THE PASTOPHORI. 
 
 Awaking in sudden alarm about the first watcli of the 
 night, I beheld the full orb of the moon shining with re- 
 markable brightness, and just then emerging from the waves 
 of the sea. Availing myself, therefore, of the silence and soli- 
 tude of night, as I was also well aware that the great primal 
 goddess possessed a transcendent majesty, and that human 
 affairs are entirely governed by her providence ; and that not 
 only cattle and wild beasts, but likewise things inanimate, are 
 invigorated by the divine influence of her light ; that the bodies 
 likewise which are on the earth, in the heavens, and in the 
 sea, at one time increase with her increments, and at another 
 lessen duly with her wanings ; being well assured of this, I 
 determined to implore the august image of the goddess then 
 present, Fate, as I supposed, being now satiated with my many 
 and great calamities, and holding out to me at last some pro- 
 spect of relief. 
 
 Shaking off all drowsiness, therefore, I rose with alacrity, 
 and directly, with the intention of purifying myself, began 
 bathing in the sea. Having dipped my head seven times in 
 the waves, because, according to the divine Pythagoras, that 
 number is especially adapted to religious purposes, I joyously 
 and with alacrity thus supplicated with a tearful countenance 
 the transcendently powerful Goddess : — 
 
 " Queen of heaven, whether thou art the genial Ceres, the 
 prime parent of fruits, who, joyous at the discovery of thy 
 daughter, didst banish the savage nutriment of tlie ancient 
 
BOOK XI. LIJCHJS'S PliAYER lO THE GODDP:SS ISIS. 221 
 
 acorn, and pointing out a better food, dost now till the Elensi- 
 nian soil ; or whether thou art celestial Yenus, who, in the first 
 origin of things, didst associate the different sexes, through 
 the creation of mutual love, and having propagated an eternal 
 offspring in the human race, art now worshipped in the sea- 
 girt shrine of Paphos ; or whether thou art the sister of 
 Phoebus, who, by relieving the pangs of women in travail by 
 soothing remedies, hast brought into the world multitudes so 
 innumerable, and art now venerated, in the far-famed shrines 
 of Ephesus ; or whether thou art Proserpine, terrific with 
 midnight bowlings, with triple features checking the attack 
 of the ghosts, closing the recesses of the earth, and who wan- 
 dering over many a grove, art propitiated by various modes of 
 worship ; with that feminine brightness of thine, illuminating 
 the walls of every city, and with thy vaporous beams nurtur- 
 ing the joyous seeds of plants, and for the revolutions of the 
 sun ministering thy fitful gleams : by whatever name, by 
 whatever ceremonies, and imder whatever form* it is lawful 
 
 * Whatever form.'] — The Moon, being the last of the celestial divinities, 
 receives in herself, according to the Orphic theology, processions from all 
 the orders of Gods superior to, and also contains in herself casually all the 
 divinities inferior to her. Hence, from what is asserted here, and farther on, 
 this Goddess is celebrated as containing all the female deities, just as Osiris 
 contains all those of a male character. In short, according to this theology, 
 each of the Gods is in all, and all are in each, being ineffably united to 
 each other and the highest God, because, each being a superessential 
 unity, their conjunction with each other is a union of unities. And hence 
 it is by no means wonderful that each is celebrated as all. But another 
 and a still more appropriate cause may be assigned of the Moon being 
 called by the appellations of so many female deities, which is this, that, 
 according to the Orphic theology, each of the planets is fixed in a lumi- 
 nous etherial sphere called an oXottjq^ or wholeness, ■f because it is a part 
 with a total subsistence, and is analogous to the sphere of the fixed stars. 
 In consequence of this analogy, each of these planetary spheres contains a 
 multitude of Gods, who are the satellites of the leading divinity of the 
 sphere, and subsist conformably to his characteristics. This doctrine, 
 which, as I have elsewhere observed, is one of the grand keys to the my- 
 thology and theology of the ancients, is not clearly delivered by any other 
 ancient writer than Proclus, and has not, I believe, been noticed by any 
 other modern author than myself. The following are the passages in 
 which this theory is unfolded by Proclus, in his admirable commentaries 
 
 t Each of these spheres is called a wholeness, because it contains 9 
 multitude of partial animals co-ordinate with it. 
 
222 THE GOLDEN ASS OP APri-EIUS. 
 
 to invoke thee ; do thou graciously succour me in this my 
 extreme distress, support my fallen fortune, and grant me rest 
 
 on the Timaeus of Plato. * In each of the celestial spheres, the whole 
 sphere has the relation of a monad, but the cosniocrators [or planets] are 
 the leaders of the multitude in each. For in each a number analogous to 
 the choir of the fixed stars, subsists with appropriate circulations.' And 
 in another part of the same book (p. 280), ' There are other divine ani- 
 mals following the circulations of the planets, the leaders of which are the 
 seven planets ; all which Plato comprehends in what is here said. For 
 these also revolve and have a wandering of such a kind as that which he 
 a little before mentioned of ihe seven planets. For they revolve in con- 
 junction with and make their apocatastases together with their principals, 
 just as the fixed stars are governed by the whole circulation of the [iner- 
 ratic sphere].' And still more fully in p. 281 ; " Each of the planets is 
 a whole world, comprehending in itself many divine genera invisible to 
 us. Of all these, however, the visible star has the government. And in 
 this the fixed stars ditfer from those in the planetary spheres, that the 
 former have one monad [viz., the inerratic sphere], which is the wholeness 
 of them ; but that in each of the latter there are invisible stars, which 
 revolve together with their spheres ; so that in each there is both the 
 wholeness and a leader, which is allotted an exempt transcendency. For 
 the planets being secondary to the fixed stars, require a twofold prefec- 
 ture, the one more total, but the other more partial. But that in each of 
 these there is a multitude co-ordinate with eacli, you may infer from the 
 extremes. For if the inerratic sphere has a multitude co-ordinate with 
 itself, and earth is the wholeness of terrestrial, in the same manner as the 
 inerratic sphere is of celestial animals, it is necessary that each interme- 
 diate wholeness should entirely possess certain partial animals co-ordinate 
 with itself ; through which, also, they are said to be wholenesses. The 
 intermediate natures, however, are concealed from our sense, the extremes 
 being manifest : one of them through its transcendently luminous essence, 
 and the other through its alliance to us. If, likewise, partial souls 
 [such as ours] are disseminated about them, some about tlie sun, others 
 about the moon, and others about each of the rest, and prior to souls, 
 daemons give completion to the herds of which they are the leaders, it is 
 evidently well sain, th?it each of the spheres is a world ; theologists also 
 teaching us these things when they say that there are Gods in each prior 
 to daemons, some of w hich are under the government of otliers. Thus, for 
 instance, they assert, concerning our mistress the Moon, that the Goddess 
 Ilecate is contained in her, and also Diana. Thus, too, in speaking of 
 the sovereign Sun, and the Gods that are there, they celebrate Bacchus 
 as being there — 
 
 " The sun's assessor, who with watchful eye 
 Surveys the sacred pole." 
 
 They likewise celebrate the Jupiter who is there, Osiris, the solar Pan, 
 and others of which the looks of theologists and theurgists are full ; 
 
BOOK XI. THI GODDESS KESPO^^DS TO LUCIUS. 223 
 
 and peace, after the endurance of so many sad calamities. Let 
 there be an end of my sufferings, let there be an end of my 
 perils. Remove from me the dire form of a quadruped, restore 
 me to the sight of my kindred, restore me to Lucius, my former 
 self. But if any offended deity pursues me with inexorable 
 cruelty, may it at least be allowed me to die, if it is not al- 
 lowed me to live." 
 
 from all which it is evident, that each of the planets is truly said to 
 be the leader of many Gods, who give completion to its peculiar cir- 
 culation.' 
 
 From this extraordinary passage, we may perceive at once why the 
 Sun in the Orphic hymns is called Jupiter, why Apollo is called Pan, and 
 Bacchus the Sun ; why the Moon seems to be tlie same with Rhea, Ceres, 
 Proserpine, Juno, Venus, &c., and in short, why any one divinity is cele- 
 brated with the names and epithets of so many of the rest. For from this 
 suhUme theory it follows that every sphere contains a Jupiter, Neptune, 
 Vulcan, Vesta, Minerva, Mars, Ceres, Juno, Diana, Mercury, Venus, 
 Apollo, and in short, every deity, each sphere at the same time con- 
 ferring on these Gods the peculiar characteristic of its nature ; so that, 
 for instance, in the Sun they all possess a solar property, in the Moon a 
 lunar one, and so of the rest. From this theory, too, we may perceive the 
 truth of that divine saying of the ancients, that all things are full of Gods ; 
 for more particular orders proceed from such as are more general, the 
 mundane from the super-mundane, and the sublunary from the celestial : 
 while earth becomes the general receptacle of the illuminations of all the 
 Gods. ' Hence,' as Proclus shortly after observes, ' there is a terrestrial 
 Ceres, Vesta, and Isis, as likewise a terrestrial Jupiter and a terrestrial 
 Hermes, established about the one divinity of the earth, just as a multitude 
 of celestial Gods proceeds about the one divinity of the heavens. For 
 there are progressions of all the celestial Gods into the Earth : and Earth 
 contains all things, in an earthly manner, which Heaven comprehends 
 celestially. Hence, we speak of a terrestrial Bacchus and a terrestrial 
 Apollo, who bestows the all-various streams of water with which the earth 
 abounds, and openings prophetic of futurity.* And if to all this we only 
 add, that all the other mundane Gods subsist in the twelve above-mentioned, 
 and in short, all the mundane in the super-mundane Gods, and that the 
 first triad of these is demiurgic or fabricative, viz. Jupiter, Neptune, Vulcan ; 
 the second, Vesta, Minerva, Mars, defeimve; the third, Ceres, Juno, Diana, 
 vivijic ; and the fourth, Mercury, Venus, Apollo, elevating and harmonic ; 
 I say, if we unite this with the preceding theory, there is nothing in the 
 ancient theology that will not appear admirably sublime and beautifully 
 connected, accurate in all its parts, scientific and divine. 
 
 The Delphin editor, having no conception of this theory, and being 
 unable to assign the reason why the Moon is here said to be Deorurn 
 Dearumgue fades uniformis, thinks with Elmenhorstius. that the word 
 * Deorum' should be obliterated. — Taylor. 
 
224 THE GOLDEN ASS OP APTTLEnJS. 
 
 Having after this manner poured forth my prayers and 
 added bitter lamentations, sleep again overpowered my stricken 
 feelings on the same bed. Scarcely had I closed my eyes, 
 when behold ! a divine form emerged from the middle of the 
 sea, and disclosed features that even the gods themselves might 
 venerate. After this, by degrees, the vision, resplendent 
 throughout the whole body, seemed gradually to take its stand 
 before me, rising above the surface of the sea. I will even 
 make an attempt to describe to you its wondrous appearance, 
 if, indeed, the poverty of human language will afford me the 
 power of appropriately setting it forth; or, if the Divinity 
 herself will supply me with a sufficient stock of eloquent 
 diction. 
 
 In the first place, then, her hair, long and hanging in tapered 
 linglets, fell luxuriantly on her divine neck ; a crown of varied 
 form encircled the summit of her head, with a diversity of 
 flowers, and in the middle of it, just over her forehead, there 
 was a flat circlet, which resembled a mirror, or rather emitted 
 a white refulgent light, thus indicating that she was the 
 moon. Vipers rising from furrows of the earth, supported 
 this on the right hand and on the left, while ears of corn pro- 
 jected on either side. Her garment was of many colours, 
 woven of fine flax ; in one part it was resplendent with a clear 
 white colour, in another it was yellow like the blooming 
 crocus, and in another flaming with a rosy redness. And 
 then, wliat ri vetted my gaze far more than all, was her 
 mantle of the deepest black, that shone with a glossy lustre. 
 It was wrapped around her, and passing from below her right 
 side over the left shoulder, was fastened in a knot that resem- 
 bled the boss of a shield, while a part of the robe fell down in 
 many folds, and gracefully floated with its little knots of fringe 
 that edged its extremities. Glittering stars were dispersed 
 along the embroidered extremities of the robe, and over its 
 whole surface ; and in the middle of them a moon of two 
 weeks old breathed forth its flaming fires. Besides this, a 
 garland, wholly consisting of flowers and fruits of every kind, 
 adhered naturally to the border of this beautiful mantle, ir 
 whatever direction it was wafted by the breeze. 
 
 The objects which she carried in her hands were of a diff'e- 
 n^nt description. In her right hand she bore a brazen sistrum,* 
 
 • Brazen sistnivi~\ — This rattle (in the original crepitaculum) of Isis 
 
BOOK XI. DESClilPTIOX OF THE GODDESS 226 
 
 through the narrow rim of wliich, winding just like a girdje 
 for the body, passed a few little rods, producing a sharp shrill 
 sound, while her arm imparted motion to the triple chords. 
 An oblong vessel, made of gold, in the shape of a boat, hung 
 
 is the same with the celebrated sistrum of that Goddess, as is evident from 
 what is asserted of the latter by Martial. Propertius, and Plutarch. 
 
 The following is a translation of what Plutarch says concerning this 
 sistrum in his treatise of Isis and Osiris, and is remarkably interesting 
 both to the antiquarian and philosopher : * The sistrum likewise indicates 
 that it is necessary that beings should be agitated, and never cease to rest 
 from their local motion, but should be excited and shaken, when they 
 become drowsy and marcid. For they say that Typhon is deterred and 
 repelled by the sistra ; manifesting by this, that as corruption binds and 
 stops [the course of things], so generation again resolves nature, and 
 excites it through motion. But as the upper part of the sistrum is convex, 
 so the concavity of it comprehends the four tilings that are agitated. For 
 the generable and corruptible portion of the world is comprehended indeed 
 by the lunar sphere ; but all things are moved and changed in this sphere, 
 through the four elements of fire and earth, water and air. And on the 
 summit of the concavity of the sistrum they carved a cat having a human 
 face ; and on the under part, below the rattling rods, they placed on one 
 side the face of Isis, and on the other that of Nephthys, obscurely signify- 
 ing by these faces generation and death [or corruption] : for these are the 
 mutations and motions of the elements. But by the cat they indicated 
 the moon, on account of the diversity of colours, operation by night, and 
 fecundity of this animal. For it is said, that she brings forth one, after- 
 weirds two, three, four, and five kittens, and so adds till she has brought 
 forth seven ; so that she brings forth twenty-eight in all, wTiich is the 
 number of the illuminations of the moon. This, therefore, is perhaps 
 more mythologically asserted. The pupils, however, in the eyes of the 
 cat, are seen to become full and to be dilated when the moon is full, and 
 to be diminished and deprived of light during the decrease of this star.' 
 
 In this extract, Baxter, in his translation, makes the rods of the sistrum 
 to be four. For he translates vtto ra atwfieva, ' below the four jinghng 
 things,' which I have translated, below the rattling rods. The sistrum, 
 however, according to all the representations of it that are extant, contained 
 but three rods. Baxter was doubtless led thus to translate ra (reiofifva, 
 because Plutarch had observed a littje before that ' the concavity of the 
 sistrum comprehends the four things that are affitated,' i. e. the four ele- 
 ments. But as there is no sphere of fire, as there is of each of the other 
 elements ; for sublunary fire is an efflux of the celestial fire, and subsists 
 in the cavities of the other elements ; hence, the three rods indicate the 
 three elements, air, water, and earth, and the concavity of the arch of the 
 sistrum will represent the summit of the air, which imitates the purity of 
 the vivific and unburning fire of the heavens. For true fire is in the heavens; 
 but of sublunary fire the purest is ether, and the most gross is in the inte.-^ 
 rior parts of the earth.— Tat/lor. 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIITS. 
 
 down from her left hand, on the handle of which, in that 
 part in which it met the eye, was an asp raising its head erect, 
 and with its throat puffed out on either side. Shoes, too, 
 woven from the palm, the emblem of victory, covered her 
 ambrosial feet. 
 
 Such was the appearance of the mighty goddess, as, breath- 
 ing forth the fragrant perfumes of Arabia the happy, she 
 deigned with her divine voice thus to address me: "Behold me, 
 Lucius ; moved by thy prayers, I appear to thee ; I, who am 
 Nature, the parent of all things, the mistress of all the ele- 
 ments, the primordial offspring of time, the supreme among 
 Divinities, the queen of departed spirits, the first of the celes- 
 tials, and the uniform manifestation of the Gods and Goddesses ; 
 who govern by my nod the luminous heights of heaven, the 
 salubrious breezes of the ocean, and the anguished silent realms 
 of the shades below : whose one sole divinity the whole orb 
 of the earth venerates under a manifold form, with different 
 rites, and under a variety of appellations. Hence the Phrygians, 
 that primaeval race, call me Pessinuntica, the Mother of the 
 Gods ; the Aborigines of Attica, Cecropian Minerva ; the 
 Cyprians, in their sea-girt isle, Paphian Yenus ; the arrow- 
 bearing Cretans, Diana Dictynna;* the three- tongued Sicilians,! 
 Stygian Proserpine ; and the Eleusinians, the ancient Goddess 
 Ceres. Some call me Juno, others Bellona, others Hecate, and 
 others Ehamnusia. But those who are illumined by the earliest 
 rays of that divinity, the Sun, when he rises, the ^thopians, 
 the Arii, and the Egyptians, so skilled in ancient learning, 
 worshipping me with ceremonies quite appropriate, call me by 
 my true name. Queen Isis. Behold then, commiserating your 
 calamities, I am come to thy assistance ; favouring and pro- 
 pitious I am come. Away, then, with tears ; leave your la- 
 mentations ; cast off all sorrow. Soon, through my providence, 
 shall the day of deliverance shine upon you. Listen, there- 
 fore, attentively to these my instructions. 
 
 " Eternal religion has consecrated to me the day which will 
 be born from this night ; to-morrow my priests offer to me the 
 
 * Dictynnal — The invention of nets is ascribed to Diana, which in 
 (ireek are called SUrvva, dictyna. 
 
 -\ The three-ton gued Sicilians.'] — For they first spoke in the Sicilian, 
 ift«rvvards in the lirecian, and at last in the Latin tongue. 
 
BOOK 3tl. THE ADDRESS OF THE GODDESS. 227 
 
 first fruits of the opened navigation, and dedicate to me a new 
 ship, for that the wintry tempests are now appeased, and the 
 stormy waves of the ocean lulled, and the sea itself has become 
 navigable. That sacred ceremonial you must await, with a 
 mind neither full of anxiety, nor intent upon subjects that are 
 profane. Por the priest, at my command, will carry in the 
 procession a crown of roses, attached to the sistrum in his right 
 hand. Without delay, then, pushing the crowd aside, join my 
 procession, and put your trust in my gracious disposition ; then, 
 having approached close, as though to kiss the hand of the 
 priest, gently pluck the roses, and at once divest yourself of 
 the hide of that abominable beast, which I have long looked 
 upon with detestation. 
 
 " JS'or hold in dread any thing pertaining to my concerns as 
 difficult. For even at this very same instant* of time in which I 
 appear to you here present, I am giving orders also to my priest 
 how to bring about the things that are to take place hereafter. 
 By my command, the dense crowds of people shall give way 
 before you. Neither, amid the joyous rites and festive scenes, 
 will any one view with abhorrence the unsightliness of the 
 figure which you bear, or malignantly accuse you, by putting 
 a sinister interpretation on the sudden change of your form. 
 Only remember, and always keep it fast in the very depths of 
 your heart, that the remaining period of your life must be dedi- 
 cated to me, even to the moment of your latest ]?reath. Nor 
 is it unjust that you should devote your whole life to that god- 
 dess, by whose assistance you will have been restored to human 
 form. But under my protection you will live happy, you will 
 live glorious : and wiien, having passed through the allotted 
 period of your life, you shall descend to the realms beneath, 
 there, also, in the subterranean hemisphere, you, dwelling in 
 the Elysian fields, shall frequently adore me whom you now 
 behold thus propitious to you, and shall there see me shining 
 amidst the darkness of Acheron, and reigning in the Stygian 
 realms. And further, if you shall be found to deserve tho 
 protection of my divinity by sedulous obedience, religious de- 
 votion, and inviolable chastity, you shall be sensible that it is 
 possible for me, and me alone, to extend your life beyond the 
 limits that have been appointed to it by your destiny." 
 
 * At this very same instant.'] — For a divine nature is at one and the same 
 time present evei;y where. — Taylor. 
 
228 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 The venerable oracle having thus concluded, the invin- 
 cible divinity dissolved into herself. Instantly shaking off 
 sleep, I arose, in a state of fear and joy, and bathed in per- 
 spiration. Astonished in the highest degree at so evident a 
 manifestation of the powerful goddess, having sprinkled myself 
 with the spray of the sea, and intent on her high commands, I 
 tried to recall to mind the successive particulars of her injunc- 
 tions. Soon after this, the golden sun arose, and put to flight 
 the clouds of dark night : and now, behold, a crowd of people 
 filled all the streets with a religious procession, conducted in a 
 style of triumph. All things likewise, independently of my 
 own delight, seemed to me to be affected with the greatest 
 hilarity, insomuch that I thought even the cattle of all kinds, 
 every house, and the day itself, wore an aspect of gladness and 
 serenity ; for a sunny and placid day had suddenly succeeded 
 to the frost of the previous one ; so that, allured by the warmth 
 of the spring, the tuneful little birds sang sweetly, and with 
 their merry warbling soothed Her who was the mother of the 
 stars, the parent of the seasons, and the mistress of the whole 
 universe. And then the trees, too, both those prolific and 
 those which only yielded a shade, unbound from their wintry 
 sleep by the warm southern breezes, and embellished with 
 young foliage, sent forth a sweet rustling sound from their 
 branches. The waves of the sea, no longer heaving turbidly 
 to the roaring blast of the tempest, gently washed the shore ; 
 the dark clouds were dispersed, and the heavens shone with the 
 feerene splendour of their native light. 
 
 And now, behold, the prelude to the grand procession came 
 gradually into action. The persons who composed it were all 
 finely caparisoned in various ways, each according to his own 
 taste and inclination. This man, being girded with a belt, repre- 
 sented a soldier ; another was equipped as a hunter, with a short 
 scarf, a hunting-knife, and javelin. Another, wearing gilded 
 sandals, a silken garment, and precious female ornaments, and 
 with false hair on his head, personated a woman by his appear- 
 ance and his gait. Another, with his boots, his shield, his 
 helmet, and his sword, appeared as though he had come straight 
 from the school of the gladiators. There was one who played 
 the part of a magistrate, with the fasces and the purple robe ; 
 another that of a philosopher, with his cloak, his stafi", his 
 wooden-clogged shoes, and his goatish beard ; two persons, 
 
BOOK XI. PEOCESSION OF THE GODDESS. 22S 
 
 with dissimilar reeds, represented, the one a fowler with bird- 
 lime, and the other a fisherman with his hook. I also saw a 
 tame she-bear, wearing the dress of a woman, and carried in a 
 chair ; an ape, too, with a plaited straw hat on its head, and 
 clothed with a Phrygian garment of saffron colour, carrying in 
 its hand a golden cup, and representing the shepherd Ganymede ; 
 likewise an ass, on which wings were glued, and which walked 
 near a feeble old man ; so that you would certainly have said 
 that the one was Bellerophon, and the other Pegasus ; but still 
 you would have enjoyed your laugh at both. 
 
 Amid this merry masquerade of the swarming people, the 
 procession proper of the guardian Goddess now advanced. 
 Females, splendidly arrayed m white garments, expressing 
 their joy by various gestures, and adorned with vernal chaplets, 
 scattered flowers on the ground from their bosoms, along the 
 path of the sacred procession. Others, again, with mirrors 
 placed upon their backs, showed all who followed to the God- 
 dess, with their faces towards her as if they were coming to 
 meet her. Others, carrying ivory combs, imitated the combing 
 and bedecking of her regal hair, with the motion of their arms, 
 and the twisting of their fingers. There were others, too, who 
 sprinkled the streets with drops of genial balsam, and other 
 kinds of perfume. In addition to all this, there was a great 
 multitude of men and women, who propitiated the Goddess, 
 Offspring of the celestial stars, by bearing lamps, torches, wax- 
 lapers, and other kinds of artificial light. ]S"ext came musicians, 
 playing sweetly on pipes and flutes. A graceful choir of chosen 
 youths, in snow-white garments, followed them, repeating a 
 beautiful song, which an excellent poet had composed under 
 favour of the Muses, the words of which explained the first 
 origin of the votive procession. Pipers also, consecrated to the 
 great Serapis, played an air appropriate to the worship of the 
 god, on pipes with transverse mouth-pieces, and tubes held ob- 
 liquely towards their right ears. There were, also, a number 
 of persons, whose office it was to give notice that room should 
 be left for the sacred procession to pass. Then came a multi- 
 tude of those who had been initiated into the sacred rites of 
 the goddess, consisting of men and women of all classes and 
 ages, resplendent with the pure whiteness of their linen gar- 
 ments. The women had their anointed hair enveloped in a 
 transparent covering ; but the men had shaven and shining 
 
230 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APCrLElt'&. 
 
 pates ; earthly stars were these of extreme sanctity, who kept 
 up a shrill and incessant tinkling upon brazen, silver, and even 
 gold sistra. But the chief ministers of the sacred rites, clothed 
 in garments of white linen, drawn close over the breast, and 
 hanging down to their feet, carried the insignia of the mighty 
 Gods, exposed full to view. The first held aloft a brilliant 
 lamp, not by any means resembling those lamps of ours which 
 illumine banquets at night ; but it was of gold, of a boat-like 
 form, and emitted a flame of considerable magnitude, from an 
 aperture in the middle. The second was arrayed in a similar 
 manner, but carried in both his hands models of altars, "^ to 
 which the auxiliary providence of the supreme goddess gave 
 the appropriate name of ''auxilia." The third bore a palm 
 tree, the leaves of which were beautifully wrought in gold, as 
 also the caduceus of Mercury. The fourth displayed the sym- 
 bol of Equity, a left hand, fashioned with the palm expanded ; 
 which seems to be more adapted to administering Equity than 
 the right, from its natural inertness, and its being endowed 
 with no craft and no subtlety. The same person also carried a 
 golden vessel, which was rounded in the shape of the female 
 breast, and from which he poured forth milk on the ground. 
 The fifth bore a golden corn-fan, made with thickset branches 
 of gold ; while another carried an amphora. 
 
 In the next place, appeared the gods that deigned to walk 
 with the feet of men. Here, dreadful to view, was the mes- 
 senger of the gods above, and of those of the realms beneath, 
 standing erect, with a face partly black, and partly of a golden 
 hue, bearing in his left hand a caduceus, and shaking in his 
 right a green branch of palm ; close upon whose footsteps fol- 
 lowed a cow, in an erect position ; this cow being the prolific 
 resemblance of the all-parent goddess, and seated on the shoul- 
 ders of one of the blessed devotees of this divinity, who acted 
 gesticulatingly as he walked. Another carried a chest, con- 
 taining the secret utensils of this stupendous mystery. Another 
 bore in his beatified bosom a venerable effigy of his supreme 
 Divinity, bearing no resemblance to any bird or beast, wild or 
 tame, or even to man ; but worthy of all veneration for the 
 exquisite art with which it was wrought, as also for its very 
 
 * Models of altars ] — These altars (altaria) were symbols of the aid 
 afforded by Isis ; and hence Apuleius says, they were called auxilia. — 
 Taylor. 
 
[ 
 
 BOOK XI. LUC1I7S EECOTEES HIS PEOPEE SHAPE. 231 
 
 originality, and an ineffable symbol of a sublime religion, the 
 mysteries of which were ever to be kept in deep silence. It 
 was of burnished gold, after the following manner : there was 
 a small urn, hollowed out in a most artistic manner, with a 
 bottom quite round, and which outside was covered with the 
 wonderful hieroglyphics of the Egyptians. The spout of this 
 urn was very long, not much elevated ; a handle was attached 
 to the other side, and projected from the urn with a wide 
 sweep. On this lay an asp, uplifting its scaly, wrinkled, and 
 swollen throat, and embraced it with its winding folds. 
 
 At last the moment was at hand, when I was to experience 
 the blessing promised me by the most potent goddess ; and the 
 priest, attired just as she had described, approached with the 
 .means of my deliverance. In his right hand he carried the 
 sistrum of the goddess, and a crown of roses ; and by Hercules, 
 a crown it was for me ; since by the providence of the mighty 
 goddess, after having endured so many hardships, and escaped 
 so many dangers, I should now achieve a victory over my cruel 
 enemy, Fortune. 
 
 Still, however, though agitated by a sudden burst of joy, I 
 did not rush forward at once, lest the tranquil order of the 
 sacred procession should be disturbed by the impetuosity of a 
 quadruped ; but passed through the crowd with a quiet and 
 altogether human step, and a sidelong movement of my body, 
 and as the people gave way, through the interference, no doubt, 
 of the goddess, I gradually crept nearer and nearer. But the 
 priest, as I could plainly perceive, recollecting the nocturnal 
 oracle, and struck with wonder at the coincidence with the 
 duty which he had been commanded to perform, instantly stood 
 still, and extending his right hand of his own accord, presented 
 the chaplet to my very mouth. Trembling, and with a great 
 beating of my heart, I seized the bright rosy chaplet, and 
 greedily, most greedily devoured it. 
 
 Nor did the celestial promise deceive me ; for immediately 
 my unsightly and brutal figure left me. First of all, my rough 
 hair fell off, and next my thick skin became thin ; my big belly 
 shrank in ; my hoofs spread out into feet and toes ; my hands 
 were no longer feet, but ready for the duties of their elevated 
 position. My long neck was shortened ; my face and my head 
 became round ; my enormous ears were restored to their former 
 small dimensions ; my stony teeth returned to the diminutive 
 
232 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APriEIUS. 
 
 Size of those of men; and the tail, which before especially 
 annoyed me, was no where to be seen. The people were as- 
 tonished, and the religious adored the power of the supreme 
 Divinity, so manifested in the facility of my restoration, which 
 resembled the visions of a dream. Extending their hands to- 
 wards the heavens, they attested, with a loud and unanimous 
 voice, the favour of the goddess thus signally displayed. 
 
 As for me, I stood riveted to the spot in excessive asto- 
 nishment, my mind being unable to contain a delight so sudden 
 and so great, quite at a loss what first and in especial to say, 
 how to make a commencement with a new voice, how most 
 auspiciously to prepare my address, my tongue being now born 
 again, and in what words sufficiently to express my thanks to a 
 Goddess so great. The priest, however, who through the 
 divine admonition knew all my misfortunes from the beginning, 
 though he himself also was in a state of utter astonishment at 
 this remarkable miracle, at once signified his wish by nodding 
 his head, and ordered that a linen garment should be given 
 me, for the purpose of covering my nakedness. For, the very 
 instant that the ass had laid aside his abominable covering, I 
 carefully shaded myself with a natural screen, as much as it was 
 possible for a naked person to do, by closely compressing my 
 thighs, and applying my hands. Upon this one of the throng 
 of devotees promptly throwing me his upper tunic, covered 
 me therewith ; which being done, the priest with a benign 
 countenance, and, by Hercules, astonished at my perfectly 
 human appearance, thus addressed me : — 
 
 " At last, Lucius, you have arrived at the haven of peace 
 and the altar of mercy, after the many and various hardships 
 you have undergone, and all the buife tings of stormy Fortune. 
 T^either the nobility of your descent, nor your dignified posi- 
 tion, nor even the learning in which you excel, have benefited 
 you in the slightest degree ; but falling into the slavery of 
 pleasure, in the wantonness of buxom youth, you have reaped 
 the inauspicious reward of your ill-fated curiosity. Never- 
 theless, blind Fortune, while harassing you with the worst of 
 dangers, has conducted you, in her short-sighted malice, to 
 this state of religious beatitude. Let her go now, and rage 
 with, all her fury, and let her seek some other object for 
 h(T cruelty ;* for direful calamity has no power over those 
 
 * Let her go now, ^c] — This passage —   Eat nunc, et summo furore 
 
500K XI. ADDEESS OP THE PEIEST OF ISIS TO LCrCHTS. 233 
 
 whose liyes the majesty of our Goddess has claimed for 
 her own service. What advantage has unscrupulous Por- 
 tune derived from the robbers, from the wild beasts, from the 
 servitude, from the long toils on rugged roads, and from the 
 fear of death to which you were daily exposed? You are 
 now received under the guardianship of Fortune, but of a For- 
 tune who can see, and who even illuminates the other Deities 
 with the splendour of her light. Assume henceforth a more 
 joyous countenance, such as befits that white garment which 
 you wear. Follow the train of the Goddess your deliverer with 
 triumphant steps. Let the irreligious see, let them see and ac- 
 knowledge their error. Behold now, Lucius, rejoicing in the 
 providence of great Isis, and freed from his former miseries, 
 triumphs over his destiny. I^evertheless, that you may be 
 more secure and better protected, enrol your name in this holy 
 militia, which you will hereafter rejoice to belong to ; dedicate 
 yourself to the service of our religion, and voluntarily bend 
 your neck to the yoke of this ministry ; for when you have 
 once begun to serve the Goddess, you will then in a still higher 
 degree enjoy the fruit of your liberty." 
 
 The worthy priest having uttered these words, while his 
 breath heaved with inspiration, concluded his address, and I 
 mingling with the throng of devotees, accompanied the pro- 
 cession; an object of curiosity to the whole city. All pointed 
 at me with their fingers and heads, and said, " This day 
 has the august power of all mighty God restored that person to 
 the human form. Happy, by Hercules ! and thrice blessed he, 
 to have merited, by the innocence and probity of his past life, 
 such special patronage of heaven ; in that, being after a manner 
 born again, he is immediately affianced to the service of the 
 sacred ministry." 
 
 sseviat, et crudelitati suae materiam quaerat aliam,' is alone sufficient to 
 show that Lesage, when he composed Gil Bias, had in view the Metamor- 
 phoses of Apuleius. In addition to the coincidence of the case of the 
 robbers, the robbers' narrative. Dame Leonarda, the captive damsel, and 
 her escape with the hero of the tale, being persons and events introduced 
 into both compositions, the above apostrophe to Fortune is rendered 
 almost literally in Latin verse by Lesage. The lines inscribed by G„ 
 Bias, about to devote himself to a life of rural retirement, over the door of 
 his house, are — 
 
 * Inveni portum, spes et fortuna valete, 
 Sat me lusistis ; ludite nunc alios.'— //eat?. 
 
234 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 While these remarks were being made, and amid the tumult 
 of their noisy congratulations, moving slowly on, we now ap- 
 proached the sea-shore, and came to that very place where, on 
 the preceding day, I, while yet an ass, had laid me down. The 
 images of the Gods being there arranged in proper order, the 
 chief priest dedicated and consecrated to the Goddess a very 
 skilfully built ship, pictured all over with the curious hiero- 
 glyphics of the Egyptians, after having most carefully purified 
 it with a lighted torch, an egg, and sulphur, while at the same 
 time his chaste lips poured forth solemn prayers. The shining 
 white sail of this auspicious bark bore an inscription in large 
 characters, which was a repetition of a vow that had been made 
 on shore for the prosperity of the convoy at this season of the re- 
 commencement of navigation, I^ow the mast was raised, which 
 was a rounded pine tree, tall and well polished, and conspicuous 
 for the beauteous appearance of its head. The prow also was 
 turned in imitation of a goose's neck,* and covered with gold 
 leaf, the bark shone resplendently, while the whole of the 
 highly polished keel consisted of shining citron wood. All the 
 people, religious and profane,f vied with each other in heaping 
 together corn-fans laden with aromatics and other sacrificial 
 offerings, and poured upon the waves a libation of milk mixed 
 with other ingredients ; until the ship, freighted with abundant 
 gifts and auspicious prayers, and let slip from the ropes that held 
 the anchor, put to sea with a serene breeze, which seemed to 
 have sprung up for her sake alone. And after she had pro- 
 ceeded so far on her course that she could no longer be distin- 
 guished by us, the bearers of the sacred things again took what 
 each had brought, and began joyfully to return to the temple, 
 in an orderly manner, and in the same form of procession in 
 which they had come. 
 
 Now as soon as we arrived at the temple, the chief priest and 
 those who carried the sabred images, and those who had already 
 been initiated into the venerable mysteries, being admitted into 
 the sanctuary of the Goddess, deposited in the accustomed form 
 the breathing effigies. J Then, one of these, whom all of them 
 
 * J goose's neck.'] — The goose is sacred to Isis. — Taylor. 
 
 t Religious and profane.'] — The words are used in a sense nearly analo- 
 gous to clergy and laity. ' Profane/ means primitively nothing worse than 
 &n * outsider,' with regard to the service of the temple. 
 
 + Breathing effigies.] — These breathing effigies were statues of the 
 
BOOK XI. LUCIUS IS RECEIVED "WITH PLEASUUE Br HIS FEIEITDS. 235 
 
 called the scribe, standing before the doors, whilst the company 
 of the Pastophori,* which is the name of the brotherhood of this 
 sacred college, convoked together as to a council, uttered from a 
 high pulpit auspicious wishes, from a book in which was written: 
 — " To the great Prince, to the Senate, to theEquestrian order, 
 in naval matters and in ships, and all those who are subject to 
 our dominion ;" and then he pronounced in the Greek language, 
 and according to the Greek custom, the Aao/g a<ps(Jig, [the people 
 may depart,] to which the people responded with a clamour 
 which testified their general satisfaction. Then every one went 
 home, full of joy, carrying branches of olive, sweet herbs, and 
 garlands of flowers, and after kissing the feet of a silver imago 
 of the Goddess, which stood on the steps of the temple. But my 
 feelings would not allow me to move so much as a nail's breadth 
 from that place ; but with my eyes intently fastened on the image 
 of the Goddess, I recalled to memory my past misfortunes. 
 
 Meeting Fame, however, had not in the meantime let her 
 wings remain idle, but had immediately circulated in all direc- 
 tions in my native country the adorable bounty of the provident 
 Goddess, and my own memorable adventures. Accordingly, my 
 domestics and servants, and those who were nearest to me 
 by blood, laying aside the sorrow with which they had been 
 afflicted at the false intelligence of my death, and elated with 
 this sudden joy, hastened forthwith to see me, who had been 
 divinely saved and brought back, as it were, from the shades 
 below, and they presented me with gifts of various kinds. 
 I, too, was delighted to see them, and returned them many 
 thanks for their handsome presents, and the more especially, 
 as my domestics had providently taken care to bring me what 
 would be abundantly sufficient in the way of clothes and 
 money. Having, therefore, spoken to each of them in such 
 manner as I was in duty bound to do, and related to them my 
 former sorrows and my present joyous prospects, I again re- 
 turned to what was to me the greatest subject of delight, the 
 contemplation of the Goddess, and procured for myself a tem- 
 porary habitation within the enclosure of the temple, constantly 
 taking part in the private services of the Goddess, and being 
 inseparable from the brotherhood of the priests, and a constant 
 
 Gods, fabricated by telestce, or mystic operators, so as to become animated, 
 illuminated by divinity, and capable of delivering oracles. — Taylor. 
 * The Pastophori.] — The priests that carried the shrines of the Gods. 
 
236 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APTJLEITJS. 
 
 adorer of the great Divinity. Nor did I pass a single night or 
 ever close my eyes without some vision from this Divinity, in 
 which she commanded me to be now initiated in her sacred 
 mysteries, to which I had long since been destined. As for 
 me, though prompted by eager inclination, I was still restrained 
 by religious fear. For after diligent enquiry, I had found that 
 the requirements of a religious life were full of difficulties ; 
 that the chastity required was a very difficult thing to observe, 
 and that it needed extreme circumspection to preserve such a 
 habit of life from casual defilements. Frequently pondering 
 over these things, I somehow or other delayed being initiated, 
 although hastening to that conclusion. 
 
 One night I had a dream, in which I thought that the chief 
 priest made his appearance, and presented to me his lap full of 
 various things, and on my asking what they were, he answered 
 me, that the things had been sent to me from Thessaly ; for 
 that a servant of mine, whose name was Candidus, had arrived 
 from that province. When I awoke, I revolved in my mind 
 over and over again what the vision portended, especially as I 
 was certain that I n,ever had any servant who was called by 
 that name. Still, however, I believed that some profitable 
 result was undoubtedly signified by the priest off'ering me the 
 things. Thus, in a state of anxious and bewildered eagerness, 
 I awaited the opening of the temple in the morning. The white 
 curtains having been drawn aside, we prayed to the venerable 
 presence of the Goddess ; and the priest going round the altars, 
 performed the sacred ceremonial with solemn supplications, 
 and poured forth libations from a chalice of water drawn from 
 a fountain in the precincts of the sanctuary. The sacred rites 
 therefore, being now duly performed, the devotees, saluting 
 the breaking dawn, in a loud voice tinnounced tho first hour of 
 the day. 
 
 And now, behold ! some servants arrived from my country 
 whom I had left there at the time when Fotis, by her unfortu- 
 nate mistake, had fitted me for a halter ; so recognizing them as 
 my own servants, and finding that they had brought back that 
 horse of mine, after it had been sold from place to place, and 
 which I identified by a mark on its back ; I was then especially 
 struck with admiration at the fitness of my dream, because not 
 only had it come true with respect to the gain it had promised, 
 but it had also predicted to me the recovery of my horse, which 
 
BOOK XI. LTJCIUS WOESHIPS THE GODDESS ISIS. 237 
 
 was of a white colour, under the designation of my servant 
 Candidus. 
 
 I continued to apply myself wholly to attendance on the 
 worship of the Goddess, perceiving that the hopes which I 
 had conceived of future good were now confirmed by present 
 benefits. And besides, my desire of receiving initiation in the 
 sacred duties, increased daily more and more. Accordingly, I 
 frequently went to the chief priest, and most earnestly en- 
 treated him to initiate me into the mysteries of the holy night ; 
 but he, who was a man of a grave disposition, and remarkable 
 for his strict observance of that abstemious religion, checked 
 my urgent importunity in a mild and gentle manner, and in 
 the way in which parents are in the habit of moderating the 
 inconsiderate requests of their children, while at the same time 
 he soothed me with hopes for the better. For he said, that the 
 day on which each aspirant might be initiated was indicated 
 by tokens from the Goddess, and that by her providence the 
 priest was selected who was to perform the sacred rites; 
 and that in like manner by her mandate the expense necessary 
 for the ceremonial was ordained. All these circumstances, he 
 was of opinion, ought to be awaited with obsequious patience, 
 since we ought, on every consideration, to avoid precipitation 
 and contumacy, and neither be dilatory when called, nor pre- 
 cipitate when not called. Nor, indeed, was there a single one 
 of their number who was so lost to a sense of propriety, or 
 rather so bent on his own destruction, as to dare rashly and 
 sacrilegiously to undertake the ministry of the Goddess, and 
 so bring upon himself a deadly mischance, unless she especially 
 ordered him so to do ; for the gates of the realms beneath, and 
 the guardianship of life, are placed in the hands of the God- 
 dess, and the initiation into her mysteries is celebrated as 
 bearing a close resemblance to a voluntary death, with a pre- 
 carious chance of recovery. Wherefore the divine will of the 
 Goddess has been accustomed to choose for this purpose men 
 who, ha\ing arrived at a great age, are now standing at the 
 very utmost limit of life, to whom, however, the mighty secrets 
 of her religion may be safely entrusted,* and whom, through 
 her providence, being after a manner born again, she restores 
 
 * To whom, however, Sfc-"] — That is to say, who are not yet so infirn: 
 and imbecile as to be incapable of preserving secrecy. 
 
238 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEITJS. 
 
 to the career of a new existence. Therefore it was requisite 
 that I should await the celestial mandate, although by the clear 
 and manifest favour of the great Deity I had already been 
 marked and destined for her blessed ministry ; and I ought 
 thenceforth to abstain from profane and forbidden food, in com- 
 mon with the other devotees, in order that I might with the 
 most scrupulous strictness proceed on my course to the secret 
 mysteries of the most pure religion. 
 
 Thus did the priest express himself, nor was my compliance 
 interrupted by feelings of impatience ; but I attentively per- 
 formed the daily duties of the sacred ministry, intent upon 
 maintaining a calm demeanour and laudable silence. Nor did 
 the salutary benevolence of the powerful goddess disappoint 
 me, or torment me with a long delay ; but she clearly admo- 
 nished me by no obscure mandates in the darksome night, 
 that the day was now arrived that had always been the object 
 of my desire, and in which she would put me in possession of 
 my extreme wishes. She also stated what sum of money 
 would be requisite for the expenses of the ceremonial, and at 
 the same time appointed for me, as the disp-enser of the rites, 
 the same Mithras, her own high priest, who, she said, was 
 united to me by a certain conjunction of the stars. 
 
 Refreshed in mind by these and other benevolent precepts 
 of the supreme Goddess, and shaking off slumber, though it 
 was not yet clear day, I hastened at once to the dwelling of the 
 priest, and saluted him just as he was coming out of his bed- 
 chamber. I had now determined to request more earnestly 
 than ever initiation into the sacred rites, as being a thing that 
 was due to me. He, however, the instant that he saw me, 
 was the first to speak : " my Lucius, how happy and J^lessed 
 are you, whom the august divinity has thus greatly honoured 
 by her propitious will ! And why," said he, ''do you now 
 stand idle, or make any delay? The day you so earnestly 
 prayed for has now arrived, in which you will be initiated into 
 the most holy mysteries by these hands of mine, in obedience 
 to the divine mandates of the many-titled Godd(^ss." 
 
 And the old man, taking me by the right hand, led me im- 
 mediately to the doors of the vast temple ; and having performed 
 the office of opening them in the accustomed solemn way, and 
 celebrated the morning sacrifice, he drew forth from the secret 
 recesses of the shrine certain books, written in unknown chu- 
 
BOOK XI. LUCnJS INITIATED ^S A PEIEST OF ISIS. 239 
 
 racters, partly representing in compendious form the words ex- 
 pressive of their meaning by figures of animals of every kind, 
 and partly fortified against the inquisitive perusal of the pro- 
 fane, by characters wreathed like knots, and twisting round in 
 shape of a wheel, and with extremities twining one with an- 
 other, like the tendrils of a vine. From these books he in- 
 formed me what was necessary to be provided by me for the 
 purpose of initiation. 
 
 Immediately, therefore, I diligently set about purchasing 
 and procuring requisites, and even on a more liberal scale than 
 I was ordered to do, partly at my own expense, and partly 
 through my friends. And when, now the time, as the priest 
 said, required it, he led me to the nearest bath, accompanied 
 by a crowd of devotees ; and after I had taken the customary 
 bath, he himself washed and sprinkled me with the purest 
 water, having first implored the pardon of the Gods. Then, 
 again, he brought me back to the temple, and there placed me 
 at the very feet of the Goddess, two-thirds of the day having 
 now elapsed ; and giving certain secret instructions, which are 
 too holy to be uttered, he distinctly ordered, before all who 
 were present, that I should abstain from luxurious food for the 
 ten succeeding days, and that I should eat the flesh of no 
 animal, and should abstain from wine. 
 
 These ten days having been duly passed by me in reverential 
 abstinence, the day had now arrived for pledging myself to the 
 sacred ministry, and the sun descending, was ushering in the 
 evening. Then, behold, there was a concourse of the people 
 flocking from every side, every one honouring me with various 
 gifts, according to the ancient custom of these sacred rites. 
 After this, the priest, all the profane being removed to a dis- 
 tance, taking hold of me by the hand, brought me into the inner 
 recesses of the sanctuary itself, clothed in a new linen gar- 
 ment. Perhaps, curious reader, you may be eager to know 
 what was then said and done ? I would tell you, were it lawful 
 for me to tell you ; you should know it, if it were lawful for 
 you to hear. But both the ears that heard these things, and 
 the tongue that told them, would reap the evil results of their 
 rashness. Still, however, kept in suspense as you probably 
 are with religious longing, I will not torment you with long- 
 protracted anxiety. Hear, therefore, but believe what is the 
 truth. I approached the confines of death, and having trod 
 
240 
 
 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 on the threshold of Proserpine, I returned therefrom, being 
 borne through all the elements. At midnight I saw the 
 sun shining with its brilliant light ; and I approached the 
 presence of the Gods beneath, and the Gods of heaven, and 
 stood near, and worshipped them. Behold, I have related to 
 you things of which, though heard of by you, you must ne- 
 cessarily remain ignorant. I will therefore only relate that 
 which may be enunciated to the understanding of the un- 
 initiated without a crime. 
 
 The morning came, and, the solemnities being performed, I 
 came forth consecrated by being dressed in twelve stoles, au 
 habiliment no doubt of most religious character, but of which 
 I am not forbidden by any obligation to speak, because it was 
 seen by many who were present on the occasion. For, by order 
 of the priest, I ascended a wooden pulpit, which was in the 
 very middle of the sacred dwelling, and placed before the image 
 of the Goddess, full in view, in a garment which was of linen, 
 but elegantly coloured. A precious scarf also descended from 
 my shoulders behind my back down to my ankles, and to 
 whatever part of me you directed your view, you would have 
 seen something to arrest your attention in the animals which 
 were painted round my vestment in various colours. Here were 
 Indian serpents, there Hyperborean griffins, Avhich the other 
 hemisphere generates in the form of a bird wearing wings. 
 The persons devoted to the service of the divinity call this the 
 Olympic stole. Then, in my right hand I carried a burning 
 torch ; while a graceful chaplet encircled mj head, the shining 
 leaves of the palm tree projecting from it like rays of light. 
 Thus arrayed like the sun, and placed so as to resemble a 
 statue, on a sudden, the curtains being drawn aside, I was ex- 
 posed to the gaze of the multitude. After this, I celebrated 
 the most joyful day of my initiation, as my natal day, and 
 there was a joyous banquet and mirthful conversation. The 
 third day also was celebrated with the like rites and cere- 
 monies, and was accompanied by a religious breakfast, and the 
 due termination of the ceremonial. After this, having stayed 
 for some days in that place, I enjoyed the inexplicable pleasure 
 of viewing the holy image, being indebted to it for a benefit 
 which can never be sufficiently rewarded. At length, how- 
 ever, through the admonition of the Goddess, having suppli- 
 ontly given her thanks, not such as she deserved, but still, to 
 
BOOK XI. LCCirs's ADDllESS TO THE GODDESS. 241 
 
 the best of my ability, I prepared myself, though very slowly, 
 to return home. 
 
 With difficulty did I rend asunder the ties of my most ardent 
 affection. At last I prostrated myself in the presence of the 
 Goddess, and having for a long time watered her feet with my 
 tears, interrupting my words by frequent sobs, and, as it were, 
 half swallowing my voice, I thus addressed her : — " Thou, 
 holy and perpetual preserver of the human race, always 
 munificent in cherishing mortals, dost bestow the sweet affec- 
 tion of a mother on the misfortunes of the wretched. !N"or is 
 there any day or night, nor so much as the minutest particle 
 of time, which passes unattended by thy bounties. Thou dost 
 protect men both by sea and land, and, dispersing the storms 
 of life, dost extend thy health-giving right hand, by which 
 thou dost unravel the inextricably entangled threads of the 
 Fates, and dost assuage the tempests of fortune, and restrain 
 the malignant influences of the stars. The gods of heaven 
 adore thee, those in the shades below do homage unto thee ; 
 thou dost roll the sphere of the universe round the steady poles, 
 thou dost illuminate the sun, thou dost govern the universe, 
 thou dost tread the realms of Tartarus. The stars move re- 
 sponsive to thy command, the Gods rejoice in thy divinity, the 
 seasons return by thy appointment, and the elements are thy 
 servants. At thy nod the breezes blow, the clouds are nur- 
 tured, the seeds germinate, and the blossoms increase. The 
 birds as they hover through the air, the wil4 beasts as they 
 roam on the mountains, the serpents that hide in the earth, 
 and the monsters that swim in the sea, are terrified at the ma- 
 jesty of thy presence. But I, so weak in capacity for cele- 
 brating thy praises, and possessing such slender means for 
 offering sacrifices, have far from eloquence sufficient to express 
 all that I conceive of thy majesty ; not a thousand mouths, and 
 tongues as many, not an eternal flow of unwearied speech, 
 would be equal to the task. I will, therefore, use my utmost 
 endeavours to do what, poor as I am, still one truly religious 
 may do — I will figure to myself thy divine countenance, and 
 will ever preserve this most holy divinity locked up in tlie 
 deepest recesses of my breast." 
 
 After this manner, having offered up my prayer to the 
 supreme Goddess, I embraced the priest Mithras, who was now 
 my parent, and hanging on his neck, and giving him many 
 
 £ 
 
242 THE GOLDEN ASS OF APULEIUS. 
 
 kisses, I begged him to forgive me, that I could not remunerate 
 him in a manner adequate to such mighty benefits. At length, 
 after having been long engaged in giving him thanks, I de- 
 parted, and prepared to journey directly to my paternal abode, 
 in order to revisit it after an absence so prolonged. A few 
 days after, having hastily tied up my packages, through the 
 admonition of the powerful Goddess, embarking on board a 
 ship, I set sail for Ilome. Being sure of a favourable wind 
 during my voyage, I very speedily entered into port, and tra- 
 velling by chariot'* with the greatest rapidity, arrived at the 
 holy city,f on the day before the Ides of December in the 
 evening. Thenceforward no study was there of such primary 
 importance with me, as that of daily supplicating the supreme 
 divinity of Queen Isis ; who is there propitiated with the 
 greatest veneration under the name of Campensis,;^ which ap- 
 pellation she derives from the situation of her temple. In fine, 
 I became a constant worshipper, a foreigner indeed as to her 
 temple, but indigenous as to her religion. § 
 
 Behold the mighty sun, having passed through the sign- 
 bearing circle of the zodiac, had completed the year, Avhen the 
 vigilant care of the beneficent Goddess again interrupted my 
 sleep, and again reminded me of initiation and sacred rites. 
 On this I wondered what object she had in view, and what future 
 event she announced. For how could I do otherwise ? as I 
 considered myself to have been most fully initiated already. 
 
 While, therefore, I revolved my religious doubts in my own 
 
 * By chariot. "l — There are instances among the ancients of extraor- 
 dinary celerity in travelling. Alexander, to suppress the rebellion of the 
 Ariel, travelled with his army six hundred stadia in two days, t. e. each day 
 seventy-two miles. Julius Caesar used to travel commonly one hundred 
 Roman miles in a day, as we are informed by Suetonius. Curio, according 
 to Appian, travelled with Caesar's letters three thousand three hundred 
 stadia in three days, f. e. three hundred and seventy-seven English miles. 
 And Tiberius Nero, as we are informed by Pliny, travelled with three 
 chaises in one day and one night, a journey of two hundred miles to see 
 his brotber when he was sick. — Taylor. 
 
 t The holy city.'] — Rome, which was considered to be the seat of the 
 Gods, and the true name of which it was not lawful to enunciate even in 
 the performance of sacred rites. — Taylor. 
 
 X Campemis.] — The temple of Isis was in the Campus Martins, 
 whence shi; was called Campensis. — Taylor. 
 
 § Rehyion.'] — Because he had been initiated in the mysteries of Isis at 
 Corinth. — Taylor. 
 
BOOK XI. LUCIUS ADDRESSES ONE OF THE PASTOPHORI. 243 
 
 mind, and availed m3^self of the counsels of the priest^ I as- 
 certained a thing that was novel and quite wonderful to me ; 
 that I was only inititated into the mysteries of the goddess, 
 but that I had not yet been admitted to the knowledge of 
 the rites of the great God, and supreme parent of the 
 Gods, the invincible Osiris. For though the essence of their 
 divine nature and religion is connected, or rather, is tran- 
 scendentlj' united, nevertheless, there is a very considerable 
 difference in the initiations into their mysteries. Hence, it 
 was for me to know that I was called upon by the great God to 
 become one of his servants. Nor did the matter long remain am- 
 biguous. For on the following night, I saw in a dream one of 
 the devotees, who, clothed in linen garments, and bearing in his 
 hands thyrsi and ivy, and certain other things which I am not 
 permitted to mention, placed them before my household Gods, 
 and then seating himself in my chair, announced to me that I 
 must prepare a plentiful religious banquet. He also walked 
 gently with a hesitating step, the ancle of his left foot being 
 slightly bent, in order no doubt that he might afford me some 
 sign, by which I might recognize him. All the mists of am- 
 biguity were therefore removed, after such a manifest declara- 
 tion of the will of the gods. 
 
 Accordingly, the instant I had performed the morning salu- 
 tations to the goddess, I made a most careful examination of 
 each, to see whether there was any one of the^ priests resem- 
 bling him whom I had seen in the dream. TTor was he wanting. 
 For I immediately beheld one of the Pastophori, exactly cor- 
 responding with the nocturnal vision, not only with regard to 
 the mark of his foot, but also in his stature and general ap- 
 pearance ; whose name I afterwards learnt lo be Asinius Mar- 
 cellus, an appellation not without some degree of reference* to 
 my transformation. Without delay, therefore, I addressed 
 this priest, who was himself very far from ignorant of what I 
 intended to say, because he had already been admonished by a 
 similar mandate, that he should initiate me into the mysteries 
 of Osiris. For on the preceding night, while he was placing 
 chaplets on the statue of the great God, he imagined that he 
 had also heard from that mouth of his by which he pronounces 
 the destinies of all things, that he should send to him a native 
 
 * Some reference] — For between Jsinus, an ass, into which he had 
 been changed, and Jsinius, there is a great resemblance. 
 
 K 2 
 
244 THE GOLDEX ASS OF APULEirs. 
 
 of Madaura, to whom, though he was very poor, he must im- 
 mediately impart the sacred mysteries. That, through his pro- 
 vidence, glory would accrue to that person JProm his religious 
 exercises, and great profit for himself. 
 
 After this manner, being affianced to the sacred mysteries, 
 I was retarded, contrary to my inclination, by reason of the 
 slenderness of my means. For the expense to which I had 
 been put in my journey had frittered away the small substance 
 of my property ; and the sums I was obliged to expend in the 
 city, exceeded those which had been disbursed in the provinces. 
 Rigid poverty, consequently, greatly interfering with my 
 wishes, I was much afflicted, being placed, as the old proverb 
 says, between the altar and the stone.** Nor yet was I less 
 urged from time to time by the present mandates of the God. 
 At last, after being repeatedly reminded, and finally com- 
 manded, not without considerable perturbation, taking off my 
 back my garment, small as it was, I scraped together a suf- 
 ficient sum. And this vcrj^ thing I had been expressly com- 
 manded to do. For the God said to me, " Would you hesitate 
 in the least to part with your garments, if you were attempting 
 to procure any thing which might administer to your pleasures ? 
 and are you now, when you are going to enter upon so great a 
 ceremonial, doubtful whether you shall commit yourself to a 
 poverty of which you will never have to repent ?" 
 
 All things, therefore, being abundantly prepared, again being 
 satisfied for ten days with other than animal food, and besides 
 this, being also admitted to the nocturnal orgies of Serapis, 
 a god of the first rank, I now applied myself to the service of 
 the god, full of that confidence which my knowledge of a kin- 
 dred ritual produced. This event afforded me the greatest 
 consolation for my sojourn in a foreign country, and at the 
 same time supplied me more plentifully with the means of sub- 
 sistence. For, under favour of the deity of Good Event, I suj)- 
 ported myself on a little gain which I made in the forum 
 by pleading causes in the Latin tongue. 
 
 A short time after, I was again addressed by the unexpected 
 
 * Between the altar and the stone.'] — Equivalent to the modern phrase, 
 ' between the hammer and the anvil.' The proverb is derived from the 
 ancient manner of ratifying a covenant, in which the priest killed a pig 
 with a blow of a stone, exclaiming, ' May Jupiter smite him who breaks 
 ihis covenant, as I smite this pig.' 
 
BOOK XI. THE GODDESS ISIS INSTRUCTS LUCIUS. 24/» 
 
 and perfectly miraQulous mandates of the gods, and was com- 
 pelled to undergo a third initiation.* This caused me no 
 slight anxiety, and much was I perplexed to know what could 
 be the meaning of this new and unusual expression of the will 
 of the gods ; and what could still remain to be added by way 
 of supplement to an initiation that had been already twice re- 
 peated. Surely, thought I, both the priests have advised me 
 either wrongly or less fally than they ought to have done. 
 And, by Hercules, I now began even to entertain a bad opinion 
 of their fidelity. While, however, I was thus fluctuating amid 
 a stormy tide of thought, and agitated to the verge of insanity, 
 the benevolent figure of the divinity instructed me by a noc- 
 turnal vision. *' There is no reason," said he, "that you should 
 be terrified by the repeated series of religious rites, as if any 
 thing had been previously omitted ; but you ought rather ex- 
 ceedingly to rejoice on account of these reiterated marks oi" 
 favour on the part of the divinities, and to exult that you wall 
 thrice obtain that which is scarcely even once granted to others. 
 And you may confidently believe from that number that you 
 will always be blessed. Besides, you will find that this cere- 
 monial is most necessary for you, if you will only now consider 
 with yourself, that the stole of the goddess with which you 
 were invested in the province, still remains deposited in the 
 same spot, and that you cannot so much as supplicate at Rome 
 on solemn days in a garment of this kind, or be ennobled by 
 that auspicious apparel, when you are commanded to assume 
 it. In order, then, that you may enjoy health, happiness, and 
 prosperity, once again with joyous feelings be initiated in the 
 sacred mysteries, the mighty gods being your advisers." 
 
 Thus far did the persuasive majesty of the hallowed vision 
 announce to me what was requisite to be done. Kor did I, 
 after this, neglect the matter, or defer it ; but immediately 
 relating what I had seen to my priest, I forthwith submitted 
 to the yoke of abstinence from animal food, and having of my 
 own accord extended my abstinence beyond those ten days 
 prescribed by a perpetual law, I bought what was requisite 
 for my initiation, spending more largely from pious zeal than 
 with reference to the measure of the things provided. Nor, 
 by Hercules, did I at all repent of my trouble and expense. 
 
 * A third initiation.'] — This third initiation was into the mysteries ol 
 the Uoman Isis, as the first was into those of the Achaian Isis, — Taylor, 
 
246 THE GOLDEN ASS OE APULEIUS. 
 
 And why should I ? for by the bounteous providence of the 
 gods, I was sufficiently enriched by my forensic emoluments. 
 At length, after a very few days had elapsed, the God Osiris, 
 who is the chief of the great gods, the highest among the 
 greatest, the greatest among the highest, and the ruler of the 
 greatest, not now veiling himself under some figure other than 
 his own, but deigning to address me in his own person, and in 
 his own divine words, seemed in my sleep to declare, that I 
 should forthwith become renowned through my pleading causes 
 in the forum, and that I should not fear the slanders of the 
 malevolent, to which the learning I had acquired by laborious 
 study had rendered me liable. 
 
 Besides this, in order that I might minister to his sacred 
 rites, mingling with the throng of devotees, he chose me to be 
 a member of the college of his Pastophori, and still more, to 
 be one of the quinquennial Decurions. Finally, therefore, my 
 hair being closely shaved off, I joyfuUj^ fidfilled the duties of 
 that most ancient college, which had been established in the 
 days of Sylla, not shading or covering my baldness, but freely 
 exposing it to the public gaze, whithersoever I went. 
 
 END OF THE GOLDEN ASS. 
 
THE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS, 
 
 A DISCOURSE ON MAGIC. 
 
 (see BIOOBAPHICAL INTROUUCTION.) 
 
 Maximxts Claudius, and you who are sitting here in judgment,* 
 I felt fully assured, that Sicinius ^milianus,! an old man, 
 notorious for audacity, would, for want of substantial charges, 
 fill up with nothing but abuse the accusation he undertook to 
 make against me, before he had well considered the matter. 
 Now any innocent person may be accused, but no one can be 
 proved guilty unless he is so. Eelying especially on this con- 
 sideration, by the Gods of heaven ! I do rejoice that, with you 
 for my judge, the power and the opportunity have fallen to 
 my lot, of exculpating Philosophy in the eyes of the ignorant, 
 and defending myself. 
 
 And yet these charges — serious-looking charges at first 
 view — were made with a suddenness that tended to embarrass 
 my defence. For, as jou remember, five or six days ago, when 
 I was beginning to plead the cause of my wife, J Pudentilla, 
 against the Granii, the advocates of this jEmilianus, by a con- 
 certed plan, and at a moment when I least expected it, assailed 
 me with abuse, and accused me of magical practices, and even 
 of the death of my step- son Pontianus. As I saw that these 
 were not so much charges brought forward for judicial en- 
 quiry, as imputations tor the mere purpose of abuse, I chal- 
 lenged them of my own accord, urgently and repeatedly, to 
 
 * In judgment.'] — As assessors to Maximus Claudius, the proconsul of 
 Africa. 
 
 t Mmilianus.'] — The brother of Sicinius Clarus, the first husband of 
 Pudentilla, the wife of Apuleius. 
 
 X Came of my wife.'] — It is not known to what he refers: but it is not 
 improbable that he alludes to some question as to her rights of dower as 
 the widow of Sicinius Clarus. 
 
248 THE DEl^ENCE OF APULEirS. 
 
 prefer their accusation. But then^milianus, seeing that you 
 too, Maximus, were considerably moved, and that "a judicial 
 affair had arisen out of his words, began, in distrust of his 
 cause, to look about for some subterfuge from the consequences 
 of his temerity. 
 
 Accordingly, when he, who shortly before had been crying 
 out that Pontianus, his brother's son, had been murdered by 
 me, was compelled to sign his name to the accusation, he in- 
 stantly forgot all about the death of his young kinsman, and all 
 of a sudden was mute as to the specification of a crime of such 
 extreme atrocity. Still, that he might not seem altogether 
 to have abandoned his charges, he selected this accusation 
 of magical practices — an accusation more easily made than 
 proved — as the only one in which he should persist. And even 
 that he did not dare do openly ; but, on the day after, he 
 gave in an indictment, in the name of my son-in-law, Siciniua 
 Pudens, a mere boy, and annexed his own name thereto as his 
 supporter ; thus adopting a new fashion of making an attack 
 in another's name ; no doubt, in order that, by putting for- 
 ward one so young, he himself might be screened from due 
 punishment for his false accusation. When you, with great 
 sagacity, perceived this to be the case, and thereupon com- 
 manded him again to support in his own name the accusation 
 he had originally made, he promised that he would ; but after 
 all, he could not be prevailed upon to do so. While you are 
 urging him to come to close action with me, he, in his contu- 
 macy, shoots his calumnious missiles even against yourself. 
 Thus ever shunning the danger of making an open accusation, 
 he persevered in the safe course of seconding it. 
 
 Accordingly, before the trial had even commenced, it was 
 easy for any one to understand what would be the nature of the 
 prosecution, the framer and contriver of which feared to under- 
 take its responsibilit5^ This was more especially the case, 
 since the person in question was Sicinius -^milianus ; who, 
 if he had ascertained anything substantial against me, would 
 certainly never have manifested any such hesitation in im- 
 peaching one who was a stranger to himself, of crimes so 
 numerous and so heinous — he who, well knowing that his 
 uncle's will was genuine, denounced it as a forgery ; and with 
 such obstinacy, that when Lollius TJrbicus, the pro-consul, with 
 men of consular dignity sitting as his assessors, had pronounced 
 
A DISCOUliSE OX MAGIC. 249 
 
 that it was proved genuine, and ought to be held valid, still 
 that madman persisted, with his voice raised to the loudest 
 pitch, in swearing that the will was a forgery ; so that Lol- 
 lius IFrbicus hardly refrained from visiting him with capital 
 punishment. Helying on your justice and my own innocence, 
 I trust that on this trial also he will have occasion to burst 
 forth into exclamations of a similar nature. For he knowingly 
 accuses one who is innocent ; and does so, no doubt, with the 
 greater readiness, because, as I have said, he has already, on a 
 trial of the greatest importance, been convicted of uttering 
 falsehoods before the Praetor of the city. 
 
 For, as after having once committed a fault, every good 
 man is the more careful to avoid it ; so one who is evil-dis- 
 posed repeats his offence with increased audacity ; and, from 
 that time forward, the more frequently he offends, the more 
 undisguisedly he does so. For it is with shame as with a gar- 
 ment — the more it is worn, the less it is cared for. 
 
 For this reason, then, I deem it necessary, in order to main- 
 tain the integrity of my character, to refute all his malevolent 
 aspersions before I come to the main charge. For I am un- 
 dertaking not only my own defence, but that of philosophy 
 also, whose high character spurns the least slur as though 
 it were the weightiest of charges ; for as much as the nd- 
 vocates of ^milianus have been just now babbling forth with 
 their mercenary loquacity, many things trumped up against 
 myself individually, and many others that are commonly ut- 
 tered by the ignorant against philosophers in general. Now, 
 although it may be manifest that these charges are gabbled 
 by them, in order to gain their fees, and to earn a premium 
 for their impudence, according to a sort of usage now univer- 
 sally established among pettifogging pleaders of this sort — a 
 race who are in the habit of letting out the venom of their 
 viperous tongues to give pain to others — still, even for my 
 own sake, they must be briefly rebutted ; lest I, who am exert- 
 ing all my energies, that I may not appear to admit of any 
 stain or any blemish upon my character, might seem to some, 
 in case I should pass by any of these frivolous charges, rather 
 to have admitted them than to have held them in contempt. 
 
 For, according to my way of thinking, it is the part of a 
 modest and honorable spirit to be incensed even by a false 
 accusation ; seeing that even those who are conscious to them- 
 
250 THE DEFENCE OF AirLEIUS. 
 
 selves of the commission of any offence, are still greatly 
 excited and angered by reproach ; although from the very 
 moment that they began to do wrong, they may have been 
 accustomed to hear themselves ill-spoken of. Nay, even if 
 silence is observed by others, they are still fully conscious 
 that they may with justice be censured. On the other hand, 
 every man who is virtuous and without guile, whose ears are 
 utterly unused to the language of obloquy, and who, from re- 
 peatedly hearing himself praised, is unprepared for reproach, is 
 the more grieved at heart on hearing those things said un- 
 deservedly against him, which he could with truth allege 
 against others. If then, perchance, I shall appear disposed to 
 defend myself against charges that are absurd and utterly 
 frivolous, that circumstance ought, in fairness, to be imputed 
 as a fault to those who are disgraced by having even uttered 
 them against me ; and no blame ought to attach to me, in 
 whom it will be becoming to have refuted even such things. 
 
 You heard, then, a short time since, at the commencement 
 of the accusation, words to the following effect : " We accuse 
 before you a handsome philosopher, and a man of distinguished 
 eloquence," — oh, monstrous ! — *' both in the Greek and in the 
 Latin tongues." For, unless I am mistaken, it was in these 
 self-same words that Tannonius Pudens, a man most certainly 
 not of distinguished eloquence, commenced his harangue against 
 me. How I wish he had good grounds for making such 
 weighty charges against me — of being possessed of good looks 
 and of eloquence — I should have had no difficultv in answer- 
 ing him, as Paris does Hector, in Homer :'^ 
 " Man may not reject 
 
 The glorious bounty by the Gods bestowed, 
 
 Nor follows their beneficence our choice." 
 
 Such would have been my answer to the charge of gooi 
 looks : and I would have told him besides, that it has been 
 deemed allowable even for philosophers to be of graceful ap- 
 pearance ; I would have shown that Pythagoras, who was the 
 first to call himself a philosopher, was the handsomest person of 
 his age ; that Zeno, of ancient times, the native of Elea, he 
 who was the first of all, with truly critical skill, to di^ ide 
 speech into two departments,! that this same Zeno, too, was, 
 
 * In Homer.]— Uiad, III. 65, 66. 
 
 f Lito two departments.] — Rhetoric and dialectics, or logic. 
 
A DISCOUKSE ON MAGIC. 251 
 
 as Plato aiSrms, most remarkable for the graces of his person, 
 I would also have told him that many other philosophers have 
 been handed dovi^n to memory as most remarkable for the 
 beauty of their features, and who have set off the graces of 
 their persons by the virtues of their lives. 
 
 This mode of defence, however, as I have already observed, 
 but ill becomes me ; for, whereas naturally I had but small 
 pretensions to good looks, unremitting application to learned 
 labours has effaced from me all comeliness, has made me thin, 
 dried up my natural juices, expunged my healthy colour, and 
 impaired my vigour. This hair, which they, with falsehood 
 so manifest, affirmed that I had allowed to grow to such a 
 length, in order to add to the allurements of my beauty — you 
 see how far it is from being handsome and neatly arranged — 
 all clogged and matted together, like a rope of twisted tow, 
 shaggy and uneven, lumped and felted ; its knots inextricable 
 through prolonged neglect, not only of combing, but even oi 
 disentangling and separating it. The charge, then, as to my 
 hair, which they have made as it were a capital count in 
 the indictment, has, I fancy, been sufficiently refuted. 
 
 And then, as to eloquence, if I had been possessed of any, 
 it ought not to appear surprising, or a ground for envy, if, 
 after devoting myself, with all my energies, from my earliest 
 years up to the present moment, to the cultivation of litera- 
 tui'e alone, in contempt of all other pleasures, I had succeeded 
 in acquiring it, after expending upon it an amount of labour, 
 by night and by day, exceeding, probably, that employed by 
 any other man, and at the cost of a total disregard and sacrifice 
 of my health. However, let them stand in no fear of my 
 eloquence, an accomplishment which I am rather in hopes 
 of acquiring, than able to display at present, if, indeed, I have 
 made any progress at all. 
 
 And yet, if the words are true which Statins Caecilius is 
 said to have written in his poems, that " Innocence is elo- 
 quence," then, on that principle, lam ready to admit, and I do 
 boldly assert, that in eloquence I will yield the palm to no 
 man whatever. For, taking this view, what man living is 
 there more eloquent than myself, who have never so much as 
 entertained a thought to which I did not dare give utterance ?* 
 
 * Give utterance ?'\ — He plays upon the resemblance of the words 
 
252 THE DEFENCE OE APIJLEIUS. 
 
 I affirm, that I am most truly eloquent, for aU guiltiness I 
 have ever esteemed as a thing not to be named ; I affirm that 
 I am most ready in argument, for no deed or saying of mine 
 is there -which I am not able, before all the world, by argu- 
 ment to support. For instance, I will now take up the argu- 
 ment with reference to the lines, which they put forward as 
 compositions of mine, of which I ought to be ashamed ; when 
 you saw me smiling at them in scorn, because they delivered 
 them in so uncouth and illiterate a manner. 
 
 In the first place, then, they read out of my book of jokes,* 
 a short letter, the subject of which was dentifrices ; this was 
 written in verse, to one Calpumianus, who, no doubt, when he 
 produced that letter against me, did not perceive, in his eager- 
 ness to injure me, that if there was anything criminal in it, 
 he himself was affected thereby in an equal degree with me. 
 iN'ow, that he had asked me for something to be used for the 
 purpose of cleaning his teeth, the lines themselves bear wit- 
 ness — 
 
 " In hurried verse, I bid Calpurnian hail. 
 I've sent, as you required, the dentifrice, 
 Arabian produce, brightener of the mouth, 
 A fine choice powder, a rare whitener, 
 A soother of the swollen tender gums, 
 A cleaner-out of scraps of yesterday ; 
 That no unsightly blemish may be seen, 
 If you should chance with opened lips to laugh." 
 
 And now, pray, what do these lines contain, in meaning or 
 in language, that I should at all be ashamed of ? "What is there 
 that a philosopher should be at all unwilling to acknowledge 
 as his own composition ? Unless, perchance, 1 was deserving of 
 reprehension for sending to Calpumianus a powder made of 
 Arabian drugs, seeing that he was a person who might have 
 with much more propriety, after the filthy manner of the Ibe- 
 rians, 
 
 " With his own water washed his teeth and rusty gums," 
 
 as Catullus saj's. 
 
 ' eloquens' and ' eloquor,' ' facundus * and * nefas/ * disertus ' and ' dis- 
 sero ;' but nis meaning cannot be easily expressed in English. 
 
 * Book of jokes.'] — Called 'Ludicra.' This book is lost, with the 
 exception of one line, besides those found here. It probably consisted of 
 jests and amatory stories. 
 
A DISCOTJESE OX MAGIC. 253 
 
 I perceived just now some who could hardly controul his 
 'aughter, when the orator inveighed with such asperity against 
 cleaning of the teeth, and pronounced the word ''dentifrice" 
 with more indignation than any body else would speak of 
 poison. And why should he not ? No doubt it is a crime 
 not to be overlooked in a philosopher, if he is particular in 
 his precautions against dirt ; if he allows no part of his body 
 that is exposed to view to be unclean and filthy, the mouth 
 especially, which man makes frequent use of openly and con- 
 spicuously : whether he kisses another, or discourses on any 
 subject, or lectures before an audience, or repeats his prayers 
 in a temple. For so it is that words precede every act of 
 mankind ; words which, as the first of poets says, issue forth 
 from " the hedge* of the teeth." If you could at the present 
 day produce any one gifted with powers of utterance so grand 
 as those with which he was endowed, he would declare in his 
 usual manner, that from him above all men who has any care 
 for the art of speaking, the mouth requires more sedulous at- 
 tention than all the rest of the body, seeing that it is the vesti- 
 bule of the mind, the gateway of speech, and the outer court 
 of the thoughts. 
 
 At all events, according to my way of thinking, I should 
 say that nothing so ill becomes a man who is of free birth 
 and liberal education as inattention to the appearance of 
 the mouth. For this portion of the person is elevated in 
 position, exposed full in view, and in continual use. On 
 the other hand, with wild beasts and cattle the mouth is low- 
 seated, and brought down on a level with the legs ; it lies 
 close to the feet and to the grass on which they feed, and is 
 scarcely ever to be seen but when they are dead, or in a state 
 of exasperation and ready to bite ; whereas you look upon no 
 feature before this in a man while he is silent, — no one more 
 frequently while he is in the act of speaking. I only wish, 
 now, that my censor, ^milianus, would answer me this 
 question : whether he is ever in the habit of washing his feet, 
 or whether, if he does not deny the fact, he would contend 
 that greater care ought to be bestowed upon the cleanliness of 
 the feet than of the teeth ? If, indeed, a person, like yourself, 
 -^imilianus, will hardly ever open his mouth except to utter 
 
 * The hedge.] — He alludes to the expression tpKog odovrwv, fre- 
 quently found in Homer. 
 
254 THE DEFENCE OF APITLEIUS. 
 
 calumnies and revilings, I am clearly of opinion that he ought 
 to bestow no attention whatever on his mouth, nor to clean 
 his teeth with powders brought from abroad, when he might 
 much more appropriately rub them with charcoal snatched from 
 the funeral pile ; and that he ought not so much as to rinse 
 them with common water. 
 
 On the contrary, let his malignant tongue, the caterer of 
 falsehoods and of bitter abuse, for ever lie amid the stench 
 and foulness which so well become it. For how, in the name 
 of misfortune, is it consistent with reason that one should have 
 a clean and purified tongue, and at the same time a loath- 
 some and offensive voice ? that he should, like the viper, instil 
 black venom from teeth white as snow ? On the other hand, 
 in the case of him who knows he is going to utter language* 
 that is neither inappropriate nor unpleasing, it is with good 
 reason that his mouth is washed beforehand, just like a cup 
 when it is prepared for containing a pleasant draught. 
 
 But why enlarge any further upon this topic, with regard to 
 mankind ? That huge beast, the crocodile, which is produced 
 in the Nile, even it, as I am informed, opens wide its jaws, 
 and, without inflicting injury, allows its teeth to be cleansed. 
 For as it has an immense mouth and no tongue, and generally 
 lies concealed beneath the water, numbers of leeches fasten 
 about its teeth ; wherefore it repairs to the banks of the river, 
 and opens its mouth, and one of the river birds, a friend 
 to it, thrusts in her beak and picks its teeth, without in- 
 cumng any risk. 
 
 No more of this. I now come to the rest of these love verses, 
 as they style them ; but which they read in such harsh and 
 uncouth tones, as rather to provoke hatred. 
 
 But really, what has it to do with magical practices, if I 
 did celebrate in verse the children of my friend Scribonius r 
 Am I of necessity a magician, because I am a poet ? "Who 
 ever heard tell of a suspicion like this, a conjecture so happy, 
 an argument so convincing ? " Apuleius has composed verses ;" 
 if they were bad ones, it is a fault, no doubt, but then it is not 
 the fault of the philosopher, but of the poet. If, on the other 
 hand, they were good ones, on what grounds do you accuse 
 him? " But then," say you, ''he composed verses of a jocu- 
 
 « Utter language.'] — ' Orationem' seems a preferable reading to • rati- 
 onem.' 
 
A DISCOUESE ON MAGIC. 255 
 
 lar and amorous character." Is this, then, your charge against 
 me, and did you make a mistake in the name, when you ac- 
 cused me of practising magic ? And yet other persons have 
 done the same : among the Greeks (if you are not aware of 
 the fact), a Teian, a Lacedaemonian, a Ceian,^' and innumerable 
 others ; a woman, too, a native of Lesbos, f wrote in wanton 
 numbers, and with such gracefulness, as to reconcile us to the 
 strangeness of her dialect by the sweetness of her lines ; then, 
 among ourselves, ^dituus, and Fortius, and Catullus, and 
 others without number. 
 
 '•But these were not philosophers," you say. Will you 
 go so far, pray, as to deny that Solon was a man of serious 
 habits and a philosopher ? and yet he was the composer of 
 that most wanton line, 
 
 '* Desirous of her thighs and honeyed mouth." 
 Now what is there in all my verses put together, to be com- 
 pared in lasciviousness of expression with this one line ? not 
 to say a word about the writings of Diogenes, the cynic, and 
 of Zeno, the founder of the sect of the Stoics ? I will now 
 read some of my lines over again, that they may understand 
 that I am not ashamed of them. 
 
 *' Thou, Critias, art my bosom's joy ; 
 
 Charinus too, my sun-bright boy, 
 
 Thy portion in my love's the same ; 
 
 I burn for both with equal flame. 
 
 And fear ye not — this double fire 
 
 I'll bear, to win my soul's desire. 
 
 Let me by both be-looked upon 
 
 As by himself is each dear one ; 
 
 Look on me thus, and you shall be 
 
 As precious as two eyes to me." 
 
 And now I will read the other ones, which they read the last 
 of all, as though they were of surpassing indecency. 
 
 " Garlands and song I weave for thy sweet sake ; 
 This for thyself; those let thy Genius take : 
 Song, to extol the happy day that brings 
 Fulfilment of my Critias' fourteen springs ; 
 
 * A Ceian, S^c-I — He alludes to Anacreon, of Teos, a city of Ionia, 
 and Simonides, of Ceos, an island in the ^Egean Sea. It is not known to 
 whom he alludes as the native of Lacedsemon. 
 
 t Native of Lesbos. 1 — Sappho, the poetess. She wrote in the iEolic 
 dialect. 
 
256 THE DEFENCE OF APULEirS. 
 
 Garlands, to crown thy brows in this glad time, 
 And deck with blooming flowers thy blooming prime. 
 For flowers of spring, give thy own spring to me. 
 And shame my gifts, repaid thus bounteously ; 
 For garlands twined, with twining arms caress me ; 
 For roses, with thy roseate kisses press me ; 
 And for my song, wake thy own vocal reed, 
 Gifts, song, and all will be surpassed indeed." 
 Here, then, Maximus, you have tlie charge against mo 
 founded upon garlands and songs, just as though I were some 
 wanton reveller. You also observed, that this, too, was made 
 a charge against me, that whereas the youths are called by 
 other names, I have given them those of Charinus and Critias. 
 Why-, upon similar grounds, they might accuse Catullus, for 
 calling Clodia Lesbia ; and just in the same way, Ticida, be- 
 cause he wrote Paerilla, whereas the lady's name was Metella ; 
 Propertius too, who speaks of Cynthia, but means Hostia ; and 
 Tibullus, who had Plania in his thoughts, while Delia was 
 named in his lines. For my own part, although C. Lucilius 
 was a poet who wrote Iambic lines, I should still consider him 
 worthy of censure, because he openly defamed the youths 
 Gentilis and Macedo in his lines under their own names. How 
 much more beseemingly does Yirgil, the poet of Mantua, act, 
 who, just as I have done, when praising the son of his friend 
 PoUio, in his sportive Bucolics, refrains from making mention 
 of names, and calls himself Corydon, and the youth Alexis.* 
 
 But JEmilianus, more of a clownish churl than any of the 
 shepherds and herdsmen of Yirgil, a man who will ever be a 
 bumpkin and a barbarian, while he flatters himself that he is 
 of more rigid morals than your Serrani, Ciirii, or Pabricii 
 avers that this kind of composition does not befit a Platonic 
 philosopher. And will you still persist in affirming this. 
 -<^milianu8, if I shew that these lines have been composed 
 after a precedent aftbrded us by Plato himself, of whose com- 
 position there are no verses in existence, except some elegiac 
 lines on Love; for all his other poems, I suppose because 
 they were not so elegant, he committed to the flames. Hear, 
 then, the verses of Plato the i^hilosopher, to the boy Aster, 
 if indeed, at your time of life, you are still able to learL 
 anything in the way of literature. 
 
 * The youth Alexis?^ — He alludes to the Second Eclogue of Virgil. 
 The name of the yoiitii is supjjoscd io have been Alexander. 
 
A DISCOUKSE ON MAGIC. 257 
 
 Why dost thou gaze upon the sky ? 
 
 Oh, that I were yon spangled sphere, 
 ^nJ every star should be an eye 
 
 To wander o'er thy beauties here. 
 
 In life thou wert my morning star ; 
 
 And now that death hath stol'a thy light. 
 Alas, thou shinest dim and far, 
 
 Like the pale beam that weeps at night."* 
 
 Hear, also, the lines addressed by the same writer, Tlato, to 
 the boys Alexis and Phaedrus, where he addresses them in a 
 joint poem. 
 
 ** Although I nothing said but this — ' How fair 
 Alexis is,' all turn and gaze on thee. 
 My soul, why show to dogs a bone, and then 
 Torment them ? did we not lose Phoedrus thus ?" 
 
 And, againj not to quote any more lines than these, I will 
 just repeat his last distich on Dion of Syracuse, and then make 
 an end. 
 
 " Thou sleep'st in honour on thy country's breast, 
 Dion, beloved of my extatic soul ! " 
 
 But really am I not acting absurdly, even to mention these 
 things in court ? and are you not rather acting the part of 
 calumniators, even to produce these matters as the grounds 
 of your accusation against me ? just as though, forsooth, it 
 were any proof of a man's mode of life, that he writes wanton 
 lines. Have you not read Catullus, where he thus replies to 
 the malevolent ? 
 
 " 'Tis fit the worthy poet should be chaste — 
 There's no need that his verses should be so." 
 
 The divine Adrian, when he honoured the tomb of his friend 
 the poet Voconius with his verse, wrote to this effect : — 
 
 •* Wanton thou wast in verse, but chaste in mind ;" 
 a thing he never would have said, if verses somewhat sprightly 
 were to be considered as indicative of pruriency of thought. 
 I recollect, too, having read many verses of a similar character 
 by the divine Adrian himself. Assert then, if you dare, -^mi- 
 lianus, that it is evil to do that which the divine Adrian, our 
 emperor and censor, has done, and has handed down to memory 
 as having been done by him. Besides, do you suppose that 
 
 * Weeps at night.'] — Translated by Thomas Moore. 
 
258 THE DEFENCE OF APtJLEIUS. 
 
 Maximns is likely to censure anything that he knows I have 
 done after the example of Plato ? whose lines, which I just 
 now quoted, are the more chaste for being undisguised, the 
 more modest for their plainness of expression. Por, to dissemble 
 and to conceal these and all such matters, is the part of an 
 offender, while, to discourse of them openly and without dis- 
 guise, is the part of him who speaks but in jest; for so it is, 
 that by nature the power of utterance has been given to in- 
 nocence, while silence has been allotted to criminality. 
 
 But I will forbear to enlarge upon those deep and holy 
 mysteries of the Platonic philosophy, which, while they are 
 revealed to but few of the pious, are totally unknown to 
 all the profane ; how, that Yenus is a twofold goddess, each 
 of the pair producing a peculiar passion, and in different kinds 
 of lovers One of them is the '' Yulgar," who is prompted by 
 the ordinary passion of love, to stimulate not only the human 
 feelings, but even those of cattle and wild beasts, to lust, and • 
 commit the enslaved bodies of beings thus smitten by her to 
 immoderate and furious embraces. The other is the '* Heavenly" 
 Venus, who presides over the purest love, who cares for men 
 alone and but few of them, and who influences her devotees by 
 no stimulants or allurements to base desire. For the love that 
 is engendered by her is not a wanton or lascivious love, but, on 
 the contrary, it is serious and unadorned, and allures its votaries 
 to virtue by its own intrinsic beauty ; and if at any time 
 she does commend a graceful form, she scrupulously protects 
 it against all cause for reproach. Kor, indeed, is there any- 
 thing else in the beauty of the person deserving of love, beyond 
 the fact that it recalls to the mind wliich took its origin in Deity, 
 that beauty which in all its truth and purity it once beheld 
 among the gods. Hence it is, that Afranius, with his usual 
 eloquence, has left this line : — 
 
 " Where wise men love, all others will desire." 
 
 However, JEmilianus, if you wish to hear the truth, or if 
 you can ever arrive at a perception of the fact, the wise man 
 does not so much love, as recall to mind.* Do pardon, then, 
 the philosopher Plato, for his verses on love, that I may not 
 
   Recall to mind.'] — The beauty of which it was sensible, when in a 
 former state. The mind was, according to the Platonic philosophy, a part 
 of Deitv. 
 
A DISCOUESE ON MAGIC. 259 
 
 feel myself necessitated, contrary to the maxim of IJ^eoptolemus 
 in Ennius,* to ''philosophize in detail;" or, at all events, if 
 you decline to do so, I will readily submit, with reference to 
 verses of this nature, to be censured in company with Plato. 
 And to you, Maximus, I return abundant thanks, for having 
 BO attentively listened to these appendages to my defence, which 
 I have deemed necessary, inasmuch as they are put forward in 
 answer to charges brought against me ; and for the same reason 
 I request that you. will listen as readily and as attentively as 
 you have hitherto done, to what I have to say, before I come 
 to the main charges. 
 
 For next follows the lengthy and cutting attack about the 
 looking-glass, upon which, Pudens, screaming aloud, commen- 
 surately with the atrocity of the offence, almost burst him- 
 self, crying, " a philosopher has a looking-glass ! — a philoso- 
 pher possesses a looking-glass!" Let me then confess that 1 
 have one, lest you should flatter yourself that you had hit me 
 hard if I denied it ; but it is by no means a necessary infer- 
 ence, that I am in the habit of dressing too before a looking- 
 glass. For suppose I were in possession of a theatrical ward- 
 robe, would you argue thence that I was in the habit of using 
 the long train of the tragedian, the safiron-coloured dress of 
 the comedian, or the little mantle of the mimic, as at the 
 triennial orgies of Bacchus ? You would not, I think. And on 
 the other hand, there is many a thing of which I am not pos- 
 sessed, but of which I still enjoy the use. 
 
 If, then, the possession of a thing is no proof of the use of 
 it, or the non-possession of the non-use of it, and if not so 
 much the possession of a looking-glass is censured by you, as 
 the looking into it, it then necessarily follows, that you must 
 shew when and in whose presence I looked into the glass ; 
 for, according to the present state of the case, you make it 
 a greater offence for a philosopher to look into a looking- 
 glass, than for one of the uninitiated to pry intof the mysteries 
 of Ceres. 
 
 * tn Ennius. 1 — We iearn from Aulus Gellius, that the maxim here 
 alluded to was, ' we ought to philosophize concisely, for to do so in de- 
 tail is not pleasant.* Ennius was one of the oldest of the Latin poets. 
 
 t To pry into. — He alludes to the baskets or boxes which were carried 
 by the Canephori in the processions of Ceres, and were supposed to con- 
 tain images of the fi:oddess with other articles oi a mystic nature. 
 
 s2 
 
260 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 Come now, even if I should confess that I have looked into 
 it, pray what crime is it to be acquainted with one's own 
 features, and to have their image not put up* in one fixed 
 spot, but to carry it about in s little mirror, ready to be sur- 
 veyed wherever you please ? Are you ignorant that there is 
 nothing more deserving to be viewed by a man than his own 
 features ? For my part, I know that those sons are the mos 
 beloved who bear the strongest resemblance to the parents 
 and that a man's own statue is erected at the public expense 
 in his honour as the reward of merit, in order that he may 
 look upon the same ; else what is the use of statues and images 
 thus framed with the varied resources of art ? unless, perchance, 
 we admit that the very same thing that is worthy of admi- 
 ration when produced by artistic skill, is to be deemed cul- 
 pable when presented by nature ; whereas, on the contrary, 
 the readiness and exactness of nature are even still more de- 
 serving of our admiration. For in tracing all likenesses by 
 the hand, a considerable time is consumed in the work, and 
 yet, after all, no resemblance is to be seen comparable with 
 that to be viewed in a mirror ; for clay is deficient in vigour, 
 stone in colour, painting in firmness, while all are devoid of 
 the power of motion, which brings the likeness before us in 
 the highest degree. 
 
 For in the mirror is to be seen the image wonderfully re- 
 iiected, not only with the resemblance traced out, but en- 
 dowed, too, with motion, and obedient to every gesture of the 
 person whom it represents. Then, besides, it is always of 
 the same age with the beholder, from the earliest boyhood 
 down to the veiy close of old age : so many aspects of life 
 does it assume, of such varied conditions of the body does 
 it partake, such numerous changes of the same features, whether 
 influenced by joy or by grief, does it imitate. But, on the 
 other hand, the resemblance that is moulded from clay, formed 
 of molten brass, hewn out of stone, impressed by heat on wax, 
 laid on a surface with paint, or represented by any other re- 
 source of human art, after no long interval of time becomes 
 quite unlike the original; and besides, it always preserves 
 the same rigid unmoved features, just like a corpse. To such 
 a degree then, does the highly- wrought smoothness of its po- 
 
 * Not put tip-l — That is to say, in a portrait. 
 
A DISCOUESE ON MAGIC. 261 
 
 lislied surface, and artificial brightness of the miiTor, surpass 
 all art in reflecting the likeness of the person. 
 
 Either, then, we are bound to adhere to the opinion of 
 Agesilaus the Lacedaemonian, who having but a poor opinion 
 of his own appearance, would never allow himself to be re- 
 presented in painting or sculpture, or else, if the usages of all 
 the rest of mankind appear worthy to be retained, and statues 
 and images are not to be eschoAved, what reason have you to 
 be of opinion that each man ought to see his likeness rather 
 in stone than in silver, rather in a picture than in a mirror ? 
 Do you think it a disgrace for a man carefully to survey his 
 own figure ? Is it not said of the philosopher Socrates, that 
 he even advised his disciples to view themselves repeatedly in 
 a mirror, so that he among them who was smitten with his 
 own good looks, might be the more scrupulously careful not 
 to disgrace the beauty of his person by bad manners ; while, 
 on the other hand, he who thought himself not so highly gifted 
 in appearance, might carefully use his best endeavours to screen 
 his ugliness hj his virtues. And thus did a man, who was 
 wiser than all others, make use of the mirror for the purpose 
 even of improving moral cultivation. 
 
 Then too, who knows not how Demosthenes, that most ex- 
 cellent master in the art of oratory, always got up his causes 
 before a mirror, just as though in presence of a master ? So 
 that most excellent orator, after he had learned eloquence from 
 the philosopher Plato, and the art of reasoning from Eubulides 
 the logician, endeavoured to obtain the extreme perfection of 
 the art of oratory by the assistance of the mirror. 
 
 Which, then, do you think ought to pay the greater atten- 
 tion to grace in the impressive delivery of his language, the 
 wrangling rhetorician or the warning philosopher ? the one 
 who for a few moments disputes before certain judges who are 
 chosen by lot, or the one who is continually discussing ques- 
 tions in the presence of all mankind ; he who wrangles about 
 the limits of fields, or he who defines the limits of good and 
 evil ? Why, if it was only for this purpose, ought not a phi- 
 losopher to look into a mirror ? For it is often incumbent \ipon 
 him not only to view his own likeness, but to consider too the 
 manner in which that likeness is so reflected ; whether it is 
 that, as Epicurus says, images which emanate from our bodies 
 in a perpetual flow, being a kind of slough, as it were, us soon 
 
262 THJE DEFENCE OF APX7LEIUS. 
 
 as they strike against any smooth and solid surface, are 
 thrown back again, and so turned the contrary way; or 
 whether it is that, as other philosophers argue, our rays of 
 vision, (whether flowing from the middle of the eyes, and 
 mingling and uniting with the external light as Plato thinks, 
 or whether only proceeding from the eyes without any foreign 
 admixture whatever, as Archytas supposes, or whether being 
 broken by the tension of the atmosphere, as the Stoics ima- 
 gine), when they have struck upon any body that is dense, 
 smooth; and shining, rebound and return to the features at the 
 same angles of incidence at which they have struck that body, 
 and so represent in the mirror that which they touch and 
 behold externally to it. Does it not seem to jon to be a 
 matter of duty that philosophers should investigate all these 
 subjects and duly enquire into them, and that they ought to 
 be the only persons to look into mirrors of all kinds, whether 
 with a watery surface or with a dry ? For their province 
 it is, besides what I have already mentioned, to enter upon 
 that other enquiry, why in mirrors with a plain surface images 
 generally appear alike, while in mirrors which are spherical and 
 convex in surface, all objects appear diminished, and, on the 
 other hand, in those which are concave they are magnified ; 
 at what distance and for what reason before a concave mirror 
 the left hand takes the place of the right ; in what cases it is 
 that the image at one moment withdraws within, and at ano- 
 ther, seems to be stepping out* of the same mirror ; why it 
 is that a concave mirror, if it is held facing the sun ignites fuel 
 placed close to it : how it happens that distinct rainbows are 
 seen in the clouds, and that two suns exactly similar are to 
 be beheld : besides numerous other questions of a similar na- 
 ture, which are discussed in the ample volume of Archimedes 
 the SjTacusan, a man endowed far beyond all other men with 
 a wonderful degree of skill in all geometrical subjects ; though 
 I am not quite sure but he is worthy of especial note for the 
 fact that he consulted the mirror often and carefully. If you 
 had only been acquainted with his book, ^milianus, and had 
 applied yourself not only to your fields and your clods, but to the 
 geometrician's board and fine sand, believe me, when I say it, 
 
 * Stepping out.'] — He alludes to the appearance, on advancing the 
 finger or other portion of the body towards and withdrawing it from a 
 convex mirror. 
 
A DISCOUESE ON MAGIC. 263 
 
 that although yonr extremely ugly features differ but very 
 little from those of the Thyestes of tragedy, there is no doubt 
 but you would have looked into the mirror with the object 
 of learning something new, and would at last have given up 
 the plough, in the intensity of your admiration of the numerous 
 furrows and wrinkles to be seen in your own face. 
 
 Now, I should not wonder if you took it in very good part 
 that I make mention of those most distorted features of yours, 
 but am silent as to your manners, which are far more repulsive. 
 The fact is, that whereas I am not naturally of a quarrelsome 
 disposition, I was, moreover, quite willing until the last few 
 days, to remain in ignorance whether you were a white or 
 a black man, and even now, by Hercules! I am far from 
 certain on that point. This arises from the fact, that while 
 you have been buried in the obscurity of a country life, I 
 have been busied with my studies. So, while the shade 
 thrown around you by j'our ignoble condition has stood be- 
 tween yourself and an observer, I have never made it my 
 object to learn the misdeeds of any person, but have always, 
 in preference, studied how to veil my own failings rather 
 than pry into those of others. I am just in the same position, 
 then, with reference to you, as the man who chances to be 
 standing in a place upon which a bright ligh is thrown, while 
 another, concealed in deep shade, is looking at him. For just 
 in a similar manner, while you can easily observe, in your 
 obscurity, what I am doing in the open daylight and before 
 all the world, you yourself, being concealed by your ignoble 
 station, and shunning the light, cannot in your turn be dis- 
 tinguished by me. 
 
 Hence it is, that whether you have slaves to till your lands, 
 or whether you make exchange of labour with your neighbours, 
 turn and turn about, I neither know nor am I anxious to 
 know ; but you know very well that in one day I manumitted 
 three slaves at (Ea,* and this your advocate, among other 
 points upon which he had been instructed by you, made an 
 objection against me; although but very shortly before, he 
 had asserted that I had come to (Ea with but a single ser- 
 vant as my attendant. Now I wish you would answer me 
 this : out of one servant how could I manumit three, unless 
 
 * At (Ea.l—k city of Africa, between the greater and the lesser 
 Syrtes. 
 
264 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 this, too, is to be set down to the account of magic ? Am I 
 to suppose that such is your blindness in lying, or such the 
 inveteracy of that habit in you ? " Apuleius came to (Ea with 
 a single servant," and then, after babbling out a few words, 
 *' Apuleius manumitted three slaves at (Ea in one day." Why, 
 not even would your story have been credible, had you said 
 that I had come attended by three servants, and had liberated 
 them all ; and yet if I had done so, why should you look 
 upon the possession o-f but three servants as a mark of poverty, 
 rather than the manumission of three as a proof of opulence ? 
 You know n-ot, most decidedly you know not, ^milianus, 
 how to bring a charge against a philosopher, when you throw 
 in my teeth the scantiness of my retinue, a thing tbat I ought 
 rather, for the sake of my own credit, to have feigned, had it 
 been necessary so to do, inasmuch as I was well aware that 
 not only the philosophers, of whom I profess to be a disciple, 
 but even emperors of the Roman people have gloried in the 
 small number of their servants. 
 
 And have not your advocates, pray, read to the same effect ? 
 How that M. Antonius, a man of consular dignity, had but 
 eight servants in his house, and how that Carbo, who attained 
 the highest honours, had one less ? And then, again, how 
 Manius Curius, who w.as rendered so illustrious by his nume- 
 rous victories, for three times did he enter at the same gate 
 in triumph, how that Manius Caius, I say, employed but two 
 camp servants in his expeditions ? So likewise the man who 
 triumphed over the Sabines, the Samnites, and Pyrrhus, had 
 fewer servants in number than the triumphs he enjoyed. Then, 
 again, Marcus Cato, little expecting that others would mention 
 it of him, has left it written in a speech of his, that when he 
 set out as consul for Spain, he took with him from the city 
 but three attendants, and no more; when he arrived, how- 
 ever, at the public villa,* these seemed too few for his re- 
 quirements, whereupon he ordered two youths to be purchased 
 in the forum at the slaves' platform, f and these five he took 
 
 • Public t>i7/a.]— The ' pu])lica villa' was a house of reception used by 
 the Roman people for the entertainment of foreign ambassadors, taking 
 the census, and other public purposes. 
 
 t Slaves' platform. 2 — * De raensa.' The 'mensa' here alluded to was 
 a stone or platform on which the slaves stood when put up for sale by tlie 
   prajco' or 'auctioneer.' 
 
A DISCOURSE ON MAGIC. 26i 
 
 with him to Spain. If Pudens had read all this, according 
 to my way of thinking he would either have entirely spared 
 this invective, or else in three servants he would have seen 
 cause ratlier to censure the multitude of a philosopher's attend- 
 ants, than the scantiness of his retinue. 
 
 He has even gone so far as to reproach me with my poverty, 
 a charge truly acceptable to a philosopher, and one to which 
 I readily plead guilty. For Poverty has long been the hand- 
 maid of Philosophy, frugal, temperate, contented with little, 
 eager for praise, averse from the things sought by wealth, safe 
 in her ways, simple in her requirements, in her counsels a 
 promoter of what is right. No one has she ever puffed up 
 with pride, no one has she corrupted by the enjoyment of 
 power, no one has she maddened with tyrannical ambition ; 
 for no pampering of the appetite or of the passions does she 
 sigh, nor can she indulge it. 
 
 But it is your fosterlings of wealth who are in the habit of 
 perpetrating these disgraceful excesses and others of a kindred 
 nature. If you review all the greatest enormities that have 
 been committed in the memory of mankind, you will not find 
 a single poor man among the perpetrators : whilst, on the 
 other hand, in the number of illustrious men, hardly any of 
 the rich are to be found ; poverty has nurtured from his very 
 cradle every individual in whom we find anything to admire 
 and commend. Poverty, I say, she who in former ages was 
 the foundress of all cities, the inventress of all arts, she who is 
 guiltless of all offence, who is lavish of all glory, who has been 
 honoured with every praise among all nations. Eor this same 
 Poverty it was that among the Greeks showed herself just in 
 Aristides, humane in Phocion, resolute in Epaminondas, wise 
 in Socrates, and eloquent in Homer. It was this same Poverty, 
 too, that for the Eoman people laid the very earliest founda- 
 tions of their sway, and that offers sacrifice to the immortal 
 Gods in their behalf with the ladle and the dish of clay, even 
 to this day. 
 
 If there were now sitting as judges at this trial, C. Fabri- 
 cius, Cneius Scipio, and Manius Curius, whose daughters, b^' 
 reason of their poverty, went home to their husbands portioned 
 at the public expense, carrying with them the glories of their 
 family and the money of the public, if Publicola, the ex- 
 peller of the kings, and [Menenius] Agrippa, the reconciler of 
 
 
266 THE DEFEJ^CE OF APTTLEIirS. 
 
 the people, the expense of whose funerals was, in consequence 
 of their limited fortunes, defrayed by the Roman people, by 
 contributions of the smallest coins ; ^^ if Attilius Hegulus, whose 
 little field was, in consequence of a like poverty, cultivated at 
 the public expense ; if, in fine, all those ancient families, en- 
 nobled by consulships, censorships, and triumphs, could obtain 
 a short respite, and return to light and take part in this trial, 
 would you then have dared to reproach a philosopher for his 
 poverty, in the presence of so many consuls distinguished for 
 theirs ? 
 
 Or is it that Claudius Maximus appears to you to be a suit- 
 able listener, while you are deriding poverty, because he hap- 
 pens to be the owner of an ample estate ? You are mistaken, 
 JEmilianus, and little are you acquainted with his feelings, if 
 you form your estimate of him according to the indulgence of 
 Fortune, and not according to the strict rules of philosophy ; if 
 you suppose that a man of such rigid morals and so long used 
 to warfare, is not better disposed towards circumscribed mode- 
 ration than fastidious opulence ; if you suppose that he does 
 not approve of wealth on the same principles that he does a 
 garment, rather when it suits the person than when it is re- 
 markable for its length. For wealth, too, if it is not conve- 
 niently carried, becomes an impediment to us, and trips us up, 
 no less than a draggling garment. Indeed, in all matters 
 which are needed for the requirements of life, every thing 
 that steps beyond becoming moderation is superfluous, and is 
 rather a burden to us than useful. Hence it is, that immo- 
 derate wealth, just like a large and disproportioned rudder, is 
 more apt to sink than to guide, for in such a case people have 
 a useless abundance, a pernicious superfluity. 
 
 I see, besides, that among the most opulent persons, those 
 are especially commended who make no bustle, no immo- 
 derate show; who live without thrusting their wealth into" 
 public view, who manage their vast resources without ostenta- 
 tion and without pride, and who imitate the poor in the appear- 
 ance of limited means. If, then, the rich even seek a certain 
 appearance — a colour of poverty — in order to put on the sem- 
 blance of limited means, why should those who are poorer be 
 ashamed of it, when they have to endure a povert}' not afl'ected, 
 but real ? 
 
 * Smallest coins.'] — ' Sextantibus.' The ' sextans' was the sixth part of 
 an * as.' 
 
A DISCOtmSE ON MAGIC. 267 
 
 T could, indeed, raise an argument with you about the 
 ver}^ name itself, and I could show that none of us are poor 
 who do not wish for superfluities, and who possess the things 
 that are necessary, which, by nature, are but few indeed. For 
 he has the most who desires the least : he who wants but 
 little, is most likely to have as much as he wants. For this 
 reason it is that riches are not better estimated according to 
 lands and income than according to a man's own mind ; for if 
 a man is craving through avarice, and always greedy of gain, 
 not even by mountains of gold will he be satisfied, but he will 
 be always begging for something, that he may increase his 
 store. And this is the real exposition of poverty. For all 
 desire of acquiring, arises from the opinion which each man 
 entertains as to what is poverty. And it matters not how 
 great is the amount of which you are in want — Philus had not 
 so great an estate as Laelius, Laelius as Scipio, Scipio as Crassus 
 the Rich, nor even Crassus the Rich as he wished. So that, 
 although he surpassed all in wealth, he himself was surpassed by 
 his own avarice, and seemed to be rich in the eyes of all others 
 rather than in his own. But, on the other hand, those philoso- 
 phers of whom I have made mention, wishing for no more than 
 they could obtain, and actuated by desires commensurate with 
 their means, were rightfully and deservedly rich and opulent. 
 For you become poor through the want of acquisition, and rich 
 through having no wants to satisfy ; inasmuch as a state of po- 
 verty is ascertained from the manifestation of desire, opulence 
 from the fact of being satisfied. Therefore, -^milianus, if you 
 wish me to be accounted poor, you must of necessity first show 
 that I am avaricious. For if, in my mind, there is nothing want- 
 ing, I care not what external things may be wanting ; for in 
 the abundance of these consists no praise, in the want of them 
 no blame. 
 
 Suppose, however, that it is otherwise, and that I really 
 am poor, because Fortune has denied me riches ; suppose that, 
 as often is the case, either my guardian has made away with 
 them, an enemy robbed me of them, or my father failed 
 to leave me any ; is a man, then, to be censured for a thing 
 which is imputed as a fault to no one of the animals, neither 
 the eagle, nor the bull, nor the lion ? If a horse has good 
 qualities, and is an easy trotter, and swift in his gallop, no 
 one censures him for being in want of fodder ; and will you 
 
 i 
 
268 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 impute it as a fault to me, not that I have said or done 
 anything that is bad, but that I live contented with my 
 .humble means, that I have but few servants, that I eat 
 sparingly, that I am lightly clad, and that I cater but 
 meagrely ? And j^ct, on the other hand, small as you think my 
 means in all these respects, I both think them abundant, and 
 more than sufficient, and I desire to restrict myself to still 
 fewer necessities, being fully assured that I shall be th^ more 
 happy, the more circumscribed my wants. For it is wivh the 
 mind just as with the body; in a healthy state it is lightly 
 clad, but in sickness it is wrapped in cumbrous clothing • 
 and it is a sure sign of infirmity to have many wants. It is 
 with life just as with swimming; that man is the most ex- 
 pert who is the most disengaged from all encumbrances. Just 
 the same way, amid the stormy tempests of human life, that 
 which is light tends to our buoyancy, that which is heavy, to 
 sink us. 
 
 For my part, I have learned that in this especially the Gods 
 sui-pass mankind, that they have to satisfy no necessities. Hence 
 it is, that him among us who has the fewest possible necessities, 
 I consider most strongly to resemble a God. I was very well 
 pleased, therefore, when you said, intending it as a reproach, 
 that my property consisted of a staff and a wallet. And I only 
 wish that I had such perfect control over my mind, that I 
 required nothing whatever beyond those articles, and be- 
 comingly submitted to the same equipment which Crates, 
 throwing all riches aside, spontaneously desired. This Crates, 
 if you will take my word for it, ^milianus, was a num of tlie 
 higher class of Thebes, rich, and ennobled in his city through 
 his love of that very state which you impute to me as a fault. 
 He presented his large and ample property to the people, and 
 putting away his numerous retinue of servants, made choice of 
 a life of solitude ; his trees, numerous and fruitful as they 
 were, he scorned in comparison with a single staff ; his most 
 elegant villas he changed for a single scrip ; the praises of 
 which he afterwards even sang in verse, on experience of 
 its utility, adapting to tlie purpose those lines of Homer in 
 which he celebrates the Isle of Crete. I will mention the 
 words with which he commences, that you may not suppose I 
 have only invented this for the purpose of my defence — 
 
A DISCOURSE OS MAGIC. 269 
 
 •' SfTip is a city's name,* which 'mid dense smoke 
 Lies fair and flourishing." 
 
 And then follow lines so admirable, that, if you were to read 
 them, you would be much more inclined to envy me my wallet 
 than the hand of Pudentilla. Do you censure philosophers 
 for their scrip and staff ? By the same reasoning, you ought to 
 censure horsemen for their trappings, foot- soldiers for their 
 bucklers, standard-bearers for their ensigns, and those, in fine, 
 who enjoy a triumph for their white steeds, and their robes 
 embroidered with sprigs of palm. 
 
 These, however, are not the equipments of the Platonic sect, 
 but they are the insignia of the class of Cynics. Btill, the 
 scrip and the staff were the same to Diogenes and to An- 
 tisthenes, as the diadem to kings, the martial cloak to generals, 
 the rounded hat to priests, and the crooked staff to augurs. 
 Indeed, Diogenes the Cynic, when disputing with Alexander 
 the Great as to who was the true king, boasted of his staff as 
 serving him in the stead of a sceptre. Even the invincible 
 Hercules himself — (you will, no doubt, feel a perfect contempt 
 for those others, as a set of mendicants) — Heroules him- 
 self, I say, the traveller over the whole earth, the cleanser 
 thereof from wild beasts, the subduer of nations, when he Was 
 travelling through the earth, and shortly before he was sum- 
 moned to heaven for his virtues, had no better clothing than a 
 single hide, although he was a God, and no other attendants 
 than a single staff. 
 
 If, however, you think nothing at all of these instances, and 
 have summoned me not to plead a cause, but to discourse upon 
 my income, that you may not be in ignorance about any of 
 my afftiirs, if, indeed, you are ignorant, I admit that my father 
 left me and my brother a little under twenty hundred thou- 
 sand sesterces, and that that sum has been a little diminished 
 by me, in consequence of prolonged travel, close study, and fre- 
 quent donations. For I have given assistance to most of my 
 friends, paid their fees to numbers of instructors, and have 
 given dowries even to the daughters of some : nor indeed, for 
 my own part, should I have hesitated to spend even the whole 
 of my patrimony, in order to acquire, what to me is of far 
 greater value, a contempt for all wealth. 
 
 * Scrip is a city^sname.'] — He puts nt]prj, a ' scrip,' or 'wallet,' in 
 place of the name of Crete, used hy Homer 
 
270 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIITS. 
 
 You, on the other hand, ^milianus, and men like you, un- 
 polished and uncouth, are to be valued, no doubt, j ust according 
 to what you possess ; just as a barren and unproductive tree, 
 which bears no fruit, is to be estimated in value according to 
 the amount of timber to be found in its trunk. Nevertheless, 
 forbear, iEmilianus, from this time forward, to throw his 
 poverty in the teeth of any man, seeing that, up to a very re- 
 cent date, you used to plough for three days single-handed 
 the one little field at Zaratha, which your father left you, w^ith 
 the assistance of a solitary ass to get it ready before the usual 
 wet season. Nor is it such a very long time since the nume- 
 rous deaths of relatives came to your support, by giving you 
 the possession of property that you little deserved ; a circum- 
 stance from which, still more than from that most ugly face of 
 yours, you have obtained the name of Charon. 
 
 And now as to my native country, and your shewing that 
 it is situate on the confines of Numidia and of Getulia, from 
 writings of mine, in which I confessed, when I was lecturing 
 before that most illustrious man, LoUianus Avitus, that I was 
 a Semi-Kumidian and a Semi-Getulian ; I do not see what I 
 have to be ashamed of in that respect, any more than the 
 elder Cyrus, because he was of mingled parentage, being a 
 Semi-Median and a Semi- Persian. For the proper subject of 
 enquiry is not where a man is born, but what are his man- 
 ners ; not in what country, but upon what principle he began 
 life is the thing to be considered. It is with good reason 
 allowed the gardener and the vintner to recommend vege- 
 tables and wine according to the nobleness of the soil ; the wine 
 of Thasos,* for instance, and the vegetables of Phlius. For it 
 is a fact, that those productions of the earth are much im- 
 proved in flavour by the natural fertility of the district, the 
 rain of the heavens, the mildness of the breezes, the brightness 
 of the sun, and the richness of the soil. 
 
 But, on the other hand, while the mind of man is sojourning 
 in the abode of the body which is foreign to it, how can any 
 of these particulars in any way add to or subtract from its 
 merits or its demerits ? When was it not the case that in every 
 
 * Of Thasos.} — Thasos, an island in the ^gean sea, was famous foi 
 the excellence of its wines. The vicinity of the city of Phlino, near Ar. 
 gos, was equally famous for its growth of vegetables. 
 
A DISCOIJKSE ON MAGIC. 271 
 
 nation various dispositions were to be found ? and this, al- 
 though some of them seem to be peculiarly distinguished for 
 stupidity, others for talent. Among the Scythians, a people 
 most remarkable for their stupidity, was born the wise Ana- 
 charsis ; among the clever Athenians, the fool Melitides. Nor 
 do I say this because I am in any way ashamed of my 
 country, even though ours had still been the city of Syphax ;* 
 we, however, were conquered, on which we were presented as 
 a gift of the Eoman people to king Masinissa, and after that, 
 on a new allotment of land being made among the veteran sol- 
 diers, we rose to be what we now are, a most famous colony. 
 In this colony it was, that my father, a man of the highest 
 rank, a duumvir, enjoyed every honour ; whose position I 
 have occupied in the same community, from the time I was 
 admitted to the rank of decurion, having in no way dege- 
 nerated from him, and, I both hope and think, enjoying the 
 same amount of honor and of estimation. 
 
 Why do I mention these particulars ? In order that you, 
 JEmilianus, may have the fewer pretences for levelling your 
 invectives against me in future ; and that you may be the 
 more inclined to pardon me, if, in my negligence, I did omit 
 to make choice of that Attic Zarathf of yours, to be bom 
 in. Are you not ashamed of yourselves, thus perseveringly, 
 in the presence of such a man, to prefer such accusations as 
 these ? To bring forward matters so frivolous, and at the 
 same time of so conflicting a nature, and yet to charge me as 
 being guilty of them all ? Have you not accused me on con- 
 tradictory grounds ? on those of the wallet and the staff, be- 
 cause of my rigidness of life ; on those of the verses and the 
 looking-glass, on account of my frivolity ; of having but one 
 servant, as being penurious ; of having three freedmen, as being 
 a spendthrift; and then, besides, of being in eloquence a 
 Greek, by birth a barbarian. Why do you not rouse up your 
 senses, and recollect that you are pleading your cause before 
 Claudius Maximus, before a man of serious habits, and one 
 engaged with the affairs of this entire province ? Why not 
 
 * City of Syphax.1 — Who, contrary to his promise, sided with Han. 
 nibal against the Romans, and was afterwards captured by Musinissa, and 
 delivered to the Romans, who starved him to death in prison. 
 
 t Attic Zarath.'] — He says this ironically, and in allusion to the bai- 
 barisra of the city of Zarath in Mauritania. 
 
272 THE DEFENCE OF ArULEIUS. 
 
 away with these vain reproaches ? Why not prove, whit you 
 have accused me of, heinous crimes, lawless misdeeds, and 
 wicked artifices ? "Why is your speech thus weak in argq 
 ments, thus mighty in outcry ? 
 
 I now come to the charge itself of magic, that blazing brand 
 which you lighted up against me with such immense clamour, 
 but which has disappointed the expectation of all, dying 
 out into I know not what old woman's stories. Have you 
 not, Maximus, sometimes beheld a fire that has broken out 
 amid stubble ? how loud its crackling, how large its blaze, how 
 rapid its growth, and yet, after all, how slight the fuel on 
 which it feeds, how short-lived the flame, that leaves after it 
 no remains ! In that flame behold this accusation, which 
 began in abuse, which has been fanned by assertions, which 
 has failed in its proofs, and which, after your sentence shall 
 have been pronounced, is destined to survive in not a single 
 remnant of this false charge : a charge which has been en- 
 tirely centred by -<JEmilianus in the proof of this one point, 
 that I am a magician ; for which reason I may be allowed 
 to enquire of these most learned advocates of his, what a 
 magician is. 
 
 For if, as I have read in many authors, a magician* means, 
 in the language of the Persians, the same thing that the word 
 ^' priest" does in ours, what is the crime, pray, in being a ma- 
 gician ? what is the crime in properly knowing, and under- 
 standing, and being versed in the laws of ceremonials, the 
 solemn order of sacred rites, and religious ordinances ? What 
 if, indeed, that is magic, which Plato calls " the service of the 
 Gods," when he relates with what careful training the Per- 
 sians bring up a youth who is destined for the throne. I recollect 
 the very words of that divine man, and do you, Maximus, 
 recall them to your memory with me : '' When he is fourteen 
 years of age, those persons take charge of the boy, whom they 
 call ' the royal tutors.' These are four persons, whom they 
 select from the highest classes of the Persians, and who are ap 
 proved of for their age. One of these is the most wise, ano- 
 ther the most just, another the most prudent, and the fourth 
 the most valiant man. Of these, one instructs him in the 
 magic of Zoroaster and of Oromazes, which is the service of 
 the Gods. He also teaches him the art of governing." 
 * .<^7no^ician.] —Magus. 
 
A DISCOIJESE ON- MAGIC. 273 
 
 Do yoa not hear then, you who are so rash as to accuse mo 
 of it, that magic is an art acceptable to the Gods, one that 
 most correctly teaches us how to worship and to venerate them ; 
 one that is consequently consistent with piety, and skilled in 
 all divine matters ; one that has been ennobled from the very 
 times of Zoroaster and of Oromazes, its inventors, as being tho 
 handmaid of the inhabitants of heaven ? Por among the very 
 rudiments of the royal training this art is taught ; nor is any 
 one of the Persians rashly allowed to be a magician, any more 
 than he is to be a king. 
 
 The same Plato, in another discourse of his, when speaking 
 of a certain Zamolxis, a Thracian by birth, but a man skilled 
 in the same art, has left a passage in his writings to the fol- 
 lowing effect : — " But he said, happy man, that the soul is 
 healed by certain incantations ; and that these incantations 
 are soothing words." And if this is the fact, what reason is 
 there why I should not be allowed to understand either the 
 soothing words of Zamolxis, or the priestly duties enjoined by 
 Zoroaster } But if, after the common usage, these people ima- 
 gine that a magician is properly a person who, from commu- 
 nication and discourse with the immortal Gods, is able, by a 
 certain incredible power centred in his incantations, to do 
 everything he pleases, then I greatly wonder, why they have 
 not been afraid to accuse me, when they admit that I am 
 possessed of such mighty powers. Por you cannot take pre- 
 cautions against a power that is of a nature so mysterious 
 and so divine, in the same way that other influences may be 
 guarded against. He who summons an assassin before the 
 judge, comes there attended by others ; he who accuses a poi- 
 soner, uses every precaution in taking his food ; he who charges 
 a man with theft, keeps watch over his property. 
 
 But here, on the other hand, he who puts a magician, such 
 as they speak of, on trial for his life, by means of what attend- 
 ants, what precautions, what guards, is he to ward off a de- 
 struction that is as unforeseen as it is inevitable ? Most as- 
 suredly, by none : hence a charge of this kind is not likely to 
 be preferred by one who believes in its truth. But these accu- 
 sations, by a kind of error universally prevalent among the 
 ignorant, are generally made against philosophers; thus, for 
 instance, such of them as make enquiry into the pure and pri- 
 mary causes of matter, they look upon a^ irreligious, and, on 
 
 T 
 
274 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 that account, assert that they deny the existence of Gods : 
 such as Anaxagoras, Leucippus, Democritus, Epicurus, and 
 other advocates of natural causes ; others, again, who, with more 
 than ordinary curiosity, enquire into the governance of the 
 world, and with the greatest earnestness venerate the Gods, 
 to these, too, do the vulgar give the name of magicians; sup- 
 posing that they know how to bring about those operations 
 which they know to take place : such, for instance, were in 
 former days, Epimenides, Orpheus, Pythagoras, and Ostanes.* 
 In like manner, the Purifications of Empedocles, the Daemon 
 of Socrates, and the abstract " Good" of Plato, became similar 
 objects of suspicion. Consequently, I congratulate myself, 
 when I find myself added to this long list of great men. 
 
 Still, I am afraid that the frivolous, silly, and trifling things 
 that they have alleged against me in support of their charge, 
 you will consider to make against me, if only on the ground 
 that they have been so alleged. " Why," said he, '' have 
 you been enquiring after certain kinds of fishes ?" Just as 
 though a philosopher were not at liberty to do that, in the 
 cause of knowledge, which an epicure may do to satisfy his 
 gluttony. ''Why has a free-born woman married you after 
 she has passed fourteen years in a state of widowhood ?" Just 
 as though it were not a greater cause for wonderment that she 
 remained unmarried so many years. " Why, before she was 
 married to you, did she write I know not what thoughts of 
 hers in a certain letter ?'* Just as though any one were bound 
 to tell another the reasons for his thoughts. " Then, besides, 
 she, a person advanced in years, did not hesitate to marry a 
 young man." Why, that very fact afibrds a proof that there 
 was no need of magic to prompt a woman to marry a man, a 
 widow a bachelor, one advanced in years, her junior ; and then 
 come these other points of a similar nature — " Apuleius has 
 got something at home which he worships in secret." Just as 
 though it would not rather be a ground for crimination not to 
 have some object to worship. *' A boy fell down in the pre- 
 sence of Apuleius." And what if a j^oung man, what if an 
 old man even had fallen to the ground while I was standing 
 by, whether he happened to be attacked by some bodily malady, 
 
 * Ostanes.'} — There were two Persian philosophers of this name. One 
 accompanied the expedition of Xerxes against Greece ; the other was 
 pfttronized by Alexander the Great. 
 
A DtSCOUESE OIT MAGIC. 275 
 
 or lost his balance through the slippery natuie of the ground ? 
 Is it on these proofs you would convict me of magical prac- 
 tices — the tumbling down of a boy, the marriage of a woman, 
 and the purchase of some fish ? 
 
 For my own part, I certainly could, with entire safety to 
 myself, be content, after saying even thus much, to come to a 
 conclusion. Still as, in proportion to the lengthiness of the 
 speech made for the prosecution, the water [in the clepsydra] 
 shows that there is abundance of time left, let us, if you 
 think proper, consider things in detail. And, for my part, all 
 the charges that have been brought against me, whether they 
 are true or false, I shall not deny, but will admit them, just as 
 though they really were the fact ; so that all this vast multi- 
 tude, which has flocked together from every quarter to hear 
 this trial, may fully understand, that not only nothing can be 
 truthfully alleged against philosophers, but that nothing even 
 can be falsely devised against them, which they would not 
 prefer to rebut, although they could deny it, in full reliance 
 on their innocence. First, then, I will meet their arguments, 
 and will prove that they bear no relation whatever to the 
 practice of magic ; and, after that, I will show that, even if I 
 had been a magician of first-rate ability, still, no cause or 
 opportunity has existed for them to detect me in any mal- 
 practice whatever. I will at the same time discuss more fully 
 their unfounded envy, their shameful conduct in reading the 
 letters of this lady, and their still more disgraceful interpreta- 
 tion put upon those letters, with all the eircumstances of the 
 marriage between myself and Pudentilla: and I will show that 
 I entered into that allianjce more from a sense of duty than for 
 gain. And, really, what a mighty cause of torment and uneasi- 
 ness has this marriage of our& proved to JEmilianus ! Hence all 
 that anger, and rage, and absolute frenzy, which have found 
 a vent in the present prosecution. And if I shall succeed in 
 proving all these points clearly and distinctly, then I shall call 
 upon you, Claudius Maximus, and all you who are here present, 
 to bear witness that this youth, Sicinius Pudens, my son-in-law, 
 in whose name and by whose wish I am accused by his uncle, 
 has but just now been removed from my charge, since his bro- 
 ther Pontianus, his senior in years, and his superior in character, 
 departed this life ; and I will show that he has been thus nefa- 
 riously worked upon against myself and his mother, through 
 
 t2 
 
276 THE DEFENCE OF APULlLltrS. 
 
 no fault of mine ; and that, having forsaken the pursuits of 
 literature, and abandoned all studies, he is likely, if we may 
 form a judgment from the wicked plans betrayed in this accu- 
 sation, to turn out much more like his uncle ^milianus than 
 his brother Pontianus. 
 
 I will now proceed, as I originally purposed, to all the frantic 
 conceptions of JEmilianus here, and I will begin with that 
 one which you heard him state at the outset as affording the 
 strongest grounds for suspecting me of the practice of magic — 
 the fact, I mean, that I have purchased various kinds of fish of 
 some fishermen. Which, now, of these circumstances is it 
 that is to lead to a suspicion of magic ? Is it the fact that 
 fishermen have endeavoured to procure these fish for me ? I 
 suppose, then, this task ought to have been entrusted to some 
 dyers or carpenters ; and that, on the same principle, the pur- 
 suit of every art ought to have changed hands, so that the 
 carpenter should have netted fish for me, and the fisherman 
 have planed wood. Or, is it that you feel satisfied that fishes 
 must be sought for unlawful practices, because they are sought 
 on the terms of purchase ? If I had wanted them to set on 
 table, I should have tried to get them for nothing, no doubt. 
 Why, then, do you not accuse me in like manner on many other 
 points ? For many a time have I, for money, purchased wine, 
 vegetables, fruit, and bread. Why, if you carry out this prin- 
 ciple, you prescribe starvation to all purveyors of dainties. For 
 who will dare to make purchase of them, if it is looked upon 
 as a matter of course, that all eatables that are procured with 
 money are wanted, not for food, but for the purposes of magic ? 
 
 But if there is no suspicion whatever existing, either in con- 
 sequence of the fact of fishermen being induced, for a sum of 
 money, to do that which they are in the general habit of do- 
 ing, namely, catching fish — (they have taken care, however, 
 to summon none of these fishermen as witnesses, for the best 
 of reasons, because none such there were) — nor yet of the fact 
 of a price being given for a marketable commodity — (the 
 amount of which price, however, they have taken care not to 
 state, for fear lest, if they had named a moderate price, their 
 story might have met with contempt, and, if an exorbitant 
 one, it might not have been believed) ; if, on these points, I 
 say, no ground for suspicion exists, then let -^milianus answer 
 me, on what evident grounds was he induced to make thia 
 
I 
 
 A DISCOUESE ON MAGIC. 277 
 
 chargo of magical practices ? " You endeavoured to procure 
 some fish," says he. I do not wish to deny the fact. But tell 
 me, I beg of you, is he who endeavours to procure some fish 
 a magician ? For my own part, I don't think he is a bit the 
 more so than if he were in search of hares, or boars, or fowl. 
 Or is it that fishes alone are in possession of certain pro- 
 perties that are hidden from other people, but known to ma- 
 gicians ? If you know what this property is, then it is clear 
 that you yourself are a magician ; but if you do not know it, 
 then you must, of necessity, confess that you are accusing a 
 person of a thing about which you know nothing whatever. 
 
 Are you, then, so unversed in all literature, nay, in all the 
 stories of the vulgar, that you cannot so much as coin these 
 fictions of yours with some air of probability ? For how 
 should a lumpish and chilly fish, or anything that is found in 
 the sea, be able to kindle the flames of desire ? But perhaps 
 you were induced to frame this falsehood from the circum- 
 stance that Venus is said to have arisen from the sea. Take 
 note, if you please, Tannonius Pudens, of how much you were 
 ignorant, when you undertook to prove the practice of magic 
 from the procuring of fish. Had you been a reader of Yirgil, 
 you certainly would have known that other things are usually 
 sought for such purposes. For, so far as I recollect, that poet 
 enumerates fillets of soft wool, unctuous vervain, male frank- 
 incense, and threads of various colours ; besides crackling 
 laurel, clay that hardens, and wax that liquefies, as well aa 
 some other things, which he has described in his more serious 
 work.* 
 
 *• She sprinkles round, 
 With feign'd Avernian drops, the hallow'd ground, 
 Culls hoary simples, found by Phtebe's light, 
 With brazen sickles reap'd at noon of night ; 
 Then mixes baleful juices in a bowl, 
 And cuts the forehead of a newborn foal, 
 Robbing the mother's love." 
 
 But you, libeller of the fishes, attribute fai* difierent appli- 
 
 * Serious vwrk.'] — He alludes to the iEneid. The quotation is from 
 the Fourth Book, translated by Dry den. 
 
 t The forehead, 8fc.'] — The 'hippomanes ' was a substance said to 
 grow on the forehead of the foal, and to be eagerly swallowed by the dam 
 at the moment of its birth. It was much employed in philtres and incan- 
 tations. 
 
278 THE DEFENCE OF APULEltTS. 
 
 ances to magicians ; substances not to be torn off from tender 
 foreheads, but to be cut away from scaly backs ; not to be dug 
 up from the ground, but to be drawn up from the sea ; not to 
 be cropped with the sickle, but to be hooked up with the fisher's 
 barb. In fine, for the purpose of incantations, he makes men- 
 tion of poisons, you of dainties, he of herbs and suckers, you 
 of scales and bones ; he culls from the meadow, you ransack 
 the deep. I could also have quoted to you similar passages 
 from Theocritus, others, again, from Homer, and a great num- 
 ber from Orpheus, and I could have repeated a multitude of 
 lines from the Greek comedies and tragedies, as well as from 
 the historians, had I not already observed that you were un- 
 able to read the letter of Pudentilla, because it was written 
 in Greek. I will therefore just dip into one more Latin poet : 
 here are the lines, which those will easily recognise who have 
 read Lsevius : * 
 
 " Look for your antidote ;t on every side 
 They snatch up charms of all sorts, whirling rhombs, 
 Of magic potency ; wing tails, and threads 
 Of varied colours, and entwined ; with roots 
 And herbs and suckers ; from the neighing colt 
 Torn is the stimulant J of fierce desire." 
 
 If you had had any acquaintance with literature, you would 
 have framed your fictions with much more probability, if you 
 had stated that I had sought for these and other things ; for 
 perhaps, in consequence of the stories so universally spread 
 about them, some credit would have then attached to your 
 mention of these particulars. But when a fish is caught, what 
 is it good for except to be cooked and served up at table ? but 
 for magic it is of no avail. 
 
 I will state to you my reasons for thinking so. Many have 
 supposed that Pythagoras was a follower of Zoroaster, and was, 
 like him, skilled in magic, and have informed us in their 
 writings, that when in the vicinity of Metapontum, on the 
 shores of his own part of Italy which he had made a kind of 
 second Greece, § he saw a seine drawn up by certain fisher- 
 
 * Lavius.] — It is a matter of doubt whether the reading here is 
 * Laevius' or ' Laeltius.' Of neither of these poets is anything known. 
 
 t Antidote.'] — Phny tells us that the ' Antipathes' was a black stone, 
 «rhich was valued as being proof against the operations of witchcraft. 
 
 X The stimulant.'] — The hippomanes. 
 
 § Second Greece.] — He alludes to the south of Italy, which was called 
 
A DISCOITRSE ON 3I1GIC. 279 
 
 men, whereupon he purchased the chances of the haul ; and 
 that after he had paid the money, he immediately gave orders 
 that the fish which had been caught should be released from 
 the nets, and returned to the deep. Now, I suppose, he 
 would not have let them go out of his hands, if he had found 
 in them anything useful for magical purposes. For this man, 
 80 well versed in all learning, and so close an imitator of the 
 ancients, remembered full well that Homer, a poet gifted with 
 universal knowledge, had, in his writings, attributed all the 
 power of drugs to the earth, and not to the sea ; for when 
 speaking of a certain enchantress, he writes thus : 
 " These drugs, so friendly to the joys of life, 
 
 Bright Helen learned from Thone's imperial wife, 
 
 Who swayed the sceptre, where prolific Nile 
 
 With various simples clothes the fatten'd soil ; 
 
 With wholesome herbage raix'd, the direful bane 
 
 Of vegetable venom taints the plain."* 
 
 And so likewise in another passage : 
 
 " Thus while he spoke, the sovereign plant he drew, 
 Where on th' all-bearing earth unmark'd it grew.''t 
 While, on the other hand, you will never find in his writings 
 either that Proteus drugged his changing figure with any 
 marine and fishy substance, or Ulysses the trench, | ^olus the 
 bag, Helen the goblet, Circe the cup, or Venus her girdle. 
 "Why, you are the only people to be found in the memory of 
 man who, forming, as it were, a kind of hodge-podge of the 
 productions of nature, make nothing of transferring the virtues 
 of herbs, and roots, and suckers, and pebbles from the tops 
 of mountains to the depths of the sea, and there sewing them 
 up in the bellies of fishes. Hence, just as Mercury, the con- 
 vc^yer of incantations, Yenus, the charmer of the soul, Luna, 
 
 Magna Graecia. Here Pythagoras set up a school of philosophy at the 
 citv of Crotona. 
 
 * The plain.']— Odyssey Book IV. 1. 227. Pope's Translation. 
 
 t It grew.]— Odyssey Book X. 1. 302. 
 
 + The trench.]— He alludes to various passages found in the works of 
 Homer; the transformations of Proteus, Book IV. : the trench dug by 
 Ulysses when sacrificing to Pluto, Book X. ; the bag in which iEolus en- 
 closed the winds for Ulysses, Book X. ; the goblets in which Helen mingled 
 wine and drugs, to banish grief and tears. Book IV. ; the cup in which Circe 
 mingled the drugs, by means of which she changed the companions of 
 Ulysses into swine, Book X. ; and the girdle of Venus, the WDndrous vir- 
 tues of which are mentioned in the Iliad, Book XIV. 
 
280 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 the looker-on in the night, and Trivia, the mistress of the 
 shades, used to he summoned to the ceremonies of the magi- 
 cians ; so, according to your account, henceforth Neptune, in 
 company with Salacia, and Portumnus, and the whole throng 
 of the Nereids, will have been transferred from the surging agi- 
 tations of the waves to the agitations of passionate desire. 
 
 I have now stated why, in my opinion, there is nothing in 
 common between magicians and fishes. But now, if you think 
 proper, let us believe, ^milianus, that fishes really are in the 
 habit of promoting magical influences. Does it, then, follow, 
 as a necessary consequence, that whoever seeks for a fish is a 
 magician ? By the same rule, the person who tries to procure 
 a light cutter is a pirate, he who looks for a crow-bar is a 
 housebreaker, and he who seeks a sword is a cut-throat. 
 Nothing of ever so harmless a nature can you mention, but 
 may possibly be used to man's disadvantage ; and nothing, of 
 ever so pleasing a tendency, but may be taken in bad part. 
 Yet it is not, for all that, a necessary consequence that all 
 things should obtain an utterly bad reputation ; as, for instance, 
 that you should suppose that frankincense, and cassia, and 
 myrrh, and such other aromatics, are only bought for the pur- 
 pose of being used at funerals, seeing that they are also used 
 in medical preparations, and in sacrifices. 
 
 But, according to this mode of reasoning about fish, you 
 would suppose that the companions of Menelaiis, too, were 
 magicians, inasmuch as the greatest of poets says that at the 
 island of Pharos they banished hunger by using curved hooks. 
 In the same class, too, you will have to place sea-gulls, dol- 
 phins, and cray-fish ; and then all epicures, too, who pur- 
 chase largely of fishermen; and even the fishermen them- 
 selves, who, in pursuit of their calling, seek for all kinds of 
 fish. " Why, then," say you, " do you try to procure them ?" 
 Really I do not choose, no-r do I deem it necessary, to tell 
 you ; but show me, I beg of you, if you possibly can, that I 
 have tried to procure fish for those purposes you state. Sup- 
 pose I had bought hellebore, hemlock, or the juice of poppies, 
 and other things, the use of which, in moderation, is conducive 
 to health, but which, when mixed or taken in large quan- 
 tities, are dangerous ; who could with common patience have 
 endured it, if you had accused me of poisoning, because by 
 means of these things a man may lose his life ? 
 
A DISCOURSE 0^ MAGIC. 281 
 
 Let us see, however, what w^ere the different kinds of fishes 
 which were so necessary for me to possess, and so rarely to be 
 met with, as to deserve to be sought for on the promise of a 
 reward. Three only have they named; in one they were 
 mistaken, while the other two they invented. They were 
 mistaken in saying that the fish was a sea-hare, for it was quite 
 a different kind of fish altogether; one which my servant 
 Themiso, a person by no means ignorant of the medical art, 
 as you have heard from his own lips, brought to me quite 
 unasked, for me to look at ; for the fact is, that he has not 
 even yet managed to find a sea-hare. Still, I am ready to 
 admit that I have been in search of other kinds besides, and 
 that I have given a commission not only to fishermen, but to 
 my friends also, wherever a person meets with a fish of any 
 unusual kind, either to describe to me the form of it, or else 
 to show it me alive, or, if he cannot do so, dead. "Why I have 
 done this, I will presently proceed to inform you. 
 
 But these accusers of mine, so extremely clever, as they 
 fancy themselves to be, were guilty of a falsehood, when, to- 
 wards the end of their charge, they invented the story that I 
 had been in search of two marine productions with indelicate 
 names. Those productions, Tannonius here, though he wished 
 the genitals of both sexes to be understood, could not, all- 
 accomplished pleader as he is, think of mentioning for very 
 bash fulness ; and, at last, after much stammering and bun- 
 gling, he called the fish he meant, by a vile paraphrasis, *nhe 
 marine virile member." * But as for the fish called '4eminal,"f 
 finding himself unable, in any way whatever, to mention it 
 with common decency, he betook himself to my writings, and, 
 because he had read a passage from a book of mine, to this 
 efi'ect — " May cover the ' interfeminium' both by crossing the 
 thighs and shading it with the hand," in due conformity ;]: 
 with the gravity of his own character, he imputed it as a fault 
 to me, that I was not ashamed to speak decently of shameful 
 things. 
 
 "Why, on the contrary, I might, with much more justice, 
 
 * The marine virile member.] — The fish was the Veretilla, a name syno- 
 nymous wife the male organs of generation. 
 
 + Feminal.] — A Latin name for the female organs ; the name also of a 
 Kind of shell-fish. 
 
 X In due corcformity.'] — This is said ironically. 
 
282 THE DEFENCE OF APrLElFS. 
 
 have censured him, who, whilst he publicly professes the art 
 of eloquence, babbles shamefully even about things that are 
 proper to be mentioned, and often, when speaking about sub- 
 jects that present not the slightest difficulty, either hems and 
 haws, or comes to a dead stop altogether. Now, tell me, if I 
 had said nothing at all about that statue of Yenus,"^ and had 
 never mentioned the word ''interfeminium," pray, in what 
 words would you have accused me on this matter, so suited 
 alike to your stupidity and to your tongue ? Can there be 
 anything more sillj^, than from a similarity of names to infer 
 a similarity of meaning in things ? And yet, perhaps, you 
 thought that you had shown great acuteness in this dis- 
 covery of yours. Why, then, you should have invented in 
 your charge that I had been in search of these two marine 
 productions, the "veretilla" and the '' virginal,"! for ma- 
 gical purposes ; for I must teach you the Latin names of things, 
 and I therefore give you their various appellations, that you 
 may be instructed another time in what language to make your 
 charges against me. Bear this in mind, however, that it would 
 be as ridiculous an argument to hold, that marine productions 
 with obscene names are required for venereal purposes, as it 
 would be to say that sea-combs or scallops are sought for the 
 purpose of combing the hair, or that the hawk-fish is taken 
 for the purpose of catching birds that fly, the boar-fish for 
 hunting boars, or sea- skulls with the object of raising the dead. 
 I make answer, then, to this position of yours, devised, as it is, 
 no less foolishly than absurdly, that I neither obtained these 
 marine trifles and gimcracks at any cost whatever, nor yet 
 gratuitously. 
 
 And this answer I give you furthermore, that you did not 
 know what it was you were pretending I had been in search 
 of. Por these trifles which you have mentioned, are generally 
 found lying in abundance on the sea-shores of all countries, 
 and, without labour on the part of any one, are spontaneously 
 thrown up by the tide, however gentle the ripple of the waves. 
 Why, then, do you not assert that, just in the same way, pay- 
 ing a heavy price for them, I have employed numbers of 
 
 * Statue of Fe»M».]— In describing which, he made use of the word 
 ' interfeminium.' 
 
 \ * Virginal.' — This word seems here to have the same meaning ai 
 feminal/ previously alluded to. 
 
A DISCOimSE ON MAGIC. 283 
 
 fishermen to collect on the sea-shore streaked mussels, lumpish 
 shells, and smooth pebbles ? Why not add the claws of crabs, 
 the shells of sea-urchins, the feelers of cuttle-fish, and bits of 
 cliips, old stumps, scraps of rope, and worm-pierced oyster- 
 shells ?* Why not, in fine, moss and sea- weed, and other 
 things which are thrown up by the sea, which are drifted by 
 the winds in all quarters upon the shore, cast up on the surface 
 with the scum, tossed in the tempests to and fro, and stranded 
 in the calm r 
 
 And not a jot the less, in the case of the matters which I have 
 mentioned, may similar suspicions be broached, in accord- 
 ance with their respective names. You affirm that things 
 gathered from the sea, and that bear the names of the male 
 and female organs, are efficacious in venereal matters, be- 
 cause of the similitude of the names; how, then, can it 
 possibly be other than the fact, that the calculus or smooth 
 pebble that is picked up from the same sea-shore bears some 
 reference to the bladder, the shell known to us as '* testa'*f to 
 a testamentary devise, the cancer to a cancerous ulcer, the 
 *' alga," or sea- weed, to ague ?J 
 
 Assuredly, Claudius Maximus, you are a most forbearing 
 man, and one endowed with the greatest humanity, for having, 
 by Hercules ! so long tolerated these arguments of theirs. For 
 my own part, when these things were stated by them as being 
 matters serious and unanswerable, I laughed at their folly, and 
 was surprised at your powers of endurance. But as JEmilianus 
 is so very anxious about my affairs, he must be made ac- 
 quainted why it is that I have examined so many fishes of 
 late, and why I did not wish to remain unacquainted with any 
 of them. Although he is well-stricken in years, and in the 
 decline of life, still, if he chooses, let him receive some in- 
 struction, however late, and in a manner posthumous. Let 
 him read the records of the ancient philosophers, that at last 
 he may understand, that I was not the first to make these 
 researches; but that, long before me, my predecessors Aris- 
 totle, Theophrastus, Eudemus, Lycon, and others after the time 
 
 * Oyster-shells.'] — The word * pergami' is not translated, as it is pretty 
 clear that it is out of place here. 
 
 t ' Testa.'] — The name of a shell-fish, the present denomination of 
 which is unknown. 
 
 X To ague.] — Which is attended with shivering fits. 
 
284 THE DEFENCE OF APULEITJS. 
 
 of Plato, enquired into these matters ; and let him know that 
 they have left many books which treat of the generation of 
 animals, their diet, their formation, and all their classifications. 
 
 It is fortunate, Maximus, that this cause is tried before 
 you, who, learned as you are, have no doubt read the numerous 
 volumes of Aristotle " On the Generation of Animals," " On 
 the Anatomy of Animals," ** On the History of Animals ;" be- 
 sides innumerable problems of the same writer, as well as 
 works written by others of the same sect, in which various 
 matters of the same nature are treated of. 
 
 If it was honorable and praiseworthy in them to write tm 
 these particulars which had been investigated with such scru- 
 pulous care, why should it be disgraceful for me to try to do 
 the same ? And the more especially, when I am making it my 
 object to write on the same subjects, both in the Greek and 
 Latin languages, with an improved arrangement, and in more 
 concise terms, and to ascertain what has been omitted on each 
 point, or else to supply what is defective? Permit, if you 
 have the leisure, some of my magical compositions to be read, 
 in order that ^milianus may learn that I have made more care- 
 ful researches and enquiries than he imagines. Produce* one 
 of my Greek books, which perhaps my friends have brought 
 here with them, and which treats on researches into ntiture, 
 and that one, in especial, in which are set forth a great number 
 of facts relative to the class of fishes. 
 
 In the meantime, while he is looking for it, I will just men- 
 tion an instance appropriate to the present occasion. Sophocles, 
 the poet who was the rival of Euripides, and his survivor (for 
 he lived to a very advanced age), was accused by his own son 
 of madness, as having, through extreme old age, fallen into a 
 state of dotage. On this, it is said he produced his (Edipus 
 Coloneus, the most excellent of his Tragedies, and which he 
 happened just then to be writing, and having read it to the 
 judges, he added not a word in his defence, except that he 
 requested them, without hesitation, to pronounce him mad if 
 the lines written by him in his old age should show him to 
 be so. On that occasion, I find that all the judges arose to 
 pay all due respect to a great poet, and wondrously extolled 
 
 * Produce.'} — He says this to one of the scribes or clerks of court, in 
 whose hands the documents had been deposited connected with the prose- 
 cution. 
 
A DISCOrRSt 0]S MAGIC. 285 
 
 feim, both for the skill displayed in his plot, and the tragic 
 elegance of his composition ; and it all but turned out that, 
 on the contrary, they pronounced the accuser mad. 
 
 Have you found the book ? I am much obliged to you. 
 Come now, let us make trial, whether my literary productions 
 too will stand my friends in a court of justice ? Read a few 
 lines at the beginning, and then something on the subject of 
 fishes. And do you, while he is reading it, take care and 
 keep the water from dropping.* \_The officers read some pas- 
 sages from the speaker's physical works, which are now lost.'] 
 You have heard here, Maximus, much that no doubt you have 
 read in the writings of the ancient philosophers ; bear in mind, 
 too, that these volumes were written by me on the subject of 
 fishes alone ; in them you will find it stated, which of them 
 are produced from copulation, which are generated from mud, 
 how often, and at what time of the year, the females and the 
 males of each kind are bent on coupling ; in what pa^rts, and 
 from what causes, nature has produced a difference between 
 such of them as are viviparous, and such as are oviparous ; 
 for by those names I denote those which the Greeks call 
 ^uoroxa and uotoxu. 
 
 And, not to be at the trouble of going through all the genera 
 of animals, I will next request a few passages to be read from 
 my Latin compositions, which likewise treat of the same kind 
 of knowledge, both with reference to their classifications, their 
 food, their members, their ages, and numerous other particu- 
 lars, which, necessary as they are to be known, have but little 
 to do with a court of justice ; in these, you will find, how- 
 ever, facts that are known to but very few, as weU as some 
 names that are even unknown by the Romans, and are not 
 used, as far as I know, up to the present day; they are 
 names, however, which by means of my labour und study have 
 been so derived from the Greek, as still to bear upon them the 
 stamp of the current Latin coinage. If such is not the fact, 
 then, JEmilianus, let your advocates inform us where they 
 have read these names set forth as being Latin words. I will 
 only touch upon aquatic animals, and no other class, except in 
 
 * Water from dropping. "] — He says this to the officer whose charge it 
 IS to watch the clepsydra. The time taken up in reading quotations or 
 documents was not deemed part of that allowed for the speech in de- 
 fftiice. 
 
286 TEE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 those cases where there are differences of genera in common 
 with them and others. 
 
 Listen now to w^hat I am going to say. You will presently 
 cry out, that I am repeating a string of magical terms aftei 
 the Egyptian or Babylonian custom — these are the classes — 
 ffsXu'^eia, fJuaXdxia, /naXaxoffrpaxa, ^ovdpdxaii6a, offrpaxodip/MO,^ 
 xap^/^apodovra, afjij(plj3ia^ XsT/^wra, (poXidura, dBpfMOTrspa, '^^^^5 
 f's-TToda, /MovyjpTj, ffwaysXaffriTca. — I could still go on, but it is 
 not worth while to consume the day on these subjects, in 
 order that I may have time to proceed to other points. In 
 the meantime, as to the few that I have mentioned, run over 
 the names I have given them in Latin. [_The Latin names for 
 the same genera of fishes are lost.'] 
 
 Which, then, do you think, in case of a philosopher, not one, 
 rude and untaught, in accordance with the impudence of the 
 cynics, but one who bears in mind that he belongs to the 
 school of Plato, which do you think is the more disgraceful to 
 him, to know these matters, or to be ignorant of them ? to 
 neglect or to attend to them ? To come to a perception how 
 fully, even in these objects, the workings of providence are 
 displayed, or merely to take your father's and mother's word 
 as regards belief in the immortal gods ? 
 
 Q. Ennius, in his work called " Hedj^hagetica,"* which 
 he has written in verse, enumerates the almost numberless 
 genera of fish which he had, no doubt curiously, examined. I 
 remember a few of his lines, w^hich I will repeat. 
 
 " The best of eel-pouts are at Clypea found ; 
 At ^nus sea-loche. From Abydos come 
 Oysters in plenty. Mitylene sends 
 Her scallops. From Ambracia's rocky shores 
 We fetch the sea-goat. Good thy sargesf are, 
 Brundusium ; if they're large, make sure and buy. 
 Know that Tarentum sends of boar-like fish;}: 
 The best. Buy sword-fish at Surrentum, buy 
 Blue fish at Curnae. But why fail to name 
 
 * • Hedi/phai/etica.*] — This seems likely to be the most correct reading. 
 
 The-ineaning will be ' a treatise on good eating.' The following lines are 
 
 in a most corrupt state. 
 
 t Sarges.l— It is not known what fish was called ' sargus.' 
 
 t Boar -like fish."] — • Apriculum.' — It is not known what fish was thui 
 
 called by the diminutive of * aper,' a ' boai.' 
 
A DISCOURSE ON MAGIC 287 
 
 The scarus, equal to the brain of Jove ! 
 
 In Nestor's land 'tis found, both fine and good ; 
 
 The black-tail, sea-thrush, whiting, an i the swift 
 
 Sea-shadow,* the Corcyrean polypus ; 
 
 Atarna's skull-fish fat, the purpura, 
 
 Murex, muriculus ; sweet urchins, too." 
 
 Others, besides, he has celebrated in many of his lines, and has 
 shown in what countries each of them is to be found, and whether 
 it has the finest flavour when boiled or pickled; and yet, for all 
 this, he is not censured by the leanied. Let me not be censured 
 then, when I set forth in the Latin tongue, under elegant and 
 appropriate names, matters which, having been hitherto treated 
 of in Greek, are known to but very few indeed. 
 
 As I have spoken at sufficient length on this subject, next 
 hear me on another. Now what can they say against it, pray, 
 if, being neither unacquainted with the medical art, nor un- 
 skilled in it, I seek for certain antidotes in fishes ? for as 
 very many such are mingled and implanted in all other ob- 
 jects by the bounty of nature, so too there are some, no 
 doubt, to be found in fishes. Do you suppose that to under- 
 stand the nature of antidotes, and to search for them, is the 
 province rather of a magician, than of a physician, or a phi- 
 losopher even ? One who is going to use them not for his own 
 profit, but for the purpose of benefiting others ? Why, the 
 ancient physicians were even acquainted with certain charms 
 by way of remedy for wounds, as Homer, that most trust- 
 worthy author of aU antiquity, informs us, when he represents 
 the blood that flowed from the wound of Ulysses, as being 
 staunched by means of a charm. f Nothing that is done for 
 the purpose of ensuring health can be criminal in itself. 
 
 '' But then," says he, '' for what purpose but a bad one did 
 you cut up the fish which your servant Themiso brought you?" 
 As though, indeed, I did not say, a short time since, that I have 
 written on the parts of all animals, their position, their num- 
 ber, and their purposes ; and that I make it my study to ex- 
 amine and to enlarge the works written by Aristotle "On 
 Dissections." And, indeed, I am surprised that you should 
 only know that one little fish has been examined by me, 
 
 * Sea-shadow.'] — ' Umbra marina,' or ' sea-shadow,' so called from 
 iU swarthy colour. 
 
 t 0/ a' charm.— See the Odyssey, Book XIX., et seq. \. 456. 
 
288 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 when I have in the same manner, on preYioiis occasions, 
 examined vast numbers of them, whenever they have been 
 brought to me ; especially, seeing that I do nothing in secret, 
 but everything openly, and any one, a stranger even, may 
 come and be present as a spectator. Herein I act according to 
 the customs and usages of my masters, who say, that a man 
 of ingenuous birth and high spirit, ought, if he can, to carry 
 his mind pourtrayed in the very front of his forehead. 
 
 ISiow this little fish, which you call a sea-hare, I showed to 
 a great number of persons who were present, and I can not 
 3'et make up my mind what it shall be called, until I shall 
 have made a more careful examination of it ; for among the 
 ancient philosophers, I find no account of the properties of 
 this fish, although it is the rarest of all kinds, and, by Her- 
 cules ! one that well deserves to be described. Por this is the 
 only fish, so far as I know, that, being without bones in other 
 parts, has certain bones, twelve in number in the belly, con- 
 nected and united one with another, much like the pastern 
 bones of a pig in appearance. If Aristotle had been aware 
 of this fact, he certainly never would have omitted to commit 
 it to writing, since he has mentioned, as a remarkable fact, 
 that there is a little heart found in the middle of the belly of 
 the codfish, and of that fish alone. 
 
 " You cut up the fish," says he. Who can endure that being 
 a crime in a philosopher, which would not have been so in a 
 butcher or a cook ? " You cut up the fish !" Is it because 
 it was raw, that you censure me for so doing ? If I had ex- 
 amined the belly, after boiling the fish, and had dug out the 
 entrails, just as this stripling, 8icinius Pudens, has learned 
 to do at your house,"^ with fish bought with his own pocket- 
 money; would you not have deemed that a fitting ground 
 for accusing me ? Eut know that it is a greater crime for a 
 philosopher to eat fishes than to examine them. Shall sooth- 
 savers, then, be allowed to inspect the entrails, and shall a 
 philosopher be forbidden to observe them, when he knows 
 that he is the diviner, who gathers omens from all animals j 
 
 * At your house.'] — In this passage, he accuses iEmilianus of neglect- 
 ing the duties of an uncle towards Pudens ; while he censures the laiter 
 for inordinate epicurism ; as, among nice eaters, the entrails of fish were 
 generally esteemed the most dainty bits. He seems also to hint, that 
 I'udens was not over- well fed at the house of iEmilianus. 
 
A DlSCOUllSE 0:S MAGIC. 289 
 
 tliat he is the priest of all the Gods ? Do you censure in me, 
 the very thing that Maximus and I agree in admiring in 
 Aristotle : whose books unless you banish from the libraries, 
 and tear them from the hands of the studious, you can bring 
 no accusation against me. 
 
 But on this point I have almost said more than I ought. 
 Now, only see to what an extent these people confute them- 
 selves. They say, that a woman was captivated by me through 
 magic arts and charms derived from the sea ; this, too, at a 
 time at which they will not deny that I was far inland among 
 the mountains of Gaetulia, where may be found fishes left 
 by Deucalion's flood. I really congratulate myself that they 
 were not aware that I have also read the tract of Theo- 
 phrastus, *' On animals that bite and are venomous," as 
 well as the book on antidotes written by Nicander. For in 
 such case, they would have accused me of poisoning too, though 
 I have only pursued these studies in imitation of Aristotle, 
 whose works I have carefully read, my own Plato, in some 
 measure, encouraging me thereto, when he says, that he who 
 investigates these matters, " knows things that are godlike 
 and immortal, if he hits upon the truth.'* 
 
 Now that their fish story has been sufficiently exposed, 
 listen to another invention of theirs, quite its equal in folly, 
 but far more absurd and dishonest. They knew, themselves, 
 that their fish argument would turn out utterly futile and 
 worthless, and ridiculous for its singularity. For who ever 
 heard of fishes being wont to be scaled and boned for magical 
 malpractices ? On the contrary, they ought rather to have con- 
 cocted something with reference to matters more universally 
 known, and that have already obtained credit. 
 
 For this reason it is, that they have trumped up a tale quite 
 in accordance with prescribed notions and common report, how 
 that, — all overlookers being removed — in a secret spot, with 
 lamp and little altar, I bewitched a certain boy by my incan- 
 tations — and how that, a few witnesses being privy thereto, 
 after he had been enchanted, he fell to the ground, and after- 
 wards awoke in a fit of utter bewilderment. No further, 
 however, than this, did they dare to proceed in their fiction ; but 
 still, that the story might be rendered complete, it was found 
 necessary to add, that the same boy had, in a spirit of pro- 
 phecy, foretold many events, for such, we generally hear, is 
 
290 THE DEFENCE OF APULEITIS. 
 
 the result of employing incantations. And not only by the 
 universally received notions of the vulgar, but even by the 
 authority of learned men, is this miraculous power of boys con- 
 firmed. 
 
 I remember, that in the works of Yarro the philosopher, a 
 man who was most intimately acquainted with all learning 
 and knowledge, I read the following relation among others of 
 a similar nature : — When the people of Tralles were consult- 
 ing the magical art, as to what would be the result of the 
 Mithridatic war ; a boy,* while looking upon the reflection of 
 a statue of Mercury in the water, uttered a prophecy of a hun- 
 dred and sixty lines, setting forth what was about to come 
 to pass. Furthermore, that Fabius, having lost five hundred 
 denars, came to I^igidius,f to consult him ; on which, certain 
 boys, who had been inspired by him by means of charms, 
 pointed out in what place the purse had been buried, together 
 with some part of the money ; how the rest had been distri- 
 buted, and how that even M. Cato the philosopher was in 
 possession of one of the pieces ; upon which, M. Cato con- 
 fessed that he had received that very coin at the hands of an 
 attendant of his for the contribution to Apollo.;^ 
 
 These, and other statements, about boys being employed for 
 magical purposes, I certainly have read in many authors ; but 
 I am doubtful whether to say that such things are possible, 
 or to deny it. Still, I do think with Plato, that there are 
 
 * A bot/.l — We learn from Mr. Lane, and other travellers in Egypt, 
 that it is supposed that hoys have, in certain eases, the gift of prophecy 
 or omniscience, and that they can see events passing in other parts of 
 the world, reflected in a drop of black ink oa the finger nail, or palm of 
 the hand. 
 
 t To Niyidius.'] — Nigidius Figulus was a Roman philosopher, famous 
 for his extraordinary learning. He was noted for his mathematical and 
 physical investigations, and followed the secrets of the Pythagorean school 
 of philosophy. He was also famed as an astrologer, and in the Eusebian 
 Chronicle is called a magician. A letter of Cicero to him is still extant, 
 in the Epistles, Ad Familiares, Book IV., ep. 13. He is said to have re- 
 ceived the name of ' Figulus,' which means a ' potter,' from the circum- 
 stance of having promulgated, on his return from Greece, that the globe 
 whirled round with the rapidity of the potter's wheel, 
 
 X To ApoUo.'] — It was not considered seemly for the upper classes, 
 among the Romans, to carry money in the streets. Consequently, the 
   pedissequi,' or ' footmen,' by whom they were attended, usually carried 
 their purses for them. 
 
A DISCOUESE ON MAGIC. 291 
 
 certain divine powers which are intermediate both in nature 
 and locality, between the Gods and mankind, and that these 
 powers preside over all divinations and miracles of magicians. 
 And I am further of opinion, that the human mind, and espe- 
 cially the uncontaminated mind of a boy, may be lulled to 
 sleep, and so estranged from the body, as to become oblivious 
 of the present, being either summoned away from it by the 
 agency of charms, or else enticed by the allurements of sweet 
 odours ; and that so, all remembrance of what is done in the 
 body having been banished for a time, it may be restored and 
 brought back to its original nature, which no doubt is divine 
 and immortal, and thus, being in a kind of trance, as it were, 
 may presage future events,* 
 
 Eut be this as it may, if any credit is to be given to these 
 matters, whatever boy is to prophesy, ought, so far as I can 
 understand, to be of graceful features and of unblemished 
 body, of quick wit, and fluent in speech ; that so, either the 
 Divine power may take up its abode in him, as in a beseeming 
 habitation, (if, indeed, it can, under any circumstances, be 
 becomingly enclosed in the body of a boy ;) or else, his mind, 
 on being released from the body, may quickly return to its 
 power of divination ; and that such power being readily within 
 its reach, and not blemished or impeded by obliviousness, may 
 be the more easily resumed. Tor, as Pythagoras used to say, 
 *' It is not out of every log of wood that a Mercury can be 
 carved." 
 
 If, then, such is the fact, mention the name of this boy, of 
 sound mind, good health, quick wits, and singular beauty, 
 whom I have thought proper to initiate in these arts, through 
 my incantations. As for this Thallus, whom you have named, 
 he stands more in need of a physician than of a magician. 
 Por he, poor creature ! is so affected with epilepsy, that fre- 
 quently, as many as three or four times in a day, he falls to 
 the ground without any incantations whatever, and injures 
 all his limbs with the blows so received : he has a face, too, 
 full of ulcers ; his head, both before and behind, is covered 
 
 * Future events.^ — This notion is very similar to that of the mesmer- 
 ists of the present day. This similarity has been recently remarked by 
 an ingenious correspondent in * Notes and Queries,' vol. vi., p. 8. The 
 divine nature and origin of the human mind or soul, will be found fully 
 discussed in the treatise, ' On the God of Socrates.' 
 
 TJ 2 
 
292 THE DEFENCE OE APULEirS. 
 
 all over with bruises ; his sight is dim, his nostrils are ex- 
 panded, and he is quite shaky in the .legs. He Avould be 
 the greatest magician of all, in whose presence Thallus could 
 stand up for any length of time together ; so frequently does 
 he stagger and fall down under the influence of his disease, 
 just as though he were fast asleep. And yet you have thought 
 proper to assert, that he has been made to fall down through 
 my incantations, because he happened to fall on one occasion 
 when I was present. Many of his fellow-servants are here, 
 whom you gave notice to produce. They can tell you, all 
 of them, why they shun the society of Thallus ; why it is that 
 no one ventures to eat with him from the same dish, to drink 
 with him from the same cup. 
 
 But why speak of the servants ? Deny it yourselves, if you 
 dare, that Thallus, long, long before I came to Oea, was in 
 the habit of falling down when suffering from attacks of this 
 disease, and had been repeatedly in the hands of the physicians. 
 Can his fellow-servants, who are in your own service, deny 
 that ? I will confess myself guilty on all the charges, if he 
 has not, this long time past, been banished to a farm at a great 
 distance in the country, lest he might infect the whole house- 
 hold. That this is the fact, not even they themselves can 
 deny. This, too, has been the reason, why he could not be 
 produced by us to-day. For, just in accordance with the pre- 
 cipitate and hurried manner in which this accusation, was 
 preferred, it was only the day before yesterday, that ^milianus 
 gave us notice to produce our fifteen servants before you. The 
 fourteen who were in the city are present. Thallus, as I 
 mentioned, is the only one that has been sent away into the 
 country, almost a hundred miles out of our sight. Thallus is 
 the only one absent ; but still we have sent a person, post haste, 
 for the purpose of bringing him hither. Enquire, Maximus, 
 of these fourteen servants, whom we produce, where the boy 
 Thallus is, and in what state of health ; enquire of the servants 
 of my accusers. They will not deny the fact, that this most 
 unsightly lad has a body rotten and diseased, that he is liable 
 to falling fits, is uncouth, and a mere clod. 
 
 A handsome youth, indeed, you have chosen, for any person 
 to employ in the sacred rites, to touch his head, [in initiating 
 nim], to clothe him with a pure garment, and to expect him 
 to give responses ! By Hercules ! I only wish he had been 
 
DISCOURSE 0>i MAGIC. 293 
 
 here, I would have handed him over to you, -^milianus, to take 
 hold of him, and question him yourself. Why, in the very 
 middle of your examination of him, here, in this same spot, 
 and before the very tribunal, he would have fixed his staring- 
 eyes upon you, slobbered and spit in your face, clenched his 
 h?iids, dropped his head, and, at last, fallen right upon your 
 breast. The fourteen servants, whom you demanded, I have 
 brought ; why don't you make use of them for examination ? 
 Ons lad, and that one a poor epileptic creature, you ask for, 
 when you know, as well as I do, that he has long since left this 
 place. How can there be a more manifest calumny than this ? 
 At your demand, fourteen servants -are here — of them you 
 take no notice — one young boy is absent, about him you at- 
 tack me. 
 
 After all, what is it you want ? Suppose Thallus to be pre- 
 sent, do you wish to prove that in my presence he fell to the 
 ground ? I am quite ready to admit it. Do you say that this 
 was effected through incantations ? About that, the lad knows 
 nothing at all : I will prove that such was not the fact. Now 
 that the lad was suffering from epilepsy, not even you yourself 
 will dare to deny. Why, then, ought his falling down to be 
 attributed to incantations rather than to disease ? Could it 
 not possibly happen that he should be seized with an attack 
 in my presence, just as he has often been seized on other occa- 
 sions, while many other persons were present ? If I had con- 
 sidered it a matter of great importance to make an epileptic- 
 person fall down, what necessity was there for me to use in- 
 cantations, when the stone called ''agate," after being subjected 
 to the action of fire, as I read in the writers on Physics, readily 
 and easily tests the presence of this malady ? It is by means 
 of the smell of this, too, that trial is usually made in the 
 slave-markets of the soundness or unsoundness of the slaves. 
 Then besides, the wheel, when whirled round by the potter, 
 readily affects with vertigo a person suffering from this ma- 
 lady, so much does the sight of the rotatory motion affect 
 his debilitated spirits ; so that a potter is much better able 
 than a magician to cause the epileptic to fall prostrate. 
 
 You have asked, and for no purpose, that I should produce 
 the servants ; I ask, and not for no purpose, that you will 
 mention by name the witnesses who were present at these ne- 
 farious rites, when I thus brought to the ground the already 
 
294 THE DEFENCE OF APULETUS. 
 
 tottering Thallus. Only one young lad, after all, do you name, 
 this Sicinius Pudens here, in whose name you accuse me; 
 he declares that he was present ; but even if his boyhood did 
 not in the slightest degree detract from his credibility with 
 the court, still his position as accuser would impair the value 
 of his testimony. It would have been much easier, ^milianus, 
 and would have carried much greater weight, if you had said 
 you yourself were present, and that in consequence of these 
 rites you were first attacked with insanity, rather than entrust 
 all this business, as though it were a mere joke, to boys. A boy 
 fell down, — a boy saw him fall down, — and may not some boy 
 have acted the enchanter too ? Tannonius Pudens here, craftily 
 enough, when he perceived that this Ipng fiction also fell 
 cold and harmless, and that it was all but hissed outright, as- 
 serted that he would produce some other boys who had also 
 been enchanted by me, that thus at least, by raising your ex- 
 pectations, he might lull the suspicions of some among you ; 
 and then he passed on to another head of his argument. 
 
 ISTow, although I might very well have taken no notice of 
 this, still, as I have challenged him to proof on all other points, 
 so I volunteer to do on this. Por I long for these boys to 
 be produced, who, I hear, have been encouraged to give 
 false evidence against me, through hopes held out to them that 
 they shall thereby gain their liberty. However, no more 
 do I say than this : Let them produce them ; I demand. Tan- 
 nonius Pudens, and insist that you will fulfil the promise you 
 have made. Produce these boys, in whom you have put such 
 confidence ; inform us what are their names ; a portion of the 
 time that has been allotted for my own speech I give you 
 leave to employ for the purpose. Tell us, I say, Tannonius — 
 why are you silent? why do you hesitate? why cast your 
 eyes on the ground ? If he does not know what it is he has 
 said, or if he has forgotten the names, then do you, ^mili- 
 anus, step this way ; say what were the instructions you gave 
 to your counsel ; bring forward the boys ; what makes you 
 turn so pale ? why thus silent ? Is this the way to bring an 
 accusation of such magnitude ? to make a laughing-stock of 
 Claudius Maximus, a man of such exalted station, and to per- 
 secute me with your calumnious charges ? 
 
 But if, perchance, your advocate did make a slip, and if 
 you have no such boys to produce, at all events employ, foi 
 
A DiscomsE ON >rAGJC. 293 
 
 some purpose or other, the fourteen servants whom I have 
 brought here ; or else why was it that you required such a 
 large household to be brought into court ? Accusing me of 
 magic, you have given me notice to produce fifteen servants. 
 If you had accused me of acts of violence, how many servants, 
 pray, would you have demanded ? Is it, then, that the fifteen 
 servants know all about it, and yet it is a secret? or is it 
 no secret at all, and yet an aff'air of magic ? One of these two 
 things you must necessarily confess ; either that what I did 
 was not unlawful, since I did not fear to allow so many per- 
 sons to be privy to it, or else that if it was unlawful, so many 
 witnesses ought not to have been privy to it. This magic, 
 from all I can learn, is a thing denounced by the laws, and 
 from the remotest times forbidden by the Twelve Tables, in 
 consequence of the incredible blasting of standing corn by 
 means of incantations. Consequently, it is a thing no less 
 secret in its practices than foul and abominable ; it is gene- 
 rally carried on by night, hidden in deep gloom, removed from 
 all observation, and effected by whispered spells : a process at 
 which few, not to say slaves, but even free men, are allowed 
 to be present. 
 
 Do you want to make out that fifteen servants were present 
 as spectators ? Was it a wedding, then, or some other cere- 
 monial, or an afternoon carousal ? Fifteen servants are here 
 taking part in these magic rites, just like so many Quinde- 
 cemvirs,* elected for the performance of sacred duties. But 
 to what end should I have employed so large a number, if the 
 privity of but one is far more than is requisite ? Fifteen free 
 men ! why, that makes a whole borough. f That amount of 
 servants ! 'tis a whole household ; the same number, if placed 
 in chains, would fill a whole gaol ; j: or was it that such a 
 multitude as this was necessary to hold the victims for sacrifice ? 
 But all the while you have mentioned no victims except hens. 
 
 * Quindecemvirs.'] — These were persons whose especial duty it was to 
 preserve the SibyUine books at Rome. As the text informs us, they were 
 fifteen in number. 
 
 t Whole borough."] — Fifteen free men, with their households, consti- 
 tuted a Roman ' pagus,' or Athenian ' demus.' 
 
 X A whole gaol.'] — • Ergastuhim.' This was a place on estates in the 
 country, to which refractory slaves were sent from the town residences of 
 the Romans, to work in chains. 
 
296 THE DEFENCE OV APULEItJS. 
 
 Or were they required to count the grains of frankincense ? 
 or to knock down Thallus ? 
 
 You stated, besides, that a free-born woman had been 
 brought to my house, afflicted with the same malady aa 
 Thallus ; that I promised to cure her, and that she, too, fell to 
 the ground enchanted by me. So far as I can see, you have 
 come here to charge me with being a wrestler, and not a 
 magician, seeing that you assert in this fashion that all who 
 have come near me have been levelled with the ground. How- 
 ever, upon being questioned by you, Maximus, Themiso, the 
 doctor, by whom the woman was brought for me to examine, 
 denied that anything whatever happened to her, except that 
 I put the question, whether there was a ringing in her ears, 
 and if so, in which of them in the greatest degree? upon 
 which she made answer, that her right ear was very much dis- 
 turbed by it, and immediately after took her departure. 
 
 And here, Maximus, although at the present moment I am 
 careful to refrain from praising you, that I may not appear 
 to flatter you with a view to this trial, still I cannot forbear 
 from praising your acuteness in cross-examination. For just 
 now, when these matters were discussed, and they asserted that 
 the woman was enchanted, whilst the doctor, who was present, 
 denied it, you very sagaciously enquired, what I was to gain 
 by thus bewitching her ; on which they answered, that the 
 woman should fall to the ground. ''Well, what then?" you 
 asked, " did she die ?" They said no. '' How then," say you, 
 " what advantage would it have been to Apuleius if she 
 fell?" For to this eifect did you fairly and perseveringly 
 put the question to them as many as three several times, be- 
 cause you well knew that the motives for all actions ought 
 most carefully to be enquired into, and that often, when facts 
 are admitted, the causes of them become subjects for enquiry; 
 and you were aware that for this very reason the advocates of 
 persons engaged in suits at law have the name given to them 
 of '' causidici," because it is their province to explain the causes 
 for which each thing has been done. Eut, on the other hand, 
 to deny that a thing has been done is an easy matter, and 
 needs the services of no advocate whatever ; while to show 
 that it has been done rightfully or wrongfully is a most 
 arduous and difficult task. It is useless, then, to enquire 
 "whether a thing has been done, which has had no evil cause 
 
 I 
 
A BlSCOrESE ON MAGIC. 297 
 
 to prompt its being done. Hence it is, that lie who is accused 
 before a conscientious judge of having done a thing, is free 
 from all fears of enquiry, if he has had no reason for doing 
 what was wrong. 
 
 Now, since they have neither proved that the woman was 
 enchanted, nor yet that she was thrown to the ground, and as 
 I do not deny that, at the request of a medical man, she was 
 examined by me, I will tell you, Maximus, why I did make 
 the enquiry about the ringing in the ears ; and I shall do so, 
 not so much for the sake of exculpating myself in this affair, 
 which you have already pronounced to have nothing in it 
 of faultiness or criminality, as because I would not wish to be 
 silent on any matter that is suited to your ears and your learn- 
 ing. I will state it, then, as succinctly as possible, seeing that 
 you are to be put in mind only, not instructed by me. 
 
 The philosopher Plato, in that most celebrated dialogue of 
 his, entitled '' Timseus," after having, with a sort of celestial 
 eloquence, explained the structure of the entire universe, most 
 ingeniously discussed the threefold powers of our mind, and 
 aptly shown why our several parts were formed by the Divine 
 Providence, proceeds to range the causes of all maladies under 
 three heads. The first cause he attributes to the elements of 
 our bodies, in cases where the qualities of those elements, being 
 the moist and the cold, and the two qualities that are their 
 opposites, do not agree the one with the other ; and this takes 
 place when any one of them has exceeded its limits, or has 
 shifted from its proper locality. The next cause of maladies 
 exists in the corruption of those parts which are formed by a 
 coalition of simple elements, united so as to form a single sub- 
 stance ; these are, for instance, blood, flesh, bones, and marrow ; 
 and then those parts, which are formed from a mixture of 
 these several substances. In the third place, there are in the 
 body collections of various coloured bile, and of restless and 
 flatulent wind, and gross humours, all which are most frequent 
 causes of diseases. 
 
 In the number of these last is especially to be found the 
 primaiy cause of the falling-sickness, about which I purposed 
 to speak. For the flesh, through a noxious degree of heat, 
 sometimes deliquesces into a moist state, that is, dense and 
 cloggy, and a certain flatulency rises therefrom, in consequence 
 of the heat of the compressed air, and a corrupt matter of 
 
298 THE DEFENCE OP APULEIUS. 
 
 whitish and frothy appearance flows from it. Now, this cor 
 rupt matter, if it can find a vent to ooze forth from the body, 
 is ejected with more unseemliness than danger. For it marks 
 the exterior of the skin with leprosy, and variegates it with 
 all kinds of spots ; the person, however, to whom this happens 
 is never afterwards attacked by epilepsy ; and thus it is that 
 a most afflicting malady of the mind is compensated by a slight 
 disfigurement of the body. 
 
 Eut, on the other hand, if these pernicious secretions are 
 held in check, and become united with the black bile, these, 
 raging at large, penetrate through all the vessels ; and when 
 they have done this, making their way towards the crown of 
 the head, they mingle their destructive humours with the 
 brain ; and instantly affect that regal portion of the under- 
 standing which, all-important as it is in the reasoning facul- 
 ties, has fixed its seat in the head of man as its citadel and its 
 palace. For its divers passages and its paths that lead to wis- 
 dom, these humours clog up and overwhelm ; this, however, 
 they do with less work during the hours of sleep, as at such 
 times the patient, being filled with food and drink, only 
 suffers from a slight attack of impeded respiration, which is 
 a symptom of epilepsy. But if the humours increase to such 
 a degree as even to attack the head while the patient is awake, 
 then, a cloud suddenly comes across the spirit, he becomes 
 torpid, the breath ceases, and the body falls to the ground, 
 like that of a dead person. 
 
 This our forefathers styled, not only the "major" and the 
 ** comitial," but also the " divine" disease ; just as the Greeks, 
 with good reason, have styled it hpa vochg, inasmuch as it 
 attacks especially the reasoning parts of the mind, which are 
 by far its most holy portion. You see, then, Maximus, what 
 is the theory of Plato, which I have explained as perspicuously 
 as I could, considering the time allowed me ; and as I believe 
 with him, that the Divine disease [or epilepsy] proceeds from 
 these bad humours mounting to the head, it is clear I had 
 good reason to make the enquiry, did this woman's head ache, 
 was her neck torpid and stiff, and was there a throbbing in 
 her temples, and a tingling in her ears ? And, what is still 
 more, inasmuch as she admitted that she had a repeated ring- 
 ing in the right ear, that was a clear sign that the malady had 
 
A DISCOUKSE OX MAGIC. 299 
 
 taken a deep root. For as the right side of the Dody is the 
 Rtrongest, the less hope of recovery is there left, when even 
 that gives way to disease. Aristotle has also left it written in 
 his Problems, that, in the case especially of those who are 
 epileptic, and are attacked by the disease on the right side, 
 the cure will be most difficult. It would take a long time if I 
 were to repeat the opinions stated by Theophrastus also with 
 reference to the same malady ; but there is in existence an 
 excellent book of his, written on the subject of epilepsy. 
 Persons afflicted with this disease, are told in another book 
 which he has written ''On animals that envy," that the sloughs 
 of newts (which those animals, like the rest of the serpent 
 tribe, cast aside at stated periods, like a sort of old age,) are 
 very useful as a remedy ; but if you do not quickly take them 
 away, these animals will instantly turn round and devour 
 them, whether it is that they act through a malignant pre- 
 sage [of their possible usefulness], or through a natural 
 appetite. 
 
 These matters I have mentioned, and have been careful to 
 name both the points discussed and the books written by these 
 celebrated philosophers, while, at the same time, I have not 
 thought of giving any of the physicians or poets, in order 
 that these people may cease to wonder, if philosophers, by the 
 aid of those studies which are peculiar to themselves, gain 
 some knowledge of the causes and remedies of diseases. Ad- 
 mitted, then, that an afflicted woman was brought to me to 
 examine for the purpose of effecting a cure, and that, by the 
 confession of the medical man who brought her, I acted rightly, 
 then I think, they must either come to the conclusion that it is 
 the part of a magician, and of a man guilty of malpractices, to 
 heal diseases, or else, if they do not dare to make such an 
 assertion, they must confess that, in the case of the boy and 
 the woman afflicted with epilepsy, they have uttered frivolous 
 and abortive calunmies. 
 
 Is^ay, if you wish to hear the truth, JEmilianus, you yourself 
 are much afflicted with the falling- sickness, having fallen flat so 
 often in attempts to calumniate me. Por it is not a more grievous 
 thing to fail in body than in spirit, to be found giving way 
 rather in the feet than in the mind, and to be defiled with 
 spittle in a private chamber, than to be execrated in this most 
 iUustrious assembly. However, you fancy, i^iirhaps, that you 
 
300 THE DEFEJTCE OF APTJLEIDS. 
 
 are sane in mind, because you are not confined at home, but 
 follow your mad fit just where it may chance to lead you. 
 Still, if you compare your own madness with that of Thallus, 
 you will find that there is no such great difi'erence between 
 them, except that Thallus attacks himself, while you go so far 
 as to rtttack others. Besides, Thallus distorts his eyes, you 
 the truth ; Thallus screws his hands, you your advocates ; 
 Thallus falls flat on the pavement, you before the tribunal. In 
 fine, whatever he does, he does through infirmity ; he offends 
 in ignorance, while you, wretched man, knowingly and advi- 
 sedly, are guilty. 
 
 So extreme is the violence of the disease that holds its sway 
 over you, that you accuse me of what is false as though it were 
 the truth ; a thing that was never done, you charge me with 
 doing ; one whom you know, beyond a doubt, to be innocent, 
 you still accuse as though he were guilty. I have omitted, 
 besides, to say that there are some things of which you con- 
 fess yourself ignorant, and yet persist in charging me with, 
 just as though you were fully acquainted with them. For you 
 assert that I kept something wrapped up in a napkin in the 
 same room with the Lares of Pontianus. What these things 
 were, thus wrapped up, and what was their nature, j^ou con- 
 fess you know not, and you admit there is no one who has 
 seen them ; and j^et, at the same time, you assert that they 
 were appliances of magic. 
 
 Let no one flatter you, ^milianus. This is no proof of 
 your skill in framing an accusation, nor of your effrontery 
 even ; so don't you suppose that it is. What is it then ? It 
 is the unhappy frenzy of an embittered spirit, the wretched 
 insanity of a soured old age. For, almost in these very words 
 did you plead before a judge so distinguished for his gravity 
 and his shrewdness : ** Apuleius kept certain articles wrapped 
 up in a linen cloth in the same room with the Lares of Pon- 
 tianus. As I do not know what these articles were, I assert 
 that they were for magical purposes ; believe me, therefore, 
 in what I assert, because I am asserting what I know no- 
 thing about." An excellent argument, and one that so con- 
 vincingly proves my guilt ! " Such and such it was, because 
 I know not what it was." You are the only person that has 
 ever yet been found, ^milianus, to know even those very 
 things that you do not know. To such a degree as this have 
 
A DISCOCTRSE OX MAGIC. 301 
 
 you been exalted above all in folly ! While, on the one hand, 
 the ablest and most sagacious of philosophers have asserted 
 that we must not so much as place confidence in those things 
 even which we see ; you, on the other hand, go so far as to 
 assert the existence of things that you have never so much as 
 seen or heard of. If Pontianus were alive, and you were to 
 ask him Avhat was within that cover, he would tell you he 
 did not know. The freed man, too, who has kept the keys of 
 that place up to this very day, and is one of your supporters, 
 declares that he never looked into it, although, as being the 
 keeper of the books which were put away there, he opened and 
 shut the place nearly every day. Many a time has he gone 
 into the room with me, and much more frequently alone, and 
 has seen a linen cloth lying upon the table, without any seal, 
 without any fastening upon it. And why so ? Magical imple- 
 ments were concealed in it — that was the reason why I kept 
 them in such a careless manner. Still more, I needlessly 
 exposed them for him to pry into and examine, and even, if 
 he had thought fit, to take them away; I entrusted them 
 to the care of another person, I left them at the mercy of 
 another. 
 
 What, then, is it that you now want to be believed ? That 
 a thing about which Pontianus, who lived on terms of inse- 
 parable intimacy with me, knew nothing at all, you are fully 
 acquainted with, you, whom, before I met you in this court 
 of justice, I never in my life set eyes upon ? Or is it that, 
 when a freedman was there at all times and seasons, and had 
 every opportunity of examining, you, who never went there, 
 saw a thing which that same freedman never saw? In short, 
 do you wish it to be believed that a thing which you never saw, 
 is just what you affirm it to have been ? But, you blockhead, 
 if 5'ou, this very day, had gained possession of that same nap- 
 .\in, whatever you might have produced therefrom, I could have 
 denied that it was ever employed for magical purposes. 
 
 However, I give you full permission ; invent whatever you 
 please, plan, devise anything that may possibly appear appli- 
 cable to magical practices, I could still dispute the question 
 with you ; I could either say that it had been surreptitiously 
 placed there, or that it was employed as a remedy, or that it 
 had been entrusted to me for the performance of sacred rites, 
 or had been recommended to me in a dream. There arc a 
 
802 XnE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 thousand other means by which I could, after the most ordi- 
 naiy methods in use, truthfully rebut your assertions. Now, 
 this is what you require, that the very thing which, if made 
 known and discovered, would not prejudice me before an up- 
 right judge, may, while it remains undiscovered and un- 
 known, lead to my condemnation, upon an idle suspicion. 
 I don't know whether you will again say, as usual with 
 you, — "What was it, then, that you kept covered up with 
 a linen cloth, and so carefully put away in the same room with 
 the Lares ?" Is it so, ^milianus ? You make your accusations 
 in such a way that you gain all your information from the 
 person accused, while you yourself bring forward nothing 
 that is known for certain. " For what purpose did you try to 
 procure the fishes ? " ' ^ Why did you examine the sick woman r ' ' 
 *' What was it you kept in the napkin ?" Which of the two have 
 you come here to do, to accuse or to interrogate me ? If to 
 accuse me, prove yourself the assertions you make ; if to in- 
 terrogate me, do not prejudge the fact, since the very reason 
 that makes it necessary for you to interrogate me, is that you 
 are ignorant of the fact. 
 
 But really, according to this mode of proceeding, all men 
 will have accusations brought against them, if there is to be 
 no necessity for one who makes a charge against another to 
 prove his case, but, on the contrary, he may enjoy every possible 
 facility for making enquiries. For in such case, charges of 
 magical practices may be made against any body, and every 
 thing he may chance to have done, will be brought forward 
 against him. " You placed your vow in writing upon the 
 thigh of some statue, therefore you are a magician ; if not, 
 why did you so place it?" "You silently put up prayers 
 to the Gods in a temple, therefore you are a magician, or else 
 why did you so express your wishes?" On the other hand, 
 " You omitted to pray in the temple, therefore you are a 
 magician, else why did you not address your supplications to 
 the Gods?" Just the same may happen, whether you present 
 some donation, offer up a sacrifice, or take home some of the 
 sacred herbs. 
 
 The day would not suffice for me, if I were to attempt to 
 enumerate all the matters on which a calumnious accuser 
 will thus call for an explanation. In especial, what is put 
 away in one's house, what is placed under seal, what is 
 
A DISCOURSE ON MAGIC. S03 
 
 shut up, and kept there ; all these things, by the same Hue 
 of reasoning, will be said to be of a magical nature, or else will 
 have to be transferred from the store-room to the forum, and 
 into a court of justice. For my own part, Maximus, I could 
 discuss at very considerable length the value to be set upon 
 such points as these, what their character is, how large a field 
 for calumnious charges is opened by this course adopted by 
 -<Emilianus, and what an enormous amount of trouble* and 
 vexation has been caused to innocent persons by this one single 
 napkin. I will do, however, as I originally purposed, even 
 where there is no necessity that I should do so ; I will give 
 him the benefit of an admission, and, as I have been interro- 
 gated by ^milianus, I will give him an answer. 
 
 You ask, ^milianus, what it was I had in the napkin. 
 Now, although I might utterly deny that any napkin belong- 
 ing to me was ever placed in the library of Pontianus, I 
 will grant, by all means, that such was the case, as it still 
 remains in my power to say, that nothing whatever was 
 wrapped up in that napkin. And if I do say so, by the testi- 
 mony of no one, by no proof can I be refuted. Tor there is 
 not a person who ever touched it, and only a single freed man, 
 according to your own story, who saw it. Still I tell you, 
 so far as I am concerned, I am quite ready to admit that 
 it was stuffed full of something ; think so, if you like, just aa 
 in days of yore the companions of Ulysses fancied that they 
 had found a treasure when they fingered the leather bag that 
 was blown out with the winds.f Would you like me to tell 
 you what the things were, thus wrapped up in the napkin 
 which I entrusted to the charge of the Lares of Pontianus ? 
 You shall be indulged. I have been initiated into most of the 
 sacred rites of Greece. Certain of their tokens and insignia, 
 which have been given to me by the priests, I carefully keep 
 as reminiscences. Of nothing unusual, nothing unheard-of 
 am I speaking. You, too, brother members of the college of 
 that single God, father Bacchus, who are here present, you, 
 
 * Amount of trouble.'] — He puns upon 'sudor,' 'sweat,' and * suda- 
 riolum,' a ' sweat cloth,' meaning a napkin or ' handkerchief.' Literally, 
 the passage would be, * and how much sweat has been caused to innocent 
 persons by this one sweat cloth ?' 
 
 t With the winds.] — He alludes to the bag mentioned in the tenth 
 book of the Odyssey, as having been given by iEolus to Ulysses, filled 
 with winds that would ensure his safe return. 
 
304 THE DKFEKCE OF APrLElUS. 
 
 I say, know full well what it is you keep so carefully trea- 
 sured up at home, and what it is that, after excluding the 
 uninitiated, you venerate in silence. Well, then, I, as I was 
 saying, in my eagerness for truth and in performance of my 
 duty towards the Gods, have become acquainted with mani- 
 fold rites, usages, and ceremonials. I do not invent this to 
 suit the present occasion ; for nearly three years since, when, 
 at the very earliest period after my arrival at Oea, I Avas de- 
 livering a public lecture on the majestic attributes of ^scu- 
 lapius, I mentioned the very same thing with reference to my- 
 self, and reckoned up the number of sacred mysteries with 
 which I was acquainted. That lecture of mine is very well 
 known ; every body reads it ; it is in the hands of all ; being 
 recommended to the religious of Oea, not so much by my own 
 eloquence, as by its mention of ^sculapius.* Repeat some 
 of you, if there are any who happen to remember it, the be- 
 ginning of that discourse. \_It is repeated.^ Do you hear, 
 Maximus, how many are able to quote it ? Nay, more, only 
 look ; the book is handed to me. I will request that those 
 same passages be read; for judging by the very kind expres- 
 sion of your countenance, I am fully assured that you will 
 not object to hear them read. [^The passages so read are want- 
 ing.'] Can it, then, seem wonderful to any man who has any 
 thought or regard whatever for religion, that a person who has 
 been initiated into so many sacred mysteries of the Gods, keeps 
 in his house certain tokens connected with those sacred rites, 
 and that he wraps them up in woven linen, a substance that 
 forms the purest of all coverings for things of a holy nature ? 
 
 For wool, being an excrement of a most inert body, and 
 taken from an animal's back, has ever been held to be an im- 
 pure covering, in conformity with the dicta of Orpheus and 
 Pythagoras ; while, on the other hand, flax, the purest pro- 
 duction of the earth, and one that springs up from the ground 
 among the choicest of its fruits, is employed by the most holy 
 of the priests of the ^Egyptians, not only for their dress, but 
 also for the purpose of covering things of a sacred nature. 
 Still, I am quite aware that there are some, and ^milianua 
 here especially, who make a joke of sacred matters, and laugh 
 them to scorn. For, from what I can learn from some of the 
 JEsculapius.'] — This God was the patron deity of Oea, where he had 
 a fine temple. 
 
A DISCOUliSE ON MAGIC. 805 
 
 people of Oea, who are acquainted with him, up to this pre- 
 sent advanced period of life, he has offered his supplications 
 to no deity, crossed the threshold of no temple. If he chances 
 to pass by any holy place, he holds it an abomination to 
 move his hand to his lips for the purpose of shewing venera- 
 tion. Not even to the Gods of husbandry, who feed him and 
 clothe him, does this man offer any first-fruits of his crops, or 
 his vines, or his flocks : no shrine is there built on his estate, 
 no consecrated spot or grove is there to be found. But why 
 do I talk about groves and shrines ? Those who have been 
 there, declare that they never so much as saw a single anointed 
 stone within the boundaries of his estate, or one branch 
 crowned with garlands. Hence it is, that two nicknames 
 have been given him, Charon, as I have mentioned already, 
 in consequence of the unseemliness of his features and his dis- 
 position ; and another, which he likes better, and w^hich is 
 given him on account of his contempt for the Gods, namely, 
 that of Mezentius.* For this reason, I can very easily un- 
 derstand that these initiations into so many sacred rites will 
 appear to him to be mere nonsense ; and perhaps, in his con- 
 tempt for things divine, he will persuade himself not to be- 
 lieve me, when I say that I most religiously preserve these 
 tokens and reminiscences of so many sacred ceremonials. 
 
 But what Mezentius may choose to think of me, not one 
 snap of a finger do I care. To the rest, however, who are 
 around me, in my loudest voice I give notice, that if any 
 one happens to be present who has been initiated into the sam^ 
 rites as myself, if he will give me the sign, he shall then be at 
 liberty to hear what it is I keep with such care. For, so far 
 as I am concerned, by no peril will I ever be compelled to dis- 
 close to the uninitiated the things that I have had entrusted to 
 me on condition of silence. I have now then, Maximus, to 
 my thinking, fully satisfied the mind of any man, even the 
 most unreasonable ; and, so far as the napkin is concerned, 
 have wiped away every stain of suspicion ; and I believe I may 
 now pass on in perfect security from the suspicions of ^mili- 
 anus to the testimony of Crassus, which, next to the preceding 
 matters, they adduced as of the greatest importance. 
 
 You heard read in the information, the testimony of a cer- 
 
 * Mezentius.'] — This contemner of the Gods is mentioned in the iEneid, 
 as one of the allies of Turnus against iEneas. 
 
 X 
 
306 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIT7S. 
 
 tain glutton and desperate debauchee, Junius Crassus by name, 
 who stated that I had been in the habit of performing sacred 
 rites at night in his house, together with my friend Appius 
 Qiiintianus, who had paid a sum for the hire of that house. 
 This Crassus affirms, too, that although at that very time he 
 was at Alexandria, he still knows this for a fact, from the smoke 
 left by the torches and from the feathers of birds which were 
 found there. I suppose he means to say, that while he was 
 celebrating his orgies at Alexandria, (for this, you must know, 
 is that same Crassus who delights to creep at midday into 
 his dens of brothels,) he caught, amid the steams of the 
 kitchen, the feathers that had been wafted thither all the 
 way from his abode, and that he recognized the smoke of his 
 own house, as it curled afar from his paternal roof. If he 
 really did manage to see it with his eyes, he certainly is blessed 
 with a power of sight that far transcends the wishes and as- 
 pirations of Ulysses himself Ulysses, for many a year, looked 
 out in the distance from the sea-shore, and longed in vain 
 to espy the smoke as it ascended from his native land.* Crassus, 
 in the few months during which he was absent, without the 
 slightest trouble, espied that smoke while seated in a wine- 
 shop. 
 
 And if, too, he managed to snuff up with his nostrils the 
 fumes that arose from his house, why, then, he outdoes even 
 dogs and vultures in the keenness of his scent. For by what 
 dog, by what vulture, under the Alexandrian sky, can any- 
 thing possibly be smelt all the way from the confines of Oea ? 
 j^o doubt this Crassus is an inordinate glutton, and far from 
 unskilled in all kinds of fumes ; but really, considering his 
 fondness for drinking, the only thing for which he has become 
 distinguished, it would be much more easy for the fumes of 
 <vine, than the smell of smoke to reach him at Alexandria. 
 Even he himself was sensible that this would not be easily be- 
 lieved. For the report is, that before the second hour of the 
 day, with an empty stomach, and before he had taken a drop 
 of wine, he made sale of this same testimonj^ of his ; upon which, 
 he wrote down that he had made this discoveiy in the follow- 
 ing manner. 
 
 * Hia native land.'] — He alludes to the passage in the first hook of the 
 Odyssey, in reference to which, Horace says, that Ulysses ' preferred to 
 behold the smoke rising from his native land, to gaining iraruortality.' 
 
A DISCOUESE ON MAGIC. 307 
 
 Upon liis return from Alexandria, he straightway repaired 
 to his own house, which Quintianus had just quitted : in the 
 vestibule of it he found a great many feathers of birds, and 
 perceived that the walls were black with soot. On enquiring 
 of his servant, whom he had left at Oea, what was the reason 
 of this, the servant informed him of the nocturnal rites cele- 
 brated by me and Quintianus. How very cleverly invented ! 
 What a very likely story, that, if I had wanted to do anything 
 of that kind, I should not have done it at my own house in 
 preference. That Quintianus here, who is now standing by 
 me, (whose name, in consideration of the strictest ties of 
 friendship which exist between him and me, of his extraordi- 
 nary learning and his most consummate eloquence, I here men- 
 tion for the purpose of honouring and extolling him,) that this 
 same Quintianus, I say, if he was going to have any fowls for 
 his dinner, or if, as they say, he required them to be killed for 
 magical purposes, could find no servant to pluck the feathers 
 and throw them away ! Moreover, that the smoke was in such 
 volumes, that it quite blackened the walls ! and that Quin- 
 tianus was willing to put up with this dirty appearance in his 
 room, all the time that he was residing there ! 
 
 You make no answer to this, JEmilianus ; it is not likely 
 you would ; but perhaps Crassus, on his return, did not direct 
 his steps to the chamber, but, consistently with his usual prac- 
 tice, made straight for the kitchen- stove. But on what ground 
 did the servant of Crassus form this suspicion of his, that the 
 walls got blackened in the night time precisely ? or why, that 
 it was smoke with which they were discoloured ? It is, I sup- 
 pose, because smoke that escapes by night, is blacker than the 
 smoke of the daytime, and so differs from it in its effect ! And 
 then, why should a servant, so full of his suspicions, and so 
 notable a person, allow Quintianus to leave, without having 
 the house cleaned out? Why did those feathers, just like so 
 many lumps of lead, lie there all that time, even till Crassus 
 had returned ? Ought not Crassus to scold his servant for this : 
 ^0, he has preferred to trump up this falsehood about the soot 
 and the feathers, because, even in giving his evidence, he can- 
 not tear himself from the kitchen. 
 
 And then, why did you read his evidence from the record ? 
 Where is Crassus himself? Has he got tired of his house, 
 and returned to Alexandria ? Is he busily engaged in cleaning 
 
SOS THE DEFENCE OF APTJLEITJS. 
 
 down those walls of his ? Or, what is much more likely, i-s 
 th-it gormandizer at this moment laid up with a fit of in- 
 digestion? For I, my own self, ^milianus, saw him no 
 longtr ago than yesterday, here at Sabrata,* publicly enough, 
 hiccupping away to you, in the middle of the market-place. 
 Make enquiry then, Maximus, of your clerks of court, although, 
 no doubt, he is better known to cookshop-keepers than to clerks 
 of court ; still, ask them, I say, whether they have seen here 
 Junius Crassus, a native of Oea ; they will not say no. There- 
 fore, let -^milianus bring before us this most worthy youth, in 
 whose testimony he places such confidence. You see what 
 time of the day it is. I am ready to affirm, that long before 
 this hour, Crassus has been snoring away dead drunk, or else, 
 that he is at this moment taking his second bath, and sweat- 
 ing off his wine, that he may be ready for a second drinking 
 bout after dinner. This fellow, though he is quite close at 
 hand, speaks through the record : not but that he is so utterly 
 void of shame, that if even he were in your presence, he would 
 lie, without changing colour in the slightest ; but very pro- 
 bably, from his drunken habits, he has not been able to exer- 
 cise even such a slight degree of control over himself, as to 
 keep sober and await this hour. Or else it is, that JEmilianus 
 has done this designedly, in order that he might not have to 
 place him before such scrutinizing eyes as yours ; his object 
 being that you might not, from his appearance, form a bad 
 opinion of the brute, with his lank jaws, and his sinister aspect ; 
 when you saw his head despoiled of beard and hair, though 
 he is still a young man, his eyes distilling rheum, his eyelids 
 swollen, his lips bedewed with slaver, his voice quite cracked, 
 his hands shaking, as he grinsf and belches by turns. All 
 his patrimony he has long ago devoured, and nothing of his 
 family possessions is there now left, except one solitary house, 
 for the purpose of affording him an opportunity of making sale 
 of his false evidence ; and which he has never let at a more 
 remunerating rate, than in affording this bit of testimony. 
 For this drunken fabrication of his, he has bartered to 
 
 * At Sabrata.} — This was a city near Ooa. There is considerable 
 doubt, however, as to the correct reading of the passage. 
 
 t A9 he grhis.'} — This passage is incomplete in the text: though both 
 the words, ' rictum' and * ructu,' make their appearance. 
 
A DISCOURSE OK MAGIC. 309 
 
 ^niillanus for three thousand pieces of money, a fact of which 
 there is not a person in Oea who is ignorant. Before the bar- 
 gain was concluded, we all knew of it, and by giving timely 
 information, I might have put a stop to it, if I had not been 
 well aware that so silly a lie would do far more harm to ^mi- 
 lianus, who was making purchase of it to no purpose, than to 
 myself, who could well afford to hold it in contempt. I was 
 willing that JEmilianus should have to suffer a loss, and that 
 Crassus should be exposed for the disgraceful character of his 
 evidence. 
 
 Why, it is no longer ago than the day before yesterday, that, 
 without the slightest attempt at concealment, the transajction 
 was concluded, at the house of one Rufinus, of whom I shall 
 just now have to make mention, the said E-ufinus and Calpur- 
 nianus acting as the go-betweens and promoters of the trans- 
 action. And this part Rufinus was the more ready to act, 
 because he felt very sure that Crassus would bring by no 
 means the smallest part of his bribe to his own wife, at whose 
 intrigues he purposely connives. I perceived you too, Maxi- 
 mus, the very moment that the information was produced, 
 showing, by your looks, that you regarded the whole matter 
 with contempt ; for, with your usual wisdom, you suspected 
 their plot, and saw that it was a conspiracy got up against me. 
 And yet, after all, possessed though they are of unbridled auda- 
 city and insolent effrontery, not even they have dared to read 
 through the evidence of Crassus, for they saw that it stunk in 
 your nostrils, nor have they ventured to place any reliance 
 upon it. 
 
 Now this is why I have mentioned these things, not that 
 with you for my judge, I was frightened by their feathers and 
 their smoke stains, but that Crassus might not escape unpu- 
 nished for his offence in selling smoke* to a country clown 
 like JEmilianus. 
 
 Then there was a charge made by them, when they read the 
 letters of Pudentilla. It was about a certain little image, 
 which they say I ordered to be secretly made, of the most 
 costly wood, for purposes of magic. They assert, too, that, 
 although it was the figure of a skeleton, something quite 
 shocking and horrible, I was in the habit of paying the 
 
 * Selling smoke.'] — A proverbial expression, signifying to ' take in' a 
 person. 
 
310 THE I>EFEXCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 greatest veneration to it, and calling it by tlie Greek name of 
 ^afftXsvg, or ''king." If I am not mistaken, I am following 
 their steps in regular order, and unravelling the whole tex- 
 ture of their calumnies piecemeal. How can the fabrication 
 of the image have possibly been secret, as you allege, w^hen 
 you know so well who was the maker of it, that you have given 
 him notice to appear ? Look, here is Cornelius Saturninus, the 
 carver, a man praised among his fellow-citizens for his skill and 
 esteemed for his character ; the same person, Maximus, who, 
 a short time since, when you carefully enquired into all the 
 circumstances of the transaction, recounted them with the 
 strictest fidelity and veracity. He stated that, after I had 
 seen at his house a number of geometrical figures made of box- 
 wood, in a very clever and workmanlike manner, I was induced 
 by his skill to request him to make for me some mechanical 
 implements, and at the same time gave him a commission to 
 carve for me the figure of any god he might think fit, and out 
 of any material, so long as it was wood, that I might address 
 my prayers to it, after my usual practice. Accordingly, he 
 tried boxwood first. He also stated that, in the meantime, 
 w^hile I was in the country, my son-in-law, Sicinius Pontianus, 
 who made it his study how to gratify me, having obtained from 
 a most respectable lady, Capitolina by name, some boxes made 
 of ebony, brought them to him, and requested him to make the 
 implements of that material in preference, as being rarer and 
 more durable ; remarking that I should be especially gratified 
 by such a present. In conformity with my son-in-law's request, 
 he made the articles, as far as the w^oocl of the boxes sufiiced, 
 and was able to complete besides a small figure of Mercury, 
 by putting the layers of ivory piece by piece one upon another, 
 in order to give it the requisite thickness. 
 
 As I say, all these particulars you heard from him : added 
 to which, on examining the son of Capitolina, a most worthy 
 young man, who is now present, you were told to the same 
 effect ; how that Pontianus asked for the boxes, and how that 
 Pontianus took them to the artist, Saturninus. The fact, 
 too, is not denied, that Pontianus received tlie image when 
 completed from Saturninus, and afterwards made a present of 
 it to me. All these matters being clearly and distinctly proved, 
 W'hat remains after aH this, in which any ground for suspicion 
 of magical practices can lurk ? Or rather, what is there in 
 
A DISCOUESE Olf MAGIC. 311 
 
 the whole matter that does not convict you of a manifest lie ^ 
 You declared that the image was made secretly, while the fact, 
 is, that Pontianus, an illustrious knight, had it made ; and that 
 Satumiuus, a man of respectability and of high character among 
 his fellow-citizens, seated in his own workshop, carved it 
 openly and without concealment ; while a lady of the highest 
 reputation aided the work by the present she made ; num- 
 bers, too, both of my own servants and of my friends, who 
 were in the habit of visiting me, knew that it was about to 
 be made, and that it was made. 
 
 Were you not ashamed to invent such a lie, and to assert 
 that I had gone all the city over in search of the wood, and 
 that I had taken the greatest trouble in so doing, whereas you 
 knew full well that at that very time I was absent, and had 
 given orders, as was fully proved, that it was to be made of 
 any kind of material ? Your third lie was, that the figure was 
 made to resemble a frightful corpse, all lean, or rather fleshless, 
 quite horrible and spectre -like. Now, if you were aware of 
 the existence of such an evident proof of magic, why did you 
 not give me notice to produce it r Was it that you might be 
 at liberty to lie as you pleased about a thing that was not be- 
 fore the court? Thanks, however, to a certain habit of mine, 
 you cannot make this falsehood pass. For it is my custom, 
 wherever I go, to carry with me the image of some god or 
 other stowed away among my books, and to address my prayers 
 to it on festive days, together with oiferings of frankincense 
 and wine, and sometimes victims. Accordingly, when I heard 
 just now that most impudent fabrication of yours about a ske- 
 leton, I requested a person to go, post haste, and fetch from 
 my lodgings the little image of Mercury which Saturninus had 
 made for me at Oea. 
 
 Come, let them see it ; handle it, examine it. There it 
 is before jou — the thing that this scoundrel has called a ske- 
 leton. Do you not hear the expressions of displeasure so 
 loudly uttered by all present ? Do you not hear their con- 
 demnation of your falsehood ? Are you not at last utterly 
 ashamed of so many calumnious charges ? Is this a skeleton ? 
 Is this the figure of a spectre ? Is this a thing that you will 
 persist in calling a demon ? Is this an image adapted to ma 
 gical practices, or is it one of the usual and ordinary kind ? 
 Take it, pray, Maximus, and look at it : to hands so pure and 
 
812 THE DEFENCE OF APIJLEITJS 
 
 SO holy as yours a sacred thing is well entrusted. There, now, 
 just look at it; how beauteous its figure, and how replete with 
 stalwart vigour; how smiling are the features of the god; 
 how becomingly does the first growth of down overspread the 
 cheeks, and how gracefully do the crisped locks peep forth upon 
 the head from beneath the shelving brim of the cap ! How 
 charmingly do the wings shoot forth above his temples ! How 
 smartly, too, is the garment laid down in plaits about the 
 shoulders ! Any one who dares to call this a skeleton, it if- 
 clear that he never sees an image of the Gods ; or if he does, 
 he passes them all in heedless contempt. Any one who takes 
 this to be the figure of a spectre, is a spectre-striciven being 
 himself. 
 
 In return, JEmilianus, for this lie of yours, may this Di- 
 vinity, who visits the Deities above and the shades below, 
 bring upon you the enmity of the Gods who dwell in either 
 realm, and may he thrust upon your vision phantoms of the 
 dead, all the shades of hell, all the Lemurs, all the Manes, all 
 the hobgoblins, all the apparitions of the night, all the spectres 
 of the sepulchres, all the terrors of the tombs — from making 
 a more intimate acquaintance with which, you are not very 
 far distant, both in age and in deserts. But as for us, the dis- 
 ciples of Plato, of nothing do we know, except that which 
 is festive and joyous, consistent with propriety, divine and 
 heavenly. Nay, more, in its aspirations for what is exalted, 
 this sect has even explored things loftier than the very heavens, 
 and has taken up its abode on the convex side* of the firma- 
 ment. Maximus knows that I speak the truth, for he has 
 attentively read in the Phaedrus of '' the place" which Plato 
 mentions as *' being above the heavens, and upon the back 
 thereof." Maximus, too, understands full well (to answer you 
 in relation to the namef ) who it is that was called first of 
 all, not by me but by Plato, by the title of "Basileus," the 
 first cause, and reason, and primitive origin of universal nature, 
 the supreme father of the mind, the eternal preserver of ani- 
 mated beings, the ever- watchful artificer of his universe. And, 
 indeed, he is an artificer who knows not labour, a preserver 
 devoid of anxiety, a father without generation, one compre- 
 
 * Convex side.1 — Literally, * the back of the universe.' 
 t To the name.] — Of * Basileus,* or ' king ;' said to have been given 
 by him to the image. 
 
A DISCOIJESE ON" MAGIC. 313 
 
 hended by no space, by no time, by no name, and therefore to 
 be conceived by few, to be expressed by none. See, then, I 
 volunteer to add to your suspicions of my magical pursuits. I 
 do not answer you, ^milianus, as to who it is I worship under 
 the name of '' Basileus." Nay, more, even if the proconsul 
 himself were to ask me who my God is, I should be silent. 
 \yith reference to the name, for the present I have said enough ; 
 as for the rest, I am not unaware that some who stand around 
 me are anxious to hear why I wished the image to be made 
 not of silver or gold, but of wood especially ; and this I be- 
 lieve they desire to know, not so much for the purpose of en- 
 suring my acquittal as of gaining information, so that they may 
 have their minds set at ease even upon this little matter, when 
 they have seen every ground for suspicion abundantly confuted. 
 
 Listen, then, you who wish to know ; listen with the closest 
 attention, as though you heard the very words of the sage Plato, 
 whi-ch are found in his last book, '' On the Laws." **It is 
 right that a moderate man should present offerings in mo- 
 deration to the Gods. But as the earth, like the domestic 
 hearth, is sacred to all the Gods, let no one dedicate that a 
 second time to the Gods." He gives this prohibition in order 
 that no private person may presume to erect a temple on his 
 own property. For he thinks that public temples are suffi- 
 cient for the citizens for the purpose of immolating victims. 
 He then subjoins, '' For gold and silver, both in other cities 
 and in our own, employed in temples, is an odious thing. 
 Ivory, too, as proceeding from a body deprived of life, is not 
 a becoming offering. Again, iron and copper are instruments 
 of warfare. But of wood, let each person consecrate as much 
 as he pleases, so long as it is of a single kind, and the same as 
 to stone, in the temples that are common to all." 
 
 The expressions of assent on all sides, and yours especially 
 who sit here in judgment, show that I have most fortunately 
 employed Plato not only as the guide of my life, but as my ad- 
 vocate in this trial, whose directions you see me so ready to 
 obey. 
 
 It is now time* to turn to the letters of Pudentilla, or, in- 
 
 * It is now time.'] — In many editions this begins what is called the 
 * Second Apology' or ' Defence of Apuleius.' It is clear, however, from 
 internal evidence, that the whole speech was delivered ou the same oc- 
 casion. 
 
314 THE DEFEl^CE OF APrLElTJS. 
 
 deed, to go a little further back, and retrace all these events, 
 in order that it may be palpable to all, that if I, who, they 
 persist in saying, effected an entrance into the house of Pudc^n- 
 tilla from motives of cupidity, had thought of any thing like 
 gain, T ought rather to have always shunned that house, and 
 an alliance that in other respects has turned out for me so 
 •ar from fortunate. It is one, indeed, that would have proved 
 disastrous to me, had it not been that my wife in herself, 
 by her many virtues, makes ample amends for disadvantages 
 so numerous ; for really nothing can you find but disappointed 
 envy as the prompter of this accusation, and the source of 
 many previous perils to which I have been exposed. 
 
 But why, even if he really had found me to be a magician, 
 should ^milianus have been moved to indignation, when not 
 only has he never been injured by any act, but not by the 
 slightest word even of mine, so as to give him a pretext for 
 taking umbrage and entertaining a desire for revenge ? JSTor 
 yet is it for the sake of renown that he accuses me; the 
 ruling motive when M. Antonius accused Cneius Carbo ; C. 
 Mutius, A. Albertius; P. Sulpitius, Cneius jS'orbanus; CFurius, 
 M. Aquilius ; C. Carlo, Q,. Metellus. Tor all these persons, men 
 of the greatest learning and in the prime of life, made these 
 their first efforts in the forensic art for the sake of gaining re- 
 nown ; and their object was, that by engaging in some cele- 
 brated cause they might become known to their fellow-citizens. 
 Eut this custom, which, among those of fijrmer times, was 
 allowable in rising young men, for the purpose of showing off 
 the vigour of their intellect, has long since gone out of usage ; 
 and even if at the present day it were in use, it ought to have 
 been resorted to by him the last of all. For neither would 
 the boasts of eloquence have become a person so rude and so 
 unlearned, the desire of glor«y one so clownish and so uncouth, 
 nor the practice of pleading causes an aged man with one foot 
 in the grave ; unless it is, perchance, thiit ^milianus, in ac- 
 cordance with nis severity of manners, has wished to set an 
 example, and from the very hostility that he entertains to vice 
 itself, has, in conformity with the unblemished character of 
 his morals, taken upon himself to make this charge. But this 
 I could hardly have believed even of iEmilianus, not this 
 African one, but him who was called Africanus* JS'umantinus, 
 
 * AfricanusJ — He puns upop the resemblance of the names ' Afcr,' ao 
 
A DISCO UKSE OjS^ MAGIC. 315 
 
 and who had held, too, the office of censor ; much less can I 
 entertain the notion that in this stick here there is any 
 hatred of crimes, or even so much as a comprehension of what 
 they are. 
 
 What is the reason, then ? To any one it is as clear as day 
 that it is nothing else but envy that has instigated him and 
 his prompter, Herennius Eufinus (of whom I shall have to 
 speak presently), and the rest of my enemies, to frame these 
 calumnious charges of magical practices. 
 
 There are five points, then, which it is incumbent upon 
 me to discuss ; for so many, if I remember aright, have they 
 objected against me in relation to Pudentilla. Z^Tow, the first 
 point is, their assertion that after her first husband's decease 
 she would never have married again, had she not been forced 
 by my incantations ; the second concerns her letters, which 
 they consider to be an admission of magical practices ; then, in 
 the third and fourth places, they have made the objection that 
 in the sixtieth year of her age she was married to gratify lustful 
 propensities, and that the marriage contract was signed not in 
 town, but at her country house. The last and the most odious 
 charge is that which bears reference to her fortune. Into that 
 they have with all their might discharged their whole venom ; 
 upon that point they w^ere most especially anxious, and this is 
 what they have alleged ; they say that immediately after we were 
 married, at her country house, remote from all witnesses, I ex- 
 torted from my fond wife this large fortune of hers. All these 
 assertions I will prove to be so false, so worthless, so unfounded, 
 and will so easily and beyond all question refute them, that 
 truly, Maximus, and you councillors, I do very much fear you 
 will think that the accuser has been engaged and suborned by 
 me, to give me an opportunity publicly to extinguish the rancor- 
 ous hatred with which I have been pursued. Believe me when 
 I say it, and the event will prove my words true, that I shall 
 have to take all possible pains that you may not suppose rather 
 that I have in my craftiness devised, than that they have in 
 their folly undertaken so frivolous a prosecution. 
 
 Now, while I briefly recount the circumstances of the case in 
 their order, and force ^milianus himself to own on what I'alse 
 grounds he has been induced to hate me, and that he has wan- 
 African by birth, and ' Africanus/ the surname given to P. Cornelius 
 Scipio iEiniliauus, the conqueror of Carthage. 
 
3! 6 THE DEFENCE OP APULEITJS. 
 
 dered far indeed from the truth, I beg that you will as careMly 
 as you have already done, or even more so, if possible, consider 
 cue very origin and foundation of this trial. 
 
 iEmilia Pudentilla, who is now my wife, had, by one Sici- 
 nius Amicus, to whom she was previously married, two 
 sons, Pontianus and Pudens. These children were left orphans, 
 and under care of their paternal grandfather (for it so hap- 
 pened that Amicus died, leaving his father surviving him), 
 on which she manifested the most exemplary affection, and 
 brought them up with the greatest care for a period of four- 
 teen years. Still, however, it was by no inclination of hers 
 that, in the flower of her age, she remained so long in a 
 state of widowhood ; but the grandfather of the children used 
 all his endeavours to unite her, much against her wish, to 
 Sicinius Clarus, another son of his, and for that reason he kept 
 all other suitors at a distance, while at the same time he 
 threatened that if she should marry a stranger, he would by 
 his will leave no portion of their paternal property to her 
 sons. Being a woman endowed with prudence and of ex- 
 emplary affection, and seeing this match so perseveringly 
 proposed to her, she complied, and executed a marriage con- 
 tract with Sicinius Clarus, that she might not, through any con- 
 duct of hers, be the cause of detriment to her children. How- 
 ever, by resorting to various pretexts, she put off the nuptials 
 until such time as the grandfather of the children had de- 
 parted this life, leaving her sons his heirs, and upon the under- 
 standing that Pontianus, who was the elder, should be the guar- 
 dian of his brother. 
 
 On being thus set free from this state of perplexity, she was 
 sought in marriage by men of the highest rank, and she accord- 
 ingly made up her mind no longer to remain in a state of 
 widowhood ; for, although she might have been able to endure 
 the tediousness of celibacy, she was quite unable to bear up 
 against bodily ailment. A woman of inviolable chastity, who 
 had lived so many years in a state of widowhood, without 
 a blemish, without an aspersion on her character, with her 
 system torpid from her prolonged disuse of the married state, 
 afflicted with a protracted inactivity of the vital parts, the 
 interior of her womb disordered — she was often brought by 
 her sufferings to extreme peril of her life. Both doctors and 
 midwives agreed that the disease had taken its rise through 
 
A DISCOTOSE O:^ MAGIC. 317 
 
 disuse of the married state, that the malady would gain strength 
 every day, and her weakness become still greater ; and they 
 strongly suggested that while some hopes of life were still re- 
 maining, recourse ought to be had to marriage. 
 
 Other persons, too, approved of this advice, ^milianus here, 
 in especial, the very man who, a short time since, asserted 
 with most audacious falsehood, that Pudentilla never enter- 
 tained a thought about marriage, until she was coerced by 
 me through magical practices ; and that I was the only one 
 found to violate the flower of her widowhood, a kind of 
 virginity, as it were, by means of my charms and drugs. I 
 have many a time heard it said, with very good reason too, 
 that "A liar ought to have a good memory." Now, did it 
 not occur to your recollection, JSmilianus, that before I even 
 came to Oea, you had gone so far as to write a letter to 
 her son, Pontianus, who was then grown up, and residing at 
 Rome, in which you recommended that she should marry? 
 Give me the letter, will you, or rather hand it to him ; let 
 him read it ; by his own voice and by his own words let him 
 convict himself. [iZ"^ reads the hegmning of the letter. ~\ Is 
 not that your own writing ? Why do you turn pale r for 
 blush you decidedly cannot. Is not this your signature ? 
 Read it, I beg, and aloud, too, so that all may understand what 
 a vast difference there is between this man's tongue and his 
 hand, and how much less he disagrees with me than with 
 himself. \_The clerk of court reads the rest of the letter. ~\ 
 
 "Were you not the writer, ^milianus, of these words which 
 have been read ? "I know that she wishes and ought to 
 marry ; but whom she may choose, I do not know." Quite 
 right, no doubt you did not know. For Pudentilla, being 
 well aware of your spiteful malignity, only thought proper 
 to inform you of the fact, but said nothing at all about a 
 suitor. You, however, deluded by vain hopes that she would 
 marry your brother Clarus, even went so far as to advise her 
 Bon Pontianus to consent to her marriage. Consequently, if she 
 had made choice of Clarus, a clownish* and decrepit old man, 
 you would have been ready to assert that, quite spontaneously, 
 and without any magical practices whatever, she had long been 
 anxious to marry ; but as she has made choice of such a youth 
 as you talk of, you aflS.rm that it was by compulsion she did so, 
 and that, otherwise she always entertained an aversion to 
 
318 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 marriage. You little thought, dishonest man, that your letter 
 on this matter had been preserved ; you little thought that 
 you were going to be convicted on your own testimony. Pu- 
 dentilla, however, knowing full well how fickle and change- 
 able you were, and how untruthful and shameless to boot, 
 thought it better to keep this letter than to part with it, as an 
 evidence of your own wishes on the subject. 
 
 Besides, she herself wrote to her son, Pontianus, while he 
 was at Rome, on the same subject, and entered very fully too 
 upon the causes that prompted her to take this resolution. 
 She mentioned to him all the matters connected with her 
 health, that besides there was no reason why she should per- 
 sist any longer in remaining unmarried ; she reminded him, 
 how that, disregarding her own welfare, she had, by her pro- 
 longed state of widowhood, obtained for them their grand- 
 father's property, and had with the most scrupulous carefulness 
 increased the same ; that, thanks to the Gods, he himself was 
 now of marriageable estate, and his brother ready to assume 
 the manly gown : * that they ought now at last to allow her to 
 find some alleviation for her state of solitude and sicldiness : 
 that they need be under no apprehension as to the constancy 
 of her affection, and her remembering them in her last will : 
 that such as she had shown herself towards them while a 
 widow, she would still prove when a wife. I will request the 
 copy of this letter to be read, which she sent to her son. \The 
 copy of the letter of Pudentilla to her son Pontianus is read.j 
 
 I think that from this letter it may be quite manifest to 
 any one that it was not by any incantations of mine that 
 Pudentilla was prevailed upon to abandon her prolonged state 
 of widowhood, but that having been for a long time not averse 
 to marriage, she perchance preferred me to the rest. And i 
 really do not see why this choice made by a woman of such 
 respectability, ought to be imputed to me as a crime, rather 
 than an honor. But I do wonder that JErailianus and Rufinus 
 take amiss this decision of the lady, when those persons who 
 aspired to the hand of Pudentilla bear with resignation the 
 fact that I was preferred to them. Besides, in so doing, slie 
 rather consulted her son's wishes, than her own feelings on 
 the subject. That such was the fact, not even ^milianus can 
 deny. 
 
 * The manly gown.l — The * toga virilis,' assumed by youths at the age 
 3f seventeen. 
 
A discotjksjh: o:s magic. 319 
 
 For Pontianus, on receiving his mother's letter, instantly 
 flew hither with aU. haste from Eome, being greatly afraid, 
 if she should take some greedy fellow for a husband, she would 
 be carrying off everything, as too frequently is the case, to her 
 husband's house. This anxiety influenced his feelings in no 
 slight degree : for all the hopes of himself and of his brother 
 were centred in possessing the property of their mother. 
 Their grandfather had left a small property, their mother's 
 possessions amounted in value to four millions of sesterces. 
 Out of this sum she did, no doubt, owe some money to her 
 sons, which she had borrowed from them without giving any 
 vouchers, but simply on her own credit. These apprehensions 
 of his he kept secret ; for he did not dare openly to offer op- 
 position, lest he should seem to distrust her. While mat- 
 ters were in this state, the mother being wooed, and the son 
 racked with apprehensions, whether it was by chance, or by a 
 kind of fatality, I happened to arrive there, being on my road 
 to Alexandria. " By Hercules, I only wish it had never so 
 happened," I might add, if respect for my wife did not pro- 
 vent me. It was the winter season. Fatigued by the journey, 
 I made a stay of several days at the house of the Appii, old 
 friends of mine, whose names I mention to testify for them 
 my honor and my esteem. • While I was staying there, Pon- 
 tianus called upon me ; for, some few years before, he had 
 been introduced to me at Athens, by some common friends of 
 ours, and had been subsequently united to me by ties of the 
 strictest intimacy. He was in everything sedulous to testify 
 his respect for me, to promote my welfare, and dexterously to 
 prompt my affections. For he thought that in me he had now 
 found a very suitable husband for his mother, and one to whom 
 he might, without any risk, entrust the welfare of the family. 
 
 He began to sound my inclination by hints, and as he per- 
 ceived that I was intent upon pursuing my travels, and averse 
 to wedlock, he begged that I would at least make a short stay. 
 He said that it was his wish to accompany me, that it was un- 
 advisable then to proceed on account of the burning heat of 
 |_the sands of] the Syrtis, and the wild beasts that infested 
 it, and that as my bad state of health had deprived me of the 
 present winter, it would be as well to wait for the next. By 
 force of entreaties, he withdrew me from the house of my 
 friends, the Appii, to transfer me to his mother's abode, aa 
 
320 THE DEFENCE OF APULEITJS. 
 
 likely to prove a more healthy place of residence for me ; be- 
 sides, I should be able from her house to enjoy a very exten- 
 sive view of the sea, a thing that for me has especial charms. 
 He urged these considerations with great earnestness, and in- 
 troduced to me his mother and his brother, this same youth. 
 They received some assistance from me in their common studies, 
 and the intimacy increased apace. In the meantime I re- 
 covered my health, and at the request of my friends I gave a 
 public lecture. All who were present in the thronged basilica,* 
 the place appointed for its delivery, cried out with one accord, 
 requesting that I would remain there, and become a citizen of 
 Oea. When the audience had departed, Pontianus addressed 
 me, and began by saying that he interpreted this accordance in 
 the public voice as an omen from heaven. Then he disclosed 
 to me that it was his own wish, if I had no objection, to unite 
 me to his mother, whom a great many persons were eager to 
 obtain ; seeing that, as he said, I was the only person in whom 
 he placed entire trust and confidence. Would I take upon me 
 that incumbrance ? for it was no pretty maiden he offered me, 
 but a woman, the mother of children, and of homely features. 
 If, on thinking over these things, I should reserve myself for 
 some other match, with the view of gaining beauty or riches, 
 he would neither take me for a friend nor a true philosopher. 
 
 My speech would be far too long, were I to relate what I 
 stated to him in answer ; at what length, and how frequently 
 the subject was discussed by us ; with what repeated and earnest 
 entreaties he plied me ; and how he never ceased till he had 
 finally gained his point. Not but that having now lived in 
 the same house with her a whole year, I had become tho- 
 roughly acquainted with Pudentilla's character, and had dis- 
 covered her virtuous endowments ; still, as I was anxious to 
 travel, I declined for some time to marry, as being likely to 
 prove an impediment to my design. Before very long, how- 
 ever, I was no more disinclined to take such a woman for my 
 wife, than if I had sought her of my own accord. 
 
 Pontianus, too, had prevailed upon his mother to choose me 
 in preference to all others, and showed incredible anxiety to 
 bring it about as soon as possible. It was with difficulty 
 we obtained of him even a short respite, until such time as he 
 
 * Basilica.'] — The ' basilica' was a large building, where public meet" 
 ings were held, and the magistrates sat in judgment. 
 
A DISCOITKSE ON MAGIC. 321 
 
 himself should have married, and his brother have assumed 
 the manly gown ; after which we agreed to be united in mar- 
 riage. I wish, by Hercules ! it were possible, without the 
 greatest injury to my cause, to pass over the matters which 
 I am obliged next to mention, that I might not appear now to 
 accuse Pontianus of fickleness, whom I forgave freely and with- 
 out reserve, when he asked forgiveness for his error. For I 
 am ready to confess a thing that has been brought forward as 
 a charge against me, that, after he was married, he was guilty 
 of a breach of that fidelity which he had pledged to me, 
 and that, suddenly changing his mind, he endeavoured with 
 equal pertinacity to prevent that which he had before endea- 
 voured with the greatest zeal to promote — that, in fact, he was 
 ready to submit to anything, to do anything, in order that our 
 paarriage might not take place. And still, all this unbecoming 
 change of mind on his part, and this ill-will against his mo- 
 ther, ought not to be imputed as a fault to him, but rather to 
 his father-in-law, who stands there, Herennius Eufinus, a man 
 who has left not one individual upon the face of the earth more 
 vile, more dishonest, or more iniquitous than himself. 
 
 In a very few words, as I am necessitated so to do, I will 
 describe the man, but still in language as moderate as I pos- 
 sibly can ; lest, if I should be altogether silent about him, he 
 should have lost his pains, in using his utmost endeavours 
 to create for me all this trouble. For it is he who is the 
 instigator of this stripling ; it is he who is the prompter of 
 this prosecution ; it is he who is the hirer of these advocates ; it 
 is he who is the suborner of these witnesses ; it is he who is 
 the furnace wherein this calumny has been annealed ; it is he 
 who acts as the torch and the goad of ^milianus here ; while 
 in the presence of all, he boasts most immoderately that it is 
 through his machinations that I have been accused. And, no 
 doubt, he has in these matters very good grounds for congra- 
 tulating himself. For he is the base contractor of all litigation, 
 the inventor of all falsehoods, the framer of all pretences, the hot- 
 bed of all mischiefs ; he, too, is a very haunt, a den, a brothel for 
 lusts and debaucheries ; from his very earliest age he has been 
 universally notorious for his disgraceful vices. Formerly, in 
 his boyhood, before he was disfigured by that baldness of his, 
 he was subservient to his corrupters in the perpetration of every 
 infamous crime ; after that, in his youth, as a dancer on the 
 
 Y 
 
322 THE DEFENCE OF APTJLEITJS. 
 
 stage, he was so pliant in body as to seem to be utterly with- 
 out bones and nerves ; but, from what I hear, he was remark- 
 able for a coarse and uncouth effeminacy. Indeed, he is said 
 to have had nothing whatever of the actor, except the immo- 
 desty. At his present age, too, the years at which he has 
 now arrived — may the Gods confound him ! — high commen- 
 dations these to be uttered in his hearing — his whole house 
 is a brothel, his entire household a mass of corruption, himself 
 devoid of all shame, his wife a prostitute, his sons just like 
 himself. His door, a sport, day and night, for the young men 
 of the place, is battered by their heels, his windows serenaded 
 by their ditties, his dining-room kept in an uproar by revellers, 
 and his bed- chamber a common thoroughfare for adulterers ; 
 nor, in fact, has any one the least fear to enter it, with the ex^ 
 ception of' him who has brought no admission-fee to the hns- 
 band. In this way is the dishonor of his bed a source of in- 
 come to him. Formerly he used to earn money by his own 
 person ; now he earns it by letting out the person of his 
 wife. 
 
 With this same man, many a one — I am telling no falsehood 
 — with this same man, I say, many a one has bargained for 
 a night with his wife. Hence, then, that collusion which is 
 so notorious between the husband and the wife. When people 
 have brought a handsome compliment for the woman, no one 
 takes any notice of them, and they take their departure at their 
 own time and pleasure. Eut as for those who have come not 
 so well supplied, on a signal given, they are seized as adul- 
 terers ; and, as though they had come for the purpose of learn- 
 ing a lesson, they do not get away before they have done a 
 little writing.* 
 
 But really what was the wretched man to do when he had 
 lost a very handsome fortune — one, however, which he had 
 quite unexpectedly picked up through his father's fraudulent 
 proceedings ? This father of his, being eaten up by usurious 
 debts due to a great number of creditors, preferred to save 
 his money rather than his honor. Por when he was dunned 
 on all sides on his bonds, and clutched hold of by all who 
 met him, just as though he had been a madman — " Have 
 patience," he exclaimed; and then he declared it was not in 
 
 * A little writing.'] — They are forced, under fear of maltreatment, to 
 jiTe a promissory-note, or a cheque upon their bankers. 
 
A DTSrOTJRSE ON MAGIC. 323 
 
 his power to pay his debts ; laid aside his gold rings and all 
 the insignia of his rank, and made a composition with hia 
 creditors. But, by a most artful fraud, he managed to trans- 
 fer the greater part of his property into the name of his wife ; 
 and so, himself in want, and stripped naked, though covered 
 with his ignominy, he left to Eufinus here — I am telling no 
 falsehood in so saying — three millions of sesterces for him to 
 devour. Tor fully that sum came to him as his mother's pro- 
 perty, free and unencumbered, besides all that his wife has 
 earned for him by her marriage-portions'^ from day to day. 
 All these sums, however, this gluttonous wretch has so care- 
 fully stowed away in his paunch, and squandered upon his 
 orgies of all kinds, that you would really suppose he was afraid 
 lest it might be said that he retained possession of anything 
 that was the result of his fathers frauds. This man, so just 
 and so pure in his morals, used his utmost endeavours that 
 what was so badly gotten should be as badly lost ; and, from 
 being the possessor of this enormous fortune, he has nothing 
 left, except a wretched ambition and an insatiate appetite. 
 
 As for his wife, being now an old woman and nearly worn 
 out, she has at last given up her disgraceful courses. And then, 
 as for his daughter, after having, to no purpose, at the insti- 
 gation of her mother, gone the round of all the rich young men, 
 and after having been lent even to some of her suitors for them to 
 make trial of her, if she had not fallen in with the good-natured, 
 easy tempered Pontianus, she would perhaps have been still 
 sitting at home a widow before she was a wife. Although we 
 most strongly dissuaded him from doing so, Pontianus con- 
 ferred on her the false and misplaced name of wife, not being 
 unaware that, shortly before he married her, she had been de- 
 serted by a 5'oung man of the highest respectability, who had 
 become tired of her, and to whom she had been previously 
 engaged. 
 
 Accordingly, his new-married wife came home to him full 
 of assurance, and unabashed, with her chastity rifled, her vir- 
 ginity lost, her nuptial veil all sullied ; after her so recent re- 
 pudiation, a virgin once more, but bringing with her rather 
 the name than the unblemished character of a maid. In a 
 litter supported by eight persons was she borne along. You 
 
 * Her marriage-portions.'] — That is to say, the presents received by 
 her from her paramours. 
 
 y2 
 
324 THE DEFENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 saw, no doubt, you who were present, how shamelessly she 
 stared about her at the young men, how immodestly she ex- 
 posed herself. Who was there that did not recognize the mo- 
 ther's training, when, in the daughter, he beheld the face be- 
 plastered with cosmetics, the rouged cheeks, and the ogling 
 eyes ? The very day before, her entire fortune was swept 
 away by a creditor, to the utmost farthing, and certainly a 
 larger one than a house impoverished and full of children 
 would bespeak.^' 
 
 However, this fellow, whose circumstances are as limited as 
 his hopes are inordinate, his avarice being commensurate with 
 his neediness, had in his vain anticipations gulped up the whole 
 four million sesterces belonging to Pudentilla ; and therefore, 
 as he thought that I ought to be got out of the way, in order 
 that he might more easily practise upon the pliable disposition 
 of Pontianus and the solitary state of Pudentilla, he began to 
 rate his son-in-law for having engaged his mother to me; 
 prompted him, while yet he had the opportunity, as speedily 
 as possible, to extricate her foot from such great peril ; told 
 him that he himself ought to possess his mother's property, 
 rather than purposely hand it over to a stranger ; and in case he 
 should decline to do so, this crafty knave alarmed the ena- 
 moured youth by threatening that he would take home his 
 daughter. Why enlarge upon the subject? At his own will 
 he led the simple-minded youth, entangled in the allure- 
 ments of his new-made bride, quite away from his original 
 design. Carrying with him the words of Rufinus, he goes 
 straight to his mother. However, after trying in vain to 
 shake her constancy, after taking upon himself to censure her 
 for levity and fickleness, he had to carry back no pleasing re- 
 port to his father-in-law: that, contrary to her extremely 
 mild and imperturbable disposition, his mother had been 
 roused to anger by his expostulations, which served in no 
 slight degree to support her in her obstinate determination : 
 that, finally, she declared she was by no means unaware 
 that it was through the advice of Rufinus he expostulated 
 with her, for which reason she should be all the more in- 
 
 * Would bespeak.'] — ' Postulabat.' This seems to be the meaning of 
 the passage ; and the speaker would almost appear to hint that the in- 
 tended fortune of the daughter of Rufinus was a very large one, but only 
 •-'Upon paper. 
 
A DISCOTJBSE ON MAGIC. 325 
 
 clined to obtain the protection of a husband against his despe- 
 rate avarice. 
 
 On hearing these words, this pander to his wife so swelled 
 with anger, so blazed with rage, that in the presence of her 
 own son he said things against this lady, a woman of most 
 chaste and modest character, which would have been far 
 more befitting his own chamber, and shouted out that she 
 was a love-sick creature, and I was a magician and sorcerer ; 
 and this in the hearing of many persons, whom, if you desire 
 it, I will name ; and declared that with his own hand he would 
 put an end to me. Hardly, by Hercules ! can I moderate my 
 anger, so great is the indignation which rises in my mind. 
 What, you, you most effeminate wretch ! do you threaten death 
 to be dealt with your hand to any man ? With what hand, 
 pray ? Is it the hand of Philomela ? or of Medea ? or of Cly- 
 temnestra ? whom, when you personate in the dance, such is 
 the effeminacy of your disposition, such is your dread of steel, 
 that you are afraid to dance with the mimic sword.* 
 
 But, not to digress any further, when Pudentilla saw that 
 her son was corrupted contrary to her expectations, she went 
 into the country", and there wrote to him that famous letter of 
 hers, in which, as they said, she admitted that she had been 
 bereft of her senses and induced to love me through my 
 magical practices. And yet this very letter, by your order, 
 Maximus, I copied at length the day before yesterday, in pre- 
 sence of the public registrar, and before witnesses, ^milianus 
 taking a copy at the same time ; and in every point it is found 
 to tell in my favour, and against their accusations. Por even 
 if she had distinctly called me a magician, it might seem that 
 in excusing herself to her son, she preferred to do so rather on 
 the ground of my irresistibleness than of her own inclination. 
 ]s Phaedra the only woman that ever wrote an untrue letter on 
 the subject of love ? Is not this a common artifice with all 
 females, to try and make it appear that they act by compul- 
 sion, when they have once set their minds upon any thing 
 of this nature ? 
 
 And even if she did in her own mind think that I was a 
 magician, am I any the more a magician, because Pudentilla 
 
 * Mimic sword.'} — 'Cludine.' The ' cluden' was a sword or dagger 
 used on the stage, and so contrived that, in seeming to penetrate the body, 
 the blade fell into the hilt. 
 
326 
 
 THE DEFENCE OF APULEItlS. 
 
 has written to that effect? You, hy your numerous argu- 
 ments, your multitude of witnesses, your lengthy oration, 
 fail to prove that I am a magician ; was she by a single ex- 
 pression of hers to prove it ? And yet of how much greater 
 weight ought a charge to be considered which is undertaken 
 to be proved in a court of justice, than an assertion merely 
 made in a letter ? But why do you not convict me by my own 
 actions, and not by the words of another person ? Henceforth, 
 on the same principle, many will be accused of all sorts of 
 offences, if things are to be held as true which anybody, 
 influenced by love or by hatred of another, has written in a 
 letter. Pudentilla has written that you are a magician, 
 therefore you are a magician. Suppose she had written that 
 I was a consul, would it follow that I really am a consul ? 
 And what if a painter, what if a physician ? what, in fine, if 
 she had said I was innocent? would you have believed her in any 
 one of these assertions, merely because she said so ? In none 
 of them, no doubt. Well, but it is most unjust to give credit 
 for evil to one to whom you would decline to give the same 
 credit for good ; to allow his letters to have power to injure, 
 and yet not to have power to save. " But her feelings 
 were racked with anxiety," you say; "she loved you to 
 distraction." For the moment, I will grant it. Is it the 
 fact, then, that all who are beloved are magicians, if the 
 person who loves happens to write to that effect ? You must 
 admit, now, that at this period Pudentilla did not love me, 
 inasmuch as she wrote that to others which was destined 
 to be to my prejudice before the public. In fine, which do 
 you wish to assert, that she was sane, or that she was insane, 
 when she wrote the letter ? Sane, do you say ? then she has 
 suffered nothing from my magical practices. Insane, will 
 you answer ? then she did not know what it was she wrote, 
 and therefore we must put no faith in her assertion. 
 
 And then, besides, if she had been insane, she would not 
 have known that she was insane. For in the same way that 
 the person acts absurdly who says that he is silent, because in 
 the very act of saying that he is silent, he is not silent, and by 
 his very affirmation he contradicts what he affirms : so, even 
 more self- contradictory is the expression, "I am insane," be- 
 cause it is not true, unless he who says it knows what it is to be 
 insane. But he who knows what insanity is, is sane ; whereas 
 
A. DISCOUllSE ON MAGIC. 327 
 
 insanity can no more be sensible of its own existence, than 
 blindness can see itself. Consequently, Pudentilla, if she 
 fancied that she M^as not in her senses, was quite in her senses. 
 I could, if I chose, enlarge upon the subject, but I will now 
 have done with logic. 1 will have the letter itself read, which 
 cries aloud to a far different effect, and which seems as though 
 it had been prepared and framed for the very purpose of this 
 trial. Take it and read on until I interrupt you. [Fart of the 
 letter of Pudentilla is read.'] Cease reading for a moment, for 
 we have now arrived at the turning point in this matter. 
 
 Thus far, Maximus, from all that I can perceive, this lady 
 has no where mentioned the name of magic, but has re- 
 counted the very same train of circumstances that I did a sjiort 
 time since, as to her long widowhood, the cause of her bad 
 state of health, her wish to marry, my own good qualities, of 
 which she had heard an account from Pontianus, and his re- 
 commendation that she should marry me in preference to any 
 one else. Thus far has now been read ; there remains the other 
 portion of the letter, which, though written in like manner in my 
 favour, has been made to turn its horns against me, and which, 
 while it was sent for the very purpose of removing from me 
 all suspicion of magical practices, has, to the transcendent 
 glory of liufus, changed sides, and gone so far as to gain for 
 me a quite opposite character in the eyes of certain persons in 
 Oea, as though I really were a magician. Much in the inter- 
 change of conversation, Maximus, you have heard, still more 
 in reading you have learned, and no little knowledge by expe- 
 rience you have gained ; but still, you must declare that 
 treachery so insidious, and contrived with such astounding 
 wickedness, you never heard of. What Palamedes, what 
 Sisyphus, what Eurybates, in fine, what Phrynondas'^* could 
 have thought of such a thing ? All those whom I have named, 
 and any besides who have been famed for their cunning, if 
 put in comparison with this single device of Eufinus, would 
 seem to be utter fools and blockheads. wondrous inven- 
 tion! subtlety, worthy of the prison and the dungeon 
 cell ! who would have believed that it could come to pass that 
 what was a defence, could possibly, while the characters still 
 
 * Phrynondas.'] — Eurybates and Phrynondas were persons, probably 
 magicians, whose names among the Greeks had become proverbial for 
 craft and duplicity. 
 
'328 THE DEFENCE OF aPULEIUS. 
 
 remained the same, be transformed into an accusation ? By 
 Hercules ! it transcends all belief! 
 
 But how this thing, which so transcends belief, was brought 
 about, I will now explain to you. It was the rebuke of a 
 mother to her son, because, at the dictation of Eufinus, he was 
 now declaring, that I, a man whom he had so highly extolled 
 to her, was a magician. The words themselves were to this 
 effect: [in Greek ^ ''Apuleius is a magician, and I have 
 been enchanted by him ! I certainly do love him. Come 
 then to me, until such time as I shall have recovered my 
 senses." JSTow these words, which I have read in Greek, 
 picked out by themselves, and separated from their proper con- 
 text, Eufinus showed to everybody, as a confession made by 
 the lady, at the same time leading Pontianus with him as he 
 hawked them about the forum. 
 
 He allowed the letter which she wrote to be read, just as 
 far as I have quoted; what was written before and after he 
 used to conceal, saying, it was of too disgraceful a nature to be 
 shewn, and that it was enough to know that the lady had made 
 confession of magical practices. What could be wanted more ? 
 It appeared a very probable story to all. The very words that 
 had been written for the purpose of exculpating me, stirred 
 up intense hatred against me, among those who did not un- 
 derstand the matter. This abominable fellow, raving in the 
 midst of the forum, like a very bacchanal, collected crowds 
 together ; ever and anon opening the letter, he would appeal 
 to the citizens, and exclaiming, "Apuleius is a magician, 
 what she feels and suffers she herself declares; what more would 
 you have ?" There was no one to take my part, and thus to 
 answer him, " Have the goodness to give me the whole of the 
 letter. Allow me to see every part of it, and to read it from 
 beginning to end. There are many things, which when pro- 
 duced in an unconnected form, may seem amenable to accusa- 
 tion. Any person's language may afford ground for a charge, 
 if words which are connected with preceding ones are to be 
 curtailed of their beginning ; if certain parts in the current 
 order of what has been written are to be suppressed at plea- 
 sure ; if what has been asserted ironically, is to be read rather 
 in the tone of a person who admits, than of one who indig- 
 nantly expostulates." 
 
 How justly these and other such remarks might have been 
 
A DISCOTJESE 03^^ MAGIC. 329 
 
 made on those occasions, the tenor itself of the letter will show. 
 Is'ow tell us, ^milianus, whether you did not, in the presence 
 of witnesses, copy these words at the same time as myself. 
 [In Greelc.'] " For when I was desirous, for the reasons I 
 mentioned, to marry, you yourself persuaded me to choose him 
 in preference to all others, because you admired the man, and 
 greatly wished, through my means, to make him a connection 
 of ours. But now, when wicked and evil-minded men prompt 
 you, all on a sudden, Apuleius is a magician, and I have been 
 enchanted by him. I certainly do love him. Come then to 
 me, until such time as I shall have recovered my senses." I 
 ask you, Maximus, if letters, some of which are called vocals 
 [vowels'], could indeed find a voice, if words were winged, 
 as poets say, would they not, the instant Rufinus, with such 
 bad faith, made these extracts from this letter, and read 
 a few words only, while he purposely withheld the greater 
 and better part, — would not the rest of the letters havo 
 shouted aloud, that they were being wickedly suppressed? 
 "Would not the words so suppressed, have taken flight from 
 the hands of Ruiiuus ? Would they not have filled the whole 
 forum with their outcries ? Would they not have declared 
 that they, too, were sent by Pudentilla, that they, too, had 
 a message to speak ? Would they not have said this, in order 
 that people might not listen to a dishonest and wicked man 
 attempting to establish a falsehood by means of the letter of 
 another person, but listen in preference to their own decla- 
 ration, that Apuleius was not accused by Pudentilla of the prac- 
 tice of magic, but when accused by Eufinus, was acquitted by 
 her of the fact. All these things, although not then expressed, 
 are now made clearer than daylight, at a time when they are 
 of still greater service to me. Your artifices, Eufinus, are ex- 
 posed ; your frauds are detected ; your falsehoods are set forth 
 to view. The truth, before suppressed by you, now raises it- 
 self erect, and emerges as it were from the deep pit of ca- 
 lumny. You challenged me to abide by the letter of Puden- 
 tilla ; by that letter do I conqueft* ; and if you choose to hear 
 the latter portion of it also, I will not prevent it. Bead the 
 words with which this spell-bound, insane, demented, and 
 love-stricken woman closes her epistle: "I have not been 
 enchanted at all; that I am in love, is the work of Fate." 
 What more than this do you require ? Pudentilla contra- 
 
330 THE DEFENCE OF APULEITJS. 
 
 diets you, and, by proclamation as it were, defends her sanity 
 from your calumnious charges. Tor the cause or necessity of 
 her marrying, she ascribes to fate, from whose operations 
 magic is far removed indeed, nay, utterly estranged. For 
 Avhat virtue is there left in spells and enchantments, if the 
 fate of each individual thing, like a tori'ent of most impetuous 
 violence, can neither be restrained, nor yet accelerated in its 
 course ? Why, in this sentence of hers, Pudentilla has not only 
 denied that I am a magician, but even that such a thing as 
 magic exists. 
 
 It is fortunate that Pontianus, according to his usual cus- 
 tom, kept his mother's correspondence safe ; it is fortunate 
 that the speedy hearing of this cause has precluded you from 
 finding leisure to make any alteration in this letter. This ad- 
 vantage is owing to you, Maximus, and to your foresight ; be- 
 cause, seeing from the very first into the calumnious nature of 
 these charges, you hurried on the hearing of them, in order that 
 they might not gain strength by lapse of time ; and so, by 
 granting them no respite, you have nipped their growth . 
 
 Suppose, now, that in a letter written in confidence, the mo- 
 ther had, as often is the case, made some confession to her son 
 with reference to love, would it have been right, Eufinus, not 
 to say duteous or manly even, for the contents of such a letter 
 to be divulged and published, and that above all, on the infor- 
 mation of her son ? But I am a simpleton to expect that 
 you should be observant of the fair name of another, seeing 
 that you have lost your own. But why do I complain of what 
 is past, when the present is no less distressing .'' That this 
 boy should be so utterly corrupted by you, as to read aloud 
 the letters of his own mother, which he takes to be of an 
 amatory character ! and that he should, before the tribunal 
 of a proconsul, before Claudius Maximus, a man of the strictest 
 virtue, in presence of these statues of the emperor Pius,*' ac- 
 cuse his own mother of shameless incontinence! Who is there 
 60 meek as not to be incensed at this? What! make it your 
 business to pry into your parent's thoughts in such matters ; 
 to watch her eyes ; count her sighs; scrutinize her feelings; 
 intercept her letters ; accuse her of amorousness. What ! spy 
 
 * Emperor Pius.'\ — Antoninus Pius. It was considered criminal and 
 impious to use any gross expression, or to make any offensive or calum- 
 nious ::barge, in presence of the statue Qf a Roman emperor. 
 
A DISCOrESE ON MAGIC. 331 
 
 Out what is done in the retirement of the chamber, not to say- 
 by your own mother when in love, but by any lady whatsoever ! 
 Is it possible you can imagine that she was inspired by any 
 other than the affectionate feelings of a parent ? 
 
 Alas! unhappy was thy womb, Pudentilla! Oh, barren- 
 ness, how far preferable to progeny ! Oh, ten months* pro- 
 ductive of what unhappiness ! Oh, fourteen years of widow- 
 hood thus ill repaid ! The viper, I have heard say, eats through 
 the womb of its mother, and crawls forth to light, and so 
 owes its birth to parricide. But upon thee, while living, are in- 
 flicted wounds still deeper, those, too, by a son who has already 
 arrived at years of maturity. Thy state of solitude is lacerated, 
 thy fair name is mangled, thy breast is stabbed, thy inmost 
 vitals are torn away ! 
 
 Is this the way that, like a good son, you make return to 
 your mother for having given you life — for acquiring an in- 
 heritance for you — for providing for your support during four- 
 teen long years ? Or has your uncle trained you in a course 
 like this, in order that you might feel convinced that your 
 sons would turn out like yourself, and so might not venture 
 to marry ? There is a line of a poetf which is not uncom- 
 monly quoted : 
 
 " I hate precocious wisdom in young boys." 
 But, still more, who would not hate and detest precocious 
 Avickedness in a boy ? when he beholds him, like a sort of 
 monster, full grown up in crime before he is mature in years, 
 venomous before he is come to his strength, green in boyhood, 
 in villany hoary, and even more baneful because he is sure of 
 impunity, and while he is abundantly able to inflict injuries, 
 he is not liable;^ to pains and penalties. Injuries, did I say ? 
 Nay, crimes rather, and those against a parent; crimes in- 
 famous, enormous, astounding ! Why, the Athenians, in con- 
 sideration of the common rights of humanity, when the inter- 
 cepted letters of Philip of Macedon, their enemy, were read in 
 public, forbade one to be published which had been written by 
 Philip to his wife, Olympias. They chose rather to spare an 
 enemy than to divulge the secrets which had been entrusted 
 
 * Ten months.] — Of gestation. 
 
 t Of a poet.] — It is not known what poet is here referred to. 
 
 X Not liable.] — Not having arrived at man's estate, he was not liable 
 to capital punishment. 
 
332 THE DEFENCE OF APULEITJS. 
 
 by a husband to his wife, being of opinion that universal right 
 ought to be regarded rather than private vengeance. 
 
 Such did enemies shew themselves towards an enemy ; what 
 sort of a son have you shewn yourself towards your mother ? 
 Do you see how extremely similar are the cases I compare ? 
 And yet you, a son, read letters written by your own mother, 
 on amorous subjects, as you allege, in the presence of this 
 numerous assemblage, before whom, if you had been requested 
 to read some wanton poet, you assuredly would not have ven- 
 tured to do so, but would have been prevented by some sense 
 of shame ; indeed, if you had ever touched upon letters in 
 general, you would never have touched letters^* written by 
 your own mother. But what an epistle of your own was it 
 that you ventured to give to be read ! the letter which, most 
 disrespectfully, most insultingly, and most basely, you wrote 
 about your mother, and secretly sent to Pontianus, at the very 
 time that you were still nurtured in her bosom ! in order, I 
 suppose, that you might not have sinned once only, and that 
 such reputable conduct as yours might not be buried in obli- 
 vion. Wretched youth ! you do not perceive that your uncle 
 allowed this to be done, in order that he might exculpate him- 
 self in the sight of men, when it should become known from 
 your own letter, that even before you betook yourself to him, 
 even when you were still fawning upon your mother, even 
 then you were acting a fox-like and unnatural part. Besides, 
 I cannot bring myself to believe that JEmilianus is so simple 
 as to suppose that the letter of a boy, and that boy my ac- 
 cuser, could do me any injury. 
 
 Then, there was that counterfeit letter, which was neither 
 written by my hand, nor even forged with any likelihood, by 
 which they wished to make it appear that this lady had been 
 plied by me with blandishments. Why should I need to re- 
 sort to blandishments, if I relied on my magical powers ? 
 Besides, by what means, too, was a letter to come into their 
 hands, which was, no doubt, sent to Pudentilla by the hands of 
 some trusty messenger, as usual in matters of this nature ? And 
 why should I write in expressions so ungrammatical, in lan- 
 guage so barbarous, when they assert that I am far from unac- 
 quainted with the Greek language ? Why, too, should I solicit 
 
 • Touched letters.'^ — This pun exists in the original. 
 
A DISCOTJESE OK" MAGIC. 333 
 
 her with compliments so absurd, so pot-house like,* when they 
 say that I am able to express myself elegantly in the wanton 
 numbers of amatory verse ? The truth, no doubt, is this ; to 
 every one it is self-evident : — he who was not able to read the 
 letter of Pudentilla, because it was expressed in purer Greek, 
 could read this more easily, and find himself more at home in 
 descanting upon it, because the composition was his own. 
 
 But now, I shall consider that I have said sufficient on the 
 subject of these letters, when I shall have added this single 
 fact, that Pudentilla, after having written by way of irony and 
 joke, '' Come until such time as I shall have come to my 
 senses," after the date of that very letter invited to her house 
 her sons and her daughter-in-law, and lived there with them 
 for a period of nearly two months. Let this dutiful son de- 
 clare what, during that period, he saw his mother either do or 
 say that was unbecoming, in consequence of this insanity of 
 hers. Let him deny that she did,, in the most intelligent 
 manner, audit and sign the accounts of the bailiffs, and the shep- 
 herds, and the grooms ; let him deny that his brother Ponti- 
 anus was seriously warned by her to be on his guard against 
 the insidious designs of Rufinus ; let him deny that he was 
 justly censured for having everywhere carried about the letter 
 Avhich she had written to him, and yet not having read it 
 faithfully ; let him deny that, after all this, his mother was 
 married to me at her country-house, the place previously agreed 
 on between us. 
 
 For we had thought it better for us to be united at her 
 country-house in the suburbs, in order that the people of the 
 city might not again flock to us for largesses ; as it was not 
 very long since Pudentilla had expended fifty thousand pieces 
 of money, her own property, upon the public, on the day on 
 which Pontianus was married, and this boy was invested with 
 the manly gown. Another reason, was our wish to escape nume- 
 rous invitations and annoyances which newly-married people 
 generally have to submit to. Here, ^milianus, you have the 
 entire cause why the marriage contract between me and Puden- 
 tilla was signed, not in town, but at the country-house, that 
 she might not have again to expend fifty thousand pieces of 
 money, and that we might not be obliged to feast in your com- 
 pany, or at your house. 
 
 * Sopot-house like.'] — * Tamque tabernariis 
 
334 THE DEFENCE OF A.rULEIUS. 
 
 Was not tlie cause, then, a reasonable one ? Still I am sur- 
 prised that you, who generally live in the country, have such 
 a remarkable aversion to a country-house. The Julian law, at 
 all events, in its ordinances for the regulation of marriages, no- 
 where contains any prohibition to this effect — " Marry not a 
 wife at a country-house." Nay, to say the truth, a wife is 
 married under much better auspices, so far as relates to pro- 
 geny, at a country-house, than in a town — upon a fruitful soil, 
 than in a sterile spot — upon the glebe of the field, than upon 
 the stones of the Forum. She who is destined to be a mother, 
 ought to enter upon the marriage state in the very bosom of 
 her mother, among the ripening ears of corn, and upon the 
 fertile sod; or else she should recline beneath the wedded 
 elm, on the lap of her mother earth, amid the offspring of the 
 grass, the progeny of the vines, and the offshoots of the trees. 
 Closely in accordance with this is that line,* so frequently 
 quoted in the comic writers — 
 
 " Children in fields are lawfully begot." 
 
 To the Romans of ancient times, the Quintii,f the Serrani, 
 and many others like them, not only wives, but consulships 
 even, and dictatorships, were presented in the country. I 
 will check, myself, however, in a field of such ample range, 
 that I may not gratify you [a rustic] by lavishing praises upon 
 a country-house. 
 
 And now, as to the age of Pudentilla, about which, after these 
 other matters, you uttered falsehoods with such great assurance, 
 as even to assert that she was sixty years of age when she mar- 
 ried, I will say a few words ; for, on a matter so self evident, it 
 is not necessary to descant at any great length. Her father, at 
 her birth, made the usual declaration, that she was his daughter. 
 Her register is preserved, one part in the public registry, the 
 counterpart at home, and the latter is now presented before 
 your face. Hand that register to ^milianus. Let him see 
 the fastenings, J examine the impression of the seal, read the 
 names of the consuls, and count the years. Of the sixty years 
 
 * Thai line.'} — The author of this line is now unknown. 
 
 t The Quintii.] — In allusion to Q. Cincinnatus. See Livy, Book iii. 
 c. 28. 
 
 X The fastenings. 1 — Puhlic documents were preserved in tablets, 
 through which a string was run, which was fastened on the outside, and 
 covered with wax stamped with the impression of a seal. 
 
A DISCOUESE ON MAGIC. 335 
 
 that lie gave to this lady, let him prove as much as five and 
 fifty. By a whole lustrum* has he deviated from the truth. 
 But that is not enough : I will deal with him still more libe- 
 rally. For he has made a present of a great number of years 
 to Pudentilla ; I shall, therefore, have to give them back to 
 him by way of return. Like Ulysses, Mezentius f has gone 
 astray ten whole years ; let him prove, at least, that this lady 
 is fifty years of age. But why use many words ? To deal 
 with him as I would with a four- fold informer, J I will double 
 the five years twice over, and at once strike off twenty. 
 Order the consuls to be reckoned, Maximus : if I am not mis- 
 taken, you will find that Pudentilla is not now much beyond 
 her fortieth year. Oh, audacious and outrageous lie, that 
 ought to be visited with an exile of twenty years ! Do you 
 dare, ^milianus, to amplify your lies, by thus adding to them 
 one half as much again ? If it had been thirty years§ that 
 you stated instead of ten, you might possibly have appeared to 
 have made a mistake in the position of your fingers in count- 
 ing, and, where you ought to have contracted the fingers in a 
 circle, 11 to have opened them too wide.^ But when the num- 
 ber forty, which is denoted more easily than any of the others, 
 by opening out the palm of the hand, when this number forty 
 you increase by half as much again, you can have made no 
 such mistake in the position of your fingers ; unless, perhaps, 
 you took the years of Pudentilla to be thirty, and accidentally 
 added together the two consuls for each year. 
 
 * Whole lustrum.'] — A period of five years, or, more properly, four years 
 and a fraction of a fifth. 
 
 f Mezentius.'] — He has previously called iEmilianus by this nick- 
 name, in consequence of his contempt of the worship of the gods. 
 
 J Four-fold informer.] — ' Quadruplator.' — This name, signifying * four- 
 folder,' was first given as a name of infamy to the informers at Rome, 
 who practised their calling for the purpose of obtaining »the four-fold 
 penalty on conviction. 
 
 § Thirty years ]— The ancients, in counting with the fingers, denoted 
 ten by touching the joint of the thumb with the forefinger of the same 
 hand, while thirty was signified by touching the top of the thumb with 
 the forefinger. Forty was denoted by opening the hand wide. He says 
 that in counting, it would not have been impossible to mistake the nota- 
 tion of ten for thirty, and thus to have made an error of twenty years : 
 but that in the act of signifying forty years, the palm being wide open, no 
 such mistake could possibly arise. 
 
 II In a circle.] — When denoting ten. 
 
 % Opened them too wide.]—^y denoting thirty. 
 
336 THE DEFEiVCE OF ArULElTJS. 
 
 All these matters I pass by : I now come to the very root of 
 this accusation, to the very cause of the alleged magic. Let 
 ^milianus and Eufinus make answer for what profit, even if 
 I had been the greatest of magicians, I should by charms and 
 by drugs have enticed Pudentilla to marry me. And yet I am 
 well aware, that many a person has been accused of a crime,, 
 where certain motives for the commission of it could be proved 
 to exist, and still, has most successfully defended himself by 
 shewing that his whole course of life has been utterly averse 
 to misdeeds of such a nature ; and that it ought not to prove 
 to his detriment if there seemed to exist some inducements 
 for the perpetration of the crime. For not every thing which 
 possibly may have happened, ought to be considered as really 
 having happened. There are various fluctuations in human 
 affairs ; but the disposition of each person affords a sure evi- 
 dence, for, as it is always affected with the same tendency to- 
 wards virtue or towards vice, it affords an unerring proof of the 
 readiness to embrace criminality or to reject it. 
 
 Although I might, with the greatest justice, make use of 
 these arguments, still, I spare you them ; nor do I deem it 
 enough to have abundantly proved my innocence on all the 
 points on which you accuse me, and to have never allowed 
 the slightest suspicion even of the practice of magic to attach 
 to me. Only consider what a degree of confidence in my own 
 innocence I display, and what supreme contempt of you [my 
 accusers], when I say that if even the slightest ground shall 
 appear why I should have coveted this match with Pudentilla 
 for the sake of any advantage to myself, if you shall prove the 
 most trifling gain to me thereby, then may I be held to be a 
 Phrynondas, a Damigeron,** a Moses, a Jannes, an Apollonius, 
 or even Dardanus himself, or any one else, who, since the 
 
 * Damifferon.'] — He is mentioned by Tertullian as a famous magician : 
 Dardanus was also celebrated for his skill in the same art. Phrynondas, 
 Apollonius of Tyana, Zoroaster, and Ostanes have been previously al- 
 luded to. Moses, the law-giver of tlie Hebrews, was universally looked 
 upon among the heathens as a magician, and is mentioned as such by 
 Strabo, Pliny, and Tacitus. Jannes, and his brother Jambres, are sup- 
 posed to have been two of the chief magicians who opposed Moses in the 
 court of Pharaoh. They are also mentioned in the Second Epistle to 
 Timothy, iii. 8. Jannes is also mentioned, together with Moses, by 
 Pliny, and he and Jambres are spoken of by Numenius and Palladius as 
 most skilful magicians. 
 
I 
 
 1 DISCOIJESE OX MAGIC. 337 
 
 iays of Zoroaster and Ostanes, has been celebrated among 
 magicians. 
 
 Do see, Maximus, I beg of yon, what an uproar they raise, 
 merely because I have enumerated a few of the magicians 
 by name. What am I to do with men so ignorant, so barbar- 
 ous ? Am I to tell them over again, that these and very many 
 other names I have read in public libraries, in the works of 
 authors of the highest reputation ? Or am I to discuss the 
 point, that it is one thing to be acquainted with their names, 
 but quite another to have been initiated into the art itself, and 
 that the appliances of learning, and the recollections of erudi- 
 tion, are not to be held to be a confession of criminality ? Or 
 shall I do better, and rely, Claudius Maximus, on your learn- 
 ing, and extensive information, and not think it worth my 
 while to make answer on these matters to foolish and illiterate 
 men ^ I will adopt that course. What they may think of it, 
 I. care not a nutshell. I will proceed to prove what I stated : 
 that I had no reason whatever for using incantations to induce 
 Pudentilla to form an alliance with me. 
 
 They took it upon themselves to disparage the looks and the 
 age of this lady, and then they imputed it to me as a crime, 
 that I desired to gain such a wife, in order to satisfy my 
 avarice, and that for that reason, at the very earliest moment 
 after our union, I wrested from her a large and ample fortune. 
 It is not my intention to fatigue you, Maximus, by a lengthened 
 speech in reply to this. There is no need of words, when the 
 documents themselves speak so much more eloquently ; docu- 
 ments by which you will find that I have acted throughout, 
 both as regarded present arrangements, and provisioois for the 
 future, in a manner quite at variance with what they sur- 
 mised of me, in conformity with their own rapacious dispo- 
 sitions. In the first place, then, the amount put in settle- 
 ment by this lady of such vast wealth, you will find to have 
 been but small, and that amount not a sum paid down, but 
 only secured in remainder. Besides this, you will find that 
 the union took place upon these terms ; in case she should 
 depart this life without issue by me, the entire sum so settled 
 was to go to her sons, Pontianus and Pudens ; but, if she should 
 die, leaving one such son or one daughter surviving her, then, 
 in such case, one half of the sum was to go to the last bom 
 son, and the residue to the older ones. This, I say, I will 
 
338 THE DEFENCE OF APDLEIUS. 
 
 prove, from the instrument itself. It may possibly happen, 
 that not even then, ^milianiis will believe that only three 
 hundred thousand pieces of money were so settled, and that by 
 arrangement they were to go in reveruon to the sons of Pu- 
 dentilla. 
 
 Take this document in your own hands, [^milianus], and 
 give it to your prompter, Rufinus, for him to read. Let him 
 be ashamed of his swelling aspirations, and his ambitious 
 mendicity ; for he himself, though in utter want, and stripped 
 naked, gave, as a marriage portion to his daughter, four hun- 
 dred thousand pieces of money taken from a creditor ; Pu- 
 dentilla, on the other hand, a wealthy woman, has contented 
 herself with a settlement of three hundred thousand pieces, 
 and has a husband, too, who, after having many a time re- 
 jected settlements of ample sums, rests contented with the 
 empty name of such a trifling sum as this, for he reckons all 
 other things, except his wife, as nothing at all, and centres 
 all his possessions and all his wealth in the concord of the 
 marriage state, and in mutual attachment. 
 
 And yet, who, of all men that had the slightest knowledge 
 even of the world, would have presumed to censure her, if a 
 woman, who was a widow and of average good looks, but be- 
 yond mid age, being desirous to marry, had by offering an 
 ample settlement and handsome terms, held out a temptation 
 to a young man who was by no means to be despised either for 
 his looks, his intellect, or his fortune ? A beauteous virgin, 
 even though she may chance to be utterly destitute, is still 
 provided with an ample marriage portion ; for she brings to 
 her new husband the winning nature of her disposition, the 
 charms of her beauty, the first fruits of her maidenhood. The 
 very recommendation itself of virginity is rightly and de- 
 S^ervedly most highly esteemed by all husbands. For whatever 
 else you gain by way of portion, you may, whenever you 
 please, return the whole of it, so as to remain under no obli- 
 gation whatever. Money you may repay in full, slaves you 
 may restore, a house you may quit, an estate you may leave. 
 Virginity alone, when once it has been bestowed, can never be 
 returned ; of the things that form a marriage portion, that alone 
 must of necessity remain with the husband. 
 
 A widow, on the other hand, on a divorce taking piace, de- 
 parts just as she came on marriage ; nothing does she bring 
 
A DISCOUliSE ON MAGIC. 339 
 
 ttat she may not reclaim ; but she comes to you deflowered by 
 another ; to say the least, very far from being an apt scholar in 
 carrying out your wishes ; holding her new abode in no less sus- 
 picion than that in which, by reason of her separation from her 
 former husband, she herself deserves to be held ; whether it is 
 that she has lost that husband by death, in which case, as being 
 a woman of unlucky omen, and unfortunate in wedlock, she 
 ought to be avoided ; or whether it is, that she has been sepa- 
 rated from him bv divorce, in which latter case a woman must 
 have one or the other of these two fanlts ; she must have been 
 either so unbearable as to have been repudiated, or else so fro- 
 ward as to have divorced herself. Por these and other reasons 
 it is, that widows generally invite suitors by more ample set- 
 tlements ; a thing that Pudentilla, even, might have done in 
 the case of another husband, if she had not met with a philo- 
 sopher who held all settlements in contempt. 
 
 Well, now, if I had desired to gain this lady in order to 
 satisfy my avarice, what plan would there have been more 
 feasible by which to gain possession of her house, than to sow 
 discord between the mother and her sons ? to erase from her 
 feelings all affection for her children, in order that I might the 
 more freely and the more certainly, on being left without 
 rivals, gain full possession of the desolate woman ? "Was not 
 this the part of a robber such as you pretend that I am ? and 
 yet I, the author, promoter, and supporter of peace, and con- 
 cord, and affection, not only did not sow new dissensions, but 
 even utterly eradicated those which previously existed. I 
 prompted my wife, the whole of whose property they assert I 
 had already made away with, I prompted her, I say, and at last 
 succeeded in persuading her, on her sons demanding repayment 
 of their money, as I have already mentioned, to repay them 
 without delay, and that in lands valued at a low figure, and at 
 whatever price they themselves pleased. Besides this, out of 
 her own private property, I persuaded her to give them some 
 of the most fertile of her farms, a fine house, too, fitted up in a 
 most costly manner, with a great quantity of wheat, barley, 
 wine, oil, and other products of the soil ; slaves, too, no less 
 than four hundred in number, and cattle not a few, and of no 
 small value ; and all this, that she might set them at ease as 
 to that portion of her property which she thus gave them, and 
 encouruge them to be of good hopes as to the remainder. All 
 
 z2 
 
340 THE DFJ-ENCE OF APULEIUS. 
 
 this I obtained with great difficulty, and by urgent entreaties, 
 from the angry and reluctant Pudentilla — for as such was the 
 fact, she will not obj ect to my saying so. I reconciled the mother 
 to her sons ; I enriched my step-sons, (who in this first expe- 
 rienced the benefit of having a step-father,) with a large sum of 
 money. Throughout the whole city this fact was well known. 
 All vented execrations against Rufinus, and lavished commend- 
 ations upon me. Pontianus came to us, together with this bro- 
 ther of his, so unlike him in disposition, before his mother 
 would consent to make this gift ; and, throwing himself at our 
 feet, asked us to forget and forgive all that had passed, weeping 
 and kissing our hands, and saying how much he repented that 
 he had listened to Eufinus and those like him. 
 
 After that, he suppliantly entreated me to excuse him to 
 Lollianus Avitus,"^' that most illustrious man, to whom, shortly 
 before, he had been recommended by me at the outset of his 
 professional career ; f for he had become aware that a few days 
 previously I had written and informed Avitus of every thing 
 that had taken place. This, too, he prevailed upon me to do. 
 Accordingly, furnished with a letter by me, he set out for 
 Carthage, where, Maximus, the period of his proconsulship 
 being now nearly expired, Lollianus Avitus was awaiting your 
 arrival. After reading my letter, in conformity with his usual 
 extreme kindness of disposition, he commended Pontianus for 
 having so readily made amends for his error, and wrote back 
 to me, by him, good Gods ! what a letter ! what a style, what 
 wit, what grace and sweetness of expression ! He wrote, in 
 fact, just as a good man, and one skilled in the arts of elo- 
 quence, ought to write. I am sure, Maximus, that you will 
 hear his letter with pleasure ; and if I do read it, it shall be 
 with my own lips. Hand me the letter of Avitus, that so, 
 what has ever been an ornament to me, may now prove my 
 safety too. You, in the meantime, may suff'er the water [of the 
 Clepsydra] to run on ; for were I to read over the letter of 
 that most excellent man three or four times, I would not 
 think it lost time. \_Me reads the letter of Lollianus Avittis, 
 which is now lost.^ 
 
 I am not unaware that I ought, after that letter of Avitus, 
 to come to a close. For whom can I produce to speak more 
 
 * Lollianus Jmfus.l—The proconsul of Africa before Claudius Maximus. 
 f Professional career. 1 — That of a pleader or advocate. 
 
A DISCOTJKSE ON MAGIC. 34' 
 
 abundantly in my commendation? what witness to my charao 
 ter more worthy of all confidence ? what more eloquent advo 
 cate ? Many eloquent men who bore the Roman name have I 
 kno^vn and studied during my life, but never did I admire any 
 one so much as him. There is not an individual at this day, 
 in my opinion, of any name, of any promise in the arts of elo- 
 quence, but would greatly prefer to be Avitus, if, all envy 
 laid aside, he would think proper to institute a comparison be- 
 tween Avitus and himself. Tor in this one man are united 
 all the various gifts of eloquence, even those that are almost 
 opposite in their nature. Whatever the speech Avitus may 
 compose, so perfect and finished will it be in all its parts, that 
 in it Cato would not fail to find his own gravity, Laelius his 
 smoothness, Gracchus his vehemence, Caesar his vigorous 
 subtlety, Hortensius his perspicuity, Calvus his wit, Sallust his 
 terseness, nor Cicero his richness of expression ; once, for all, 
 I say, not to review each particular, if you were to hear Avitus, 
 you would wish nothing added, nothing withdrawn, nothing 
 changed. I see, Maximus, with what pleasure you hear those 
 characteristics described, which you recognize as distinguishing 
 your friend Avitus. It is j^our kindness that has induced me 
 to say even this little of him. But I will not so far indulge 
 your sympathy as to allow myself, nearly exhausted as I now 
 am, and my defence drawing to its close, to begin at this late 
 hour to descant on his exemplary virtues ; but I will, in pre- 
 ference, reserve these topics for my recruited strength and a 
 leisure opportunity. 
 
 For now, to my disgust, my discourse jnust be turned from 
 the praises of a man of such eminent worth, to these pestilent 
 wretches. And would you dare then, ^Emilianus, to set your- 
 self in comparison with Avitus ? Him whom he pronounces to 
 be a good man ; him whose manner of life Avitus so abundantly 
 commends in his letter, will you pursue with your charges of 
 magic and criminality ? Is it for you to be more annoyed at 
 my thrusting myself into the house of Pudentilla and plunder- 
 ing her of her property, than was Pontianus, who, even in 
 my absence, made full amends to me before Avitus, for the en- 
 mity of a few days into which he had been led by your insti- 
 gation ; and who expressed his gratitude to me in presence of a 
 man of such eminence ? 
 
 Suppose, now, I had stated what took place before Avitus, 
 
342 THE DEFENCE OF APTJLEIQS, 
 
 but had not read his letter, what would you, or what would 
 any one, have found to censure in this matter ? Pontianus 
 himself declared that it was by my bounty he had received 
 what had been presented to him by his mother ; from his in- 
 most heart Pontianus congratulated himself that it had fallen 
 to his lot to have me for a step-father, and would that he had 
 returned in safety from Carthage ! or, since it was thus decreed 
 by Fate, would that you, Eufinus, had not obstructed the 
 carrying out of his latest intentions ! What grateful thanks 
 would he have expressed to me, either personally or in his 
 last will ! Still the letters which he sent to me from Carthage, 
 as well as while on the road home — those written while in 
 robust health, the others when reduced by sickness, but both 
 replete with commendations of me, both filled with expressions 
 of affection — these, Maximus, I beg you will allow, for a mo- 
 ment, to be read, in order that his brother, my accuser, may 
 know how different in every respect is the career which he is 
 running from that of his brother, a man of most blessed me- 
 mory. [The letters of Pontianus are read.~\ 
 
 Did you hear the epithets which your brother, Pontianus, 
 bestowed on me ; how, both repeatedly on other occasions, 
 as also at his latest moments, he called me his parent, his 
 master, his instructor? I could also produce letters of yours 
 to the like effect, if I thought it worth while to waste a mo- 
 ment upon them. I would prefer, rather, that your brother's 
 last will, unfinished as it is, should be produced, in which he 
 makes most affectionate and most honorable mention of me. 
 That will, however, Rufinus would not allow to be seen, nor 
 even to be completed, through his vexation at losing the pro- 
 perty ; a property which he had valued at the large price of the 
 nights of a few months dimng which he was the father-in-law 
 of Pontianus. Besides this, he had consulted some Chaldasan 
 astrologers or others, in what way he might dispose of his 
 daughter with profit to himself. They, as I hear, and I only 
 wish that they had not in this given a true answer, replied that 
 her first husband would die in the course of a few months. But 
 the rest of their answer, as to his property, they framed, as is 
 generally the case, just in conformity with the wishes of the 
 person who consulted them. However, the Gods so willed it, 
 that just like some blind beast, he opened wide his jaws, but 
 got nothing at all. Por Pontianus, on detecting her guilt, 
 
A DISCOIjIISE ox MAGIC. 343 
 
 ,not only did not make the daughter of Eufinus his heir, but 
 did not so much as leave her a decent legacy ; but ordered 
 that, as a mark of disgrace, linen cloth, ^* of about two hundred 
 denars in value, should be presented to her, in order that it 
 might be understood that he had disinherited her, prompted 
 by a feeling of indignation, and had not omitted her through 
 forgetfulness. 
 
 For in this will, as well as in a former one which was read, 
 he made his motlier and his brother his heirs ; the latter of 
 whom, though still a mere boy, as you see, Rufinus is plying 
 with this samG daughter of his, as his engine of attack, throw- 
 ing her in his way, and thrusting upon this wretched youth a 
 woman greatly his senior in age, and but recently the wife of 
 his own brother. As for him, being captivated and enthralled 
 by the allurements of the harlot of a daughter and the wiles of 
 the pimp of a father, the moment that his brother breathed his 
 last, he left his motlier, and betook himself to his uncle, in order 
 that, being at a distance from us, his designs might be the better 
 put into execution. For llufinus is a favourite with iEmili- 
 anus, who wishes him success in his plans. Good ! it is well 
 that you have reminded me : f his own expectations, too, this 
 worthy uncle, cherishes and promotes, by adopting this course, 
 as he well knows that he is more likely :|: to be the legal heir 
 of the boy if he dies intestate, than his appointed heir under a 
 will. By Hercules ! I should have been sorry if that notion 
 had originated with me. It is not in accordance with my 
 moderation openly to give vent to what are the secret suspi- 
 cions of all : it was wrong on your part to suggest it. 
 
 At all events, ^milianus, if you would have the truth, 
 many persons are surprised at this affection of yours for this 
 boy, which has so suddenly sprung up since the death of his 
 brother Pontianus ; whereas, before that, you were so much 
 a stranger to him, that, many a time w^hen you met him, you 
 
 * Linen cloth.'} — Isidorus, in his ' Origines,' informs us that linen gar- 
 ments were in especial worn by courtezans, and that matrons taken in 
 adultery were clad in garments of this material. This custom may per- 
 haps be here covertly alluded to. 
 
 t Reminded me.] — Some of his friends in court have suggested this to 
 him as the possible design of ^railianus. 
 
 X He is more likely.'] — And therefore pampers the boy with indul- 
 gences, that he may have neither leisure nor inclination to think of making 
 a will. 
 
344 THE DEFENCE OF APULEITTS. 
 
 did not know by face the son of your own brother. Now, 
 however, you show yourself so considerate of him, so spoil him 
 by indulgence, are so careful not to thwart him in anything, 
 as, by this course, to produce a confirmation of such suspicions. 
 You received him from us a stripling ; you instantly invested 
 him with the privileges of puberty. As long as he was under 
 our management, he was in the habit of attending masters ; 
 now, taking a wide flight from them, he makes for the brothel ; 
 his friends of steady demeanour he shuns, while, at his tender 
 age, this young boy passes his life with young men of the 
 most abandoned character, amid courtesans and cups. It is he 
 who is the ruler in your house, it is he who is the head of your 
 family, it is he who is the master of your banquets. At the 
 gladiatorial exhibitions, too, he is a constant attendant, and, 
 like a lad of gentility, he is instructed by his fencing-master 
 in the names of the gladiators, their combats, and their 
 wounds. 
 
 He never speaks but in the Punic tongue, or any little 
 smattering of Greek he may still retain, after learning it from 
 his mother. But in Latin he has neither the will nor the 
 inclination to speak. You heard, Maximus, a short time ago, 
 my step-son, the brother of Pontianus, a young man who was 
 distinguished for his eloquence — shame and disgrace to him ! — 
 Btammering out with the greatest difficulty a few syllables, at 
 the time when you enquired of him whether his mother had 
 presented to them the property which I asserted she had at 
 rny prompting so presented. I therefore call you to witness, 
 Claudius Maximus, and you who are sitting here in judgment, 
 and you also who aid me with your presence on this my 
 trial, that these corruptions, and scandals in his life, ought 
 to be attributed to his uncle here, and to this candidate for 
 the honor of being his father-in-law ; and I protest that I shall, 
 from this time forward, congratulate myself that such a step- 
 son as this has shaken off from his neck the yoke of my 
 guardianship, and shall no more think of entreating his mother 
 in his behalf. 
 
 For, — I had all but forgotten to mention it — very recently, 
 and since the death of her son Pontianus, Pudentilla, being then 
 in bad health, was making her will, on which I had a struggle 
 with her of considerable duration in order to prevent her from 
 disinheriting him, in return for insults so glaring, for injuries 
 
A DISCOimSE ON MAGIC. 345 
 
 BO numerous. With earnest entreaties I begged her to strike 
 out [of the will] a most severe character of him, the whole of 
 which, I solemnly declare, she had already written. In fine, 
 I threatened to separate from her, if I did not prevail in my 
 request. I entreated her to grant me this favour, to conquer 
 her wicked son by kindness, and so release me from all chance 
 of incurring hatred. Nor did I cease until she had complied 
 with my request . 
 
 I am vexed that I have thus removed this ground of anxiety 
 from ^milianus, that I have pointed out to him a path so 
 entirely unexpected. Do look, I beg of you, Maximus, how, 
 on hearing this, he has suddenly become quite bewildered, how 
 he has riveted his eyes upon the ground. For he had fancied, 
 and not without reason, that the fact was far otherwise. He 
 knew that this lady was offended at the insults offered by her 
 son, and was strongly influenced by my attentions to her. As 
 regarded me, too, he had good grounds for apprehension. For 
 any person, even though he had been as much a despiser of 
 wealth as I am, might still not have declined to take his re- 
 venge on a step-son who had shown himself so undutiful. It was 
 this anxiety, above all, that urged them to bring this accusa- 
 tion against me. Arguing from a knowledge of their own 
 avarice, they have wrongly conjectured that the whole of her 
 property has been left to me. As regards the past time, I will 
 release you from that fear ; for neither the opportunity of gain- 
 ing property, nor yet revenge, were able to shake my mind in 
 the position which it had taken. I, the step-father, struggled 
 with his offended mother in behalf of a wicked step-son, just 
 as though I had been a father striving with a step-mother 
 in favour of his best of sons ; nor was I content unless I 
 checked, far more than I ought to have done, the abundant 
 generosity of an affectionate wife, which was ready to be shown 
 in my own favour. 
 
 Hand me the will which has been made by the mother 
 since her son has been at enmity with her, and of which 
 I, whom these people call a robber, prefaced each word with 
 my entreaties. Order, Maximus, that document to be opened ; 
 you will find her son named as her heir, while to myself, as a 
 mark of regard, there is left some trifling legacy or other ; in 
 order that, if anything should happen to her, I, the husband, 
 might not find my name altogether omitted in the will of my 
 
C46 THE DEFENCE OF APULEJtlS. 
 
 own wife. Take that will, written by your mother, a will 
 which is truly torgetful of the ties of duty. For why ? In it 
 she has disinherited a most attentive husband, while she has 
 named as her heir a most vindictive son, or rather, I may say, 
 not her son, but the hopes of ^milianus, and the match de- 
 signed by Kufinus, as well as that besotted crew, your para- 
 sites. 
 
 Take it, I say, best of sons, and lay aside for a moment the 
 amatory epistles of your mother, and read her will in prefer- 
 ence. If she has written anything when labouring under a 
 kind of insanity, as it were, here you will find it, ay, and from 
 the very beginning — "LetSiciniusPudens, my son, be my heir." 
 He who reads that, I admit, will take her to be insane. " Is 
 this son [he will say] appointed your heir, who, on the occa- 
 sion of the very funeral of his brother, having called together 
 a band of most abandoned youths, attempted to exclude you 
 from the house which you yourself had presented to him ? A 
 youth who was vexed and annoyed that you had been left by 
 his brother joint-heir with himself? Who, amid your sorrow 
 and mourning, instantly abandoned you, and fled from your 
 bosom to Eulinus and ^milianus ? Who afterwards, before 
 your very face, gave utterance to numerous insults, and, with 
 the assistance of his uncle, was guilty of perpetrating others ? 
 Who bandied your name about before tribunals ? Who at- 
 tempted publicly to cast a stain upon your fair name, by pro- 
 ducing your own letters against you ? Who brought a capital 
 charge against the husband of whom you had made choice, a 
 husband whom, as he himself objected against you, you loved 
 to distraction?" Open, worthy youth, open the will, I beg; 
 b)' so doing you will the more easily prove your mother's in- 
 sanity. Why do you decline ? Why refuse ? — that, too, 
 after you have had all anxiety removed as to the inheritance 
 of your mother's property. I will, however, Maximus, place 
 this document here, in this spot, before your feet, and I protest 
 that, from henceforth, I shall take much less interest in what 
 it is Pudentilla inserts in her will. Let him, from this 
 time forward, entreat his mother, as he pleases; to me he 
 has left no grounds for supplicating any more in his behalf. 
 Henceforth let him, as he is his own master, and addresses 
 most virulent letters to his mother, take upon himself to assuage 
 her wrath. He who could undertake a prosecution, will be 
 able to plead his own cause. 
 
A DISCOTJESE ON MAGIC. 347; 
 
 It IS quite enough for me, if I have not only most abun- 
 dantly disproved the crimes laid to my charge, but have even 
 utterly uprooted the grounds for bringing me to trial — I mean 
 the envy on account of the property supposed to have been 
 Bought by me. That I may omit no one of all these things, 
 I will prove, before I come to a conclusion, that this, too, 
 has been falsely laid to my charge. You have asserted that 
 with a large sum of money belonging to this lady, I have 
 made purchase in my own name of a very fine estate. I 
 say, in answer, that it was a small property, worth but sixty 
 thousand pieces of money ; and that I was not the purchaser, 
 but Pudentilla, who bought the estate in her own name ; that 
 the name of Pudentilla is in the purchase-deed, and that it is 
 in the name of Pudentilla that the taxes are paid for this farm. 
 The public quaestor is here present, to whom they have been 
 paid, Corvinus Celer, a man of the highest character. There is 
 also here the guardian* and adviser of the lady, a man of the 
 greatest respectability and of the most unblemished name, one 
 who deserves to be mentioned by me with all honor and re- 
 spect, Cassius Longinus, I mean. Ask him, Maximus, as in 
 making this purchase he acted as her adviser, at what a trifling 
 price it was that a lady so wealthy purchased this farm of hers. 
 [ Cassius Longinus and Corvinus Celer being questioned, gave their 
 evidence.'] Is it not as I said 1 Does my name anywhere ap- 
 pear in this purchase ? Is the price paid for this little property 
 any ground for complaint ? Or, at all events, has it been trans- 
 ferred to me ? 
 
 What is there still remaining, ^.^milianus, that I have not, 
 in your judgment, refuted? What reward of my magical 
 practices have you discovered ? Why should I work upon the 
 feelings of Pudentilla by incantations? To gain what ad- 
 vantages from her ? Was it that she might make a trifling 
 settlement upon me in preference to a large one ? charms 
 of surpassing excellence ! Or was it that she might enter 
 into a new engagement, and settle her fortune in reversion 
 upon her sons, rather than leave it to me? What else is 
 there that can possibly be added to such a magic as this ? Is 
 it the fact that, at my entreaty, she presented the greater por- 
 tion of her property to her sons, when, before she was married 
 
 * The guardian ] — His duties were somewhat similar to those of the 
 next friend,' as he is now called, in our courts of law. 
 
848 THE defj;nce ctf apuleius. 
 
 to me, she had given them nothing at all — this, too, while she 
 bestowed nothing whatever upon myself? Oh atrocious crime, 
 shall I say, or rather, oh kindness ill repaid ? Or is it rather 
 the fact that, in the will which she made when angered against 
 her son, she left that very son with whom she was offended 
 her heir, rather than myself, to whom she was so much at- 
 tached ? This I certainly did, after employing many spells,* 
 with the greatest difficulty obtain. 
 
 Suppose, now, that this cause is being tried, not before Clau- 
 dius Maximus, a man of equity and scrupulous justice, but 
 substitute some other judge, a dishonest and cruel man, one 
 who is an encourager of accusations, and anxious to condemn ; 
 give him some point upon which to fasten, supply him with 
 ever so slight a ground, wearing the semblance of probability, 
 on which he may be enabled to pronounce in your favour. At 
 least, invent, devise something to say by way of answer, when 
 he invites you so to do. And, as it is a matter of necessity 
 that some cause or other should precede every effect, state, 
 you who say that Apuleius influenced the mind of Pudentilla 
 by magic spells, what it was he wanted of her, and why he 
 did so. Was it her beauty he was anxious to gain ? You say 
 no. At all events, was it her riches that he coveted ? The 
 marriage-contract, the deed of gift, the will, say *'no" to that, 
 in all of which he is shown not only not to have grasped at 
 with greediness, but even to have harshly repulsed, the libe- 
 rality of his wife. 
 
 What other ground then is there ? Why are you mute ? 
 Why do you not speak ? Where is that fierce commencement 
 of your charge, drawn up in the name of my step-son ? " Him, 
 my lord Maximus, I have determined to accuse before you." — 
 Why did you not add, then, '' to accuse my instructor, to ac- 
 cuse my step-father, to accuse my mediator?" But what 
 comes next ? — '* of numerous offences, and those most evi- 
 dent." Of these so "numerous," produce but a single one; 
 of these offences " most evident," produce but one which is 
 even so much as dubious, one which can even sustain a mo- 
 ment's question. 
 
 To each of your innumerable charges I answer in a couple 
 
 * Many spells ] — There is a pun here in the original upon the word 
 'cantamina,' or 'carmina,' which means, 'spells,' or charms, as also 're- 
 peated entreaties.' 
 
A DISCOUESE ON MAGIC. 349 
 
 of words.* '' You clean your teeth" — Pardon my cleanliness. 
 *' You look in a mirror" — A philosopher ought. " You com- 
 pose verses" — *Tis not unlawful to do so. " You examine 
 fishes" — Aristotle teaches me. " You make Gods of wood" — • 
 Plato advises it. "You marry a wife" — The laws enjoin it. 
 " She is older than you" — No uncommon thing. " You have 
 sought to advantage yourself" — Take up the deed of settle- 
 ment, recollect the gifts you have received, read over her will. 
 If I have abundantly rebutted all these charges ; if I have 
 refuted all these calumnies ; if, amid not only all the accusa- 
 tions, but even all the aspersions uttered against me by these 
 persons, I have kept philosophy aloof from censure ; if I have in 
 no way blemished the honour of philosophy, which is dearer to 
 me than my own well-being, nay, rather, if I have kept it 
 most carefully shielded on every side ; if, in each of these 
 respects, what I say is found to be the truth, then I may more 
 securely afford to respect your good opinion than to dread your 
 power ; seeing, I deem it less grievous and less to be dreaded 
 by me, to be condemned by a proconsul, than to incur the 
 censure of a man so good and so virtuous as yourself. 
 
 * In a couple of words.'} — It must be remembered, tbat in the Ea- 
 glish language his answers cannot be expressed in two words only. 
 
 END OF THE DEFENCE OP APULEItTS. 
 
APULEIUS 
 
 ON THE 
 
 GOD* OF SOCRATES. 
 
 Plato has made a triple division of all nature, and especially 
 of that part of it which comprises animated beings ; and he 
 
 * God-I — In many places, Plato calls the participants of the divinities, 
 Gods. Thus, in the Laws a divine soul is called ' a God ;' and in the 
 Phaedrus, it is said, ' Tliat all the horses and charioteers of the Gods are 
 good, and consist of things that are good.' And when he says this, he 
 is speaking of divine souls. After this, also, in the same dialogue, he 
 still more clearly says, 'And this is the life of the Gods.' What, how- 
 ever, is still more remarkable is this, that he denominates those beings 
 Gods, who are always united to the Gods, and who, together with them, 
 give completion to one series. For in the Phsedrus, Timseus, and other 
 dialogues, he extends the appellation of the Gods as far as to daemons, 
 though the latter are essentially posterior to, and subsist about the Gods. 
 But what is still more paradoxical, he does not refuse to call certain men 
 Gods : for in the ' Sophista,' he thus denominates the Elean guest or 
 stranger. 
 
 According to Plato therefore, one thing is a God simply, another on 
 account of union, another through participation, another through con- 
 tact, and another through similitude. For of super-essential natures, 
 each is primarily a God : of intellectual natures, each is a God according 
 to union ; and of divine souls, each is a God according to participation. 
 But divine daemons are Gods, according to contact with the Gods ; and 
 the souls of men are allotted this appellation through similitude. 
 
 As the daemon of Socrates, therefore, was doubtless one of the highest 
 order, as may be inferred from the intellectual superiority of Socrates to 
 most other men, Apuleiusis justified in calling this daemon a God. And 
 that the daemon of Socrates indeed was divine, is evident from the testi- 
 mony of Socrates himself in the First Alcibiades : for in the course of 
 that dialogue he clearly says, ' 1 have long been of opinion that the God 
 did not as yet direct me to hold any conversatiun with you.' And in the 
 Apology, he most unequivocally evinces that this daemon is allotted a di- 
 vine transcendency, considered as ranking in the order of daemons. 
 
 Ignorance of this distinction has been the source of infinite confusion 
 and absurd hypotheses, to the modern writers on the mythology and the- 
 ology of the Greeks. — Taylor. 
 
A^PrLEIUS ON THE GOD OP SOCRATES. S5l 
 
 is of opinion, that there are Gods of the highest, the middle, 
 and the lowest station. Understand, however, that this di- 
 vision is based not only upon local separation, but also upon 
 comparative dignity of nature, which is itself distinguished not 
 in one or two, but in many modes. It was the clearer way, 
 however, to begin with the distinction of locality ; * for this 
 has assigned the heavens to the immortal Gods, conformably 
 to what their majesty demands. And of these celestial Gods, 
 some we form a notion of by sight, while others we endeavour 
 to comprehend by the intellect. 
 
 You. refulgent ministers of light, 
 
 Who through the heavens conduct the gliding year.f 
 
 We do not, however, perceive by the eyes, those principal Gods 
 only, the Sun the maker of the day, the Moon the rival of 
 the Sun, and the glory of night ; whether she is horned or 
 di\dded,J whether gibbous or full ; exhibiting a varying bright- 
 ness in her light ; being more largely illuminated the farther 
 she departs from the Sun ; and, by an equal increase both of 
 her path and her light, defining the month by means of her 
 increments, and afterwards by means of her decrements in like 
 degree : whether it is, as the Chaldeans think, that she pos- 
 sesses a proper or§ permanent light of her own, and is on one 
 side gifted with light, but destitute of brightness on the other, 
 and so changes her appearance by manifold revolutions of 
 her various coloured face ; or whether it is that being wholly 
 void of brightness of her own, and standing in need of foreign 
 light, with an opaque body, or with a body polished like a 
 
 * Distinction of locality.} — It is here requisite to observe, that divine 
 natures are not in bodies, but externally rule over them. Hence they 
 impart from themselves to bodies every good they are able to receive, but 
 they themselves receive nothing from bodies ; so that neither will they 
 derive from them certain peculiarities. By no means, therefore, must it 
 be admitted (as lamblichus well observes,) that the cause of the distinc- 
 tion of the divine genera is an arrangement with reference to bodies ; as 
 of Gods to ethereal bodies, of daemons to aerial bodies, and of souls to 
 such as are terrene.— Taylor. 
 
 f The gliding year.'] — These lines are taken from Book I. of the Georgics 
 of Virgil. 
 
 % Divided.'] — In the original, dividua ; and the moon is dividua when 
 she is a quarter old. 
 
 § Or.] — * Ceu' is no doubt the correct reading here, meaning the ' or' 
 explicative, and not the ' or' alternative. 
 
352 APTJLEITJS ON THE 
 
 mirror, she receives either obliquely or direct the rays of the 
 Sun, and, to use the words of Lucretius, Book IV. — 
 
 " Throws from her orb a spurious light." 
 
 Whichever of these opinions is true, (for that I shall afterwards 
 consider,) there is not any Greek, or any barbarian, who will 
 not easily conclude that the Sun and Moon are Gods ; and not 
 these only, as I have observed, but also the five stars, which 
 are commonly styled " erratic," or "planets,''^ by the unlearned, 
 though, in their undeviating, certain, and established course, 
 they perform, by their divine changes, movements most orderly 
 and eternal ; movements which are indeed various in appear- 
 ance, but which are made with a celerity that is always equable, 
 and represent with wonderful alternation, at one time pro- 
 gressions, and at another retrogressions, according to the posi- 
 tion, elliptic] ty, and inclination of their orbits, with which he 
 is well acquainted who understands the risings and settings of 
 the stars. 
 
 You who are of the same opinion with Plato, must also rank 
 in the same number of visible Gods those other stars, 
 
 The rainy Hyades, Arcturus, both the Bears : * 
 and likewise the other radiant Gods, by whom we perceive, in 
 a serene sky, the celestial choir bedecked and crowned, when 
 the nights are painted with a severe grace and a stern beauty ; 
 beholding, as Ennius says, in this most ''perfect shield of the 
 universe," engravings wrought with surprising brilliancy. 
 
 There is another species of Gods, which nature has denied 
 to our sight ; and still we may contemplate them with admira- 
 tion through intellect, acutely surveying them with the eye of 
 the mind. In the number of these are those twelve Godsf 
 who are included by Ennius, with a metrical arrangement of 
 their names, in two verses : 
 
 Juno, Vesta, Minerva, Ceres, Diana, Venus, Mars, 
 Mercurius, Jovi,J Neptunus, Vulcanus, Apollo; 
 
 and others of the like kind, whose names, indeed, have been 
 long known to our ears, but whose powers are conjectured by 
 
 * This verse is taken from Book III. of the iEneid. 
 
 + Twelve Gods.'] — These Gods form, in the Platonic theology, the 
 super-celestial, or * liberated' order, being immediately proximate to thtt 
 mundane order of Gods. 
 
 J Jovi,'\ — The old nominative used instead of Jupiter. 
 
GOD OF SOCRATES. 353 
 
 our minds, our attention being called to them through, the 
 various benefits which they impart to us in the affairs of life 
 in those things over which they severally preside. The crowd, 
 however, of the ignorant, who are rejected by Philosophy as 
 uninitiated, whose notions of holiness are misplaced, who are 
 deprived of genuine reason, who are destitute of religiouj and 
 incapable of grasping the truth, dishonour the Gods, either by 
 a worship most over acted, or a most insolent disdain of them ; 
 one part being always in alarm through superstition, while the 
 other is always swelling with contempt. Very many there are 
 who venerate all these Gods, established in the lofty heights of 
 the firmament, and far removed from human contagion : but 
 not in such manner as they ought : all fear them, but through 
 ignorance ; a few deny their existence, but in a spirit of im- 
 piety. Plato thought these Gods to be incorporeal * and ani- 
 mated natures without an end. or beginning, but eternal both 
 with reference to time past and time to come ; spontaneously 
 separated from the contact of the body by the nature peculiar 
 to themselves ; through perfection of intellect possessing su- 
 preme beatitude ; good, not through participation in any ex- 
 traneous good, but of themselves; and able to procure for 
 themselves every thing requisite, with a facility which is prompt, 
 simple, unrestrained, and absolute. 
 
 But of the parent of these, who is the lord and author of 
 all things, and who is free from all obligations to act or to 
 suffer, not being bound by auy necessity to the performance of 
 any duties, why should I now begin to speak ? For Plato, who 
 was endowed with a heavenly eloquence, discoursing in lan- 
 guage worthy of the immortal Gods, frequently proclaims that 
 on account of the incredible and ineffable transcendency of his 
 majesty, he cannot possibly be even in the slightest degree com- 
 prehended, under any definition, through the poverty of human 
 language ; and that the intellectual apprehension of this God 
 can hardly flash upon wise men, when they have separated them- 
 
 • To be incorporeaL'] — The Delphin editor of this treatise, who appears 
 to have been perfectly ignorant of the philosophy of Plato, says, that 
 Plato is of an opinion contrary to what is here asserted by Apuleius, in the 
 Epinomis and in the Timaeus, because, in the former dialogue, he gives to 
 the celestial Gods a most beautiful, and in the latter an igneoui body. 
 13 ut if rational souls are incorporeal^ according to Plato, though con- 
 nected with bodies, much more this must be the case with the Gods. 
 
554 ' APULEIUS ON THE 
 
 selves from body, aa much as possible, through the vigour of the 
 intellect ; and that sometimes this knowledge does blaze forth 
 with a most instantaneous flash, like a dazzling light amid the 
 most profound darkness.* I will therefore omit the discussion 
 of this theme, for which all words adequate to the amplitude of 
 the subject are not only wanting to me, but could not even be 
 found by my master Plato. Hence I shall at once sound a 
 retreat, as to things which very far surpass my humble powers, 
 and at length bring down my discourse from heaven to earth, 
 in which we men are the principal animated things, though 
 most of us, through the neglect of training, are so depraved, 
 and are so imbued with all errors and the most atrocious crimes, 
 and have become so utterly ferocious, through having nearly 
 quite abandoned the mildness of our nature, that it may seem 
 there is not an animal on the earth more vile than man. But 
 at present our object is not to discuss feelings, but to treat of 
 the natural distribution of things. 
 
 Men, therefore, dwell on the earth, possessing the gift of 
 speech, having immortal souls, but mortal members, with fri- 
 volous and anxious minds, with bodies brutish and infirm, of 
 dissimilar manners, but similar errors, of presumptuous auda- 
 city, long-lived hope, labouring in vain, with variable for- 
 tunes, severally mortal, but taken altogether in their whole 
 species, eternal, quitting the scene in regular succession, and 
 leaving offspring to supply their place, fleeting in their time, 
 tardy at gaining wisdom, speedy in meeting with death, and dis- 
 satisfied in life. You have, then, in the meantime, two kinds 
 of animated beings, Gods entirely differing from men, in the 
 sublimity of their abode, in the eternity of their existence, in 
 the perfection of their nature, and having no proximate com- 
 munication with them ; f since those that are supreme are 
 
 * Profound darkness ] — This is a very remarkable passage, but is not 
 to be found in any of the writings of Plato that are now extant. Some- 
 thing similar to this is said by Plato, in his seventh epistle, respecting the 
 intuition of idea, or intellectual form; viz. " that from long converse with 
 the thing itself, accompanied l)y a life in conformity with it, on a sudden, 
 a light, as if from a leaping fire, will be enkindled in the soul, and will 
 there itself nourish itself." 
 
 t Proximate communication with them.} — A divine nature is imme- 
 diately present with all things, but all things are not immediately present 
 with it ; because ajjtitude in the participant is here requisite to a uniot 
 with that which is participable 
 
GOD OF SOCBATES. 355 
 
 separated from the lowest habitations by such a vast interval 
 of distance ; and life is there eternal and never-failing, but 
 here decaying and interrupted, and the natures are there subli- 
 mated to beatitude, while those below are depressed to wretch- 
 edness. What then ? Has r ature connected itself by no bond, 
 but allowed itself to be separated into the divine and human 
 parts, and to be thus split and crippled, as it were ? For, as the 
 same Plato remarks, ''No God mingles with men." But this 
 is the principal mark of their sublime nature, that they are not 
 contaminated by any contact with us.* One part of them 
 only is to be seen by us with our blunted vision ; as the stars, 
 about whose magnitude and colour men are still in doubt, 
 while the rest are only known to our understandings, and that 
 by no prompt perception. This, however, ought by no means 
 to be wondered at with reference to the immortal Gods, since 
 even among men, who are raised to opulence by the favour ot 
 Fortune, and are elevated to the tottering throne and the un- 
 steady tribunal of a kingdom, access is rare, all beholders 
 being kept at a distance, and they enjoy their dignity in re- 
 tirement; familiarity breeds contempt, f but privacy gains 
 admiration. 
 
 " What, then, shall I do," some person may object, ''after this 
 very celestial, but almost inhuman decision of yours ? if, so it is, 
 that men are entirely removed from the immortal Gods, and are 
 so exiled in these Tartarean realms of earth that all communica- 
 tion whatever with the heavenly Gods is denied them, and not 
 one of the celestials occasionally visits them, as a shepherd visits 
 his flocks of sheep, a groom his horses, or a herdsman his lowing 
 cattle, in order that he may curb the more vicious, heal the 
 diseased, and assist those which are in want ? No God, you 
 say, interferes in human affairs. To whom, then, shall I ad- 
 di'ess my prayers ? To whom shall I make my vows ? To 
 whom shall I immolate victims? Whom shall I invoke through- 
 out my Avhole life, as the helper of the unfortunate, the fa- 
 vourer of the good, and the adversary of the wicked ? And 
 whom, in fine, (a thing for which necessity most frequently 
 
 * Contact with ««.] — i.e. By any habitude or alliance to our nature, 
 t Breeds contempt.} — ' Parit conversatio contemptum,' one of the most 
 hacknied phrases now in existence. 
 
 A a2 
 
356 API7LE3US ON 
 
 occurs,) shall I adduce as a witness to my oath? Am I to 
 say, like Virgil's Ascanius,* 
 
 " Now by this head I swear, by which before 
 My father used to swear ?" 
 
 Why, no doubt, lulus, your father might use this oath among 
 Trojans, who were allied to him by birth, and also perhaps 
 among Greeks, who were known to him in battle ; but among 
 the Rutuli, who were but recently known by you, if no one 
 believe^ in this head, what God would you have to be surety 
 for you ? Would you have your right hand and your dart, 
 like the ferocious Mezentius ? For these only, by which he 
 defended himself, did he adjure : 
 
 " For me ray right hand and the missile dart, 
 Which now well-poised I hiurl, are each a God/'f 
 
 Away, I beseech you, with such sanguinary Gods; a right 
 hand weary with slaughter, and a dart rusted with gore. 
 Neither of these is a fit object for you to adjure, nor that you 
 should swear by them, for this is an honor that is peculiar to 
 the highest of the Gods. For a solemn oath, as Ennius says, 
 is also called Jovisjurandum. "What, then, is your opinion ? 
 Am I to swear by Jupiter, in the shape of a stone, after the 
 most ancient custom of the Romans ? Why, if the opinion of 
 Plato is true, that God never mingles with men, a stone will 
 hear me more easily than Jupiter." 
 
 Such is not the fact : for Plato shall answer for his opinion in 
 my words. " I do not affirm," says he, ** that the Gods are so far 
 separated and alienated from us, that not even our prayers can 
 reach them ; for I have not removed them from attention to 
 the affairs of mankind, but only from contact with them." 
 
 Besides, there are certain divine powers of a middle nature, 
 situate in this interval of the air, between the highest ether 
 and the earth below, through whom our aspirations and our 
 deserts are conveyed to the Gods. These the Greeks call by 
 name " daemons," and, being placed as messengers between the 
 inhabitants of earth and those of heaven, they carry from the 
 one to the other, prayers and bounties, supplications and as- 
 sistance; being a kind of interpreters and message cai'riers tot 
 
 * Agcantus.] — See Book XI. of the iEneid. 
 f See book X. of the iEneid, 
 
THTE GOD OF 80CEATES. 357 
 
 both. Through these same demons, as Plato says in his Sym- 
 posium, all revelations, the various miracles of magicians, and 
 all kinds of presages, are carried on. Eor specially appointed 
 individuals of this number, administer everything according to 
 the province assigned to each; either by framing dreams, or caus- 
 ing ominous fissures in entrails, or governing the flights of some 
 birds, or instructing others in song, or inspiring prophets, or by 
 launching thunders, or causing the lightning to flash in the clouds, 
 or other things to take place by means of which we obtain a know- 
 ledge of future events. And we have reason to believe that all 
 these particulars are by the will, the power, and the authority 
 of the celestial Gods, but through the obedience, aid, and ser- 
 vices of demons ; for it was through the employment, the ser- 
 vices, and the care of these, that dreams forewarned Hannibal 
 of the loss of one of his eyes ; that inspection of the entrails 
 foretold to Flaminius a perilous carnage ; and that auguries 
 assured to Attius Navius the miracle of the whetstone. Just 
 in the same manner, tokens of future empire are imparted be- 
 forehand to certain persons ; as, for instance, an eagle hovered 
 over the cap on the head of Tarquinius Priscus, ahd a flame 
 shone from the head of Servius TuUius. And lastly, to these are 
 owing all the presages of diviners, the expiatory sacrifices of 
 the Etrurians, the sacrificial enclosure of places struck by light- 
 ning, and the verses of the Sibyls ; all which, as I have said, 
 are effected by certain influences that carry on the communica- 
 tion between men and Gods. 
 
 Nor, indeed, would it be conformable to the majesty of the 
 celestial Gods, that any one of them should either frame a 
 dream for Hannibal, or withdraw the victim from Flaminius, 
 or direct the flight of the bird for Attius Navius, or form in 
 verse the predictions of the Sibyl, or be willing to snatch the 
 hat from the head of Tarquin, and restore it, or place a 
 splendid flame upon the head of Servius, but so as not to 
 burn him. It is not becoming that the Gods of heaven 
 should condescend to things of this nature. This is the pro- 
 vince of the intermediate Gods, who dwell in the regions of 
 the air, which are adjacent to the earth, and on the confines of 
 the heavens, just as in each part of the world there are animals 
 peculiarly adapted to it, those which fly living in the air, and 
 those which walk, on the earth. For since there are four ele- 
 ments universally known, nature being as it were divided into four 
 
358 
 
 APULEIUS ON 
 
 grand portions, and there are animals peculiar to earth, water, 
 and flame ; (for Aristotle informs us that certain animals pecu- 
 liar thereto, and furnished with wings, fly about in burning 
 furnaces, and pass the whole period of their existence in fire,* 
 come to life therein, and with it die), and besides this, 
 since, as we have already observed, so many stars are beheld 
 floating above in aether, that is to say, in the very brightest 
 heat of fire,f — since this is the case, why should nature suffer 
 this fourth element, the air, which is so widely extended, to 
 be the only one void of every thing, and destitute of its own 
 inhabitants ? Why should not animated beings be generated 
 in this air in the same manner as animals that exist in flame 
 are generated in fire, animals that float, in water, and those 
 of an earthly nature, on earth ? For you have every reason 
 to pronounce his opinion false who assigns the birds to the 
 air ; for not one of them raises itself above the summit of 
 Mount Olympus, which, though it is said to be the highest of 
 all mountains, yet if you measure its height in a straight line, 
 the distance to its summit is not equal, according to the 
 opinions of geometricians, to ten stadia ; whereas the immense 
 mass of air extends as far as the nearest portion of the cycle of 
 the moon, beyond which aether takes its rise in an upward 
 direction. What, then, are we to say of such a vast body of 
 air, which ranges in extent from the nearest part of the revo- 
 lutions of the moon as far as the highest summit of Mount 
 Olympus ? Will that, pray, be destitute of its own appropriate 
 animated beings, and will this part of nature be without life, 
 and impotent? Moreover, if you attentively consider the 
 matter, birds themselves may, with greater propriety, be said 
 to be terrestrial than aerial animals ; for their whole living is 
 always on the earth ; there they procure food, and there they 
 rest ; and they only make a passage through that part of the 
 air in flpng which lies nearest to the earth. But, when they 
 are wearied by the rowing motion of their wings, the earth is 
 to them as a harbour. If, therefore, reason evidently requires 
 that its appropriate animals must also be admitted to exist in 
 
 * In fire."] — This is asserted by Aristotle, in Book V. chap. xix. of his 
 History of Animals. 
 
 t Heat offire."] — It must be observed, however, that the fire of which 
 aether consists, and also the stars, for the most part, are, according to Plato, 
 Tivific and unburning. 
 
THE GOD OP SOCEATES. 359 
 
 the air, it remains for us to consider what they arc, and what 
 is their nature. 
 
 They are then by no means animals of an earthly nature, 
 for such have a downward tendency, through their gravity. 
 But neither are they of a fierj' nature, lest they should be 
 carried aloft by their heat. A certain middle nature, there- 
 fore, must be conceived by us, in conformity to the middle 
 position of their locality, that so the nature of the inhabitants 
 may be conformable to the nature of the region. Well, then, 
 let us form in our mind and generate in our ideas bodies so 
 constituted as neither to be so sluggish as terrestrial, nor so 
 light as ethereal, but in a certain measure distinct from both, 
 or else composed of a mixture of both, either removed from, 
 or modified by, a participation of both. They will, however, 
 be more easily conceived, if admitted to be a mixture of both, 
 than if they assumed to be mingled with neither. The bodies 
 of these demons, therefore, must have some little weight, in 
 order that they may not be carried aloft ; and they must also 
 have some lightness, in order that they may not be precipitated 
 to the realms below. However, that I may not appear to you 
 to be devising things that are incredible, after the manner of 
 the poets, I will just give you an example of this equipoised 
 middle nature. We see the clouds unite in a way not much 
 different from this tenuity of body ; but if these were equally 
 light as those bodies which are entirely devoid of weight, 
 they would never cap the heights of a lofty mountain with, as 
 it were, certain wreathed chains, depressed beneath its ridges, 
 as we frequently perceive they do. On the other hand, if they 
 were naturally so dense and so ponderous that no union with 
 a more active levity could elevate them, they would certainly 
 strike against the earth, of their own tendency, just like a mass 
 of lead and stone. As it is, however, being pendulous and 
 moveable, they are guided in this direction and in that by the 
 winds amid the sea of air, in the same manner as ships, shift- 
 ing sometimes in proximity and remoteness ; for, if they are 
 teeming with the moisture of water, they are depressed 
 downward, as though for the purpose of bringing forth. And 
 on this account it is that clouds that are more moist descend 
 lower, in dusky masses, and with a slower motion, while those 
 that are serene ascend higher, and are impelled like fleeces of 
 wool, in white masses, and with a more rapid flight. Have 
 
360 APTJLEirS ON 
 
 5^ou not heard how Lucretius most eloquently expresses himself 
 concerning thunder in his Sixth Book ? 
 
 ** The azure heavens with dreadful thunders shake. 
 Because th' ethereal clouds, ascending high, 
 Dash on each other, driven by adverse winds." 
 
 But if the clouds fly aloft, all of which originate from the 
 earth, and again flow downward to it, pray what should you 
 conclude as to the bodies of demons, which are so much more 
 attenuated in their composition ? For they are not heaped 
 up from feculent vapours and dense mists, as is the nature of 
 clouds, but they are formed of the most pure liquid and serene 
 element of air, and on this account they are not visible on 
 every occasion to the human eye, but only when by divine 
 command they allow themselves to be seen. For in them no 
 earthly density occupies the place of light, so as to encounter 
 our perception, and necessarily to arrest our visual ray by that 
 solidity ; but the lineaments of the bodies which they have 
 are rare, shining, and attenuated, to such a degree, that 
 they allow all the rays of our vision to pass through them 
 in consequence of their rarity, refract them by their bright- 
 ness, and baffle them by their subtlety. Hence that de- 
 scription of Minerva, in Homer, presenting herself in the 
 midst of the assembly of the Greeks, for the purpose of check- 
 ing the wrath of Achilles. If you will wait a moment I will 
 give you the Geeek line in Latin, and here it is on the spur of 
 the moment. Minerva, then, as I said, by the command of 
 Juno came, in order to moderate the wrath of Achilles, 
 
 " Seen by him only, by the rest unseen." * 
 
 Hence, also, Virgil's Jutuma, when in the midst of many thou- 
 sands of men, for the purpose of aiding her brother, 
 
 " With soldiers mingled, though by none perceived," f" 
 
 fully accomplishing that which the captain in Plautus boasted 
 of having effected by his shield, 
 
 " Which dazzled by its light the vision of his foes." 
 And not to discuss prolixly the rest of the instances, the poets, 
 from this multitude of demons, are accustomed, in a way by 
 
 • Unseen.'] — So<i perspicua est, ahorum nemo tuetur. Iliad, lib. i. v. 198, 
 t iEneid, lib. xii. 
 
THE GOD OF SOCEATES. 361 
 
 no means remote from the truth, to feign the Gods to be haters 
 and lovers of certain men, and to give prosperity and promotion 
 to some, and to oppose and afflict others. Hence, they are in- 
 fluenced by pity, moved by indignation, racked with vexation, 
 elated with joy, and are subject to all the affections of the 
 human mind; and are agitated by all the fluctuations of 
 human thought, with similar commotions of the spirit and 
 agitations of the feelings.* All which storms and tempests 
 are far alien from the tranquil state of the celestial Gods. For 
 all the celestials always enjoy the same state "of mind, with an 
 eternal equanimity, which in them is never driven from its 
 own fixed state either in the direction of pleasure or of pain ; 
 nor is it moved by any thing from its own everlasting rule, 
 towards any sudden line of conduct ; neither by any external 
 force, because there is nothing more powerful than deity ; nor 
 of their own impulse, because nothing is more perfect than 
 deity. 
 
 Ajid furthermore, how can he appear to have been per- 
 fect, who moves from a former condition of being to another 
 condition which is better ? And this the more especially, as 
 no one spontaneously embraces any thing new, unless he is 
 tired of what he had before ; for a new mode of proceeding 
 cannot be adopted, without disapproving the preceding modes. 
 Hence, it follows, that a God ought not to be employed in any 
 temporal functions either of beneficence or love ; and, therefore, 
 is neither to be influenced by indignation nor by pity, nor to 
 be disquieted by any anxiety, nor elated by any hilarity ; but 
 he is free from all the passions of the mind, so as never either 
 to grieve or to rejoice, nor on sudden impulse to will or 
 unwill.f 
 
 But all these, and other qualities of the like kind, properly 
 
 * Agitations of the feelings."] — According to the ancient theology, the 
 lowest order of those powers that are the perpetual attendants of the 
 Gods, preserve the characteristics of their leaders, though in a partia 
 manner, and are called by their names. Hence, the passions of the sub- 
 jects of their government are, in fables, proximately referred to these. 
 
 t Will or unwill.'] — " Divinity," says Sallust (in chap. xiv. of his 
 treatise on the Gods and the World), ** neither rejoices ; for that which 
 rejoices is also influenced by sorrow ; nor is angry ; for anger is passion : 
 nor is appeased by gifts ; for then he would be influenced by delight. Nor 
 £ it lawful that a divine nature should be well or ill affected from human 
 
362 APTJLEnJS ON 
 
 accord with the middle nature of demons.* For they are in- 
 termediate between us and the Gods, both in the place of their 
 habitation, and in their nature ; having immortality in common 
 with the Gods of heaven, and passions in common with sub- 
 ordinate beings. For they are capable, just as we are, of being 
 affected by all that soothes as well as all that moves the mind ; so 
 as to be stimulated by anger, influenced by pity, allured by gifts, 
 appeased by prayers, exasperated by affronts, soothed by ho- 
 nours, and swayed by all other circumstances, just in the same 
 way that we are. For, to embrace the nature of them in a de- 
 finition, demons are as to genus animated beings, as to mind 
 rational, as to feelings passive, as to body aerial, as to duration 
 eternal. Of these five characteristics which I have mentioned, 
 the three first are the same as those which we possess, the 
 fourth is peculiar to themselves, and the last they possess in 
 common with the immortal Gods, from whom they differ in 
 being subject to passion. Hence, according to my idea, I have 
 not absurdly called demons passive, because they are subject to 
 the same perturbations as we are : and on this account it is 
 that we may place some confidence in the different observances 
 of religions, and the various propitiatory offerings made in sacred 
 rites. There are likewise some among this number of Gods who 
 rejoice in victims, or ceremonies, or observances, nocturnal or 
 diurnal, public or performed in secret, replete with the greatest 
 joy or marked with extreme sadness. Thus, the Egyptian deities 
 are almost all of them delighted with lamentations, the Grecian in 
 general with dances, and those of the Barbarians with the sound 
 produced by cymbals, tambourines, and pipes. So, in like 
 manner, other points relating to sacred rites present consider- 
 able diversities, according to different regions ; as, for instance, 
 the crowds that swell the sacred processions, the mysteries, 
 the duties performed by the priests, and the observances per- 
 
 concerns : for the divinities are perpetually good and profitable, but are 
 never noxious, and ever subsist in the same uniform mode of being. But 
 we, when we are virtuous, are conjoined with the Gods through similitude : 
 but when vicious, we are separated from them through dissimilitude. 
 And while we live according to virtue, we partake of the Gods, but when 
 we become evil, we cause them to become our enemies ; not that they are 
 angry, but because guile prevents us from receiving the illuminations of 
 the Gods, and subjects us to the power of avenging demons." 
 
 * Of demons.]— -Thh, however, applies only to the lowest order of 
 demons. 
 
THE GOD OF SOCEATES. 363 
 
 formed by the devotees : and then, again, the images of the 
 Gods, and their insignia, the rites performed in, and the situa- 
 tions of, their temples, and the variety of blood and colour in 
 their victims. All these particulars are regulated and set forth 
 in the accustomed form peculiar to the usage of each place, so 
 much so that we have frequently ascertained by means of 
 dreams, oracles and prophecies especially, that the Divinities 
 have been indignant, if anything in their sacred rites has been 
 neglected through slothfulness or contumacy ; of which cir- 
 cumstances I have an abundance of examples. They are, how- 
 ever, so universally mentioned, and so generally known, that 
 no one could attempt to recount them, without omitting a great 
 number more than he mentioned. On this account, I shall 
 desist for the present from expending words upon these parti- 
 culars, which if they have not obtained assured credit with all 
 men, still, at least, are universally within the knowledge of all. 
 It will be more advisable, therefore, to discuss this point in the 
 Latin tongue, that there are kinds of demons emimerated by 
 the philosophers, in order that you may more clearly and more 
 fully come to an understanding on the presage of Socrates, and 
 his familiar demon. 
 
 'Now, according to a certain signification, the human soul, 
 even when it is still situate in the body, is called a demon. 
 
 " say, Euryalus, do Gods inspire 
 In minds this ardour, or does fierce desire 
 Rule as a God in its possessor's breast ?"* 
 
 If, then, this is the case, a longing of the soul that is of gooQ 
 tendency is a good demon. Hence it is that some think, as we 
 have already observed, that the blessed are called svda//j,ovsg, 
 eudcemones, the demon of whom is good, that is, whose mind is 
 perfect in virtue. You may call this demon in our language, 
 according to my mode of interpretation, by the name of 
 " Genius," whether quite correctly I am not altogether sure, 
 but at all events, at any risk you may so call it ; because this 
 God, who is the mind of every one,f though immortal, is never- 
 
 * These verses are taken from Book IX. of the iEneid. 
 
 f Evert/ one.'] — " The soul," says Proclus, in his Commentary on the 
 
 First Alcibiades, " that, through its similitude to the demoniacal genus, 
 
 produces energies more wonderful than those which belong to human na. 
 
 ture, and which suspends the whole of its life from demons, is a demon 
 
 according to habitude' (i. e. proximity or alliance). But an essential dc- 
 
364 APULEnrs on 
 
 theless, after a certain manner, generated with man ; so that 
 those prayers in which we implore the Genius, and which we 
 employ when we embrace the knees [genua] of those whom 
 we supplicate, seem to me to testify this connexion and 
 union, since they comprehend in two words the body and 
 the mind, through the communion and conjunction of which 
 we exist. 
 
 There is also another species of demons, according to a se- 
 cond signification, and this is the human soul, after it has per- 
 formed its duties in the present life, and quitted the body : I 
 find that this is called in the ancient Latin language by the 
 name of Lemur. Now, of these Lemures, the one who, under- 
 taking the guardianship of his posterity, dwells in a house 
 with propitious and tranquil influence, is called the "familiar" 
 Lar. But those who, having no fixed habitation of their own, 
 are punished with vague wandering, as with a kind of exile, 
 on account of the evil deeds of their life, are usually called 
 "Larvae," thus becoming a vain terror to the good, but a 
 source of punishment to the bad. But when it is uncertain 
 what is the allotted condition of any one of these, and whether 
 it is Lar or Larva, it is called a God Manes ; the name of God 
 being added for the sake of honor. For those only are called 
 Gods, who being of the number of the Lemures, and having 
 regulated the course of their life justly and prudently, have 
 afterwards been celebrated by men as divinities, and are uni- 
 versally worshipped with temples, and religious rites ; such, 
 for instance, as Amphiaraus in Boeotia, Mopsus in AMca, Osiris 
 in Egypt, and others in other nations, but Esculapius every- 
 where. All this distribution, however, has been made of 
 those demons, who once existed in a human body. 
 
 But there is another species of demons, more exalted and 
 august, not fewer in number, but far superior in dignity, who, 
 being for ever liberated from the bonds and conjunction of the 
 body, preside over certain powers. In the number of these 
 are Sleep and Love, who possess powers of a different nature ; 
 Love, of exciting to wakefulness, Sleep of lulling to rest. 
 
 mon is neither called a demon through habitude to secondary natures, nor 
 through an assimilation to something different from himself; but is al- 
 lotted this peculiarity from himself, and is defined by a certain summit, or 
 flower of essence, by appropriate powers, and by different modes of 
 energies." 
 
THE GOD OP SOCKATES. 365 
 
 From this more elevated order of demons, Plato is of opinion 
 that a peculiar demon is allotted to every man, to be a witness 
 and a guardian* of his conduct in life, who, without being 
 visible to any one, is always present, and is an overseer not 
 only of his actions, but even of his thoughts. Eut when life 
 is finished, and the soul has to return to its judges, then the 
 demon who has presided over it immediately seizes, and leads 
 it as his charge to judgment, and is there present with it while 
 it pleads its cause ; and censures it if it is guilty of any un- 
 truthfulness ; corroborates what it says, if it asserts what is 
 true ; and conformably to its testimony, sentence is passed. All 
 you, therefore, who hear this divine opinion of Plato, as ex- 
 plained by me, so adapt your minds to whatever you may have 
 to do, or to whatever may be the subject of your meditation, as 
 men who know that there is nothing concealed from those 
 guardians either within the mind or external to it ; but that 
 the demon scrupulously takes part in all these matters, sees 
 all things, understands all things, and dwells in the most 
 profound recesses of the mind, in the place of conscience.f 
 
 * A guardian."] — According to Plato, our guardian demons belong to 
 that order of demons which is arranged under the Gods that preside over 
 the ascent and descent of souls. Olympiodorus, in his Commentary on 
 the Phaedo of Plato, observes, " that there is one demon who leads the 
 soul to its judges from the present life ; another who is ministrant to the 
 judges, giving completion, as it were, to the sentence which is passed ; 
 and a third, who is again allotted the guardianship of life." 
 
 f Of conscience. 1 — In the original, ire ipsis peritissimis mentibus vice 
 conscientice diversetur. This is a most remarkable passage, since it per- 
 fectly accords with what Olympiodorus says of our allotted demon, in his 
 Scholia on the First Alcibiades of Plato, and contains a dogma concern- 
 ing this demon, which is only to be found explicitly maintained in these 
 Scholia. The words of Olympiodorus are as follows : — " This is what is 
 said by the interpreters [of Plato] concerning demons, and those which 
 are allotted to us. We, however, shall endeavour to discuss these parti- 
 culars in such a way as to reconcile them with what is at present said by 
 Plato ; for Socrates was condemned to take poison, in consequence of in- 
 troducing to young men novel demoniacal powers, and for thinking those 
 to be Gods which were not admitted to be so by the city. It must be 
 said, therefore, that the allotted demon is conscience, which is the supreme 
 ■flower of the soul, is guiltless in us, is an inflexible judge, and a witness 
 to Minos and Rhadamanthus of the transactions of the present life. This 
 also becomes the cause to us of our salvation, as always remaining in us 
 without guilt, and not assenting to the errors of the soul, but disdaining 
 them, and converting the soul to what is proper. You will not err, there* 
 
366 APULEirs ON 
 
 He of whom I speak is entirely our guardian, our individual 
 keeper, our watcher at home, our own proper regulator, a 
 
 fore, in calling the allotted demon conscience. But it is requisite to know 
 that, of conscience, one kind pertains to our gnostic powers, and which 
 is denominated conscience (co -intelligence), homonymously with the genus." 
 In this passage, as Creuzer, the editor of these Scholia, well observes, 
 something is wanting at the end ; and a part of what is deficient, I con- 
 ceive to be the words, to Sk tTri ralg ^wTiKatQ, i. e. but another kind to 
 our vital powers ; for the great division of the powers of the soul is into 
 the gnostic and vital. 
 
 The singularity in this dogma of Olympiodorus, respecting our allotted 
 demon, is, that in making it to be the same with conscience, if conscience 
 is admitted to be a part of the soul, the dogma of Plotinus must also be 
 admitted, " that the whole of our soul does not enter into the body, but 
 that something belonging to it always abides in the intelligible world." 
 But this dogma appears to have been opposed by all the Platonists pos- 
 terior to Plotinus ; and Proclus has confuted it in the last proposition of 
 his Elements of Theology ; for he there demonstrates, " that every par- 
 tial soul, in descending into generation [or the sublunary realms], descends 
 wholly ; nor does one part of it remain on high, and another part de- 
 scend." But his demonstration of this is as follows : — " For if something 
 pertaining to the soul remain on high, in the intelligible world, it will 
 always perceive intellectually, without transition, or transitively. But if 
 without transition, it will be intellect, and not a part of the soul, and 
 this partial soul will proximately participate of intellect [i. e. not through 
 the medium of demoniacal and divine souls]. This, however, is impos- 
 sible. But if it perceives intellectually with transition, from that which 
 always, and from that which sometimes, energizes intellectually, one 
 essence will be formed. This, however, is also impossible ; for these 
 always dilFer, as has been demonstrated. To which may be added, the 
 absurdity resulting from supposing that the summit of the soul is always 
 perfect, and yet does not rule over the other powers, and cause them to 
 be perfect. Every partial soul, therefore, wholly descends." Hence, if 
 Olympiodorus was likewise hostile to this dogma of Plotinus, it must 
 follow, according to him, that conscience is not a part of the soul, but 
 something superior to it, and dwelling in its summit. Perhaps, therefore, 
 Olympiodorus on this account calls the allotted demon the supreme 
 flower of the soul. For the summit, or the one of the soul, is frequently 
 called by Platonic writers, to dv9og, the flower, but not aKQov dv9oQ, 
 the supreme flower ; so that the addition of supreme W\\\ distinguish the 
 presiding daemon from the summit of the soul. The place in which this 
 dogma of Plotinus is to be found, is at the end of his treatise on the 
 Descent of the Soul. 
 
 I oidy add, that the celebrated poet Menander appears to have been 
 the source of this dogma, that conscience is our allotted demon ; for one 
 of the Excerptae from his fragments is, " To every mortal conscieAce \i 
 n God.'*— Taylor. 
 
THE GOD OF SOCRATES, 367 
 
 searcher into our inmost fibres, our constant observer, our in- 
 separable witness, a reprover of our evil actions, an approver 
 of our good ones ; if he is becomingly attended to, sedulously 
 examined and devoutly worshipped, in the way in which he 
 was worshipped by Socrates in justice and in innocence ; he is 
 our forewarner in uncertainty, our monitor in matters of 
 doubt, our defender in danger, and our assistant in need. He 
 is able also by dreams, and by tokens, and perhaps even 
 openly, when necessity demands it, to avert from you evil, to 
 increase your blessings, to aid you when depressed, to support 
 you when falling, to lighten your darkness, to regulate your 
 prosperity, and modify your adversity. 
 
 What wonder, then, if Socrates, who was a man perfect in 
 the highest degree, and wise even by the testimony of Apollo, 
 should know and venerate this his God ; and that hence, this 
 Lar, his keeper, and nearly, as I may say, his co-mate and his 
 domestic associate, should repel from him everything which 
 ought to be repelled, foresee what ought to be foreseen, and 
 forewarn him of what he ought to be forewarned of, if at any 
 time, the functions of wisdom falling short, he stood in need, 
 not of counsel, but foreknowledge ; in order that when he was 
 vacillating through doubt, he might take a firm stand through 
 being forewarned. For there are many things respecting 
 which even wise men have recourse to diviners and oracles. 
 Do you not very clearly perceive in Homer, as in a kind of 
 large miiTor, these two properties of divination and of wisdom 
 separated widely from each other ? For when those two pillars 
 of the whole expedition disagreed, Agamemnon potent in sway, 
 and Achilles powerful in battle, and a man famed for his elo- 
 quence and renowned for his skill, was wanting, who might 
 allay the pride of the son of Atreus, and curb the anger of the son 
 of Peleus, command the attention of both by the weight of his 
 character, admonish them by examples, and soothe them by his 
 words ; who, then, on such an occasion undertook to speak ? 
 Why, Nestor, the Pylian orator, who was so bland in his elo- 
 quence, wary through experience, and venerable for his age ; 
 who was known by all to have a body weakened by years, but 
 a mind vigorous in counsel, and words flowing with honeyed 
 sweetness. 
 
 In like manner, when in dubious and adverse circumstances, 
 spies are to be chosen, to penetrate into the camp of the 
 
368 APULEIUS ON" 
 
 enemy at midniglit, are not Ulysses and Diomedes selected for 
 that purpose, as counsel and aid, mind and hand, spirit and 
 sword ? But, on the other hand, when the Greeks are detained 
 in Aulis, kept back by the winds, and through weariness are 
 shrinking from the difficulties of the war ; when the means of 
 proceeding, the tranquillity of the sea, and the clemency of the 
 winds, have to be ascertained by means of the indications of 
 the entrails, the courses taken by birds, and the food de- 
 voured by serpents ;* then were those two supreme summits of 
 the Grecian wisdom, the Ithacan and the Pylian, both of them 
 silent ; but Calchas, who was far more skilful in divining, as 
 soon as he had surveyed the birds, and the altars, and the tree, 
 immediately through his divination appeased the tempests, 
 brought the fleet out to the sea, and foretold a war which 
 should last ten years. Just so in the Trojan army also, when 
 affairs required the aid of divination, that wise senate is silent, 
 nor does either Hicetaon, Lampus, or Clytius, presume to give 
 any opinion ; but all of them listen in silence, either to the 
 distasteful auguries of Helenus, or to the discredited predic- 
 tions of Cassandra. After the same manner, Socrates too, if at 
 any time advice not within the province of wisdom was re- 
 quisite, was then governed by the prophetic power of his 
 dmeon ; and he was sedulously attentive to his admonitions, 
 and on that account was acceptable in a far higher degree to 
 his God. 
 
 The reason also, has been in some measure already stated, 
 why the demon of Socrates was generally in the habit of for- 
 bidding him to do certain things, but never exhorted him to 
 the performance of any act. For Socrates, being of himself a 
 man exceedingly perfect, and prompt to the performance of all 
 requisite duties, never stood in need of any one to exhort him ; 
 though sometimes he required one to forbid him, if danger 
 happened to lurk in any of his undertakings ; in order that, 
 being admonished, he might use due precaution, and desist for 
 the present from his attempt, either to resume it more safely 
 
 * Devoured by serpents.'] — Apuleius here alhides to the serpent which, 
 in the presence of the Greeks at Aulis, ascended into a plane tree, and 
 devoured eight little sparrows, together with their mother. Whence 
 Calchas prophesied that tlie Trojan war would last nine years, but that 
 the city would be captured in the tenth year. See the Iliad, lib. ii. 
 T. 300. 
 
THE GOD OP SOCEATES. 369 
 
 at a future period, or enter upon it in some other way. On 
 occasions of this kind, he used to say, " That he heard a cer- 
 tain voice, which proceeded from the divinity." !For so it is 
 asserted by Plato ; and let no one suppose that he was in the 
 habit of deriving omens from the ordinary conversation of men. 
 Once, for example, when he was with Phsedrus, beyond the 
 precincts of the city, under the covering of a shady tree, 
 and at a distance from all overlookers, he perceived a sign 
 which announced to him that he must not pass over the small 
 stream of the river Ilissus, until he had appeased Love, who 
 was indignant at hia censure of him, by a recantation.* And 
 then, besides, if he had been an observer of omens, he would 
 sometimes also have received positive encouragement from them, 
 as we see frequently the case with many of those, who, through 
 a too superstitious observance of omens, are not directed by their 
 own minds, but by the words of others ; and who creeping 
 about the lanes, gather counsel from the remarks of strangers, 
 and, if I may use the expression, do not think with the under- 
 standing, but with the ears. 
 
 But be this as it may, it is certain that those who hear the 
 words of soothsayers, generally receive a voice with their ears, 
 concerning the nature of which they have no doubt, and which 
 they know to proceed from the human mouth. But Socrates 
 did not simply say that he heard a voice, but a " certain 
 voice," transmitted to him : by which addition, you must 
 certainly understand, that neither an ordinary nor a human 
 voice is signified ; for had it been so, it would have been no 
 use to say a " certain" voice, but rather '* a voice," '' or the 
 voice of some one," as the courtesan in Terence says, 
 •' I thought just now I heard the captain's voice,"+ 
 
 But he who says that he heard a certain voice, is either igno- 
 rant whence that voice originated, or is in some doubt con- 
 'ierning it, or shows that it had something unusual and mys- 
 terious about it, as Socrates did of that voice, which he said 
 was transmitted to him opportunely and from a divine source. 
 And, indeed, I think that he used to perceive indications of his 
 demon, not only with his ears, but even with his eyes ; for he 
 
 * Recantation. ] — See the Phaedrus of Plato. 
 
 + Voice.] —   Audire vocem visa sum raodo militis.' This verse is from 
 the Eunuch of Terence. 
 
 B B 
 
370 APFLEins ON- 
 
 very frequently declared that not a voice, but a divine sign, 
 had been presented to him. This sign too might have been 
 the form of his demon, which Socrates alone beheld, just as, 
 in Homer, Achilles beheld Minerva. 
 
 I suppose that most of you will with difficulty believe what I 
 have just said, and will greatly wonder what was the form of 
 the demon Socrates was in the habit of seeing. Aristotle, 
 however, who is a pretty good authority, I think, informs us that 
 it was usual with the Pythagoreans to express great surprise 
 if any one denied that he had ever seen a demon. If, there- 
 fore, the power of beholding a divine form may be possessed 
 by any one, why might it not, in an especial degree, fall to 
 the lot of Socrates, whom the dignity of wisdom rendered 
 equal to the very highest divinity? For nothing is more 
 similar and more acceptable to Deity, than a man intellectually 
 good in a perfect degree, for he as much excels other men as 
 he himself is surpassed by the immortal Gods. Do we not, 
 then, ourselves feel elevated by the example and mention of 
 Socrates ? And ought we not to devote ourselves to the feli- 
 citous study of a like philosophy, and stand in awe of like 
 Divinities ? A study from which we allow ourselves to be 
 drawn away, for what reason I know not. And nothing is 
 there which excites in me so much surprise, as that all men 
 should desire to live most happily, and should know that they 
 cannot so live in any other way than by cultivating the mind, 
 and yet leave their minds uncultivated. Just so, if any one 
 wishes to see clearly, it is requisite that he should pay atten- 
 tion to his eyes by which he sees ; if he desires to run swiftly, 
 attention must be paid to the feet by which he runs ; and so, 
 too, if you wish to be a stout pugilist, your arms must be 
 strengthened with Avhich you engage in that exercise. So it 
 is with all the other members ; the care of each must be made 
 your study. And, as all men may easily see that this is true, 
 I cannot sufficiently account to myself, and wonder to the 
 extent that the thing deserves, why they do not, with the aid 
 of reason, cultivate their minds. Eor this art of living is 
 equally necessary for all ; whereas the same is not the case 
 with the art of painting, nor with the art of singing, whieli 
 any worthy man may despise, without any censure upon his 
 understanding, without baseness, and without disgrace. 1 
 know not how to play on the flute like Isnienias, still I fee'. 
 
THE GOD OF SOCRATES. 371 
 
 no shame that I am not a player on the flute : I know not 
 how to paint in colours like Apelles, nor to carve like Lysip- 
 pus, still I am not ashamed that I am not an artist ; and the 
 same as to other arts, not to recount them all individually ; 
 you are at liberty to be ignorant of them, and yet not to feel 
 ashamed. But, on the other hand, be good enough to say, I 
 know not how to live aright as Socrates, as Plato, and as 
 Pythagoras lived, and I feel no shame that I know not how to 
 live aright. This you will never dare to say. 
 
 It is, however, especially to be wondered at, that people 
 should still neglect to learn those things of which they by no 
 means wish to appear ignorant, and shun at one and the same 
 moment, both acquaintance with and ignorance of the same 
 art. Hence, if you examine their daily outlay, you will 
 find that they are prodigally profuse in their ordinary ex- 
 penditure, but bestow nothing on themselves; I mean on 
 proper attention to their demon, which proper attention is 
 nothing else than the secret obligations of philosophy. They 
 build sumptuous villas, no doubt, richly decorate their houses, 
 and collect a numerous household ; but in all these, and amidst 
 such vast affluence, there is nothing to be ashamed of but the 
 master himself, and with good reason ; for they have an accu- 
 mulation of things which they have collected with exquisite 
 care, while they themselves wander about among them, rude, 
 uncultivated, and ignorant. 
 
 Accordingly, you will find the things on which they have 
 lavished their patrimony, to be most pleasing to the view, and 
 most exquisitely built ; villas raised that rival cities, houses 
 decorated like temples, most numerous retinues of servants, 
 with carefully curled locks, costly furniture, every thing be- 
 tokening affluence, every thing bespeaking opulence, every 
 thing bearing marks of refinement, except the master himself; 
 who alone, just like Tantalus, needy, poor, and in want in the 
 midst of his riches, though he does not snatch at retreating 
 fruit, nor endeavour to quench his thirst with shifting water, 
 still hungers and thirsts for want of true beatitude, that is to 
 say, a genuine life,* and a happy and discreet existence. For 
 he does not perceive that it is usual to look upon rich men in 
 the same way that we do horses when we buy them ; for in 
 
 * Genuine life.'] — In the common text, ' secundae vitse;' but we read, 
 with the Roman edition, ' sincerae vitae.' 
 
 B B 2 
 
372 APULEITJS ON 
 
 purchasing horses we do not look to the trappings, nor the 
 decorations of the belt, nor do we contemplate the riches of 
 the neck with all its ornaments, and examine whether chains 
 of various patterns, and made of silver, gold, or gems, are 
 hanging from it ; whether elaborate baubles surround the head 
 and neck ; whether the bits are embossed, the saddle painted, 
 and the girths gilt ; but all this outside show being removed, 
 we survey the bare horse itself, and direct our attention only 
 to his body and his temper, in order to ascertain whether he 
 is of handsome form, vigorous for the race, and strong for 
 purposes of carriage. In the first place, we consider whether 
 there is in his body 
 
 " A head that's slender, and a belly small, 
 A back obese, and animated breast, 
 In brawny flesh luxuriant."* 
 
 And besides, whether a twofold spine passes along his loins ; 
 for I would have him not only to carry me swiftly, but to 
 afford me an easy seat. 
 
 In a similar manner, therefore, in examining men, do not 
 take into account these foreign particulars, but closely consider 
 the man himself, and look upon him in a state of poverty, as 
 was my Socrates. But I call those things foreign which our 
 parents have produced, and which Fortune has bestowed, none 
 of which do I mingle with the praises of my Socrates ; no 
 nobility of birth, no high pedigree, no long line of ancestors, 
 no envied riches, for all these, I say, are foreign. It is glory 
 sufficient derived from Protaonius, if he was such a man that 
 he was not a disgrace to liis grandson. In like manner, may 
 you enumerate every thing of a foreign nature. Is he of noble 
 birth ? You praise his parents. Is he rich ? I put no trust 
 in Fortune ; nor do I adinire these things a bit the more. Is 
 he strong ? He will be weakened by sickness. Is he swift 
 in the race ? He will fall into old age. Is he beautiful r 
 "Wait a little, and he will be so no longer. But is he well in- 
 structed, and extremely learned in the pursuits of philosophy, 
 and wise, and skilled in the knowledge of good, as much as it 
 is possible for man to be ? Now, then, at last you praise the 
 man himself. For this is neither an hereditary possession 
 from his father, nor depending on chance, nor yet on the suf- 
 frages of the people, nor subject to bodily decay, nor mutable 
 * These lines are taken from Book III. of the Georgics of Virg;!!. 
 
THE GOD OF SOCKATES. 373 
 
 through age. All these my Socrates possessed, and therefore 
 cared not for the possession of other things. Why, then, do 
 not you apply yourself to the study of wisdom, or, at least, 
 strive that you may hear nothing of an alien nature in your 
 praises? but that he who wishes to compliment you, may 
 praise you in the same manner as Accius praises Ulysses, in 
 his Philoctetes, where he says, at the beginning of that tragedy 
 " Fam'd hero, in a little island born, 
 Of celebrated name and powerful mind, 
 Once to the Grecian ships war's leading light, 
 And to the Dardan race th' avenger dire. 
 Son of Laertes." 
 
 He mentions his father last of all. But you have heard al- 
 the praises of that man ; Laertes, Anticlea, and Acrisius, claim 
 no share of it. The whole of the praises are, as you see, a 
 possession belonging to Ulysses alone. Is'or does Homer teach 
 you anything else with regard to the same Ulysses, in always 
 representing Wisdom as his companion, whom he poetically 
 calls Minerva. Hence, attended by her, he encounters all 
 terrific dangers, and rises superior to all adverse circumstances. 
 For, assisted by her, he entered the cavern of the Cyclops, but 
 escaped from it ; saw the oxen of the Sun, but abstained from 
 them, and descended to the realms beneath, but emerged from 
 them. With the same Wisdom for his companion, he passed 
 by Scylla, and was not seized by her ; he was surrounded by 
 Charybdis, and was not retained by her ; he drank the cup of 
 Circe, and was not transformed ; he came to the Lotophagi, 
 yet did not remain with them ; he heard the Sirens, yet did 
 not approach them.* 
 
 * Approach them.'] — The concluding part of this treatise on the God 
 of Socrates has a great resemblance to the conclusion of the dissertation 
 of Maximus Tyrius, entitled, Whether there is a Sect in Philosophy, 
 according to Homer ? and which is as follows : " And with respect to 
 Ulysses himself, do you not see how virtue, and the confidence which he 
 acquires through her aid, preserve him, while he opposes art to all-various 
 calamities ? This is the moly in the island of Circe, this is the fillet in 
 the sea, this delivered him from the hands of Polyphemus, this led him 
 from Hades, this constructed for him a raft, this persuaded Alcinous, this 
 enabled him to endure the blows of the suitors, the wrestling with Irus, 
 and the insolence of Melanthius. This liberated his palace, this avenged 
 the injuries of his wife, this made the man a descendant of Jupiter, like 
 the Gods, and such a one as the happy man is according to Plato." 
 
 END OF API7LEITJS ON THE GOD OF SOCEATES. 
 
THE 
 
 FLORIDA OF APULEIUS- 
 
 I. 
 
 It is a common custom with religious travellers, wheu tlioy 
 come upon some grove or sacred place, to beseech fovour, offer 
 up prayers, and sit down a while; in like manner, now 
 that I have entered this most hallowed city, though I am in 
 great haste, I must entreat favour, make oration, and cheelc 
 my hurry. For the traveller can find no fitter motives for 
 a religious pause in an altar decked with flowers, or a dell 
 shaded with foliage, or an oak loaded with horns, or a beech 
 festooned with skins, or even a consecrated and enclosed hil- 
 lock, or a trunk chiselled into the form of an image, or a turf 
 redolent of libation, or a stone bedewed with ointment. These 
 are small things indeed, and though adored by the few who 
 scrutinise them, are passed unnoticed by those who are not 
 aware of them. 
 
 II. 
 
 But not so my predecessor, Socrates, who, when he had 
 looked for some time upon a handsome but silent youth, ex- 
 claimed : ** Say something, that I may see you." Socrates saw 
 not a silent man ; for he thought that men were to be considered 
 not with the eyes, but with the rays of the intellect and the 
 gaze of the soul. In this he diff'ered in opinion with the 
 soldier in Plautus, who says : '* One eye-witness is worth more 
 than ten ear- witnesses." Naj^, he held the converse of this 
 verse with regard to the examination of men : ** One ear- 
 witness is worth more than ten eye-witnesses." But if the 
 judgments formed by the eyes were more valued than those of 
 the mind, the palm of wisdom would be due to the eagle. For 
 we men can neither discern things far away nor very near us, 
 but are all in a measure blind ; and if j^ou consider us only 
 
THE FLORIDA OF APULEIIJS. 375 
 
 with regard to our eyes, and onr earthly and dull vision, truly 
 the great poet has well said that there is a mist, as it were, 
 before our eyes, and that we cannot see clearly beyond a stone's 
 throw. But the eagle when he has soared aloft as high as the 
 clouds, sweeping with his wings all that space in which it 
 rains and snows, a height beyond which ttcrs *& ao place for 
 the thunder or lightning, on the very base of the ether and 
 summit of the tempest, so to speak ; the eagle when he has 
 soared thither, glides along bodily, with a gentle inclination left 
 or right, turning his sail-spread wings in whatever direction he 
 pleases, using his tail as a small helm. Looking down thence 
 on all below him, with unwearied rowing of his wings, and with 
 his flight stayed awhile, he remains at gnze suspended nearly in 
 the same spot, and considers in what direction he shall swoop 
 down on his prey like a thunderbolt ; seeing at one glance, 
 himself unseen in the heavens, cattle in the holds, wild beasts 
 on the mountains, and men in the towns, he considers where 
 he may pierce with his beak or hook witli his talons a heed- 
 less lamb or timid hare, or any living thing that chance mny 
 ofl'er him to tear and devour. 
 
 III. 
 
 Hyagnis, as we have heard say, was the father and teacher 
 of Marsyas the flute-player, and surpassed all in his perform- 
 ance in an age as yet uncultivated in music ; not that he 
 played, indeed, with such soul- subduing tone as later musicians, 
 or with such manifold modulations, or on a pipe of so many 
 holes ; for the art had been but recently invented, and was 
 then in its infancy. l!^othing can be perfect in the beginning, 
 but in almost all cases some rudiment of the promised thing 
 precedes its consummation. Before Hyagnis appeared then, 
 most people could do no more than, like the shepherd or neat- 
 herd in Yirgil, 
 
 " Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw."* 
 And if there was any one who appeared to have made some- 
 Avhat more progress in the art, even he too, followed the common 
 practice of playing only on one pipe, just as on one trumpet. 
 Hyagnis was the first who separated the hands in playing ; the 
 first who gave breath to two pipes ; the first who mingled a 
 
 * Grate, Sfc] — This line, from Milton's Zj^a^a*, is a pretty close trans- 
 lation of one from Virgil's third eclogue. 
 
376 THE FLOEFD* OF ^iTLEIUS. 
 
 shrill and a grave tone in musical concert, by means of left 
 and right apertures. His son Marsyas, when he had acquired 
 the paternal art of minstrelsy — a Phrygian and a barbarian 
 he was, a rough brutish -looking fellow, hirsute, with a dirty 
 beard, covered with bristles and hairs, — is said (oh monstrous !) 
 to have contended with Apollo : a Thersites with a beautiful 
 youth, a clown with a scholar, a brute with a god ! The Muses 
 with Minerva sat as judges by way of a joke, to laugh at 
 the barbarity of that monster, and no less to punish his stu- 
 pidity. But Marsyas, not perceiving that he was made a 
 laughing stock, which is the greatest proof of folly, before he 
 began to play, sputtered out some barbarous nonsense about 
 himself and Apollo, praising himself because he had short 
 crisp hair, a squalid beard, a shaggy breast, was in art a flute- 
 player, and in fortune needy ; on the other hand, ridiculous to 
 relate, he decried the opposite merits as so many faults in 
 Apollo, saying: that Apollo had unshorn locks, a handsome 
 face, and a smooth body ; that he was of manifold proficiency 
 in art, and opulent in fortune. In the first place, said he, his 
 locks flow freely, those in front being drawn forward, those be- 
 hind tossed back ; his whole form is beautiful ; his limbs are 
 smooth and fair ; his tongue is prophetic, and endowed with 
 equal eloquence in prose and verse. "What ! his garment is 
 fine in texture, soft to the touch, and glowing with purple. 
 ^Vhat ! his lyre is ruddy with gold, white with ivory, and 
 variegated with gems. What ! he trills most skilfully and most 
 sweetly. *' All these prettinesses," he says, " are by no means 
 becoming to virtue, but adapted to luxury, whereas the native 
 quality of my own person exhibits the greatest comeliness." 
 The Muses laughed when they heard things like these, which 
 a wise man might well desire, charged as crimes against Apollo ; 
 and v/hen the flute-player had been beaten in the contest, they 
 left him, like a two-footed bear, stripped of his skin, with his 
 flesh naked and torn. Thus Marsyas played for punishmeni 
 and suffered it. But Apollo was ashamed of so low a victory. 
 
 lY. 
 
 Antigenidas was a certain flute-player, a honeyed modulator 
 bf every tone, and a skilled performer in every mode, whether 
 it were the simple ^olian, the varied Asian, the plaintive 
 Lydian, the religious Phrygian, or the warlike Dorian. Being 
 
V, 
 
 THE FLORIDA OP APULEIUIL^ CAL\^^ -^^^'^ 
 
 thus a most distinguished flutist, he used to saj^ that nothing 
 so vexed and fretted his mind, as, that the horn-players at fune- 
 rals were called flutists. But he would have patiently endured 
 this community of names if he had seen mimes. Then he 
 would have seen some commanding, others suff'ering hlows, 
 and all dressed nearly alike in purple. So also if he saw our 
 games : for there too he would see a man preside, a man fight. 
 He would see the toga employed hoth for the registering of a 
 vow and for a funeral. Likewise he would see corpses covered, 
 and philosophers clad with a pallium. 
 
 V. 
 
 For you have assembled in the theatre with good will, as 
 knowing that the place does not detract from the weight of 
 what is delivered there ; but that the chief thing to be con- 
 sidered is, what you find in the theatre. For if it is a mime, 
 you may laugh ; if it is a rope-dancer, you may be alarmed ; 
 if it is a comedy, you may applaud ; if it is a philosopher, you 
 may learn. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Indians are a populous nation of vast extent of terri- 
 tory, situated far from us to the East, near the reflux of the 
 ocean and the rising of the sun, under the first beams of the 
 stars, and at the extreme verge of the earth, beyond the learned 
 Egyptians, and the superstitious Jews, and the mercantile Na- 
 bathaeans, and the flowing robed Arsacidae, and the Ityraeans, 
 poor in crops, and the Arabians rich in perfumes. Now I do 
 not so much admire the heaps of ivory of these Indians, their 
 harvests of pepper, their bales of cinnamon, their tempered 
 steel, their mines of silver, and their golden streams ; nor that 
 among them the Ganges, the greatest of all rivers, 
 
 Rolls like a monarch on his course, and pours 
 His eastern waters through a hundred streams, 
 Mingling with ocean by a hundred mouths ; 
 
 nor that those Indians, though situated at the dawn of day, 
 are yet of the colour of night ; nor that among them immense 
 di'agons fight with enormous elephants, with parity of danger, 
 to their mutual destruction ; for they hold them enwrapped in 
 their slippery folds, so that when the elephants cannot dis- 
 engage their legs, or in any way extricate themselves from the 
 
378 THE FLORIDA 0¥ APULEIUS. 
 
 seal J' bonds of the tenacioiis dragons, they are forced to seek 
 revenge from the fall of their own bulk, and to crush their 
 "captors by the mass of their bodies. There are among them 
 also various kinds of inhabitants. I will rather speak of the 
 marvellous things of men than of those of nature. There is 
 among them a race who know nothing but how to tend cattle ; 
 whence they are called neatherds. There are races clever in 
 trafficking with merchandise, and others stout in fight, whether 
 with arrows or hand-to-hand with swords. There is also 
 among them a pre-eminent race called Gymnosophists. These 
 I exceedingly admire, for they are men skilled not in propa- 
 gating the vine, nor in grafting trees, nor in tilling the 
 ground. They know not how to cultivate the fields, or to wash 
 gold, or to break horses, or to tame bulls, or to shear or feed 
 sheep or goats. What is it then ? They know one thing in- 
 stead of all these. They cultivate wisdom, both the aged pro- 
 fessors and the young students. Nothing do I so much applaud 
 in them as that they hate torpor of mind and sloth. Accordingly, 
 when the table is laid, before the meal is served up, all the 
 young men assemble round it from their several places and 
 occupations, and the masters enquire what good thing each has 
 done that day since sunrise. Thereupon one relates that hav- 
 ing been chosen arbitrator between two, he has allayed their 
 quarrel, restored good will, cleared up suspicion, and changed 
 them from enemies to friends. Another states that he lias 
 obeyed some command or another of his parents ; and another, 
 that he has found out something by his own reflection, or from 
 another's teaching. In short, all tell their tale. He who has 
 no cause to offer why he should dine, is turned out of doors, 
 and sent about his business without a dinner. 
 
 VII. 
 
 It was the will of Alexander, that modt excellent of all 
 kings, who received the surname of the Great for his achieve- 
 ments, that he who had attained that singular glorj^, should 
 never be named without praise. For he alone, since the begin- 
 ning of time, as far as human memory extends, having pos- 
 sessed himself invincibly of the dominion of* the world, was 
 greater than his fortune, and both induced its vast successes 
 by his valour, and equalled them by his merits, and surpassed 
 them by his superior greatness. He alone was so illustiioua 
 
ma FLORIDA OF APIJLEIUS. 879 
 
 beyond all rivalry, that no one can dare to hope for his excel- 
 lence or covet his fortune. You would be wearied with ad- 
 miring the lofty deeds of that great Alexander, Avhether those 
 which he achieved in war, or those which he wisely accom- 
 plished in peace ; ' all which, my Clemens, the most learned 
 and sweetest of poets, has undertaken to illustrate in a very 
 beautiful poem. iN'ow this is a most signal fact respecting 
 Alexander, that in order to have his image descend the more 
 authentically to posterity, he would not allow it to be vulgar- 
 ised by many artists, but commanded throughout all his em- 
 pire, that no one should presumptuously make the king's like- 
 ness in brass, or in painting, or with the graver ; but that 
 Polycktus alone should mould it in brass, Apelles alone deli- 
 neat-e it in colours, Pyrgoteles alone should elaborate it with 
 the graver. Besides these three artists, far the most eminent 
 in their several kinds, if any other was found to have put his 
 hands to the king's most sacred image, he should be punished 
 just as one who had committed sacrilege. The consequence 
 of that fear imposed on all was, that Alexander was presented 
 with singular excellence in all his likenesses ; so that in all 
 statues, pictures, and engraved gems, he appears with the 
 same vigorous aspect of a most intrepid warrior, the same 
 genius of a mighty hero, the same beauty and freshness of 
 youth, the same noble expansion of forehead. I^ow I would 
 that in like manner, it were a valid decree of philosopliy that 
 no one should presumptuously attempt its likeness; that a few 
 good artists, and tliose soundly instructed, should consider tlie 
 study of philosophy in every way, and that no rude, squalid, 
 ignorant pretenders should imitate philosophers as far as re- 
 gards their garb, and should disgrace that royal science which 
 was devised both for speaking well and living well, by talk- 
 ing ill and living no better. Both which things are indeed 
 very easy ; for what can be easier than rabidness of tongue and 
 baseness of conduct, the former from contempt of others, the 
 latter from self contempt ? Tor to conduct oneself basely i-s 
 self- contempt ; to vilify others barbarously, is insolence to- 
 wards one's hearers. Does he not insult you in the highest 
 degree who supposes you to delight in slanders against any 
 good man ; who thinks you do not understand bad and vicious 
 words, or that if you understand, you like them ? Where is 
 the clown, the porter, or the pothouse sot, so silly that if 
 
380 THB' FLOEIDA OF APULEIUS. 
 
 he had a mind to put on the pallium, he could rail in better 
 terms ? 
 
 YIII. 
 For he owes more to you than to his dignity, although that 
 is not common to him with others. For out of countless men 
 there are but few senators, and of senators few are of noble 
 birth ; and of those consular men few are good, and of those 
 good, moreover, few are learned. But to speak only of his 
 dignity, its insignia are not to be lightly assumed either in 
 the garments or the foot-dress. 
 
 IX. 
 
 If perchance in this fair assembly sits any malicious person 
 of the number of those my enemies — since in a great city that 
 kind of men is also found who like rather to rail at their betters 
 than to imitate them, and who affect enmity towards those 
 whom they cannot hope to resemble ; men whose own names 
 being obscure, wish to become known through mine ; if, then, 
 any of those croakers has come hither to be a blot upon this 
 brilliant assembly, I should like him to run his eyes for a 
 while over this incredible concourse ; and having contemplated 
 such a crowd as never before my time was seen gathered to- 
 gether to listen to a philosopher, let him compute in his own 
 mind, how great a risk of sustaining his reputation is here en- 
 countered, by one who has not been used to be contemned ; 
 since it is an arduous and very difficult thing to satisfy even 
 the moderate expectations of a few, especially for me, whom my 
 acquired reputation, and your favourable predisposition towards 
 me, suffer not to utter any thing negligently, and without 
 deep reflection. For which of you would forgive me a single 
 solecism r Which of you would absolve me for one syllable 
 of barbarous pronunciation ? Which of you would permit me 
 to jabber, like crazy people, any unauthorised and corrupt 
 words that come uppermost ? Yet these faults you easily and 
 very justly pardon in others. But every phrase of mine you 
 scrutinise keenly, weigh it carefully, test it by the file and the 
 rule, and again compare it with the lathe and the buskin. * 
 Lowliness is as much excused as dignity is difficult to sus- 
 
 * The lathe and the buskin.'] — That is, you require it to be as smooth as 
 if turned in the lathe, and to have the sententious gravity of tragedy 
 (the buskin). 
 
THE FLOEIDA OF APULEirS. 381 
 
 tain. I acknowledge then my difficulty, and do not desire 
 you to think otherwise of it. Nor let a paltry and spurious 
 (Similitude mislead you, since, as I have often said, certain 
 cloaked lies^' walk about. The crier ascends the tribunal with 
 the proconsul, and he too is seen there dressed in the toga ; 
 and indeed he stands there a long while, or he walks about, 
 or he bawls often with all his might ; but the proconsol him- 
 self speaks in a moderate tone, rarely, and in a sitting pos- 
 ture, and he generally reads from a tablet. For the crier's 
 garrulous voice is the function of his office ; but the tablet 
 is the proconsol' s sentence, which when once read, cannot be 
 lengthened or shortened by a single letter, but as soon as it is 
 pronounced, it is inserted in the registry of the province. I, 
 in my degree, suffer something like this in my studies. For 
 whatevt^r I have delivered to you is immediately taken up and 
 recited, nor is it free to me to recall any part of it, or to 
 change or correct it in any respect. Wherefore, I must be 
 the more scrupulous in speaking, and that too not in one kind 
 of matter only. For there are extant more works of mine in 
 the Muses than of Hippias in art. "What that means, give me 
 your attention, and I will diligently and accurately set forth. 
 
 This Hippias was one of the sophists, superior to all in the 
 number of the arts he knew, inferior to none in eloquence. 
 He was contemporary with Socrates, a native of Elis, of what 
 family is not known. His glory was great, his fortune small ; 
 but his genius was great, his memory excellent, his studies 
 various, his rivals many. This Hippias came once to Pisa to 
 the Olympic games, where he was not less remarkable for the 
 ornaments he wore than for the fact that he had wrought 
 them himself. Of all those things he had with him he had 
 purchased not one, but had made them with his own hands ; 
 the garments in which he was clad, the shoes on his feet, and 
 everything he carried on his person. For clothing he had an 
 inner tunic of very fine texture, of triple thread, and double 
 purple dye. He had wrought it single-handed at home. He 
 was girt with a belt adorned with a sort of Babylonian pic- 
 ture of admirable colours. Nor had any one helped him in 
 that work. His outer covering was a white cloak, which 
 also is known to have been his own handiwork. Also he 
 
 * Cloaked lies-l — Impostors who are bearded and cloaked like philo- 
 sophers. 
 
382 THE FLORIDA OP APULEIUS. 
 
 had put together the soles of his own foot gear ; and as for the 
 gold ring on his left hand, bearing a most skilfully cut seal 
 which he often exhibited, he himself had rounded the ring, 
 and had closed the pallet, and engraved the gem. I have not 
 yet told all he did. For I shall not be loth to relate what he 
 was not ashamed to display, Avho asserted in a large assembly 
 that he had also made himself an oil flask which he carried 
 about him, of a lenticular form, of a rounded outline and 
 small convexity ; and with it a neat little scraper to be used 
 in the bath, with a convenient handle and tubulated face, so 
 that it might be held steadily in the hand, and that the sweat 
 might flow out of it in a stream. Who will not extol a man 
 skilled in so manj^ arts ; illustrious for such manifold know- 
 ledge ; a Dgedalus in the use of so many tools ? Certainly, I 
 admire Hippias, but I would rather rival the fecundity of his 
 genius in matters of learning, than in multitudinous appliances 
 for personal use. 
 
 I confess, indeed, that I am not expert in handicraft arts ; 
 that I buy my garments at the clothier's — these shoes at the 
 shoe-maker's ; that I. wear no ring, and hold gems and gold of 
 no more account than lead and pebbles ; that I buy a scraper, a 
 flask, and other bath utensils at the shops. I am far from 
 denying that I do not know how to use the loom, or the awl, 
 or the file, or the lathe, or any such implements ; instead of 
 these, I confess I prefer to compose with a writing reed, poems 
 of all kinds adapted to the laurel branch,* the lyre, the sock, 
 the buskin ; likewise satires and enigmas ; likewise various 
 histories ; as, also, orations praised by the eloquent, and dia- 
 logues praised by philosophers ; and to compose these and such 
 like works, both in Greek and Latin, with two-fold study, with 
 equal diligence and in similar style. These things I would, 
 indeed, Proconsul, excellent man, that I could lay before you 
 not singly and piece-meal, but collectively in one heap, and 
 enjoy your honourable testimony regarding all my literary 
 labours. It is not, indeed, from penury of fame that I de- 
 sire this, for fame has long subsisted for me, bright and un- 
 broken among all your predecessors, down to yourself ; but 
 because by no one am I more desirous of being esteemed than 
 
 * The laurel branch.] Those who recited poems in public or at private 
 entertainments, carried a branch of laurel or myrtle in their hands, whence 
 they were called by the Greeks pofScujCoi and nx^oSoi. 
 
THE FLORIDA OF APULETTTS. 883 
 
 by him which I justly esteem above all others. For it is a 
 law of nature that whom j^ou praise, him you also love ; and 
 moreover, whom you love, by him you would wish to be praised. 
 Kow I profess myself one who prizes you dearh', being bound 
 to you by no private, but by all manner of public favours. I 
 have, indeed, obtained nothing- from you, for nothing have I 
 asked. But philosophy has taught me to love not only kind- 
 ness but injury, and rather to do homage to reason than to 
 seek my own advantage, and to prefer public expediency to 
 my own. Hence, whilst the majority love the beneficial effects 
 of your goodness, I love its principle. And this I have begun 
 to do whilst considering your conduct in the affairs of the inha- 
 bitnnts of this province, for which they ought to love you 
 intensely : such of them as have felt it in their own persons, 
 for sake of the benefit they have received ; such as have not 
 personally experienced it for sake of the example. For you 
 have benefited many individually, and all by your example. 
 For who does not delight to learn from you by what adjust- 
 ment may be acquired that pleasant gravity of yours, that 
 mild austerity, that placid firmness, that gracious vigour of 
 mind. Never, to my knowledge, did the province of Africa 
 ever revere more, and fear less any proconsul ; in no year of 
 administration but yours, had shame more power than fear 
 towards restraining offences. No one but you has used the 
 like power so often to serve, so seldom to terrify. No one has 
 brought with him a son more resembling himself in virtue. 
 Hence, no proconsul has remained longer in Carthage. For at 
 the time you made a tour of the province, while Honorinus 
 remained with us, we did not feel your absence so much as 
 rather to wish you back. There is in the son the equity of 
 tlie father, in the youth the prudence of the old man, in the 
 legate the personal Aveight of the consul. So thoroughly does 
 he copy and reflect all your good qualities, that truly, such ex- 
 cellence would be more worthy of admiration in the young 
 num than in you, were it not that you had imparted it to him. 
 Would that we might always enjoy it ! What to us are these 
 changes of proconsuls ? What these brief years and rapid 
 months ? swift days of good men ! quickly lapsing tenure 
 of the best governors ! Our whole province, Severianus, now 
 grieves to lose you. But Honorinus is called by his own worth 
 to the praetorship, and the favour of the Caesars is preparing 
 
384 THE FLOEIDA OF APULEIUS. 
 
 him for the consulship ; our love beholds him, at present ; and 
 the hope of Carthage promises for the future, relying on the 
 sole consolation of your example, that he who leaves us a 
 legate, soon returns to us as proconsul. 
 
 X. 
 
 " Sun, who with burnished car and rushing steeds 
 Display'st thy radiant flames and glowing fire." * 
 
 Likewise the Moon, imitatress of his light, and the five other 
 powers of the planets, power beneficent in Jupiter, voluptu- 
 ous in Venus, swift in Mercury, pernicious in Saturn, fiery in 
 Mars. There are also other intermediate powers of gods, 
 which we can feel, but which it is not given us to see ; as of 
 Love and the like, whose form is unseen, their force known ; 
 that power, likewise, which in one part of the earth reared 
 the lofty peaks of mountains, and elsewhere levelled the t'x- 
 panse of plains, as the design of Providence required ; like- 
 wise, that which everywhere defined the courses of rivers, the 
 green vigour of the meadows, and gave flight to birds, gliding 
 folds to serpents, swift feet to wild beasts, and upright gait 
 to men. 
 
 XI. 
 
 For just as those who have the misfortune to cultivate a 
 sterile farm, and a stony field, mere rocks and brambles, 
 since there is no produce in their unkindly ground, and they 
 see in it no other growth, but 
 
 " Unlucky darnel and unfruitful straw," + 
 
 lacking harvest of their own, go and thieve from others, and 
 pluck their neighbours' flowers, to mingle them forsooth with 
 their own thistles ; just so does he who has no virtue of his 
 own. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The parrot is a bird of India, in form a little less than the 
 dove ; but its colour is not that of the dove, for it is not 
 white, nor blackish, or yellowish on either side, or variegated : 
 but the parrot's colour is green both in its inner down and 
 its outer feathers, except that it is varied in the neck alone. 
 
 * Sun, Sfc.'] — From the Phoenissae of L. Attiusor Accius. 
 t Un^.- ^U darnel, <^c.]— From Viri;il, Eclogue V. 
 
THE FLOEIDA OP APULEmS. 385 
 
 For its neck is encompassed and girded with a red circle, 
 like a gold necklace, and of equal splendour. Its beak is 
 hard in the highest degree. When it swoops down from its 
 highest flight upon a rock, it lights there upon its beak, and 
 fixes itself as with an anchor. Its head too, is as hard as its 
 beak. When it is compelled to imitate our speech, its head is 
 beaten with a little iron rod, to make it attend to the commands 
 of its master. This is the ferula beneath which it learns. Its 
 schooling begins when it is but a chick, and continues until its 
 second year, as long as its mouth is easy to mould, and its 
 tongue is pliable. If taken old, it is indocile and forgetful. 
 But that kind of parrot is apter to learn human speech which 
 feeds on nuts, and which has feet with five toes like man ; for 
 all parrots have not that characteristic ; but it is common to 
 them all to have the tongue broader than that of other birds, 
 whereby they more easily articulate human words, as having 
 a more expanded plectrum and palate. But what it has learned 
 it sings, or rather speaks, like us, so that if you heard it, you 
 would suppose it was the voice of a man ; but if you saw it, 
 you would say it was not speaking, but trying to do so. !N'ow 
 both the crow and the parrot pronounce only what they have 
 been taught. If you teach a parrot ribaldry, he will be a 
 ribald, screaming scurrility day and night. This is its song ; 
 this it considers warbling. When it has run through all the 
 scurrilous phrases it has learned, it begins the same strain over 
 again. If you would be free from its ribaldry, you must cut out 
 its tongue, or at once send it back to its woods. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 For philosophy has not bestowed on me that kind of speech, 
 as nature has endowed some birds with a brief and periodical 
 song, a morning song to swallows, a mid- day to cicalas, an after- 
 noon to buzzards, an evening to screech owls, a nocturnal to 
 horned owls, a peep of day song to cocks. All these creatures 
 differ from each other in the period and the manner of their 
 song ; the cocks sing with an awakening strain, the horned owls 
 moan, the screech owls are querulous, the buzzards have inflected 
 notes, the cicalas are obstreperous, the swallows twitter shrilly. 
 But the discourse of the philosopher is practised at all seasons, 
 and is reverend to hear, useful to understand, and omnisonant 
 in compass. 
 
 c c 
 
386 THE FLORIDA OF AIULEITJS. 
 
 XIY. 
 
 Crates, the follower of Diogenes, who was adored like a 
 domestic Lar by the Athenians of his time, was one against 
 whom no door was ever shut ; nor had any father of a family 
 a secret so profound as not to admit the seasonable interposi- 
 tion of Crates, the analyser and arbitrator of all disputes and 
 altercations between relations . As the poets relate that Hercules 
 formerly quelled by his valour horrid monsters, both human and 
 brute, so was that philosopher a Hercules against anger and 
 envy, avarice and lust, and other monsters and enormities of 
 the human mind. All these pests he drove out from the minds 
 of men, purged families of them, and quelled malevolence. 
 He, too, was half naked, and notable for his club ; he was 
 likewise a native of Thebes, whence Hercules is knowTi to 
 have derived his birth. Before he became downright Crates, 
 he was numbered among the nobles of Thebes : his family 
 was one of the best, his household numerous, his dwelling 
 adorned with an ample vestibule. He himself was well 
 dressed, and well endowed with lands. Afterwards he came 
 to understand that no security was bequeathed him with his 
 wealth that he should enjoy it all his life ; that all things 
 are unstable and insecure ; that all the riches under the 
 sky avail nothing towards a happy life. AVhen Crates 
 learned these and similar truths, partly from Diogenes and 
 partly from his own reflection, he at last went out into the 
 forum, and threw down his wealth like a load of dung, more 
 fatiguing than useful. Then when a great crowd had as- 
 sembled, he cried out, *' Crates manumits Crates." Thence- 
 forth he lived happily all his days, not only without servants, 
 but also bare and disencumbered of every thing. And so 
 much was he sought after, that a noble virgin, scorning younger 
 wooers, voluntarily chose him for her own. And when Crates 
 uncovered his shoulders and showed how he was hunchbacked, 
 and laid his wallet and staff and his cloak on the ground, tell- 
 ing her that these were his worldly gear, and that such as she 
 had seen was his beauty, and bidding her therefore ponder 
 carefully, that she might not find reason to complain after* 
 wards, Hipparche still accepted the proposed conditions. She 
 replied that she had already sufficiently considered the matter ; 
 that she could nowhere in the world find a richer or a hand- 
 
THE FLOEIDA OF APULEIUS. 387 
 
 Bomer husband ; and he might therefore take her where he 
 pleased. The cynic led her to the portico, and there lay with 
 her in a frequented spot, publicly in broad daylight ; and he 
 would have deflowered her in all men's sight, prepared as 
 she was to bear it with equal indifference, had not Zeno con- 
 cealed his master from the gaze of the surrounding throng, 
 by hanging his tattered cloak before him. 
 
 XY. 
 
 Samos is an island of moderate extent in the Icarian Sea, 
 opposite Miletus, situated to the westward of it, and separated 
 from it by no great breadth of sea. Passing with easy sail 
 from one to the other, the second day puts you in port. The 
 soil of the island is inapt for corn, unfit for the plough, more 
 productive of olives, nor is it dug by the vinegrower or the 
 gardener. Its whole cultivation consists in hoeing and plant- 
 ing rows of olives, from the produce of which the island is 
 more fructiferous than frugiferous.* Furthermore, it abounds 
 in inhabitants, and is much frequented by strangers. It has 
 a town by no means corresponding to its reputation ; but that 
 it was once large is shown by the ruins of walls in many 
 places. There stands the most celebrated temple of Juno. It 
 stands near the sea-shore, at a distance, if I remember rightly, 
 of not more than twenty stadia from the town. It contains a 
 most opulent shrine of the goddess, and a vast quantity of 
 silver in platters, mirrors, cups, and such like utensils. There 
 is also a great amount of bronze, in various figures, of very 
 ancient and handsome workmanship. For instance, there is 
 before the altar a statue of Bathyllus, dedicated by the tyrant 
 Polycrates, than which I do not think I have seen anything 
 more exquisite. Some erroneously suppose it to be the statue 
 of Pythagoras. It is a youth of remarkable beauty, with hair 
 parted on the forehead, and falling evenly on the cheeks ; but 
 behind the hair is longer, and covers tlie neck, which shines 
 through them as far as the verge of the shoulders. The neck 
 is plump, the cheeks round and beardless, and there is a little 
 dimple in the chin ; the costume is exactly that of a harper ; 
 he looks towards the goddess like one who is singing ; he 
 
 * Fructiferous than frugiferousJ] — It abounds more in fruit (Jructus) 
 than in corn and garden stuff (fruges). This is an example of that 
 jingling of words in which Apuleius so inordinately delights. 
 
 C C 2. 
 
388 THE FLORIDA OF APTTLEniS. 
 
 wears a figured and coloured tunic, flowing down to his feet, 
 with a zone in the Greek fashion ; and a chlamys covering 
 both arms to the wrists. The other histrionic ornaments 
 hang upon the figure. The lyre is suspended from a short en- 
 graved baldrick. The hands are delicate ; the left is stretched 
 out, and touches the strings with its spread fingers ; the right 
 applies the plectrum to the lyre, as if ready to strike the chords 
 when the voice has paused in singing. Meanwhile he seems 
 to pour out his song from his rounded mouth, with lips inten- 
 tionally half opened. iN'ow this is the statue of a certain 
 youth beloved by Polycrates, the tyrant, whom Anacreon, the 
 Teian, celebrates in song for friendship's sake. But it is far 
 from being the statue of Pythagoras, the philosopher. 
 
 The latter was by birth a Samian, most remarkable for beauty, 
 deeply versed in minstrelsy and all kinds of music, and 
 he lived about the time when Polycrates ruled in Samos. 
 But the philosopher was by no means a favourite with the 
 tyrant. Just after the latter had began to rule, Pythagoras 
 fled privily from the island, having lately lost his father 
 Mnesarchus, whom I find to have been an artist, and to have 
 acquired reputation rather than wealth, by very cleverly en- 
 graving gems. Some say that Pythagoras was at that time 
 conveyed to Egypt among the captives of king Cambyses, and 
 that he had for teachers the Persian magi, and especially Zo- 
 roaster, the adept in every divine mystery ; and that he was 
 afterwards received by a certain Gillus, a leading man among 
 the inhabitants of Crotona. But the more generally received 
 story is, that he went of his own accord to acquire the learn- 
 ing of Egypt, and that he was there taught by the priests the 
 incredible powers of ceremonies, the wonderful commutations 
 of numbers, and the most ingenious figures of geometry ; but 
 that not satisfied with these mental accomplishments, he 
 afterwards visited the Chaldaeans and the Brahmins, and 
 among the latter the Gymnosophists. The Chaldseans taught 
 him the stars, the definite orbits of the planets, and the various 
 effects of both kinds of stars upon the nativity of men ; as also, 
 for much money, the remedies for human use derived from the 
 earth, and the air, and the sea. But the Brahmins taught 
 him the greater part of his philosophy : what are the rules 
 and principles of the understanding ; what the functions of 
 the body ; how many are the faculties of the soul, how many 
 
THE FLORIDA OF APULEIT7S. 389 
 
 the miitations of life ; what torments or rewards devolve upon 
 the souls of the dead according to their respective deserts. 
 Moreover, there was Pherecydes, a native of the island of 
 Syros, who was the first who ventured to reject the fetters of 
 verse, and to write in prose : him, too, Pythagoras waited on 
 as another master, and when turned into a scab of creeping 
 things by the corruption of a most horrible disease, he buried 
 him religiously. He is said also to have discussed natural 
 science under Anaximander, the Milesian ; to have followed 
 for instruction Epimenides, of Crete, the illustrious seer and 
 poet ; and likewise Leodamas, the disciple of Creophylus, which 
 latter is said to have been the host of the poet Homer, and his 
 imitator in song. 
 
 Instructed by so many masters, having drunk of so many 
 various fountains of knowledge all over the world, this man of 
 surpassingly mighty genius, and of more than human grandeur 
 of soul, the first namer and founder of philosophy, taught his 
 disciples nothing in the first place but to be silent. With 
 him the first study imposed upon the future sage was to hold 
 his tongue altogether, and as for the words which poets call 
 winged, to pluck their plumes and shut them up within the 
 walls of his white teeth. This was, I say, absolutely the 
 first rudiment of wisdom, to learn to think, and unlearn to 
 prate. Put they did not abstain from speaking all their lives 
 long, nor did all follow their master in silence during an 
 equally long period ; but silence observed during a short space 
 of time was thought enough for men of graver disposition, 
 whilst the more talkative were punished by a silence of five 
 years, their voice being sent, as it were, into exile. IS'ow our 
 master, Plato, imitates Pythagoras, differing in little or no de- 
 gree from his sect. I, too, among a great many men, having 
 been admitted into his sect by my teachers, have learned both 
 these things in academic meditations : to speak with all my 
 might when speech is required ; and when silence is required, 
 to hold my tongue willingly. Through this moderation I 
 think I have obtained credit from all j^our predecessors, not 
 less for my opportune silence, than for my timely speaking. 
 
 XYI. 
 
 Before I begin, noblemen of Africa, to thank you for the 
 statue which you did me the honour to propose during my pre- 
 
39C THE FLOEIDA OF APTJLEIUS. 
 
 sence here, and which you kindly decreed to erect to me during 
 my absence, I wish first to acquaint you with the reason why 
 I have not been seen by this assembly for a good many days, 
 having betaken myself to the Persian waters, so pleasant to 
 healthy bathers, and so curative to the sick. For I have 
 made it my resolution thus to submit the whole course of my 
 time to your approval, to whom I have perpetually dedicated 
 myself. Never will I do anything, great or small, of which I 
 will not make you cognizant and judges. That you may 
 know, therefore, why I suddenly disappeared from the sight 
 of this your illustrious assemblage, I will relate an almost 
 parallel case of the comic writer, Philemon, as an example of 
 what unforeseen dangers suddenly befal men. You who know 
 enough of his genius, hear a few words about his death. Do 
 you wish me to say a few words also about his genius ? This 
 Philemon was a poet, and a writer of the middle comedy. He 
 produced pieces for the stage along with Menander, and con- 
 tended with him, being perhaps inferior to him, but at all 
 events his rival. For that he was often victorious over him is 
 a shameful thing to tell. ^Nevertheless, we find in him much 
 wit; plots ingeniously involved; recognitions clearly made 
 out ; personages suited to the matter ; phrases appropriate to 
 each character ; gaieties not beneath the sock ; gravities not 
 quite up to the buskin. Impurities are rare in his works, 
 and amours are admitted as errors. Nevertheless, you find in 
 him the perjured pimp, the hot lover, the cunning slave, the 
 wheedling mistress, the peremptory wife, the indulgent mo- 
 ther, the scolding uncle, the helpful friend, and the fighting 
 soldier, together with various parasites, and stingy parents, 
 and wanton harlots. 
 
 Distinguished by these merits as a comic writer, it hap- 
 pened that he recited part of a play he had recently com- 
 posed. When he had come to the third act, and was exciting 
 those pleasant emotions which comedy delights in, a sudden 
 shower of rain coming on, as very lately happened to myself 
 when speaking before you, compelled him to dismiss his audi- 
 ence and suspend his reading. But many persons calling for 
 the remainder, he promised that he would deliver it on the 
 following day without interruption. Next day, accordingly, a 
 great concourse assembled, extremely eager fqr what was to 
 come, and every one took the nearest seat he could find oppo- 
 
THE FLORIDA OF APX7LE1T7S. 391 
 
 site the reader's place. The late comer nodded to his friends, 
 who found sitting room for him. The whole theatre being 
 crammed, the pressure was great, and they began to complain 
 of each other. All those who were so late as to be excluded 
 from the benches were pitied. Those who had not been pre- 
 sent at the first day's reading enquired what had then been de- 
 livered ; those who had been present recalled to mind what they 
 had heard, and knowing all that had gone before, began to look 
 for what was to come. Meanwhile the day was passing away, 
 and Philemon did not keep his appointment. Some murmured 
 at the poet's delay, many defended him. But when the audi- 
 ence had waited an unreasonable time and no Philemon ap- 
 peared, some of the readiest were sent to fetch him, and found 
 him dead in his bed. He had just stiffened after giving up 
 the ghost, and lay resting on his elbow on the bed as if think- 
 ing. His hand was still inserted in the scroll ; his face was 
 turned toward the book which he held straight before him ; 
 but he was already senseless, unconscious of the book, and re- 
 gardless of his audience. Those who had entered stood still 
 awhile, struck with wonder at so unexpected an event, so 
 beautiful a death. They then returned and announced to the 
 people that Philemon, who was expected to finish his fictitious 
 plot in the theatre, had concluded the real comedy at home. 
 He had said to human affairs, '' Earewell and applaud," but 
 to his friends, lament and wail ; that shower of yesterday had 
 boded him tears ; his comedy had arrived sooner at the fune- 
 ral than the nuptial torch. And since this excellent poet had 
 made his exit from life, it was meet that the audience should 
 proceed straightway to his obsequies ; that his bones should 
 now be collected, and by and by his poems. 
 
 I learned long ago, that these facts occurred as I have re- 
 lated ; but I have been reminded of them to-day by my own 
 mischance. For, as you remember, when my recitation was 
 interrupted by the rain, I postponed it at your desire to the 
 following day ; and certainly after Philemon's example ; for 
 the very same day I so violently sprained my ankle in the 
 palaestra, that I all but broke off the joint from the leg. It 
 was put out of place, however, and is still infirm from the dis- 
 location ; and when I reduced it at first with great force, I 
 Bweated profusely and had long rigors. Then I suffered 
 acute pain of the intestines, which hardly ceased until its vio- 
 
392 THE FLOKIDA. OF ArULElUS. 
 
 lence liad destroyed me, and compelled me, after the manner 
 of Philemon, to be dead before I had read ; to finish what waa 
 written for me in the book of fate sooner than what I had 
 written ; to end my life sooner than my history. As soon, 
 then, as I had recovered the power of walking at the Persian 
 waters, by their mild temperature and their no less useful 
 than soothing warmth, not, indeed, so as to be able to tread 
 firmly, but as much as seemed to me sufficient for my haste to 
 return to you, I came to perform what I had promised ; whilst 
 you in the meantime had, by your kindness, not only taken 
 away my lameness, but even added speed to my feet. 
 
 Had I not good cause to hasten, that I might return you 
 many thanks for that honour for which I had not petitioned 
 you ? Not but that the grandeur of Carthage is worthy that 
 even a philosopher should sue to it for honours ; but that your 
 kindness should be whole and unimpaired, if no solicitation of 
 mine detracted from its spontaneous grace. Por neither does 
 he who prays buy the object of his prayers for a cheap consi- 
 deration, nor does he who is solicited accept a small price, so 
 that you would rather buy all kinds of commodities than beg 
 for them. This, I think, is especially to be considered a 
 matter of honour : he who obtains with much pains and solici- 
 tation on his own part, owes one debt of gratitude to himself 
 for as much as he has succeeded in his suit ; but he who has 
 received it without the trouble of a canvass, owes a double 
 debt of gratitude to the grantors; both because he has not 
 sought, and he has obtained. I therefore owe you twofold 
 thanks, nay, manifold thanks, as I shall always and every- 
 where declare. But now for the present time I will publicly 
 profess it, as is my wont, in this book composed by me, on ac- 
 count of this honour. Por there is a certain method in which 
 a philosopher ought to return thanks for a statue publicly de- 
 creed to him : from that method that book will diverge little 
 which the distinguished honour of Strabo -^milianus demands, 
 a book which I think I can suitab^ly compose, if you will join 
 in extolling him to-day with me. Por he so excels in studies, 
 that he is much more illustrious by his own genius than by 
 his father's consulship. 
 
 In what words, JEmilianus Strabo, of all men who have 
 been, or are, or will be in Numantia, most illustrious amongst 
 the best, and best among the most illustrious, and most learned 
 
THE FLOEIDA OP APULEIT7S. 393 
 
 among both ; in what words shall I return thanks in loy dis- 
 course for this disposition of yours towards me r In what 
 worthy manner I can extol your honourable good-will, with 
 what remuneration of speech I can match the high praise of 
 this act of yours, by Hercules ! I am yet at a loss to know ; 
 but I will diligently seek and strive to discover, 
 
 " Whilst conscious of myself, whilt spirit rules this frame,"* 
 
 For at present, I will not deny it, joy overpowers my eloquence, 
 and thought is hindered by pleasure, and my mind, engrossed 
 with delight, is at present more inclined to exult than to extol. 
 What shall I do ? I wish to appear grateful, but joy will not 
 leave me free to express gratitude. Let no one, let no one of 
 those morose censors vituperate me because I do not less de- 
 serve than I appreciate this honour; because I exult in so 
 great an honour conferred on me by a most illustrious and 
 erudite man. A consular man, to whom it is a high honour 
 to be merely known, has borne testimony for me in the equally 
 illustrious and most benign senate of Carthage. He has also 
 been in a manner my panegyrist before the chief men of 
 Africa. For as I learn, in a memorial he sent in the day 
 before yesterday, in which he asked for a frequented site for 
 the erection of my statue, he mentioned in the first place the 
 rights of friendship honestly cemented between us through 
 our companionship in study under the same masters ; and then 
 he enumerated all my vows for his successive advancement in 
 public honours. That is in itself a first kindness, that he 
 records his having been my fellow-student. And this is 
 another, that a man of his eminence declares that he is be- 
 loved reciprocally by me. Moreover, he has mentioned that 
 statues and other honours have been decreed to me in other 
 countries and cities. "What can be added to these encomiums 
 by a man of consular dignity ? ISTay, he proved from the 
 priesthood I have taken upon me, that the highest honour in 
 Carthage was before me. This is a capital service he has con- 
 ferred on me, and far excelling the rest, that he, a most influ- 
 ential witness, commends me to you even by his own suffrage. 
 Finally, he has promised that he will erect a statue to me in 
 Carthage at his own expense, he to whom all provinces delight 
 every where to erect equestrian statues, with chariots of four 
 
 * Whilst conscious, ^c] — A line from Virgil, iEneid, Book iv. 
 
394 THE FLORIDA OF APULEIUS. 
 
 and of six horses. What more, then, is wanting to the base 
 and summit of my hononr, to the culmination of my glory ? 
 Nay, what more is there behind ? ^milianus Strabo, a con- 
 sular man, soon by universal consent to be proconsul, pro- 
 nounced his opinion concerning the honours to be paid to me 
 in the senate of the Carthaginians : all followed his lead. 
 Does not this seem to you tantamount to a decree of the 
 senate ? What ? that all the Carthaginians who were present 
 in that most august senate, so willingly appointed a place for 
 my statue as to make it apparent, as I hope, that they only 
 postponed to the next senate a motion for another statue to 
 me, in order that, saving the veneration and reverence due to 
 their consular member, they might seem not to have rivalled 
 but followed his act : that is to say, that a public testimonial 
 should be conferred on me on a fresh day. Moreover, those 
 excellent magistrates and most obliging nobles remembered 
 that what they desired was prescribed to them by you. Could 
 I be ignorant of this ? Should I fail to vaunt it ? I should be 
 ungrateful. Truly, I feel and profess the greatest possible 
 thanks to your whole order for your exceeding kindness to me, 
 you who have dignified me with the most flattering acclamations 
 in that senate-house, in which to be named merely is the 
 highest honour. So, then, what was hard to do, and what I 
 thought truly arduous, to be pleasing to the people, acceptable 
 to the order, and approved by the magistrates and chief 
 men ; this — fascination apart* — has some how befallen me. 
 What, then, remains that I should enjoy the honour of a 
 statue, but the price of the bronze and the pay of the artist ? 
 things which never failed me even in small cities, not to speak 
 of Carthage, where the most illustrious order is wont rather 
 to decree than to compute the cost even in greater affairs. But 
 of these things I will speak more when you shall have done 
 more. Also to you, noble senators, famous citizens, worthy 
 Mends, I will express my thanks more at large in the book I 
 
 * Fascination apart.'] — Prcpfiscine dixerim. This was a coramo'i 
 form of speech for averting the ill luck which was supposed to be immi- 
 nent where a man was excessively praised by himself or others. This 
 superstition still lingers in parts of the old Roman empire. In Corsica, 
 for instance, an affectionate father, fondling his child, will call it ugly 
 names, and bid it go be cursed — by way of cheating the devil, who is 
 always on the watch to bring about the very reverse of what men desire. 
 
THE FLOEIDA OF APTTLEIXTS, 395 
 
 will presently compose for the dedication of my statue ; and I 
 wall incontinently bid that book go through all the provinces, 
 and publish abroad the praises of your bounty throughout the 
 whole world, in all time to come, among all nations, through- 
 out all years. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Let those who are in the habit of obtruding themselves upon 
 the leisure moments of governors, consider how they promote 
 the fame of their genius by the immoderate volubility of their 
 tongue, and glorify themselves in a pretended appearance of 
 your friendship. Both these faults are far alien from me, 
 Scipio Orfitus. Por whatever be my little genius, it is already 
 in its degree too well known to the world to need new com- 
 mendation ; and I desire more than I boast of your good-will 
 and that of men like you ; since no one can desire a thing un- 
 less he thinks it really desirable ; but any one may boast 
 falsely. Moreover, I have always thus studiously applied 
 myself to good morals from the outset of my life ; and you 
 yourself are a most sufficient witness that I have sought 
 such a character as to my life and pursuits both in your pro- 
 vince and in Eome with your friends ; so that my friendship 
 is not less worthy of your acceptance than yours of being 
 sought by me. For not readily to forgive one who makes his 
 visits scarce, argues a desire that one should come often ; and 
 it is a great proof of friendship to delight in the frequent pre- 
 sence of friends, to be angry with them when they stay away, 
 to praise him who is constant in his attendance, to feel the 
 loss of him who stays away ; for it is certain that he must be 
 liked whose absence gives pain. But a voice bound down to 
 perpetual silence, would be of no more use than nostrils stuffed 
 with rheum, ears closed by wind, eyes veiled by cataract. 
 "What if the hands be manacled ? What if the feet be fet- 
 tered ? or our guide, the mind, be relaxed in sleep, or drowned 
 in wine, or buried in disease ? Truly as the sword is bright- 
 ened by use, and rusts when laid by ; so the voice sheathed in 
 silence loses power by long torpor. Disuse makes every one 
 slow, and sloth causes lethargy. Unless tragedians declaim 
 daily, their throats lose clearness of voice; therefore they 
 clear off their huskiness by vociferating again and again. In 
 other respects it is lost labour to exercise the human voice, fa 
 
396 THE FLOEIDA OF APULEIUS. 
 
 it is surpassed in a great many ways, since the trumpet brays* 
 more grimly than the voice of man, the lyre is of more varied 
 compass, the flute more sweetly plaintive, the pipe warbles 
 more agreeably, and the horn is heard to a greater distance. 
 I say nothing of the inarticulate voices of many animals, which 
 are to be admired for distinct qualities: such as the deep 
 lowing of the bull, the shrill howl of the wolf, the melancholy 
 bray of the elephant, the cheerful neigh of the horse ; then 
 there are the songs of excited birds, the angry roar of the lion, 
 and other voices of animals, both fierce and gentle, as they 
 are called forth by vehement rage or pleasure. Instead of 
 these, the gods have given man a voice of less volume, in- 
 deed ; but it affords more of utility to the mind than of delight 
 to the ear. "Wherefore it should be the more cultivated by 
 frequent use, and that nowhere else than in the public assem- 
 bly, under the presidency of so great a man, in this excellent 
 concourse of many learned, many gracious men. Certainly 
 though I were a first-rate performer on the lute, I would seek 
 only crowded audiences. In solitude 
 
 " Orpheus in woods, Arion harped mid dolphins."t 
 
 !N"ow, if legends are to be believed, Orpheus was made a soli- 
 tary by exile, Arion was thrown overboard from a ship. The 
 one was a soother of savage beasts, the other was a delighter 
 of compassionate brutes; both were very unfortunate min- 
 strels, for they played not spontaneously for praise, but of ne- 
 cessity for safety. I would admire them more if they had 
 delighted men rather than brutes. Such sequestered places 
 were certainly better suited to birds, such as thrushes, night- 
 ingales, and swans. Thrushes sing in lonely spots ; nightingales 
 w^arble their song of youth in the African desert ; swans mo- 
 dulate their song of age in unfrequented streams. But whoso 
 has a song to sing that is good for youth, and adults, and 
 seniors, let him sing in the midst of thousands of men. Such 
 is this song of mine concerning the virtues of Orfitus ; late, 
 perhaps, indeed, but serious ; and not less pleasing than pro- 
 fitable to the youths, and adults, and seniors of the Cartha- 
 ginians, whom this worthiest of all proconsuls has relieved by 
 
 * The trumpet iray*]— The Delphin edition read vox, tuba, lyrd, &c., 
 which are manifestly quite the reverse of the author's meaning. 
 t Orpheus in woods, ^c] —Virgil, Eclogue 8. 
 
THE FLOEIDA OF APITLEIUS. 397 
 
 his indulgence ; and has, by the moderation of his desires and 
 his temperate treatment, given plenty to youth, joyfulness to 
 adults, serenity to seniors. I fear, indeed, Scipio, since I have 
 touched upon your praises, lest I be curbed at present either 
 by your generous modesty or my ingenuous bashfulness. But 
 I cannot forbear, out of very many things which are most de- 
 servedly admired in you, I cannot forbear from touching upon 
 at least a very few of these very many. Citizens preserved 
 by him, tell these over with me. 
 
 XYIII. 
 
 You have come in such a multitude to hear me, that I must 
 rather congratulate Carthage that it counts in it so many friends 
 of learning, than apologize because as a philosopher I have 
 not refused to lecture. Por the audience collected is propor- 
 tioned to the greatness of the city, and the place selected is 
 proportioned to the magnitude of the audience. Moreover, 
 in an assembly of this sort, what is to be considered is not the 
 marble of the floor, nor the painting of the proscenium, nor 
 the columns of the stage ; nor yet the height of the roof, nor 
 the brilliancy of the cornices, nor the extent of the benches ; 
 nor that here at other times the mime foots it, the comedian 
 speaks, the tragedian declaims, the rope-dancer incurs danger, 
 the juggler filches, the pantomimist gesticulates, and all the 
 other players exhibit their several performances to the people ; 
 but setting aside all these things, nothing else ought to be 
 considered but the understanding of the audience and the 
 language of the speaker. Wherefore, as the poets are wont to 
 represent various cities on this spot, like that tragic writer 
 who makes the player say in the theatre, 
 
 " Bacchus, who in this grand Cithaeron dwellest ;" 
 
 or that comic writer,* who says — 
 
 " Of all your pleasant city's ample space, 
 How small the part which Plautus asks, whereon 
 He may place Athens without architects ;" 
 
 in like manner let it be allowed me, too, to set here before you 
 no distant or transmarine city, but the very senate-house, the 
 very library of Carthage itself. Therefore, if I utter words 
 
 * That comic writer.^ —Plautus, prologue to Truculentus. 
 
398 THE FLO KID A OF APULEIUS. 
 
 worthy of the senate, think of them as though you heard me 
 in the senate itself; if the things I deliver are learned, accept 
 them as though they were read in the library. I would that 
 I had ready a long oration corresponding to the magnitude of 
 my audience, and that my speech did not halt here where 1 
 should wish to be most eloquent. But the common saying is 
 a true one : " Nothing has been granted to man by the gods 
 so fortunate but that some difficulty is nevertheless attached 
 to it;" so that in every greatest delight there lurks at least 
 some little grievance, by a certain combination of honey and 
 gall. Where there is a breast of milk there is a tuberosity. 
 This I have experienced at other times, and now especially, 
 for the more'suffrages I seem to have among you in my favour, 
 the more timid I am in addressing you, from the exceeding 
 respect I bear you. I, who many a time disputed with the 
 greatest readiness among foreigners, now hesitate among my 
 own countrymen, and, strange to say, I am deterred by what 
 should allure, curbed by what should spur me, restrained by 
 what should incite me. Have I not many encouragements 
 among you, I who am neither alien to you by birth, nor unseen 
 by you in boyhood, who have had masters among you, whose 
 sect is not unknown to you, whose voice has not been unheard, 
 nor my books unread or disapproved by you? Thus, my 
 country is within the bounds of Africa, my boyhood has been 
 spent among you, and you were my masters ; and my phi- 
 losophy, though confirmed in Attic Athens, was begun here ; 
 and my voice has been for more than six years familiar to 
 your ears in both languages. My books, too, nowhere receive 
 a higher honour than that they are approved by your judg- 
 ment. These great and manifold common inducements no less 
 invite you to hear than they check me from haranguing ; and I 
 could more easily celebrate your praises anywhere else than 
 among yourselves : thus, a man's modesty stands in his way 
 among his own people, but before foreigners truth is free. Ac- 
 cordingly, I extol 3'ou always and every where as my parents 
 and first masters, and I pay you your due remuneration : not 
 that which Protagoras, the sophist, bargained for and did not 
 receive, but that which Thales the wise did not bargain for, but 
 received. I see what you desire. I will tell both stories. 
 
 Protagoras was a sophist of very varied knowledge, and ex- 
 tremely eloquent, as being one of the first inventors of rhe- 
 
THE FLORIDA OF APULEIHS. 399 
 
 toric. He was the fellow-citizen and contemporary of De- 
 mocritus, the physical philosopher, from whom he derived his 
 knowledge. They say that this Protagoras stipulated with 
 his disciple, Euathlus, for an inordinate payment upon a 
 whimsical condition, namely, that he should pay him the stated 
 sum if he was successful in the first cause be pleaded before 
 the judges, and not otherwise. Euathlus, then, who was of 
 a shrewd and cunning turn of mind, having easily learned all 
 the artifices for softening judges and deceiving adversaries, and 
 all the tricks of pleaders, and knowing to his full content what 
 he had desired, began to be unwilling to pay what he had 
 promised, and to cheat his teacher with cunningly-devised ex- 
 cuses, and for a long time would neither refuse outright nor 
 pay. At last, Protagoras summoned him before the judges, 
 and stating the condition on which he had undertaken to 
 teach him, propounded this dilemma : — " If I gain the cause, 
 you will have to pay the price as cast in judgment ; or, if you 
 gain, you will nevertheless have to pay, as bound by your bar- 
 gain. Thus, if you beat me, you fall under the force of the 
 condition ; if you are beaten, you will lie under the decree of 
 the court. What more would you have ? " The conclusion 
 appeared to the judges to be cogently and unanswerably made 
 out. But Euathlus, as a most finished disciple of so subtle a 
 teacher, turned his own dilemma against him. *' If the thing 
 is so," said he, **in neither way do I owe what you demand. 
 For either I gain the cause, and am cleared by the decree of 
 the court, or I am beaten, and then I am discharged by our 
 bargain, according to which, I owe you no payment if I shall 
 have been beaten in this first cause I plead before the judges. 
 Thus, I am acquitted in every way ; by the verdict if I beat 
 you, hj our condition if I am beaten." 
 
 Do not these sophisms, turned against each other, seem to 
 you like burs rolled together by the wind, which stick each 
 other alike by their prickles ? Let us leave then this thorny 
 pay of Protagoras to the crafty and the avaricious ; far better 
 is that other pay which Thales is said to have demanded. 
 Thales, the Milesian, was decidedly the foremost of the cele- 
 brated seven wise men ; for he was the first discoverer of geo- 
 metry among the Greeks, a sure explorer of nature, and a 
 skilful observer of the stars ; by means of small lines he dis- 
 covered vast things, the circuits of the seasons, the courses of 
 
400 THE FLOEIDA OF APULEIUS. 
 
 the winds, the paths of the stars, the sonorous marvels of the 
 thunder, the oblique courses of the constellations, the annual 
 revolution of the sun ; likewise, the increase of the new moon, 
 the waning of the old, and the obstacles that cause her light 
 to fail. He also, when advanced in years, excogitated a di- 
 vine theory, respecting the sun, which I have not only learned 
 but confirmed by experience, namely, by what multiple of its 
 diameter the sun measures its own orbit. Thales is related to 
 have demonstrated this recent discovery of his, to Mandraytus 
 the Prienensian, who being intensely delighted with that new 
 and unexpected observation, bade him name whatever reward 
 he desired for so great a communication. *'I shall be suffi- 
 ciently paid," said Thales the Wise, "if, when you have be- 
 gun to unfold to others what you have learned from me, you 
 do not attribute it to yourself, but declare that it was I, and 
 no one else, who discovered it." A handsome payment truly, 
 worthy of such a man, and perpetual ! For at this day, and 
 in all time to come, that tribute will be paid to Thales by all 
 of us who are truly acquainted with his celestial studies. 
 This is the kind of payment I everywhere make on your ac- 
 count, Carthaginians, for the education I received among you 
 in my boyhood, Por I everywhere declare myself a nursling 
 of your city ; everywhere I extol you in all manner of ways ; 
 I diligently cultivate your literature ; I boast of your wealth ; 
 and I religiously venerate your gods. 
 
 Kow, too, I will take for the most auspicious subject of my 
 exordium, your god, ^sculapius, who propitiously regards 
 your citadel of Carthage with his indubitable divinity. I will 
 here sing to you a hymn in honour of that god, which I have 
 composed in Greek and Latin. For I am his not unknown 
 priest, nor recent worshipper, nor unfavoured minister; and 
 I have already paid him reverence in prose and verse, in like 
 manner as I shall now sing his hymn in both languages. I 
 have prefaced it with a dialogue likewise in Greek and Latin, 
 the speakers being Sabidius Severus and Julius Persius, men 
 who, with good reason, are the warmest friends to each other, 
 and to you, and to the public weal, and are equals in learning, 
 eloquence, and good feeling ; and of whom it is a question 
 whether they are more distinguished by their placid modera- 
 tion, their prompt ingenuity, or their eminent honours. 
 Thoroughly at concord as they are, there is yet between them 
 
THE FLORIDA OF APULEIUS. 401 
 
 this sole emulation, this sole contest, which of them more loves 
 Carthage, and on this point they both contend with all their 
 might, but neither yields the victory. Thinking that a dis- 
 course between them would be most pleasing to you, a con- 
 genial subject of composition to me, and worthy of being dedi- 
 cated to the service of religion, I introduce in the beginning 
 of my work, one of my fellow students at Athens inquiring of 
 Persius, in Greek, what I had delivered the day before in the 
 temple of ^sculapius ; and presently I add to them Severus, 
 whom meanwhile I have made speak Latin. For though Per- 
 sius is perfectly acquainted with Latin, he will to-day speak 
 for you and me in the Attic tongue. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Asclepiades, one of the first of physicians, and superior to 
 all, Hippocrates alone excepted, was the first who used wine 
 as a remedy for the sick ; but with this precaution, that he 
 gave it in good time, a point which he was very sagacious in 
 determining, being a most diligent observer of the inordinate 
 or depraved pulsation of the arteries. Once, when he returned 
 to the city from his country house, he saw a great funeral pile 
 in the outskirts of the town, and around it a vast multitude, 
 who had followed the funeral, all in great grief and soiled 
 garments. He went up to the spot, as is the nature of the 
 human mind, that he might know wno it was, since no one 
 answered his enquiries. Or, rather, he went that he might 
 notice something in the deceased by means of his art. At all 
 events, he took away death from that man who was stretched 
 on the bier and nearly consigned to the tomb. The unfortunate 
 man's body was already ail bedewed with perfumes, and his 
 face was anointed with odorous ointment. Having carefully 
 contemplated the man thus anointed and made ready for the 
 funeral banquet, he noticed in him certain signs, handled the 
 body again and again, and found life latent in it. Instantly 
 he cried out that the man was alive, that they should take 
 away the torches, put out the fire, pull down the pile, and 
 carry back the funeral banquet from the tomb to the table. 
 Meanwhile, a murmur arose, some saying that the physician 
 should be believed, others making a mock of medicine. Fi- 
 nally, against the will of all the relations, whether it was that 
 they were disappointed of the inheritance, or that they did not 
 
402 THE FLORIDA OF APULEIUS. 
 
 believe him, Asclepiades, with great difficulty, obtained a brief 
 respite for the defunct, and so, in the end, he took him back 
 to his house, snatched from the hands of the undertakers, and 
 as it were from the infernal regions, and immediately revived 
 his spirits, and called forth, by some medicine, the vital breath 
 that was lurking in the recesses of his body. 
 
 XX. 
 
 There is a celebrated saying of a wise man concerning the 
 table. The first cup is for thirst, the second for mirth, the 
 third for delight, the fourth for madness. The goblet of the 
 Muses, on the contrary, the oftener it is drained and the more 
 unmixed it is, the more it conduces to soundness of mind. 
 The first cup, that of the reading master, takes away igno- 
 rance ; the second, of the grammarian, instructs in science ; 
 the third, the rhetorician's, arms with eloquence. Thus far 
 most people drink. But I have drunk other cups at Athens ; 
 the cup of poetry, the inventive ; of geometry, the limpid ; 
 of music, the sweet ; of dialectics, the roughish ; and of uni- 
 versal philosophy, the never- satiating nectareous cup. For 
 Empedocles gives' us verses ; Plato, dialogues ; Socrates, 
 hymns ; Epicharmus, modulations ; Xenophon, histories ; 
 Xenocrates, satires : your Apuleius all these together ; and he 
 has cultivated the nine Muses with equal assiduity, that is to 
 say, with more good-will than capacity. Perhaps he is the 
 more to be praised for this, since in all good things the at- 
 tempt is laudable, the effect contingent ; whilst, conversely in 
 evil things, crimes that are but designed, not accomplished, 
 are punished ; the mind being blood-stained, the hands pure. 
 Therefore, just as it suffices for the incurring of punishment 
 to have meditated things that deserve punishment, so it is a 
 sufficient cause of praise to attempt laudable things. But 
 what greater or surer source of praise is there than to speak 
 well at Carthage, where all your citizens are most learned ; 
 among whom, boys learn all they know, adults exhibit it, and 
 old men teach it ? Carthage, the venerable mistress of our 
 province ; Carthage, the celestial Muse of Africa ; Carthage, 
 the Camoena of those who wear the toga. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Even necessary haste sometimes admits of proper delay, so 
 
THE FLOKIDA OF APTJLEIXTS. 403 
 
 that you may often be pleased at the interruption of your pur- 
 pose. So it is with those who have occasion to travel fast, so 
 that they would rather ride on horseback than sit in a car, on 
 account of the annoyance of baggage, the weight of vehicles, 
 the clogging of wheels, the roughness of the track, the heaps 
 of stones, the projecting roots of trees, the streams on the 
 plain, and the declivities of hills. Wishing, then, to avoid all 
 these retardations, they select a riding-horse of enduring powers 
 and lively speed, strong to bear and a good goer, 
 
 " That sweeps at equal pace o'er hill and dale," 
 
 as Lucilius says. Then, when they are riding at the horse*s 
 speed along the way, if they espy any man of high station, of 
 great influence, and well known, in spite of their haste they 
 check their speed and stop their horse ; they jump down, and 
 pa38 the rod they carry for beating the horse into their left hand. 
 With their right hand thus at liberty, they go up and salute 
 him ; and if he asks questions at some length, they walk for 
 some time, and chat with him. In short, they willingly sub- 
 mit to any delay, as a matter of courtesy. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 As we see a good ship, well built, stoutly put together 
 within, elegantly painted without, having a helm that moves 
 freely, strong rigging, a tall mast, a fine mast top, shining sails, 
 and, in short, found in everything requisite for use, and fair to 
 see ; but if the helmsman does not steer that ship, either it is 
 driven before the tempest, or the deeps engulf, or the rocks 
 shatter it with all its excellent gear. Again, when physicians 
 enter a bouse to visit a sick man, none of them ever bids the 
 patient be of good cheer, because they see in the house hand- 
 some bookcases, gilded cornices, and crowds of boys and youths 
 of comely form waiting in the chamber round the bed. But 
 when the physician has sat down by the patient, he talies his 
 hand, feels it, notes the pulse and the force of the arteries, and 
 if he find anything disturbed and inordinate there, he tells the 
 man that his case is a bad one. That wealthy patient is for- 
 bidden food, and that day he gets no food in his opulent house, 
 though, meanwhile, all his domestics feast and make good cheer 
 In that respect his fortune avails him nothing. 
 
404 THE FLOMDA OP APFLEirS. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 You who wished me to speak extempore, hear now a rude 
 attempt after a finished specimen. For, as I think, I shall 
 venture with a fair chance, when I am to speak improviso, after 
 having made premeditated speeches which have been approved ; 
 nor am I afraid that I shall displease in trivial things, since I 
 have given satisfaction in more serious matters. But that you 
 may test and know me in every way, try me in this rough and 
 unfinished sketch, as Lucilius says, whether I am the same on 
 a sudden as when prepared ; if, indeed, there are any among 
 you who have not heard any of these ofi-hand efforts of mine, 
 which you will listen to with the same attention as you hearken 
 to those discourses which w^e write and recite, and with more 
 indulgence. For so it is usual wdth wise men to exercise more 
 accurate judgment with elaborate works, and more indulgence 
 towards those that are unprepared. For you weigh and exa- 
 mine w hat is written, and you hear at once impromptu dis- 
 courses, and pardon what is amiss in them, and with good rea- 
 son. For those things which we recite when written, will be 
 such as they were composed, even though you be silent ; but 
 those which are to be produced on the spot, and, as it were, in 
 combination with you, will be such as you shall have made them 
 by your favour. The more I sink in my discourse, the more 
 it will be lifted up by you. I perceive that you hear me will- 
 ingly. So it is in your power to spread my sail, and inflate it, 
 that it may not hang flaccid, or be furled and brailed. Now, I 
 will venture to do that which Aristippus said. That Aristippus 
 was the founder of the Cyrenaic sect, and what he himself most 
 desired, a disciple of Socrates. A certain tyrant asked him. 
 What good had he got by his intent and long- continued pur- 
 suit of philosophy ? ** To be able to speak at my ease and 
 intrepidly with all men," replied Aristippus. This saying was 
 impromptu, for the occasion was sudden ; just as in rubble ma- 
 sonry it is necessary that stones should be laid down as they 
 come to hand, no grouting being interposed within, nor their 
 position made even in front, nor their faces arranged by line. 
 I, myself, the builder of this oration, will not bring to it from 
 my quarry a stone cut fair, well squared, and accurately 
 smoothed on all its faces ; but I will fit to every part of the 
 work rough and uneven stones, or smooth and slipperj^, or round 
 and rolling, without coiTecting them by the rule, or equalizing 
 
THE FLORIDA OF APTJLEITJS. 405 
 
 them on measuring, or adjusting them by the plumb-line. Foi 
 nothing can be at the same time hurried and deliberate ; nor 
 can anything possess at once the merit of elaboration and the 
 grace of despatch. I have yielded to the wish of some who 
 greatly desired that I should speak extempore what was ex- 
 pected of me ; and, by Hercules ! there is some fear lest that 
 befal me which is narrated by ^sop of his crow : that is, that 
 whilst I catch at this new glory, I shall lose that little glory 
 which I have already acquired. If you call upon me for the 
 apologue, I shall have no objection to deliver a fable. 
 
 A Crow and a Pox simultaneously espied a gobbet, and has- 
 tened to seize it with equal greed but unequal speed — the 
 Fox running, the Crow flying. The bird outstripped the beast, 
 gliding before him with both wings outspread to the favouring 
 gale ; and then exulting at once in the booty and the victory, 
 soared aloft, and perched securely on the top of an oak. Never- 
 theless, even there the Fox hit the victor with a trick, because 
 he could not hit him with a stone ; for he went up to the same 
 tree, and stopping when he saw the spoiler aloft, exulting over 
 his booty, began cunningly to flatter him. *' Truly I was 
 foolish to contend in vain with the bird of Apollo, whose body 
 is so elegant, neither very small, nor too large, but just of the 
 size sufficient for use and beauty, with soft plumage, a delicate 
 head, and strong beak. It is a bird of keen eye and tenacious 
 talons. But what shall I say of its colour ? For, whereas 
 two colours were superior to all others, black and white, which 
 mark the diff'erence between day and night, Apollo bestowed 
 both on his birds — white on the swan, black on the crow. I 
 wish that, as he granted song to the swan, he had also given 
 voice to this bird, that so beautiful a bird, far the first of the 
 whole feathered creation, the pet of the eloquent god, might 
 not live mute and tongueless." When the Crow heard that 
 this alone was wanting to him that he should surpass the rest 
 of the birds, he resolved to croak as loud as he could, to show 
 that in that respect he was not inferior to the swan ; and for- 
 getting the gobbet he held in his beak, he opened it as wide 
 as he could gape; and thus he lost by his song what he 
 had won by his flight ; but the Fox recovered by his craft what 
 he had lost in running. 
 
 Let us epitomise this fable as compactly as possible. The 
 Crow, to prove itself a vocalist, the only thing which the Fox 
 
406 THE FLOniDA OF APULEIIJS. 
 
 had pretended was wanting to its great beauty, began to croak, 
 and made the wheedling Pox possessor of the booty it held in 
 its beak. 
 
 XXIY. 
 
 I know well what you desire by this token, namely, that I 
 should proceed with the rest of the Latin matter. For in the 
 beginning, when you asked for different things, I remember 
 to have promised that neither portion of you, neither those 
 who called for Latin nor those who called for Greek, should 
 go away disappointed. Wherefore, if you please, let us con- 
 clude that I have talked Greek long enough. It is now time 
 to migrate from Greece to Latium. For we have now come 
 nearly to the middle of this discourse ; and, as I think, this 
 latter part, compared with the Greek portion which preceded 
 it, is neither less copious in arguments, nor less abundant 
 in maxims, nor more scant of examples, nor more brief in 
 matter. 
 
 END OF THE FLORIDA. 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE 
 
 A MYTHOLOGICAL TALE, 
 
 FROM THB 
 
 GOLDEN ASS OP APULEIUS. 
 
 EENDEEED INTO ENGLISH VEESE. 
 
 STAT those tears ! the beldam cries, 
 111 dreams good fortunes oft forerun, 
 
 Like clouds which skirt the morning skies, 
 But melt before the noon-day sun. 
 
 Chase from thy soul this idle grief, 
 And let my words thine ear engage ; 
 
 Thy fears perchance may find relief. 
 E'en from the garrulous tales of age. 
 
 II. 
 
 Once stately reign' d a king and queen. 
 As bards of other times have told. 
 
 The happiest that were ever seen 
 To flourish in the days of old. 
 
 Three daughters bless' d their nuptial bed* 
 Two daughters exquisitely fair, 
 
 "Who many a fond youth captive led, 
 Made many a hapless youth despair. 
 
 The youngest — but no tongue so warm, 
 Though matchless eloquence be given, 
 
 May dare pourtray her finish' d form, 
 The ' prodigality of heaven !' 
 
408 CUPID AND PSYCHE. 
 
 Say, to delight the wondering earth, 
 Does she amongst us mortals roam, 
 
 Who from the blue deep took her birth, 
 Her nurture from the sparkling foam ? 
 
 O'er her warm cheek's vermilion dye. 
 
 Waves, lightly waves, her dark-brown hair ; 
 
 Bright as the winter star her eye, 
 Yet peaceful as the summer air. 
 
 'No one to Paphos take his way, 
 Cnidos, Cythera, charm no more ; 
 
 No throngs, with votive chaplets gay, 
 The immortal Yeitus now adore. 
 
 Mer temples all in ruin lie, 
 
 Her altars cold, to dust resign' d. 
 
 Her withering garlands flap and fly. 
 And rustle in the hollow wind. 
 
 Whilst on the mortal maid they shower 
 The incense they to her should bring, 
 
 And offer to this fairer flower 
 
 The fairest flow'rets of the spring. 
 
 Prom isles afar, from distant lands, 
 TJnnumber'd votaries press around. 
 
 And ^dew entranc'd, with folded hands. 
 Celestial footsteps print the ground. 
 
 To her young girls their wishes breathe, 
 Commend the fond youth to her care j 
 
 Bind round her brows the rosy wreath, 
 And sigh to her the ardent prayer. 
 
 III. 
 
 Parent of nature, nurse of joy. 
 From whom the elements arise ; 
 
 Thou to whom Ida's shepherd boy 
 nightly adjudg'd the golden prize, 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE. 409 
 
 Yenus ! will thy better part, 
 
 Immortal love, incline to spare ; 
 Or female envy taint thy heart. 
 
 And plant the Fiend of Yengeance there ? 
 
 Yenijs has called her winged child, 
 And with malignant pleasure laugh' d, 
 
 That boy who lawless, wicked wild, ' 
 
 At random aims the flaming shaft ; 
 
 Him, who all deeds of darkness owns, 
 
 Who breaks so oft the nuptial tie, 
 And, whilst his luckless victim groans, 
 
 On careless pinions flutters by. — 
 
 The dangerous Power to Psyche's bower 
 
 She with vindictive fury led. 
 And bade him thus his vengeance shower 
 
 On the detested virgin's head : — 
 
 ** By a mother's sacred name. 
 By thine arrows tipp'd with flame, 
 By thy joys which often borrow 
 Of despair most bitter sorrow. 
 Make thy parent's rival know 
 Unimaginable woe ! 
 May her youth's unequall'd bloom 
 Unrequited love consume. 
 For some wretch of abject birth, 
 "Wandering outcast of the earth ; 
 Be for him her fond heart torn. 
 May e'en he her torments scorn, 
 That all womankind may see 
 "What it is to injure me. 
 Make thy parent's rival know 
 Unimaginable woe !" 
 
 Then kiss'd her son, and fleet as wind 
 She seeks old Ocean's dark-green caves— 
 
 Her ivory feet with roses twin'd. 
 
 Brush lightly o'er the trembling waves. 
 
410 CUPID AND PSYCHE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Young Psyche still more beauteous grows, 
 She seems unconscious of her charms ; 
 
 Yet no one plucks this opening rose, 
 She takes no suitor to her arms. 
 
 Each sister shines a regal bride, 
 In sweet connubial union blest ; 
 
 Each moves conspicuous in the pride 
 Of scepter' d state and ermin'd vest. 
 
 But Psyche owns no lawful lord, 
 She walks a goddess from above ; 
 
 All saw, all prais'd, and all ador'd, 
 Eut no one ever dar'd to love. 
 
 Yet half-form' d wishes still will ply 
 
 With feverish dreams the unpractis'd mind, 
 
 When ' the clos'd eye, unknowing why,' 
 Its wonted slumbers fails to find. 
 
 Though the blank heart no passion owns, 
 
 Some soft ideas will intrude, 
 And the sick girl in silence moans 
 
 Her dull imvaried solitude ! 
 
 Her father sees his darling's grief. 
 Suspects the jealous wrath of heaven, 
 
 Hopes from the Oracle relief. 
 
 And asks the fate the Gods had given. 
 
 " On the mountain summit laid 
 In her grave-clothes be the maid. 
 Kever shall thine eyes behold 
 Son-in-law of mortal mould ; 
 But a monster girt with wings, 
 Fiercest of created things. 
 Scattering flames his hours employing, 
 Heaven alike and earth annoying : 
 Him the dread decrees of fate 
 Destine for thy daughter's mate." 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE. 411 
 
 Graceful his silver tresses flow — 
 He does not rend his hoary hair, 
 
 He utters not the shriek of woe, 
 Nor vents the curses of despair ; 
 
 He does not wring his aged hands, 
 1^0 tear-drop fills his frozen eye ; 
 
 But as a statue fix'd he atands 
 In speechless, senseless agony ! 
 
 'Tis hard to force its better part 
 From the distracted soul away ; 
 
 But heaven decrees — man's bursting heart 
 In vain repines — he must obey ! 
 
 Now rose the inauspicious morn, 
 
 Mantling in clouds the low'ring skies, 
 
 "When from her parents must be torn 
 The victim of the Destinies. 
 
 Loud wailings fill the troubled air. 
 Cold tremors every heart assail. 
 
 And the low murmurs of despair 
 Eide sullen on the hollow gale. 
 
 Onward the sad procession goes : 
 
 Do wedding guests then creep so slow r 
 
 Say, is it from the bridemaid flows 
 The long and sable stole of woe ? ^ 
 
 And who are they, who, rob'd in white. 
 Their black funereal torches wave. 
 
 Which shed around such pale blue light 
 As issues from the dead man's grave ? 
 
 They are the bridal train — yet mark. 
 They carol loud with tuneful breath : 
 
 'Tis not the song of marriage — hark ! 
 They slowly chant the dirge of Death. 
 
412 CUPID AND PSYCHE. 
 
 The mountain's utmost height they gain, 
 They pour the agonizing prayer ; 
 
 For soon the melancholy train 
 Must leave the sad devoted fair. 
 
 Yet Psyche chides the tears that fall, 
 E'en in her shroud o'ermasters fear, 
 
 "Wraps round her beauteous limbs the pall. 
 And dauntless mounts the bridal bier. 
 
 VII. 
 
 O Sleep ! svreet friend of human kind, 
 "Whose magic chains all joy to wear, 
 
 "Who, soother of the afflicted mind, 
 Strew' st roses on the bed of care ; 
 
 'Twas thou, o'er Psyche's fluttering soul. 
 Benignly shedd'st thine opiate charms ; 
 
 Spell-bound she own'd thy mild control, 
 Soft cradled in thy downy arms : 
 
 Till wafted on young Zephyr's wings 
 To a fair vale's sequester' d bowers ; 
 
 "Who the unconscious maiden brings. 
 And lays her on a couch of flowers. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 She wakes — and to her glad survey 
 Rise round her, high o'erarching trees, 
 
 "Whose branches gemm'd with blossoms gay. 
 Throw perfumes to the lingering breeze. 
 
 And, shaded from the noon- tide beam, • 
 There slowly, slowly curling roU'd 
 
 Its silvery waves a lucent stream 
 O'er sands of granulated gold. 
 
 And in the centre of the wood, 
 Not such as kings inhabit here, 
 
 A vast and tower-flank'd palace stood, 
 Nor such as mortal hands could rear. 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE. 413 
 
 Of ivory was the fretted roof, 
 
 On golden columns proudly rais'd, 
 And silver carvings massy proof 
 
 The walls of ebony emblaz'd. 
 
 Bound lustres wreaths of diamonds fix'd, 
 
 Their prismy rays profusely pour, 
 And amethysts vdth emeralds mix'd 
 
 Inlay the tesselated floor. 
 
 While thus the startled stranger greet, 
 
 Within no earthly form confin'd, 
 Voices, as distant music sweet, 
 
 That floats upon the evening wind : 
 
 " Lull to rest this causeless fear; 
 Psyche ! thou art mistress here. 
 Happy beyond human measure. 
 Slake thy thirsting soul in pleasure ; 
 Slaves to thy majestic lover, 
 Air-form'd sprites around thee hover, 
 Ever for thy bidding stay, 
 Instant thy commands obey." 
 
 — And ere the lingering word is said, 
 Quick as the lightning glance of thought, 
 
 "With sumptuous fare the banquet's spread, 
 By her aerial servants brought. 
 
 And flute, and harp, and voice, to fill 
 
 The choral harmony unite. 
 And make each raptur'd nerve to thrill 
 
 And vibrate with intense delight. 
 
 Swiftly the happy hours are fled ! 
 
 Tor night invites her to repose, 
 And on the silk- embroider' d bed 
 
 Her wearied frame the virgin throws. 
 
 Now Darkness o'er the silent sphere 
 
 Her raven- tinctur'd reign assumes — • 
 She stops her breath, she chills to hear 
 
 The rustling sound of waving plumes. 
 
414 CUPID AKD PSYCHE. 
 
 All husli'd around — no friend beside — 
 Her heart beats high with new alarms ! 
 
 — The dreaded husband claims his bride, 
 And folds her in his eager arms ! 
 
 Yet while thick shades are o'er them spread, 
 (How hard that lovely couch to scorn I) 
 
 Soft gliding from the nuptial bed, 
 He flies before the golden mom. 
 
 While viewless harps incessant ring 
 To greet her on her bridal day, 
 
 And viewless minstrels gaily sing 
 The Hymeneal roundelay. 
 
 And aye when Eve in grateful hour 
 Sheds odours from her dewy wings. 
 
 The Unknown seeks his mystic bower. 
 And to the expectant fair-one springs : 
 
 In frantic passion's giddy whirl 
 
 Past, quickly past, his transient stay. 
 
 He stiU eludes the curious girl. 
 And steals unseen, unfelt, away ; 
 
 Ere from the bosom of the Night 
 
 Young Twilight scents the matin air, 
 
 And in her gray vest rises light 
 
 Spangled with gems her musky air. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Though circling o'er, the laughing hours 
 In still-increasing raptures roll'd. 
 
 Oft gleams the path besprent with flowers 
 With tints too clear, too bright to hold ! 
 
 Thus speaks the Invisible, and sighs. 
 And clasps her in his warm embrace, 
 
 While the large tear-drops from his eyes 
 Fall frtquent on her burning face : 
 
CUPID AI^D PRTCHE. 415 
 
 " Life of my beating heart ! o*er thee 
 
 Impending danger scowls : beware ! 
 With anxious soul I shuddering see 
 
 The cruel fates their lures prepare. 
 
 Soon shall thy sisters seek thee near, 
 
 With loud lament and piercing wail, 
 And thou each well-known voice shalt hear 
 
 Borne fitful on the moaning gale. 
 
 Then, though thy veiy soul will yearn 
 
 To bid thy messengers convey 
 The wish'd-for visitants ; turn ! 
 
 Turn from their pla^ntp thiT\'^ ear away. 
 
 If nature's feelings conquer still. 
 
 And thou must wayward tempt thy fate, 
 
 Thou know'st, obedient to thy will, 
 What mystic menials round thee wait. 
 
 Yet, as thou'dst shun eternal bale, 
 
 Or never-ceasing misery dread. 
 Our dark mysterious union veil 
 
 In the deep silence of the dead. 
 
 For these the truths the Fates unfold : 
 
 We in these bowers may ever dwell, 
 If mortal eye shall ne'er behold 
 
 This form, nor tongue my secrets tell. 
 
 While from our glad embrace will rise, 
 
 Pure from all taint of earthly leaven. 
 An infant inmate of the skies. 
 
 The fairest of the host of heaven. 
 
 Then spare thyself, thy husband spare, 
 
 And spare thy child, as yet unborn ; 
 Dash not the dark clouds of despair 
 
 Upon the ruddy hues of morn." 
 
416 CUPID Aim PSYCHE. 
 
 Gaily we launch our little bark, 
 The sun-beams on the waters play, 
 
 While close behind the ravenous shark 
 Expecting waits his destin'd prey. 
 
 "We sail along the whirlpool's brink, 
 
 Unheeding join the song of glee, 
 But ah ! too late aghast we shrink. 
 
 When whelm'd beneath the treacherous sea 
 
 Psyche has heard the warning strain — 
 Resistless wishes restless spring. 
 
 She slights the strain, and bids her train 
 Of swift- wing' d sprites her sisters bring. 
 
 Her childhood's friends she joys to meet, 
 'No shade of danger here can find : 
 
 Though mingled in communion sweet. 
 They cannot sound the viewless mind. 
 
 Lock'd in her ever- faithful breast. 
 
 Her secret all discovery braves. 
 Safe as the orient pearl, will rest, 
 
 Beneath unfathomable waves. 
 
 " And who is he whose natal star 
 
 With such unrivaird splendour shines, 
 
 Whose countless stores exceed so far 
 All India's inexhausted mines ? " 
 
 '' ! 'tis a youth whose ruddy cheek 
 Vies with the mom's vermilion dye. 
 
 Or emulates the clouds that streak 
 With crimson tints the evening sky. 
 
 And mantled he in lively green 
 Up the high mountain joy? to go. 
 
 Or in the wild-wood chace is seen 
 The foi«most with his silver bow." 
 
CDPID AND PSYCHE. 417 
 
 Homeward the sisters now return, 
 
 Their bosoms charg'd with deadly hate, 
 
 And with excessive envy burn, 
 And curse their own inferior fate. 
 
 Exulting Psyche bids again 
 
 The obedient sprites her sisters bear ; 
 Borne by the ministering train, 
 
 Again arrive the baleful pair. 
 
 *' And who is he whose natal star 
 With such unrivall'd splendour shines, 
 
 Whose countless stores exceed so far 
 All India's inexhausted mines r " 
 
 " ! he is one unbroke by care. 
 The rose of beauty lingers yet, 
 
 Though here and there a hoary hair 
 Gleams silvery 'midst his locks of jet." 
 
 " Cease, cease those fables," swift replied 
 One sister with unfeeling scorn, 
 
 And " Cease thy tales," the other cried, 
 " ^OT strive to hide thy state forlorn.'* 
 
 ** Still ever erring from the truth. 
 Thy childish tongue deceitful ran — 
 
 Thy husband neither glows with youth, 
 Nor the gray honours boasts of man ; 
 
 He wears no human form — we know 
 Unerring are the words of heaven ; 
 
 And of all human kind the foe 
 
 Thee for a mate the Gods have given. 
 
 "We know him well — then wherefore hide 
 From thy dear sisters' love thy care, 
 
 Nor to our kindred breasts confide 
 
 The ills that thou art doom'd to bear ?" 
 
418 CTJPID AND PSYCHE. 
 
 Then as they wipe the artful tear, 
 Loud on the pitying Gods they call, 
 
 Till sooth' d by love, or urg'd by fear, 
 The trembling Psycse tells them all. 
 
 " We knew it well — nay, do not start," 
 
 The base malignant fury cried, 
 *' We know, unhappy girl ! thou art 
 
 A vast and venom' d serpent's bride. 
 
 We learnt it from the neighbouring hinds, 
 Who every night his form survey. 
 
 As through yon crystal stream he winds 
 In slimy folds his sinuous way. 
 
 Or as at day-break he along 
 
 In many a spiral volume trails. 
 And vibrates quick his forky tongue. 
 
 And glitters in his burnish'd scales. 
 
 Yes ! though with heaven's own transports vvarm 
 Thy soul in boundless rapture swims, 
 
 'Soon, coil'd around thy slender form. 
 
 He'll writhing crush thy mangled limbs !" 
 
 Thus the hyaena speaks and weeps — 
 Cold damps on Psyche's forehead start. 
 
 Her tingling flesh with horror creeps, 
 The life-blood curdling in her heart. 
 
 All ghastly pale her beauteous cheek, 
 She throws her moonstruck gaze around, 
 
 Utters a feeble, faultering shriek, 
 And senseless sinks upon the ground. 
 
 Then as some parch' d and withering flower 
 Reviving sucks the evening dew, 
 
 To bide the insufierable power 
 Of the meridian sun anew ; 
 
 So, when the Unknown's distracted wife 
 Recovers her unwelcome breath. 
 
 She only hails returning life 
 
 To shudder at approaching death. 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE. 419 
 
 XII. 
 
 The sisters still their schemes pursue, 
 Their vengeance ripens in the bud, 
 
 And thus they urge her to embrue 
 
 Her weak and innocent hands in blood. 
 
 *' Cut thou the knot the Fates have tied, 
 Nor let dismay thine efforts damp. 
 
 But in the figur'd tapestry hide, 
 
 To guide thy stroke, this faithful lamp. 
 
 And take this dagger keen and bright, 
 And when his eyes are clos'd in rest. 
 
 Directed by the friendly light, 
 
 Deep plunge it in the monster's breast.'* 
 
 Thou who in love' a soft dreams hast felt. 
 Whilst envying Gods were hovering near, 
 
 Thy soul in sweet delirium melt, 
 Say, canst thou slay thy lover dear ? 
 
 And canst thou spread thy murderous toils 
 For him thy soul's best joy of late ; 
 
 Ah me ! her sickening heart recoils, 
 Disgusted from her viperous mate. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Her mantle o'er them Darkness throws, 
 On the Unknown soft languors creep, 
 
 Who leaves his false one to repose. 
 And sinks into the arms of sleep. 
 
 Now trembling, now distracted ; bold. 
 And now irresolute she seems ; 
 
 The blue lamp glimmers in her hold, 
 And in her hand the dagger gleams. 
 
 Prepar'd to strike she verges near. 
 
 The blue light glimmering from above, 
 
 The HIDEOUS SIGHT expects with fear, 
 —And gazes on the GOD OF LOYE ! 
 
420 CUPID AND PSYCHE, 
 
 Not sucli a young and frolic child 
 As poets feign, or sculptors plan ; 
 
 Ko, no, she sees with transport wild, 
 Eternal beauty veil'd in man. 
 
 His cheeks ingrain' d carnation glow'd 
 Like rubies on a bed of pearls, 
 
 And down his ivory shoulders iiow'd 
 In clustering braids his golden curls. 
 
 Soft as the cygnet's down his wings ; 
 
 And as the falling snow-flake fair, 
 Each light elastic feather springs, 
 
 And dances in the balmy air. 
 
 The pure and vital stream he breathes, 
 Makes e'en the lamp shine doubly bright, 
 
 "Which its gay flame enamoured wreathes, 
 And gleams with scintillating light. 
 
 There loosely strung that bow was hung, 
 Whose twanging cord Immortals fear. 
 
 And on the floor his quiver flung. 
 
 Lay, stor'd with many an arrow, near. 
 
 Grasp' d in her sacrilegious hands, 
 
 She with the arrows play'd, and laugh' d- 
 
 The crimson on her fingers stands. 
 She's wounded by the poison' d shaft ! 
 
 The red blood riots in her veins. 
 Her feverish pulses wildly beat. 
 
 Whilst every waken'd fibre strains 
 And throbs with palpitating heat. 
 
 With eyes, where sparkling rapture swims, 
 She contemplates his sleeping grace. 
 
 Hangs fondly o'er his well-turn'd limbs. 
 And joins to his her fervid face. 
 
 But as her views intent to foil. 
 Or as that form it long'd to kiss, 
 
 Dropt from the lamp the burning oil, 
 Arous'd him from his dreams of bliss. 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE. 421 
 
 Sudden loud thunders shake the skies, 
 
 The enchanted palace sinks around, 
 And sanguine-streaming fires arise, 
 
 Meteorous from the trembling ground. 
 
 And swift as when in fury hurls 
 
 Jove* 8 red right arm the forky light, 
 The wounded Godhead eddying whirls 
 
 Into the heaven of heavens his flight. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 In vapoury twilight damp and chill, 
 
 The languid star fades pale away, 
 The high peak of the distant hill 
 
 Is glided by the gleams of day. 
 
 And who is that distracted fair 
 
 Eeclin'd beneath yon spreading yew ? 
 
 Swoln are her eyes, her dark-brown hair 
 Is pearly with the morning dew. 
 
 Her spring of life now seems to flag, 
 In wild delirium now she raves — 
 
 0, see ! from that o'erjutting crag 
 She plunges in the foaming waves ! 
 
 But he who o'er the stream presides 
 
 The frantic girl in pity bore, 
 Quick darting through his billowy tides, 
 
 In safety to the opposing shore. 
 
 There in a bower with wood-moss lin'd, 
 "With violets blue, and cowslips gay. 
 
 Old Pan, by Canna*s side reelin d. 
 Sung many a rustic roundelay. 
 
 While wandering from his heedless eyes. 
 
 His white goats cropt the neighbouring brake, 
 
 The God in this unfashioned guise 
 With no ungentle feelings spake : 
 
422 CTJPID AND PSYCHE. 
 
 " Sweet girl ! though rural is the air 
 That I the king of shepherds wear, 
 As assay' d silver, tried, and sage. 
 And prudent are the words of age. 
 Then list, O list, sweet girl, to me ! 
 By my divining power I see. 
 Both from thy often-reeling pace, 
 And from thy pale and haggard face. 
 And from thy deep and frequent sigh, 
 While grief hangs heavy on thine eye, 
 That all the ills thou art doom'd to prove, 
 Are judgments of the Gon of Love. — 
 Then list, list, sweet girl, to me, 
 Seek not by death thy soul to free. 
 But cast thy cares, thy griefs away, 
 To Cupid without ceasing pray, 
 And soon that soft luxurious boy 
 "Will tune anew thy mind to joy." 
 
 XV. 
 
 The shipman seeks his native vales, 
 He's come afar from o'er the sea, 
 
 He longs to tell his wond'rous tales 
 Of dangers on the stormy lee. 
 
 He'll tell the wonder-stirring tales 
 To those dear friends he left behind- - 
 
 Ah me ! within his native vales 
 
 His sickening soul no friend can find. 
 
 Thus Psyche to one sister goes. 
 That sister's vital spark is fled : 
 
 To meet the other next she rose. 
 But she is number'd with the dead. 
 
 And she will seek her father's state. 
 And there her parents' bLessings crave- 
 
 Press' d by the heavy hand of fate, 
 They too rest peaceful in the grave ! 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE. 42u 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And now the milk-white Albatross, 
 
 To Venus who in Ocean laves 
 Circled with Sea-nymphs, scuds across 
 
 On oary wings the rippling waves. 
 
 '* Great queen,** the feather'd chatterer said, 
 " Know'st thou not what thy hopeful son, 
 
 Enamour' d of a worthless maid, 
 Has in his amorous folly done ? 
 
 No Nymph, no Muse thy boy adores, 
 No Grace, no Goddess is his flame;. 
 
 His love he on a mortal pours. 
 And Psyche is the damsel's name. 
 
 And groaning now within thy fane. 
 
 Tn anguish penitent lies he. 
 For he too late has felt the bane 
 
 Of female curiosity." 
 
 Venus then calls her doves, and soon 
 "With quick step mounts her golden car, 
 
 Arch'd inwards like the waning moon. 
 And brilliant as the morning star. 
 
 Around her sparrows chirping play. 
 Exulting strain their little throats, 
 
 And all the warblers of the spray 
 Pour sweetly their mellifluous notes. 
 
 She cuts the clouds, she skims the heaven. 
 Till, reach' d the palace of the sky. 
 
 Her fanciful behest is given 
 To the wing'd herald Meecuey. 
 
 " Take thou this volume in thy hand, 
 "With Psyche's history mark'd, and name, 
 
 And thus in every clime and land, 
 And every state aloud proclaim — 
 
424 CUPID AND PSYCHE. 
 
 If any man shall seize and bring 
 The flying daughter of a king, 
 
 Handmaid of Venus, or will tell 
 
 Where Psyche now conceard may dwell, 
 
 Let him to Murtia straight repair, 
 Make the much wish'd discovery there, 
 And Cytherea, queen of charms. 
 
 Sole sovereign of extatic blisses, 
 "Will clasp him in her grateful arms. 
 
 And greet him with seven fervid kisses !" 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Kow four long tedious moons are spent, 
 She hears no tidings of her lord. 
 
 Yet still her wandering steps are bent 
 In search of him her soul ador'd. 
 
 She pray'd at Cep.es' corn-wreath'd shrine, 
 And Juno's altar deck'd with flowers ; 
 
 But sternly bound by pact divine, 
 No succour lend the pitying Powers. 
 
 Till wearied with unnumber'd woes, 
 And render' d valiant by despair. 
 
 She to the Murtian temple goes — 
 Perchance her true love tarries there. 
 
 0, turn thee from the perilous way ! 
 
 Ah ! wherefore work thine own annoy ? 
 Yon priestess. Custom, marks her prey, 
 
 And eyes thee with malignant joy. 
 
 Instant she on her victim springs. 
 She mocks the unavailing prayer, 
 
 Furious her withered hand enrings. 
 And drags her by her flowing hair. 
 
 Then laughing Yenus bids with speed 
 Her handmaids on the pavement throw 
 
 Of all the flowering plants the seed 
 That in the Hesperian gardens blow. 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE. 425 
 
 And she must each assort before 
 
 The dewfall shall the damp grass steep, 
 
 While sentry at the chamber door 
 Solicitude and Soeeow keep. 
 
 A little ant the mandate heard, 
 
 The oppressive mandate with disdain ; 
 Por e'en the weakest 'tis averr'd 
 
 Will on the oppressor turn again. 
 
 And insect myriads never ceas'd 
 
 Their labours till the setting sun, 
 When Venus, rising from the feast, 
 
 With wonder saw the hard task done. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Now rose, in glory rose, the mom. 
 
 And Yenus bids her captive go 
 To yon fair stream, whose currents, borne 
 
 In circling eddies, babbling flow. 
 
 " There grazing the wild flock," she cried, 
 
 " With golden fleeces shalt thou see. 
 Then from the bright ram's shaggy side 
 
 The precious wool bring back to me." 
 
 Trembling she goes — she gazes round, — 
 Say whence that heavenly voice proceeds. 
 
 That like the soft flute's mellow sound 
 
 Breathes sweetly through the whispering reeds ? 
 
 ** Pierce while glares the noon-day sun, 
 Thou the dread adventure shun. 
 While the ram his rival scorns 
 Furious with his jutting horns ; 
 But beneath yon plane-tree's shade. 
 In concealment be thou laid. 
 Till the eve-star, pale and fair, 
 Glimmers through the misty air ; 
 Then in safety may'st thou pull 
 Prom his fleece the golden wool." 
 
426 CTJPID AND PSrCHE. 
 
 Yet though this labour she performs, 
 !N"o grace with Venus can she find ; 
 
 Her stony heart no pity warms, 
 Another trial waits behind. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Down from that cloud-capt mountain's brow 
 
 A never-ceasing cataract pours, 
 Whose feathery surges dash below 
 
 In thunder on the Stygian shores ; 
 
 Thou on the dangerous brink must stand. 
 And dip this goblet in the spring ; 
 
 Descending then with steady hand 
 The black transparent crystal bring." 
 
 Nimbly the mountain steep she'd climb, 
 But thence impervious rocks arise, 
 
 "Whose awful foreheads frown sublime, 
 And lift their bold crags to the skies. 
 
 While horrid voices howl around, 
 
 " Fly ! swiftly fly I"—" Forbear, forbear I" 
 Vast stones, with heart-appalling sound. 
 
 Are hurl'd into the groaning air. 
 
 And on the right, and on the left, 
 
 Four ever- watchful dragons fly, 
 Flame-breathing through each dizzy cleft, 
 
 Their long and flexile necks they ply. 
 
 Though beauty's queen no pity feels, 
 
 The bold rapacious bird of Jove 
 His succour to the afflicted deals. 
 
 In reverence to the God of Love. 
 
 He sees her blasted hopes expire. 
 He leaves the liquid fields of light, 
 
 And whirling round in many a gyru 
 Majestic wings his rapid flight. 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE. 427 
 
 High o*er the dragons see him tower, 
 
 Fp- darting through the azure air ! 
 And high above the stony shower 
 
 The bowl his crooked talons bear. 
 
 Now to the grateful maid he brings 
 The sparkling waters bright and clear, 
 
 Then spreads again his ample wings. 
 And soaring quits this nether sphere. 
 
 Can Beauty no compassion know ? 
 
 Sure Mercy must her bright beams dart, 
 And piercing through those hills of snow, 
 
 Melt e'en the adamantine heart ! 
 
 Ah no ! by Yenus' stem command 
 Psyche to Pkoserpine is sped : 
 
 Shivering she seeks the dreary land, 
 The sun-less mansions of the dead. 
 
 The unopen'd casket she must bring, 
 Whose weak and fragile sides entomb 
 
 From beauty's uncreated spring 
 The essence of eternal bloom. 
 
 Fearful and sad she journey' d on, 
 
 While silence roll'd the midnight hour. 
 
 To where the unsteady moon-beam uhone 
 Reflected from a ruin'd tower. 
 
 And thence she heard these warning notes, 
 Caroll'd as clear as clear might be. 
 
 Sweet as the mei-maid's lay that floats 
 Melodious on the charmed sea. 
 
 ** Sunk her spirit, whelm' d in woe, 
 Does the royal captive go r 
 Does her heart, oppressed with dread. 
 Shudder to approach the dead ? 
 
428 CUPID AlfD PSYCHE. 
 
 Where the cavern yawns around, 
 Enter there the dark profound : 
 Soon thy path a crippled ass, 
 By a cripple led, shall pass, 
 Fainting they beneath their task-~ 
 He assistance oft will ask. 
 But in these infernal lands. 
 Touch not with unhallow'd hands, 
 Cautious thou, without delay 
 Onward, onward, speed thy way ! 
 In old Charon's creaking boat 
 * O'er the dead stream thou must float, 
 
 There the livid corse thou' It see 
 Stretch his blue-swoln hand to thee ; 
 Frown thou on his suit severe, 
 Mercy were destruction here ! 
 See those crones that on the left 
 "Weave the many- colour 'd weft, 
 See them, how they this way wend, 
 Asking thee thy aid to lend. 
 But in these infenial lands 
 Touch not with unhallow'd hands ; 
 Cautious thou, without delay 
 Onward, onward, speed thy way ! 
 Dipt the sop in Hydromel, 
 Charm the three-neck' d dog of Hell ; 
 Then from her imperial seat 
 Thee the shadowy queen shall greet, 
 Shall for thee the feast prepare — 
 Thou that feast refuse to share, 
 But upon the pavement spread 
 Take the black and mouldy bread- 
 By the queen soon set at large, 
 Back now bear thy precious charge : 
 Over all, thy curious mind 
 In the chains of prudence bind, 
 Nor the strict command infringe. 
 Move not thou the golden hinge ! 
 Gladsome then without delay 
 Onward, onward, speed thy way . 
 
CTJPIB AND PSYCHE. 429 
 
 XXI. 
 
 —She has seen the secrets of the deep, 
 And through o'erwhelming horrors past, 
 
 How her recovering pulses leap, 
 
 To hail the day-star's gleams at last ! 
 
 '* Do I then bear eternal bloom 
 Alone to make my tyrant shine ? 
 
 Say, rather let its tints illume 
 
 These wan and woe- worn cheeks of mine; 
 
 Whilst I will revel in the rays 
 Of beauty in the casket hid ;" — 
 
 Alas ! no beam of beauty plays 
 DeHghtful from the lifted Ud ! 
 
 But from the empty casket sprang 
 Of Stygian fogs the baleful breath, 
 
 And heavy o'er her blanch'd frame hang 
 The damp unwholesome dews of Death. 
 
 xsu. 
 
 The fields of nature to deform 
 
 Not always drives the furious blast, 
 
 And shall misfortune's moral storm 
 * Gainst meek endurance ever last ? 
 
 No, though unnumber'd ills assail, 
 Though man behold no succour nigh, 
 
 Though with the frailest of the frail, 
 Presumption tempt the prying eye ; 
 
 Yet, if the germ of virtue live. 
 
 Let constant faith her sufferings brave ; 
 Goodness is powerful to forgive, 
 
 And Heaven omnipotent to save 
 
 Cupid, with downcast, humbled mien. 
 Has to the Thijndeeek breath' d his care, 
 
 The Almighty Father smil'd serene. 
 And granted his adorer's prayer. 
 
430 CTJPID AND PSYCHE. 
 
 N'ow flies he joyful to lier aid, 
 He gently rais'd her falling head, 
 
 "With his bright arrow touch' d the maid, 
 And rous'd her from her cheerless bed. 
 
 He animates anew her charms, 
 
 "Warm o'er her breathes the light of love, 
 
 Then bears her in his circling arms, 
 And stands before the throne of Jove. 
 
 But on the Sovereign of the skies 
 What fleshly optics dare to gaze ? 
 
 And Psyche with averted eyes 
 
 Shrinks trembling from th' excessive blaze ; 
 
 'Till, Hebe raising to her lips 
 
 The ambrosial Goblet foaming high, 
 
 Wrapt in extatic trance she sips 
 The fount of Immoetality ! 
 
 Purpled with roses dance the Hours, 
 The Graces scattering odours play, 
 
 And crown'd with never-fading flowers 
 The Muses hymn the jocund lay. 
 
 And onwards up the ethereal arch 
 Glad Hymen leads the festive train. 
 
 As o'er the rainbow's hues they march. 
 And links them in his golden chain. 
 
 "While soon to bless the faithful pair; 
 
 With eye of laughter, soul of flame, 
 Burst into life a daughter fair, 
 
 And Pleasure was the inlands a&me* 
 
PSYCHE, 
 
 LEGEND OF LOVE. 
 
 A POEM IN SIX CANTOS, 
 
 WBITTEN IN THB SPENSEBIAN STANZA* 
 BY 
 
 MRS. HENRY TIGHE. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Proem — Psyche introduced — Her royal origin — Envy of Venus— Her in- 
 structions to Cupid — The island of Pleasure — The fountains of Joy 
 and of Sorrow — The appearance of Love Psyche asleep — Mutually 
 wounded — Psyche reveals her dream to her Mother — The Oracle con- 
 sulted — Psyche abandoned on the Rock by its decree — Carried by 
 Zephyrs to the island of Pleasure — The Palace of Love — Banquet of 
 Love — Marriage of Cupid and Psyche — Psyche's daily solitude — Her 
 request to her Lover — His reluctant consent. 
 
 Let not the rugged brow the rhymes accuse, 
 Which speak of gentle knights and ladies fair, 
 Nor scorn the lighter labours of the muse, 
 Who yet, for cruel battles would not dare 
 The low-strung chords of her weak lyre prepare ; 
 But loves to court repose in slumbery lay. 
 To tell of goodly bowers and gardens rare. 
 Of gentle blandishments and amorous play. 
 And all the lore of love, in courtly verse essay. 
 
 And ye whose gentle hearts in thraldom held 
 The power of mighty Love already own, 
 When you the pains and dangers have beheld. 
 Which erst your lord hath for his Psyche known. 
 For all your sorrows this may well atone. 
 That he you serve the same hath suffered ; 
 And sure, your fond applause the tale will crown 
 In which your own distress is pictured. 
 And all that Tveary way which you yourselves must tread. 
 
432 PSYCHE. 
 
 Most sweet would to my soul the hope appear, 
 That sorrow in my verse a charm might find, 
 To smooth the brow long bent with bitter cheer, 
 Some short distraction to the joyless mind 
 "Which grief, with heavy chain, hath fast confined 
 To sad remembrance of its happier state ; 
 Por to myself I ask no boon more kind 
 Than power another's woes to mitigate, 
 And that soft soothing art which anguish can abate. 
 
 And thou, sweet sprite, whose sway doth far extend 
 Smile on the mean historian of thy fame I 
 My heart in each distress and fear befriend, 
 Nor ever let it feel a fiercer flame 
 Than innocence may cherish free from blame. 
 And hope may nurse, and sympathy may own ; 
 For, as thy rights I never would disclaim, 
 But true allegiance offered to thy throne, 
 So may I love but one, by one beloved alone. 
 
 That anxious torture may I never feel, 
 "Which, doubtful, watches o'er a wandering heart, 
 Oh ! who that bitter torment can reveal, 
 Or tell the pining anguish of that smart ! 
 In those aft'ections may I ne'er have part. 
 Which easily transferred can learn to rove : 
 'No, dearest Cupid ! when I feel thy dart, 
 For thy sweet Psyche's sake may no false love 
 The tenderness I piize lightly from me remove ! 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 Much wearied with her long and dreaiy way, 
 And now with toil and sorrow well nigh spent. 
 Of sad regret and wasting grief the iprej, 
 Fair Psyche through untrodden forests went, 
 To lone shades uttering oft a vain lament. 
 And oft in hopeless silence sighing deep, 
 As she her fatal error did repent, 
 While deal' remembrance bade her ever weep, 
 And her pale cheek in ceaseless showers of sorrow steep. 
 
PSYCHE. 433 
 
 *Mid the thick covert of that woodland shade, 
 
 A flowery bank there lay undressed by art, 
 But of the mossy turf spontaneous made ; 
 Here the young branches shot their arms athwart, 
 And wove the bower so thick in every part, 
 That the fierce beams of Phoebus glancing strong 
 Could never through the leaves their fury dart ; 
 But the sweet creeping shrubs that round it throng. 
 Their loving fragrance mix, and trail their flowers along. 
 
 And close beside a little fountain played, 
 "Which through the trembling leaves all joyous shone, 
 And with the cheerful birds sweet music made, 
 Kissing the surface of each polished stone 
 As it flowed past : sure as her favourite throne 
 Tranquillity might well esteem the bower. 
 The fresh and cool retreat have called her own, 
 A pleasant shelter in the sultry hour, 
 A refuge from the blast, and angry tempest's power. 
 
 Wooed by the soothing silence of the scene. 
 Here Psyche stood, and looking round, lest aught 
 Which threatened danger near her might have beeii) 
 A while to rest her in that quiet spot 
 She laid her down, and piteously bethought 
 Herself on the sad changes of her fate. 
 Which in so short a space so much had wrought. 
 And now had raised her to such high estate. 
 And now had plunged her low in sorrow desolate. 
 
 Oh ! how refreshing seemed the breathing wind 
 To her faint limbs ! and while her snowy hands 
 From her fair brow her golden hair unbind. 
 And of her zone unloose the silken bands. 
 More passing bright unveiled her beauty stands ; 
 For faultless was her form as beauty's queen, 
 And every winning grace that Love demands. 
 With mild attempered dignity was seen 
 Play o'er each lovely limb, and deck her angel mien. 
 
134 • PSYCHE. 
 
 Though solitary now, dismayed, forlorn, 
 Without attendant through the forest rude, 
 The peerless maid, of royal lineage born, 
 By many a royal youth had oft been wooed ; 
 Low at her feet full many a prince had sued, 
 And homage paid unto her beauty rare ; 
 But all their blandishments her heart withstood ; 
 And well might mortal suitor sure despair, 
 Since mortal charms were none which might with hers compare. 
 
 Yet nought of insolence or haughty pride 
 Found ever in her gentle breast a place ; 
 Though men her wondrous beauty deified, 
 And rashly deeming such celestial grace 
 Could never spring from any earthly race, 
 Lo ! all forsaking Cytherea's shrine, 
 Her sacred altars now no more embrace. 
 But to fair Psyche pay those rites divine, 
 Which, Goddess ! are thy due, and should be or.ly thine. 
 
 But envy of her beauty's growing fame 
 Poisoned her sisters' hearts with secret gall, 
 And oft with seeming piety they blame 
 The worship which they justly impious call ; 
 And oft, lest evil should their sire befal, 
 Besought him to forbid the erring crowd 
 Which hourly thronged around the regal hall, 
 With incense, gifts, and invocations loud, 
 To her whose guiltless breast ne'er felt elation proud. 
 
 For she was timid as the wintry flower, 
 That, whiter than the snow it blooms among, 
 Droops its fair head submissive to the power 
 Of every angry blast which sweeps along, 
 Sparing the lovely trembler, while the strong 
 Majestic tenants of the leafless wood 
 It levels low. But, ah ! the pitying song 
 Must tell how, than the tempest's self more rude. 
 Fierce wrath md cruel hate their suppliant prey pursued. 
 
PSYCHE. 435 
 
 Indignant quitting her deserted fanes, 
 Now Cytherea sought her favourite isle, 
 And there from every eye her secret pains 
 'Mid her thick myrtle bowers concealed a while ; 
 Practised no more the glance, or witching smile, 
 But nursed the pang she never felt before. 
 Of mortified disdain ; then to beguile 
 The hours which mortal flattery soothed no more, 
 She various plans revolved her influence to restore. 
 
 She called her son with unaccustomed voice ; 
 Not with those thrilling accents of delight 
 Which bade so oft enchanted Love rejoice. 
 Soft as the breezes of a summer's night : 
 Now choked with rage its change could Love afiiight ; 
 As all to sudden discontent a prey, 
 Shunning the cheerful day's enlivening light, 
 She felt the angry power's malignant sway, 
 And bade her favourite boy her vengeful will obey. 
 
 Bathed in those tears which vanquish human hearts, 
 " Oh, son beloved!" (the suppliant goddess cried,) 
 " If e'er thy too indulgent mother's arts 
 Subdued for thee the potent deities 
 "Who rule my native deep, or haunt the skies ; 
 Or if to me the grateful praise be due. 
 That to thy sceptre bow the great and wise, 
 Now let thy fierce revenge my foe pursue, 
 And let my rival scorned her vain presumption rue. 
 
 '' For what to me avails my former boast 
 
 That, fairer than the wife of Jove confest, 
 
 I gained the prize thus basely to be lost ? 
 
 With me the world's devotion to contest 
 
 Behold a mortal dares ; though on my breast 
 
 Still vainly brilliant shines the magic zone. 
 
 Yet, yet I reign : by you my wrongs redrest. 
 
 The world with humbled Psyche soon shall own 
 That Yenus, beauty's queen, shaU be adored alone. 
 
436 
 
 PSYCHE. 
 
 ** Deep let her drink of that dark, bitter spring, 
 Which flows so near thy bright and crystal tide ; 
 Deep let her heart thy sharpest arrow sting, 
 Its tempered barb in that black poison dyed. 
 Let her, for whom contending princes sighed, 
 Feel all the furj^ of thy fiercest flame 
 For some base wretch to foul disgrace allied, 
 Forgetful of her birth and her fair fame, 
 
 Her honours all defiled, and sacrificed to shame.** 
 
 Then, with sweet pressure of her rosy lip, 
 A kiss she gave bathed in ambrosial dew ; 
 The thrilling joy he would for ever sip, 
 And his moist eyes in ecstasy imbrue. 
 But she whose soul still angry cares pursue, 
 Snatched from the soft caress her glowing charms ; 
 Her vengeful will she then enforced anew. 
 As she in haste dismissed him from her arms. 
 The cruel draught to seek of anguish and alarms. 
 
 'Mid the blue waves by circling seas embraced, 
 A chosen spot of fairest land was seen ; 
 For there with favouring hand had Nature placed 
 All that could lovely make the varied scene : 
 Eternal Spring there spread her mantle green ; 
 There high surrounding hills deep-wooded rose 
 O'er placid lakes ; while marble rocks between 
 The fragrant shrubs their pointed heads disclose. 
 And balmy breathes each gale which o'er the island blowR 
 
 Pleasure had called the fertile lawns her own, 
 And thickly strewed them with her choicest flowers ; 
 Amid the quiet glade her golden throne 
 Bright shone with lustre through o'erarching bowern : 
 There her fair train, the ever-downy Hours, 
 Sport on light wing with the young Joys entwined ; 
 While Hope delighted from her full lap showers 
 Blossoms, whose fragrance can the ravished mind 
 Inebriate with dreams of rapture unconfined 
 
PSYCHE. 43' 
 
 And in the grassy centre of the isle, 
 "VVTiere the thick verdure spreads a damper shade, 
 Amid their native rocks concealed a while, 
 Then o'er the plains in devious streams displayed, 
 Two gushing fountains rise ; and thence conveyed, 
 Their waters through the woods and valleys play, 
 Visit each green recess and secret glade, 
 With still unmingled, still meandering way, 
 Kor widely wandering far, can each from other stray. 
 
 But of strange contrast are their virtues found, 
 And oft the lady of that isle has tried 
 In rocky dens and caverns under ground, 
 The black deformed stream in vain to hide ; 
 Bursting all bounds her labours it defied ; 
 Yet many a flowery sod its course conceals 
 Through plains where deep its silent waters glide, 
 Till secret ruin all corroding steals. 
 And every treacherous arch the hideous gulph reveals. 
 
 Forbidding every kindly prosperous growth, 
 Where'er it ran, a channel bleak it wore ; 
 The gaping banks receded, as though loth 
 To touch the poison which disgraced their shore : 
 There deadly anguish pours unmixed his store 
 Of all the ills which sting the human breast, 
 The hopeless tears which past delights deplore. 
 Heart-gnawing jealousy which knows no rest. 
 And self-upbraiding shame, by stem remorse opprest. 
 
 Oh, how unlike the pure transparent stream. 
 Which near it bubbles o'er its golden sands ! 
 The impeding stones with pleasant music seem 
 Its progress to detain from other lands ; 
 And all its banks, inwreathed with flowery bands, 
 Ambrosial fragrance shed in grateful dew : 
 There young Desire enchanted ever stands, 
 Breathing delight and fragrance ever new. 
 And bathed in constant joys of fond afl'ection true. 
 
438 PSYCKE. 
 
 But not to mortals is it e'er allowed 
 To drink unmingled of that current bright ; 
 Scarce can they taste the pleasurable flood, 
 Defiled by angry Fortune's envious spite ; 
 "Who from the cup of amorous delight 
 Dashes the sparkling draught of brilliant joy, 
 Till, with dull sorrow's stream despoiled quite, 
 No more it cheers the soul nor charms the eye. 
 But 'mid the poisoned bowl distrust and anguish lie. 
 
 Here Cupid tempers his unerring darts. 
 And in the fount of bliss delights to play ; 
 Here mingles balmy sighs and pleasing smarts, 
 And here the honied draught will oft allay 
 With that black poison's all-polluting sway. 
 For wretched man. Hither, as Yenus willed, 
 For Psyche's punishment he bent his way : 
 From either stream his amber vase he filled. 
 For her were meant the drops which grief alone distilled. 
 
 His quiver, sparkling bright with gems and gold, 
 From his fair plumed shoulder graceful hung. 
 And from its top in brilliant chords enrolled 
 Each little vase resplendently was slung : 
 Still as he flew, around him sportive clung 
 His frolic train of winged Zephyrs light, 
 Wafting the fragrance which his tresses flung : 
 While odours dropped from every ringlet bright, 
 And from his blue eyes beamed ineffable delight. 
 
 Wrapt in a cloud unseen by mortal eye. 
 He sought the chamber of the royal maid ; 
 There, lulled by careless soft security. 
 Of the impending mischief nought afraid, 
 Upon her purple couch was Psyche laid. 
 Her radiant eyes a downy slumber sealed ; 
 In light transparent veil alone arrayed. 
 Her bosom's opening charms were half revealed. 
 And scarce the lucid folds her polished limbs concealed. 
 
PSYCHE. 439 
 
 A placid smile plays o'er each roseate lip, 
 Sweet severed lips ! while thus your pearls disclose, 
 That slumbering thus unconscious she may sip 
 The cruel presage of her future woes ! 
 Lightly, as fall the dews upon the rose, 
 Upon the coral gates of that sweet cell 
 The fatal drops he pours ; nor yet he knows, 
 Nor, though a God, can he presaging tell 
 How he himself shall mourn the ills of that sad srtell ! 
 
 "Not yet content, he from his quiver drew. 
 Sharpened with skill divine, a shining dart : 
 'No need had he for bow, since thus too true 
 His hand might wound her all-exposed heart ; 
 Yet her fair side he touched with gentlest art. 
 And half relenting on her beauties gazed ; 
 Just then awaking with a sudden start, 
 Her opening eye in humid lustre blazed, 
 Unseen he still remained, enchanted and amazed. 
 
 The dart which in his hand now trembling stood, 
 As o'er the couch he bent with ravished eye, 
 Drew with its daring point celestial blood 
 From his smooth neck's unblemish'd ivory : 
 Heedless of this, but with a pitying sigh 
 The evil done now anxious to repair, 
 He shed in haste the balmy drops of joy 
 O'er all the silky ringlets of her hair ; 
 Then stretched his plumes divine, and breathed celestial air, 
 
 Unhappy Psyche ! soon the latent wound 
 The fading roses of her cheek confess. 
 Her eyes* bright beams, in swimming sorrows drowned, 
 Sparkle no more with life and happiness, 
 Her parents' fond exulting heart to bless ; 
 She shuns adoring crowds, and seeks to hide 
 The pining sorrows which her soul oppress, 
 Till to her mother's tears no more denied, 
 The secret grief she owns, for which she lingering sighed. 
 
440 PSTCHE. 
 
 A dream of mingled terror and delight 
 Still heavy hangs upon her troubled soul, 
 An angry form still swims before her sight, 
 And still the vengeful thunders seem to roll ; 
 Still crushed to earth she feels the stern control 
 Of Yenus unrelenting, unappeased : 
 The dream returns, she feels the fancied dole ; 
 Once more the furies on her heart have seized. 
 But still she views the youth who all her sufferings eased. 
 
 Of wondrous beauty did the vision seem, 
 And in the freshest prime of youthfal years ; 
 Such at the close of her distressful dream 
 A graceful champion to her eyes appears ; 
 Her loved deliverer from her foes and fears 
 She seems in grateful transport still to press ; 
 Still his soft voice sounds in her ravished ears ; 
 Dissolved in fondest tears of tenderness, 
 His form she oft invokes her waking eyes to bless. 
 
 Kor was it quite a dream, for as she woke. 
 Ere heavenly mists concealed him from her eye, 
 One sudden transitory view she took 
 Of Love's most radiant bright divinity; 
 From the fair image never can she fly. 
 As still consumed with vain desire she pines ; 
 "While her fond parents heave the anxious sigh, 
 And to avert her fate seek holy shrines 
 The threatened ills to learn by auguries and signs. 
 
 And now, the royal sacrifice prepared. 
 The milk-white bull they to the altar lead. 
 Whose youth the galling yoke as yet had spared. 
 Now destined by the sacred knife to bleed : 
 AVhen lo ! with sudden spring his horns he freed, 
 And head-long rushed amid the frighted throng : 
 While from the smoke-veiled shrine such sounds proceed 
 As well might strike with awe the soul most strong ; 
 And thus divinely spoke the heaven-inspired tongue. 
 
PSYCHE. 441 
 
 '* On nuptial coucli, in nuptial vest arrayed, 
 
 On a tall rock's high summit Psyche place : 
 
 Let all depart, and leave the fated maid 
 
 Who never must a mortal Hymen grace : 
 
 A winged monster of no earthly race 
 
 Thence soon shall bear his trembling bride away ; 
 
 His power extends o'er all the bounds of space. 
 
 And Jove himself has owned his dreaded sway, 
 Whose flaming breath sheds fire, whom earth and heaven obey." 
 
 With terror, anguish, and astonishment 
 The oracle her wretched father hears ; 
 Kow from his brow the regal honours rent, 
 And now in frantic sorrow wild appears, 
 Kor threatened plagues, nor punishinent he fears. 
 Refusing long the sentence to obey. 
 Till Psyche, trembling with submissive tears, 
 Bids them the sacrifice no more delay. 
 Prepare the funeral couch, and leave the destined prey. 
 
 Pleased by the ambiguous doom the Pates promulge, 
 The angry Goddess and enamoured Boy 
 Alike content their various hopes indulge ; 
 He, still exploring with an anxious eye 
 The future prospect of uncertain joy, 
 Plans how the tender object of his care 
 He may protect from threatened misery ; 
 Ah, sanguine Love ! so oft deceived, forbear 
 With flattering tints to paint illusive hope so fair. 
 
 But now what lamentations rend the skies i 
 In amaracine wreaths the virgin choir 
 With lo Hymen mingle funeral cries : 
 Lost in the sorrows of the Lydian lyre 
 The breathing flutes' melodious notes expire ; 
 In sad procession pass the mournful throng. 
 Extinguishing with tears the torches' fire. 
 While the mute victim weeping crowds among. 
 By unknown fears oppressed, moves silently along. 
 
442 PSYCHE. 
 
 Dut on such scenes of terror and dismay 
 The mournful Muse delights not long to dwell ; 
 8he quits well pleased the melancholy lay, 
 Xor vainly seeks the parents' woes to tell : 
 Eut what to wondering Psyche then befel 
 When thus abandoned, let he"r rather say. 
 Who shuddering looks to see some monster fell 
 Approach the desert rock to seize his prey, 
 With cruel fangs devour, or tear her thence away. 
 
 When lo ! a gentle breeze began to rise, 
 Breathed by obedient ZephjTs round the maid, 
 Panning her bosom with its softest sighs, 
 A while among her fluttering robes it strayed, 
 And boldly sportive latent charms displayed : 
 And then, as Cupid willed, with tenderest care 
 From the tall rock, where weeping she was laid, 
 With gliding motion through the yielding air 
 To Pleasui'e's blooming isle their lovely charge they bear. 
 
 On the green bosom of the turf reclined. 
 They lightly now the astonished virgin lay. 
 To placid rest they soothe her troubled mind ; 
 Around her still with watchful care they stay, 
 Around her still in quiet whispers play : 
 Till lulling slumbers bid her eyelids close. 
 Veiling with silky fringe each brilliant ray, 
 While soft tranquillity divinely flows 
 O'er all her soul serene, in visions of repose. 
 
 Refreshed she rose, and all enchanted gazed 
 On the rare beauties of the pleasant scene. 
 Conspicuous far a lofty palace blazed 
 Upon a sloping bank of softest green ; 
 A fairer edifice was never seen ; 
 The high-ranged columns own no mortal hand, 
 But seem a temple meet for Beauty's queen. 
 Like polished snow the marble pillars stand 
 In grace-attempered majesty sublimely grand. 
 
PSYCHE. 443 
 
 Gentlj' ascending- from a silvery floods 
 Above the palace rose the shaded hill, 
 The lofty eminence was crowned with wood, 
 And the rich lawns, adorn 'd by jS'ature's skill, 
 The passing breezes with their odours fill ; 
 Here ever-blooming groves of orange glow. 
 And here all flowers which from their leaves distil 
 Ambrosial dew in sweet succession blow. 
 And trees of matchless size a fragrant shade bestow. 
 
 The sun looks glorious 'mid a sky serene. 
 And bids bright lustre sparkle o'er the tide ; 
 The clear blue ocean at a distance seen 
 Bounds the gay landscape on the western side, 
 While closing round it with majestic pride, 
 The lofty rocks 'mid citron groves arise ; 
 *' Sure some divinity must here reside," 
 As tranced in some bright vision, Psyche cries. 
 And scarce believes the bliss, or trusts her charmed eyes. 
 
 When lo ! a voice divinely sweet she hears. 
 From unseen lips proceeds the heavenly sound ; 
 "Psyche, approach, dismiss thy timid fears, 
 At length his bride thy longing spouse has found. 
 And bids for thee immortal joys abound ; 
 Por thee the palace rose at his command. 
 For thee his love a bridal banquet crowned ; 
 He bids attendant nymphs around thee stand. 
 Prompt every wish to serve, a fond obedient band." 
 
 Increasing wonder filled her ravished soul, 
 Por now the pompous portals opened wide. 
 There, pausing oft, with timid foot she stole 
 Through halls high domed, enriched with sculptured pride^ 
 While gay saloons appeared on either side, 
 In splendid vista opening to her sight ; 
 And all with precious gems so beautified. 
 And furnished with such exquisite delight. 
 That scarce the beams of heaven emit such lustre bright. 
 
444 PSYCHE. 
 
 The amethyst was there of violet hue, 
 And there the topaz shed its golden ray, 
 The chrysoberyl, and the sapphire blue 
 As the clear azure of a sunny day, 
 Or the mild eyes where amorous glances play ; 
 The snow-white jasper, and the opal's flame, 
 The blushing ruby, and the agate grey. 
 And there the gem which bears his luckless name 
 Whose death by Phoebus mourned ensured him deathless fame. 
 
 There the green emerald, there cornelians glow, 
 And rich carbuncles pour eternal light. 
 With all that India and Peru can shew, 
 Or Labrador can give so flaming bright 
 To the charmed mariner's half-dazzled sight : 
 The coral-paved baths with diamonds blaze : 
 And ail that can the female heart delight 
 Of fair attire, the last recess displays. 
 And all that Luxury can ask, her eye surveys. 
 
 Xow through the hall melodious music stole. 
 And self-prepared the splendid banquet stands, 
 Self- poured the nectar sparkles in the bowl. 
 The lute and viol touched by unseen hands 
 Aid the soft voices of the choral bands ; 
 O'er the full board a brighter lustre beams 
 Than Persia's monarch at his feast commands : 
 For sweet refreshment all inviting seems 
 To taste celestial food, and pure ambrosial streams 
 
 But when meek Eve hung out her dewy star. 
 And gently veiled with gradual hand the sky, 
 Lo ! the bright folding doors retiring far, 
 Display to Psyche's captivated eye 
 All that voluptuous ease could e'er supply 
 To soothe the spirits in serene repose : 
 Beneath the velvet's purple canopy 
 Divinely formed a downy couch arose, 
 While alabaster lamps a milky light disclose 
 
PSYCHE. 445 
 
 Once more she hears the hymeneal strain; 
 Far other voices now attune the lay ; 
 The swelling sounds approach, a while remain. 
 And then retiring faint dissolved away : 
 The expiring lamps emit a feebler ray, 
 And soon in fragrant death extinguished lie : 
 Then virgin terrors Psyche's soul dismay. 
 When through the obscuring gloom she nought can spy, 
 But softly rustling sounds declare some Being nigh. 
 
 Oh, you for whom I write ! whose hearts can melt 
 At the soft thrilling voice whose power you prove, 
 You know what charm, unutterably felt, 
 Attends the unexpected voice of Love : 
 Above the lyre, the lute's soft notes above. 
 With sweet enchantment to the soul it steals. 
 And bears it to Elysium's happy grove ; 
 You best can tell the rapture Psyche feels 
 When Love's ambrosial lip the vows of Hymen seals. 
 
 '•^ 'Tis he, 'tis my deliverer ! deep imprest 
 
 Upon my heart those sounds I well recal," 
 
 The blushing maid exclaimed, and on his breast 
 
 A tear of trembling ecstasy let fall. 
 
 But, ere the breezes of the morning call 
 
 Aurora from her purple, humid bed, 
 
 Psyche in vain explores the vacant hall, 
 
 Her tender lover from her arms is fled. 
 While sleep his downy wings had o'er hei eye-lids spread. 
 
 Again the band invisible attend. 
 And female voices soothe the mournful bride ; 
 Light hands to braid her hair assistance lend, 
 By some she sees the glowing bracelet tied. 
 Others officious hover at her side, 
 And each bright gem for her acceptance bring, 
 While some, the balmy air diff'using wide, 
 Fan softer perfumes from each odorous wing 
 Than the fresh bosom sheds of eai'liest, sweetest spring. 
 
446 PSTCHE. 
 
 With songs divine her anxious soul they cheer, 
 And woo her footsteps to delicious bowers, 
 They bid the fruit more exquisite appear 
 "Which at her feet its bright profusion showers : 
 For her they cull unknown, celestial flowers ; 
 The gilded car they bid her fearless guide. 
 Which at her wish self moved with wondrous powers 
 The rapid bird's velocity defied. 
 While round the blooming isle it rolled with circuit wido. 
 
 Again they spread the feast, they strike the lyre, 
 But to her frequent questions nought reply. 
 Her lips in vain her lover's name require, 
 Or wherefore thus concealed he shuns her eye. 
 But when reluctant twilight veils the sky. 
 And each pale lamp successively expires ; 
 Again she trembling hears the voice of joy. 
 Her spouse a tender confidence inspires, 
 But with a fond embrace ere dawn at 
 
 To charm the languid hours of solitude 
 He oft invites her to the Muse's lore. 
 For none have vainly e'er the Muse pursued. 
 And those whom she delights, regret no more 
 The social, joyous hours, while rapt they soar 
 To worlds unknown, and live in fancy's dream ; 
 Oh, Muse divine ! thee only I implore, 
 Shed on my soul thy sweet inspiring beams. 
 And pleasure's gayest scene insipid folly seems ! 
 
 Silence and solitude the Muses love. 
 And whom they charm they can alone suffice ; 
 ITor ever tedious hour their votaries prove : 
 This solace now the lonely Psyche tries. 
 Or, while her hand the curious needle plies. 
 She learns from lips unseen celestial strains ; 
 Responsive now with their soft voice she vies, 
 Or bids her plaintive harp express the pains 
 Which absence sore inflicts where Love all potent reigns. 
 
PSYCHE. 447 
 
 But melancholy poisons all her joys, 
 And secret sorrows all her hopes depress, 
 Consuming languor every bliss destroys, 
 And sad she droops repining, comfortless. 
 Her tender lover well the cause can guess, 
 And sees too plain inevitable fate 
 Pursue her to the bowers of happiness. 
 *' Oh, Psyche ! most beloved, ere yet too late. 
 Dread the impending ills and prize thy tranquil state."- 
 
 In vain his weeping love he thus advised ; 
 She longs to meet a parent's sweet embrace, 
 ** Oh, were their sorrowinig hearts at least apprised 
 How Psyche's wondrous lot all fears may chase ; 
 For whom thy love prepared so fair a place ! 
 Let but my bliss their fond complaints repress, 
 Let me but once behold a mother's face. 
 Oh, spouse adored ! and in full happiness 
 This love-contented heart its solitude shall bless. 
 
 Oh, by those beauties I must ne'er behold ! 
 The spicy-scented ringlets of thine hair : 
 By that soft neck my loving arms enfold. 
 Crown with a kind consent thy Psyche's prayer I 
 Their dear embrace, their blessing let me share ; 
 So shall I stain our couch with tears no more : 
 But, blest in thee, resign each other care, 
 Nor seek again thy secret to explore. 
 Which yet, denied thy sight, I ever must deplore." 
 
 Unable to resist her fond request, 
 Beluctant Cupid thus at last complied. 
 And sighing clasped her closer to his breast. 
 " Go then, my Psyche ! go, my lovely bride ! 
 But let me in thy faith at least confide. 
 That by no subtle, impious arts betrayed, 
 Which, ah ! too well I know will all be tried, 
 Thy simply trusting heart shall e'er be swayed 
 The secret veil to rend which fate thy screen hath made. 
 
448 PSYCHE. 
 
 For danger hovers o'er thy smiling days, 
 One only way to shield thee yet I know ; 
 Unseen, I may securely guard thy ways, 
 And save thee from the threatened storm of woe ; 
 But forced, if known, my Psyche to forego, 
 Thou never, never must again be mine ! 
 "What mutual sorrows hence must ceaseless flow ! 
 Compelled thy dear embraces to resign, 
 While thou to anguish doomed for lost delights shalt pine^ 
 
 Solace thy mind with hopes of future joy ! 
 In a dear infant thou shalt see my face ; 
 Blest mother soon of an immortal boy. 
 In him his father's features thou shalt trace ! 
 Yet go ! for thou art free, the bounds of space 
 Are none for thee : attendant Zephyrs stay. 
 Speak but thy will, and to the wished-for place 
 Their lovely mistress swift they shall convey : 
 Yet hither, ah ! retui-n, ere fades the festive day." 
 
 "Light of my soul, far dearer than the day !" 
 
 (Exulting Psyche cries in grateful joy) 
 
 *' Me all the bliss of earth could ill repay 
 
 For thy most sweet, divine society ; 
 
 To thee again with rapture will I fly, 
 
 iN'or with less pleasure hail the star of eve 
 
 Than when in tedious solitude I sigh ; 
 
 My vows of silent confidence believe. 
 Nor think thy Psyche's faith will e'er thy love deceive. 
 
 Her suit obtained, in full contentment blest, 
 Her eyes at length in placid slumbers close. 
 Sleep, hapless fair ! sleep on thy lover's breast; 
 Ah, not again to taste such pure repose ! 
 Till thy sad heart by long experience knows 
 How much they err, who, to their interest blind. 
 Slight the calm peace which from retirement flows ! 
 And while they think their fleeting joys to bind. 
 Banish the tranquil bliss which heaven for man designed 
 
PSYCHE. 449 
 
 CANTO 11. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Introduction — Dangers of the "World — Psyche, conveyed by Zephyrs, 
 awakes once more in the paternal mansion — Envy of her Sisters — 
 They plot her ruin — Inspire her with suspicion and terror — Psyche's 
 return to the Palace of Love — Her disobedience — Love asleep — 
 Psyche's amazement — The flight of Love — Sudden banishment of 
 Psyche from the island of Pleasure — Her lamentations — Comforted by 
 Love— Temple of Venus — Task imposed on Psyche conditional to her 
 reconciliation with Venus— Psyche soothed and attended by Inno- 
 cence — Psyche wandering as described in the opening of the first Canto. 
 
 Oh happy you ! who, blest with present bliss, 
 See not with fatal prescience future tears, 
 Nor the dear moment of enjoyment miss 
 Through gloomy discontent, or sullen fears 
 Foreboding many a storm for coming years ; 
 Change is the lot of all. Ourselves with scorn 
 Perhaps shall view what now so fair appears ; 
 And wonder whence the fancied charm was born 
 Which now with vain despair from our fond grasp is torn ! 
 
 Vain schemer, think not to prolong thy joy .' 
 But cherish while it lasts the heavenly boon : 
 Expand thy sails ! thy little bark shall fly 
 With the fall tide of pleasure ! though it soon 
 May feel the influence of the changeful moon, 
 It yet is thine ! then let not doubts obscure 
 With cloudy vapours veil thy brilliant noon, 
 Nor let suspicion's tainted breath impure 
 Poison the favouring gale which speeds thy course secure i 
 
 Oh, Psyche, happy in thine ignorance ! 
 Couldst thou but shun this heart- tormenting bane ; 
 Be but content, nor daringly advance 
 To meet the bitter hour of threatened pain ; 
 Pure spotless dove ! seek thy safe nest again ; 
 Let true affection shun the public eye. 
 And quit the busy circle of the vain. 
 For there the treacherous snares concealed lie ; 
 Oh timely warned escape ! to safe retirement fly ! 
 
 G & 
 
450 PSYCHE. 
 
 Bright shone the morn ! and now its golden ray 
 Dispelled the slumbers from her radiant eyes, 
 Yet still in dreams her fancy seems to play, 
 "For lo ! she sees with rapture and surprise 
 Pull in her view the well-known mansion rise, 
 And each loved scene of first endearment hails ; 
 The air that first received her infant sighs 
 "With wond'ring ecstasy she now inhales, 
 While every trembling nerve soft tenderness assails. 
 
 See from the dear pavilion, where she lay. 
 Breathless she flies with scarce assured feet. 
 Swift through the garden wings her eager way. 
 Her mourning parents' ravished eyes to greet 
 With loveliest apparition strange and sweet : 
 Their days of anguish all o'erpaid they deem 
 By one blest hour of ecstasy so great ; 
 Yet doubtingly they gaze, and anxious seem 
 To ask their raptured souls, " Oh, is this all a dream ?" 
 
 The wondrous tale attentively they hear, 
 Repeated oft in broken words of joy, 
 She in their arms embraced, while every ear 
 Hangs on their Psyche's lips, and earnestly 
 On her is fixed each wonder-speaking eye ; 
 Till the sad hour arrives which bids them part, 
 And twilight darkens o'er the ruddy sky; 
 Divinely urged they let their child depart, 
 Pressed with a fond embrace to each adoring heart. 
 
 Trusting that wedded to a spouse divine. 
 Secure is now their daughter's happiness, 
 They half contentedly their child resign. 
 Check the complaint, the rising sigh suppress. 
 And wipe the silent drops of bitterness. 
 Nor must she her departure more delay. 
 But bids them now their weeping Psyche bless ; 
 Then back to the pavilion bends her way, 
 Ere in the fading west quite sinks expiring day. 
 
PSYCHE. 451 
 
 But, while her parents listen with delight, 
 Her sisters' hearts the Furies agitate : 
 They look with envy on a lot so bright, 
 And all the honours of her splendid fate, 
 Scorning the meanness of their humbler state ; 
 And how they best her ruin may devise 
 "With hidden rancour much they meditate. 
 Yet still they bear themselves in artful guise. 
 While 'mid the feigned caress, concealed the venom lies. 
 
 By malice urged, by ruthless envy stung. 
 With secret haste to seize their prey they flew> 
 Around her neck as in despair they clung ; 
 Her soft complying nature well they knew* 
 And trusted by delaying to undo ; 
 But when they found her resolute to go. 
 Their well-laid stratagem they then pursue, 
 And, while they bid their treacherous sorrows flow, 
 Thus fright her simple heart with images of woe, 
 
 " Oh, hapless Psyche ! thoughtless of thy doom ! 
 
 Yet hear thy sisters who have wept for thee^ 
 
 Since first a victim to thy living tomb. 
 
 Obedient to the oracle's decree. 
 
 Constrained we left thee to thy destiny. 
 
 Since then no comfort could our woes abate ; 
 
 While thou wert lulled in false security 
 
 We learned the secret horrors of thy fate. 
 And heard prophetic lips thy future ills relate. 
 
 Yet fearing never to behold thee more. 
 Our filial care would fain the truth conceal; 
 But from the sages' cell this ring we bore, 
 With power each latent magic to reveal ; 
 Some hope from hence our anxious bosoms feel 
 That we from ruin may our Psyche save, 
 Since Heaven, propitious to our pious zeal, 
 Thee to our frequent prayers in pity gave. 
 That warned thou yet mayst shun thy sad untimely grave. 
 
452 PSTCHE. 
 
 Oh ! how shall we declare the fatal truth ? 
 How wound thy tender bosom with alarms ? 
 Tell how the graces of thy blooming youth, 
 Thy more than mortal, all-adored charms 
 Have lain enamoured in a sorcerer's arms ? 
 Oh, Psyche ! seize on this decisive hour, 
 Escape the mischief of impending harms ! 
 Return no more to that enchanted bower. 
 Fly the magician's arts, and dread his cruel power. 
 
 If, yet reluctant to forego thy love, 
 Thy furtive joys and solitary state. 
 Our fond officious care thy doubts reprove. 
 At least let some precaution guard thy fate, 
 Nor may our warning love be prized too late ; 
 This night thyself thou mayst convince thine eyes, 
 Hide but a lamp, and cautiously await 
 Till in deep slumber thy magician lies. 
 This ring shall then disclose his foul deformities. 
 
 That monster by the oracle foretold. 
 Whose cursed spells both gods and men must fear, 
 In his own image thou shalt then behold. 
 And shuddering hate what now is prized so dear ; 
 Yet fly not then, though loathsome he appear. 
 But let this dagger to his breast strike deep ; 
 Thy coward terrors then thou must not hear. 
 For if with life he rouses from that sleep 
 Thought then for thee remains, and we must hopeless weep." 
 
 Oh ! have you seen, when in the northern sky 
 The transient flame of lambent lightning plays, 
 In quick succession lucid streamers fly, 
 Now flashing roseate, and now milky raj^s, 
 While struck with awe the astonished rustics gaze ? 
 Thus o*er her cheek the fleeting signals move, 
 Now pale with fear, now glowing mth the blaze 
 Of much indignant, still cohliding love. 
 Now horror's lurid hue with shame's deep blushes strove. 
 
PSYCHE. 453 
 
 On her cold, passive hand the ring they place, 
 And hide the dagger in her folding vest ; 
 Pleased the effects of their dire arts to trace 
 In the mute agony that swells her breast, 
 Already in her future ruin blest : 
 Conscious that now their poor deluded prey 
 Should never taste again delight or rest, 
 But sickening in suspicion's gloom decay, 
 Or urged by terrors rash their treacherous will obey. 
 
 While yet irresolute with sad surprise, 
 *Mid doubt and love she stands in strange suspense, 
 Lo ! gliding from her sisters' wondering eyes 
 Returning Zephyrs gently bear her thence ; 
 Lost all her hopes, her joys, her confidence, 
 Back to the earth her mournful eyes she threw, 
 As if imploring pity and defence ; 
 "While bathed in tears her golden tresses flew, 
 As in the breeze dispersed they caught the precious dew. 
 
 Illumined bright now shines the splendid dome, 
 Melodious accents her arrival hail : 
 But not the torches* blaze can chase the gloom, 
 And all the soothing powers of music fail ; 
 Trembling she seeks her couch with horror pale, 
 But first a lamp conceals in secret shade, 
 "While unknown terrors all her soul assail. 
 Thus half their treacherous counsel is obeyed. 
 For still her gentle soul abhors the murderous blade. 
 
 And now, with softest whispers of delight. 
 Love welcomes Psyche still more fondly dear ; 
 Not unobserved, though hid in deepest night, 
 The silent anguish of her secret fear. 
 He thinks that tenderness excites the tear 
 By the late image of her parents' grief. 
 Aid half ofi'ended seeks in vain to cheer, 
 Yet, while he speaks, her sorrows feel relief. 
 Too soon more keen to sting from this suspension brief 1 
 
454 PSYCHE. 
 
 Allowed to settle on celestial eyes 
 Soft Sleep exulting now exerts his sway, 
 From Psyche's anxious pillow gladly flies 
 To veil those orbs, whose pure and lambent ray 
 The powers of heaven submissively obey. 
 Trembling and breathless then she softly rose, 
 And seized the lamp, where it obscurely lay, 
 "With hand too rashly daring to disclose 
 The sacred veil which hung mysterious o'er her woes. 
 
 Twice, as with agitated step she went. 
 The lamp expiring shone with doubtful gleam, 
 As though it warned her from her rash intent : 
 And twice she paused, and on its trembling beam 
 Gazed with suspended breath, while voices seem 
 "With murmuring sound along the roof to sigh ; 
 As one just waking from a troublous dream. 
 With palpitating heart and straining eye. 
 Still fixed with fear remains, still thinks the danger nigh. 
 
 Oh, daring Muse ! wilt thou indeed essay 
 To paint the wonders which that lamp could shew ? 
 And canst thou hope in living words to say 
 The dazzling glories of that heavenly view ? 
 Ah ! well I ween, that if with pencil true 
 That splendid vision could be well exprest. 
 The fearful awe imprudent Psyche knew 
 Would seize with rapture every wondering breast, 
 When Love's all-potent charms divinely stood confest. 
 
 All imperceptible to human touch, 
 
 His wings display celestial essence light, 
 
 The clear effulgence of the blaze is such. 
 
 The brilliant plumage shines so heavenly bright 
 
 That mortal eyes turn dazzled from the sight ; 
 
 A youth he seems in manhood's freshest years; 
 
 Bound his fair neck, as clinging with delight, 
 
 Each golden curl resplendently appears, 
 
 Or shades his dai'ker brow, which grace majestic wears. 
 
PSTcn-E. 435 
 
 Or o'er his guileless front the ringlets bright 
 Their rays of sunny lustre seem to throw, 
 That front than polished ivory more white I 
 His blooming cheeks with deeper blushes glo\^ 
 Than roses scattered o'er a bed of snow : 
 While on his lips, distilled in balmy dews, 
 (Those lips divine that even in silence know 
 The heart to touch) persuasion to infuse 
 Still hangs a rosy charm that never vainly sues. 
 
 The friendly curtain of indulgent sleep 
 Disclosed not yet his eyes' resistless sway, 
 But from their silky veil there seemed to peep 
 Some brilliant glances with a softened ray, 
 Which o'er his features exquisitely play. 
 And all his polished limbs suffuse with light. 
 Thus through some narrow space the azure day 
 Sudden its cheerful rays diffusing bright. 
 Wide darts its lucid beams, to gild the brow of night 
 
 His fatal arrows and celestial bow 
 Beside the couch were negligently thrown, 
 iN'or needs the god his dazzling arms, to show 
 His glorious birth, such beauty round him shone 
 As sure could spring from Beauty's self alone ; 
 The gloom which glowed o'er all of soft desire. 
 Could well proclaim him Beauty's cherished son ; 
 And beauty's self will oft these charms admire. 
 And steal his witching smile, his glance's living free. 
 
 Speechless with awe, in transport strangely lost, 
 Long Psyche stood with fixed adoring eje ; 
 Her limbs immoveable, her senses tost 
 Between amazement, fear, and ecstasy, 
 She hangs enamoured o'er the Deity. 
 Till from her trembling hand extinguished falls 
 The fatal lamp — He starts — and suddenly 
 Tremendous thunders echo through the halls. 
 While ruin's hideous crash bursts o'er the affrighted walls. 
 
456 PSYCHE. 
 
 J3read horror seizes on her sinking heart, 
 A mortal chillness shudders at her breast, 
 Her soul shrinks fainting from death's icy dart, 
 The groan scarce uttered dies but half exprest, 
 And down she sinks in deadly swoon opprest : | 
 
 But when at length, awaking from her trance, I 
 
 The terrors of her fate stand all confessed, 
 In vain she casts around her timid glance. 
 The rudely frowning scenes her former joys enhance. 
 
 "No traces of those joys, alas, remain ! 
 A desert solitude alone appears. 
 No verdant shade relieves the sandy plain. 
 The wide-spread waste no gentle fountain cheera, 
 One barren face the dreary prospect wears ; 
 Nought through the vast horizon meets her eye 
 To calm the dismal tumult of her fears, 
 No trace of human habitation nigh, 
 A sandy wild beneath, above a threatening sky. 
 
 The mists of morn yet chill the gloomy air, 
 And heavily obscure the clouded skies ; 
 In the mute anguish of a fixed despair 
 Still on the ground immoveable she lies ; 
 At length, with lifted hands and streaming eyes, 
 Her mournful prayers invoke offended Love, 
 " Oh, let me hear thy voice once more," she crie.?, 
 " In death at least thy pity let me move, 
 And death, if but forgiven, a kind relief will prove. 
 
 ** For what can life to thy lost Psyche give, 
 
 "What can it offer but a gloomy void ? 
 
 Why thus abandoned should I wish to live ? 
 
 To mourn the pleasure which I once enjoyed, 
 
 The bliss my own rash folly hath destroyed ; 
 
 Of all my soul most prized, or held most dear, 
 
 Nought but the sad remembrance doth abide, 
 
 And late repentance of my impious fear ; 
 llemorse and vain regret what living soul can bear ! I 
 
PSYCHE. 457 
 
 * Oh, art thou then indeed for ever gone ! 
 And art thou heedless of thy Psyche's woe ! 
 From these fond arms for ever art thou flown, 
 And unregarded must my sorrows flow ! 
 Ah ! why too happy did I ever know 
 The rapturous charms thy tenderness inspires ? 
 Ah ! why did thy affections stoop so low ? 
 Why kindle in a mortal breast such fires, 
 Or widi celestial love inflame such rash desires ? 
 
 " Abandoned thus for ever by thy love, 
 
 1^0 greater punishment I now can bear, 
 
 From fate no farther malice can I prove ; 
 
 Not all the horrors of this desert drear, 
 
 Nor death itself can now excite a fear ; 
 
 The peopled earth a solitude as vast 
 
 T'> this despairing heart would now appear ; 
 
 Here, then, my transient joys for ever past, 
 Let thine expiring bride thy pardon gain at last !" 
 
 Now prostrate on the bare unfriendly ground. 
 She waits her doom in silent agony ; 
 When lo ! the well-known soft celestial sound 
 She hears once more with breathless ecstasy, 
 ** Oh ! yet too dearly loved ! Lost Psyche ! Why 
 With cruel fate wouldst thou unite thy power, 
 And force me thus thine arms adored to fly ? 
 Yet cheer thy drooping soul, some happier hour 
 Thy banished steps may lead back to thy lover's bower. 
 
 *' Though angry Yenus we no more can shun, 
 
 Appease that anger and I yet am thine ! 
 
 Lo ! where her temple glitters to the sun ; 
 
 "With humble penitence approach her shrine, 
 
 Perhaps to pity she may yet incline ; 
 
 But should her cruel wrath these hopes deceive, 
 
 And thou, alas ! must never more be mine. 
 
 Yet shall thy lover ne'er his Psyche leave, 
 But, if the fates allow, unseen thy woes relieve. 
 
458 PSYCHE. 
 
 " stronger than I, they now forbid my stay ; 
 Psyche beloved, adieu !" Scarce can she hear 
 The last faint words, which gently melt away : 
 And now more faint the dying sounds appear, 
 Borne to a distance from her longing ear ; 
 Yet still attentively she stands unmoved, 
 To catch those accents which her soul could cheer. 
 That soothing voice which had so sweetly proved 
 
 That still his tender heart offending Psyche loved ! 
 
 And now the joyous sun had cleared the sky, 
 The mist dispelled revealed the splendid fane ; 
 A palmy grove majestically high 
 Screens the fair building from the desert plain ; 
 Of alabaster white and free from stain 
 'Mid the tall trees the tapering columns rose ; 
 Thither, with fainting steps, and weary pain. 
 Obedient to the voice at length she goes, 
 And at the threshold seeks protection and repose. 
 
 Round the soft scene immortal roses bloom, 
 While lucid myrtles in the breezes play ; 
 'No savage beast did ever yet presume 
 With foot impure within the grove to stray, 
 And far from hence flies every bird of prey ; 
 Thus, 'mid the sandy Garamantian wild. 
 When Macedonia's lord pursued his way. 
 The sacred temple of great Ammon smiled, 
 And green encircling shades the long fatigue beguiled : 
 
 With awe that fearfully her doom awaits 
 Still at the portal Psyche timid lies. 
 When lo ! advancing from the hallowed gates 
 Trembling she views with reverential eyes 
 An aged priest. A mjTtle bough supplies 
 A wand, and roses bind his snowy brows : 
 " Bear hence thy feet profane, (he sternly cries,) 
 Thy longer stay the goddess disallows, 
 Fly, nor her fiercer wrath too daringly arouse. !" 
 
PSYCHE. 459 
 
 His pure white robe imploringly she held, 
 And, bathed in tears, embraced his sacred knees ; 
 Her mournful charms relenting he beheld, 
 And melting pity in his eye she sees ; 
 ^' Hope not (he cries) the goddess to appease, 
 Retire at awful distance from her shrine. 
 But seek the refuge of those sheltering trees, 
 And now thy soul with humble awe incline 
 To hear her sacred will, and mark the words divine. 
 
 ** Presumptuous Psyche ! whose aspiring soul 
 The God of Love has dared to arrogate ; 
 Rival of "Venus ! whose supreme control 
 Is now asserted by all-ruling fate, 
 1^0 suppliant tears her vengeance shall abate 
 Till thou hast raised an altar to her power, 
 Where perfect happiness, in lonely state, 
 Has fixed her temple in secluded bower, 
 By foot impure of man untrodden to this hour ! 
 
 " And on the altar must thou place an urn 
 Pilled from immortal Beauty's sacred spring, 
 "Which foul deformity to grace can turn. 
 And back to fond affection's eyes can bring 
 The charms which fleeting fled on transient wing ; 
 Snatched from the rugged steep where first they rise, 
 Dark rocks their crystal source o'ershadowing. 
 Let their clear water sparkle to the skies 
 Where cloudless lustre beams which happiness supplies I 
 
 ** To Venus thus for ever reconciled, 
 (This one atonement all her wrath disarms), 
 Prom thy loved Cupid then no more exiled 
 There shalt thou, free from sorrow and alarms. 
 Enjoy for ever his celestial charms. 
 But never shalt thou taste a pure repose, 
 Nor ever meet thy lover's circling arms. 
 Till, all subdued that shall thy steps oppose. 
 
 Thy perils there shall end, escaped from all thy foes.** 
 
460 psrcHE. 
 
 With meek submissive woe she heard her doom, 
 Xor to the holy minister replied ; 
 But in the myrtle grove's mysterious gloom 
 She silently retired her grief to hide. 
 Hopeless to tread the waste without a guide, 
 All unrefreshed and faint from toil she lies : 
 "When lo ! her present wants are all supplied, 
 Sent by the hand of Love a turtle flies, 
 And sets delicious food before her wondering eyes. 
 
 Cheered by the favouring omen, softer tears 
 Relieve her bosom from its cruel weight : 
 She blames the sad despondence of her fears, 
 When still protected by a power so great, 
 His tenderness her toils will mitigate. 
 Then with renewed strength at length she goes, 
 Hoping to find some skilled in secret fate, 
 Some learned sage, who haply might disclose 
 Where lay that blissful bower, the end of all her woes. 
 
 And as she went, behold, with hovering flight 
 The dove preceded still her doubtful way ; 
 Its spotless plumage of the purest white, 
 Which shone resplendent in the blaze of day. 
 Could even in darkest gloom a light display ; 
 Of heavenly birth, when first to mortals given 
 Named Innocence. But ah ! too short its stay ; 
 By ravenous birds it fearfully was driven 
 Back to reside with Love, a denizen of heaven. 
 
 Now through the trackless wild, o*er many a mile 
 The messenger of Cupid led the fair, . 
 And cheered with hope her solitary toil. 
 Till now a brighter face the prospects wear. 
 Past are the sandy wastes and deserts bare, 
 And many a verdant hill, and grassy dale. 
 And trace, that mortal culture might declare. 
 And many a wild wood dark, and joyous vale 
 Appeared her soul to soothe, could soothing scenes avaiL 
 
PSYCHE. 4.6 i 
 
 But other fears her timid soul distress, 
 'Mid strangers unprotected and alone, 
 The desert wilderness alarmed her less 
 Than cities, thus unfriended and unknown ; 
 But where the path was all by moss o'ergrown, 
 There still she chose her solitary way. 
 Where'er her faithful Dove before had flown 
 Pearful of nought she might securely stray, 
 For still his care supplied the wants of every day, 
 
 And still she entered every sacred grove 
 And homage paid to each divinity. 
 But chief the altar of almighty Love 
 "Weeping embraced with fond imploring eye ; 
 To every oracle her hopes apply, 
 Instructions for her dangerous path to gain : 
 Exclaiming oft, with a desponding sigh, 
 '* Ah ! how through all such dangers, toil, and pain, 
 Shall Psyche's helpless steps their object e'er attain !" 
 
 And now, remote from every peopled town. 
 One sultry day a cooling bower she found : 
 There, as I whilom sung, she laid her down. 
 Where rich profusion of gay flowers around 
 Had decked with artless shew the sloping ground; 
 There the wild rose and modest violet grow, 
 There all thy charms, Narcissus ! still abound : 
 There wrapt in verdure fragrant lilies blow. 
 Lilies that love the vale, and hide their bells of snow. 
 
 Thy flowers, Adonis ! bright vermilion shew ; 
 Still for his love the yellow Crocus pines ; 
 There, while indignant blushes seem to glow. 
 Beloved by Phoebus his Acanthus shines ; 
 Eeseda still her drooping head reclines 
 With faithful homage to his golden rays, 
 4nd, though 'mid clouds their lustre he resigns, 
 An image of the constant heart displays, 
 While silent still she turns her fond pursuing gaze. 
 
462 PSYCHE. 
 
 And every sweet that Spring with fairy hands 
 Scatters in thy green path, enchanting May ! 
 And every flowering shrub there clustering stand* 
 As though they wooed her to a short delay, 
 Yielding a charm to sooth here weary way ; 
 Soft was the tufted moss, and sweet the breeze, 
 "With lulling sound the murmuring waters play, 
 "With lulling sound from all the rustling trees 
 The fragrant gale invites to cool refreshing ease. 
 
 There as she sought repose, her sorrowing heart 
 Eecalled her absent love with bitter sighs ; 
 Regret had deeply fixed the poisoned dart, 
 Which ever ranlding in her bosom lies ; 
 In vain she seeks to close her weary eyes, 
 Those eyes still swim incessantly in tears, 
 Hope in her cheerless bosom fading dies, 
 Distracted by a thousand cruel fears, 
 While banished from his love for ever she appears. 
 
 Oh ! thou best comforter of that sad heart 
 Whom fortune's spite assails; come, gentle Sleep, 
 The weary mourner soothe ! for well the art 
 Thou knowest in soft forgetfulness to steep 
 The eyes which sorrow taught to watch and weep ; 
 Let blissful visions now her spirits cheer. 
 Or lull her cares to peace in slumbers deep, 
 Till, from fatigue refreshed and anxious fear, 
 Hope, like the morning star, once more sliall re -appear. 
 
PSYCHE. 463 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Praise of Love — Psyche's Champion, with his attendant Constance, 
 described — The Knight assumes the command of Passion, who appears 
 as a Lion — Psyche proceeds under the protection of the Knight — Per- 
 suaded to repose in the Bower of loose Delight — Her escape from 
 thence — Led by Innocence to Retirement — Psyche meets Vanity and 
 Flattery— Betrayed by them into the power of Ambition — Rescued by 
 her Knight. 
 
 Oh, who art thou who darest of Love complain ? 
 He is a gentle spirit and injures none ! 
 His foes are ours ; from them the hitter pain, 
 The keen, deep anguish, the heart-rending groan, 
 Which in his milder reign are never known. 
 His tears are softer than the April showers, 
 White-handed Innocence supports his throne, 
 His sighs are sweet as breath of earliest flowers. 
 Affection guides his steps, and peace protects his bowers. 
 
 But scarce admittance he on earth can find, 
 Opposed by vanity, by fraud ensnared. 
 Suspicion frights him from the gloomy mind, 
 And jealousy in vain his smiles has shared. 
 Whose sullen frown the gentle godhead scared ; 
 From passion's rapid blaze in haste he flies. 
 His wings alone the fiercer flame has spared ; 
 From him ambition turns his scornful eyes. 
 And avarice, slave to gold, a generous lord denies. 
 
 But chief Inconstancy his pow^r destroys ; 
 To mock his lovely form, an idle train 
 With magic skill she dressed in transient toys, 
 By these the selfish votaries she can gain 
 Whom Love's more simple bands could ne'er detain. 
 Ah ! how shall Psyche through such mortal foes 
 The fated end of all her toils attain ? 
 Sadly she ponders o'er her hopeless woes, 
 Till on the pillowy turf she sinks to short repose. 
 
464 PSYCHE. 
 
 jBut, as the careless lamb, whom playful chance, 
 Thoughtless of danger, has enticed to rove, 
 Amidst her gambols casts a sudden glance 
 Where lurks her wily foe within the grove, 
 Anxious to fly, but still afraid to move, 
 All hopeless of escape — so looks the maid. 
 Such dread her half-awakened senses prove, 
 When roused from sleep before her eyes dismayed 
 A knight all armed appears close 'mid the embowering shade* 
 
 Trembling she gazed, until the stranger knight. 
 Tempering with mildest courtesy the awe 
 Which majesty inspired, low in her sight 
 Obeisance made ; nor would he nearer draw, 
 Till, half subdued surprise and fear, he saw 
 Pale terror yielding to the rosy grace. 
 The pure congealed blood begin to thaw. 
 And flowing through her crystal veins apace 
 Suffuse with mantling blush her mild celestial face. 
 
 Gently approaching then with fairest speech 
 He proffered service to the lonely dame. 
 And prayed her that she might not so impeach 
 The honour of his youth's yet spotless fame. 
 As aught to fear which might his knighthood shame ; 
 But if her unprotected steps to guard. 
 The glory of her champion he might claim. 
 He asked no other guerdon or reward. 
 Than what bright honour's self might to his deeds award. 
 
 Doubting, and musing much within her mind. 
 With half-suspicious, half-confiding eye, 
 A while she stood ; her thoughts bewildered find 
 No utterance, unwilling to deny 
 Such proffered aid, yet bashful to reply 
 With quick assent, since though concealed his face 
 Beneath his helm, yet might she well espy 
 And in each fair proportion plainly trace 
 The symmetry of form, and perfect youthful grace. 
 
PSYCHE. 465 
 
 Hard were it to describe the nameless charm 
 That o'er each limb, in every action played, 
 The softness of that voice, which could disarm 
 The hand of fury of its deadly blade ; 
 In shining armour was the youth arrayed, 
 And on his shield a bleeding heart he bore, 
 His lofty crest light plumes of azure shade, 
 There shone a wounded dragon bathed in gore, 
 And bright with silver beamed the silken scarf he wore. 
 
 His milk-white steed with glittering trappings blazed, 
 "Whose reins a beauteous boy attendant held, 
 On the fair squire with wonder Psyche gazed, 
 For scarce he seemed of age to bear the shield, 
 Far less a ponderous lance, or sword to wield ; 
 Yet well this little page his lord had served. 
 His youthful arm had many a foe repelled. 
 His watchful eye from many a snare preserved, 
 Not ever from his steps in any danger swerved. 
 
 Graced with the gift of a perpetual youth, 
 No lapse of years had power his form to change ; 
 Constance was named the boy, whose matchless truth, 
 Though oft enticed with other lords to range, 
 Nor fraud, nor force could from that knight estrange ; 
 His mantle of celestial blue was made. 
 And its bright texture wrought with art so strange 
 That the fresh brilliant gloss could never fade. 
 And lustre yet unknown to Psyche's eyes displayed. 
 
 Thus while she gazed, behold with horrid roar 
 A lion from the neighbouring forest rushed, 
 A golden chain around his neck he bore. 
 Which richly glowing with carbuncles blushed. 
 While his fierce eye-balls fiery rage had flushed : 
 Forth steps the youth before the affrighted fair, 
 Who in his mighty paw already crushed 
 Seems in the terrors of her wild despair. 
 And her mute quivering lips a death -like paleness wear, 
 
 H H 
 
466 PSYCHE. 
 
 Eut scarce the kingly beast the knight beheld, 
 When crouching low, submissive at his feet, 
 His wrath extinguished, and his valour quelled, 
 He seemed with reverence and obedience sweel 
 Him as his long-acknowledged lord to greet. 
 While, in acceptance of the new command, 
 Well pleased the youth received the homage meet. 
 Then seized the splendid chain with steady hand, 
 Full confident to rule, and every foe withstand. 
 
 And, when at length recovered from her fear, 
 The timid Psyche mounts his docile steed, 
 Much prayed, she tells to his attentive ear 
 (As on her purposed journey they proceed) 
 The doubtful course the oracle decreed : 
 And how, observant of her friendly guide. 
 She still pursued its flight, with all the speed 
 Her fainting strength had hitherto supplied : 
 ^Vhat pathless wilds she crossed ! What forests daa kJing" wide ? 
 
 ^ATiich having heard, the courteous knight began 
 With counsel sweet to soothe her wounded heart ; 
 Divinel}^ eloquent, persuasion ran 
 The herald of his words ere they depart 
 His lips, which well might confidence impart 
 As he revealed how he himself was bound 
 By solemn vow, that neither force nor art 
 His helmet should unloose, till he had found 
 The bower of happiness, that long-sought fairy ground. 
 
 ** I too (he said) divided from my love, 
 The offended power of Yenus deprecate, 
 Like thee, through paths untrodden, sadly rove 
 In search of that fair spot prescribed by fate, 
 The blessed term of my afflicted state, 
 AVhere I the mistress of my soul shall find, 
 For whose dear sake no toil to me seems great, 
 Nor any dangers to my search assigned 
 Can from its purpose fright my ardent longing mind. 
 
PSYCHE. 4&7 
 
 *' Psyche ! thy soft and sympathising heart 
 Shall share. the rapture cf thy loyal knight ; 
 He too, in thy content shall bear a part, 
 Blest witness of thy new-restored delight ; 
 My vows of true allegiance here I plight, 
 iN^e'er to forsake thee till thy perils end, 
 Thy steps to guard, in thy protection fight, 
 By counsel aid, and by my arm defend, 
 And prove myself in all, thy champion and thy friend..'' 
 
 So on they went, her cheerless heart revived 
 By promised succour in her doubtful way ;, 
 And much of hope she to herself derived, 
 From the warm eagerness his lips display 
 In their pursuit to suffer no delay : 
 " And sure, (she softly sighed) my dearest Lord, 
 Thy watchful love still guides me as I straj', 
 !N^ot chance alone could such an aid afford, 
 Lo ' beasts of prey confess the heaven- assisted sword." 
 
 !N'ow from his crystal urn, with chilling hand, 
 Yesper had sprinkled all the earth with dew, 
 A misty veil obscured the neighbouring land. 
 And shut the fading landscape from their view ; 
 A beaten path they eagerly pursue, 
 (For now refreshment and repose they need, 
 As Psyche weary of long travel grew, ) 
 Where by a river's bank it seemed to lead. 
 Along its sinuous course they heedlessly proceed. 
 
 At length the lordly beast that bore the knight 
 Explored the river's depth with sudden bound : 
 Psyche, who heard the plunge with strange affright, 
 Her champion re -assured with welcome sound. 
 That he the other bank had safely found ; 
 And, while he spoke, emerging from the shade, 
 A joyous goodly train appear around, 
 Of many a gallant youth and white robed maid, 
 Who grateful welcome gave, and courteous greeting paid 
 
468 
 
 PSYCHE. 
 
 Quick through the trees a thousand torches blazed 
 The gloom to banish, and the scene disclose 
 To Psyche, all irresolute, amazed : 
 A bridge with stately arch at distance rose, 
 Thither at once the gay assembly goes, 
 Not unattended by the charmed knight, 
 Inviting Psyche to partake repose, 
 Pointing where shone their bower illumined bright, 
 Their bower so passing fair, the bower of loose Delight. 
 
 At length with timid foot the bridge she past, 
 And to her guardian knight clung fearfully. 
 While many a doubting glance around she cast. 
 If still her watchful dove she might espy ; 
 Feebly it seemed on labouring wing to fly. 
 Till, dazzled by the sudden glare around, 
 In painful trance it closed its dizzy eye. 
 And had it not fair Psyche's bosom found, 
 Its drooping pinion soon had touched the unhallowed ground. 
 
 Hence there arose within her heart sore dread 
 Which no alluring pleasure could dispel ; 
 The splendid hall with luscious banquet spread. 
 The soft-breathed flutes which in sweet concert swell, 
 With melody of song unspeakable ; 
 Kor the light dancing troop in roses drest. 
 Could chase the terrors which she dared not tell. 
 While, fondly cherished in her anxious breast, 
 She strove in vain to soothe the fluttering bird to rest. 
 
 On a soft downy couch the guests are placed. 
 And close behind them stands their watchful page, 
 Put much his strict attendance there disgraced, 
 And much was scorned his green and tender age, 
 His calm fixed eye, and steady aspect sage : 
 But him nor rude disdain, nor mockery, 
 Nor soothing blandishments could e'er engage 
 The wanton mazes of their sports to try, 
 Or from his lord to turn his firm adhering eye. 
 
PSYCHE. 469 
 
 White -bosomed nymphs around ^-ith loosened zones 
 All on the guests obsequiously tend, 
 Some sing of love with soft expiring tones. 
 While Psyche's melting eyes the strain commend ; 
 Some o'er their heads the eanopy suspend, 
 Some hold the sparkling bowl, while some with skill 
 Ambrosial showers and balmy juices blend, 
 Or the gay lamps with liquid odours fill. 
 Whose many-coloured fires divinest sweets distil. 
 
 And now a softer light they seemed to shed. 
 And sweetest music ushered in their queen : 
 Her languid steps by winged boys are led. 
 Who in their semblance might have Cupids been ; 
 Close wrapt in veils her following train was seen ; 
 Herself looked lovely in her loose attire, 
 Her smiling eyes gave lustre to the scene, 
 And still, where'er they turned their wanton fire, 
 fJach thrilling nerve confessed the rapture they inspire. 
 
 The stranger guests she viewed with welcome glad, 
 And crowned the banquet with reception sweet. 
 To fill the glowing bowl her nymphs she bad, 
 And graceful rising from her splendid seat. 
 She would herself present the sparkling treat ; 
 When lo ! the dove, alarmed, with sudden start, 
 Spurned the bright cup, and dashed it at her feet, 
 For well he knew 'twas mixed with treacherous art 
 To sting his Psyche's breast with agonizing smart, 
 
 Kegardless of her supplicating tears, 
 Each eye with vengeful rage the insult sees. 
 Her knight's protection now in vain appears ; 
 The off'ended sovereign anxious to appease, 
 A thousand hands prepare the dove to seize ; 
 Nor was this all, for as the tumult rose. 
 Sudden more thick than swarm of summer bees, 
 The secret dens their venomed hoards disclose, 
 And horror at the sight her vital spirits froze. 
 
470 rsYciiE. 
 
 Hissing aloud with undulations dire, 
 Their forked tongues unnumbered serpents Bhow, 
 Their tainted breath emitting poisonous iire, 
 All turn on Psyche as their mortal foe ; 
 But he, whose arm was never weak or slow, 
 I^ow rushed before her with resistless spring, 
 On either side the oft-repeated blow 
 Eep'ilsed the malice of their deadly sting, 
 t\''hile sparks of wrathful fire from their fierce jaws they fiing, 
 
 " Fly, Psyche ! these are slander's hellish brood ! 
 Contest I know is vain," her champion cried. 
 Her passage now the opposing train withstood ; 
 Struck with disgust their hideous forms she spied, 
 For lo ! each silken veil is thrown aside, 
 And foul deformity, and filth obscene, 
 With monstrous shapes appear on every side ; 
 But vanished is their fair and treacherous queen. 
 And with her every charm that decked the enchanted scene, 
 
 Meanwhile the dove had soared above their reach. 
 But hovered still in anxious Psyche's sight ; 
 Precursor of escape, it seemed to teach 
 Whither she safest might direct her flight, 
 And find a passport in her foes despight ; 
 One rugged path there lay with briars o'ergrown, 
 Then dark and dismal with the shades of night, 
 Thither the dove on rapid wing had flown. 
 Conspicuous 'mid the gloom its silver plumage shone. 
 
 Yet she delayed, o'ercome by terror's power. 
 And scarce her fainting form the knight could shield, 
 When lo ! still active in the trying hour, 
 Constance rushed fearless through the dreadful field. 
 With breast-plate firm invulnerably steeled, 
 He heeded not the storms which round him press. 
 To any perils he disdained to yield, 
 Endued with prudence as with hardiness. 
 And ever skilled to bring due succour in distress. 
 
PSYCHE. 4^1 
 
 Lo ! swift returning on his master's steed, 
 In his right hand he held the lion's chain, 
 The mighty beast his gentleness could lead, 
 Though little used to bear the curb or rein, 
 And 'mid those groves accustomed to remain. 
 Yet now prepared, with sweet submissive grace, 
 He ready stands the knight to bear again. 
 While trembling Psyche on the steed they place. 
 Which swift as lightning flies far from the dreadful chase. 
 
 Rough was the rude wild way, and many a thorn 
 Tore her loose garments in their rapid flight- 
 O'er many a league the panting fair is borne. 
 Till now, emerging from the shades of night, 
 The grey-eyed morn stole forth her pallid light. 
 Then first she paused, unable to proceed. 
 Exhausted with fatigue, and pain, and fright. 
 *' Turn, Psyche," cried the youth, "relax thy speed. 
 And see thyself at length from thy pursuers freed." 
 
 'Mid the thick forest was a lonely dell, 
 Where foot of man was seldom known to tread, 
 The sloping hills all round in graceful swell 
 The little green with woods environed ; 
 Hither the dove their passive course had led : 
 Here the thin smoke blue rising 'mid the trees, 
 Where broad and brown the deepest umbrage spread 
 Spoke the abode of safe retired ease. 
 And Psyche gladly there her dove descending sees. 
 
 In lowly cottage, walled with mossy sod. 
 Close by a little spring's perpetual rill, 
 A hermit dwelt, who many a year had trod 
 With sacred solitude that pine-clad hill. 
 And loved with holy images to fill 
 His soul enrapt ; yet courteous then besought 
 A while secluded here to rest ; and still 
 Replete with kind and hospitable thought. 
 To a sequestered bower the weary Psyche brought. 
 
472 PSYCHE. 
 
 Skilled in the virtue of each healing flower, 
 And the wild fruit's restoring juice to blend, 
 He spreads the frugal fare of wholesome power, 
 And heedfully his cares their wants attend ; 
 A docile ear to his advice they lend, 
 And sage instruction from his precepts take, 
 Which much their future journey may befriend ; 
 Wisdom with soothing eloquence he spake, 
 Pleased to resolve their doubts, and all their cares partake 
 
 In those sweet placid scenes a while they rest, 
 Till Psyche finds her fainting strength revive ; 
 And here her dove, as in a quiet nest, 
 Delighted seems to sportive joy alive ; 
 And hence they surest confidence derive. 
 He plumes his wings, and through his swelling throat 
 (No more a ruffled, fearful fugitive) 
 In gentle murmurs pours his dulcet note. 
 While Psyche listening sits in some still vale remote. 
 
 Oh ! have you never known the silent charm 
 That undisturbed retirement yields the soul. 
 Where no intruder might your peace alarm. 
 And tenderness hath wept without control, 
 Wliile melting fondness o'er the bosom stole } 
 Did fancy never, in some lonely grove. 
 Abridge the hours which must in absence roll ? 
 Those pensive pleasures did you never prove. 
 Oh, you have never loved ! you know not what is love ! 
 
 They do not love who can to these prefer 
 The tumult of the gay, or folly's roar; 
 The Muse they know not ; nor delight in her 
 Who can the troubled soul to rest restore. 
 Calm Contemplation : Yes, I must deplore 
 Their joyless state, even more than his, who mourns 
 His love for ever lost ; delight no more 
 Unto his widowed heart indeed returns. 
 Yet, while he weeps, his soul their cold indifference sjjurns. 
 
I 
 
 psrcHE. 473 
 
 But if soft hope illumines fancy's dream, 
 Assuring him of love and constancy, 
 How exquisite do then the moments seem, 
 When he may hide himself from every eye, 
 And cherish the dear thought in secrecy ! 
 While sweet remembrance soothes his thrilling heart, 
 And brings once more past hours of kindness nigh, 
 Recals the look of love when forced to part. 
 And turns to drops of joy the tears that sadly start. 
 
 Forgetful of the dangers of her way, 
 Imagination oft would Psyche bear 
 To her long travel's end, and that blest day 
 When Love unveiled should to her eyes appear ; 
 When she might view his charms exempt from fear, 
 Taste his pure kisses, feel his balmy sighs, 
 Eest in the fond embrace of arms so dear, 
 Gaze with soft rapture on his melting eyes, 
 And hear his voice divine, the music of the skies ' 
 
 Their destined course impatient to achieve, 
 The knight is urgent onward to proceed : 
 Cheered with recruited strength, they take their leave 
 Of their kind host, and pay their grateful meed 
 Of warmest thanks sincere ; onward they speed 
 Their sunless journey long through forests green, 
 And tangled thickets rank with many a weed ; 
 And when at closing day a hut is seen. 
 They seek the humble roof, nor scorn its welcome mean. 
 
 It happened once that, early roused from sleep, 
 (Ere her damp veil the virgin Morn had cast 
 From her pale face, not yet with blushes deep 
 Lovely suffused, as when approaching fast 
 His herald star proclaims her spouse at last) 
 Psyche, forsaking soon her homely bed, 
 Alone had fearless the low threshold past, 
 And, to beguile the hours which lingering fled. 
 Light o'er the dewy plain walked forth with nimble tread. 
 
 OF THE 
 
474 PSYCHE. 
 
 Yet though the knight close wrapped in slumber lay, 
 Her steps, at distance, still the page pursued, 
 Fearful that danger might befal her way, 
 Or lest, entangled in the mazy wood, 
 Eetuming she should miss the pathway rude. 
 The lark now hails the sun with rapturous song, 
 The cheerful earth resounds with gratitude, 
 O'er the gay scene as Psyche tript along. 
 She felt her spirits rise, her lightened heart grow strong. 
 
 And hark, soft music steals upon the ear ! 
 *Tis woman's voice most exquisitely sweet ! 
 Behold two female forms approaching near 
 Arrest with wonder Psyche's timid feet ; 
 On a gay car, by speckled panthers fleet 
 Is drawn in gallant state a seeming queen, 
 And at her foot, on low but graceful seat, 
 A gentle nymph of lovely form is seen. 
 In robe of fairest white, with scarf of pleasant green. 
 
 In strains of most bewitching harmony. 
 And still adapted to her sovereign's praise, 
 She filled the groves with such sweet melody. 
 That, quite o'ercome with rapture and amaze, 
 Psyche stood listening to the warbled lays ; 
 Yet with a sullen, scarce approving ear 
 Her mistress sits, but with attentive gaze 
 Her eyes she fixes on a miiTor clear. 
 Where still by fancy's spell unrivalled charms appear. 
 
 And, as she looked with aspect ever new^ 
 She seemed on change and novel grace intent. 
 Her robe was formed of ever- varying hue. 
 And whimsically placed each ornament ; 
 On her attire, with rich luxuriance spent. 
 The treasures of the earth, the sea, the air. 
 Are vainly heaped her wishes to content ; 
 Yet were her arms and snowy bosom bare, 
 And both in painted pride shone exquisitely fair. 
 
PSYCHE. 475 
 
 Her braided tresses in profusion drest, 
 Circled with diadem, and nodding plumes, 
 Sported their artful ringlets o'er her breast. 
 And to the breezes gave their rich perfumes ; 
 Her cheek with tint of oorrowed roses blooms • 
 Used to receive from all rich offerings, 
 She quaffs with conscious right the fragrant fumes 
 "Which her attendant from a censer flings, 
 "Who graceful feeds the flame with incense while she sings. 
 
 Soon as her glance fair Psyche's form had caught, 
 Her soft attendant smiling she addressed : 
 "Behold, Lusinga! couldst thou e'er have thought 
 That these wild woods were so in beauty blest r 
 Let but that nymph in my attire be drest, 
 And scarce her loveliness will yield to mine ! 
 At least invite her in our bower to rest, 
 Eefore her eyes let all my splendour shine, 
 Perhaps to dwell with us her heart we may incline." 
 
 With softest smile applauding all she heard, 
 Lusinga bowing left her golden seat. 
 And Psyche, who at first in doubt had feared 
 While listening to the lay so silver sweet, 
 Now passive followed with unconscious feet ; 
 Till Constance, all alarmed, impatient flew, 
 And soft his whispers of the maid entreat 
 To fly the Sjrren's song, for well he knew 
 WTiat lurking dangers hence would to his Lord ensiic. 
 
 " Oh, do not trust her treacherous lips," he cried, 
 " She is the subtle slave of Yanity, 
 Her queen, the child of folly, and of pride, 
 To lure thee to her power each art will try, 
 Nor ever will release thee peacably." 
 He spoke, but spoke in vain, for lo ! from far, 
 Of giant port they fast approaching spy 
 A Imight, high mounted on a glittering car, 
 From whose conspicuous crest flames wide a dazzling star 
 
476 PSYCHE. 
 
 *^ Psyche escape ! Ambition is at hand !" 
 The page exclaims : while swift as thought he fli(^ *, 
 She would have followed, but with parley bland 
 Lusinga soon her terrors pacifies. 
 " Fair nymph, ascend my car," the sovereign cries, 
 " I will convey thee where thy wishes lead, 
 Haply the safest course I may advise 
 How thou thj- journey mayst perform with speed ; 
 For ne'er in woods to dwell such beauty was decreed.'* 
 
 So gently urgent her consent they wooed 
 "With much persuasion of the stranger knight, 
 That yielding Psyche now no more withstood, 
 But, pointing out to her observant sight 
 The humble cot where she had passed the night, 
 She prayed her kind conductress there to turn, 
 And promised to herself what vast delight 
 Her wondering knight would feel at her return. 
 And with what blushing shame the timid page would burn. 
 
 But scarcely had she climbed the fatal car. 
 When swifter than th^ wind the panthers flew, 
 The traversed plains and woods, receding far, 
 Soon shut from trembling Psyche's anxious view 
 The spot where she had left her guardian true ; 
 With desperate efforts, all in vain she tries 
 To escape the ills which now too sure she knew 
 Must from her ill-placed confidence arise ; 
 Betrayed — Ah ! self-betrayed, a wretched sacrifice. 
 
 She strove to quit the car with sudden bound, 
 Ah, vain attempt ! she now perceived too late 
 A thousand silken trammels, subtly wound 
 O'er her fair form, detained her as she sate : 
 Lost in despair she yields to her sad fate, 
 And silent hears, but with augmented fright, 
 The queen describe her brother's splendid state, 
 "Who now outstripped them by his rapid flight. 
 And prest his foaming steeds to gain the ai'duous height. 
 
rsYCHE. 477 
 
 High o'er the spacious plain a mountain rose, 
 A stately castle on its summit stood ; 
 Huge craggy cliffs behind their strength oppose 
 To the rough surges of the dashing flood ; 
 The rocky shores a boldly rising wood 
 On either side conceals ; bright shine the towers, 
 And seem to smile upon the billows rude. 
 In front the eye, with comprehensive powers, 
 Bees wide-extended plains enriched with splendid bowers. 
 
 Hither they bore the sad reluctant fair, 
 AVho mounts with dizzy eye the awful steep ; 
 The blazing structure seems high poised in air, 
 And its light pillars tremble o'er the deep: 
 As yet the heavens are calm, the tempests sleep, 
 She knows not half the horrors of her fate : 
 Nor feels the approaching ruin's whirlwind sweep : 
 Yet with ill-boding fears she past the gate. 
 And turned with sickening dread from scenes of gorgeous state. 
 
 In vain the haughty master of the hall 
 
 Invites her to partake his regal throne, 
 
 With cold indifference she looks on all 
 
 The gilded trophies, and the well-wrought stone 
 
 Which in triumphal arches proudly shone : 
 
 And as she casts around her timid eye. 
 
 Back to her knight her trembling heart is flown, 
 
 And many an anxious wish, and many a sigh, 
 
 Invokes his gallant arm protection to supply. 
 
 Sudden the lurid heavens obscurely frown. 
 And sweeping gusts the coming storm proclaim ; 
 Flattery's soft voice the howling tempests drown. 
 While the roofs catch the greedy lightning's flame. 
 Loud in their fears, the attendant train exclaim 
 The light-built fabric ne'er can stand the blast, 
 And all its insecure foundations blame : 
 Tumultuously they rush : the chief aghast 
 Beholds his throne o'er turned, his train dispersing fast. 
 
478 PSYCHE. 
 
 Psyche dismayed, yet thoughtful of escape, 
 In anxious silence to the portal prest ; 
 And freedom would have hailed in any shape, 
 Though seen in death's tremendous colours drest : 
 But ah ! she feels the knight's strong grasp arrest 
 Her trembling steps. *' Think not," he cries, '' to fly 
 With yon false crowd, who, by my favours blest. 
 Can now desert me, when with changeful eye 
 Inclement fortune frowns from yon dark angry sky." 
 
 While yet he spoke loud bursts the groaning hall, 
 With frightful peal the thundering domes resound, 
 Disjointed columns in wild ruin fall. 
 While the huge arches tremble to the ground. 
 Yet unappaUed amid the crash is found 
 The daring chief : his hold he firm maintains 
 Though hideous devastation roars around ; 
 Plunged headlong down his prey he still sustains, 
 Who in his powerful grasp in death-like swoon remains. 
 
 Down sinks the palace with its mighty lord, 
 Hurled from the awful steep with vehemence 
 Even to the floods below, which angry roared 
 And gaping wide received the weight immense : 
 Indignant still, with fearless confidence 
 He rose, high mounting o'er the heaving waves ; 
 Against their rage one arm is his defence. 
 The other still his lovely burden saves, 
 Though strong the billows beat, and fierce the tempest raves. 
 
 The blazing star yet shone upon his brow. 
 And flamed triumphant o'er the dashing main ; 
 He rides secure the watery waste, and now 
 Tlie sheltering shore he might in safety gain ; 
 The sheltering shore he shuns with proud disdain, 
 And breasts the adverse tide. Ah, rash resource ! 
 Yon vessel, Prince, thou never shalt attain ! 
 For plunging 'mid the deep, with generous force. 
 See where the lion's lord pursues thy hardy course ' 
 
PSYCHE. 479 
 
 Psyche a well-known voice to life restores, 
 Once more her eyes unclosing view the light, 
 Eut not the waters, nor receding shores, 
 One only object can arrest her sight, 
 High o'er the flood she sees her valiant laiight. 
 And sudden joy, and hopes scarce trusted cheer 
 Even in that awful moment's dread affright; 
 Her feeble cry indeed he cannot hear, 
 But sees her out-stretched arms, and seems already near. 
 
 In vain the giant knight exerts his strength ; 
 Urged by the impetuous youth the lion prest. 
 And gaining fast upon his flight, at length 
 Prepared his daring progress to arrest. 
 And seized with furious jaw his struggling breast ; 
 Gasping he loosed his hold — and Psyche lost 
 The overwhelming wave with ruin had opprest, 
 But Constance, ever near when needed most, 
 The sinking beauty caught, and bore her to the coast. 
 
 Stung with the shame of the relinquished prey, 
 Mad with revenge, and hate, and conscious pride. 
 The knight, recovered from his short dismay, 
 Dashes resistless through the foaming tide ; 
 The billows yielding to his arm divide. 
 As rushing on the youth he seeks the shore ; 
 But now a combat strange on either side 
 Amid the waves begins ; each hopes no more 
 The engulphing deep his foe shall e'er to light restore. 
 
 Beside the cold inhospitable lands. 
 Where suns long absent dawn with lustre pale, 
 Thus on his bark the bold Biscayan stands, 
 And bids his javelin rouse the parent whale : 
 Fear, pain, and rage at once her breast assail, 
 The agitated ocean foams around, 
 La?hed by the sounding fury of her tail, 
 Or as she mounts the surge with frightful bound, 
 Wide echoing to her cries the bellowing shores resound. 
 
480 I'STCIIE. 
 
 Fierce was the contest, but at length subdued, 
 The youth exulting sees his giant foe. 
 With wonder still the enormous limbs he viewed, 
 Which lifeless now the waves supporting show. 
 His starred helm, that now was first laid low, 
 He seized as trophy of the wonderous fight, 
 And bade the sparkling gem on Constance glow, 
 While Psyche's eyes, soft beaming with delight. 
 Through tears of grateful praise applaud her gallant knight. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Introduction — Sympathy — Suspicion — Psyche benighted — Credulity re- 
 presented, according to a Picture by Apelles, as an old Woman, the de- 
 voted prey of Slander, or the Blatant Beast — Contest between the Knight 
 and Slander— The Knight wounded — Slander flies — Credulity leads 
 Psyche to the Castle of Suspicion — Psyche deluded, laments the desertion 
 of her Knight to the train of Inconstancy — Psyche betrayed by Suspicion 
 into the power of Jealousy — Persuaded by him that her Knight, by 
 whom she was then abandoned, was indeed Love — Psyche delivered by 
 her Knight — Reconciliation. 
 
 Full gladsome was my heart ere while to tell 
 How proud Ambition owned superior Love ; 
 For ah ! too oft his sterner power could quell 
 The mild aifections which more gently move, 
 And rather silent fled than with him strove : 
 For Love content and tranquil saw with dread 
 The busy scenes Ambition's schemes approve. 
 And, by the hand of Peace obscurely led. 
 From pride of public life disgusted ever fled. 
 
 There are who know not the delicious charm 
 Of sympathising hearts ; let such employ 
 Their active minds ; the trumpet's loud alarm 
 Shall yield them hope of honourable joy. 
 And courts may lure them with each splendid toy ; 
 But ne'er may vanity or thirst of fame 
 The dearer bliss of lo\dng life destroy ; 
 Oh ! blind to man's chief good who Love disclaini. 
 And barter pure delight for glory's empty name I 
 
psrciiE. 4>J! 
 
 Blest Psyche ! thou hast 'scaped the tjTant's power! 
 Thy gentle heart shall never know the pain 
 Which tortures Pride in his most prosperous houi* : 
 Yet dangers still unsung for thee remain ; 
 Kor must thou unmolested hope to gain 
 Immortal beauty's never-failing spring ; 
 Oh ! no — nor yet tranquillity attain : 
 But though thy heart the pangs of doubt may sting, 
 Thy faithful knight shall yet thy steps in safety bring. 
 
 Warned by late peril now she scarcely dares 
 • Quit for one moment his protecting eye : 
 Sure in his sight, her soul of nought despairs, 
 And nought looks dreadful when that arm is nigh 
 On which her hopes with confidence rely ; 
 By his advice their constant course they bend, 
 He points where hidden danger they should fly, 
 On him securely, as her heaven-sent friend. 
 She bids her grateful heart contentedly depend. 
 
 Oh ! who the exquisite delight can tell. 
 The joy which mutual confidence imparts ? 
 Or who can paint the charm unspeakable 
 Which links in tender bands two faithful hearts ? 
 In vain assailed by fortune's envious darts. 
 Their mitigated woes are sweetly shared. 
 And doubled joy reluctantly departs : 
 Let but the sympathising heart be spared. 
 What sorrow seems not light, what peril is not dared ? 
 
 Oh ! never may suspicion's gloomy sky 
 Chill the sweet glow of fondly trusting love ! 
 I^or ever may he feel the scowling eye 
 Of dark distrust his confidence reprove ! 
 In pleasing error may I rather rove, 
 With blind reliance on the hand so dear. 
 Than let cold prudence from my eyes remove 
 Those sweet delusions, where nor doubt nor Lvax 
 Nor foul disloyalty nor cruel cliange appear. 
 
 I I 
 
482 PSYCHE. 
 
 The noble mind is ever prone to trust ; 
 Yet love with fond anxiety is joined ; 
 And timid tenderness is oft unjust ; 
 The coldness which it dreads too prompt to find, 
 And torture the too susceptible mind. 
 Hence rose the gloom which oft o'er Psyche stole 
 Lest he she loved, unmindful or unkind, 
 Should careless slight affection's soft control, 
 Or she long absent lose her influence o'er his soul. 
 
 'Twas evening, and the shades which sudden fell 
 Seemed to forebode a dark unlovely night ; 
 The sighing wood-nymphs from their caves foretel 
 The storm which soon their quiet shall affright ; 
 jS'or cheering star nor moon appears in sight, 
 Nor taper twinkles through the rustling leaves, 
 And sheds afar its hospitable light : 
 
 But hark ! a dismal sound the ear receives, [ceives. 
 
 And through the obscuring gloom the eye strange forms per- 
 
 It was a helpless female who exclaimed, 
 "WTiose blind and aged form an ass sustained : 
 Misshaped and timorous, of light ashamed, 
 In darksome woods her hard-earned food she gained. 
 And her voracious appetite maintained. 
 Though all-devouring, yet unsatisfied ; 
 Nor aught of hard digestion she disdained, 
 Whate'er was ofi'ered greedily she tried. 
 And meanly served, as slave, whoever food supplied. 
 
 A cruel monster now her steps pursued, 
 Well known of yore, and named the Blatant Beast, 
 And soon he seized his prey with grasp so rude, 
 So fiercely on her feeble body prest. 
 That had the courteous knight not soon released 
 Her unresisting limbs from violence, 
 She must have sunk by his rough jaws opprest : 
 The spiteful beast, enraged at the defence, 
 Now turned upon the kniglit with foaming vehemence. 
 
PSYCHE. 483 
 
 But, wlien his fury felt the couched spear, 
 On Psyche's unarmed form he bellowing ilew ; 
 *Twas there alone the knight his rage could fear ; 
 Swifter than thought his flaming sword he drew, 
 And from his hand the doubtful javelin threw, 
 Lest erring it might wound the trembling fair : 
 Eager the cruel monster to subdue, 
 He scorned to use his shield's protecting care, 
 And rashly left his side in part exposed and bare. 
 
 Sharp were the wounds of his avenging steel, 
 "Which forced the roaring beast to quit the field : 
 Yet ere he fled, the knight unused to feel 
 The power of any foe, or e'er to yield 
 To any arm which sword or spear could wield. 
 Perceived the venom of his tooth impure ; 
 But, with indignant silence, unrevealed 
 The pain he bore, while through the gloom obscure 
 The beast, in vain pursued, urged on his flight secure. 
 
 And now the hag, delivered from her fear. 
 Her grateful thanks upon the knight bestowed, 
 And, as they onward went, in Psyche's ear 
 Her tongue with many a horrid tale o'erflowed. 
 Which warned her to forsake that venturous road. 
 And seek protection in the neighbouring grove ; 
 Where dwelt a prudent dame, who oft bestowed 
 Her sage advice, when pilgrims doomed to rove, 
 Benighted there, had else with lurking dangers strove. 
 
 The knight now softly bade his charge beware, 
 Nor trust Credulity, whom well he knew ; 
 Yet he himself, harassed with pain and care. 
 And heedful of the storm which fiercer grew, 
 Yielded, a path more sheltered to pursue : 
 Kow soon entangled in a gloomy maze. 
 Psyche no longer has her knight in view, 
 Nor sees his page's star-crowned helmet blaze ; 
 Close at her side alone the hag loquacious strays. 
 
 Ii2 
 
484 PSYCHE. 
 
 Fearful ske stops, and calls aloud in vain, 
 The storm-roused woods roar only in reply ; 
 Anxious her loved protector to regain, 
 She trembling listens to Credulity, 
 Who points where they a glimmering light may spy ; 
 Which, through the shade of intervening trees, 
 And all the misty blackness of the sky, 
 Clasting a weak and dubious ray she sees. 
 And fain by this would seek her terrors to appease. 
 
 Yet hoping that, allured by that same light 
 Which singly seemed through all the gloom to shine. 
 She there at last might meet her wandering knight. 
 Thither her footsteps doubtingly incline. 
 As best the uncertain path they could divine. 
 All tangled as it wound through brake and briar : 
 While to affright her soul at once combine 
 A thousand shapeless forms of terror dire — 
 Here shrieks the ill-omened bird, there glares the meteor's fire. 
 
 In the deep centre of the mazy wood, j 
 
 With matted ivy and wild vine o'ergrown, I 
 
 A Gothic casde solitary stood. 
 With massive walls built firm of murky stone ; 
 Long had Credulity its mistress known. 
 Meagre her form and tawny was her hue, 
 Unsociably she lived, unloved, alone, 
 1^0 cheerful prospects gladdened e'er her view. 
 And her pale hollow eyes oblique their glances threw. 
 
 I^ow had they reached the sad and dreary bower 
 Where dark Disfida held her gloomy state : 
 The grated casements strong with iron power. 
 The huge port-cullis creaking o'er the gate. 
 The surly guards that round tlie draw-bridge wait. 
 Chill Psyche's heart with sad foreboding fears ; 
 Nor ever had she felt so desolate 
 As when at length her guide the porter hears. 
 And at the well-known ccdl reluctantly appears. 
 
PSYCHE. 485 
 
 li hall half lighted with uncertain rays, 
 Such as expiring tapers transient shed, 
 The gloomy princess sat, no social blaze 
 The unkindled hearth supplied, no table spread 
 Cheered the lone guest who weetless wandered, 
 But melancholy silence reigned around, 
 While on her arm she leaned her pensive head. 
 And anxious watched, as sullenly she frowned, 
 Of distant whispers low to catch the doubtful sound. 
 
 Startled to hear an unaccustomed noise. 
 Sudden she rose, and on the intruders bent 
 Her prying eye askance ; but soon the voice 
 Of her old slave appeased her discontent, 
 And a half- welcome to her guests she lent : 
 Her frequent questions satisfied at last. 
 Through all the neighbouring woods her scouts she sent 
 To seek the knight, while Psyche's tears flowed fast, 
 And all the live-long night in anxious woe she past. 
 
 The sullen bell had told the midnight hour, 
 And sleep had laid the busy world to rest. 
 All but the watchful lady of that bower 
 And wretched Psyche . her distracted breast 
 The agony of sad suspense opprest, 
 Now to the casement eagerly she flies, 
 And now the wished-for voice her fancy blest : 
 Alas ! the screaming night-bird only cries ; 
 Only the drear obscure there meets her straining eyes. 
 
 Has thy heart sickened with deferred hope ? 
 Or felt the impatient anguish of suspense ? 
 Or hast thou tasted of the bitter cup 
 Which disappointment's withered hands dispense '' 
 Thou knowest the poison which o'erflowed from hence 
 O'er Psyche's tedious, miserable hours. 
 The unheeded notes of plaintive Innocence 
 No longer soothe her soul with wonted poM-ers, 
 While false Disfida's tales her listenino: ear devours. 
 
48G PSYCHE. 
 
 Of rapid torrents and deep marshy fens, 
 Of ambushed foes and unseen pits they tell, 
 Of ruffians rushing from their secret dens, 
 Of foul magicians and of wizard spell. 
 The poisoned lance and net invisible ; 
 While Psyche shuddering sees her knight betrayed 
 Into the snares of some enchanter fell, 
 Beholds him bleeding in the treacherous shade. 
 Or hears his dying voice implore in vain for aid. 
 
 At length the cruel messengers return. 
 
 Their trampling steeds sound welcome in her ear ; 
 
 Her rapid feet the ground impatient spurn. 
 
 As eagerly she flies their news to hear. 
 
 Alas ! they bring no tidings which may cheer 
 
 Her sorrowing soul opprest, disconsolate ! 
 
 " Dismiss," they cry, " each idly timid fear ! 
 
 No dangers now thy faithless knight await, 
 Lured by a wanton fair to bowers of peaceful state. 
 
 ** We saw him blithely follow where she led, 
 And urged him to return to thee in vain : 
 Some other knight, insultingly he said. 
 Thy charms might soon for thy protection gain. 
 If still resolved to tread with weary pain 
 The tedious road to that uncertain land ; 
 But he should there contentedly remain ; 
 No other bliss could now his heart demand 
 
 Than that new lady's love and kindly proffered hand. 
 
 A while she stood in silent wonder lost, 
 And scarce believes the strange abandonment ; 
 No fears like this her heart had ever crost. 
 Nor could she think his mind so lightly bent, 
 Could swerve so quickly from its first intent ; 
 Till sudden bursting forth in angry mood 
 Disfida gave her indignation vent. 
 *' Ah, well I know," she cried, ''that wicked brood 
 Whose cursed ensnaring arts in vain my cares withstood. 
 
PSYCHE. 487 
 
 "Vile Yaria's fickle and inconstant train, 
 Perpetual torments of my harassed days : 
 Their nightly thefts my fruits, my flowers sustain, 
 Their wanton goats o'er all my vineyards graze, 
 My corn lies scattered, and my fences blaze, 
 My friends, my followers they basely lure ; 
 I know their mischievous detested ways ! 
 My castle vainly have I built so sure. 
 While from their treacherous wiles my life is insecure. 
 
 " But I will lead thee to the glittering sands. 
 Where shines their hollow many-coloured fane : 
 There, as the circling group fantastic stands. 
 Thy truant knight perhaps thou mayst regain 
 From the light arts of that seductive train." 
 She paused — but Psyche spoke not in reply ; 
 Her noble heart, which swelled with deep disdain, 
 Forbad the utterance of a single sigh, 
 
 And shamed the indignant tear which started to her eye. 
 
 At length with firm, but gentle dignity, 
 And cold averted eye, she thus replies : 
 " No ! let him go : nor power nor wish have I 
 His conduct to control. Let this suffice ; 
 Before my path a surer guardian flies. 
 By whose direction onward I proceed 
 Soon as the mom's first light shall clear the skies.'* 
 She ceased, then languishing her griefs to feed. 
 Her cold dark chambet sought, from observation freed. 
 
 *Twas there regret indulged the bitter tear ; 
 She feels herself forsaken and alone : 
 " Behold,'* she cries, " fulfilled is every fear. 
 Oh ! wretched Psyche, now indeed undone ! 
 Thy love's protecting care no more is shown, 
 He bids his servant leave thee to thy fate, 
 Nor longer will the hopeless wanderer own : 
 Some fairer, nobler spouse, some worthier mate. 
 At length by Venus given, shall share his heavenly state. 
 
488 PSYCHE. 
 
 ** Oh ! most adored ! Oh ! most regretted love ! 
 
 Oh ! joys that never must again be mine, 
 
 And thou, lost hope, farewell ! — vainly I rove, 
 
 Por never shall I reach that land divine, 
 
 !N'or ever shall thy beams celestial shine 
 
 Again upon my sad unheeded way ! 
 
 Oh ! let me here with life my woes resign. 
 
 Or in this gloomy den for ever stay. 
 And shun the scornful world, nor see detested day, 
 
 *' But no ! those scenes are hateful to mine eyes, 
 And all who spoke or witnessed my disgrace ; 
 My soul with horror from this dwelling flies. 
 And seeks some tranquil, solitary place, 
 "Where grief may finish life's unhappy race !'* 
 So past she the long night, and soon as Morn 
 Had first begun to show his cheerful face. 
 Her couch, which care had strewn with every tliom, 
 
 "With heavy heart she left, disquieted, forlorn. 
 
 Not thus Disfida suffered her to part. 
 But urged her there in safety to remain, 
 llepeating oft to her foreboding heart. 
 That fairy land she never could attain : 
 But when she saw dissuasion was in vain, 
 And Psyche bent her journey to pursue, 
 With angry brow she called a trusty train, 
 And bade them keep the imprudent fair in view, 
 And guard her dangerous path with strict observance true. 
 
 In vain their proffered service she declines, 
 And dreads the convoy of the scowling band ; 
 Their hateful presence with her loss combines, 
 She feels betrayed to the destroyer's hand, 
 And trembling wanders o'er the dreary land ; 
 While as she seeks to escape Disfida' s power, 
 Her efforts still the officious guards withstand, 
 Led in vain circles many a tedious hour, 
 Undistanced still she sees the gloomy turrets lower. 
 
PSYCHE. 489 
 
 Till, wearied with her fruitless way, at length 
 Upon the ground her fainting limbs she threw ; 
 Ko wish remained to aid exhausted strength, 
 The mazy path she cared not to pursue, 
 Since unavailing was the task she knew : 
 Her murmuring guards to seek for food prepare, 
 Yet mindful of their charge, still keep in view 
 The drooping victim of their cruel care. 
 Who sees the day decline in terror and despair. 
 
 Hark ! a low hollow groan she seeriis to hear 
 Repeated oft ; wondering she looks around : 
 It seems to issue from some cavern near, 
 Or low hut hidden by the rising ground ; 
 For, though it seemed the melancholy sound 
 Of human voice, no human form was nigh ; 
 Her eye no human habitation found, 
 But as she listening gazed attentively, 
 Her shuddering ears received the deep and long-drawn sigh. 
 
 The guard who nearest stood now whispering said, 
 **If aught of doubt remain within thy mind, 
 Or wish to know why thus thou wert betrayed, 
 Or what strange cause thy faithless knight inclined 
 To leave the charge he with such scorn resigned, 
 Each curious thought thou now mayst satisfy, 
 Since here the entrance of a cave we find, 
 "Where dwells, deep hid from day's too garish eye, 
 A sage whose magic skill can solve each mystery." 
 
 He staid not her reply, but urged her on 
 Reluctant to the dark and dreary cave ; 
 "No beam of cheerful Heaven had ever shono 
 In the recesses of that gloomy grave, 
 "Where screaming owls their daily dwelling crave. 
 One sickly lamp the wretched Master shewed ; 
 Devouring fiend ! Who now the prey shall save 
 From his fell gripe, whose hands in blood imbrued, 
 In his own bosom seek his lacerated food ? 
 
490 PSYCBTE. 
 
 On the damp ground he sits in sullen woe, 
 But wildly rolls around his frenzied eye, 
 And gnaws his withered lips, which still o'erfio-vr 
 With bitter gall ; in foul disorder lie 
 His black and matted locks ; anxiety 
 Sits on his wrinkled brow and sallow cheek ; 
 The wasted form, the deep-drawn, frequent sigh, 
 Some slow-consuming malady bespeak. 
 But medicinal skill the cause in vain shall seek. 
 
 "Behold," the treacherous guard exclaimed, ** behold. 
 At length Disfida sends thy promised bride ! 
 Let her, deserted by her knight, be told 
 \Vhat peerless lady lured him from her side ; 
 Thy cares her future safety must provide." 
 Smiling maliciously as thus he spoke, 
 He seemed her helpless anguish to deride ; 
 Then swiftly rushing from the den he broke. 
 
 Ere from the sudden shock astonished she awoke. 
 
 She too had fled ; but when the wretch escaped 
 He closed the cavern's mouth with cruel care ; 
 And now the monster placed his form mis-shaped 
 To bar the passage of the affrighted fair : 
 Her spirits die, she breathes polluted air. 
 And vaporous visions swim before her sight : 
 His magic skill the sorcerer bids her share. 
 And lo I as in a glass, she sees her knight 
 In bower remembered well, the bower of loose Delight. 
 
 But oh ! what words her feelings can impart ! 
 Feelings to hateful envy near allied ! 
 While on her knight her anxious glances dart : 
 His plumed helmet, lo ! he lays aside ; 
 His face with torturing agony she spied, 
 Yet cannot from the sight her eyes remove ; 
 No mortal knight she sees had aid supplied, 
 No mortal knight in her defence had strove ; 
 'Twas Love ! 'twas Love himself, her own adored Love, 
 
psrcHE. 491 
 
 Poured in soft dalliance at a lady's feet, 
 In fondest rapture he appeared to lie, 
 While her fair neck with inclination sweet 
 Bent o'er his graceful form her melting eye, 
 Which his looked up to meet in ecstasy. 
 Their words she heard not ; words had ne'er exprest 
 What well her sickening fancy could supply, 
 All that their silent eloquence confest. 
 As breathed the sigh of fire from each impassioned breast. 
 
 While thus she gazed, her quivering lips turn pale ; 
 Contending passions rage within her breast, 
 Nor ever had she known such bitter bale, 
 Or felt by such fierce agony opprest. 
 Oft had her gentle heart been sore distrest, 
 But meekness ever has a lenient power 
 From anguish half his keenest darts to wrest ; 
 Meekness for her had softened Sorrow's hour. 
 Those furious fiends subdued which boisterous souls devour. 
 
 For there are hearts that, like some sheltered lake, 
 Ne'er swell with rage, nor foam with violence ; 
 Though its sweet placid calm the tempests shake, 
 Yet will it ne'er with furious impotence 
 Dash its rude waves against the rocky fence. 
 Which nature placed the limits of its reign : 
 Thrice blest ! who feel the peace which flows from hence, 
 Whom meek-eyed Gentleness can thus restrain ; 
 Whate'er the storms of fate, with her let none complain ! 
 
 That mild associate Psyche now deserts, 
 Unlovely passions agitate her soul. 
 The vile magician all his art exerts. 
 And triumphs to behold his proud control : 
 Changed to a serpent's hideous form, he stole 
 O'er her fair breast to suck her vital blood ; 
 His poisonous involutions round her roll : 
 Already is his forked tongue imbrued 
 Warm in the stream of life, her heart's pure purple flood. 
 
492 PSYCHE. 
 
 Thus wretchedly she falls Geloso's prey ! 
 But her, once more, unhoped-for aid shall save ! 
 Admitted shines the clear blue light of day 
 Upon the horrors of that gloomy grave ; 
 Her night's soft voice resounds through all the cave, 
 The affrighted serpent quits his deadly hold, 
 'Not dares the vengeance of his arm to brave, 
 Shrunk to a spider's form, while many a fold 
 Of self-spun web obscene the sorcerer vile enrolled. 
 
 Scarce had the star of his attendant youth 
 Blazed through the cavern and proclaimed the knight, 
 "When all those spells and visions of untruth, 
 Bred in dark Erebus and nursed in night, 
 Dissolving vanished into vapour light ; 
 "While Psyche, quite exhausted by her pains, 
 And hardly trusting her astonished sight, 
 Now faint and speechless in his arms remains, 
 Nor memory of the past, nor present sense retains. 
 
 Borne from the cavern, and to life restored. 
 Her opening eyes behold her knight once more, 
 She sees whom lost with anguish she deplored ; 
 Yet a half-feigned resentment still she bore, 
 !N"or sign of joy her face averted wore. 
 Though joy unuttered panted at her heart ; 
 In sullen silence much she pondered o'er 
 What from her side induced him to depart, 
 And all she since had seen by aid of magic art. 
 
 "Was it then all a false deluding dream 
 That wore the semblance of celestial Love ? 
 On this her wavering thoughts bewildered seem 
 At length to rest ; yet onward as they move, 
 Though much his tender cares her doubts reprove, 
 And though she longs to hear, and pardon all. 
 Silence she still preserves : a while he strove 
 Her free and cheerful spirits to recall. 
 But fbund the task was vain j his words unnoticed falU 
 
rsYCHE. 493 
 
 Now in his turn offended and surprised, 
 The knight in silence from lier side withdrew ; 
 With pain she marked it, but her pain disguised. 
 And heedless seemed her journey to pursue, 
 Nor backward deigned to turn one anxious view 
 As oft she wished ; till mindful of his lord, 
 Constance alarmed affectionately flew. 
 Eager to see their mutual peace restored. 
 And blamed her cold reserve in many a soft-breathed word. 
 
 *' Psyche ! would rot thus thy faithful knight, 
 Who fondly sought thee many an anxious hour, 
 Though bleeding yet from that inglorious fight, 
 Where thou wert rescued from the savage power 
 Of that fell beast who would thy charms devour : 
 Still faint with wounds, he ceased not to pursue 
 Thy heedless course : let not displeasure lower 
 Thus on thy brow : think not his heart untrue ! 
 
 Think not that e'er from thee he willingly withdrew." 
 
 With self-reproach and sweet returning trust, 
 While yet he spoke, her generous heart replies. 
 Soft melting pity bids her now be just, 
 And own the error which deceived her eyes ; 
 Her little pride she longs to sacrifice. 
 And ask forgiveness of her suffering knight ; 
 Her suffering knight, alas ! no more she spies. 
 He has withdrawn offended from her sight, 
 Nor can that gentle voice now hope to stay his flight. 
 
 Struggling no more her sorrows to restrain. 
 Her streaming eyes look round with anxious fear ; 
 Nor are those tender showers now shed in vain, 
 Her soft lamenting voice has reached his ear. 
 Where latent he had marked each precious tear ; 
 Sudden as thought behold him at her feet ! 
 Oh ! reconciling moment ! charm most dear ! 
 W^hat feeling heart thy pleasures would repeat, 
 Or wish thy dearly purchased bliss, how^ever sweet ? 
 
494 PSTCHE. 
 
 The smiles of joy which swell her glowing check, 
 And o'er her parting lips divinely play, 
 Returning pleasure eloquently speak, 
 Forgetful of the tears which lingering stay, 
 (Like sparkling dew-drops in a sunny day,) 
 XJnheeded tenants of rejoicing eyes ; 
 His wounds her tender care can well repay : 
 There grateful kindness breathes her balmy sighs, 
 Beneath her lenient hand how swiftly suffering flies ! 
 
 Freed from the mazes of Disfida's groves, 
 The opening landscape brightens to their view ; 
 Psyche, with strength revived, now onward moves 
 In cheerful hope, with courage to renew 
 Bepeated toils, and perils to pursue : 
 Thus when some tender plant neglected pines. 
 Shed o'er its pendent head the kindly dew, 
 How soon refreshed its vivid lustre shines ! 
 Once more the leaf expands, the drooping tendril twines. 
 
 Thus cheered, the knight intreats her to impart 
 The dangers which her way had since befel, 
 Her timid lips refuse to speak the art 
 Which clothed him in a form she loved so well : 
 That she had thought him Love, she blushed to tell ! 
 Confused she stopt ; a gentle pause ensued ; 
 "What chance had brought him to the demon's cell 
 She then enquires ; what course he had pursued, 
 And who his steps had led throughout the mazy wood. 
 
 Sooth he had much to say, though modest shame 
 His gallant deeds forbade him to declare ; 
 For while through those bewildering woods he came, 
 Assisted by his page's active care. 
 He had detected Varia's wily snare. 
 And forced her wanton retinue to flee. 
 "With like disgrace, malignant in despair, 
 Disfida's slaves their plots defeated see. 
 Their feeble malice scorned, their destined victims free. 
 
PSYCHE. 495 
 
 But he had marked the traces of their feet, 
 And found the path which to the cavern led : 
 Whence now, rejoicing in reunion sweet, 
 Their way together cheerfully they tread, 
 Exempt a while from danger and from dread ; 
 While Psyche's heart, with confidence more bold. 
 Pull oft the hour of rapture pictured, 
 "When those celestial charms she should behold. 
 And feel the arms of Love once more his bride enfold. 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Introduction — Charm of Poetiy — Psyche beholds the palace of Chas- 
 tity — Pleads for the admission of her Knight — Obtains it through the 
 intervention of Hymen — Hymn celebrating the triumphs of Chastity — 
 Psyche, enraptured, desires to devote herself solely to the service of 
 Chastity — Entrusted by her to the protection of the Knight — Psyche's 
 Voyage — Tempest — Coast of Spleen — Psyche received and she.tered by 
 Patience. 
 
 Delightpiil visions of my lonely hours ! 
 Charm of my life and solace of my care ! 
 Oh ! would the muse but lend proportioned powers. 
 And give me language, equal to declare 
 The wonders which she bids my fancy share. 
 When rapt in her to other worlds I fly. 
 See angel forms unutterably fair, 
 And hear the inexpressive harmony 
 That seems to float on air, and warble through the sky 
 
 Might I the swiftly glancing scenes recal ! 
 Bright as the roseate clouds of summer's eve. 
 The dreams which hold my soul in willing thrall, 
 And half my visionary days deceive, 
 Communicable shape might then receive. 
 And other hearts be ravished with the strain : 
 But scarce I seek the airy threads to weave, 
 When quick confusion mocks the fruitless pain. 
 And all the fairy forms are vanished from my brain. 
 
496 PSYCHE. 
 
 Eond dreamer ! meditate thine idle song ! 
 But let thine idle song remain unknown : 
 The verse, which cheers thy solitude, prolong ; 
 What, though it charm no moments but thine own, 
 Though thy loved Psyche smile for thee alone, 
 Still shall it yield thee pleasure, if not fame, 
 And when, escaped from tumult, thou hast flown 
 To thy dear silent hearth's enlivening flame. 
 There shall the tranquil muse her happy votary claim ! 
 
 My Psyche's wanderings then she loves to trace ; 
 XJnrols the glowing canvas to my sight ; 
 Her chaste calm eye, her soft attractive grace, 
 The lightning of her heavenly smile so bright, 
 All yield me strange and unconceived delight : 
 Even now entranced her journey I pursue, 
 And gaze enraptured on her matchless knight ; 
 Visions of love, pure, innocent, and true ! 
 Oh ! may your graceful forms for ever bless my view I 
 
 See as they tread the green, soft-levelled plain, 
 "Where never weed, nor noxious plant was found ! 
 Psyche enchanted, bids her knight explain 
 "Who rules that lovely and well-cultured ground, 
 Where fairest flowers and purest springs abound. 
 *' Oh ! object of my anxious cares," (he cried. 
 As with a half-breathed sigh he gazed around,) 
 "A stranger here, full oft I vainly tried 
 Admittance to obtain, and soothe the sovereign's pride. 
 
 " Here Castabella reigns, whose brow severe 
 Oft chilled my sanguine spirit by its frown ; 
 Yet have I served her with adoring fear, 
 Though her ungrateful scorn will oft disown 
 The faithful homage by her servant shown ; 
 Me she hath banished from her fain domain, 
 For crimes my loyal heart had never known ; 
 While thus excluded vainly I complain, 
 And feel another's guilt my injured honour stain. 
 
PSYCHE. 497 
 
 With false assumption of my arms and name, 
 Knight of the Bleeding Heart miscalled too long, 
 A vile impostor has disgraced my fame, 
 And much usurped by violence and wrong. 
 Which to the virgin queen by right belong ; 
 On me her irritated vengeance falls. 
 On me, repulsed by force of arms so strong, 
 That, never suffered to approach her walls, 
 Unheard, indignant Truth in vain for justice calls 
 
 Yet she alone our progress can assist, 
 And thou, Oh Psyche ! must her favour gain ; 
 Nor from thy soft entreaties e'er desist 
 Till thou free entrance for thy knight obtain ; 
 Here let his faithful services remain 
 Fixed on thy grateful heart ! nor thou consent, 
 Nor let their force thy gentleness constrain 
 To leave him, thus disgraced, yet innocent. 
 Thine undeserved neglect forsaken to lament." 
 
 While yet he speaks, before her ravished eyes 
 The brilliant towers of Castabella shine : 
 The sun that views them from unclouded skies 
 Sheds not through heaven a radiance more divine ; 
 The adamantine walls with strength combine 
 Inimitable lustre ever clear ; 
 Celestial temple ! 'tis not lips like mine 
 Thy glories can reveal to mortal ear. 
 Or paint the unsullied beams which blaze for ever here 
 
 Approaching now the well-defended gates. 
 Which placed at distance guard the sacred fane, 
 Their lowly suit a stern repulse awaits ; 
 The timid voice of Psyche pleads in vain, 
 Nor entrance there together can they gain : 
 While yet they stay, unwilling to retreat, 
 The dove, swift-sailing through the ethereal plain, 
 Has reached already Castabella' s seat. 
 And in her spotless breast has found a welcome sweet. 
 
 K 1^ 
 
498 PSYCHE. 
 
 Caressiug oft her well-remembered guest, 
 Sei ener smiles illumed her softened brow ; 
 The heaven-sent messenger her soul confest, 
 And mildly listened to his murmurs low, 
 "Which seemed in pleading eloquence to flow ; 
 His snowy pinions then he wide displayed. 
 And gently lured her from her throne to go 
 Even to the gates, where Psyche blushing stayed 
 Beside her awe-struck knight half doubtingly afraid- 
 
 That form majestic might the bravest awe : 
 Yet Psyche gazed with love unmixed with fear, 
 And felt those charms her soul attracted draw 
 As to maternal tenderness most dear ; 
 Congenial souls ! they at one glance appear 
 Linked to each other by a mutual tie : 
 Her courteous voice invites her to draw near. 
 And lo ! obedient to their sovereign's eye, 
 To Psyche's willing steps the barriers open fly. 
 
 But to the lion, and his gallant lord, 
 Sudden the affrighted guards the portals close. 
 Psyche looks back, and minilful of her word, 
 Mindful of him who saved her from her foes. 
 Guide of her course and soother of her woes. 
 The tear that started to her downcast eye. 
 The deepening blush which eloquently rose. 
 Silent assistant of the pleading sigh. 
 To speed the unuttered suit their powers persuasive try. 
 
 And now the knight, encouraged to approach. 
 Asserts his injured fame, and justice claims, 
 Confutes each charge, repels each foul reproach, 
 And each accusing falsehood boldly shames, 
 While conscious Innocence his tongue inflames : 
 A firm attachment to her reign he vows, 
 The base impostor's guilty madness blames. 
 And, while the imputed crimes his spirit rouse, 
 No iuterco'j^^e with him his nobler soul allows. 
 
PSYCHE. 499 
 
 Keantime his faithful page had not been mute, 
 And he had found a ready warm ally ; 
 For (while his master urged the eager suit) 
 As through the goodly train he cast his eye, 
 He chanced exulting 'mid the group to spy 
 A joyous youth, his fondly-cherished friend ; 
 Hymen, the festive, love-attending boy. 
 Delighted his assistance hastes to lend. 
 Laughing unbars the gates, and bids the parley end. 
 
 Around their queen the timid virgins crowd, 
 "VVTio half-consentingly receives the knight. 
 And checks her sportive boy, whose welcome loud 
 Speaks his gay triumph and his proud delight : 
 Yet graceful smiles her happy guests invite 
 To share the feast with sacred honours blest ; 
 The palace opens to their dazzled sight ; 
 Still as they gazed, the adoring eye confest 
 That wondering awe which filled each consecrated breast. 
 
 All was divine, yet still the fairest queen 
 Like Dian 'mid her circling nymphs appeared. 
 Or as Minerva on Parnassus seen, 
 When condescendingly with smiles she cheered 
 The silent Muses who her presence feared : 
 A starry crown its heavenly radiance 'threw 
 O'er her pale cheek ; for there the rose revered 
 The purer lilies of her saint-like hue, 
 Yet oft the mantling blush its transient visits knew. 
 
 The hand of Fate, which wove of spotless white 
 Her wondrous robe, bade it unchangeable 
 Preserve unsullied its first lustre bright, 
 !Nor e'er might be renewed that sacred spell 
 If once destroyed ; wherefore to guard it well 
 Two hand-maids she entrusts with special care, 
 Prudence and Purity, who both excel, 
 The first in matron dignity of air, 
 The last in blooming youth unalterably fair. 
 
50C PSYCHE. 
 
 Favounte of heaven ! she at her birth received 
 "With it the brilliant zone that bound her waist, 
 Which, were the earth of sun and stars bereaved. 
 By its own light beneficently cast 
 Could cheer the innocent, and guide the chaste : 
 Nor armour ever had the virgin bore. 
 Though oft in warlike scenes her youth she past, 
 For while her breast this dazzling cestus wore, 
 The foe who dared to gaze beheld the light no more. 
 
 But when her placid hours in peace are spent. 
 Concealed she bids its latent terrors lie. 
 Sheathed in a silken scarf, with kind intent 
 "Wove by the gentle hand of Modesty ; 
 And see, the blushing maid with downcast eye 
 Behind her mistress hides her charms retired ! 
 While, foremost of the group, of stature high. 
 Firm Courage lifts her brow by Truth inspired. 
 Who holds a crystal lamp in flames celestial fired. 
 
 See, fresh as Hebe, blooming Temperance stand. 
 Present the nectared fruits, and crown the bowl ! 
 While bright-eyed Honour leads the choral band. 
 Whose songs divine can animate the soul, 
 Led willing captive to their high control : 
 They sing the triumphs of their spotless queen, 
 And proudly bid immortal fame enrol 
 Upon her faii'est page such as had been 
 The champions of her cause, the favourites of her reign. 
 
 From Pallas first begins the lofty song. 
 And Cynthia, brightest goddess of the skies ; 
 To her the virgin deities belong. 
 And each beholds her with a sister's eyes ; 
 The mystic honours next of Fauna* rise ; 
 Her solemn rites which purest hands require ; 
 And Yesta, who her virgins taught to prize, 
 And guard the sacred symbols of the fire 
 Which earth could ne'er revive if suffered to expire. 
 
 • The mystic honours next of i^awna. ]— Fauna, called also the Bono 
 Dea, was celebrated for the exemplary purity of her manners, and after 
 death was worshipped only by women. 
 
PSYCHE. 501 
 
 Emblem divine of female purity ! 
 Whose trust betrayed to like sad fate shall doom ; 
 Pursued by scorn, consigned to infamy, 
 The hapless victims perish in their bloom 
 'Mid the dark horrors of a living tomb ; 
 Effulgent queen ! thou wilt the pure defend 
 From the dark night of this opprobrious gloom ; 
 Nor even with life thy favouring smiles shall end, 
 They bid illustrious fame beyond the grave extend. 
 
 First of the noble youths whose virtue shone 
 Conspicuous chief in Castabella's train. 
 They sing the firm unmoved Bellerophon ; 
 And Peleus flying the Magnesian plain, 
 Pursued by all a wanton's fierce disdain. 
 You too, Hippolytus, their songs employ ! 
 Beloved by Phaedra, but beloved in vain ; 
 With the chaste honours of the Hebrew boy. 
 Which time shall ne'er obscure, nor idle scorn destroy. 
 
 it^Tor was unsung whom on Hymettus* brow 
 The bright Aurora wooed with amorous care ; 
 He, mindful of his sacred nuptial vow. 
 Refused the goddess though celestial lair, 
 Breathing pure perfumes and ambrosial air : 
 Of wanton Circe's baffled arts they tell, 
 And him, too wise her treacherous cup to share. 
 Who scorned the enchantress, and her mystic spell^ 
 And all the Syrens' arts could gloriously repel. 
 
 The long- tried virtue of his faithful spouse 
 Now sweetly animates the tuneful string. 
 Unsullied guardian of her virgin vows ! 
 Who twice ten years had wept her wandering king. 
 Acastus' mourning daughter"^* next they sing ; 
 The chaste embrace which clasped her husband's shade : 
 And thee, Dictynna !f who, with daring spring. 
 Called from the Cretan rock on Dian's aid : 
 And still the goddess loves her favourite luckless maid. 
 
 * Acastus* mourning daughter.'] — Laodamia. 
 
 t And thee, Dictynna ! ] — A virgin of Crete, who threw herself from 
 a rock into the sea, when pursued by Minos. The Cretans gave hei 
 
502 PSYCHE, 
 
 Pleased to assume herself a name so dear, 
 She bids her altars to Dictynna rise, 
 Thus called, she ever turns, with willing ear, 
 To aid each nymph who for her succour cries. 
 See how the trembling Arethusa flies 
 Through pathless woods, o'er rocks and open plains ; 
 In vain to escape the ravisher she tries, 
 Fast on her rapid flight Alpheus gains, 
 And scarce her fainting strength the unequal course sustains 
 
 And now more near his dreaded steps she hears, 
 His lengthened shadow flies before her feet, 
 Now o'er her neck his panting breath appears 
 To part her locks, which, in disorder sweet, 
 Ambitious seemed to fan the fervid heat 
 That flushed her glowing cheek and heightened charms : 
 Hear how her gasping sighs for aid entreat ! 
 •* Dictynna ! pitying see my just alarms. 
 And snatch thy fainting maid from those polluting arms." 
 
 The goddess hears, and in a favouring cloud 
 Conceals her suppliant from Alpheus' sight ; 
 In vain he looks around, and calls aloud, 
 And wondering seeks the traces of her flight : 
 Enveloped, still she views him with affright. 
 An icy coldness creeps o'er all her frame. 
 And soon, dissolving in a current bright, 
 The silver stream retains her honoured name, 
 And still unmingled flows, and guards its virgin fame. 
 
 *Twas thus Castalia's sacred fountain sprung, 
 
 Once a fair nymph by bright Apollo loved : 
 
 To Daphne too his amorous strain he sung, 
 
 But sung in vain : her heart remained immoved, 
 
 No vain delight her modest virtue proved 
 
 To be the theme of all his wanton lays : 
 
 To shun the god the silvan scene she roved ; 
 
 Nor prized the flattery of his tuneful praise, 
 Nor one relenting smile his splendid gifts could raise- 
 name to the rock thus consecrated, and were accustomed to \ifOrship 
 Diana by the name of her unfortunate votary. 
 
PSYCHE. 5&Z 
 
 Yet were his lips with eloquence endued, 
 And melting passion warbled o'er his lyre, 
 And had she yielding listened as he wooed. 
 The virgin sure had caught the kindling fire, 
 And fallen a victim to impure desire ; 
 For safety cautious flight alone remained. 
 While tears of trembling innocence require 
 Her parents' aid : and lo ! that aid obtained. 
 How suddenly her charms immortal laurels gained ! 
 
 Dear to the Muses still her honours live : 
 And they too glory in their virgin name ; 
 To pure delights their tranquil hours they give. 
 And fear to mingle with a grosser flame 
 The chaster fires which heaven hath bid them claim : 
 They smiled when Pan, on Ladon's banks deceived, 
 The fair Syringa clasped, who, snatched from shame, 
 Already had her tuneful form received. 
 And to the breathing winds in airy music grieved. 
 
 Still in that tuneful form* to Dian dear 
 She bids it injured innocence befriend; 
 Commands her train the sentence to revere, 
 And in her grove the vocal reeds suspend 
 AVhich virtue may from calumny defend : 
 Self-breathed, when virgin purity appears. 
 What notes melodious they spontaneous send ! 
 While the rash guilty nymph with horror hears 
 Deep groans declare her shame to awe-struck wondering ears. 
 
 The spotless virgins shall unhurt approach 
 The stream's rude ordeal, f and the sacred fire. 
 See the pure maid, indignant of reproach. 
 The dreadful test of innocence require 
 
 * That tuneful form.'} — In a grove, sacred to Diana, was suspended a 
 syrinx (the pipe into which the nymph Syringa had been metamorphosed), 
 which was said to possess the miraculous power of thus justifying the 
 cahimniated. 
 
 t The stream's rude ordeal] — The trial of the Stygian fountain, by 
 which the innocent were acquitted, and the guilty disgraced ; the waters 
 rising in a wonderful manner, so as to cover the laurel wreath of the 
 unchaste female who dared the examination. 
 
504 PSYCHE. 
 
 Amid the holy priests and virgin choir ! 
 See her leap fearless on the blazing shrine ! 
 The lambent flames, bright- circling, all aspire 
 Innoxious wreaths around her form to twine, 
 And crown with lustrous beams the virgin's brow divine. 
 
 'Nor was the daring Clusia* then unsung, 
 Who plunged illustrious from the lofty tower ; 
 The favouring winds around the virgin clung. 
 And bore her harmless from the tyrant's power : 
 -N'or those, whom Vesta in the trying hourf 
 Protects from Slander, and restores to fame ; 
 Kor Clelia, shielded from the arrowy shower ; 
 jN"or thou ! whose purest hands+ the Sibyls claim, 
 And bid the modest fane revere Sulpicia's name. 
 
 O'er her soft cheek how arch the dimples play, 
 While pleased the goddess hears Sinope's wiles !§ 
 How oft she mocked the changeful lord of day. 
 And many a silvan god who sought her smiles : 
 But chief when Jove her innocence beguiles ; 
 " Grant me a boon," the blushing maid replies. 
 Urged by his suit : hope o'er his amorous toils 
 Exulting dawns : — " Thine oath is past," she cries ; 
 " Unalterably pure thy spotless virgin dies !" 
 
 * The daring Clusia'] — Who, to avoid the violence of Torquatus, cast 
 herself from a tower, and was preserved by the winds, which, swelling her 
 garments, supported her as she gently descended to the earth. 
 
 t Vesta in the trying hour.} — Claudia, a vestal, who having been ac- 
 cused of violating her vow, attested her innocence by drawing up the 
 Tiber, a ship bearing a statue of the goddess, which many thousand men 
 had not been able to remove. Emilia, who was suspected of unchastity 
 from having inadvertently suffered the sacred flame to expire, by entrust- 
 ing it to the care of a novice, but, imploring Vesta to justify her innocence, 
 she tore her linen garment, and threw it upon the extinguished ashes of 
 the cold altar ; when, in the sight of priests and virgins, a sudden and 
 pure fire was thus enkindled. Tucia, who being falsely accused, carried 
 water from the Tiber to the forum in a sieve, her accuser miraculously 
 disappearing at the same time. 
 
 X Whose purest hands.} — Sulpicia, a Roman lady of remarkable chastity ; 
 chosen by the Sibyls to dedicate a temple to Venus Verticordia, in order 
 to obtain greater purity for her contemporary countrywomen. 
 
 § Sinope^s wiles /] — The nymph Sinope, being persecuted hy the ad- 
 dresses of Jupiter, at length stipulated for his promise to grant her what- 
 ever she might ask, and having obtained this promise, claimed the gift of 
 perpetual cliastity. 
 
PSYCHE. 505 
 
 Borne shall for ages boast Lucre tia's name ! 
 And while its temples moulder into dust 
 Still triumph in Yirginia's rescued fame, 
 And Scipio's victory over baffled lust : — 
 Even now the strain prophetically just, 
 In unborn servants bids their queen rejoice, 
 And in her British beauties firmly trust ; 
 Thrice happy fair ! who still adore her voice, 
 The blushing virgin's law, the modest matron's choice ' 
 
 Psyche with ravished ear the strain attends, 
 Enraptured hangs upon the heaven-strung lyre ; 
 Her kindling soul from sensual earth ascends ; 
 To joys divine her purer thoughts aspire ; 
 She longs to join the white-robed spotless choir, 
 And there for ever dwell a hallowed guest : 
 Even Love himself no longer can inspire 
 The wishes of the soft enthusiast's breast. 
 Who, filled with sacred zeal, would there for ever rest ; 
 
 Despising every meaner low pursuit. 
 And quite forgetful of her amorous care. 
 All heedless of her knight, who sad and mute 
 With wonder hears the strange ungrateful fair, 
 A prostrate suppliant, pour the fervent prayer 
 To be received in Castabella's train, 
 And that in tranquil bliss secluded there. 
 Her happy votary still she might remain, 
 Pree from each worldly care, and each polluting stain. 
 
 With gracious smile the Queen her favourite heard, 
 And fondly raised, and clasped her to her breast ; 
 A beam of triumph in her eye appeared, 
 WTiile ardent Psyche offered her request, 
 Which to the indignant knight her pride confest : 
 ** Farewell, mistaken Psyche !" he exclaims. 
 Rising at length with grief and shame opprest, 
 " Since thy false heart a spouse divine disclaims, 
 I leave thee to the pomp which here thy pride inflames. 
 
506 PSYCEK. 
 
 '* Yet stay, impetuous youth," the Queen replies, 
 Abashed, irresolute as Psyche stands, 
 "My favourite's happiness too dear I prize, 
 Far other services my soul demands 
 Than those which here in these sequestered lands 
 Her zeal would pay : no, let her bear my fame 
 Even to the bowers where Love himself conwnandR : 
 There shall my votary reign secure from blame, 
 And teach his myrtle groves to «^ho to my name. 
 
 " My lovely servant still defend from harms. 
 And stem with her yon strong opposing tide : 
 Haste, bear her safely to her lover's arms ! 
 Be it thy care with steady course to guide 
 The light- winged bark I will myself provide. 
 Depart in peace ! thou chosen of my heart ! 
 Leave not thy faithful knight's protecting side. 
 Dear to me both, oh may no treacherous art 
 Your kindred souls divide, your fair alliance part ! 
 
 " Here rest to-night ; to-morrow shall prepare 
 The vessel which your destined course shall speed. 
 Lo ! I consign my Psyche to thy care, 
 gallant youth ! for so hath Pate decreed. 
 And Love himself shall pay the generous meed." 
 She said, and joined their unreluctant hands. 
 The grateful knight, from fear and sorrow freed^ 
 Receives with hope revived the dear commands. 
 And Psyche's modest eye no other law demands. 
 
 !N"ow Peace, with downy step and silent haml, 
 Prepares for each the couch of soft repose : 
 Fairest attendant ! she with whispers bland 
 Bids the obedient eye in slumbers close ; 
 She too the first at early morning goes 
 With light-foot Cheerfulness the guests to greet, 
 "Who, soothed by quiet dreams refreshed arose. 
 Ready the labours of the day to meet ; 
 But first due homage pay at Castabella's feet. 
 
PSYCHE. 
 
 Bright was the prospect which before them shone ; 
 Gay danced the sun-beams o'er the trembling waves i 
 "Who that the faithless ocean had not known, 
 "Which now the strand in placid whispers laves. 
 Could e'er believe the rage with which it raves, 
 "When angry Boreas bids the storm arise. 
 And calls his wild winds from their wintry caves ? 
 Now soft Favonius breathes his gentlest sighs, 
 Auspicious omens wait, serenely smile the skies. 
 
 The eager mariners now seize the oar. 
 The streamers flutter in the favouring gale. 
 Nor unattended did they leave the shore : 
 Hymen, whose smiles shall o'er mischance prevail, 
 Sits at the helm, or spreads the swelling sail : 
 Swift through the parting waves the vessel flies. 
 And now at distance scarce can Psyche hail 
 The shore, so fast receding from her eyes. 
 Or bless the snowy clifi's which o'er the coast arise. 
 
 Pleased with her voyage and the novel scene, 
 Hope's vivid ray her cheerful heart expands : 
 Delighted now she eyes the blue serene. 
 The pui-ple hills, and distant rising lands. 
 Or, when the sky the silver queen commands, 
 In pleasing silence listens to the oar 
 Dashed by the frequent stroke of equal hands ; 
 Or asks her knight if yet the promised shore 
 May bless her longing eyes when morn shall light restore i 
 
 The impatient question oft repeated thus 
 He smiling hears, and still with many a tale, 
 Or song of heavenly lore unknown to us 
 Beguiles the live-long night, or flagging sail, 
 "When the fresh breeze begins their bark to fail. 
 Strong ran the tide against the vessel's course, 
 And much they need the kind propitious gale 
 Steady to bear against its rapid force. 
 And aid the labouring oars, their tedious last resource. 
 
 507 
 
508 PSYCHE. 
 
 But lo ! the blackening surface of the deep 
 "With sullen munnurs now begins to swell, 
 On ruffled wing the screaming sea- fowl sweep 
 The unlovely surge, and piteous seem to tell 
 How from the low-hung clouds with fury fell 
 The demons of the tempest threatening rage ; 
 There, brooding future terrors, yet they dwell, 
 Till with collected force dread war they wage, 
 And in convulsive gusts the adverse winds engage. 
 
 The trembling Psyche, supplicating Heaven, 
 Lifts to the storm her fate-deploring eye. 
 Sees o'er her head the livid lightnings driven : 
 Then, turned in horror from the blazing sky, 
 Clings to her knight in speechless agony : 
 He all his force exerts the bark to steer, 
 And bids the mariners each eifort try 
 To escape the rocky coast which threatens near, 
 For Hymen taught the youth that dangerous shore to fear. 
 
 Who has not listened to his tuneful lay. 
 That sings so well the hateful cave of Spleen ? 
 Those lands, submitted to her gloomy sway, 
 JN'ow open to their view a dreary scene, 
 As the sad subjects of the sullen queen 
 Hang o'er the cliffs, and blacken all the strand ; 
 And where the entrance of the cave is seen 
 A peevish, fretful, melancholy band. 
 Her ever wrangling slaves, in jarring concert stand. 
 
 Driven by the hurricane they touch the shore, 
 The frowning guards prepare to seize their prey, 
 The knight (attentive to the helm no more) 
 Resumes his arms, and bids his shield display 
 Its brilliant orb : ** Psyche let no dismay 
 Possess thy gentle breast," he cheerly cries, 
 " Behind thy knight in fearless safety stay 
 Smile at the dart which o'er thee vainly ^les. 
 Secure from each attack their powerless rage despiaa 
 
PSYCHE. 509 
 
 " Soon shall the fury of the winds be past, 
 Serener skies shall brighten to our view, 
 Let us not yield to the imperious blast 
 Which now forbids our vessel to pursue 
 Its purposed course ; soon shall the heavens renew 
 Their calm clear smile ; and soon our coward foes, 
 Despairing thus our courage to subdue, 
 Shall cease their idle weapons to oppose. 
 And unmolested Peace restore our lost repose." 
 
 Still as he spoke, where'er he turned his shield 
 The darts drop quivering from each slackened bow, 
 Unnerved each arm, no force remains to wield 
 The weighty falchion, or the javelin throw ; 
 Each voice half choked expires in murmurs low, 
 A dizzy mist obscures their wondering sight. 
 Their eyes no more their wonted fury know. 
 With stupid awe they gaze upon the knight, 
 Or, as his voice they hear, trembling disperse in flight. 
 
 Yet raged the storm with unabated power; 
 A little creek the labouring vessel gains ; 
 There they resolve to endure the blustering hour, 
 The dashing billows, and the beating rains 
 Soon as the bark the sheltering bay attains, 
 And in the shallows moored securely rides, 
 
 . Attentive still to soften all her pains. 
 The watchful knight for Psyche's ease provides ; 
 
 Some fisher's hut perchance the shelving harbour hides. 
 
 Deep in the sterile bank a grotto stood. 
 Whose winding caves repel the inclement air. 
 Worn in the hollowed rock by many a flood 
 A.nd sounding surge that dashed its white foam there, 
 The refuge now of a defenceless fair, 
 Who issuing thence, with courteous kind intent 
 Approached the knight, and kindly bade him share 
 Whatever good indulgent heaven had lent 
 To cheer her hapless years in lonely sufl'ering spent. 
 
510 
 
 PSYCHE. 
 
 More sweet than Health's fresh bloom the wan hue seemed 
 Which sat upon her pallid cheek ; her eye, 
 Her placid eye, with dove-like softness beamed ; 
 Her head unshielded from the pitiless sky, 
 Loose to the rude wild blast her tresses fly, 
 Bare were her feet which pressed the shelly shore 
 With firm unshrinking step ; while smilingly 
 She eyes the dashing billows as they roar. 
 And braves the boisterous storms so oft endured before. 
 
 Long had she there in silent sorrow dwelt. 
 And many a year resigned to grief had known ; 
 Spleen's cruel insolence she oft had felt, 
 Eut never would the haughty tyrant own, 
 !N'or heed the darts which, from a distance thrown, 
 Screened by her cavern she could safely shun ; 
 The thorny brakes she trod for food alone, 
 Drank the cold stream which near the grotto run, 
 And bore the winter's frosts and scorching summer's sun 
 
 In early youth, exchanging mutual vows, 
 Courage had wooed and won his lovely bride ; 
 Tossed on those stormy seas, her daring spouse 
 From her fond arms the cruel waves divide. 
 And dashed her fainting on that rock's rough side. 
 Still hope she keeps, and still her constant heart 
 Expects to hail with each returning tide 
 His dear remembered bark ; hence can no art 
 From those unlovely scenes induce her to depart. 
 
 When the vexed seas their stormy mountains roll. 
 She loves the shipvtrecked mariner to cheer ; 
 The trembling wretch escaped from Spleen's control, 
 Deep in her silent cell conceals his fear, 
 
 . And panting finds repose and refuge here ; 
 Benevolently skilled each wound to heal, 
 To her the sufferer flies, with willing ear 
 She wooes them all their anguish to reveal, 
 
 And while she speaks, they half forget the woes they feel. 
 
PSYCHE. 51 1 
 
 Now to her cave has Patience gently brought 
 Psyche, yet shuddering at the fearful blast, 
 Largely she heaped with hospitable thought 
 The blazing pile, and spread the pure repast ; 
 O'er her chilled form her own soft mantle cast, 
 And soothed her wearied spirits to repose, 
 Till all the fury of the storm is past, 
 Till swift-receding clouds the heavens disclose, 
 And o'er subsiding waves pacific sunshine glows. 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Introduction — The power of Love to soften adversity — Exhortation to 
 guard Love from the attacks of Ill-temper, w^hich conduct to Indif- 
 ference and Disgust — Psyche becalmed — Psyche surprised and carried 
 to the Island of Indifference — Pursued and rescued by her Knight — 
 The Voyage concluded — Psyche brought home heholds again the Temple 
 of Love — Is reunited to her Lover, and invited by Venus to receive in 
 Heaven her Apotheosis — Conclusion. 
 
 When pleasure sparkles in the cup of youth. 
 And the gay hours on downy wing advance, 
 Oh ! then 'tis sweet to hear the lip of Truth 
 lireathe the soft vows of love, sweet to entrance 
 The raptured soul by intermingling glance 
 Of mutual bliss ; sweet amid roseate bowers. 
 Led by the hand of Love, to weave the dance, 
 Or unmolested crop life's fairy flowers, 
 Or bask in joy's bright sun through calm unclouded hf lira. 
 
 Yet they, who light of heart in May-day pride 
 Meet love with smiles and gaily amorous song, 
 (Though he their softest pleasures may provide. 
 Even then when pleasures in full concert throng,) 
 They cannot know with what enchantment strong 
 He steals upon the tender suffering soul, 
 What gently soothing charms to him belong, 
 mow melting sorrow owns his soft control. 
 Subsiding passions hushed in milder waves to roll 
 
612 PSYCHE. 
 
 "When vexed by cares and harassed by distress, 
 The storms of fortune chill thy soul with dread. 
 Let Love, consoling Love ! still sweetly bless, 
 And his assuasive balm benignly shed : 
 His downy plumage o'er thy pillow spread. 
 Shall lull thy weeping sorrows to repose ; 
 To Love the tender heart hath ever fled, 
 As on its mother's breast the infant throws 
 Its sobbing face, and there in sleep forgets its woes. 
 
 Oh ! fondly cherish then the lovely plant, 
 "Which lenient Heaven hath given thy pains to ease ; 
 Its lustre shall thy summer hours enchant. 
 And load with fragrance every prosperous breeze. 
 And when rude Winter shall thy roses seize. 
 When nought through all thy bowers but thorns remain, 
 This still with undeciduous charms shall please, 
 Screen from the blast and shelter from the rain, 
 And still with verdure cheer the desolated plain. 
 
 Through the hard season Love with plaintive note 
 Like the kind red-breast tenderly shall sing. 
 Which swells 'mid dreary snows its tuneful throat, 
 Brushing the cold dews from its shivering wing. 
 With cheerful promise of returning spring 
 To the mute tenants of the leafless grove. 
 Guard thy best treasure from the venomed sting 
 Of baneful peevishness ; oh ! never prove 
 How soon ill- temper's power can banish gentle Love ! 
 
 Repentance may the storms of passion chase. 
 And Love, who shrunk affiighted from the blast, 
 May hush his just complaints in soft embrace, 
 And smiling wipe his tearful eye at last : 
 Yet when the wind's rude violence is past, 
 Look what a wreck the scattered fields display ! 
 See on the ground the withering blossoms cast ! 
 And hear sad Philomel with piteous lay 
 Deplore the tempest's rage that swept her ycung away* 
 
psrcHE. 513 
 
 The tears capricious Beauty loves to shed, 
 The pouting lip, the sullen silent tongue. 
 May wake the impassioned lover's tender dread. 
 And touch the spring that clasps his soul so strong ; 
 But ah, beware ! the gentle power too long 
 Will not endure the frown of angry strife ; 
 He shuns contention, and the gloomy throng 
 Who blast the joys of calm domestic life, 
 And flies when Discord shakes her brand with quarrels rife. 
 
 Oh ! he will tell you that these quarrels bring 
 The ruin, not renewal of his flame : 
 If oft repeated, lo ! on rapid wing 
 He flies to hide his fair but tender frame ; 
 Prom violence, reproach, or peevish blame 
 Irrevocably flies. Lament in vain ! 
 Indiff'erence comes the abandoned heart to claim, 
 Asserts for ever her repulsive reign. 
 Close followed by Disgust and all her chilling train. 
 
 Indiflerence, dreaded power ! what art shall save 
 The good so cherished from thy grasping hand ? 
 How shall young Love escape the untimely grave 
 Thy treacherous arts prepare ? or how withstand 
 The insidious foe, who with her leaden band 
 Enchains the thoughtless, slumbering deity ? 
 Ah, never more to wake ! or e'er expand 
 His golden pinions to the breezy sky. 
 Or open to the sun his dim and languid eye. 
 
 Who can describe the hopeless, silent pang 
 With which the gentle heart first marks her sway ? 
 Eyes the sure progress of her icy fang 
 Resistless, slowly fastening on her prey ; 
 Sees rapture's brilliant colours fade away. 
 And all the glow of beaming sympathy ; 
 Anxious to watch the cold averted ray 
 That speaks no more to the fond meeting eye 
 Enchanting tales of love, and tenderness, and joy. 
 
 Lit 
 
614 PSYCHE. 
 
 Too faithful heart ! thou never canst retrieve 
 Thy withered hopes : conceal the cruel pain ! 
 O'er thy lost treasure still in silence grieve ; 
 But never to the unfeeling ear complain : 
 From fruitless struggles dearly bought refrain ! 
 Submit at once — the bitter task resign, 
 Nor watch and fan the expiring flame in vain ; 
 Patience, consoling maid, may yet be thine. 
 Go seek her quiet cell, and hear her voice divine ! 
 
 But lo ! the joyous sun, the soft-breathed gales 
 By zephyrs sent to kiss the placid seas. 
 Curl the green wave, and fill the swelling sails ; 
 The seamen's shouts, which jocund hail the breeze. 
 Call the glad knight the favouring hour to seize. 
 Her gentle hostess Psyche oft embraced. 
 Who still solicitous her guest to please. 
 On her fair breast a talisman had placed. 
 And with the valued gem her parting blessing graced. 
 
 How gaily now the bark pursues its way, 
 Urged by the steady gale ! while round the keel 
 The bubbling currents in sweet whispers play. 
 Their force repulsive now no more they feel ; 
 No clouds the unsullied face of heaven conceal, 
 But the clear azure one pure dome displays. 
 Whether it bids the star of day reveal 
 His potent beams, or Cynthia's milder rays 
 On deep cerulean skies invite the eye to gaze. 
 
 Almost unconscious they their course pursue. 
 So smooth the vessel cuts the watery plain ; 
 The wide horizon to their boundless view 
 Gives but the sky, and Neptune's ample reign : 
 Still the unruffled bosom of the main 
 Smiles un diversified by varying wind ; 
 "No toil the idle mariners sustain, 
 While, listless, slumbering o'er his charge reclined, 
 The pilot cares no more the unerring helm to mind. 
 
PSYCHE. 5 1 5 
 
 With light exulting heart glad Psyche sees 
 Their rapid progress as they quit the shore : 
 Yet weary languor steals by slow degrees 
 Upon her tranquil mind ; she joys no more 
 The never-changing scene to wander o'er 
 "With still admiring eye ; the enchanting song 
 Yields not that lively charm it knew before, 
 When first enraptured by his tuneful tongue 
 She bade her vocal knight the heavenly strain prolong. 
 
 A damp chill mist now deadens aU the air, 
 A drowsy dullness seems o'er all to creep, 
 "No more the heavens their smile of brightness wear, 
 The winds are hushed, while the dim glassy deep 
 Oppressed by sluggish vapours seems to sleep ; 
 See his light scarf the knight o'er Psyche throws, 
 Solicitous his lovely charge to keep 
 From still increasing cold ; while deep repose 
 Benumbs each torpid sense, and bids her eye-lids close. 
 
 Kow as with languid stroke they ply the oars. 
 While the dense fog obscures their gloomy way ; 
 Hymen, well used to coast these dangerous shores, 
 Koused from the dreaming trance in which he lay. 
 Cries to the knight in voice of dread dismay, 
 " Steer hence thy bark, oh ! yet in time beware ; 
 Here lies Petrea, wliich with baneful sway 
 Glacella rules, I feel the dank cold air, 
 I hear her chilling voice, methinks it speaks despair !'* 
 
 Even while he speaks, behold the vessel stands 
 Immoveable ! in vain the pilot tries 
 The helm to turn ; fixed in the shallow strands, 
 No more obedient to his hand, it lies, 
 The disappointed oar no aid supplies 
 "While sweeping o'er the sand it mocks their force. 
 The anxious knight to Constance now applies. 
 To his oft-tried assistance has recourse. 
 And bids his active mind design some swift resource. 
 
 ll2 
 
516 PSYCHE. 
 
 Debating doubtfully awhile they stood, 
 At length on their united strength rely, 
 To force the bark on the supporting flood ; 
 They rouse the seamen, who half slumbering lie, 
 Subdued and loaded by the oppressive sky. 
 Then wading 'mid the fog, with care explore 
 What side the deepest waters may supply. 
 And where the shallows least protect the shore, 
 "While through their darksome search the star sheds light befor* 
 
 Mean time deep slumbers of the vaporous mist 
 Hang on the heavy eye-lids of the fair ; 
 And Hymen too, unable to resist 
 The drowsy force of the o'erwhelming air. 
 Laid at her feet at length forgets his care. 
 "When lo ! Glacella's treacherous slaves advance, 
 Deep wrapt in thickest gloom ; the sleeping fair 
 They seize, and bear away in heedless trance, 
 Long ere her guardian knight suspects the bitter chance. 
 
 Thus the lorn traveller imprudent sleeps 
 Where his high glaciers proud Locendro shews ; 
 Thus o'er his limbs resistless torpor creeps. 
 As yielding to the fatal deep repose 
 He sinks benumbed upon the Alpine snows, 
 And sleeps no more to wake ; no more to view 
 The blooming scenes his native vales disclose, 
 Or ever more the craggy patn pursue. 
 Or o'er the lichened steep the chamois chase renew. 
 
 Lo ! to their queen they bear their sleeping prey. 
 Deep in her ice-built castle's gloomy state. 
 There on a pompous couch they gently lay 
 Psyche, as yet unconscious of her fate, 
 And when her heavy eyes half opening late 
 Dimly observe the strange and unknown scenes, 
 As in a dream she views her changed estate. 
 Gazing around with doubtful, troubled mien 
 Now on the stupid crowd, now on their dull proud queen. 
 
PSYCHE. 517 
 
 With vacant smile, and words but half exprest, 
 In one ungracious, never- varying tone, 
 Glacella welcomes her bewildered guest, 
 And bids the chief supporter of her throne 
 Approach and make their mighty mistress known, 
 Proud Selfishnees, her dark ill-favoured lord ! 
 Her gorgeous seat, which still he shared alone, 
 He slowly leaves obedient to her word, 
 And ever as he moved the cringing train adored. 
 
 JN'ought of his shapeless form to sight appears, 
 Impenetrable furs conceal each part ; 
 Harsh and unpleasing sounds in Psyche's ears 
 That voice which had subdued full many a heart ; 
 "While he, exerting every specious art. 
 Persuades her to adore their queen's control ; 
 Yet would he not Glacella' s name impart. 
 But with false title, which she artful stole 
 From fair Philosophy, deludes the erring soul. 
 
 *' Eest, happy fair !" he cries, " who here hast found 
 From all the storms of life a safe retreat, 
 Sorrow thy breast henceforth no more shall wound, 
 Nor Care invade thee in this quiet seat ; 
 The voice of the distressed no more shall meet 
 The sympathising ear ; another's woes 
 Shall never interrupt the stillness sweet 
 Which here shall hush thee to serene repose, 
 Nor damp the constant joys these sceL.es for thee disclose. 
 
 '' Fatigue no more thy soft and lovely frame 
 With vain benevolence and fruitless care ; 
 No deep-heaved sigh shall here thy pity claim, 
 Nor hateful Want demand thy wealth to share ; 
 For thee shall Independence still prepare 
 Pleasures unmingled, and for ever sure; 
 His lips our sovereign's peaceful laws declare. 
 Centre existence in thyself secure. 
 Nor let an alien shade thy sunshine e'er obscure." 
 
.'5 1 8 PSYCHE. 
 
 He spoke, and lo ! unnumbered doors unfold, 
 And various scenes of revelry display ; 
 Here Grandeur sunk beneath the massive gold; 
 Here discontented Beauty pined away. 
 And vainly conscious asked her promised sway ; 
 Here Luxury prepared his sumptuous feast, 
 While lurking Apathy behind him lay 
 To poison all the insipid food he drest, 
 And shake his poppy crown o'er every sated guest. 
 
 The hireling minstrels strke their weary lyre, 
 And slumber o'er the oft-repeated strain ; 
 Ko listless youth to active grace they fire : 
 Here Eloquence herself might plead in vain, 
 Nor one of all the heartless crowd could gain : 
 And thou, oh ! sweeter than the Muses' song, 
 Affection's voice divine ! with cold disdain 
 Even thou art heard, while 'mid the insulting throng 
 Thy daunted, shivering form moves timidly along I 
 
 Thus o'er the oiled surface softly slides 
 The unadmitted stream, rapid it flows. 
 And from the impervious plain pellucid glides ; 
 Repulsed with gentle mui*murs thus it goes. 
 Till in the porous earth it finds repose, 
 Concealed and sheltered in its parent's breast : — 
 Oh ! man's best treasure in this vale of woes ! 
 Still cheer the sad, and comfort the distrest, 
 Kor ever be thy voice by selfishness opprest . 
 
 Psyche with languid step he leads around, 
 And bids her all the castle's splendour see. 
 Here Dissipation's constant sports abound. 
 While her loose hand in seeming bounty free, 
 Her scentless roses, painted mimicry. 
 Profusely sheds ; here Pride unheeded tells 
 To nodding crowds his ancient pedigree ; 
 And Folly with reiterated spells 
 To count her spotted cards the yawning group compels. 
 
PSYCHE. 519 
 
 *'See how, attentive to her subjects' ease," 
 To their reluctant prey exclaims her guide, 
 "Each fleeting joy of life she bids them seize, 
 Anxious for each gay pastime to provide ; 
 See her fast-spreading power increasing wide, 
 Adored and worshipped in each splendid dome '. 
 Lo ! Beauty glows for ever at her side, 
 She bids her cheek the unvarying rose assume ; 
 And Bacchus sees for her his votive ivy bloom. 
 
 "Is aught then wanting in this fairy bower ? 
 Or is there aught which yet thy heart can move ?'* 
 That heart, unyielding to their sovereign's power. 
 In gentle whispers sighing answers, " Love !" 
 Wliile scornful smiles the fond reply reprove, 
 "Lo !" he exclaims, " thy vanquished Cupid view ; 
 He oft with powerful arms had vainly strove 
 Our sovereign's rocky fortress to subdue, 
 Now, subject to her reign, he yields obedience duo." 
 
 Wondering she gazed around, and where he points, 
 An idiot child in golden chains she spies. 
 Rich cumbrous gems load all his feeble joints, 
 A gaudy bandage seals his stupid eyes. 
 And foul Desire his short-lived torch supplies : 
 By the capricious hand of Fashion led. 
 Her sudden starts with tottering step he tries 
 Submissive to attend : him had she bred, 
 And Selfishness himself the nursling ever fed. 
 
 With lustre false his tinsel arms to deck 
 Ungraceful ornaments around him shone, 
 Gifts of his sportive guide ; she round his neck 
 A glittering cord insultingly had thrown, 
 Loading its pendent purse with many a stone 
 And worthless dross, and ever as he went, 
 His leaden darts, with wanton aim unknown, 
 Now here, now there, in careless chance she sent. 
 That oft their blunted force in empty air was spent. 
 
520 PSYCHE. 
 
 Shocked, from the gross imposture Psyche turned 
 With horror and disgust her fearful eye ; 
 Her fate forlorn in silent anguish mourned, 
 And called her knight with many a hopeless sigh. 
 But see, the crowds in sudden tumult fly ! 
 The doors, fast closing to exclude some foe, 
 Proclaim to Psyche's hopes her hero nigh : 
 Escaping from her guard she flies, when lo ! 
 His form the bursting gates in awful beauty shew. 
 
 **riy from these dangerous walls," his page exclaims ; 
 ''Swift let us haste our floating bark to gain ! 
 See thy knight's wondrous dart in terror flames ; 
 Soon shall these ice-built walls no shape retain ! 
 Nor can their Queen his dreaded sight sustain." 
 Scarcely she heard while rapidly she fled, 
 Even as a bird, escaped the wily train 
 The fowler with destructive art had spread, 
 J^or panting stays its flight, nor yet foregoes its dread. 
 
 See how astonished now the crowd supine, 
 Roused by his potent voice, confused arise ; 
 In tottering masses o'er their heads decline 
 Dissolving walls ; they gaze with wild surprise, 
 And each affrighted from the ruin flies : — 
 Pitying he views the vain unfeeling band 
 Beneath his care, a vile and worthless prize, 
 Their Queen alone his vengeful arms demand. 
 But unknown force was hers his terrors to withstand. 
 
 A shield she had of more than Gorgon power, 
 And whom she would she could transform to stone. 
 Nor ever had it failed her till that hour : 
 She proves his form invincible alone. 
 And calls its force petrific on her own. 
 Amazed he sees the indurated train. 
 The callous tenants of the silent throne, 
 And all the marble subjects of their reign, 
 Inviolably hard, their breathless shape retain. 
 
PSYCHE. 521 
 
 The magic shield he thence in triumph bore, 
 Eesolved, in pity to the human race, 
 Her noxious hands its might should guide no more, 
 And bade the seas conceal its Hydra face : 
 Oh ! kindly meant, though much defeated grace ! 
 For though the o'erwhelming weight of sounding waves 
 Conceal its i^igged orb a little space. 
 Snatched by Glacella from the dark deep caves, 
 Once more the arm of Love with potent spell it braves. 
 
 But Psyche, rescued from their cruel scorn, 
 Urges her knight to hasten from the shore : 
 The buoyant vessel on the billows borne 
 Rides proudly o'er the mountain surge once more ; 
 Again they spread the sails, the feathered oar 
 Skims with impatient stroke the sparkling tide ; 
 The blushing Hymen now their smiles restore 
 Again to frolic gailj at their side, 
 Though still their playful taunts reproach their slumbering guide. 
 
 Psyche looks back with horror on the coast ; 
 Black, drear, and desolate is all the scene : 
 The rocky cliffs still human shape may boast ; 
 There the sad victims of the cruel Queen, 
 Memorials of her baneful power, are seen : 
 No vine- crowned hills, no glowing vales appear, 
 'Not the white cottage laughs upon the green ; 
 The black and leafless thorn alone is there, 
 And the chill mountains lift their summits wild and bare. 
 
 Her spirits lighten as they leave behind 
 The dreary prospect of Glacella' s isle ; ^ 
 
 She blest with gladdened heart the light-winged wind 
 That bears her swiftly from a scene so vile ; 
 With glistening eye, and hope's prophetic smile, 
 She hears her knight foretei their dangers o'er. 
 That sure success shall crown their fated toil, 
 And soon arriving at that happy shore, 
 Love shall again be found, and leave his bride no more. 
 
622 PSYCHE. 
 
 Kow, from light slumbers and delicious dreams, 
 The jocund cry of joy aroused the fair ; 
 The mom that kissed her eyes with golden beams, 
 Bade her the universal transport share ; 
 Divinely breathed the aromatic air, 
 And Psyche's heart, half fainting with delight. 
 In the peculiar odour wafted there 
 Recalled the breezes which, o*er scenes most bright. 
 Their wings of perfume shook, and lingering stayed their flight. 
 
 The lovely shore the mariners descry, 
 And many a gladsome cheer the prospect hails ; 
 Its graceful hills rise full before the eye, 
 While eagerly expanding all their sails 
 They woo the freshness of the morning gales, 
 The approaching scenes new-opening charms display^ 
 And Psyche's palpitating courage fails. 
 She sees arrived at length the important day, 
 Uncertain yet of power the mandate to obey. 
 
 But one dear object every wish confines, . 
 Her spouse is promised in that bower of rest ; 
 And shall the sun, that now so cheerful shineg, 
 Indeed behold her to his bosom prest, 
 And in his heavenly smiles of fondness blest ? 
 Oh ! 'tis too much ! — exhausted life she fears 
 Will struggling leave her agitated breast. 
 Ere to her longing eyes his form appears. 
 Or the soft hand of Love shall wipe away her tears. 
 
 Oh ! how impatience gains upon the soul 
 When the long-promised hour of joy draws near ! 
 How slow the tardy moments seem to roll ! 
 What spectres rise of inconsistent fear ! 
 To the fond doubting heart its hopes appear 
 Too brightly fair, too sweet to realize ; 
 All seem but day-dreams of delight too dear ! 
 Strange hopes and fears in painful contest rise. 
 While the scarce-trusted bliss seems but to cheat the eyea. 
 
PSYCHE. 523 
 
 But safely anchored in the happy port, 
 Led by her knight the golden sands she prest : 
 His heart beat high, his panting breath heaved short, 
 And sighs proclaim his agitated breast. 
 By some important secret thought opprest : 
 "At length," he cries, " behold the fated spring ! 
 Yon rugged cliff conceals the fountain blest, 
 (Dark rocks its crystal source o'ershadowing,) 
 And Constance swift for thee the destined urn shall bring. 
 
 He speaks, but scarce she hears, her soul intent 
 Surveys as in a dream each well-known scene ; 
 Now from the pointed hills her eye she bent 
 Inquisitive o'er all the sloping green ; 
 The graceful temple meet for Beauty's queen, 
 The orange groves that ever blooming glow, 
 The silvery flood, the ambrosial air serene. 
 The matchless trees that fragrant shade bestow. 
 All speak to Psyche's soul, all seem their queen to know. 
 
 Let the vain rover, who his youth has past 
 Misled in idle search of happiness. 
 Declare, by late experience taught at last, 
 In all his toils he gained but weariness. 
 Wooed the coy goddess but to find that less 
 She ever grants where dearest she is bought ; 
 She loves the sheltering bowers of home to bless, 
 Marks with her peaceful hand the favourite spot. 
 And smiles to. see that Love has home his Psyche brought. 
 
 On the dear earth she kneels the turf to press. 
 With grateful lips and fondly streaming eyes, 
 ''Are these the unknown bowers of Happiness? 
 Oh ! justly called, and gained at last l" she cries. 
 As eagerly to seize the urn she flies. 
 But lo ! while yet she gazed with wondering eye, 
 Constance ascends the steep to gain the prize ; 
 The eagle's eyry is not built so high 
 As soon she sees his star bright blazing to the sky. 
 
624 PSYCHE. 
 
 With light and nimble foot the boy descends, 
 And lifts the urn triumphant in his hand ; 
 Low at the turf-raised altar Psyche bends, 
 While her fond eyes her promised Love demand ; 
 Close at her side her faithful guardians stand, 
 As thus with timid voice she pays her vows, 
 ** Venus, fulfilled is thine adored command. 
 Thy voice divine the suppliant's claim allows, 
 The smile of favour grant, restore her heavenly spouse." 
 
 Scarce on the altar had she placed the urn, 
 When lo ! in whispers to the ravished ear 
 Speaks the soft voice of Love ! " Turn, Psj^che, turn ! 
 And see at last, released from every fear, 
 Thy spouse, thy faithful knight, thy lover here 1" 
 From his celestial brow the helmet fell, 
 In joy's full glow, unveiled his charms appear. 
 Beaming delight and love unspeakable. 
 While in one rapturous glance their mingling souls they tell 
 
 Two tapers thus, with pure converging rays, 
 In momentary flash their beams unite, 
 Shedding but one inseparable blaze 
 Of blended radiance and effulgence bright, 
 Self-lost in mutual intermingling light ; 
 Thus, in her lover's circling arms embraced, 
 The fainting Psyche's soul, by sudden flight. 
 With his its subtlest essence interlaced ; 
 Oh ! bliss too vast for thought ! by words how poorly traced ! 
 
 Fond youth ! whom Fate hath summoned to depait. 
 And quit the object of thy tenderest lovt. 
 How oft in absence shall thy pensive heart 
 Count the sad hours which must in exile move, 
 And still their irksome weariness reprove ; 
 Distance with cruel weight but loads thy chain 
 With every step which bids thee farther rove. 
 While thy reverted eye, with fruitless pain, 
 Shall seek the trodden path its treasure to rt'guin. 
 
PSTCHE. 525 
 
 For thee what rapturous moments are prepared ! 
 For thee shall dawn the long-expected day ! 
 And he who ne'er thy tender woes hath shared. 
 Hath never known the transport they shall pay, 
 To wash the memory of those woes away : 
 The bitter tears of absence thou must shed, 
 To know the bliss which tears of joy convey. 
 When the long hours of sad regret are fled, 
 And in one dear embrace thy pains compensated I 
 
 Even from afar beheld, how eagerly 
 With rapture thou shalt hail the loved abode ! 
 Perhaps already, with impatient eye, 
 From the dear casement she hath marked thy road, 
 And many a sigh for thy return bestowed ! 
 Even there she meets thy fond enamoured glance : 
 Thy soul with grateful tenderness o'erflowed, 
 Which firmly bore the hand of hard mischance. 
 Faints in the stronger power of joy's o'erwhelming trance. 
 
 With Psyche thou alone canst sympathise, 
 Thy heart benevolently shares her joy ! 
 See her unclose her rapture-beaming eyes, 
 And catch that softly pleasureable sigh. 
 That tells unutterable ecstasy ! 
 While hark melodious numbers through the air. 
 On clouds of fragrance wafted from the sky. 
 Their ravished souls to pious awe prepare. 
 And lol the herald doves the Queen of Love declare. 
 
 With fond embrace she clasped her long-lost son, 
 And gracefully received his lovely bride, 
 " Psyche ! thou hardly hast my favour won ! " 
 With roseate smile her heavenly parent cried, 
 " Yet hence thy charms immortal, deified. 
 With the young Joys, thy future offspring fair, 
 Shall bloom for ever at thy lover's side ; 
 All-ruling Jove's high mandate I declare. 
 Blest denizen of Heaven ! arise, its joj-s to share." 
 
626 
 
 PSYCHE. 
 
 She ceased, and lo I a thousand voices, joined 
 In sweetest chorus, Love's high triumph sing ; 
 There, with the Graces and the Hours entwined, 
 His fairy train their rosy garlands bring. 
 Or round their mistress sport on halcyon wing ; 
 While she enraptured lives in his dear eye, 
 And drinks immortal love from that pure spring 
 Of never-failing full felicity. 
 Bathed in ambrosial showers of bliss eternally ! 
 
 Dreams of delight, farewell ! your charms no more 
 Shall gild the hours of solitary gloom ! 
 The page remains — but can the page restore 
 The vanished bowers which Pancy taught to bloom ? 
 Ah, no : her smiles no longer can illume 
 The path my Psyche treads no more for me ; 
 Consigned to dark oblivion's silent tomb, 
 The visionary scenes no more I see, 
 Fast from the fading lines the vivid colours flee ! 
 
 END OF PSYCHE, 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Accius, the poet, quoted, 375 
 
 Acrisius, 373 
 
 Actjeon, statue of, 26 
 
 Adrian, the emperor, quoted, 257 
 
 ^Edituus, an amatory poet, 255 
 
 -^dile, the officious, 21 
 
 ^milianus Sicinius, brother-in-law of 
 the wife of Apuleius, 247, seq. 
 — Strabo, 392 
 
 jEsculapius, patron God of Carthage, 
 400 
 
 iEsop imitated. 405 
 
 Afranius quoted, 258 
 
 Agesilaus, king of Sparta, 261 
 
 Agrippa Menenius, 265 
 
 Alcimus, a robber, death of, 73 
 
 Alexander the Great, 378 
 
 Alexandria, 319 
 
 Alexis, Plato's lines on, 257 ; Vir- 
 gil's, 256 
 
 Althea, mother of Meleager, 143 
 
 Amicus, Sicinius, 316 
 
 Amphiaraus, the god, 364 
 
 Anacharsis, the Scythian, 271 
 
 Anacreon, 255 
 
 Anaxagoras, 274 
 
 Anaximander, 389 
 
 Antichfchones, 9 
 
 Anticlea, 373 
 
 Antigenidas, a famous flute-player, 
 376 
 
 Antonius, M., 264, 314 
 
 Apelles, 379 
 
 Apollo, his contest with Marsyas, 
 
 376 
 Apollonius, a slave, 169 
 a magician, 336 
 
 Appii, friends of Apuleius, 319 
 
 Apuleius, accused of Magic. See 
 Defence^ passim ; his birth and 
 fortune, 269; his education, 398, 
 402 ; his marriage, 316 ; returns 
 thanks for the erection of his 
 statue at Carthage, 389 
 
 Archimedes, 262 
 
 Archytas, the mathematician, 262 
 
 Arion, 396 
 
 Aristides, 265 
 
 Aristippus, anecdote of, 404 
 
 Aristomenes, his tale of witchcraft, 5 
 
 Aristotle, 283, 284, 287 ; on epi- 
 lepsy, 299 ; on animals living 
 OK fire, 358 
 
 Ascanius, his oath in the iEneid, 356 
 
 Asclepiades, the physician, anecdote 
 of, 401 
 
 Asinius Marcellus, priest of Osiris, 243 
 
 Aster, Plato's epigram on, 257 
 
 Atarnae, 286 
 
 Athenians, the, forbid the reading of 
 an intercepted letter from Phi- 
 hp to his wife, 331 
 
 Athrax, 83 
 
 Atrium, description of an, 25 
 
 Avitus, LoUianus, proconsul, 340 
 
 Aulis, the Greeks at, 368 
 
528 
 
 DfDEX. 
 
 Baker's wife, story of the, 175, 176, 
 
 180-185 
 Barbaras, a jealous husband, story 
 
 of, 177 
 Bathyllus, the statue of, at Samos,;i87 
 Brahmins, the, 388 
 Brundusium, 286 
 Byrrhaena, friend of Lucius, 24, 199 
 
 Caecilius Statins, quoted, 251 
 
 Calchas, 368 
 
 Calpurnianus, lines to, 252 
 
 Calvus, 341 
 
 Camoena, 402 
 
 Canna, the goddess, 105 
 
 CapitoUna, 310 
 
 Cappadocia, famous for slaves, 1G2 
 
 Carbo, 264, 314 
 
 Carthage, praises of, 389, 402 
 
 Cassandra, 368 
 
 Cassius Longinus, 346 
 
 Cato, anecdote of, 264 
 
 Catullus, quoted, 252, 257. See 
 
 Leshia. 
 Cenchreae, 219 
 
 Ceres meets Psyche in her temple, 111 
 Chaldacan Soothsayer, a, 32 
 Chaldaeans, the, 388 
 Gharinus and Critias, lines to, 255 
 Charite, captive among the robbers, 
 
 81 — 83 ; attempts to escape 
 
 with Lucius, 1 28 ; rescued by 
 
 Tlepolemus, 140 ; her death, 149 
 Christianity, supposed mockeries of, 
 
 140 
 Chryseros, a cunning miser, 72 
 Cicero, 341 
 Circe, 27, n. 
 Clairvoyance, examples and theory 
 
 of, 290 
 Clarus Sicinius, 316 
 Claudius Maximus, proconsul, 247, 
 
 seq. 
 Clemens, a poet, contemporary with 
 
 Apuleius, 379 
 Clodia, otherwise Lesbia, 256 
 CIvpeae, 286 
 Clytius, 368 
 
 Coptic enclosures, 44 
 
 Corinth, Lucius at, 208 
 
 Cornelian law, the, 163 
 
 Cornelius, 
 
 Corvinus Celer, 347 
 
 Corydon, Virgil's, 256 
 
 Crassus, Junius, a witness against 
 
 Apuleius, 306 
 Crates, the cynic, 268, 386 ; lines 
 
 by, 269 
 Creophylus, the friend of Homer, 389 
 Critias, lines to, 255 
 Crocodile, the, and its dentist, 254 
 Cupid and Psyche, the story of, 84 — 
 
 123 ; remarks on. 90, n., 123, n. 
 Curius, Manius, 264, 265 
 Cynics, the, 269 
 Cynthia, the mistress of Propertius, 
 
 256 
 Cyrenaic sect, 404 
 Cyrus, the elder, 270 
 
 Daemons, theory of, 363, 365 
 Damigeron, a magician, 336 
 Dardanus, a magician, 336 
 Dedication of a ship to Isis, 234 
 Delia, the mistress of Tibullus, 25G 
 Demeas, 19 
 Demochares, robbery of the house 
 
 of, 74—79 
 Democritus, 274 
 Demosthenes, 261 
 Dentifrices, apology for, 252 
 Deucahon's flood, 289 
 Diana, statue of, 25 
 Diogenes, the cynic, 255, 269 
 Diomede, King of Thrace, 143 
 Dion, Plato's Unes on, 257 
 Diophanes, a soothsayer, 32 
 Dirce, legend of, 129 
 Divination, 290, 356 ^ 
 Divorce, Roman form* of, 107 
 Dramatic exhibition, a, 215 
 Dragon, adventure with a, 159 
 
 Empedocles, 274, 402 
 
 Ennius, Q., quoted, 252, 286, 352, 356 
 
INDEX. 
 
 529 
 
 Epaminondas, 265 
 
 Epicharmus, 402 
 
 Epicurus, his theory of vision, 261, 
 274 
 
 Epiraenides, 389 
 
 Epona, the goddess, see Hippona 
 
 Euathlus and Protagoras, their re- 
 ciprocal dilemma, 399 
 
 Eurybates. 327 
 
 Event, the god, 67 
 
 Fabius, see Clairvoyance 
 Fascination, 394, n. 
 Fate, Platonic doctrine of, 168 
 Fish, researches concerning, 276, 
 
 seq. ; places famed for, 286 
 Fox, the, and the Crow, 405 
 Fotis, amour of Lucius with, 28 — 
 31, 34—36, 51; her confession, 
 56 ; her unfortunate mistake, 62 
 Fuller's wife, story of the, 181 
 Falling sickness, theory of the, 293, 
 
 297 
 Fulgentius, quoted, 90, n. 
 
 Gaetulia, 273, 289 
 
 Ganges, river, 377 
 
 Genius, (a god,) 363 
 
 Gentilis, 256 
 
 Geometry introduced into Greece by 
 
 Thales, 349 
 Gillus of Crotona, 388 
 Granii, the, 247 
 Gymnosophists, an account of the, 
 
 378 
 
 Hadrian, see Jdrian 
 
 Haemus, a robber, 136 
 
 Hair, dissertation on women's, 29 
 
 Helenus, 368 
 
 Hephaestion, a cook, 168 
 
 Hipparche, her marriage al fresco 
 with Crates, 386 
 
 Hippias, the sophist, his extra- 
 ordinary handicraft powers, 
 381 
 
 Hippona, the goddess, 64 
 
 Homer, quoted, 250, 253, 279, 360, 
 
 367 
 Hortensius, 341 
 Hostanes, or Ostanes, 274 
 Hostia, otherwise Cynthia, the mis 
 
 tress of Propertius, 256 
 Hours, the, goddesses, 123 
 Hyagnis, father of Marsyas, 375 
 Hypata, city, 6, 17, 23 
 
 Indians, the, 377 
 
 Isis, prayer to, 220 ; appears to hn- 
 cius in a dream, 224 ; her 
 various names, 226 ; festival 
 of, 228 ; dedication of a ship 
 to, 234 ; second appearance of 
 the goddess in a dream, 238 ; 
 initiation of a priest of, 239 
 
 Jannes, a magician, 336 
 Jealous wife, the, 210 
 
 husband outwitted, 177 
 
 Jovisjurandum, 356 
 
 Judgment of Paris, the, a dramatic 
 
 performance, 215 
 Julian law, the, 122, 334 
 Juno, theatrical personation of, 216; 
 
 her temple in Samos, 387 
 Jupiter's address to Cupid, 122 
 Juturna, Vir8;irs, 360 
 
 Laelius, or Laevius, quoted, 278 
 
 Laertes, 373 
 
 Lamachus, a robber, 71 — 73 
 
 Lampus, 368 
 
 Lares, theory of the, 364 
 
 Laughter, festival of the god of, 46 
 
 —55 
 Lemur, lemures, what, 364 
 Leodamas, 389 
 Lesbia, the mistress of CatuUuc, 
 
 256 
 Leucippus, 274 
 
 2 M 
 
530 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Loliianus Avitus, proconsul of Africa,! 
 340 j 
 
 Lollius Urbicus, proconsul, 248 j 
 Lucretius quoted, 352, 360 
 Lucilius quoted, 403, 404 
 Lucina, the same as Isis, 226 
 Lucius, the hero of the tale of the 
 Golden Ass ; his preface, 1 ; 
 meets two travellers in Thes- 
 saly, 3 ; becomes the guest of 
 Milo, of Hypata, 17 ; loses his 
 supper through the patronage 
 of an officious magistrate, 2 J ; 
 his curiosity about witchcraft, 
 23 ; meets his mother's friend, 
 Byrrhaena, 24 ; her remarks on 
 his personal appearance, ib. ; 
 Byrrhaena warns him against 
 the witch Pamphile, his host's 
 wife, 26 ; he makes love to 
 Fotis, 28 ; sups with Milo and 
 his wife, 31; his first night with 
 Fotis, 34 ; sups with Byrrhaena, 
 36 ; kills three burglars, 47 ; 
 his arrest and trial for murder, 
 48 ; his victims, not men, but 
 winebags, 54 : receives a com- 
 plimentary visit from the magis- 
 trates, 55 ; confession of Fotis, 
 56 ; he witnesses Pamphile's 
 transformation into an owl, 60 ; 
 attempts to imitate her with 
 the help of Fotis, and becomes 
 a jackass, 62 : is told by Fotis 
 that chewing roses will restore 
 him to his own shape, 63 ; he 
 is ill treated by his horse, ib. ; 
 and beaten by his servant, 64 ; 
 is driven away by robbers, 65 ; 
 •nters a garden in search of 
 food and roses, 66 ; has a nar- 
 row escape for his life, 67 ; his 
 sufferings on the march, 68 ; 
 arrives at the robber's hold, 
 69; employed in bringing home 
 booty, and cruelly ill-used, 127 ; 
 resolves to escape, 128 ; gal- 
 lops off with his fellow priso- 
 ner Charite, 129 ; is re-ca^)- 
 
 tured, and sentenced to death, 
 131 ; is rescued along with 
 Charite by her lover, 140 ; is 
 feasted and pampered, and sen 
 into the country to enjoy him- 
 self, 141 ; disasters that befel 
 him there, 142 — 148 ; he is 
 carried off by absconding slaves, 
 his adventures on the journey, 
 157—162 ; he is sold by auc 
 tion to an itinerant priest of 
 the Syrian goddess, 162 ; his 
 adventures with the priests, 
 164 — 170; is sold to a baker, 
 173 ; his hard usage at the 
 mill, 174; revenges himself on 
 the miller's wife by exposing 
 her adultery, 183; is bought by 
 a poor gardener, 186 ; visits a 
 wealthy farmer, and witnesses 
 his dismal end, 187 ; the gar 
 dener hides himself and Lucius 
 in a friend's house, in con- 
 sequence of a fight vnth a 
 soldier, 193; Lucius uninten- 
 tionally betrays their place of 
 concealment, 194 ; the soldier 
 appropriates him, 195 ; and sells 
 him to a cook and a confec- 
 tioner, 204 ; who detect him in 
 the act of robbing their larder, 
 205 ; Lucius is feasted by a 
 rich man, and acquires great 
 public distinction, 206 ; he is 
 taken to Corinth, where a lady 
 of rank falls in love with him, 
 208 ; his new master proposes 
 to make him perform strange 
 things in the amphitheatre, 
 210 ; he sees the Judgment of 
 Paris represented there, 215 ; 
 but not liking the work pro- 
 vided for himself, gallops off to 
 Cenchraea, 218; where he prays 
 to Isis, 220 ; she appears to 
 him in a vision, 224 ; and in- 
 structs him, 226 ; the proces- 
 sion and festival of Isis de- 
 scribed, 228 ; wherein Lucius 
 
INDEX. 
 
 531 
 
 is restored to his original 
 shape, 231; he attaches him- 
 self to the service of the temple 
 of Isis, 235 ; where he is visited 
 by his friends, and recovers his 
 vrhite horse, 235, 236 ; is ini- 
 tiated as a priest of Isis, 239 ; 
 goes to Rome, 242 ; where he is 
 initiated into the mysteries of 
 Osiris, 243 ; and a second time 
 into those of Isis, 245 ; and he 
 attains high rank in the priest- 
 hood, 246 
 Lupus, a merchant, 6 
 
 Mopsus. the god, 364 
 Moses, (the Hebrew lawgiver) a ma- 
 gician, 336 
 Myrmex, a slave, 177 
 Myrtilus, a slave, 168 
 Mysteries of Isis, 239 
 
 Nabathaeans, the, 377 
 Nestor, 367 
 
 Nicander, author of a book on anti- 
 dotes, 2&9 
 Nicanor, 76 
 Nigidius, see Clairvoyance 
 
 Macedo, 256 
 
 Madaura, town of, > 1 
 
 Magic, 8—12, 23, 27, 39—46,57 
 
 63, 184 
 Magi, the Persian, 272 
 Mandraytus, a contemporary of 
 
 Thales, 400 
 Manes, gods, 364 
 Manius Curius, 264 
 Marsyas, the story of, 375 
 Masinissa, 271 
 Maximus, Claudius, 247, seq. 
 Meleager, the legend of, 148 
 Meletides, the fool, 271 
 Menander, 390 
 Meroe, a witch, 7, seq. 
 Metellus, 314 
 Mezentius, Virgil's, 356 
 Milesian stories, 1 
 Mill, description of a corn, 173 
 Miller's wife, see Baker's wife 
 Milo, host of Lucius, 17, seq. ; his 
 
 house robbed, 64 ; the robbery 
 
 impisted to Lucius, 133 
 Minerva, theatrical personation of, 
 
 216 
 Mercury, proclaims Psyche, 114 ; 
 
 theatrical personation of, 216 
 Mirror, apology for the use of a, 
 
 259; Socrates on, 161 
 Mithras, a priest of Isis, 23 1 
 Mnesarchus, father of Pythagoras, 
 
 388 
 
 Oea, city of, 263 
 
 Orators, several Roman, character- 
 ised, 341 
 
 Orfitus, Scipio, proconsul, 395 
 
 Oromazes, 273 
 
 Orpheus, theology of, 221, n. 
 
 Osiris, mysteries of, 243 
 
 Oracle, a fraudulent, 172 ; of Apollo, 
 88 
 
 Osthanes, 274 
 
 Omens, supernatural, 187 
 
 Palaemon, a sea-god, 87 
 
 Palamedes, 217, 327 
 
 Palmaris, goddess, 25 
 
 Pamphile, a witch, 27, 57 ; her trans- 
 formation, 163 
 
 Pan, the god, 105 
 
 Paniscus, 123 
 
 Paris, theJudgment of, a pantomime, 
 215 
 
 Parrot, the, described. 384 
 
 Persian kings, education of, 
 
 Persius, Julius, 400 
 
 Phsedrus, Plato's lines on Alexis 
 and, 257 ; the dialogue of, 369 
 herecydes, master of Pythagoras 
 389 
 
 Philebus, priest of the Syrian god- 
 dess, 163 
 
 Philemon, the comic writer, death 
 of, 390 
 
 2 M 2 
 
532 
 
 1KI)£X. 
 
 Philesietaerus, a gallant, story of, 
 177 
 
 Philodespotus, a slave, 42 
 
 Philosophy, poverty the handmaid 
 of, 265 
 
 Phlius, famous for vegetables, 270 
 
 Phrynondas, a magician, 336 
 
 Plania, otherwise Delia, 256 
 
 Plato, verses by, 257 ; theory of 
 diseases, 297 ; his Basileus or 
 king, 3^2 ; his rules respecting 
 temples, statues, &c., 312 ; 
 sundry doctrines, see God of 
 Socrates, passim 
 
 Plautus quoted, 3G0, 369, 374, 397 
 
 Plutarch, 3 
 
 Polycletus, 379 
 
 Polycrates, tyrant of Samos, 387 
 
 Pontianus, son-in-law of Apuleius, 
 248, seq. 
 
 Fortius, an amatory poet, 255 
 
 Portunus, a sea-god, 87 
 
 Poverty, praise of, 265 
 
 Proclus, quoted, 222, n. 
 
 Propertius the poet, 256 
 
 Prose, first written by Pherecydes, 
 389 
 
 Protagoras and Euathlus, their reci- 
 procal dilemma, 399 
 
 Protaonius, 372 
 
 Psyche and Cupid, story of, 84 — 
 123; remarks on, 90, n., 123, 
 n ; versified by Gurney, 407 ; 
 Mrs. Tighe's Psyche, 431 ; 
 Psyche proclaimed as a fugi. 
 tive by the crier Mercury, 241 
 
 Pudens Sicinius, stepson of Apu- 
 leius, 248 
 
 Tannonius, advocate against 
 
 Apuleius, 250, seq. 
 
 Pudentilla, wife of Apuleius, 24 7,274; 
 her history, 315; her letter, 329 
 
 Punic language, 344 
 
 Punishment, singular, 161 ; pro- 
 posed to be inflicted on Charite 
 and Lucius by the_, robbers, 
 131 
 
 Pyrgoteles, 379 
 
 Pyrrhic dance, 215 
 
 Pythagoras, 250, 278, 291 ; sketch 
 
 of his biography, 388 
 Pytheas, sedile of Hypata, 20 
 
 Regulus, Attilius, 266 
 Robber's tales, 71 ; another, 136 
 Robbers' cave, 69 : banquet, 139 
 dame, 70, 82 ; her death, 
 
 131 
 Rufinus, one of the enemies of Apu 
 
 leius, 309, seq. 
 
 Salacia, a sea-goddess, 87 
 J>4.n/is, the island described, 387 
 Scipio Orfitus, proconsul, 395 
 Sea-gull, the, bottle-bearer to Venus, 
 
 107 
 Severianus, eulogy on, 382 
 Sistrum, the, described, 224, n. 
 Socrates, and the witch Meroe, story 
 
 of, 5 
 Socrates, the philosopher, disserta- 
 tion on the demon, or god of, 
 350, seq. : reflections on his 
 undeserved fate, 218, his ad- 
 vice to use a mirror, 261 ; a 
 saying of, 374 
 Solon, a voluptuous verse by, 255 
 Sophocles, anecdote of, 284 
 Statius, Caecilius, quoted, 251 
 Stepmother, the wicked, 196 
 Syrian goddess, priests of the, 163 
 —173 
 
 Tannonius Pudens, advocate against 
 
 Apuleius, 250, seq. 
 Telephron, his tale of witchcraft, 
 
 38 
 
 Terence quoted, 369 
 Thales, the sage, anecdote of, 399 
 Theseus, father of Lucius, 20 
 Thrasyleon, a robber, 76 
 Thrasyllus, Charite, and Tlepole- 
 
 mus, story of, 149 
 Thyasus, master of Lucius, 204| 
 
 206 
 
IXDEX. 
 
 533 
 
 Tlepolemus, see Charite 
 
 Tub, what the poor man got for his, 
 
 170 
 Tyrant, the Rural, 188 
 
 Varro, quoted, 290 
 
 Venus, (see Cupid and Psyche, pas- 
 sim) the first source of all 
 things, 85 ; theatrical person- 
 ation of, 217 ; a twofold god- 
 dess, 258 
 
 Victory, statues of, 25 
 
 Virgil commended for discretion, 
 256; quoted, 277, 351, 352, 
 356, 363, 372, 375, 393, 396 
 
 Vision, theories of, 261 
 
 Watching the dead, 39 
 
 Wild beasts, a woman condemned 
 
 to be torn by, 210 
 Winebags, the walking, 58 
 
 Xenocrates, 402 
 Xenophon, 402 
 
 Zamolxis quoted, 273 
 
 Zeno of Elea, 250 ; the Stoic, 255 
 
 Zoroaster, 273 
 
 Zygia, a title of Juno, 112 
 
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