You are about to hear a dramatic narration of a summary of the work titled The Golden Asse, or Metamorphoses, by Lucius Apuleius. This work contains eleven main sections, exploring the misadventures of a young man transformed by magic into an ass, and his ultimate redemption.
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We now examine the Dedication, Biography, and Author's Preface.
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In a dedication to Thomas, the Earl of Sussex, the translator William Adlington presents his English version of Lucius Apuleius’s Metamorphosis. He acknowledges that the book’s playful nature might seem unfit for a man of gravity, but argues that all fables contain a virtuous moral.
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He offers examples: the myth of Actaeon warns against gazing upon the vain beauty of the world; Tantalus’s eternal hunger represents the insatiable desires of the covetous; the fall of Icarus is a lesson against arrogance; and Midas’s golden touch is a critique of avarice. So too, Adlington contends, is this story a figure of man’s life, filled with delectable matter for his lordship’s consideration.
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Lucius Apuleius himself was an African follower of Plato, born in Madaura to a respected father, Theseus, and a virtuous mother, Salvia, who was descended from the philosopher Plutarch. Apuleius was a comely man who studied in Carthage and Athens before mastering the Latin tongue in Rome through great industry.
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A man of singular learning and eloquence, his principal work remains the eleven books of the Golden Asse, so-called for its excellent style, though many refer to it as Metamorphosis because of its transformative subject.
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In his own preface, Apuleius addresses the reader, promising to share joyous jests and pleasant prose.
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This concludes the introductory section. Now we turn to The First Booke, titled A Journey into Thessaly and Tales of Witchcraft.
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My travels on business took me into Thessaly, a land descended from my mother’s side. After crossing high mountains and slippery valleys, I dismounted to rest my weary horse and soon overtook two companions on the road, one of whom was dismissing the other’s tales as absurd lies.
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The skeptic repeated the claims he found so incredible: that sorcery could make floods run upstream, calm the seas, still the winds, and pull stars from the heaven. Desirous to hear the story, I argued that what seems untrue is often merely rare, and persuaded the storyteller, Aristomenus, to proceed.
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He began by explaining that while in Hippata, he found his old friend Socrates, destitute and barely recognizable. Socrates explained that after being robbed on a business trip, he found refuge at the inn of an old woman named Meroe, a powerful magician who seduced him and sealed his ruin.
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Socrates recounted her deeds: she once transformed a lover into a beaver, a rival innkeeper into a frog, and a lawyer into a ram. She cursed a woman to remain with child for eight years, and when the townspeople rose against her, she used her enchantments to seal every person inside their home for two days. Hearing this, I was struck with fear, and urged Socrates that we should flee.
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We now examine the section titled A Night of Terror.
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That night, I barred the doors, but could not sleep for fear. Suddenly, the chamber doors burst open and two old women entered: Meroe and her sister, Panthia. Meroe thrust her sword into the sleeping Socrates’s neck, pulled out his heart, and Panthia stopped the gaping wound with a sponge.
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Certain I would be blamed for the murder, I resolved to kill myself, but as I leaped from a rafter with a noose around my neck, the old rope broke. At that moment, the hostler burst in, and Socrates, as if waking from a deep sleep, rose up, unharmed.
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We left the inn immediately. I looked for the wound on his throat but found nothing, concluding it must have been a drunken dream. Socrates, however, recalled a dream where his throat was cut. Feeling faint, he knelt by a river to drink. As his lips touched the water, the wound opened wide, the sponge fell out, and his lifeless body fell toward the river.
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We now turn to the Arrival in Hippata.
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Upon entering Hippata, I inquired after a certain alderman named Milo, a great miser who lived in a small, mean house with his wife and a single maid. I was greeted by the maid, Fotis, and found Milo preparing a meager supper. Perceiving his avarice, I sought to curry favor by asking only that my horse be cared for.
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Later, I met an old acquaintance, Pythias, now the clerk of the market. When he learned I had paid twenty pence for fish priced at one hundred, he grew angry. To punish the fishmonger for overcharging a stranger, he had my fish thrown to the ground and trampled underfoot, an act of friendship that left me without money and without supper.
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This concludes the first booke. Now we turn to The Second Booke, which begins with a Kinswoman's Warning and a New Infatuation.
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I awoke in Thessaly, a land famed for sorcery.
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Byrrhena said that Pamphiles would fall instantly in love with any comely young man, and if refused, would turn them into stones or beasts, or slay them outright. Though she spoke with care for my safety, I, who desired to be experienced in sorcery, was not frightened but excited. I resolved to temper myself from my hostess and instead attempt to win the maiden, Fotis.
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I soon found her in the kitchen, and the sight of her left me half-amazed. We exchanged merry and flirtatious words, and after more sweet talk and embraces, she promised she would come to my chamber and lie with me that night.
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We now examine A Night of Passion and a Day of Merriment.
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Byrrhena sent a gift of a fat pig, five hens, and wine. That evening, I supped again with Milo, and was at last able to escape to my chamber. There I found Fotis, who had prepared for a night of love. We passed the entire night in pastime and pleasure, never sleeping until it was day.
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A few days later, Byrrhena insisted I come to supper at her house.
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In the morning, the body was found intact. But later, an Egyptian prophet resurrected the corpse, which revealed that the witches, unable to get past Thelyphron’s watch, had cast him into a deep slumber. They had then magically cut off his nose and ears, replacing them with wax duplicates. Horrified, Thelyphron touched his face, and his waxen nose and ears fell to the ground.
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We now turn to a Fatal Misunderstanding.
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I departed from Byrrhena’s house late that night. As I approached Milo’s house, I saw three men of great stature trying to break down the gates. Taking them for strong thieves, I drew my sword, ran in amongst them, and fought until they all fell down dead before me. Then, weary with the slaughter, I went to my chamber and fell asleep.
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This concludes the second booke. Now we turn to The Third Booke, beginning with The Festival of Laughter.
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Morning came, and I awoke burning with the remembrance of the murder. Soon, magistrates arrived and led me away to prison. A great crowd followed me through the streets, and to my astonishment, every single person was laughing exceedingly.
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The trial was held in the city’s great Theatre. I confessed that I had killed the men, but insisted they were thieves and that I had acted to defend my host’s family. As I pleaded for mercy, I saw that everyone, even my host Milo, was laughing uncontrollably.
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Then, I was forced to uncover the bodies lying on the bier. But when I did, I saw not the bodies of men, but three great, blown-up goatskin bladders, mangled and pierced. The entire theatre erupted in a storm of laughter, and I stood as cold as ice, utterly amazed. I soon understood that I had been the centerpiece of the annual Festival of Risus, the god of Laughter.
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We now examine The Witch's Secret.
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That night, Fotis confessed she was the cause of my trouble. Her mistress, Pamphiles, desired a young man and had commanded Fotis to gather some of his hair. Fearing her mistress’s anger, she took yellow hair from shorn goatskins instead. The spell, working on the goatskin hair, animated the skins themselves, which I, returning late and drunk, mistook for thieves.
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After I forgave her, my curiosity about magic overcame me, and I begged her to let me witness her mistress at work. The next night, I looked through a chink in a door and saw Pamphiles rub her body with an ointment. Immediately, feathers burst forth, her features changed, and she became an owl and flew away.
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We now turn to The Transformation.
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Amazed by what I had seen, I begged Fotis to grant me some of the ointment so I too could be turned into a bird. Though fearful, she consented. I put off my garments and rubbed the ointment over every part of my body. But instead of feathers, my hair grew rugged, my skin waxed tough, my fingers and toes changed into hooves, and a great tail grew from my backside. I was no bird, but a plain ass.
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Fotis cried out that she had mistaken the box. She told me not to despair, for if I could eat a rose, I would be delivered from the shape of an ass. Though I retained the mind of a man, I was now a brute beast. I went to the stable, where my own horse kicked me away from the hay.
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The noise was interrupted by a troupe of thieves who burst into the house. They ransacked Milo’s chests and, needing beasts to carry their loot, they loaded me, my horse, and another ass with great trusses. If I transformed back into a man, the thieves would surely kill me. I therefore abstained from seeking roses and, enduring my present adversity, ate hay as other asses did.
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This concludes the third booke. Now we turn to The Fourth Booke, and the section titled Roses and Robbers.
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The thieves brought us to a village. Denied pasture by my own horse, I wandered into a garden and filled my belly with herbs, but found only the poisonous laurel rose. Desperate, I nearly ate them, but the gardener appeared and beat me with a great staff. I kicked him and ran, but the townspeople and their mastiffs chased me back to the stable, where I was bound and scourged.
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Soon, the thieves drove us onward. I was so weary that I resolved to fall down, but another ass collapsed first. The thieves cut off his legs and threw his body into a valley. Taking note of my poor companion’s fate, I played the part of a good ass until we arrived at their den, a fortress on a great hill.
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There, the thieves feasted, and one lamented the loss of their captain, Lamathus, in Boetia. Another defended their actions, telling a tale of their attempt to rob a rich man named Chryseros. Lamathus, in trying to unbolt a door, got his hand caught and nailed fast. To save his companions, he urged them to cut off his arm, and then bravely took his own sword and killed himself.
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We now examine The Tale of the Bear-Skin Thief.
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After losing another companion, Alcimus, the thieves traveled to Platea, where a nobleman named Demochares was preparing a game with many wild beasts, including bears that had all recently died of disease. A clever thief named Babulus devised a plan: they flayed a dead bear, and a courageous thief named Thrasileon agreed to wear the skin.
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Disguised as a live bear, Thrasileon was brought to Demochares’s house as a gift.
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Thrasileon fought valiantly, but he was eventually overcome and run through with a spear. Even in death, he never betrayed his companions but died with a doleful cry, more like a beast than a man. The next day, his body was discovered inside the bear’s belly.
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We now turn to the section titled A Gentlewoman Captive.
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The next night, the thieves returned with a captive maiden, a beautiful gentlewoman who wept in sorrow. They left her in the care of the old woman. The next day, the maiden awoke in even greater despair, telling the old woman of a dream of her wedding day, when she was carried away, and of her husband being struck and killed by a stone.
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The old woman, to put away her sorrow, offered to tell her a pleasant tale to revive her spirits. And so she began the story of Cupid and Psyches.
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We now hear The Marriage of Cupid and Psyches.
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A certain king had three daughters, but the youngest, Psyches, possessed a beauty so divine that people began to worship her instead of the goddess Venus. Enraged, Venus commanded her son Cupid to make Psyches fall in love with the most miserable creature alive.
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Her father, fearing the gods’ envy, consulted the oracle of Apollo, which declared that Psyches was destined to marry a fierce and dire serpent. Heartbroken, her parents led her to the top of a high hill and left her there alone. As she wept, the wind Zephyrus lifted her up and carried her to a deep valley.
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She awoke to discover a magnificent palace built by the power of a god. Bodiless voices declared that all she saw was hers. That night, her unknown husband came to her bed and consummated their marriage, departing before dawn. One night, he warned her that her sisters were coming, and forbade her to answer them, lest she bring great sorrow upon him and destruction upon herself.
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But Psyche begged him to relent, and he agreed, warning her never to look upon his face. Zephyrus brought her two sisters, and Psyches showed them her treasures.
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They returned and pressed her with wicked lies, telling her that her husband was the great serpent of the oracle, fattening her up to devour her. Terrified, Psyche believed them. They gave her a plan: hide a sharp razor and a lamp, and when the serpent was asleep, cut off his head.
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That night, she approached the bed. But instead of a monster, she saw the most beautiful of all creatures, the god Cupid himself. As she marveled, a drop of hot oil fell from the lamp onto his shoulder. The god awoke and, seeing her betrayal, flew away without a word. From a nearby tree, Cupid rebuked her for her disobedience and flew away for good.
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Desolate, Psyche wandered until she came to her sisters and told them that Cupid would now take one of them for his wife.
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Psyche resolved to go to Venus herself and humbly submit to her will. Venus had her scourged and then set for her a series of impossible tasks. First, she was to sort a massive heap of mixed grains; a colony of ants, pitying her, sorted the entire pile. Next, she was to fetch golden wool from fierce, man-killing sheep; a green reed advised her how to gather it safely.
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Then, she was sent to fetch black water from the River Styx, guarded by dragons; Jupiter’s eagle filled her bottle for her. Finally, Venus sent her to the underworld to ask Proserpina for a little of her beauty. Psyche succeeded, but on her way back, overcome by curiosity, she opened the box. She found no beauty, but an infernal sleep, and fell to the ground like a corpse.
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Cupid, now healed, escaped from his mother’s chamber and flew to her side.
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When the old woman finished her tale, I, the poor ass, was sorry that I lacked pen and ink to write down so worthy a story.
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This concludes the fourth booke. Now we turn to The Sixth Booke, and a Daring Escape and a Cruel Sentence.
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The thieves returned, and as my hoofs were so worn I could barely walk, they debated killing me. Certain I was to be killed, I resolved to escape. I broke my halter and ran, but the old woman caught the rope. The captive gentlewoman heard her cries, bravely wrested the halter from her hands, and leaped upon my back. I ran with all my might.
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As we struggled at a crossroads, the thieves themselves returned and captured us. They beat me cruelly, and when we returned to the cave, we found the old woman had hanged herself. The thieves debated how to punish the maiden. One devised a particularly cruel death: I was to be killed and gutted, and the maiden sewn alive into my belly, then left on a rock in the hot sun to suffer all manner of torments.
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This concludes the sixth booke. Now we turn to The Seventh Booke, and the arrival of a Thief in Disguise.
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The next day, a companion of the thieves returned with news that the robbery of Milo's house was now blamed on one Lucius Apuleius. Hearing my own name accused, I lamented the blindness of fortune. The thief then returned with a tall, courageous young man who introduced himself as Hemus, a renowned thief from Thrace. The thieves, impressed, made him their new captain.
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The new captain wisely counseled against the cruel death planned for the maiden and for me, arguing she could be sold for a great sum. The thieves agreed. The young man was not, in fact, the thief Hemus, but her own husband, Lepolemus, in disguise. As the thieves drank themselves into a stupor, he set her upon my back, and we departed.
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We now examine a section titled A Brief Respite.
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The entire city celebrated Charites’s return, and I was hailed as her savior. She commanded that my manger be filled with barley and hay, and they decided to set me free. I was overjoyed, hoping to find roses and return to my human shape. But my good fortune was short-lived. The horse-keeper was a covetous man whose wife made me a mill-ass, beating me daily.
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To this misery was added a new torment: a wicked boy who drove me to fetch wood. He beat me cruelly and invented new ways to cause me pain. After he falsely accused me of being a lecherous beast, the other shepherds resolved to geld me. As they prepared this torment, the boy was killed by a marvelous great bear, and I, taking the chance, escaped.
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This concludes the seventh booke. Now we turn to The Eighth Booke, and a Tale of Tragedy.
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A young man from Charites’s household arrived with terrible news.
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That night, the ghost of Lepolemus appeared to Charites and revealed the treachery. Feigning acceptance of his proposal, Charites lured Thrasillus to her chamber, drugged him, and put out both his eyes with a needle. Then, taking her husband’s sword, she ran to his sepulcher and killed herself upon his tomb. Thrasillus sealed himself inside the same sepulcher to die of famine.
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Hearing of this ruin, the shepherds fled, loading their goods onto me. We traveled through a country infested with wolves and dragons, and I witnessed further tales of cruelty and death.
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We now turn to the section titled A New and Strange Master.
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The shepherds sold me in a great city. I was bought by an old man named Philebus, one of a troupe of effeminate priests who wandered the country carrying an image of the goddess Syria, begging for alms. They put the goddess on my back, and we traveled from place to place, robbing the country with false divinations. After they were caught stealing a golden cup, they were thrown in prison, and I was put up for sale once more.
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This concludes the eighth booke. Now we turn to The Ninth Booke, and life with a Baker.
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I was sold to a baker, who put me to work turning his mill.
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One night, the baker returned unexpectedly while his wife was entertaining her lover, whom she hid in a large wooden bin. As I was led past, I saw the lover’s fingers peeking out and kicked them with all my might. The man cried out, the bin was overturned, and the wife’s adultery was revealed. The baker sent her away, but the wicked woman conspired with an enchantress, who caused the baker to hang himself.
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I was sold to a poor gardener and endured a miserable winter. One day, on the way home from a trip marked by terrible omens, we were accosted by a tall soldier who demanded my master’s ass. My master refused and beat the soldier until he feigned death. We fled to a friend’s house and hid.
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The soldier recovered and came searching for us. The host denied we were there, but as I peeked out a window, one of the soldiers saw my shadow on the ground. They rushed in, found me, and then found my master hiding in a chest. He was taken to prison, and from this event arose the proverb, “The shadow of the ass.”
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This concludes the ninth booke. Now we turn to The Tenth Booke, and the story of an Ass at the Banquet.
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The soldier sold me to two brothers, a baker and a cook. Here, for a time, my life improved dramatically. The brothers would bring home leftover dainties from their master’s table, and while they were away, I would feast on them. When they discovered me, they were so amused that they showed their master, who was greatly delighted.
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He bought me for a high price and had me taught to perform tricks, such as sitting at the table and dancing. My fame spread, and at Corinth, a noble and rich matron fell into a disordinate appetite for me and paid my keeper a great sum to spend a night with me.
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My master, hearing of this, was so pleased that he arranged for me to perform this feat publicly in the theatre with a woman condemned to be eaten by wild beasts for her many wicked crimes. I was horrified at the prospect of this public shame and resolved to escape.
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On the day of the triumph, as a magnificent pageant of the judgment of Paris was performed, I saw my chance. While all eyes were on the spectacle, I stole out of a gate and ran with all my might until I came to Cenchris, a town by the sea, where I hid myself on a secret stretch of sand and fell into a sound sleep.
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This concludes the tenth booke. Now we turn to The Eleventh Booke, which begins with The Intervention of the Goddess.
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I awoke at midnight to see the full moon shining brightly out of the sea. Filled with hope, I purified myself seven times in the water and prayed to the powerful goddess, by all her many names, to end my misery and restore me to my pristine estate.
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As I prayed, I fell asleep again, and a divine face appeared to me in a vision. It was the goddess Isis, queen of heaven and mistress of the elements.
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I awoke filled with joy. At sunrise, the streets were filled with a great and triumphant procession. Last of all came the high priest, and in his right hand, as promised, was a garland of roses. I pushed through the crowd and approached him. He stood still and held out the garland to my mouth.
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I devoured the roses, and immediately my ass’s form abated. The rugged hair fell away, my skin grew soft, my hooves became fingers and toes, and my monstrous face became human again. I stood there, a naked man, and the people marveled at the goddess’s power. The high priest welcomed me, declaring that after many labors, I had at last come to the haven of rest and mercy.
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We now turn to the final section, A New Life.
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News of my miraculous transformation spread to my home country. Overjoyed, I dedicated myself to the service of the goddess Isis. She appeared to me often in visions, commanding me to take the order of her religion. After a period of fasting, I was initiated into her sacred mysteries.
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After my initiation, I was brought forth in twelve sanctified stoles and adored by the people. The goddess continued to guide me, eventually calling me to Rome. There, I was initiated into the rites of the great god Osiris as well, and then a third time, an honor never before granted to any person.
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Finally, Osiris appeared to me and commanded that I become an advocate in the court. He appointed me to be one of the Decurions and Senators, and so, with a shaven crown, I executed my office in great joy, forever bound to the service of the gods who had saved me.
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Through many trials, a beast was made a man, and a man was made divine.
The Golden Asse, or Metamorphoses, of Lucius Apuleius
DEDICATION, BIOGRAPHY, AND AUTHOR'S PREFACE
In a dedication to Thomas, the Earl of Sussex, the translator William Adlington presents his English version of Lucius Apuleius’s Metamorphosis. He acknowledges that the book’s jesting and playful nature might seem unfit for a man of gravity, but he argues that all fables contain a virtuous moral. He offers examples: the myth of Actaeon, who was turned into a stag and killed by his own hounds after seeing Diana bathe, warns against gazing upon the vain beauty of the world; Tantalus’s eternal hunger and thirst represent the insatiable desires of the covetous; the fall of Icarus is a lesson against arrogance; and Midas’s golden touch is a critique of avarice. Similarly, Adlington contends that this story of Lucius Apuleius is a figure of man’s life, filled with delectable matter that he hopes his lordship will accept.
Lucius Apuleius himself was an African follower of Plato’s sect, born in Madaura to a respected father, Theseus, and a virtuous mother, Salvia, who was descended from the philosopher Plutarch. Apuleius was a comely man who studied the liberal sciences in Carthage and Athens before traveling to Rome, where he mastered the Latin tongue through great industry. A man of singular learning and eloquence, he wrote many books, though only a portion—including the Floridorum, an oration defending himself against a charge of magic, and treatises on philosophy—survive. His principal work remains the eleven books of the Golden Asse, so-called for its excellent style and matter, though many refer to it as Metamorphosis because of its transformative subject.
In his own preface, Apuleius addresses the reader, promising to share joyous jests and pleasant prose. He will tell the story of how a man lost his human form, lived a loathed life in the shape of a beast, and was in time restored to his former self. Declaring that he is the writer of his own metamorphosis, Apuleius traces his lineage to Greece and asks the reader’s pardon for any rustic utterance in Latin, a foreign tongue he acquired without a schoolmaster. He then invites the reader to give an attentive ear to the pleasant Grecian feast he is about to serve.
THE FIRST BOOKE
A JOURNEY INTO THESSALY AND TALES OF WITCHCRAFT
My travels on business took me into Thessaly, a land descended from my mother’s side through the line of Plutarch. After crossing high mountains and slippery valleys, I dismounted to rest my weary horse and soon overtook two companions on the road. One was laughing at the other, dismissing his tales as absurd lies. I urged them to make me a partaker of their talk, and the skeptic repeated the claims he found so incredible: that sorcery could make floods run upstream, calm the seas, still the winds, halt the sun, and pull stars from the heaven.
Desirous to hear the story, I argued that what seems untrue is often merely rare or beyond our common understanding. To prove my point, I recounted how I once saw a juggler in Athens swallow a sharp sword and then a spear, from the end of which emerged a nimble boy who twisted like a serpent. Persuaded by my curiosity and my offer to pay his charges at the next inn, the storyteller, whose name was Aristomenus, agreed to proceed. He swore by the sun that his tale was true, common knowledge in the next city of Thessaly.
He began his story by explaining that while in Hippata on business, he went to the public baths and found his old friend Socrates sitting on the ground, so meager and destitute that he was barely recognizable. At home, Socrates’s children had been made wards of the court and his weeping wife was being pressured by her parents to remarry. Aristomenus, overcome with shame and pity for his friend, lifted him up, covered his nakedness with one of his own garments, and took him to an inn to be fed and cared for.
Socrates then explained his wretched state. Returning from a ten-month business trip in Macedonia, he was attacked by thieves who stole all he had. He found refuge at the inn of an old woman named Meroe, who seduced him with flattery and carnal desire. In a single night, he gave her the few remaining garments the thieves had left him, sealing his own ruin. When I chided him for abandoning his wife and children for a vile harlot, Socrates became fearful and warned me to hold my tongue. Meroe, he insisted, was no mere strumpet but a powerful magician who could rule the heavens, move the earth, and command the gods.
To prove her power, he recounted some of her deeds. She once transformed a lover into a beaver for being unfaithful; turned a rival innkeeper into a frog who now croaks from within a wine cask; and changed a lawyer who argued against her into a ram. She cursed the wife of another man so that she could never give birth, and after eight years the poor woman remained swollen as if she would bring forth an elephant. When the townspeople resolved to stone her for this cruelty, Meroe used her enchantments to seal every person inside their home. For two days, no one could open a door or break down a wall. Trapped, they were forced to swear an oath never to harm her. She then released the town but transported the entire house of the man who led the ordinance—walls, ground, and foundation—one hundred miles away to a waterless hilltop. Hearing this, I was struck with fear and urged Socrates that we should flee before dawn.
A NIGHT OF TERROR
After our talk, Socrates, weary from his travels and filled with meat and wine, fell fast asleep. I barred the doors of our chamber, placed my bed against it, and lay down, but I could not sleep for fear. Suddenly, around midnight, the chamber doors burst open with such force that the locks, bolts, and posts fell down. My bed was overturned, trapping me beneath it like a snail in its shell. Peeking out, I saw two old women enter: one bore a torch, the other a sponge and a naked sword. They were Meroe and her sister, Panthia.
Meroe pointed to the sleeping Socrates, declaring him her dear love who had defamed her and planned to run away. She then pointed to me under the bed, identifying me as his counselor who would soon repent his curiosity. As my heart trembled, Panthia urged that they tear me to pieces, but Meroe decided to spare my life, turning instead to Socrates. She thrust her sword into the left side of his neck, catching the gushing blood in a pot. Reaching into the wound, she pulled out his heart. As Socrates yielded a doleful cry and gave up the ghost, Panthia stopped the gaping wound with the sponge. The two witches then straddled me, urinated until I was soaking wet, and departed, the doors sealing themselves behind them.
Lying cold and naked, I despaired, certain I would be blamed for the murder. To avoid the gallows, I resolved to kill myself. I took a rope from the bedstead, tied it to a rafter, and put my neck in the noose. But as I leaped, the old rope broke, and I fell tumbling upon Socrates’s body. At that very moment, the hostler burst in, and Socrates, as if waking from a deep sleep, rose up and complained of the noise. Stunned, I embraced him, overjoyed to find him alive and unharmed.
We left the inn immediately. As we walked, I looked for the wound on Socrates’s throat but found nothing, concluding the night's events must have been a terrible, drunken dream. Socrates, however, recalled a dream where his throat was cut and his heart was pulled from his belly. Feeling faint and thirsty, he knelt by a river to drink. As his lips touched the water, the wound in his throat opened wide, the sponge fell out, and with a trickle of blood, his lifeless body fell toward the river. After lamenting my companion, I buried him in the sand and, fearing I would be held culpable for his death, forsook my country and fled to Etolia. When Aristomenus finished his tale, his fellow traveler dismissed it as an absurd lie, but I, Lucius, declared that I believed it entirely, for many strange things happen in the world. With that, our journey and our talk ended, and I rode into the city.
ARRIVAL IN HIPPATA
Upon entering Hippata, I inquired after a certain alderman named Milo. An old woman laughed, saying he was a chief citizen only in his wealth, for he was a great miser and usurer who lived in a small, mean house with his wife and a single maid. Finding the house, I knocked and was greeted by the maid, Fotis, who asked if I had come to borrow money on plate or jewels. I explained I carried letters from Milo’s friend Demeas, and I was admitted.
I found Milo preparing for a meager supper with his wife. He welcomed me courteously enough, though he apologized for his lack of household stuff, which he claimed was for fear of robbers. He offered me his wife's seat and invited me to use a chamber. I quickly perceived his avarice and, seeking to curry favor, said I required nothing but asked that my horse be cared for.
Later, I went to the market to buy provisions for supper and saw a great plenty of fish. What was first priced at a hundred pence I bought for twenty. As I was leaving, I met an old acquaintance from my studies in Athens, a man named Pythias, who was now the clerk of the market. When he saw my fish and learned the price I paid, he grew angry, declaring it an outrage. He dragged me back to the fishmonger, berated the old man for overcharging a stranger, and, to punish him, had my fish thrown to the ground and trampled under his sergeants' feet. This act of friendship left me without money and without supper. After refreshing myself at the baths, I returned to Milo's house. Milo insisted I join him for his meal, but it was a supper of prattling talk and not of meat. Wearied by my journey and now by his conversation, I soon excused myself and retired to my chamber, hungry and exhausted.
THE SECOND BOOKE
A KINSWOMAN'S WARNING AND A NEW INFATUATION
I awoke in Thessaly, a land famed for sorcery, and everything I saw seemed as if it could be transformed by wicked enchantments. As I wandered the city, I came to the marketplace and encountered a noble matron who, upon seeing me, recognized me as Lucius. She was Byrrhena, a kinswoman of my mother, Salvia. She remarked on my striking resemblance to my mother and invited me into her magnificent house, adorned with marvelous statues of Victory and of Diana hunting.
There, she took me aside and gave me a solemn warning. My host, Milo, was married to a woman named Pamphiles, who was the most principal magician and enchantress living. Byrrhena said that Pamphiles could throw the heavens into hell and reduce the world to chaos. She was known to fall instantly in love with any comely young man she saw, and if any refused her advances, she would turn them into stones, sheep, or some other beast, or slay them outright. Byrrhena cautioned me to beware, for my youth and beauty made me a prime target for Pamphiles’s fire.
Though she spoke with great care for my safety, I, who had long desired to be experienced in sorcery, was not frightened but rather excited. I left her house determined to learn the magical art, yet I resolved to temper myself from the love of my hostess and instead attempt to win the maiden, Fotis. I soon found her in the kitchen, preparing pottage for her master. The sight of her—her white apron, her red silk girdle, and the way her hips moved as she stirred the pot—left me half-amazed. My courage came upon me, and we exchanged merry and flirtatious words. I was completely captivated by her beauty, especially her hair, and ran to her and kissed the place where it was trussed upon her neck. After more sweet talk and embraces, she promised she would come to my chamber and lie with me that night.
A NIGHT OF PASSION AND A DAY OF MERRIMENT
Not long after, Byrrhena sent me a generous gift of a fat pig, five hens, and a flagon of old wine. I told Fotis that Bacchus himself had offered his aid to Venus, and that we should drink the wine to prepare ourselves for the night. That evening, I supped again with Milo, taking care to sit out of Pamphiles’s sight. After a long supper filled with Milo’s prattling stories about an Assyrian fortune-teller named Diophanes, I was at last able to escape to my chamber.
There I found everything prepared for a night of love. Fotis soon arrived, bearing roses and flowers which she threw about the bed and wove into a garland for my head. After drinking wine together, she unappareled herself, presenting her amiable body to me, and we passed the entire night in pastime and pleasure, never sleeping until it was day.
A few days later, Byrrhena insisted I come to supper at her house. Though reluctant to leave my new love, Fotis gave me leave to go, but warned me of robbers that roamed the streets at night, murdering whomever they could take. I went armed with my sword. The supper was a grand affair with many noble guests. The conversation turned to the witches of Thessaly, and how they would dig up dead bodies to steal parts for their enchantments. The guests then looked at one man, Thelyphron, who was missing his nose and ears. Persuaded by Byrrhena, he recounted his unfortunate tale.
As a young man traveling to see the Olympian games, he found himself destitute in Thessaly. He took a job watching a dead man’s corpse through the night to protect it from witches, for which he was promised a great reward. The man’s widow showed him the body, which was whole in every part, and locked him in the chamber. To stay awake, he sang, but a weasel entered and put him into a deep sleep. In the morning, the body was found intact and he was paid. As he was leaving, an old man interrupted the funeral procession, accusing the widow of poisoning her husband. To prove it, an Egyptian prophet was brought to resurrect the corpse. The dead man sat up and confirmed his wife’s guilt. He then revealed that the witches, unable to get past Thelyphron’s diligent watch, had cast him into a deep slumber. They had then magically cut off his nose and ears, replacing them with wax duplicates, and left him unharmed. Horrified, Thelyphron touched his face, and his waxen nose and ears fell to the ground. He fled in shame.
After this strange tale, Byrrhena invited me to the city’s annual Festival of the god Risus, or Laughter, on the morrow. I promised I would attend and do my best to invent some merry matter in the god’s honor.
A FATAL MISUNDERSTANDING
I departed from Byrrhena’s house late that night. My torch went out, leaving me to find my way home in the dark. As I approached Milo’s house, I saw three men of great stature trying to break down the gates. Taking them for strong thieves, I drew my sword, ran in amongst them, and fought until they all fell down dead before me. I knocked at the door until Fotis let me in, and then, weary with the slaughter, I went to my chamber and fell asleep.
THE THIRD BOOKE
THE FESTIVAL OF LAUGHTER
Morning came, and I awoke burning with the remembrance of the murder I had committed. I sat on my bed weeping, imagining myself before a judge and being led to the gallows. Soon, my fears were realized as magistrates and officers arrived and bound me, leading me away to prison. A great crowd followed me through the streets, and to my astonishment, every single person was laughing exceedingly.
The trial was held in the city’s great Theatre to accommodate the multitude. The captain of the night watch gave his oration, accusing me of being a wicked homicide who had slain three citizens. When it was my turn, I confessed that I had killed the men, but insisted they were thieves attempting to break into my host’s house, and that I had acted to defend his family and property. As I pleaded for mercy, I looked upon the crowd and saw that everyone, even my host Milo, was laughing uncontrollably.
Then, two women—one carrying a child, the other old and ragged—came forth as the widows of the slain men, crying for vengeance. A judge decreed that I should be put on the rack to reveal my accomplices. At the old woman’s request, I was forced to uncover the bodies lying on the bier. But when I did, I saw not the bodies of men, but three great, blown-up goatskin bladders, mangled and pierced in the very places I remembered wounding the thieves. The entire theatre erupted in a storm of laughter, and I stood as cold as ice, utterly amazed.
I soon understood that I had been the centerpiece of the annual Festival of Risus, the god of Laughter. Milo led me from the theatre as the magistrates entered his house to pacify me, explaining that the god always accompanies the inventor of some solemn novelty, and that the whole city intended to reward me with great honors. Too ashamed to go anywhere else, I feigned a headache and retired to my chamber.
THE WITCH’S SECRET
That night, Fotis came to me, confessing that she was the cause of all my trouble. She explained that her mistress, Pamphiles, desired a young Boetian man and had commanded Fotis to gather some of his hair from the barber’s floor for a love spell. Fotis was caught and the hair taken from her. Fearing her mistress’s anger, she took some yellow hair from shorn goatskins and gave it to Pamphiles instead. That night, Pamphiles performed her incantations, but the spell, working on the goatskin hair, animated the skins themselves. They came banging on the door, and I, returning late and drunk, mistook them for thieves and valiantly “slew” them with my sword.
After I forgave her, my curiosity about magic overcame me, and I begged her to let me witness her mistress at work. She agreed, on condition of my utmost secrecy. The next night, she led me to a high chamber and bade me look through a chink in the door. I saw Pamphiles put off all her garments, take an ointment out of a box, and rub her body with it. Immediately, a plume of feathers burst forth, her nose grew crooked and hard, her nails turned to claws, and she became an owl. After testing her wings, she flew quite away.
THE TRANSFORMATION
Amazed by what I had seen, I begged Fotis to grant me some of the ointment so I too could be turned into a bird. I swore that even if I could fly as an eagle, I would always return to her. Though fearful, she consented and went into the chamber to fetch a box. After kissing it and praying for good success, I put off my garments, greedily thrust my hand into the box, and rubbed the ointment over every part of my body.
I hovered with my arms, looking for feathers to appear, but none did. Instead, my hair grew rugged, my skin waxed tough and hard, my fingers and toes changed into hooves, and a great tail grew from my backside. My face became monstrous, my nostrils wide, my lips hung down, and my ears grew rugged with hair. I was no bird, but a plain ass.
Fotis cried out that in her haste she had mistaken the box. She told me not to despair, for there was a sooner medicine for this than for any other thing: if I could eat a rose, I would be delivered from the shape of an ass and become Lucius again. She promised to find some for me in the morning. Though I retained the mind of a man, I was now a brute beast. I went to the stable, where my own horse and another ass kicked me away from their hay. I then spied roses adorning a statue of the goddess Hippone on a pillar and tried to reach them, but the stable boy caught me and beat me with a crabbed truncheon.
The noise was interrupted by a troupe of thieves who burst into the house. They ransacked Milo’s chests and, needing beasts to carry their loot, they loaded me, my horse, and the other ass with great trusses and drove us from the city. As we journeyed, I considered crying out “O Caesar!” in a town for help, but I could only bray the “O.” For this, the thieves beat me again. Later, I saw a garden with fresh roses, but I had a better thought: if I transformed back into a man, the thieves would surely kill me, either as a witch or to silence a witness. I therefore abstained from the roses and, enduring my present adversity, ate hay as other asses did.
THE FOURTH BOOKE
ROSES AND ROBBERS
The thieves brought us to a village and, after unburdening us, let us loose in a meadow to pasture. Denied access to the grass by my own horse, I wandered into a garden and filled my belly with raw herbs. I searched everywhere for roses, my only hope for a cure. I saw what I thought was a valley of bright, flourishing roses, but upon reaching it, I found they were not true roses but the poisonous laurel rose. Desperate, I nearly ate them, but the gardener appeared and, seeing his herbs devoured, beat me with a great staff. I kicked him with my heels and ran, but his wife’s cries brought out the townspeople with a great company of mastiffs. I fled back to the stable, where I was bound and scourged until I covered my tormentors with liquid dung, forcing them to leave off.
Soon after, the thieves loaded us again and drove us onward. I was so weary that I resolved to fall down by a river and refuse to rise, hoping they would abandon me. But the other ass, having the same idea, collapsed first. The thieves, seeing him unable to move, cut off his legs and threw his body into a valley. I, taking note of my poor companion’s fate, put aside all deceit and played the part of a good ass until we finally arrived at their den.
The thieves’ dwelling was a fortress on a great hill, surrounded by high trees and hollow valleys. Before their cave stood a high tower and sheep-coats. An old, crooked woman governed the house, and the thieves immediately chided her for not having supper ready. Soon, another company of thieves arrived, adding their spoils of gold and silver to the treasure. They all sat down to a great feast, and one began to speak of their adventures. He lamented the loss of their valiant captain, Lamathus, in Boetia, criticizing the new arrivals for their small gains.
One of the newcomers defended their actions, telling a tale of their attempt to rob a rich but solitary man named Chryseros. Their captain, Lamathus, in trying to unbolt a door from the outside, got his hand caught and nailed fast by the crafty homeowner. Trapped and pursued, Lamathus urged his companions to save themselves by cutting off his arm. They did so and fled, but Lamathus, growing faint, bravely took his own sword and killed himself rather than be captured. They cast his body into the sea. They also lost another companion, Alcimus, who, while robbing an old woman, was pushed from a window to his death.
After these losses, they traveled to Platea, where a noble named Demochares was preparing a great public game with many wild beasts, including a great number of expensive bears that had all recently died of disease. One of the thieves, a clever fellow named Babulus, devised a plan. They flayed one of the dead bears, and a courageous thief named Thrasileon agreed to wear the skin and be presented to Demochares as a gift from a distant friend.
THE TALE OF THE BEAR-SKIN THIEF
Disguised as a live bear, Thrasileon was brought to Demochares’s house at nightfall. The nobleman was delighted and, wary of disease, agreed that the “bear” should be kept in an open place in the house rather than with his other animals. The thieves, promising to watch over it, took their leave and hid in a nearby sepulcher. Later that night, they returned while Thrasileon, still in his disguise, roamed the house to frighten anyone who might wake up. While his companions broke open a counter and carried away the treasure, a boy of the house spotted the bear and raised the alarm.
The entire household came forth with torches, spears, and dogs to slay the beast. Thrasileon fought valiantly against the hounds, but he was eventually overcome. A tall man ran him through with a spear, and others stabbed him with their swords. Even in death, he never betrayed his companions but died with a doleful cry, more like a beast than a man. The next day, a butcher opened the bear’s belly and revealed the venturous thief inside. The remaining thieves, having lost another captain, took their treasure and returned to the cave. As they told their tale, I, the ass, filled my hungry gut with loaves of bread I found in a corner.
A GENTLEWOMAN CAPTIVE
The next night, the thieves returned from another raid, not with treasure, but with a captive maiden, a beautiful gentlewoman who wept and tore her hair in sorrow. The thieves tried to comfort her, explaining that they only sought a ransom from her wealthy parents, but she could not be consoled. They left her in the care of the old woman.
The next day, after a troubled sleep, the maiden awoke in even greater despair. She told the old woman of a dream she had, renewing her grief. On her very wedding day, as her mother dressed her as a bride, the thieves had burst into her chamber and carried her away. In her dream, she saw her unfortunate husband, still crowned with garlands, searching for her, only to be struck and killed by a stone thrown by one of the robbers.
The old woman, to put away her sorrow, offered to tell her a pleasant tale to revive her spirits. And so she began the story of Cupid and Psyches.
THE MARRIAGE OF CUPID AND PSYCHES
A certain king had three daughters, but the youngest, Psyches, possessed a beauty so divine that people began to worship her instead of the goddess Venus. Mortals traveled from all over the world to gaze upon her, neglecting Venus’s temples and rites. Enraged, Venus summoned her son Cupid and commanded him to make Psyches fall in love with the most miserable and vile creature alive. But when Cupid saw Psyches, he himself was struck with love.
While her two older sisters married kings, Psyche received no mortal suitors. Her father, fearing the gods’ envy, consulted the oracle of Apollo, which declared that Psyches was destined to marry no man, but a fierce and dire serpent who flies through the skies and whom even the gods fear. Heartbroken, her parents prepared her not for a wedding but for a funeral. Dressed in mourning clothes, she was led to the top of a high, rocky hill and left there alone.
As she wept, the gentle wind Zephyrus lifted her up and carried her down into a deep valley, laying her in a bed of fragrant flowers. When she awoke, she discovered a magnificent palace built not by hands but by the power of a god. The walls were silver, the pillars gold, and the floors were of precious stones. As she marveled, bodiless voices spoke to her, declaring that all she saw was hers and that they were her servants. She was served a divine feast by invisible hands and serenaded by invisible musicians.
That night, in the darkness of her chamber, her unknown husband came to her bed and consummated their marriage, departing before dawn. This continued for some time, and Psyches grew accustomed to her new life. One night, her husband warned her that her sisters, believing her dead, were coming to the rock to lament for her. He forbade her to answer them, lest she bring great sorrow upon him and destruction upon herself. But Psyche, lonely and longing for human conversation, wept and begged him to relent. Pitying her, he agreed to let her see them, but warned her never to be persuaded by them to look upon his face, for if she did, she would never see him again.
The next day, Zephyrus brought her two sisters down into the valley. Psyches showed them her treasures and entertained them lavishly. Filled with envy, they questioned her about her husband. Forgetting her husband’s warning, Psyche feigned an answer, saying he was a handsome young man who spent his days hunting. She sent her sisters away with gifts of gold and jewels, but their hearts were poisoned with jealousy. They resolved to destroy her happiness.
Soon after, they returned, and Psyche’s husband again warned her of their treachery. But again she pleaded, and again he yielded. This time, the sisters, having noted a discrepancy in her stories, pressed her with wicked lies. They told her they had discovered the truth: her husband was the great serpent of the oracle, who was only fattening her up to devour her and her unborn child. Terrified and simple-minded, Psyche believed them and forgot her husband’s warnings. They gave her a plan: she must hide a sharp razor and a lamp, and when the serpent was asleep, she must cut off his head.
That night, when her husband was in a deep sleep, Psyche took the lamp and the razor and approached the bed. But instead of a monster, she saw the most beautiful of all creatures, the god Cupid himself. His golden hair and shining feathers so captivated her that the lamp itself increased its light for joy. As she marveled, she took an arrow from his quiver and pricked her finger, falling even more deeply in love. But as she leaned over him, a drop of hot oil fell from the lamp onto his shoulder. The god awoke and, seeing her betrayal, flew away without a word. Psyche caught his leg and was carried into the air, but her strength failed and she fell to the earth. From a nearby cypress tree, Cupid rebuked her for her disobedience and flew away for good.
Desolate, Psyche tried to drown herself in a river, but the water gently cast her ashore. She wandered until she came to the city of one of her sisters and told her what had happened, but with a lie: she said that Cupid, in his anger, had cast her off and declared he would take the sister for his wife instead. The sister, filled with wicked desire, rushed to the rock, called for Zephyrus to carry her to Cupid, and leaped off, only to be torn to pieces on the rocks below. Psyche then found her other sister and, with the same tale, sent her to the same fate.
Meanwhile, Venus learned of her son’s affair with Psyche and his wound. Furious that he had disobeyed her and fallen for her mortal rival, she vowed vengeance. She sought out Psyche, who was wandering the earth in search of her lost love. Psyche prayed for aid at the temples of Ceres and Juno, but both goddesses, though pitying her, refused to help for fear of Venus’s wrath. Finally, Psyche resolved to go to Venus herself and humbly submit to her will.
Venus, having had Mercury proclaim a reward for Psyche’s capture, took the girl by the hair and had her scourged by her handmaidens, Sorrow and Sadness. She then set for Psyche a series of impossible tasks. First, she was to sort a massive heap of mixed grains before nightfall. A colony of ants, pitying her, came and sorted the entire pile for her. Next, Venus sent her to fetch golden wool from a flock of fierce, man-killing sheep. A green reed by the river advised her to wait until the sheep rested in the afternoon and then gather the wool caught on the briars, which she did. Then, she was sent to the top of a high mountain to fetch black water from the River Styx, a place guarded by dragons. Jupiter’s eagle, remembering Cupid’s favor, took her bottle, flew past the dragons, and filled it for her.
Finally, Venus gave her the most perilous task: to take a box down into the underworld and ask Proserpina for a little of her beauty. A tower, taking pity on her, gave her instructions on how to safely pass Charon the ferryman and the three-headed dog Cerberus. Psyche succeeded, but on her way back, overcome by curiosity, she opened the box. She found no beauty inside, but an infernal and deadly sleep, and fell to the ground like a corpse.
Cupid, now healed and unable to endure her absence, escaped from his mother’s chamber and flew to her side. He wiped the sleep from her face, put it back in the box, and woke her with the tip of his arrow. He then flew to Jupiter and pleaded his case. Jupiter, agreeing to help, called an assembly of the gods. He declared that Cupid and Psyche should be lawfully wed and commanded Mercury to bring Psyche to heaven. He gave Psyche a pot of immortality to drink, making her a goddess. A great marriage feast was held, and in time, Psyche bore a child to Cupid, whom we call Pleasure.
When the old woman finished her tale, I, the poor ass, was sorry that I lacked pen and ink to write down so worthy a story.
THE SIXTH BOOKE
A DARING ESCAPE AND A CRUEL SENTENCE
The thieves returned from their expedition, and while some rested, the strongest went back for more pillage, driving us before them. My hoofs were so worn that I could barely walk, and when I finally fell, they beat me until one suggested that so useless an ass should be killed and left as prey for wild beasts. As they debated my death, we arrived back at the cave, the fear of my fate having given me wings. Certain I was to be killed, I resolved to escape. I broke my halter and ran, but the old woman, with surprising strength, caught the rope and held on. I kicked her to the ground and ran on, but she held fast, crying for help.
The captive gentlewoman heard her cries and, seeing the old woman clinging to my halter, bravely wrested it from her hands and leaped upon my back. I ran with all my might, as eager to escape as she was. We soon came to a crossroads, and she tried to guide me toward her father’s house, but I knew the thieves had gone that way and resisted. As we struggled, the thieves themselves returned and captured us. They beat me cruelly, and when we returned to the cave, we found the old woman had hanged herself from a cypress tree.
The thieves, after throwing the old woman's body into a ditch, debated how to punish the maiden for her escape attempt. One devised a particularly cruel death: I, the ass, was to be killed and gutted, and the maiden was to be sewn alive into my belly. Then, we were to be laid upon a rock in the hot sun, so she would suffer all manner of torments—starvation, the stench of my rotting carcass, being eaten by worms, scorched by the sun, and finally torn apart by vultures. The thieves all consented to this plan, and I could do nothing but lament the fate of my own dead carcass.
THE SEVENTH BOOKE
A THIEF IN DISGUISE
The next day, a companion of the thieves who had been left behind in Hippata returned with news. He reported that the robbery of Milo's house was now entirely blamed on one Lucius Apuleius, a guest who had conveniently fled the same night, taking his horse and servant with him. Hearing my own name accused of a crime I did not commit, while being unable to speak in my own defense, I lamented the blindness of fortune. The thief then urged his companions to recruit new members to replace their fallen comrades, and he soon returned with a tall, courageous young man who introduced himself as Hemus, a renowned thief from Thrace. He told a grand tale of his exploits and his recent escape from the Emperor’s soldiers, and the thieves, impressed by his audacity and the dowry of gold he presented, unanimously made him their new captain.
The new captain immediately asked to see the captive gentlewoman and, upon hearing of the cruel death planned for her and for me, he wisely counseled his new companions against it. He argued that vengeance brought no profit, whereas such a fine maiden could be sold to bawdy merchants for a great sum of money. The thieves, after some deliberation, agreed. The maiden, hearing of this, began to smile, and I, in my ass’s mind, judged the fickle nature of women who could so quickly forget a fiancé for the prospect of a brothel. But my judgment was mistaken.
The young man, to celebrate his new position, proposed a great feast and led a party to the next castle to procure provisions. They returned with wine and a fat ram-goat, which they sacrificed to Mars. The new captain served the feast himself, plying the thieves with wine and secretly giving meat and drink to the maiden. He was not, in fact, the thief Hemus, but her own husband, Lepolemus, in disguise. As the thieves drank themselves into a stupor, he whispered to her, "Be of good cheer, my sweet Charites, for you shall soon have all your enemies captive." When they had all fallen into a drunken sleep, he set her upon my back, and we departed.
A BRIEF RESPITE
The entire city celebrated Charites’s return, and she was brought in triumph upon my back to her father's house. I, for my part, was hailed as her savior. Her new husband, Lepolemus, and a company of citizens then returned to the cave, slew the sleeping thieves, and brought back all the treasure. Charites was properly married to Lepolemus, and she ensured I was greatly honored, calling me her little camel and commanding that my manger be filled with barley and hay. They decided to set me free to run in the fields with the mares. I was overjoyed, hoping that in my new liberty I would find roses and, upon returning to my human shape, be even more rewarded.
But my good fortune was short-lived. The horse-keeper to whom I was entrusted was a covetous man whose pestilent wife made me a mill-ass, beating me daily and feeding me nothing but filthy bran. My only liberty was to be let loose in the fields, but there the stone-horses, jealous of my presence among the mares, attacked me with kicks and bites. To this misery was added a new torment: a wicked boy was assigned to drive me to a high hill each day to fetch wood. He beat me cruelly, overloaded me, and invented new ways to cause me pain. One day, I kicked him, and in revenge, he hid a burning coal in my load of dry rubble, setting me on fire. I saved myself only by plunging into a pool of water.
He then falsely accused me to the other shepherds of being a lecherous beast that attacked women on the road. They resolved to kill me, but one suggested it was better to simply geld me to curb my wantonness and make me fatter. As they prepared this new torment for me, the wicked boy led me to the hill once more. While he was cutting wood, a marvelous great bear emerged from a cave. Terrified, I broke my halter and ran, escaping both the bear and the boy. I was found by a stranger who took me up, but we were soon intercepted by the shepherds, who accused the man of stealing me and murdering the boy. They found the boy’s body torn to pieces in the woods—the bear’s work, though I could not say so—and took the stranger prisoner, intending to deliver him to the justices.
That night, the boy’s mother, mad with grief, came to the stable and beat me with a great bar until she was weary, then took a firebrand and thrust it under my tail, burning me until I was forced to spray her face with dung, blinding her and driving her away.
THE EIGHTH BOOKE
A TALE OF TRAGEDY
While the shepherds mourned, a young man from Charites’s household arrived with terrible news. He recounted a tragic story of love, jealousy, and revenge. A young gentleman named Thrasillus, who had been rejected by Charites in favor of Lepolemus, had never given up his lust for her. Feigning friendship, he became a close companion to the couple. One day, while hunting with Lepolelus, Thrasillus treacherously hamstrung his friend’s horse, causing him to fall. As a wild boar attacked the fallen Lepolemus, Thrasillus, under the pretense of helping, ran him through with a spear.
Charites was consumed by grief, but Thrasillus, feigning sorrow, soon demanded her hand in marriage. That night, the ghost of Lepolemus appeared to her in a dream and revealed Thrasillus’s treachery. Feigning acceptance of his proposal, Charites lured Thrasillus to her chamber, where her nurse gave him a drugged drink. When he was in a deep sleep, she stood over him and, with a needle from her hair, put out both his eyes. Then, taking her husband’s sword, she ran to his sepulcher and, after declaring her vengeance to the townsfolk who had followed, killed herself upon his tomb. Thrasillus, hearing this, went to the same sepulcher and sealed himself inside to die of famine.
Hearing of the ruin of their master’s house, the shepherds decided to flee. They packed up all their goods, loaded them onto me and the other horses, and we departed. We traveled through a country infested with wolves and were attacked by the dogs of a village whose inhabitants mistook us for thieves. We eventually came to a wood to rest and cure our wounds. There, a young man from our company was lured into a thicket by a strange old man and devoured by a dragon. We fled that pestilent country in terror. We arrived at another village, where we learned of a servant whose wife, in a fit of jealousy over his affair with a harlot, had tied their child to her waist and thrown herself into a well. The master, in revenge, had the servant anointed with honey and tied to a fig tree to be eaten alive by ants.
A NEW AND STRANGE MASTER
Fleeing again, we came to a great city where the shepherds sold me in the market. I was bought by an old, bald man named Philebus, one of a troupe of men who wandered the country carrying an image of the goddess Syria, begging for alms. They were a company of painted, effeminate priests who danced and flagellated themselves to earn money. They put the goddess on my back, and we traveled from place to place, robbing the country with our false divinations. One night, I brayed loudly and revealed their vile, unnatural acts with a young man to the townsfolk. Chased from that village, they were soon caught stealing a golden cup from a temple, thrown in prison, and I was put up for sale once more.
THE NINTH BOOKE
LIFE WITH A BAKER
I was sold to a baker, who put me to work turning his mill. It was a dreadful place, filled with poor slaves and worn-out horses, all covered in flour and sores. The baker was an honest man, but his wife was a most pestilent and lascivious woman who hated me and had me beaten daily. She had taken a lover, and I, with my long ass’s ears, overheard all her secrets. An old bawd procured for her a new lover, a young man named Philesitherus, telling a story of his cunning in escaping the wrath of a jealous husband named Barbarus.
One night, the baker’s wife prepared a feast for her lover while her husband was away. But the baker returned unexpectedly, having fled his neighbor’s house in disgust after discovering the man’s wife hiding a lover in a smoking-vat. The baker’s wife, in a panic, hid her own lover in a large wooden bin used for bolting flour. As I was led past the bin on my way to be watered, I saw the lover’s fingers peeking out. I lifted my heels and kicked them with all my might. The man cried out, the bin was overturned, and the wife’s adultery was revealed. The baker, rather than killing the young man, scourged his buttocks with rods and sent his wife away. The wicked woman then conspired with an enchantress, who caused the baker to hang himself. His daughter inherited the house and sold off all the goods, including me.
I was sold to a poor gardener and endured a miserable winter of cold and hunger. One day, my master and I went to collect payment from a man in a nearby town, but the trip was marked by terrible omens: a hen laid a live chicken, a fountain of blood burst from the floor, and wine boiled in the cellar. Soon, news came that the man’s three sons were dead. The eldest had been murdered by a rich, tyrannical neighbor, and the other two had died avenging him. The man, in his grief, cut his own throat at the dinner table. My poor master, deprived of his payment, rode me home.
THE SHADOW OF THE ASS
On the way, we were accosted by a tall soldier who demanded my master’s ass. My master refused, and when the soldier struck him, he pulled the soldier from his horse and beat him until he feigned death. We fled to a friend’s house and hid, my master in a chest and I in an upstairs chamber. The soldier recovered and, with his companions, came searching for us. The host denied we were there, but as I peeked out a window, one of the soldiers saw my shadow on the ground. They rushed in, found me, and then found my master hiding in the chest. He was taken to prison, and from this event arose the proverb, “The shadow of the ass.”
THE TENTH BOOKE
AN ASS AT THE BANQUET
The soldier sold me to two brothers, a baker and a cook, who served a wealthy man. Here, for a time, my life improved dramatically. The brothers would bring home the leftover dainties from their master’s table—pigs, chickens, fish, and fine pastries—and while they were at the baths, I would feast on them. At first, they accused each other of theft, but one day they spied me through a hole in the door, devouring their meals. They were so amused that they showed their master, who was greatly delighted. He bought me from them for a high price and had me taught to perform tricks, such as sitting at the table, dancing, and drinking wine from a cup.
My fame spread, and my master, Thiasus, a nobleman from Corinth, took great pride in me, garnishing me with gold and silver and riding me through the country. At Corinth, a noble and rich matron fell into a disordinate appetite for me and paid my keeper a great sum to spend a night with me. In a chamber prepared with soft beds and perfumes, she anointed my body with balm and had her pleasure with me. My master, hearing of this, was so pleased that he arranged for me to perform this feat publicly in the theatre with a woman who had been condemned to be eaten by wild beasts for her many wicked crimes, including murdering her husband, her sister-in-law, his physician, and her own daughter.
I was horrified at the prospect of this public shame and resolved to escape. On the day of the triumph, as a magnificent pageant of the judgment of Paris was performed in the theatre, I saw my chance. While all eyes were on the spectacle, I stole out of a gate and ran with all my might until I came to Cenchris, a town by the sea. There, I hid myself on a secret stretch of sand and, as the sun went down, fell into a sound sleep.
THE ELEVENTH BOOKE
THE INTERVENTION OF THE GODDESS
I awoke at midnight to see the full moon shining brightly out of the sea. I was filled with a sudden hope that this powerful goddess could deliver me from my wretched fortune. I purified myself seven times in the sea and then, with a weeping countenance, I prayed to her, by all her many names—Ceres, Venus, Diana, Proserpina—to end my misery and restore me to my pristine estate. As I prayed, I fell asleep again, and a divine and venerable face appeared to me in a vision. It was the goddess Isis, queen of heaven, natural mother of all things, and mistress of the elements.
She told me that my weeping had moved her to pity and that the next day, which was dedicated to her service, would be my salvation. She said that in the procession, her high priest, moved by her will, would carry a garland of roses. I was to follow the procession, snatch the roses from his hand, and I would be transformed. She assured me not to fear, for all would be arranged by her providence.
I awoke filled with joy and fear. At sunrise, the streets were filled with a great and triumphant procession in honor of the goddess. There were dancers and musicians, people dressed as soldiers, hunters, magistrates, and philosophers. An ape was dressed as a shepherd, and another ass had wings glued to his back to resemble Pegasus. Finally came the great company of her initiates, the men with shaven crowns and the women with white veils, carrying timbrels and holy relics. Last of all came the high priest, and in his right hand, as promised, was a garland of roses.
I pushed through the crowd, which miraculously gave way for me, and approached the priest. He stood still and held out the garland to my mouth. I devoured the roses with a great affection, and immediately my ass’s form abated. The rugged hair fell away, my skin grew soft, my hooves became fingers and toes, and my monstrous face became human again. I stood there, a naked man, and the people marveled at the goddess’s power. I was given a robe to cover myself, and the high priest welcomed me, declaring that after many labors and tempests of fortune, I had at last come to the haven of rest and mercy.
A NEW LIFE
News of my miraculous transformation spread to my home country, and my family and friends, who had believed me dead, came to see me. Overjoyed, I dedicated myself to the service of the goddess Isis, hiring a house within her temple cloister. She appeared to me often in visions, commanding me to take the order of her religion. After a period of fasting and purification, I was initiated into her sacred mysteries in a secret ceremony. I was brought to the gates of Proserpina, carried through all the elements, and saw the sun shine at midnight before the celestial and infernal gods.
After my initiation, I was brought forth in twelve sanctified stoles and adored by the people. I remained in her service, and the goddess continued to guide me through visions, eventually calling me to Rome. There, I was initiated into the rites of the great god Osiris as well, and then a third time, an honor never before granted to any person. Finally, Osiris appeared to me and commanded that I become an advocate in the court. He appointed me to be one of the Decurions and Senators, and so, with a shaven crown, I executed my office in great joy, forever bound to the service of the gods who had saved me.
Concise Summary
The Golden Asse chronicles the misadventures of Lucius, a young man whose dabbling in magic transforms him into an ass, leading him through a world of human cruelty, folly, and strange tales until he is ultimately saved by the goddess Isis and initiated into her sacred mysteries.
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