Protection from the worst witchcraft spells of the Apules. Lucius Apuleius of Metamorphosis, or the Golden Ass

* * *

Book one

1. Here I will gossip for you in the Milesian manner* various fables, I will delight your favorable ears with sweet babbling, if only you deign to look at the Egyptian papyrus, covered with the tip of the Nile reed *; you will marvel at the transformation of destinies and the very forms of human beings and their return back in the same way, to their previous state. I start. "But who is he?" - you ask. Listen in a nutshell.

Attic Hymetta*, Etherean Isthmus* and Tenara* Spartan, happy lands, forever immortalized by even happier books - this is the ancient cradle of our family. Here I mastered the Attic dialect*, and it was the first conquest of my childhood. Following this, I arrived, a novice in science, to the capital of Latium * and with great difficulty, without any guidance, I mastered the native language of the Quirites *.

That is why, first of all, I beg you not to be offended if you encounter foreign and common expressions in my rude style. But this very alternation of adverbs corresponds to the art of instant transformations, and that’s what I was going to write about. Let's start with a Greek fable. Listen, reader, you will be pleased.

2. I was traveling on business to Thessaly, since my mother is from there, and our family is proud of its descent from the famous Plutarch* through his nephew Sextus the philosopher*. I rode on a local dazzling white horse, and when, having passed mountain steeps, descents into valleys, dewy meadows, cultivated fields, she was already tired and I, tired from the seat, did not mind stretching my legs - I dismounted. I carefully wipe the sweat from the horse with leaves, stroking its ears, letting go of the bridle and walking it along until it eases its tired stomach in the usual and natural way. And while she, tilting her head to the side, was looking for food in the meadow along which she was walking, I joined two travelers who were walking ahead of me at a close distance, and while I was listening to what the conversation was going on, one of them, laughing, said:

- Get rid of these fables, which are as absurd as they are empty.

Hearing this, I, greedy for any news, say:

- On the contrary, continue! Allow me to take part in your conversation: I am not curious, but I want to know, if not everything, then as much as possible, and besides, a pleasant and funny story will make this steep climb easier for us.

3. The one who started answers:

- Eh! All these inventions are as similar to the truth as if someone began to claim that magical whispering makes fast rivers run backward, the sea lazily freeze, the wind - lose its breath, the sun - stop, the moon - become covered with foam *, the stars - break away, the day - disappear, the night will last!

Then I say more confidently:

- Please, you who started the story, finish it if you are not too lazy and tired. - Then to another: - You, covering your ears and being stubborn, reject what may be the true truth. I swear by Hercules, you have no idea that only preconceived opinions force us to consider as false what is new to the ear, or unusual to the sight, or seems to exceed our understanding; if you look more closely, you will find that all this is not only obvious for consideration, but also easy to implement.

4. Last night my friend and I were eating a pie with cheese in a race, and I wanted to swallow a piece a little larger than usual, when suddenly the food, soft and sticky, got stuck in my throat: my breath was so blocked in my throat - I almost died. Meanwhile, recently in Athens, at the Motley Portico*, I saw with my own eyes how a magician swallowed the sharpest sword of a horseman, point down. Following this, for a few pennies, he stuck a hunting spear with the deadly end into his guts. And then a pretty boy jumped onto the iron-bound shaft of the inverted stake, sticking out of the magician’s throat, at the very end of it, and, to the surprise of all of us present, began to wriggle and dance, as if he were without bones and without veins. One could take all this for the knotted rod of the god of healing* with half-cut off branches, which the serpent of fertility entwined in loving coils. But that's enough! Finish, please, comrade, the story you started. I’ll trust you for two and treat you to breakfast at the first hotel; this is the reward that awaits you.

5. And he came to me:

“I think what you’re proposing is fair and good, but I’ll have to start my story all over again.” First of all, I will swear to you by the Sun, this all-seeing deity, that my story is true and reliable. Yes, for both of you, all doubt will disappear as soon as you reach the nearest Thessalian city: there they will only talk about this story, because the events took place before everyone’s eyes. But first find out where I come from and who I am. My name is Aristomenes, and I come from Aegina*. Listen also to how I earn my bread: I travel around Thessaly, Etonia and Boeotia in different directions with honey, cheese or other goods for innkeepers. Having learned that in Hypata, the largest of the cities of Thessaly*, excellent-tasting, fresh cheese is sold for a very similar yen, I hurried there, intending to buy it all in bulk. But, as often happens, I set off at an unlucky hour, and my hopes for profit were deceived: the day before the wholesale merchant Lup bought everything. Tired of futile haste, I headed to the baths as evening approached.

6. Suddenly I see my friend, Socrates! He sits on the ground, a shoddy, tattered cloak only half covers his body; He became almost a different person: his pallor and pitiful thinness changed him beyond recognition, and he became like those stepsons of fate who beg for alms at crossroads. Although I knew him well and was very friendly with him, seeing him in such a state, I doubted and came closer.

- Socrates! - I say. - What happened to you? What type? What a sad state of affairs? And at home they have been mourning you for a long time and calling you by name*, like a dead person! Guardians have been appointed for your children by order of the chief judge of the province; the wife, having remembered you properly, having grown dull from incessant sorrow and grief, almost crying her eyes out, already hears from her parents encouragements to amuse the unhappy home with the joy of a new marriage. And suddenly you find yourself here, to our utter shame, from beyond the grave!

“Aristomenes,” he answered, “really, you do not know the insidious tricks of fate, its fragile favors and all-consuming vicissitudes.” - With these words, he covered his face, which had long been red with shame, with a patched and torn cloak, so that he exposed the rest of his body from the navel to the sign of masculinity. I could no longer see such a pitiful spectacle of poverty and, holding out my hand, helped him up.

7. But the one with his head covered:

“Leave,” he says, “leave fate to enjoy to its full the trophy that it has erected for itself*.”

I force him to come with me, immediately dress him, or rather, cover his nakedness with one of my two clothes, which I immediately took off, and take him to the bathhouse; there I prepare ointments and ointments myself, carefully scrape off a huge layer of dirt and, having washed it properly, I myself, with great difficulty, supporting him, weary, take him to my place, warm him with a bed, please him with food, strengthen him with a cup, amuse him with stories.

He was already inclined to talk and jokes, witticisms and slander were already heard, still timid, when suddenly, letting out a painful sigh from the depths of his chest and furiously slapping his right hand on his forehead:

- Oh, I'm unhappy! - he exclaimed. - Having given myself over to the passion for gladiatorial spectacles, already quite famous, what disasters have I fallen into! After all, as you yourself know very well, having arrived in Macedonia on a profitable business, which detained me there for nine months, I went back with a good profit. I was already not far from Larissa* (I wanted to see some shows along the way) when dashing robbers attacked me in a secluded deep gorge. Even though they robbed him completely, he was saved. In such a desperate situation, I turn to the old, but still distinguished tavern owner Meroe. I tell her about the reasons for the long absence from home, and the fears on the way back, and the unfortunate robbery. She received me more than kindly, fed me a good dinner for free, and soon, prompted by lust, invited me to her bed. I immediately become unhappy, because, having slept with her only once, I can no longer get rid of this plague. I put everything into it: the rags that good robbers left on my shoulders, and the pennies that I earned as a loader, when I still had strength, until this good woman and evil fate brought me to the state in which you Just saw me.

8. “Well,” I say, “you fully deserve this and even more, if there could be a greater misfortune, since you preferred lustful caresses and a slut to children and home!”

But he, following his thumb to his mouth, was struck with horror:

- Shut up, shut up! - speaks. And he looks around to see if anyone heard. “Beware,” he says, “of your wife’s things!” No matter how intemperate the tongue of misfortune brings you!

- What else! - I say. - What kind of woman is this mistress and tavern queen?

“A witch,” he says, “and a sorceress: she has the power to lower the sky, suspend the earth, make streams solid, melt mountains, bring out the dead, bring down the gods, extinguish the stars, illuminate Tartarus itself!”

“Come on,” I answer, “lower the tragic curtain and put away this theatrical screen*, speak simply.”

“Do you want,” he asks, “about one, about the other, - whatever!” - Should I listen to the darkness of her tricks? To inflame with love the inhabitants of not only this country, but India, both Ethiopias*, even the most antichthonous* - for her it is trifles, children's toys! Listen, however, to what she did in front of many.

9. With one word, she turned her lover, who dared to love another woman, into a beaver, since this animal, when in danger of being captured, saves itself from pursuit by depriving itself of its reproductive organs; She hoped that something similar would happen to him, because he took his love to the side. She turned a nearby innkeeper, and therefore a competitor, into a frog. And now this old man, floating in his wine barrel, invites his former visitors from the thicket with a hoarse and amiable croaking. She turned the judge, who spoke out against her, into a ram, and now he conducts business like a ram. And here’s another thing: the wife of one of her lovers once slandered her, and she herself was pregnant - she condemned her to eternal pregnancy by imprisoning her and stopping the embryo. All in all, it’s been eight years since this poor thing, weighed down by her stomach like an elephant, is about to give birth.

10. This last atrocity and the evil that she continued to inflict on many finally aroused general indignation, and it was decided one fine day the next day to take cruel revenge on her by stoning her, but she frustrated this plan in advance by the power of spells. Just as the notorious Medea*, having begged Creon for only a day’s respite, burned his entire family, both his daughter and the old man himself, with the flame that came out of the crown, so this one, having performed funeral prayers over the pit* (as I recently did when I was drunk said), with the help of secret violence against the deities, she locked all the inhabitants in their own houses, so that for two whole days they could neither knock down the locks, nor break down the doors, nor even drill through the walls, until finally, by common agreement, with one voice They did not cry out, swearing with the most sacred oath that not only would they not raise their hands against her, but they would come to her aid if anyone planned otherwise. Under these conditions, she relented and freed the entire city. As for the instigator of this whole invention, she carried him in the dead of night, locked as he was, with the whole house - with the walls, the very soil, with the foundation, a hundred miles away to another city, located at the very top of a steep mountain and deprived therefore water. And since the closely spaced dwellings did not provide room for the new newcomer, she left the house in front of the city gates and left.

11. “Strange,” I say, “things and no less terrible, my Socrates, you are telling.” In the end, you drove me into considerable anxiety, even into fear, I no longer feel doubts, but like the blows of a knife, as if that old woman, having used the services of some deity, did not recognize our conversation. Let’s go to bed as soon as possible and, having rested, we’ll get away from here as far as possible before it’s light!

I still continued my convictions, and my good Socrates was already asleep and snoring with all his might, tired from the day and having drunk wine, from which he was no longer accustomed. I lock the room, check the bolts, then put the bed close to the doors to block the entrance, and lie down on it. At first, out of fear, I don’t sleep for quite a long time, then, by the third watch*, my eyes begin to close slightly.

I had just fallen asleep when suddenly, with such a noise that you wouldn’t even suspect robbers, the doors swung open; rather, they were broken open and ripped off their hinges. The bed, already short, limping on one leg and rotten, from such a pressure overturns and me, who fell out and lies on the floor, covers everything with itself.

12. Then I realized that some experiences naturally tend to lead to consequences that contradict them. Just as there are often tears of joy, so I, having turned from Aristomenes into a turtle, in such horror could not stop laughing. While, lying in the mud under the cover of the bed, I sneak a look at what will happen next, I see two elderly women. One carries a lit lamp, another carries a sponge and a naked sword, and now they stop near the peacefully sleeping Socrates. The one with the sword began:

– Here, sister Panthia, dear Endymion*; here is my cat, who enjoyed my young years nights and days, here is the one who despised my love and not only slandered me, but planned outright escape. And that means I, abandoned by the cunning Ulysses, like Calypso*, will mourn eternal loneliness! - And then, stretching out her hand and pointing her Pantia at me, she continued: - But the good adviser, Aristomenes, the instigator of the flight, who is neither alive nor dead now lies on the floor, looks at all this from under the bed and thinks unpunished for insults, inflicted on me, stay! But I will make sure that he comes soon - no! - now and even this very minute I have been punished for yesterday’s chatter and for today’s curiosity!

As I heard this, the unfortunate thing broke out in a cold sweat, all my insides began to shake, so that the bed itself began to dance, trembling, from the restless tremors on my back. And good Panthya says:

“Why don’t we, sister, first of all tear him to pieces like the bacchantes*, or tie him hand and foot and castrate him?”

To this Meroia (now I guessed her name, since Socrates’ descriptions really suited her) replies:

- No, we’ll leave him alive so that there will be someone to cover the body of this unfortunate man with a handful of earth.

And, turning Socrates’ head to the right, she plunged the sword into the left side of his neck to the hilt and carefully took the spilled blood into a small fur brought to the wound, so that not a single drop fell anywhere. I saw it with my own eyes. In addition (in order, I think, not to omit anything in the ritual of sacrifice*), good Meroia, having plunged her right hand deep into the wound, right down to the very insides, and rummaging there, took out the heart of my unfortunate comrade. His throat was cut by the blow of the sword, and some sound, or rather an indefinite wheeze, escaped from the wound, and he gave up the ghost. Plugging this gaping wound at its widest point with a sponge, Panthia said:

- Well, you, sponge, be afraid, born in the sea, to cross the river!*

After that, moving the bed aside and spreading their legs over my face, they began to urinate until they covered me all over with the most foul-smelling liquid.

14. As soon as they crossed the threshold, and now the doors returned to their previous position as if nothing had happened, the hinges closed again, the bars of the locks again entered the jambs, the latches returned to their places. As I was, I remained on the floor, prostrate, lifeless, naked, frozen, covered in urine, as if I had just emerged from my mother’s womb, or rather, half-dead, having outlived myself, like the last one, or at least a criminal, for whom the cross is already ready*.

“What will happen to me,” I said, “when this stabbed man turns up in the morning?” Who will find my words believable, even if I speak the truth? “They would call for help, they would say, at least if you, such a hefty fellow, could not cope with a woman! A man is being cut before your eyes, and you are silent! Why didn’t you yourself die in such a robbery? Why did ferocious cruelty spare the witness of the crime and the informer? But although you escaped death, you will now join your comrade.”

Similar thoughts crossed my mind again and again; and the night was approaching morning. It seemed to me best to get out secretly before daylight and hit the road, at least by touch. I take my bag and, inserting the key into the hole, try to push back the latch. But these kind and faithful doors, which opened by themselves at night, only after a long fuss with the key finally gave me the way.

15. I shouted:

- Hey, is anyone here? Open the gate for me: I want to go out before light!

The gatekeeper, sleeping on the ground behind the gate, says, half asleep:

– Don’t you know that the roads are restless - robbers are caught! How do you go on a journey like that at night? If you have such a crime on your conscience that you want to die, then we don’t have pumpkin heads to die because of you!

“It won’t be long,” I say, “until light.” Besides, what can the robbers take from such a poor traveler? Don’t you, fool, know that ten strong men will not be able to undress naked?

To this he, falling asleep and turning on the other side, barely moving his tongue, answers:

- How do I know, maybe you stabbed your comrade, with whom you came to spend the night last night, and are thinking of fleeing?

At these words (I still remember) it seemed to me that the earth had opened up all the way to Tartarus and that the hungry dog Cerberus was ready to tear me to pieces.

Then I realized that good Meroia did not spare me or kill me out of pity, but saved me from cruelty for the cross.

16. And so, returning to the room, I began to think about how to take my life. But since fate did not provide any other deadly weapon except my bed, I began:

“My little bed, my little bed, dear to my heart, you have endured so many misfortunes with me, you know in your conscience what happened that night, you alone can be called in court as a witness of my innocence.” For me, who is striving for the underworld, make the way there easier! - And with these words I tear off the rope that was pulled on her*; having thrown it and attached it to the edge of the rafter, which protruded under the window*, I make a strong loop at the other end, climb onto the bed and, to my own destruction, having climbed so high, I put on the loop, sticking my head into it. But when I pushed the support with my foot so that, under the weight of my body, the noose itself would tighten around my throat and stop my breathing, suddenly the rope, already rotten and old, breaks, and I fly from the very top, falling on Socrates, who was lying next to me, and, falling, I roll to the ground with him.

17. Just at this moment the gatekeeper bursts in, shouting at the top of his lungs:

- Where are you? You felt the urge to leave in the middle of the night, and now you’re snoring wrapped up?

Then Socrates, awakened, I don’t know, whether by our fall or his frantic cry, was the first to jump up and say:

– No wonder all the guests hate the innkeepers! This impudent guy breaks in here, probably to steal something, and wakes me, tired, from a deep sleep with his yelling.

I rise cheerfully and cheerfully, filled with unexpected happiness.

- Here, a reliable gatekeeper, my comrade, my father and brother. And you, with drunken eyes, chattered at night as if I killed him! – With these words, I hugged Socrates and began to kiss him. But the disgusting stench from the liquid that those lamias poured on me hit his nose, and he pushed me away with force.

“Get away,” he says, “it’s like he’s coming from a latrine!”

And he started asking me sympathetically about the reasons for this smell. And I, unfortunate one, having gotten away with a hastily invented joke, try to transfer his attention to another object and, hugging him, say:

- Let's go! Why don't we take advantage of the morning freshness for the journey? “I take my knapsack, and, having paid the innkeeper for the stay, we set off.

18. We had been walking for quite a long time, and the rising sun illuminated everything. I carefully and curiously examined my comrade’s neck, the place where, as I myself saw, the sword had been stuck. And he thought to himself: “Madman, how drunk are you if you dreamed such strange things! Here is Socrates: alive, safe and sound. Where is the wound? Where's the sponge? And where is the scar, so deep, so fresh? Then, turning to him, I say:

– It’s not for nothing that experienced doctors attribute difficult and terrible dreams to gluttony and drunkenness! Yesterday, for example, I didn’t count the cups, so I had a terrible night with terrible and cruel dreams - it still seems to me as if I was covered and desecrated with human blood!

To this he smiled and remarked:

- Not with blood, but with urine! However, I myself dreamed that I was stabbed to death. And my throat hurt, and it seemed as if my very heart was being torn out from me: even now my spirit is fading, my knees are shaking, my step is unsteady, and I want to eat something to strengthen myself.

“Here you have it,” I answer, “and breakfast!” “With these words, I take my bag off my shoulders and hastily hand him the bread and cheese. “Let’s sit,” I say, “by this plane tree.”

19. We sat down, and I also started eating with him. I look at him as he eats greedily, and I notice that all his features become sharper, his face turns deathly pale and his strength leaves him. The living colors in his face changed so much that it seemed to me as if the night furies were approaching us again, and out of fear, the piece of bread that I had bitten off, no matter how small it was, stuck in my throat and could neither rise up nor down descend. Seeing how few passers-by* there were on the road, I became more and more horrified. Who will believe that the murder of one of the two travelers occurred without the participation of the other? Meanwhile, Socrates, having eaten to his fill, began to languish with unbearable thirst. After all, he ate a good half of the excellent cheese. Not far from the plane tree flowed a slow river, like a quiet pond, with a color and shine similar to silver or glass.

“Here,” I say, “quench your thirst with the milky moisture of this source.”

He gets up, quickly finds a comfortable place on the shore, kneels down and, bending over, eagerly reaches for the water. But as soon as the edges of his lips touched the surface of the water, the wound on his neck opened wide, the sponge suddenly fell out of it, and with it a few drops of blood. The lifeless body would have flown into the water if I had not, holding it by the leg, pulled it with difficulty onto the high bank, where, hastily mourning the unfortunate companion, I buried it forever in the sandy earth near the river. I myself, in horror, trembling for my safety, I run away in various roundabout and deserted ways and, as if I really had the murder of a person on my conscience, I renounce my homeland and home, accepting voluntary exile. Now, having married again, I live in Aetolia*.

20. This is what Aristomenes said.

But his companion, who from the very beginning was stubbornly distrustful of the story and did not want to listen to it, said:

“There is nothing more fabulous than these fables, nothing more absurd than these lies!” - Then, turning to me: - And you, an educated person in appearance and manners, believe such fables?

“At least,” I answer, “I don’t consider anything impossible, and, in my opinion, everything that is decided by fate happens to mortals.” And strange and almost incredible things often happen to me, and to you, and to everyone, which no one would believe if you told them to someone who has not experienced them. But I believe this man, I swear by Hercules, and I am very grateful that he gave us pleasure, amusing us with an interesting story: I passed a long and difficult road without difficulty or boredom. It seems that even my horse rejoices at such a blessing: after all, I rode as far as the city gates without bothering him, rather on my ears than on his back.

21. Here came the end of our journey and, at the same time, of our conversations, because both of my companions turned left, to the nearest manor, and I, entering the city, approached the first hotel that caught my eye and immediately began to question the old woman who owned it.

“Isn’t this city Hypata,” I say?

Confirmed.

“Do you know Milo, one of the first people here?”

Laughed.

“Indeed,” he says, “Milon is considered the foremost citizen here: after all, his house is the first of all on the other side of the city walls.”

- Jokes aside, good aunt, tell me, please, what kind of person is he and where does he live?

“You see,” he says, “the outer windows that look at the city, and on the other side, next to it, the gate opens into the alley?” This is where this Milon lives, full of money, terribly rich, but extremely stingy and known to everyone as a vile and dirty person; Most of all he is engaged in usury, charging high interest rates on the security of gold and silver; Devoted to profit alone, he locked himself in his little house and lives there with his wife, who shares his unhappy passion with him. He keeps only one maid and always walks around like a beggar.

At this, I laughed and thought: this is how my Demea gave me a nice and prudent recommendation for the journey. I sent him to such a man, in whose hospitable house there is nothing to be afraid of either children or kitchen stench.

22. The house was nearby, I approached the entrance and started knocking on the tightly closed door with a scream. Finally, some girl appears.

“Hey, you,” he says, “why are you banging on the door?” What collateral do you want to borrow against? Are you the only one who doesn’t know that they accept nothing from us except gold and silver?

- On loan? Well, no, wish me, - I say, - something better and tell me quickly, will I find your owner at home?

“Of course,” he answers, “but why do you need it?”

“I brought him a letter from Demea from Corinth.

“I’ll report now,” he answers, “wait for me here.” “With these words, she locked the doors again and went inside. A few minutes later she returned and, opening the doors, said: “They’re asking.”

I enter and see that the owner is lying on the sofa and is about to have dinner*. The wife sits at the feet and, pointing to the empty table:

“Here,” he says, “you are welcome.”

“Wonderful,” I answer and immediately hand over Demea’s letter to the owner.

Having run through it, he says:

– Thanks to my Demea, what a guest he sent me!

23. With these words, he tells his wife to give me her place. When I refuse out of modesty, he grabbed me by the floor:

“Sit down,” he says, “here; I don’t have any other chairs; fear of thieves does not allow us to purchase utensils in sufficient quantities.

I fulfilled his wish. Here he is:

“From your graceful demeanor and this almost girlish modesty, I would conclude that you are a son of noble stock, and I probably wouldn’t be mistaken.” And my Demea says the same thing in his letter. So, please, do not despise the poverty of our shack. This room nearby will be quite a decent room for you. Do yourself a favor and stay with us. The honor that you will show to my house will exalt it, and you will have the opportunity to follow the glorious example: being content with a humble hearth, you will imitate in virtue Theseus (the illustrious namesake of your father), who did not disdain the simple hospitality of old Hekala *. “And, calling the maid, he said: “Fotida, take the guest’s things and put them carefully in that room.” Then bring oil from the pantry for rubbing, a towel to wipe off and everything else, and take my guest to the nearest baths,” he was tired after such a long and difficult journey.

24. Listening to these orders, I thought about the character and stinginess of Milo and, wanting to get closer to him, I say:

“I have what I need on the way.” And I can easily find baths myself. The most important thing is that my horse, who tried so hard all the way, does not remain hungry. Here, Fotida, take this money and buy oats and hay.

After that, when things were already folded in my room, I myself go to the baths, but first I need to take care of food, and I go to the market for food. I see there are a lot of beautiful fish on display. He began to bargain - instead of a hundred nummas, they gave in for twenty denarii*. I was about to leave when I met my friend Pythias, with whom I studied together in Athens. At first he doesn’t recognize me for quite a while, then he rushes to me, hugs me and showers me with kisses.

- My Lucius! - speaks. “We haven’t seen each other for so long, really, since the very time we parted with Clytius, our teacher.” What brought you here?

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” I say, “but what is it?” You can be congratulated? Here are the lictors* and the rods - well, in a word, the whole official equipment!

“We deal with food,” he answers, “we fulfill the duties of an aedile.” If you want to buy anything, I can be of assistance.

I refused because I had already stocked up enough fish for dinner. Nevertheless, Pythias, noticing the basket, began shaking the fish to get a better look at it, and asked:

- How much did you buy this rubbish?

“By force,” I say, “I persuaded the fisherman to give me twenty denarii.”

25. Hearing this, he immediately grabs my right hand and leads me to the market again.

“And from whom,” he asks, “did you buy this garbage?”

I point to the old man who was sitting in the corner. He immediately attacked him and began to rudely scold him in aedile style:

- This is how you treat our friends, and indeed all visitors! Selling lousy fish at this price! You will bring this city, the flower of the Thessaly region, to such an extent that it will become empty like a rock! But it won’t be in vain! You will find out how under my leadership they deal with swindlers! - And, pouring the fish out of the basket onto the ground, he ordered his assistant to stand on it and trample it all under his feet. Satisfied with such severity, my Pythias allows me to leave and says: “It seems to me, my Lucius, that sufficient punishment for an old man is such a disgrace!”

Amazed and downright stunned by this incident, I head to the baths, having lost, thanks to the witty invention of my energetic comrade, both money and dinner. After washing myself, I return to Milo’s house and go straight to my room.

26. Here Photis, the maid, says:

- The owner is calling you.

Knowing already Milonov’s moderation, I politely apologize that road fatigue requires sleep rather than food. Having received such an answer, he himself appears and, hugging me, quietly carries me away. I either make excuses or modestly resist.

“I won’t go out without you,” he says. – And he confirmed these words with an oath.

I reluctantly obey his stubbornness, and he again leads me to his sofa and, sitting me down, begins:

- Well, how is our Demea doing? What about his wife, what about his children, his household?

I’ll tell you about each one separately. He asks in detail about the purposes of my trip. I tell him everything in detail. He then carefully found out about my hometown, about its most noble citizens, and in the end even about our ruler*, until he noticed that, very exhausted by the difficult road, I was tired of a long conversation and fell asleep in the middle of a sentence, muttering something incomprehensible , and did not let me go to the bedroom. So I got rid of the vile old man with his talkative and hungry treats, weighed down by sleep, not food, having dined only on fables. And, returning to the room, I indulged in the desired peace.

*** “Metamorphoses” has reached us in almost forty copies and with virtually no losses, except for damaged fragments within several phrases. The oldest and best list is considered Laurentianus, 68, 2-F, created in the 11th century, which is now in Florence in the Laurentian Library. Does it turn on?

"Apology"

"Metamorphoses"

"Florida" by Apuleius and others.

In Russian, “Metamorphoses” was first published in two parts in 1780-1781, translated by E. I. Kostrov. An academic edition translated by M. A. Kuzmin with comments and previous bibliography was published in the USSR in 1960 in the series “Literary Monuments” .

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"Metamorphoses" ( transformations) Apuleius - a story about a man turned into a donkey - in ancient times received the name “Golden Ass”, where the epithet meant the highest form of evaluation, coinciding in meaning with the words “wonderful”, “most beautiful”. This attitude towards the novel, which was both entertaining and serious, is understandable - it met a wide variety of needs and interests: if desired, one could find satisfaction in its entertainment, and more thoughtful readers received answers to moral and religious questions.

Nowadays, this side of “Metamorphoses” retains only cultural and historical interest, but the artistic impact of the novel has not lost its power, and the remoteness of the time of creation gave it an additional attractiveness - the opportunity to penetrate into the famous and unfamiliar world of a foreign culture. Apuleius used the common folklore plot of transformations.

PLOT

The book tells about the incredible adventures of the dissolute noble Roman youth Lucius, fascinated by women and witchcraft; the narration is told from his point of view. Finding himself in the Greek region of Thessaly, considered in antiquity to be the birthplace of magic and famous for its witches, he decided to experience local witchcraft for himself. He learned that Pamphila, the wife of the owner of the house in which he lives, is a witch. Her maid Photis hid it in the attic, and before his eyes, Pamphila, with the help of magic ointments, turned into an owl and flew away on a date with her lover. Photis gets him an ointment that should turn him into a bird, but he confuses the jars, and instead of becoming a bird, Lucius turns into a donkey.

In the guise of an animal, Lucius ends up with various owners, undergoes all sorts of humiliations, mainly associated with hard work, becomes a victim of sexual harassment of a noble lady and sees the life of many layers of late antique society - from farmers and robbers to the priests of Cybele and rich townspeople, everywhere witnessing the fall morals Exhausted and driven to despair, Lucius asks the gods for help, and the goddess Isis answers his prayer. At her direction, Lucius eats the blooming roses and turns back into a human. Having renounced his former vicious life, he undergoes a rite of passage and becomes a pastophor (priest of Osiris and Isis).

STYLE

The style of “The Golden Donkey” is emphatically ironic and eccentric, replete with puns, heaps of epithets, and archaic sentence structures; the author likes to use rare and outdated words. The extreme stylistic originality led early researchers of the novel to believe that Apuleius wrote in a special “African dialect” of Latin. At the same time, the language of the work changes greatly in the last book, which describes the religious awakening of Lucius; his addresses to the goddess are written in a completely serious and solemn style. This fact has several explanations:

The novel is a veiled esoteric treatise: the first ten books depict a life full of sensual pleasures and temptations, leading to degradation and transition to a “bestial” state, and the last demonstrates the elevation of man through access to divine secrets.

The novel “encrypts” the life of Apuleius himself, who was initiated into various mystical teachings and was tried on charges of witchcraft.

The work is a satire on all features of life in late Rome, including religion. The ironic notes in the description of the initiation rites through which Lucius goes through speak of Apuleius' religious skepticism.

INSERT STORIES

The text of the novel also contains about twenty inserted short stories, possibly borrowed from the Milesian collection and/or going back to folklore sources; most tell of unfaithful wives, foolish husbands and cunning lovers. One of them sets out a legend (fairy tale!) about Cupid and Psyche, which later enjoyed enormous popularity in European culture.

Stories about the misadventures of a man who, through the power of witchcraft, took the form of a donkey, were known even before Apuleius; this is the Greek story of Lucius of Patras that has not reached us and the surviving - also Greek - story “Luke, or the Donkey,” erroneously attributed to Lucian (2nd century AD), with which “Metamorphoses” has many points of contact. It is assumed that both of them, Apuleius and pseudo-Lucian, processed, each in his own way, story by Luki Patras. In contrast to the summary account of events that characterizes the pseudo-Lucian's Lucius, Apuleius gives a detailed account, interspersed with a large number of insert novels, and with its new ending it imparts philosophical significance to the plot, parodically and satirically presented by pseudo-Lucian.

The wanderings of Lucius the Donkey end with an unexpected ending: the help of the goddess Isis returns him to his human form, and from now on, having experienced a spiritual rebirth, he becomes an adherent of her religion. In “Lukia,” the denouement only emphasized the author’s comic understanding of his material; The hero, who has become a man again, is met with the insulting disappointment of the lover who liked him when he was a donkey, and he is driven away in disgrace.

The solemnly religious final book of Apuleius, added to the amusing first ten, seems to us a strange incongruity. But we must not forget that the funny and the serious and majestic were in ancient times much closer to each other than they are now, and Apuleius could, without causing surprise, complete the wanderings of Lucius the Donkey in such a unique way.

The author understands the final metamorphosis as the hero’s overcoming of the grossly animal, sensual nature. The base forms of human existence are embodied in the image of a donkey - an animal that in ancient times was considered not so much stupid as voluptuous, and are replaced by forms of purely spiritual existence, raising the personality higher and higher on the steps of mysterial initiation. The very division of the novel into 11 books contains a hint of its concept: for those preparing to initiate into the mysteries of Isis, ten days served as preparation for the eleventh - the day of initiation into the mysteries. Thus, before us a story about the liberation of personality from animal nature (animal nature was emphasized by the loss of human appearance) and its triumph in moral and religious insight.

It is characteristic that in book XI autobiographical features begin to emerge especially clearly, and the image of the hero gradually merges with the image of the author. Lucius turns out to be a resident of Madaura, the hometown of Apuleius, and his fate, after he is disenchanted, has points of contact with the personal fate of the author. Some points, however, bring Lucius and Apuleius closer at the beginning of the narrative (interest in magic, Neoplatonism, stay in Athens). All this suggests that the book about man’s victory over the baser sides of his nature was to a certain extent based on the experience of his own life, rethought religiously and philosophically.

In addition to the moral side, Apuleius is also interested in the problem of fate. A sensual person, according to the author, is at the mercy of blind fate, which undeservedly deals him its blows. This is illustrated by the many misadventures of Lucius. A person who has conquered sensuality, through the religion of the sacraments, secures for himself the protection of the “sighted,” that is, a fair fate, and the author shows how Lucius, guided by the deity, achieves high degrees of dedication and success in life.

Both parts of the novel are designed in accordance with the two phases of the hero’s existence. The stage of an animal-sensual state and the power of blind fate over the hero is expressed, in addition to a number of unmotivated misadventures of Lucius, also by the nature of all the material included in these parts: there are no moral prohibitions here, and very free plots are allowed. Book XI - the stage of overcoming sensuality, and with it fate - is designed in completely different, high and solemn tones, deliberately contrasting with the tone of the previous parts.

The events of the main narrative are concentrated around the hero and are given from his point of view: like Achilles Tatius and Petronius, the novel is given the form of a first-person narrative. By exposing an animal, Lucius allows Lucius to expand the circle of his observations and get acquainted with such aspects of life that are usually closed to a human observer: after all, people, mistaking Lucius for a donkey, do not take into account his presence in their behavior, and blind fate makes sure that all new and new reasons to enrich his experience. Thanks to this, a panorama of Roman life appears before the reader’s eyes, not limited solely by its negative side. Lucius encounters not only manifestations of evil on his path; although most of his adventures confront him with human cruelty, greed, deceit and debauchery, the opposite sides of reality are still revealed to him in what he sees, experiences or hears about. The social range of the novel is very wide - all layers of society, many professions, people of different religions, many aspects of culture and life are represented.

In Apuleius, the inserted short stories that interrupt the narrative serve the purposes of the main idea, are connected with it, and are not introduced for the sake of distraction or entertainment for the reader. Their content is coordinated with the corresponding sections of the book in order to create the background against which the hero acts, or to illuminate his fate and inner life; they accompany the main plot line. Therefore, the inserted short stories form cycles thematically correlated with the story of Lucius; Thus, those parts of it that precede the transformation are accompanied by short stories about witchcraft, and the story about the life of Lucius in captivity among the robbers and immediately after escaping from them is interspersed with short stories about the robbers.

In accordance with this role of inserted short stories, in the center of the novel there is a story or, as it is commonly called, a fairy tale about Cupid and Psyche, which echoes its moral issues. There is no doubt that, telling the poetic story of the fate of Psyche (psyche in Greek means soul), the author counted on its allegorical interpretation and understood the disasters and triumph of Psyche as the fall and rebirth of the human soul, returning here to the topic that interested him in the story of Lucius. To emphasize the connection between the inserted novella and the main narrative, Apuleius endows Psyche and Lucius with a similar character trait, curiosity, which serves as the cause of misadventures in their lives, in both cases interrupted by the intervention of the supreme deities. The serious and funny in the short story are contrastingly combined, as in the main plot, and the poetic story, although it has an allegorical overtones realized by the author, is conveyed by a “crazy drunk old woman”, decorating it with comic-parody details (such, for example, is the interpretation of the image of the goddess Venus ).

The novella about Cupid and Psyche has enjoyed particularly great recognition over the centuries and has left its mark on the work of a number of writers and artists.

“Metamorphoses” is written in the stylistic traditions of rhetorical prose, in a flowery and sophisticated manner. The insert novel style is simpler.

We would be in vain to look in the novel for a psychological revelation of the character of its hero, although Apuleius contains individual - and sometimes subtle - psychological observations. The allegorical task excluded the need for this, and the phases of Lucius' life had to reveal themselves in the change of his appearance. Apuleius’s desire not to leave the soil of folklore technique, since the plot was of folklore origin, probably also played a certain role in such a construction of the image.

An attempt to religiously and philosophically comprehend the folklore plot led to a contradiction: the first metamorphosis (the transformation of Lucius into a donkey) did not receive internal justification in the author’s concept; after all, this transformation did not change the nature of Lucius, but only clearly showed it: from the point of view of Apuleius, Lucius in human form was to the same extent an animal, that is, a slave of sensuality, as in the guise of a donkey.

Lucius Apuleius ca. 125 - approx. 180 n. e.

Metamorphoses, go Golden Ass (Metamorphoses sive Asinus Aureus) - Adventure-allegorical novel

The hero of the novel, Lucius (is it a coincidence that the author’s name coincides?!) travels through Thessaly. On the way, he hears fascinating and scary stories about witchcraft, transformations and other witchcraft. Lucius arrives in the Thessalian city of Hypata and stays in the house of a certain Milo, who is “full of money, terribly rich, but extremely stingy and known to everyone as a vile and dirty man.” Throughout the ancient world, Thessaly was famous as the birthplace of magical art, and Lucius soon became convinced of this from his own sad experience.

In Milo's house, he begins an affair with the maid Photida, who reveals her mistress's secret to her lover. It turns out that Pamphila (that’s the name of Milo’s wife) with the help of a wonderful ointment can turn into, say, an owl. Lucius passionately wants to experience this, and Photis eventually succumbs to his requests: she assists in such a risky matter. But, having secretly entered the hostess’s room, she mixed up the drawers, and as a result, Lucius turns not into a bird, but into a donkey. He remains in this guise until the very end of the novel, knowing only that in order to transform back he needs to taste rose petals. But various obstacles stand in his way every time he sees another rose bush.

The newly-minted donkey becomes the property of a gang of robbers (they robbed Milo’s house), who use it, naturally, as a beast of burden: “I was more dead than alive, from the weight of such luggage, from the steepness of the high mountain and the length of the journey.”

More than once on the verge of death, exhausted, beaten and half-starved, Lucius unwittingly participates in raids and lives in the mountains, in a den of robbers. There, every day and night, he listens and remembers (having turned into a donkey, the hero, fortunately, has not lost his understanding of human speech) more and more terrible stories about robber adventures. Well, for example, a story about a mighty robber who dressed himself in a bearskin and in this guise entered a house chosen by his comrades for robbery.

The most famous of the inserted short stories of the novel is “Cupid and Psyche” - a wonderful fairy tale about the youngest and most beautiful of the three sisters: she became the beloved of Cupid (Cupid, Eros) - the insidious archer.

Yes, Psyche was so beautiful and charming that the god of love himself fell in love with her. Transported by the affectionate Zephyr to a fairy-tale palace, Psyche took Eros into her arms every night, caressing her divine lover and feeling that she was loved by him. But at the same time, beautiful Cupid remained invisible - the main condition for their love encounters...

Psyche persuades Eros to allow her to see her sisters. And, as always happens in such fairy tales, envious relatives incite her to disobey her husband and try to see him. And so, during the next meeting, Psyche, long consumed by curiosity, lights a lamp and, happy, joyfully looks at her beautiful husband sleeping next to her.

Sources of the novel

The exact date of creation of the novel is unknown; researchers attribute its writing to either the early (150s) or late (c. 170 or 180) period of Apuleius’s work. The issue of “Metamorphoses” has also been discussed for a long time: there are versions that Apuleius used a collection of the so-called “ Milesian stories” (unpreserved; even in ancient times they were attributed erotic content) or also the work of a certain Lucius from Patras, a historically unreliable person, that has not reached us.

One of the possible sources is considered to be the late Greek satirical story “Luke, or Donkey” (ancient Greek. Λούκιος ἢ ὄνος ) - perhaps an imitation of Lucius of Patras or a retelling of his work; for a long time it was incorrectly attributed to Lucian of Samosata. This is the story of the misadventures of a young man who, due to a passionate desire to learn the secrets of magic, mistakenly turned into a donkey instead of a bird. "Metamorphoses" in many places coincides almost word for word with "The Donkey" of Pseudo-Lucian.

It is now recognized as most probable that the Metamorphoses of Lucius of Patras served as a general model for the work of Pseudo-Lucian and for the novel of Apuleius. One of the indirect evidence of the direct connection between Apuleius and Lucius is also seen in the fact that the work of Apuleius bears the same name as the work of Lucius from Patras.

Plot

Style and composition

The novel is a veiled esoteric treatise: the first ten books depict a life full of sensual pleasures and temptations, leading to degradation and transition to a “bestial” state, and the last demonstrates the elevation of man through access to divine secrets.
The novel “encrypts” the life of Apuleius himself, who was initiated into various mystical teachings and was tried on charges of witchcraft.
The work is a satire on all features of life in late Rome, including religion. The ironic notes in the description of the initiation rites through which Lucius goes through speak of Apuleius' religious skepticism.

Inserted novellas

The text of the novel also contains about twenty inserted short stories, possibly borrowed from the Milesian collection and/or going back to folklore sources; most tell of unfaithful wives, foolish husbands and cunning lovers. One of them sets out the legend of Cupid and Psyche, which later enjoyed enormous popularity in European culture.

Literary influence

Apuleius' Metamorphoses was widely read in late antiquity and the early Middle Ages. The book is well-known for its high assessment by Augustine the Blessed (a native of North Africa, like the author of the novel), who also reports its second title - “The Golden Ass” (see “On the City of God”, XVIII, 18); the epithet “golden” apparently indicated the admiration of the readers. Lactantius and Fulgentius also wrote about the work of Apuleius; An allegorical interpretation of the legend of Cupid and Psyche and the entire book as a whole developed as the wanderings of the human soul in search of God.

A new surge of interest in the novel begins during the Renaissance, the first editions of The Golden Ass appear. In the 16th and 18th centuries, the book was translated into major European languages. “Metamorphoses” influenced the development of the modern European novel in general (primarily the picaresque) and the work of such writers as Boccaccio, Rabelais, Cervantes, Quevedo, Voltaire, Defoe and many others. etc.

The first translation of “The Golden Donkey” into Russian was made by E. I. Kostrov in - years. Perhaps it was in his translation that Pushkin the Lyceum student read the novel:

In those days when in the gardens of the Lyceum
I blossomed serenely
I read Apuleius willingly,
But I haven’t read Cicero...
(“Eugene Onegin”, chapter eight, stanza I)

In 1517, Niccolò Machiavelli wrote a poem in terzas based on The Golden Ass.
Lawrence of Arabia carried a volume of The Golden Ass in his saddlebag during his participation in the Arab Revolt of 1916-1918.

Literature

Apuleius. Apology, or Speech in defense of oneself against accusations of magic. Metamorphoses in Books XI. Florida. / Translations by M. A. Kuzmin and S. P. Markish. - M.: Publishing House of the USSR Academy of Sciences, 1956.
Polyakova S. V."Metamorphoses" or "The Golden Ass" by Apuleius. - M.: Main editorial office of oriental literature of the publishing house "Nauka", 1988. - 150 p.

Notes

Wikimedia Foundation. 2010.

See what “Golden Donkey” is in other dictionaries:

Frontispiece of the English edition (London, 1902). “Metamorphoses” (lat. Metamorphoseon) or “The Golden Ass” (De asino aureo, Asinus aureus) is a novel in 11 books, written by an ancient Roman writer of the 2nd century. n. e. Apuleius. The only one that has survived completely... ... Wikipedia

The mythopoetic image of O. has been widespread since ancient times (in Egyptian images O. has been known since the 4th millennium BC). On the one hand, O. is a sacred animal, one of the hypostases of a deity, an object of cult, etc., on the other, a symbol of stupidity,... ... Encyclopedia of Mythology

DONKEY- a symbol of meekness, humility, patience, and sometimes poverty. It was often depicted to highlight the contrast with wealth. Biblical tradition says that the arrival of the Israelites in the Jordan Valley frightened the king of the Moabites, Balak, who sent... ... Symbols, signs, emblems. Encyclopedia

This term has other meanings, see Lucius Appuleius (meanings). Frontispiece for the 1902 edition of the works of Apuleius. The writer is surrounded by Lucius, turned into a donkey, and Pamphyla, turning into a bird... Wikipedia

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