{"id":49,"date":"2017-06-24T20:36:21","date_gmt":"2017-06-24T20:36:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/chapter\/the-golden-ass-book-i\/"},"modified":"2017-06-24T20:36:21","modified_gmt":"2017-06-24T20:36:21","slug":"the-golden-ass-book-i","status":"web-only","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/chapter\/the-golden-ass-book-i\/","title":{"raw":"The Golden Ass, Book I","rendered":"The Golden Ass, Book I"},"content":{"raw":"<p>Book I:1 Apuleius\u2019 address to the reader\n\n\u00a0\n\nNow! I\u2019d like to string together various tales in the Milesian style, and charm your kindly ear with seductive murmurs, so long as you\u2019re ready to be amazed at human forms and fortunes changed radically and then restored in turn in mutual exchange, and don\u2019t object to reading Egyptian papyri, inscribed by a sly reed from the Nile.\n\nI\u2019ll begin. Who am I? I\u2019ll tell you briefly. Hymettus near Athens; the Isthmus of Corinth; and Spartan Mount Taenarus, happy soil more happily buried forever in other books, that\u2019s my lineage. There as a lad I served in my first campaigns with the Greek tongue. Later, in Rome, freshly come to Latin studies I assumed and cultivated the native language, without a teacher, and with a heap of pains. So there! I beg your indulgence in advance if as a crude performer in the exotic speech of the Forum I offend. And in truth the very fact of a change of voice will answer like a circus rider\u2019s skill when needed. We\u2019re about to embark on a Greek tale. Reader, attend: and find delight.\n\n\u00a0\n\nBook I:2-5 Aristomenes begins his tale\n\nThessaly \u2013 where the roots of my mother\u2019s family add to my glory, in the famous form of Plutarch, and later his nephew, Sextus the philosopher \u2013 Thessaly is where I was off to on business. Emerging from perilous mountain tracks, and slithery valley ones, and damp meadows and muddy fields, riding a pure-white local nag, he being fairly tired and to chase away my own fatigue from endless sitting with the labour of walking, I dismounted. I rubbed the sweat from his forehead, carefully, stroked his ears, loosed his bridle, and led him slowly along at a gentle pace, till the usual and natural remedy of grazing eliminated the inconvenience of his lassitude. While he was at his mobile breakfast, the grass he passed, contorting his head from side to side, I made a third to two travellers who chanced to be a little way ahead. As I tried to hear what they were saying, one of them burst out laughing: \u201cStop telling such absurd and monstrous lies!\u201d\n\nHearing this, and my thirst for anything new being what it is, I said: \u201cOh do let me share your conversation. I\u2019m not inquisitive but I love to know everything, or at least most things. Besides, the charm of a pleasant tale will lighten the pain of this hill we\u2019re climbing.\u201d\n\nBut the one who\u2019d laughed merely went on: \u201cNow that story was about as true as if you\u2019d said magic spells can make rivers flow backwards, chain the sea, paralyze the wind, halt the sun, squeeze dew from the moon, disperse the stars, banish day, and lengthen night!\u201d\n\nHere I spoke out more boldly: \u201cDon\u2019t be annoyed, you who began the tale; don\u2019t weary of spinning out the rest.\u201d And to the other \u201cYou with your stubborn mind and cloth ears might be rejecting something true. By Hercules, it\u2019s not too clever if wrong opinion makes you judge as false what seems new to the ear, or strange to the eye, or too hard for the intellect to grasp, but which on closer investigation proves not only true, but even obvious. I last night, competing with friends at dinner, took too large a mouthful of cheese polenta. That soft and glutinous food stuck in my throat, blocked my windpipe, and I almost died. Yet at Athens, not long ago, in front of the Painted Porch, I saw a juggler swallow a sharp-edged cavalry sword with its lethal blade, and later I saw the same fellow, after a little donation, ingest a spear, death-dealing end downwards, right to the depth of his guts: and all of a sudden a beautiful boy swarmed up the wooden bit of the upside-down weapon, where it rose from throat to brow, and danced a dance, all twists and turns, as if he\u2019d no muscle or spine, astounding everyone there. You\u2019d have said he was that noble snake that clings with its slippery knots to Asclepius\u2019 staff, the knotty one he carries with the half sawn-off branches. But do go on now, you who started the tale, tell it again. I\u2019ll believe you, not like him, and invite to you to dinner with me at the first tavern we come to after reaching town: there\u2019s your guaranteed reward.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat you promise,\u201d he said, \u201cis fair and just, and I\u2019ll repeat what I left unfinished. But first I swear to you, by the all-seeing god of the Sun, I\u2019m speaking things I know to be true; and you\u2019ll have no doubt when you arrive at the next Thessalian town and find the story on everyone\u2019s lips of a happening in plain daylight. But first so you know who I am, I\u2019m from Aegium. And here\u2019s how I make my living: I deal in cheese and honey, all that sort of innkeeper\u2019s stuff, travelling here and there through Boeotia, Aetolia, Thessaly. So when I learned that at Hypata, Thessaly\u2019s most important town, some fresh cheese with a fine flavour was being sold at a very good price, I rushed there, in a hurry to buy the lot. But as usual I went left foot first, and my hopes of a profit were dashed. A wholesale dealer called Lupus had snapped it up the day before. So, exhausted after my useless chase, I started to walk to the baths as Venus began to shine.\u201d\n\n\u00a0\n\nBook I:6-10 Socrates\u2019 misfortune\n\n\u00a0\n\n\u201cSuddenly I caught sight of my old friend Socrates, sitting on the ground, half-concealed in a ragged old cloak, so pale I hardly knew him, sadly thin and shrunken, like one of those Fate discards to beg at street corners. In that state, even though I knew him well, I approached him with doubt in my mind: \u2018Well, Socrates, my friend, what\u2019s happened? How dreadful you look! What shame! Back home they\u2019ve already mourned, and given you up for dead. By the provincial judge\u2019s decree guardians have been appointed for your children; and your wife, the funeral service done, her looks marred by endless tears and grief, her sight nearly lost from weeping, is being urged by her parents to ease the family misfortune with the joy of a fresh marriage. And here you are, looking like a ghost, to our utter shame!\u2019\n\n\u2018Aristomenes,\u2019 he said, \u2018you can\u2019t know the slippery turns of Fortune; the shifting assaults; the string of reverses.\u2019 \u00a0With that he threw his tattered cloak over a face that long since had blushed with embarrassment, leaving the rest of himself, from navel to thighs, bare. I could endure the sight of such terrible suffering no longer, grasped him and tried to set him on his feet.\n\nBut he remained as he was; his head shrouded, and cried: \u2018No, no, let Fate have more joy of the spoils she puts on display!\u2019\n\nI made him follow me, and removing one or two of my garments clothed him hastily or rather hid him, then dragged him off to the baths in a trice. I myself found what was needed for oiling and drying; and with effort scraped off the solid layers of dirt; that done, I carried him off to an inn, tired myself, supporting his exhausted frame with some effort. I laid him on the bed; filled him with food; relaxed him with wine, soothed him with talk. Now he was ready for conversation, laughter, a witty joke, even some modest repartee, when suddenly a painful sob rose from the depths of his chest, and he beat his brow savagely with his hand. \u2018Woe is me,\u2019 he cried, \u2018I was chasing after the delights of a famous gladiatorial show, when I fell into this misfortune. For, as you know well, I\u2019d gone to Macedonia on a business trip, and after nine months labouring there I was on my way back home a wealthier man. Just before I reached Larissa, where I was going to watch the show by the way, walking along a rough and desolate valley, I was attacked by fierce bandits, and stripped of all I had. At last I escaped, weak as I was, and reached an inn belonging to a mature yet very attractive woman named Meroe, and told her about my lengthy journey, my desire for home, and the wretched robbery. She treated me more than kindly, with a welcome and generous meal, and quickly aroused by lust, steered me to her bed. At once I was done for, the moment I slept with her; that one bout of sex infected me with a long and pestilential relationship; she\u2019s even had the clothes those kind robbers left me, and the meagre wages I\u2019ve earned heaving sacks while I still could, until at last evil Fortune and my good \u2018wife\u2019 reduced me to the state you saw not long ago.\u2019\n\n\u201cBy Pollux!\u201d I said \u201cYou deserve the worst, if there\u2019s anything worse than what you got, for preferring the joys of Venus and a wrinkled whore to your home and kids.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut shocked and stunned he placed his index finger to his lips: \u201cQuiet, quiet!\u201d he said then glancing round, making sure it was safe to speak: \u201cBeware of a woman with magic powers, lest your intemperate speech do you a mischief.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally?\u201d I said, \u201cWhat sort of a woman is this high and mighty innkeeper?\u201d\n\n\u201cA witch\u201d he said, \u201cwith divine powers to lower the sky, and halt the globe, make fountains stone, and melt the mountains, raise the ghosts and summon the gods, extinguish the stars and illuminate Tartarus itself.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh come,\u201d said I, \u201cdispense with the melodrama, away with stage scenery; use the common tongue.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you,\u201d he replied \u201cwish to hear one or two, or more, of her doings? Because the fact she can make all men fall for her, and not just the locals but Indians, and the Ethiopian savages of orient and occident, and even men who live on the opposite side of the Earth, that\u2019s only a tithe of her art, the merest bagatelle. Just listen to what she\u2019s perpetrated in front of witnesses.\n\nOne of her lovers had misbehaved with someone else, so with a single word she changed him into a beaver, a creature that, fearing capture, escapes from the hunters by biting off its own testicles to confuse the hounds with their scent, and she intended the same for him, for having it off with another woman. Then there was another innkeeper, nearby, in competition, and she changed him into a frog; now the old man swims in a vat of his own wine, hides in the dregs, and calls out humbly to his past customers with raucous croaks. And because he spoke against her she turned a lawyer into a sheep, and now as a sheep he pleads his case. When the wife of a lover of hers, who was carrying at the time, insulted her wittily, she condemned her to perpetual pregnancy by closing her womb to prevent the birth, and according to everyone\u2019s computation that poor woman\u2019s been burdened for eight years or more and she\u2019s big as an elephant!\n\nAs it kept happening, and many were harmed, public indignation grew, and the people decreed the severest punishment, stoning to death next day. But with the power of her chanting she thwarted their plan. Just as Medea, in that one short day she won from Creon, consumed his daughter, his palace, and the old king himself in the flames from the golden crown, so Meroe, by chanting necromantic rites in a ditch, as she told me herself when she was drunk, shut all the people in their houses, with the dumb force of her magic powers. For two whole days not one of them could break the locks, rip open the doors, or even dig a way through the walls, until at last, at everyone\u2019s mutual urging, they called out, swearing a solemn oath not to lay hands on her themselves, and to come to her defence and save her if anyone tried to do so. Thus propitiated she freed the whole town. But as for the author of the original decree, she snatched him up in the dead of night with his whole house \u2013 that\u2019s walls and floor and foundations entire \u2013 and shifted them, the doors still locked, a hundred miles to another town on the top of a rugged and arid mountain; and since the densely-packed homes of those folk left no room for the new guest, she dropped the house in front of the gates and vanished.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat you relate is marvellous, dear Socrates,\u201d I said, \u201cand wild. In short you\u2019ve roused no little anxiety, even fear, in me too. I\u2019m struck with no mere pebble here, but a spear, lest with the aid of those same magic forces that old woman might have heard our conversation. So let\u2019s go to bed early, and weariness relieved by sleep, leave before dawn and get as far away as we can.\u201d\n\n\u00a0\n\nBook I:11-17 Aristomenes\u2019 Nightmare\n\n\u00a0\n\nWhile I was still relaying sound advice, the good Socrates, gripped by the effects of this unaccustomed tippling, and his great exhaustion, was already asleep and snoring. I shut the door tight, slid home the bolts, even pushed my bed hard against the door frame, and threw myself down on top. At first, from fear, I lay awake for a while; then about midnight I shut my eyes somewhat. I had just fallen asleep when it seemed the door suddenly burst open, with greater violence than any burglar could achieve. The hinges were shattered and torn from their sockets, and the door hurled to the ground. My bed, being low, with a dodgy foot and its wood rotten, collapsed from the force of such violence, and I rolled out and struck the floor while the bed landed upside-down on top, hiding and covering me. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Then I felt that natural phenomenon where certain emotions are expressed through their contraries. At that instant, just as tears will often flow from joy, I couldn\u2019t keep from laughing at being turned from Aristomenes to a tortoise.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Hurled to the floor, from a corner of my eye, beneath the welcome protection of my bed, I watched two women of rather ripe years. One bore a lighted lamp, the other a sponge and naked blade. Thus equipped they circled the soundly sleeping Socrates. The one with the sword spoke: \u2018Panthia, my sister, this is my dear Endymion, my Ganymede, who made sport with my youth, day and night, who not only scorned my secret love insultingly, but even plotted to escape. Am I really to be deserted like Calypso by a cunning Ulysses, and condemned, in turn, to weep in everlasting loneliness?\u2019 Then she stretched out her hand, and pointed me out to her friend Panthia. \u2018And this is his good counsellor Aristomenes, who was the author of his escape, and now lies close to death, stretched on the ground, sprawled beneath his little bed, watching it all. He thinks he\u2019s going to recount his insults to me with impunity. I\u2019ll make him regret his past jibes and his present nosiness later, if not sooner, if not right now!\u2019\n\nWhen I heard that, my wretched flesh dissolved in a cold sweat, my guts trembled and quaked, till the bed on my back shaken by my quivering swayed and leapt about. \u2018Well then sister,\u2019 gentle Panthia replied \u2018why not grab him first and like Bacchantes tear him limb from limb, or tie him up at least and cut his balls off?\u2019\n\nMeroe \u2013 for I realised it was truly her in line with Socrates\u2019 tale \u2013 replied: \u2018No, let him survive at least to cover this wretch\u2019s corpse with a little earth.\u2019 And with that she pushed Socrates\u2019 head to the side and buried her blade in the left of his neck all the way to the hilt. Then she held a flask of leather against the wound and carefully collected the spurt of blood so not a single drop was visible anywhere. I saw all this with my very own eyes. Next, so as not to deviate, I suppose, from the sacrificial rites, she stuck her right hand into the wound right down to his innards, felt for my poor comrade\u2019s heart, and plucked it out. At this a sort of cry rose from his windpipe slashed by the weapon\u2019s stroke, or at least an indistinct gurgle and he poured out his life\u2019s breath. Panthia stopped the gaping wound with her sponge, saying: \u2018Oh, sponge born in the sea, take care not to fall in the river,\u2019 and with this they abandoned him, removed my bed, spread their feet, squatted over my face, and discharged their bladders till I was drenched with a stream of the foulest urine.\n\nNo sooner had they exited the threshold than the door untouched swung back to its original position: the hinges settled back in their sockets, the brackets returned to the posts, and the bolts slid home. But I remained where I was, sprawled on the ground, inanimate, naked, cold, and covered in piss, as if I\u2019d just emerged from my mother\u2019s womb. No, it was truly more like being half-dead, but also in truth my own survivor, a posthumous child, or rather a sure candidate for crucifixion. \u2018When he\u2019s found in the morning,\u2019 I said to myself, \u2018his throat cut, what will happen to you? If you tell the truth who on earth will believe it? You could at least have shouted for help, if a great man like you couldn\u2019t handle the women by yourself. A man has his throat cut before your eyes, and you do nothing! And if you say it was robbers why wouldn\u2019t they have killed you too? Why would their savagery spare you as a witness to crime to inform on them? So, having escaped death, you can go and meet it again!\u2019\n\nAs night crept towards day, I kept turning it over in my mind. I decided the best thing to do was to sneak off just before dawn, and hit the road with tremulous steps. I picked up my little bag, pushed the key in the lock and tried to slide back the bolts; but that good and faithful door, which in the night had unlocked of its own accord, only opened at last after much labour and endless twiddling of the key.\n\nThe porter was lying on the ground at the entrance to the inn, still half-asleep when I cried: \u2018Hey there, where are you? Open the gate! I want to be gone by daybreak!\u2019 \u2018What!\u2019 he answered, \u2018Don\u2019t you know the road\u2019s thick with brigands? \u00a0Who goes travelling at this hour of the night? Even if you\u2019ve a crime on your conscience and want to die, I\u2019m not pumpkin-headed enough to let you.\u2019\n\n\u2018Dawn\u2019s not far off,\u2019 I said, \u2018and anyway, what can robbers take from an utter pauper? Or are you not aware, ignoramus, that even a dozen wrestling-masters can\u2019t despoil a naked man?\u2019\n\nThen half-conscious and weak with sleep he turned over on his other side, saying: \u2018How do I know you haven\u2019t slit the throat of that traveller you were with last night, and are doing a runner to save yourself?\u2019\n\nIn an instant, I know I saw the earth gape wide, and there was the pit of Tartarus with dog-headed Cerberus ready to eat me. I thought how sweet Meroe had spared my throat not from mercy but in her cruelty had reserved me for crucifixion. So I slipped back to the bedroom and reflected on the quickest way to die. Since Fate had left me no other weapon but my little bed, I talked to it: \u2018Now, now my little cot, dear friend of mine, who\u2019ve suffered so many tribulations with me, and know and can judge what went on last night, and the only witness I could summon to testify to my innocence at the trial. I\u2019m in a hurry to die, so be the instrument that will save me.\u2019 With this I began to unravel the cord that laced its frame. Then I threw one end over a little beam that stuck out into the room, below the window, and tied it fast. I made a noose in the other end, scrambled up on the bed, got high enough for the drop to work, and stuck my head through the noose. With one foot I kicked away the support I stood on, so my weight on the cord would squeeze my throat tight and stop me breathing. But in a trice the rope, which was old and rotten, broke, and I crashed down on top of Socrates who was lying there beside me, and rolled with him on to the ground.\n\nBut behold at that moment the porter arrived shouting loudly: \u2018Hey you! In the middle of the night you can\u2019t wait to take off, now here you are under the covers snoring!\u2019\n\nThen Socrates, woken by our fall, or by the fellow\u2019s raucous yelling, got to his feet first, saying: \u2018It\u2019s no wonder guests hate porters, since here\u2019s this inquisitive chap bursting importunately into our room \u2013 after stealing something no doubt \u2013 and waking me, weak as I was, out of a lovely sleep with his monstrous din.\u2019\n\nI leapt up eagerly, filled with unexpected joy, and cried: \u2018Behold, oh faithful porter, here\u2019s my friend, as dear as father or brother, whom you in your drunken state accused me, slanderously, of murdering,\u2019 and I straight away hugged Socrates and started kissing him.\n\nBut he, stunned by the vile stench of the liquid those monsters had drenched me with, shoved me off violently. \u2018Away with you!\u2019 he cried, \u2018You stink like the foulest sewer!\u2019 then began to ask as a friend will the reason for the mess. I invented some absurd, some miserable little joke on the spur of the moment, and drew his attention away again to another subject of conversation. Then clasping him I said: \u2018Why don\u2019t we go now, and grasp the chance of an early morning amble?\u2019 And I picked up my little bag, paid the bill for our stay at the inn, and off we went.\n\n\u00a0\n\nBook I:18-20 Socrates\u2019 death\n\n\u00a0\n\nWe were quite a way off before the sun rose, lighting everything. Carefully, since I was curious, I examined the place on my friend\u2019s neck where I\u2019d seen the blade enter, I said to myself: \u2018You\u2019re mad, you were in your cups and sodden with wine, and had a dreadful nightmare. Look, Socrates is sound and whole, totally unscathed. Where are the wound and the sponge? Where\u2019s the deep and recent scar?\u2019 I turned to him: \u2018Those doctors are not without merit who say that swollen with food and drink we have wild and oppressive dreams. Take me now. I took too much to drink last evening, and a bad night brought such dire and violent visions I still feel as though I was spattered, polluted with human blood.\u2019\n\nHe grinned at that: \u2018It\u2019s piss not blood you\u2019re soaked with. I dreamed too, that my throat was cut. I felt the pain in my neck, and even thought my heart had been torn from my body. And now I\u2019m still short of breath, and my knees are trembling, and I\u2019m staggering along, and I need a bite to eat to restore my spirits.\u2019\n\n\u2018Here\u2019s breakfast,\u2019 I said \u2018all ready for you,\u2019 and I swung the sack from my shoulder and quickly handed him bread and cheese. \u2018Let\u2019s sit by that plane tree,\u2019 I said. Having done so, I took something from the sack for myself, and watched him eating avidly, but visibly weaker, somehow more drawn and emaciated, and with the pallor of boxwood. In short the colour of his flesh was so disturbing it conjured up the vision of those Furies of the night before, and my terror was such the first bit of bread I took, though only a small one, struck in my throat, and it wouldn\u2019t go down, or come back up. The absence of anyone else on the road added to my fear. Who could believe my companion was murdered, and I was innocent? Now he, when he\u2019d had enough, began to feel quite thirsty, since he\u2019d gobbled the best part of a whole cheese in his eagerness. A gentle stream flowed sluggishly not far from the plane-tree\u2019s roots, flowing on through a quiet pool, the colour of glass or silver. \u2018Here,\u2019 I cried, \u2018quench your thirst with the milky waters of this spring.\u2019 He rose and after a brief search for a level place at the edge of the bank, he sank down on his knees and bent forward ready to drink. But his lips had not yet touched the surface of the water when in a trice the wound in his throat gaped open, and out flew the sponge, with a little trickle of blood. Then his lifeless body pitched forward, almost into the stream, except that I caught at one of his legs, and with a mighty effort dragged him higher onto the bank. I mourned for him there, as much as circumstance allowed, and covered him with sandy soil to rest there forever beside the water. Then trembling and fearful of my life I fled through remote and pathless country, like a man with murder on his conscience, abandoning home and country, embracing voluntary exile. Now I live in Aetolia, and I\u2019m married again.\u2019\n\nSo Aristomenes\u2019 story ended. But his friend, who had obstinately refused to believe a word from the very start, said: \u2018There was never a taller tale, never a more absurd mendacity.\u2019 And he turned to me: \u2018You\u2019re a cultured chap, as your clothes and manner show, can you credit a fable like that?\u2019\n\nI replied: \u2018I judge that nothing\u2019s impossible, and whatever the fates decide is what happens to mortal men. Now I and you and everyone experience many a strange and almost incredible event that is unbelievable when told to someone who wasn\u2019t there. And as for Aristomenes, not only do I believe him, but by Hercules I thank him greatly for amusing us with his charming and delightful tale. I forgot about the pain of travel, and wasn\u2019t bored on that last rough stretch of road. And I think the horse is happy too since, without him tiring, I\u2019ve been carried all the way to the city gate here, not by his back but my ears!\u2019\n\n\u00a0\n\nBook I:21-26 Milo\u2019s House\n\n\u00a0\n\nThat was the end of our conversation and our shared journey. My two companions turned to the left towards a nearby farm, while I approached the first inn I found on entering the town. I immediately enquired of the old woman who kept the inn: \u2018Is this Hypata?\u2019 She nodded. Do you know a prominent citizen named Milo?\u2019 \u2018Milo\u2019s certainly prominent,\u2019 she replied, \u2018since his house sticks out beyond the city limits.\u2019 \u2018Joking apart,\u2019 I said \u2018tell me, good mother, what sort he is and where he lives.\u2019 \u2018Do you see,\u2019 she answered, \u2018that row of windows facing the city, and the door on the other side opening on the ally nearby? That\u2019s where your Milo lives, with piles of money, heaps of wealth, but a man truly famed for his total avarice, his stingy ways. He lends cash at high rates of interest, takes gold and silver as security, but shuts himself up in that little house anxious about every rusty farthing. He has a wife, a companion in misery, no servants except a little maid, and dresses like a beggar when he goes out.\u2019\n\nI responded to this with a laugh, \u2018My friend Demeas was certainly kind and thoughtful sending me off with a letter of introduction to a man like that, at least there\u2019ll be no smoking fires or cooking fumes to fear.\u2019 And with that I walked to the house and found the entrance. The door was stoutly bolted, so I banged and shouted. At long last the girl appeared: \u2018Well you\u2019ve certainly given the door a drubbing! Where\u2019s your pledge for the loan? Or are you the only man who doesn\u2019t know we only take gold and silver?\u2019 \u2018No, no,\u2019 I replied \u2018just say if your master\u2019s home.\u2019 \u2018Well why do you want him then?\u2019 \u2018I\u2019ve a letter for him, from Demeas of Corinth.\u2019 \u2018Wait right here,\u2019 she said \u2018while I announce you.\u2019 And with that she bolted the door again and vanished into the house. Soon she returned; flung open the door, and proclaimed: \u2018He says to come in.\u2019\n\nIn I went and found him reclining on a little couch, and just about to start his supper. His wife sat beside him, and there was a table, with nothing on it, to which he gestured, saying: \u2018Welcome to my house.\u2019 \u2018Thank you,\u2019 I said, \u2018and straight away handed him Demeas\u2019 letter. He read it swiftly, saying; \u2018And thanks to my friend Demeas, for sending me such a guest.\u2019 With that he ordered his wife to rise and offered me her place. I hesitated modestly but he gripped the hem of my tunic and dragged me down. \u2018Sit here,\u2019 he said, \u2018for fear of burglary we lack more chairs and things.\u2019 I sat, and he went on: \u2018I guess from your fine appearance and almost bashful courtesy that you come of a good family and dear Demeas says so too in his letter. So I beg you not to spurn the meagreness of our little hovel. You can have that room right there, a plain and honest one. I hope you\u2019ll be pleased to stay. You\u2019ll not only make our house greater by the honour of your presence, but you\u2019ll acquire greater worth if you rest content with our tiny hearth, and emulate the virtue of your father\u2019s namesake Theseus, he who did not scorn the slight hospitality of old Hecale.\u2019\n\nAnd he summoned the maid: \u2018Take our guest\u2019s bags, Photis, at once, and put them safe in that bedroom, and bring a flask of oil, and towels and whatever else he\u2019ll need, then show my guest the nearest baths; he\u2019s had a long and arduous journey and he\u2019s tired.\u2019\n\nHearing this, I recognised Milo\u2019s parsimonious ways, but though hungry I wished to humour him, and said: \u2018Those things accompany me on my travels, and I\u2019ve no need of more. I can easily ask directions to the baths. What concerns me most is my horse, whose efforts have brought me here, so Photis, take these coins and buy him some oats and hay.\u2019\n\nOnce this was under way, and my belongings placed in the room, I set off for the baths alone. But first I headed for the market, wanting to secure my supper. I saw plenty of fine fish on display, but when I asked the price and was told what they cost I haggled, buying a gold coin\u2019s worth for twenty per cent less. Just as I was moving on, I encountered Pythias, who had been a student with me in Athens. He recognised me and gave me a friendly embrace though it had all been long ago, rushing up and kissing me affectionately. \u2018By Pollux, Lucius my friend it is ages since I saw you last. It was when we said goodbye to Clytius our teacher, by Hercules. What brings you here in your travels?\u2019 \u2018I\u2019ll tell you tomorrow,\u2019 I said \u2018but what\u2019s this? Congratulations! You\u2019ve attendants with rods of office, and you\u2019re dressed as a magistrate.\u2019 \u2018I\u2019m the inspector of markets, controller of supplies, and if you want help in purchasing anything I\u2019m your man.\u2019 \u2018Thanks, but there\u2019s no need,\u2019 I said, having bought enough fish for supper, but Pythias saw my basket and poked the fish to inspect them. \u2018What did you pay for this stuff?\u2019 he asked, \u2018I twisted the man\u2019s arm and he charged me twenty <em>denarii<\/em>\u2019 I answered.\n\nOn hearing this he grabbed my arm, and dragged me back to the market. \u2018Which of the fish-merchants,\u2019 he said \u2018did you buy that rubbish from?\u2019 I pointed out a little old man sitting in a corner, and Pythias immediately began berating him in the harsh tones befitting authority. \u2018Now, you even cheat visitors, like this friend of mine. You mark up worthless goods to stupid prices, and reduce Hypata, the flower of Thessaly, to the equivalent of a barren rock in the desert, with the costliness of your wares. But don\u2019t think you\u2019ll get away with it. I\u2019ll show you how this magistrate deals with rogues.\u2019 And he emptied my basket out on the pavement, and ordered an assistant to crush them to pulp with his feet. Satisfied with this stern display of morality, my friend Pythias advised me to leave, saying: \u2018Lucius, it\u2019s enough that I\u2019ve chastised the fellow.\u2019\n\nAstonished, utterly stupefied, by this turn of events, I carried on to the baths, robbed of money and supper by the worldly-wise authoritativeness of my erstwhile fellow-student. After bathing, I returned to Milo\u2019s house and my room. Suddenly the maid, Photis, appeared: \u2018Your host invites you to join him,\u2019 she said. Already acquainted with Milo\u2019s thrift I made a polite excuse saying my recovery from the rigours of the journey required sleep not food. On hearing this Milo himself came to persuade me and tugged me along after him gently. When I hesitated and discreetly resisted he said: \u2018I\u2019ll not leave off till you do,\u2019 and following this with an oath showed himself so stubborn I had to give in against my will, while he led me off to that little couch of his and sat me down. \u2018How\u2019s friend Demas?\u2019 he asked, \u2018How\u2019s his wife? How are the children? How are the servants? I answered every question. He inquired more closely into the reasons for my journey, and what I\u2019d explained it all with care, he started in again regarding my home town, the prominent citizens, and eventually even the governor himself. Noticing at last that after the cruel hardship of my travels I was utterly exhausted by the constant stream of chatter, and would come to a stop mid-sentence, so far gone that I was muttering inarticulately, or jerking awake with a sudden cry, he let me escape to bed. I stumbled away from that vile old man\u2019s wordy but worthless banquet, and full of yawns not food, having dined on nothing but conversation, dragged myself to my room, and gave myself up to the sleep I craved.\n\n\u00a0<\/p>","rendered":"<p>Book I:1 Apuleius\u2019 address to the reader<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Now! I\u2019d like to string together various tales in the Milesian style, and charm your kindly ear with seductive murmurs, so long as you\u2019re ready to be amazed at human forms and fortunes changed radically and then restored in turn in mutual exchange, and don\u2019t object to reading Egyptian papyri, inscribed by a sly reed from the Nile.<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019ll begin. Who am I? I\u2019ll tell you briefly. Hymettus near Athens; the Isthmus of Corinth; and Spartan Mount Taenarus, happy soil more happily buried forever in other books, that\u2019s my lineage. There as a lad I served in my first campaigns with the Greek tongue. Later, in Rome, freshly come to Latin studies I assumed and cultivated the native language, without a teacher, and with a heap of pains. So there! I beg your indulgence in advance if as a crude performer in the exotic speech of the Forum I offend. And in truth the very fact of a change of voice will answer like a circus rider\u2019s skill when needed. We\u2019re about to embark on a Greek tale. Reader, attend: and find delight.<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Book I:2-5 Aristomenes begins his tale<\/p>\n<p>Thessaly \u2013 where the roots of my mother\u2019s family add to my glory, in the famous form of Plutarch, and later his nephew, Sextus the philosopher \u2013 Thessaly is where I was off to on business. Emerging from perilous mountain tracks, and slithery valley ones, and damp meadows and muddy fields, riding a pure-white local nag, he being fairly tired and to chase away my own fatigue from endless sitting with the labour of walking, I dismounted. I rubbed the sweat from his forehead, carefully, stroked his ears, loosed his bridle, and led him slowly along at a gentle pace, till the usual and natural remedy of grazing eliminated the inconvenience of his lassitude. While he was at his mobile breakfast, the grass he passed, contorting his head from side to side, I made a third to two travellers who chanced to be a little way ahead. As I tried to hear what they were saying, one of them burst out laughing: \u201cStop telling such absurd and monstrous lies!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Hearing this, and my thirst for anything new being what it is, I said: \u201cOh do let me share your conversation. I\u2019m not inquisitive but I love to know everything, or at least most things. Besides, the charm of a pleasant tale will lighten the pain of this hill we\u2019re climbing.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>But the one who\u2019d laughed merely went on: \u201cNow that story was about as true as if you\u2019d said magic spells can make rivers flow backwards, chain the sea, paralyze the wind, halt the sun, squeeze dew from the moon, disperse the stars, banish day, and lengthen night!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Here I spoke out more boldly: \u201cDon\u2019t be annoyed, you who began the tale; don\u2019t weary of spinning out the rest.\u201d And to the other \u201cYou with your stubborn mind and cloth ears might be rejecting something true. By Hercules, it\u2019s not too clever if wrong opinion makes you judge as false what seems new to the ear, or strange to the eye, or too hard for the intellect to grasp, but which on closer investigation proves not only true, but even obvious. I last night, competing with friends at dinner, took too large a mouthful of cheese polenta. That soft and glutinous food stuck in my throat, blocked my windpipe, and I almost died. Yet at Athens, not long ago, in front of the Painted Porch, I saw a juggler swallow a sharp-edged cavalry sword with its lethal blade, and later I saw the same fellow, after a little donation, ingest a spear, death-dealing end downwards, right to the depth of his guts: and all of a sudden a beautiful boy swarmed up the wooden bit of the upside-down weapon, where it rose from throat to brow, and danced a dance, all twists and turns, as if he\u2019d no muscle or spine, astounding everyone there. You\u2019d have said he was that noble snake that clings with its slippery knots to Asclepius\u2019 staff, the knotty one he carries with the half sawn-off branches. But do go on now, you who started the tale, tell it again. I\u2019ll believe you, not like him, and invite to you to dinner with me at the first tavern we come to after reaching town: there\u2019s your guaranteed reward.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat you promise,\u201d he said, \u201cis fair and just, and I\u2019ll repeat what I left unfinished. But first I swear to you, by the all-seeing god of the Sun, I\u2019m speaking things I know to be true; and you\u2019ll have no doubt when you arrive at the next Thessalian town and find the story on everyone\u2019s lips of a happening in plain daylight. But first so you know who I am, I\u2019m from Aegium. And here\u2019s how I make my living: I deal in cheese and honey, all that sort of innkeeper\u2019s stuff, travelling here and there through Boeotia, Aetolia, Thessaly. So when I learned that at Hypata, Thessaly\u2019s most important town, some fresh cheese with a fine flavour was being sold at a very good price, I rushed there, in a hurry to buy the lot. But as usual I went left foot first, and my hopes of a profit were dashed. A wholesale dealer called Lupus had snapped it up the day before. So, exhausted after my useless chase, I started to walk to the baths as Venus began to shine.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Book I:6-10 Socrates\u2019 misfortune<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSuddenly I caught sight of my old friend Socrates, sitting on the ground, half-concealed in a ragged old cloak, so pale I hardly knew him, sadly thin and shrunken, like one of those Fate discards to beg at street corners. In that state, even though I knew him well, I approached him with doubt in my mind: \u2018Well, Socrates, my friend, what\u2019s happened? How dreadful you look! What shame! Back home they\u2019ve already mourned, and given you up for dead. By the provincial judge\u2019s decree guardians have been appointed for your children; and your wife, the funeral service done, her looks marred by endless tears and grief, her sight nearly lost from weeping, is being urged by her parents to ease the family misfortune with the joy of a fresh marriage. And here you are, looking like a ghost, to our utter shame!\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Aristomenes,\u2019 he said, \u2018you can\u2019t know the slippery turns of Fortune; the shifting assaults; the string of reverses.\u2019 \u00a0With that he threw his tattered cloak over a face that long since had blushed with embarrassment, leaving the rest of himself, from navel to thighs, bare. I could endure the sight of such terrible suffering no longer, grasped him and tried to set him on his feet.<\/p>\n<p>But he remained as he was; his head shrouded, and cried: \u2018No, no, let Fate have more joy of the spoils she puts on display!\u2019<\/p>\n<p>I made him follow me, and removing one or two of my garments clothed him hastily or rather hid him, then dragged him off to the baths in a trice. I myself found what was needed for oiling and drying; and with effort scraped off the solid layers of dirt; that done, I carried him off to an inn, tired myself, supporting his exhausted frame with some effort. I laid him on the bed; filled him with food; relaxed him with wine, soothed him with talk. Now he was ready for conversation, laughter, a witty joke, even some modest repartee, when suddenly a painful sob rose from the depths of his chest, and he beat his brow savagely with his hand. \u2018Woe is me,\u2019 he cried, \u2018I was chasing after the delights of a famous gladiatorial show, when I fell into this misfortune. For, as you know well, I\u2019d gone to Macedonia on a business trip, and after nine months labouring there I was on my way back home a wealthier man. Just before I reached Larissa, where I was going to watch the show by the way, walking along a rough and desolate valley, I was attacked by fierce bandits, and stripped of all I had. At last I escaped, weak as I was, and reached an inn belonging to a mature yet very attractive woman named Meroe, and told her about my lengthy journey, my desire for home, and the wretched robbery. She treated me more than kindly, with a welcome and generous meal, and quickly aroused by lust, steered me to her bed. At once I was done for, the moment I slept with her; that one bout of sex infected me with a long and pestilential relationship; she\u2019s even had the clothes those kind robbers left me, and the meagre wages I\u2019ve earned heaving sacks while I still could, until at last evil Fortune and my good \u2018wife\u2019 reduced me to the state you saw not long ago.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBy Pollux!\u201d I said \u201cYou deserve the worst, if there\u2019s anything worse than what you got, for preferring the joys of Venus and a wrinkled whore to your home and kids.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut shocked and stunned he placed his index finger to his lips: \u201cQuiet, quiet!\u201d he said then glancing round, making sure it was safe to speak: \u201cBeware of a woman with magic powers, lest your intemperate speech do you a mischief.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cReally?\u201d I said, \u201cWhat sort of a woman is this high and mighty innkeeper?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cA witch\u201d he said, \u201cwith divine powers to lower the sky, and halt the globe, make fountains stone, and melt the mountains, raise the ghosts and summon the gods, extinguish the stars and illuminate Tartarus itself.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh come,\u201d said I, \u201cdispense with the melodrama, away with stage scenery; use the common tongue.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDo you,\u201d he replied \u201cwish to hear one or two, or more, of her doings? Because the fact she can make all men fall for her, and not just the locals but Indians, and the Ethiopian savages of orient and occident, and even men who live on the opposite side of the Earth, that\u2019s only a tithe of her art, the merest bagatelle. Just listen to what she\u2019s perpetrated in front of witnesses.<\/p>\n<p>One of her lovers had misbehaved with someone else, so with a single word she changed him into a beaver, a creature that, fearing capture, escapes from the hunters by biting off its own testicles to confuse the hounds with their scent, and she intended the same for him, for having it off with another woman. Then there was another innkeeper, nearby, in competition, and she changed him into a frog; now the old man swims in a vat of his own wine, hides in the dregs, and calls out humbly to his past customers with raucous croaks. And because he spoke against her she turned a lawyer into a sheep, and now as a sheep he pleads his case. When the wife of a lover of hers, who was carrying at the time, insulted her wittily, she condemned her to perpetual pregnancy by closing her womb to prevent the birth, and according to everyone\u2019s computation that poor woman\u2019s been burdened for eight years or more and she\u2019s big as an elephant!<\/p>\n<p>As it kept happening, and many were harmed, public indignation grew, and the people decreed the severest punishment, stoning to death next day. But with the power of her chanting she thwarted their plan. Just as Medea, in that one short day she won from Creon, consumed his daughter, his palace, and the old king himself in the flames from the golden crown, so Meroe, by chanting necromantic rites in a ditch, as she told me herself when she was drunk, shut all the people in their houses, with the dumb force of her magic powers. For two whole days not one of them could break the locks, rip open the doors, or even dig a way through the walls, until at last, at everyone\u2019s mutual urging, they called out, swearing a solemn oath not to lay hands on her themselves, and to come to her defence and save her if anyone tried to do so. Thus propitiated she freed the whole town. But as for the author of the original decree, she snatched him up in the dead of night with his whole house \u2013 that\u2019s walls and floor and foundations entire \u2013 and shifted them, the doors still locked, a hundred miles to another town on the top of a rugged and arid mountain; and since the densely-packed homes of those folk left no room for the new guest, she dropped the house in front of the gates and vanished.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat you relate is marvellous, dear Socrates,\u201d I said, \u201cand wild. In short you\u2019ve roused no little anxiety, even fear, in me too. I\u2019m struck with no mere pebble here, but a spear, lest with the aid of those same magic forces that old woman might have heard our conversation. So let\u2019s go to bed early, and weariness relieved by sleep, leave before dawn and get as far away as we can.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Book I:11-17 Aristomenes\u2019 Nightmare<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>While I was still relaying sound advice, the good Socrates, gripped by the effects of this unaccustomed tippling, and his great exhaustion, was already asleep and snoring. I shut the door tight, slid home the bolts, even pushed my bed hard against the door frame, and threw myself down on top. At first, from fear, I lay awake for a while; then about midnight I shut my eyes somewhat. I had just fallen asleep when it seemed the door suddenly burst open, with greater violence than any burglar could achieve. The hinges were shattered and torn from their sockets, and the door hurled to the ground. My bed, being low, with a dodgy foot and its wood rotten, collapsed from the force of such violence, and I rolled out and struck the floor while the bed landed upside-down on top, hiding and covering me. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Then I felt that natural phenomenon where certain emotions are expressed through their contraries. At that instant, just as tears will often flow from joy, I couldn\u2019t keep from laughing at being turned from Aristomenes to a tortoise.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Hurled to the floor, from a corner of my eye, beneath the welcome protection of my bed, I watched two women of rather ripe years. One bore a lighted lamp, the other a sponge and naked blade. Thus equipped they circled the soundly sleeping Socrates. The one with the sword spoke: \u2018Panthia, my sister, this is my dear Endymion, my Ganymede, who made sport with my youth, day and night, who not only scorned my secret love insultingly, but even plotted to escape. Am I really to be deserted like Calypso by a cunning Ulysses, and condemned, in turn, to weep in everlasting loneliness?\u2019 Then she stretched out her hand, and pointed me out to her friend Panthia. \u2018And this is his good counsellor Aristomenes, who was the author of his escape, and now lies close to death, stretched on the ground, sprawled beneath his little bed, watching it all. He thinks he\u2019s going to recount his insults to me with impunity. I\u2019ll make him regret his past jibes and his present nosiness later, if not sooner, if not right now!\u2019<\/p>\n<p>When I heard that, my wretched flesh dissolved in a cold sweat, my guts trembled and quaked, till the bed on my back shaken by my quivering swayed and leapt about. \u2018Well then sister,\u2019 gentle Panthia replied \u2018why not grab him first and like Bacchantes tear him limb from limb, or tie him up at least and cut his balls off?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>Meroe \u2013 for I realised it was truly her in line with Socrates\u2019 tale \u2013 replied: \u2018No, let him survive at least to cover this wretch\u2019s corpse with a little earth.\u2019 And with that she pushed Socrates\u2019 head to the side and buried her blade in the left of his neck all the way to the hilt. Then she held a flask of leather against the wound and carefully collected the spurt of blood so not a single drop was visible anywhere. I saw all this with my very own eyes. Next, so as not to deviate, I suppose, from the sacrificial rites, she stuck her right hand into the wound right down to his innards, felt for my poor comrade\u2019s heart, and plucked it out. At this a sort of cry rose from his windpipe slashed by the weapon\u2019s stroke, or at least an indistinct gurgle and he poured out his life\u2019s breath. Panthia stopped the gaping wound with her sponge, saying: \u2018Oh, sponge born in the sea, take care not to fall in the river,\u2019 and with this they abandoned him, removed my bed, spread their feet, squatted over my face, and discharged their bladders till I was drenched with a stream of the foulest urine.<\/p>\n<p>No sooner had they exited the threshold than the door untouched swung back to its original position: the hinges settled back in their sockets, the brackets returned to the posts, and the bolts slid home. But I remained where I was, sprawled on the ground, inanimate, naked, cold, and covered in piss, as if I\u2019d just emerged from my mother\u2019s womb. No, it was truly more like being half-dead, but also in truth my own survivor, a posthumous child, or rather a sure candidate for crucifixion. \u2018When he\u2019s found in the morning,\u2019 I said to myself, \u2018his throat cut, what will happen to you? If you tell the truth who on earth will believe it? You could at least have shouted for help, if a great man like you couldn\u2019t handle the women by yourself. A man has his throat cut before your eyes, and you do nothing! And if you say it was robbers why wouldn\u2019t they have killed you too? Why would their savagery spare you as a witness to crime to inform on them? So, having escaped death, you can go and meet it again!\u2019<\/p>\n<p>As night crept towards day, I kept turning it over in my mind. I decided the best thing to do was to sneak off just before dawn, and hit the road with tremulous steps. I picked up my little bag, pushed the key in the lock and tried to slide back the bolts; but that good and faithful door, which in the night had unlocked of its own accord, only opened at last after much labour and endless twiddling of the key.<\/p>\n<p>The porter was lying on the ground at the entrance to the inn, still half-asleep when I cried: \u2018Hey there, where are you? Open the gate! I want to be gone by daybreak!\u2019 \u2018What!\u2019 he answered, \u2018Don\u2019t you know the road\u2019s thick with brigands? \u00a0Who goes travelling at this hour of the night? Even if you\u2019ve a crime on your conscience and want to die, I\u2019m not pumpkin-headed enough to let you.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Dawn\u2019s not far off,\u2019 I said, \u2018and anyway, what can robbers take from an utter pauper? Or are you not aware, ignoramus, that even a dozen wrestling-masters can\u2019t despoil a naked man?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>Then half-conscious and weak with sleep he turned over on his other side, saying: \u2018How do I know you haven\u2019t slit the throat of that traveller you were with last night, and are doing a runner to save yourself?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>In an instant, I know I saw the earth gape wide, and there was the pit of Tartarus with dog-headed Cerberus ready to eat me. I thought how sweet Meroe had spared my throat not from mercy but in her cruelty had reserved me for crucifixion. So I slipped back to the bedroom and reflected on the quickest way to die. Since Fate had left me no other weapon but my little bed, I talked to it: \u2018Now, now my little cot, dear friend of mine, who\u2019ve suffered so many tribulations with me, and know and can judge what went on last night, and the only witness I could summon to testify to my innocence at the trial. I\u2019m in a hurry to die, so be the instrument that will save me.\u2019 With this I began to unravel the cord that laced its frame. Then I threw one end over a little beam that stuck out into the room, below the window, and tied it fast. I made a noose in the other end, scrambled up on the bed, got high enough for the drop to work, and stuck my head through the noose. With one foot I kicked away the support I stood on, so my weight on the cord would squeeze my throat tight and stop me breathing. But in a trice the rope, which was old and rotten, broke, and I crashed down on top of Socrates who was lying there beside me, and rolled with him on to the ground.<\/p>\n<p>But behold at that moment the porter arrived shouting loudly: \u2018Hey you! In the middle of the night you can\u2019t wait to take off, now here you are under the covers snoring!\u2019<\/p>\n<p>Then Socrates, woken by our fall, or by the fellow\u2019s raucous yelling, got to his feet first, saying: \u2018It\u2019s no wonder guests hate porters, since here\u2019s this inquisitive chap bursting importunately into our room \u2013 after stealing something no doubt \u2013 and waking me, weak as I was, out of a lovely sleep with his monstrous din.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>I leapt up eagerly, filled with unexpected joy, and cried: \u2018Behold, oh faithful porter, here\u2019s my friend, as dear as father or brother, whom you in your drunken state accused me, slanderously, of murdering,\u2019 and I straight away hugged Socrates and started kissing him.<\/p>\n<p>But he, stunned by the vile stench of the liquid those monsters had drenched me with, shoved me off violently. \u2018Away with you!\u2019 he cried, \u2018You stink like the foulest sewer!\u2019 then began to ask as a friend will the reason for the mess. I invented some absurd, some miserable little joke on the spur of the moment, and drew his attention away again to another subject of conversation. Then clasping him I said: \u2018Why don\u2019t we go now, and grasp the chance of an early morning amble?\u2019 And I picked up my little bag, paid the bill for our stay at the inn, and off we went.<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Book I:18-20 Socrates\u2019 death<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>We were quite a way off before the sun rose, lighting everything. Carefully, since I was curious, I examined the place on my friend\u2019s neck where I\u2019d seen the blade enter, I said to myself: \u2018You\u2019re mad, you were in your cups and sodden with wine, and had a dreadful nightmare. Look, Socrates is sound and whole, totally unscathed. Where are the wound and the sponge? Where\u2019s the deep and recent scar?\u2019 I turned to him: \u2018Those doctors are not without merit who say that swollen with food and drink we have wild and oppressive dreams. Take me now. I took too much to drink last evening, and a bad night brought such dire and violent visions I still feel as though I was spattered, polluted with human blood.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>He grinned at that: \u2018It\u2019s piss not blood you\u2019re soaked with. I dreamed too, that my throat was cut. I felt the pain in my neck, and even thought my heart had been torn from my body. And now I\u2019m still short of breath, and my knees are trembling, and I\u2019m staggering along, and I need a bite to eat to restore my spirits.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Here\u2019s breakfast,\u2019 I said \u2018all ready for you,\u2019 and I swung the sack from my shoulder and quickly handed him bread and cheese. \u2018Let\u2019s sit by that plane tree,\u2019 I said. Having done so, I took something from the sack for myself, and watched him eating avidly, but visibly weaker, somehow more drawn and emaciated, and with the pallor of boxwood. In short the colour of his flesh was so disturbing it conjured up the vision of those Furies of the night before, and my terror was such the first bit of bread I took, though only a small one, struck in my throat, and it wouldn\u2019t go down, or come back up. The absence of anyone else on the road added to my fear. Who could believe my companion was murdered, and I was innocent? Now he, when he\u2019d had enough, began to feel quite thirsty, since he\u2019d gobbled the best part of a whole cheese in his eagerness. A gentle stream flowed sluggishly not far from the plane-tree\u2019s roots, flowing on through a quiet pool, the colour of glass or silver. \u2018Here,\u2019 I cried, \u2018quench your thirst with the milky waters of this spring.\u2019 He rose and after a brief search for a level place at the edge of the bank, he sank down on his knees and bent forward ready to drink. But his lips had not yet touched the surface of the water when in a trice the wound in his throat gaped open, and out flew the sponge, with a little trickle of blood. Then his lifeless body pitched forward, almost into the stream, except that I caught at one of his legs, and with a mighty effort dragged him higher onto the bank. I mourned for him there, as much as circumstance allowed, and covered him with sandy soil to rest there forever beside the water. Then trembling and fearful of my life I fled through remote and pathless country, like a man with murder on his conscience, abandoning home and country, embracing voluntary exile. Now I live in Aetolia, and I\u2019m married again.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>So Aristomenes\u2019 story ended. But his friend, who had obstinately refused to believe a word from the very start, said: \u2018There was never a taller tale, never a more absurd mendacity.\u2019 And he turned to me: \u2018You\u2019re a cultured chap, as your clothes and manner show, can you credit a fable like that?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>I replied: \u2018I judge that nothing\u2019s impossible, and whatever the fates decide is what happens to mortal men. Now I and you and everyone experience many a strange and almost incredible event that is unbelievable when told to someone who wasn\u2019t there. And as for Aristomenes, not only do I believe him, but by Hercules I thank him greatly for amusing us with his charming and delightful tale. I forgot about the pain of travel, and wasn\u2019t bored on that last rough stretch of road. And I think the horse is happy too since, without him tiring, I\u2019ve been carried all the way to the city gate here, not by his back but my ears!\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Book I:21-26 Milo\u2019s House<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>That was the end of our conversation and our shared journey. My two companions turned to the left towards a nearby farm, while I approached the first inn I found on entering the town. I immediately enquired of the old woman who kept the inn: \u2018Is this Hypata?\u2019 She nodded. Do you know a prominent citizen named Milo?\u2019 \u2018Milo\u2019s certainly prominent,\u2019 she replied, \u2018since his house sticks out beyond the city limits.\u2019 \u2018Joking apart,\u2019 I said \u2018tell me, good mother, what sort he is and where he lives.\u2019 \u2018Do you see,\u2019 she answered, \u2018that row of windows facing the city, and the door on the other side opening on the ally nearby? That\u2019s where your Milo lives, with piles of money, heaps of wealth, but a man truly famed for his total avarice, his stingy ways. He lends cash at high rates of interest, takes gold and silver as security, but shuts himself up in that little house anxious about every rusty farthing. He has a wife, a companion in misery, no servants except a little maid, and dresses like a beggar when he goes out.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>I responded to this with a laugh, \u2018My friend Demeas was certainly kind and thoughtful sending me off with a letter of introduction to a man like that, at least there\u2019ll be no smoking fires or cooking fumes to fear.\u2019 And with that I walked to the house and found the entrance. The door was stoutly bolted, so I banged and shouted. At long last the girl appeared: \u2018Well you\u2019ve certainly given the door a drubbing! Where\u2019s your pledge for the loan? Or are you the only man who doesn\u2019t know we only take gold and silver?\u2019 \u2018No, no,\u2019 I replied \u2018just say if your master\u2019s home.\u2019 \u2018Well why do you want him then?\u2019 \u2018I\u2019ve a letter for him, from Demeas of Corinth.\u2019 \u2018Wait right here,\u2019 she said \u2018while I announce you.\u2019 And with that she bolted the door again and vanished into the house. Soon she returned; flung open the door, and proclaimed: \u2018He says to come in.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>In I went and found him reclining on a little couch, and just about to start his supper. His wife sat beside him, and there was a table, with nothing on it, to which he gestured, saying: \u2018Welcome to my house.\u2019 \u2018Thank you,\u2019 I said, \u2018and straight away handed him Demeas\u2019 letter. He read it swiftly, saying; \u2018And thanks to my friend Demeas, for sending me such a guest.\u2019 With that he ordered his wife to rise and offered me her place. I hesitated modestly but he gripped the hem of my tunic and dragged me down. \u2018Sit here,\u2019 he said, \u2018for fear of burglary we lack more chairs and things.\u2019 I sat, and he went on: \u2018I guess from your fine appearance and almost bashful courtesy that you come of a good family and dear Demeas says so too in his letter. So I beg you not to spurn the meagreness of our little hovel. You can have that room right there, a plain and honest one. I hope you\u2019ll be pleased to stay. You\u2019ll not only make our house greater by the honour of your presence, but you\u2019ll acquire greater worth if you rest content with our tiny hearth, and emulate the virtue of your father\u2019s namesake Theseus, he who did not scorn the slight hospitality of old Hecale.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>And he summoned the maid: \u2018Take our guest\u2019s bags, Photis, at once, and put them safe in that bedroom, and bring a flask of oil, and towels and whatever else he\u2019ll need, then show my guest the nearest baths; he\u2019s had a long and arduous journey and he\u2019s tired.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>Hearing this, I recognised Milo\u2019s parsimonious ways, but though hungry I wished to humour him, and said: \u2018Those things accompany me on my travels, and I\u2019ve no need of more. I can easily ask directions to the baths. What concerns me most is my horse, whose efforts have brought me here, so Photis, take these coins and buy him some oats and hay.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>Once this was under way, and my belongings placed in the room, I set off for the baths alone. But first I headed for the market, wanting to secure my supper. I saw plenty of fine fish on display, but when I asked the price and was told what they cost I haggled, buying a gold coin\u2019s worth for twenty per cent less. Just as I was moving on, I encountered Pythias, who had been a student with me in Athens. He recognised me and gave me a friendly embrace though it had all been long ago, rushing up and kissing me affectionately. \u2018By Pollux, Lucius my friend it is ages since I saw you last. It was when we said goodbye to Clytius our teacher, by Hercules. What brings you here in your travels?\u2019 \u2018I\u2019ll tell you tomorrow,\u2019 I said \u2018but what\u2019s this? Congratulations! You\u2019ve attendants with rods of office, and you\u2019re dressed as a magistrate.\u2019 \u2018I\u2019m the inspector of markets, controller of supplies, and if you want help in purchasing anything I\u2019m your man.\u2019 \u2018Thanks, but there\u2019s no need,\u2019 I said, having bought enough fish for supper, but Pythias saw my basket and poked the fish to inspect them. \u2018What did you pay for this stuff?\u2019 he asked, \u2018I twisted the man\u2019s arm and he charged me twenty <em>denarii<\/em>\u2019 I answered.<\/p>\n<p>On hearing this he grabbed my arm, and dragged me back to the market. \u2018Which of the fish-merchants,\u2019 he said \u2018did you buy that rubbish from?\u2019 I pointed out a little old man sitting in a corner, and Pythias immediately began berating him in the harsh tones befitting authority. \u2018Now, you even cheat visitors, like this friend of mine. You mark up worthless goods to stupid prices, and reduce Hypata, the flower of Thessaly, to the equivalent of a barren rock in the desert, with the costliness of your wares. But don\u2019t think you\u2019ll get away with it. I\u2019ll show you how this magistrate deals with rogues.\u2019 And he emptied my basket out on the pavement, and ordered an assistant to crush them to pulp with his feet. Satisfied with this stern display of morality, my friend Pythias advised me to leave, saying: \u2018Lucius, it\u2019s enough that I\u2019ve chastised the fellow.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>Astonished, utterly stupefied, by this turn of events, I carried on to the baths, robbed of money and supper by the worldly-wise authoritativeness of my erstwhile fellow-student. After bathing, I returned to Milo\u2019s house and my room. Suddenly the maid, Photis, appeared: \u2018Your host invites you to join him,\u2019 she said. Already acquainted with Milo\u2019s thrift I made a polite excuse saying my recovery from the rigours of the journey required sleep not food. On hearing this Milo himself came to persuade me and tugged me along after him gently. When I hesitated and discreetly resisted he said: \u2018I\u2019ll not leave off till you do,\u2019 and following this with an oath showed himself so stubborn I had to give in against my will, while he led me off to that little couch of his and sat me down. \u2018How\u2019s friend Demas?\u2019 he asked, \u2018How\u2019s his wife? How are the children? How are the servants? I answered every question. He inquired more closely into the reasons for my journey, and what I\u2019d explained it all with care, he started in again regarding my home town, the prominent citizens, and eventually even the governor himself. Noticing at last that after the cruel hardship of my travels I was utterly exhausted by the constant stream of chatter, and would come to a stop mid-sentence, so far gone that I was muttering inarticulately, or jerking awake with a sudden cry, he let me escape to bed. I stumbled away from that vile old man\u2019s wordy but worthless banquet, and full of yawns not food, having dined on nothing but conversation, dragged myself to my room, and gave myself up to the sleep I craved.<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":19,"menu_order":1,"template":"","meta":{"_candela_citation":"[]","CANDELA_OUTCOMES_GUID":"","pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-49","chapter","type-chapter","status-web-only","hentry"],"part":48,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/49","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/19"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/49\/revisions"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/48"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/49\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=49"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=49"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=49"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=49"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}