THE

CHAPTER IV.

METAMORPHOSIS OF APULEIUS: AND THE AMOUR OF CUPID AND PSYCHE.

Thus far concerning the use of the mysteries to society. How essential they were esteemed to religion, we may understand by the Metamorphosis of Apuleius; a book, indeed, which from its very first appearance hath passed for a trivial fable. Capitolinus, in the life of Clodius Albinus, where he speaks of that kind of tales which disconcert the gravity of philosophers, tells us that Severus could not bear with patience the honors the Senate had conferred on Albinus; especially their distinguishing him with the title of learned, who was grown old in the study of old wives-fables, such as the Milesian-Punic tales of his countryman and favorite, Apuleius.

And

The writer of the Metamorphosis, however, was one of the gravest and most virtuous, as well as most learned philosophers of his age. Albinus appears to have gone further into the true character of this work, than his rival Severus. And if we may believe Marcus Aurelius, who calls Albinus, "A man of experience, of demure life, and grave morals," he was not a man to be taken with such trifling amusements as Milesian fables. His fondness therefore for the Metamorphosis of Apuleius shows that he considered it in another light. who so likely to be let into the author's true design, as Albinus, who lived very near his time, and was of Adrumetum in the neighborhood of Carthage, where Apuleius sojourned and studied, and was distinguished with public honors? The work is indeed of a different character from what some ancients have represented it; and even from what modern critics have pretended to discover of it. Those ancients, who stuck in the outside, considered it, without refinement, as an idle fable; the moderns, who could not reconcile a work of that nature to the gravity of the author's character, have supposed it a thing of more importance, and no less than a general satire on the vices of those times.

But this is far short of the matter. The author's main purpose was not to satirize the specific vices of his age, though to enliven his fable, and for the better carrying on his story, he hath employed many circumstances of this kind, but to recommend Pagan religion, as the only cure for all vices whatsoever.

To give what we have to say its proper force, we must consider

the real character of the writer. Apuleius, of Madaura in Africa, was a devoted Platonist; and, like the Platonists of that age, an inveterate enemy to Christianity. His zeal for the honor of philosophy is seen in that solemn affirmation, when convened before a court of justice, "I have never derogated ought from the honor of philosophy, which is more precious to me than life." His superstitious attachment to the religion of his country is seen in his immoderate fondness for the mysteries. He was initiated, as he tells us, into almost all of them; and in some, bore the most distinguished offices. In his Apology before the proconsul of Africa, he says, " Will you have me relate what kind of things those were, which wrapped up in a napkin, I confided to the house of Pontianus? You shall be allowed. I have been initiated in Greece into many mysteries. I carefully guard certain of their signs and tokens which have been committed to me by the priests. I say nothing unusual, nothing unknown. Ye who are present know what thing it is of father Bacchus Symmista which you keep concealed at home, and silently venerate apart from the profane. have said, through love of truth, and duty to the gods, have learnt numerous mysteries, and very many rites, and various ceremonies. Nor do I make up this for the occasion: but it is about three years ago that shortly after my arrival at Oea, in a public discourse on the majesty of Esculapius I made some declaration, and enumerated whatever mysteries I knew. That discourse is very celebrated; is generally read; is in the hands of every body,-commended to the pious people of Oea, not so much by my eloquence, as by the mention of Esculapius. Can it then appear strange to any body who has any knowledge of religion, that a man versed in so many mysteries of the gods should keep certain holy trifles in his house? I am accustomed wherever I go to take with me the image of some god packed up among my books, and on festivals to worship it with incense and wine, and sometimes with sacrifices."

But I, as I

His great devotion to Paganism, therefore, must needs have been attended with an equal aversion to Christianity; and it is more than probable, that the oration he speaks of as made in honor of Esculapius, was in the number of those invectives, at that time so well received by the enemies of our holy faith. For, not to insist on the success of his oration, which, he tells us, was in every body's hands, a thing common to discourses on subjects that engage the public attention, but rarely the fortune of such stale ware as panegyrics on a God long worn into an establishment; not, I say, to insist upon this, we may observe that

Esculapius was one of those ancient heroes, who were employed, by the defenders of Paganism, to oppose to Jesus; and the circumstances of Esculapius's story made him the fittest of any in fabulous antiquity, for that purpose.

Having seen what there was in the common passion of his sect, and in his own fond mode of superstition, to indispose Apuleius to Christianity, let us inquire what private provocation he might have to prejudice him against it: for, a private provocation, I am persuaded, he had; occasioned by a personal injury done him by one of this profession; which, I suppose, did not a little contribute to exasperate his bigotry. He had married a rich widow, against the will of her first husband's relations; who endeavored to set aside the marriage on pretence of his employing sorcery and enchantments to engage her affections. Of this, he was judicially accused by his wife's brother-in-law, Licinius Emilianus, before the Proconsul of Africa. Now his accuser, if I am not much mistaken, was a Christian, though this interesting circumstance hath escaped his commentators.

Now irreligion and atheism, we know, was the name Christianity at that time went by, for having dared to renounce the whole family of the gentile gods in a lump. Æmilianus had made such clear work, that there was not so much as an anointed stone, or a tree adorned with consecrated garlands, to be found throughout his whole Farm. That the Atheism of Emilianus was of this sort, and no courtley or philosophic impiety, appears from his character and station. He was neither a fine gentleman or a profound inquirer into nature; characters indeed which are sometimes found to be above religion; but a mere rustic in his life and manners. Now plain unpolished men in such a station are never without some religion or other; when we find Emilianus, therefore, not of the established, we must needs conclude him to be a sectary and a Christian. His neglect of his country gods was not a mere negative affront; of forgetfulHe gloried in being their despiser; and took kindly to the name of Mezentius, as a title of honor,-(alterum, quod libentius audit, ob deorum contemptum, Mezentius,) which I would consider as a further mark of a Christian convict. He even held it an abomination so much as to put his hand to his lips, (according to the mode of adoration in those times,) when he passed by a heathen temple; (nefas habet adorandi gratia manum labris admovere,) the most characteristic mark of a primitive confessor, by which he could never be mistaken; nor, one would think, so long overlooked.

ness.

The aversion therfore, which Apuleius had contracted to his Christian accuser, and we see, by his apology, it was in no ordinary degree, would without doubt increase his prejudice to that religion. I am persuaded he gave the character of the Baker's wife, in his golden ass for no other reason than to outrage our holy faith. He draws her stained with all the vices that could fall to the share of a woman; and then, to finish all, he makes her a Christian.

Let us see now how this would influence his writings. There was nothing the Philosophers of that time had more at heart, especially the Platonists and Pythagoreans, than the support of sink ing Paganism. This service, as hath been occasionally remarked they performed in various ways and manners: some by allegorizing their theology; some by spiritualizing their philosophy; and some as Jamblicus and Philostratus, by writing the lives of their Heroes, to oppose to that of Christ; others again, as Porphyry, with this view, collected their oracles; or as Melanthius, Menander, Hicesius, and Sotades wrote descriptive encomiums on their Mysteries. Which last, as we shall now show, was the province undertaken by Apuleius; his Metamorphosis being nothing else but one continued recommendation of them.

But let us enquire into the motives our author might have for enter ing at all into the defence of Paganism: His reasons for choosing this topic of defence, the recommendation of the mysteries.

As to his defence of paganism in general, we may observe, that works of this kind were very much in fashion, especially amongst the philosophers of our author's sect. He was, as we have seen, most superstitiously devoted to pagan worship: and, he bore a personal spite and prejudice to the Christian profession.

As to his making the defence of the mysteries his chioce, still stronger reasons may be assigned. These were the rites to which he was so peculiarly devoted, that he had contrived to be initiated into all the mysteries of note, in the Roman world; and in several of them had borne the most distinguished offices. The mysteries being at this time become extremely corrupt, and consequently, in discredit, needed an able and zealous apologist: both of which qualities met eminently in Apuleius. The corruptions were of two kinds, debaucheries and magic. Their debaucheries we have taken notice of, above their magic will be considered hereafter. But, our author's close attachment to mysterious rites was, without question, the very thing that occasioned all those suspicions and reports, which ended in an accusa

tion of magic and considering what hath been said of the corrupt state of the mysteries, the reader will not wonder at it.

Such then being the general character of the mysteries, and of this their great devotee, nothing was more natural than his projecting their defence; which at the same time, that it concurred to the support of paganism in general, would vindicate his own credit, together with an institution of which he was so immoderately fond. And the following considerations are sufficient to show, that the Metamorphosis was written after his Apology: for, his accusers never once mention the fable of the golden ass to support their charge of magic, though they were in great want of proofs, and this lay so ready for their purpose. He positively asserts before the tribunal of Maximus Claudius that he had never given the least occasion to suspect him of magic: "Nusquam passus sum vel exiguam suspicionem magiæ consistere."

Now antiquity considered initiation into the mysteries as a delivery from a living death of vice, brutality, and misery, and the beginning of a new life of virtue, reason, and happiness. This therefore, was the very circumstance which our author chose for the subject of his recom mendation.

And as in the mysteries, their moral and divine truths were represented in shows and allegories, so in order to comply with this method of instruction, and in imitation of the ancient masters of wisdom, who borrowed their manner of teaching from thence, he hath artfully insinuated his doctrine in an agreeable fable; and the fittest one could conceive for his purpose, as will be seen when we come to examine it.

The foundation of this allegory was a Milesian fable, a species of polite trifling then much in vogue, and not very unlike the modern Arabian tales. To allure his readers, therefore, with the promise of a fashionable work, he introduces his Metamorphosis in this manner "And I too will deliver to you various fables in this Milesian style, and delight your ears in a gentle whisper;" plainly intimating that there was someting of more consequence at bottom. But they took him at his word and, never troubled their heads about a further meaning. The outside engaged all their attention, and sufficiently delighted them; as we may gather from the early title it bore of Asinus Aureus :*

From the beginning of one of Pliny's epistles, I suspect that Aurea was the common title given to the Milesian, and such like tales as strollers used to tell for a piece of money to the rabble in a circle. Pliny's words are these-assem para et accipe auream fabulam. 1. ii, Ep. 20.