Lucius' poor barricade against the witches and the Big Lebowski

In reading about Lucius' attempts to barricade the doors of his room against the possible entry of the witches, I was reminded of the best scene from the Big Lebowski in which Jeff Bridges attempts to barricade his apartment against a couple of thugs.  Both characters place objects flush against the door in the thought that the doors would swing inwards and both cases yield hilarious results.

Evil sheep?

In translating 6.17-18 for my translation assignment, I was caught unaware of the threatening presence of the sheep who would be guarding the fleece.  Sheep carry with them multiple association, many of which are influenced by Christian imagery.  Sheep are docile creatures that can easily be led astray.  They need to be guided and protected.  This is the only context where sheep are vicious ravenous creatures.  The green river reed tells Psyche that the hot sun makes them enraged and that their sharp horns, stone solid foreheads and poisonous bites can all hurt and damage people.

Do any of these connotations carry over into modern day culture?  Why yes, they do.  "Evil Sheep" is a popular cartoon and the concept of demonized sheep was converted into a popular cult flick in New Zealand.  The common thread that strings the concept of evil, aggressive sheep together are the eye color which usually changes to a demonic red.

Roman winds

In  reading about Zephyr and his gentle duties of bearing Psyche's sisters up to and down from the cliff,  it got me thinking about what other wind divinities there had to be.  Since Zephyr is the god of the west wind, what are the other divinities of the compass and what do they represent?

Boreas is the north wind and since he blows cold air, he is usually represented as an old man with a shaggy white beard.

Notus is the south wind and is the opposite of the North Wind.  He blows a very dry wind typically during the late summer period and was feared in that he may kill crops through drought.

Zephyr is the west wind and he brings spring tidings and good fortune and is also as Apuleius relates, the gentlest of the winds.

Eurus is the east wind.  He is seen as a tumultuous force that is the bringer of rain and wind.

Other lesser divinities existed such as Skiron, Apeliotes, and Kaikias the gods of the northwestern, southeastern, and northeastern winds do exist but their mythological footprint is not as firmly established as the four main winds.  The Anemoi are sinister winds who are imprisoned so that they may not wreak havoc.  Winds here serve the combined purpose of wind and weather phenomenon; the east wind is strong and was thought to cause rain.  There is no separate divinity for weather phenomena (rain, snow, etc.)

Did Tolstoy read Apuleius?

Is Anna Karenina modeled on Psyche (is she an anti-Psyche)?  I've been re-reading Anna Karenina to prepare myself for seeing the new film, and this scene struck me as being ripped from the pages of "Cupid and Psyche" with ironic role-reversals (maybe already well known to Russian scholars, but it had not occurred to me before):

He was in the study fast asleep.  She went over to him and, lighting his face from above, looked at him for a long time.  Now, when he was asleep, she loved him so much that, looking at him, she could not keep back tears of tenderness; but she knew that if he woke up he would give her a cold look, conscious of his own rightness, and that before talking to him of her love, she would have to prove to him how guilty he was before her.  She went back to her room without waking him up and, after a second dose of opium, towards morning fell into a heavy, incomplete sleep, in which she never lost awareness of herself.

Eros of Thespie by Praxiteles

 I would like to add this marble statue of Cupid to the selection of James. 

It was a famous sculpture in the Roman world and it had a complex story. In the Fourth Verrines (De signis) Cicero says that Mummius, the conquer of Corinth, took away from Thespiae all the unconsecrated  statues including a Lady of Thespie, he did not touch the marble statue of Cupid in this town, work of Praxiteles, because it was consecrated. Later Caligula carried off the statue from Thespiae which was later returned by Claudius; then Nero stole again the statue and placed in the Porticus of Octavia where it was burned in the fire of 80 (Strabo 9. 2.25; Pausania 9. 27. 3; Pliny 36. 22). The Thespians, however, commissioned a copy of this statue by the sculptor Menodorus. The sources point out that the statue of Cupid was not only essential for the cult in Thespiae but was also a touristic attraction. The sources say that people come to Thespiae from all over only for seeing the statue. It was a cultural mark, a symbol of Thespiae’s identity. 

More Fairytale Elements

When I was translating my section for the translation exercise (chapters 6.9-6.10, if you're interested), I was very excited to discover that it had a very clear echo of Cinderella. Specifically, in my passage Psyche is dragged before Venus, who decides to give her an impossible task: sort out a mound of seeds and separate each seed into a different pile. This is one of the tasks that is commonly given to Cinderella, when she wants to go to the ball. Here is a section from the Grimms' Cinderella:

However, because Cinderella kept asking, the stepmother finally said, "I have scattered a bowl of lentils into the ashes for you. If you can pick them out again in two hours, then you may go with us."
The girl went through the back door into the garden, and called out, "You tame pigeons, you turtledoves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me to gather:

The good ones go into the pot,
The bad ones go into your crop."

Two white pigeons came in through the kitchen window, and then the turtledoves, and finally all the birds beneath the sky came whirring and swarming in, and lit around the ashes. The pigeons nodded their heads and began to pick, pick, pick, pick. And the others also began to pick, pick, pick, pick. They gathered all the good grains into the bowl. Hardly one hour had passed before they were finished, and they all flew out again.
It is interesting to compare this to the passage in Apuleius. The biggest difference is the agency of the heroine. In the German folktale, Cinderella calls for help when she is unable to complete the task. While she cannot do it, she is unafraid of asking for aid. However, Psyche is stupefied and unable to move when Venus assigned her her task. It is up to an ant scurrying by to call for help and make sure the task happens. This fits with Psyche's general character, which is not very proactive. As far as I can tell, pretty much everything has to be managed for her. Cinderella is known for getting aid from outside sources, but this degree of passivity is unusual.

Wait, What?

If the "Cupid and Psyche" myth is allegory for the soul gaining knowledge through love, then what does the birth of Cupid and Psyche's daughter Voluptuas (Pleasure) represent? Maybe it was allegory for how the union of the soul, love, and knowledge is a source of unending pleasure?
Anyway, thank you all for a great semester!

Depictions of Cupid through the Ages, or "Marrying a Baby is Gross, Dude."

I think it's fair to say that the typical image of Cupid in most modern minds (whether they be the highly trained sophisticates of our program or the drooling reality television machines over in the business school) is that of a baby with wings. You all know that it's quite common to see in classical art (as in the Augustus of Prima Porta).

On the other hand in "Cupid and Psyche" the god seems to be "childish" only in the sense that he has smooth, beardless cheeks. But as all the men in the class know, puberty and its attended hormonal changes begin long before the beard comes in; with that in mind, perhaps Psyche married a teenager rather than a baby. Not as gross. (Smith's entry on the significance of ancient beards is pretty neat)

In the Renaissance Cupid was occasionally passed of as an angel, and hence comes misconception that cherubs are are adorable little baby angels that kiss on the cover of Hallmark cards. Consider Boticelli's "Primavera" below, which disguises Venus as the Virgin Mary:

This fresco was painted on the wall of Lorenzo de Medici, who would regularly entertain the pope. Claiming Christian allegory to what is otherwise a blatantly pagan painting might have helped the Pope look the other way in a time when studying Classics was supposed to take a back seat to studying Christianity. That, and the fact that they were cousins and Lorenzo murdered everyone who ever talked back to him.

Baby angels like you find on a modern Hallmark card are often called "cherubs." But in scripture the cherubim are actually terrifying beasts with three faces and six wings that will obliterate you if you cross god. Personally I think this would make for a more interesting greeting card, but ever since Boticelli we're stuck with these weak "flying baby" cherubs.

The charade that passed off Cupid as an angel was thin, but it may have been aided by the concurrent depiction of Cupid as a teenager once regard for Classical study grew and the strictness of a Christian education was loosened. In turn, "teenaged Cupid" depictions may have resulted from the popularity of the Cupid and Psyche story at that time. Because even the most Oedipally-fixated artist doesn't want to draw a naked chick marrying a baby. I hope.






In closing, here is a depiction of Cupid by Caravaggio which I like to call  "How YOU doin, girl?":

High School Cupid and Psyche Play in Latin

This is awesome. These kids are putting on the Cupid and Psyche play entirely in Latin.

http://www.smh.com.au/national/education/hipsters-embrace-lingo-of-the-ancient-worlds-20121012-27i6u.html

When I was child, in Italy there was an hilarious cartoon (my favourite) called Pollon. The heroine, Pollon, was a petulant chickadee, daughter of Apollo. Her best friend was Eros. In the cartoon Eros is an ugly bungler kid, scorned by everyone, including his mother Venus. In each episode there was a myth ( I remember the episode with Narcissus, Athena and Aracne, Orpheus and Eurydice, Jason, etc).
Here there is the episode with Psyche. Venus who is making up in front of a mirror and wearing a sexy dress is hilarious (in other episodes Hera dresses fishnet stocking!).
Unfortunately the two episodes are in Italian but you already know the story of Psyche, the jealous of Venus etc..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbCl5c_dIQI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cz9g9oyZnBY

Cupid and Psyche as an imperfect narrative

Finishing the Cupid and Psyche for this class, I've come to appreciate more than ever before the context it has within the Metamorphoses. As the first chapter was a story overheard by our man Lucius, so this story should be imagined coming out of the mouth of an old, traveling woman. I noticed in my translation for the written project that there was a distinct use of what I would call meta-humor, breaking the fourth wall. It seems that the characters often identify in dialogue with the veneer of melodrama the exact literary trope as it is occurring to them. Furthermore, the narration seems to irregularly focus on different parts of the tale. In the passage for today (the ending few sections), we get a large buildup of what Psyche is to expect in the underworld, but the trip there is anticlimactic. One could argue that that's because the true climax is actually the opening of the box and Cupid's following intervention, but I was really expecting more drama to occur with the trials Psyche encounters in Hell. I think a good interpretation of this pacing is the natural tendencies of a not-quite-perfect storyteller botching the execution.

The Translator Has the Worst Job in the World

We were having a conversation in our Greek composition about the meaning of one particular word and Professor Higbie was so amused by this that she told us to look up the word in our dictionaries and put together a translation of the whole sentence as our assignment for Friday.
Even though we all had the same word, each one of us gave a different definition because we all interpreted the context of the situation using our own biases and experiences.
For example, I wanted to know more about the people involved and tried to find one man in some sore of prosopography, but I had no luck.
Other people did all kinds of strange things to figure out a meaning, from debating the author's use of Greek particles to tearing apart the etymology of the word.
It just goes to show how much we rely on a translator and the deleterious or positive influence he or she can have on the understanding of a reader not at all familiar with Greek or Latin.
Despite the difficulty involved in translating our own chunk of Apuleius, it is such a beneficial exercise! Not just because it instills within us a greater appreciation for the laborious work of translator, but because it allows us to visualize our own potential impact on a text and its audience.
Next time, I hope we can read more translations of a particular author and gain a better understanding of how and why different translators omit or include different aspects of the text.
Let's all kick ass and take names on Thursday too!
Kittie

Of Fire and Water and Metaphor

I really enjoyed reading these last few sections. I like the metaphors and symbols Apuleius uses and relates with each character. The sisters are associated with lamps and light and fire. They suggest that Psyche use the lamp and the light to kill Cupid. Apuleius then turns this lamp and light into the fire in Psyche's heart. I really liked that part. And then, when Psyche is conflicted, Apuleius talks about the "waves," metaphorically using fire and water to describe the two sides of Psyche's confusion. In the very next sentence, Apuleius describes Cupid as a monster and a husband. These two are nicely positioned right next to the fire and water. The attention to little details is great.

Retroactive Marriage

Hmm...I see Cupid and Psyche had a "retroactive marriage." That is to say, they were legally married after Cupid "made Psyche his wife" in their "conjugal embraces."
I find it curious that the Romans and the Hebrews had the same practice. In Deuteronomy or thereabouts, a woman who wasn't engaged to be married had to marry a man who had sex with her before marriage (or raped her); they were never allowed to divorce. (If a woman who was engaged cheated on her betrothed, she was stoned.) I just find it interesting that these two cultures had similar practices (even if death wasn't an issue for Cupid and Psyche). Is it just because they were in roughly the same region? Could the Hebrews have shared this with the Turks to the north (or Hittites in those days) and the practice got brought over from Troy to Latium? Food for thought.

Peau d'Ane (Donkey-Skin) by Charles Perrault

While we are preparing for the end of the term I thought I would mention a story call Peau d'Ane or in English Donkey-Skin by Charles Perrault which I feel is readily relatable having read Apuleius now. Perrault was a 17th century writer who was both a politician, a writer or historic and literary topics and a writer of folktales.

It is an interesting take on a royal tale of intermarriage that has both a beautiful princess, though in this case she is running away from marriage, and a donkey. The wife of the King has died and made him promise to marry only if he finds a woman more beautiful and refined than herself. So after searching in vain for awhile he decides the only way to fulfill this oath and to remarry is to marry their daughter. She gives him a number of nearly impossible tasks to do in the hopes that he will fail and she will be free. He succeeds, despite the odds much like Psyche, and she if forced to run away in the skin of his prized donkey (which poops francs because well its 17th century France and that kind of stuff seems pretty common).

It is an interesting thought when looking at both the Cupid and Psyche episode and the overarching  theme of a travelling donkey to get a French, and albeit rather incestuous and odd, version which has many of the same themes.

Apparently it is also a 1970 film by Demy which refers frequently to the Beauty and the Beast story for plot devices and imagery. It is interesting to see these two tales so closely connected within the same film!

Even more literary influence...

In my English class today, a student brought up a C.S. Lewis book, Till We Have Faces, that is a reinterpretation of the Cupid and Psyche story. I thought I would share. Sounds very interesting; I hope to read it over Christmas break...

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17343.Till_We_Have_Faces

The Evil Stepsisters

When discussing Psyche's sisters in class, it's extremely easy to say "evil step-sisters" instead of "evil sisters." I wanted to write a quick post about why that is.

Obviously the Wicked Stepsisters are stock characters in the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm. But whence come those tales, and what do the presence of such stock characters tell us? In his very readable narrative, The Great Cat Massacre, Darton traces the (often misunderstood) origins of the Brothers Grimm stories and lays out some compelling theories about the cultural/social factors that influence the tales.

In short, the stories are French, and they come from the period of landholders and peasant farmers, when mortality rates were shockingly high. Second marriages were common as older men took younger wives, then left them without resources or protection when they died. On the other hand widowers were as common since childbirth was such a dangerous proposition. Women who remarried could be expected to favor their children over those of a previous wife. The upshot is competition for scanty resources within a household and vilification of rivals; the universality of this problem is attested by the presence of the wicked stepsister in so many stories.

I don't think the same type of analysis would hold for Apuleius, since his story is less a folktale and more a satire, but the themes of competition and rivalry resonate just the same.

Maidens flying!

In case anyone is having trouble imagining young maidens flying, I believe this is an accurate portrayal.

Cupid and Psyche's literary influence

Perhaps the most famous is Edgar Allan Poe's Ulalume:

The skies they were ashen and sober;

      The leaves they were crispéd and sere—

      The leaves they were withering and sere;

It was night in the lonesome October

      Of my most immemorial year;

It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,

      In the misty mid region of Weir—

It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,

      In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through an alley Titanic,

      Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul—

      Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.

These were days when my heart was volcanic

      As the scoriac rivers that roll—

      As the lavas that restlessly roll

Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek

      In the ultimate climes of the pole—

That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek

      In the realms of the boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober,

      But our thoughts they were palsied and sere—

      Our memories were treacherous and sere—

For we knew not the month was October,

      And we marked not the night of the year—

      (Ah, night of all nights in the year!)

We noted not the dim lake of Auber—

      (Though once we had journeyed down here)—

We remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,

      Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

And now, as the night was senescent

      And star-dials pointed to morn—

      As the star-dials hinted of morn—

At the end of our path a liquescent

      And nebulous lustre was born,

Out of which a miraculous crescent

      Arose with a duplicate horn—

Astarte's bediamonded crescent

      Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said—"She is warmer than Dian:

      She rolls through an ether of sighs—

      She revels in a region of sighs:

She has seen that the tears are not dry on

      These cheeks, where the worm never dies,

And has come past the stars of the Lion

      To point us the path to the skies—

      To the Lethean peace of the skies—

Come up, in despite of the Lion,

      To shine on us with her bright eyes—

Come up through the lair of the Lion,

      With love in her luminous eyes."

But Psyche, uplifting her finger,

      Said—"Sadly this star I mistrust—

      Her pallor I strangely mistrust:—

Oh, hasten! oh, let us not linger!

      Oh, fly!—let us fly!—for we must."

In terror she spoke, letting sink her

      Wings till they trailed in the dust—

In agony sobbed, letting sink her

      Plumes till they trailed in the dust—

      Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

I replied—"This is nothing but dreaming:

      Let us on by this tremulous light!

      Let us bathe in this crystalline light!

Its Sybilic splendor is beaming

      With Hope and in Beauty to-night:—

      See!—it flickers up the sky through the night!

Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,

      And be sure it will lead us aright—

We safely may trust to a gleaming

      That cannot but guide us aright,

      Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night."

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,

      And tempted her out of her gloom—

      And conquered her scruples and gloom:

And we passed to the end of the vista,

      But were stopped by the door of a tomb—

      By the door of a legended tomb;

And I said—"What is written, sweet sister,

      On the door of this legended tomb?"

      She replied—"Ulalume—Ulalume—

      'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober

      As the leaves that were crispèd and sere—

      As the leaves that were withering and sere,

And I cried—"It was surely October

      On this very night of last year

      That I journeyed—I journeyed down here—

      That I brought a dread burden down here—

      On this night of all nights in the year,

      Oh, what demon has tempted me here?

Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber—

      This misty mid region of Weir—

Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber—

      In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."

Said we, then—the two, then—"Ah, can it

      Have been that the woodlandish ghouls—

      The pitiful, the merciful ghouls—

To bar up our way and to ban it

      From the secret that lies in these wolds—

      From the thing that lies hidden in these wolds—

Had drawn up the spectre of a planet

      From the limbo of lunary souls—

This sinfully scintillant planet

      From the Hell of the planetary souls?"

There are also websites that I have found that relate the Twilight series to Cupid and Psyche. Although I am choosing to ignore these references because I think they give Twilight more literary validity than it deserves, here is one link...

http://mythicthinking.org/?p=176

Bridal Wear

Roman brides wore a white dress, flame-colored veil, a belt tied in the "knot of Hercules" (to be untied by the groom later, and the origin of our phrase "tying the knot" (http://www.roman-colosseum.info/roman-clothing/roman-wedding-clothing.htm )) and shoes to match the veil (http://ablemedia.com/ctcweb/consortium/ancientweddings7.html). Brides also had to wear their hair in elaborate braids (on some occasions, parted with iron spearheads) and a wreath of flowers over the veil (http://www.roman-colosseum.info/roman-clothing/roman-wedding-clothing.htm; http://rome.mrdonn.org/weddings.html).
I've decided to compare Roman weddings (particularly how the brides dressed) to the customs of other cultures.
Although many aspects of the Roman wedding have been adopted by the West (the veil, the exchange of vows, and the engagement ring among them) Western brides used to wear just about any color; for reasons I'm not quite sure about, black wedding dresses were popular in Scandinavia. In general, brides wore the best dresses they could afford when they got married, depending on their social status. Queen Victoria popularized the white wedding dress. Contrary to popular belief, white does not represent the virginal purity of the bride; blue (as in the blue part of the Virgin Mary's attire) was the color of virginity. Indeed, Mary, Queen of Scots, wore a white wedding dress because her favorite color was white; however, white was a color of mourning in the royal court of France.
In India and other parts of the world that wear saris, the bride traditionally wears a sari. The sari is traditionaly red, the color of good luck, with gold embroidery and gold jewelry. In fact, many eastern cultures traditionally have their brides wear red, since red was an auspicious color.
In Japan a bride may wear three or more kimonos. She wears a white one to represent that she is dead to her family, and then removes the white kimono to reveal a red one (symbolizing her rebirth in her husband's family). For better or worse, Western traditions are infiltrating traditional Eastern cultures and brides may wear white Western-style dresses, or at least white versions of their traditional garments (Wikipedia). On the other hand, I want to get married in a red sari (they're so much prettier than American white wedding dresses), so I guess the East can borrow from my culture if I want to borrow from theirs.
Feasting seems to be common in all cultures. I know feasting (or rather, extremely heavy snacking) are common features at weddings on my mom's side. The Romans had a priest sacrifice a cake to Jupiter. Alcohol seems to be consumed, except in cultures where consuming alcohol is forbidden (like in Islam and in the Southern-Baptist Church), in most cultures. Confusingly, the alcohol consumed at a Chinese wedding goes by the same name as the wedding feast itself. East Asian weddings include tea ceremonies (Wikipedia).

reflato sinu

So that you guys can have an idea of how a skirt can be inflated, the famous Marilyn Monroe picture Professor Malamud mentioned during my translation:

It is also apparently a statue in Chicago:

Cupid and Psyche in art

The link below (a blog) contains a good selection of works of art inspired by the story of Cupid and Psyche. ignoscatis precor: the blog is in Italian!!
However you can skip the introduction (it is a short summary of the story) and appreciate the images!

http://almacattleya.blogspot.com/2010/12/due-amanti.html

Apuleius and the fish (back to the first book)

Apuleius, as Lucius, had some problem when he tried to buy fish. In the Apology he tells us that the charge which the accusers treated as strong support for their accusation was "the matter of the fish". They accused Apuleius to have  purchased and dissected fish for making magic potions. 

This is part of the text in English translation:

“beginning with the charge which…they treated from the start as the strongest argument for the suspicion of magic, that I bought some species of fish from fisher men for a price. which of these pertains to magic? that I sought the fish from fisher men? But of course—I should have sought them from a seamstress or a carpenter if I had wanted to avoid your calumniae, and had them change jobs, so the carpenter would catch my fish, and the fisher do my woodwork. But perhaps it was from this that you under stood a crime, that I sought the fish for a price? I do believe if I had wanted them for a party I could have got them for nothing. Why don’t you argue against me from several other purchases? For I have even bought fruits and vegetables and bread and wine" (29. 1-5),

 and then....

"But I ask you, is a man a magician for seeking fish? Certainly I do not think so, any more than if I were hunting rabbits, boars, or birds. But perhaps fish have something secret from others, and known to magicians? If you know what it is, you are a magician; if you do not know, you are obliged to confess that you do not know what you are accusing me of" (30. 1–2).

Zygia (4.33.4)

 It is quite interesting the adjective zygia (4.33.4): it means "nuptial", "of marriage". What I found interesting is the fact that etymologically the word derives from the Greek "zugos" which means yoke! the same is true for the words jugalis, conjunx, conjugalis all related to jugum. So the marriage is considered a yoke, it puts a bridle on people. Cavete all you who are getting married.....

PS: Zygia is also an epithet for Juno (see Metamorph. 6, 4, 3) as the Goddess of marriages (= Juno Jugatina)

Cocteau

Lesley brings up the question of other variants of the Beauty and the Beast theme.  Davide says:
The story of Cupid and Psyche inspired also the Italian sculptor Antonio Canova (1757-1822). He represented the moment in which Cupid with a kiss awakened Psyche. There are three versions of this sculpture. Two are in display at The Louvre and another version at The Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg. When last June I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC, I saw a cast of this statue.

Cast of Canova's Cupid and Psyche, Metropolitan Museum

Two notable 20th century ones are the quite remarkable C.S. Lewis novel Till We Have Faces, a re-telling of the Cupid and Psyche story from an unexpected point of view, and Cocteau's  La Belle et la Bete-- surreal and mannered in ways that Apuleius would have appreciated.  Black and white film has seldom been as luminous. 

Pulchritudo et Bestia

Since"Cupid and Psyche" is a forerunner for the fairy tale "Beauty and the Beast," I've decided to do a blog post about the classic fairy tale.
Just what is it about the story of a pretty girl and a mysterious (and usually hideous, though this isn't the case in "Cupid and Psyche") suitor? The story has been adopted many times. Some of the more famous examples I can think of (please list more examples below) are "The Princess and the Frog," the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and the Phantom of the Opera. On some levels the biblical narrative of Jesus fulfills the basic terms of the "Beauty and the Beast" story: beautiful being redeeming sinners.
Perhaps that's just it: the theme and promise of redemption through love in "Beauty and the Beast" stories are the reason they're so popular.

Roman Chariot Racing Teams

A while back, when we were still in the Satyricon there was a passage in which we began to talk about chariot racing and the different teams and colors. I meant to look up more on it before, but only just remembered (sometimes your mind will do anything to distract you while studying). There is an article on the vroma page that elaborates on this topic...

The four Roman racing companies or stables (factiones) were known by the racing colors worn by their charioteers; this mosaic depicts a charioteer and horse from each of the stables, Red, White,Blue, and Green. Fans became fervently attached to one of the factions, proclaiming themselves “partisans of the Blue” in the same way as people today would be “Yankee fans.” The factions encouraged this sort of loyalty by establishing what we might call “clubhouses” in Rome and later in other cities of the empire. In the later empire these groups even acquired some political influence (Junius Bassus, a consul of 331 CE, had himself portrayed driving a chariot in a mosaic; behind him are four horsemen wearing the colors of the four circus factions). 

http://www.vroma.org/~bmcmanus/circus.html

Also, the reason I was familiar with this in the first place is because over the summer I read two historical fiction novels that had much Roman history in them. They are a series and the third one just recently came out. The first one is called Mistress of Rome and the second is called Daughters of Rome both by Kate Quinn. The titles are kind of lame, I know, but the first book is an excellent novel and focuses a lot on Domitian, while the second has the bit about the chariot races (one of the daughters is a die-hard Reds fan). The second one is not as good of a story as the first but both have equal amounts of Roman history and the historical notes at the end are very good.

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6581303-mistress-of-rome

-just some reviews about the book and a plot summary, etc. 

Great Minds

Not long after reading Katherine's post on the Brontes I stumbled on this by Fergus Millar, on Metamorphoses 9.33-34, an incident where a hen lays a live chicken, blood rises from the floor, and wine boils in vats in the wine cellar:  "This story, as Apuleius tells it, has another important characteristic.  Rather as in Wuthering Heights, the remarkable and fantastic goings-on in Apuleius' novel take place in a solidly realistic background, in this case a farm-house with chickens in the yard, wine-jars in store, sheepdogs and sheep.  Indeed, I am going to suggest that the realism of tone in the novel may extend beyond purely physical descriptions, to realistic images of social and economic relations, the framework of communal life in a Roman province, and even, here and there, to the wider context of what it meant to be a subject in the Roman Empire."  (Fergus Millar, "The World of the Golden Ass" in S.J. Harrison ed. Oxford Readings in the Roman Novel: 1999).

On Cheesy Comestibles

 Now that Lesley and Alexandra have forced us to confront cheese, I feel obliged to provide a link to Monty Python's The Cheese Shop Sketch.  Le fromage de la belle France, anyone? 

There is a folklore article on cheese and witches  available on JSTOR: Cheese Gives You Nightmares:Old Hags and Heartburn.

And Circe offers Odysseus' men a potion containing cheese, wine, and barley. 

Lucius- caring to his horse

I just wanted to share that I LOVED the last line of part 20 where Lucius thanks the storyteller.

"Quod beneficium etiam illum vectorem meum credo laetari, sine fatigatione sui me usque ad istam civitatis portam non dorso illius sed meis auribus provecto."

Perhaps it is because I am a horse lover, but I love that he refers to his horse as his 'ride' and then in the same sentence attributes human feelings to the horse. I find it funny that he seems almost to be thanking the storyteller not on his own behalf, but on behalf of his horse. Also, I love the poetic metaphor of being carried by your ears. It is so true though that when you are doing something strenuous it doesn't seem as hard if you are doing something enjoyable at the same time ( such as listening to a story or talking).

Cheese

Cheese...the ultimate sign of evil and nosiness.
I'm not quite sure cheesemakers had a reputation as nosy. I don't think the basic process of making cheese (milking a goat, straining the curds and whey, and letting the finished product mature into cheese) would necessarily make you a busybody. Then again, you could be a very skilled cheesemaker and not have to concentrate too much while making cheese; the maturation process takes time. You could have a lot of free time on your hands.
Anyone got any ideas?
Thanks :D

Hello all,

I was looking around for anything relating to religion in Metamorphoses and I stumbled upon a pretty lengthy but interesting article (in parts). Thought I would share!

The article is by Warran S. Smith, University of New Mexico
http://www.ancientnarrative.com/pdf/anvol1012prelwarrensmith.pdf

Magic, the cynical view

As we've been reading the story of Aristomenes and Socrates, I keep thinking how this seems like an excuse. Maybe it's my modern, skeptical attitude, (very opposite of the open mind Lucius wants us to have), but the instant Socrates started talking about a witch, I started wondering about his motives. Of course, it's easy to blame your infidelity and neglect of your family on the wiles of a witch. Clearly, she must have entrapped you and be unwilling to let you go.

Aristomenes' story has a slightly different purpose. In his story, he invites Socrates to his room, and during the night two witches burst the door open and kill Socrates, leaving Aristomenes unharmed (except for urinating on him). The door is magically repaired, as we're told, and Aristomenes is left with a dead body.

Now, turn this on its head. Imagine that Aristomenes wants to kill Socrates (for whatever reason). He brings Socrates to his room and splits his throat. What sort of defense could he present? It was a witch! Remember, we only have Aristomenes' word that there was a witch after Socrates (no other witnesses to that conversation). Also, attributing it to a witch neatly explains why nobody was seen entering the room (they could use magic to hide their entrance), and why the door shows no sign of forced entry (remember the magical restoration of the door after the witches leave). In fact, the only sign of the witches' presence is the smell of urine on Aristomenes, and that's hardly good evidence.

Of course, the later temporary resurrection of Socrates makes my story less plausible, since that means that Aristomenes doesn't really need to make up a story to defend his murder, but up until I got to that point in the story, I was firmly convinced that there was a subtext of Aristomenes killing Socrates and making up the story of a witch to transfer the blame.

This story also reminded me of all the stories of Zeus approaching women in various guises. That always sounds like a good excuse to a jealous husband: but a god came! He looked like a swan! or a bull! or a shower of gold! or you! Also, that would be some protection for you and your child, if you say the other parent is a god.

I never know if this cynical interpretation is supposed to be suggested in any of these circumstances, or if it's just me.
COMMENT:  Of course, it may just be you, Jenny, but  this story within a story begs to be challenged at every level, right down to the weird dialogue Aristomenes has in his head with his imaginary prosecutor.  Lucius, who asked for this story, is clearly a gullible audience, and Aristomenes doesn't present himself as a very reliable narrator.  We only have his word for Socrates' resurrection, and his whole story is vehemently challenged by the other listener at the end of Book 1.

What is up with the sponge?

Is there any significance or mythological/historical basis for putting a sponge inside of Socrates' wound? This part (more than the rest) seemed odd to me. Why remove his heart and replace it with a sponge? If Socrates had not tried to leave the town, by crossing a river (in reference to the curse Meroe proclaimed), would he have continued to live?

Witches and Frogs

Well, what can I say about Meroe turning her rival into a frog?
Frogs are in some cultures sacred. For example, Wikipedia states that God was deliberatly being ironic by sending the Plague of Frogs on Egypt since Egyptians saw frogs as a sign of life and worshipped a frog goddess. Today, frogs still have a valued place in society ("The Princess and the Frog" and Kermit the Frog being but two examples).
However, earlier Christianity saw frogs as evil since they are associated with unclean spirits in Revelation. Frogs were accused of being the familiar of witches in the Middle Ages. Frogs and toads (though more often toads) were long considered the source of warts.
Romans saw frogs as symbols of fertility, harmony, and Venus' legendary lust. However, why would Meroe turn the innkeeper into a frog, specifically, aside from him croaking at his customers? Did they have a fling? Did she want him to drown in his wine?
Anyway, the interplay between lust and magic here is interesting.

Name Variation

As you guys may remember, I was very excited in class to learn that the word catamite came from Ganymede. I looked into this further after class, and apparently the word comes through the Etruscans, who had gotten the (alternate?) form Gadymede and changed all the consonants, making it catemete, and the Romans got it from them, and changed the vowels.

I also looked into Ulixes/Odysseus, which is also weird. Apparently, Odysseus is just one possible variant of the name even in Greek, which also had Olysseus, and both are believed to be derived from Olykios (or even Olixes), which would be the origin of the Roman version as well. It is interesting that Odysseus has been preserved almost solely for the Greek name, while the earlier version is preserved in the Roman name.

“This synesthesia must have been due to my disorientation.”

As one suffering from severe vertigo recently, this quotation leapt out at me.  Along with "these works captivated us but failed to describe human existence."

We'll be seeing more and more synesthesia in the Golden Ass, and if you are reading with attention, you may also experience disorientation.  To prepare for the super-allegorical (or not?)  Cupid and Psyche episode, you might enjoy reading the essay from which I took these quotations: "Why Criticism Matters" by Elif Batuman.  

Augustine (aka "that little bastard bishop of Hippo" on Apuleius

Although the esteemed bishop of Hippo condemns the pagan philosopher and magician Apuleius, he has some fellow feeling for a fellow famous African Latinist and rhetorician:

ep. 138.19 (Augustine to Marcellinus): Apuleius enim, ut de illo potissimum loquamur, qui nobis Afris Afer est notior, non dico ad regnum sed ne ad aliquam quidem iudiciariam rei publicae potestatem cum omnibus suis magicis artibus potuit peruenire honesto patriae suae loco natus et liberaliter educatus magnaque praeditus eloquentia. an forte ista ut philosophus uoluntate contempsit, qui sacerdos prouinciae pro magno fuit ut munera ederet uenatoresque uestiret et pro statua sibi apud Oeenses locanda, ex qua ciuitate habebat uxorem, aduersus contradictionem quorundam ciuium litigaret? quod posteros ne lateret, eiusdem litis orationem scriptam memoriae commendauit. quod ergo ad istam terrenam pertinet felicitatem, fuit magus ille, quod potuit. unde apparet nihil eum amplius fuisse, non quia noluit, sed quia non potuit. quamquam et aduersus quosdam, qui ei magicarum artium crimen intenderant, eloquentissime se defendit. unde miror laudatores eius, qui eum nescio qua fecisse miracula illis artibus praedicant, contra eius defensionem testes esse conari. sed uiderint, utrum ipsi uerum perhibeant testimonium et ille falsam defensionem.

Apuleius (of whom I choose rather to speak, because, as our own countryman, he is better known to us Africans), though born in a place of some note, and a man of superior education and great eloquence, never succeeded, with all his magical arts, in reaching, I do not say the supreme power, but even any subordinate office as a magistrate in the Empire. Does it seem probable that he, as a philosopher, voluntarily despised these things, who, being the priest of a province, was so ambitious of greatness that he gave spectacles of gladiatorial combats, provided the dresses worn by those who fought with wild beasts in the circus, and, in order to get a statue of himself erected in the town of Coea, the birthplace of his wife, appealed to law against the opposition made by some of the citizens to the proposal, and then, to prevent this from being forgotten by posterity, published the speech delivered by him on that occasion? So far, therefore, as concerns worldly prosperity, that magician did his utmost in order to success; whence it is manifest that he failed not because he was not wishful, but because he was not able to do more. At the same time we admit that he defended himself with brilliant eloquence against some who imputed to him the crime of practising magical arts; which makes me wonder at his panegyrists, who, in affirming that by these arts he wrought some miracles, attempt to bring evidence contradicting his own defence of himself from the charge. Let them, however, examine whether, indeed, they are bringing true testimony, and he was guilty of pleading what he knew to be false. (translation from the Fathers of the Church http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/index.html)

Julia Gaisser on Lucius the narrator

The redoubtable Julia Haig Gaisser has much to say about Apuleius and his afterlife in The Fortunes of Apuleius and the Golden Ass: A Study in Transmission and Reception (Princeton University Press, 2008). A sample chapter is available here.  In it, she discusses the shifting persona of the narrator in the Metamorphoses:

"From the beginning of the novel Apuleius depicts a hero fundamentally different from himself. Lucius is a Greek from Corinth and a relation of the famous Plutarch,⁶² whereas Apuleius is a Roman from North Africa. Lucius is credulous and foolish, both as a man and as an ass; Apuleius presents himself as a sophisticated man of the world. Lucius bungles his efforts at magic—or has them bungled for him, when Fotis gives him the wrong ointment (Met. 3.24). The Apuleius we see in the Apology may or may not be an actual magician; he could never be an incompetent one. But Lucius also resembles Apuleius.⁶³ Both men are peripatetic provincial intellectuals of good family. Both have an interest in magic. Both are eloquent orators in both Greek and Latin. Both have ties to Platonic philosophy: Apuleius is an avowed Platonist, and Lucius is related to Plutarch and Sextus, both Middle Platonic philosophers. Perhaps most important, both are initiated more than once into mystery cults, and Lucius’ conversion to Isis is told so powerfully that it has often been taken to reflect Apuleius’ own religious experience. ⁶⁴
These resemblances in themselves, however, are not enough to identify Lucius with Apuleius. Lucius’ experiences need not even be derived or adapted from those of Apuleius.⁶⁵ In the social and intellectual world of the second century, there must have been many young men not unlike Lucius—aspiring sophists at the beginning of their careers, traveling the world, dabbling in religion and philosophy (and perhaps magic), and eager for sexual and other adventures. If Apuleius had been such a youth, so were many others. It is important to remember, too, that ultimately the figure of Lucius has its origin in the lost Greek Metamorphoses by “Lucius of Patrae,” from which the plots of both Apuleius’ Metamorphoses and the Onos of Pseudo-Lucian were derived.⁶⁶
To some extent, however, it is naive to seek Lucius’ identity and relation to Apuleius. He is Apuleius’ creature if not entirely his creation, a persona like that of the magician in the Apology, which the author may assume or set down at will. In the Metamorphoses, too, just as in the Apology and Florida, Apuleius’ real aim is self-display. ⁶⁷ The object is not to identify the “real Apuleius” (or the “real Lucius,” for that matter) but to dazzle the reader by assuming multiple and contradictory personae.⁶⁸ Not only Lucius’ transformation to an ass and eventual recovery of his human form, but also the changes and confusions in the identities of author, narrator, and other speakers, justify the title Metamorphoses. ⁶⁹
Apuleius draws attention to his impersonations in the Metamorphoses in two famous passages, strategically placed at the beginning and end of the novel. In each he presents the question of his own identity vis-à-vis that of his speaker as a conspicuous and unsolvable problem. In the first passage he gives us too few clues to arrive at an answer; in the second the clue leads to an impossible contradiction.
The proem (Met. 1.1) explicitly raises the question of the speaker’s identity. ⁷⁰ “Quis ille?” (Who is this?), the speaker asks, and then proceeds to describe himself—unhelpfully—as a Greek of Attic, Corinthian, and Spartan stock who has learned Latin in Rome with great diffi culty and begs pardon for any faults in the language with which he will tell his “Greekish tale” (fabulam Graecanicam). The description fits neither the North African Apuleius nor the Greek Lucius (whose Latin seems perfectly adequate for his career in the Roman law courts at the end of the novel).⁷¹ Other answers have been proposed (the speaker is an actor outside the story, like the prologus in Plautine comedy, or perhaps even the book itself, etc.);⁷² but in fact Apuleius has given us no way to decide. The unidentifiable speaker is another of Apuleius’ personae, made deliberately mysterious and intriguing in order to announce and advertise the writer’s protean powers at the opening of his novel. The important detail is the question itself (“quis ille?”): Apuleius is the speaker; what part is he playing now?
Near the end of the novel (Met. 11.27) Apuleius ostentatiously forces the reader to confront the problem of his relation to his hero.⁷³ The puzzle is laid out in a vision, which Lucius says was related to him by a priest of Osiris named Asinius Marcellus. (The name is signifi cant, as he points out unnecessarily.) ⁷⁴ Asinius says that Osiris himself had urged Lucius’ initiation into his rites:

For the previous night, while he was arranging garlands for the great god, he thought he heard from his mouth (with which he pronounces each one’s destiny) that a man from Madauros was being sent to him, a very poor one. He should at once prepare his initiation rites for him; for by his providence the glory of learning was in store for the man and a great reward for himself.⁷⁵

The subject of the prophecy must be our hero, the Greek Lucius, but as the “man from Madauros” he can be only Apuleius, the North African author. The paradox is a red herring wrapped up in indirect statement, and it smells appropriately fi shy. ⁷⁶ Apuleius holds on to it just long enough to put on the mask of Lucius, or perhaps to let Lucius put on the mask of Apuleius, giving the reader a final reminder of his powers as an impersonator. ^77"

Witches and Frogs

Meroë is certainly not the first witch in Classical literature with a penchant for a Baleful Polymorph spell; (Circe, in particular, comes to mind), but she may well be the first witch to turn someone into a frog.  I guess the model of empowered women subverting norms by treating men like they were, literally, less than human stayed an effective one for a long period of time.

unico verbo mutavit in feram castorem...

The Aberdeen Bestiary folio f11r, the Beaver

"The beaver is a gentle animal whose testicles have a medicinal value. When hunted, the beaver escapes with his life by biting off his testicles. If he is hunted for a second time he shows his incompleteness and is spared."-- The Aberdeen Bestiary.

There is a list of ancient and medieval sources about the beaver at The Medieval Bestiary (not a comprehensive scholarly resource, and full of spelling errors, but it has some nice illustrations!).

Levitan on translating Apuleius

Professor William Levitan

The inimitable William Levitan, whose translation of Abelard and Heloise: The Letters and Other Writings, is a tour de force of the translator's art,  reviewed S. J. HARRISON, J. L. HILTON, AND V. J. C. HUNINK, trans. Apuleius: Rhetorical Works. Oxford.   Below are some excerpts that point out salient characteristics of Apuleius' style.  The full review is available on the UB Learns site, under course documents.

"Apuleius of Madauros, as this book reminds us, was no one-trick burro. Indeed he was always eager to reveal just how many tricks he had in store. “Uno chartario calamo me reficere poemata omnigenus apta virgae, lyrae, socco, coturno, item satiras ac griphos, item historias varias rerum nec non orationes laudatas disertis nec non dialogos laudatos philosophis, atque haec et alia eiusdem modi tam graece quam latine, gemino voto, pari studio, simili stilo” he tells us in what is actually one of his more muted fanfares on the theme of his own versatility (Flor. 9.27–29); there was still more to the man. Polymath and poet, Platonist and philologue, writer, rhetor, raconteur, and Wortjongleur in two tough tongues, he was also (he reminds us) a globe trotter, a snapper-up of historical trifles, a connoisseur of cults and maven of mysteries, a public performer, a popular idol, a grateful pal to the great and powerful, and the toast of the coast of northern Africa—all these boasts of omnicompetent cultivation just part of the pose and professional program of the second-century sophist.

...My strongest reaction to the book is admiration for the translators’ pluck. It is certainly a daring move to face down texts like these, one tour de force after another of uninhibited verbal display. The famous Apuleian jangle turns out to be one of the smaller problems. At least in the short run, it is in fact relatively easy to do a relatively poor but recognizable English imitation (see, e.g., first paragraph above) of some of the isolated and more conspicuous formal mannerisms of Apuleian rhetoric—alliteration, homoteleuton, rhythmical cola, rhyme, puns, pleonasm, the mix of diction, and so on. To my mind, it is unthinkable to render Apuleius without a good helping of this verbal flavor, and the translators here all liberally dish up the spice; but alone it is a simple parlor trick and in the end as unsatisfying as verse translation “in original metres.

More difficult by far—and far more valuable—is getting the sense of real performance in these texts. If these rhetorical works of Apuleius belong anywhere, they belong most securely to the history of self-display. Voice, stance, tone, brute showmanship, the play of roles and masks, the audience in the palm of his hand, and Apuleius always at center stage—these are not mere features of his work: they are its raisons d’être. But voice is notoriously the most elusive quality for a translator to render, and with Apuleius in particular there is the temptation of several false moves. For all his mannerisms, Apuleius cannot be made to speak like a sideshow huckster; for all his sly flamboyance, he is not camp; for all his learning, he is no bore; and for all his long and crafted sentences, he does not sound—worst of worsts—like a translator of classical texts. Because the codes of performance governing the interaction between actor and audience are woven so intimately into the fabric of an individual culture, we may surely despair of finding a unique mode that both pretends to historical verisimilitude and yet will work in our time and in our language; but still, something must be done to lift the voice of Apuleius from the page and restore it to something like living presence before a living audience. And whatever this something is, it is the translator who must do it."
American Journal of Philology, Volume 124, Number 1 (Whole Number 493), Spring 2003, pp. 156-160.

The Novel in its Assy Shape

 Tristram Shandy has some intertextual moments with an Apuleian ass:

"He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this discourse went on, and in the
little peevish contentions of nature betwixt hunger and unsavouriness, had dropt it out of his mouth half a dozen times, and pick'd it up again------God help thee, Jack! said I, thou hast a bitter breakfast on't—and many a bitter day's labour ...And now thy mouth, if one knew the truth of it, is as bitter, I dare say, as soot— (for he had cast aside the stem) and thou hast not a friend perhaps in all this world, that will give thee a macaroon.------In saying this, I pull'd out a paper of 'em, which I had just purchased, and gave him one—and at this moment that I am telling it, my heart smites me, that there was more of pleasantry in the conceit, of seeing how an ass would eat a macaroon------than of benevolence in giving him one, which presided in the act."
Tristram Shandy, 7:22


-->

"'Twas by a poor ass who had just turned in with a couple of large panniers upon his back, to collect eleemosunary turnip tops and cabbage leaves; and stood dubious, with his two forefeet on the inside of the threshold, and with his two hinder feet towards the street, as not knowing very well whether he was to go in, or no. Now, 'tis an animal ... I cannot bear to strike------there is a patient endurance of sufferings, wrote so unaffectedly in his looks and carriage, which pleads so mightily for him, that it always disarms me; and to that degree, that I do not like to speak unkindly to him: on the contrary, meet him where I will—whether in town or country ... whether in liberty or bondage------1 have ever something civil to say to him on my part; and as one word begets another (if he has as little to do as I)— —I generally fall into conversation with him; and surely never is my imagination so busy as in framing his responses from the etchings of his countenance—and where these carry me not deep enough-----in flying from my own heart into his, and seeing what is natural for an ass to think—as well as a man." 

Tristan Shandy, 7:32

Below, some observations by Margaret Doody in "Shandyism, Or, the Novel in Its Assy Shape: African Apuleius,The Golden Ass, and Prose Fiction," Eighteenth-Century Fiction, Volume 12, Number 2-3, January-April 2000, pp. 435-457 (available through Project Muse or on  this class's UBLearns site under Course Documents):

"The Ass-Novel, the story of negative metamorphosis, provides a means of dealing with some of the most painful experiences of mortal nature, and eases us into a world not only of thought but of feeling—and of feeling in which pain is dominant. In all versions of the Ass-Novel, masculinity is
in question, and the torments and dubieties of masculinity not only form a central subject but also put pressure upon and shape the form."

"Lucius in the time of his transformation has no effective human voice, but the narrator is abustle with talk, talking to us all the time, in a wonderful stream of egoistical and pathetic and funny personal discourse."

"The absence of true virility is expressed everywhere in the form of the novel, which is an extensive first-person narration not acting as formal or argumentative discourse. It is wandering, digressive, chatty, anecdotal, and irrelevant—deformatus. As Lucius says, he found consolation in his deformity, in that with his gigantic ears he could easily hear everything said, even at a distance (see 2:9, c. 15, 152). Deformity has its advantages, which the style explores. The narrative is greedy and rich in lists, catalogues of marvellous completeness and irrelevance. Lucius the ass is tempted by the baked goods prepared by the pastry cook: "cuiusce modi pulmentorum largissimas reliquias, hic panes, crustula, lucunculos, hamos, laterculos, et plura scitamenta mellita" ["the other brought all sorts of great leftovers of pastries—here were breads, cookies, little shaped cakes like lizards and anchors, biscuits and more dainty things made with honey"] (2:10, c. 13, 240). Apuleius enjoys the enumeration of richness, the rhyme of lucunculos and latercolos, the sense of great variety just enumerable, held loosely together within some overarching but not exactly enclosed unity. The multiform is his favourite mode, and words such as "multiform" among his favourite terms."

Apuleius Translation, Day 1

So far so good translating Apuleius :)
That being said, this is one WEIRD story!
I noticed Apuleius used the "royal we" a lot. In addition to having a Vergil/Virgil flashback, I have to wonder why. While Lucius (the narrator) has a fairly distinguished lineage, he's not royal. Why use the "royal we"? Was it just common back then, or do we use "we" for "I" all the time and never realize it? Was this a matter of fitting the meter?
Any thoughts are highly appreciated.
Thanks :)

Nero's influence on Trimalchio

Going off of Professor Malamud's post about Performance anxiety and Nero, I started doing some more research on influences for Petronius. I came across this website that does a really good comparison between Nero and Trimalchio. I know it is a bit long but it has specific textual references and compares the character of Trimalchio to Nero quite well. I just thought it was interesting.

http://www.allempires.com/article/index.php?q=Satyrica_-_How_Did_Nero_Influence_the_Charact

Women's... rights?

Okay, so it may have already been obvious that I personally was bothered most so far in Cena by the launching of a cup into the face of Fortunata by Trimalchio. And though, yes, the paterfamilias had the power of life and death over his wife and family, and I understand that. Still, I was determined to find that there had been some kind of sanctity for the wives in ancient times. The only help that a woman could hope for, would come from her family. Families of the wife would often agree with the husband, whether she was drinking too much, being adulterous or disrespectful in front of company etc., that she was wrong. However, if a woman was clever and convincing enough, she could appeal to her family members for help. An example of this can be found in Cicero's letters to Atticus 1.5.1 and 5.1.3-4. Atticus has asked Cicero to check on his sisters marriage with Cicero's brother. In this case, Cicero find the wife, Pomponia, to be "bitter and rude... and ill-tempered", and he finds his own brother, Quintus, to be "gentle and kind". Though Pomponia is the one acting wrong in this situation, it still interests me to know that there was at least that last hope of familial intervention, for women in Rome. Also, after reading these letters I must admit that I was a bit surprised to see an actual account of a woman disrespecting her husband so openly. Perhaps this kind of behavior was often the case in some Roman well-to-do households regardless of the risks involved?

On Performance Anxiety and Nero

Picking up on Lesley's post, it does seem that Nero, at least, was prey to great anxiety about his performances, as Suetonius details (Life of Nero,23-24):

XXIII. He afterwards appeared at the celebration of all public games in Greece: for such as fell in different years, he brought within the compass of one, and some he ordered to be celebrated a second time in the same year. At Olympia, likewise, contrary to custom, he appointed a public performance in music: and that he might meet with no interruption in this employment, when he was informed by his freedman Helius, that affairs at Rome required his presence, he wrote to him in these words: "Though now all your hopes and wishes are for my speedy return, yet you ought rather to advise and hope that I may come back with a character worthy of Nero." During the time of his musical performance, nobody was allowed to stir out of the theatre upon any account, however necessary; insomuch, that it is said some women with child were delivered there. Many of the spectators being quite wearied with hearing and applauding him, because the town gates were shut, slipped privately over the walls; or counterfeiting themselves dead, were carried out for their funeral. With what extreme anxiety he engaged in these contests, with what keen desire to bear away the prize, and with how much awe of the judges, is scarcely to be believed. As if his adversaries had been on a level with himself, he would watch them narrowly, defame them privately, and sometimes, upon meeting them, rail at them in very scurrilous language; or bribe them, if they were better performers than himself. He always addressed the judges with the most profound reverence before he began, telling them, "he had done all things that were necessary, by way of preparation, but that the issue of the approaching trial was in the hand of fortune; and that they, as wise and skilful men, ought to exclude from their judgment things merely accidental." Upon their encouraging him to have a good heart, he went off with more assurance, but not entirely free from anxiety; interpreting the silence and modesty of some of them into sourness and ill-nature, and saying that he was suspicious of them.
XXIV. In these contests, he adhered so strictly to the rules, (354) that he never durst spit, nor wipe the sweat from his forehead in any other way than with his sleeve. Having, in the performance of a tragedy, dropped his sceptre, and not quickly recovering it, he was in a great fright, lest he should be set aside for the miscarriage, and could not regain his assurance, until an actor who stood by swore he was certain it had not been observed in the midst of the acclamations and exultations of the people. When the prize was adjudged to him, he always proclaimed it himself; and even entered the lists with the heralds. That no memory or the least monument might remain of any other victor in the sacred Grecian games, he ordered all their statues and pictures to be pulled down, dragged away with hooks, and thrown into the common sewers. He drove the chariot with various numbers of horses, and at the Olympic games with no fewer than ten; though, in a poem of his, he had reflected upon Mithridates for that innovation. Being thrown out of his chariot, he was again replaced, but could not retain his seat, and was obliged to give up, before he reached the goal, but was crowned notwithstanding. On his departure, he declared the whole province a free country, and conferred upon the judges in the several games the freedom of Rome, with large sums of money. All these favours he proclaimed himself with his own voice, from the middle of the Stadium, during the solemnity of the Isthmian games.