The greater subjectivity of the Apuleius’ romance as
compared to the Greek Romances is attained by the aloneness
of the hero, his quest and its implicit meaning, his individual
satisfaction. This subjectivity is intensified by
the complete adoption of the ego-narrative. Far more
attention is paid by Apuleius than by the Greek romancers
to the narrator and to his point of view in telling the whole
romance. Achilles Tatius was afterwards to attempt the
use of this device of narration in the first person, but he
soon lost sight of the narrator in the narrative and even
at the end he never let him reappear. Lucian adopted
completely the ich-roman form, but, as far as can be
known, without rich characterization of the teller. Apuleius
uses to the full the advantage of having a man-ass as
narrator, for his composite hero has a duplex view-point
of man and animal and displays a double humor, of man
and beast. All this keeps the hero-narrator before our
eyes and we become ever more and more interested in the
effect of the events narrated on his inner life and on his
final solution of life.
Riefstahl points out that in the Greek love romances
there is some striving after subjectivity in the presentation
of external events. The possibility of expression is not
yet rich, but by soliloquies, by descriptions of emotions, by
reflections on events expressed in
γνῶμαι
the romancers are working from objective to subjective presentation of their
material. The soul is treated as an individual entity separated
from the body and contrasted to it. On this foundation
in the love romances rests the inner structural arch
of spatial separation and spiritual fidelity. The relation
of the objective and the subjective creates somehow the
scale on which all these romances take their place. The
love romances are at the objective end of the scale, the
older ones particularly, dynamic events holding writer and
reader spell-bound. In Longus a peaceful atmosphere is
created because there are few exciting events, little travel,
only the study of the development of love in two adolescents
in a quiet pastoral setting, but the expression is not
adequate. Longus senses the dual conception of Eros, in
man and in nature, for the love of the two young shepherds
is set in the teeming, growing life of the outer world, but he
does not develop fully this subtle implication. Achilles
Tatius inclines toward the subjective direction through
his attempted use of the ego-narrative. But the fullest
subjective treatment is found in Apuleius. In Achilles
Tatius as in Apuleius, the aim of the hero is a
μυστήριον
but with him it is the
μυστήριον
of love; in Apuleius it is the
sacrorum arcana.[373] The powerful cosmic force of love
appears only in Apuleius and there it is embodied in the
personality of Isis. The goddess describes herself to Lucius
as “the natural mother of all things, mistress and governess
of all the elements, the initial progeny of worlds,
chief of the powers divine, queen of all that are in hell,
the principal of them that dwell in heaven, manifested
above and under one form of all the gods and
goddesses.”[374]
The whole story of Apuleius pictures, according to Riefstahl,
the striving of the individual towards the All. The
cosmic Eros has taken the place of the ancient Greek Eros,
who was a terrible power, often identified with the blind, cruel
Τύχη.
To this cosmic Eros Apuleius has given the
name of Isis.[375] Riefstahl to be sure pushes too far his
theory of an underlying philosophical content in Apuleius,
representing the romance “as an artistic unit ... and as
an issue of the writer’s intellectual interests and personality,”
“ein künstlerisch gestaltetes Anschauungsbild der
existenziellen Lebensgrundlage des Neuplatonismus.”[376]
Yet he does point out astutely the fundamental difference
in Apuleius which makes his Metamorphoses another distinct
type of romance, the subjective philosophical.
It is strange to find that so distinguished and perceptive
an historian as Rostovtzeff in his histories of Rome does
not recognize the significance for the early empire of this
new literary form. In describing the second century, he
writes:[378]
Rostovtzeff’s omission of all reference to the Greek Romances
(even to Lucian’s) and to Apuleius shows how
completely they have been disregarded. Yet for a picture
of the social life of the second and the third centuries and
of the psychology of the men of the time the Greek Romances
and Apuleius are a revelation.
The Roman empire had checked both political activity
and oratory, indeed the orator had been succeeded by the
rhetor in Greece and Rome. In the unified Mediterranean
world trade had developed greatly and travellers had
followed traders from one country to another, among them
the lecturing sophists. The new lands visited had their
curiosities and splendors so travellers’ tales multiplied with
descriptions often worthy of a natural history. Men, diverted
from the aims of personal ambition which military
conquest or a democratic state had afforded, now sought
release and excitement in the personal relations. Women
achieved a new freedom and a new importance. The
emotional life came to have a new interest and this led to
the development of the prose romance.
From the east came, with rich material resources, a
wealth of new ideas, a mingling of superstition, magic, religion
and philosophy. Just as man’s emotions were
turned inward so was his thought. The greatest new adventure
became the quest for a solution of life itself. The
romances of the early empire whatever their type reflect the
age: its craving for excitement, its desire for adventure,
its dread of brigands, its curiosity about the new, its interest
in art, its wish for fulfillment of emotion in romantic
love, its awareness of unsolved mysteries in man and the
universe. With even the partial re-dating of the Greek
Romances all sorts of subjects open up for investigation
such as the apparatus of religion in the use of oracles,
dreams, epiphanies; the interest in works of art; the new
position of women. At any time in the future new fragments
of romances may be discovered, or new dating of
some of the old ones may be made possible. But even
now while archaeological discoveries are suspended and
publication of new editions is delayed, we may read and
re-read these amazing old stories and see what escape literature
was in the second and third centuries. The Greek
Romances have much to tell us of the psychology of their
authors, their characters, and their readers. They have a
deep human value.
[1]Translated by George Thornley, revised by J. M. Edmonds, in
Daphnis and
Chloe by Longus in
The Loeb Classical Library.
[2]By Stephen Gaselee, “Appendix on the Greek Novel,” in
Daphnis and Chloe in
The Loeb Classical Library, New York, 1916, pp. 410-11.
[3]R. M. Rattenbury in
New Chapters
in the History of Greek Literature,
Third Series, Oxford, 1933, p.
211.
[4]P. D. Huet,
Traité de l’origine
des Romans, 1671.
[5]J. Dunlop,
The History of Fiction,
Edinburgh, 1816.
[6]A. Chassang,
Histoire du roman
... dans l’antiquité grecque et latine,
Paris, 1862.
[7]V. Chauvin,
Les romanciérs grecs
et latins, 1864.
[8]Caritone di Afrodisia, Le Avventure
di Cherea e Calliroe, romanzo
tradotto da Aristide Calderini, Torino,
1913.
[12]L. Whibley,
A Companion to Greek Studies, Cambridge, 1916, p. 155. For
a discussion of these stories and the novelle see E. H. Haight,
Essays on Ancient
Fiction, New York, 1936.
[13]Alfred Croiset and Maurice
Croiset,
An Abridged History of
Greek Literature, translated by G. F.
Heffelbower, New York, 1904, p. 517.
[14]H. Bornecque,
Les Déclamations
et les Déclamateurs d’après Sénèque
le père, Lille, 1902, p. 130.
[15]Caritone di Afrodisia, Le Avventure
di Cherea e Calliroe, Aristide
Calderini, Torino, 1913.
[18]Op. cit., pp. 212-13.
[20]Op. cit., pp. 387-93.
[22]Op. cit., pp. 219-23.
[23]Op. cit., pp. 223-254.
[25]Pap. Fayûm, London, 1900, I (pp.
74 ff.) and
Pap. Oxyrh. 1019 (vol.
VII. 1910, pp. 143 ff.), both of the early
III century, found in 1906 and 1910.
[26]Preface to
Chariton’s Chaereas
and Callirhoe, Ann Arbor and London,
1939. Throughout this chapter
I use this translation of Chariton by
Warren E. Blake and the Greek text
edited by him,
Charitonis Aphrodisiensis,
de Chaerea et Callirhoe
amatoriarum narrationum libri octo,
Oxford, 1938.
[27]IV. 4, 7-10; IV. 5, 8; IV. 6, 4; IV. 6, 8 (2 letters); VIII. 4, 2-3; VIII. 4,
5-6.
[44]VII. 4 =
Il. XIII. 131.
[47]II. 9 =
Il. XXIII. 66-67.
[49]V. 5 =
Odys. I. 366. See also IV.
7 =
Odys. XVII. 37; VI. 4 =
Odys. VI.
102.
[50]II. 3 =
Odys. XVII. 485, 487; IV.
1 =
Il. XXIII. 71; IV. 1 =
Odys.
XXIV. 83; VI. 4 =
Odys. XV. 21; VII.
2 =
Il. XXII. 304-5.
[52]I. 4 =
Il. XVIII. 23-25.
[53]III. 5 =
Il. XXII. 82-83.
[54]IV. 5 =
Il. XXI. 114.
[55]VI. 1 =
Il. XXIV. 10-11.
[56]VIII. 1 =
Odys. XXIII. 296.
[57]III. 5 =
Il. XXII. 82-83.
[58]II. 9 =
Il. XXIII. 66-67.
[60]Aristide Calderini,
Caritone di
Afrodisia, Le avventure di Cherea e
Calliroe, Torino, 1913, pp. 154-58.
[61]Calderini,
op. cit., pp. 159-60;
V. 8.
[63]Calderini,
op. cit., pp. 163-64.
[64]Xenophon of Ephesus,
Ephesiaca, V. 1.
[66]II. 13, G. Dalmeyda,
Xénophon
d’Éphèse, Les Éphésiaques, Paris,
1926, p. 33, n. 1.
[67]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xiii-xiv.
[68]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xii-xv,
xxxviii-ix.
[71]Dalmeyda, op. cit., p. xxiii, for
example in the love-story of Aegialeus,
V. 1, 4, for the climax:
καὶ ἀπηλαύσομεν ὦν ἕνεκα συνήλθομεν.
[72]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xvi-xviii;
Calderini,
op. cit., p. 85.
[75]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xxiv-xxv.
[86]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xvi-xviii.
[87]Calderini,
op. cit., pp. 120-25.
[88]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xviii-xxiv.
[89]Calderini,
op. cit., p. 113.
[90]See the story of the old Spartan and his mummy, V. 1.
[91]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., p. xxvii.
[92]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xxviii-ix.
[94]I. 6, V. 4; II. 1, II. 12; III. 2,
I. 12, V. 11.
[98]Chariton, III. 5. See Dalmeyda,
op. cit., p. xxx.
[99]II. 4. Chariton, V. 10.
[100]Iliad, XXII, 389-90; Dalmeyda,
op. cit., p. xxix.
[101]III. 7; Chariton, I. 6; IV. 1.
[102]V. 8; Chariton, V. 10.
[103]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xxxii-iii.
[104]For this introduction to Heliodorus I am largely indebted to the edition
of
Les Éthiopiques edited by R. M. Rattenbury. T. W. Lumb, J. Maillon,
Paris, vol. I, 1935; vol. II, 1938. For the
Testimonia see
Heliodori Aethiopica
by Aristides Colonna, Rome, 1938, pp. 361-72.
[105]R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb, J. Maillon,
op. cit., I, ix-xi.
[106]R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb,
J. Maillon,
op. cit., I, xiii-xv.
[107]Aristide Calderini,
Le Avventure
di Cherea e Calliroe, Torino, 1913,
pp. 176-77.
[108]II. 35, translated by the Rev. Rowland Smith, in
The Greek Romances of Heliodorus, Longus, and Achilles Tatius, London, 1855, pp. 61-62. It is impossible to reproduce in English the Greek’s hidden references to the names of Chariclea, Famed-for-her-Grace, and of Theagenes, the Goddess-Born.
[109]Translated by the Rev. Rowland Smith,
op. cit., pp. 196-97.
[110]Calderini,
op. cit., pp. 118-25.
[111]R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb, J. Maillon,
op. cit., I, lxxxviii-ix.
[112]Calasiris in II and III; Cnemon
in I, II and VI; Achaemenes in VIII;
Sisimithres and Charicles in X.
[113]R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb,
J. Maillon,
op. cit., II, 87, n. 1.
[114]IV. 3,
Il. XXII. 108-897: VII.
4-6,
Il. III. 88-244 and
Il. XXII.
136-436; V. 5,
Odys. XIX. 392-94;
VI. 14,
Odys. XI.
[115]R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb,
J. Maillon,
op. cit., I, lxxxix-xcii.
[116]S. L. Wolff,
The Greek Romances
in Elizabethan Prose Fiction, New
York, 1912, pp. 150-52.
[117]Calderini,
op. cit., pp. 106-7.
[118]Arsace is not an historical character.
“Le personnage féminin d’Arsacé semble bien être de l’invention d’Héliodore,
mais il se peut qu’il se soit souvenu, en créant son nom, d’Arsacés, le
fondateur de l’empire des Parthes, et des Arsacides, ainsi que d’Arsamés,
grandpère de Darius (Hér. I, 209). D’après Suidas (s.d.
Θεοκλυτήσαντες)
Darius avait une fille nommée Arsamé.”
R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb, J. Maillon, op. cit., II, 113, n. 1.
[119]R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb,
J. Maillon,
op. cit., I, lxxxv-viii.
[120]R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb,
J. Maillon,
op. cit., I, xviii-xx.
[121]“Héliodore pratique avec une réelle habileté l’art des suspensions et des
retours. L’unité du récit n’est jamais compromise.”
R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb, J. Maillon, op. cit., II, 37, n. 3.
[122]R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb,
J. Maillon,
op. cit., I, xx-xxi and
lxxxv-viii; A. Calderini,
op. cit., pp.
176-77.
[123]See
The Cambridge Ancient History,
Cambridge (Eng.), 1934, X, 506-11;
1936, XI, 700-1; Philostratus,
The Life of Apollonius of Tyana
translated by F. C. Conybeare in
The
Loeb Classical Library, 2 vols. New
York, 1912.
[124]Translated by the Rev. Rowland
Smith,
op. cit., p. 259.
[127]V. 22,
Odys. XIII. 332, XVIII.
66-70,
Il. XIX. 47-49.
[128]V. 11,
Odys. VI. 180; V. 15,
Il.
III. 65; VII. 10,
Il. VI. 235-36.
[129]VII. 9,
Il. XXIV. 3-12; VI. 5,
Il. I. 106-7; IV. 7,
Il. XVI. 21.
[130]J. W. H. Walden,
Stage-terms
in Heliodorus’s Aethiopica, in “Harvard
Studies in Classical Philology,”
V (1894), 1-43.
[131]V. 6, II. 11, I. 3, II. 4 and 23,
VI. 12, IX. 5, VI. 14.
[132]X. 12, VII. 6-8, VIII. 17. Calderini,
op. cit., pp. 159-63.
[133]On the style of Heliodorus, see Maillon in R. M. Rattenbury, T. W. Lumb,
J. Maillon,
op. cit., I, xcii-xciii.
[134]IV. 4. Translated by the Rev. Rowland Smith,
op. cit., p. 81.
[135]Aristide Calderini,
Caritone di
Afrodisia, Le Avventure di Cherea e
Calliroe, Torino, 1913, p. 191.
[136]From the introduction to
Achilles
Tatius with an English translation
by S. Gaselee, in
The Loeb Classical
Library. The translations used in
this chapter are from this volume.
[137]GH in Grenfell and Hunt,
Oxyrhynchus Papyri, X, 135, no. 1250.
[138]R. T. Rattenbury,
New Chapters in the History of Greek Literature:
Third Series: Oxford, 1933, pp. 254-57.
[139]F. A. Todd,
Some Ancient Novels, Oxford, 1940, p. 33; S. Gaselee,
op.
cit., pp. xv-xvi.
[140]F. A. Todd,
op. cit., p. 33; S. L. Wolff,
The Greek Romances in Elizabethan
Prose Fiction, New York, 1912, pp. 248-56.
[142]J. S. Phillimore, “The Greek Romances,” in
English Literature and the
Classics, Oxford, 1912, pp. 108-15.
[143]J. S. Phillimore,
op. cit., p. 115.
[144]S. Gaselee,
op. cit., p. 455.
[156]VII. 12, 14. Compare also the dream in I. 3.
[157]III. 15; V. 7; VII. 3-5.
[170]R. M. Rattenbury,
op. cit., pp. 256-57.
[177]I. 9. Compare V. 13.
[188]IV. 8-10, 15-17, V. 22, 26.
[202]II. 2; V. 2; VI. 3-4.
[204]I. 8; II. 1, 15, 23, 34.
[220]IV. 11-12; III. 24-25; IV. 2-3, 4, 19.
[221]S. L. Wolff,
op. cit., pp. 202-11.
[222]J. S. Phillimore,
op. cit., pp. 115-16.
[223]F. A. Todd,
Some Ancient Novels, London, 1940, p. 35.
[224]G. Dalmeyda,
Longus, Pastorales (Daphnis et Chloé), Paris, 1934, pp.
xxi-xxii.
[225]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., p. xxiv, “un des plus grands charmes de son roman
est le cadre de nature, et l’intime union du décor et des personnages:
dans ce sol plaisant et fertile, les deux héros semblent avoir leurs racines
comme de jeunes plantes.”
[239]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xxvii-xxxi.
[258]Cp. II. 4 with Bion IV.
[259]Cp. I. 18 with Moschus I. 27.
[260]II. 33. See on the bucolic tradition, Dalmeyda,
op. cit., p. xxiii with
n. 4.
[261]Calderini,
op. cit., pp. 169-70.
[265]Horace is the only other ancient writer who uses the name Chloe, C. I. 23;
III. 7, 9, 26.
[266]I. 17, with Courier’s excellent
emendation of the ms.
χλόης (for
χλόας)
to
πόας, Sappho 2.
[268]III. 33-34. Sappho 93.
[269]J. M. Edmonds,
Daphnis and
Chloe in
The Loeb Classical Library,
p. xi, n. 1.
[270]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xxxiv-v.
[271]II. 7, Vergil
Ec. I. 5.
[272]J. M. Edmonds,
op. cit., p. ix.
[273]Calderini,
op. cit., pp. 145-47.
[274]Dalmeyda,
op. cit., pp. xxxviii-xlii.
[288]S. L. Wolff,
op. cit., p. 162.
[289]F. A. Todd,
op. cit., p. 64.
[290]Paul-Louis Courier,
Les Pastorales de Longus ou Daphnis et Chloé, traduction
de Messire Jacques Amyot revue, corrigée, complétée et de nouveau
refaite in grande partie, Paris, 1925,
Preface, p. xxii. See also
Bibliographie.
[291]Suidas, as quoted in the
Enc. Brit. XIV. Vol. 14, p. 460.
[292]Maurice Croiset,
Essai sur la vie
et les œuvres de Lucien, Paris, 1882.
[293]Basil L. Gildersleeve,
Essays and
Studies, Baltimore, 1890.
[294]For a concise tabular classification
of Lucian’s works, based on Croiset’s
arrangement, see H. W. Fowler and
F. G. Fowler,
The Works of Lucian
of Samosata, 4 vols. Oxford, 1905,
I, xiv-xviii. To be specially noted are
the influences in definite periods of
the rhetoricians, of philosophy, of
New Comedy, of Menippus, of Old
Comedy.
[295]Translated by A. M. Harmon, in
Lucian, in
The Loeb Classical Library,
III, 223, 225.
[296]Harmon,
op. cit., III, 231, 233.
[297]Xenophon,
Memorabilia, II, 1, 21.
[298]See M. Croiset,
op. cit., Chap. II.
[300]Horace,
Ep. I. 1, 14.
[301]Harmon,
op. cit., II, 487, 495.
[302]Harmon,
op. cit., V, 1.
[303]Harmon,
op. cit., V, 47-49.
[304]M. Croiset,
op. cit., pp. 140-43, 188-92.
[305]M. Croiset,
op. cit., p. 82.
[306]F. Cumont in the
Mémoires
couronnées de l’académie de Belgique,
Vol. XL (1887), summarized by
Harmon,
op. cit., IV, 173.
[307]M. Croiset,
op. cit., p. 131.
[308]Gildersleeve,
op. cit., p. 327.
[309]Harmon,
op. cit., III, 411.
[310]Harmon,
op. cit., III, 481.
[311]M. Croiset,
op. cit., p. 176.
[312]Teubner text, I (1896), 319-27;
H. W. Fowler and F. G. Fowler,
The
Works of Lucian, II, 27-34.
[313]H. W. Fowler and F. G. Fowler,
op. cit., II, 29.
[314]H. W. Fowler and F. G. Fowler,
op. cit., II, 33.
[315]M. Croiset,
op. cit., p. 303.
[316]H. W. Fowler and F. G. Fowler,
op. cit., II, 123, C. 27.
[317]H. W. Fowler and F. G. Fowler,
op. cit., II, 128-29, CC. 39, 41.
[318]H. W. Fowler and F. G. Fowler,
op. cit., II, 133-35, CC. 54-61.
[319]Gildersleeve,
op. cit., p. 316.
[320]See Philip Babcock Gove,
The
Imaginary Voyage in Prose Fiction,
New York, 1941.
[321]A secondary Preface to Book
II may be found in
Babble Beforehand:
Dionysus. In it Lucian
speaks of a literary novelty he is
producing under the influence of
Dionysus and Silenus, an old man’s
lengthy babbling.
[322]I. 4. The translations of the
True History are from A. M. Harmon,
Lucian, I, 247-357 in
The Loeb
Classical Library.
[327]Gildersleeve,
op. cit., pp. 318-19.
[328]See E. Rohde,
Der Griechische Roman, Leipzig, 1914, pp. 204-209; 242-50,
260 ff.; C. S. Jerram,
Luciani Vera Historia, Oxford, 1887, I, 120 and
passim;
H. W. L. Hime,
Lucian the Syrian Satirist, London, 1900, app. pp. 91-95; F. W.
Householder, Jr.,
Literary Quotation and Allusion in Lucian, New York, 1941.
[329]F. G. Allinson,
Lucian Satirist
and Artist, Boston, 1926, p. 123.
[333]I. 16, Her. III. 102.
[334]I. 16, Her. IV. 191.
[335]I. 23, Her. I. 202; IV. 75.
[337]I. 40, Her. II. 156.
[339]II. 5, Her. III. 113.
[349]II. 28,
Odys. X. 302-306.
[350]II. 33,
Odys. XIX. 562-67.
[351]II. 46,
Odys. XII. 37-200.
[353]See M. Croiset,
op. cit., C. XII,
“La fantaisie chez Lucien”; and
F. G. Allinson,
op. cit.,
passim.
[354]Andrew Lang,
Letters to Dead
Authors, New York, 1893, pp. 53-54.
[355]Ben Edwin Perry,
The Metamorphoses Ascribed to Lucius of Patrae,
Princeton, 1920.
[356]Bibl. Cod. 129, Migne.
[357]B. E. Perry,
op. cit., pp. 52-55.
[358]M. Croiset,
op. cit., p. 48.
[359]Harmon,
op. cit., V, 101-207.
[360]M. Rostovtzeff,
Seminarium
Kondakovianum, II, 135-38, Prague,
1928;
Papyri Greci e Latini, VIII. No.
981. For a different point of view see
F. Zimmermann, “Lukians Toxaris
und das Kairener Romanfragment”
in
Philologische Wochenschrift, 55
(1935), 1211-16.
[361]R. M. Rattenbury, “Romance: the Greek Novel” in
New Chapters in the
History of Greek Literature, Third Series, pp. 240-44.
[362]M. Rostovtzeff,
Scythien und der
Bosporus, Berlin, 1931, I, 96-99.
[363]M. Croiset,
op. cit., p. 51.
[364]Quis ille?
Met. I. 1.
[365]E. H. Haight,
Apuleius and his
Influence, New York, 1927; “The
Myth of Cupid and Psyche in Ancient
Art” in
Art and Archaeology,
III (1916), 43-52, 87-97; “The Myth
of Cupid and Psyche in Renaissance
Art,” “The Vassar College Psyche
Tapestries,” in
Art and Archaeology,
XV (1923), 107-116; “Apuleius’ Art
of Story-Telling” in
Essays on Ancient
Fiction, New York, 1936.
[366]From E. H. Haight, “Apuleius’ Art of Story-Telling,” in
Essays on Ancient
Fiction, New York, 1936, p. 152.
[368]Hermann Riefstahl,
Der Roman des Apuleius, Frankfurt am Main, 1938,
pp. 83-84.
[369]Riefstahl,
op. cit., p. 85.
[370]For an account of Aristides and the Milesian Tales see L. C. Purser,
The
Story of Cupid and Psyche as related by Apuleius, London, 1910, Excursus
I.
[372]Riefstahl,
op. cit., pp. 84-85.
[374]S. Gaselee,
Apuleius the Golden
Ass being the Metamorphoses of Lucius
Apuleius, in
The Loeb Classical
Library, XI. 4.
[375]For Riefstahl’s whole theory of
“Apuleius und die griechischen Liebesromane”
see
op. cit., pp. 82-95.
[376]See the review of Riefstahl’s
work by H. W. Prescott in
A.J.P., 61
(1940), pp. 115-17.
[377]To complete the list of different
types of novels, we might add the
realistic novel of low life, Petronius’
Satyricon. Since its affiliations are
with the Menippean satire and not
with the Greek Romances, I have
omitted any study of it here. See
E. H. Haight,
Apuleius and his Influence,
pp. 7-8; “Satire and the
Latin Novel” in
Essays on Ancient
Fiction, pp. 86-120. For a recent
review of the literature about the
Satyricon and a brilliant re-interpretation
of it see Gilbert Highet “Petronius
the Moralist” in
T.P.A.P.A.,
LXXII (1941), 176-94.
[378]M. Rostovtzeff,
A History of the
Ancient World, Volume II. Rome,
Oxford, 1927, pp. 239-41. Yet see pp.
181-85 for Rostovtzeff’s knowledge of
the Greek Romances.