The original version of this paper was delivered in the Classics Department of the University of California at Santa Barbara in February 1998. I thank those who heard it then and on subsequent occasions for their comments and criticisms.

1. A title both misleading and narratologically inappropriate. It is misleading in that it implies that here we have a romance like Chaereas and Callirhoe or Daphnis and Chloe in which equal attention is paid to each of the protagonists as they journey towards their happy ending, whereas in fact the focus of this tale (at least until its closing stages—see n.67 below) is far more on Psyche than it is on Cupid (as observed by Konstan, D., Sexual Symmetry: Love in the Ancient Novel and Related Genres [Princeton 1994], 135Google Scholar); it is narratologically inappropriate because it destroys the mystery surrounding the identity of Psyche’s unknown husband, carefully concealed until Psyche herself forces the issue at 5.22. On the latter point see Winkler, J.J.Auctor and Actor: A Narratological Reading of Apuleius’s ‘The Golden Ass’ (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London 1985), 89fGoogle Scholar.; Kenney, E.J., ‘Psyche and her Mysterious Husband’, in Russell, D.A. (ed.), Antonine Literature (Oxford 1990), 175–98Google Scholar, at 175f. Having issued this caveat, however, I shall adhere to the story’s traditional title in what follows.

2. On the links between the bandits and Homer’s Polyphemus see Penwill, J.L., ‘Ambages Reciprocae: Reviewing Apuleius’ Metamorphoses’, in Boyle, A.J. (ed.), The Imperial Muse: Flavian Epicist to Claudian (Bendigo 1990), 211–35Google Scholar, at 219 and 231 n.41.

3. Cf. Penwill (n.2 above), 219. The immediate ‘purpose’ suggested by this programmatic statement is to distract Charite from brooding on the gruesome situation in which she finds herself.

4. Penwill, J.L., ‘Slavish Pleasures and Profitless Curiosity: Fall and Redemption in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses’, Ramus 4 (1975), 49–82CrossRefGoogle Scholar, esp. 50–59.

5. Thus creating an alternative structural design to that effected by the book divisions. Narratologically the spilling over of an embedded tale introduced late in Book 4 not only into the following book but also into the major part of the book after that comes as a complete surprise; the previous ones (Aristomenes’ tale in Book 1 and Thelyphron’s in Book 2) are presented neatly within the confines of their respective books, and nothing has prepared us for the existence of a narrative of this length. There are of course Ovidian parallels—the Phaethon story straddles Books 1 and 2 and that of Glaucus and Scylla Books 13 and 14 of his Metamorphoses—but Apuleius is doing more than simply enhancing a sense of carmen perpetuum.

6. For Thiasus’ quest for public office see 10.18.

7. DeFilippo, J., ‘Curiositas and the Platonism of Apuleius’ Golden Ass’, AJP 111 (1990), 471–92Google Scholar.

8. Apuleius, , The Golden Ass, tr. Walsh, P.G. (Oxford 1994)Google Scholar.

9. Walsh, P.G., The Roman Novel (Cambridge 1970), esp. 190fGoogle Scholar. and 220–23.

10. In order: Tatum, J., Apuleius and the Golden Ass (Ithaca NY 1979), 49–62Google Scholar; James, P., Unity in Diversity: A Study of Apuleius’ Metamorphoses (Altertumswissenschaftlichen Texte und Studien 16: Hildesheim 1987), 119–39Google Scholar; J.K. Krabbe, , The Metamorphoses of Apuleius (New York 1989), 93fGoogle Scholar., 128–44; Schlam, C.C., The Metamorphoses of Apuleius: On Making an Ass of Oneself (London 1992), 50f., 74f., 97f., 121, 125Google Scholar; Shumate, N., Crisis and Conversion in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses (Ann Arbor 1996), 251–62CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Finkelpearl, E., Metamorphosis of Language in Apuleius: A Study of Allusion in the Novel (Ann Arbor 1998), 111fCrossRefGoogle Scholar.

11. Hijmans, B.L. & van der Paardt, R. Th. (eds), Aspects of Apuleius’ Golden Ass (Groningen 1978)Google Scholar.

12. Winkler (n.1 above). Winkler comments favourably on my 1975 article at 147f. n.13, but rejects (by implication) the interpretive premises on which it is based.

13. Kenney, E.J. (ed.), Apuleius: Cupid and Psyche (Cambridge 1990)Google Scholar. Kenney’s commentary is an invaluable source of information about the allusions that permeate this text, and it would be remiss not to acknowledge my obvious indebtedness to it. It is with his interpretation of the tale as a whole that I take issue in the argument that follows.

14. Kenney (n. 1 above).

15. Penwill (n.4 above), 50f.

16. Kenney (n.13 above), 12ff.

17. A useful analogy might be drawn (and appropriately drawn, given the ‘Cyclopean’ nature of the milieu in which this tale is being narrated) with the Cyclops episode in Book 9 of the Odyssey, there is an obvious foreshadowing of Odysseus’ experience in Ithaca as he has to become ‘Nobody’ in order to achieve his objective, but there is a fundamental difference too: the Odysseus of Book 9 is still very much an adherent of the heroic value system whose limitations he has yet to learn, whereas the Odysseus of Books 13–24 is motivated solely by the desire to restore order and justice in his household and kingdom. Parallels serve to highlight differences as well as similarities; cf. n.22 below.

18. Kenney (n.13 above), 16f.

19. E.g. Schlam, C., ‘The Curiosity of the Golden Ass’, CJ 64 (1968), 121–25Google Scholar; Wlosok, A., ‘Zur Einheit der Metamorphosen des Apuleius’, Philologus 113 (1969), 68–84CrossRefGoogle Scholar, at 70ff.; Nethercut, W.R., ‘Apuleius’ Metamorphoses: The Journey’, AΓΩN 3 (1969), 97–134Google Scholar, at 107; Sandy, G.N., ‘Knowledge and Curiosity in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses’, Latomus 31 (1972), 179–83Google Scholar, at 180; Walsh (n.9 above), 192, and ‘Apuleius and Plutarch’, in Blumenthal, H.J. and Markus, R.A. (eds.), Neoplatonism and Early Christian Thought: Essays in Honour of A.H. Armstrong (London 1981), 20–32Google Scholar, at 24–26; Gianotti, G.F., ‘Romanzo’ e ideologia: studi sulle ‘Metamorfosi’ di Apuleio (Naples 1986), 36Google Scholar with n.ll; DeFilippo (n.7 above), 475–80.; Schlam (n.10 above), 97f.; Shumate (n.10 above), 254f.

20. Kenney (n.13 above), 13f.

21. Penwill (n.4 above), 56f.

22. Krabbe (n.10 above), 135f., 139–42; likewise Schlam (n.10 above), 98. Contrast Penwill (n.4 above), 51: ‘The thematic links are not there to create a parallel but to point up a contrast—a technique which we shall see Apuleius employing time and time again, especially with respect to the relation between Book 11 and the rest of the work.’

23. On links between Apuleius’ Venus and Virgil’s Juno see Tatum (n.10 above), 49f.; Kenney (n.1 above), 178f.; Finkelpearl (n.10 above), 68, and ‘Psyche, Aeneas and an Ass: Apuleius Metamorphoses 6.10–6.21’, TAPA 120 [1990], 333–47Google Scholar, at 345.

24. Cf James, P., ‘Cupid at Work and at Play’, GCN 1 (1988), 113–21Google Scholar, at 117: ‘leuiter is a key word in this confession.’ For leuiter used in this sense in the context of amatory pursuit, cf. Ov. Met. 9.622.

25. PI. Snip. 180c–185c. Cf. Apul. Apol. 12.

26. Kenney (n.13 above), 20.

27. The assumption that this tale has to be interpreted in Platonist terms rests on shaky logic, which may be summarised quasi-syllogistically as follows: 1. Apuleius was a Platonist; Apuleius wrote ‘Cupid and Psyche’; Therefore ‘Cupid and Psyche’ is in some sense a Platonist text. 2. Cupid is the Latin equivalent of the Greek Eros and Psyche is the Greek word for ‘soul’; Plato wrote about Eros and the soul in the Symposium and the Phaedrus; Therefore the key to understanding this text lies in Plato’s doctrines about Eros and soul. Neither of these arguments is valid. To illustrate the point, try substituting ‘Seneca’ for ‘Apuleius’, ‘Stoic’ for ‘Platonist’ and ‘Thyestes’ for ‘Cupid and Psyche’ in the former (on which cf. Boyle, A.J., Tragic Seneca [London 1997], 32f.Google Scholar). Stoicism is certainly relevant for an understanding of the Thyestes, but that is a very different thing from maintaining that the play is in essence some kind of Stoic tract; mutatis mutandis the same is true of Platonism in ‘Cupid and Psyche’. I am not claiming (nor have I ever claimed, despite the implication of Dowden, K., ‘Psyche on the Rock’, Latomus 41 [1982], 336–52Google Scholar, at 338) that Plato is irrelevant; nor do I mean to deny the truth of Tatum’s assertion that ‘a myth about Soul and Love can pose a universal statement about all human souls, all human desires’ (Tatum [n.10 above], 54). What I am suggesting is that if we seek to understand exactly what this statement is, we should base our interpretation on a reading of the text in the context of the work of which it forms a part (taking note of the obvious intertextualities), not on a priori assumptions about the author’s philosophical stance. Cf. Anderson, G., Eros Sophistes: Ancient Novelists at Play (Chico 1982), 80–84Google Scholar.

28. Sen. Phd. 330f., 334.

29. An important addition to the references to Homer, Moschus and Ovid noted by Kenney (n.1 above, 180 and n.16).

30. Kenney (n.13 above), 124. Cf. ibid. 126: ‘Venus’ kiss here is not exactly maternal—but how could the embrace of this mother and this son…be anything but “erotic”?’ Yes it is erotic, just like the kisses Venus advertises (via Mecury) as a reward for the capture of Psyche at 6.8.3 (on which see Kenney [n.1 above], 192f.), and importantly so; it is far more than the simple farewell gesture implied by ‘He [Cupid] is dismissed with a kiss’ (Kenney [n.1 above], 180). Better is James (n.10 above), 146f.

31. Cf. Heiserman, A., The Novel Before the Novel (Chicago 1977), 158Google Scholar (‘She [Psyche] falls into the palace garden of Eros [sic], the winged wanton who has himself fallen in love with this image of his mother’); James (n.10 above), 145 (‘He [Cupid] succumbs to Psyche, as if she were Venus reborn).’

32. See p. 164 above. Either way there is I think no need for ingenious explanations like that of Konstan (n.1 above, 136f., based on Fulgentius), that Cupid, like Psyche at 5.23.2, accidentally wounded himself with his own arrow before he could carry out his mother’s command. As Konstan rightly observes (ibid, n.84), Cupid’s remark at 5.24.4, praeclarus ille Sagittarius ipse me tela meo percussi (‘renowned archer that I am, I pierced myself with my own weapon’) is not to be taken literally (pace James [n.24 above], 117f.); it does not support the idea that Cupid falls in love with Psyche ‘unwillingly’ (as claimed by Frangoulidis, S., ‘Venus and Psyche’s Sisters in Apuleius’ Tale of Cupid and Psyche’, CB 70 [1994], 67–72Google Scholar, at 67).

33. As even Thomas Taylor perceived: ‘When Psyche is represented as descending from the summit of a lofty mountain into a beautiful valley, this signifies the descent of the soul from the intelligible world into a mundane condition of being…’ (Taylor, Thomas, ‘Explanation of The Fable of Cupid and Psyche’ [1795], in Raine, K. & Harper, G.M. [eds.], Thomas Taylor the Platonist: Selected Writings [Princeton 1969], 430Google Scholar). Dowden (n.27 above, 339) scoffs at Taylor’s interpretation (‘obviously wrong-headed’), stating virtually as an article of faith that ‘it is not credible that Psyche’s marriage to Cupid should be a step down in the world’ (original emphasis). In its context in this novel, I find it perfectly credible.

34. For numerous examples see Kenney (n.l3 above), 131–33. The negative descriptions of Cupid in the oracle and by implication at 4.31.3, where Venus describes the kind of husband she wants for Psyche, are related by some critics to Diotima’s description of Eros at PI. Smp. 203c–e (see e.g. James [n.10 above], 168 n.20; Shumate [n.10 above], 259). But the terms applied to Psyche’s husband here are surely too extreme; Diotima has already expressly rejected the proposition that if Eros is not beautiful and good he must be ugly and bad (Smp. 201e–202b), yet ‘ugly and bad’ is clearly the import of Venus’ and Apollo’s descriptions.

35. Kenney (n.13 above), 148: ‘[Psyche’s] is the love that desires bodies (Eros Pandemos), Cupid that which desires souls (E. Uranius).’ But Cupid is clearly not averse to Psyche’s body or to the language of love: when he addresses her as Psyche dulcissima at 5.5.2 and 5.12.5 he is using the same Greek pillow-talk as is remarked on in an erotic context at Mart. 10.68.5 and Juv. 6.195; and for an allegedly ‘spiritual’ lover he is curiously susceptible to ‘persuasive kisses’ and ‘compelling limbs’ (oscula suasoria…membra cogentia, 5.6.9). The final sentence of 5.6 is instructive: ui ac potestate uenerii susurrus inuitus succubuit, ‘against his better judgement (inuitus) he succumbed to the powerful force of her sensuous whisperings’; and cf. 5.13.6, amplexibus mollibus decantatus, ‘bewitched by her soft embraces’. Psyche can work on and through Cupid’s sexuality just as well as his mother can (cf. James [n.10 above], 147: ‘Psyche is able to re-arouse “Venus” in Cupid’; cf. also Finkelpearl [n.10 above], 67f.); a ‘higher love’ should not be so easily seduced. Kenney’s explanation (n.1 above, 185: ‘that was Amor I failing to withstand the promptings of his lower self [II]’) suggests a god with a disturbingly split personality, and certainly not one compatible with the Platonist notion of divinity (cf. e.g. Pl. Rep. 380d–383b, Plu. De E ap. Delph. 20).

36. It is hard to escape the conclusion that there is an allusion here to Ovid’s account of Cinyras and Myrrha (Met. 10.298–502). Particularly striking are the shared motifs of concealed identity (Myrrha knows who she is sleeping with but Cinyras doesn’t) and of the disastrous outcome when the ignorant partner seeks to satisfy his curiosity by bringing a lamp into the bedroom (note esp. 472f. auidus cognoscere amantem/post tot concubitus inlato lumine, ‘eager to know his lover after so many nights together he brought in a light…’). In both cases the ignorant partner offers violence (Psyche with the razor, Cinyras with his sword), and in both cases the discovered one flees. In both cases too the female partner becomes pregnant—in Myrrha’s case with Adonis, whose subsequent liaison with Venus marks a further strengthening of the link. This allusion to a story which Ovid’s narrator (Orpheus) expressly finds repugnant (see esp. 300–03 and the ‘crime-laden’ language of 465–74) makes it more difficult to regard Cupid’s conduct as that of a Pausanian ‘heavenly lover’.

37. Walsh (n.9 above), 206f.; Kenney (n.1 above), 185; Kenney (n.13 above), 172; Holzberg, N., The Ancient Novel: An Introduction, tr. Jackson-Holzberg, C. (London 1995Google Scholar; orig. publ. 1986), 81f.; J. Gwyn Griffiths, ‘Isis in the Metamorphoses of Apuleius’, in Hijmans and van der Paardt (n.11 above), 141–66, at 150.

38. See esp. Phaedrus 250c–252c.

39. Cf. Kenney (n.13 above), 169f.

40. And remains at that level throughout: the cause of her Orpheus-like dementia in breaking the prohibition against opening the box she is bringing back from the underworld is her desire to make herself attractive to her ‘beautiful lover’ (amatori meo formonso, 6.20.6; cf. n.67 below). This is not merely a case of simplicitas as claimed by e.g. James (n.10 above), 130 and 139 n.32. On Psyche as (Virgil’s) Orpheus see Harrison, S.J., ‘Apuleius’ Metamorphoses and Virgil’s Aeneid’, MD 39 (1997), 53–73Google Scholar, at 68–70. Shumate’s claim (n.10 above, 254) that ‘this scene represents…“true” love, the desire for god’ is a misreading; again, cf. n.67 below. Dowden’s conclusion (n.27 above, 352) that ‘Cupid is the passion which draws man to god, as we can see from his name and Psyche’s feelings towards him’ (my emphasis) is similarly illogical. To confuse Love with the object of love is an elementary fallacy, one to which many interpretations of ‘Cupid and Psyche’ seem curiously prone.

41. Interpretations of this description such as that of Kenney (n.1 above, 183f.: ‘The effect…is to inspire wonder and awe….There is a sense throughout of latent power and majesty….The potent and worshipful reality of love is revealed in its true splendour…’) tend to ignore the persona of the narrator at this point. The emphasis throughout is on physical beauty, a beauty that is both sensual and erotic: uidet…illum Cupidinem formonsum deum formonse cubantem (‘she sees that beautiful god Cupid beautifully lying there’, 5.22.2); diuini uultus intuetur pulchritudinem (‘she gazes on the beauty of his divine face’, 5.22.4); ceterum corpus glabellum atque luculentum et quale peperisse Venerem non paeniteret (‘the rest of his body was smooth and bright and such as Venus would have no shame in having given birth to’, 5.22.7—this last comment coming immediately after the old woman has expatiated in detail on the beauty of Cupid’s hair, which can only remind us of the similar combination of luxuriant hair and smooth body that Lucius finds so ravishing in Fotis [see 2.8–9 and 17]; a link underscored by the rare Apuleian diminutive glabellum [‘smooth’], found only at 2.17.2 and 5.22.7).

42. HHD 231–64. Metaneira’s spying on Demeter makes it impossible for her son Demophoon to achieve immortality; Cupid warns Psyche that if she spies on him, the same fate awaits her offspring (5.11.6). On the implications of this for the Voluptas that is born of the union of Cupid and Psyche, see Penwill (n.4 above), 53f. Allusions to the Demeter/Persephone story, particularly the Ovidian version (Met. 5.341–661), run like a leit-motiv through this tale. In both Venus employs Cupid to restore her reputation (Ov. 5.362–84 – Ap. 4.29–31: cf. p.165 above); with Psyche’s ferales nuptiae and descent from the rock (Ap. 4.33–35) compare Hades’ rape of Persephone/ Proserpina and her descent to the underworld (HHD 15ff., Ov. 5.385ff.); Demeter‘s/Ceres’ neglect of the world and its consequences is parallelled in Venus’ similar neglect, both being provoked by their opposition to their respective offsprings’ marriages (HHD 305ff/Ov. 5.474ff. ∼ Ap. 5.28); Venus’ appeal to Jupiter and Mercury’s consequent role as messenger (Ap. 6.6–7) recall Ov. 5.509–32 (appeal) and HHD 324–85 (Hermes); and Psyche’s opening the box and its consequences resonate with Persephone’s eating the pomegranate seeds and the consequent requirement that she too undergo a temporary ‘death’ (HHD 390–447/Ov. 5.534–71 ∼ Ap. 6.21). We should not however be seduced by this into thinking that the end of ‘Cupid and Psyche’ is an exact parallel to the ending of the HHD; certainly Psyche/‘Soul’ attains immortality and a semblance of the blessed existence promised to the initiates (see esp. HHD 473–82) in her new life among the gods, but only at the cost of being overmastered by Desire and joining the pleasure-oriented world of the Olympians. See further pp.l74f. below.

43. Kenney (n.13 above), 175f. In fact Kenney sees Cupid’s influence already at work in Apollo’s oracle at 4.33 (ibid. 130).

44. Kenney (n.13 above), 175; cf. Kenney (n.1 above), 186.

45. Kenney (n.1 above), 182; Kenney (n.13 above), 203. Similarly Walsh (n.9 above), 213f. Cf. James (n.10 above), 185: ‘Psyche’s tasks prove the power of Love is still all-pervasive even when Love himself is wounded and imprisoned.’

46. Cf. p.169 above. That the river’s alleged feelings are a construction of the narrator is clearly shown by the scilicet; on Apuleius’ use of scilicet in such speculative assertions cf. Dowden, K., ‘Apuleius and the Art of Narration’, CQ 32 (1982), 419–35CrossRefGoogle Scholar, at 422ff.

47. Compare Homer’s description of Pandaros’ arrow ‘eager to fly through the throng’ (, Il. 4.126. This figure is found in story-telling from the earliest works of European literature.

48. And so again we have the narrator importing her values and ways of reading into the story. For other examples see above nn.40 (Cupid’s physical beauty) and 45 (the river’s behaviour) and her description of Cupid’s palace at 5.1–3, on which see Penwill (n.4 above), 78 n.29, and Murgatroyd, P., ‘Apuleian Ecphrasis: Cupid’s Palace at Met. 5.1.2–5.2.2’, Hermes 125 (1997), 357–66Google Scholar, at 362. James (n.10 above, 123–25) cites the references to theft and covetousness in the narrative as yet further instances; cf. also James (n.24 above), 114f.

49. Despite the argument of Finkelpearl (n.23 above, 341–43) linking this reed to the golden bough and the Sibyl of Aeneid 6, it has an ancestry more Ovidian than Virgilian. As Kenney (ad 6.12.1) notes, the verb uaticinatur used here to denote the reed’s prophetic utterance is not found in Virgil but is ‘a favourite of Ovid’s’. In addition to the reeds that betray Midas’ secret at Met. 11.190–93 mentioned by Finkelpearl, there are also the reeds into which Syrinx is transformed at 1.705–08 which produce a sound ‘resembling one complaining’ (sonum…similem…querenti, 708). Both Apuleius’ and Ovid’s reeds require the intervention of the wind in order to speak. Neither of the Ovidian examples (nor indeed the rustling of the golden bough) is said to be a consequence of divine inspiration; their ability to communicate is represented more as an accident of nature—the ‘inspiration’ of the wind. The adverb diuinitus inserted into leni crepitu dulcis aurae diuinitus inspirata (‘at a god’s behest breathed into by the soft rustling of a gentle breeze’) may thus safely be explained as a narrative gloss.

50. That Venus jumps to the conclusion that Cupid has assisted Psyche in the first two tasks (see 6.11.2 and 6.13.3) does not mean that we have to follow her, any more than we do when she accuses Psyche of employing witchcraft to fulfil the third (6.16.2). The only assistance Cupid provides comes at the end of the fourth, and that is only to rescue Psyche from the consequences of her own stupidity.

51. The phrase utcumque casus eius non inscius (‘somehow or other aware of her situation’) applied to Pan at 5.25.4 does not demonstrate that Pan is ‘in the know’ or that ‘he has evidently been briefed’ for this ‘counselling session’ as Kenney maintains (n.1 above, 186; similarly James [n.10 above], 153). Simple observation is quite sufficient an explanation. That after all is what Pan says (5.25.5). Advising her to pray to the god responsible for people falling in love is entirely appropriate; that there is an irony involved in this advice is not part of Pan’s comprehension of Psyche’s circumstances.

52. In Ovid’s version of the Ganymede story (Met. 10.155–61) the eagle is actually Jupiter in disguise, flying down mendacibus…pennis (‘on deceptive wings’, 159). That is divine intervention to secure an outcome; here on the other hand is just an ordinary eagle whose thought-processes and motivation are invented for him by the narrator.

53. Nethercut, W.R., ‘Apuleius’ Literary Art: Resonance and Depth in the Metamorphoses’, CJ 64 (1968), 110–19Google Scholar, at 118; Walsh (n.9 above), 222; Walsh (n.19 above), 30; Gwyn Griffiths (n.37 above), 149; Tatum (n.10 above), 59f.; Hooper, R.W., ‘Structural Unity in the Golden Ass’, Latomus 44 (1985), 398–401Google Scholar, at 401; Krabbe (n.10 above), 61f. and 93f.; Schlam (n.10 above), 98.

54. Frogs 127–35. See Kenney ad 6.17.2; Walsh (n.9 above), 215; Harrison (n.40 above), 67f.

55. For the latter see Harrison (n.40 above), 69f.

56. Kenney (n.13 above), 212–18; see also Finkelpearl (n.23 above), passim, and Harrison (n.40 above), 67–71.

57. Kenney (n.13 above), passim. Cf. Anderson (n.27 above), 80: ‘Psyche is abandoned, like Andromeda; persuaded like a jealous rival to want to see her lover as he really is, like Semele; punished by a jealous goddess with perpetual wandering like Io; sent to recover dangerous objects like Jason, Orpheus, or Demeter; and allowed to open a forbidden box, like Pandora.’ Such allusion is ubiquitous in the telling of this tale. On Psyche as (Ovid’s) Semele cf. Krabbe (n.10 above), 66f.

58. A similar point is made by Finkelpearl (n.10 above), 199–202, where she shows how Apuleius uses allusion to contrast Isis with Virgil’s Juno and with the Venus of ‘Cupid and Psyche’.

59. Ov. Met. 1.601–67 and 722–33 (Io), 2.467–530 (Callisto), 3.253–312 (Semele); cf. Finkelpearl (n.10 above), 69, and Müller, H., Liebesbeziehungen in Ovids Metamorphosen und ihr Einfluss auf den Roman des Apuleius (Göttingen 1998), 196Google Scholar.

60. Pl. Symp. 194e–197e; Eur. Hipp. 525–64; Sen. Phd. 274–357; Ov. Met. 1.452–73, 5.362–84.

61. Harrison argues that Psyche’s achievement of immortality is in some sense a consequence of her passing the tests set for her by Venus, and that this aspect of her story is brought out by the links Apuleius sets up between Psyche and Aeneas: Harrison (n.40 above), 70f. But in fact the only test she ‘passes’ is the second, and that only because she follows the reed’s advice about how and when to gather the wool. In the first and third she would on any objective assessment be failed for cheating, and in the fourth, while she follows the tower’s instructions almost to the end, she is finally unable to withstand the temptation to open the box. Her inability to fulfil any of these tasks unaided renders the ‘reward’ yet more conspicuous as an intervention on the part of Cupid and Jupiter, and one which as the narrative shows is not undertaken for the worthiest of motives.

62. Kenney (n.1 above), 195. Kenney acknowledges the difficulty that this change—and the narration of the final scene generally—poses for his allegorical reading of the story.

63. Incongruous because sobrietas was earlier described by Venus herself as inimica mea (‘my enemy’, 5.30.3).

64. Another link between Apuleius’ Jupiter and Ovid’s is noted by Krabbe (n.10 above, 61), who observes how Arachne’s representation of Jupiter’s transformations in pursuit of sexual pleasure (Ov. Met. 6.103–07) is echoed in Jupiter’s own catalogue at 6.22.4.

65. Xenophanes DK 21 B 11, 14, 15, 16.

66. Apropos here is the remark of Shumate: ‘What ultimately unites the works [sc. Virgil’s Aeneid and Apuleius’ Metamorphoses] is a deep skepticism about the power of any political or social structure to neutralize the forces of chaos in anything but the most tentative, provisional, or even cynical way.’ Shumate, N., ‘“Darkness Visible”: Apuleius Reads Virgil’, GCN 7 (1996), 103–16Google Scholar, at 114.

67. Thus I cannot agree with interpretations such as that of Shumate (n.10 above, 252 and 259): ‘Only with the realization that the divine is the “true” object of her desire does Psyche at last experience (or, in the symbolic language of the tale, give birth to) enduring pleasure….The immortal [sic] child Voluptas [is] a reference to the sort of deep and enduring pleasure that can only come from connection with the transcendent realm.’ At no stage in the narrative is it implied that the ‘true object of her desire’ is the divine; her last words talk about her desire to please her beautiful lover (amatori meo formonso placitura, 6.20.0), which is her only motive for stealing a portion of the ‘divine beauty’ that she has brought back from the underworld. And in fact the focus of the narrative here switches from Psyche to Cupid; the slumber which envelops Psyche effectively removes her as an actor, rendering her impervious to the normal effect of Cupid’s arrow (n.b. Psychen innoxio punctulo sagittae suae suscitat, ‘he wakes Psyche with a harmless prick of his arrow’, 6.21.0) and turning her into nothing more than the sex-object she was at the start of the tale. Finally on the allegorical level the pleasure to which Psyche gives birth is clearly the pleasure that arises from the link the tale establishes between the life-principle and sexual desire: what ‘we call’ (nominamus) the joy of sex. ‘Hyper-Platonist’ readings such as Shumate’s would have us believe that this is the pleasure of the soul rapt in contemplation of envisaged by Diotima at Symp. 211c–212a, but the text cannot sustain such a reading. Similarly misconstrued is Walsh’s appeal to Plutarch’s Amatorius 164f–165d to support the thesis that Psyche’s quest for Cupid somehow represents the soul’s yearning for knowledge of ultimate reality (Walsh [n.19 above], 29f.). But Love is the means to attaining possession of transcendent beauty, not itself the object of the soul’s desire. Plutarch is too good a Platonist to fall into that error. Such interpretations fail to grasp the crucial point: Psyche is married to Cupid, not to Beauty Itself. Cf. n.40 above.

68. Cf. James (n.24 above), 119: ‘Yet, as [Charite] listens, the puer pinnatus, Cupido, is already wreaking havoc in her future home.’ For an interesting and informative analysis of the interrelationship between ‘Cupid and Psyche’ and the Tlepolemus/Charite narrative, see Dowden, K., ‘The Unity of Apuleius’ Eighth Book and the Danger of Beasts’, GCN 5 (1993), 93–109Google Scholar, at 99–101; though it will be obvious that I cannot agree with the implication of Dowden’s antithesis: ‘Cupid & Psyche is about successful, immortalising love; the Thrasyllus story is specifically marked as a tale offuriosa libido and leads not to apotheosis, but…to death’ (100).

69. As James (n.10 above, 157) observes, the god of love foists change on both gods and humans (‘Love is always capable of transforming his victims. They undergo emotional and physical metamorphoses.’). But what ‘Cupid and Psyche’ challenges is the proposition that these changes are—or can ever be—changes for the better.

70. Such redemption will incorporate a repair of the deleterious changes effected by Cupid (see previous note). This is foreshadowed by Lucius-as-prologue when he promises to tell of figuras fortunasque hominum in alias imagines conuersas et in se rursum mutuo nexu refectas (‘figures and fortunes of human beings converted into other likenesses and made back into themselves again in a reciprocal intertwining’, 1.1.2). ‘Repair’ or ‘restore’ are the basic meanings of reficio: see OLD s.v.

71. See 9.13.3–5 and 15.6–16.1 with the remarks thereon of Winkler (n.1 above), 150, and Laird, A., ‘Person, “Persona” and Representation in Apuleius’s Metamorphoses’, MD 25 (1990), 130–63Google Scholar, at 149f.; cf. also Penwill (n.4 above), 68f.

72. See Ov. Met. 11.146–93; Pers. Sat. 1.1–12, 119–23; compare Pl. Phd. 81e–82a and Plu. De Is. et Os. 362e–363a, 363c–d, 371c. ‘The ass is proverbially insensitive to the finer things in life’ (James [n.10 above], 122).

73. See esp. Pl. Smp. 191a–c.

74. For Isis as Venus see 11.2.1 and 11.5.2. The idea that the stories of Lucius and Psyche are linked by the concept of uoluptas (so Walsh [n.9 above], 192) is in my view erroneous. There is a clear difference in kind between the indescribable pleasure that the initiate derives from contemplation of the goddess and the pleasure unregenerate human beings derive from sex; our attempt to bring them into a single conceptual category by giving them the same signifier is self-deluding. In this regard it is crucial to note that it is we who give the offspring of Cupid and Psyche her name, not her parents; the import of the first person plural in nominamus has not been properly understood (cf. n.67 above). This is a language game that we choose to play. The move to love of Isis is not the culmination of an ascending journey like the gradual awakening to transcendent Beauty in Plato’s Symposium, but a radical and fundamental reorientation. There are thematic links between Lucius’ love for Fotis and his devotion to Isis (cf. Penwill [n.2 above], 221f.), but it can hardly be said that one leads to the other.