The Greek Alexander Romance

Although it has questionable historical value, The Greek Alexander Romance, of which the earliest translation from the Greek dates to the fourth century, is an entertaining fictionalized version of Alexander the Great's conquests. Since it appears to have been written in Egypt and draws from a variety of sources across its many translations and adaptations, Alexander the Great's father is now Nectanebo and his conquests take him to the edge of the world. He encounters wild beasts and men, engages with exotic rulers in India, Asia, and Meroe, and appears to be Christian or a monotheist in some of the recensions of the text. The translator, Richard Stoneman, includes variants from different versions of the tale so one can get an idea of the full breadth and diversity of Alexander's adventures. Thus, like The Story of Apollonius, King of Tyre, some convergence of Christian and pagan themes appear in the text, although much of the Jewish and Christian themes were added by later translations of Christian authors. For instance, the Queen of Meroe's letter to Alexander mirrors Christian symbolism of dark skin and white (pure) souls, and in another episode from a later version, Alexander pledges submission to the one God of the Jews.

Overall, the story is very loosely based on the historical conquests of Alexander across Egypt, Persia, the Levant, and India, and it relies on some of the same conventions of the earlier Greek romances (ruses, deception, oracles, deux ex machina, fantastic creatures or wildlife, exotic lands beyond the eastern Mediterranean, Greek versus barbarian dichotomies). In some respects, this romance brings to mind Callirhoe and Heliodorus's famous work in that it revolves around fictionalized tales of historical figures fighting against the Persians. Unfortunately, without two protagonists who fall in love at first sight, there is not much drama or reason to invest in Alexander as a character. There is not much dramatic tension in the tale since the reader is to know immediately of Alexander's intelligence, noble character, and military prowess. Even when he defeats Darius of Persia, the battles described do not match those of the Greek romances. Nonetheless, as an account of unbelievable adventures of the known and unknown world, it suffices as entertainment. It also provides an interesting account of the origins of Alexandria and its future as a cosmopolitan metropolis. 

Daphnis And Chloe

Daphis and Chloe is the last of the 5 Greek 'romances' this blog has covered, this one from the Penguin Classics collection of Greek Fiction. Unique in that nearly all of the story transpires on the beautiful island of Lesbos and its pastoral setting, it tells of the budding romance of Daphnis and Chloe. Both exposed at birth, suckled by animals, and raised by "rustics" before their noble birth is revealed, their link is favored by Pan, the Nymphs, and Eros (Love). One sees similarities with the other Greek romances in the appearances of pirates, an attempted rape, intrigues between rival suitors, the virtue of chastity, and references to earlier ancient Greek myths. Nevertheless, Longus's novel features more characterization and as an idyll to pastoral romance is more evocative of its setting (the landscape, flora, and fauna).

However, since the two protagonists of this story are, even at the conclusion of the final book, beautiful "rustics," Longus's tale reveals something of the urban-rural divide in the ancient world. "Rustics" have simple pleasures, are lacking in the refinement and mores of the townsfolk of Mytilene and Methymna. For instance, residents of the latter invade the peaceful countryside for their pleasure and amusement, and abuse countryfolk such as Daphnis. Gnathon's pederasty is contrasted with the "natural" sexual expression of goats and sheep, perhaps reflecting another difference between city slickers and country folk. Moreover, Daphnis's initiation in the erotic arts begins through a married woman from the city, suggestive of another difference between city and countryside that reflects poorly on the morality of the former. Daphnis's adoptive parents are themselves the slaves of Dionysophanes, owner of the estate they toil on, and if it weren't for the tokens they found with an infant Daphnis, they would have been forced to give their son as a slave for the pleasure of Gnathon.

While there is nothing in the novel to suggest a protest against unequal land distribution or the institution of slavery, one detects there to be an inkling of the dangers of a disconnect between the city and its surrounding countryside. The city-state and its rural attachments must exist in a symbiotic relationship to ensure their survival, and the continued attachment of both Daphnis and Chloe to what becomes their estate (and a wedding celebration in the rustic manner) may signify the importance of the urban elites not distancing themselves too much from the "simple" peasants and agricultural laborers. Or, perhaps, this is just reading too much into an enchanting coming-of-age romance.

The Golden Ass

Apuleius's The Golden Ass is a hilarious tale of a man transformed into a donkey. Written in the 100s, perhaps during the reign of Marcus Aurelius, the North African author combines comedy and moral education in a tale of magic. Lucius, the protagonist, and central character in novel loaded with inset stories, suffers from an unnatural interest in magic and sex, ultimately leading to his accidental transformation into an ass by Photis, his lover (and slave of Milo and Pamphile, the witch). P.G. Walsh's translation ably renders into the English language much of Apuleius's wicked humor and satire of social relations, the Roman Senate, "catamite" priests, and unfaithful servants. Walsh's translation does not "modernize" the text to make it too informal or contemporary, so it still almost reads like something a Latin-speaker wrote over 1800 years ago. 

Like other ancient "novels" of the Roman Empire, the narrative structure brings to mind Arabian Nights through its several stories of infidelity, disloyal slaves, sorcery, supernatural events, bandits, greedy estate-owners, and, in the tale of Cupid and Psyche, a fable with Platonist or philosophical implications. Cupid and Psyche's tale occupies a significant chunk of the text, suggesting its central importance to the religious and philosophical themes pertinent to the soul and love, humanity and the divine. Psyche's desire for connection, her curiosity, and her eventual reunion with Cupid (and the other gods) suggest a possible route for human connection to the higher powers. Like Lucius, Psyche's curiosity and need for companionship drive her toward peril, but humble service to the gods (even a human-like Venus, overwhelmed with envy for the unsurpassed beauty of Psyche) with acceptance of one's mistakes lead to her salvation. 

Like Heliodorus's Ethiopian Romance, the novel shifts its settings and deals with a variety of trials that Lucius must survive or escape, although there is no Charicleia or female figure he truly loves (Photis was only useful for her sexual services). The intervention of the gods and belief in divine providence abounds in both texts, although the two lovers in Heliodorus's romance are directly linked to two main deities of the Greek pantheon and lack any of the moral flaws of Lucius. Since Lucius is a flawed person with moral shortcomings, his character is more believable and compelling than the star-crossed lovers in the Greek romances. Of course, since Heliodorus and Apuleius were both familiar with the literary heritage of the Greek language, The Golden Ass shares much of the same mythological and literary allusions with the ancient Greek "novels."

 The final book, which tells of Lucius's initiation into the mysteries of Isis and Osiris, presents a shift in tone in the novel as it drops it satirical tone and seems to openly embrace worship of Isis and proper religious behavior. In its embrace of the mysteries and its description of various rituals, this must surely be the world's first occult novel. Like a fable, it calls upon the reader to pursue knowledge in the proper way and practice moderation in sex and curiosity. Lucius, educated though he was, had to endure harrowing experiences as a donkey before he could learn this essential lesson, and find a way out of he morally corrupt world he experienced first-hand as a beast of burden. Much of the details of Lucius's initiation is left unrevealed to the reader, but the novel purports to offer right living and service to the mystery cults as the path to knowledge and success. Instead of the avaricious estate-owners, unchaste wives, effeminate pseudo-priests, violent bandits, abusive centurions, or miserly wealthy who hoard their riches to no purpose, the cult of Isis offers a path away from these ethical dilemmas. 

As an influential text in the history of the Western canon, I could not help but wonder if this novel may have influenced Antoine Innocent's Mimola. The Haitian novel directly links the Vodou loas to the dieux lares of the ancient Mediterranean. Like Lucius, Mimola is afflicted by supernatural means, although in her case it has more to do with the family's rejection of the ancestral spirits. Like Lucius, Mimola and her mother must persevere over the course of a number of trials, culminating in their pilgrimage to Saut d'Eau. Again, like Lucius, Mimola is initiated as a priestess in Vodou and is freed from her affliction. Perhaps any and all similarities between the two novels end here, yet they share a critique of Christianity (the baker's adulterous wife is likely a Christian, while in the Haitian context nationalists of Innocent's era were critical of the Catholic Church's influence). Like Apuleius, Innocent sees the syncretism of "pagan" beliefs and their positive social impact as the basis for community, the city-state. I would like to further explore any possible links between Apuleius and Haitian authors in the future, particularly as it relates to the occult, initiation, and connaissance. Milo Rigaud's Jésus ou Legba? may be the best place to look, especially since Rigaud linked Vodou to ancient Egypt and Nubian religions, of which Isis was a major figure. 

Aethiopica

Helidorus of Emesa's An Ethiopian Romance is an enthralling read from the ancient world. Telling the story of the "white" Ethiopian Charicleia and her love, Theagenes, a Greek, it features a series of ordeals and tribulations that finally culminates in their matrimonial union in Meroe, capital of the "Ethiopians" (in this case, really the Kushites or Nubians). Divine intervention and fate see to it that Theagenes and Charicleia's foreseen union comes to fruition. But along the way they survive pirates in the Mediterranean, bandits in the Nile Delta, and machinations of foes and others in Delphi, Memphis, and, most dramatically, in Meroe where Charicleia's royal parents reunite with their lost progeny. Much of the novel actually consists of various characters explaining their backgrounds in long dialogues. For instance, Calasiris, the Egyptian high priest of Memphis, tells Cnemnon of his past travels and travails in a long conversation inside the home of Nausicles, a Greek merchant of Naukratis.

The most intriguing aspect of this novel to this blog, however, is its possible influence on Pauline Hopkins and the hidden city of Telassar in Of One Blood. In Hopkins's novel, the descendants of Meroe have established a utopian hidden city, but one in which monotheism appears to be the dominant faith. Nonetheless, her utopian ancient black civilization must owe something to the fabulous and utopian "Ethiopia" of Helidorus. Indeed, there are even similarities between the main characters: Reuel and Charicleia both possess birthmarks that prove their royal heritage and rightful place on the throne. 

Moreover, like Reuel, Charicleia is also "fair-skinned" and "passing" as "white" to those around her. Yet each are bound by ancestry and destiny to return to Ethiopia, although divine providence in the imagination of Hopkins is decidedly Christian. Both Charicleia and Reuell are also endowed with special abilities or powers. The former possesses a gem that protects her from fire while Reuel's mastery of mesmerism and the occult allow him to "raise the dead" (something also accomplished by an Egyptian mother who uses sorcery to force her deceased son to speak). Perhaps even the "hoodoo" and Vodou elements in the Hopkins novel have their equivalent in the "science" of Calasiris and other Egyptian characters, as well as the constant presence of the deities in dreams, visitations, and temple offerings. 

In addition to the parallels between Reuel and Charicleia, the dichotomy of a wondrous, noble Ethiopia ruled by a benevolent king versus the tyranny of the Persian empire suggests another similarity between the novels: "Ethiopia" as a utopian alternative to the oppressive central power of the day. In Hopkins time, African Americans faced an oppressive empire in the form of US Jim Crow while Africa was carved into European colonies. "Ethiopia" as utopia is biblical prophecy in the Ethiopianism of Hopkins, but it also reaches back into pre-Christian Greek notions of Ethiopia as "blameless" or ideal. It's exotic, remote, attributed with the origins of the Nile and Egypt (Calasiris himself studied in Ethiopia), and led by a wise and judicious monarch.

The gymnosophists consulted by Hydaspes may have been inspired by India, but they bring to mind the council consulted by Reuel in Of One Blood, and through their wisdom human sacrifice in Meroe is terminated. In short, the rulers of Meroe are wise, generous, and the ideal leaders. Their Ethiopia is filled with emeralds, gold, African fauna, exotic spices, and access to the luxuries of India and Arabia. Even the Greeks must recognize this African civilization's grandeur as exoticism meets utopia in Helidorus's eyes. Hopkins was surely influenced by this perception of ancient Ethiopia and, reinterpreting it through the lens of African American Ethiopianist rhetoric, modernized it as a redemptive tale for Black America. Tellasar, with the return of its king, will become Ethiopia stretching her hands unto God. 

Haiti and Greece: President Boyer's Letter to Greek Revolutionaries

An article from The Journal of Haitian Studies includes a letter from Jean-Pierre Boyer to 4 Greeks from 1822 in France seeking Haitian aid for the Greek nationalist revolt against the Ottoman Empire, which broke out in 1821. According to the introduction, written by E.G. Sideris and A.A. Konsta, Greek expatriates living in France would have definitely heard of the Haitian Revolution and abolitionism from certain circles in revolutionary and postrevolutionary France. Also, the prominent French abolitionist, Abbe Gregoire, who, though not mentioned specifically in the introduction, was a firm supporter of the Haitian republic and remained in contact with some Haitian leaders, may have played a role in disseminating knowledge of the Haitian Revolution to Greek nationalists, though I am still unsure on this point since I cannot recall my source (though it may have been this. Anyway, the letter from Boyer lets the Greek nationalists know that he is sympathetic to their cause and sees both Haiti and Greece as similar in their long history of oppression from others, from imperialism, both European (French) and Ottoman. Indeed, according to Boyer, "Such a beautiful and just case and, most importantly, the first successes which have accompanied it, cannot leave Haitians indifferent, for we, like the Hellenes, were for a long time subjected to a dishonorable slavery and finally, with our own chains, broke the head of tyranny." In addition, Boyer's letter addresses the theme of slavery in relation to imperial or colonial rule as well as several allusions to classical Greek history and culture, such as referring to the Greek nationalists as "descendants of Leonidas."

Though expressing sympathy and moral support for the Greek cause against the Ottomans, Boyer's letter explained that financial restraints prevented significant Haitian troops or cash to be sent. Interestingly, Boyer also attributes the recent integration of Haiti and the Spanish-speaking former Spanish colony to the east as another drain on the Haitian budget because "the revolution which triumphs on the eastern portion of our island is creating a new obstacle in carrying out our aim; in fact, this portion, which was incorporated into the Republic I preside over, is in extreme poverty and thus justifies immense expenditures of our budget." Nevertheless, to many Greek historians, at least according to the translators of this letter, believed this letter to be the first official recognition of Greek independence and citizenship in the 1820s, which is part of the reason the knowledge of this letter survives, particularly in the resonance of Boyer's references to democracy, Greek triumphs against the Persians, and revolutionary idealism. Of course, Boyer's rule in Haiti itself was far from actual democracy or a republican form of government, but the ideals of democratic governance and classical history (no doubt a subject familiar to Boyer) clearly carried some significance, even when the reality on the ground was far from anything democratic (check this out for some info on Boyer's long presidency, 1818-1843).

A quick Google search on this topic also suggests some import to the exchange between Haiti and the Greek revolutionaries combating the Turks. Some even say that Haiti sent several tons of coffee, the main export at the time, to be sold to buy supplies and ammunition for the Greeks. According to this piece, Britain would follow Haiti by one year in recognizing the Greek nationalists in 1823, but Haiti was the first to recognize the Greek right to self-determination. This blog links to a Greek translation of Boyer's letter for all of you who can read it! So, even if Haitian aid did not exceed the alleged 25 tons of coffee to be sold on behalf of the Greek revolutionary cause, we have direct evidence of the Haitian state's involvement in liberation of other former colonies and oppressed peoples, just as Petion did earlier for Bolivar and the liberators of Venezuela and Colombia. This, in a sense, is a case of an international export of the Haitian Revolution, within the broader "Age of Revolutions" in Europe and the Americas.