ONCE upon a time, through that Destiny that overrules
the gods, Love himself gave up his immortal heart to a mortal maiden.
And thus it came to pass: --
There was a certain king who had three beautiful daughters.
The two elder married princes of great renown; but Psyche, the youngest,
was so radiantly fair that no suitor seemed worthy of her. People thronged
to see her pass through the city, and sang hymns in her praise, while
strangers took her for the very goddess of beauty herself.
This angered Venus, and she resolved to cast down her
earthly rival. One day, therefore, she called hither her son, Love [Cupid,
some name him], and bade him sharpen his weapons. He is an archer more
to be dreaded than Apollo, for Apollo's arrows take life, but Love's bring
joy or sorrow for a whole life long.
"Come, Love," said Venus. "There is a
mortal maid who robs me of my honors in yonder city. Avenge your mother.
Wound this precious Psyche, and let her fall in love with some churlish
creature mean in the eyes of all men."
Cupid made ready his weapons, and flew down to earth
invisibly. At that moment Psyche was asleep in her chamber; but he touched
her heart with his golden arrow of love, and she opened her eyes so suddenly
that he started [forgetting that he was invisible], and wounded himself
with his own shaft. Heedless of the hurt, moved only by the loveliness
of the maiden, he hastened to pour over her locks the healing joy that
he ever kept by him, undoing all his work. Back to her dream the princess
went, unshadowed by any thought of love. But Cupid, not so light of heart,
returned to the heavens, saying not a word of what had passed.
Venus waited long; then, seeing that Psyche's heart had
somehow escaped love, she sent a spell upon the maiden. From that time,
lovely as she was, not a suitor came to woo; and her parents, who desired
to see her a queen at least, made a journey to the Oracle, and asked counsel.
Said the voice: "The Princess Psyche shall never wed
a mortal. She shall be given to one who waits for her on yonder mountain;
he overcomes gods and men."
At this terrible sentence the poor parents were half-distraught,
and the people gave themselves up to grief at the fate in store for their
beloved princess. Psyche alone bowed to her destiny. "We have angered
Venus unwittingly," she said, "and all for sake of me, heedless
maiden that I am! Give me up, therefore, dear father and mother. If I
atone, it may be that the city will prosper once more."
So she besought them, until, after many unavailing denials,
the parents consented; and with a great company of people they led Psyche
up the mountain, -- as an offering to the monster of whom the Oracle had
spoken, -- and left her there alone.
Full of courage, yet in a secret agony of grief, she
watched her kindred and her people wind down the mountain-path, too sad
to look back, until they were lost to sight. Then, indeed, she wept, but
a sudden breeze drew near, dried her tears, and caressed her hair, seeming
to murmur comfort. In truth, it was Zephyr, the kindly West Wind, come
to befriend her; and as she took heart, feeling some benignant presence,
he lifted her in his arms, and carried her on wings as even as a sea-gull's,
over the crest of the fateful mountain and into a valley below. There
he left her, resting on a bank of hospitable grass, and there the princess
When she awoke, it was near sunset. She looked about
her for some sign of the monster's approach; she wondered, then, if her
grievous trial had been but a dream. Near by she saw a sheltering forest,
whose young trees seemed to beckon as one maid beckons to another; and
eager for the protection of the dryads, she went thither.
The call of running waters drew her farther and farther,
till she came out upon an open place, where there was a wide pool. A fountain
fluttered gladly in the midst of it, and beyond there stretched a white
palace wonderful to see. Coaxed by the bright promise of the place, she
drew near, and, seeing no one, entered softly. It was all kinglier than
her father's home, and as she stood in wonder and awe, soft airs stirred
about her. Little by little the silence grew murmurous like the woods,
and one voice, sweeter than the rest, took words. "All that you see
is yours, gentle high princess," it said. "Fear nothing; only
command us, for we are here to serve you."
Full of amazement and delight, Psyche followed the voice
from hall to hall, and through the lordly rooms, beautiful with everything
that could delight a young princess. No pleasant thing was lacking. There
was even a pool, brightly tiled and fed with running waters, where she
bathed her weary limbs; and after she had put on the new and beautiful
raiment that lay ready for her, she sat down to break her fast, waited
upon and sung to by the unseen spirits.
Surely he whom the Oracle had called her husband was
no monster, but some beneficent power, invisible like all the rest. When
daylight waned he came, and his voice, the beautiful voice of a god, inspired
her to trust her strange destiny and to look and long for his return.
Often she begged him to stay with her through the day, that she might
see his face; but this he would not grant.
"Never doubt me, dearest Psyche," said he.
"Perhaps you would fear if you saw me, and love is all I ask. There
is a necessity that keeps me hidden now. Only believe."
So for many days Psyche was content; but when she grew
used to happiness, she thought once more of her parents mourning her as
lost, and of her sisters who shared the lot of mortals while she lived
as a goddess. One night she told her husband of these regrets, and begged
that her sisters at least might come to see her. He sighed, but did not
"Zephyr shall bring them hither," said he.
And on the following morning, swift as a bird, the West Wind
came over the crest of the high mountain and down into the enchanted valley,
bearing her two sisters.
They greeted Psyche with joy and amazement, hardly knowing
how they had come hither. But when this fairest of the sisters led them
through her palace and showed them all the treasures that were hers, envy
grew in their hearts and choked their old love. Even while they sat at
feast with her, they grew more and more bitter; and hoping to find some
little flaw in her good fortune, they asked a thousand questions.
"Where is your husband?" said they. "And
why is henot here with you?"
"Ah," stammered Psyche. "All the day long
-- he is gone, hunting upon the mountains."
"But what does he look like?" they asked; and
Psyche could find no answer.
When they learned that she had never seen him, they laughed
her faith to scorn.
"Poor Psyche," they said. "You are walking
in a dream. Wake, before it is too late. Have you forgotten what the Oracle
decreed, -- that you were destined for a dreadful creature, the fear of
gods and men? And are you deceived by this show of kindliness? We have
come to warn you. The people told us, as we came over the mountain, that
your husband is a dragon, who feeds you well for the present, that he
may feast the better, some day soon. What is it that you trust? Good words!
But only take a dagger some night, and when the monster is asleep go,
light a lamp, and look at him. You can put him to death easily, and all
his riches will be yours -- and ours."
Psyche heard this wicked plan with horror. Nevertheless,
after her sisters were gone, she brooded over what they had said, not
seeing their evil intent; and she came to find some wisdom in their words.
Little by little, suspicion ate, like a moth, into her lovely mind; and
at nightfall, in shame and fear, she hid a lamp and a dagger in her chamber.
Towards midnight, when her husband was fast asleep, up she rose, hardly
daring to breathe; and coming softly to his side, she uncovered the lamp
to see some horror.
But there the youngest of the gods lay sleeping, -- most
beautiful, most irresistible of all immortals. His hair shone golden as
the sun, his face was radiant as dear Springtime, and from his shoulders
sprang two rainbow wings.
Poor Psyche was overcome with self-reproach. As she leaned
towards him, filled with worship, her trembling hands held the lamp ill,
and some burning oil fell upon Love's shoulder and awakened him.
He opened his eyes, to see at once his bride and the
dark suspicion in her heart.
"O doubting Psyche!" he exclaimed with sudden grief,
-- and then he flew away, out of the window.
Wild with sorrow, Psyche tried to follow, but she fell
to the ground instead. When she recovered her senses, she stared about
her. She was alone, and the place was beautiful no longer. Garden and
palace had vanished with Love.
THE TRIAL OF PSYCHE
Over mountains and valleys Psyche journeyed alone until
she came to the city where her two envious sisters lived with the princes
whom they had married. She stayed with them only long enough to tell the
story of her unbelief and its penalty. Then she set out again to search
As she wandered one day, travel-worn but not hopeless,
she saw a lofty palace on a hill near by, and she turned her steps thither.
The place seemed deserted. Within the hall she saw no human being, --
only heaps of grain, loose ears of corn half torn from the husk, wheat
and barley, alike scattered in confusion on the floor. Without delay,
she set to work binding the sheaves together and gathering the scattered
ears of corn in seemly wise, as a princess would wish to see them. While
she was in the midst of her task, a voice startled her, and she looked
up to behold Demeter herself, the goddess of the harvest, smiling upon
her with good will.
"Dear Psyche," said Demeter, "you are
worthy of happiness, and you may find it yet. But since you have displeased
Venus, go to her and ask her favor. Perhaps your patience will win her
These motherly words gave Psyche heart, and she reverently
took leave of the goddess and set out for the temple of Venus. Most humbly
she offered up her prayer, but Venus could not look at her earthly beauty
"Vain girl," said she, "perhaps you have
come to make amends for the wound you dealt your husband; you shall do
so. Such clever people can always find work!"
Then she led Psyche into a great chamber heaped high
with mingled grain, beans, and lentils [the food of her doves], and bade
her separate them all and have them ready in seemly fashion by night.
Heracles would have been helpless before such a vexatious task; and poor
Psyche, left alone in this desert of grain, had not courage to begin.
But even as she sat there, a moving thread of black crawled across the
floor from a crevice in the wall; and bending nearer, she saw that a great
army of ants in columns had come to her aid. The zealous little creatures
worked in swarms, with such industry over the work they like best, that,
when Venus came at night, she found the task completed.
"Deceitful girl," she cried, shaking the roses
out of her hair with impatience, "this is my son's work, not yours.
But he will soon forget you. Eat this black bread if you are hungry, and
refresh your dull mind with sleep. To-morrow you will need more wit."
Psyche wondered what new misfortune could be in store
for her. But when morning came, Venus led her to the brink of a river,
and, pointing to the wood across the water, said: "Go now to yonder
grove where the sheep with the golden fleece are wont to browse. Bring
me a golden lock from every one of them, or you must go your ways and
never come back again."
This seemed not difficult, and Psyche obediently bade
the goddess farewell, and stepped into the water, ready to wade across.
But as Venus disappeared, the reeds sang louder and the nymphs of the
river, looking up sweetly, blew bubbles to the surface and murmured: "Nay,
nay, have a care, Psyche. This flock has not the gentle ways of sheep.
While the sun burns aloft, they are themselves as fierce as flame; but
when the shadows are long, they go to rest and sleep, under the trees;
and you may cross the river without fear and pick the golden fleece off
the briers in the pasture."
Thanking the water-creatures, Psyche sat down to rest near
them, and when the time came, she crossed in safety and followed their counsel.
By twilight she returned to Venus with her arms full of shining fleece.
"No mortal wit did this," said Venus angrily.
"But if you care to prove your readiness, go now, with this little
box, down to Proserpina and ask her to enclose in it some of her beauty,
for I have grown pale in caring for my wounded son."
It needed not the last taunt to sadden Psyche. She knew
that it was not for mortals to go into Hades and return alive; and feeling
that Love had forsaken her, she was minded to accept her doom as soon
as might be.
But even as she hastened towards the descent, another
friendly voice detained her. "Stay, Psyche, I know your grief. Only
give ear and you shall learn a safe way through all these trials."
And the voice went on to tell her how one might avoid all the dangers
of Hades and come out unscathed. [But such a secret could not pass from
mouth to mouth, with the rest of the story.]
"And be sure," added the voice, "when
Proserpina has returned the box, not to open it, ever much you may long
to do so."
Psyche gave heed, and by this device, whatever it was,
she found her way into Hades safely, and made her errand known to Proserpina,
and was soon in the upper world again, wearied but hopeful.
"Surely Love has not forgotten me," she said.
"But humbled as I am and worn with toil, how shall I ever please
him? Venus can never need all the beauty in this casket; and since I use
it for Love's sake, it must be right to take some." So saying, she
opened the box, heedless as Pandora! The spells and potions of Hades are
not for mortal maids, and no sooner had she inhaled the strange aroma
than she fell down like one dead, quite overcome.
But it happened that Love himself was recovered from
his wound, and he had secretly fled from his chamber to seek out and rescue
Psyche. He found her lying by the wayside; he gathered into the casket
what remained of the philter, and awoke his beloved.
"Take comfort," he said, smiling. "Return
to our mother and do her bidding till I come again."
Away he flew; and while Psyche went cheerily homeward,
he hastened up to Olympus, where all the gods sat feasting, and begged
them to intercede for him with his angry mother.
They heard his story and their hearts were touched. Zeus
himself coaxed Venus with kind words till at last she relented, and remembered
that anger hurt her beauty, and smiled once more. All the younger gods
were for welcoming Psyche at once, and Hermes was sent to bring her hither.
The maiden came, a shy newcomer among those bright creatures. She took
the cup that Hebe held out to her, drank the divine ambrosia, and became
Light came to her face like moonrise, two radiant wings
sprang from her shoulders; and even as a butterfly bursts from its dull
cocoon, so the human Psyche blossomed into immortality.
Love took her by the hand, and they were never parted
Peabody, Josephine Preston, adaptor. "Cupid
and Psyche." Good Stories For Great Holidays. Frances Jenkins
Olcott, editor. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1914.