win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have
lost."
Psyche obeyed the commands of Ceres and took her way to the temple of
Venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and ruminating on what she should say and
how best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps
fatal.
Venus received her with angry countenance. "Most undutiful and faithless of
servants," said she, "do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? Or
have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by
his loving wife? You are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way you can
merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. I will make trial of your
housewifery." Then she ordered Psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple,
where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils
prepared for food for her pigeons, and said, "Take and separate all these grains,
putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done
before evening." Then Venus departed and left her to her task.
But Psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and
silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap.
While she sat despairing Cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to
take compassion on her. The leader of the ant hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-
legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence taking grain by
grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done,
they vanished out of sight in a moment.
Venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of the gods,
breathing odors and crowned with roses. Seeing the task done she exclaimed, "This is
no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have
enticed." So saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went
away.
Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called and said to her, "Behold yonder
grove which stretches along the margin of the water. There you will find sheep feeding
without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. Go, fetch me a sample
of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces."
Psyche obediently went to the river side, prepared to do her best to execute the
command. But the river god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which
seemed to say, "O maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture
among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the
influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their
sharp horns or rude teeth. But when the noontide sun has driven the cattle to the
shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in
safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the
trees."
Thus the compassionate river god gave Psyche instructions how to accomplish
her task, and by observing his directions she soon returned to Venus with her arms full
of the golden fleece; but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress,
who said, "I know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded
in this task, and I am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself
useful. But I have another task for you. Here, take this box, and go your way to the
infernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine and say, "My mistress Venus desires
you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of
her own. Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear at the
circle of the gods and goddesses this evening."
Psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being obliged to go
with her own feet directly down to Erebus. Wherefore, to make no delay of what was
not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong,
thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. But a voice from the tower said
to her, "Why, poor unlucky girl, dost thou design to put an end to thy days in so
dreadful a manner? And what cowardice makes thee sink under this last danger who
hast been so miraculously supported in all thy former?" Then the voice told her how by
a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of
the road, to pass by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the
ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. But the voice
added, "When Proserpine has given you the box, filled with her beauty, of all things
this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor
allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses."
Psyche encouraged by this advice obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her
ways travelled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. She was admitted to the palace of
Proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was
offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message
from Venus. Presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious
commodity. Then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out
once more into the light of day.
But having got so far successfully through her dangerous task a longing desire
seized her to examine the contents of the box. "What," said she, "shall I, the carrier of
this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more
advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!" So she carefully opened the box, but
found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly Stygian sleep, which
being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the
midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense of motion.
But Cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer to bear the
absence of his beloved Psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the window of
his chamber which happened to be left open, flew to the spot where Psyche lay, and
gathering up the sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked Psyche
with a light touch of one of his arrows. "Again," said he, "hast thou almost perished by
the same curiosity. But now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother,
and I will take care of the rest."
Then Cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented
himself before Jupiter with his supplication. Jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded
the cause of the lovers so earnestly with Venus that he won her consent. On this he
sent Mercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived,
handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall
Cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be
perpetual."
Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in due time they had a
daughter born to them whose name was Pleasure.
The fable of Cupid and Psyche is usu
ally considered allegorical. The Greek
name for a butterfly is Psyche, and the same word means the soul. There is no
illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly,
bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling,
caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and
delicate productions of the spring. Psyche then is the human soul, which is purified by
sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure
happiness.
In works of art Psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly,
along with Cupid, in the different situations described in the allegory.
Milton alludes to the story of Cupid and Psyche in the conclusion of his Comus: -
"Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced,
Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced,
After her wandering labors long,
Till free consent the gods among
Make her his eternal bride;
And from her fair unspotted side
Two blissful twins are to be born,
Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn."
The allegory of the story of Cupid and Psyche is well presented in the beautiful
lines of T.K. Harvey: -
'They wove bright fables in the days of old,
When reason borrowed fancy's painted wings;
When truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold,
And told in song its high and mystic things!
And such the sweet and solemn tale of her
The pilgrim-heart, to whom a dream was given,
That led her through the world, - Love's worshipper, -
To seek on earth for him whose home was heaven!
"In the full city, - by the haunted fount, -
Through the dim grotto's tracery of spars, -
'Mid the pine temples, on the moon-lit mount,
Where silence sits to listen to the stars;
In the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove,
The painted valley, and the scented air,
She heard far echoes of the voice of Love,
And found his footsteps' traces every where.
"But never more they met! since doubts and fears,
Those phantom-shapes that haunt and blight the earth,
Had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears,
And that bright spirit of immortal birth;
Until her pining soul and weeping eyes
Had learned to seek him only in the skies;
Till wings unto the weary heart were given,
And she became Love's angel bride in heaven!"
The story of Cupid and Psyche first appears in the works of Apuleius, a writer of
the second century of our era. It is therefore of much more recent date than most of the
legends of the Age of Fable. It is this that Keats alludes to in his Ode to Psyche.
"O latest-born and loveliest vision far
Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!
Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-regioned star
Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;
Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,
Nor altar heaped with flowers;
Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan
Upon the midnight hours;
No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet,
From chain-swung censer teeming;
No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouthed prophet dreaming."
In Moore's Summer Fete a fancy ball is described, in which one of the characters
personated is Psyche.
" - not in dark disguise to-night
Hath our young heroine veiled her light; -
For see, she walks the earth, Love's own.
His wedded bride, by holiest vow
Pledged in Olympus, and made known
To mortals by the type which now
Hangs glittering on her snowy brow,
That butterfly, mysterious trinket,
Which means the soul, (though few would think it)
And sparkling thus on brow so white
Tells us we ve Psyche here to-night."
Chapter XII: Cadmus - The Myrmidons
Jupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away Europa, the daughter of
Agenor, king of Phoenicia. Agenor commanded his son Cadmus to go in search of his
sister, and not to return without her. Cadmus went and sought long and far for his
sister, but could not find her, and not daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the
oracle of Apollo to know what country he should settle in. The oracle informed him
that he should find a cow in the field, and should follow her wherever she might
wander and where she stopped, should build a city and call it Thebes. Cadmus had
hardly left the Castalian cave, from which the oracle was delivered, when he saw a
young cow slowly walking before him. He followed her close, offering at the same time
his prayers to Phoebus. The cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of
Cephisus and came out into the plain of Panope. There she stood still, and raising her
broad forehead to the sky, filled the air with her lowings. Cadmus gave thanks, and
stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding
mountains. Wishing to offer a sacrifice to Jupiter, he sent his servants to seek pure
water for a libation. Near by there stood an ancient grove which had never been
profaned by the axe, in the midst of which was a cave, thick covered with the growth of
bushes, its roof forming a low arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of purest
water. In the cave lurked a horrid serpent with a crested head and scales glittering like
gold. His eyes shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he vibrated a triple
tongue, and showed a triple row of teeth. No sooner had the Tyrians dipped their
pitchers in the fountain, and the ingushing waters made a sound, than the glittering
serpent raised his head out of the cave and uttered a fearful hiss. The vessels fell
from their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled in every limb. The serpent,
twisting his scaly body in a huge coil, raised his head so as to overtop the tallest trees,
and while the Tyrians from terror could neither fight nor fly, slew some with his fangs,
others in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath.
Cadmus having waited for the return of his men till midday, went in search of
them. His covering was a lion's hide, and besides his javelin he carried in his hand a
lance, and in his breast a bold heart, a surer reliance than either. When he entered
the wood, and saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with his bloody
jaws, he exclaimed, "O faithful friends, I will avenge you, or share your death." So
saying he lifted a huge stone and threw it with all his force at the serpent. Such a
block would have shaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on the
monster. Cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better success, for it
penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced through to his entrails. Fierce with pain
the monster turned back his head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out the
weapon with his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point rankling in his flesh. His
neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his jaws, and the breath of his nostrils
poisoned the air around. Now he twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself
out on the ground like the t
runk of a fallen tree. As he moved onward, Cadmus
retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws. The
serpent snapped at the weapon and attempted to bite its iron point. At last Cadmus
watching his chance thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head thrown
back came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinning him to its side. His
weight bent the tree as he struggled in the agonies of death.
While Cadmus stood ovtr his conquered foe, contemplating its vast size, a voice
was heard (from whence he knew not, but he heard it distinctly) commanding him to
take the dragon's teeth and sow them in the earth. He obeyed. He made a furrow in
the ground, and planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men. Scarce had he
done so when the clods began to move, and the points of spears to appear above the
surface. Next helmets with their nodding plumes came up, and next the shoulders and
breasts and limbs of men with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors.
Cadmus alarmed prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them said to him,
"Meddle not with our civil war." With that he who had spoken smote one of his earth-
born brothers with a sword, and he himself fell pierced with an arrow from another. The
latter fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt with each other till
all fell slain with mutual wounds, except five survivors. One of these cast away his
weapons and said, "Brothers, let us live in peace!" These five joined with Cadmus in
building his city, to which they gave the name of Thebes.
Cadmus obtained in marriage Harmonia, the daughter of Venus. The gods left
Olympus to honor the occasion with their presence, and Vulcan presented the bride
with a necklace of surpassing brilliancy, his own workmanship. But a fatality hung over
the family of Cadmus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred to Mars.
Semele and Ino, his daughters, and Actaeon and Pentheus, his grandchildren, all
Age of Fable or Beauties of Mythology Page 12