Marius the Epicurean — Volume 1

by Walter Pater

  CHAPTER V: THE GOLDEN BOOK

  [55] THE two lads were lounging together over a book, half-buried in aheap of dry corn, in an old granary--the quiet corner to which they hadclimbed out of the way of their noisier companions on one of theirblandest holiday afternoons. They looked round: the western sun smotethrough the broad chinks of the shutters. How like a picture! and itwas precisely the scene described in what they were reading, with justthat added poetic touch in the book which made it delightful andselect, and, in the actual place, the ray of sunlight transforming therough grain among the cool brown shadows into heaps of gold. What theywere intent on was, indeed, the book of books, the "golden" book ofthat day, a gift to Flavian, as was shown by the purple writing on thehandsome yellow wrapper, following the title Flaviane!--it said,

  Flaviane! lege Felicitur! Flaviane! Vivas! Fioreas! Flaviane! Vivas! Gaudeas!

  [56] It was perfumed with oil of sandal-wood, and decorated with carvedand gilt ivory bosses at the ends of the roller.

  And the inside was something not less dainty and fine, full of thearchaisms and curious felicities in which that generation delighted,quaint terms and images picked fresh from the early dramatists, thelifelike phrases of some lost poet preserved by an old grammarian, racymorsels of the vernacular and studied prettinesses:--all alike, mereplaythings for the genuine power and natural eloquence of the eruditeartist, unsuppressed by his erudition, which, however, made some peopleangry, chiefly less well "got-up" people, and especially those who wereuntidy from indolence.

  No! it was certainly not that old-fashioned, unconscious ease of theearly literature, which could never come again; which, after all, hadhad more in common with the "infinite patience" of Apuleius than withthe hack-work readiness of his detractors, who might so well have been"self-conscious" of going slip-shod. And at least his success wasunmistakable as to the precise literary effect he had intended,including a certain tincture of "neology" in expression--nonnihilinterdum elocutione novella parum signatum--in the language ofCornelius Fronto, the contemporary prince of rhetoricians. What wordshe had found for conveying, with a single touch, the sense of textures,colours, [57] incidents! "Like jewellers' work! Like a myrrhinevase!"--admirers said of his writing. "The golden fibre in the hair,the gold thread-work in the gown marked her as the mistress"--aurum incomis et in tunicis, ibi inflexum hic intextum, matronam profectoconfitebatur--he writes, with his "curious felicity," of one of hisheroines. Aurum intextum: gold fibre:--well! there was something ofthat kind in his own work. And then, in an age when people, from theemperor Aurelius downwards, prided themselves unwisely on writing inGreek, he had written for Latin people in their own tongue; thoughstill, in truth, with all the care of a learned language. Not lesshappily inventive were the incidents recorded--story withinstory--stories with the sudden, unlooked-for changes of dreams. He hadhis humorous touches also. And what went to the ordinary boyish taste,in those somewhat peculiar readers, what would have charmed boys morepurely boyish, was the adventure:--the bear loose in the house atnight, the wolves storming the farms in winter, the exploits of therobbers, their charming caves, the delightful thrill one had at thequestion--"Don't you know that these roads are infested by robbers?"

  The scene of the romance was laid in Thessaly, the original land ofwitchcraft, and took one up and down its mountains, and into its oldweird towns, haunts of magic and [58] incantation, where all the moregenuine appliances of the black art, left behind her by Medea when shefled through that country, were still in use. In the city of Hypata,indeed, nothing seemed to be its true self--"You might think thatthrough the murmuring of some cadaverous spell, all things had beenchanged into forms not their own; that there was humanity in thehardness of the stones you stumbled on; that the birds you heardsinging were feathered men; that the trees around the walls drew theirleaves from a like source. The statues seemed about to move, the wallsto speak, the dumb cattle to break out in prophecy; nay! the very skyand the sunbeams, as if they might suddenly cry out." Witches are therewho can draw down the moon, or at least the lunar virus--that whitefluid she sheds, to be found, so rarely, "on high, heathy places: whichis a poison. A touch of it will drive men mad."

  And in one very remote village lives the sorceress Pamphile, who turnsher neighbours into various animals. What true humour in the scenewhere, after mounting the rickety stairs, Lucius, peeping curiouslythrough a chink in the door, is a spectator of the transformation ofthe old witch herself into a bird, that she may take flight to theobject of her affections--into an owl! "First she stripped off everyrag she had. Then opening a certain chest she took from it many smallboxes, and removing the lid [59] of one of them, rubbed herself overfor a long time, from head to foot, with an ointment it contained, andafter much low muttering to her lamp, began to jerk at last and shakeher limbs. And as her limbs moved to and fro, out burst the softfeathers: stout wings came forth to view: the nose grew hard andhooked: her nails were crooked into claws; and Pamphile was an owl. Sheuttered a queasy screech; and, leaping little by little from theground, making trial of herself, fled presently, on full wing, out ofdoors."

  By clumsy imitation of this process, Lucius, the hero of the romance,transforms himself, not as he had intended into a showy wingedcreature, but into the animal which has given name to the book; forthroughout it there runs a vein of racy, homely satire on the love ofmagic then prevalent, curiosity concerning which had led Lucius tomeddle with the old woman's appliances. "Be you my Venus," he says tothe pretty maid-servant who has introduced him to the view of Pamphile,"and let me stand by you a winged Cupid!" and, freely applying themagic ointment, sees himself transformed, "not into a bird, but into anass!"

  Well! the proper remedy for his distress is a supper of roses, couldsuch be found, and many are his quaintly picturesque attempts to comeby them at that adverse season; as he contrives to do at last, when,the grotesque procession of Isis [60] passing by with a bear and otherstrange animals in its train, the ass following along with the restsuddenly crunches the chaplet of roses carried in the High-priest'shand.

  Meantime, however, he must wait for the spring, with more than theoutside of an ass; "though I was not so much a fool, nor so truly anass," he tells us, when he happens to be left alone with a daintilyspread table, "as to neglect this most delicious fare, and feed uponcoarse hay." For, in truth, all through the book, there is anunmistakably real feeling for asses, with bold touches like Swift's,and a genuine animal breadth. Lucius was the original ass, who peepingslily from the window of his hiding-place forgot all about the bigshade he cast just above him, and gave occasion to the joke or proverbabout "the peeping ass and his shadow."

  But the marvellous, delight in which is one of the really seriouselements in most boys, passed at times, those young readers stillfeeling its fascination, into what French writers call themacabre--that species of almost insane pre-occupation with thematerialities of our mouldering flesh, that luxury of disgust in gazingon corruption, which was connected, in this writer at least, with not alittle obvious coarseness. It was a strange notion of the gross lustof the actual world, that Marius took from some of these episodes. "Iam told," they read, "that [61] when foreigners are interred, the oldwitches are in the habit of out-racing the funeral procession, toravage the corpse"--in order to obtain certain cuttings and remnantsfrom it, with which to injure the living--"especially if the witch hashappened to cast her eye upon some goodly young man." And the scene ofthe night-watching of a dead body lest the witches should come to tearoff the flesh with their teeth, is worthy of Theophile Gautier.

  But set as one of the episodes in the main narrative, a true gem amidits mockeries, its coarse though genuine humanity, its burlesquehorrors, came the tale of Cupid and Psyche, full of brilliant,life-like situations, speciosa locis, and abounding in lovely visibleimagery (one seemed to see and handle the golden hair, the freshflowers, the precious works of art in it!) yet full also of a gentleidealism, so that you might take it, if you chose,
for an allegory.With a concentration of all his finer literary gifts, Apuleius hadgathered into it the floating star-matter of many a delightful oldstory.--

  The Story of Cupid and Psyche.

  In a certain city lived a king and queen who had three daughtersexceeding fair. But the beauty of the elder sisters, though pleasantto behold, yet passed not the measure of human praise, while such wasthe loveliness of the [62] youngest that men's speech was too poor tocommend it worthily and could express it not at all. Many of thecitizens and of strangers, whom the fame of this excellent vision hadgathered thither, confounded by that matchless beauty, could but kissthe finger-tips of their right hands at sight of her, as in adorationto the goddess Venus herself. And soon a rumour passed through thecountry that she whom the blue deep had borne, forbearing her divinedignity, was even then moving among men, or that by some freshgermination from the stars, not the sea now, but the earth, had putforth a new Venus, endued with the flower of virginity.

  This belief, with the fame of the maiden's loveliness, went dailyfurther into distant lands, so that many people were drawn together tobehold that glorious model of the age. Men sailed no longer to Paphos,to Cnidus or Cythera, to the presence of the goddess Venus: her sacredrites were neglected, her images stood uncrowned, the cold ashes wereleft to disfigure her forsaken altars. It was to a maiden that men'sprayers were offered, to a human countenance they looked, inpropitiating so great a godhead: when the girl went forth in themorning they strewed flowers on her way, and the victims proper to thatunseen goddess were presented as she passed along. This conveyance ofdivine worship to a mortal kindled meantime the anger of the trueVenus. "Lo! now, the ancient [63] parent of nature," she cried, "thefountain of all elements! Behold me, Venus, benign mother of theworld, sharing my honours with a mortal maiden, while my name, built upin heaven, is profaned by the mean things of earth! Shall a perishablewoman bear my image about with her? In vain did the shepherd of Idaprefer me! Yet shall she have little joy, whosoever she be, of herusurped and unlawful loveliness!" Thereupon she called to her thatwinged, bold boy, of evil ways, who wanders armed by night throughmen's houses, spoiling their marriages; and stirring yet more by herspeech his inborn wantonness, she led him to the city, and showed himPsyche as she walked.

  "I pray thee," she said, "give thy mother a full revenge. Let thismaid become the slave of an unworthy love." Then, embracing himclosely, she departed to the shore and took her throne upon the crestof the wave. And lo! at her unuttered will, her ocean-servants are inwaiting: the daughters of Nereus are there singing their song, andPortunus, and Salacia, and the tiny charioteer of the dolphin, with ahost of Tritons leaping through the billows. And one blows softlythrough his sounding sea-shell, another spreads a silken web againstthe sun, a third presents the mirror to the eyes of his mistress, whilethe others swim side by side below, drawing her chariot. Such was theescort of Venus as she went upon the sea.

  [64] Psyche meantime, aware of her loveliness, had no fruit thereof.All people regarded and admired, but none sought her in marriage. Itwas but as on the finished work of the craftsman that they gazed uponthat divine likeness. Her sisters, less fair than she, were happilywedded. She, even as a widow, sitting at home, wept over herdesolation, hating in her heart the beauty in which all men werepleased.

  And the king, supposing the gods were angry, inquired of the oracle ofApollo, and Apollo answered him thus: "Let the damsel be placed on thetop of a certain mountain, adorned as for the bed of marriage and ofdeath. Look not for a son-in-law of mortal birth; but for that evilserpent-thing, by reason of whom even the gods tremble and the shadowsof Styx are afraid."

  So the king returned home and made known the oracle to his wife. Formany days she lamented, but at last the fulfilment of the divineprecept is urgent upon her, and the company make ready to conduct themaiden to her deadly bridal. And now the nuptial torch gathers darksmoke and ashes: the pleasant sound of the pipe is changed into a cry:the marriage hymn concludes in a sorrowful wailing: below her yellowwedding-veil the bride shook away her tears; insomuch that the wholecity was afflicted together at the ill-luck of the stricken house.

  But the mandate of the god impelled the hapless Psyche to her fate,and, these solemnities [65] being ended, the funeral of the living soulgoes forth, all the people following. Psyche, bitterly weeping,assists not at her marriage but at her own obsequies, and while theparents hesitate to accomplish a thing so unholy the daughter cries tothem: "Wherefore torment your luckless age by long weeping? This wasthe prize of my extraordinary beauty! When all people celebrated uswith divine honours, and in one voice named the New Venus, it was thenye should have wept for me as one dead. Now at last I understand thatthat one name of Venus has been my ruin. Lead me and set me upon theappointed place. I am in haste to submit to that well-omened marriage,to behold that goodly spouse. Why delay the coming of him who was bornfor the destruction of the whole world?"

  She was silent, and with firm step went on the way. And they proceededto the appointed place on a steep mountain, and left there the maidenalone, and took their way homewards dejectedly. The wretched parents,in their close-shut house, yielded themselves to perpetual night; whileto Psyche, fearful and trembling and weeping sore upon themountain-top, comes the gentle Zephyrus. He lifts her mildly, and,with vesture afloat on either side, bears her by his own soft breathingover the windings of the hills, and sets her lightly among the flowersin the bosom of a valley below.

  Psyche, in those delicate grassy places, lying [66] sweetly on her dewybed, rested from the agitation of her soul and arose in peace. And lo!a grove of mighty trees, with a fount of water, clear as glass, in themidst; and hard by the water, a dwelling-place, built not by humanhands but by some divine cunning. One recognised, even at theentering, the delightful hostelry of a god. Golden pillars sustainedthe roof, arched most curiously in cedar-wood and ivory. The walls werehidden under wrought silver:--all tame and woodland creatures leapingforward to the visitor's gaze. Wonderful indeed was the craftsman,divine or half-divine, who by the subtlety of his art had breathed sowild a soul into the silver! The very pavement was distinct withpictures in goodly stones. In the glow of its precious metal the houseis its own daylight, having no need of the sun. Well might it seem aplace fashioned for the conversation of gods with men!

  Psyche, drawn forward by the delight of it, came near, and, her couragegrowing, stood within the doorway. One by one, she admired thebeautiful things she saw; and, most wonderful of all! no lock, nochain, nor living guardian protected that great treasure house. But asshe gazed there came a voice--a voice, as it were unclothed of bodilyvesture--"Mistress!" it said, "all these things are thine. Lie down,and relieve thy weariness, and rise again for the bath when thou wilt.We thy servants, whose [67] voice thou hearest, will be beforehand withour service, and a royal feast shall be ready."

  And Psyche understood that some divine care was providing, and,refreshed with sleep and the Bath, sat down to the feast. Still shesaw no one: only she heard words falling here and there, and had voicesalone to serve her. And the feast being ended, one entered the chamberand sang to her unseen, while another struck the chords of a harp,invisible with him who played on it. Afterwards the sound of a companysinging together came to her, but still so that none were present tosight; yet it appeared that a great multitude of singers was there.

  And the hour of evening inviting her, she climbed into the bed; and asthe night was far advanced, behold a sound of a certain clemencyapproaches her. Then, fearing for her maidenhood in so great solitude,she trembled, and more than any evil she knew dreaded that she knewnot. And now the husband, that unknown husband, drew near, andascended the couch, and made her his wife; and lo! before the rise ofdawn he had departed hastily. And the attendant voices ministered tothe needs of the newly married. And so it happened with her for a longseason. And as nature has willed, this new thing, by continual use,became a delight to her: the sound of the voice grew to be her solacein
that condition of loneliness and uncertainty.

  [68] One night the bridegroom spoke thus to his beloved, "O Psyche,most pleasant bride! Fortune is grown stern with us, and threatensthee with mortal peril. Thy sisters, troubled at the report of thydeath and seeking some trace of thee, will come to the mountain's top.But if by chance their cries reach thee, answer not, neither look forthat all, lest thou bring sorrow upon me and destruction upon thyself."Then Psyche promised that she would do according to his will. But thebridegroom was fled away again with the night. And all that day shespent in tears, repeating that she was now dead indeed, shut up in thatgolden prison, powerless to console her sisters sorrowing after her, orto see their faces; and so went to rest weeping.

  And after a while came the bridegroom again, and lay down beside her,and embracing her as she wept, complained, "Was this thy promise, myPsyche? What have I to hope from thee? Even in the arms of thyhusband thou ceasest not from pain. Do now as thou wilt. Indulgethine own desire, though it seeks what will ruin thee. Yet wilt thouremember my warning, repentant too late." Then, protesting that she islike to die, she obtains from him that he suffer her to see hersisters, and present to them moreover what gifts she would of goldenornaments; but therewith he ofttimes advised her never at any time,yielding to pernicious counsel, to enquire concerning his bodily form,lest she fall, [69] through unholy curiosity, from so great a height offortune, nor feel ever his embrace again. "I would die a hundredtimes," she said, cheerful at last, "rather than be deprived of thymost sweet usage. I love thee as my own soul, beyond comparison evenwith Love himself. Only bid thy servant Zephyrus bring hither mysisters, as he brought me. My honeycomb! My husband! Thy Psyche'sbreath of life!" So he promised; and after the embraces of the night,ere the light appeared, vanished from the hands of his bride.

  And the sisters, coming to the place where Psyche was abandoned, weptloudly among the rocks, and called upon her by name, so that the soundcame down to her, and running out of the palace distraught, she cried,"Wherefore afflict your souls with lamentation? I whom you mourn amhere." Then, summoning Zephyrus, she reminded him of her husband'sbidding; and he bare them down with a gentle blast. "Enter now," shesaid, "into my house, and relieve your sorrow in the company of Psycheyour sister."

  And Psyche displayed to them all the treasures of the golden house, andits great family of ministering voices, nursing in them the malicewhich was already at their hearts. And at last one of them askscuriously who the lord of that celestial array may be, and what mannerof man her husband? And Psyche [70] answered dissemblingly, "A youngman, handsome and mannerly, with a goodly beard. For the most part hehunts upon the mountains." And lest the secret should slip from her inthe way of further speech, loading her sisters with gold and gems, shecommanded Zephyrus to bear them away.

  And they returned home, on fire with envy. "See now the injustice offortune!" cried one. "We, the elder children, are given like servantsto be the wives of strangers, while the youngest is possessed of sogreat riches, who scarcely knows how to use them. You saw, Sister! whata hoard of wealth lies in the house; what glittering gowns; whatsplendour of precious gems, besides all that gold trodden under foot.If she indeed hath, as she said, a bridegroom so goodly, then no one inall the world is happier. And it may be that this husband, being ofdivine nature, will make her too a goddess. Nay! so in truth it is. Itwas even thus she bore herself. Already she looks aloft and breathesdivinity, who, though but a woman, has voices for her handmaidens, andcan command the winds." "Think," answered the other, "how arrogantlyshe dealt with us, grudging us these trifling gifts out of all thatstore, and when our company became a burden, causing us to be hissedand driven away from her through the air! But I am no woman if shekeep her hold on this great fortune; and if the insult done us hastouched [71] thee too, take we counsel together. Meanwhile let us holdour peace, and know naught of her, alive or dead. For they are nottruly happy of whose happiness other folk are unaware."

  And the bridegroom, whom still she knows not, warns her thus a secondtime, as he talks with her by night: "Seest thou what peril besetsthee? Those cunning wolves have made ready for thee their snares, ofwhich the sum is that they persuade thee to search into the fashion ofmy countenance, the seeing of which, as I have told thee often, will bethe seeing of it no more for ever. But do thou neither listen nor makeanswer to aught regarding thy husband. Besides, we have sown also theseed of our race. Even now this bosom grows with a child to be born tous, a child, if thou but keep our secret, of divine quality; if thouprofane it, subject to death." And Psyche was glad at the tidings,rejoicing in that solace of a divine seed, and in the glory of thatpledge of love to be, and the dignity of the name of mother. Anxiouslyshe notes the increase of the days, the waning months. And again, ashe tarries briefly beside her, the bridegroom repeats his warning:

  "Even now the sword is drawn with which thy sisters seek thy life. Havepity on thyself, sweet wife, and upon our child, and see not those evilwomen again." But the sisters make their way into the palace oncemore, crying to her in [72] wily tones, "O Psyche! and thou too wilt bea mother! How great will be the joy at home! Happy indeed shall we beto have the nursing of the golden child. Truly if he be answerable tothe beauty of his parents, it will be a birth of Cupid himself."

  So, little by little, they stole upon the heart of their sister. She,meanwhile, bids the lyre to sound for their delight, and the playing isheard: she bids the pipes to move, the quire to sing, and the music andthe singing come invisibly, soothing the mind of the listener withsweetest modulation. Yet not even thereby was their malice put tosleep: once more they seek to know what manner of husband she has, andwhence that seed. And Psyche, simple over-much, forgetful of her firststory, answers, "My husband comes from a far country, trading for greatsums. He is already of middle age, with whitening locks." Andtherewith she dismisses them again.

  And returning home upon the soft breath of Zephyrus one cried to theother, "What shall be said of so ugly a lie? He who was a young manwith goodly beard is now in middle life. It must be that she told afalse tale: else is she in very truth ignorant what manner of man heis. Howsoever it be, let us destroy her quickly. For if she indeedknows not, be sure that her bridegroom is one of the gods: it is a godshe bears in her womb. And let [73] that be far from us! If she becalled mother of a god, then will life be more than I can bear."

  So, full of rage against her, they returned to Psyche, and said to hercraftily, "Thou livest in an ignorant bliss, all incurious of thy realdanger. It is a deadly serpent, as we certainly know, that comes tosleep at thy side. Remember the words of the oracle, which declaredthee destined to a cruel beast. There are those who have seen it atnightfall, coming back from its feeding. In no long time, they say, itwill end its blandishments. It but waits for the babe to be formed inthee, that it may devour thee by so much the richer. If indeed thesolitude of this musical place, or it may be the loathsome commerce ofa hidden love, delight thee, we at least in sisterly piety have doneour part." And at last the unhappy Psyche, simple and frail of soul,carried away by the terror of their words, losing memory of herhusband's precepts and her own promise, brought upon herself a greatcalamity. Trembling and turning pale, she answers them, "And they whotell those things, it may be, speak the truth. For in very deed neverhave I seen the face of my husband, nor know I at all what manner ofman he is. Always he frights me diligently from the sight of him,threatening some great evil should I too curiously look upon his face.Do ye, if ye can help your sister in her great peril, stand by her now."

  [74] Her sisters answered her, "The way of safety we have wellconsidered, and will teach thee. Take a sharp knife, and hide it inthat part of the couch where thou art wont to lie: take also a lampfilled with oil, and set it Privily behind the curtain. And when heshall have drawn up his coils into the accustomed place, and thouhearest him breathe in sleep, slip then from his side and discover thelamp, and, knife in hand, put forth thy strength, and strike of
f theserpent's head." And so they departed in haste.

  And Psyche left alone (alone but for the furies which beset her) istossed up and down in her distress, like a wave of the sea; and thoughher will is firm, yet, in the moment of putting hand to the deed, shefalters, and is torn asunder by various apprehension of the greatcalamity upon her. She hastens and anon delays, now full of distrust,and now of angry courage: under one bodily form she loathes the monsterand loves the bridegroom. But twilight ushers in the night; and atlength in haste she makes ready for the terrible deed. Darkness came,and the bridegroom; and he first, after some faint essay of love, fallsinto a deep sleep.

  And she, erewhile of no strength, the hard purpose of destiny assistingher, is confirmed in force. With lamp plucked forth, knife in hand,she put by her sex; and lo! as the secrets of the bed became manifest,the sweetest and most gentle of all creatures, Love himself, reclined[75] there, in his own proper loveliness! At sight of him the veryflame of the lamp kindled more gladly! But Psyche was afraid at thevision, and, faint of soul, trembled back upon her knees, and wouldhave hidden the steel in her own bosom. But the knife slipped from herhand; and now, undone, yet ofttimes looking upon the beauty of thatdivine countenance, she lives again. She sees the locks of that goldenhead, pleasant with the unction of the gods, shed down in gracefulentanglement behind and before, about the ruddy cheeks and whitethroat. The pinions of the winged god, yet fresh with the dew, arespotless upon his shoulders, the delicate plumage wavering over them asthey lie at rest. Smooth he was, and, touched with light, worthy ofVenus his mother. At the foot of the couch lay his bow and arrows, theinstruments of his power, propitious to men.

  And Psyche, gazing hungrily thereon, draws an arrow from the quiver,and trying the point upon her thumb, tremulous still, drave in thebarb, so that a drop of blood came forth. Thus fell she, by her ownact, and unaware, into the love of Love. Falling upon the bridegroom,with indrawn breath, in a hurry of kisses from eager and open lips, sheshuddered as she thought how brief that sleep might be. And it chancedthat a drop of burning oil fell from the lamp upon the god's shoulder.Ah! maladroit minister of love, thus to wound him from whom [76] allfire comes; though 'twas a lover, I trow, first devised thee, to havethe fruit of his desire even in the darkness! At the touch of the firethe god started up, and beholding the overthrow of her faith, quietlytook flight from her embraces.

  And Psyche, as he rose upon the wing, laid hold on him with her twohands, hanging upon him in his passage through the air, till she sinksto the earth through weariness. And as she lay there, the divinelover, tarrying still, lighted upon a cypress tree which grew near,and, from the top of it, spake thus to her, in great emotion. "Foolishone! unmindful of the command of Venus, my mother, who had devoted theeto one of base degree, I fled to thee in his stead. Now know I thatthis was vainly done. Into mine own flesh pierced mine arrow, and Imade thee my wife, only that I might seem a monster beside thee--thatthou shouldst seek to wound the head wherein lay the eyes so full oflove to thee! Again and again, I thought to put thee on thy guardconcerning these things, and warned thee in loving-kindness. Now Iwould but punish thee by my flight hence." And therewith he winged hisway into the deep sky.

  Psyche, prostrate upon the earth, and following far as sight mightreach the flight of the bridegroom, wept and lamented; and when thebreadth of space had parted him wholly from her, cast herself down fromthe bank of a river [77] which was nigh. But the stream, turninggentle in honour of the god, put her forth again unhurt upon itsmargin. And as it happened, Pan, the rustic god, was sitting just thenby the waterside, embracing, in the body of a reed, the goddess Canna;teaching her to respond to him in all varieties of slender sound. Hardby, his flock of goats browsed at will. And the shaggy god called her,wounded and outworn, kindly to him and said, "I am but a rusticherdsman, pretty maiden, yet wise, by favour of my great age and longexperience; and if I guess truly by those faltering steps, by thysorrowful eyes and continual sighing, thou labourest with excess oflove. Listen then to me, and seek not death again, in the stream orotherwise. Put aside thy woe, and turn thy prayers to Cupid. He is intruth a delicate youth: win him by the delicacy of thy service."

  So the shepherd-god spoke, and Psyche, answering nothing, but with areverence to his serviceable deity, went on her way. And while she, inher search after Cupid, wandered through many lands, he was lying inthe chamber of his mother, heart-sick. And the white bird which floatsover the waves plunged in haste into the sea, and approaching Venus, asshe bathed, made known to her that her son lies afflicted with somegrievous hurt, doubtful of life. And Venus cried, angrily, "My son,then, has a mistress! And it is Psyche, who witched away [78] mybeauty and was the rival of my godhead, whom he loves!"

  Therewith she issued from the sea, and returning to her golden chamber,found there the lad, sick, as she had heard, and cried from thedoorway, "Well done, truly! to trample thy mother's precepts underfoot, to spare my enemy that cross of an unworthy love; nay, unite herto thyself, child as thou art, that I might have a daughter-in-law whohates me! I will make thee repent of thy sport, and the savour of thymarriage bitter. There is one who shall chasten this body of thine,put out thy torch and unstring thy bow. Not till she has plucked forththat hair, into which so oft these hands have smoothed the goldenlight, and sheared away thy wings, shall I feel the injury done meavenged." And with this she hastened in anger from the doors.

  And Ceres and Juno met her, and sought to know the meaning of hertroubled countenance. "Ye come in season," she cried; "I pray you,find for me Psyche. It must needs be that ye have heard the disgraceof my house." And they, ignorant of what was done, would have soothedher anger, saying, "What fault, Mistress, hath thy son committed, thatthou wouldst destroy the girl he loves? Knowest thou not that he isnow of age? Because he wears his years so lightly must he seem to theeever but a child? Wilt thou for ever thus pry into the [79] pastimesof thy son, always accusing his wantonness, and blaming in him thosedelicate wiles which are all thine own?" Thus, in secret fear of theboy's bow, did they seek to please him with their gracious patronage.But Venus, angry at their light taking of her wrongs, turned her backupon them, and with hasty steps made her way once more to the sea.

  Meanwhile Psyche, tost in soul, wandering hither and thither, restednot night or day in the pursuit of her husband, desiring, if she mightnot sooth his anger by the endearments of a wife, at the least topropitiate him with the prayers of a handmaid. And seeing a certaintemple on the top of a high mountain, she said, "Who knows whetheryonder place be not the abode of my lord?" Thither, therefore, sheturned her steps, hastening now the more because desire and hopepressed her on, weary as she was with the labours of the way, and so,painfully measuring out the highest ridges of the mountain, drew nearto the sacred couches. She sees ears of wheat, in heaps or twistedinto chaplets; ears of barley also, with sickles and all theinstruments of harvest, lying there in disorder, thrown at random fromthe hands of the labourers in the great heat. These she curiously setsapart, one by one, duly ordering them; for she said within herself, "Imay not neglect the shrines, nor the holy service, of any god there be,but must rather [80] win by supplication the kindly mercy of them all."

  And Ceres found her bending sadly upon her task, and cried aloud,"Alas, Psyche! Venus, in the furiousness of her anger, tracks thyfootsteps through the world, seeking for thee to pay her the utmostpenalty; and thou, thinking of anything rather than thine own safety,hast taken on thee the care of what belongs to me!" Then Psyche felldown at her feet, and sweeping the floor with her hair, washing thefootsteps of the goddess in her tears, besought her mercy, with manyprayers:--"By the gladdening rites of harvest, by the lighted lamps andmystic marches of the Marriage and mysterious Invention of thy daughterProserpine, and by all beside that the holy place of Attica veils insilence, minister, I pray thee, to the sorrowful heart of Psyche!Suffer me to hide myself but for a few days among the heaps of corn,till time have softened the anger of the goddess, and
my strength,out-worn in my long travail, be recovered by a little rest."

  But Ceres answered her, "Truly thy tears move me, and I would fain helpthee; only I dare not incur the ill-will of my kinswoman. Depart henceas quickly as may be." And Psyche, repelled against hope, afflictednow with twofold sorrow, making her way back again, beheld among thehalf-lighted woods of the valley below a sanctuary builded with cunning[81] art. And that she might lose no way of hope, howsoever doubtful,she drew near to the sacred doors. She sees there gifts of price, andgarments fixed upon the door-posts and to the branches of the trees,wrought with letters of gold which told the name of the goddess to whomthey were dedicated, with thanksgiving for that she had done. So, withbent knee and hands laid about the glowing altar, she prayed saying,"Sister and spouse of Jupiter! be thou to these my desperate fortune'sJuno the Auspicious! I know that thou dost willingly help those intravail with child; deliver me from the peril that is upon me." And asshe prayed thus, Juno in the majesty of her godhead, was straightwaypresent, and answered, "Would that I might incline favourably to thee;but against the will of Venus, whom I have ever loved as a daughter, Imay not, for very shame, grant thy prayer."

  And Psyche, dismayed by this new shipwreck of her hope, communed thuswith herself, "Whither, from the midst of the snares that beset me,shall I take my way once more? In what dark solitude shall I hide mefrom the all-seeing eye of Venus? What if I put on at length a man'scourage, and yielding myself unto her as my mistress, soften by ahumility not yet too late the fierceness of her purpose? Who knows butthat I may find him also whom my soul seeketh after, in the abode ofhis mother?"

  [82] And Venus, renouncing all earthly aid in her search, prepared toreturn to heaven. She ordered the chariot to be made ready, wroughtfor her by Vulcan as a marriage-gift, with a cunning of hand which hadleft his work so much the richer by the weight of gold it lost underhis tool. From the multitude which housed about the bed-chamber oftheir mistress, white doves came forth, and with joyful motions benttheir painted necks beneath the yoke. Behind it, with playful riot,the sparrows sped onward, and other birds sweet of song, making knownby their soft notes the approach of the goddess. Eagle and cruel hawkalarmed not the quireful family of Venus. And the clouds broke away,as the uttermost ether opened to receive her, daughter and goddess,with great joy.

  And Venus passed straightway to the house of Jupiter to beg from himthe service of Mercury, the god of speech. And Jupiter refused not herprayer. And Venus and Mercury descended from heaven together; and asthey went, the former said to the latter, "Thou knowest, my brother ofArcady, that never at any time have I done anything without thy help;for how long time, moreover, I have sought a certain maiden in vain.And now naught remains but that, by thy heraldry, I proclaim a rewardfor whomsoever shall find her. Do thou my bidding quickly." Andtherewith [83] she conveyed to him a little scrip, in the which waswritten the name of Psyche, with other things; and so returned home.

  And Mercury failed not in his office; but departing into all lands,proclaimed that whosoever delivered up to Venus the fugitive girl,should receive from herself seven kisses--one thereof full of theinmost honey of her throat. With that the doubt of Psyche was ended.And now, as she came near to the doors of Venus, one of the household,whose name was Use-and-Wont, ran out to her, crying, "Hast thoulearned, Wicked Maid! now at last! that thou hast a mistress?" Andseizing her roughly by the hair, drew her into the presence of Venus.And when Venus saw her, she cried out, saying, "Thou hast deigned thento make thy salutations to thy mother-in-law. Now will I in turn treatthee as becometh a dutiful daughter-in-law!"

  And she took barley and millet and poppy-seed, every kind of grain andseed, and mixed them together, and laughed, and said to her: "Methinksso plain a maiden can earn lovers only by industrious ministry: nowwill I also make trial of thy service. Sort me this heap of seed, theone kind from the others, grain by grain; and get thy task done beforethe evening." And Psyche, stunned by the cruelty of her bidding, wassilent, and moved not her hand to the inextricable heap. And therecame [84] forth a little ant, which had understanding of the difficultyof her task, and took pity upon the consort of the god of Love; and heran deftly hither and thither, and called together the whole army ofhis fellows. "Have pity," he cried, "nimble scholars of the Earth,Mother of all things!--have pity upon the wife of Love, and hasten tohelp her in her perilous effort." Then, one upon the other, the hostsof the insect people hurried together; and they sorted asunder thewhole heap of seed, separating every grain after its kind, and sodeparted quickly out of sight.

  And at nightfall Venus returned, and seeing that task finished with sowonderful diligence, she cried, "The work is not thine, thou naughtymaid, but his in whose eyes thou hast found favour." And calling heragain in the morning, "See now the grove," she said, "beyond yondertorrent. Certain sheep feed there, whose fleeces shine with gold.Fetch me straightway a lock of that precious stuff, having gotten it asthou mayst."

  And Psyche went forth willingly, not to obey the command of Venus, buteven to seek a rest from her labour in the depths of the river. Butfrom the river, the green reed, lowly mother of music, spake to her: "OPsyche! pollute not these waters by self-destruction, nor approach thatterrible flock; for, as the heat groweth, they wax fierce. Lie downunder yon plane-tree, till the [85] quiet of the river's breath havesoothed them. Thereafter thou mayst shake down the fleecy gold fromthe trees of the grove, for it holdeth by the leaves."

  And Psyche, instructed thus by the simple reed, in the humanity of itsheart, filled her bosom with the soft golden stuff, and returned toVenus. But the goddess smiled bitterly, and said to her, "Well know Iwho was the author of this thing also. I will make further trial ofthy discretion, and the boldness of thy heart. Seest thou the utmostpeak of yonder steep mountain? The dark stream which flows down thencewaters the Stygian fields, and swells the flood of Cocytus. Bring menow, in this little urn, a draught from its innermost source." Andtherewith she put into her hands a vessel of wrought crystal.

  And Psyche set forth in haste on her way to the mountain, looking thereat last to find the end of her hapless life. But when she came to theregion which borders on the cliff that was showed to her, sheunderstood the deadly nature of her task. From a great rock, steep andslippery, a horrible river of water poured forth, falling straightwayby a channel exceeding narrow into the unseen gulf below. And lo!creeping from the rocks on either hand, angry serpents, with their longnecks and sleepless eyes. The very waters found a voice and bade herdepart, in smothered cries of, Depart hence! and [86] What doest thouhere? Look around thee! and Destruction is upon thee! And then senseleft her, in the immensity of her peril, as one changed to stone.

  Yet not even then did the distress of this innocent soul escape thesteady eye of a gentle providence. For the bird of Jupiter spread hiswings and took flight to her, and asked her, "Didst thou think, simpleone, even thou! that thou couldst steal one drop of that relentlessstream, the holy river of Styx, terrible even to the gods? But give methine urn." And the bird took the urn, and filled it at the source,and returned to her quickly from among the teeth of the serpents,bringing with him of the waters, all unwilling--nay! warning him todepart away and not molest them.

  And she, receiving the urn with great joy, ran back quickly that shemight deliver it to Venus, and yet again satisfied not the angrygoddess. "My child!" she said, "in this one thing further must thouserve me. Take now this tiny casket, and get thee down even unto hell,and deliver it to Proserpine. Tell her that Venus would have of herbeauty so much at least as may suffice for but one day's use, thatbeauty she possessed erewhile being foreworn and spoiled, through hertendance upon the sick-bed of her son; and be not slow in returning."

  And Psyche perceived there the last ebbing of her fortune--that she wasnow thrust openly [87] upon death, who must go down, of her own motion,to Hades and the Shades. And straightway she climbed to the top of anexceeding high tower, thinking within herself, "I will cast myself d
ownthence: so shall I descend most quickly into the kingdom of the dead."And the tower again, broke forth into speech: "Wretched Maid! WretchedMaid! Wilt thou destroy thyself? If the breath quit thy body, thenwilt thou indeed go down into Hades, but by no means return hither.Listen to me. Among the pathless wilds not far from this place lies acertain mountain, and therein one of hell's vent-holes. Through thebreach a rough way lies open, following which thou wilt come, bystraight course, to the castle of Orcus. And thou must not goempty-handed. Take in each hand a morsel of barley-bread, soaked inhydromel; and in thy mouth two pieces of money. And when thou shalt benow well onward in the way of death, then wilt thou overtake a lame assladen with wood, and a lame driver, who will pray thee reach himcertain cords to fasten the burden which is falling from the ass: butbe thou cautious to pass on in silence. And soon as thou comest to theriver of the dead, Charon, in that crazy bark he hath, will put theeover upon the further side. There is greed even among the dead: andthou shalt deliver to him, for the ferrying, one of those two pieces ofmoney, in such wise that he take [88] it with his hand from between thylips. And as thou passest over the stream, a dead old man, rising onthe water, will put up to thee his mouldering hands, and pray thee drawhim into the ferry-boat. But beware thou yield not to unlawful pity.

  "When thou shalt be come over, and art upon the causeway, certain agedwomen, spinning, will cry to thee to lend thy hand to their work; andbeware again that thou take no part therein; for this also is the snareof Venus, whereby she would cause thee to cast away one at least ofthose cakes thou bearest in thy hands. And think not that a slightmatter; for the loss of either one of them will be to thee the losingof the light of day. For a watch-dog exceeding fierce lies ever beforethe threshold of that lonely house of Proserpine. Close his mouth withone of thy cakes; so shalt thou pass by him, and enter straightway intothe presence of Proserpine herself. Then do thou deliver thy message,and taking what she shall give thee, return back again; offering to thewatch-dog the other cake, and to the ferryman that other piece of moneythou hast in thy mouth. After this manner mayst thou return againbeneath the stars. But withal, I charge thee, think not to look into,nor open, the casket thou bearest, with that treasure of the beauty ofthe divine countenance hidden therein."

  So spake the stones of the tower; and Psyche [89] delayed not, butproceeding diligently after the manner enjoined, entered into the houseof Proserpine, at whose feet she sat down humbly, and would neither thedelicate couch nor that divine food the goddess offered her, but didstraightway the business of Venus. And Proserpine filled the casketsecretly and shut the lid, and delivered it to Psyche, who fledtherewith from Hades with new strength. But coming back into the lightof day, even as she hasted now to the ending of her service, she wasseized by a rash curiosity. "Lo! now," she said within herself, "mysimpleness! who bearing in my hands the divine loveliness, heed not totouch myself with a particle at least therefrom, that I may please themore, by the favour of it, my fair one, my beloved." Even as shespoke, she lifted the lid; and behold! within, neither beauty, noranything beside, save sleep only, the sleep of the dead, which tookhold upon her, filling all her members with its drowsy vapour, so thatshe lay down in the way and moved not, as in the slumber of death.

  And Cupid being healed of his wound, because he would endure no longerthe absence of her he loved, gliding through the narrow window of thechamber wherein he was holden, his pinions being now repaired by alittle rest, fled forth swiftly upon them, and coming to the placewhere Psyche was, shook that sleep away from her, and set him in hisprison again, awaking her with the [90] innocent point of his arrow."Lo! thine old error again," he said, "which had like once more to havedestroyed thee! But do thou now what is lacking of the command of mymother: the rest shall be my care." With these words, the lover roseupon the air; and being consumed inwardly with the greatness of hislove, penetrated with vehement wing into the highest place of heaven,to lay his cause before the father of the gods. And the father of godstook his hand in his, and kissed his face and said to him, "At no time,my son, hast thou regarded me with due honour. Often hast thou vexed mybosom, wherein lies the disposition of the stars, with those busy dartsof thine. Nevertheless, because thou hast grown up between these minehands, I will accomplish thy desire." And straightway he bade Mercurycall the gods together; and, the council-chamber being filled, sittingupon a high throne, "Ye gods," he said, "all ye whose names are in thewhite book of the Muses, ye know yonder lad. It seems good to me thathis youthful heats should by some means be restrained. And that alloccasion may be taken from him, I would even confine him in the bondsof marriage. He has chosen and embraced a mortal maiden. Let him havefruit of his love, and possess her for ever."

  Thereupon he bade Mercury produce Psyche in heaven; and holding out toher his ambrosial cup, "Take it," he said, "and live for ever; [91] norshall Cupid ever depart from thee." And the gods sat down together tothe marriage-feast.

  On the first couch lay the bridegroom, and Psyche in his bosom. Hisrustic serving-boy bare the wine to Jupiter; and Bacchus to the rest.The Seasons crimsoned all things with their roses. Apollo sang to thelyre, while a little Pan prattled on his reeds, and Venus danced verysweetly to the soft music. Thus, with due rites, did Psyche pass intothe power of Cupid; and from them was born the daughter whom men callVoluptas.