THE STORY OF EROS & PSYCHE

(RETOLD FROM APULEIUS) TOGETHER WITH SOME EARLY VERSES BY EDWARD CARPENTER LONDON: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD. RUSKIN HOUSE, 40 MUSEUM STREET, W.C. 1 {4} First published in this form in 1923 (All rights reserved) Printed in Great Britain by UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, LONDON AND WOKING {5}

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Tho’ the story of Eros and Psyche is alluded to by various earlier writers, our only source for its details is, I believe, in that animated and amusing romance, the Golden Ass of Apuleius; where it occurs as an Episode, and where it is told at considerable length and with elaboration.

Apuleius was a Roman citizen of Madaura in N. Africa, and was born about 130 A.D. He inherited a large sum of money from his father, and after spending much of it in extensive travels, settled down ultimately to a literary life at Carthage, where he was held in great honor. He had an inquiring adventurous turn of mind and character, uniting a thorough enjoyment of life with a tendency to mysticism and oriental speculation (the theosophy of the time), which shows itself in his works. He is said to have been initiated in the ‘mysteries’ of various religious fraternities.{10}

The story of Eros and Psyche (or Cupid and Psyche as he calls it) probably came to Apuleius thro’ Greek channels; but it seems to be one of those world-old fables to which it is difficult to assign a date or locality, and which owing to some hidden pregnancy of meaning are graciously received in all ages and places. In this respect Eros and Psyche may be compared with Cinderella and with the Sleeping Beauty, to both of which stories it shows considerable resemblance both in detail and meaning.

Cinderella the cinder-maiden sits unbeknown in her earthly hutch;

Gibed and jeered at she bewails her lonely fate;

Nevertheless youngest-born she surpasses her sisters and endues a garment of the sun and stars,

From a tiny spark she ascends and irradiates the universe, and is wedded to the prince of heaven.

To what extent Apuleius may have amplified and elaborated the material that came to him, it would be impossible to say. As a writer he is full of invention, humour, lively wit and varied learning and experience; but his style is often overloaded and affected; and the Story as told by him is somewhat involved and laborious in places.

In re-telling the story I have taken the liberty (while adhering to his outlines) of using Greek instead{11} of Latin names for the divinities, also of cutting down the details and transposing and slightly varying a few items—with the view of rendering the whole more transparent, so to speak.

For the conduct of Aphrodite, however, who is represented as ‘bawling’ and brawling in so undignified a way Apuleius is alone responsible!

Here and there I have adopted a phrase from the excellent translation in Bohn’s “Classics.” For the rest, there is a prose paraphrase of the story by Mr. Walter Pater in Marius, and one in verse by Mr. Robert Bridges, which may be consulted by those interested in the subject.

As to the “Early Verses” here reprinted with Eros and Psyche, they are selected from a small volume entitled Narcissus and other Poems, which was published by Henry S. King & Co. in 1873 (i.e. some fifty years ago). I was at that time at Cambridge, and I vividly remember the care and even anxiety with which—following the ideals then and there current—I launched these first attempts{12} at verse. Nor is it impossible that as specimens of the work of that period they may (notwithstanding their juvenile character) present even now some points of interest.

E. C. {13}

THE STORY OF EROS AND PSYCHE

I

Once, in a certain land, there dwelt a King and Queen who had three daughters—the eldest charming for her bodily grace, the second equally charming for her wit and intelligence. Even as children every one admired these two. But as time went on it began to be noised abroad that the third and youngest was after all the fairest of the three. The name of this one was Psyche. She was retiring, shy perhaps, nor had she all the gifts of her sisters; but it was seen that there was something unearthly in her beauty, some strange light in her countenance which entranced those who gazed upon it. Indeed it was whispered here and there that she was fairer than Aphrodite herself, whom all Nature adores. And some, actually deserting the temples and the service of the foam-born goddess, came and paid their worship to the lovely maiden.{14}

To Psyche herself there was no pleasure in all this. The innocent child thought nothing of her own beauty, nor did she care for the renown and worship it brought her. She longed for Love, but these things only served to make a distance between her and other people, and to make love more difficult. She felt sick and lonely, and when presently her sisters, hearing the common talk, became envious and full of unfriendliness, she felt lonelier than ever. But her fame continued to spread, and at last reached the ears of the great Aphrodite herself.

Now when Aphrodite heard she was very wroth, and hurrying over the beautiful ocean to the edges of the land, she called her son Eros, and “What is this I hear,” she said, “that my altars are deserted, and men, leaving me, are paying their sacrifices to a maid of mortal birth? Truly I am incensed beyond measure. But I will make this impudent hussy know her place, and who it is that even Zeus, the lord of Heaven, pays homage to. Go thou, my son, and sharpening thy keenest arrow cause her to fall in passionate burning love with some wretch, some renegade, the very lowest of mankind.” Then, sealing her command with a kiss from her fragrant{15} lips, she mounted her rosy ocean-car drawn by white doves, and sped forth over the laughing waves, surrounded by troops of Tritons sounding their melodious shells, and the daughters of Nereus sporting over the deep.

But Eros obediently, having selected a dart and disguised himself with the garment of invisibility, went forth to seek Psyche, that he might wound her. And at last, after some searching, far in the Interior of the king’s palace he found her. And lo! as soon as he set eyes upon her, he was wounded himself. He, the god of Love, was overcome by her beauty, and pierced as with an exceeding pain. Yet did he not dare to declare himself, for fear of the anger of his mother; but returning his arrow to the quiver retraced, for the time being, his steps.

Meanwhile Psyche sat at home and felt herself lonelier than ever. Though men praised, yet came none to woo her for a bride. Her two elder sisters were already mated, and to powerful chiefs; but she a forlorn virgin, faint in body and weary at heart, bewailed her lonely plight, and loathed her own beauty though it delighted the rest of the world. Thus, and filled with strange forebodings, she sat;{16} till at length her father, foreboding ill himself, suspecting the hostility of the gods, and dreading their anger, determined to consult the ancient oracle of Apollo. And lo! when he did so, the Voice, in words of deepest dread, pronounced as it seemed her inevitable doom. For, “Take her,” it said, “attired as for her funeral to the top of some high crag and leave her there; a wild and tameless husband she shall have, and for her wedding bid the world good-bye.”

Then the King, misunderstanding the meaning of the oracle, and the Queen and the whole land with him, were greatly grieved, and plunged in mourning. Ten days they passed in tears and lamentations; but on the tenth day they formed a procession, and, conducting her to the summit of a high mountain, went through the rites as for her burial; and then, with torches inverted and loud wailings and plaintive strains of music, leaving her alone in that dread place, they took their homeward way, and abandoned themselves to despair.

But Psyche, meanwhile, lay trembling and weeping on the summit of the rock; till Zephyr, the gentle god, came and caressed her with his soothing breath,{17} and at last, fluttering and playing amid her garments, gradually expanded them, till he lifted her up and wafting her softly down the mountain side, laid her in the flowery turf of the valley below.

II

Now when Psyche came to herself, after her aerial flight, she found herself in some kind of Enchanted Garden. Lovely groves and thickets, streams and fountains, were on all sides; and in the midst stood a palace of fairy beauty, all carven in cedar-wood and ivory and gold. Soft strains of music, she knew not whence, drew her feet onward, and voices, from forms she could not see, hovered round; till at length she stepped across the threshold; when the beauty and richness of the interior still more amazed her. But what amazed her most was that this Treasure-house of the Universe (as it seemed) was protected by no chain, no bar, no lock, but was open apparently to all the world.

And while she wondered, an unseen voice addressed her. “Why, lady,” it said, “are you astonished at such riches? All are yours. Repair therefore to your chamber, or to the bath, and refresh your{18} wearied limbs; for we, whose voices you hear, are your handmaidens and will attend to all your commands, and when we have dressed you, will serve some refreshment without delay.” Psyche therefore obeyed the pleasant instructions, and when she had rested and bathed, sat down to a dainty banquet at which the dishes moved of their own accord, while the air vibrated with music and to the voices of an invisible choir.

But when these pleasures had come to an end, and slumber began to press upon her lids, Psyche retired to her chamber, and lying down upon the couch was soon wrapt in profound repose. From which however ere the hour of midnight, she was awakened. For there came a gentle murmuring voice which at first alarmed, but presently by its sweetness overcame her fears; and her unknown bridegroom, Eros (for he it was who was lord of that place), ascended the bed and stretched himself beside her. But Psyche lay trembling and hesitant as she felt in the darkness his close embrace, and caught the fragrance of his breath, and the passionate kisses of his lips—and full of agitation as she wondered what his form and feature might be; till at{19} length he consummated his love and made her his wife, and she forgot all question in her gladness. But, as soon as the first faint streak of Dawn ran along the distant hills, and before it was yet light, Eros arose and left her. And Psyche, sad at his departure yet joyous in the prospect of his return, spent the day in

that beautiful domain, and yet longed for the night which should hide it from her eyes. And so passed many days and nights; and each night Eros came, and ascended the couch, and remained entwining her with his love through the hours of darkness; but at the first streak of dawn he fled—and Psyche saw not his face. And when she was grieved at this, and implored him more than once to reveal himself and show her his true form, he would only reply: “I entreat you, my darling Psyche, not to seek to behold me at present, or to ask me who and what I am—lest a great evil come upon us.” Then he would kiss her very tenderly, and for the time being she would be content. Nevertheless, after a time, feeling her loneliness in that place, she would again fall into grieving.

Meanwhile her Sisters, hearing how she had been exposed to a dread fate on the summit of the mountain,{20} came thither, if by any chance they might obtain tidings of her, and remained for some days, calling upon her name with cries and lamentations. But her Unknown Lover warned Psyche that she should not listen to them, nor even turn her eyes in their direction, lest by doing so she should bring the calamity that he feared. And Psyche would fain have obeyed him; but when she thought of her own strange fate she was filled with pity for herself, and instead of listening to him broke into tears, saying: “A hard lot truly is mine, to be cut off from all human conversation in this splendid Prison, where I may not behold thy face, nor even reply to the cries of my sorrowing sisters; it were well indeed if I had never come here,” and she refused to be comforted. So Eros was moved in his heart, and agreed that her sisters should visit her, and even gave command to Zephyr to waft them at Psyche’s order—but on one condition, that she should not by any

means be persuaded to ask who or what he was, lest indeed her curiosity should be her ruin. And she, with many caresses and endearing embraces, promised most faithfully that it should be so.

Then the next day, when her lover had departed,{21} to the rock she hastened, and calling aloud to her sisters bade them dry their tears and cease their mourning, for she was there and waiting to greet them. And Zephyr, at her bidding, immediately lifted them from the crag and placed them safely in her presence; when, after mutual embraces and inquiries, they accompanied her with much curiosity to her new home. But when she showed them all its treasures and beauties, and having refreshed them with the bath and the banquet made them hearken to the voices that followed, and observe the unseen hands that fulfilled her commands, they were suddenly seized with fresh envy in the lowest depth of their breasts. And one of them especially, very minute and contriving in her mind, persisted in making inquiries about the Master of this celestial wealth, as to what kind of person he might be, and what sort of husband to her.

Psyche, however, would not on any account neglect her lover’s commands, or reveal the secrets of her breast; but, on the spur of the moment, told them that he was a young man and very good-looking, with cheeks as yet only shaded with soft down, and that he was, for the most part, engaged{22} in rural pursuits and hunting on the mountains. And lest, by any slip in the course of a long conversation, she might betray herself, she loaded them with presents of gold and jewels, and calling Zephyr ordered him to convoy them back again.

Then, as they were on their way home, they broke into words of bitterest envy. “You saw,” said one—the younger of the two—“what riches there were in that house—what necklaces, what dresses, what heaps of gold, what gems the very floor is inlaid with. If, besides all this, her husband is as handsome as she maintains, there lives not a happier woman—a goddess, one might say, whom the very winds obey. And she indeed, the youngest of us, who has done nothing to deserve all this! While I, wretched creature, am blessed with a husband who is older than my father, and who besides is as bald as a pumpkin and as puny as a boy, and who is not satisfied but he must fasten up every part of his house with Bolts and Chains.”

“And I,” continued the elder sister, “have to put up with a partner who is twisted and crippled with Disease; and who consequently seldom favors me with his embraces; but wants me instead to be{23} everlastingly rubbing and treating his crooked and chalky fingers with fomentations and rags and filthy poultices—as if I were no wife, but a female doctor.”

Thus they continued, ever goading each other with cruel words into a perfect fury against their innocent sister, till their minds became bent on her destruction; and they planned to visit her again ere long, if so they might effect it.

III

In the meantime Eros, foreseeing danger, again and most emphatically warned Psyche, saying, “Those perfidious she-wolves, your sisters, are plotting against us with all their might, that they may prevail upon you to view my features, which, as I have told you before, as yet you must not see. For before long an infant will be born to us, and child though you be you are pregnant with another child—which, if you are faithful to me, will be of nature divine, but if not, will be mortal. Shun therefore those wicked women, whom, after the deadly hate they harbor against you, it were no longer right to call sisters; neither see nor listen to them, when like Sirens{24} hanging over the crag they once more make the rocks resound with their ill-omened voices.”

Then Psyche, divided between the joy of future motherhood, and anxiety that she might see her sisters again, besought him with tears in her eyes to allow the latter once more to visit her. “By the hope,” she said, “that in my babe I may at least behold your features, whom I so devotedly love, grant me once more the pleasure of embracing my sisters whom I have deserted for your sake—nor doubt for a moment my fidelity which I have already shown, nor my power of keeping a secret that is so necessary for my own happiness.” Then her husband, enchanted by these tender words and her sweet embraces, granted that which she desired, and immediately forestalled the coming of the dawn by flight.

And now the sisters hastened, burning with evil passions, to the rock; and without waiting for the assistant breeze, leapt straightway with unbridled rashness from the height; an act which indeed would have been their last, had not Zephyr, obedient to his mistress’s desire, received them (tho’ reluctantly) in his bosom, and laid them gently on the ground.{25} With rapid steps and without delay they entered the palace, and screening themselves deceitfully behind the name of sister, affected the greatest interest in her condition. “Why, Psyche,” they said, “you are not quite so slim as you used to be, surely before long you will be a mother! What a gift you have in store for us in that satchel of yours beneath your girdle, and with what great joy you will gladden our whole house! How we shall delight to nurse this golden babe, for if it only rivals its parents in beauty, ’twill be a perfect Cupid.”

Thus by false words they gradually stole her heart, while she, after making them rest and refresh themselves with the bath, presently regaled them with an exquisite banquet, to the sound of harps and flutes and all manner of aerial music. But the malice of these evil women was not to be softened by sweet sounds; and so, shaping their conversation with intent to lead her into a snare, they began insidiously as before to inquire what sort of person her husband was, and from what family descended. And she in her simplicity, having forgotten her former account, invented one somewhat different; and then, when{26} they challenged this, in her confusion alas! confessed her ignorance!

But they, as prepared, immediately and in grave tones said: “Happy indeed are you, dear Psyche, and blissful in your ignorance. There you sit, unknowing of your own danger, but we who care for you so deeply are in despair at what threatens you. For we have discovered for a fact, nor can we longer conceal it from you, that your love, that secretly entwines you at night, is nothing but an evil serpent of base and venomous nature. Remember for a moment how the Pythian oracle said you were destined to wed a wild and fierce animal. Besides it is a fact that many of the countryfolk have seen a huge snake, with puffed head and gaping jaws swimming across the rivers in this direction of an evening, on the way back from his feeding-grounds; and indeed they firmly believe that he will devour you.”