Читать книгу The Mythology of Ancient Greece and Rome - Ultimate Collection - Homer - Страница 29

There were once a king and queen who had three daughters. While the beauty of the two elder sisters was remarkable, that of the youngest was beyond the power of human tongue to express. The fame of her beauty drew people from the most distant lands to see her; men said that this was no mortal maid, but that Venus herself had deserted the heavens and come to dwell on earth. The shrines of the goddess were deserted, and the ashes grew cold on her altars; the worship due to her was paid to the maiden. Enraged at this transference of her honors to another, Venus called to her help her winged Son Cupid, that pert and mischief-making boy. "I conjure you by your love for your mother," said she, "punish this rebellious beauty and avenge the insult to me. Inspire herewith love for the lowest of beings, one so degraded that in the wide world is not his like."

Fig. 34. Eros or Cupid.

Now while the two elder sisters were happily married to princes, the divine perfection of Psyche's beauty and the ill-will of the goddess had hindered suitors from aspiring to her love. Her parents, therefore, suspecting that in. some way they had offended the gods, consulted the oracle of Apollo. The answer was given: "Hope for no mortal son-in-law; the maiden is destined to be the bride of a monster before whose flames and weapons Jupiter himself trembles. To meet her husband the maiden must be led to the top of the mountain and there left." The king and queen, though overcome with grief, prepared to obey the oracle. Dressed as a bride and accompanied by a procession, funereal rather than bridal, Psyche was led to the destined spot, A day of mourning was proclaimed in the city, and the parents and friends were dissolved in tears.

Scarcely was Psyche left alone upon the mountain, when-Zephyr (the west wind), tenderly lifting the trembling maiden, wafted her gently to a flowery valley below. Before her she saw a grove and in the midst of it a fountain. Near the fountain rose a wonderful palace — surely the home of some god! For the ceilings of cedar and ivory were supported on golden columns, while the walls were covered with silver wrought in marvelous designs. The pavement was a mosaic of precious stones. Filled with wonder and delight, Psyche plucked up courage to enter and examine the unguarded treasures of the place. No one appeared, but a voice spoke softly to her: "Why are you astonished, Lady? All these riches are yours. Yonder is your bed-chamber. When you have rested and refreshed yourself by the bath, we, your attendants, will wait upon you diligently, dress you and prepare for you a royal banquet." Her fears allayed by the gentle voice, Psyche did as she was bidden, and in due time partook of a feast exquisitely prepared and served by invisible attendants, while bodiless musicians sang to the accompaniment of an unseen lyre. That night the master of the place came to her and made her his wife, but before the light he disappeared. Thus it happened each night, and she learned to look forward to his coming and to love him for his sweet voice and his tender caresses, though she had never seen him. In the day, however, with only the bodiless voices to people her solitude, she felt lonely, and sorrowed to leave her family in ignorance of her fate. She told her trouble to her husband and entfeated him to allow her to see her sisters. At last he unwillingly yielded to her caresses, warning her solemnly, however, that she must not listen to her sisters' persuasions and attempt to see or inquire about her husband's form. "Disobedience," said he, "will bring sorrow upon me and destruction upon you, sweet Wife."

The following day, when the two sisters came to the mountain and called upon Psyche by name, beating their breasts and lamenting her fate, obedient Zephyr carried them down to the valley and set them before the palace. After they had embraced and rejoiced together, and Psyche had showed them the beauties of the palace and had regaled them with the delicacies prepared by the invisible attendants, envy crept into the hearts of the sisters, and insatiable curiosity to know the happy master of all these riches. Psyche told them that her husband was a beautiful youth, who passed his days hunting on the mountains. Then she loaded them with gifts and bade Zephyr carry them back to the mountain.

Fig. 35. Cupid and Psyche.

The more the sisters talked over their visit to the palace the more angry and envious they became. They complained that they were given over to old, bald-headed, stingy kings in foreign lands, while the youngest was married to a beautiful god and had control of untold wealth. Even the winds were her servants! They persuaded themselves that she had acted arrogantly toward them, and they resolved to bring about her downfall. On their third visit, therefore, assuming a tone of sisterly solicitude, they told her that her husband was well known to be a venomous serpent, who was often seen gliding down the mountain at daybreak. He was keeping her only until she was well fatted; then he would devour her. Let her conceal in the bed a lamp and a sharp knife, and when her husband was buried in sleep, let her kill him and so make her escape. The simple girl, though at first she indignantly rejected the suggestion, was at last persuaded. Night came, and with the darkness came her husband. As soon as he was asleep, Psyche, summoning all her courage, uncovered the lamp and seized the knife. But when by its light she saw no awful monster, but the gentlest and loveliest of all creatures, Cupid himself, the beautiful God of Love, overcome with delight and shame she fell upon her knees. So enchanted was she with the beautiful sight, the golden curls, the ruddy cheeks, the delicate wings that sprang from his shoulders, that she remained wrapped in admiration and forgot to extinguish the light. At the foot of the bed lay his bow and arrows. Curious to try how sharp they were, Psyche pressed the arrow point against her finger. Tiny drops of blood welled out, and thus did Psyche fall in love with Love. But while she pressed kisses on his face and hung over him, bewildered with delight, a drop of burning oil fell upon his shoulder. The god sprang up and, seeing the signs of his wife's faithlessness, tore himself from her frenzied embraces and flew away. Pausing for one instant in his flight, he turned and addressed her: "O simple Psyche, for you I was disobedient to my mother Venus, and when she bade me give you over to some base marriage, I chose instead to come to you myself as a lover. I, the most famous of archers, have wounded myself with my own arrow and have made you my wife. And you would believe me to be a monster and would cut off my head! It was of this that I so often warned you. As for those wicked plotters, they shall feel my anger; you will I punish by my flight alone." So saying he spread his wings and flew away.

When Psyche had recovered her senses, she set forth in search of Cupid. Towards evening she found herself close to the city where her eldest sister lived. To her she recounted what had happened, only that she changed Cupid's parting words. "Quit my house this instant," she quoted him as saying, "I will at once marry your sister." The wicked queen, goaded by love of gold and glory, left her home and her husband and hurried to the mountain. Then calling on Zephyr to waft her to the valley, she leaped from the rock and was dashed in pieces on the stones below. In the same way Psyche visited the second sister, and in the same manner she, too, suffered the penalty of her treachery.

In the meantime the sea-gull had brought word to Venus, who was bathing in the sea, that her son was lying at home grievously sick and likely to die. He added malicious gossip — that Cupid had been guilty of a disgraceful love affair with a mortal girl, and that, in consequence of his neglect, love had left the world. Hot with anger the goddess hastened to her golden chamber, and finding him as she had been told, cried to him in a passion of rage: "This is fine behavior and becoming your birth and character! You trample upon the commands of your mother and take to wife that base girl whom I had sent you to torment with an ignoble love! But you were always troublesome and disrespectful, even to me; and your father Mars you fear not at all, but are ever driving him into love affairs. You shall repent of it! I shall adopt one of the sons of my slaves and give to him the bow and arrows that you so little know how to use. I must have recourse to my old foe Sobriety; she will soon blunt your arrows and extinguish your torch!" So she turned her back upon her wounded son and left the house.

Meanwhile Psyche, still distractedly wandering in search of Cupid, came by chance to a temple of Ceres. Here was a confused heap of corn and grain, and near it scythes and other tools lying in disorder. Piously anxious to win the favor of any goddess that might help her, Psyche set to work to bring order out of the confusion. The goddess came to the temple while she was thus engaged. Throwing herself at her feet the girl besought her: "By thy plenty-giving hand, by the joyful rites of harvest, by thy secret mysteries, by thy dragon-drawn car, by the Sicilian fields and that thieving chariot .and the descent of Proserpina (see p. 154) to a lightless wedlock, and the return of thy child to the world above, pity your suppliant, luckless Psyche! Amid this heap of grain let me hide for a few days, until the wrath of Venus is abated!" Ceres was moved but feared to offend Venus. Regretfully she drove Psyche from her temple. As she left the shrine of Ceres, Psyche saw in the valley beneath a shrine of Juno. Thither she turned her weary steps, and falling down before the altar, prayed the goddess to help her in her desperate need. Juno listened kindly but answered that she could give no protection to a fugitive slave of her daughter-in-law Venus. Then Psyche, convinced that no hope of help lay in any other, resolved to surrender herself to her mistress Venus and humbly to propitiate her.

Now Venus, repairing to heaven in her golden dove-drawn chariot, had asked and secured the help of the herald Mercury. He had cried the lost maiden through all the world: "If any one can seize in her flight or can discover the fugitive slave of Venus, a king's daughter. Psyche by name, let him repair to Mercury, the herald, at the temple of Venus; he shall receive as a reward from Venus herself seven sweet kisses." This proclamation further persuaded Psyche that the only course now open to her was one of submission. She therefore hastened to the house of Venus, who, when she saw her, raised a joyful laugh. "At last," said she, "have you deigned to pay your respects to your mother-in-law? Or perhaps you came to visit your husband, who lies still in danger from the wound you gave him? But take courage! I shall receive you as a good mother-in-law should. Where are my servants. Solicitude and Sorrow?" These, immediately appearing, scourged and otherwise tortured the unhappy Psyche, and then brought her again before her mistress.

Venus next set the girl before a great heap of wheat, barley, millet, poppy, beans, and every other kind of grain and seed, and said scornfully to her: "You seem to me so deformed a slave that only by industry can you deserve your husband. I shall make trial of you. Separate the various grains in this heap, and see that the work is finished before evening!" So she left her. Despairing at the impossible task. Psyche sat still without moving a finger to the confused mass. But a little ant took pity on the wife of Cupid and called together the populous tribe from a neighboring ant-hill. In a very short time the grains and seeds were piled neatly into separate heaps. Then the little ants disappeared. Venus, returning from a feast, fragrant with perfumes and wreathed with roses, saw with anger the success of her hated slave. " Worthless girl," said she, "this is not the work of your hands but that of your wretched lover!" And throwing her a crust of dry bread she retired to rest.

At dawn Venus called Psyche, and pointing out to her a wood by the river, ordered her to get a lock of golden wool from the sheep that fed there. Psyche gladly set out, not hoping to secure the lock of wool, but intending to throw herself into the river. But a reed of the river spoke to her: "O sorrowful Psyche, pollute not my waters, nor dare to approach the sheep on the farther bank! For while the sun is hot, they are fierce and destroy any who come near them, but when at noon they go to rest under the trees, then with safety you may cross the river, and you shall find the golden wool caught on the bushes. So shall you accomplish the task safely."

Venus greeted her successful return with a bitter smile: "I know well," said she, "that you did not perform this task by yourself. Now I will make trial of your courage and prudence. Bring me from the fountain on yonder lofty mountain liquid dew in this crystal urn." Psyche hopefully received the urn and hurried to the mountain. But when she reached the top, she saw the impossibility of the undertaking. For the fountain rose from the top of an inaccessible rock and plunged down thence into a terrible chasm where fierce dragons kept perpetual watch. And the roaring waters called to her as they crashed down: "Depart, or you will perish!" As she shrank back in dismay, the eagle of Jupiter came to her: "Can you, a simple mortal, hope to steal one drop of the Stygian waters, terrible to Jove himself? Give me the little urn!" Psyche, therefore, receiving the full urn, joyfully returned to Venus.

The goddess was only the more enraged, and laid on her another task. "Take this box," said she, "and direct your steps to the abode of Pluto. There say to Proserpina that Venus begs her to give her a little of her beauty in this box, for she has exhausted all her own in anxious attendance on her sick son. Return at once, for I must dress for the theater of the gods." And now truly Psyche saw that she was face to face with destruction. She therefore ascended to the top of a high tower, meaning to cast herself down and so reach the infernal world by the shortest way. But the tower spoke to her: "O wretched girl, why do you seek to destroy yourself before the last test of your endurance? Listen to me! Near Lacedæmon in Achaea is the cavity through which Pluto breathes. Here is the entrance to the lower world. Go from thence by a straight road to the palace of Pluto. Take with you two pieces of bread soaked in honey, and in your mouth two pieces of money to pay Charon (see p. 188) for ferrying you across the river. The bread will appease the fierce three-headed dog, Cerberus. But be careful not to stop to listen to the appeals for help from those you meet, for Venus will send many wretched beings to induce you to stop or lay aside the sop or the coin that you need for your return journey. Proserpina will receive you kindly and will offer you a soft bed and a dainty banquet. Decline them both! When you have received what you came for, return at once to the upper world. On no account open or even look at the box that you carry!"

Psyche started on her enterprise, and all fell out as the tower had said. She obeyed his instructions resolutely until the danger were passed and she was just about to emerge into the light of day. Then she was seized with a rash curiosity and a longing to take for herself a little of the divine beauty she carried so that she might appear better in the eyes of her lover when she should see him again. But when she opened the box, there came forth no beauty but only a Stygian sleep that instantly overpowered her, so that she fell down where she stood and lay motionless.

Cupid, being now quite recovered of his wound, had flown through the window of his room and come to find Psyche. When, therefore, he saw her lying there motionless, he took the sleep and shut it up again in its little box, and arousing Psyche by the touch of one of his arrows, said: "Unfortunate girl, a second time you would have perished by that fatal curiosity! But now fulfil your task to Venus; I will take care of the rest." So saying he flew away and Psyche carried the box to Venus.

Meanwhile Cupid flew straight to heaven, and presenting himself before his grandfather Jupiter, asked his aid. The father of gods, smilingly stroking the cheeks of Cupid, answered kindly: "Though you, my child, presuming on your power, never pay me the reverence that is my due, and by your arrows cause me to act unworthily of my dignity and so injure my reputation, yet I will do all that you ask." He therefore sent Mercury to call the gods to a council meeting, and addressing them, he told them that he thought it best that Cupid should marry. Venus he bade submit, promising to make the marriage legal by raising Psyche to the order of the gods. Mercury brought the bride before him, and she received from Jupiter the nectar and ambrosia. "Take this," said he, "and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever depart from your embraces, but this marriage shall be eternal." Then the wedding banquet was served. Cupid reclined beside Psyche, Jupiter by Juno, and so all the other gods and goddesses in order. Ganymede poured the nectar for Jupiter, and Bacchus for the other gods, Vulcan prepared the supper, the Hours scattered roses all about, the Graces scattered balsam, and the Muses sang melodiously, while Apollo accompanied them on his lyre and Venus danced to their music.

Psyche is the soul. By her own act she destroys her happy and innocent life with Love, endures in the world every trial and suffering, and even goes down to Hades, to be in the end reunited with Love and to live with him forever in heaven. The story as it is told here belongs to a late time. It is a philosophical fairy tale.