of the princess. Meanwhile, in obedience to the response of an oracle, Psyche is exposed on a barren rock, where she is destined to become the prey of a monster. From this hapless situation she is borne by the commissioned Zephyr, who wafts her to a green and delightful valley. Here she enjoys a refreshing sleep; and on awakening perceives a grove, in the centre of which was a fountain, and near the fountain a splendid palace. The roof of this structure was supported by golden pillars, the walls were covered with silver, and every species of animal was represented in exquisite statuary at the portal: Psyche enters this edifice, where a splendid feast is prepared; she hears a voice inviting her to partake of this repast, but no one appears. After this sumptuous banquet is removed, she listens to a delightful concert, which proceeds from unseen musicians. In this enchanting residence she is espoused and visited every night by Cupid. Her husband, who was ever invisible, forbids her to attempt to see him; adding, that her happiness depended on obedience to the prohibition. In these circumstances Cupid, at her earnest solicitation, reluctantly agrees to bring her sisters to the palace. These relatives, being envious of the happiness of their younger sister, try to persuade her that her husband is a serpent, by whom she would be ultimately devoured. Psyche, though by this time she should have been sufficiently qualified to judge how far this suspicion was well founded, resolves to satisfy herself of the truth by ocular demonstration. Bearing a lamp in one hand, and a dagger in the other to destroy him should he prove a monster, she approaches the couch of her husband while he is asleep. In the agitation produced by the view of his angelic form, she allows a drop of scalding oil to fall on his shoulder. The irritated god flies from her presence, and leaves her a prey to remorse and despair. The enchanted garden and the gorgeous palace vanish along with him. Psyche finds herself alone and solitary on the banks of a river. Under the protection of Pan she wanders through the country, and successively arrives at the kingdom of her sisters, by each of whom she is repulsed. The victim equally of the rage of Venus and of her son, she roams through all regions of the earth in search of the celestial lover whose favour

she had forfeited. She is also subjected to various trials by Venus, one of which is to bring water from a fountain guarded by ever-watchful dragons. Jupiter, at length, takes pity on her misfortunes, endows her with immortality, and confirms her union with her forgiving husband. On this occasion the Hours empurple the sky with roses; the Graces shed aromatic odours through the celestial halls; Apollo accompanies the lyre with his voice; the god of Arcadia touches his sylvan reeds; and the Muses join in the chorus.

This allegory is supposed by some writers to be founded on an obscure tradition of the fall of man, and to form an emblem of his temptation, transgression, repentance, and subsequent reception into the favour of the godhead. Its meaning, however, is probably more restricted, and only comprehends the progress of the soul to perfection, the possession of divine love, and reward of immortality. From the earliest times the influence of religious sentiments has been typified by the hopes and fears of an amatory attachment. This style of composition was adopted by the rhapsodists of Hindostan and Persia, and bewitched the luxuriant imagination of the wisest of mankind.' Bryant, in his Analysis of Ancient Mythology (vol. ii. 388), informs us that one of the emblems among the Egyptians was Psyche (vxn,) who, though represented as a beautiful female, was originally no other than the Aurelia, or butterfly, an insect which remains in a state of torpor during winter, but at the return of spring comes forth with new life, and in beautiful attire. This was deemed a picture of the soul of man, and of the immortality to which he aspired; and more particularly of Osiris, who, after being confined in a coffin, enjoyed a renewal of life. This second birth is described under the character of Psyche, and as it was the fruit of divine love, of which Eros was

1 See Benfey Pantschatantra, i. 255. Schopenhauer was led to the same conclusion upon internal evidence (Parerga, ii. 444). Niehbuhr (Kleine Schriften, 2te Samml., p. 263) seems to consider Italy as the original home of the fable. Dr. Zinzow (Rohde ueber Lucian, p. 18) sees a radically Greek impress in the legend, and considers it is, at least in the form it is found in in Apuleius, as genuinely Milesian. There is said to be a distinct parallel to the Story of Eros and Psyche in the folk tales of Zululand. See also, infra, note to Perrault.

the emblem, we find him often introduced as a concomitant of Psyche1.

Whatever may be the concealed meaning of the allegory, the story of Cupid and Psyche is certainly a beautiful fiction. Of this, the number of translations and imitations may be considered as a proof. Mr. Rose, in the notes to his version of Partenopex de Blois, has pointed out its striking resemblance to that romance, as also to the Three Calendars, and to one of the Persian Tales. The prohibi

1 The archæological as well as the symbolical aspect of the legend will be found treated at length in Dr. A. Zinzow's "Psyche und Eros," Ein Milesisches Märchen, etc., Halle, 1881. The fable has been explained in many ways ever since the interpretation of Fulgentius (sect. vi.), which is the earliest that has come down to us.

2 The parallelism which has been pointed out by Grimm and others between the classic Romance and the tale of the Woodcutter's Daughter appended to the collection of Indian stories, called Somadeva Bhatta (German translation by H. Brockhaus, Leipzig, 1843, Th. ii. p. 190), cannot be overlooked. See also Hildebrand's edition of Apuleius, p. xxvii., etc.

The story of the woodcutter's daughter is here given for the English reader :

In an Eastern realm lived a poor woodcutter, Nur Singh, with his wife and his daughter Tulisa. When the beautiful Tulisa was grown up she went one day into the wood, and as she approached a ruined fountain, a voice called her by name, and asked thrice if she would be his wife. She sought her father, who consented, in view of the wealth which was promised to him. As the nuptial day drew nigh precious bridal gifts were borne into the hut by unseen hands. The bride, beautifully arrayed, came with her parents to the fountain. First, the father had to place upon Tulisa's finger a ring, which came floating through the air. Then a splendid repast was made in tent hard by; and at last appeared a litter, which the bride entered with fear and hesitation. Unseen carriers bore her away. The parents followed, and arrived at a valley where stood a great palace, through whose doors the litter disappeared; so they turned back home, with their minds at ease.

The woodcutter became rich, but was calumniated by his envious neighbours, thrown into prison, and condemned by the king to death. On the morrow, when the sentence was to be enforced, all the inhabitants were slain by serpents. The woodcutter and the king alone in the city remained alive. Upon the prayer of the king, the woodcutter summoned his invisible son-in-law; and the serpents were commanded to revive the slain by the means known alone to them (in Spring time).

Meanwhile Tulisa lived very happily with her spouse, whom she (like Psyche) saw only at night; she was not at liberty to quit the palace, where, however, all delights were provided for her. Once she rescued a

tion of Cupid, and the transgression of Psyche, has suggested the Serpentin Vert of Mad. d'Aulnoy; indeed the labours to which Psyche is subjected seem to be the origin

squirrel which she saw pursued by a larger animal, and the squirrel became her friend. Nevertheless she languished for intercourse with mortals. One day she beheld from her window an old woman, who implored her to be allowed to enter. She was moved by her entreaties, and let down a sheet from the window, by means of which the old woman mounted. The old woman counselled her to beg her husband to eat out of the same dish with her. In the evening Tulisa did so. Her spouse consented, but eat nothing. Some time afterwards another old woman came in the same way to her, who counselled her to ask her husband to give her as a sign of his love a betel leaf to chew, and hand her food. But again he evaded her. A third old woman advised her to ask her husband his name. He conjured her to refrain from doing this, as it would bring ruin upon her; but she persisted. At last he brought her to a river brink, and, as she still persisted in her question, he went slowly, ever repeating his request, into the water, until only his head and shoulders were visible. And as she still persevered, he cried out, "My name is Basnak Dow!" Then a serpent's head rose from the water, and he sank in the stream; and we see the nether god of Light thus sinks beneath the flood, separated from her by the earth goddess.

Tulisa now stood again (in her earthly nature) in her torn garments; her palace had disappeared, and she found her parents, too, in their old poverty. Their complaints and reproaches pained her in the poverty to which she had grown unaccustomed, and still more she herself yearned for the bliss she had lost. Once she fell asleep in the forest, whither she had returned as of yore to collect wood, and there, as she awoke, she heard two squirrels conversing. From them she learned that the wicked mother of her husband had regained all her power, in consequence of the mortal spouse of her son having been persuaded by her confederate Sarkasoukis, disguised as an old woman, to ask after his name; that he had now, according to his netherworld nature, become King of Snakes; and there was but one means to give back to Basnak Dow his former power, viz., for Tulisa (as Goddess of Moonlight) to go eastwards, until she reached a broad stream teeming with snakes. This she must swim across, and seek on the opposite bank the nest of the bird Huma, and place its egg in her breast until it should be hatched. Then she must go to the palace of her wicked mother-in-law, the goddess of the under world, and offer her services. If she is unable to perform the task exacted of her, she will be devoured by serpents, and remain with her husband in the under world, according to her earthly nature.

Tulisa set out on her (Moon) wandering as she reached the Snake River (Milky Way), which she crossed unharmed on a raft, which she constructed of reeds and pitchers, and encouraged by two squirrels. Bees and squirrels conducted her to the Huma's nest, whose egg she disposed of as directed. At last she reaches the palace of the queen, whom she finds lying upon cushions, with the green snake round her neck. Tulisa's first (Spring) task, to collect in a crystal vase the

of all fairy tales, particularly Gracieuse et Percinet.' The whole story has also been beautifully versified by Marino in his poem L'Adone. Cupid is introduced in the fourth book relating it for the amusement of Adonis, and he tells it in such a manner as to form the most pleasing episode of that delightful poem. I need not mention the wellknown imitation by Fontaine, nor the drama of Psyche, which was performed with the utmost magnificence at Paris in 1670, and is usually published in the works of Molière, but was in fact the effort of the united genius of that author, Corneille, Quinault, and Lulli.

Nor have the fine arts less contributed to the embellishment of this fable: the marriage of Cupid and Psyche has furnished Raphael with a series of paintings, which are among the finest of his works, and which adorn the walls of the Farnese Palace in the vicinity of Rome. In one compartment he has represented the council of the gods deliberating on the nuptials-in another the festival of the reconciliation. The frieze and casements are painted with the sufferings of Psyche, and the triumphs of Cupid over each individual god.

The monuments, too, of ancient sculpture represented Cupid and Psyche in the various circumstances of their adventures. It is from an ancient intaglio, a fine onyx in

2

fragrance of a thousand blossoms, which grew in a garden enclosed with high walls. Unnumbered bees brought each their little bag of scent, and the vase was soon filled. Next day a large vessel of seed was given her, from which she was to make a set of jewels. Squirrels came trooping to her, put gems in the vessel, and took a similar number of seeds out, so that every seed on the earth was changed to a gem. This second task fulfilled, Tulisa learns from her friends the squirrels that Sarkasukis can only be prevented from entering the castle by burning certain herbs. Tulisa fumigates incessantly, until the young Huma, the Spring-bird-god, is hatched. He grew with incredible rapidity; flew to the queen's shoulder; pecked out the eyes of the green (Winter) serpent. The queen shrieked; Sarkasukis fell to earth as a hideous devil. Long processions of genii, of (new born) squirrels, and (moulted snakes) bore their ruler, Basnak Dow (the new-born Spring-god of Light and the Earth), up from the deep (to his recovered throne). And Tulisa is reunited with him as queen of a spiritual world (in heaven and on earth), and her parents received their lost wealth again. See supp. note. 1 See Cinderella, La Belle au Bois, Ranking, Streams, Lond. 1872. 2 In this connection should be mentioned the Eros in the British Museum, which has been ascribed to Praxiteles, and the Psyche in the