The Story of Cupid and Psyche

Psyche was the youngest daughter of a king and queen, and her beauty was known and praised all over the world. In fact, she was so beautiful that people forgot themselves, and would pay tribute to Psyche in terms that ought rightly have been reserved for the beautiful Aphrodite (Venus), goddess of love. Aphrodite one day realized that her temples and altars had been deserted, and that everyone was worshipping Psyche instead. Aphrodite was not pleased.

She summoned her son, Cupid (Eros), and demanded that he wreak vengeance on the hapless girl who had stolen worship that did not belong to her. Cupid’s assignment was to cause Psyche to fall in love with some vile creature, with something so low that it would humiliate her, casting her down twice as deeply as her beauty had ever raised her. Cupid prepared his arsenal for the task: he filled two ewers from the fountains of Aphrodite’s gardens — one ewer he dipped in the bitter fount, and the other in the sweet. Then he flew off with the ewers suspended from his quiver (for he cannot, of course, cause anyone to fall in love unless he pricks the person with his arrow), and he went directly to Psyche’s bedroom, where she was sleeping.

Cupid dripped a little of the bitter water over her lips, and then pricked her with his arrow. She awoke at once and looked around to see what had poked her. Cupid, invisible and hiding in the room, was so startled by her beauty when she happened to look over him, that he pricked himself with the arrow he had just used on Psyche. This accident caused him to fall deeply in love with the beautiful girl, who was still unable to see him. Cupid, in his ecstasy of joy, hurriedly poured the sweet water over the girl’s hair in am attempt to repair the damage he had done.

But poor Psyche, though she did not fall in love with the first revolting thing that she saw, was still harried by the wrath of Aphrodite, who was all the more displeased with the girl now that she had stolen Cupid’s love from his mother. When years went by and no man came forward to propose to the beautiful Psyche, her parents began to realize that something was amiss. Therefore, they went to Delphi and consulted the Oracle of Apollo. The oracle told them that Psyche was destined to marry, not a man, but a monster which awaited her on the top of a nearby mountain. Psyche’s parents were distraught, but she, wise as she was beautiful, asked them why they grieved now, and had not grieved, nor even protested, when people worshipped her as they had no right to do, and thereby brought upon their poor child the anger of the gods. Then she left their home and went to the mountain that the oracle had pointed out.

When she reached the top of the mountain, frightened but determined (for what could be worse — to marry a monster and suffer, or to continue in lonely solitude and suffer? suffering is suffering, after all), the god of the west wind, Zephyr, took her gently from the mountaintop and set her down in a beautiful valley, where she first sobbed out her fear and grief, then fell asleep. She woke refreshed and looked around her and saw a gorgeous palace, which she approached and entered. The interior of the palace was more beautiful and wonderful than the outside, and she wandered, bemused, through the halls. Then she heard a voice, which said, “All that you see is yours. We are your servants and shall obey all your commands. Rest on the soft bed in your chamber, and bathe when you like. When you wish to eat, a meal will be provided in the adjoining room.” And everything was exactly as the voices had told her. But Psyche was still sad, for she had not yet seen her husband.

True, he came to her every evening, and spoke love and joy to her, but he fled before the dawn, no matter how she begged him to remain with him. He forbade her to try to see him, asking her why she was worried about it. “Do you doubt my love,” he asked, “or is there some wish of yours that has not been gratified? Simply love me, but do not seek to look upon me.” Psyche was satisfied for a while, but, with no other person to see, she became lonely. One night, she asked if her sisters might be brought to visit. Her husband consented, though grudgingly.

When her sisters arrived, they seemed delighted at the good fortune of their baby sister, and talked effusively of how wonderful this husband must be. They asked Psyche what sort of person he was, and she tried to put them off with vague descriptions of a beautiful young man who hunted by day and was home only after dark. But the sisters badgered her until she had to admit that she had never laid eyes on him. At this, the sisters, motivated by their jealousy of their sister (who had been granted superior beauty and had achieved superior status and riches), began to fill Psyche’s mind with horrible visions. “The locals,” they told her, “say that your husband is a hideous serpent who is just fattening you up until he can kill you. You’d better protect yourself. Hide a lamp and a knife in your room, and when he is sleeping, light the lamp and look at him. If he really is a monster, kill him at once, before he can hurt you.”

Psyche protested for a long while, but the lies were like so much corrosive poison, working their way into her mind and heart, so that finally, long after her sisters had returned to their homes, Psyche found her curiosity and the fears raised by her sisters’ tales overwhelming, and she followed their advice, hiding a lamp and a knife next to her bed. When she was sure that he had fallen asleep, she lit the lamp and gazed up on him…and he was not a horrible monster, but a beautiful and charming god—Cupid, in fact. Psyche was mesmerized by his beauty and shifted her position to get a better view of his face. Unfortunately, as she did this, a drop of burning oil fell from the lamp onto Cupid’s shoulder, startling him awake. He looked at her for one moment, and then spread his beautiful wings and flew out of the window, saying as he left, “You foolish girl, what a way to repay my love for you. I defied my mother to marry you, and spoke nothing but love to you, yet you believe me a monster and would kill me. Go home to your sisters, whose advice seems better to you than mine. I will not punish you more than to leave you forever. You have lost me, for Love cannot dwell with suspicion.”

Poor Psyche was devastated and collapsed. When she came to herself, she found that she was in a field near her sisters’ homes. She went to them and poured out her misery and they pretended to be sorry for Psyche, but they thought to themselves that it served her right. Their jealousy of their sister was so great that they hoped the god would replace her with one of them, so they each rose early and went to the mountain. When they gained the summit, they called for Zephyr to take them to take them to Cupid’s home and then leapt out, expecting to be caught and borne away. But Zephyr was not there, and each sister crashed to the valley floor and was killed.

Psyche, desolated by her loss, wandered the world in search of her husband. Finally, she came to a place where, looking up on a high mountain, she could dimly see a magnificent temple, and, hoping her husband might be there, she began the rigorous ascent. When she arrived at the top of the mountain and entered the temple, she was horrified to find heaps of grains and harvesting tools scattered in a chaotic mess on the floor. Feeling that such disorder was a disgrace to the god whose temple this was, Psyche hastened to sort things out and put things to rights. She separated the corn and the barley into separate baskets, then cleaned the tools and put them away properly. As she was engaged in a final task, the goddess of the temple, Demeter (Ceres) came down and was amazed to see this girl so carefully clearing away a mess that the girl had not made.

Touched and impressed, Demeter (who, remember, had lost her own daughter and had arranged to have her daughter restored only for half of the year), spoke kindly to Psyche: “I cannot shield you from Aphrodite, but I can help you make amends to her. Go to her and surrender yourself to her as your sovereign lady, and try, by your modesty, submission, and diligence to win her heart. Perhaps you may gain her favour and she will restore your husband to you.” Psyche, though despairing and afraid, thanked Demeter and went at once to Aphrodite’s temple, wondering if she were more likely to be going to her death than anything else.

And it seemed likely, for Aphrodite received the supplicant with anger and contempt. “Faithless and undutiful wench! Have you finally remembered that you have a mistress? Or have you come to see your poor husband, who yet suffers from the wound his ‘loving wife’ inflicted upon him? You are so ugly and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover is through industry and diligence. I will test your housewifery.” Aphrodite clapped her hands and ordered her steward to take the girl to her storehouse, where there were huge piles of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons. “Wicked tramp! You shall separate all these grains into individual baskets by kind, and you must finish before evening.”

Psyche was dumbfounded by the enormity and impossibility of the task, and merely sat, stupefied, unable even to weep. While she sat despairing, Cupid incited the ant to compassion for her, and the ants came to her and did the impossible task for her. They had just returned to their holes when Aphrodite returned. Seeing the task completed, Aphrodite screamed in rage, “You didn’t do this, you baggage, but he did!” And she threw Psyche a piece of black bread and left.

The next day, Aphrodite ordered Psyche to go to a certain grove near a stream, where she would find shepherdless, golden-fleeced sheep feeding. Psyche’s task was to return with a sample of wool from every sheep in the flock. But when she arrived, she saw that there were sheep in such abundance that she could never keep track of which she had sampled and which she had not. The river god saw her consternation and caused the reeds to sing to her, telling her to wait until noon, when the sheep would settle under shade trees to rest, and she could pluck their wool from the nearby bushes and tree-trunks in safety. However, once again, when the task was accomplished, Aphrodite was angry and vindictive. “I am fully aware that you did not succeed on your own. I still think you a worthless wretch. But I have an errand for you. Take this box and go down to Hades, and present the box to Proserpine [Persephone, Demeter’s daughter] and tell her, ‘My mistress Aphrodite wishes you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own.’ Do not take too long, for I must have this gift in order prepare myself for the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening.”

Psyche knew, now, that she was doomed. She was being told to go straight into the heart of the underworld. In order to make it quick, she prepared to fling herself off of a cliff, but the mountain said, “Why would you wish to dies so horribly? And what cowardice crumples you now, when you have prevailed in all other tasks and dangers? Look there; do you see that cave? Here is what you must do.” Then the voice told her how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, and persuade Charon to take her across the Styx and bring her back again. the voice gave her one last caution as well, “When Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, you must not, under any circumstances, look into the box or let your curiosity cause you to open it. The beauty of the gods is not meant for mortal eyes.”

Psyche did as she was told, and stood before Proserpine to make her request. Presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled. Psyche took her leave and returned to the world above by the same road she had come. Then a deep yearning to examine the contents of the box seized her. “I’ve made this dangerous and difficult journey, shouldn’t I at least get a tiny bit of this beauty so that I may appear to more advantage in the eyes of my husband?” So she carefully opened the box, but found nothing there. Before she could close the box, however, a deep sleep came over her, and she fell down right in the middle of the road.

But Cupid, who had now recovered from his wound, and who could no longer bear the absence of his beloved Psyche, slipped out through the open window of his chamber, and flew to the spot where Psyche lay. He gathered the sleep from her body and closed it up in the box, then he wakened Psyche with a touch of his arrow. “My love, you have once again nearly died from the effects of your curiosity. Now finish your task, and I will take care of the rest. ”

Then Cupid flew to Jupiter and told him all. Jupiter was compassionate on the poor lovers and pleaded their cause so skillfully with Aphrodite that she finally consented. Mercury (Hermes) was sent to bring Psyche to the heavenly assembly, and Jupiter handed her a cup of ambrosia when she arrived. “Drink this,” he said, “and become immortal; then shall you and Cupid be bound together in perpetual wedded bliss.”

So, finally, Psyche was married to her beloved Cupid, and they soon had a daughter—Pleasure.

Tags: love, mythology, poetry, Religion