This is a chapter of Evergreen Stories by W. M. L. Hutchinson. It includes the following stories: King Midas and His Strange Adventures — Alcestis, the Noble Wife — The Real Helen — Cupid and Psyche — The Vision of Er
There was never boat upon the sea so tossed up and down by the waves as was Psyche’s mind that day by contrary emotions. Her inmost soul recoiled from the deed that her sisters had counseled; yet how else could she save herself from a hideous death? Now she felt that she must do it, and now that she could not —it was too horrible— and supposing the attempt failed! Now she thought with loathing of the serpent, and the next moment, love for her husband rushed over her like a flood. But by nightfall, her fears had conquered, and she made ready to carry out her sinful enterprise.
Soon after, her husband came; and when he had kissed and embraced her, he fell asleep. Then Psyche, though half sick with dread, was nerved by the courage of despair; stealthily she drew the razor from under the pillow, slipped out of bed, and fetched the lamp that she had hidden behind a curtain. But when she stole back with the light to the bedside and looked on him who lay there, she sank on her knees, trembling and pale with amazement, and let the razor fall from her hand. For instead of a serpent, she saw a youth so divinely fair that the lamp she held burned brighter as its rays fell on him, for very joy in his beauty.
Do you love classics? Are you interested in Latin? Would you like to receive cool emails about that stuff? I’m quite sure you would: join the newsletter! 📧
It was Cupid himself, she knew instantly, and the sweet view of him held her spellbound with delight. She saw his shining, golden hair, that smelt ambrosially and paled the radiance of the lamp; his neck whiter than milk, and rose-red cheeks; his feathery wings mantling his shoulders like lustrous flowers, and fluttering as he breathed. In an ecstasy of love and joy, Psyche kissed him a thousand times, but ever so softly, lest she should break his slumber.
But alas! While she was thus transported with bliss, she still held the lamp; and so unsteadily, that presently a drop of boiling oil fell on Cupid’s right shoulder. At that, the god started up; and perceiving that Psyche had broken faith with him, he fled away through the window, without saying a word. But Psyche caught hold of him by the knee and clung on as he rose through the air until her strength failed and she dropped to the ground. Then Cupid flew down after her, and alighting on the top of a cypress tree he said in angry tones:
“Ah, foolish Psyche, was it for this I disobeyed my mother’s command to give you to some base-born mate, and came myself from heaven to love you and make you my wife? Have I been with you so long, and yet could you believe it was a beast that loved you so, and plan to murder me? How often I warned you — how often I entreated you to beware of listening to those accursed counselors! But they shall be worthily rewarded for their pains — as for you, it will be punishment enough that you have lost me.”
So saying, Cupid took his flight into upper air.
Day was now breaking, and with straining eyes Psyche gazed after him, sobbing aloud until she could see him no longer; then in agony of mind, she rushed like a mad thing to a river that flowed nearby and flung herself in to drown. But that might not be, for the river took pity on her and gently bore up her chin, and threw her upon his grassy bank. So she rose up, and wandered along the riverside, weeping as she went.
Now when she had gone a little way, she saw Pan, the goatherd god, sitting on the bank with Canna, the nymph of the stream, and teaching her to play on a pipe of reed, while his goats browsed around them. He looked with pity on unhappy Psyche and was fain to give her some comfort, though help her he might not. For he knew under whose displeasure she was, and it is a law to the gods never to thwart one another in their dealings with mortals. So Pan would not even reveal to Psyche who it was that spoke to her.
Classicsness 🎙️ the podcast about Classics
Subscribe gratis on your favorite platform and get the new episodes pushed right to your device as soon as they’re published!
Right now, we’re telling myths for all audiences!
“Fair maid,” he said, “I am but a rough herdsman, country-bred; yet being very old I have learned many things among them, some skill in that art which the wise call divination. So I can read in your uncertain gait, your pale cheeks, your sighs and tears, that you are desperately in love. Now, listen to me, for I will give you good counsel — seek not to end your life, neither weep anymore, but rather worship and adore the great god Cupid, and win his favor by your devout and loving service.”
But though Pan dissembled thus, Psyche perceived that he was none other than the god of flocks and folds; so she answered not a word, but made humble obeisance to him and went her way.