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 possession of the Duke of Marlborough, and from another, of which there is a print in Spence's "Polymetis," that Darwin has drawn his beautiful picture in the fourth canto of the Botanic Garden : : So pure, so soft, with sweet attraction shone Museum at Naples, a fine example of Græco-Roman art. Both works are unfortunately mutilated. The first rendering of Apuleius into English was not until the year 1566, but the book must have taken a very speedy hold upon the public fancy. For shortly after 1579 we find Stephen Gosson, a precursor of Prynne and Jeremy Collier, stigmatizing the Golden Asse amongst the books which he mentions as having "been thoroughly ransackt to furnish the Playhouses." There seems no evidence, however, for this sweeping statement of any greater foundation than the fact, for which he vouches, of a play on the subject of Cupid and Psyche having been played at Paules," and probably no other portion of the book was dramatized. 66 The quarto first edition of 1566, translated by William Adlington, was reprinted in 1571, 1596, 1600, and 1639. An octavo edition, now very rare, was published in 1582. A translation by J. Lockman was published in 1744, another by Thomas Taylor in 1822, and another by Sir G. Head in 1851. An English edition of the works of Apuleius was published in 1853 by Mr. Bohn. Of the poetical treatment of the Myth in England, the first instance (apart from that lost play cited above) would seem to be Cupid's Courtship; or, the Celebration of a Marriage between the God of Love and Psiche, mentioned by Hazlitt. This was followed in 1637 by S. Marmion's "A Morall Poem, intituled the Legend of Cupid and Psyche, etc.," and in 1799 by a now forgotten poem by Mr. Hudson Gurney. Mrs. Tighe, in the year 1805, produced a poem on the same subject, which went through two later editions. This, as well as Mr. Gurney's poem, are affixed to Mr. Bohn's edition, already mentioned. But it was reserved for our own times to give the worthy rendering of the story in the poem of Cupid and Psyche, with which Mr. William Morris opens the second volume of his Earthly Paradise. See B. M. Ranking, Streams from Hidden Sources. Lond., 1872. See supp. note at end of vol. CHAPTER III. ORIGIN OF ROMANTIC FICTION IN EUROPE. ROMANCES OF CHIVALRY RELATING TO THE EARLY AND FABULOUS HISTORY OF BRITAIN, PARTICULARLY TO ARTHUR AND THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.-MERLIN.-SAINTGRAAL. PERCEVAL.-LANCELOT DU LAC.-MELIADUS.TRISTAN.ISAIE LE TRISTE.-ARTUS.-GYRON.-PERCEFOREST.-ARTUS DE LA BRETAGNE.-CLERIADUS. FABULOUS narrative, we have seen in a former part of this work, like almost every one of the arts of man, originated in the desire of perfecting and improving nature, of rendering the great more vast, the rich more splendid, and the gay more beautiful. It removed, as it were, from the hands of fortune the destinies of mankind, rewarded virtue and valour with success, and covered treachery and baseness with opprobrium. It was soon perceived that men sympathize not with armies or nations, but with individuals; and the poet who sung the fall of empires, was forced to place a few in a prominent light, with whose success or misfortunes his hearers might be affected, while they were altogether indifferent to the rout or dissection of the crowds by which they were followed. At length, it was thought, that narratives might be composed where the interest should only be demanded for one or two individuals, whose adventures, happiness, or misery, might of themselves afford delight. The experiment was attended with success; and as men sympathize most readily with events which may occur to themselves, or the situations in which they have been, or may be, the incidents of fiction derived their character from the manners of the age. In a gay and luxurious country stories of love became acceptable. Hence the Grecian novels were composed, and as, in relating the ad |