ch has been dear to so many generations of children. In one
shape or other the tale of Cupid and Psyche, of the woman who is
forbidden to see or to name her husband, of the man with the vanished
fairy bride, is known in most lands, 'even among barbarians.'
According to the story the mystic prohibition is always broken: the
hidden face is beheld; light is brought into the darkness; the
forbidden name is uttered; the bride is touched with the tabooed
metal, iron, and the union is ended. Sometimes the pair are re-united,
after long searchings and wanderings; sometimes they are severed for
ever. Such are the central situations in tales like that of Cupid and
Psyche.

In the attempt to discover how the ideas on which this myth is based
came into existence, we may choose one of two methods. We may confine
our investigations to the Aryan peoples, among whom the story occurs
both in the form of myth and of household tale. Again, we may look for
the shapes of the legend which hide, like Peau d'Ane in disguise,
among the rude kraals and wigwams, and in the strange and scanty garb
of savages. If among savages we find both narratives like Cupid and
Psyche, and also customs and laws out of which the myth might have
arisen, we may provisionally conclude that similar customs once
existed among the civilised races who possess the tale, and that from
these sprang the early forms of the myth.

In accordance with the method hitherto adopted, we shall prefer the
second plan, and pursue our quest beyond the limits of the Aryan
peoples.

The oldest literary shape of the tale of Psyche and her lover is found
in the Rig Veda (x. 95). The characters of a singular and cynical
dialogue in that poem are named Urvasi and Pururavas. The former is an
Apsaras, a kind of fairy or sylph, the mistress (and a _folle
maitresse_, too) of Pururavas, a mortal man.[58] In the poem Urvasi
remarks that when she dwelt among men she 'ate once a day a small
piece of butter, and therewith well satisfied went away.' This
slightly reminds one of the common idea that the living may not eat in
the land of the dead, and of Persephone's tasting the pomegranate in
Hades.

Of the dialogue in the Rig Veda it may be said, in the words of Mr.
Toots, that 'the language is coarse and the meaning is obscure.' We
only gather that Urvasi, though she admits her sensual content in the
society of Pururavas, is leaving him 'like the first of the dawns';
that she 'goes home again,