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. {65} 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, hard to be caught, like the winds.' She gives her
lover some hope,