Treasure

Treasure (pronounced trezh-er)

(1) Wealth or riches stored or accumulated, especially in the form of precious metals, money, jewels, or plate; wealth, rich materials, or valuable things.

(2) A thing, beast or person greatly valued or highly prized.

(3) As the verbs treasured & treasuring, carefully to retain or keep in store, as in the mind; to regard or treat as precious; cherish; to put away for security or future use, as money.

(4) A term of endearment in the sense of “cherish” (archaic).

1125–1175: From the Middle English tresor, (displacing the native schat) from the Old French tresor (treasury, hoard, treasure (trésor in Modern French)), from the Gallo-Roman tresaurus, from the Latin thēsaurus (storehouse, hoard; anything hoarded (source also of Spanish & Italian tesoro)), from the Ancient Greek θησαυρός thēsauros (store, treasure, treasure house) (related to tithenai (to put, to place), from a reduplicated form of the primitive Indo-European root dhe- (to set, put).  In Middle English there was also the spelling thresur, the modern spelling is from the sixteenth century.  It replaced the Old English goldhord & maðm and the meaning extended from hoards of precious metals etc to a general sense of "anything valued" from circa 1200.  The verb emerged in late fourteenth century Middle English, a derivative of the noun.  It meant literally "to amass treasure; to store up for the future" but was used also in the figurative sense as "regard as precious, retain carefully in the mind" from treasure.  The first recorded treasure hunt happened in 1913 a relatively modern alternative spelling was the now almost extinct treasuer.  Treasure is a noun & verb, treasurable & treasureless are adjectives, treasury, treasurership, treasuress & treasurer are nouns, treasuring is a verb and treasured is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is treaures.

The noun treasurer was from the late thirteenth century, from the Old North French & Anglo-French tresorer & and the Old French tresorier, from tresor.  The noun treasury (a room or vault in which to store and safeguard treasure) dates from circa 1300, from the eleventh century Old French tresorie (treasury), from tresor.  The meaning "department of state that controls public revenue" was recorded from late the late fourteenth century and the first treasury bill was issued in 1797.  An Old English word for "room for treasure" was maðm-hus and for "treasury", it was feo-hus (connected to the modern fee).  There is a connection with the noun hoard, from the Old English hord (a treasure, valuable stock or store, an accumulation of something for preservation or future use and hence "any mass of things preserved by being deposited together," from the Proto-Germanic huzdam (source also of Old Saxon hord (treasure, hidden or inmost place)).  It was cognate with the Old Norse hodd, the German Hort and the Gothic huzd (treasure; literally "hidden treasure"), from the primitive Indo-European root (s)keu- (to cover, conceal).

T-Paper

US Treasury Building, Washington DC.

T-paper (Treasury-paper) is the collective term for securities issued by United States Treasury.  The US Treasury Department sells bills, notes, and bonds at auction with a fixed interest rate.  When demand is high, bidders pay higher than face value to receive the interest rate.  When demand is low, they pay less, thus the yield declines as the price rises; at times of crisis, yield drops as investors seek security at the expense of income.  T-paper gained the name from being once issued on physical paper or cardboard) but are exist in now digital form and are also referred to as “Treasurys”.

1864 US $100 three-year treasury note (6% annual interest rate, compounded semi-annually, payable at maturity); a bearer-bond, paid over-the-counter, to whomever held the physical paper.  

Although physical paper is no longer much associated with T-paper, a linguistic legacy persists in the “coupon stripping” market.  There’s long been a secondary market for T-paper, one flavor of which is where the interest and principal components have been separated, or "stripped" so they may be re-sold as separate products.  The name is derived from the days of paper and cardboard when traders literally would separate the paper interest coupons from the paper securities.  In the secondary market, the two pieces of paper than became independent retail items, one yielding interest, the principal re-sold as a zero-coupon bond.  The correct name in the digital age is Separate Trading of Registered Interest and Principal Securities (STRIPS).  STRIPS, more than some other products, reflects the dual role of the Treasury as both regulator and participant in the financial gambling market, not itself an issuer of STRIPS (that part of the market reserved for brokers and the non-retail arms of banks), instead the maintaining the transaction and ownership register.

1976 US $5000 ten-year treasury note with 8% rate.

The difference in types of T-Paper are defined by the length of the term: the time until the bond the matures at which point it is repaid.  All T-paper are really bonds, the nomenclature just part of the jargon of the industry.  Treasury Bills are issued for less than a year, Treasury Notes for 2, 3, 5, and 10 years and Treasury Bonds for 30 years.  Still unconfirmed is whether recent discussions by Treasury about longer-term bonds will be pursued although demand seemingly exists, fifty and even hundred-year bonds mentioned.  There has been speculation about the demand which, given the amount of money said now to be “sloshing around” the system, wasn’t unexpected and the large holdings of various sovereign wealth funds may also find the longer terms attractive, for reasons political as well as fiscal.  It anyway represents one school of thought on what to do about the money supply. 

A more recent creation is the Treasury Inflation-Protected Security (TIPS), bond, the principal of which is indexed against inflation using the Consumer Price Index (CPI).  As the CPI rises, the principal is adjusted upward; if the index falls, the principal is adjusted downwards, the coupon rate remaining constant, but generating a different amount of interest when multiplied by the inflation-adjusted principal.  This has the effect of protecting the holder against the inflation rate as measured by the CPI.  The current version of TIPS was created in 1997 and is offered with five, ten and thirty year maturities.

Spikes and waves:  US T-Note yield against inflation projections and outcomes with events noted, 2000-2020.

Inflation-indexed bonds became common in government bond markets in the late twentieth century, many emerging in the inflationary environment which followed (1) the distortions in US government spending the 1960s, (2) the structural changes to the Bretton-Woods system in the 1970s  and (3) the consequences of the oil shocks in the same decade; they’re essentially a form of hedging.  In the orthodox bond market, even those issued for long terms promise the holder a fixed dollar (or whatever currency) income flow for the term of issue.  That contrasts with the outgoings of an individual or corporation because prices tend quickly to adjust to external changes and unexpected changes can increase the general level of prices, altering the real purchasing power of money which is a risk to both holders and issuers of orthodox bonds.  The indexed bond substantially reduces this risk in that the lender’s receipts and the borrower’s payments become linked to movements in the general price level.

Lindsay Lohan attending the LA premiere of Treasure Planet, Cenerama Dome, Hollywood, California, November 2002.

Again, while used as a hedge, it is still a gambling market, the incentive for governments, beyond the political attractions of being able to offer the product, being the ability substantially to reduce borrowing costs  The UK government first issued indexed bonds in 1981 as a part of an attempt to reduce (it was actually an attempt to kill) inflation.  The markets however had noted the post-war performance of successive governments and were sceptical, holders of orthodox bonds, in effect, charging the government on the basis of an inflation rate substantially higher than the government intended the outcome to be.  This is how gambling works.  In issuing indexed bonds, simultaneously the government flagged a new seriousness in monetary policy and an intent to reduce funding costs by promising to compensate investors for high inflation only if inflation did not fall.  Unexpectedly, the government’s strategy proved successful and substantial savings in borrowing costs were realised.  The effect of the increase in the money supply induced by the COVID-19 responses will ultimately produce higher inflation because, unlike the restorative measures in the wake of the global financial crisis (2008-2011) which essentially gave money only to the rich, greater disposable income was gained more widely.  If the inflation is sustained or (in response to new, unexpected events) spikes, New Zealand's approach (which included products actually marketed as "inflation-proof bonds") might be re-visited.   

The New Zealand experience was different but the small size of the market, while making it an interesting and manageable thing for modelers and analysts, does mean caution must be taken if attempting to apply that experience at scale.  The NZ government issued inflation-adjusted government securities between 1977-1985 and, in a period of historically high inflation, they were popular, eventually accounting for some 15% of domestic debt on issue.  Post-war NZ had evolved into what is possibly the West’s most extreme example of an open political system being combined with a highly regulated economy and that did tend to work until the convulsions of the 1970s to which the NZ hybrid proved unable to adjust.  The adjustments were made after a change of government in 1984 and the inflation adjusted bonds offered by tender in 1983-1984 entered a market where the official inflation target was considerably lower than the buyer’s expectation.

New Zealand Consumer Price Index (CPI) 1970-2015.

Almost immediately, the new government ceased issuing indexed debt.  Perhaps paradoxically, the same credibility gap confronted the government in its own use of more orthodox methods to cut inflation.  Because it was expected the costs of selling long-term nominal bonds would be high, in 1986, issues longer than five years were suspended, the government making clear that would prevail until their inflation target had been met or exceeded.  The approach, while textbook correct, wasn’t without risk because, although shortening the term of a government’s nominal debt can be an appropriate response where inflation outcomes are uncertain, it does heighten the risk of higher costs when rolling-over maturing debt.  As it turned out, for one reason and another, some fairly brutal, inflation was tamed and in 1995, the government returned to the index-linked market.  Many countries created markets, Finland and some of the Nordic zone as early as 1945 and Israel ten year later.  A cluster of Latin American countries issued between 1964-1972 and a number of OECD nations followed the New Zealand and UK in the 1980s although the US Treasury wasn’t active until 1997.

Pit

Pit (pronounced pit)

(1) A naturally formed or excavated hole or cavity in the ground.

(2) A covered or concealed excavation in the ground, serving as a trap for animals.

(3) In extractive mining, an excavation made in exploring for or removing a mineral deposit (also known (at scale) as “open-cut” as opposed to “underground” (although in casual use sometime used also of the mineshafts used in underground operations.  It can in mining slang also refer to an entire mine site, regardless of the mode of extraction.

(4) The stone of a fruit (cherry, peach, plum etc) and technically, the hard, inner layer (the endocarp) of certain drupes.

(5) The abode of evil spirits and lost souls; hell; the depths of Hades.

(6) In slang (as “the pits”) an extremely unpleasant, boring, or depressing place, condition, person, etc; the absolute worst (used also as a clipping of armpits).

(7) A hollow or indentation in a surface (in substances like glass or when referring to surfaces (paint, varnish etc), treated usually as an imperfection).

(8) In physiology, natural hollow or depression in the body, organ, structure or part; fossa (used most often of the small of the back).

(9) In medicine, a small, indented scar, as one of at the site of a former pustule after smallpox, chicken pox or similar diseases; a pockmark.

(10) In music, a section of the marching band containing mallet percussion instruments and other large percussion instruments too large to march, such as the tam tam; the area on the sidelines where these instruments are placed.

(11) In botany, any of various small areas in a plant cell wall that remain un-thickened when the rest of the cell becomes lignified (used especially of the vascular tissue).

(12) In archaeology, a hole or trench in the ground, excavated according to grid coordinates, so that the provenance of any feature observed and any specimen or artifact revealed may be established by precise measurement.

(13) An enclosure, usually below the level of the spectators, as for staging fights between dogs, cocks, or, formerly, bears (as cockpit later extended to aircraft, cars, boats etc).

(14) In physical markets (such as a commodity exchange), a part of the floor of the exchange where trading is conducted (known in some places as “as open outcry pits” because transactions were done by traders shouting offers & acceptances at each other).

(15) In architecture, all that part of the main floor of a theater behind the musicians (in UK use also the main floor of a theater behind the stalls); sometimes used as “orchestra pit” (the area that is occupied by the orchestra in a theatre, located in front of the stage)

(16) In a hoist-way, a space below the level of the lowest floor served.

(17) In motorsport, an area at the side of a track, for servicing and refueling the cars (the use later adopted by cycle racing).

(18) In ten-pin bowling, the sunken area of a bowling alley behind the pins, for the placement or recovery of pins that have been knocked down.

(19) In track athletics,  the area forward of the takeoff point in a jumping event, as the broad jump or pole vault, that is filled with sawdust or soft earth to lessen the force of the jumper's landing.

(20) In casinos, the area or room containing gambling tables.

(21) In aviation, the part of the aircraft (usually the bottom of the fuselage) given over to freight; a luggage hold.

(22) In American football, the center of the line.

(23) In hospital slang, the emergency department.

(24) Literally, the bottom part (lowest point) of something; figuratively an undesirable location (especially if dirty, dangerous etc).

(25) In military slang, a bed (some evidence also of civilian (presumably ex-military) use).

(26) In nuclear physics, the core of an implosion nuclear weapon, consisting of the fissile material and any neutron reflector or tamper bonded to it.

(27) To mark or indent with pits or depressions.

(28) In medicine, to scar with pockmarks.

(29) In physiology (of body tissue) temporarily to retain a mark of pressure, as by a finger, instrument, etc.

(30) To place or bury something in a pit, as for storage.

(31) To set in opposition or combat, as one against another (usually in the forms “pit against” or “pitted against”).

(32) In motorsport, to exit from the track, entering the pits, to permit the pit-crew to effect a pit-stop.

(33) To remove the stone of a fruit (cherry, peach, or plum), sometimes with the use of a pitter (if something done vocationally, by a pitter, usually with the use of a pitter).

Pre 900: From the Middle English noun pit, pittle, pite, pute, put & putte, from the Old English pytt (natural or man-made depression in the ground, water hole, well; grave (the Kentish variation was “pet”), from the Proto-West Germanic puti, from the Proto-Germanic putt- (pool, puddle) which was the source also of the Old Frisian pet, the Old Saxon putti, the Old Norse pyttr, the Middle Dutch putte, the Dutch put, the Old High German pfuzza and the German Pfütze (pool, puddle), an early borrowing from Latin puteus (pit, trench, shaft) (etymologists noting the phonetic difficulties which exist also in the speculated relationship between puteus and the primitive Indo-European root pau- (to cut, strike, stamp).  Because the short u makes it unlikely puteus was from paviō (to strike), it might instead be linked to putāre (to prune) but the distance between the meanings makes etymologists just as sceptical and some suggest puteus may be a loanword though the spelling might be mysterious.  The use in the context of stone fruit was an Americanism dating from 1841, from the Dutch pet (kernel, seed, marrow), from the Middle Dutch pitte & pit (kernel, core (and cognate with pith)), from the Proto-Germanic pittan (the dialectal German Pfitze (pimple) was an oblique of the Proto-Germanic piþō), from the Proto-Germanic pithan- (source of pith).  Like the use in other contexts, each instance of the verb was derivative of the noun.  Pit is a noun & verb, pitter is a noun and pitted & pitting are verbs; the noun plural is pits.

Ford GT40 pit-stop, Sebring 12 Hours, International Championship for Makes, Sebring, March 1966.

The meaning “abode of evil spirits, hell” dates from the late twelfth century, one of the many means in the medieval world of referring to hell.  The meaning “very small depression or dent in the surface of an object” was in use by the early 1400s, the anatomical sense of “natural depression or hollow in some part of the body” from more than a century earlier.  The “pit of the stomach” was in the literature by the 1650s and it was so-called from the slight depression there between the ribs; the earlier terms used by doctors were the late fourteenth century breast-pit and heart-pit from circa 1300.  The meaning “part of a theater on the floor of the house, lower than the stage” was known by the 1640s while in market trading, the sense of “that part of the floor of an exchange where business is carried on” was first documented in 1903 as a coining in US English.

One of the high-water marks of the analog era: cockpit of the Anglo-French Concorde.

The phrase money-pit in the sense of “an edifice or project requiring constant outlay of cash with little to show for it” is quite modern, dating only from 1986 and assumed derived from the popular movie of the same name of the same name released that year (though it’s not impossible it had earlier been in regional use).  The prior use had been in the 1930s when it was used of the shaft on Oak Island, Nova Scotia which legend suggested would lead one to treasure buried by Captain Kidd or some other pirate.  Popular Mechanics magazine in September noted wryly the term might better refer to the millions spent trying to get the treasure out than the hoard of gold itself and in 2022, entrepreneurial engineer Elon Musk (b 1971) produced a variation, describing the factories in Europe building the electric Tesla cars as “money furnaces”.  The ash-pit (repository for ashes, especially the lower part of a furnace) dates from 1797 and it replaced the earlier (1640s) ash-hole, reflecting the implications of industrialization as forges and furnaces grew larger.  The venomous snake the pit-viper was so-named in 1872 because of the characteristic depression between the eyes and nose.  In commercial forestry, the pit-saw was first described in the 1670s, referring to a large saw operated by two men, one (the pit-sawyer) standing in the pit below the log being sawed, the other (the top-sawyer) standing atop.  Pitman was one of a wealth of vocationally-derived surnames which began to appear late in the twelfth century and it referred to one who dwelled literally “in or by a pit or hollow”, the use to describe someone who “works in a pit or mine” not documented until 1761.  Pitman shorthand, a popular form of hand-written transcription of spoken-word text which could later be read by a typist (often the “shorthand-taker) came into use in the 1860s, having been devised by English teacher & publisher (and devoted vegetarian) Sir Isaac Pitman (1813-1897) in 1837.  The phrase “flea-pit” dates from the 1920s and was used of cinemas, an allusion to the seats being infested with fleas or other bugs.

A Lindsay Lohan pit-stop from the blooper tape, Herbie: Fully Loaded (2005).

The noun armpit was a mid-fourteenth century description of the “hollow place under the shoulder” and it ran in parallel with the earlier arm-hole although the latter use faded as it came to be used of clothing and as an anatomical descriptor it was obsolete by the mid seventeenth century.  There was also the early fifteenth century asselle, from the Old French asselle, from the Latin axilla but armpit prevailed.  The colloquial phrase “armpit of the nation” was used as a term of derision for any place thought ugly and disgusting and it’s not clear when it emerged but it was well-documented from the early 1960s.  The general term “the pits” was a variation and from late in the twentieth century applied to anything or anyone thought the worse possible of their type (ie based on something hairy, smelly and ugly).  Infamously, it was used by the US tennis player John McEnroe (b 1959) who at Wimbledon in 1981 called an umpire “the pits of the world” during one of their discussions.  The noun pitter (curved instrument for removing stones from cherries and other fruit” appeared in 1868 when pitters were made available as a commercial product (doubtlessly they had for centuries been improvised or adapted from other utensils) and where they were used vocationally, the user was also called a pitter, the same linguistic process which produced the dual use of shucker in the oyster business (the termed adopted also by others).  Pit-a-pat & pitter-pat, being imitative, are wholly unrelated and date from the 1520s, the noun emerging in 1580.

Boeing 787 Dreamliner cockpit.

The original cockpits were first described in the 1580s and were a “pit or enclosed space for fighting cocks”, the use soon extended to any space in which animals were set to fight to the death, the audience betting on the outcome.  From this came the verb use “to pit against” which meant “to put or set in or into a pit” and this soon extended to boxing; by the eighteenth century in figurative use it was used on any conflict, argument or rivalry.  The general verb use (make pits in; form a small pit or hollow) had been in used (as pit, pitted & pitting) by the late fifteenth century.  The dog breed pit-bull dates from 1922 and was short for pit-bull terrier (first registered in 1912), a type noted for its aggression a fighting abilities.  Cockpit was used of ships early in the eighteenth century of midshipmen's compartment below decks and in some cases was later applied also to the enclosed cabins located towards the centre of the deck began to replace the steerage systems at the stern (later universally known as the “bridge”.  It was picked up for the pilot’s compartment in aircraft in 1914 and (by extension) was used in racing cars in the 1930s.  The word cesspit was created in the 1860s because advances in plumbing meant something was needed to distinguish more modern systems handling sewerage from the earlier cesspool, in use since the 1670s.  The mid fourteenth century pitfall (concealed hole into which a person or animal may fall unawares) was a description of a physical danger which came into figurative in the early 1600s to refer to “any hidden danger or concealed source of disaster.  In mining, a pitfall could also be literally a collapse of the internal structure of a mineshaft, sometime because of the catastrophic failure of pit-props (the timbers which provided the structural integrity of a shaft).  Sometimes a mile or more deep, pitfalls frequently were fatal and the death-toll among miners was high, the phrase “pit-hell” often heard.

The original pits at the Indianapolis Speedway, 1913. 

It was difficult and expensive (and often impossible) to lift heavy machinery to allow mechanics to work on engines or other components so, where possible, it was better to construct a pit underneath from which people could work.  The concept was well documented in workshops by 1839 and the term was by 1912 picked up in motorsport to describe the “area at the side of a track where cars are serviced and repaired” and the early pits were often holes in the ground with waist-high surrounds in which the crew could stand.  They were used also to store spare tyres, parts lubricants etc.  As the sport boomed, the pits quickly became fully enclosed service areas and even garages, built along pit-lane.  When a driver brought his car into the pits (located on the stretch of track called pit-straight), they were said to be pitting to be worked on by the pit crew who might during the pit-stop make repairs, re-fuel or change tyres, either in front of or behind the pit-wall.  Pit crew became a popular term beyond the tracks, used of airline baggage handlers, sea-port staff etc.  In motorsport, a pit-babe is an attractive young lady who is in the pit area for some reason, not necessarily directly related to the competition.

The pit-babes: coming or going, they always look good. 

Ambrosia

Ambrosia (pronouced am-bro-zia)

(1) In classical mythology, the food (sometimes called nectar) of the gods and said to bestow immortality.

(2) Something especially delicious to taste or smell.

(3) A fruit dish made of oranges and shredded coconut.  Sometimes includes pineapple.

(4) Alternative name for beebread.

(5) Any of various herbaceous plants constituting the genus Ambrosia, mostly native to America but widely naturalized: family Asteraceae (composites).  The genus includes the ragweeds.

1545-1555.  From the Middle English, from the Old French ambroise, from the Latin ambrosia (favored food or drink of the gods) from the Ancient Greek ambrosia (food of the gods), noun use of the feminine of ambrosious (thought to mean literally "of the imortals") from ambrotos (immoratlity; immortal, imperishable).  The construct was a- (not) + mbrotos (related to mortos (mortal), from the primitive Indo-European root mer- (to rub away, to harm (also "to die" and used widely when forming words referring to death and to beings subject to death).  Writers in Antiquity woud use the word when speaking of theit favorite herbs and it's been used in English to describe delectable foods (though originally of fruit drinks) since the 1680s and came to be used figuratively for anything delightful by the 1730s.  Applied to certain herbs by Pliny and Dioscorides; used of various foods for mortals since 1680s (originally of fruit drinks); used figuratively for "anything delightful" by 1731.  The adjective ambrosial dates from the 1590s in the sense of "immortal, divine, of the quality of ambrosia", the sense of "fragrant, delicious" developed by the 1660s.  The other adjectival forms were ambrosiac (circa 1600) & ambrosian (1630s).

Ambrose was the masculine proper name, from the Latin Ambrosius, from the Ancient Greek ambrosios (immortal, belonging to the immortals),  The Biblioteca Ambrosian (Ambrosian Library) in Milan (1609), established by Cardinal Federico Borromeo (1564–1631), is named for Saint Ambrose of Milan (circa 339–397) Bishop of Milan 374-397.

Cupid, Psyche and the Nectar of the Gods

In Greek mythology, Psyche was the youngest and loveliest of a king’s three daughters.  So haunting was Psyche’s beauty that people travelled from afar to pay homage, neglecting the worship of Venus (Aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, instead venerating the nymph.  Venus became enraged at finding her altars deserted, men instead turning their devotions to the young virgin, watching as she passed, singing her praises and strewing her way with chaplets and flowers.

Indignant at the exaltation of a mortal, Venus began her righteous rant.  "Am I then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mere mortal girl?  In vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. I will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty."  Venus summoned her winged son, the mischievous Cupid and telling him of Psyche, ordered her revenge.  "My dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give your mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph."

Obediently, Cupid set to his task.  In the garden of Venus lay two fountains, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter.  Cupid filled two amber phials, one from each fountain and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of Psyche, finding her asleep.  He shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips and although though the sight of her moved him almost to pity, touched her side with the point of his arrow.  At the touch she awoke and her eyes gazed upon the invisible Cupid which so enchanted him he became confused and pricked himself with his own arrow.  Helplessly in love, his only thought now was to repair the mischief he had done and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken blonde ringlets.

Psyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, gained no benefit from her charms.  While all cast covetous eyes upon her and all spoke her praises, not prince, plebeian or peasant ever asked for her hand in marriage.  Her two sisters had become betrothed to princes but Psyche sat in solitude, feeling cursed by the beauty which had failed to awaken love.  The king and queen, thinking they had incurred the wrath of the gods turned for guidance to the oracle of Apollo who answered: “The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist."

Her parents, distraught, abandoned themselves to grief but Psyche was fatalistic, saying "Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? You should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive I am victim to that name.  I submit.  Lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me."  Accordingly, amid the lamentations of all, she was taken to the peak of the mountain and there left alone.  When the tearful girl stood at the summit, the gentle Zephyr raised her from the earth and carried her on the breeze, bringing her to rest in a flowery dale where she laid down to sleep.  When she awoke, refreshed, she looked around and beheld nearby a grove of tall and stately trees.  Entering the forest, she discovered in its midst a fountain from which bubbled crystal-clear waters and nearby, a splendid palace, so magnificent she knew it the work not of mortal hands, but the retreat of some god.  Drawn by admiration and wonder, she ventured to enter the door.  Amazed at what she saw, she walked along a marble floor so polished it shimmered, golden pillars supported a vaulted roof, walls were enriched with carvings and paintings of fantastic beasts.  Everything upon which her eye fell delighted her.

Soon, although she saw no one, she heard a voice.  "Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with utmost care.  Retire, should you please, to your chamber, recline upon your bed of down and when you see fit, repair to the bath.  Your supper awaits in the alcove”.  Psyche took her bath and seated herself in the alcove, whereupon a table appeared laden with extraordinary delicacies of food and nectarous wines.   While she ate, she heard the playing of lute and harp and the harmony of song.

That night she met he husband but he came only in the darkness, fleeing before the dawn, but his words and caresses were of love and inspired in her a like passion.  Often she would beg him to stay so she might behold him in the light but he refused, telling her never to attempt to see him, for no good would come of it and that he would rather have her love him as a man than adore him as a god.  This, Psyche accepted but the days grew long and lonely and she began to feel she was living in a gilded cage.  One night, when her husband came, she told him of her distress, her charms enough to coax from him his unwilling acquiescence that her sisters could visit.  Delighted, she summoned the obedient Zephyr who brought them to the mountain and in happiness, they embraced.

The splendor and celestial delights of Psyche’s palace astonished her sisters but also aroused their envy and they began to pepper her with questions about her husband and she told them he was a beautiful youth who spent his days hunting in the mountains.  Unconvinced, the soon drew from her that she had never seen him and they began to fill her mind with dark suspicions, recalling the Pythian oracle had declared her doomed to marry a direful and tremendous monster.  Psyche protested but they told her the folk living in the valley say the husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, amusing himself while nourishing her with dainties that he may by and by devour her.  They told to one night to take with her a lamp and sharp blade so that when he slept she might light the lamp and see his true form.  If truly he is a monster they told her, "hesitate not and cut off its head".

Psyche tried to resist her sisters’ persuasions but knew she was curious and that night she took to bed a lamp and a long, sharp knife.  When he had fallen to sleep, silently she arose and lit her lamp, beholding but the most beautiful of the gods, his golden ringlets falling over his snowy neck, two dewy wings on his shoulders whiter than snow, with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring.  Entranced, as she moved her lamp better to see his face, a drop of hot oil fell on the shoulder of the god and startled, he opened his eyes and fixed them upon her.  They both were frozen for a few seconds, then suddenly and without a word, he spread his wings and flew out of the window.  Psyche, crying in despair, in vain endeavored to follow but fell from the window to the ground below.

Hearing her fall, Cupid for a moment paused in his flight and turned to her saying, "Oh faithless Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? After I disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and would cut off my head?  Go, return to your sisters, who you trust more than me.  I punish you no more than to forever leave you for love cannot dwell with suspicion."  With those words, he flew off, leaving poor Psyche crying into the earth.  For hours she sobbed and then looked around, but her palace and gardens had vanished and she found herself in a field in the city where her sisters dwelt.  She repaired thither and told them her story at which, though pretending to grieve with her, the two evil sisters inwardly rejoiced for both thought as one: that Cupid might now choose one of them.  Both the next morning silently arose and snuck secretly to the mountain where each called upon Zephyr to bear them to his lord but leaping up, there was no Zephyr to carry them on the breeze and each fell down the precipice to their deaths.

The devastated Psyche meanwhile wandered.  Day and night, without food or rest, she searched for her husband and one evening saw in the distance a magnificent temple atop a lofty mountain and she felt her heart beat, wondering if perhaps there was Cupid.  She walked to the temple and there saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, mingled with ears of barley.  Scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly from the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day.  This unseemly confusion disturbed the neat and tidy Psyche and she put herself to work, separating and sorting everything and putting all in its proper place, believing she ought to neglect none of the gods, but prove by her piety to prove she was worthy of their help.  The holy Ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her, "Oh Psyche, truly your are worthy of our pity, though I cannot shield you from the frowns of Venus, I can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. Go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost."  Filled with both fear and hope, Psyche made her way to the temple of Venus.

Venus met her with anger.  "Most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember you have a mistress or have you come to see your sick husband, the one injured by the wound given him by his worthless wife?  You are so ill favored you can be worthy of your lover only by showing industry and diligence.  I shall put you to work".  She led Psyche to temple’s storehouse in which sat vast piles of wheat, barley, vetches, beans and lentils, the food for her birds.  “Separate these grains, put them all in sacks and have it done by night” she commanded, leaving her to the task.  Shocked, Psyche sat silent, moving not a finger.  While she despaired, Cupid ordered an ant, a native of the fields, to bring all ants from the anthill and they gathered on the piles.  Quickly and with the efficiency of their breed, they took grain by grain, making perfect parcels of each and when done, vanished from sight.  As twilight fell, Venus returned from a banquet of the gods and seeing the sacks neatly stacked, became enraged.  "This is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed."  So saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and stormed off.

Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called and said to her, "Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water.  There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs.  Go now, fetch me some of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces."  Standing on the riverbank, wondering at the difficulty of her task, Psyche was about to cross but river god made the reeds speak, telling her "Oh maiden, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among those rams for as long as the sun shines, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth.  But when the noontide sun has driven them to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees."  Psyche did as they said and returned with her arms full of the golden fleece but Venus was not pleased.  "Well I know it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded I do not believe you are of use but I have another task for you.  Here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine and say, 'my mistress Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own'.  Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear this evening at the circle of the gods."

Psyche now believed her own destruction was at hand and, with no wish to delay what was not to be avoided, dashed to the top of a high tower, preparing to cast herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below.  But then, a voice from the tower said to her, "Why, poor unlucky girl, do you design to put an end to your days in so dreadful a manner? And what cowardice makes you sink under this last danger when you have been so miraculously supported in all your former?"  Then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. But the voice also cautioned, "When Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, you must never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses."

Encouraged, Psyche obeyed the advice and travelled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. Admitted to the palace of Proserpine, she delivered her message from Venus and soon, she was handed the box, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then she returned the way she came, glad once more to be in the light of day.  But as she walked along the path, a longing desire overcame her, an urge to look into the box for, as she imagined, a touch of the divine beauty would make her more desired by Cupid so, delicately, she opened the box.  But in there was nothing of beauty but only an infernal and truly Stygian sleep which, being set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell in the road where she stood, plunged into a deep sleep, lying there without sense or motion.

But Cupid was now recovered and could no longer bear the absence of his beloved Psyche and slipping through a crack in the window, he flew to where Psyche lay.  He gathered up the sleep from her and closed it again in the box, waking her with the gentlest touch of one of his arrows. "Again," said he, "have you almost perished by the same curiosity.  But now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and I will take care of the rest."  Then Cupid, as swift as lightning, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication.  Jupiter was impressed and so earnestly did he plead the cause of the lovers that he won the consent of Venus and on hearing this, sent Mercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, he handed her a goblet ambrosia saying, "Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual."  Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in time, born to them was a daughter whose name was Pleasure.

Wedding Banquet of Cupid and Psyche (circa 1517) by Raphael (1483–1520).

The story of Cupid and the OCD Psyche is told by the Roman writer Apuleius (circa 124-circa 170) in three chapters in his rather risqué picaresque novel, The Metamorphoses of Apuleius (which Saint Augustine dubbed Asinus aureus (The Golden Ass (by which it’s today known)).  The Golden Ass is notable as the only full-length work of fiction in Classical Latin to have survived in its entirety and is a work with aspects which would be regarded as novel centuries later, including fantastical imagery, passages like fairy tales and elements which would now be called magic realism.  Like many modern fairy tales, there is a moral to the story and for Apuleius it was that it is love which makes to soul immortal and there was no need for subtlety, Cupid the son of the goddess of desire and Psyche's name originally meant soul.

With the re-discovery (and some re-invention) of much of antiquity during the Renaissance, the story gained much popularity and attracted the interest of artists and from Raphael’s (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, 1483–1520) studio came the best known evocation.  One of the scenes is the wedding feast, painted in the form of a hanging tapestry.  Psyche’s guest list was a roll-call of the gods, Ganymede, Apollo, Bacchus and Jupiter are all at the table, the Graces and the Hours in attendance.  The artists (for some the work was executed by professional painters under Raphael’s guidance) do have some fun, very much in the spirit of Apuleius for above the flying Mercury sits, artfully arranged, a suggestive conjunction of certain vegetables and fruits.

The Wedding Feast of Cupid and Psyche (1532) by Giulio Romano.

The romance of Cupid and Psyche drew other artists including the Italian Giulio Romano (Giulio Pippi, circa 1499-1546), a student of Raphael whose influence permeates.  While not highly regarded by critics and better remembered as an architect, Romano is of note because he was among the earliest of the artists whose work can be called Mannerist and certainly his wedding feast painting includes the mythological, a staged and theatrical setting, eroticism and an unusual sense of perspective; all characteristic of Mannerist art although he remained entirely naturalistic in the callipygian rendering of Psyche’s buttocks.

In Shakespeare's late drama The Winter's Tale there’s an allusion to Romano as “that rare Italian master” but despite the bard’s apparent admiration, historians of art treat him as little more than a footnote; the shadow Raphael cast was long.  Some critics seem determined to devalue his work, the Catholic Encyclopaedia (1913) noting it was “prolific and workmanlike, always competent…” but with “…no originality; as a painter, he is merely a temperament, a prodigious worker. His manual dexterity is unaccompanied by any greatness of conception or high moral principle.  His lively but superficial fancy, incapable of deep emotion, of religious feeling, or even of observation, attracted him to neutral subjects, to mythological paintings, and imaginary scenes from the world of fable. Therein under the cloak of humanism, he gave expression to a sensualism rather libertine than poetical, an epicureanism unredeemed by any elevated or noble quality.  It is this which wins for Giulio his distinctive place in art.  His conception of form was never quite original; it was always a clever and bookish compromise between Raphael and Michelangelo.  His sense of color grows ever louder and uglier, his ideas are void of finesse, whatever brilliancy they show is second-hand. His single distinctive characteristic is the doubtful ease with which he played with the commonplaces of pagandom.  In this respect at least, paintings like those of the Hall of Psyche (1532) are historical landmarks.  It is the first time that an appeal is made to the senses with all the brutal frankness of a modern work”. 

Damning with faint praise perhaps.  Grudgingly, the editors did concede that despite being “…distinguished by such characteristics and marked by such defects, Romano occupies nevertheless an important place in the history of art. More than any other, he aided in propagating the pseudo-classical, half-pagan style of art so fashionable during the seventeenth century. It’s mainly through his influence that after the year 1600 we find so few religious painters in Europe”.

One could hardly expect The Catholic Encyclopedia (sub-titled An International work of reference on the constitution, doctrine, discipline and history of the Catholic Church), to find much worthy in a mannerist (or perhaps anything modern).  Mannerism, novel in some ways as it was, was rarely original in form or content.  It was a reaction against the perceived perfection of the neo-classicism of the High Renaissance and artists from Romano on were drawn to Greek mythology, characters like Psyche and Echo able simply and unambiguously to represent the psychological problems muddied by Christian theology.

Psyche

Psyche (pronounced sahyk or sahy-kee)

(1) In the mythology of Ancient Greece and Classical Rome, the personification of the soul.  The beautiful nymph was originally a mortal princess who later married Eros (Cupid, the god of love), was deified and bore him a daughter Hedone (Voluptas).

(2) In the popular imagination, the human soul, spirit, or mind.

(3) In psychology & psychoanalysis, the mental or psychological structure of a person, especially as a motive force (as opposed to the pure physicality of the body).  The psyche is the centre of thought, feeling, and motivation, consciously & unconsciously directing the body's reactions to external influences (the social and physical environment).

(4) In philosophy (in neo-Platonism), the second emanation of the One, regarded as a universal consciousness and as the animating principle of the world.

(5) A variant of the noun, verb & adjective psych (mostly in colloquial use as a clipping of psych(ology)).

(6) In cosmology, a main belt asteroid.

(7) A female given name.

(8) A small white butterfly, Leptosia nina, family Pieridae, of Asia and Australasia; a taxonomic genus within the family Psychidae (bagworm moths).  The butterfly was the symbol of the waif Psykhē, thus the frequency with which depictions of a “departed soul, spirit, ghost” were rendered as winged creatures with some resemblance to butterfly.

(9) As “psyche knot”, a technique of knotting up a woman's hair, said to be imitative of the style used in Ancient Greece but because so many of these notions were based on depictions by Medieval and Renaissance artists, the historical efficacy is dubious (known also as the Grecian knot).

(10) As “psyche mirror”, a tall (originally free-standing, framed & mounted between two posts which allowed vertically to pivot) mirror.  Psyche mirrors are still used as decorative pieces although most full-length mirrors are now wall-mounted or function also a wardrobe doors.  The name was gained from the idea that because it reflected the whole body, it symbolized introspection.  The alternative name is “cheval glass”.

1650s: The seventeenth century adoption of “psyche” as an expression of the notion of “animating spirit, the human spirit or mind” reflected the understanding of the time of what was described as “the soul, mind, spirit; life, one's life, the invisible animating principle or entity which occupies and directs the physical body; understanding, the mind (as the seat of thought), faculty of reason”; something which inhabited and controlled the body yet was something separate.  It was used also of the “ghost, spirit of a dead person” although there were differences in interpretation between the religious and secular.  What has long been a puzzle is the extent of the influence of psȳ́chein (to blow, breathe; to cool, to make dry”.  The Ancient Greek ψυχή (psukhḗ) (“soul, spirit” and literally “breath”) was a derivative of psȳ́chein (thus the uses connected with “to live”), the construct being ψῡ́χω (psū́khō) (I blow) +‎ -η (-ē) but the problem is this seems ever to have enjoyed the meaning “breath”, even in the writings of Homer.  More than one etymologist has been recorded as being “tempted” by the long documented connection with the primitive Indo-European root bhes- (to blow, to breathe) which was the source of the Sanskrit bhas- (thought probably imitative).  However, all admit the existence of a link is scant and the theory is thus a conjecture.  Psyche is a noun & verb, psyched is a verb & adjective and psyching is a verb; the noun plural is psyches.

Psych (never psyche) was used as US student slang for the academic study of “psychology” (later extended to references in various senses) by 1895.  Psychology was from the French psychologie, from the Renaissance Latin psychologia, emulating the Greek construct ψυχή (psukhḗ) + -λογία (-logía) (study of), thus in English as psych(o)- +‎ -ology.  The suffix -ology was formed from -o- (as an interconsonantal vowel) +‎ -logy.  The origin in English of the -logy suffix lies with loanwords from the Ancient Greek, usually via Latin and French, where the suffix (-λογία) is an integral part of the word loaned (eg astrology from astrologia) since the sixteenth century.  French picked up -logie from the Latin -logia, from the Ancient Greek -λογία (-logía).  Within Greek, the suffix is an -ία (-ía) abstract from λόγος (lógos) (account, explanation, narrative), and that a verbal noun from λέγω (légō) (I say, speak, converse, tell a story).  In English the suffix became extraordinarily productive, used notably to form names of sciences or disciplines of study, analogous to the names traditionally borrowed from the Latin (eg astrology from astrologia; geology from geologia) and by the late eighteenth century, the practice (despite the disapproval of the pedants) extended to terms with no connection to Greek or Latin such as those building on French or German bases (eg insectology (1766) after the French insectologie; terminology (1801) after the German Terminologie).  Within a few decades of the intrusion of modern languages, combinations emerged using English terms (eg undergroundology (1820); hatology (1837)).  In this evolution, the development may be though similar to the latter-day proliferation of “-isms” (fascism; feminism etc).

Just as Eros (Cupid) was smitten, the word “psyche” seems to have seduced all whoc wrote on the subject of the soul (however understood).  There was much sense development in Platonic philosophy theological writing, especially that written under Jewish influence; in Biblical use the Greek word was used of (1) “the soul as the seat of feelings, desires, affections etc”, (2) “the soul regarded as a moral being designed for everlasting life” and (3) “the soul as an essence which differs from the body and is not dissolved by death.”  In English, the meaning “human soul” dates from the mid-seventeenth century while the modern sense in psychology of “mind” is said only to have some into use after 1910 which seems surprisingly late.  By 1914 the profession was using the verb “psych” to mean “to subject to psychoanalysis” (ie a shortened form of to “psychoanalyse” and the jargon entered general use, from 1934 used as the term “psych out” (to to outsmart) in baseball, (US) football and also in commerce.  In 1952 it was documented in the card game bridge as meaning “to make a bid meant to deceive an opponent” (bridge players thinking their game too complex for the poker player’s mere “bluff”.  By the early 1960s “psych out” had the general meaning “to unnerve” while to “psych (oneself) up” emerged a decade later, building on “psyched up” (stimulate (oneself), prepare mentally for a special effort) first appeared in newspapers in the US in 1968.

The psyche knot

The Hairdo Handbook: A Complete Guide to Hair Beauty (1964) by Dorothea Zack Hanle (1918-1999); the psyche knot was discussed in Chapter XVIII: Handling and Styling Long Hair.  It would be a different, more difficult, world without the "invisible hairpin".

Although Dorothea Zack Hanle was for some time editor of HairDo magazine, she’s remains best remembered for her food writing, her career including a long tenure as an editor at Bon Appetit, several cookbooks and being one of the founders of Les Dames d'Escoffier, an international women's organization that promotes fine dining and wine.  Ms Hanle had quite a journalistic range, he publications including The Surfer's Handbook (1968), Cooking With Flowers (1971), Cooking Wild Game (1974) and the co-authored children's cookbook, The Golden Ladle (1945).  Additionally, she published also on subjects as diverse as gardening, diet and exercise.

The psyche knot (known also as the Grecian knot) was said to be imitative of the style used in Ancient Greece but because so many of these notions were based on depictions by Medieval and Renaissance artists, the historical efficacy is dubious.  Psyche (alone or with Eros (Cupid), her sisters or others) was a popular subject and while in many paintings her hair is stacked high, it was also not unusual for her tresses to be shown flowing as the German illustrator and painter Friedrich Paul Thumann (1834-1908, Berlin) chose for Cupid and Psyche (1900, left).  In Psyche showing her Sisters her Gifts from Cupid, (circa 1753 (centre)) Jean-Honoré Fragonard, (1732–1806) even showed her “having her hair styled”, presumably with an eponymous knot.  In his Expressionist Cupid and Psyche (1907, right), Edvard Munch (1863-1944) decided she deserved a knot.  Now hung in the Munch Museum in Oslo, it’s of interest because it was painted early in the period when Munch had begun to paint human figures, something which would later make him famous, Cupid and Psyche one of 22 works in his collection called The Frieze of Life.  Ominously, the painting was loaned to Musée d'Orsay (Museum d’Orsay) in Paris where it was part of the Crime and Punishment exhibition, organized to emphasize to the population those crimes attracting a death sentence.

The technique used to tie the psyche know wasn’t new in the 1920s but it was then it became a thing.  At that time, the “bob” had become a popular style among bright young things and their many imitators, part of a trend which was both an aesthetic call and a marker of first-wave feminism, a reaction to previous fashions in which clothing had been constricting and voluminous.  Then, called the “garçonne” (a feminized version of the French garçon (boy)), it now remembered as the “flapper style”, distinguished by an angular, slender silhouette, the irony of the look (for all but the genetically lucky) that having abandoned corsets during World War I (1914-1918), most were compelled to seek the help of girdles, garments rather less comfortable than modern shapewear.  Short hairstyles (the bob or the shingle) were an essential part of the “boyish look”, albeit offset by the deliberately obvious application of rouge, eyeliner and lipstick which was famously red.  Some women however wanted “a bob each way” (as it were), liking the short-hair look but wanting to retain the flexibility to display a mane when circumstances demanded or an opportunity was presented.  The solution can be thought of as the “faux bob” and while there were a number of ways to achieve this (including the famous “side-pods”), the psyche know was the simplest to execute and, done properly, would survive an evening’s dancing without the dreaded, annoying “flyaway bits”

The psyche mirror

La Psyché (known in English as The Psyche Mirror, 1876, left), oil on canvas by the French artist Berthe Morisot (1841-1895), Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum, Madrid, Spain shows a woman before a classic “psyche mirror” (known originally as a “psyche glass” (looking-glass still the preferred form among a certain subset (the one in which at cards a jack is called a knave)).  Lindsay Lohan (right) illustrates this generation’s use of the psyche mirror for full-length selfies.  Ms Lohan was with child when this selfie was snapped in New York during 2022 (note the comfortable shoes).  The original psyche mirrors were tall, free-standing, framed & mounted between two posts which allowed them vertically to pivot), the advantage being it made it possible for the subject to view herself in a greater aspect range.  The free-standing designs are still sometimes used as decorative pieces but most full-length mirrors are now wall-mounted or function also a wardrobe doors.  The name was gained from the idea that because it reflected the whole body, it symbolized introspection.  The alternative name is “cheval glass”, from the French form chevel glace (mirror).  Chevel was from the French cheval (horse, supporting frame), from the Middle French cheval, from the Old French cheval, from the Late Latin caballus (horse), from the Classical Latin caballus (pack horse) of uncertain origin.  The term thus deconstructs as glass (mirror) mounted in a supporting frame.

Cupid, Psyche and the Nectar of the Gods

In Greek mythology, Psyche was the youngest and loveliest of a king’s three daughters.  So haunting was Psyche’s beauty that people travelled from afar to pay homage, neglecting the worship of Venus (Aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, instead venerating the nymph.  Venus became enraged at finding her altars deserted, men instead turning their devotions to the young virgin, watching as she passed, singing her praises and strewing her way with chaplets and flowers.

Indignant at the exaltation of a mortal, Venus began her righteous rant.  "Am I then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mere mortal girl?  In vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. I will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty."  Venus summoned her winged son, the mischievous Cupid and telling him of Psyche, ordered her revenge.  "My dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give your mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph."

Obediently, Cupid set to his task.  In the garden of Venus lay two fountains, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter.  Cupid filled two amber phials, one from each fountain and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of Psyche, finding her asleep.  He shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips and although though the sight of her moved him almost to pity, touched her side with the point of his arrow.  At the touch she awoke and her eyes gazed upon the invisible Cupid which so enchanted him he became confused and pricked himself with his own arrow.  Helplessly in love, his only thought now was to repair the mischief he had done and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken blonde ringlets.

Psyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, gained no benefit from her charms.  While all cast covetous eyes upon her and all spoke her praises, not prince, plebeian or peasant ever asked for her hand in marriage.  Her two sisters had become betrothed to princes but Psyche sat in solitude, feeling cursed by the beauty which had failed to awaken love.  The king and queen, thinking they had incurred the wrath of the gods turned for guidance to the oracle of Apollo who answered: “The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist."

Her parents, distraught, abandoned themselves to grief but Psyche was fatalistic, saying "Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? You should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive I am victim to that name.  I submit.  Lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me."  Accordingly, amid the lamentations of all, she was taken to the peak of the mountain and there left alone.  When the tearful girl stood at the summit, the gentle Zephyr raised her from the earth and carried her on the breeze, bringing her to rest in a flowery dale where she laid down to sleep.  When she awoke, refreshed, she looked around and beheld nearby a grove of tall and stately trees.  Entering the forest, she discovered in its midst a fountain from which bubbled crystal-clear waters and nearby, a splendid palace, so magnificent she knew it the work not of mortal hands, but the retreat of some god.  Drawn by admiration and wonder, she ventured to enter the door.  Amazed at what she saw, she walked along a marble floor so polished it shimmered, golden pillars supported a vaulted roof, walls were enriched with carvings and paintings of fantastic beasts.  Everything upon which her eye fell delighted her.

Soon, although she saw no one, she heard a voice.  "Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with utmost care.  Retire, should you please, to your chamber, recline upon your bed of down and when you see fit, repair to the bath.  Your supper awaits in the alcove”.  Psyche took her bath and seated herself in the alcove, whereupon a table appeared laden with extraordinary delicacies of food and nectarous wines.   While she ate, she heard the playing of lute and harp and the harmony of song.

That night she met he husband but he came only in the darkness, fleeing before the dawn, but his words and caresses were of love and inspired in her a like passion.  Often she would beg him to stay so she might behold him in the light but he refused, telling her never to attempt to see him, for no good would come of it and that he would rather have her love him as a man than adore him as a god.  This, Psyche accepted but the days grew long and lonely and she began to feel she was living in a gilded cage.  One night, when her husband came, she told him of her distress, her charms enough to coax from him his unwilling acquiescence that her sisters could visit.  Delighted, she summoned the obedient Zephyr who brought them to the mountain and in happiness, they embraced.

The splendor and celestial delights of Psyche’s palace astonished her sisters but also aroused their envy and they began to pepper her with questions about her husband and she told them he was a beautiful youth who spent his days hunting in the mountains.  Unconvinced, the soon drew from her that she had never seen him and they began to fill her mind with dark suspicions, recalling the Pythian oracle had declared her doomed to marry a direful and tremendous monster.  Psyche protested but they told her the folk living in the valley say the husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, amusing himself while nourishing her with dainties that he may by and by devour her.  They told to one night to take with her a lamp and sharp blade so that when he slept she might light the lamp and see his true form.  If truly he is a monster they told her, "hesitate not and cut off its head".

Psyche tried to resist her sisters’ persuasions but knew she was curious and that night she took to bed a lamp and a long, sharp knife.  When he had fallen to sleep, silently she arose and lit her lamp, beholding but the most beautiful of the gods, his golden ringlets falling over his snowy neck, two dewy wings on his shoulders whiter than snow, with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring.  Entranced, as she moved her lamp better to see his face, a drop of hot oil fell on the shoulder of the god and startled, he opened his eyes and fixed them upon her.  They both were frozen for a few seconds, then suddenly and without a word, he spread his wings and flew out of the window.  Psyche, crying in despair, in vain endeavored to follow but fell from the window to the ground below.

Hearing her fall, Cupid for a moment paused in his flight and turned to her saying, "Oh faithless Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? After I disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and would cut off my head?  Go, return to your sisters, who you trust more than me.  I punish you no more than to forever leave you for love cannot dwell with suspicion."  With those words, he flew off, leaving poor Psyche crying into the earth.  For hours she sobbed and then looked around, but her palace and gardens had vanished and she found herself in a field in the city where her sisters dwelt.  She repaired thither and told them her story at which, though pretending to grieve with her, the two evil sisters inwardly rejoiced for both thought as one: that Cupid might now choose one of them.  Both the next morning silently arose and snuck secretly to the mountain where each called upon Zephyr to bear them to his lord but leaping up, there was no Zephyr to carry them on the breeze and each fell down the precipice to their deaths.

The devastated Psyche meanwhile wandered.  Day and night, without food or rest, she searched for her husband and one evening saw in the distance a magnificent temple atop a lofty mountain and she felt her heart beat, wondering if perhaps there was Cupid.  She walked to the temple and there saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, mingled with ears of barley.  Scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly from the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day.  This unseemly confusion disturbed the neat and tidy Psyche and she put herself to work, separating and sorting everything and putting all in its proper place, believing she ought to neglect none of the gods, but prove by her piety to prove she was worthy of their help.  The holy Ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her, "Oh Psyche, truly your are worthy of our pity, though I cannot shield you from the frowns of Venus, I can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. Go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost."  Filled with both fear and hope, Psyche made her way to the temple of Venus.

Venus met her with anger.  "Most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember you have a mistress or have you come to see your sick husband, the one injured by the wound given him by his worthless wife?  You are so ill favored you can be worthy of your lover only by showing industry and diligence.  I shall put you to work".  She led Psyche to temple’s storehouse in which sat vast piles of wheat, barley, vetches, beans and lentils, the food for her birds.  “Separate these grains, put them all in sacks and have it done by night” she commanded, leaving her to the task.  Shocked, Psyche sat silent, moving not a finger.  While she despaired, Cupid ordered an ant, a native of the fields, to bring all ants from the anthill and they gathered on the piles.  Quickly and with the efficiency of their breed, they took grain by grain, making perfect parcels of each and when done, vanished from sight.  As twilight fell, Venus returned from a banquet of the gods and seeing the sacks neatly stacked, became enraged.  "This is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed."  So saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and stormed off.

Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called and said to her, "Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water.  There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs.  Go now, fetch me some of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces."  Standing on the riverbank, wondering at the difficulty of her task, Psyche was about to cross but river god made the reeds speak, telling her "Oh maiden, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among those rams for as long as the sun shines, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth.  But when the noontide sun has driven them to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees."  Psyche did as they said and returned with her arms full of the golden fleece but Venus was not pleased.  "Well I know it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded I do not believe you are of use but I have another task for you.  Here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine and say, 'my mistress Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own'.  Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear this evening at the circle of the gods."

Psyche now believed her own destruction was at hand and, with no wish to delay what was not to be avoided, dashed to the top of a high tower, preparing to cast herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below.  But then, a voice from the tower said to her, "Why, poor unlucky girl, do you design to put an end to your days in so dreadful a manner? And what cowardice makes you sink under this last danger when you have been so miraculously supported in all your former?"  Then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. But the voice also cautioned, "When Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, you must never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses."

Encouraged, Psyche obeyed the advice and travelled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. Admitted to the palace of Proserpine, she delivered her message from Venus and soon, she was handed the box, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then she returned the way she came, glad once more to be in the light of day.  But as she walked along the path, a longing desire overcame her, an urge to look into the box for, as she imagined, a touch of the divine beauty would make her more desired by Cupid so, delicately, she opened the box.  But in there was nothing of beauty but only an infernal and truly Stygian sleep which, being set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell in the road where she stood, plunged into a deep sleep, lying there without sense or motion.

But Cupid was now recovered and could no longer bear the absence of his beloved Psyche and slipping through a crack in the window, he flew to where Psyche lay.  He gathered up the sleep from her and closed it again in the box, waking her with the gentlest touch of one of his arrows. "Again," said he, "have you almost perished by the same curiosity.  But now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and I will take care of the rest."  Then Cupid, as swift as lightning, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication.  Jupiter was impressed and so earnestly did he plead the cause of the lovers that he won the consent of Venus and on hearing this, sent Mercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, he handed her a goblet ambrosia saying, "Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual."  Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in time, born to them was a daughter whose name was Pleasure.

Wedding Banquet of Cupid and Psyche (circa 1517) by Raphael (1483–1520).

The story of Cupid and the OCD Psyche is told by the Roman writer Apuleius (circa 124-circa 170) in three chapters in his rather risqué picaresque novel, The Metamorphoses of Apuleius (which Saint Augustine dubbed Asinus aureus (The Golden Ass (by which it’s today known)).  The Golden Ass is notable as the only full-length work of fiction in Classical Latin to have survived in its entirety and is a work with aspects which would be regarded as novel centuries later, including fantastical imagery, passages like fairy tales and elements which would now be called magic realism.  Like many modern fairy tales, there is a moral to the story and for Apuleius it was that it is love which makes to soul immortal and there was no need for subtlety, Cupid the son of the goddess of desire and Psyche's name originally meant soul.

With the re-discovery (and some re-invention) of much of antiquity during the Renaissance, the story gained much popularity and attracted the interest of artists and from Raphael’s (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, 1483–1520) studio came the best known evocation.  One of the scenes is the wedding feast, painted in the form of a hanging tapestry.  Psyche’s guest list was a roll-call of the gods, Ganymede, Apollo, Bacchus and Jupiter are all at the table, the Graces and the Hours in attendance.  The artists (for some the work was executed by professional painters under Raphael’s guidance) do have some fun, very much in the spirit of Apuleius for above the flying Mercury sits, artfully arranged, a suggestive conjunction of certain vegetables and fruits.

The Wedding Feast of Cupid and Psyche (1532) by Giulio Romano.

The romance of Cupid and Psyche drew other artists including the Italian Giulio Romano (Giulio Pippi, circa 1499-1546), a student of Raphael whose influence permeates.  While not highly regarded by critics and better remembered as an architect, Romano is of note because he was among the earliest of the artists whose work can be called Mannerist and certainly his wedding feast painting includes the mythological, a staged and theatrical setting, eroticism and an unusual sense of perspective; all characteristic of Mannerist art although he remained entirely naturalistic in the callipygian rendering of Psyche’s buttocks.

In Shakespeare's late drama The Winter's Tale there’s an allusion to Romano as “that rare Italian master” but despite the bard’s apparent admiration, historians of art treat him as little more than a footnote; the shadow Raphael cast was long.  Some critics seem determined to devalue his work, the Catholic Encyclopaedia (1913) noting it was “prolific and workmanlike, always competent…” but with “…no originality; as a painter, he is merely a temperament, a prodigious worker. His manual dexterity is unaccompanied by any greatness of conception or high moral principle.  His lively but superficial fancy, incapable of deep emotion, of religious feeling, or even of observation, attracted him to neutral subjects, to mythological paintings, and imaginary scenes from the world of fable. Therein under the cloak of humanism, he gave expression to a sensualism rather libertine than poetical, an epicureanism unredeemed by any elevated or noble quality.  It is this which wins for Giulio his distinctive place in art.  His conception of form was never quite original; it was always a clever and bookish compromise between Raphael and Michelangelo.  His sense of color grows ever louder and uglier, his ideas are void of finesse, whatever brilliancy they show is second-hand. His single distinctive characteristic is the doubtful ease with which he played with the commonplaces of pagandom.  In this respect at least, paintings like those of the Hall of Psyche (1532) are historical landmarks.  It is the first time that an appeal is made to the senses with all the brutal frankness of a modern work”. 

Damning with faint praise perhaps.  Grudgingly, the editors did concede that despite being “…distinguished by such characteristics and marked by such defects, Romano occupies nevertheless an important place in the history of art. More than any other, he aided in propagating the pseudo-classical, half-pagan style of art so fashionable during the seventeenth century. It’s mainly through his influence that after the year 1600 we find so few religious painters in Europe”.

One could hardly expect The Catholic Encyclopedia (sub-titled An International work of reference on the constitution, doctrine, discipline and history of the Catholic Church), to find much worthy in a mannerist (or perhaps anything modern).  Mannerism, novel in some ways as it was, was rarely original in form or content.  It was a reaction against the perceived perfection of the neo-classicism of the High Renaissance and artists from Romano on were drawn to Greek mythology, characters like Psyche and Echo able simply and unambiguously to represent the psychological problems muddied by Christian theology.