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 Orpheus was
the son of Apollo and the Muse Calliope. He was presented by
his father with a lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did
to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of
his music. Not only his fellow mortals, but wild beasts were
softened by his strains, and gathering around him laid by their
fierceness and stood entranced. Nay, the very trees and rocks
were sensible to the charm. The trees crowded around him and
the rocks relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his
notes.
Hymenaeus (the god of marriage, son of Dionysus and Venus)
had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of Orpheus
with Eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy omens
with him. His very torch smoked and brought tears into their
eyes.
In accordance with such prognostics, Eurydice, shortly after
her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her companions
(and sisters), was seen by the shepherd Aristaeus, who was struck
by her beauty and made advances to her. She fled, and in fleeing
trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot and died.
Orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air,
both gods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to
seek his wife in the regions of the dead. He descended by a cave
situated on the side of the promontory of Taenarus and arrived
at the Stygian realm. He passed through crowds and ghosts and
presented himself before the throne of Pluto and Proserpine.
Accompanying the words with the lyre, he sung, "O deities
of the underworld, to whom all we who live must come, hear my
words, for they are true. I come not to spy out the secrets of
Tartarus, nor to try my strength against Cerberus, the three-headed
dog with snaky hair who guards the entrance. I come to seek my
wife, whose opening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought
to an untimely end. Love has led me here, Love, a god all powerful
with us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true,
not less so here. I implore you by these abodes full of terror,
these realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the
thread of Eurydice's life. We all are destined to you, and sooner
or later must pass to your domain. She too, when she shall have
filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. But 'til then
grant her to me, I beseech you. If you deny one, I cannot return
alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both."
As he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears.
Tantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts
for water; Ixion's wheel stood still; the vulture ceased to tear
the giant's liver; the daughters of Danaus rested from their
task of drawing water in a sieve; and Sisyphus sat on his rock
to listen. Then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of
the Furies were wet with tears. Proserpine could not resist,
and Pluto himself gave way.
Eurydice was called. She came from among the newly-arrived
ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. Orpheus was permitted
to take her away with him on one condition, that he should not
turn around to look at her 'til they should have reached the
upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on their way,
he leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in
total silence, 'til they had nearly reached the outlet into the
cheerful upper world, when Orpheus, in a moment of forgetfulness,
to assure himself that she was still following, cast a glance
behind him, when instantly she was borne away.
Stretching out their arms to embrace each other, they grasped
only the air! Dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach
her husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her?
"Farewell," she said, "a last farewell,"
-- and was hurried away, so fast that the sound hardly reached
his ears.
Orpheus endeavoured to follow her, and besought permission
to return and try once more for her release, but the stern ferryman
Charon repulsed him and refused passage. Seven days he lingered
about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing
of cruelty the powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the
rocks and mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving
the oaks from their stations.
He held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly
on the recollection of his sad mischance. The Thracian maidens
tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their advances.
They bore with him as long as they could; but finding him insensible
one day, excited by the rites of the Bacchus, one of them exclaimed,
"See yonder our despiser!" and threw at him her javelin.
The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre,
fell harmless at his feet. So did the stones that they threw
at him. But the women raised a scream and downed the voice of
the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were stained
with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb from limb and threw
his head and his lyre into the river Hebrus, down which they
floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a
plaintive symphony. The Muses gathered up the fragments of his
body and buried them at Libethra, where the nightingale is said
to sing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of
Greece. His lyre was placed by Jupiter among the stars.
His shade passed a second time into Tartarus, where he sought
out his Eurydice and embraced her with eager arms. They roam
the happy fields together now, sometimes he leading, sometimes
she; and Orpheus gazes as much as he will upon her, no longer
incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance.
Related products:
Bulfinch's Mythology by Thomas Bulfinch. Buy
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