Mythology in Music: Clutch's "Release the Kraken"

Clutch is a four man American rock band which has been performing together since 1990. They have had eight CDs released with a ninth, Strange Cousins from the West, set to hit stores next month. Clutch is known for their unique sound which combines both hard rock and blues/funk influences. Their lyrics are also equally thought provoking and often contain references to history, mythology, science-fiction, and religion.

The song "Release the Kraken" off their 1999 album Jam Room draws its influence in part from the actual Greek myth of Perseus but mostly from the 1981 film Clash of the Titans, a loose retelling of the same story. Clash of the Titans was directed by Desmond Davis and featured special effects by Ray Harryhausen, who also produced the film.

Clash of the Titans’ biggest, and perhaps most iconic, addition to the myth of Perseus was that of the Kraken; a monster from Norse mythology, not Greek. It is also interesting to note that Harryhausen’s Kraken looks nothing like its mythological namesake but rather like a multi-limbed version of another one of Harryhausen’s monsters; the Ymir from 20 Million Miles to Earth (1957).

The following video was created by YouTube user sidewalkhawg and features "Release the Kraken" played to clips from Clash of the Titans.

The italicized words in found in the "Release the Kraken" lyrics were taken from Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (1995), page 819.

Sources: "Release the Kraken" lyrics found at http://www.stlyrics.com/.

What's the matter brother, does the drought got you down?

(Open up the bomb shelter, sweep it on out)

Sing to the ocean in the afternoon haze,

Up the iron pillars, rise in the waves.

Andromeda is weeping. Inside one teardrop swims

Brave Useless in training less a millimeter thin.

RELEASE THE KRAKEN!

GET THE SACRIFICE ON!

RELEASE THE KRAKEN!

GOOD GOD Y'ALL!

Useless the Younger we pray for you.

You know we got your back in whatever you do.

Bathysphere bobbing in Eyeball Bay,

Black lash crashes, forty foot waves.

Cepheus is holding Cassiopeia's free hand

As the Kraken breaks the surface making bee-line to the land.

In Greek legend the son of Zeus and Danae

He and his mother was set adrift in a chest,

But rescued by the intervention of Zeus.

He was brought up by KING POLYDECTES,

Who, wishing to secure Danae, got rid of him by encouraging him

In the almost hopeless task of obtaining the head OF THE MEDUSA!

With the help of the gods he was successful, and with the head,

Which turned all that looked on it into stone, he rescued Andromeda

And later metamorphosed Polydectes and his guests to stone.

Do You Believe In Centaurs?

The “Centaur Excavation at Volos” is an exhibit which has been on permanent display at The University of Tennessee’s John C. Hodges Library since May of 1994. Located in the Jack E. Reese Galleria, the centaur was brought to the university by two men; art Professor Beauvais Lyons and Neil Greenberg, professor of ecology and evolutionary biology. Lyons and Greenberg first began raising funds to have the centaur brought to the university in 1992 and by 1993 the two professors had gain enough financial backing to purchase the centaur. The installation of the exhibit took one year.

Centaurs are mythological creatures featured in the legends of Greece and Rome. They were said to be the offspring of either the goddess Hera (Juno) and Ixion or the children of Centaurus; the deformed son of Apollo who lived amongst the Mares of Magnesium. As a people the centaurs dwelt amongst the mountains of Erymanthus in Thessaly as well as the Clyon countryside. Considered to be kind, hospitable, sporting, generous, and wise the centaurs were well received, the most famous centaur perhaps being Cheiron who tutored many of Greece’s greatest heroes including Aesculapius, Achilles, Jason, Meleagor, Nestor, Peleus, and Theseus. He also instructed the famed necromancer Faust, postmortem.

The centaurs were not without their faults however, having a practically nonexistent tolerance for alcohol centaurs where prone to drunken brawls. In one particularly notable episode a group of intoxicated centaurs manage to get into a fight with the legendary hero Hercules, who was also inebriated at the time. Being little match for the famous strongman the bulk of the centaurs where slain but one named Nessus managed to escape. Nessus would later take revenge on Hercules by attempting to rape his second wife Deianira. Hercules kills Nessus with an arrow dipped in Hydra’s blood before he can do the deed but not before convincing Deianira to smear some of his poisoned blood on Hercules’s cloak which he tells her will insure her husband’s everlasting fidelity. Once Hercules places the cloak on his back he is immediately seized with unbearable pain and kills himself via immolation.

So is the centaur from Volos real?

Well despite the display itself and an impressive accompanying University website the truth is that the centaur is an elaborate fake created from a human anatomical skeleton and the bones of a Shetland pony. The mock excavation itself was created by William Willers, professor of biology at the University of Wisconsin in Oshkosh, in the mid-1980s and it was Willers who sold the skeleton to Professors Lyons and Greenberg. According to Lyons the purpose of obtaining and displaying the skeleton on a college campus was to test the critical thinking skills of the students. On the centaur’s official website Professor Greenberg notes that “Our CENTAUR is implausible at one level, but inevitable at another” in that hoaxes such as the centaur from Volos are touted out all the time as being ‘evidence’ of otherwise incredulous claims – just consider last year’s Georgia Bigfoot hoax for a recent example.

In the end perhaps Professor Lyons sums it up best when he asks; “Just because something is in the non-fiction section, does that make it true?”

Sources:

Giants, Monsters & Dragons: An Encyclopedia of Folklore, Legend, and Myth (2000) by Carol Rose.

Don't Know Much About Mythology (2005) by Kenneth C. Davis

Library hails centaur’s 10th anniversary (2004) by Maggie Anderson

The “Centaur Excavation at Volos” Offical Website

Dogs in Myth and Legend: The Faithful Hound

This post was written for Deborah Parkhill Mullis at Metrolina Dog Reporter.

Dogs have been the faithful companions of mankind for well over 12,000-years and in that time have amassed their own unique body of legend and lore. Myths about dogs often revolve around one or more of the animal’s well known traits such as their skills as guardians or hunters. However above all it is a dog’s unwavering loyalty which has earned them a place in the annals of myth and folklore.

The “Faithful Hound” motif, one of the major folkloric archetypes, can be found around the world beginning in ancient Greece with Homer’s epic the Odyssey in which it is Odysseus’ faithful dog Argos who is the only one who recognizes the hero upon his return home; Odysseus had aged twenty-years and was disguised as a beggar when he reappeared.

One of the best known folktales to involve a “Faithful Hound” is the 18th-Century Welsh legend of the deerhound Gelert whose master, Prince Llewellyn, left his hound in charge of his infant son while he went out hunting. When the prince returned he found the room destroyed and his son’s cradle overturned, the baby nowhere in sight. It was then that Gelert appeared, his muzzle coated in blood. Horrified the prince assumed the worst, that his once beloved dog had slain his only heir. Drawing his sword the prince slew Gelert. It was only after the fact that the prince began to hear the baby’s muffled cries and proceeded to search the room where he discovered not only his son – alive and well beneath the overturned cradle – but the body of a dead wolf. It was then that the prince realized his horrible mistake.

Today Gelert’s grave, which is located in the village of Beddgelert, serves as a major tourist attraction. According to local folklore even the village’s name, Beddgelert, is believed to mean “Gelert’s Grave,” though this theory is largely dismissed by historians.

Gelert’s story may be based on that of another famous dog; the 13th-Century French greyhound Guinefort. Guinefort’s tale is almost identical to that of Gelert’s; Guinefort’s master, a knight from a castle near the city of Lyon, leaves the hound in charge of his infant child while he goes out. When he returns the room is in shambles and the child is missing, but there’s Guinefort mouth wet with blood. The knight slays the dog only to discover moments after that his child is alive, having been saved by the faithful dog from a deadly viper whose dead body lay nearby.

What makes Guinefort’s story unique from Gelert’s however, is what happens next. Distraught over the slaying of his faithful hound the knight buries the dog and erects a small shrine over the grave. As word spread concerning the events which lead to Guinefort’s death, local villagers began to regard the greyhound as something of a martyr. A local cult quickly began to form around the dog, now called Saint Guinefort, and mothers with ill or sickly children would bring them to Guinefort’s grave in hope of a miracle. The Catholic Church was none to happy about this however and quickly labeled the cult of St. Guinefort as a heresy inspired by the devil. The Inquisition was sent to deal with the cult but despite their best efforts was unable to stamp out the veneration of the dog which (according to some reports) lasted well into the 1940s!

Other examples of the “Faithful Hound” motif can be found in several contemporary near-legendary tales. One of these is the story of Greyfriars Bobby, a Skye terrier whose owner, John Grey, died in Edinburgh, Scotland in 1858 when Bobby was two-years-old. Grey was buried in Greyfriars Kirkyard and Bobby attended the funeral. After the funeral Bobby refused to leave his master’s grave except for meals which he received at a local restaurant.

Tales of Bobby’s fidelity quickly spread across Scotland and then overseas transforming the steadfast pooch into a living legend. In order to make sure that Bobby was protected the children of Edinburgh donated their pocket money towards buying him a collar and the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir William Chambers, paid for the renewal of Bobby’s license making him the responsibility of the city council. Bobby was eventually awarded the Freedom of the City of Edinburgh; he is the only dog to ever receive this prestigious honor.

After fourteen years of faithfully waiting by his master’s graveside Bobby died on January 14th 1872. He was buried just inside the gate of Greyfriars Kirkyard, as close to his master’s grave as could be allowed. In 1981 The Dog Aid Society of Scotland erected a red granite tombstone over Bobby’s grave. In addition to this a statue of Greyfriars Bobby can be seen atop a fountain in Edinburgh’s Candlemaker Row in front of the Greyfriars Bobby pub.

A similar story to that of Greyfriars Bobby is that of Hachikō, an Akita from the city of Odate, Akita Prefecture, Japan. Hachikō’s owner was Dr. Ueno of Tokyo’s Imperial University. Everyday Dr. Ueno would board the train at Tokyo’s Shibuya Railway Station to go to work. When he returned in the evening Hachikō would be waiting. Then one evening in 1925 Dr. Ueno didn’t return home, he had died of a heart attack while at work earlier that day. Nevertheless Hachikō continued to show up every evening at the Shibuya Railway Station for the next ten years even after it became difficult for him to walk due to arthritis. When Hachikō died on March 8th 1935 at the age of twelve a National Day of Mourning was declared.

The year before, a bronze statue of Hachikō had been erected at Shibuya Railway Station. Unfortunately the statue was demolished during World War II so that the metal could be used for the war effort. After the war The Society for Recreating the Hachikō Statue had a second statue erected in August of 1948, it still stands at the Shibuya Railway Station today.

Sources: DK Eyewitness Books: Dogs (2004) by Juliet Clutton-Brock, The Hidden Powers of Animals: Uncovering the Secrets of Nature (2001) by Dr. Karl P.N. Shuker, and Curious Myths of the Middle Ages (2005) by Sabine Baring-Gould.

Happy New Year: 2009

The celebration of the passing year and the approaching of the “New Year” is a tradition found in nearly every culture all over the world. Today’s New Year’s Eve celebrations – which are marked by parties, the consumption of alcoholic beverages, kissing, the declaration of vows and resolutions, and noise making – are not at all that different from the celebrations held hundreds of years ago. The tradition of making as much noise as possible at the stroke of midnight, for example, has to do with the once widely held belief that such cacophonies would succeed in driving off malevolent spirits.

In addition to this, there are many other facets of New Year’s Eve celebrations which have mythical roots. One of these is the popular New Year’s Eve figure Father Time; traditionally depicted as an old man with a long white beard, an hour-glass or clock, and a scythe. Most mythographers believe that Father Time is based on the Greco-Roman character of Cronus (called Saturn by the Romans). Cronus was the ruthless leader of the Titans – a race of giants who ruled over the world before the advent of the Olympian gods – and who is most famously remembered for making a snack out of his own children.[1] As Saturn the Romans worshipped Cronus as a harvest deity, which explains the scythe. The Romans also held a popular end of year celebration is honor of Saturn known as Saturnalia which began on December 17th and lasted a week, being something of a cross between Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve.

Later on it appears that Cronus was confused or combined with another Greco-Roman god-like being known as Chronos; the personification of time and the source of such modern day words as chronology.

Another element to consider is that of New Year’s Day; January 1st. The month of January draws its name from the Roman god Janus who presided over gateways, beginnings, and endings. Janus is classically depicted in art as having two heads; one to look forward with and one to look backwards with, a gift from Saturn himself. Janus’ temple, which was located in the Roman Forum, was also unique in that it possessed two separate gateways; one to enter the temple and one to leave it. This was in opposition to the traditional temple model which only featured one gateway in and out.

There are very few myths about Janus, the most famous being the tale of how Janus got a wife. According to Ovid’s Metamorphosis there was once a nymph by the name of Carna whose days were spent teasing men with her sexual advances only to run away as quick as a flash whenever said men attempted to make a move. One day Carna made the mistake of teasing Janus, not knowing the god literally had eyes in the back of his head. When Janus attempted to make a move on Carna the nymph once again attempted to run away, only this time Janus saw where she went and quickly gave case and furthermore caught the saucy nymph forcing her to become his bride.[2] According to legend the King of Alba Long was their son.

Sources: The Penguin Dictionary of American Folklore (2001) by Alan Axelrod and Harry Oster, Don’t Know Much About Mythology (2005) by Kenneth C. Davis, The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Mythology (2001) by Arthur Cotterell & Rachel Storm, and the Metamorphosis by Ovid, translated by Charles Martin (2004).

______________________________________________________
[1] It could be speculated that the image of Cronus/Saturn devouring his own children so as to prevent them from overthrowing him is linked in some way to the modern day, sanitized image of Father Time and Baby New Year, though I haven’t done the research to prove this.
[2] As an additional perk Janus made Carna the goddess of doorhinges.

Harpies in Myth and Film

Harpy, derived from the Greek word harpazein which means “to snatch.”

Harpies are terrifying monsters from Greco-Roman mythology who possess the torso (head and breasts) of a woman and the body (wings, legs and tail) of a bird, typically a vulture. Natives of the islands of Strophades (or Salmydessus) in eastern Thrace the Harpies feed upon human flesh.

The most famous myth to involve these femme fatales was that of King Phineus of Thrace who possessed the gift of prophecy. So great was Phineus’ gift that he was able to divine all the plans of the gods, a fact which greatly displeased the fickle Olympian deities. As punishment Zeus struck Phineus blind and placed him on the Harpies’ island. Zeus then laid out a great banquet for Phineus; however every time the blind prophet tried to take a piece of food the Harpies would swoop down and snatch it up.

Eventually the seafaring hero Jason, who had use of Phineus’ gift, came to the island and slew the Harpies. The most famous adaptation of this myth is undoubtedly the 1963 film Jason and the Argonauts directed by Don Chaffey and with special effects by Ray Harryhausen. While Jason is a brilliant film in every way, Harryhausen’s depiction of the Harpies leaves something to be desired in that they look more like archetypal bat-winged demons than bird women.

A much better example of a cinematic Harpy can be seen in the surreal 1979 Belgian short film Harpya which is itself an adaptation of the Phineus myth. Written and directed by Raoul Servais, it stars Will Spoor, Fran Waller Zeper and Sjoert Schwibethus. Harpya won the Palme d'Or for Best Short Film at the 1979 Cannes Film Festival.



Source: Giants, Monsters & Dragons: An Encyclopedia of Folklore, Legend, and Myth (2000) by Carol Rose.

Special Thanks: To Riki for showing me Harpya.

Mr. Sandman

When I was a little kid my mom used to make up lullabies to help me fall asleep. One of these lullabies was a rift on the 1954 song “Mr. Sandman” by The Chordettes. It wasn’t until I was older that I eventually realized just how creepy the prospect of some guy coming into your room and throwing sand in your eyes to make you go to sleep really is.

A fixture of Western folklore, the sandman’s origins can be traced back to ancient Greco-Rome and the god of sleep; Hypnos. Hypnos was the twin-brother of Thanatos, the god of death, and the husband of Nyx; the goddess of night. Together Hypnos and Nyx gave birth to Morpheus; the god of dreams. As a family Hypnos, Thanatos, Nyx and Morpheus demonstrated the very real relationship held between nighttime, sleep and dreams, as well as the symbolic relationship held between sleep and death. Today these gods are remembered via words drawn from their names; Hypnos being the source of both ‘hypnotic’ and ‘hypnotism,’ Morpheus the root of the drug ‘morphine,’ while Thanatos in Latin becomes Mors the root of such words as ‘morbid.’

With the advent of Christianity in Europe the gods of the old pantheons were forced to take on less threatening forms in order to survive. Thus they became the saints, demons, fairies and nursery bogies of European folklore and legend. One of these nursery bogies was the sandman who put children to sleep by sprinkling sand in their eyes. Scandinavian folklorist Hans Christian Anderson’s (1805-1875) Danish folktale Ole Lukøje (“eye-closer”) is one of the earliest recorded tales to deal with the sandman. In Ole Lukøje, the sandman visits a boy called Hjalmar every night for a whole week and tells him stories. At the end of the tale (Sunday) the sandman reveals himself to, in fact, be the Greek god Morpheus, the brother of Ole-Luk-Oie (Death). Anderson’s tale shows that even in the 19th-Century the memory of the old gods still lingered with the common people, though they had confused Morpheus with his father Hypnos.

In stark contrast to Anderson’s sandman is the sandman of German fantasy author E.T.A. Hoffman (1776-1822). Hoffman’s tale, known as Der Sandmann (1816), tells of a sinister sandman who comes into children’s rooms at night and throws coarse sand into their eyes causing them to fall out of their sockets. The sandman then scoops these eyes up, places them in a bag and takes them back to his home in the crook of the crescent moon where he feeds them to his bird-like progeny. As terrifying as this tale may be it was actually told to European children by their caretakers in the 18th and 19th-Centuries as a warning as to why they should go to bed when they were told.

Today, the sandman is still an important figure in western folklore and pop-culture appearing in films, books, comics, and songs. Some of these depict the sandman as a benevolent being and other as a freighting demon. A noteworthy example of the later is the 1991 animated short The Sandman, directed and animated by Paul Berry (The Nightmare Before Christmas) and based off Hoffman’s tale. In 1992, the film was nominated for an Oscar for Best Animated Short Film.



Sources: Metamorphoses by Ovid, translated by Charles Martin (2004) and Giants, Monsters, & Dragons: An Encyclopedia of Folklore, Legend, and Myth (2000) by Carol Rose.

At Top: Bust of Hypnos, the Greco-Roman god of sleep, reconstructed from fragments.

To Hell and Back: Conclusions

There are many things that we can learn from the tales of “Orpheus and Eurydice” and “Savitri and Satyavan”, things about ourselves, about our culture, ancient culture, death, and the role of women in society. In my last entry I asked readers to think about why it is that Orpheus fails where Savitri succeeds and what this has to say about a variety of issues, most of which were just mentioned in the previous sentence. This is a question that I have dwelled on for quite some time now. I find both of these myths utterly fascinating, especially because they are both so similar and yet so different. So in conclusion, here’s what I think…

In both “Orpheus and Eurydice” and “Savitri and Satyavan”, a spouse must descend into the underworld to retrieve the soul of their departed lover. Both make a deal with the god of the underworld. One fails, one succeeds. Why?

First off, both of these stories tell us a lot about the cultures that composed them. “Orpheus and Eurydice” tells us that the Greco-Roman point of view on death was very final. Once you died you were resigned to the underworld where you were expected to stay. In the land of the dead, the living were not welcomed, just as the dead were surely not welcomed in the land of the living. “Savitri and Satyavan” paints a similar picture for us except for the fact that we see that death is not always permanent; Savitri does manage to win back her husband’s soul and return him to life. This undoubtedly reflects the Hindu world of view in which the predominate form of afterlife belief is that of ‘reincarnation’ which hold that after death many of us will go on to living new lives, being reborn again and again.

Secondly, the deals which both Orpheus and Eurydice strike with their respective underworld gods are also interesting, especially because they serve as a prototype for later Christian legends concerning Faustian deals with the devil. In the myth of “Orpheus and Eurydice”, however, it is Hades who apparently wins the beat, as Orpheus fails to keep his eyes off of Eurydice until after the two have left the underworld. There are those who feel that Hades’ tricked Orpheus, however, I disagree, believing instead that Hades, if anything, was simply banking on the fact that Orpheus’ inherent human weakness would get the better of him. As for Savitri’s deal with Yama, I think it’s pretty clear that in this case Savitri did trick Yama into giving her Satyavan’s soul. The type of ‘loop-hole logic’ which Savitri employs here is also fairly common in both myths and fairy-tales, especially in Arabian mythology were it is often employed by djinn’s who want to get the better of their masters. Ultimately, what the story of “Savitri and Satyavan” is trying to tell us here, I believe, is that being quick witted is a virtue; for one who is fast on their feet may even be able to outwit the gods.

Lastly, I feel that without a doubt the most loaded issue of any to be found here in both of these tales is that of the role of the women in them. I believe that this facet of these stories is of great importance not only because of what it has to say about women is both the ancient and modern world but because it can also provide one with the answer as to why Orpheus fails in his mission while Savitri succeeds in her’s.

The key difference between Orpheus and Savitri, I feel, is ultimately motivation. Orpheus wants Eurydice while Savitri needs Satyavan, and this all has to do with how women were viewed in ancient Greco-Rome and India. Ancient Greece and Rome as well as India were patriarchal societies; men ran almost everything. This is still true today in modern India as in modern western society which has been largely modeled off the Greco-Roman prototype. However, there is one crucial difference. In Greco-Roman patriarchal society women were viewed as objects, literally second class citizens who could be owned by their husbands. This was in contrast to eastern patriarchy where women were still not as socially powerful as men but nevertheless still had many of the same freedoms and rights that men enjoyed, a fact which is still true today.

Now, while one who is sufficiently familiar with the tale of “Orpheus and Eurydice” would never question whether or not Orpheus truly loves Eurydice – he does – one does need to take note of the fact that Orpheus’ love for her is framed within a Hellenistic context, meaning that to him Eurydice is a ‘possession.’ And this is exactly the tone that one picks up on when re-reading the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. Following Eurydice’s death Orpheus acts like he has just had something stolen from him, like a prized trophy or a new car. He then descends into the underworld to essentially demand the return of his property from Hades, albeit in song. The problem with all this is that the cold truth of the matter is that, from a social standpoint, Orpheus doesn’t need Eurydice, he simply wants her. Had this story been reversed with Eurydice having lost Orpheus and then failing to win back his soul, she would not have then been able to continue on with life by herself in perpetual morning – the way Orpheus does. She would have been expected to marry someone else; in fact, she probably would have been married off to someone else by her father in the weeks following Orpheus death, because that is what happened to women in ancient Greece and Rome.

This is, of course, in sharp contrast to “Savitri and Satyavan”, where Savitri doesn’t merely want the return of her husband’s soul but needs it. As Savitri notes in both my retelling of the story and the original version, that in Indian society it was a wife’s dharma – sacred duty – to care for her husband and bear his children. Without a husband Savitri would not have been able to fulfill her dharma and as a result would not have been able to join her husband in heaven as she would have to be reincarnated in an attempt to fulfill her duty as a woman and a wife in a another life. For some women readers this may not seem much better a situation than that Eurydice, however, I would ask those readers to keep in mind that Savitri is essentially just trying to be faithful to her vows as a wife, the same type of vows that western women make on their wedding day. Also, take stock in that fact that not only is Savitri the protagonist and hero of her story but also a shinning example of a smart, strong and determined woman who was not about to let her husband second guess her womanly intuition or let a male death god tell her what she could and could not do, all of which is far superior to poor little Eurydice who doesn’t have but a single line of dialogue in her entire tale.

With that in mind, I would also like to point out what these two myths can teach us today. Both myths teach us about the power of love, which is one of the greatest powers in the world, however, they also teach us what can happen when love is misguided. I personally think that in modern western society today there are a lot of Orpheuses out there. Talented young men who are desperately and recklessly pursuing women who they do not need but merely want, because to them women are nothing more than possessions to be had. Likewise there are a lot of young women out there who have let themselves become helpless little Eurydices, following there own Orpheuses all the way to the top only to have them foolishly cast them away with a backwards glance. While “Orpheus and Eurydice” is without a doubt one of my favorite myths from all of Greco-Roman mythology I do believe that from a social standpoint it is not one that needs to be imitated but rather learned from, a cautionary fable. Rather what we in the west need are more women like Savitri and more men like Satyavan who, in spite of their own piggishness, can learn to respect and trust their wives, girlfriends or lovers.

At Top: The title sheet for classical composer Monteverdi's 1607 opera The Legend of Orpheus. The myth of "Orpheus and Eurydice" has had a strong impact on western culture, having been adapted into poems, songs, novels, plays, operas, movies, comics and more. Visit Wikipedia's page on Orpheus for a very comprehensive list.

To Hell and Back: Orpheus and Eurydice

The first of our two myths concerning a decent into the underworld is that of “Orpheus and Eurydice.” Hailing from Greco-Rome the myth of “Orpheus and Eurydice” can be found in the tenth book of Ovid’s Metamorphous (c. 1st-Century C.E.). The entire poem is a mere 122 lines long, but it tells one of the most powerful and poignant tales in all of world mythology.

Orpheus and Eurydice as retold by Justin M.

Orpheus was born in the kingdom of Thrace, the son of a mortal king and Calliope; the muse of epic poetry. Yet despite his regal parentage Orpheus was not proud. He chose to live a simple life amongst nature and its beauty where he could enjoy his two greatest loves. One of these two great loves was music. Orpheus loved to play the lyre, and when he did it is said that birds and beasts of the forest grew still, trees swayed in his direction, rocks danced and rivers changed their course so as to run towards him. But even Orpheus’ love of music could not compare to that of his other great love, his greatest love, his bride Eurydice.

Orpheus and Eurydice loved one another as few people in the history of the world have ever loved one another. Theirs’ was a pure love; untainted by lies, selfishness or insecurity. It was a love that should have lasted for all of eternity. Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. It was not long after Orpheus and Eurydice’s marriage that disaster struck. Eurydice was out in the meadow picking flowers to weave into her hair when she ran across the satyr Aristaeus who attempted to rape her. While fleeing from the satyr Eurydice accidentally stepped on a snake which bit her. The snake’s venom rushed into Eurydice’s veins and killed her.

Orpheus was devastated.

Try as he might, Orpheus could not bring himself to let Eurydice’s spirit go. He lamented both her fate and his and cursed the gods for being so cruel as to take her away from him. It was then that Orpheus decided that the only course of action he could take was to confront the deities of the dead themselves; Hades and his queen Persephone.

Armed with his lyre Orpheus traveled to the Gates of Sparta were he could gain entry into the land of the dead. When Orpheus arrived at the rive Styx, which separates the realm of the living from that of the dead, he was stopped by the ferryman Charon who refused to allow Orpheus to cross over, as he was not dead. Orpheus, however, simply struck a few cords on his lyre making a sound so sweet that Charon was compelled to let him pass simply so that he could hear more of the beautiful music on the ride over.

Finally, Orpheus arrived in the underworld. Surrounded by the shades of the dead and the tortured souls of sinners, Orpheus made his way to the thrones of Hades and Persephone where he pleaded his case before them in song. He sang of love and loss, of gods and men, of his fair Eurydice and his quest to retrieve her soul, and finally of how in times past even the Lord of the Dead has been swayed by the power of love.

So powerful were the words of Orpheus’ song that the very underworld itself came to a grinding halt. For the first time in the history of Hades the dead wept, Tantalus felt full, Ixion’s wheel ceased to spin, the vultures no longer gnawed at Prometheus’ liver, Sisyphus sat upon his stone, and the vengeful Furies – the most merciless of spirits – cried.

Terrified at the anarchy being unleashed upon his realm Hades conceded to Orpheus’ request and decreed that Eurydice could return to the land of the living…on one condition; Orpheus could not look upon the face of Eurydice until both of them were fully out of the netherworld. Orpheus quickly consented to Hades’ terms, for what did it matter; there would be no light to see Eurydice’s face with until after the two had reached the surface.

So with Eurydice behind him, Orpheus began his accent to the land of the living. As he walked he plucked the strings of his lyre so that Eurydice could follow the sound. However, as Orpheus continued walking and playing he suddenly found himself seized by doubt. He began to wonder why Eurydice had not spoken to him on their way up – Hades had not forbidden conversation. Orpheus also began to wonder why he could not hear Eurydice’s footsteps behind him – was it because she was still a ghost or because she was not there at all.

As Orpheus neared the surface he felt his heart begin to race with anticipation, he could see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel now. Soon Eurydice would be back in his arms. Closer and closer he drew to the exit, light shown down upon his face and he realized that if Eurydice was truly there – if Hades had not played him for a fool – that he could see her now, even if they were not fully out of the realm of the dead. So he glanced, just once, over his shoulder, just long enough to see his greatest love, his beautiful, beloved Eurydice, pulled back down into the depth of hell.

Realizing what he had done, Orpheus collapsed unto the floor and wept bitterly, cursed the gods and himself, and then went off to spend the rest of his days in sad exile awaiting the day he to would die and finally be with Eurydice again.

At Top: Stone relief of Orpheus and Eurydice as they ascend from Hades.

Center: Orpheus pleads his case to Hades and Persephone in another stone relief.

Sources: Titans and Olympians: Greek & Roman Myth (1997) by Tony Allan and Sara Maitland, Metamorphoses by Ovid, translated by Charles Martin (2004), and The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Mythology (2007) by Arthur Cotterell and Rachel Storm