Part 6 (2/2)
THE APHRODITE OF MELOS (THE VENUS OF MILO)
_The Louvre, Paris_]
We have now learned by repeated instances that the Greeks had such definite ideas of their deities that their statues were as readily recognized as if they represented actual persons. The sculptors followed types accepted by tradition as the best embodiment of the characters they stood for. So especially with Zeus, Athena, and Hera, and so again with Aphrodite. She must be supremely fair, with a beauty less austere than that of the maiden Athena, less regal than that of Hera, and more fascinating than either.
We see then at once that the beautiful figure of our ill.u.s.tration must be Aphrodite, or Venus. In looking at her we think, not of wisdom, or force, or power, but just of beauty. She stands resting the weight of her body on one foot, and advancing the other with knee bent. The posture causes the figure to sway slightly to one side, describing a fine curved line. The lower limbs are draped, but the upper part of the body is uncovered, and in some mysterious way the sculptor has imparted to the marble a seeming softness as of real flesh. The head is as exquisitely set as a flower on its stalk. The parted hair is drawn back in rippling waves over the low forehead.
The eyes are not very wide open, having something of a dreamy languor.
”Melting eyes” are indeed characteristic of Venus, and an a.n.a.lytical critic has explained that this effect is produced in sculpture by a ”slight elevation of the inner corner of the lower eyelid.” The nose is perfectly cut, the mouth and chin are moulded in adorable curves. Yet to say that every feature is of faultless perfection is but cold praise. No a.n.a.lysis can convey the sense of her peerless beauty.
The statue originally stood on the Greek island of Melos, where it was discovered in 1820 in this broken state. Many wise heads have been puzzled to know the position of the missing arms. Some have thought that the G.o.ddess carried a s.h.i.+eld, and others have fancied her holding the traditional apple. There have also been many discussions as to the date of the work. Now if the statue had been made in the fifth century B. C., the G.o.ddess would have been fully draped; if in the fourth century, entirely without drapery. Our sculptor then belonged to neither of these periods, and combined the characteristics of both. It is a fault on his part to have placed the drapery in an impossible position, whence in actual life it would immediately fall of its own weight. Yet we do not think of such criticisms when we see it. The beautiful body rising above the drapery reminds us of the myth of Aphrodite emerging from the sea foam. Her beauty is a union of strength and sweetness, a perfect embodiment of a nature at harmony with itself and its surroundings.
XIV
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE
There was once a man named Orpheus, who lived in the land of Thrace. It was said that his father was Apollo, and his mother the muse Calliope; so it is not strange that he was both poet and musician. So enchanting was the music of his lyre that wild animals came forth from their haunts to hear him. Even trees and rocks seemed to feel the magic influence of the strain.
He had a beautiful wife named Eurydice, whom he loved dearly, and they were happy together till a sad accident separated them. She was bitten one day by a poisonous serpent, and died from the effects of the wound.
There was no more happiness on earth for Orpheus, and he determined to seek Eurydice in the underworld of the dead.
Now the gates of the lower regions were guarded by a three-headed dog named Cerberus, but even this fierce beast was subdued by the entrancing music of Orpheus, who
”Through the unsubstantial realm Populous with phantom ghosts of buried men, Undaunted pa.s.sed to where Persephone Sits by the monarch of that cheerless folk Of shadows throned--and struck his lyre, and sang.”
Pouring forth the mournful tale of his lost love, he appealed to the G.o.ds to give him back Eurydice. So eloquent was his plea that all who listened were ”moved to weeping.” Then for the first time the iron cheeks of the Furies were wet with tears, and
”Of the nether realm Nor King nor Queen had heart to say him nay.”
Eurydice was brought forth and restored to her husband, but a single condition was laid upon Orpheus in leading her out. Until they had regained the earth he was not to look backward, or the boon would be forfeited. The Latin poet Ovid tells how the two fared forth together from the underworld, and how Orpheus failed in the conditions of the agreement.
”Through the silent realm Upward against the steep and fronting hill Dark with obscurest gloom, the way he led: And now the upper air was all but won, When fearful lest the toil o'ertask her strength And yearning to behold the form he loved, An instant back he looked,--and back the shade That instant fled....
...One last And sad 'Farewell,' scarce audible, she sighed, And vanished to the ghosts that late she left.”[32]
[32] From the Metamorphoses, Book x, in Henry King's translation, from which also the other quotations are drawn.
[Ill.u.s.tration: D. Anderson, Photo. John Andrew & Son, Sc.
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE
_Albani Villa, Rome_]
Our bas-relief represents a scene of parting between Orpheus and Eurydice, and we may take it, as we please, to refer to their first or to their last farewell. It seems, however, to apply more appropriately to the first departure of Eurydice to the unknown land. She lays her hand fondly upon her husband's shoulder, and he touches it gently as if to detain her.
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