The Significance of Sir Orfeo's Self-Exile
The Significance of Sir Orfeo's Self-Exile
by Kenneth R. R. Gros Louis
The Review of English Studies, New Series, Vol. 18, No. 71 (Aug., 1967), pp. 245-252
THE SIGNIFICANCE OF SIR ORFEO'S SELF-EXILE
By KENNETH R. R. GROS LOUIS
THE second section of Sir Orfeo, says A. J. Bliss in his standard modern edition of the poem, 'tells of Orfeo's long search for Heurodis, and of his eventual success.[1] We may be surprised to hear that Orpheus succeeds, but we expect him to make a 'long search' for his wife. We know that in Ovid, Virgil, and Boethius,[2] the primary sources of the Orpheus story in the Middle Ages, Orpheus enters the underworld to attempt the recovery of Eurydice, who has been fatally stung by a serpent. If we have
read about the Celtic influences on Sir Orfeo, we know that in its Irish analogue, 'The Wooing of Etain', the hero Eochaid retrieves his wife by leading an army to the mound of her fairy-abductor.[3] We may also be aware that in 'King Orfeo', the ballad derived from the romance-lay, a 'lady was carried off by fairies; the king went in quest of her.[4] Indeed,
the more information we have about Orpheus-type legends-in North
American Indian tribes, in the Pacific islands, in Japan, in India,[5] the
more certain we are that Orfeo must undertake a 'long search for Heurodis'.
We are so well conditioned, in other words, to having Orphic husbands
boldly seek their wives in dark and mysterious regions that we accept
Bliss's statement (and he is, of course, simply reporting the 'obvious')
without a second thought. To do so is unfortunate, for the statement is
inaccurate. The second section of the poem does not tell of 'Orfeo's long
search for Heurodis'; in fact, there is no search in the entire poem, nor does Orfeo ever plan to make one. If we do not recognize this crucial fact, we fail not only to see the uniqueness of Sir Orfeo in the tradition of the Orpheus myth, but also to understand the intention of its author. After Heurodis has been seized by the fairy king, Orfeo calls together his barons, earls, and 'lordes of renouns' (1. 202),[6] and announces that he is forsaking his rule and kingdom and will enter the wilderness. It is important to notice that Orfeo does not say he hopes to recover Heurodis.
'For now ichaue mi quen y-lore', he says:
pe fairest leuedi pat euer was bore,
Neuer eft y nil no woman se.
In-to wildernes ichil te,
& liue per euermore ... (209-I3)
Perhaps the story was so well known that further explanation was unnecessary. But the author goes to considerable trouble to make it clear that Orfeo willingly and irrevocably gives up all his comforts in an act of love. He obviously does not expect any change in his fortune; that is, he does not expect to find Heurodis, for he tells his subjects:
... when ze vnder-stond pat y be spent,
Make zou ]an a parlement,
& chese zou a newe king.... (215-17)
Later, when Orfeo in disguise asks a poor man what has happened in the kingdom, he is told that the queen was stolen by fairies and that the king went, not in search of her, but 'en exile' (493). Orfeo spends ten years in the wilderness, living as best he can, solacing his grief with his harp, surviving on the few berries and roots he can gather. Not once, in all these years, does he look for Heurodis. He is obviously not on any kind of heroic quest-he has 'euermore' abandoned the world of 'castels & tours' (245); he has given up his life of ease for the existence of a hermit; he has exchanged his royal robes for a pilgrim's mantle. And yet, after ten years of suffering, Orfeo accidentally comes upon Heurodis in a group of women hunting. He has not sought her, he has not questioned her disappearance, and suddenly she appears, alive, before him.
It is remarkable that scholars have not been startled by this section of Sir Orfeo. Unlike the heroes in all other versions of the Orpheus legend, whether classical or Celtic, Oriental or Western, Orfeo never actively searches for his lost wife; unlike all other Orphic types, Orfeo spends long years alone in the wilderness (in Ovid and Virgil, a short time elapses between Eurydice's death and Orpheus's entrance into the underworld and Orpheus's longer wandering comes only after he has lost Eurydice a second time); unlike all other Orpheus figures, Orfeo does not come to Heurodis-she is, for some reason, brought to him.[7]
These changes from the traditional story are not gratuitous. The author of Sir Orfeo, certainly familiar with the classical and Celtic versions of the myth, consciously alters some of its basic elements to offer a new interpretation of the greatness of Orpheus. His hero does not share the Phaetonlike boldness of earlier Orpheus figures; on the contrary, Orfeo is characterized
by deep humility. His acceptance of the inevitability of death coupled with his great love for his lost wife lead him to renounce the world and to take up the life of a hermit.[8] The ten years he spends in the wilderness constitute a kind of penance, and because of it, Orfeo receives a gift of grace-Heurodis is returned to him.
That the ten years are a substitute for death is suggested by the increasing isolation of Orfeo after Heurodis disappears-an isolation which, ultimately, makes Orfeo seem like a dead thing even to the beasts who are charmed by his music. When he first hears Heurodis's dream, 'He asked conseyl at ich man, | Ac no man him help no can' (I79-80). When she is taken by the fairies, he thinks his life is over-'per was non amendement' (200). When he leaves his kingdom, 'No man most wip him go' (233). The combination of his own decision to go into exile and the inability of his followers to solace or advise him pushes Orfeo, literally and figuratively, into life at its lowest level of existence, a life which approximates death. In the wilderness, he has neither love nor companionship.
The fairy army and fairy dancers he meets in the woods seem unaware of
his presence; and Orfeo, for his part, 'neuer . . . nist whider pai bi-come'
(288), 'neuer . . nist whider pai wold' (296). On certain days when the
weather is clear and bright, Orfeo takes his harp from its hiding place in
a hollow tree and attracts the 'wilde bestes' (273) and 'alle pe foules' (275)
with its sounds. But, the music finished, 'No best bi him abide nold'
(280); they come only to hear the harp-the harper, to them, means
nothing. Having forsaken the company of men, living in a world which
either shuns him or which he cannot understand, Orfeo suffers loneliness
without complaint, knowing that no natural force can change his fortune.
He is a pilgrim travelling nowhere, a hermit living in a timeless voidit is as if he, not Heurodis, were in Hades. The fairy hunt catches no game. The fairy army of one thousand knights has banners raised and swords drawn-where will they fight? How long have they been riding? The fairy dance passes by-how long have they been dancing? When will the dance end? In this purgatory of repetitious, purposeless activity where he is acknowledged by no one and no thing, Orfeo undergoes a kind of purification, and learns how little it is to be a king.
In transforming Orpheus into Sir and King Orfeo, the author of the poem has done more than merely medievalize a classical hero; he has also added a new dimension to the myth. The material life of the classical Orpheus was not changed by the death of Eurydice, but in Sir Orfeo, Heurodis's abduction signals the complete reversal of Orfeo's fortune as king. Using his favourite device of contrast, the poet sketches for his audience the high and the low of fortune's ever-turning wheel:
He pat hadde y-werd pe fowe & griis,
& on bed pe purper biis
-Now on hard hepe he lip,
Wip leues & gresse he him wrip.
He pat hadde had castels & tours,
Riuer, forest, frip wip flours
-Now, pei it comenci to snewe & frese,
pis king mot make his bed in mese.
He pat had y-had kni3tes of priis
Bifor him kneland, & leuedis
-Now sep he no-ping pat him likep,
Bot wilde wormes bi him strikep.
He pat had y-had plente
Of mete & drink, of ich deynte
-Now may he al-day digge & wrote
Er he finde his fille of rote. (241-56)
The passage sounds like a typical medieval commentary on the vicissitudes
of fortune. But there is something wrong, for not every disaster in the
poem can be attributed to fortune. Although Orfeo's loss of Heurodis
can be charged to the turning of her wheel, the loss of his kingdom is due
solely to a conscious act of his own free will.
What leads him to such a decision? In terms of the syndrome of ideas
known as courtly love, it is possible to argue that Orfeo, having lost Heurodis,
has lost the source of all his happiness, and cannot continue to live
where he is surrounded by remembrances of her. But if Orfeo were
simply a courtly lover, he would have other roads open to him besides
exile in the wilderness. Furthermore, Sir Orfeo is clearly not influenced
by courtly love, but is, like the much later Franklin's Tale, a story of
married lovers. There is no indication that the fairy king seizes Heurodis
for love; Heurodis is not aloof in any way; Orfeo does not subject himself
to her; and his suffering is certainly unrelated to the 'loveres maladye of
hereos'. The deep love which exists between Orfeo and Heurodis is
epitomized in their poignant conversation after Heurodis has had her
terrible dream under the ympe-tre. 'Bot euer ich haue y-loued pe | As mi
liif, & so pou me; I Ac now we mot delen ato -Do pi best, for y mot go'
(I23-6). 'Whider pou gost', Orfeo answers in words reminiscent of Ruth,
'ichil wip pe, i & whider y go pou schalt wip me' (129-30). If Orfeo's
words are not mere rhetoric, we must assume that his decision to live in
the wilderness is related to his desire to be always with Heurodis. He
knows that she has been taken to a world unlike his own, and he thinks
that she will never be seen by mortal eyes again. He cannot join her, but
he can do the next best thing by shunning all human company, by moving
into the mysterious wilderness, by passively living out his life in strange
and lonely lands. He had learned the value of kingly power and wealth
when he attempted to save Heurodis from the fairy king by surrounding her
with 'ten hundred kniztes... | Ich y-armed, stout & grim...' (183-4).
pai made scheltrom in ich a side,
& sayd pai wold pere abide
& dye per euerichon,
Er pe quen schuld fram hem gon;
Ac zete amiddes hem ful rizt
pe quen was oway y-tvizt,
Wip fairi forp y-nome
-Men wist neuer wher sche was bicome. (187-94)
During his ten years in the wilderness, Orfeo learns the greater value
of another kind of power, another kind of wealth. By humbly abandoning
his material pleasures and donning the mantle of a pilgrim, Orfeo indicates
his acceptance of the loss of Heurodis and his recognition of the proper
role of man on earth. At the same time, however, his sacrifice for Heurodis,
for which he expects neither praise nor reward, asserts to the universe the
dignity of man and the strength of man's love-love based not on passion,
but on charity. Such humility and sacrifice, the author of Sir Orfeo wants
us to know, do not go unrewarded. The medieval audience undoubtedly
realized that the sudden appearance of Heurodis before Orfeo was not
entirely accidental. Unlike the aggressive classical Orpheus, Orfeo,
although his internal grief is just as great and the collapse of his material
world much greater, remains passive and restrained at the moment of his
earthly trial; and because he accepts the loss of his wife and does not
challenge the authority of the gods, they are merciful and return Heurodis
to him:
To a leuedi he was y-come,
Biheld, & hap wele vnder-nome,
& sep bi al ]ing p?atit is
His owhen quen, Dam Heurodis.
Zern he biheld hir, & sche him eke,
Ac noiper to oper a word no speke,
For messais pat she on him seize,
pat had ben so riche & so heize.
pe teres fel out of her eize:
pe opler leuedis pis y-seize
& maked hir oway to ride
-Sche most wip him no lenger abide. (319-30)
The pulses of life beat again. The other fairy groups which Orfeo had seen in the wilderness were engaged in purposeless activity, but in Heurodis's hunting party, 'Ich faucoun his pray slou3' (313). For Orfeo, too, there is the possibility of regaining his 'lef liif' (406), and of living again.
'Tide wat bitide', he resolves,
Whider-so pis leuedis ride,
pe selue way ichil streche
-Of liif no dep me no reche. (339-42)
He does not, even here, search for Heurodis. He simply follows the women into the mound of the fairy king. The supernatural gift of the view of Heurodis gives Orfeo new hope, and his natural gift, the power of song, will enable him to complete the reversal of his fortunes. His submission to the will of the forces which took Heurodis from him and his great sacrifice for love enable him to conquer death. He would never have had the opportunity to use his art for something that really mattered had he not first shown his worthiness as a Christian man.
Because of his great humility and sacrifice, Orfeo is able to lead Heurodis back to life. She had spent ten years in the sterile palace of the fairy king, lying in a garden horribly strewn with mortals frozen in various masks of death: ~death-:
Sum stode wip-outen hade,
& sum non armes nade,
& sum Jpurthp e bodi hadde wounde,
& sum lay wode, y-bounde,
& sum armed on hors sete,
& sum astrangled as pai ete;
& sum were in water adreynt,
& sum wip fire al for-schreynt. [9] (39I-8)
But now she will return to her own garden where flowers die only briefly
and bloom again every spring. The Otherworld, with its burnished gold
pillars and spectacular jewels and precious stones, is all very dazzling, and
all very artificial. It is a Bower of Bliss which cannot possibly compare
with Heurodis's Garden of Adonis where 'eueri feld is ful of flours, &
blosme breme on eueri bouz .. .' (60-61).
Orfeo, too, experiences a kind of rebirth. He has passed from king to
pilgrim to hermit and has learned, like Shakespeare's Lear, what values
man should cherish. When he returns to his kingdom, he does not ask
about the quantity of his power: forgotten are the ten hundred knights
which he had armed long ago to protect Heurodis. Instead, he wants to
know the quality of his power-the depth of loyalty of his subjects, particularly
of his steward, to whom he had entrusted his rule. And he discovers
that the steward, like himself, has been faithful. The barons recall
Orfeo's faith when they comfort the steward who weeps and swoons
because he thinks Orfeo is dead. 'It nis no bot of mannes dep' (552),
they tell him. It is this that Orfeo has realized, and it is for practising
this faith that he is rewarded.
Although the author of Sir Orfeo left us no gloss or moralitas to his poem, the significant change he makes in the traditional story of Orpheus and Eurydice certainly helps us understand his intention. Once we recognize that Orfeo does not undertake a 'long search for Heurodis', we begin to see the skill with which the poet has christianized the classical myth. With the boldness and aggressiveness of the classical Orpheus gone, the hero of the romance is able to recover his wife only after the intervention of an outside force. It cannot be mere chance that Orfeo
sees Heurodis in the group of women hunting, for then there is little
artistic justification for his ten years of suffering. Even when he succeeds,
Orfeo remains humble. No word is spoken when he first sees Heurodis
in the wilderness. He is not triumphant as are the classical Orpheus and
the Celtic Eochaid-he is grateful. When the fairy king grants him
Heurodis, 'He kneled adoun & ponked him swipe' (472). He realizes,
as other Orphic figures do not, the vast difference between the natural and
supernatural worlds, and acts accordingly. The romance seems to stress
that man will 'com . . . out of his care' (603) if he is willing to sacrifice
for those he loves, is loyal to those he serves, humble and patient in his
adversities, and grateful, not exultant, in his moments of triumph. The
author of Sir Orfeo is speaking symbolically as well as literally when he
tells us at the very end of his poem, 'Now King Orfeo newe coround
is...' (593)-
----------------
1. A. J. Bliss, Sir Orfeo (2nd edn., Oxford, 1966), p. xlii.
2. Metamorphoses, Bk. X, 11. I-III; Bk. XI, 11. 1-84; Georgics, Bk. IV, 11. 453-527; Consolation of Philosophy, Bk. III, poem 12.
3. For a full discussion of 'The Wooing of Etain', see G. L. Kittredge, 'Sir Orfeo', American Journal of Philology, vii (i886), 176-202, and G. V. Smithers, 'Story-Patterns in Some Breton Lays', Medium Aevum, xxii (I953), 61-92.
4. For the text of the ballad, see The English and Scottish Popular Ballad, ed. Francis James Child (New York, I956), i. 217.
5. In the Mahabharata, the grief-stricken Rourou recovers his young bride, killed by a poisonous serpent, by giving her half of his life. The Japanese warrior Izanagi enters
the subterranean palace of the dead to regain his beloved Izanami, but he disobeys the
tabu that he must not show a light and his punishment is to see her in the process of
decomposition. In New Zealand mythology, Mataore successfully saves Nuvarahu from
the underworld because she recognizes the melody of his song. There are comparable
tales from Hawaii, Samoa, Melanesia, and the New Hebrides. Among North American
Indian tribes there are hundreds of Orpheus-type myths. See L. H. Gray and G. F.
Moore, Mythology of All Races, 13 vols. (Boston, I916-32); A. H. Gayton, 'The Orpheus
Myth in North America', Journal of American Folklore, 48 (1935), 263-93.
R.E.S. New Series, Vol. XVIII, No. 71 (1967)
6. All Sir Orfeo quotations are from the Bliss edition.
7. There are, of course, many Celtic analogues for journeys into the wilderness in
which there is no question of search. In these analogues, however, the grief-stricken lover
or relative goes into the wilderness because he is nearly mad with grief. Orfeo certainly
suffers when Heurodis is taken away, but his decision is also clearly a reasoned one
(consider that he even calls together his barons to announce it). He does not, in other
words, rush into the wilderness in a fit of emotional despair.
8. A. M. Kinghorn, in his admirable essay, 'Human Interest in the Middle English
Sir Orfeo', Neophilologus, 1 (I966), 359-69, also points out that Orfeo's decision to enter
the wilderness is due to his 'inexpressible grief born of true love' (p. 362). Kinghorn
does not, however, recognize what seems to me the enormous differences between Orfeo
and earlier Orpheus figures.
9. R. B. Mitchell, in 'The Faery World of Sir Orfeo', Neophilologus, xlviii (1964),
155-9, has argued that these lines were not part of the original poem. His position is
primarily based on the argument that the lines are inconsistent with the account of the
fairy world elsewhere in the poem-'Whatever impression of sinister chill there may be
in the poem-and I have never been able to experience it or believe in it-must have its
origin in the courtyard scene' (p. I56). While he does cite a number of lines which make
the fairy world appealing, he does not deal with what seems to me the extremely chilly
parting admonition of the fairy king to Heurodis earlier in the poem:
Loke, dame, to-morwe patow be
Ri3t here vnder pis ympe-tre,
& pan pou schalt wip ous go,
& liue wip ous euer-mo;
& 3if pou makest ous y-let,
Whar pou be, pou worst y-fet,
& to-tore pine limes al,
pat noping help pe no schal;
& pei pou best so to-torn,
3ete pou worst wip ous y-born. (165-74)
These lines, with a few modifications, appear in all three manuscripts of the poem.
Lines 39I-8, therefore, are not entirely inconsistent with what we know of the fairy
king. Even if the lines were added by some scribe or minstrel, the interpolation, as Mitchell
admits, 'must have occurred early' (p. 157). In either case, Orfeo rescues Heurodis from
a less than agreeable fairy.