strenuous struggle for realism. Orpheus appears and pleads his cause in
accents of touching entreaty. Time after time his pathetic song is
broken by a sternly decisive 'No,' but in the end he triumphs, and the
Furies grant him passage. The next scene is in the Elysian fields.
After an introduction of charming grace, the spirits of the blessed are
discovered disporting themselves after their kind. Orpheus appears, lost
in wonder at the magical beauty of all around him. Here again is a
remarkable instance of Gluck's pictorial power. Simple as are the means
he employs, the effect is extraordinary. The murmuring of streams, the
singing of birds, and the placid beauty of the landscape are depicted
with a touch which, if light, is infallibly sure. Then follows the
famous scene in which Orpheus, forbidden to look at the face of his
beloved, tries to find her by touch and instinct among the crowd of
happy spirits who pass him by. At last she approaches, and he clasps her
in his arms, while a chorus of perfect beauty bids him farewell as he
leads her in triumph to the world above. The third act shows the two
wandering in a cavern on their way to the light of day. Eurydice is
grieved that her husband should never look into her eyes, and her faith
is growing cold. After a scene in which passionate beauty goes side by
side with strange relapses into conventionality, Orpheus gives way to
her prayers and reproaches, and turns to embrace her. In a moment she
sinks back lifeless, and he pours forth his despair in the immortal
strains of 'Che farò senza Euridice.' Eros then appears, and tells him
that the gods have had pity upon his sorrow. He transports him to the
Temple of Love, where Eurydice, restored to life, is awaiting him, and
the opera ends with conventional rejoicings.

Beautiful as 'Orfeo' is--and the best proof of its enduring beauty is
that, after nearly a hundred and fifty years of change and development,
it has lost none of its power to charm--we must not be blind to the fact