Eurydice Reclaimed: H.D.'s Modernist Subversion of Myth and Heroism

H.D.’s poem Eurydice exemplifies the modernist rejection of understood perspectives and established narrative structures. Her portrayal of Eurydice’s side of her story highlights a significant shift in retelling classic tales, reclaiming and reinterpreting traditional narratives. Her poem subverts a traditional archetype—Orpheus as the tragic hero and Eurydice as the passive victim—by giving Eurydice room for complexity and agency with her new narrative. In a modern era where the authoritative voice is rejected and reflection on existential themes is welcomed, this adaptation of the classic myth pushes against fixed notions of heroism, morality, tragedy, and agency. Through fragmented structures, ambiguous symbolism, and a focus on internal experience and newfound perspective, H.D. challenges readers to engage with the overlooked voices of traditional narratives and encourages them to reconsider the dynamics of male heroism in classical myths. By amplifying Eurydice’s voice, H.D. not only criticizes the idolization of Orpheus as a tragic hero but also dismantles the literary tendency to marginalize the female perspective. 

 H.D. believed that in the modern era, there is no room for the idolization of the traditional hero and that dissecting this story can ultimately highlight that many a time, a hero’s flaws do not coincide with virtuousness. Her work thus becomes a commentary on the fragility of established notions, illustrating how, like the changing modern world, characters celebrated for generations can be reimagined to reflect the evolving complexities of perspective.

The era of modernist poetry took hold during the late 19th century and continued into the end of the 1940s. It gained recognition as a byproduct of shifting ideological, political, and philosophical objectives, heavily influenced by the Industrial Revolution and the psychosomatic influence of World War I. According to Albert Gelpi, a professor of American Literature Emeritus at Stanford University, the poetry during this time focused on “the shattering of formal conventions as an expression of the disintegration of traditional values” (Gelpi). To cope with the extensive shifts in structure and violence occurring in the world, artists turned to adjudicating former ideals out of distaste for where it ultimately led them. Modernist poets yearned to appear objective, yet were still very focused on their unique, "genius" personalities—much like the Romantic artists before them. Gelpi comments that this phenomenon led to “such exaggerated individualism” which “led to an elitist pose of disdain for politics that itself masked the equally elitist sympathy for totalitarianism” (Gelpi), an aesthetic decision that purposefully lays out the modernist rejection of the familiar “savior” archetype of literature past; it was time for an anti-hero or at least a deconstruction of the “heroes” we all knew. 

Hilda Doolittle’s gift lay in imagist poetry, where descriptions of one's mental experiences aren’t surrounded by unnecessary decoration but are raw and explicit in detail. Imagism was an inspiration of hers, heavily influenced by the relationship and her production of poetry alongside her ex-fiance, Ezra Pound. Doolittle and Pound were in a brief, yet intense and impactful relationship from 1905-1908. In 1905, Pound gave Doolittle a collection of love poems entitled “Hilda's Book”, by 1907 they were engaged, and ultimately broken up by 1908 (“H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) – Modernism Lab”). H.D. ended the relationship with Pound to pursue a female lover, however, the two remained friends and she traveled in 1911 to London to stay with him where they declared themselves as “Imagists” (“H.D.”), with Ezra Pound describing H.D. as "the perfect imagist" (Salcedo González). 

This was a dynamic that I believe fed heavily into Doolittle’s push for the female narrative and her desire for eradication of the commemoration of the masculine, heroic voice portrayed in literature. Pound, their failed love, and his influence, so far as inspiring her to coin herself “H.D.”, thrust her into the spotlight; but that will not define her, and her voice will overpower his influence. In her poetry, she subconsciously makes that very clear. She was known for her ability to reinstate the female voice into the classic pieces before her, revisiting and reinterpreting classical myths and archetypes. According to Cristina Salcedo Gonzalez, Doolittle “devoted her entire professional career to the reading, translation, imitation, and recreation of the classics” and “was prompted by a desire to put an end to female silence as a characteristic of classical literature” (Salcedo González 72). She does just this with her poem Eurydice, bringing power back to the female voice of the tragic tale, and installs a disdain for the long-standing portrayal of Orpheus’ “heroism” and “love for Eurydice”. 

The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice is the ancient Greek tragedy of a man sent to the underworld to save his love from a fate of eternal hell, with one fatal obstacle; the entire time they walk back to earth, he cannot look back. With her life in his hands, Orpheus cannot seem to understand the gravity of the proposed consequence, and just at the end of their journey, he looks back to check that she is still there. Eurydice falls back to the underworld, and Orpheus is coined as a hero, who with the best interest of their love in mind, fought to the ends of the earth to retrieve Eurydice. The story was told as a tragedy from the perspective of Orpheus, who lost his love twice, but H.D. enlightens readers of the tragedy held within the perspective of Eurydice; a woman who lost her life twice. A fact that was long ignored, a woman’s life was put in the hands of a man and was discarded through impatience and an incomprehension of the value of a woman’s livelihood. Her poem Eurydice is a call to action against the idolization of the phony male hero of the classic past and a reintroduction of the female voice in literature; a new era calls for a new protagonist. 

 She takes this matter and exemplifies Eurydice's devastating point of view through a very raw, sequential collection of verses. She begins the poem with a haunting line that enables a pause within the reader, a reflection of the new perspective brought to life by H.D., with a simple “I”, a recognition of the first stage of a long, tumultuous grief. We are automatically shifted into Eurydice’s unseen perspective of grief and anger for both her life and the comfort of death as she states that she “could have slept among the live flowers at last” and “if you had let me rest with the dead, I had forgot you and the past.” (H.D. Part I). Originally in the tale, Orpheus’ intervention is seen as a heroic conquest to retrieve his love, however, it was unbeknownst to us readers previously that there’s a possibility that without Orpheus’ intervention, Eurydice could’ve died peacefully, and ultimately accepted the loss of her life. 

The failure in this attempt is what makes Orpheus the villain of this story, a “look back” at the cost of her liveliness. H.D. gives readers a new perspective on the evil and selfishness of the male gaze, which Eurydice hauntingly speaks on in the second part of the poem, where we enter the stage of anger involved in her grief. She states, “What had my face to offer”, which opens readers’ eyes to a new take on the glance that sent Eurydice back to the underworld, one that categorizes it as a moment of impatience and negligent recklessness, rather than “a tragic inevitability” (BUTLER). Why is it that if a man fails at a quest the blame falls on its “inevitability” rather than the negligence towards the life lost, the life of a woman lost? 

The poem emphasizes two separate visual planes, each used to emulate the stages of grief and acceptance occurring during Eurydice’s written stream of consciousness. The reminiscence of her life on earth is described in light and color, more specifically the yellows of “saffron”,  the purples of “hyacinth”, the blues of “earth”, and the gold of “crocuses”. Opposingly, the term used to describe her presence in the underworld is “colorless light”, which Eurydice describes as “worse than black”, similar to how blind people don't see black, they instead see nothing at all. Her time in the underworld has blinded her from the experience of color and has created a gaze that  “ultimately imprisons Eurydice in that colorless world and reiterates her dependence on the gaze of Orpheus,” (Bruzelius), a dependence that she had no control over. Orpheus couldn’t let her rest, and in turn made her feel as though she even had a chance at revival, “So for your arrogance, and your ruthlessness, I have lost the earth” (H.D.). Eurydice lost her life twice, and was cruelly teased with life. Her existence was treated like an irrelevant illusion, a fleeting accessory to Orpheus’ artistic ambition. 

The dismissal of her humanity accentuates the unspoken tragedy of the story: Eurydice was reduced to an object who conceptually only existeed in when it was advantageous to Orpheus and Hades’ gaze and desires. H.D. powerful redemption of Eurydice’s consciousness exposes the brutal irony of her fate. While Oprheus is immortalized for his heroism and bravery, Eurydice is left to endure an eternity of of suffering; an eternity waiting to have her status as pawn revitalized to reinstate her purpose. 

Parts I through IV have Eurydice shouting in denial and despair over the circumstances Orpheus has landed her, with exclamations questioning “why did you glance back?” and in regards to her death, she exclaims that she “could have dared the loss” if she had died once, and it was Orpheus teasing her with a second chance that makes her torment so great. H.D.’s intentions with this poem become evident here, with the beginning lines of the poem being a prelude to her desire to undo the pattern of losing female antiquity in literature, nodding this with the line “I who had lived unconscious/who was almost forgot” (I). This line can be read two ways: her suggesting she was almost forgot from her Earth, almost vanishing from consciousness in peace, or that she was almost frogotten from literature if it weren’t for the help from Doolittle. Both of these articulate a series of moments where the artist/narrator is transcended into a double perspective; one where Eurydice saves herself from obscurity and another where H.D. saves Eurydice from being forgotten within the male-dominated narratives of classical mythology. Eurydice’s lament, “I who have lived unconscious” (I) can be interpreted as a metaphor for the many female characters in narratives like Orpheus and Eurydice where their creation was solely to advance the arcs of the protagonist; the male “hero”.

Parts five through seven of Eurydice’s internal monologue are examples of the anger and emotional vulnerability showcased in the publications of modernist poetry. Modernists have been described as not only angry but harborers “of a new understanding of anger, as self-confirming indignation, that opens a way to the world of resentments we inhabit today.” (Connor). The expressions of anger go in hand with the self-affirmation that comes with confessionalism, which is a concept often seen in modernist poetry, examples being with Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, and Robert Lowell. Confessionalism is a consequence of the poetry’s explorations of personal struggle, and grief, and it is vibrantly seen within Eurydice’s narrative towards the end of H.D.’s poem. 

 In these later sections of the poem we also see an incredible twist in her emotions, taking her anger and channeling it into revengeful acceptance and appreciation for what her fate has landed her; a stunning end to her grief. She begins by reinstating her previous claims, voicing to Orpheus that “for your arrogance, and your ruthlessness, I have lost the earth” (V). Now, however, the tone has shifted from distress to using the same language to chastise Orpheus and condemn him for his crimes against her livelihood. She disgraces Orpheus, he “who need no presence” and who “passed across the light”, a creature who lives on Earth while she lies in the underworld, and she counters this by claiming that even with all that he has gained, “hell is no worse than your earth”, and that “my hell is no worse than yours” (V).  With the help of H.D.’s beautiful ability to write raw emotion, Eurydice takes back the power of her narrative. In part VII, she gracefully admits the appreciation she has for her solitude now. She states that while she is now without the hyacinths and crocuses of the Earth above her, she is gifted with “the flowers of myself, and my thoughts” which she asserts that “no god can take”. 

Yet, alongside this acceptance of death is also an acceptance of the power men have, and will forever hold over her. This unsettling assertion was H.D. calling out the heroes of classical mythology and their ability to completely undermine and overpower the liveliness of the female perspective, even with the attempts to reclaim them in modernist approaches. While having accepted her loneliness in death, Eurydice also accepts that she has been placed in a purgatory of sorts, waiting for judgment day to save her, “hell must open like a red rose, for the dead to pass” (VII). Emotionally she is in control of herself, but physically she is forever “condemned to hell” and “ recognizes herself as the object that exists only in the regard of another” (Bruzelius). Eurydice will forever be held captive by the power of the male forces surrounding her, "Eurydice represents the strength of the subject who resists being transformed into a "mere” object but also the weakness of a voice whose stance is determined by the gaze of another — it is impossible for H.D. to re-site Eurydice outside the myth’s fatal topography” (Bruzelius); classical myth becomes a part of history having been passed down from generations through storytelling, it becomes something unchangeable, and with this one must realize that Euryidce will never be truly saved.

Orpheus’s tragic error has been accounted as intentional, inevitable poetry. When negotiating with Hades to revive Eurydice, Orpheus moves him with compassion through a song that he sings to him about his despair. Following this, he vows to Hades that whilst and post his retrieving Eurydice, he must “dedicate his life and art to immortalizing the god through poetic lauds” (Leigh). To this point, I believe that Orpheus subconsciously looked back to view Eurydice and send her back to the underworld on purpose, with the implication that the despair it would cause him would make for great poetry and song, especially while acknowledging that “Orpheus' experience of woe is both the stimulus and the matter for his art.” (Leigh). While this conclusion paints Orpheus as sinister, I theorize that H.D. not only would believe this with me but that she focuses on this idea in the poem, and “For H.D., Orpheus's mistake is to make Eurydice into a thing-he kill in order to make his art” (Bruzelius). The choice was to do her right by saving Eurydice, or do right for himself by using her death to strengthen the emotional capacity of his poetry and song. By using Eurydice’s death to further stimulate his art, he also condemned to eternally to being an objectified muse of confessionalist art. 

The line between being immortalized as a hero or a villain is fine, and the actions committed towards H.D. by the likings of Ezra Pound slightly mirror those of Orpheus, and in doing so highlight how villainous actions can either make you a hero, or vilify you. The inspiration for the birth of Eurydice’s perspective was in part because of the influence of her previous love affair where she “had to both absorb and resist the influence-the aesthetic and erotic "gaze"-of Ezra Pound,” (Bruzelius).  The inherent possessiveness of this gaze was a call to action for H.D. to bring life to the female perspective in her life and her literature.

Following the breaking off of their engagement, Pound traveled across Europe, abandoning her, giving her space to heal. As Doolittle was beginning to move on, forming romantic relationships with other people, advancing her poetry, Ezra Pound “looked back”. He returned to Doolittle, and in her own words, “left a vacuum” (Tyson). Pound’s supposed “looking back” tormented H.D., the relationships she had created, and left her dependdent on his guidance all over again, and “In the end, Doolittle chose Pound: not as lover, but as editor.” (Tyson).

Looking back will always be selfish, yet Pound’s selfishness ultimately remained heroic, and he was a villain who did a honorable thing by subjecting her to success. His return to her, his dedication to her editing, and rechristening her as ““H.D. Imagiste.” left her with the power to blossom as a poet. Pound went on to fall into the evils of fascist ideologies, and is viewed by many literary critics as a villain, yet the selfish nature of his “look-back” ended favorably for Doolittle. The same cannot be said for Orpheus, and the parallels between the two men and how they decided to treat the women in their lives prove that the idolization of the traditional hero needs to be reiterated instead to the recognition of the nature of men. 

In reclaimg Eurydice’s voice, H.D. critiques the aestheticization of of pain and its perpetuation of patriarchal narratives. Orpheus’ actions are not only a symbol of personal betrayal but a broader indictment of the societal structures thst condone such storylines. H.D. invites readers to interrogate the moral foundations of heroism itself, asking whether the glorifications of figures like Orpheus can ever be justified for the sake of srt, or if the erasure of female perspective is subjugation enough to make it unacceptable. 

Works Cited

Academy of American Poets. “A Brief Guide to Imagism | Academy of American Poets.” Poets.org, 5 Sept. 2017, poets.org/text/brief-guide-imagism.

Bruzelius, Margaret. “H. D. And Eurydice.” Twentieth Century Literature, vol. 44, no. 4, 1998, p. 447, https://doi.org/10.2307/441593. Accessed 18 Feb. 2020.

BUTLER, SHANE. “The Backward Glance.” Arion: A Journal of Humanities and the Classics, vol. 17, no. 2, 2009, pp. 59–78, www.jstor.org/stable/40646046.

Connor, Steven. “Modernist Anger Management - Steven Connor.” Stevenconnor.com, 2020, stevenconnor.com/modernist-anger-management.html. Accessed 20 Nov. 2024.

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Gelpi, Albert. “The Genealogy of Postmodernism: Contemporary American Poetry.” EBSCO Host, 1990, web-p-ebscohost-com.proxy.library.stonybrook.edu/ehost/detail/detail?vid=0&sid=9ca32c0c-3622-467a-8956-57639aae9060@redis&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZQ==#AN=9610120638&db=a9h. Accessed 4 Nov. 2024.

“H.D.” Queer Portraits in History, www.queerportraits.com/bio/doolittle.

“H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) – Modernism Lab.” Campuspress.yale.edu, campuspress.yale.edu/modernismlab/h-d-hilda-doolittle/.

“Hell Must Break before I Am Lost.” The New Historia, 2024, thenewhistoria.org/editorial/hell-must-break-before-i-am-lost/. Accessed 7 Nov. 2024.

Leigh, DeNeef A. “The Poetics of Orpheus: The Text and a Study of “Orpheus His Journey to Hell (1595).”” Studies in Philology, vol. 89, no. 1, 1992, pp. 20–70. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/4174410, https://doi.org/10.2307/4174410.

“Modernism.” The Poetry Foundation, 2024, www.poetryfoundation.org/education/glossary/modernism.

Poetry Foundation. “Eurydice by H.D.” Poetry Foundation, 2019, www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51869/eurydice-56d22fe6d049d.

---. “H.D.” Poetry Foundation, 2011, www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/h-d.

SALCEDO GONZÁLEZ, CRISTINA. ““AT LEAST I HAVE the FLOWERS of MYSELF”: REVISIONIST MYTH-MAKING in H.D.’S “EURYDICE.”” Stonybrook.edu, 2024, search.library.stonybrook.edu/permalink/01SUNY_STB/1ff40p4/cdi_doaj_primary_oai_doaj_org_article_6d8544ca9a4a43528e9c906eaeb7cac3. Accessed 6 Nov. 2024.

Tyson, Charlie. “H.D.’S Art of Failure.” The New Yorker, 21 Oct. 2022, www.newyorker.com/books/under-review/hds-art-of-failure.