_Enter on the Stage through the distance-entrance [Left Side-door] the
colossal figure of Hercules. Here is the turning-point of the play:
which has the peculiarity of combining an element of the Satyric Drama
(or Burlesque) with Tragedy, the combination anticipating the
'Action-Drama' (or 'Tragi-Comedy') of modern times. Accordingly the
costume and mask of Hercules are compounded, of his conventional
appearance in Tragedy, in which he is conceived as the perfection of
physical strength toiling and suffering for mankind, and his
conventional appearance in Satyric plays as the gigantic feeder, etc.
The two are harmonized in the conception of conscious energy rejoicing
in itself, and plunging with equal eagerness into duty and relaxation,
while each lasts._
_Hercules_ hails the Chorus and enquires for Admetus. They reply that
he is within the Palace, and [shrinking, like all Greeks, from being
the first to tell evil tidings] turn the conversation by enquiring what
brings the Demi-god to Pherae--_in stichomuthic dialogue_ it is brought
out that Hercules is on his way to one of his 'Labors'--that of the
Thracian Steeds; and (so lightly does the thought of toil sit on him)
it appears he has not troubled to enquire what the task meant: from the
Chorus he learns for the first time the many dangers before him, and
how the Steeds are devourers of human flesh.
_Herc._ A toil you tell of that well fits my fate, {517}
My life of hardship, ever struggling upward.
Admetus now appears, in mourning garb: after first salutations between
the two friends, Hercules enquires what his trouble is, which gives
scope for a favorite effect in Greek Drama--'dissimulation.'
_Herc._ Why are thy locks in sign of mourning shorn? {530}
_Adm._ 'Tis for one dead, whom I to-day must bury.
_Herc._ The Gods avert thy mourning for a child!
_Adm._ My children, what I had, live in my house.
_Herc._ Thy aged father, haply he is gone.
_Adm._ My father lives, and she that bore me lives.
_Herc._ Lies then thy wife Alcestis mongst the dead?
_Adm._ Of her I have in double wise to speak.
_Herc._ As of the living speakst thou, or the dead?
_Adm._ She is, and is no more: this grief afflicts me.
_Herc._ This gives no information: dark thy words. {540}
_Adm._ Knowst thou not then the destiny assign'd her?
_Herc._ I know that she submits to die for thee.
_Adm._ To this assenting is she not no more?
_Herc._ Lament her not too soon: await the time.
_Adm._ She's dead: one soon to die is now no more.
_Herc._ It differs wide to be, and not to be.
_Adm._ Such are thy sentiments, far other mine.
_Herc._ But wherefore are thy tears? What man is dead?
_Adm._ A woman: of a woman I made mention.
_Herc._ Of foreign birth, or one allied to thee? {550}
_Adm._ Of foreign birth, but to my home most dear.
Hercules is moving away for the purpose of seeking hospitality
elsewhere: Admetus will not hear of it, and, when Hercules loudly
protests, puts aside his opposition with the air of one whose authority
in matters of hospitable rites is not to be disputed. He orders
attendants to conduct Hercules to a distant quarter of the Palace, to
spread a sumptuous feast, and bar fast the doors, lest the voice of woe
should affect the feasting guest. When Hercules is gone the _Chorus_
are staggered by such a mastery of personal grief as this implies. But
_Admetus_ asks how could he let a guest depart from his house?
My affliction would not thus {575}
Be less, but more unhospitable I.
But why, the _Chorus_ ask, conceal the truth?--His friend, answers
_Admetus_, would never have entered, had he known. Some may blame him,
he continues, but his house simply knows not how to do dishonor to a
guest.--Admetus returns into the Palace, to his funeral preparations:
the _Chorus_ are moved to enthusiasm by this forgetfulness of self in
hospitable devotion; their enthusiasm breaks out in an Ode celebrating
the glories of their king's hospitality in the past, and ending in a
gleam of hope that it may yet do something for him in the future. {588}