Heracles is overwhelmed with sorrow for his friend and contrition for his own untimely revelling. For a few moments he stands heaping reproaches on himself, and on the servants for their silence; but he is not long inactive. The generosity of Admetus fires his own heart; and his thought leaps impetuously to an act of tremendous daring. He will face the power of Death himself, and wrest Alcestis from him. He puts rapid questions to the man concerning the place of burial, calls up every resource of energy and endurance, and nerves himself for his grim task by a determination to requite Admetus worthily.
“_... I must save the woman newly dead, And set Alcestis in this house again, And render to Admetus good for good. I go. The sable-vestured King of Corpses, Death, will I watch for, and shall find, I trow, Drinking the death-draught hard beside the tomb. ... I doubt not I shall lead Alcestis up, and give to mine host’s hands, Who to his halls received, nor drave me thence, Albeit smitten with affliction sore, But did it, like a prince, respecting me._“[29]
HERCULES’ STRUGGLE WITH DEATH FOR ALCESTIS
_By permission of the Fine Art Society, Ltd._ ]
As Heracles departs in search of Alcestis’ tomb, the mourners are seen approaching, led by Admetus, alone. A profound change has come upon the king. His ignoble anger has vanished: no word more is heard of the petulant reproach of his parents: nothing of the old arrogant claim on life which had blinded his soul and hardened his heart. Humbled now, and remorseful, he sees that death were infinitely preferable to life at the price that he has paid. Something had given him sight as he stood beside Alcestis’ tomb. He had tried to cast himself down to die beside her; but friends had restrained him, and now as he stands before the home that he dare not enter, he makes a pitiful confession—
“_Friends, I account the fortune of my wife Happier than mine, albeit it seems not so. For nought of grief shall touch her any more, And glorious rest she finds from many toils. But I, unmeet to live, my doom outrun, Shall drag out bitter days: I know it now. How shall I bear to enter this my home?_“[29]
The bystanders try to persuade him to go in, but he lingers through the beautiful choral ode that is raised in praise of Alcestis. They sing of the worship and honour that will be paid at her tomb as at a shrine; and as the long hymn is drawing to a close, Heracles is seen to be returning, leading a woman closely veiled. The king, standing in quiet despair, utters no word of greeting to his guest, and the Chorus wait in silent wonder for an explanation. A strange awe falls upon them; and Heracles, beginning in gentle gravity to reproach the king for want of confidence in him, turns presently to the veiled figure at his side. Will the king take and guard this maid for him, until he shall return from Thrace? She is a prize awarded him for great toil, and Admetus will do well to care for her.