B M D3t3 M7fl
;^L<3ES.^IS,
ALCESTIS
THE ATHENIAN DRAMA
FOR ENGLISH READERS
A Series of Verse Translations of the Greek
Dramatic Poets, with Commentaries and
Explanatory Notes.
Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 88. 6d. each net.
Each Volume Illustrated from ancient
Sculptures and Vase-Faintingr.
EURIPIDES: Hippolytus and Baccha ; ARIS-
TOPHANES' 'Frogs: By Prof. Gilbert
Murray. With an Appendix on The Lost
Tragedies of Euripides^ and an Introduction on
The Significance of the Baccha in Athenian History,
and 12 Illustrations. [Sixth Edition.
ALSO UNIFORM WITH THE ABOVE
THE HOMERIC HYMNS. A New Prose
Rendering by Andrew Lang, with Essays
Critical and Explanatory, and 14 Illustrations.
7s. 6d. net.
THE PLAYS OF EURIPIDES
Translated into English Rhyming Verse, with
Explanatory Notes, by Prof. Gilbert Murray.
Hippelytm.
Baccha.
The Trojan
Electra.
Medea
Iphigenia in
Rhesus.
Alcestii,
Agamemnon,
25th
19th
Women,
25th
19th
Tauris,
6th
nth
4th
Thousand."^
Thousand.
25 th Th.
Thousand.
Thousand.
i6thTh.
Thousand.
Thousand.
Thousand.
The Frogs of Aristophanes.
17th Thousand.
(Edipus Tyrannus of Sophocles.
1 6th Thousand.
Paper Covers, »s.
each net.
Also crown 8vo,
cloth, 3s. 6d.
each net.
ANDROMACHE : An Original Play by Prof.
Gilbert Murray. [Third Impression.
THE
ALCESTIS
OF
EURIPIDES
TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH RHYMING VERSE
WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES BY
GILBERT MURRAY
LL.D., D.LiTT., F.B.A.
REGIUS PKOFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
LONDON: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD.
RUSKIN HOUSE 40 MUSEUM STREET, W.C. i
First published . August, igis
Reprinted . . . Afajy, J917
Tleprinted » • • January, igjo
Reprinted . . . June, 1922
(i4// rights resented)
/ -'V
INTRODUCTION
The Akesiis would hardly confirm its author's right
to be acclaimed " the most tragic of the poets." It
is doubtful whether one can call it a tragedy at all.
Yet it remains one of the most characteristic and
delightful of Euripidean dramas, as well as, by modern
standards, the most easily actable. And I notice that
many judges who display nothing but a fierce satisfac-
tion in sending other plays of that author to the block
or the treadmill, show a certain human weakness in
sentencing the gentle daughter of Pelias.
The play has been interpreted in many different
ways. There is the old unsophisticated view, well
set forth in Paley's preface of 1872. He regards the
Alcestls simply as a triumph of pathos, especially of
" that peculiar sort of pathos which comes most home
to us, with our views and partialities for domestic life.
... As for the characters, that of Alcestis must be
acknowledged to be pre-eminently beautiiui. One
could almost imagine that Euripides had not yet
conceived that bad opinion of the sex which so many
of the subsequent dramas exhibit, . . . But the rest are
hardly well-drawn, or, at least, pleasingly portrayed."
"The poet might perhaps, had he pleased, have ex-
hibited Admctus in a more amiable point of view."
V
INTRODUCTION
This criticism is not very trenchant, but its weak-
ness is due, I think, more to timidity of statement
than to lack of perception. Paley does see that a
character may be " well-drawn " without necessarily
being " pleasing " ; and even that he may be eminently
pleasing as a part of the play while very displeasing in
himself. He sees that Euripides may have had his
own reasons for not making Admetus an ideal husband.
It seems odd that such points should need mention-
ing ; but Greek drama has always suffered from a
school of critics who approach a play with a greater
equipment of aesthetic theory than of dramatic percep-
tion. This is the characteristic defect of classicism.
One mark of the school is to demand from dramatists
heroes and heroines which shall satisfy its own ideals ;
and, though there was in the New Comedy a mask
known to Pollux as "The Entirely-good Young
Man " {TTayy^prjcrrog VEavi(jKog)y such a character is
fortunately unknown to classical Greek drama.
The influence of this "classicist" tradition has led
to a timid and unsatisfying treatment of the Jlcestis,
in which many of the most striking and uncon-
ventional features of the whole composition were
either ignored or smoothed away. As a natural
result, various lively-minded readers proceeded to over-
emphasize these particular features, and were carried
into eccentricity or paradox. Alfred Schone, for
instance, fixing his attention on just those points
which the conventional critic passed over, decides
simply that the Alcestis is a parody, and finds it very
funny. [Die Jlkestis von Euripides ^ Kiel, 1895.)
I will not dwell on other criticisms of this type.
There are those who have taken the play for a
vi
INTRODUCTION
criticism of contemporary politics or the current law
of inheritance. Above all there is the late Dr.
Verrall's famous essay in Euripides the Rationalist^
explaining it as a psychological criticism of a supposed
Delphic miracle, and arguing that Alcestis in the play
does not rise from the dead at all. She had never
really died ; she only had a sort of nervous catalepsy
induced by all the " suggestion " of death by which
she was surrounded. Now Dr. Verrall's work, as
always, stands apart. Even if wrong, it has its own
excellence, its special insight and its extraordinary
awakening power. But in general the effect of
reading many criticisms on the Jlcestls is to make a
scholar realize that, for all the seeming simplicity of
the play, competent Grecians have been strangely
bewildered by it, and that after all there is no great
reason to suppose that he himself is more sensible
than his neighbours.
This is depressing. None the less I cannot really
believe that, if we make patient use of our available
knowledge, the Alcestis presents any startling enigma.
In the first place, it has long been known from the
remnants of the ancient Didascalia, or official notice
of production, that the Alcestis was produced as the
fourth play of a series ; that is, it took the place of a
Satyr-play. It is what we may call Pro-satyric. (See
the present writer's introduction to the Rhesus.) And
we should note for what it is worth the observation in
the ancient Greek argument : " The play is somewhat
satyr-like (^(rarvpiKOjTEpov). It ends in rejoicing and
gladness against the tragic convention."
Now we are of late years beginning to understand
much better what a Satyr-play was. Satyrs have, of
vii
INTRODUCTION
course, nothing to do with satire, either etymologi-
cally or otherwise. Satyrs are the attendant daemons
who form the Komos, or revel rout, of Dionysus.
They are represented in divers fantastic forms, the
human or divine being mixed with that of some
animal, especially the horse or wild goat. Like
Dionysus himself, they are connected in ancient
religion with the Renewal of the Earth in spring
and the resurrection of the dead, a point which stu-
dents of the Alcestis may well remember. But in
general they represent mere joyous creatures of nature,
unthwarted by law and unchecked by self-control.
Two notes are especially struck by them : the pas-
sions and the absurdity of half-drunken revellers,
and the joy and mystery of the wild things in the
forest.
The rule was that after three tragedies proper there
came a play, still in tragic diction, with a traditional
saga plot and heroic characters, in which the Chorus
was formed by these Satyrs. There was a deliberate
clash, an efiPect of burlesque ; but of course the clash
must not be too brutal. Certain characters of the
heroic saga are, so to speak, at home with Satyrs and
others are not. To take our extant specimens of
Satyr-plays, for instance : in the Cyclops we have
Odysseus, the heroic trickster ; in the fragmentary
Ichneutae of Sophocles we have the Nymph Cyllene,
hiding the baby Hermes from the chorus by the most
barefaced and pleasant lying ; later no doubt there was
an entrance of the infant thief himself. Autolycus,
Sisyphus, Thersites are all Satyr-play heroes and con-
genial to the Satyr atmosphere ; but the most congenial
of all, the one hero who existed always in an atmo-
viii
INTRODUCTION
sphere of Satyrs and the Komos until Euripides made
him the central figure of a tragedy, was Heracles.^
The complete Satyr-play had a hero of this type
and a Chorus of Satyrs. But the complete type was
refined away during the fifth century ; and one stage
in the process produced a play with a normal chorus
but with one figure of the Satyric or "revelling " type.
One might almost say the " comic " type if, for the
moment, we may remember that that word is directly
derived from " Komos."
The Alcestis is a very clear mstance of this Pro-
satyric class of play. It has the regular tragic diction,
marked here and there (393, 756, 780, etc.) by
slight extravagances and forms of words which are
sometimes epic and sometimes over-colloquial ; it has
a regular saga plot, v/hich had already been treated by
the old poet Phrynichus in his Alcestis^ a play which
is now lost but seems to have been Satyric ; and it has
one character straight from the Satyr world, the heroic
reveller, Heracles. It is all in keeping that he should
arrive tired, should feast and drink and sing ; should be
suddenly sobered and should go forth to battle with
Death. It is also in keeping that the contest should
have a half-grotesque and half-ghastly touch, the
grapple amid the graves and the cracking ribs.
So much for the traditional form. As for the
subject, Euripides received it from Phrynichus, and
^ The character of Heracles in connexion with the
Komos, already indicated by Wilamowitz and Dieterich
{Herakles', pp. 98, ff. ; Pulcinella, pp. 63, ff.), has been illu-
minatingly developed in an unpublished monograph by
Mr. J. A. K. Thomson, of Aberdeen.
ix
INTRODUCTION
doubtless from other sources. We cannot be sure of
the exact form of the story in Phrynichus. But
apparently it told how Admetus, King of Pherae in
Thessaly, received from Apollo a special privilege
which the God had obtained, in true Satyric style, by
making the Three Fates drunk and cajoling them.
This was that, when his appointed time for death
came, he might escape if he could find some volunteer
to die for him. His father and mother, from whom
the service might have been expected, refused to per-
form it. ' His wife, Alcestis, though no blood relation,
handsomely undertook it and died. But it so happened
that Admetus had entertained in his house the demi-
god, Heracles ; and when Heracles heard what had
happened, he went out and wrestled with Death,
conquered him, and brought Alcestis home.
Given this form and this story, the next question
is : What did Euripides make of them ? The general
answer is clear : he has applied his usual method. He
accepts the story as given in the tradition, and then
represents it in his own way. When the tradition in
question is really heroic, we know what his way is.
He preserves, and even emphasizes, the stateliness and
formality of the Attic stage conventions ; but, in the
meantime, he has subjected the story and its characters
to a keener study and a more sensitive psychological
judgment than the simple things were originally meant
to bear. So that many characters which passed as heroic,
or at least presentable, in the kindly remoteness of
legend, reveal some strange weakrress when brought
suddenly into the light. When the tradition is Satyric,
as here, the same process produces almost an opposite
effect. It is somewhat as though the main plot of a
X
INTRODUCTION
gross and jolly farce were pondered over and made
more true to human character till it emerged as a re-
fined and rather pathetic comedy. The making drunk
of the Three Grey Sisters disappears ; one can only
just see the trace of its having once been present. The
revelling of Heracles is touched in with the lightest
of hands ; it is little more than symbolic. And all
the figures in the story, instead of being left broadly
comic or having their psychology neglected, are
treated delicately, sympathetically, with just that faint
touch of satire, or at least of amusement, which is
almost inseparable from a close interest in character.
What was Admetus really like, this gallant prince
who had won the affection of such great guests as
Apollo and Heracles, and yet went round asking
other people to die for him ; who, in particular,
accepted his wife's monstrous sacrifice with satisfac-
tion and gratitude ? The play portrays him well.
Generous, innocent, artistic, affectionate, eloquent,
impulsive, a good deal spoilt, unconsciously insincere,
and no doubt fundamentally selfish, he hates the
thought of dying and he hates losing his wife almost
as much. Why need she die ? Why could it not
have been some one less important to him ? He feels
with emotion what a beautiful act it would have been
for his old father. " My boy, you have a long and
happy life before you, and for me the sands are well-
nigh run out. Do not seek to dissuade me. I will
die for you." Admetus could compose the speech
for him. A touching scene, a noble farewell, and all
the dreadful trouble solved — so conveniently solved !
And the miserable self-blinded old man could not
see it !
INTRODUCTION
Euripides seems to have taken positive pleasure in
Admetus, much as Meredith did in his famous Egoist ;
but Euripides all through is kinder to his victim than
Meredith is. True, Admetus is put to obvious shame,
publicly and helplessly. The Chorus make discreet
comments upon him. The Handmaid is outspoken
about him. One feels that Alcestis herself, for
all her tender kindness, has seen through him.
Finally, to make things quite clear, his old father
fights him openly, tells him home-truth upon home-
truth, tears away all his protective screens, and leaves
him v^ith his self-respect in tatters. It is a fearful
ordeal for Admetus, and, after his first fury, he takes
it Vi^ell. He comes back from his wife's burial a
changed man. He says not much, but enough. " I
have done wrong. I have onlv now learnt my lesson.
I imagined I could save my happy life by forfeiting
my honour; and the result is that I have lost both."
I think that a careful reading of the play will show
an almost continuous process of self-discovery and
self-judgment in the mind of Admetus. He was a
man who blinded himself with words and beautiful
sentiments ; but he was not thick-skinned or thick-
witted. He was not a brute or a cynic. And I
think he did learn his lesson . . . not completely
and for ever, but as well as most of us learn such
lessons.
The beauty of Alcestis is quite untouched by the
dramatist's keener analysis. The strong light only
increases its effect. Yet she is not by any means a
mere blameless ideal heroine ; and the character which
Euripides gives her makes an admirable foil to that of
Admetus. Where he is passionate and romantic, she
xii
INTRODUCTION
is simple and homely. While he is still refusing to
admit the facts and beseeching her not to "desert'* him,
she in a gentle but businesslike way makes him
promise to take care of the children and, above all
things, not to marry again. She could not possibly
trust Admetus's choice. She is sure that the step-
mother would be unkind to the children. She might
be a horror and beat them (1. 307 ). And when Admetus
has made a thrilling answer about eternal sorrow, and
the silencing of lyre and lute, and the statue who
shall be his only bride, Alcestis earnestly calls the
attention of witnesses to the fact that he has sworn
not to marry again. She is not an artist like Admetus,
There is poetry in her, because poetry comes un-
consciously out of deep feeling, but there is no
artistic eloquence. Her love, too, is quite different
from his. To him, his love for his wife and
children is a beautiful thing, a subject to speak
and sing about as well as an emotion to feel.
But her love is hardly conscious. She does not talk
about it at all. She is merely wrapped up in the
welfare of certain people, first her husband and then
the children. To a modern romantic reader her
insistence that her husband shall not marry again
seems hardly delicate. But she does not think about
romance or delicacy. To her any neglect to ensure
due protection for the children would be as unnatural
as to refuse to die for her husband. Indeed, Professor
J. L. Myres has suggested that care for the children's
future is the guiding motive of her whole conduct.
There was first the danger of their being left fatherless,
a dire calamity in the heroic age. She could meet that
danger by dying herself. Then followed the danger
xiii
INTRODUCTION
of a stepmother. She meets that by making Admetus
swear never to marry. In the long run, I fancy, the
effect of gracious loveliness which Alcestis certainly
makes is not so much due to any words of her
own as to what the Handmaid and the Serving Man
say about her. In the final scene she is silent ;
necessarily and rightly silent, for all tradition knows
that those new-risen from the dead must not speak.
It will need a long rite de passage before she can
freely commune with this world again. It is a strange
and daring scene between the three of them ; the
humbled and broken-hearted husband ; the triumphant
Heracles, kindly and wise, yet still touched by the
mocking and blustrous atmosphere from which he
sprang ; and the silent woman who has seen the
other side of the grave. It was always her way to
know things but not to speak of them.
The other characters fall easily into their niches.
We have only to remember the old Satyric tradition
and to look at them in the light of their historical
development. Heracles indeed, half-way on his road
from the roaring reveller of the Satyr-play to the
suffering and erring deliverer of tragedy, is a little
foreign to our notions, but quite intelligible and
strangely attractive. The same historical method
seems to me to solve most of the difficulties which
have been felt about Admetus's hospitality. ^ Heracles
arrives at the castle just at the moment when Alcestis
is lying dead in her room ; Admetus conceals the
death from him and insists on his coming in and
enjoying himself. What are we to think of this
behaviour ? Is it magnificent hospitality, or is it gross
want of tact ? The answer, I think, is indicated above.
xiv
INTRODUCTION
In the uncritical and boisterous atmosphere of the
Satyr-play it was natural hospitality, not especially
laudable or surprising. From the analogy of similar
stories I suspect that Admetus originally did not know
his guest, and received not so much the reward of
exceptional virtue as the blessing naturally due to
those who entertain angels unawares. If we insist on
asking whether Euripides himself, in real life or in a
play of his own free invention, would have considered
Admetus's conduct to Heracles entirely praiseworthy,
the answer will certainly be No, but it will have
little bearing on the play. In the Alcestis^ as it
stands, the famous act of hospitality is a datum of the
story. Its claims are admitted on the strength of
the tradition. It was the act for which Admetus
was specially and marvellously rewarded ; therefore,
obviously, it was an act of exceptional merit and piety.
Yet the admission is made with a smile, and more
than one suggestion is allowed to float across the
scene that in real life such conduct would be hardly
wise.
Heracles, who rose to tragic rank from a very
homely cycle of myth, was apt to bring other homely
characters with him. He was a great killer not only
of malefactors but of " keres " or bogeys, such as
« Old Age" and "Ague " and the sort of " Death "
that we find in this play. Thanatos is not a god, not
at all a King of Terrors. One may compare him
with the dancing skeleton who is called Death in
mediaeval writings. When such a figure appears on
the tragic stage one asks at once what relation he
bears to Hades, the great Olympian king of the
unseen. The answer is obvious. Thanatos is the
XV
INTRODUCTION
servant of Hades, a "priest" or sacrificer, who is sent
to fetch the appointed victims.
The other characters speak for themselves. Cer-
tainly Pheres can be trusted to do so, though w^e must
remember that we see him at an unfortunate moment.
The aged monarch is not at his best, except perhaps
in mere fighting power. I doubt if he was really as
cynical as he here professes to be.
In the above criticisms I feel that I may have done
what critics are so apt to do. I have dwelt on
questions of intellectual interest and perhaps thereby
diverted attention from that quality In the play which
is the most important as well as by far the hardest to
convey ; I mean the sheer beauty and delightful-
ness of the writing. It is the earliest dated play of
Euripides which has come down to us. True, he was
over forty when he produced it, but it is noticeably
different from the works of his old age. The numbers
are smoother, the thought less deeply scarred, the
language more charming and less passionate. If it be
true that poetry is bred out of joy and sorrow, one feels
as if more enjoyment and less suffering had gone to
the making of the Alcestis than to that of the later
plays.
XVI
ALCESTIS
B
CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY
Admetus, King of Pherae in Thessaly.
Alcestis, daughter of PeliaSy his wife,
Pheres, his fat her i formerly King but now in retirement.
Two Children, his son and daughter.
A Manservant in his house.
A Handmaid.
The Hero Heracles.
The God Apollo.
Thanatos or Death.
Chorus, consisting of Elders of Pherae.
*' The play was first per] ormed when Glauktnos was Archon^ in
the 2nd year of the 85M Olympiad {d^'i^Z B.C.). Sopliocles was firsts
Euripides second with the Cretan Women, Alcmaeon in Psophis,
TeUphus and Alcestis, % % . The play is somewhat Satyr ic in
characisr,^^
w. 1-17
ALCESTIS
The scene represents the ancient Castle of Admetus near
Pherae In Thessaly. It is the dusk before dawn ;
Apollo, radiant in the darkness^ looks at the Castle,
Apollo.
Admetus' House ! 'Twas here I bowed my head
Of old, and chafed not at the bondman's bread,
Though born in heaven. Aye, Zeus to death had
hurled
My son, Asclepios, Healer of the World,
Piercing with fire his heart ; and in mine ire
I slew his Cyclop churls, who forged the fire.
Whereat Zeus cast me forth to bear the yoke
Of service to a mortal. To this folk
I came, and watched a stranger's herd for pay,
And all his house I have prospered to this day.
For innocent was the Lord I chanced upon
And clean as mine own heart. King Pheres' son,
Admetus. Him I rescued from the grave,
Beguiling the Grey Sisters till they gave
A great oath that Admetus should go free,
Would he but pay to Them Below in fee
Another living soul. Long did he prove
All that were his, and all that owed him love.
But never a soul he found would yield up life
3
EURIPIDES vv. 18-38
And leave the sunlight for him, save his wife :
Who, even now, down the long galleries
Is borne, death-wounded ; for this day it is
She needs must pass out of the light and die.
And, seeing the stain of death must not come nigh
My radiance, I must leave this house I love.
But ha ! The Headsman of the Pit, above
Earth's floor, to ravish her ! Aye, long and late
He hath watched, and cometh at the fall of fate.
Enter from the other side Thanatos ; a crouching
black-haired and winged figure^ carrying a drawn
sword. He starts in revulsion on seeing Apollo,
Thanatos.
Aha 1
Why here ? What mak'st thou at the gate,
Thou Thing of Light ? Wilt overtread
The eternal judgment, and abate
And spoil the portions of the dead ?
'Tis not enough for thee to have blocked
In other days Admetus' doom
With craft of magic wine, which mocked
The three grey Sisters of the Tomb ;
But now once more
I see thee stand at watch, and shake
That arrow-armed hand to make
This woman thine, who swore, who swore,
To die now for her husband's sake.
Apollo.
Fear not.
I bring fair words and seek but what is just.
4
vv. 39—40 ALC-ILo 1 lo
Thanatos {sneering).
And if words help thee not, an arrow must?
Apollo.
'Tis ever my delight to bear this bow.
Thanatos.
And aid this house unjustly ? Aye, 'tis so.
Apollo.
I love this man, and grieve for his dismay.
Thanatos.
And now wilt rob me of my second prey !
Apollo.
I never robbed thee, neither then nor now.
Thanatos.
Why is Admetus here then, not below ?
Apollo.
He gave for ransom his own wife, for whom . . .
Thanatos (interrupting).
I am come ; and straight will bear her to the tomb.
Apollo.
Gro, take her. — I can never move thine heart.
Thanatos (mocking).
To slay the doomed ? — Nay ; I will do my part.
5
EURIPIDES vv. 50-59
Apollo.
No. To keep death for them that linger late.
Thanatos (;//// mocking),
'Twould please thee, so ? ... I owe thee homage
great.
Apollo.
Ah, then she may vet . . . she may yet grow old ?
Thanatos {with a laugh).
No ! . . . I too have my rights, and them I hold.
Apollo.
'Tis but one life thou gainest either-wise.
Thanatos,
When young souls die, the richer is my prize.
Apollo.
Old, with great riches they will bury her.
Thanatos.
Fie on thee, fie ! Thou rich-man's lawgiver !
Apollo.
How ? Is there wit in Death, who seemed so blind ?
Thanatos.
The rich would buy long life for all their kind.
6
vv. 60-76 ALCESTIS
Apollo.
Thou wilt not grant me, then, this boon ? 'Tis so ?
Thanatos.
Thou knowest me, what I am : I tell thee, no !
Apollo.
I know gods sicken at thee and men pine.
Thanatos.
Begone ! Too many things not meant for thine
Thy greed hath conquered ; but not all, not all !
Apollo.
I swear, for all thy bitter pride, a fall
Awaits thee. One even now comes conquering
Towards this house, sent by a southland king
To fetch him four wild coursers, of the race
Which rend men's bodies in the winds of Thrace,
This house shall give him welcome good, and he
Shall wrest this woman from thy worms and thee
So thou shalt give me all, and thereby win
But hatred, not the grace that might have been.
[Exit Apollo.
Thanatos.
Talk on, talk on ! Thy threats shall win no bride
From me. — This woman, whatsoe'er betide.
Shall lie in Hades' house. Even at the word
I go to lay upon her hair my sword.
For all whose head this grey sword visiteth
To death are hallowed and the Lords of death.
7
EURIPIDES w. 77-94
[Thanatos goes into the house. Presently^ as
the day grows light er^ the Chorus enters :
it consists of Citizens of Pherae^ who speak
severally.
Chorus,
Leader.
Quiet, quiet, above, beneath !
Second Elder.
The house of Admetus holds its breath.
Third Elder.
And never a King's friend near.
To tell us either of tears to shed
For Pelias' daughter, crowned and dead ;
-Or joy, that her eyes are clear.
Bravest, truest of wives is she
That I have seen or the world shall see.
Divers Citizens, conversing,
(The dash — indicates a new speaker.)
— Hear ye no sob, or noise of hands
Beating the breast ? No mourners' cries
For one they cannot save ?
— Nothing : and at the door there stands
No handmaid. — Help, O Paian ; rise,
O star beyond the wave !
— Dead, and this quiet ? No, it cannot be,
— Dead, dead ! — Not gone to burial secretly !
8
vv. 95-123
ALCESTIS
— Why ? I still fear : what makes your speech so
brave ?
— Admetus cast that dear wife to the grave
Alone, with none to see ?
— I see no bowl of clear spring water.
It ever stands before the dread
Door where a dead man rests.
— No lock of shorn hair 1 Every daughter
Of woman shears it for the dead.
No sound of bruised breasts !
-^- Yet 'tis this very day . . . — This very day ?
— The Queen should pass and lie beneath the clay.
— It hurts my life, my heart ! — All honest hearts
Must sorrow for a brightness that departs,
A good life worn away.
Leader.
To wander o'er leagues of land,
To search over wastes of sea,
Where the Prophets of Lycia stand,
Or where Ammon's daughters three
Make runes in the rainless sand.
For magic to make her free —
Ah, vain ! for the end is here ;
Sudden it comes and sheer.
What lamb on the altar-strand
Stricken shall comfort me ?
Second Elder.
Only, only one, I know :
Apollo's son was he, *
q
EURIPIDES vv. 124-143
Who healed men long ago.
Were he but on earth to see,
She would rise from the dark below
And the gates of eternity.
For men whom the Gods had slain
He pitied and raised again ;
Till God's fire laid him low,
And now, what help have we ?
Others.
All's done that can be. Every vow
Full paid ; and every altar's brow
Full crowned with spice of sacrifice.
No help remains nor respite now.
Enter from the Castle a Handmaid, almost in tears.
Leader.
But see, a handmaid cometh, and the tear
Wet on her cheek ! What tiding shall we hear ? . . .
Thy grief is natural, daughter, if some ill
Hath fallen to-day. Say, is she living still
Or dead, your mistress ? Speak, if speak you may.
Maid.
Alive. No, dead. , . , Oh, read it either way.
Leader.
Nay, daughter, can the same soul live and die ?
Maid.
Her life is broken ; death is in her eye.
10
vv. I44-IS8 ALCESTIS
Leader.
Poor King, to think what she was, and what thou !
Maid.
He never knew her worth. ... He will know it now.
Leader.
There is no hope, methinks, to save her still ?
Maid.
The hour is come, and breaks all human will.
Leader.
She hath such tendance as the dying crave ?
Maid.
For sure : and rich robes ready for her grave.
Leader.
'Fore God, she dies high-hearted, aye, and for
In honour raised above all wives that are !
Maid.
Far above all ! How other ? What must she,
Who seeketh to surpass this woman, be ?
Or how could any wife more shining make
Her lord's love, than by dying for his sake ?
But thus much ail the city knows. 'Tis here,
In her own rooms, the tale will touch thine ear
With strangeness. When she knew the day was
come,
II
EURIPIDES w. 159-187
She rose and washed her body, white as foam,
With running water ; then the cedarn press
She opened, and took forth her funeral dress
And rich adornment. So she stood arrayed
Before the Hearth-Fire of her home, and prayed :
" Mother, since I must vanish from the day,
This last, last time I kneel to thee and pray ;
Be mother to my two children ! Find some dear
Helpmate for him, some gentle lord for her.
And let not them, like me, before their hour
Die ; let them live in happiness, in our
Old home, till life be full and age content."
To every household altar then she went
And made for each his garland of the green
Boughs of the wind-blown myrtle, and was seen
Praying, without a sob, without a tear.
She knew the dread thing coming, but her clear
Cheek never changed : till suddenly she fled
Back to her own chamber and bridal bed :
Then came the tears and she spoke all her
thought.
" O bed, whereon my laughing girlhood's knot
Was severed by this man, for whom I die,
Farewell ! 'Tis thou ... I speak not bitterly. , ,
'Tis thou hast slain me. All alone I go
Lest I be false to him or thee. And lo,
Some woman shall lie here instead of me —
Happier perhaps ; more true she cannot be."
She kissed the pillow as she knelt, and wet
With flooding tears was that fair coverlet.
At last she had had her fill of weeping ; then
She tore herself away, and rose again.
Walking with downcast eyes ; yet turned before
12
w. I88-2I2 ALCESTIS
She had left the room, and cast her down once
more
Kneeling beside the bed. Then to her side
The children came, and clung to her and cried,
And her arms hugged them, and a long good-bye
She gave to each, like one who goes to die.
The whole house then was weeping, every slave
In sorrow for his mistress. And she gave
Her hand to all ; aye, none so base was there
She gave him not good words and he to her.
So on Admetus falls from either side
Sorrow. 'Twere bitter grief to him to have died
Himself ; and being escaped, how sore a woe
He hath earned instead — Ah, some day he shall
know !
Leader.
Surely Admetus suffers, even to-day.
For this true-hearted love he hath cast away ?
Maid.
He weeps ; begs her not leave him desolate,
And holds her to his heart — too late, too late !
She is sinking now, and there, beneath his eye
Fading, the poor cold hand falls languidly.
And faint is all her breath. Yet still she fain
Would look once on the sunlight — once again
And never more. I will go in and tell
Thy presence. Few there be, will serve so well
My master and stand by him to the end.
But thou hast been from olden days our friend.
\_'The Maid goes in,
13
EURIPIDES vv. 213-225
Chorus.
Third Elder.
O Zeus,
What escape and where
From the evil thing ?
How break the snare
That is round our King ?
Second Elder.
Ah list !
One Cometh ? . . . No.
Let us no more wait. ;
Make dark our raiment
And shear this hair.
Leader.
Aye, friends !
'Tis so, even so.
Yet the gods are great
And may send allayment.
To prayer, to prayer !
All [praying],
O Paian wise !
Some healing of this home devise, devise !
Find, find. . . . Oh, long ago when we were blind
Thine eyes saw mere . , . find some healing
breath !
Again, O Paian, break the chains that bind ;
Stay the red hand of Death !
14
w. 226-237 ALCESTIS
Leader.
Alas!
What shame, what dread,
Thou Pheres' son,
Shalt be harvested
When thy wife is gone !
Second Elder.
Ah me ;
For a deed less drear
Than this thou ruest
Men have died for sorrow ;
Aye, hearts have bled.
Third Elder.
'Tis she ;
Not as men say dear,
But the dearest, truest.
Shall lie ere morrow
Before thee dead !
All.
But lo ! Once more !
She and her husband moving to the door !
Cry, cry ! And thou, O land of Pherae, hearken !
The bravest of women sinketh, perisheth.
Under the green earth, down where the shadows
darken,
Down to the House of Death !
[During the last words AdxMETUS and Alcestis
have entered. Alcestis is supported by her
Handmaids and followed by her two children,
15
EURIPIDES vv. 238-257
Leader.
And who hath said that Love shall bring
More joy to man than fear and strife ?
I knew his perils from of old,
I know them now, when I behold
The bitter faring of my King,
Whose love is taken, and his life
Left evermore an empty thing.
Alcestis.
O Sun, O light of the day that falls !
O running cloud that races along the sky !
Admetus.
They look on thee and me, a stricken twain,
Who have wrought no sin that God should have
thee slain.
Alcestis.
Dear Earth, and House of sheltering walls,
And wedded homes of the land where my fathers lie !
Admetus.
Fail not, my hapless one. Be strong, and pray
The o'er-mastering Gods to hate us not alway.
Alcestis {faintly^ her mind wandering).
A boat two-oared, upon water ; I see, I see.
And the Ferryman of the Dead,
His hand that hangs on the pole, his voice that cries ;
** Thou lingerest 5 come. Come quickly, we wait for
thee."
He is angry that I am slow ; he shakes his head,
16
vv. 358-276 ALCESTIS
Admetus.
Alas, a bitter boat-faring for me,
My bride ill-starred. — Oh, this is misery !
Alcestis {as before).
Drawing, drawing ! *Tis some one that draweth
me . . ,
To the Palaces of the Dead.
So dark. The wings, the eyebrows and ah, the
eyes ! . . .
Go back ! God's mercy ! What seekest thou ? Let
me be ! . . .
[Recovering) Where am I ? Ah, and what paths are
these I tread ?
Admetus.
Grievous for all who love thee, but for me
And my two babes most hard, most solitary,
Alcestis.
Hold me not ; let me lie. —
I am too weak to stand ; and Death is near,
And a slow darkness stealing on my sight.
My little ones, good-bye.
Soon, soon, and mother will be no more here. . . .
Good-bye, tvv^o happy children in the light.
Admetus.
Oh, word of pain, oh, sharper ache
Than any death of mine had brought !
For the Gods' sake, desert me not.
For thine own desolate children's sake.
17 c
EURIPIDES vv. 277-305
Nay, up ! Be brave. For if they rend
Thee from me, I can draw no breath ;
In thy hand are my life and death,
Thine, my beloved and my friend !
Alcestis.
Admetus, seeing what way my fortunes lie,
I fain would speak with thee before I die.
I have set thee before all things ; yea, mine own
Life beside thine was naught. For this alone
I die. . . . Dear Lord, I never need have died.
I might have lived to wed some prince of pride.
Dwell in a king's house. . . . Nay, how could I, torn
From thee, live on, I and my babes forlorn ?
I have given to thee my youth — not more nor less.
But all — though I was full of happiness.
Thy father and mother both — 'tis strange to tell —
Had failed thee, though for them the deed was well.
The years were ripe, to die and save their son,
The one child of the house : for hope was none,
If thou shouldst pass away, of other heirs.
So thou and I had lived through the long years,
Both. Thou hadst not lain sobbing here alone
For a dead wife and orphan babes. , . . 'Tis done
Now, and some God hath wrought out all his will.
Howbeit I now will ask thee to fulfill
One great return-gift — not so great withal
As I have given, for life is more than all ;
But just and due, as thine own heart will tell*
For thou hast loved our little ones as well
As I have. . , . Keep them to be masters here
In my old house ; and bring no stepmother
Upon them. She might hate them. She might be
18
vv. 306—333 ALfCESilo
Some baser woman, not a queen like me,
And strike them with her hand. For mercy, spare
Our little ones that wrong. It is my prayer. . . .
They come into a house : they are all strife
And hate to any child of the dead wife. . . .
Better a serpent than a stepmother !
A boy is safe. He has his father there
To guard him. But a little girl! {Taking the
Little Girl to her) What good
And gentle care will guide thy maidenhood ?
What woman wilt thou find at father's side ?
One evil word from her, just when the tide
Of youth is full, would wreck thy hope of love.
And no more mother near, to stand above
Thy marriage-ced, nor comfort thee pain-tossed
In travail, when one needs a mother most !
Seeing I must die. . . . 'Tis here, across my way,
Not for the morrow, not for the third day.
But now — Death, and to lie with things that were.
Farewell. God keep you happy. — Husband dear,
Remember that I failed thee not ; and you.
My children, that your mother loved you true.
Leader.
Take comfort. Ere thy lord can speak, I swear,
If truth is in him, he will grant thy prayer.
Admetus.
He will, he will ! Oh, never fear for me.
Mine hast thou been, and mine shalt ever be,
Living and dead, thou only. None in wide
Hellas but thou shalt be Admetus' bride.
No race so high, no face so magic-sweet
19
EURIPIDES vv. 334-361
Shall ever from this purpose turn my feet.
And children ... if God grant mc joy of these,
'Tis all I ask ; of thee no joy nor ease
He gave me. And thy mourning I w^ill bear
Not one year of my life but every year,
While life shall last. . , . My mother I will know
No more. My father shall be held my foe.
They brought the words of love but not the deed,
While thou hast given thine all, and in my need
Saved me. What can I do but weep alone,
Alone alway, when such a wife is gone ? . . .
An end shall be of revel, and an end
Of crowns and song and mirth of friend with friend.
Wherewith my house was glad. I ne'er again
Will touch the lute nor ease my heart from pain
With pipes of Afric, All the joys I knew,
And joys were many, thou hast broken in two.
Oh, I will find some artist wondrous wise
Shall mould for me thy shape, thine hair, thine eyes.
And lay it in thy bed ; and I will lie
Close, and reach out mine arms to thee, and cry
Thy name into the night, and wait and hear
My own heart breathe : " Thy love, thy love is
near."
A cold delight ; yet it might ease the sum
Of sorrow. . . . And good dreams of thee will come
Like balm. 'Tis sweet, even in a dream, to gaze
On a dear face, the moment that it stays.
O God, if Orpheus* voice were mine, to sing
To Death's high Virgin and the Virgin's King,
Till their hearts failed them, down would I my path
Cleave, and naught stay me, not the Hound of Wrath^
Not the grey oarsman of the ghostly tide,
20
w. 362-378 ALCESTIS
Till back to sunlight I had borne my bride.
But now, wife, wait for me till I shall come
Where thou art, and prepare our second home.
These ministers in that same cedar sweet
Where thou art laid will lay me, feet to feet,
And head to head, oh, not in death from thee
Divided, who alone art true to me !
Leader.
This life-long sorrow thou hast sworn, I too,
Thy friend, will bear with thee. It is her due.
Alcestis.
Children, ye heard his promise ? He will wed
No other woman nor forget the dead.
Admetus.
Again I promise. So it shall be done.
Alcestis {giving the children into his arms one
after the other).
On that oath take my daughter : and my son.
Admetus.
Dear hand that gives, I accept both gift and vow.
Alcestis.
Thou, in my place, must be their mother now.
Admetus.
Else were they motherless — I needs must try.
91
EURIPIDES vv. 379 -388
Alcestis.
My babes, I ought to live, and lo, I die.
Admetus.
And how can I, forlorn of thee, live on ?
Alcestis.
Time healeth ; and the dead are dead and gone.
Admetus.
Oh, take me with thee to the dark below,
Me also !
Alcestis.
'Tis enough that one should go.
Admetus.
0 Fate, to have cheated me of one so true !
Alcestis [her strength failing).
There comes a darkness : a great burden, too.
Admetus.
1 am lost if thou wilt leave me. . . . Wife ! Mine
own !
Alcestis.
I am not thy wife ; I am nothing. All is gone.
Admetus.
Thy babes ! Thou wilt not leave them. — Raise
thine eye.
22
vv. 389-399
ALCESTIS
Alcestis.
I am sorry . . . But good-bye, children ; good-bye-
Admetus.
Look at them ! Wake and look at them !
Alcestis.
Admetus.
I must go.
What ? Dying
Alcestis.
Farewell, husband !
[She dies.
Admetus {with a cry).
Ah ! . . . Woe, woe !
Leader,
Admetus' Queen is dead !
\TVhlle Admetus is weeping silently^ and the
Chorus veil their faces^ the Little Boy
runs up to his dead Mother,
Little Boy.
Oh, what has happened ? Mummy has gone away,
And left me and will not come back any more !
Father, I shall be lonely all the day. . . .
Look ! Look ! Her eyes , , . and her arms not
like before.
How they lie , . ,
EURIPIDES vv. 400-423
Mother ! Oh, speak a word !
Answer me, answer me, Mother ! It is I.
I am touching your face. It is I, your little bird.
Admetus [recovering himself and going to the Child).
She hears us not, she sees us not. We lie
Under a heavy grief, child, thou and I.
Little Boy.
I am so little, Father, and lonely and cold
Here without Mother. It is too hard. . , . And
you.
Poor little sister, too.
Oh, Father !
Such a little time we had her. She might have stayed
On till we all were old. . .
Everything is spoiled when Mother is dead.
[ The Little Boy is taken away^ with his Sister^
sobbing.
Leader.
My King, thou needs must gird thee to the worst.
Thou shalt not be the last, nor yet the first,
To lose a noble wife. Be brave, and know
To die is but a debt that all men owe.
%
Admetus.
I know. It came not without doubts and fears.
This thing. The thought hath poisoned all my
years.
Howbeit, I now will make the burial due
To this dead Queen. Be assembled, all of you ;
24
vv. 424—454 AL*01l(STIS
And, after, raise your triumph-song to greet
This pitiless Power that yawns beneath our feet.
Meantime let all in Thessaly who dread
My sceptre join in mourning for the dead
With temples sorrow-shorn and sable weed.
Ye chariot-lords, ye spurrers of the steed,
Shear close your horses' manes ! Let there be found
Through all my realm no lute, nor lyre, nor sound
Of piping, till twelve moons are at an end.
For never shall I lose a closer friend.
Nor braver in my need. And worthy is she
Of honour, who alone hath died for me.
[77?^ body ^ Alcestis is carried into the house by
mourners; Admetus follows it.
Chorus.
Daughter of Pelias, fare thee well.
May joy be thine in the Sunless Houses !
For thine is a deed which the Dead shall tell
Where a King black-browed in the gloom carouses;
And the cold grey hand at the helm and oar
Which guideth shadows from shore to shore.
Shall bear this day o'er the Tears that Well,
A Queen of women, a spouse of spouses.
Minstrels many shall praise thy name
With lyre full-strung and with voices lyreless,
When Mid-Moon riseth, aji orbed flame,
And from dusk to dawning the dance is tireless ;
And Carnos cometh to Sparta's call,
And Athens shineth in festival ;
For thy death is a song, and a fullness of fame.
Till the heart of the singer is left desireless.
25
EURIPIDES vv. 455-470
Leader.
Would I could reach thee, oh,
Reach thee and save, my daughter,
Starward from gulfs of Hell,
Past gates, past tears that swell.
Where the weak oar climbs thro'
The night and the water !
Second Elder.
Beloved and lonely one,
Who feared not dying :
Gone in another's stead
Alone to the hungry dead :
Light be the carven stone
Above thee lying !
Third Elder.
Oh, he who should seek again
A new bride after thee,
Were loathed of thy children twain.
And loathed of me.
Leader.
Word to his mother sped,
Praying to her who bore him ;
Word to his father, old.
Heavy with years and cold ;
" Quick, ere your son be dead !
What dare ye for him ? "
Second Elder.
Old, and they dared not ; grey,
And they helped him never !
26
w. 471-483 ALCESTIS
'Twas she, in her youth and pride,
Rose up for her lord and died.
Oh, love of two hearts that stay
One-knit for ever. . . .
Third Elder.
'Tis rare in the world ! God send
Such bride in my house to be ;
She should live life to the end,
Not fail through me.
[yfs the song ceases there enters a stranger^ walking
strongly^ but travel-stained^ dusty^ and tired.
His lion-skin and club show him to be
Heracles.
Heracles.
Ho, countrymen ! To Pherae am I come
By now ? And is Admetus in his home ?
Leader.
Our King is in his house. Lord Heracles. —
But say, what need brings thee in days like these
To Thessaly and Pherae's walled ring ?
Heracles.
A quest I follow for the Argive King.
Leader.
What prize doth call thee, and to what far place ?
Heracles.
The horses of one Diomede, in Thrace.
27
EURIPIDES vv. 484-494
Leader.
But how. . . . ? Thou know'st not ? Is he strange
to thee ?
Heracles.
Quite strange. I ne'er set foot in Bistony.
Leader.
Not without battle shalt thou win those steeds.
Heracles.
So be it ! I cannot fail my master's needs.
Leader.
'Tis slay or die, win or return no more.
Heracles.
Well, I have looked on peril's face before.
Leader.
What profit hast thou in such manslaying ?
Heracles.
I shall bring back the horses to my King.
Leader.
'Twere none such easy work to bridle them.
Heracles.
Not easy ? Have they nostrils breathing flame ?
Leader,
They tear men's flesh 5 their jaws are swift with blood,
28
w.495~5^^ ALCESTIS
Heracles.
Men's flesh ! 'Tis mountain wolves', not horses' food !
Leader.
Thou wilt see their mangers clogged with blood, like
mire.
Heracles.
And he who feeds such beasts, who was his sire ?
Leader.
Arcs, the war-lord of the Golden Targe.
Heracles.
Enough ! — This labour fitteth well my large
Fortune, still upward, still against the wind.
How often with these kings of Ares' kind
Must I do battle ? First the dark wolf-man,
Lycaon ; then 'twas he men called The Swan ;
And now this man of steeds ! . . . Well, none shall
see
Alcmena's son turn from his enemy.
Leader.
Lo, as we speak, this land's high governor,
Admetus, cometh from his castle door.
Enter Admetus from the Castle.
Admetus.
Zeus-born of Perseid line, all joy to thee !
Heracles.
Joy to Admetus, Lord of Thessaly !
29
EURIPIDES W.S11-519
Admetu3.
Right welcome were she ! — But thy love I know,
Heracle3.
But why this mourning hair, this garb of woe?
Admetus [in a comparatively light tone).
There is a burial I must make to-day.
Heracles.
God keep all evil from thy children !
Admetus.
My children live.
Heracles.
Nay,
Thy father, if
'tis he.
Is ripe in years.
Admetus.
He liveth, friend,
and she
Who bore me.
Alcestis ?
Heracles.
Surely not thy wife ? 'Tis not
Admetus [his composure a little shaken).
Ah ; two answers share my thought,
Questioned of her.
30
vv. 520-528 ALCESTIS
Heracles.
Is she alive or dead ?
Admetus.
She is, and is not ; and my heart hath bled
Long years for her.
Heracles.
I understand no more.
Thy words are riddles.
Admetus.
Heard'st thou not of yore
The doom that she must meet ?
Heracles.
I know thy wife
Has sworn to die for thee.
Admetus.
And is it life.
To live with sucn an oath hung o'er her head ?
Heracles [relieved).
Ah,
Weep not too soon, friend. Wait till she be dead.
Admetus.
He dies who is doomed to die ; he is dead who dies,
Heracles.
The two are different things in most men's eyes.
31
EURIPIDES vv. 520-536
Admetus.
Decide thy way, lord, and let me decide
The other way,
Heracles.
Who is it that has died ?
Thou weepest.
Admetus.
'Tis a woman. It doth take
My memory back to her of whom we spake.
Heracles.
A stranger, or of kin to thee ?
Admetus.
Not kin.
But much beloved.
Heracles.
How came she to be in
Thy house to die ?
Admetus.
Her father died, and so
She came to us, an orphan, long ago.
Heracles (as though about to depart),
'Tis sad.
I would I had found thee on a happier day.
32
w. 537"'544 ALCESTIS
Admetus.
Thy words have some intent : what wouldst thou
say ?
Heracles.
I must find harbour with some other friend.
Admetus.
My prince, it may not be I God never send
Such evil !
Heracles.
'Tis great turmoil, when a guest
Comes to a mourning house.
Admetus.
Come in and rest.
Let the dead die !
Heracles.
I cannot, for mere shame,
Feast beside men whose eyes have tears in them.
Admetus.
The guest-rooms are apart where thou shalt be.
Heracles.
Friend, let me go. I shall go gratefully.
33 I
EURIPIDES vv. 5^5-565
Admetus.
Thou shalt not enter any door but mine.
{To an Attendant) Lead in our guest. Unlock the
furthest line
Of guest-chambers ; and bid the stewards there
Make ready a full feast ; then close with care
The midway doors. 'Tis unmeet, if he hears
Our turmoil or is burdened with our tears.
[The Attendant leads Heracles into the house.
Leader.
How, master ? When within a thing so sad
Lies, thou wilt house a stranger ? Art thou mad ?
Admetus.
And had I turned the stranger from my door,
Who sought my shelter, hadst thou praised me more .?
I trow not, if my sorrow were thereby
No whit less, only the more friendless I.
And more, when bards tell tales, were it not worse
My house should lie beneath the stranger's curse ?
Now he is my sure friend, if e'er I stand
Lonely in Argos, in a thirsty land.
Leader.
Thou callest him thy friend ; how didst thou dare
Keep hid from him the burden of thy care ?
Admetus.
He never would have entered, had he known
My grief. — Aye, men may mock what I have done,
34
vv. 566-594 ALCESTIS
And call me tool. My house hath never learned
To fail its friend, nor seen the stranger spurned.
[Admetus goes into the house.
Chorus.
Oh, a House that loves the stranger,
And a House for ever free !
And Apollo, the Song-changer,
Was a herdsman in thy fee ;
Yea, a-piping he was found,
Where the upward valleys wound,
To the kine from out the manger
And the sheep from off the lea.
And love was upon Othrys at the sound.
And from deep glens unbeholden
Of the forest to his song
There came lynxes streaky-golden,
There came lions in a throng.
Tawny-coated, ruddy-eyed.
To that piper in his pride ;
And shy fawns he would embolden.
Dappled dancers, out along
The shadow by the pine-tree's side.
And those magic pipes a-blowing
Have fulfilled thee in thy reign
By thy Lake with honey flowing.
By thy sheepfolds and thy grain ;
Where the Sun turns his steeds
To the twilight, all the meads
Of Molossus know thy sowing
And thy ploughs upon the plain.
35
EURIPIDES vv. 595-^13
Yea, and eastward thou art free
To the portals of the sea,
And Pelion, the unharboured, is but minister to thee.
He hath opened wide his dwelling
To the stranger, though his ruth
For the dead was fresh and welling,
For the loved one of his youth.
'Tis the brave heart's cry :
"I will fail not, though I die ! "
Doth it win, with no man's telling,
Some high vision of the truth ?
We may marvel. Yet I trust.
When man seeketh to be just
And to pity them that wander, God will raise him from
the dust.
[Js the song ceases the doors are thrown open ana
Admetus comes before them : a great funeral
procession is seen moving out,
Admetus.
Most gentle citizens, our dead is here
Made ready ; and these youths to bear the bier
Uplifted to the grave-mound and the urn.
Now, seeing she goes forth never to return.
Bid her your last farewell, as mourners may.
[ The procession moves forward past him.
Leader.
Nay, lord ; thy father, walking old and grey ;
And followers bearing burial gifts and brave
Gauds, which men call the comfort of the grave.
36
W.614--636 ALCESTIS
Enter Pheres with followers bearing robes and gifts,
Pheres.
I come in sorrow for thy sorrow, son.
A faithful wife indeed thou hast lost, ani one
Who ruled her heart. But, howso hard they be,
We needs must bear these griefs. — Some gifts for thee
Are here. . . . Yes ; take them. Let them go be-
neath
The sod. We both must honour her in death,
Seeing she hath died, my son, that thou mayst live
Nor I be childless. Aye, she would not give
My soul to a sad old age, mourning for thee.
Methinks she hath made all women's life to be
A nobler thing, by one great woman's deed.
Thou saviour of my son, thou staff in need
To our wrecked age, farewell ! May some good life
Be thine still in the grave. — Oh, 'tis a wife
Like this man needs ; else let him stay unwed !
\_T-he old man has not noticed Admetus's
gathering indignation.
Admetus.
1 called not thee to burial of my dead.
Nor count thy presence here a welcome thing.
My wife shall wear no robe that thou canst bring.
Nor needs thy help in aught. There was a day
We craved thy love, when I was on my way
Deathward — thy love, which bade thee stand aside
And watch, grey-bearded, while a young man died !
And now wilt mourn for her ? Thy fatherhood !
Thou wast no true begetter of my blood,
37
EURIPIDES -'v. 637-669
Nor she my mother who dares call me child.
Oh, she was barren ever ; she beguileH
Thy folly with some bastard of a thrall.
Here is thy proof ! This hour hath shown me all
Thou art ; and now I am no more thy son.
'Fore God, among all cowards can scarce be one
Like thee. So grey, so near the boundary
Of mortal life, thou wouldst not, durst not, die
To save thy son ! Thou hast suffered her to do
Thine office, her, no kin to me nor you.
Yet more than kin ! Henceforth she hath all the part
Of mother, yea, and father in my heart.
And what a glory had been thine that day,
Dying to save thy son — when, either way.
Thy time must needs be brief. Thy life has had
Abundance of the things that make men glad ;
A crown that came to thee in youth ; a son
To do thee worship and maintain thy throne —
Not like a childless king, whose folk and lands
Lie helpless, to be torn by strangers' hands.
Wilt say I failed in duty to thine age ;
For that thou hast let me die ? Not so ; most sage,
M0St pious I was, to mother and to thee ;
And thus ye have paid me ! Well, I counsel ye.
Lose no more time. Get quick another son
To foster thy last years, to lay thee on
Thy bier, when dead, and wrap thee in thy pall.
/ will not bury thee. I am, for all
The care thou hast shown me, dead. If I have found
Another, true to save me at the bound
Of life and death, that other's child am I,
That other's fostering friend, until I die.
How falsely do these old men orav for death,
38
vv. 670-695 ALCESTIS
Cursing their weight of years, their weary breath !
When Death comes close, there is not one that dares
To die ; age is forgot and all its cares.
Leader.
Oh, peace ! Enough of sorrow in our path
Is strewn. Thou son, stir not thy father's wrath.
Pheres.
My son, whom seekest thou . . . some Lydian thrall,
Or Phrygian, bought with cash ? ... to affright
withal
By cursing ? I am a Thessalian, free.
My father a born chief of Thessaly ;
And thou most insolent. Yet think not so
To fling thy loud lewd words at me and go.
J. got thee to succeed me in my hall,
I have fed thee, clad thee. But I have no call
To die for thee. Not in our family.
Not in all Greece, doth law bid fathers die
To save their sons. Thy road of life is thine,
None other's, to rejoice at or repine.
All that was owed to thee by us is paid.
My throne is thine. My broad lands shall be made
Thine, as I had them from my father. . . . Say,
How have I wronged thee ? What have I kept away .''
" Not died for thee r " . . . I ask not thee to die.
Thou lovest this light : shall I not love it, I ? . . .
'Tis age on age there, in the dark ; and here
My sunlit time is short, but dear ; but dear.
Thou hast fought hard enough. Thou drawest
breath
39
EURIPIDES w. 696-713
Even now, long past thy portioned hour of death,
By murdering her . . . and blamest my faint heart,
Coward, who hast let a woman play thy part
And die to save her pretty soldier ! Aye,
A good plan, surely ! Thou needst never die ;
Thou canst find alway somewhere some fond wife
To die for thee. But, prithee, make not strife
With other friends, who will not save thee so.
Be silent, loving thine own life, and know
All men love theirs ! . . . Taunt others, and thou too
Shalt hear much that is bitter, and is true.
Leader.
Too much of wrath before, too much hath run
After. Old man, cease to revile thy son.
Admetus.
Speak on. I have spoken. ... If my truth of tongue
Gives pain to thee, why didst thou do me wrong ?
Pheres.
Wrong ? To have died for thee were far more wrong.
Admetus.
How can an old life weigh against a young ?
Pheres.
Man ha' h but one, not two lives, to his use.
Admetus.
Oh. live on ; live, and grow more old than Zeus I
40
w. 7i4""723 ALCESXIS
Pheres.
Because none wrongs thee, thou must curse thy sire ?
Admetus.
I blest him. Is not life his one desire ?
Pheres.
This dead, methinks, is lying in thy place.
Admetus.
A proof, old traitor, of thy cowardliness !
Pheres.
Died she through me ? . , . That thou wilt hardly
say.
Admetus [almost breaking down^.
O God !
Mayst thou but feel the need of me some day !
Pheres.
Go forward ; woo more wives that more may die.
Admetus.
As thou wouldst not ! Thine is the infamy.
Pheres.
This light of heaven is sweet, and sweet again.
Admetus.
Thy heart is foul. A thing unmeet for men.
41
EURIPIDES vv. 724-736
Pheres.
Thou laugh*st not yet across the old man's tomb.
Admetus.
Dishonoured thou shalt die when death shall come.
Pheres.
Once dead, I shall not care what tales are told.
Admetus.
Great Gods, so lost to honour and so old !
Pheres.
She was not lost to honour : she was blind.
Admetus.
Go! Leave me with my dead. . . . Out from my
mind !
Pheres.
I go. Bury the woman thou hast slain. . . .
Her kinsmen yet may come to thee with plain
Question. Acastus hath small place in good
Men, if he care not for his sister's blood.
[Pheres goes off^ with his Attendants. Admetus
calls after him as he goes.
Admetus.
Begone, begone, thou and thy bitter mate 1
Be old and childless — ye have earned your fate —
While your son lives ! For never shall ye be
From henceforth under the same roof with me. . . .
42
vv. 737-75 1 ALCESilS
Must I send heralds and a trumpet's call
To abjure thy blood ? Fear not, I will send them
all. . . .
[Pheres/V now out of sight ; Admetus drops his
defiance and see?ns like a broken man.
But we — our sorrow is upon us ; come
With me, and let us bear her to the tomb.
Chorus,
Ah me !
Farewell, unfalteringly brave !
Farewell, thou generous heart and true !
May Pluto give thee welcome due,
And Hermes love thee in the grave.
Whate'er of blessed life there be
For high souls to the darkness flown,
Be thine for ever, and a throne
Beside the crowned Persephone.
l^The funeral procession has formed and moves
slowly out^ followed by Admetus and the
Chorus. The stage is left empty^ till
a side door of the Castle opens and there comes
out a Servant, angry and almost in tears.
Servant.
Full many a stranger and from many ^ iand
Hath lodged in this old castle, and my hand
Served them ; but never has there passed this way
A scurvier ruffian than our guest to-day.
He saw my master's grief, but all the more
43
EURIPIDES vv. 752-772
111 he must come, and shoulders througn the door
And after, think you he would mannerly
Take what was set before him ? No, not he I
If, on this day of trouble, we left out
Some small thing, he must have it with a shout.
Up, in both hands, our vat of ivy-wood
He raised, and drank the dark grape's burning blood,
Strong and untempered, till the fire was red
Within him ; then put myrtle round his head
And roared some noisy song. So had we there
Discordant music. He, without a care
For all the affliction of Admetus' halls.
Sang on ; and, listening, one could hear the thralls
In the long gallery weeping for the dead.
We let him see no tears. Our master made
That order, that the stranger must not know.
So here I wait in her own house, and do
Service to some black thief, some man of prey 5
And she has gone, has gone for ever away.
I never followed her, nor lifted high
My hand to bless her j never said good-bye. . . .
I loved her like my mother. So did all
The slaves. She never let his anger fall
Too hard, She saved us alway. . . . And this wild
beast
Comes in our sorrow when we need him least !
[During the last few lines Heracles lias entered^
unperceived by the Servant. He has
evidently bathed and changed his garments
and drunk his fill^ and is now revelling^ a
garland of flowers on his head. He frightens
the Servant a little from time to time
during the following speech,
44
vv, 773-797 ALCESTIS
Heracles,
Friend, why so solemn and so cranky-eyed ?
'Tis not a henchman's office, to show pride
To his betters. He should smile and make good
cheer.
There comes a guest, thy lord's old comrade, here ;
And thou art all knitted eyebrows, scowls and head
Bent, because somebody, forsooth, is dead !
Come close ! I mean to make thee wiser,
[ The Servant reluctantly comes close.
So.
Dost comprehend things mortal, how they grow ? . . ,
{To himself) I suppose not. How could he ? , . .
Look this way !
Death is a debt all mortal men must pay ;
Aye, there is no man living who can say
If life will last him yet a single day.
On, to the dark, drives Fortune ; and no force
Can wrest her secret nor put back her course. . . ,
I have told thee now. I have taught thee. After
this
Eat, drink, make thyself merry. Count the bliss
Of the one passing hour thine own ; the rest
Is Fortune's. And give honour chiefliest
To our lady Cypris, giver of all joys
To man. 'Tis a sweet goddess. Otherwise^
Let all these questions sleep and just obey
My counsel. . . . Thou believest all I say ?
I hope so. . . . Let this stupid grieving be ;
Rise up above thy troubles, and with me
Drink in a cloud of blossoms. By my soul,
I vow the sweet plash-music of the bowl
Will break thy glumness, loose thee from the frown
45
EURIPIDES vv. 798-811
Within. Let mortal man keep to his own
Mortality, and not expect too much.
To all your solemn dogs and other such
Scowlers — I tell thee truth, no more nor less-
Life is not life, but just unhappiness.
\_He offers the wine-bowl to the Servant, who
avoids it.
Servant.
We know all this. But now our fortunes be
Not such as ask for mirth or revelry.
Heracles. .
A woman dead, of no one's kin ; why grieve
So much ? Thy master and thy mistress live.
Servant.
Live ? Man, hast thou heard nothing of our woe ?
Heracles.
Yes, thy lord told me all I need to know.
Servant.
He is too kind to his guests, more kind than wise.
Heracles.
Must I go starved because some stranger dies ?
Servant.
Some stranger ? — Yes, a stranger verily !
46
w. 812-822 > ALCESTIS
Heracles [his manner beginning to change).
Is this some real grief he hath hid from me ?
Servant.
Go, drink, man ! Leave to us our master's woes.
Heracles.
It sounds not like a stranger. Yet, God knows . . .
Servant.
How should thy revelling hurt, if that were all ?
Heracles.
Hath mine own friend so wronged me in his hall ?
Servant.
Thou earnest at an hour when none was free
To accept thee. We were mourning. Thou canst
see
Our hair, black robes , . .
Heracles {^suddenly ^ in a voice of thunder).
Who is it that is dead ?
Servant.
Alcestis, the King's wife.
Heracles (^overcome).
What hast thou said ?
Alcestis ? . . , And ye feasted me withal I
4^
EURIPIDES vv. 823-839
Servant.
He held it shame to turn thee from his hall.
Heracles.
Shame ! And when such a wondrous wife was gone !
Servant {breaking into tears).
Oh, all is gone, all lost, not she alone 1
Heracles.
I knew, I felt it, when I saw his tears,
And face, and shorn hair. But he won mine ears
With talk of the strange woman and her rite
Of burial. So in mine own heart's despite
I crossed his threshold and sat drinking — he
And I old friends ! — in his calamity.
Drank, and sang songs, and revelled, my head hot
With wine and flowers ! . . . And thou to tell me
not.
When all the house lay filled with sorrow, thou !
(A pause ; then suddenly) Where lies the tomb? —
Where shall I find her now ?
Servant [frightened).
Close by the straight Larissa road. The tall
White marble showeth from the castle wall
Heracles.
O heart, O hand, great doings have ye done
Of old : up now, and show them what a son
Took life that hour, when she of Tiryns' sod,
Electryon's daughter, mtngled with her God !
48
w. 840-863 ALCESTIS
I needs must save this woman from the shore
Of death and set her in her house once more,
Repaying Admetus' love. . . . This Death, this black
And winged Lord of corpses, I will track
Home. I shall surely find him by the grave
A-hungered, lapping the hot blood they gave
In sacrifice. An ambush : then, one spring.
One grip ! These arms shall be a brazen ring.
With no escape, no rest, howe'er he whine
And curse his m.auled ribs, till the Queen is mine !
Or if he escape me, if he come not there
To seek the blood of offering, I will fare
Down to the Houses without Light, and bring
To Her we name not and her nameless King
Strong prayers, until they yield to me and send
Alcestis home, to life and to my friend :
Who gave me shelter, drove me not away
In his great grief, but hid his evil day
Like a brave man, because he loved me well.
Is one in ail this land more hospitable.
One in all Greece ? I swear no man shall say
He hath cast his love upon a churl away !
\_He goes for th^ just as he is, in the direction of the
grave. The Servant watches a moment
and goes hack into the halL
[The stage is empty; then Admetus and the
Chorus return,
Admetus.
Alas !
Bitter the homeward way.
Bitter to seek
A widowed house ; ah me,
49 E
EURIPIDES w. 864-877
Where should I fly or stay,
Be dumb or speak ?
Would I could cease to be !
Despair, despair !
My mother bore me under an evil star.
I envy them that are perished ; my heart is there.
It dwells in the Sunless Houses, afar, afar.
I take no joy in looking upon the light ;
No joy in the feel of the earth beneath my tread.
The Slayer hath taken his hostage ; the Lord of the
Dead
Holdeth me sworn to taste no more delight.
^He throws himself sn the ground in despair.
Chorus.
[Each member of the Chorus speaks his line
ieverally^ as he passes Admetus, who is
heard sobbing at the end of each line.
— Advance, advance ;
Till the house shall give thee cover.
— Thou hast borne heavy things
And meet for lamentation.
— Thou hast passed, hast passed.
Thro' the deepest of the River.
— Yet no help comes
To the sad and silent nation.
— And the face of thy beloved, it shall meet thee
never, never !
50
vv. 878-888 ALCESTIS
Admetus.
Ye wrench my wounds asunder. Where
Is grief like mine, whose wife is dead ?
My wife, whom would I ne'er had wed,
Nor loved, nor held my house with her. . . .
Blessed are they who dare to dwell
Unloved of woman ! 'Tis but one
Heart that they bleed with, and alone
Can bear their one life's burden well.
No young shall wither at their side,
No bridal room be swept by death. . . .
Aye, better man should draw his breath
For ever without child or bride.
Chorus [as before),
— 'Tis Fate, 'tis Fate :
She is strong and none shall break her.
— No end, no end,
Wilt thou lay to lamentations ?
— Endure and be still :
Thy lamenting will not wake her.
— There be many before thee.
Who have suffered and had patience.
— Though the face of Sorrow changeth, yet her hand
is on all nations.
Admetus.
The garb of tears, the mourner's cry :
Then the long ache when tears are past ! . , .
Oh, why didst hirnler me to cast
This body to the dust and .die
51
EURIPIDES vv. 899-921
With her, the faithful and the brave ?
Then not one lonely soul had fled,
But two great lovers, proudly dead,
Through the deep waters of the grave.
Leader.
A friend I knew,
In whose house died a son.
Worthy of bitter rue,
His only one.
His head sank, yet he bare
Stilly his weight of care.
Though grey was in his hair
And life nigh done.
Admetus.
Ye shapes that front me, wall and gate,
How shall I enter in and dwell
Among ye, with all Fortune's spell
Dischanted ? Aye, the change is great.
That day I strode with bridal song
Through lifted brands of Pelian pine j
A hand beloved lay in mine ;
And loud behind a revelling throng
Exalted me and her, the dead.
They called us young, high-hearted ; told
How princes were our sires of old,
And how we loved and we must wed, , . ,
52
w. 922-947 ALCESTIS
For those high songs, lo, men that moan,
And raiment black where once was white ;
Who guide me homeward in the night,
On that waste bed to lie alone.
Second Elder.
It breaks, like strife,
Thy long peace, where no pain
Had entered ; yet is life,
Sweet life, not slain.
A wife dead ; a dear chair
Empty : is that so rare ?
Men live without despair
Whose loves are ta'en.
Admetus (^erect and facing them).
Behold, I count my wife's fate happier,
Though all gainsay me, than mine own. To her
Comes no more pain for ever ; she hath rest
And peace from all toil, and her name is blest.
But I am one who hath no right to stay
Alive on earth ; one that hath lost his way
In fate, and strays in dreams of life long past. . . ,
Friends, I have learned my lesson at the last.
I have my life. Here stands my house. But now
How dare I enter in ? Or, entered, how
Go forth again ? Go forth, when none is there
To give me a parting word, and I to her ? . . .
Where shall I turn for refuge ? There within,
The desert that remains where she hath been
Will drive me forth, the bed, the empty seat
She sat in ; nay, the floor beneath my feet
53
EURIPIDES vv. 948-971
Unswept, the children crying at my knee
For mother ; and the very thralls will be
In sobs for the dear mistress that is lost.
That is my home ! If I go forth, a host
Of feasts and bridal dances, gatherings gay
Of women, will be there to fright me away
To loneliness. Mine eyes will never bear
The sight. They were her friends ; they played with
her.
And always, always, men who hate my name
Will murmur : " This is he who lives in shame
Because he dared not die ! He gave instead
The woman whom he loved, and so is fled
From death. He counts himself a man withal !
And seeing his parents died not at his call
He hates them, when himself he dared not die ! "
Such mocking beside all my pain shall I
Endure. . . . What profit was it to live on,
Friend, with my grief kept and mine honour gone .?
Chorus.
I have sojourned in the Muse's land,
Have wandered with the wandering star,
Seeking for strength, and in my hand
Held all philosophies that are ;
Yet nothing could I hear nor see
Stronger than That Which Needs Must Be.
No Orphic rune, no Thracian scroll.
Hath magic to avert the morrow ;
No healing all those medicines brave
Apollo to the Asclepiad gave ;
Pale herbs of comfort in the bowl
Of man's wide sorrow.
54
vv. 972-1005 ALCESTIS
She hath no temple, she alone,
Nor image where a man may kneel ;
No blood upon her altar-stone
Crying shall make her hear nor feel.
I know thy greatness ; come not great
Beyond my dreams, O Power of Fate !
Aye, Zeus himself shall not unclose
His purpose save by thy decerning.
The chain of iron, the Scythian sword,
It yeilds and shivers at thy word ;
Thy heart is as the rock, and knows
No ruth, nor turning.
[They turn to Admetus.
Her hand hath caught thee ; yea, the keeping
Of iron fingers grips thee round.
Be still. Be still. Thy noise of weeping
Shall raise no lost one from the ground.
Nay, even the Sons of God are parted
At last from joy, and pine in death. . . .
Oh, dear on earth when all did love her.
Oh, dearer lost beyond recover :
Of women all the bravest-hearted
Hath pressed thy lips and breathed thy breath.
Let not the earth that lies upon her
Be deemed a grave-mound of the dead.
Let honour, as the Gods have honour.
Be hers, till men shall bow the head.
And strangers, climbing from the city
Her slanting path, shall muse and say :
^ This woman died to save her lover,
And liveth blest, the stars above her :
Hail, Holy One, and grant thy pity ! "
So pass the wondering words away.
55
EURIPIDES vv. 1006-1023
Leader.
But see, it is Alcmena's son once more,
My lord King, cometh striding to thy door.
[Enter Heracles ; his dress is as in the last
sceney but shows signs of a struggle. Behind
co?ne two Attendants^ guiding between the?n a
veiled JVoman^ who seems like one asleep or
unconscious. The JVoman remains in tlie
background while Heracles comes forward,
Heracles.
Thou art my friend, Admetus ; therefore bold
And plain I tell my story, and withhold
No secret hurt. — Was I not worthy, friend,
To stand beside thee ; yea, and to the end
Be proven in sorrow if I was true to thee ?
And thou didst tell me not a word, while she
Lay dead within ; but bid me feast, as though
Naught but the draping of some stranger's woe
Was on thee. So I garlanded my brow
And poured the gods drink-ofFering, and but now
Filled thy death-stricken house with wine and song.
Thou hast done me wrong, my brother ; a great
wrong
Thou hast done me. But I will not add more pain
In thine affliction.
Why I am here again,
Returning, thou must hear. I pray thee, take
And keep yon woman for me till I make
My homeward way from Thrace, when I have ta'en
Those four steeds and their bloody master slain.
And if — which heaven avert ! — I ne'er should see
56
w. 1024-1050 ALCESTIS
Hellas again, I leave her here, to be
An handmaid in thy house. No labour small
Was it that brought her to my hand at all.
I fell upon a contest certain Kings
Had set for all mankind, sore bufFetings
And meet for strong men, where I staked my life
And won this woman. For the easier strife
Black steeds were prizes ; herds of kine were cast
For heavier issues, fists and wrestling ; last,
This woman. , . . Lest my work should all seem done
For naught, I needs must keep what I have won 5
So prithee take her in. No theft, but true
Toil, won her. . . . Some day thou mayst thank me,
too.
Admetus.
'Twas in no scorn, no bitterness to thcc,
I hid my wife's death and my misery.
Methought it was but added pain on pain
If thou shouldst leave me, and roam forth again
Seeking another's roof. And, for mine own
Sorrow, I was content to weep alone.
But, for this damsel, if it may be so,
I pray thee, Lord, let some man, not in woe
Like mine, take her. Thou hast in Thessaly
Abundant friends. . . . 'Twould wake sad thoughts
in me.
How could I have this damsel in my sight
And keep mine eyes dry ? Prince, why wilt thou
smite
The smitten .? Griefs enough are on my head.
Where in my castle could so young a maid
Be lodged — her veil and raiment show her young :
SI
EURIPIDES vv. 1051-1066
Here, in the men's hall ? I should fear some wrong.
'Tis not so easy, Prince, to keep controlled
My young men. And thy charge I fain would hold
Sacred. — If not, wouldst have me keep her in
The women's chambers . , . where my dead hath
been ?
How could I lay this woman where my bride
Once lay ? It were dishonour double-dyed.
These streets would curse the man who so betrayed
The wife who saved him for some younger maid ;
The dead herself ... I needs must worship her
And keep her will.
[During the last few lines Admetus has been
looking at the veiled Woman and^ though he
does not consciously recognize her^ feels a
strange emotion overmastering him. He
draws back.
Aye. I must walk with care. . . ,
O woman, whosoe'er thou art, thou hast
The shape of my Alcestis ; thou art cast
In mould like hers, . . . Oh, take her from mine
eyes !
In God's name !
[Heracles signs to the Attendants to take
Alcestis away again. She stays veiled
and unnoticing in the background,
I was fallen, and in this wise
Thou wilt make me deeper fall. . . . Meseems, me-
seems,
58
w. 1067-1080 ALCESTIS
There in her face the loved one of my dreams
Looked forth. — My heart is made a turbid thing,
Craving I know not what, and my tears spring
Unbidden. — Grief I knew 'twould be ; but how
Fiery a grief I never knew till now.
Leader.
Thy fate 1 praise not. Yet, what gift soe'er
God giveth, man must steel himself and bear.
Heracles (^r^w/w^ Admetus on).
Would God, I had the power, 'mid all this might
Of arm, to break the dungeons of the night.
And free thy wife, and make thee glad again !
Admetus.
Where is such power ? I know thy heart were fain ;
But so 'tis writ. The dead shall never rise.
Heracles.
Chafe not the curb, then : suffer and be wise.
Admetus.
Easier to give such counsel than to keep.
Heracles.
Who will be happier, shouldst thou always weep ?
Admetus.
Why, none. Yet some blind longing araws me
on . . .
59
EURIPIDES vv. 1081-1089
Heracles.
'Tis natural. Thou didst love her that is gone.
Admetus.
'Tis that hath wrecked, oh more than wrecked, my
life.
Heracles.
'Tis certain : thou hast lost a faithful wife.
Admetus.
Till life itself is dead and wearies me.
Heracles.
Thy pain is yet young. Time will soften thee.
[ The veiled TVoman begins dirtily^ as though in a
dream^ to hear the words spoken,
Admetus.
Time ? Yes, if time be death.
Heracles.
Nay, wait ; and some
Woman, some new desire of love, will come.
Admetus (indignantly).
Peace !
How canst thou ? Shame upon thee !
Heracles.
Thou wilt stay
Unwed for ever, lonely night and day ?
60
vv. 1090-1101 ALCESTIS
Admetus.
No other bride in these void arms shall lie.
Heracles.
What profit will thy dead wife gain thereby ?
Admetus.
Honour ; which finds her wheresoe'er she lies.
Heracles.
Most honourable in thee : but scarcely wise !
Admetus.
God curse me, if I betray her in her tomb !
Heracles.
So be it ! . . .
And this good damsel, thou wilt take her home ?
Admetus.
No, in the name of Zeus, thy father ! No !
Heracles.
I swear, 'tis not well to reject her so.
Admetus.
'T would tear my heart to accept her.
Heracles.
Grant me, friend,
This one boon ! It may help thee in the end.
61
EURIPIDES vv. II02-III0
Admetus.
Woe's me !
Would God thou hadst never won those victories !
Heracles.
Thou sharest both the victory and the prize.
Admetus.
Thou art generous. . . . But now let her go.
Heracles.
She shall,
If go she must. Look first, and judge withal.
[He takes the veil off AhQLSTl^,
Admetus (^steadily refusing to look).
She must.- — And thou, forgive me !
Heracles.
Friend, there is
A secret reason why I pray for this.
Admetus {surprised^ then reluctantly yielding,
I grant thy boon then — though it likes me ill.
Heracles.
'Twill like thee later. Now . . . but do my will.
Admetus [beckoning to an Attendant^
Take her ; find her some lodging in my hall.
62
w. IIII-III8 ALCESTIS
Heracles.
I will not yield this maid to any thrall.
Admetus.
Take her thyself and lead her in.
Heracles.
I stand
Beside her ; take her ; lead her to thy hand.
[He brings the Woman close io Admetus, who
looks determinedly away. She reaches out
her arms,
Admetus.
I touch her not. — Let her go in !
Heracles.
I am loth
To trust her save to thy pledged hand and oath.
\_He lays his hand on Admetus's shoulder,
Admetus [desperately).
Lord, this is violence . . . wrong . . .
Heracles.
Reach forth thine hand
And touch this comer from a distant land.
Admetus (holding out his hand without looking).
Like Perseus when he touched the Gorgon, there !
63
EURIPIDES vv. 1119-1129
Heracles.
Thou hast touched her ?
Admetus [at last taking her hand).
Touched her ? . . . Yes.
Heracles [a hand on the shoulder of each).
Then cling to her ;
And say if thou hast found a guest of grace
In God's son, Heracles ! Look in her face ;
Look ; is she like . . . ?
[Admetus looks and stands a?nazed.
Go, and forget in bliss
Thy sorrow !
Admetus.
O ye Gods ! What meaneth this ?
A marvel beyond dreams ! The face . . . 'tis she ;
Mine, verily mine I Or doth God mock at me
And blast my vision with some mad surmise ?
Heracles.
Not so. This is thy wife before thine eyes.
Admetus (^who has recoiled in his amazement).
Beware ! The dead have phantoms that they send . . .
Heracles.
Nay ; no ghost-raiser hast thou made thy friend,
Admetus.
My wife , , . she whom I buried ?
64
vv. 1130-1141 ALCES 1 IS
Heracles.
I deceive
Thee not ; nor wonder thou canst scarce believe.
Admetus.
And dare I touch her, greet her, as mine own
Wife living ?
Heracles.
Greet her. Thy desire is won,
Admetus [approaching with awe).
Beloved eyes ; beloved form ; O thou
Gone beyond hope, I have thee, I hold thee now ?
Heracles.
Thou hast her : may no god begrudge your joy.
Admetus {turning to Heracles).
0 lordly conqueror, Child of Zeus on high,
Be blessed ! And may He, thy sire above,
Save thee, as thou alone hast saved my love !
[He kneels to Heracles, who raises him.
But how . . . how didst thou win her to the light '
Heracles.
1 fought for life with Him I needs must fight.
Admetus.
With Death thou hast fought ! But where ?
65 F
EURIPIDES vv. 1142-1153
Heracles.
Among his dead
I lay, and sprang and gripped him as he fled.
Admetus (in an awed whisper^ looking towards
Alcestis).
Why standeth she so still ? No sound, no word !
Heracles.
She hath dwelt with Death. Her voice may not be
heard
Ere to the Lords of Them Below she pay
Due cleansing, and awake on the third day.
[To the Attendants) So ; guide her home.
[ They lead Alcestis to the doorway.
And thou, King, for the rest
Of time, be true ; be righteous to thy guest,
As he would have thee be. But now farewell !
My task yet lies before me, and the spell
That binds me to my master ; forth I fare.
Admetus.
Stay with us this one day ! Stay but to share
The feast upon our hearth !
Heracles.
The feasting day
Shall surely come ; now I must needs away.
[Heracles departs,
Admetus.
Farewell ! All victory attend thy name
And safe home-coming !
66
vv. 1154-1163 ALCESTIS
Lo, I make proclaim
To the Four Nations and all Thessaly ;
A wondrous happiness hath come to be :
Therefore pray, dance, give offerings and make full
Your altars with the life-blood of the Bull !
For me . . . my heart is changed ; my life shall
mend
Henceforth. For surely Fortune is a friend.
\^H€ goes with Alcestis into the hame.
Chorus.
There be many shapes of mystery ;
And many things God brings to be,
Past hope or fear.
And the end men looked for cometh not,
And a path is there where no man thought.
So hath it fallen here.
67
NOTES
P. 3, Prologue. Asclepios (Latin Aesculapius), son
of Apollo, the hero-physician, by his miraculous skill
healed the dead. This transgressed the divine law, so
Zeus slew him. (The particular dead man raised by
him was Hippolytus, who came to life in Italy under
the name of Virbius, and was worshipped with Artemis
at Aricia.) Apollo in revenge, not presuming to
attack Zeus himself, killed the Cyclopes, and was
punished by being exiled from heaven and made
servant to a mortal. There are several such stories
of gods made servants to human beings.
P. 3, 1. 12, Beguiling.] — See Preface. In the
original story he made them drunk with wine.
(Aesch. Eumenides^ 728.) As the allusion would
doubtless be clear to the Greek audience, I have
added a mention of wine which is not in the
Greek. Libations to the Elder Gods, such as ths
Fates and Eumenides, had to be " wineless." Histori-
cally this probably means that the worship dates from
a time before wine was used in Greece.
P. 4, 1. 22, The stain of death must not come nigh
My radiance.] — Compare Artemis in the last scene of
the Hippolytus. The presence of a dead body would
be a pollution to Apollo, though that of Thdnatos
( Death '^ himself seems not to be so. It is rather
69
EURIPIDES
Thinatos who is dazzled and blinded by Apollo, like
?.n owl or bat in the sunlight.
P. 5, 1. 43, Rob me of my second prey.] — "You
first cheated me of Admetus, and now you cheat me of
his substitute."
P. 6, 1. 59, The rich would buy, etc.]-— Here and
throughout this difficult little dialogue I follow the
readings of my own text in the Bibliotheca Oxoniensis,
P. 7, 1. 74, To lay upon her hair my sword.] — As
the sacrificing priest cut off a lock of hair from the
victim's head before the actual sacrifice.
P. 8, 1. 77, Chorus.] — The Chorus consists of
citizens, probably Elders, of the city of Pherae. Dr.
Verrall has rightly pointed out that there is some
general dissatisfaction in the town at Admetus's
behaviour (1. 2i0 ff".). These citizens come to mourn
with Admetus out of old friendship, though they do
not altogether defend him.
The Chorus is very drastically broken up into so
many separate persons conversing with one another ;
the treatment in the Rhesus is similar but even bolder.
See RhesuSy pp. 28-31, 37—42. Cf. also the entrance-
choruses of the Trojan Women (pp. 19-23) and the
Medea (pp. 10-13) ; and 11. 872 ff"., 889 ff., pp. 50, 51,
below.
Instead of assigning the various lines definitely to
First, Second, Third Citizen, and so on, I have put a
" paragraphus " ( — ), the ancient Greek sign for
indicating a new speaker.
P. 8, 1. 82, Pelias' daughter.] — i.e, Alcestis.
P. 8, 1. 92, Paian.] — The Healer. The word
survives chiefly as a cry for help and as an epithet
or title of Apollo or Asclepios. " Paian," Latin
70
NOTES
Paean, is also a cry of victory ; but the relation of
the two meanings is not quite made out- (Pronounce
rather like " Pah-yan.") Cf. 1. 220.
P. 9, 1. 112, To wander o'er leagues of land.] —
You could sometimes save a sick person by appealing
to an oracle, such as that of Apollo in Lycia or of
Zeus Ammon in the Libyan desert ; but now no
sacrifice will help. Only Asclepios, were he still
on earth, might have helped us. (See on the Pro-
logue.)
P. II, I 150, Tore God she dies high-hearted.] —
What impresses the Elder is the calm and deliberate
way in which Alcestis faces these preparations.
P. 12, 1. 162, Before the Hearth-Fire.] — Hestia,
the hearth-fire, was a goddess, the Latin Vesta, and is
addressed as " Mother." It is characteristic in Alcestis
to think chiefly about happy marriages for the
children.
P. 12, 1. 182, Happier perhaps, more true she
cannot be.] — A famous line and open to parody.
Cf. Aristophanes, Knights, 1251 ("Another wear
this crown instead of me, Happier perhaps ; worse
thief he cannot be "). And see on 1. 367 below.
P. 15, 1. 228, Hearts have bled.] — People have
committed suicide for less than this.
P. 16, 1. 244, O Sun.] — Alcestis has come out to
see the Sun and Sky for the last time and say good-bye
to them. It is a rite or practice often mentioned in
Greek poetry. Her beautiful wandering lines about
Charon and his boat are the more natural because she
is not dying from any disease but is being mysteriously
drawn away by the Powers of Death.
P. 16, 1. 252, A boat, two-oared.] — She sees Charon,
71
EURIPIDES
the boatman who ferried the souls of the dead across
the river Styx.
P. 17, 1. 259, Drawing, drawing.] — The creature
whom she sees drawing her to "the palaces of the
dead" is certainly not Charon, who had no wings, but
was lilce an old boatman in a peasant's cap and sleeve-
less tunic ; nor can he be Hades, the throned King to
whose presence she must eventually go. Apparently,
therefore, he must be Thanatos, whom we have just
seen on the stage. He was evidently supposed to be
invisible to ordinary human eyes.
P. 18, 1. 280, Alcestis's speech.] — Great sixTiplicity
and sincerity are the keynotes of this fine speech.
Alcestis does not make light of her sacrifice : she
enjoyed her life and values it; she wishes one of the
old people had died instead ; she is very earnest that
Admetus shall not marry again, chiefly for the
children's sake, but possibly also from some little
shadow of jealousy. A modern dramatist would ex-
press all this, if at all, by a scene or a series of scenes
of conversation ; Euripides always uses the long self-
revealing speech. Observe how little romantic love
there is in Alcestis, though Admetus is full of it. See
Preface, pp. xiii, xiv.
Pp. 19, 20, 1. 328 fiF., Admetus's speech.] — If the
last speech made us know Alcestis, this makes us know
Admetus fully as well. At one time the beauty and
passion of it almost make us forget its ultimate hollow-
ness ; at another this hoUowness almost makes us lose
patience with its beautiful language. In this state of
balance the touch of satire in 1. 338 f. (" My mother
I will know no more," etc.), and the fact that he
speaks immediately after the complete sincerity of
72
NOTES
Alcestis, conspire to weigh down the scale against
Admetus. There can be no doubt that he means,
and means passionately, all that he says. Only he
could not quite manage to die when it was not strictly
necessary.
P. 20, 1. 355, If Orpheus' voice were mine.] — •
The bard and prophet, Orpheus, went down to the
dead to win back his wife, Eurydice. Hades and
Persephone, spell-bound by his music, granted his
prayer that Eurydice should return to the light, on
condition that he should go before her, harping, and
should never look back to see if she was following.
Just at the end of the journey he looked back, and she
vanished. The story is told with overpowering beauty
in Vergil's fourth Georgic.
P. 21, 1. 367, Oh, not in death from thee
Divided,] — Parodied in Anstopha.nes,' ^rchar?tians 894,
where it is addressed to an eel, and the second line
ends "in a beet-root fricassee." See on 1. 182.
P. 23, 1. 393 fF., The Little Boy's speech.] —
Classical Greek sculpture and vase-painting tended to
represent children not like children but like diminutive
men ; and something of the sort is true of Greek
tragedy. The stately tragic convention has in the
main to be maintained ; the child must speak a lan-
guage suited for heroes, or at least for high poetry.
The quality of childishness has to be indicated by a
word or so of child-language delicately admitted amid
the stateliness. Here we have fxaXa, something like
" mummy," at the beginning, and veocrcrog, " chicken "
or " little bird," at the end. Otherwise most of the
language is in the regular tragic diction, and some
of it doubtless seems to us unsuitable for a child. Ir
73
EURIPIDES
Milton had had to make a child speak in Paradise
Losty what sort of diction would he have given it ?
The success or ill-success of such an attempt as this
to combine the two styles, the heroic and the childlike,
depends on questions of linguistic tact, and can hardly
be judged with any confidence by foreigners. But I
think we can see Euripides here, as in other places,
reaching out at an effect which was really beyond the
resources of his art, and attaining a result which,
though clearly imperfect, is strangely moving. He
gets great effects from the use of children in several
tragedies, though he seldom lets them speak. They
speak in the Medea^ the A?idromache^ and Suppliants^
and are mute figures in the Trojan JVomen^ Hecuba^
Heracles^ and Iphigenia in Aulis. We may notice
that where his children do speak, they speak only in
lyrics, never in ordinary dialogue. This is very
significant, and clearly right.
The breaking-down of the child seems to string
Admetus to self-control again.
P. 25, 1. 428, Ye chariot-lords.] — The plain of
Thessaly was famous for its cavalry.
P. 25, 1. 436 ff.. Chorus.] — The " King black-
browed " is, of course. Hades ; tlie " grey hand at the
helm and oar,'* Charon ; the " Tears that Well," the
mere that spreads out from Acheron, the River of
Ache or Sorrows.
P. 25, 1. 445 ff. Alcestis shall be celebrated — and
no doubt worshipped — at certain full-moon feasts in
Athens and Sparta, especially at the Carneia, a great
Spartan festival held at the full moon in the month
Carneios (August-September). Who the ancient hero
Carnos or Carneios was is not very clearly stated by
74
NOTES
the tradition ; but at any rate he was killed, and the
feast was meant to placate and perhaps to revive him.
Resurrection is apt to be a feature of both moon-
goddesses and vegetation spirits.
P. 27, 1. 476, Entrance of Heracles.] — Generally, in
the tragic convention, each character that enters either
announces himself or is announced by some one on the
stage ; but the figure of Heracles with his club and
lion-skin was so well known that his identity could be
taken for granted. The Leader at once addresses him
by name.
P. 27, 1. 481, The Argive King.] — It was the doom
of Heracles, from before his birth, to be the servant of
a worser man. His master proved to be Eurystheus,
King of Tiryns or Argos, who was his kinsman, and
older by a day. See Iliad T 95 ff. Note the heroic
quality of Heracles's answer in 1. 491. It does not
occur to him to think of reward for himself.
P. 27, 1.483, Diomede of Thrace.] — This man, distin-
guished in legend from the Diomede of the ///W, was
a savage king who threw wayfarers to his man-eating
horses. Such horses are not mere myths ; horses have
often been trained to fight with their teeth, like carni-
vora, for war purposes. Diomedes was a son of Ares,
the War-god or Slayer, as were the other wild tyrants
mentioned just below, Lycaon, the Wolf-hero, and
Cycnus, the Swan.
P. 30, 1. 511, Right welcome were she : /.^. Joy.] —
*' Joy would be a strange visitor to me, but I know
you mean kindly."
P. 30, 1. 518 ff.. Not thy wife ? 'Tis not Alcestis ?] —
The rather elaborate misleading of Heracles, without
any direct lie, depends partly on the fact that the
IS
EURIPIDES
Greek word yvvri means both " woman " and " wife."
— The woman, not of kin with Admetus but much
loved in the house, who has lived there since her
father's death left her an orphan, is of course Alcestis,
but Heracles, misled by Admetus's first answers, sup-
poses it is some dependant to whom the King happens
to be attached. He naturally proposes to go away,
but, with much reluctance, allows himself to be over*
persuaded by Admetus. He had other friends in
Thessaly, but the next castle would probably be
several miles off. The guest-chambers of the castle
are apparently in a separate building with a connecting
passage.
As to Admetus's motive, we must remember that
the entertaining of Heracles is a datum of the story in
its simplest form. See Preface, pp. xiv, xv. In
Euripides, Admetus is perhaps actuated by a mixture
of motives, real kindness, pride in his ancestral
hospitality, and a little vanity. He likes having the
great Son of Zeus for a friend, and he has never yet
turned any one from his doors.
Euripides passes no distinct judgment on this act
of Admetus. The Leader in the dialogue blames
him (" Art thou mad ? ") and so does Heracles here-
after, p. 56. But the Chorus glorifies his deed in a
very delightful lyric. Perhaps this indicates the
judgment we are meant to pass upon it. On the
plane of common sense it was doubtless all wrong, but
on that of imaginative poetry it was magnificent.
P* 35) ^^' 5^9~^05, Chorus.] — Apollo, worshipped
as a shepherd god and a singer, harper, piper, etc.
("song-changer"), had been himself a stranger in
this " House that loved the stranger " : hence its
76
NOTES
great reward. Othrys is the end of the mountain
range to the south of Pherae ; Lake Boibeis was just
across the narrow end of the plain to the north-east,
beyond it came Mt. Pelion and the steep harbourless
coast. Up to the north-west the plain of Thessaly
stretched far away towards the Molossian mountains.
The wild beasts gathered round Apollo as they did
round Orpheus (" There where Orpheus harped of
old, And the trees awoke and knew him. And the
wild things gathered to him. As he piped amid the
broken Glens his music manifold." — Baccha'e^ p. 35).
P. 37, L 614, Scene with Pheres.] — Pheres is in
tradition the " eponymous hero " of Pherae, i.e. the
mythical person who is supposed to have given his
name to the town. It is only in this play that he has
any particular character. The scene gives the reader
a shock, but is a brilliant piece of satirical comedy,
with a good deal of pathos in it, too. The line (691)
yaipHQ bpijjv ^wCj Trarepa C ov yaipuv oojcttc 5
("Thou lovest the light, thinkest thou thy father
loves it not ? ") seems to me one of the most charac-
teristic in Euripides. It has a peculiar mordant beauty
in its absolutely simple language, and one cannot
measure the intensity of feeling that maybe behind it.
Pheres shows great power of fight, yet one feels his
age and physical weakness. See Preface, p. xvi.
P. 40, 1. 713 ff. The quick thrust and parry are
sometimes hard to follow in reading, though in acting
the sense would be plain enough. Admetus cries
angrily, " Oh, live a longer life than Zeus ! " " Is
that a curse ? " says Pheres ; " are you cursing
because nobody does you any harm ? " (/.^. since you
clearly have nothing else to curse for). Admetus :
EURIPIDES
" On the contrary I blessed you ; I knew you were
greedy of life." Pheres : " / greedy ? It is you^ I
believe, that Alcestis is dying for.'*
P. 42, 1. 732. Acastus was Alcestis's brother,
son of Pelias.
P. 43, 1. 747. It is rare in Greek tragedy for the
Chorus to leave the stage altogether in the middle of
a play. But they do so, for example, in the Ajax of
Sophocles. Ajax is lost, and the Sailors who form the
Chorus go out to look for him ; when they are gone
the scene is supposed to shift and Ajax enters alone,
arranging his own death. This very effective scene
of the revelling Heracles is to be explained, I think,
by the Satyr-play tradition. See Preface,
P. 45, 11. 782-785. There are four lines rhyming
in the Greek here ; an odd and slightly drunken
effect.
P. 46, 1. 805 ff., A woman dead, of no one's kin :
why grieve 90 much?] — Heracles is somewhat
" shameless," as a Greek would say ; he had much
more delicacy when he was sober.
P. 48, 1. 837 ff. A fine speech, leaving one in
doubt whether it is the outburst of a real hero or the
vapouring of a half-drunken man. Just the effect
intended. Electryon was a chieftain of Tiryns.
His daughter, Alcmene, the Tirynthian Kore or Earth-
maiden, was beloved of Zeus, or, as others put it,
was chosen by Zeus to be the mother of the
Deliverer of mankind whom he was resolved to
beget. She was married to Amphitryon of Thebes.
P. 49, 1. 860 ff. If Heracles set out straight to
the grave and Admetus with the procession was
returning from the grave, how was it they did not
78
NOTES
meet ? The answer is that Attic drama seldom
asked such questions.
Pp. 49-54, 11. 861-961. This Threnos, or lamen-
tation scene, seems to our minds a little long. We
must remember ( i ) that a Tragedy is a Threnos — a
Trauerspiel — and, however much it develops in the
direction of a mere entertainment, the Threnos-
element is of primary importance. (2) This scene has
two purposes to serve ; first to illustrate the helpless y
loneliness of Admetus when he returns to his empty
house, and secondly the way in which remorse works
in his mind, till in 11. 935-961 he makes public con-
fession that he has done wrong. For both purposes
one needs the illusion of a long lapse of time.
P. 53, 1. 945 ff., The floor unswept.] — Probably
the floor really would be unswept in the house of a
primitive Thessalian chieftain whose wife was dead and
her place unfilled ; but I doubt if the point would have
been mentioned so straightforwardly in a real tragedy.
Pp. 54-55, 1. 966 fi;, That which Needs Must
Be.] — Ananke or Necessity. — Orphic rune.] — The
charms inscribed by Orpheus on certain tablets in
Thrace. Orphic literature and worship had a strong
magical element in them.
P. 55, 1. 995 flf., A grave-mound of the dead.] — Every
existing Greek tragedy has somewhere in it a taboo
grave — a grave which is either worshipped, or specially
avoided or somehow magical. We may conjecture
from this passage that there was in the time of
Euripides a sacred tomb near Pherae, which received
worship and had the story told about it that she who
lay there had died for her husband.
Pp. 56-67, 11. 1008-end. This last scene must
79
EURIPIDES
have been exceedingly difficult to compose, and some
critics have thought it ineffective or worse. To me
it seems brilliantly conceived and written, though of
course it needs to be read with the imagination strongly
at work. One must never forget the silent and
veiled Woman on whom the whole scene centres. I
have tried conjecturally to indicate the main lines of
her acting, but, of course, others may read it differently.
To understand Heracles in this scene, one must
first remember the traditional connexion of Satyrs
(and therefore of satyric heroes) with the re-awakening
of the dead Earth in spring and the return of human
souls to their tribe. Dionysus was, of all the various
Kouroi, the one most widely connected with resurrec-
tion ideas, and the Satyrs are his attendant daemons,
who dance magic dances at the Return to Life of
Semele or Persephone. And Heracles himself, in
certain of his ritual aspects, has similar functions.
See J. E. Harrison, Themis^ pp. 422 f. and 365 ff., or
my Four Stages of Greek Religion^ pp. 46 f. This
tradition explains, to start with, what Heracles — and
this particular sort of revelling Heracles — has to do in
a resurrection scene. Heracles bringing back the dead
is a datum of the saga. There remain then the more
purely dramatic questions about our poet's treatment
of the datum.
Why, for instance, does Heracles mystify Admetus
with the Veiled Woman ? To break the news gently,
or to retort his own mystification upon him ? I
think, the latter. Admetus had said that "a woman "
was dead ; Heracles says : " All right : here is ' a
woman ' whom I want you to look after."
Again, what are the feelings of Admetus himself.?
80
NOTES
First, mere indignation and disgust at the utterly tact-
less proposal : then, I think, in 1061 ff. (" I must
walk with care" . . . end of speech), a strange dis-
covery about himself which amazes and humiliates him.
As he looks at the woman he finds himself feeling
how exactly like Alcestis she is, and then yearning
towards her, almost failing in love with her. A most
beautiful and poignant touch. In modern language
one would say that his subconscious nature feels
Alcestis there and responds emotionally to her
presence ; his conscious nature, believing the woman
to be a stranger, is horrified at his own apparent
baseness and inconstancy.
P. 57, 1. 105 1, Where in my castle, etc.] — The
castle is divided into two main parts : a public
megaron or great hall where the men live during the
day and sleep at night, and a private region, ruled by
the queen and centring in the thalamos or royal bed-
chamber. If the new woman were taken into this
"harem," even if Admetus never spoke to her, the
world outside would surmise the worst and consider
him dishonoured.
P. 66, 1. 1 148, Be righteous to thy guest. As he
would have thee be.] — Does this mean " Go on being
hospitable, as you have been," or " Learn after this
not to take liberties with other guests " ? It is hard
to say.
P. 66, 1. 1 152, The feasting day shall surely come ;
now I must needs away.] — A fine last word for
Heracles. We have seen him feasting, but that makes
a small part in his life. His main life is to perform
labour upon labour in service to his king. Euripides
occasionally liked this method of ending a play, not
81 G
EURIPIDES
with a complete finish (Greek catastrophe)^ but with
the opening of a door into some further vista of
endurance or adventure. The Trojan TVomen ends by
the women going out to the Greek ships to begin a
life of slavery ; the Rhesus with the doomed army of
Trojans gathering bravely for an attack which we
know will be disastrous. Here we have the story
finished for Admetus and Alcestis, but no rest for
Heracles. See the note at the end of my Trojan
TVomen,
Pritited ifi Great Britain by
TTITWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GBE8HAM PRESS, LONDON JiKD WOKING
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES, and Impression. Demy 8vo, cloth»
los. 6d. net.
•RELIGIO GRAMMATICI. Cloth, 2s. net ; paper, is. net.
•ARISTOPHANES AND THE WAR PARTY, Cloth, 2s. net;
paper, is. net.
♦SATANISM AND THE WORLD ORDER. Cloth, 2s. 6d. net;
paper, is. 6d. net.
*THE STOIC PHILOSOPHY. Cloth, 2s. 6^. net ; paper, is. net.
THE PROBLEM OF FOREIGN POLICY. 4s. 6d. net.
THE WAY FORWARD, is. net.
ANDROMACHE : A Play in Three Acts. Cloth, 3s. 6d. net ;
paper, 2s. net.
Translations of the Plays of Euripides, Aristophanes^
Sophocles, and /Eschylus.
Cloth, 3s. td. net each ; paper, 2s. net each.
ALCESTIS RHESUS
BACCH^ TROJAN WOMEN
ELECTRA FROGS
hippolytus cedipus, king OF
IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS THEBES
MEDEA THE AGAMEMNON
FOUR STAGES OF GREEK RELIGION, 6s. 6d. net.
RISE OF THE GREEK EPIC. 8s. 6d, net.
EURIPIDES FABUL^ : Vols. I, II, and III. From 3s. net each.
• These books are issued separately, and are also included in ^* Essays and
Addresses,^'
:^-^,mff^. .; .^^i^lKs,
u>^
14DAVWSB o^o^ro
^tC.G>.«- *«^ ' '^l
_-^:gg^2r6er^TP«f l^^
f
. U. C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES
CDSm^EEM3
^
583457
1
^■\
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Books to Borrow
Open Library
TV News
Understanding 9/11