Hercules: Celebrity Strongman or Kindly Deliverer? BY J. LARAE FERGUSON When Christoph Willibald Gluck’s French Alceste premiered in Paris on 23 April 1776, the work met with mixed responses. Although the French audience loved the first and second acts for their masterful staging and thrilling presentation, to them the third act seemed unappealing, a mere tedious extension of what had come before it. Consequently, Gluck and his French librettist Lebland Du Roullet returned to the drawing board. Within a mere two weeks, however, their alterations were complete. The introduction of the character Hercules, a move which Gluck had previously contemplated but never actualized, transformed the denouement and eventually brought the opera to its final popular acclaim. Despite Gluck’s sagacious wager that adding the character of Hercules would give to his opera the variety demanded by his French audience, many of his followers then and now admit that something about the character does not fit, something of the essential nature of the drama is lost by Hercules’ abrupt insertion. Further, although many of Gluck’s supporters maintain that his encouragement of Du Roullet to reinstate Hercules points to his acknowledged desire to adhere to the original Greek tragedy from which his opera takes its inspiration1, a close examination of the relationship between Gluck’s Hercules and Euripides’ Heracles brings to light marked differences in the actions, the purpose, and the characterization of the two heroes. 1 Patricia Howard, for instance, writes that “the difference between Du Roullet’s libretto and Calzabigi’s suggests that Gluck might have been genuinely dissatisfied at the butchery Calzabigi effected on Euripides, and his second version was an attempt not so much at a more French drama as at a more classically Greek one.” Patricia Howard, “Gluck’s Two Alcestes: A Comparison,” Musical Times 115 (1974): 642. Valley Humanities Review Spring 2015 1 By their speedy interposition of the character Hercules into the third act of Alceste, Gluck and Du Roullet not only stray far from the original Eurpidean vision of this character, but they also discard a certain unified grandeur and simplicity which their opera formerly boasted. From the moment Gluck and Du Roullet’s Hercules enters the drama, he presents himself as a dignified celebrity ready to receive homage and bestow favor. He arrives onstage in the second scene of the third act, well over halfway through the drama, and announces himself with an unmistakable description: Après de longs travaux entrepris pour la gloire, l’implacable Junon me laisse respirer. After lengthy travail undertaken for glory, Implacable Juno allows me to breathe. Showing their immediate recognition of the well-known hero famed not only for his daring exploits but also for his perpetual persecution at the hands of the queen of the gods, the entire chorus responds with the exclamation of his name, “Hercules!” In his reply, Hercules passes quickly from his expectation of hospitality to his consciousness of the mourning going on around him: A l’amitié je puis donc me livrer et jouir un moment de fruit de la victoire. Mais que voisje? Pourquoi répandezvous des larmes? In friendship I may now give myself to enjoying for a moment the fruits of victory. But what do I see? Why do you shed tears? The chorus explains to him that Alcestis has determined to sacrifice herself for her husband, and Hercules immediately promises to fight the powers of death and rescue the queen. Compared with this illustrious, sophisticated, and impetuous Hercules, the Heracles of Euripides arrives at the house of his friend in a surprisingly unassuming manner and does not Valley Humanities Review Spring 2015 2 even hear of Alcestis’ death until he has had time to rest and to refresh himself. Unlike his French counterpart, this Heracles appears before the audience not as a surprise, but as the fulfillment of a prediction uttered by the god Apollo in the first scene of the drama. Heracles’ speech on entering the scene, however, reflects a certain humility that coincides with the surprise his arrival creates for the other characters and contrasts sharply with the flamboyance of Gluck and Du Roullet’s Hercules. After quietly slipping on stage, he attracts the notice of the chorus with a simple question: ξένοι, Φεραίας τῆσδε κωμῆται χθονός, Ἄδμητον ἐν δόμοισιν ἆρα κιγχάνω; My friends, people of Pherae and the villages hereby, tell me, shall I find Admetus at home?2 Instead of announcing himself as the universally known and well-beloved Hercules of the Ten Labors, he enters as a humble intruder, simply looking for lodging at the home of his friend. He continues to converse with the chorus about everyday, humdrum matters, and the audience soon recognizes that this Hercules has not yet acquired his legendary fame. Rather, he informs the chorus that he is currently in the middle of his labors, on his way to do “a piece of work” for Eurystheus.3 In his article, “Heracles’ Entrance: An Illustration of Euripidean Method,” W. W. de Grummond brings out the pertinence of Heracles’ conversation: “Bravery is Heracles’ business, and what might be thought of as breathtaking, romantic adventure is here set in the light of everyday affairs--a perspective which is very pertinent to the denouement of the 2 Euripides, “Alcestis,” trans. Richmond Lattimore, in Greek Tragedies, 2nd ed. vol. 3, ed. David Grene and Richmond Lattimore (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), lines 476-7. 3 Ibid., 481. Valley Humanities Review Spring 2015 3 drama.”4 By presenting himself as merely an ordinary traveler on his way to complete his current assignment, Heracles firmly establishes the “extraordinary in the ordinary” from the moment of his entrance onto the stage. Further, by the express wish of Admetus, Heracles remains in the dark concerning the death of Alcestis until he has had time to relax and get himself thoroughly drunk, at which time the servant who has been assigned to his care comes on stage complaining about his guest’s raucous behavior and making abundantly clear his disgust for Heracles’ undignified and insensitive behavior. Heracles himself follows and offers the servant a drunken lecture on the transience of mortal life and the consequent necessity to “eat, drink, and be merry” while the chance remains. In conscientious indignation, the servant responds by informing Heracles of the truth that Admetus has hidden from him. Shocked and ashamed, Heracles discusses with himself how he may help his friend and repay him for his sincere desire to keep his sorrow from tainting the pleasure of his guest’s visit. Heracles settles on finding Alcestis’ grave mound, wrestling with Death, and forcing him to allow the queen to return to her family. The characterization of Heracles offered by this scene presents multiple contrasts with that of Gluck and Du Roullet. The first and most obvious of these lies in the utterly undignified behavior of the hero during his drinking bout, described in detail by the annoyed servant: ποτῆρα δ᾽ ἐν χείρεσσι κίσσινον λαβὼν πίνει μελαίνης μητρὸς εὔζωρον μέθυ, ἕως ἐθέρμην᾽ αὐτὸν ἀμφιβᾶσα φλὸξ οἴνου. στέφει δὲ κρᾶτα μυρσίνης κλάδοις, ἄμουσ᾽ ὑλακτῶν: 4 W. W. de Grummond, “Heracles’ Entrance: An Illustration of Euripidean Method,” Eranos 81 (1983): 86. Valley Humanities Review Spring 2015 4 [He] took a cup with ivy on it in both hands and drank the wine of our dark mother, straight, until the flame of the wine went all through him, and heated him, and then he wreathed branches of myrtle on his head and howled, off key.5 Although on the surface these lines appear merely to display the vulgar self-indulgence of their subject, a careful examination of the details of the description reveals that Heracles’ drunken binge not only eliminates any hint of his typical, almost mystical heroic aura, but it also connects him unmistakably to a very different sort of hero: the god Dionysus. Heracles demands to be served wine, the special drink of the god, and swallows it “straight,” or unmixed with water in the typical Greek fashion. This heavy drinking sends him into a Bacchic ecstasy in which he encircles his head with the myrtle leaves of a Dionysian reveler and breaks forth in unrestrained song. Despite his ridiculous appearance, this connection to the god of life and of mirth proves most poignant in light of the rest of the play and will be discussed in greater detail below. Additionally, Heracles’ raucous drinking binge imbues his decision to save Alcestis from her death with a self-awareness and humble gratitude absent from the operatic hero’s easy and immediate promise. Shaken by his own thoughtless, ignorant insensitivity, Euripides’ character waits until he is alone on stage to make his plans. In his short monologue, Heracles reveals that the impetus for his decision comes from the kindness and forbearance of his friend that caused Admetus to protect his guest from his own sorrow, even allowing that guest to indulge heedlessly every appetite at his own expense. Heracles’ humble acknowledgement of 5 Euripides, “Alcestis,” lines 756-60. Valley Humanities Review Spring 2015 5 his own indebtedness finds no parallel in the declarations of Gluck and Du Roullet’s Hercules. Although in a few instances he casually mentions his friendship with Admetus, his salvation of Alcestis seems unmotivated by any human impulse beyond a certain distant pity for the tears of her people. He responds to their mourning with a straightforward declaration of his ability to save their queen and hardly any mention of a reason for this action: Au pouvoir de la mort je saurai la ravir. Reposez-vous sur un ami sensible, reposez-vous sur ce bras invincible! The power of death I will snatch away.