orced to admit that she is the
victim whose death is to restore him to life. Admetus passionately
refuses the sacrifice, and declares that he will rather die with her
than allow her to immolate herself on his account. He rushes wildly into
the palace, and Alcestis bids farewell to life in an air of
extraordinary pathos and beauty. The third act opens with the
lamentations of the people for their departed queen. Hercules, released
for a moment from his labours, enters and asks for Admetus. He is
horrified at the news of the calamity which has befallen his friend, and
announces his resolve of rescuing Alcestis from the clutches of Death.
Meanwhile Alcestis has reached the portals of the underworld, and is
about to surrender herself to the powers of Hell. Admetus, who has not
yet given up hope of persuading her to relinquish her purpose, appears,
and pleads passionately with her to leave him to his doom. His prayers
are vain, and Alcestis is tearing herself for the last time from his
arms, when Hercules rushes in. After a short struggle he defeats the
powers of Death and restores Alcestis to her husband. The character of
Hercules did not appear in the earlier version of the opera, and in fact
was not introduced until after Gluck had left Paris, a few days after
the production of 'Alceste.' Most of the music allotted to him is
probably not by Gluck at all, but seems to have been written by Gossec,
who was at that time one of the rising musicians in Paris. The close of
the opera is certainly inferior to the earlier parts, but the
introduction of Hercules is a great improvement upon the original
version of the last act, in which the rescue of Alcestis is effected by
Apollo. The French librettist did not treat the episode cleverly, and
indeed all the last scene is terribly prosaic, and lacking in poetical
atmosphere. To see how the appearance of the lusty hero in the halls of
woe can heighten the tragic interest by the sheer force of contrast, we
must turn to the 'Alcestis' of Euripides, where the death of Alcestis
and the strange conflict of Hercules with Death is treated with just
that touch of mystery and unearthliness which is absent from the
libretto which Gluck was called upon to set. Of the music of 'Alceste,'
its passion and intensity, it is impossible to speak too highly. It has
pages of miraculous power, in which the deepest tragedy and the most
poignant pathos are depicted with unfaltering certainty. It is strange
to