ACT III.

There was a time I pleased you well,Content I lived, and loved the spell;I had not changed for god or throneThe sway o'er you I held alone.

There was a time I pleased you well,Content I lived, and loved the spell;I had not changed for god or throneThe sway o'er you I held alone.

Climene.

So, when by gentle passion swayed,You held me dear above all maid,The regal crown I would have spurnedIf for me still your heart had burned.

So, when by gentle passion swayed,You held me dear above all maid,The regal crown I would have spurnedIf for me still your heart had burned.

Philinte.

Another's faith hath cured the woundI nursed for you within my breast.

Another's faith hath cured the woundI nursed for you within my breast.

Climene.

Another's love for me hath foundRevenge I sought, and kindly rest.

Another's love for me hath foundRevenge I sought, and kindly rest.

Philinte.

Chloris the fair true passion sways,For me she pours her soul in sighs,And I would gladly close my daysIf so should bid her beauteous eyes.

Chloris the fair true passion sways,For me she pours her soul in sighs,And I would gladly close my daysIf so should bid her beauteous eyes.

Climene.

Myrtil, of youthful hearts the flower,He loves me true e'en more than light;And I, to prove love's mighty power,Content, would pass to endless night.

Myrtil, of youthful hearts the flower,He loves me true e'en more than light;And I, to prove love's mighty power,Content, would pass to endless night.

Philinte.

But if our passion's gentle rayA lingering spark would kindle anew,And from my heart expel to-dayChloris the fair, thy love to sue?

But if our passion's gentle rayA lingering spark would kindle anew,And from my heart expel to-dayChloris the fair, thy love to sue?

Climene.

Though Myrtil loves me true,Though constant e'er to sigh,Still, I confess, with youI'd gladly live and die.

Though Myrtil loves me true,Though constant e'er to sigh,Still, I confess, with youI'd gladly live and die.

Both(together).

'Midst love then more than ever let us fleetThe lingering hours, and own a bond so sweet.

'Midst love then more than ever let us fleetThe lingering hours, and own a bond so sweet.

Ballet, Divertissement, etc.

Ari. We must always repeat the same words. We have always to exclaim: This is admirable! Wonderful! It is beyond all that has ever been seen.

Tim. You bestow too much praise on these trifles, Madam.

Ari. Such trifles may agreeably engage the thoughts of the most serious people. Indeed, my daughter, you have cause to be thankful to these princes, and you can never repay all the trouble they take for you.

Eri. I am deeply grateful for it, Madam.

Ari. And yet you make them languish a long time for what they expect from you. I have promised not to constrain you; but their love claims from you a declaration that you should not put off any longer the reward of their attentions. I had asked Sostratus to sound your heart, but I do not know if he has begun to acquit himself of his commission.

Eri. Yes, Madam, he has. But it seems to me that I cannot put off too long the decision which is asked of me, and that I could not give it without incurring some blame. I feel equally thankful for the love, attentions, and homage of these two princes, and I think it a great injustice to show myself ungrateful either to the one or to the other by the refusal I must make of one in preference to his rival.

Iph. We should call this, Madam, a very pretty way of refusing us both.

Ari. This scruple, daughter, should not stop you; and those two princes have both long since agreed to submit to the preference you show.

Eri. Our inclinations easily deceive us, Madam, and disinterested hearts are more able to make a right choice.

Ari. You know that I have engaged my word to give no opinion upon this matter, and you cannot make a bad choice when you have to choose between these two princes.

Eri. In order not to do violence either to your promise or to my scruples, Madam, pray agree to what I shall propose.

Ari. And what is that, my daughter?

Eri. I should like Sostratus to decide for me. You chose him to try to discover the secret of my heart; suffer me to choose him to end the perplexity I am in.

Ari. I have such a high regard for Sostratus that, whether you mean to employ him to explain your feelings or to leave him entirely to decide for you, I consent heartily to this proposition.

Iph. Which means, Madam, that we must pay our court to Sostratus.

Sos. No, my Lord, you will have no court to pay to me; and with all the respect due to the princesses, I refuse the glory to which they would raise me.

Ari. How is that, Sostratus?

Sos. I have reasons, Madam, which do not allow me to accept the honour you would do me.

Iph. Are you afraid, Sostratus, of making yourself an enemy?

Sos. I should have but little fear for the enemies I might make in obeying the will of my sovereigns.

Tim. Why, then, do you refuse to accept the power which is entrusted to you, and to acquire to yourself the friendship of a prince who would owe all his happiness to you?

Sos. Because it is not in my power to grant to that prince what he would wish from me.

Iph. What reason can you have?

Sos. Why should you so insist upon this? Perhaps I may have, my Lord, some secret interest opposed to the pretensions of your love. Perhaps I may have a friend who burns with a respectful flame for the divine charms with which you are in love. Perhaps that friend makes me the daily confidant of his sufferings, that he complains to me of the rigour of his fate, and is looking upon the marriage of the princess as the dreadful sentence which is to send him to his grave. Supposing it were so, my Lord, would it be right that he should receive his death-wound from my hands?

Iph. You seem to me, Sostratus, very likely to be that friend whose interests you have so much at heart.

Sos. I beg of you, my Lord, not to render me odious tote persons who hear you. I know what I am, and unfortunate people like me are not ignorant of the limits which fortune assigned to their desires.

Ari. Let us drop this subject; we will find means for overcoming my daughter's irresolution.

Ana. Are there better means of arriving at a conclusion that would satisfy everybody than to consult the light which heaven can give us on that marriage? I have already begun, as I told you, to cast the mysterious figures which our art teaches us; and I hope soon to be able to show you what the future has in reserve regarding this longed for union. After that, who can still hesitate? Will not the glory or the prosperity which will be promised to one or the other be choice sufficient to decide it, and can he who is rejected be offended when heaven itself decides who is to be preferred?

Iph. For my part, I submit to it altogether, and I declare that this way seems the most reasonable.

Tim. I am entirely of the same opinion, and whatever heaven may decide, I yield to it without reluctance.

Eri. But, my Lord Anaxarchus, do you really read so clearly destiny that you can never be deceived? And pray, who will give us security for this prosperity, this glory which you say heaven promises us?

Ari. My daughter, you have a little incredulity which never leaves you.

Ana. The proofs, Madam, which everybody has seen, of the infallibility of my predictions are sufficient security for the promises I make. But, in short, when I have shown you what heaven has in reserve for you, you may act as you please, and choose one or the other destiny.

Eri. Heaven, you say, Anaxarchus, will show me the good or bad destiny that is in reserve for me?

Ana. Yes, Madam; the felicity with which you will be blessed if you marry the one, and the misery that will accompany you if you marry the other.

Eri. But since it is impossible for me to marry them both at once, it seems that we find written in the heavens not only what is to happen, but also what is not to happen.

Cli. (aside). Here is a puzzler for our astrologer!

Ana. I should have to give you, Madam, a long dissertation on the principles of astrology to make you understand this.

Cli. Well answered. I have no harm, Madam, to say of astrology; astrology is a fine thing. My Lord Anaxarchus is a great man.

Iph. The truth of astrology is an incontestable fact, and no one can dispute the certainty of its predictions.

Cli. Certainly not.

Tim. I am incredulous enough in many things, but as regards astrology, there is nothing more sure or constant than the certainty of the horoscopes it draws.

Cli. The things are as clear as daylight.

Iph. A hundred accidents happen every day which convince the greatest unbelievers.

Cli. Quite true.

Tim. Who could contradict the many famous incidents which are related to us in books?

Cli. Only people devoid of common sense can do so; how can anything in print be doubted?

Ari. Sostratus has not said a word yet. What is your opinion about it?

Sos. Madam, all minds are not gifted with the necessary qualities which the delicacy of those fine sciences called abstruse require. There are some so material that they cannot conceive what others understand most easily. There is nothing more agreeable, Madam, than all the great promises of these sublime sciences. To transform everything into gold; to cause people to live for ever; to cure with words; to make ourselves loved by whomsoever we please; to know all the secrets of futurity; to bring down from heaven, according to one's will, on metals, impressions of happiness; to command demons, to raise invisible armies and invulnerable soldiers—all this is delightful, no doubt; and there are people who experience no difficulty whatever in believing all this to be possible; it is the easiest thing for them to conceive. But for me, I acknowledge that my coarse, gross mind can hardly understand and refuses to believe it; that, in fact, it thinks it all too good ever to be true. All those beautiful arguments of sympathy, magnetic power, and occult virtue, are so subtle and delicate that they escape my material understanding; and, without speaking of anything else, it has never been in my power to conceive how there is to be found in the heavens even the smallest particulars of the fortune of the least of men. What relation, what connection, what reciprocity, can there be between us and globes so immeasurably distant from our earth? And how, besides, can this sublime science have come to man? What god revealed it? or what experience can have been formed from the observation of that immense number of stars which have never as yet been seen twice in the same order?

Ana. It would not be hard to make you conceive it.

Sos. You would be more clever than all the others.

Cli. (toSostratus). He will deliver you a long discussion about all this whenever you please.

Iph. If you do not understand such things, you can at least believe what is seen every day.

Sos. As my understanding is so gross that I never could understand anything, my eyes also are unfortunate enough never to have witnessed anything relating to it.

Iph. For my part, I have seen things altogether convincing.

Tim. So have I.

Sos. Since you have seen, you do well to believe; and your eyes must be differently made from mine.

Iph. But, in short, the princess believes in astrology; and I think we may well, after her example, believe in it also. Would you say that Madam has not intelligence and sense, Sostratus?

Sos. My Lord, your question is rather unfair. The mind of the princess is no rule for mine, and her understanding may raise her to light, which I, in my meaner sense, cannot reach.

Ari. No, Sostratus; I shall say nothing to you about many things to which I give no more credence than you do; but as for astrology, I have been told and been shown things so positive that I cannot doubt them.

Sos. Madam, I have nothing to answer to that.

Ari. We will say no more about this; leave us a moment. We will, my daughter and myself, go towards that fine grotto where I have promised to go. Ha! something gallant at every step.

The stage represents a grotto, where thePrincessesgo to take a walk. As they enter it, eight statues, each bearing two torches, come down from their recesses, and execute a varied dance of different figures and several fine attitudes in which they place themselves at intervals.

Ballet.

Ari. Nothing can be more gallant or better contrived. My daughter, I wished to come alone here with you, so that we may have a little quiet talk together; and I hope that you will in nothing hide the truth from me. Have you in your heart no secret inclination which you are unwilling to reveal to me?

Eri. I, Madam?

Ari. Speak openly, daughter; what I have done for you well deserves that you should be frank and open with me. To make you the sole object of all my thoughts, to prefer you above all things, to shut my ears, in the position I am in, to all the propositions that a hundred princesses might decently listen to in my place—all that ought to tell you that I am a kind mother, and that I am not likely to receive with severity the confidences your heart may have to make.

Eri. If I had so badly followed your example as to have allowed an inclination I had reason to conceal to enter my soul, I should have power enough over myself to impose silence on such a love, and to do nothing unworthy of your name.

Ari. No, no, daughter; I had rather you laid bare your feelings to me. I have not limited your choice to the two princes; you may extend it to whomsoever you please; merit stands so high in my estimation that I think it equal to any rank; and if you tell me frankly how things are, you will see me subscribe without repugnance to the choice you have made.

Eri. You are so kind and indulgent towards me that I can never be thankful enough for it; but I will not put your kindness to the test on such a subject, and all I ask of you is to allow me not to hurry a marriage about which I am not decided as yet.

Ari. Till now I have left everything to your decision; and the impatience of the princes your lovers.... But what means this noise? Ah! daughter, what spectacle is this? Some deity descends; it is the goddess Venus who seems about to speak to us.

Ven. (toAristione). Princess, in you shines a glorious example, which the immortals mean to recompense; and that you may have a son-in-law both great and happy, they will guide you in the choice you should make. They announce by my voice the great and glorious fame which will come to your house by this choice. Therefore, put an end to your perplexities, and give your daughter to him who shall save your life.

Ari. Daughter, the gods have imposed silence on all our arguments. After this, all we have to do is to wait for what they wish to give us; and we have distinctly heard what their will is. Let us go to the nearest temple to assure them of our obedience, and to render thanks to them for their goodness.

Cle. The princess is going away; do you not want to speak to her?

Ana. No; let us wait until her daughter has left her. I am afraid of her; she will never suffer herself to be led like her mother. In short, my son, as we have just been able to judge through this opening, our stratagem has succeeded. Our Venus has done wonders, and the admirable engineer, who has contrived this piece of machinery, has so well disposed everything, so cunningly cut the floor of his grotto, so well hid his wires and springs, so well adjusted his lights, and dressed his personages, that but few people could have escaped being deceived; and as the Princess Aristione is extremely superstitious, there is no, doubt that she fully believes in this piece of deception. I have been a long time preparing this machine, my son, and now I have almost reached the goal of my ambition.

Cle. But for which of the two princes have you invented this trick?

Ana. Both have courted my assistance, and I have promised to both the influence of my art. But the presents of Prince Iphicrates, and the promises which he has made, by far exceed all that the other could do. Therefore, it is Iphicrates who will profit by all I can invent, and as his ambition will owe everything to me, our future is sure. I will go and take my time to confirm the princess in her error, and, the better to prepossess her mind, skilfully show her the agreement of the words of Venus with the predictions of the celestial signs which I told her I have cast. Be it your part to go and get our six men to hide themselves carefully in their boat behind the rock, and make them wait quietly for the time when the princess comes alone in the evening for her usual walk. Then they must suddenly attack her like pirates, in order to give the opportunity to Prince Iphicrates to rush to her rescue, and lend her the help which is to put Eriphyle in his hands according to the words of Venus. I have forewarned the prince, and, acting on the belief in my prediction, he is to hold himself in readiness in that little wood that skirts the shore. But let us leave this grotto. I will tell you as we go along all that is necessary for you carefully to observe. Here is the Princess Eriphyle; let us avoid her.

Alas! how hard is my destiny! What have I done to the gods that they should interest themselves in what happens to me?

Cleon. Here he is, Madam; he followed me the moment he heard your commands.

Eri. Let him come hither, Cleonice, and leave us alone for one moment.

Eri. Sostratus, you love me.

Sos. I, Madam?

Eri. Yes, Sostratus, I know it, I approve of it, and allow you to tell me so. Your love appeared to me accompanied by all the merit which could render it valuable to me. Were it not for the rank in which heaven has placed me, I might tell you that your love would not have been an unhappy one, and I have often wished for a position in which I might fully show the secret feelings of my heart. It is not, Sostratus, that merit fails to have for me all the value which it should have, and because, in my inmost soul, I do not prefer the virtues which you possess to all the magnificent titles which adorn others. The princess my mother has also, it is true, left me free in my choice, and I have no doubt that I could have obtained her consent according to my wish. But, Sostratus, there are stations in life where it is not right to wish that what pleases us should come to pass. It is painful to be above all others, and the burning light of fame often makes us pay too severely for having yielded to our inclination. I never could, therefore, expose myself to it, and I thought I would simply put off the bonds I was solicited to enter. But, at last, the gods themselves will give me a husband, and all these long delays with which I have postponed my marriage, and which the kindness of the princess my mother made possible, are no longer permitted to me. I must resign myself to the will of heaven. You may rest assured, Sostratus, that it is with the greatest repugnance that I consent to this marriage, and that, were I mistress of myself, either I should have been yours or should have belonged to no one. This is, Sostratus, what I had to tell you; what I felt I owed to your merit, and the only consolation which my tenderness can show to your love.

Sos. Ah! Madam, it is too much for one so undeserving as I am! I was not prepared to die with such glory, and from this moment I shall cease to complain of my destiny. If it caused me to be born in a rank below what I could have desired, it has made me to be born happy enough to attract some pity from the heart of a great princess, and this glorious pity is worth sceptres and crowns; is worth the power of the greatest princes of the earth. Yes, Madam, from the moment I dared to love you—it is you, Madam, who allow me to use this bold word—from the moment I dared to love you, I condemned the pride of my aspirations, and determined upon the fate I ought to expect. Death will not surprise me, for I am prepared for it, but your kindness has thrown upon it an honour which my love never dared to hope; I shall now die the happiest and most fortunate of men. If I may yet hope for anything, I on my knees will ask two favours of you: to be willing to endure my presence till that happy marriage which is to put an end to my life takes place; and amidst the glory and long prosperities which heaven promises to your union, to remember sometimes Sostratus, who loved you. May I hope for those favours, O divine princess?

Eri. Go, Sostratus; leave me. You little care for my peace of mind if you ask me to remember you.

Sos. Ah, Madam, if your peace of mind ...

Eri. Leave me, Sostratus; spare my weakness; do not expose me to do more than I have resolved upon.

Cle. Madam, I see you quite melancholy; will you allow your dancers, who express so well all the passions of the soul, to come and give you a sample of their skill?

Eri. Yes, Cleonice; let them do what they like, provided they leave me to my thoughts.

Four pantomimists, as a sample of their skill, adapt their movements and steps to the signs of uneasiness of the youngPrincess Eriphyle.

Ballet.

Cli. Where shall I go? which way shall I turn? Where am I likely to find the Princess Eriphyle? It is no small pleasure to be the first to bring news. Ah! here she is! Madam, I come to tell you that heaven has just now given you the husband it reserved for you.

Eri. Alas! leave me, Clitidas, to my gloomy sorrow.

Cli. Madam, I beg your pardon, I thought I did well to come and tell you that heaven has given you Sostratus for a husband; but, since it is unpleasant to you, I will pocket my news, and go back just as I came.

Eri. Clitidas! I say, Clitidas!

Cli. I leave you, Madam, to your gloomy melancholy.

Eri. Stay, I tell you; come here. What is it you say?

Cli. Nothing, Madam. One is sometimes too hasty in coming to tell great people things they don't care about, and I pray you to excuse me.

Eri. How cruel you are!

Cli. Another time I will take care not to come and interrupt you.

Eri. Keep me no longer in suspense; say what it is you came to tell me.

Cli. An insignificant thing about Sostratus, Madam, which I will tell you another time when you are less engaged.

Eri. Keep me no longer in suspense, and tell me the news.

Cli. You wish to know it, Madam?

Eri. Yes, be quick. What is it about Sostratus?

Cli. A wonderful adventure which nobody expected.

Eri. Tell it me at once.

Cli. Will it not trouble you, Madam, in your gloomy melancholy?

Eri. Ah! Speak, I say.

Cli. I must tell you, then, Madam, that the princess your mother was going almost alone through the forest by those little paths which are so pleasant, when a frightful boar—those ugly boars are always doing mischief, and should be banished from civilised forests—when a hideous boar, I say, driven to bay, I believe, by some huntsmen, came right across the path where we were. I ought, perhaps, to adorn my account with an elaborate description of this said boar; but you must try and do without it, if you please, and be satisfied to know that it was a terribly ugly brute. It was going on its way, and it would have been as well not to disturb it; but the princess wished to show her skill, and with her dart, which, if I may say so, she launched somewhat unseasonably, inflicted a slight wound just above the ear. The ill-bred boar turned impertinently upon us. We were then two or three wretches who became pale with fright; each gained his tree, and the princess was left alone, exposed to the fury of the beast, when Sostratus appeared, just in time, as if the very gods had sent him.

Eri. And so, Clitidas?

Cli. If this account wearies you, Madam, I can put off the remainder for another occasion.

Eri. End it quickly.

Cli. It is, indeed, quickly that I shall end, for a grain of cowardice prevented me from seeing the details of the struggle, and all that I can tell you is that, when we came back to the spot, we found the boar dead and bleeding, and the princess full of joy, and proclaiming Sostratus her deliverer and your husband, according to the words spoken by the gods. When I heard this, I did not stop to hear any more, and I ran in search of you to bring you this piece of news.

Eri. Ah! Clitidas, you could never have given me a more welcome one.

Cli. Oh! here they are coming to find you.

Ari. I perceive, my daughter, that you already know everything which we are coming to tell you. You see that the gods have explained themselves sooner than we expected. The danger I have just run has told us what their will is, and it is easy to see that the choice comes from them, since merit alone shines in the selection they have made. Will it be repugnant to you to recompense with the gift of your heart the one to whom I owe my life, and will you refuse to accept Sostratus for your husband?

Eri. Both from the hands of the gods and from yours, Madam, I could receive no gift that would be disagreeable to me.

Sos. Is not this a glorious dream with which the gods wish to flatter me? Am I not to expect some dreadful awakenings which will plunge me back into all the baseness of my former fortune?

Cleon. Madam, I am come to tell you that Anaxarchus had till now deceived both the princes, with the hope of favouring the choice upon which their souls were bent; and that, hearing what has taken place, they have both given way to their resentment against him, and things growing worse, he has received several wounds, from which it is impossible to say what may happen. But here they are both coming.

Ari. Princes, you are very quick in avenging yourselves; if Anaxarchus offended you, I was here to do you justice.

Iph. And what justice can you have done us, Madam, when you do so little to our rank in the choice you have made?

Ari. Had you not both agreed to submit to what the order of the gods or my daughter's inclination might decide in this matter? and of what consequence can the interests of a rival be to you?

Tim. Yes, Madam; we were ready to submit to a choice between the Prince Iphicrates and myself, but not to find ourselves both repulsed. It were some consolation to see the choice fall on an equal, but your blindness is something terrible.

Ari. Prince, I have no wish to fall out with one who has had the kindness to praise me so much; and I beg of you, in all sincerity, to base your sorrow upon better foundation. Try and remember, I pray, that Sostratus' merit is known throughout Greece, and that by the rank to which the gods raise him to-day the distance between you and him disappears.

Iph. Yes, we shall remember it, Madam. But, perhaps, you will be pleased also to remember that two insulted princes may be enemies to be feared.

Tim. You may not have long to enjoy the contempt in which you hold us.

Ari. I forgive all these threats for the sake of the sorrow of a love which thinks itself insulted; and we will none the less go and see the Pythian Games in all peace. Let us go at once, and let us crown by the glorious spectacle this wonderful day.

The scene represents a great hall in the form of an amphitheatre, with a grand open arcade at the farther end, above which is a tribune, closed by a curtain, and in the distance is seen an altar prepared for the sacrifice. Six men, dressed as if they were almost naked, each carrying an axe on his shoulder, like executioners of the sacrifice, enter by the portico, to the sound of violins, and are followed by two sacrificers who play, by a priestess, also playing, and by their suite.


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