University of Virginia Library

Tableau First.

—A Corn Field—The House of Orpheus, over the door a large board, on which is written: “Orpheus, Doctor of Music and Professor of Poetry. Director of the Grecian Philharmonic Society. Ladies' Schools attended. Orchestras provided for Public Balls or Private Parties”—The Cottage of Aristæus, over the door a board, on which is written: “Aristæus, Dealer in Honey, wholesale and retail. Here and at the principal manufactory, Mount Hymettus. N.B.—The Trade supplied. Honeymoons made to order at the shortest notice”—Behind the standing corn, view of a Grecian temple and the sea-shore.
Enter Eurydice.
Pub. O.
And here advances fair Eurydice,
As unlike Virgil's as she well can be;
But that is not the fault of the adapter.
He's ta'en the envelope in which they've wrapt her,
And sticking pretty closely to the letter,
Hopes he's not made her worse, if not much better.
The music—heard so oft in music-halls,
Where, naturally, one looks out for squalls—
Will take the town by storm, his hope and trust is.
No words of his, he feels, can do it justice;
And flying in the face of all mythology,
Not e'en Apollo could make his apolo-gy.
(to Eurydice)
Now, madam, without fear, approach and quaver,
Public Opinion's always in your favour.
I go—but not a step beyond yon wing—
As “Deus ex machina,” thence to spring.

(Exit)
(Eurydice advances with basket of flowers)
Air—Eurydice.

Eury.
(opening door of the Cottage of Aristæus, and finding no one within)
Not in! He must be somewhere here about.
How sad it is to find one's lover out!
Sweet flow'rets, be my witness that I came
And called—alas, how vainly! on his name.
My Aristæus, on the floor I strew
These gifts of Flora!

(flings the flowers into Cottage)
Enter Orpheus, from his house.
Orph.
(aside)
Gods! what meets my view?
The lovely nymph whom I've so long adored!
Alone, too. Let me touch a tender chord.

(plays on his violin)
Eury.
My husband!

Orph.
(aside)
Fiends! my wife! at me she'll fly out;
The only way's to be the first to cry out!
The injured husband I must grandly act.
(aloud)
So, madam, I have caught you in the fact.

Eury.
Caught me! In what fact, sir, I beg you'll say?

Orph.
To whom that floral tribute did you pay?

Eury.
To whom? The winds! And you, sweet spouse, explain,
To whom did you address that dying strain?

Orph.
The moon!

Eury.
At sunrise? to the dear departed!
All moonshine, I've no doubt—ugh! you false-hearted—

Orph.
Eurydice!

Eury.
Oh! come, no more of this!
I've seen you running after every miss,
Who'll listen to your scraping.

Orph.
Scraping—mine!

Eury.
You think your fiddling, don't you, mighty fine;
Its execrable—there!

Orph.
The woman's mad!

Eury.
And what you call your poetry's as bad.

Orph.
My Argonautics that all Greece enchant!

Eury.
You didn't write 'em.

Orph.
Didn't!

Eury.
Couldn't—can't!
Ask Aristotle.

Orph.
Why, the man's not born!

Eury.
Well, ask him when he is then. I should scorn
Such mean evasions.

Orph.
She is quite demented!
And the hexameters that I've invented?

Eury.
Six feet of stuff! that's just two yards of fustian.

Orph.
I shall expire of spontaneous combustion!
Six feet—two yards! Madam, you'll please to measure
Your language, and not mine.

Eury.
'Tis not my pleasure.
And since extremities you drive me to,
I hate your verse—your violin—and you!
Another sun together shall not see us—
I'll be divorced, and marry Aristæus!

Duo—Orpheus and Eurydice.
Orph.
Ah, say you so?

Eury.
I don't say no.

Orph.
You prefer him your husband to?

Eury.
Yes, sir, I do—it is quite true!

Orph.
My violin's your detestation?

Eury.
Exactly so! exactly so!

Orph.
I have no genius in your estimation?

Eury.
No, surely no! no, surely no!
Your fiddle playing
Is most distressing;
A donkey braying
Is not so bad!
Your violin
Not worth a pin;
The sound's enough to drive me mad.

Orph.
For this offence flagitious,
I'll vengeance take delicious.

Eury.
In what way?
Tell me pray!
In what way, I pray you?

Orph.
I now intend to play you,
My dear Eurydice,
My latest composition,
My concerto in E.

Eury.
Mercy mercy! I implore

Orph.
No; vainly you petition.
A treat you have in store;
It lasts an hour and more.

Eury.
Oh, grant me patience! An hour or more?
Not a note will I hear!

Orph.
Indeed you shall, my dear.

(plays)
Eury.
It is too frightful!
Of horrors quite full
It is too bad!
It drives me mad.

Orph.
It is delightful!
Oh genius quite full;
Expression fine,
And tone divine!
To this movement listen now;
“Linkèd sweetness” 'tis I vow.

(playing)
Eury.
Like a saw upon a fender!

Orph.
Oh, so sweet! Oh, so tender!
Now tremelo—pizzicato—
Presto, presto! agitato!

(playing)
Eury.
Oh, torture past enduring;
I can hear no more! Oh pity me!
Love and Fate in vain conjuring
To set me free! to set me free!

Eury.
O, Jove! relieve me from this spouse of mine,
And doubly wilt thou seem to me divine.

Orph.
Great Jove! unwife me in a quiet way,
And your petitioner will ever pray.

Eury.
What should prevent our instant separation?

Orph.
For me, one serious consideration.
From our United States, such bold secession
Would greatly injure me in my profession.
Parents and guardians would at me be preaching;
At ladies' schools I should lose all my teaching;
The Philharmonic would no more elect me;
The Wandering Minstrels even would eject me.
An artist can't afford the world to brave.
Appearances we must contrive to save.
Till death do part us I with you must bear,
But let your precious bee-master beware!
He's been a serpent in my path long known.
Perchance he soon may find one in his own!

Eury.
What do you mean?

Orph.
No matter! Just you warn
Him not to tread too hard upon my corn.
(Exit Orpheus)

Eury.
Upon his corn? I seize his double sense!
The monster's malice is no doubt prepense.
He's found out that the field he grows his wheat in
Is one my love and I are wont to meet in.
Some man-trap or spring gun, no doubt he's put in it
In hopes my charming swain may put his foot in it.
Quick! Let me Aristæus fly to find.
He must be somewhere yonder scenes behind.

Enter Public Opinion.
Pub. O.
Of course; but now to see him would be wrong,
He has to enter first and sing a song.
This way, and patiently await your cue.

Eury.
I'd quite forgot—I'm much obliged to you.

(Public Opinion leads Eurydice to wing—They bow, curtsey, and exeunt separately)
Enter Aristæus.
Recitative.
Air.

Aris.
Before the world thus innocent I seem,
But who I really am you little dream;
Or what infernal mischief I'm projecting,
If Orpheus but acts as I'm expecting,
To-night I fancy we shall make a coup,
And some one I won't name will get his due.
But mum, for hither hastes my charming fair.

Enter Eurydice, behind the corn field.
Eury.
In vain I seek! Ah, no! Behold him there!

Aris.
Eurydice!

Eury.
My Aristæus—stay!
Not one step further if you love me, pray!

Aris.
Wherefore!

Eury.
Your life's in danger!

Aris.
Danger! Nay!
You don't say so!

Eury.
I do! My jealous spouse
On you the most terrific vengeance vows.
Within this wheat he's set some horrid snare,
And bade me bid you of it to beware!

Aris.
That's generous of him, I must admit,
And so—I don't believe a word of it!
In proof of which—

Eury.
Advance not, I implore—
Go round—

Aris.
'Twould go against the grain much more—
Thus to my sweet Eurydice I fly!

(enters corn field)
Eury.
Nay, then, with Aristæus let me die!—
(enters corn field from back, and suddenly stops)
Ah!

Aris.
What's the matter?

Eury.
Something's bitten me!
There's a snake in the grass!

(he leads her forward—she sinks on a rocky seat by house)
Aris.
And I am he!
Pluto! become thy godlike self again!
One! Two! Three! Presto! Pass! (changes to Pluto)
Now for my train—
The down express!—and come thou “black bat, Night,”
As by a son of song thou hast been hight,
In language more poetic than polite,
Fly in the face of Day, and hide our flight!

(the stage becomes dark, excepting a circle of limelight around Eurydice).
Eury.
What ails me? I am losing all sensation!

Plu.

Air—Eurydice.
Farewell! beloved Aristæus,
Across the Styx I'm doomed to row;
The cruel Fates will further see us,
Than I alone now wish to go.
Yet I should think myself their debtor,
If they would only take you too—
I feel I should be a shade better,
If to the Shades I went with you.

Eury.
Adieu! I am no more!

(dies)
Plu.
No more you are!
But ere I pack you in my funeral car,
You must a last word for your husband leave—
You liked to have the last word I conceive?
And you shall write it, as you've lost your breath,
And shew the ruling passion strong in death;
Although not quite consistent with chronology,
I'll try a little electro-biology.
(a fiery car rises, as a row of corn sinks—Pluto extends his bident over Eurydice; she rises as under a spell, and moves according to his direction round to the door of Orpheus's house)
Fancy a pen—for characters ethereal
Writing materials are not material.
(she writes on door with her finger the following lines, which appear in letters of fire)
“I'm dead; but my loss
You will scarce think an evil;
Aristæus was Pluto—
I'm going to the—”

Enter Public Opinion.
Pub. O.
Stop! The word's neither classic nor correct,
And there's the Licenser, who might object.
There can be no doubt of your destination.
And “kind friends will accept this intimation.”
Sad dogg'rel! But she's dead, you know, and I've
Seen quite as bad by folks who are alive.

Plu.
Now for the realms below.
The short cut there
Is viâ Paris! Barriere D'Enfer!

(Pluto lifts Eurydice into car, and sinks with her)
Pub. O.
Now the fun of all this, if there's any fun in it,
Consists in the fact you may learn in a minute,
Which is simply, that neither in fiction nor fact
Can be found any grounds for the plot we enact.
Neither husband nor wife ever gave the least handle,
As far as we know, to so open a scandal.
To her spouse fair Eurydice lived most devoted,
And Orpheus on his Eurydice doated;
And went for his own wife as quickly the deuce to,
As though she'd been somebody else's. But truce to
These comments for here comes our man, and you'll see
What a job I shall have to make him follow me;
But he must! for I'm here to control every action,
And Public Opinion will have satisfaction.

(stands aside)
Enter Orpheus.
Orph.
Who has turned off the gas in the sky borders?
Can Jupiter have given Nox new orders?
It can't be noon, and yet day has shut up.
I haven't dined, and it is time to sup!
This is a very early closing movement,
And only for one reason an improvement.
I with my wife shall take but one repast
Instead of two, and it will be the last.
(approaches his door and sees the fiery inscription)
What have we here? What demon has been scrawling
Upon my door these characters appalling?
My wife's handwriting! dead—and gone to—Well
If ever! Pooh! Pshaw! this must be a sell!
The news is too good to be true—yet no—
She must be dead, or else she couldn't go—
No matter—she is gone somewhere—and I
Am free. Somebody coming—let me fly
These unexpected tidings to impart
To the divine possessor of my heart!

(going—Public Opinion advances and stops him)
Pub. O.
Stop! I can't suffer this to pass—or you.

Orph.
Public Opinion! What would'st have me do?
My wife is gone—whither, you here may learn,
If not from “thoughts that breathe,” from “words that burn.”

Pub. O.
Follow me to Olympus, and implore
Great Jove your bosom's partner to restore.

Orph.
Restore! my partner!—after dissolution
Has been gazetted thus! Of elocution.
Through a professor, I should language lack
In such a cause. Why should I take her back?

Pub. O.
To edify posterity—to shew
There was at least one husband who would go
So far his cara-sposa to recover.

Orph.
But she is not my cara—I don't love her—
Nay, if the plain truth must be told, I hate her.

Pub. O.
That will but make the great example greater.
Posterity will—

Orph.
Hang posterity!
What has posterity e'er done for me,
That I should such consideration shew it?

Pub. O.
Despise Posterity! and you a poet!

Orph.
A poet! if there be a soul on earth
To whom Posterity is nothing worth
It is the poet. Left 'mongst fellow-men
To live, that is—to starve upon his pen;
And when in death his glorious eyes are dim,
Leaving Posterity to feast on him;
To crown with laurel his unconscious bust,
To raise a pompous marble o'er his dust,
Out of the harvest by his genius sown,
Giving to him who wanted bread, a stone.
Thanks to Apollo, I the fiddle play;
And, let me tell you, that's the thing to pay!

Pub. O.
All very fine—and, may be, very true,
But with our business it has nought to do.
Will you to Jupiter with your petition?

Orph.
No! I will bear my fate with due submission.

Pub. O.
Then you defy Public Opinion?

Orph.
Nay;
I but—

Pub. O.
No buts—but instantly obey,
(shaking scourge)
Or of my fury dread the flagellation!
I'll ruin you in purse and reputation.

Orph.
Mercy!

Pub. O.
No mercy—yield upon the spot
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
Public Opinion has sufficient gumption
To comprehend the homage of assumption,
And in all suits which claim its interference,
Insists that you shall “put in an appearance.”
Decide!

Orph.
'Twixt Scylla and Charybdis! How?
(aside)
Well, to the world's opinion I must bow.
(aloud)
Sir, to be led by you I am content,
And my petition humbly will present
To the Upper House as soon as I am able,
Praying it may be— (aside)
laid upon the table.
(aloud)
But how ascend Olympus?—that's the rub;
I'm not a member of the Alpine Club.

Pub. O.
Public Opinion will give you lift;
The rise of those whom I take up is swift.

(Public Opinion leads off Orpheus, who attempts to turn back, but is prevented by Public Opinion, and compelled to follow)