 | Pygmalion and Galatea |  |
62
ACT II.
Scene, same as Act I.Pygmalion discovered at work on an unfinished statue.
Pyg.
To-morrow my Cynisca comes to me;
Would that she had never departed hence!
It took a miracle to make me false,
And even then I was but false in thought;
A less exacting wife might be appeased
By that reflection. But Pygmalion
Must be immaculate in every thought,
Even though Heaven's armaments be ranged
Against the fortress of his constancy!
Enter Myrine, in great excitement.
Myr.
Pygmalion!
Pyg.
Myrine!
Myr.
Touch me not,
Thou hast deceived me, and deceived thy wife!
Who is the woman thou didst send to me
To share my roof last night?
Pyg.
Be pacified;
Judge neither of us hastily; in truth
She is as pure, as innocent as thou.
Myr.
Oh, miserable man—confess the truth!
Disguise not that of which she boasts aloud!
Pyg.
Of what then does she boast?
Myr.
To all I say
She answers with one parrot-like reply,
“I love Pygmalion”—and when incensed
I tell her that thou hast a cheated wife,
She only says, “I love Pygmalion,
“I and my life are his, and his alone!”
Who is this shameless woman, sir? Confess!
Pyg.
Myrine, I will tell thee all. The gods,
To punish my expressed impiety,
Have worked a miracle, and brought to life
My statue Galatea!
Myr.
(incredulously).
Marvellous,
If it be true!
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It's absolutely true.
(Myrine opens the curtains and sees the pedestal empty.)
Myr.
The statue's gone! (Galatea appears at door.)
Pyg.
The statue's at the door!
Gal.
At last we meet! Oh! my Pygmalion!
What strange, strange things have happened since we met.
Pyg.
Why, what has happened to thee?
Gal.
Fearful things!
(To Myr.)
I went with thee into thine house—
Myr.
Well, well.
Gal.
And then I sat alone and wept—and wept
A long, long time for my Pygmalion.
Then by degrees, by tedious degrees,
The light—the glorious light!—the god-sent light!
I saw it sink—sink—sink—behind the world!
Then I grew cold—cold—as I used to be,
Before my loved Pygmalion gave me life.
Then came the fearful thought that, by degrees,
I was returning into stone again!
How bitterly I wept and prayed aloud
That it might not be so! “Spare me, ye gods!
“Spare me,” I cried, “for my Pygmalion.
“A little longer for Pygmalion!
“Oh, take me not so early from my love;
“Oh, let me see him once—but once again!”
But no—they heard me not, for they are good,
And had they heard, must needs have pitied me;
They had not seen thee, and they did not know
The happiness that I must leave behind.
I fell upon thy couch (to Myrine)
; my eyelids closed;
My senses faded from me one by one;
I knew no more until I found myself,
After a strange dark interval of time,
Once more upon my hated pedestal,
A statue—motionless—insensible;
And then I saw the glorious gods come down!
Down to this room! the air was filled with them!
They came and looked upon Pygmalion,
And, looking on him, kissed him one by one,
And said, in tones that spoke to me of life,
“We cannot take her from such happiness!
“Live, Galatea, for his love!” And then
The glorious light that I had lost came back—
There was Myrine's room, there was her couch,
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Sang once more in the great green waving trees,
As I had heard them sing—I lived once more
To look on him I love!
Myr.
'Twas but a dream!
Once every day this death occurs to us,
Till thou and I and all who dwell on earth
Shall sleep to wake no more?
Gal.
To wake no more?
Pyg.
That time must come—may be not yet awhile—
Still it must come, and we shall all return
To the cold earth from which we quarried thee.
Gal.
See how the promises of new-born life
Fade from the bright hope-picture, one by one!
Love for Pygmalion, a blighting sin;
His love a shame that he must hide away;
Sleep, stone-like senseless sleep, our natural state;
And life a passing vision born thereof!
How the bright promises fade one by one!
Myr.
Why, there are many men whom thou mayst love;
But not Pygmalion—he has a wife.
Gal.
Does no one love him?
Myr.
Certainly—I do.
He is my brother.
Gal.
Did he give thee life?
Myr.
Why no; but then—
Gal.
He did not give thee life,
And yet thou lovest him! And why not I
Who owe my very being to his love?
Pyg.
Well, thou mayst love me—as a father.
Myr.
Yes;
He is thy father, for he gave thee life.
Gal.
Well, as thou wilt; it is enough to know
That I may love thee. Wilt thou love me too?
Pyg.
Yes, as a daughter; there, that's understood.
Gal.
Then I am satisfied.
Myr.
(aside).
Indeed I hope
Cynisca also will be satisfied!
[Exit Myrine.
Gal.
(To Pyg.)
Thou art not going from me?
Pyg.
For a while.
Gal.
Oh, take me with thee; leave me not alone
With these cold emblems of my former self!
(Alluding to statues.)
I dare not look on them!
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Leucippus comes,
And he shall comfort thee till I return;
I'll not be long!
Gal.
Leucippus! Who is he?
Pyg.
A man
Who's hired to kill his country's enemies.
Gal.
(horrified).
A paid assassin!
Pyg.
(annoyed).
Well, that's rather strong.
There spoke the thoroughly untutored mind;
So coarse a sentiment might fairly pass
With mere Arcadians—a cultured state
Holds soldiers at a higher estimate.
In Athens—which is highly civilized—
The soldier's social rank is in itself
Almost a patent of nobility.
Gal.
He kills! And he is paid to kill!
Pyg.
No doubt.
But then he kills to save his countrymen.
Gal.
Whether his countrymen be right or wrong?
Pyg.
That's no affair of his—it's quite enough
That there are enemies for him to kill:
He goes and kills them when his orders come.
Gal.
How terrible! Why, my Pygmalion,
How many dreadful things thou teachest me!
Thou tellest me of death—that hideous doom
That all must fill; and having told me this—
Here is a man, whose business is to kill:
To filch from other men the priceless boon
That thou hast given me—the boon of life—
And thou defendest him!
Pyg.
I have no time
To make these matters clear—but here he comes,
Talk to him—thou wilt find him kind and good,
Despite his terrible profession.
Gal.
(in great terror).
No!
I'll not be left with him, Pygmalion. Stay!
He is a murderer!
Pyg.
Ridiculous!
Why, Galatea, he will harm thee not:
He is as good as brave. I'll not be long;
I'll soon return. Farewell!
[Exit.
Gal.
I will obey,
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Alone with one whose mission is to kill!
Oh, it is terrible!
Enter Leucippus with a Fawn that he has shot.
Leuc.
A splendid shot,
And one that I shall never make again!
Gal.
Monster! Approach me not!
(Shrinking into corner.)
Leuc.
Why, who is this?
Nay, I'll not hurt thee, maiden!
Gal.
Spare me, sir!
I have not done thy country any wrong!
I am no enemy!
Leuc.
I'll swear to that!
Were Athens' enemies as fair as thou,
She'd never be at loss for warriors.
Gal.
Oh miserable man, repent! repent!
Ere the stern marble claim you once again.
Leuc.
I don't quite understand—
Gal.
Remember, sir,
The sculptor who designed you little thought
That when he prayed the gods to give you life,
He turned a monster loose upon the world!
See, there is blood upon those cruel hands!
Oh, touch me not!
Leuc.
(aside).
Poor crazy little girl!
Why—there's no cause for fear—I'll harm thee not—
As for the blood, this will account for it (showing Fawn)
.
Gal.
What's that?
Leuc.
A little fawn.
Gal.
It does not move!
Leuc.
No, for I wounded her.
Gal.
Oh, horrible!
Leuc.
Poor little thing! 'Twas almost accident;
I lay upon my back beneath a tree,
Whistling the lazy hours away—when, lo!
I saw her bounding through a distant glade;
My bow was handy; in sheer wantonness
I aimed an arrow at her, and let fly,
Believing that at near a hundred yards
So small a being would be safe enough,
But, strange to tell, I hit her. Here she is;
She moves—poor little lady! Ah, she's dead!
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Oh, horrible! oh, miserable man!
What have you done?— (Takes Fawn into her arms)—
Why, you have murdered her!
Poor little thing! I know not what thou art;
Thy form is strange to me; but thou hadst life,
And he has robbed thee of it! (Gives it back to Leuc.)
Get you hence!
Ere vengeance overtake you!
Leuc.
Well, in truth,
I have some apprehension on that score.
It was Myrine's—though I knew it not!
'Twould pain her much to know that it is dead;
So keep the matter carefully from her
Until I can replace it.
[Exit. Leucippus with Fawn.
Gal.
Get you hence;
I have no compact with a murderer!
Enter Myrine.
Myr.
Why, Galatea, what has frightened thee?
Gal.
Myrine, I have that to say to thee
That thou must nerve thyself to hear. That man—
The man thou lovest—is a murderer!
Myr.
Poor little maid! Pygmalion, ere he left,
Told me that by that name thou didst describe
The bravest soldier that our country owns!
He's no assassin, he's a warrior.
Gal.
Then what is an assassin?
Myr.
One who wars
Only with weak, defenceless creatures. One
Whose calling is to murder unawares.
My brave Leucippus is no murderer.
Gal.
Thy brave Leucippus is no longer brave,
He is a mere assassin by thy showing.
I saw him with his victim in his arms,
His wicked hands dyed crimson with her blood!
There she lay, cold and stark—her gentle eyes
Glazed with the film of death. She moved but once,
She turned her head to him and tried to speak,
But ere she could articulate a word
Her head fell helplessly, and she was dead!
Myr.
Why, you are raving, girl! Who told you this?
Gal.
He owned it; and he gloried in the deed.
He told me how, in arrant wantonness,
He drew his bow, and smote her to the heart!
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Leucippus did all this! Impossible!
You must be dreaming!
Gal.
On my life, it's true.
See, here's a handkerchief which still is stained
With her life-blood—I staunched it with my hand.
Myr.
Who was his victim?
Gal.
Nay—I cannot tell.
Her form was strange to me—but here he comes;
Oh, hide me from that wicked murderer!
Enter Leucippus.
Myr.
Leucippus, can this dreadful tale be true?
Leuc.
(to Gal., aside).
Thou should have kept my secret. See, poor girl,
How it distresses her. (To Myr.)
It's true enough,
But Galatea should have kept it close,
I knew that it would pain thee grievously.
Myr.
Some devil must have turned Leucippus' brain!
You did all this?
Leuc.
Undoubtedly I did.
I saw my victim dancing happily
Across my field of view—I took my bow,
And, at the distance of a hundred yards,
I sent an arrow right into her heart.
There are few soldiers who could do as much.
Myr.
Indeed I hope that there are very few.
Oh, miserable man!
Leuc.
That's rather hard.
Congratulate me rather on my aim,
Of which I have some reason now to boast;
As for my victim—why, one more or less,
What does it matter? There are plenty left!
And then reflect—indeed, I never thought
That I should hit her at so long a range;
My aim was truer than I thought it was,
And the poor little lady's dead!
Myr.
Alas!
This is the calmness of insanity.
What shall we do? Go, hide yourself away—
Leuc.
But—
Myr.
Not a word—I will not hear thy voice,
I will not look upon thy face again;
Begone!
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Go, sir, or I'll alarm the house!
Leuc.
Well, this is sensibility, indeed!
Well, they are women—women judge these things
By some disjointed logic of their own,
That is not given to man to understand.
I'm off to Athens—when your reason comes
Send for me, if you will. Till then, farewell.
[Exit angrily.
Myr.
Oh, this must be a dream, and I shall wake
To happiness once more!
Gal.
A dream! no doubt!
We both are dreaming, and we dream the same!
But by what sign, Myrine, can we tell
Whether we dream or wake?
Myr.
There are some things
Too terrible for truth, and this is one.
Enter Pygmalion, with Fawn.
Pyg.
Why, what's the matter with Leucippus, girl?
I saw him leave the house, and mount his horse
With every show of anger.
Myr.
He is mad,
And he hath done a deed I dare not name.
Did he say ought to thee before he left?
Pyg.
Yes; when I asked him what had angered him,
He threw me this (showing Fawn)
.
Gal.
(in extreme of horror).
His victim! take it hence!
I cannot look at it!
Myr.
Why, what is this?
Gal.
The being he destroyed in wantonness;
He robbed it of the life the gods had given.
Oh! take it hence; I dare not look on death!
Myr.
Why, was this all he killed?
Gal.
(astonished).
All!!! And enough!
Myr.
Why, girl—thou must be mad! Pygmalion—
She told me he had murdered somebody,
But knew not whom!
Pyg.
The girl will drive us mad!
Bid them prepare my horse—I'll bring him back.
[Exit Myrine
Gal.
Have I done wrong? Indeed, I did not know:
Thou art not angry with me?
Pyg.
Yes, I am;
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With publishing thine unmasked love for me,
Thou hast estranged Leucippus from his love
Through thine unwarrantable foolishness.
Enter Mimos.
Mim.
Sir, Chrysos and his lady are without.
Pyg.
I cannot see them now. Stay—show them in.
[Exit Mimos.
(To Gal.)
Go, wait in there. I'll join thee very soon.
[Exit Galatea.
Enter Daphne.
Daph.
Where is Pygmalion?
Pyg.
Pygmalion's here.
Daph.
We called upon you many months ago,
But you were not at home—so being here,
We looked around us and we saw the stone
You keep so carefully behind that veil.
Pyg.
That was a most outrageous liberty.
Daph.
Sir! Do you know me?
Pyg.
You are Chrysos' wife.
Has Chrysos come with you?
Daph.
He waits without.
I am his herald to prepare you for
The honour he confers. Be civil, sir,
And he may but that statue; if he does
Your fortune's made!
Pyg.
(to Mimos).
You'd better send him in.
[Exit Mimos.
Enter Chrysos.
Chry.
Well—is the young man's mind prepared?
Daph.
It is;
He seems quite calm. Give money for the stone,
I've heard that it is far beyond all price,
But run it down; abuse it ere you buy.
Chry.
(to Pyg.).
Where is the statue that I saw last year?
Pyg.
Sir—it's unfinished—it's a clumsy thing.
I am ashamed of it.
Chry.
It isn't good.
There's want of tone; it's much too hard and thin;
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Oh—very crude indeed—then it lacks air,
And wind and motion, massive light and shade;
It's very roughly scumbled; on my soul
The scumbling's damnable!
Daph.
(aside to him).
Bethink yourself!
That's said of painting—this is sculpture!
Chry.
Eh?
It's the same thing, the principle's the same;
Now for its price. Let's see—what will it weigh?
Daph.
A ton, or thereabouts.
Chry.
Suppose we say
A thousand drachmas?
Pyg.
No, no, no, my lord!
The work is very crude and thin, and then
Remember, sir, the scumbling—
Chry.
Damnable!
But never mind, although the thing is poor,
'Twill serve to hold a candle in my hall.
Pyg.
Excuse me, sir; poor though that statue be,
I value it beyond all price.
Chry.
Pooh, pooh!
I give a thousand drachmas for a stone
Which in the rough would not fetch half that sum!
Daph.
Why, bless my soul, young man, are you aware
We gave but fifteen hundred not long since
For an Apollo twice as big as that?
Pyg.
But pardon me, a sculptor does not test
The beauty of a figure by its bulk.
Chry.
Ah! then she does.
Daph.
Young man, you'd best take care,
You are offending Chrysos!
[Exit.
Chry.
And his wife.
(going.)
Pyg.
That's a calamity I must endure.
Sir, once for all, the statue's not for sale.
[Exit.
Chry.
Sir, once for all, I will not be denied;
Confound it—if a patron of the arts
Is thus to be dictated to by art,
What comes of that art patron's patronage?
He must be taught a lesson—where's the stone?
(Goes to pedestal and opens curtains.)
It's gone! (Enter Galatea, he stares at her in astonishment.)
Hallo! What's this?
Gal.
Are you unwell?
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Oh, no—I fancied just at first—pooh, pooh!
Ridiculous. (Aside.)
And yet it's very like!
(Aloud.)
I know your face, haven't I seen you in—
In—in (puzzling himself).
Gal.
In marble? Very probably.
Chry.
Oh, now I understand. Why this must be
Pygmalion's model! Yes, of course it is.
A very bold-faced woman, I'll be bound.
These models always are. Her face is fair,
Her figure, too, is shapely and compact;
Come hither, maiden.
Gal.
(who has been examining him in great wonder).
Tell, me, what are you?
Chry.
What am I?
Gal.
Yes, I mean, are you a man?
Chry.
Well, yes; I'm told so.
Gal.
Then believe them not,
They've been deceiving you.
Chry.
The deuce they have!
Gal.
A man is very tall, and straight, and strong,
With big brave eyes, fair face, and tender voice.
I've seen one.
Chry.
Have you?
Gal.
Yes, you are no man.
Chry.
Does the young person take me for a woman?
Gal.
A woman? No; a woman's soft and weak,
And fair, and exquisitely beautiful.
I am a woman; you are not like me.
Chry.
The gods forbid that I should be like you,
And farm my features at so much an hour!
Gal.
And yet I like you, for you make me laugh;
You are so round and red, your eyes so small,
Your mouth so large, your face so seared with lines,
And then you are so little and so fat!
Chry.
(aside).
This is a most extraordinary girl.
Gal.
Oh, stay—I understand—Pygmalion's skill
Is the result of long experience.
The individual who modelled you
Was a beginner very probably?
Chry.
(puzzled).
No. I have seven elder brothers. Strange
That one so young should be so very bold.
Gal.
This is not boldness, it is innocence;
Pygmalion says so, and he ought to know.
Chry.
No doubt, but I was not born yesterday. (Sits.)
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Indeed!—I was. (He beckons her to sit beside him.)
How awkwardly you sit.
Chry.
I'm not aware that there is anything
Extraordinary in my sitting down.
The nature of the seated attitude
Does not leave scope for much variety.
Gal.
I never saw Pygmalion sit like that.
Chry.
Don't he sit down like other men?
Gal.
Of course!
He always puts his arm around my waist.
Chry.
The deuce he does! Artistic reprobate!
Gal.
But you do not. Perhaps you don't know how?
Chry.
Oh yes; I do know how!
Gal.
Well, do it then!
Chry.
It's a strange whim, but I will humour her.
You're sure it's innocence?
(Does so.)
Gal.
Of course it is.
I tell you I was born but yesterday.
Chry.
Who is your mother?
Gal.
Mother! what is that?
I never had one. I'm Pygmalion's child;
Have people usually mothers?
Chry.
Well,
That is the rule.
Gal.
But then Pygmalion
Is cleverer than most men.
Chry.
Yes, I've heard
That he has powers denied to other men,
And I'm beginning to believe it!
Enter Daphne.
Daph.
Why!
What's this? (Chrysos quickly moves away from Gal.)
Chry.
My wife!
Daph.
Can I believe my eyes? (Gal. rises.)
Chry.
No!
Daph.
Who's this woman? Why, how very like—
Chry.
Like what?
Daph.
That statue that we wished to buy.
The self-same face, the self-same drapery,
In every detail it's identical.
Why, one would almost think Pygmalion,
By some strange means, had brought the thing to life,
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Chry.
(aside).
A very good idea, and one that I
May well improve upon. It's rather rash,
But desperate ills need desperate remedies.
Perceptive Daphne, you have guessed the truth.
You say she's like the statue—so she is,
And well she may be, for the gods have worked
A miracle, and brought the stone to life!
Daph.
Bah! Do you think me mad?
Gal.
His tale is true
I was a cold unfeeling block of stone,
Inanimate—insensible—until
Pygmalion, by the ardour of his prayers,
Kindled the spark of life within my frame
And made me what I am!
Chry.
(aside to Gal.).
That's very good;
Go on and keep it up.
Daph.
You brazen girl,
I am his wife!
Gal.
His wife? (To Chrysos.)
Then get you hence.
I may not love you when your wife is here.
Daph.
Why, what unknown audacity is this?
Chry.
It's the audacity of innocence;
Don't judge her by the rules that govern you,
She was born yesterday, and you were not!
Enter Mimos.
Mim.
My lord, Pygmalion's here.
Chry.
(aside).
He'll ruin all.
Daph.
(to Mimos).
Who is this woman?
Chry.
Why, I've told you, she—
Daph.
Stop, not a word! I'll have it from his lips!
Gal.
Why ask him when I tell you—?
Daph.
Hold your tongue!
(To Mimos.)
Who is this woman? If you tell a lie
I'll have you whipped.
Mim.
Oh, I shall tell no lie!
That is a statue that has come to life.
Chry.
(aside to Mimos).
I'm very much obliged to you!
(Gives him money.)
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Myr.
What's this?
Is anything the matter?
Daph.
Certainly.
This woman—
Myr.
Is a statue come to life.
Chry.
I'm very much obliged to you!
Enter Pygmalion.
Pyg.
How now,
Chrysos?
Chry.
The statue!—
Daph.
Stop!
Chry.
Let me explain.
The statue that I purchased—
Daph.
Let me speak.
Chrysos—this girl, Myrine, and your slave,
Have all agreed to tell me she is—
Pyg.
The statue, Galatea, come to life?
Undoubtedly she is!
Chry.
It seems to me,
I'm very much obliged to every one!
Enter Cynisca.
Cyn.
Pygmalion, my love!
Pyg.
Cynisca here!
Cyn.
And even earlier than hoped to be.
(Aside.)
Why, who are these? (Aloud.)
I beg your pardon, sir,
I thought my husband was alone.
Daph.
(maliciously).
No doubt.
I also thought my husband was alone:
We wives are too confiding.
Cyn.
(aside to Pygmalion.)
Who are these?
Pyg.
Why, this is Chrysos, this is Daphne. They
Have come—
Daph.
On very different errands, sir.
Chrysos has come to see this brazen girl;
I have come after Chrysos—
Chry.
As you keep
So strictly to the sequence of events,
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Cyn.
Who is this lady (alluding to Galatea)
? Why, impossible!
Daph.
Oh, not at all!
Cyn.
(turning to pedestal).
And yet the statue's gone!
Pyg.
Cynisca, miracles have taken place;
The gods have given Galatea life!
Cyn.
Oh, marvellous! Is this indeed the form
That my Pygmalion fashioned with his hands?
Pyg.
Indeed it is.
Cyn.
Why, let me look at her!
Yes, it's the same fair face—the same fair form;
Clad in the same fair folds of drapery!
Gal.
And dost thou know me then?
Cyn.
Hear her! she speaks!
Our Galatea speaks aloud! Know thee?
Why I have sat for hours, and watched thee grow;
Sat—motionless as thou—wrapped in his work,
Save only that in very ecstasy
I hurried ever and anon to kiss
The glorious hands that made thee all thou art!
Come—let me kiss thee with a sister's love. (Kisses her.)
See, she can kiss!
Daph.
Yes, I'll be bound she can!
Cyn.
Why, my Pygmalion, where is the joy
That ought to animate that face of thine,
Now that the gods have crowned thy wondrous skill?
Chry.
(aside to Pyg.)
Stick to our story; bold-faced though she be,
She's very young, and may perhaps repent;
It's terrible to have to tell a lie,
But if it must be told—why, tell it well!
Cyn.
I see it all. I have returned too soon.
Daph.
No, I'm afraid you have returned too late;
Cynisca, never leave that man again,
Or leave him altogether!
Cyn.
(astonished).
Why, what's this?
Gal.
Oh, madam, bear with him, and blame him not;
Judge him not hastily; in every word,
In every thought he has obeyed thy wish.
Thou badst him speak to me as unto thee;
And he and I have sat as lovingly
As if thou hadst been present to behold
How faithfully thy wishes were obeyed!
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Pygmalion! What is this?
Pyg.
(to Gal.).
Go, get thee hence;
Thou shouldst not see the fearful consequence
That must attend those heedless words of thine!
Gal.
Judge him not hastily, he's not like this
When he and I are sitting here alone.
He has two voices, and two faces, madam,
One for the world, and one for him and me!
Cyn.
Thy wife against thine eyes! those are the stakes!
Well, thou hast played thy game, and thou hast lost!
Pyg.
Cynisca, hear me! In a cursed hour
I prayed for power to give that statue life.
My impious prayer aroused the outraged gods,
They are my judges, leave me in their hands;
I have been false to them, but not to thee!
Spare me!
Cyn.
Oh, pitiful adventurer!
He dares to lose, but does not dare to pay!
Come, be a man! See, I am brave enough,
And I have more to bear than thou! Behold!
I am alone, thou hast thy statue bride!
Oh, Artemis, my mistress, hear me now,
Ere I remember how I love that man,
And in that memory forget my shame!
If he in deed or thought hath been untrue,
Be just and let him pay the penalty!
(Pygmalion, with an exclamation, covers his eyes with his hands.)
Gal.
Cynisca, pity him!
Cyn.
I know no pity, woman; for the act
That thawed thee into flesh has hardened me
Into the cursed stone from which thou cam'st.
We have changed places; from this moment forth
Be thou the wife and I the senseless stone!
(Thrusts Galatea from her. Galatea falls senseless at Cynisca's feet.)
| Pygmalion and Galatea | |