OFFENBACH

LA BELLE HELENE

Calchas, high priest of the thunder, receives a personal letter from Venus, marked URGENT:

A youth of twenty, fair of form,

A shepherd lad by trade,

From Venus of the waves shall come

And turn to you for aid.

Though young in years he is, I claim,

A man of taste supreme;

In gratitude, I’ve promised him

The woman of his dream.

Helen’s the fairest of the land;

On this have all agreed.

Calchas will take the two in hand

And say to both: proceed.

Help out the lad; observe benignly.

Love and kisses, Yours Divinely.

Orestes, young and giddy, introduces two ladies of the night:

ORESTES:

High at the cabaret called Hades,

There I caroused all night, old chap,

Living it up with two fair ladies,

Each with a turn upon my lap.

Meet Parthenis, leona, too,

And it appears they’re not unfriendly.

CALCHAS:

What is a holy man to do?

From the bordello evidently.

ORESTES:

Free with the money, young Orestes

Tosses the gold around in sacks.

And if Papa goes broke, I suggest he’s

Only to think up some new tax.

Meet Parthenis, leona, too.

You go ahead, I won’t begrudge it.

CALCHAS:

This for a priest is quite taboo.

(Here is an item I did not budget.)

ORESTES:

Eager and ready, young Orestes

Yearns for the grand romantic scenes.

Though very willing, put to the test he’s

Not what you call a man of means.

Meet Parthenis, leona, too.

How would you like to get acquainted?

CALCHAS

(They’re quite attractive, entre nous.

Oh, what a shame to be a man so sainted!)

Prince Paris tells what really happened that momentous day on Mt. Ida:

Goddesses three upon Mt. Ida

On a point could not agree:

Which of us wears the crown of beauty?

Who is the fairest of the three?

Evohe! Heavenly ladies!

Oh, you simple lads, beware!

Thus with charm they bait the snare.

Through the wood a youth approaches,

Handsome, bold, with sparkling eye.

In his hand he bears an apple,

I myself can testify.

Wait, they cry! Young man, a moment!

Gaze upon us and compare;

Then present the golden apple

To the one you find most fair.

Said the first: I’m chaste Minerva,

None so modest, none so wise.

These are merits that deserve a

Valid claim upon the prize . . .

Said the next: my name is Juno,

Unsurpassed in rank and fame.

Both of them as well as you know

I have far the greater claim . . .

Ah! But the third! The third was silent,

For she spoke but with her eyes.

And the apple went to Venus;

’Twas to her I gave the prize.

Helen tells of her long battle with Venus, and begs the goddess to lay off:

Of royal rank, my name is Helen;

My parents, Leda and a swan.

My varied past I need not dwell on --

The list of lovers does go on.

I’m warm of heart, but just between us,

My giving ways would be a flaw,

Except that I am ruled by Venus;

Not I but she lays down the law.

Venus, pray tell why you always compel

Me to comply though I try to defy providence?

Venus, wny me? What particular glee

Can you derive, putting down my defense? . . .

Venus, what next? Am I just oversexed?

What fatal lure evermore draws me on?

Venus, for me, go back into the sea!

Return to your shell’n leave Helen alone!

Paris and Helen come together, as in a dream:

Only a dream! Only a dream!

Moment of love too sweet to stay.

Born of the midnight, wrapped in cover,

Fated to end at break of day.

Savor the sweetness too soon to be over,

A dream of love too sweet to stay,

A dream that dawn will snatch away . . .

Menelaus returns prematurely, and receives some excellent advice from Helen:

A man, if smart, about to start

A homeward trip aboad a ship,

Will show good breeding before proceeding

And send his wife a friendly tip.

And thus prepared, a scene is spared,

And she awaits with sighs of bliss.

In that way can the married man

Receive a fond and tender kiss.

But if perchance with no advance

He barges in despite the lock,

So impolite, it serves him right

If he becomes the laughing stock.

The only cure for such a boor

Is from the treatment known as shock.

So I advise the man that’s wise

To give at least a gentle knock.

Under Menelaus’ relentless questioning, Helen’s patience snaps:

Too absurd! Innocent and blameless,

Such rebuke I cannot condone.

No, though my prince who shall be nameless

Would melt a heart of stone.

Sent to me, a gift from Venus,

And yet I fought, I held my own.

He complains, accusing and screaming,

All because one night I was dreaming.

What would he say, mon dieu, if I were wide awake?

Were it for real, and not a marvelous mistake? . . .

Paris reappears in the guise of an aged priest sent by Venus:

Learn first of all, you folk forlorn of nature,

My mode is not the minor but the major.

And not for me the somber look and doleful cry;

Salute me with a shout to raise the rafters high.

For life and love are in when Venus wears the crown . . .

I hear that weighty schools of stern philosophy

Make much of Adam’s fall and frown on levity.

Those learned men I find entirely in the wrong;

That man is wise who laughs and sings a joyful song.

For life and love are in when Venus wears the crown . . .