Venus and Adonis.
The decoration represents a wood intersected by several walks, which form an agreeable perspective of distances. At the bottom of the theatre, and in the middle, there is a grand walk, terminated by a small mount, on the summit of which is seen a colonnade, that forms the peristile of a temple.
Venus, preceded by the Graces and several nimphs, comes out of the temple, descends the mount, and advances to the front of the wood; the simphony to be the most agreeable and melodious imaginable, to announce the arrival of the goddess of love.
The Graces and the nimphs open the action, and, by their gestures and steps, express their endeavour to sooth the impatience of Venus on the absence of Adonis. The agitation in which she is, ought to be painted on her countenance, and expressed by the discomposure of her steps, marking her anxiety and desire of seeing her lover.
The sound of the chace is heard, which betokens the approach of Adonis. Joy breaks forth in the eyes, the gestures, and steps of Venus and her train.
Adonis, followed by several hunters, enters through one of the side-walks of the wood. Venus runs to meet him, and seems to chide him for having been so long away. He shows her the head of a stag, which he has killed, and which is carried, as in triumph, upon a hunting-pole, by one of the hunters; and offers it, as the fruit of his chace, in homage to the goddess, who is presently appeased, and graciously receives his offering. These two lovers then express in a pas-de-deux, their mutual satisfaction.
The hunters mix with the Graces and nimphs, and form a dance which characterises their harmony.
Soon a noisy simphony, of military instrumental music, gives warning of the arrival of Mars. Venus, Adonis,
the Graces, the nimphs, and hunters, show signs of uneasiness and terror.
Mars, followed by several warriors, enters precipitately through a walk opposite to that by which Adonis and the hunters came. Venus separates from Adonis, having insisted on his getting out of the way of the formidable god of war. He withdraws with his train by the same way as he came. Mars, inraged with jealousy, makes a shew of going to pursue Adonis. Venus stops him, and employs, in her soothing and caresses, all the usual arts of appeasing and blinding a jealous lover. She prevails at length, not only to dissipate his passion, but to make him believe himself in the wrong for having been jealous.
The warriors address themselves to the Graces and nimphs, and form together a dance expressive of a sort of reconciliation; after which Mars and his train return by the same way as they came.
Venus, the Graces, and the nimphs, see them go, and when they are got a little distance from them, testify their satisfaction at having got so well over this interruption.
Adonis returns alone: Venus springs to meet him, and gives him to understand that he has now nothing to fear; that Mars will not return in haste.
In the same walk from which Adonis came, the hunters of his train are seen pursuing a wild boar, that tries to escape just by where the Graces and the nimphs
are, who, in their fright, attempt to fly from him: but he is already so near them, that they do not know how to avoid him. Adonis runs hastily to pierce the boar with his javelin; but the boar gets him himself down. The hunters arrive at that instant, and kill the boar; but Adonis is nevertheless mortally wounded, and expires.
Here it is that the music and the dance are to display their respective powers: the one by the most plaintive mournful sounds; the other by gestures and steps in which grief and despair are strongly characterised, ought to express the profound affection into which Venus is plunged, and the share the Graces, the nimphs, and the hunters take in it.
Venus appears to implore the aid of all the gods, to restore her lover to her. She bathes him with her tears, and those precious tears have such a virtue, that Adonis appears all of a sudden transformed into an anemony or wind-flower.
The Graces and the nimphs express their surprise; but the astonishment of the hunters should be yet more strongly marked.
Venus herself is not the more comforted by this metamorphosis. A flower cannot well supply the place of her lover. She turns then her eyes towards the earth, and seems to invoke the power of some deity inhabitant of its bowels.
The flower disappears; the earth opens, and Proserpine rises out of it, sitting on a chariot drawn by black horses, and having at her side Adonis restored to life.
It is natural to imagine the joy that is at this to be expressed, by the simphony, by the gestures, and steps of Venus, of the Graces, the nimphs, and hunters.
Proserpine, getting out of her chariot, holding Adonis by the hand, presents him to Venus. A pas-de-trois or trio-dance follows, in which the joy of the two lovers at seeing one another again is to be characterised by all the expression, and all the graces of the most pleasing dance, while Proserpine testifies her satisfaction at having produced the re-union: after which, she
gets into her chariot, and re-descends into the earth.
The Graces, the nimphs, and hunters, express how highly they are charmed at seeing Adonis again; Venus and Adonis form a pas-de-deux, or duet-dance, in which the Goddess takes off her girdle or cestus, and puts it upon Adonis, in the way of a shoulder-belt, or as now the ribbons of most orders of knight-hood are worn, which is to him a simbol of immortality.
The Graces and nimphs testify to Adonis how pleased they are to see him received into the number of the demi-gods: the hunters pay their homage to him, and the whole concludes by a general country-dance.