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Updated: May 13, 2025
Not to be home itself, nothing could be more like it than were the apartments let by Madame Cécile, or Madame Sophie, or Madame Athalie, or Madame Polyxène, or whatever the name might be.
"Joyously my friends are playing, All around are blest and glad, In the paths of pleasure straying, My poor heart alone is sad. Spring in vain unfolds each treasure, Filling all the earth with bliss; Who in life can e'er take pleasure, When is seen its dark abyss?" "With her heart in vision burning, Truly blest is Polyxene, As a bride to clasp him yearning. Him, the noblest, best Hellene!
Shortly before his death his confessor severely reproached him for the licentiousness of his operas, and refused to give him absolution unless he consented to burn the score of "Achille et Polyxène," which was ready for the stage. The manuscript was put into the flames, and the priest made the musician's peace with God.
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