"Isabella calls to Robert above the grand chorus of knights riding forth to the tournament, in which the /motifs/ of the second act reappear to make it clear that the third act has all taken place in a supernatural sphere. This is real life again. This chorus dies away at the approach of the hellish enchantment brought by Robert with the talisman. The deviltry of the third act is to be carried on. Here we have the duet with the viol; the rhythm is highly expressive of the brutal desires of a man who is omnipotent, and the Princess, by plaintive phrases, tries to win her lover back to moderation. The musician has here placed himself in a situation of great difficulty, and has surmounted it in the loveliest number of the whole opera. How charming is the melody of the /cavatina 'Grace pour toi!'/ All the women present understood it well; each saw herself seized and snatched away on the stage. That part alone would suffice to make the fortune of the opera. Every woman felt herself engaged in a struggle with some violent lover. Never was music so passionate and so dramatic.
"The whole world now rises in arms against the reprobate. This /finale/ may be criticised for its resemblance to that of /Don Giovanni/; but there is this immense difference: in Isabella we have the expression of the noblest faith, a true love that will save Robert, for he scornfully rejects the infernal powers bestowed on him, while Don Giovanni persists in his unbelief. Moreover, that particular fault is common to every composer who has written a /finale/ since Mozart. The /finale/ to /Don Giovanni/ is one of those classic forms that are invented once for all.
"At last religion wins the day, uplifting the voice that governs worlds, that invites all sorrow to come for consolation, all repentance to be forgiven and helped.
"The whole house was stirred by the chorus:
"Malheureaux on coupables Hatez-vous d'accourir!
"In the terrific tumult of raving passions, the holy Voice would have been unheard; but at this critical moment it sounds like thunder; the divine Catholic Church rises glorious in light. And here I was amazed to find that after such lavish use of harmonic treasure, the composer had come upon a new vein with the splendid chorus: '/Gloire a la Providence/' in the manner of Handel.
"Robert rushes on with his heartrending cry: '/Si je pouvais prier/!' and Bertram, driven by the infernal decree, pursues his son, and makes a last effort. Alice has called up the vision of the Mother, and now comes the grand trio to which the whole opera has led up: the triumph of the soul over matter, of the Spirit of Good over the Spirit of Evil. The strains of piety prevail over the chorus of hell, and happiness appears glorious; but here the music is weaker. I only saw a cathedral instead of hearing a concert of angels in bliss, and a divine prayer consecrating the union of Robert and Isabella. We ought not to have been left oppressed by the spells of hell; we ought to emerge with hope in our heart.
"I, as musician and a Catholic, wanted another prayer like that in /Mose/. I should have liked to see how Germany would contend with Italy, what Meyerbeer could do in rivalry with Rossini.
"However, in spite of this trifling blemish, the writer cannot say that after five hours of such solid music, a Parisian prefers a bit of ribbon to a musical masterpiece. You heard how the work was applauded;it will go through five hundred performances! If the French really understand that music----""It is because it expresses ideas," the Count put in.
"No; it is because it sets forth in a definite shape a picture of the struggle in which so many perish, and because every individual life is implicated in it through memory. Ah! I, hapless wretch, should have been too happy to hear the sound of those heavenly voices I have so often dreamed of."Hereupon Gambara fell into a musical day-dream, improvising the most lovely melodious and harmonious /cavatina/ that Andrea would ever hear on earth; a divine strain divinely performed on a theme as exquisite as that of /O filii et filioe/, but graced with additions such as none but the loftiest musical genius could devise.
The Count sat lost in keen admiration; the clouds cleared away, the blue sky opened, figures of angels appeared lifting the veil that hid the sanctuary, and the light of heaven poured down.
There was a sudden silence.
The Count, surprised at the cessation of the music, looked at Gambara, who, with fixed gaze, in the attitude of a visionary, murmured the word: "God!"Andrea waited till the composer had descended from the enchanted realm to which he had soared on the many-hued wings of inspiration, intending to show him the truth by the light he himself would bring down with him.
"Well," said he, pouring him out another bumper of wine and clinking glasses with him, "this German has, you see, written a sublime opera without troubling himself with theories, while those musicians who write grammars of harmony may, like literary critics, be atrocious composers.""Then you do not like my music?"
"I do not say so. But if, instead of carrying musical principles to an extreme--which takes you too far--you would simply try to arouse our feelings, you would be better understood, unless indeed you have mistaken your vocation. You are a great poet.""What," cried Gambara, "are twenty-five years of study in vain? Am Ito learn the imperfect language of men when I have the key to the heavenly tongue? Oh, if you are right,--I should die.""No, no. You are great and strong; you would begin life again, and Iwould support you. We would show the world the noble and rare alliance of a rich man and an artist in perfect sympathy and understanding.""Do you mean it?" asked Gambara, struck with amazement.
"As I have told you, you are a poet more than a musician.""A poet, a poet! It is better than nothing. But tell me truly, which do you esteem most highly, Mozart or Homer?""I admire them equally."
"On your honor?"
"On my honor."
