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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:54 -0700 |
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diff --git a/1873-h/1873-h.htm b/1873-h/1873-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..300747c --- /dev/null +++ b/1873-h/1873-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3207 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Gambara, by Honore de Balzac + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gambara, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Gambara + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Release Date: March 4, 2010 [EBook #1873] +Last Updated: November 22, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GAMBARA *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + GAMBARA + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore de Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Clara Bell and James Waring + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEDICATION + + To Monsieur le Marquis de Belloy + + It was sitting by the fire, in a mysterious and magnificent + retreat,—now a thing of the past but surviving in our memory, + —whence our eyes commanded a view of Paris from the heights of + Belleville to those of Belleville, from Montmartre to the + triumphal Arc de l’Etoile, that one morning, refreshed by tea, + amid the myriad suggestions that shoot up and die like rockets + from your sparkling flow of talk, lavish of ideas, you tossed to + my pen a figure worthy of Hoffmann,—that casket of unrecognized + gems, that pilgrim seated at the gate of Paradise with ears to + hear the songs of the angels but no longer a tongue to repeat + them, playing on the ivory keys with fingers crippled by the + stress of divine inspiration, believing that he is expressing + celestial music to his bewildered listeners. + + It was you who created GAMBARA; I have only clothed him. Let me + render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, regretting only + that you do not yourself take up the pen at a time when gentlemen + ought to wield it as well as the sword, if they are to save their + country. You may neglect yourself, but you owe your talents to us. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>GAMBARA</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + GAMBARA + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + New Year’s Day of 1831 was pouring out its packets of sugared almonds, + four o’clock was striking, there was a mob in the Palais-Royal, and the + eating-houses were beginning to fill. At this moment a coupe drew up at + the <i>perron</i> and a young man stepped out; a man of haughty + appearance, and no doubt a foreigner; otherwise he would not have + displayed the aristocratic <i>chasseur</i> who attended him in a plumed + hat, nor the coat of arms which the heroes of July still attacked. + </p> + <p> + This gentleman went into the Palais-Royal, and followed the crowd round + the galleries, unamazed at the slowness to which the throng of loungers + reduced his pace; he seemed accustomed to the stately step which is + ironically nicknamed the ambassador’s strut; still, his dignity had a + touch of the theatrical. Though his features were handsome and imposing, + his hat, from beneath which thick black curls stood out, was perhaps + tilted a little too much over the right ear, and belied his gravity by a + too rakish effect. His eyes, inattentive and half closed, looked down + disdainfully on the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “There goes a remarkably good-looking young man,” said a girl in a low + voice, as she made way for him to pass. + </p> + <p> + “And who is only too well aware of it!” replied her companion aloud—who + was very plain. + </p> + <p> + After walking all round the arcades, the young man looked by turns at the + sky and at his watch, and with a shrug of impatience went into a + tobacconist’s shop, lighted a cigar, and placed himself in front of a + looking-glass to glance at his costume, which was rather more ornate than + the rules of French taste allow. He pulled down his collar and his black + velvet waistcoat, over which hung many festoons of the thick gold chain + that is made at Venice; then, having arranged the folds of his cloak by a + single jerk of his left shoulder, draping it gracefully so as to show the + velvet lining, he started again on parade, indifferent to the glances of + the vulgar. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the shops were lighted up and the dusk seemed to him black + enough, he went out into the square in front of the Palais-Royal, but as a + man anxious not to be recognized; for he kept close under the houses as + far as the fountain, screened by the hackney-cab stand, till he reached + the Rue Froid-Manteau, a dirty, poky, disreputable street—a sort of + sewer tolerated by the police close to the purified purlieus of the + Palais-Royal, as an Italian major-domo allows a careless servant to leave + the sweepings of the rooms in a corner of the staircase. + </p> + <p> + The young man hesitated. He might have been a bedizened citizen’s wife + craning her neck over a gutter swollen by the rain. But the hour was not + unpropitious for the indulgence of some discreditable whim. Earlier, he + might have been detected; later, he might find himself cut out. Tempted by + a glance which is encouraging without being inviting, to have followed a + young and pretty woman for an hour, or perhaps for a day, thinking of her + as a divinity and excusing her light conduct by a thousand reasons to her + advantage; to have allowed oneself to believe in a sudden and irresistible + affinity; to have pictured, under the promptings of transient excitement, + a love-adventure in an age when romances are written precisely because + they never happen; to have dreamed of balconies, guitars, stratagems, and + bolts, enwrapped in Almaviva’s cloak; and, after inditing a poem in fancy, + to stop at the door of a house of ill-fame, and, crowning all, to discern + in Rosina’s bashfulness a reticence imposed by the police—is not all + this, I say, an experience familiar to many a man who would not own it? + </p> + <p> + The most natural feelings are those we are least willing to confess, and + among them is fatuity. When the lesson is carried no further, the Parisian + profits by it, or forgets it, and no great harm is done. But this would + hardly be the case with this foreigner, who was beginning to think he + might pay too dearly for his Paris education. + </p> + <p> + This personage was a Milanese of good family, exiled from his native + country, where some “liberal” pranks had made him an object of suspicion + to the Austrian Government. Count Andrea Marcosini had been welcomed in + Paris with the cordiality, essentially French, that a man always finds + there, when he has a pleasant wit, a sounding name, two hundred thousand + francs a year, and a prepossessing person. To such a man banishment could + but be a pleasure tour; his property was simply sequestrated, and his + friends let him know that after an absence of two years he might return to + his native land without danger. + </p> + <p> + After rhyming <i>crudeli affanni</i> with <i>i miei tiranni</i> in a dozen + or so of sonnets, and maintaining as many hapless Italian refugees out of + his own purse, Count Andrea, who was so unlucky as to be a poet, thought + himself released from patriotic obligations. So, ever since his arrival, + he had given himself up recklessly to the pleasures of every kind which + Paris offers <i>gratis</i> to those who can pay for them. His talents and + his handsome person won him success among women, whom he adored + collectively as beseemed his years, but among whom he had not as yet + distinguished a chosen one. And indeed this taste was, in him, subordinate + to those for music and poetry which he had cultivated from his childhood; + and he thought success in these both more difficult and more glorious to + achieve than in affairs of gallantry, since nature had not inflicted on + him the obstacles men take most pride in defying. + </p> + <p> + A man, like many another, of complex nature, he was easily fascinated by + the comfort of luxury, without which he could hardly have lived; and, in + the same way, he clung to the social distinctions which his principles + contemned. Thus his theories as an artist, a thinker, and a poet were in + frequent antagonism with his tastes, his feelings, and his habits as a man + of rank and wealth; but he comforted himself for his inconsistencies by + recognizing them in many Parisians, like himself liberal by policy and + aristocrats by nature. + </p> + <p> + Hence it was not without some uneasiness that he found himself, on + December 31, 1830, under a Paris thaw, following at the heels of a woman + whose dress betrayed the most abject, inveterate, and long-accustomed + poverty, who was no handsomer than a hundred others to be seen any evening + at the play, at the opera, in the world of fashion, and who was certainly + not so young as Madame de Manerville, from whom he had obtained an + assignation for that very day, and who was perhaps waiting for him at that + very hour. + </p> + <p> + But in the glance at once tender and wild, swift and deep, which that + woman’s black eyes had shot at him by stealth, there was such a world of + buried sorrows and promised joys! And she had colored so fiercely when, on + coming out of a shop where she had lingered a quarter of an hour, her look + frankly met the Count’s, who had been waiting for her hard by! In fact, + there were so many <i>buts</i> and <i>ifs</i>, that, possessed by one of + those mad temptations for which there is no word in any language, not even + in that of the orgy, he had set out in pursuit of this woman, hunting her + down like a hardened Parisian. + </p> + <p> + On the way, whether he kept behind or ahead of this damsel, he studied + every detail of her person and her dress, hoping to dislodge the insane + and ridiculous fancy that had taken up an abode in his brain; but he + presently found in his examination a keener pleasure than he had felt only + the day before in gazing at the perfect shape of a woman he loved, as she + took her bath. Now and again, the unknown fair, bending her head, gave him + a look like that of a kid tethered with its head to the ground, and + finding herself still the object of his pursuit, she hurried on as if to + fly. Nevertheless, each time that a block of carriages, or any other + delay, brought Andrea to her side, he saw her turn away from his gaze + without any signs of annoyance. These signals of restrained feelings + spurred the frenzied dreams that had run away with him, and he gave them + the rein as far as the Rue Froid-Manteau, down which, after many windings, + the damsel vanished, thinking she had thus spoilt the scent of her + pursuer, who was, in fact, startled by this move. + </p> + <p> + It was now quite dark. Two women, tattooed with rouge, who were drinking + black-currant liqueur at a grocer’s counter, saw the young woman and + called her. She paused at the door of the shop, replied in a few soft + words to the cordial greeting offered her, and went on her way. Andrea, + who was behind her, saw her turn into one of the darkest yards out of this + street, of which he did not know the name. The repulsive appearance of the + house where the heroine of his romance had been swallowed up made him feel + sick. He drew back a step to study the neighborhood, and finding an + ill-looking man at his elbow, he asked him for information. The man, who + held a knotted stick in his right hand, placed the left on his hip and + replied in a single word: + </p> + <p> + “Scoundrel!” + </p> + <p> + But on looking at the Italian, who stood in the light of a street-lamp, he + assumed a servile expression. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” said he, suddenly changing his tone. “There is a + restaurant near this, a sort of table-d’hote, where the cooking is pretty + bad and they serve cheese in the soup. Monsieur is in search of the place, + perhaps, for it is easy to see that he is an Italian—Italians are + fond of velvet and of cheese. But if monsieur would like to know of a + better eating-house, an aunt of mine, who lives a few steps off, is very + fond of foreigners.” + </p> + <p> + Andrea raised his cloak as high as his moustache, and fled from the + street, spurred by the disgust he felt at this foul person, whose clothes + and manner were in harmony with the squalid house into which the fair + unknown had vanished. He returned with rapture to the thousand luxuries of + his own rooms, and spent the evening at the Marquise d’Espard’s to cleanse + himself, if possible, of the smirch left by the fancy that had driven him + so relentlessly during the day. + </p> + <p> + And yet, when he was in bed, the vision came back to him, but clearer and + brighter than the reality. The girl was walking in front of him; now and + again as she stepped across a gutter her skirts revealed a round calf; her + shapely hips swayed as she walked. Again Andrea longed to speak to her—and + he dared not, he, Marcosini, a Milanese nobleman! Then he saw her turn + into the dark passage where she had eluded him, and blamed himself for not + having followed her. + </p> + <p> + “For, after all,” said he to himself, “if she really wished to avoid me + and put me off her track, it is because she loves me. With women of that + stamp, coyness is a proof of love. Well, if I had carried the adventure + any further, it would, perhaps, have ended in disgust. I will sleep in + peace.” + </p> + <p> + The Count was in the habit of analyzing his keenest sensations, as men do + involuntarily when they have as much brains as heart, and he was surprised + when he saw the strange damsel of the Rue Froid-Manteau once more, not in + the pictured splendor of his dream but in the bare reality of dreary fact. + And, in spite of it all, if fancy had stripped the woman of her livery of + misery, it would have spoilt her for him; for he wanted her, he longed for + her, he loved her—with her muddy stockings, her slipshod feet, her + straw bonnet! He wanted her in the very house where he had seen her go in. + </p> + <p> + “Am I bewitched by vice, then?” he asked himself in dismay. “Nay, I have + not yet reached that point. I am but three-and-twenty, and there is + nothing of the senile fop about me.” + </p> + <p> + The very vehemence of the whim that held possession of him to some extent + reassured him. This strange struggle, these reflections, and this love in + pursuit may perhaps puzzle some persons who are accustomed to the ways of + Paris life; but they may be reminded that Count Andrea Marcosini was not a + Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + Brought up by two abbes, who, in obedience to a very pious father, had + rarely let him out of their sight, Andrea had not fallen in love with a + cousin at the age of eleven, or seduced his mother’s maid by the time he + was twelve; he had not studied at school, where a lad does not learn only, + or best, the subjects prescribed by the State; he had lived in Paris but a + few years, and he was still open to those sudden but deep impressions + against which French education and manners are so strong a protection. In + southern lands a great passion is often born of a glance. A gentleman of + Gascony who had tempered strong feelings by much reflection had fortified + himself by many little recipes against sudden apoplexies of taste and + heart, and he advised the Count to indulge at least once a month in a wild + orgy to avert those storms of the soul which, but for such precautions, + are apt to break out at inappropriate moments. Andrea now remembered this + advice. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” thought he, “I will begin to-morrow, January 1st.” + </p> + <p> + This explains why Count Andrea Marcosini hovered so shyly before turning + down the Rue Froid-Manteau. The man of fashion hampered the lover, and he + hesitated for some time; but after a final appeal to his courage he went + on with a firm step as far as the house, which he recognized without + difficulty. + </p> + <p> + There he stopped once more. Was the woman really what he fancied her? Was + he not on the verge of some false move? + </p> + <p> + At this juncture he remembered the Italian table d’hote, and at once + jumped at the middle course, which would serve the ends alike of his + curiosity and of his reputation. He went in to dine, and made his way down + the passage; at the bottom, after feeling about for some time, he found a + staircase with damp, slippery steps, such as to an Italian nobleman could + only seem a ladder. + </p> + <p> + Invited to the first floor by the glimmer of a lamp and a strong smell of + cooking, he pushed a door which stood ajar and saw a room dingy with dirt + and smoke, where a wench was busy laying a table for about twenty + customers. None of the guests had yet arrived. + </p> + <p> + After looking round the dimly lighted room where the paper was dropping in + rags from the walls, the gentleman seated himself by a stove which was + roaring and smoking in the corner. + </p> + <p> + Attracted by the noise the Count made in coming in and disposing of his + cloak, the major-domo presently appeared. Picture to yourself a lean, + dried-up cook, very tall, with a nose of extravagant dimensions, casting + about him from time to time, with feverish keenness, a glance that he + meant to be cautious. On seeing Andrea, whose attire bespoke considerable + affluence, Signor Giardini bowed respectfully. + </p> + <p> + The Count expressed his intention of taking his meals as a rule in the + society of some of his fellow-countrymen; he paid in advance for a certain + number of tickets, and ingenuously gave the conversation a familiar bent + to enable him to achieve his purpose quickly. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he mentioned the woman he was seeking when Signor Giardini, + with a grotesque shrug, looked knowingly at his customer, a bland smile on + his lips. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Basta</i>!” he exclaimed. “<i>Capisco</i>. Your Excellency has come + spurred by two appetites. La Signora Gambara will not have wasted her time + if she has gained the interest of a gentleman so generous as you appear to + be. I can tell you in a few words all we know of the woman, who is really + to be pitied. + </p> + <p> + “The husband is, I believe, a native of Cremona and has just come here + from Germany. He was hoping to get the Tedeschi to try some new music and + some new instruments. Isn’t it pitiable?” said Giardini, shrugging his + shoulders. “Signor Gambara, who thinks himself a great composer, does not + seem to me very clever in other ways. An excellent fellow with some sense + and wit, and sometimes very agreeable, especially when he has had a few + glasses of wine—which does not often happen, for he is desperately + poor; night and day he toils at imaginary symphonies and operas instead of + trying to earn an honest living. His poor wife is reduced to working for + all sorts of people—the women on the streets! What is to be said? + She loves her husband like a father, and takes care of him like a child. + </p> + <p> + “Many a young man has dined here to pay his court to madame; but not one + has succeeded,” said he, emphasizing the word. “La Signora Marianna is an + honest woman, monsieur, much too honest, worse luck for her! Men give + nothing for nothing nowadays. So the poor soul will die in harness. + </p> + <p> + “And do you suppose that her husband rewards her for her devotion? Pooh, + my lord never gives her a smile! And all their cooking is done at the + baker’s; for not only does the wretched man never earn a sou; he spends + all his wife can make on instruments which he carves, and lengthens, and + shortens, and sets up and takes to pieces again till they produce sounds + that will scare a cat; then he is happy. And yet you will find him the + mildest, the gentlest of men. And, he is not idle; he is always at it. + What is to be said? He is crazy and does not know his business. I have + seen him, monsieur, filing and forging his instruments and eating black + bread with an appetite that I envied him—I, who have the best table + in Paris. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Excellenza, in a quarter of an hour you shall know the man I am. I + have introduced certain refinements into Italian cookery that will amaze + you! Excellenza, I am a Neapolitan—that is to say, a born cook. But + of what use is instinct without knowledge? Knowledge! I have spent thirty + years in acquiring it, and you see where it has left me. My history is + that of every man of talent. My attempts, my experiments, have ruined + three restaurants in succession at Naples, Parma, and Rome. To this day, + when I am reduced to make a trade of my art, I more often than not give + way to my ruling passion. I give these poor refugees some of my choicest + dishes. I ruin myself! Folly! you will say? I know it; but how can I help + it? Genius carries me away, and I cannot resist concocting a dish which + smiles on my fancy. + </p> + <p> + “And they always know it, the rascals! They know, I can promise you, + whether I or my wife has stood over the fire. And what is the consequence? + Of sixty-odd customers whom I used to see at my table every day when I + first started in this wretched place, I now see twenty on an average, and + give them credit for the most part. The Piedmontese, the Savoyards, have + deserted, but the connoisseurs, the true Italians, remain. And there is no + sacrifice that I would not make for them. I often give them a dinner for + five and twenty sous which has cost me double.” + </p> + <p> + Signore Giardini’s speech had such a full flavor of Neapolitan cunning + that the Count was delighted, and could have fancied himself at + Gerolamo’s. + </p> + <p> + “Since that is the case, my good friend,” said he familiarly to the cook, + “and since chance and your confidence have let me into the secret of your + daily sacrifices, allow me to pay double.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke Andrea spun a forty-franc piece on the stove, out of which + Giardini solemnly gave him two francs and fifty centimes in change, not + without a certain ceremonious mystery that amused him hugely. + </p> + <p> + “In a few minutes now,” the man added, “you will see your <i>donnina</i>. + I will seat you next the husband, and if you wish to stand in his good + graces, talk about music. I have invited every one for the evening, poor + things. Being New Year’s Day, I am treating the company to a dish in which + I believe I have surpassed myself.” + </p> + <p> + Signor Giardini’s voice was drowned by the noisy greetings of the guests, + who streamed in two and two, or one at a time, after the manner of + tables-d’hote. Giardini stayed by the Count, playing the showman by + telling him who the company were. He tried by his witticisms to bring a + smile to the lips of a man who, as his Neapolitan instinct told him, might + be a wealthy patron to turn to good account. + </p> + <p> + “This one,” said he, “is a poor composer who would like to rise from + song-writing to opera, and cannot. He blames the managers, music-sellers,—everybody, + in fact, but himself, and he has no worse enemy. You can see—what a + florid complexion, what self-conceit, how little firmness in his features! + he is made to write ballads. The man who is with him and looks like a + match-hawker, is a great music celebrity—Gigelmi, the greatest + Italian conductor known; but he has gone deaf, and is ending his days in + penury, deprived of all that made it tolerable. Ah! here comes our great + Ottoboni, the most guileless old fellow on earth; but he is suspected of + being the most vindictive of all who are plotting for the regeneration of + Italy. I cannot think how they can bear to banish such a good man.” + </p> + <p> + And here Giardini looked narrowly at the Count, who, feeling himself under + inquisition as to his politics, entrenched himself in Italian + impassibility. + </p> + <p> + “A man whose business it is to cook for all comers can have no political + opinions, Excellenza,” Giardini went on. “But to see that worthy man, who + looks more like a lamb than a lion, everybody would say what I say, were + it before the Austrian ambassador himself. Besides, in these times liberty + is no longer proscribed; it is going its rounds again. At least, so these + good people think,” said he, leaning over to speak in the Count’s ear, + “and why should I thwart their hopes? I, for my part, do not hate an + absolute government. Excellenza, every man of talent is for depotism! + </p> + <p> + “Well, though full of genius, Ottoboni takes no end of pains to educate + Italy; he writes little books to enlighten the intelligence of the + children and the common people, and he smuggles them very cleverly into + Italy. He takes immense trouble to reform the moral sense of our luckless + country, which, after all, prefers pleasure to freedom,—and perhaps + it is right.” + </p> + <p> + The Count preserved such an impenetrable attitude that the cook could + discover nothing of his political views. + </p> + <p> + “Ottoboni,” he ran on, “is a saint; very kind-hearted; all the refugees + are fond of him; for, Excellenza, a liberal may have his virtues. Oho! + Here comes a journalist,” said Giardini, as a man came in dressed in the + absurd way which used to be attributed to a poet in a garret; his coat was + threadbare, his boots split, his hat shiny, and his overcoat deplorably + ancient. “Excellenza, that poor man is full of talent, and incorruptibly + honest. He was born into the wrong times, for he tells the truth to + everybody; no one can endure him. He writes theatrical articles for two + small papers, though he is clever enough to work for the great dailies. + Poor fellow! + </p> + <p> + “The rest are not worth mentioning, and Your Excellency will find them + out,” he concluded, seeing that on the entrance of the musician’s wife the + Count had ceased to listen to him. + </p> + <p> + On seeing Andrea here, Signora Marianna started visibly and a bright flush + tinged her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Here he is!” said Giardini, in an undertone, clutching the Count’s arm + and nodding to a tall man. “How pale and grave he is poor man! His hobby + has not trotted to his mind to-day, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + Andrea’s prepossession for Marianna was crossed by the captivating charm + which Gambara could not fail to exert over every genuine artist. The + composer was now forty; but although his high brow was bald and lined with + a few parallel, but not deep, wrinkles; in spite, too, of hollow temples + where the blue veins showed through the smooth, transparent skin, and of + the deep sockets in which his black eyes were sunk, with their large lids + and light lashes, the lower part of his face made him still look young, so + calm was its outline, so soft the modeling. It could be seen at a glance + that in this man passion had been curbed to the advantage of the + intellect; that the brain alone had grown old in some great struggle. + </p> + <p> + Andrea shot a swift look at Marianna, who was watching him. And he noted + the beautiful Italian head, the exquisite proportion and rich coloring + that revealed one of those organizations in which every human power is + harmoniously balanced, he sounded the gulf that divided this couple, + brought together by fate. Well content with the promise he inferred from + this dissimilarity between the husband and wife, he made no attempt to + control a liking which ought to have raised a barrier between the fair + Marianna and himself. He was already conscious of feeling a sort of + respectful pity for this man, whose only joy she was, as he understood the + dignified and serene acceptance of ill fortune that was expressed in + Gambara’s mild and melancholy gaze. + </p> + <p> + After expecting to see one of the grotesque figures so often set before us + by German novelists and writers of <i>libretti</i>, he beheld a simple, + unpretentious man, whose manners and demeanor were in nothing strange and + did not lack dignity. Without the faintest trace of luxury, his dress was + more decent than might have been expected from his extreme poverty, and + his linen bore witness to the tender care which watched over every detail + of his existence. Andrea looked at Marianna with moistened eyes; and she + did not color, but half smiled, in a way that betrayed, perhaps, some + pride at this speechless homage. The Count, too thoroughly fascinated to + miss the smallest indication of complaisance, fancied that she must love + him, since she understood him so well. + </p> + <p> + From this moment he set himself to conquer the husband rather than the + wife, turning all his batteries against the poor Gambara, who quite + guilelessly went on eating Signor Giardini’s <i>bocconi</i>, without + thinking of their flavor. + </p> + <p> + The Count opened the conversation on some trivial subject, but at the + first words he perceived that this brain, supposed to be infatuated on one + point, was remarkably clear on all others, and saw that it would be far + more important to enter into this very clever man’s ideas than to flatter + his conceits. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the company, a hungry crew whose brain only responded to the + sight of a more or less good meal, showed much animosity to the luckless + Gambara, and waited only till the end of the first course, to give free + vent to their satire. A refugee, whose frequent leer betrayed ambitious + schemes on Marianna, and who fancied he could establish himself in her + good graces by trying to make her husband ridiculous, opened fire to show + the newcomer how the land lay at the table-d’hote. + </p> + <p> + “It is a very long time since we have heard anything about the opera on + ‘Mahomet’!” cried he, with a smile at Marianna. “Can it be that Paolo + Gambara, wholly given up to domestic cares, absorbed by the charms of the + chimney-corner, is neglecting his superhuman genius, leaving his talents + to get cold and his imagination to go flat?” + </p> + <p> + Gambara knew all the company; he dwelt in a sphere so far above them all + that he no longer cared to repel an attack. He made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “It is not given to everybody,” said the journalist, “to have an intellect + that can understand Monsieur Gambara’s musical efforts, and that, no + doubt, is why our divine maestro hesitates to come before the worthy + Parisian public.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said the ballad-monger, who had not opened his mouth but to + swallow everything that came within his reach, “I know some men of talent + who think highly of the judgments of Parisian critics. I myself have a + pretty reputation as a musician,” he went on, with an air of diffidence. + “I owe it solely to my little songs in <i>vaudevilles</i>, and the success + of my dance music in drawing-rooms; but I propose ere long to bring out a + mass composed for the anniversary of Beethoven’s death, and I expect to be + better appreciated in Paris than anywhere else. You will perhaps do me the + honor of hearing it?” he said, turning to Andrea. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said the Count. “But I do not conceive that I am gifted with + the organs needful for the appreciation of French music. If you were dead, + monsieur, and Beethoven had composed the mass, I would not have failed to + attend the performance.” + </p> + <p> + This retort put an end to the tactics of those who wanted to set Gambara + off on his high horse to amuse the new guest. Andrea was already conscious + of an unwillingness to expose so noble and pathetic a mania as a spectacle + for so much vulgar shrewdness. It was with no base reservation that he + kept up a desultory conversation, in the course of which Signor Giardini’s + nose not infrequently interposed between two remarks. Whenever Gambara + uttered some elegant repartee or some paradoxical aphorism, the cook put + his head forward, to glance with pity at the musician and with meaning at + the Count, muttering in his ear, “<i>E matto</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Then came a moment when the <i>chef</i> interrupted the flow of his + judicial observations to devote himself to the second course, which he + considered highly important. During his absence, which was brief, Gambara + leaned across to address Andrea. + </p> + <p> + “Our worthy host,” said he, in an undertone, “threatens to regale us + to-day with a dish of his own concocting, which I recommend you to avoid, + though his wife has had an eye on him. The good man has a mania for + innovations. He ruined himself by experiments, the last of which compelled + him to fly from Rome without a passport—a circumstance he does not + talk about. After purchasing the good-will of a popular restaurant he was + trusted to prepare a banquet given by a lately made Cardinal, whose + household was not yet complete. Giardini fancied he had an opportunity for + distinguishing himself—and he succeeded! for that same evening he + was accused of trying to poison the whole conclave, and was obliged to + leave Rome and Italy without waiting to pack up. This disaster was the + last straw. Now,” and Gambara put his finger to his forehead and shook his + head. + </p> + <p> + “He is a good fellow, all the same,” he added. “My wife will tell you that + we owe him many a good turn.” + </p> + <p> + Giardini now came in carefully bearing a dish which he set in the middle + of the table, and he then modestly resumed his seat next to Andrea, whom + he served first. As soon as he had tasted the mess, the Count felt that an + impassable gulf divided the second mouthful from the first. He was much + embarrassed, and very anxious not to annoy the cook, who was watching him + narrowly. Though a French <i>restaurateur</i> may care little about seeing + a dish scorned if he is sure of being paid for it, it is not so with an + Italian, who is not often satiated with praises. + </p> + <p> + To gain time, Andrea complimented Giardini enthusiastically, but he leaned + over to whisper in his ear, and slipping a gold piece into his hand under + the table, begged him to go out and buy a few bottles of champagne, + leaving him free to take all the credit of the treat. + </p> + <p> + When the Italian returned, every plate was cleared, and the room rang with + praises of the master-cook. The champagne soon mounted these southern + brains, and the conversation, till now subdued in the stranger’s presence, + overleaped the limits of suspicious reserve to wander far over the wide + fields of political and artistic opinions. + </p> + <p> + Andrea, to whom no form of intoxication was known but those of love and + poetry, had soon gained the attention of the company and skilfully led it + to a discussion of matters musical. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me, monsieur,” said he to the composer of dance-music, “how + it is that the Napoleon of these tunes can condescend to usurp the place + of Palestrina, Pergolesi, and Mozart,—poor creatures who must pack + and vanish at the advent of that tremendous Mass for the Dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, monsieur,” replied the composer, “a musician always finds it + difficult to reply when the answer needs the cooperation of a hundred + skilled executants. Mozart, Haydn, and Beethoven, without an orchestra + would be of no great account.” + </p> + <p> + “Of no great account!” said Marcosini. “Why, all the world knows that the + immortal author of <i>Don Giovanni</i> and the <i>Requiem</i> was named + Mozart; and I am so unhappy as not to know the name of the inexhaustible + writer of quadrilles which are so popular in our drawing-rooms——” + </p> + <p> + “Music exists independently of execution,” said the retired conductor, + who, in spite of his deafness, had caught a few words of the conversation. + “As he looks through the C-minor symphony by Beethoven, a musician is + transported to the world of fancy on the golden wings of the subject in + G-natural repeated by the horns in E. He sees a whole realm, by turns + glorious in dazzling shafts of light, gloomy under clouds of melancholy, + and cheered by heavenly strains.” + </p> + <p> + “The new school has left Beethoven far behind,” said the ballad-writer, + scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Beethoven is not yet understood,” said the Count. “How can he be + excelled?” + </p> + <p> + Gambara drank a large glass of champagne, accompanying the draught by a + covert smile of approval. + </p> + <p> + “Beethoven,” the Count went on, “extended the limits of instrumental + music, and no one followed in his track.” + </p> + <p> + Gambara assented with a nod. + </p> + <p> + “His work is especially noteworthy for simplicity of construction and for + the way the scheme is worked out,” the Count went on. “Most composers make + use of the orchestral parts in a vague, incoherent way, combining them for + a merely temporary effect; they do not persistently contribute to the + whole mass of the movement by their steady and regular progress. Beethoven + assigns its part to each tone-quality from the first. Like the various + companies which, by their disciplined movements, contribute to winning a + battle, the orchestral parts of a symphony by Beethoven obey the plan + ordered for the interest of all, and are subordinate to an admirably + conceived scheme. + </p> + <p> + “In this he may be compared to a genius of a different type. In Walter + Scott’s splendid historical novels, some personage, who seems to have + least to do with the action of the story, intervenes at a given moment and + leads up to the climax by some thread woven into the plot.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>E vero</i>!” remarked Gambara, to whom common sense seemed to return + in inverse proportion to sobriety. + </p> + <p> + Andrea, eager to carry the test further, for a moment forgot all his + predilections; he proceeded to attack the European fame of Rossini, + disputing the position which the Italian school has taken by storm, night + after night for more than thirty years, on a hundred stages in Europe. He + had undertaken a hard task. The first words he spoke raised a strong + murmur of disapproval; but neither the repeated interruptions, nor + exclamations, nor frowns, nor contemptuous looks, could check this + determined advocate of Beethoven. + </p> + <p> + “Compare,” said he, “that sublime composer’s works with what by common + consent is called Italian music. What feebleness of ideas, what limpness + of style! That monotony of form, those commonplace cadenzas, those endless + bravura passages introduced at haphazard irrespective of the dramatic + situation, that recurrent <i>crescendo</i> that Rossini brought into + vogue, are now an integral part of every composition; those vocal + fireworks result in a sort of babbling, chattering, vaporous mucic, of + which the sole merit depends on the greater or less fluency of the singer + and his rapidity of vocalization. + </p> + <p> + “The Italian school has lost sight of the high mission of art. Instead of + elevating the crowd, it has condescended to the crowd; it has won its + success only by accepting the suffrages of all comers, and appealing to + the vulgar minds which constitute the majority. Such a success is mere + street juggling. + </p> + <p> + “In short, the compositions of Rossini, in whom this music is personified, + with those of the writers who are more or less of his school, to me seem + worthy at best to collect a crowd in the street round a grinding organ, as + an accompaniment to the capers of a puppet show. I even prefer French + music, and I can say no more. Long live German music!” cried he, “when it + is tuneful,” he added to a low voice. + </p> + <p> + This sally was the upshot of a long preliminary discussion, in which, for + more than a quarter of an hour, Andrea had divagated in the upper sphere + of metaphysics, with the ease of a somnambulist walking over the roofs. + </p> + <p> + Gambara, keenly interested in all this transcendentalism, had not lost a + word; he took up his parable as soon as Andrea seemed to have ended, and a + little stir of revived attention was evident among the guests, of whom + several had been about to leave. + </p> + <p> + “You attack the Italian school with much vigor,” said Gambara, somewhat + warmed to his work by the champagne, “and, for my part, you are very + welcome. I, thank God, stand outside this more or less melodic frippery. + Still, as a man of the world, you are too ungrateful to the classic land + whence Germany and France derived their first teaching. While the + compositions of Carissimi, Cavalli, Scarlatti, and Rossi were being played + throughout Italy, the violin players of the Paris opera house enjoyed the + singular privilege of being allowed to play in gloves. Lulli, who extended + the realm of harmony, and was the first to classify discords, on arriving + in France found but two men—a cook and a mason—whose voice and + intelligence were equal to performing his music; he made a tenor of the + former, and transformed the latter into a bass. At that time Germany had + no musician excepting Sebastian Bach.—But you, monsieur, though you + are so young,” Gambara added, in the humble tone of a man who expects to + find his remarks received with scorn or ill-nature, “must have given much + time to the study of these high matters of art; you could not otherwise + explain them so clearly.” + </p> + <p> + This word made many of the hearers smile, for they had understood nothing + of the fine distinctions drawn by Andrea. Giardini, indeed, convinced that + the Count had been talking mere rhodomontade, nudged him with a laugh in + his sleeve, as at a good joke in which he flattered himself that he was a + partner. + </p> + <p> + “There is a great deal that strikes me as very true in all you have said,” + Gambara went on; “but be careful. Your argument, while reflecting on + Italian sensuality, seems to me to lean towards German idealism, which is + no less fatal heresy. If men of imagination and good sense, like you, + desert one camp only to join the other; if they cannot keep to the happy + medium between two forms of extravagance, we shall always be exposed to + the satire of the sophists, who deny all progress, who compare the genius + of man to this tablecloth, which, being too short to cover the whole of + Signor Giardini’s table, decks one end at the expense of the other.” + </p> + <p> + Giardini bounded in his seat as if he had been stung by a horse-fly, but + swift reflections restored him to his dignity as a host; he looked up to + heaven and again nudged the Count, who was beginning to think the cook + more crazy than Gambara. + </p> + <p> + This serious and pious way of speaking of art interested the Milanese + extremely. Seated between these two distracted brains, one so noble and + the other so common, and making game of each other to the great + entertainment of the crowd, there was a moment when the Count found + himself wavering between the sublime and its parody, the farcical extremes + of human life. Ignoring the chain of incredible events which had brought + them to this smoky den, he believed himself to be the plaything of some + strange hallucination, and thought of Gambara and Giardini as two + abstractions. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, after a last piece of buffoonery from the deaf conductor in + reply to Gambara, the company had broken up laughing loudly. Giardini went + off to make coffee, which he begged the select few to accept, and his wife + cleared the table. The Count, sitting near the stove between Marianna and + Gambara, was in the very position which the mad musician thought most + desirable, with sensuousness on one side and idealism on the other. + Gambara finding himself for the first time in the society of a man who did + not laugh at him to his face, soon diverged from generalities to talk of + himself, of his life, his work, and the musical regeneration of which he + believed himself to be the Messiah. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said he, “you who so far have not insulted me. I will tell you + the story of my life; not to make a boast of my perseverance, which is no + virtue of mine, but to the greater glory of Him who has given me strength. + You seem kind and pious; if you do not believe in me at least you will + pity me. Pity is human; faith comes from God.” + </p> + <p> + Andrea turned and drew back under his chair the foot that had been seeking + that of the fair Marianna, fixing his eyes on her while listening to + Gambara. + </p> + <p> + “I was born at Cremona, the son of an instrument maker, a fairly good + performer and an even better composer,” the musician began. “Thus at an + early age I had mastered the laws of musical construction in its twofold + aspects, the material and the spiritual; and as an inquisitive child I + observed many things which subsequently recurred to the mind of the + full-grown man. + </p> + <p> + “The French turned us out of our own home—my father and me. We were + ruined by the war. Thus, at the age of ten I entered on the wandering life + to which most men have been condemned whose brains were busy with + innovations, whether in art, science, or politics. Fate, or the instincts + of their mind which cannot fit into the compartments where the trading + class sit, providentially guides them to the spots where they may find + teaching. Led by my passion for music I wandered throughout Italy from + theatre to theatre, living on very little, as men can live there. + Sometimes I played the bass in an orchestra, sometimes I was on the boards + in the chorus, sometimes under them with the carpenters. Thus I learned + every kind of musical effect, studying the tones of instruments and of the + human voice, wherein they differed and how they harmonized, listening to + the score and applying the rules taught me by my father. + </p> + <p> + “It was hungry work, in a land where the sun always shines, where art is + all pervading, but where there is no pay for the artist, since Rome is but + nominally the Sovereign of the Christian world. Sometimes made welcome, + sometimes scouted for my poverty, I never lost courage. I heard a voice + within me promising me fame. + </p> + <p> + “Music seemed to me in its infancy, and I think so still. All that is left + to us of musical effort before the seventeenth century, proves to me that + early musicians knew melody only; they were ignorant of harmony and its + immense resources. Music is at once a science and an art. It is rooted in + physics and mathematics, hence it is a science; inspiration makes it an + art, unconsciously utilizing the theorems of science. It is founded in + physics by the very nature of the matter it works on. Sound is air in + motion. The air is formed of constituents which, in us, no doubt, meet + with analogous elements that respond to them, sympathize, and magnify them + by the power of the mind. Thus the air must include a vast variety of + molecules of various degrees of elasticity, and capable of vibrating in as + many different periods as there are tones from all kinds of sonorous + bodies; and these molecules, set in motion by the musician and falling on + our ear, answer to our ideas, according to each man’s temperament. I + myself believe that sound is identical in its nature with light. Sound is + light, perceived under another form; each acts through vibrations to which + man is sensitive and which he transforms, in the nervous centres, into + ideas. + </p> + <p> + “Music, like painting, makes use of materials which have the property of + liberating this or that property from the surrounding medium and so + suggesting an image. The instruments in music perform this part, as color + does in painting. And whereas each sound produced by a sonorous body is + invariably allied with its major third and fifth, whereas it acts on + grains of fine sand lying on stretched parchment so as to distribute them + in geometrical figures that are always the same, according to the pitch,—quite + regular when the combination is a true chord, and indefinite when the + sounds are dissonant,—I say that music is an art conceived in the + very bowels of nature. + </p> + <p> + “Music is subject to physical and mathematical laws. Physical laws are but + little known, mathematics are well understood; and it is since their + relations have been studied, that the harmony has been created to which we + owe the works of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Rossini, grand geniuses, + whose music is undoubtedly nearer to perfection than that of their + precursors, though their genius, too, is unquestionable. The old masters + could sing, but they had not art and science at their command,—a + noble alliance which enables us to merge into one the finest melody and + the power of harmony. + </p> + <p> + “Now, if a knowledge of mathematical laws gave us these four great + musicians, what may we not attain to if we can discover the physical laws + in virtue of which—grasp this clearly—we may collect, in + larger or smaller quantities, according to the proportions we may require, + an ethereal substance diffused in the atmosphere which is the medium alike + of music and of light, of the phenomena of vegetation and of animal life! + Do you follow me? Those new laws would arm the composer with new powers by + supplying him with instruments superior of those now in use, and perhaps + with a potency of harmony immense as compared with that now at his + command. If every modified shade of sound answers to a force, that must be + known to enable us to combine all these forces in accordance with their + true laws. + </p> + <p> + “Composers work with substances of which they know nothing. Why should a + brass and a wooden instrument—a bassoon and horn—have so + little identity of tone, when they act on the same matter, the constituent + gases of the air? Their differences proceed from some displacement of + those constituents, from the way they act on the elements which are their + affinity and which they return, modified by some occult and unknown + process. If we knew what the process was, science and art would both be + gainers. Whatever extends science enhances art. + </p> + <p> + “Well, these are the discoveries I have guessed and made. Yes,” said + Gambara, with increasing vehemence, “hitherto men have noted effects + rather than causes. If they could but master the causes, music would be + the greatest of the arts. Is it not the one which strikes deepest to the + soul? You see in painting no more than it shows you; in poetry you have + only what the poet says; music goes far beyond this. Does it not form your + taste, and rouse dormant memories? In a concert-room there may be a + thousand souls; a strain is flung out from Pasta’s throat, the execution + worthily answering to the ideas that flashed through Rossini’s mind as he + wrote the air. That phrase of Rossini’s, transmitted to those attentive + souls, is worked out in so many different poems. To one it presents a + woman long dreamed of; to another, some distant shore where he wandered + long ago. It rises up before him with its drooping willows, its clear + waters, and the hopes that then played under its leafy arbors. One woman + is reminded of the myriad feelings that tortured her during an hour of + jealousy, while another thinks of the unsatisfied cravings of her heart, + and paints in the glowing hues of a dream an ideal lover, to whom she + abandons herself with the rapture of the woman in the Roman mosaic who + embraces a chimera; yet a third is thinking that this very evening some + hoped-for joy is to be hers, and rushes by anticipation into the tide of + happiness, its dashing waves breaking against her burning bosom. Music + alone has this power of throwing us back on ourselves; the other arts give + us infinite pleasure. But I am digressing. + </p> + <p> + “These were my first ideas, vague indeed; for an inventor at the beginning + only catches glimpses of the dawn, as it were. So I kept these glorious + ideas at the bottom of my knapsack, and they gave me spirit to eat the dry + crust I often dipped in the water of a spring. I worked, I composed airs, + and, after playing them on any instrument that came to hand, I went off + again on foot across Italy. Finally, at the age of two-and-twenty, I + settled in Venice, where for the first time I enjoyed rest and found + myself in a decent position. I there made the acquaintance of a Venetian + nobleman who liked my ideas, who encouraged me in my investigations, and + who got me employment at the Venice theatre. + </p> + <p> + “Living was cheap, lodging inexpensive. I had a room in that Capello + palace from which the famous Bianca came forth one evening to become a + Grand Duchess of Tuscany. And I would dream that my unrecognized fame + would also emerge from thence one day to be crowned. + </p> + <p> + “I spent my evenings at the theatre and my days in work. Then came + disaster. The performance of an opera in which I had experimented, trying + my music, was a failure. No one understood my score for the <i>Martiri</i>. + Set Beethoven before the Italians and they are out of their depth. No one + had patience enough to wait for the effect to be produced by the different + motives given out by each instrument, which were all at last to combine in + a grand <i>ensemble</i>. + </p> + <p> + “I had built some hopes on the success of the <i>Martiri</i>, for we + votaries of the blue divinity Hope always discount results. When a man + believes himself destined to do great things, it is hard not to fancy them + achieved; the bushel always has some cracks through which the light + shines. + </p> + <p> + “My wife’s family lodged in the same house, and the hope of winning + Marianna, who often smiled at me from her window, had done much to + encourage my efforts. I now fell into the deepest melancholy as I sounded + the depths of a life of poverty, a perpetual struggle in which love must + die. Marianna acted as genius does; she jumped across every obstacle, both + feet at once. I will not speak of the little happiness which shed its + gilding on the beginning of my misfortunes. Dismayed at my failure, I + decided that Italy was not intelligent enough and too much sunk in the + dull round of routine to accept the innovations I conceived of; so I + thought of going to Germany. + </p> + <p> + “I traveled thither by way of Hungary, listening to the myriad voices of + nature, and trying to reproduce that sublime harmony by the help of + instruments which I constructed or altered for the purpose. These + experiments involved me in vast expenses which had soon exhausted my + savings. And yet those were our golden days. In Germany I was appreciated. + There has been nothing in my life more glorious than that time. I can + think of nothing to compare with the vehement joys I found by the side of + Marianna, whose beauty was then of really heavenly radiance and splendor. + In short, I was happy. + </p> + <p> + “During that period of weakness I more than once expressed my passion in + the language of earthly harmony. I even wrote some of those airs, just + like geometrical patterns, which are so much admired in the world of + fashion that you move in. But as soon as I made a little way I met with + insuperable obstacles raised by my rivals, all hypercritical or + unappreciative. + </p> + <p> + “I had heard of France as being a country where novelties were favorably + received, and I wanted to get there; my wife had a little money and we + came to Paris. Till then no one had actually laughed in my face; but in + this dreadful city I had to endure that new form of torture, to which + abject poverty ere long added its bitter sufferings. Reduced to lodging in + this mephitic quarter, for many months we have lived exclusively on + Marianna’s sewing, she having found employment for her needle in working + for the unhappy prostitutes who make this street their hunting ground. + Marianna assures me that among those poor creatures she has met with such + consideration and generosity as I, for my part, ascribe to the ascendency + of virtue so pure that even vice is compelled to respect it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hope on,” said Andrea. “Perhaps you have reached the end of your trials. + And while waiting for the time when my endeavor, seconding yours, shall + set your labors in a true light, allow me, as a fellow-countryman and an + artist like yourself, to offer you some little advances on the undoubted + success of your score.” + </p> + <p> + “All that has to do with matters of material existence I leave to my + wife,” replied Gambara. “She will decide as to what we may accept without + a blush from so thorough a gentleman as you seem to be. For my part,—and + it is long since I have allowed myself to indulge such full confidences,—I + must now ask you to allow me to leave you. I see a melody beckoning to me, + dancing and floating before me, bare and quivering, like a girl entreating + her lover for her clothes which he has hidden. Good-night. I must go and + dress my mistress. My wife I leave with you.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried away, as a man who blames himself for the loss of valuable + time; and Marianna, somewhat embarrassed, prepared to follow him. + </p> + <p> + Andrea dared not detain her. + </p> + <p> + Giardini came to the rescue. + </p> + <p> + “But you heard, signora,” said he. “Your husband has left you to settle + some little matters with the Signor Conte.” + </p> + <p> + Marianna sat down again, but without raising her eyes to Andrea, who + hesitated before speaking. + </p> + <p> + “And will not Signor Gambara’s confidence entitle me to his wife’s?” he + said in agitated tones. “Can the fair Marianna refuse to tell me the story + of her life?” + </p> + <p> + “My life!” said Marianna. “It is the life of the ivy. If you wish to know + the story of my heart, you must suppose me equally destitute of pride and + of modesty if you can ask me to tell it after what you have just heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Of whom, then, can I ask it?” cried the Count, in whom passion was + blinding his wits. + </p> + <p> + “Of yourself,” replied Marianna. “Either you understand me by this time, + or you never will. Try to ask yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, but you must listen. And this hand, which I am holding, is to lie + in mine as long as my narrative is truthful.” + </p> + <p> + “I am listening,” said Marianna. + </p> + <p> + “A woman’s life begins with her first passion,” said Andrea. “And my dear + Marianna began to live only on the day when she first saw Paolo Gambara. + She needed some deep passion to feed upon, and, above all, some + interesting weakness to shelter and uphold. The beautiful woman’s nature + with which she is endowed is perhaps not so truly passion as maternal + love. + </p> + <p> + “You sigh, Marianna? I have touched one of the aching wounds in your + heart. It was a noble part for you to play, so young as you were,—that + of protectress to a noble but wandering intellect. You said to yourself: + ‘Paolo will be my genius; I shall be his common sense; between us we shall + be that almost divine being called an angel,—the sublime creature + that enjoys and understands, reason never stifling love.’ + </p> + <p> + “And then, in the first impetus of youth, you heard the thousand voices of + nature which the poet longed to reproduce. Enthusiasm clutched you when + Paolo spread before you the treasures of poetry, while seeking to embody + them in the sublime but restricted language of music; you admired him when + delirious rapture carried him up and away from you, for you liked to + believe that all this devious energy would at last come down and alight as + love. But you knew not the tyrannous and jealous despotism of the ideal + over the minds that fall in love with it. Gambara, before meeting you, had + given himself over to the haughty and overbearing mistress, with whom you + have struggled for him to this day. + </p> + <p> + “Once, for an instant, you had a vision of happiness. Paolo, tumbling from + the lofty sphere where his spirit was constantly soaring, was amazed to + find reality so sweet; you fancied that his madness would be lulled in the + arms of love. But before long Music again clutched her prey. The dazzling + mirage which had cheated you into the joys of reciprocal love made the + lonely path on which you had started look more desolate and barren. + </p> + <p> + “In the tale your husband has just told me, I could read, as plainly as in + the contrast between your looks and his, all the painful secrets of that + ill-assorted union, in which you have accepted the sufferer’s part. Though + your conduct has been unfailingly heroical, though your firmness has never + once given way in the exercise of your painful duties, perhaps, in the + silence of lonely nights, the heart that at this moment is beating so + wildly in your breast, may, from time to time, have rebelled. Your + husband’s superiority was in itself your worst torment. If he had been + less noble, less single-minded, you might have deserted him; but his + virtues upheld yours; you wondered, perhaps, whether his heroism or your + own would be the first to give way. + </p> + <p> + “You clung to your really magnanimous task as Paolo clung to his chimera. + If you had had nothing but a devotion to duty to guide and sustain you, + triumph might have seemed easier; you would only have had to crush your + heart, and transfer your life into the world of abstractions; religion + would have absorbed all else, and you would have lived for an idea, like + those saintly women who kill all the instincts of nature at the foot of + the altar. But the all-pervading charm of Paolo, the loftiness of his + mind, his rare and touching proofs of tenderness, constantly drag you down + from that ideal realm where virtue would fain maintain you; they + perennially revive in you the energies you have exhausted in contending + with the phantom of love. You never suspected this! The faintest glimmer + of hope led you on in pursuit of the sweet vision. + </p> + <p> + “At last the disappointments of many years have undermined your patience,—an + angel would have lost it long since,—and now the apparition so long + pursued is no more than a shade without substance. Madness that is so + nearly allied to genius can know no cure in this world. When this thought + first struck you, you looked back on your past youth, sacrificed, if not + wasted; you then bitterly discerned the blunder of nature that had given + you a father when you looked for a husband. You asked yourself whether you + had not gone beyond the duty of a wife in keeping yourself wholly for a + man who was bound up in his science. Marianna, leave your hand in mine; + all I have said is true. And you looked about you—but now you were + in Paris, not in Italy, where men know how to love——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Let me finish the tale,” cried Marianna. “I would rather say things + myself. I will be honest; I feel that I am speaking to my truest friend. + Yes, I was in Paris when all you have expressed so clearly took place in + my mind; but when I saw you I was saved, for I had never met with the love + I had dreamed of from my childhood. My poor dress and my dwelling-place + had hidden me from the eyes of men of your class. A few young men, whose + position did not allow of their insulting me, were all the more + intolerable for the levity with which they treated me. Some made game of + my husband, as if he were merely a ridiculous old man; others basely tried + to win his good graces to betray me; one and all talked of getting me away + from him, and none understood the devotion I feel for a soul that is so + far away from us only because it is so near heaven, for that friend, that + brother, whose handmaid I will always be. + </p> + <p> + “You alone understood, did you not? the tie that binds me to him. Tell me + that you feel a sincere and disinterested regard for my Paolo—” + </p> + <p> + “I gladly accept your praises,” Andrea interrupted; “but go no further; do + not compel me to contradict you. I love you, Marianna, as we love in the + beautiful country where we both were born, I love you with all my soul and + with all my strength; but before offering you that love, I will be worthy + of yours. I will make a last attempt to give back to you the man you have + loved so long and will love forever. Till success or defeat is certain, + accept without any shame the modest ease I can give you both. We will go + to-morrow and choose a place where he may live. + </p> + <p> + “Have you such regard for me as will allow you to make me the partner in + your guardianship?” + </p> + <p> + Marianna, surprised at such magnanimity, held out her hand to the Count, + who went away, trying to evade the civilities of Giardini and his wife. + </p> + <p> + On the following day Giardini took the Count up to the room where the + Gambaras lodged. Though Marianna fully knew her lover’s noble soul,—for + there are natures which quickly enter into each other’s spirit,—Marianna + was too good a housewife not to betray her annoyance at receiving such a + fine gentleman in so humble a room. Everything was exquisitely clean. She + had spent the morning in dusting her motley furniture, the handiwork of + Signor Giardini, who had put it together, at odd moments of leisure, out + of the fragments of the instruments rejected by Gambara. + </p> + <p> + Andrea had never seen anything quite so crazy. To keep a decent + countenance he turned away from a grotesque bed, contrived by the + ingenious cook in the case of an old harpsichord, and looked at Marianna’s + narrow couch, of which the single mattress was covered with a white muslin + counterpane, a circumstance that gave rise in his mind to some sad but + sweet thoughts. + </p> + <p> + He wished to speak of his plans and of his morning’s work; but Gambara, in + his enthusiasm, believing that he had at last met with a willing listener, + took possession of him, and compelled him to listen to the opera he had + written for Paris. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, monsieur,” said the composer, “allow me to explain + the subject in a few words. Here, the hearers receiving a musical + impression do not work it out in themselves, as religion bids us work out + the texts of Scripture in prayer. Hence it is very difficult to make them + understand that there is in nature an eternal melody, exquisitely sweet, a + perfect harmony, disturbed only by revolutions independent of the divine + will, as passions are uncontrolled by the will of men. + </p> + <p> + “I, therefore, had to seek a vast framework in which effect and cause + might both be included; for the aim of my music is to give a picture of + the life of nations from the loftiest point of view. My opera, for which I + myself wrote the <i>libretto</i>, for a poet would never have fully + developed the subject, is the life of Mahomet,—a figure in whom the + magic of Sabaeanism combined with the Oriental poetry of the Hebrew + Scriptures to result in one of the greatest human epics, the Arab + dominion. Mahomet certainly derived from the Hebrews the idea of a + despotic government, and from the religion of the shepherd tribes or + Sabaeans the spirit of expansion which created the splendid empire of the + Khalifs. His destiny was stamped on him in his birth, for his father was a + heathen and his mother a Jewess. Ah! my dear Count to be a great musician + a man must be very learned. Without knowledge he can get no local color + and put no ideas into his music. The composer who sings for singing’s sake + is an artisan, not an artist. + </p> + <p> + “This magnificent opera is the continuation of the great work I projected. + My first opera was called <i>The Martyrs</i>, and I intend to write a + third on Jerusalem delivered. You perceive the beauty of this trilogy and + what a variety of motives it offers,—the Martyrs, Mahomet, the + Deliverance of Jerusalem: the God of the West, the God of the East, and + the struggle of their worshipers over a tomb. But we will not dwell on my + fame, now for ever lost. + </p> + <p> + “This is the argument of my opera.” He paused. “The first act,” he went + on, “shows Mahomet as a porter to Kadijah, a rich widow with whom his + uncle placed him. He is in love and ambitious. Driven from Mecca, he + escapes to Medina, and dates his era from his flight, the <i>Hegira</i>. + In the second act he is a Prophet, founding a militant religion. In the + third, disgusted with all things, having exhausted life, Mahomet conceals + the manner of his death in the hope of being regarded as a god,—last + effort of human pride. + </p> + <p> + “Now you shall judge of my way of expressing in sound a great idea, for + which poetry could find no adequate expression in words.” + </p> + <p> + Gambara sat down to the piano with an absorbed gaze, and his wife brought + him the mass of papers forming his score; but he did not open them. + </p> + <p> + “The whole opera,” said he, “is founded on a bass, as on a fruitful soil. + Mahomet was to have a majestic bass voice, and his wife necessarily had a + contralto. Kadijah was quite old—twenty! Attention! This is the + overture. It begins with an <i>andante</i> in C major, triple time. Do you + hear the sadness of the ambitious man who is not satisfied with love? + Then, through his lamentation, by a transition to the key of E flat, <i>allegro</i>, + common time, we hear the cries of the epileptic lover, his fury and + certain warlike phrases, for the mighty charms of the one and only woman + give him the impulse to multiplied loves which strikes us in <i>Don + Giovanni</i>. Now, as you hear these themes, do you not catch a glimpse of + Mahomet’s Paradise? + </p> + <p> + “And next we have a <i>cantabile</i> (A flat major, six-eight time), that + might expand the soul that is least susceptible to music. Kadijah has + understood Mahomet! Then Kadijah announces to the populace the Prophet’s + interviews with the Angel Gabriel (<i>maestoso sostenuto</i> in F Major). + The magistrates and priests, power and religion, feeling themselves + attacked by the innovator, as Christ and Socrates also attacked effete or + worn-out powers and religions, persecute Mahomet and drive him out of + Mecca (<i>stretto</i> in C major). Then comes my beautiful dominant (G + major, common time). Arabia now harkens to the Prophet; horsemen arrive (G + major, E flat, B flat, G minor, and still common time). The mass of men + gathers like an avalanche; the false Prophet has begun on a tribe the work + he will achieve over a world (G major). + </p> + <p> + “He promises the Arabs universal dominion, and they believe him because he + is inspired. The <i>crescendo</i> begins (still in the dominant). Here + come some flourishes (in C major) from the brass, founded on the harmony, + but strongly marked, and asserting themselves as an expression of the + first triumphs. Medina has gone over to the Prophet, and the whole army + marches on Mecca (an explosion of sound in C major). The whole power of + the orchestra is worked up like a conflagration; every instrument is + employed; it is a torrent of harmony. + </p> + <p> + “Suddenly the <i>tutti</i> is interrupted by a flowing air (on the minor + third). You hear the last strain of devoted love. The woman who had upheld + the great man dies concealing her despair, dies at the moment of triumph + for him in whom love has become too overbearing to be content with one + woman; and she worships him enough to sacrifice herself to the greatness + of the man who is killing her. What a blaze of love! + </p> + <p> + “Then the Desert rises to overrun the world (back to C major). The whole + strength of the orchestra comes in again, collected in a tremendous + quintet grounded on the fundamental bass—and he is dying! Mahomet is + world-weary; he has exhausted everything. Now he craves to die a god. + Arabia, in fact, worships and prays to him, and we return to the first + melancholy strain (C minor) to which the curtain rose. + </p> + <p> + “Now, do you not discern,” said Gambara, ceasing to play, and turning to + the Count, “in this picturesque and vivid music—abrupt, grotesque, + or melancholy, but always grand—the complete expression of the life + of an epileptic, mad for enjoyment, unable to read or write, using all his + defects as stepping-stones, turning every blunder and disaster into a + triumph? Did not you feel a sense of his fascination exerted over a greedy + and lustful race, in this overture, which is an epitome of the opera?” + </p> + <p> + At first calm and stern, the maestro’s face, in which Andrea had been + trying to read the ideas he was uttering in inspired tones, though the + chaotic flood of notes afforded no clue to them, had by degrees glowed + with fire and assumed an impassioned force that infected Marianna and the + cook. Marianna, too, deeply affected by certain passages in which she + recognized a picture of her own position, could not conceal the expression + of her eyes from Andrea. + </p> + <p> + Gambara wiped his brow, and shot a glance at the ceiling of such fierce + energy that he seemed to pierce it and soar to the very skies. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen the vestibule,” said he; “we will now enter the palace. The + opera begins:— + </p> + <p> + “Act I. Mahomet, alone on the stage, begins with an air (F natural, common + time), interrupted by a chorus of camel-drivers gathered round a well at + the back of the stage (they sing in contrary time—twelve-eight). + What majestic woe! It will appeal to the most frivolous women, piercing to + their inmost nerves if they have no heart. Is not this the very expression + of crushed genius?” + </p> + <p> + To Andrea’s great astonishment,—for Marianna was accustomed to it,—Gambara + contracted his larynx to such a pitch that the only sound was a stifled + cry not unlike the bark of a watch-dog that has lost its voice. A slight + foam came to the composer’s lips and made Andrea shudder. + </p> + <p> + “His wife appears (A minor). Such a magnificent duet! In this number I + have shown that Mahomet has the will and his wife the brains. Kadijah + announces that she is about to devote herself to an enterprise that will + rob her of her young husband’s love. Mahomet means to conquer the world; + this his wife has guessed, and she supports him by persuading the people + of Mecca that her husband’s attacks of epilepsy are the effect of his + intercourse with the angels (chorus of the first followers of Mahomet, who + come to promise him their aid, C sharp minor, <i>sotto voce</i>). Mahomet + goes off to seek the Angel Gabriel (<i>recitative</i> in F major). His + wife encourages the disciples (<i>aria</i>, interrupted by the chorus, + gusts of chanting support Kadijah’s broad and majestic air, A major). + </p> + <p> + “Abdallah, the father of Ayesha,—the only maiden Mahomet has found + really innocent, wherefore he changed the name of Abdallah to Abubekir + (the father of the virgin),—comes forward with Ayesha and sings + against the chorus, in strains which rise above the other voices and + supplement the air sung by Kadijah in contrapuntal treatment. Omar, the + father of another maiden who is to be Mahomet’s concubine, follows + Abubekir’s example; he and his daughter join in to form a quintette. The + girl Ayesha is first soprano, Hafsa second soprano; Abubekir is a bass, + Omar a baritone. + </p> + <p> + “Mahomet returns, inspired. He sings his first <i>bravura</i> air, the + beginning of the <i>finale</i> (E major), promising the empire of the + world to those who believe in him. The Prophet seeing the two damsels, + then, by a gentle transition (from B major to G major), addresses them in + amorous tones. Ali, Mahomet’s cousin, and Khaled, his greatest general, + both tenors, now arrive and announce the persecution; the magistrates, the + military, and the authorities have all proscribed the Prophet (<i>recitative</i>). + Mahomet declares in an invocation (in C) that the Angel Gabriel is on his + side, and points to a pigeon that is seen flying away. The chorus of + believers responds in accents of devotion (on a modulation to B major). + The soldiers, magistrates, and officials then come on (<i>tempo di marcia</i>, + common time, B major). A chorus in two divisions (<i>stretto</i> in E + major). Mahomet yields to the storm (in a descending phrase of diminished + sevenths) and makes his escape. The fierce and gloomy tone of this <i>finale</i> + is relieved by the phrases given to the three women who foretell Mahomet’s + triumph, and these motives are further developed in the third act in the + scene where Mahomet is enjoying his splendor.” + </p> + <p> + The tears rose to Gambara’s eyes, and it was only upon controlling his + emotion that he went on. + </p> + <p> + “Act II. The religion is now established. The Arabs are guarding the + Prophet’s tent while he speaks with God (chorus in A minor). Mahomet + appears (a prayer in F). What a majestic and noble strain is this that + forms the bass of the voices, in which I have perhaps enlarged the borders + of melody. It was needful to express the wonderful energy of this great + human movement which created an architecture, a music, a poetry of its + own, a costume and manners. As you listen, you are walking under the + arcades of the Generalife, the carved vaults of the Alhambra. The runs and + trills depict that delicate mauresque decoration, and the gallant and + valorous religion which was destined to wage war against the gallant and + valorous chivalry of Christendom. A few brass instruments awake in the + orchestra, announcing the Prophet’s first triumph (in a broken <i>cadenza</i>). + The Arabs adore the Prophet (E flat major), and the Khaled, Amru, and Ali + arrive (<i>tempo di marcia</i>). The armies of the faithful have taken + many towns and subjugated the three Arabias. Such a grand recitative!—Mahomet + rewards his generals by presenting them with maidens. + </p> + <p> + “And here,” said Gambara, sadly, “there is one of those wretched ballets, + which interrupt the thread of the finest musical tragedies! But Mahomet + elevates it once more by his great prophetic scene, which poor Monsieur + Voltaire begins with these words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Arabia’s time at last has come! +</pre> + <p> + “He is interrupted by a chorus of triumphant Arabs (twelve-eight time, <i>accelerando</i>). + The tribes arrive in crowds; the horns and brass reappear in the + orchestra. General rejoicings ensue, all the voices joining in by degrees, + and Mahomet announces polygamy. In the midst of all this triumph, the + woman who has been of such faithful service to Mahomet sings a magnificent + air (in B major). ‘And I,’ says she, ‘am I no longer loved?’ ‘We must + part. Thou art but a woman, and I am a Prophet; I may still have slaves + but no equal.’ Just listen to this duet (G sharp minor). What anguish! The + woman understands the greatness her hands have built up; she loves Mahomet + well enough to sacrifice herself to his glory; she worships him as a god, + without criticising him,—without murmuring. Poor woman! His first + dupe and his first victim! + </p> + <p> + “What a subject for the <i>finale</i> (in B major) is her grief, brought + out in such sombre hues against the acclamations of the chorus, and + mingling with Mahomet’s tones as he throws his wife aside as a tool of no + further use, still showing her that he can never forget her! What + fireworks of triumph! what a rush of glad and rippling song go up from the + two young voices (first and second soprano) of Ayesha and Hafsa, supported + by Ali and his wife, by Omar and Abubekir! Weep!—rejoice!—Triumph + and tears! Such is life.” + </p> + <p> + Marianna could not control her tears, and Andrea was so deeply moved that + his eyes were moist. The Neapolitan cook was startled by the magnetic + influence of the ideas expressed by Gambara’s convulsive accents. + </p> + <p> + The composer looked round, saw the group, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “At last you understand me!” said he. + </p> + <p> + No conqueror, led in pomp to the Capitol under the purple beams of glory, + as the crown was placed on his head amid the acclamations of a nation, + ever wore such an expression. The composer’s face was radiant, like that + of a holy martyr. No one dispelled the error. A terrible smile parted + Marianna’s lips. The Count was appalled by the guilelessness of this + mania. + </p> + <p> + “Act III,” said the enchanted musician, reseating himself at the piano. “(<i>Andantino, + solo</i>.) Mahomet in his seraglio, surrounded by women, but not happy. + Quartette of Houris (A major). What pompous harmony, what trills as of + ecstatic nightingales! Modulation (into F sharp minor). The theme is + stated (on the dominant E and repeated in F major). Here every delight is + grouped and expressed to give effect to the contrast of the gloomy <i>finale</i> + of the first act. After the dancing, Mahomet rises and sings a grand <i>bravura</i> + air (in F minor), repelling the perfect and devoted love of his first + wife, but confessing himself conquered by polygamy. Never has a musician + had so fine a subject! The orchestra and the chorus of female voices + express the joys of the Houris, while Mahomet reverts to the melancholy + strain of the opening. Where is Beethoven,” cried Gambara, “to appreciate + this prodigious reaction of my opera on itself? How completely it all + rests on the bass. + </p> + <p> + “It is thus that Beethoven composed his E minor symphony. But his heroic + work is purely instrumental, whereas here, my heroic phrase is worked out + on a sextette of the finest human voices, and a chorus of the faithful on + guard at the door of the sacred dwelling. I have every resource of melody + and harmony at my command, an orchestra and voices. Listen to the + utterance of all these phases of human life, rich and poor;—battle, + triumph, and exhaustion! + </p> + <p> + “Ali arrives, the Koran prevails in every province (duet in D minor). + Mahomet places himself in the hands of his two fathers-in-law; he will + abdicate his rule and die in retirement to consolidate his work. A + magnificent sextette (B flat major). He takes leave of all (solo in F + natural). His two fathers-in-law, constituted his vicars or Khalifs, + appeal to the people. A great triumphal march, and a prayer by all the + Arabs kneeling before the sacred house, the Kasbah, from which a pigeon is + seen to fly away (the same key). This prayer, sung by sixty voices and led + by the women (in B flat), crowns the stupendous work expressive of the + life of nations and of man. Here you have every emotion, human and + divine.” + </p> + <p> + Andrea gazed at Gambara in blank amazement. Though at first he had been + struck by the terrible irony of the situation,—this man expressing + the feelings of Mahomet’s wife without discovering them in Marianna,—the + husband’s hallucination was as nothing compared with the composer’s. There + was no hint even of a poetical or musical idea in the hideous cacophony + with which he had deluged their ears; the first principles of harmony, the + most elementary rules of composition, were absolutely alien to this + chaotic structure. Instead of the scientifically compacted music which + Gambara described, his fingers produced sequences of fifths, sevenths, and + octaves, of major thirds, progressions of fourths with no supporting bass,—a + medley of discordant sounds struck out haphazard in such a way as to be + excruciating to the least sensitive ear. It is difficult to give any idea + of the grotesque performance. New words would be needed to describe this + impossible music. + </p> + <p> + Andrea, painfully affected by this worthy man’s madness, colored, and + stole a glance at Marianna; while she, turning pale and looking down, + could not restrain her tears. In the midst of this chaos of notes, Gambara + had every now and then given vent to his rapture in exclamations of + delight. He had closed his eyes in ecstasy; had smiled at his piano; had + looked at it with a frown; put out his tongue at it after the fashion of + the inspired performer,—in short, was quite intoxicated with the + poetry that filled his brain, and that he had vainly striven to utter. The + strange discords that clashed under his fingers had obviously sounded in + his ears like celestial harmonies. + </p> + <p> + A deaf man, seeing the inspired gaze of his blue eyes open on another + world, the rosy glow that tinged his cheeks, and, above all, the heavenly + serenity which ecstasy stamped on his proud and noble countenance, would + have supposed that he was looking on at the improvisation of a really + great artist. The illusion would have been all the more natural because + the performance of this mad music required immense executive skill to + achieve such fingering. Gambara must have worked at it for years. + </p> + <p> + Nor were his hands alone employed; his feet were constantly at work with + complicated pedaling; his body swayed to and fro; the perspiration poured + down his face while he toiled to produce a great <i>crescendo</i> with the + feeble means the thankless instrument placed at his command. He stamped, + puffed, shouted; his fingers were as swift as the serpent’s double tongue; + and finally, at the last crash on the keys, he fell back in his chair, + resting his head on the top of it. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Per Bacco!</i> I am quite stunned,” said the Count as he left the + house. “A child dancing on the keyboard would make better music.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly mere chance could not more successfully avoid hitting two notes + in concord than that possessed creature has done during the past hour,” + said Giardini. + </p> + <p> + “How is it that the regular beauty of Marianna’s features is not spoiled + by incessantly hearing such a hideous medley?” said the Count to himself. + “Marianna will certainly grow ugly.” + </p> + <p> + “Signor, she must be saved from that,” cried Giardini. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Andrea. “I have thought of that. Still, to be sure that my + plans are not based on error, I must confirm my doubts by another + experiment. I will return and examine the instruments he has invented. + To-morrow, after dinner, we will have a little supper. I will send in some + wine and little dishes.” + </p> + <p> + The cook bowed. + </p> + <p> + Andrea spent the following day in superintending the arrangement of the + rooms where he meant to install the artist in a humble home. + </p> + <p> + In the evening the Count made his appearance, and found the wine, + according to his instructions, set out with some care by Marianna and + Giardini. Gambara proudly exhibited the little drums, on which lay the + powder by means of which he made his observations on the pitch and quality + of the sounds emitted by his instruments. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said he, “by what simple means I can prove the most important + propositions. Acoustics thus can show me the analogous effects of sound on + every object of its impact. All harmonies start from a common centre and + preserve the closest relations among themselves; or rather, harmony, like + light, is decomposable by our art as a ray is by a prism.” + </p> + <p> + He then displayed the instruments constructed in accordance with his laws, + explaining the changes he had introduced into their constitution. And + finally he announced that to conclude this preliminary inspection, which + could only satisfy a superficial curiosity, he would perform on an + instrument that contained all the elements of a complete orchestra, and + which he called a <i>Panharmonicon</i>. + </p> + <p> + “If it is the machine in that huge case, which brings down on us the + complaints of the neighborhood whenever you work at it, you will not play + on it long,” said Giardini. “The police will interfere. Remember that!” + </p> + <p> + “If that poor idiot stays in the room,” said Gambara in a whisper to the + Count, “I cannot possibly play.” + </p> + <p> + Andrea dismissed the cook, promising a handsome reward if he would keep + watch outside and hinder the neighbors or the police from interfering. + Giardini, who had not stinted himself while helping Gambara to wine, was + quite willing. + </p> + <p> + Gambara, without being drunk, was in the condition when every power of the + brain is over-wrought; when the walls of the room are transparent; when + the garret has no roof, and the soul soars in the empyrean of spirits. + </p> + <p> + Marianna, with some little difficulty, removed the covers from an + instrument as large as a grand piano, but with an upper case added. This + strange-looking instrument, besides this second body and its keyboard, + supported the openings or bells of various wind instruments and the closed + funnels of a few organ pipes. + </p> + <p> + “Will you play me the prayer you say is so fine at the end of your opera?” + said the Count. + </p> + <p> + To the great surprise of both Marianna and the Count, Gambara began with a + succession of chords that proclaimed him a master; and their astonishment + gave way first to amazed admiration and then to perfect rapture, effacing + all thought of the place and the performer. The effects of a real + orchestra could not have been finer than the voices of the wind + instruments, which were like those of an organ and combined wonderfully + with the harmonies of the strings. But the unfinished condition of the + machine set limits to the composer’s execution, and his idea seemed all + the greater; for, often, the very perfection of a work of art limits its + suggestiveness to the recipient soul. Is not this proved by the preference + accorded to a sketch rather than a finished picture when on their trial + before those who interpret a work in their own mind rather than accept it + rounded off and complete? + </p> + <p> + The purest and serenest music that Andrea had ever listened to rose up + from under Gambara’s fingers like the vapor of incense from an altar. The + composer’s voice grew young again, and, far from marring the noble melody, + it elucidated it, supported it, guided it,—just as the feeble and + quavering voice of an accomplished reader, such as Andrieux, for instance, + can expand the meaning of some great scene by Corneille or Racine by + lending personal and poetical feeling. + </p> + <p> + This really angelic strain showed what treasures lay hidden in that + stupendous opera, which, however, would never find comprehension so long + as the musician persisted in trying to explain it in his present demented + state. His wife and the Count were equally divided between the music and + their surprise at this hundred-voiced instrument, inside which a stranger + might have fancied an invisible chorus of girls were hidden, so closely + did some of the tones resemble the human voice; and they dared not express + their ideas by a look or a word. Marianna’s face was lighted up by a + radiant beam of hope which revived the glories of her youth. This + renascence of beauty, co-existent with the luminous glow of her husband’s + genius, cast a shade of regret on the Count’s exquisite pleasure in this + mysterious hour. + </p> + <p> + “You are our good genius!” whispered Marianna. “I am tempted to believe + that you actually inspire him; for I, who never am away from him, have + never heard anything like this.” + </p> + <p> + “And Kadijah’s farewell!” cried Gambara, who sang the <i>cavatina</i> + which he had described the day before as sublime, and which now brought + tears to the eyes of the lovers, so perfectly did it express the loftiest + devotion of love. + </p> + <p> + “Who can have taught you such strains?” cried the Count. + </p> + <p> + “The Spirit,” said Gambara. “When he appears, all is fire. I see the + melodies there before me; lovely, fresh in vivid hues like flowers. They + beam on me, they ring out,—and I listen. But it takes a long, long + time to reproduce them.” + </p> + <p> + “Some more!” said Marianna. + </p> + <p> + Gambara, who could not tire, played on without effort or antics. He + performed his overture with such skill, bringing out such rich and + original musical effects, that the Count was quite dazzled, and at last + believed in some magic like that commanded by Paganini and Liszt,—a + style of execution which changes every aspect of music as an art, by + giving it a poetic quality far above musical inventions. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Excellenza, and can you cure him?” asked Giardini, as Andrea came + out. + </p> + <p> + “I shall soon find out,” replied the Count. “This man’s intellect has two + windows; one is closed to the world, the other is open to the heavens. The + first is music, the second is poetry. Till now he has insisted on sitting + in front of the shuttered window; he must be got to the other. It was you, + Giardini, who first started me on the right track, by telling me that your + client’s mind was clearer after drinking a few glasses of wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” cried the cook, “and I can see what your plan is.” + </p> + <p> + “If it is not too late to make the thunder of poetry audible to his ears, + in the midst of the harmonies of some noble music, we must put him into a + condition to receive it and appreciate it. Will you help me to intoxicate + Gambara, my good fellow? Will you be none the worse for it?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Excellenza?” + </p> + <p> + Andrea went off without answering him, laughing at the acumen still left + to this cracked wit. + </p> + <p> + On the following day he called for Marianna, who had spent the morning in + arranging her dress,—a simple but decent outfit, on which she had + spent all her little savings. The transformation would have destroyed the + illusions of a mere dangler; but Andrea’s caprice had become a passion. + Marianna, diverted of her picturesque poverty, and looking like any + ordinary woman of modest rank, inspired dreams of wedded life. + </p> + <p> + He handed her into a hackney coach, and told her of the plans he had in + his head; and she approved of everything, happy in finding her admirer + more lofty, more generous, more disinterested than she had dared to hope. + He took her to a little apartment, where he had allowed himself to remind + her of his good offices by some of the elegant trifles which have a charm + for the most virtuous women. + </p> + <p> + “I will never speak to you of love till you give up all hope of your + Paolo,” said the Count to Marianna, as he bid her good-bye at the Rue + Froid-Manteau. “You will be witness to the sincerity of my attempts. If + they succeed. I may find myself unequal to keeping up my part as a friend; + but in that case I shall go far away, Marianna. Though I have firmness + enough to work for your happiness, I shall not have so much as will enable + me to look on at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not say such things. Generosity, too, has its dangers,” said she, + swallowing down her tears. “But are you going now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Andrea; “be happy, without any drawbacks.” + </p> + <p> + If Giardini might be believed, the new treatment was beneficial to both + husband and wife. Every evening after his wine, Gambara seemed less + self-centered, talked more, and with great lucidity; he even spoke at last + of reading the papers. Andrea could not help quaking at his unexpectedly + rapid success; but though his distress made him aware of the strength of + his passion, it did not make him waver in his virtuous resolve. + </p> + <p> + One day he called to note the progress of this singular cure. Though the + state of the patient at first gave him satisfaction, his joy was dashed by + Marianna’s beauty, for an easy life had restored its brilliancy. He called + now every evening to enjoy calm and serious conversation, to which he + contributed lucid and well considered arguments controverting Gambara’s + singular theories. He took advantage of the remarkable acumen of the + composer’s mind as to every point not too directly bearing on his manias, + to obtain his assent to principles in various branches of art, and apply + them subsequently to music. All was well so long as the patient’s brain + was heated with the fumes of wine; but as soon as he had recovered—or, + rather, lost—his reason, he was a monomaniac once more. + </p> + <p> + However, Paolo was already more easily diverted by the impression of + outside things; his mind was more capable of addressing itself to several + points at a time. + </p> + <p> + Andrea, who took an artistic interest in his semi-medical treatment, + thought at last that the time had come for a great experiment. He would + give a dinner at his own house, to which he would invite Giardini for the + sake of keeping the tragedy and the parody side by side, and afterwards + take the party to the first performance of <i>Robert le Diable</i>. He had + seen it in rehearsal, and he judged it well fitted to open his patient’s + eyes. + </p> + <p> + By the end of the second course, Gambara was already tipsy, laughing at + himself with a very good grace; while Giardini confessed that his culinary + innovations were not worth a rush. Andrea had neglected nothing that could + contribute to this twofold miracle. The wines of Orvieto and of + Montefiascone, conveyed with the peculiar care needed in moving them, + Lachrymachristi and Giro,—all the heady liqueurs of <i>la cara + Patria</i>,—went to their brains with the intoxication alike of the + grape and of fond memory. At dessert the musician and the cook both + abjured every heresy; one was humming a <i>cavatina</i> by Rossini, and + the other piling delicacies on his plate and washing them down with + Maraschino from Zara, to the prosperity of the French <i>cuisine</i>. + </p> + <p> + The Count took advantage of this happy frame of mind, and Gambara allowed + himself to be taken to the opera like a lamb. + </p> + <p> + At the first introductory notes Gambara’s intoxication appeared to clear + away and make way for the feverish excitement which sometimes brought his + judgment and his imagination into perfect harmony; for it was their + habitual disagreement, no doubt, that caused his madness. The ruling idea + of that great musical drama appeared to him, no doubt, in its noble + simplicity, like a lightning flash, illuminating the utter darkness in + which he lived. To his unsealed eyes this music revealed the immense + horizons of a world in which he found himself for the first time, though + recognizing it as that he had seen in his dreams. He fancied himself + transported into the scenery of his native land, where that beautiful + Italian landscape begins at what Napoleon so cleverly described as the <i>glacis</i> + of the Alps. Carried back by memory to the time when his young and eager + brain was as yet untroubled by the ecstasy of his too exuberant + imagination he listened with religious awe and would not utter a single + word. The Count respected the internal travail of his soul. Till half-past + twelve Gambara sat so perfectly motionless that the frequenters of the + opera house took him, no doubt, for what he was—a man drunk. + </p> + <p> + On their return, Andrea began to attack Meyerbeer’s work, in order to wake + up Gambara, who sat sunk in the half-torpid state common in drunkards. + </p> + <p> + “What is there in that incoherent score to reduce you to a condition of + somnambulism?” asked Andrea, when they got out at his house. “The story of + <i>Robert le Diable</i>, to be sure, is not devoid of interest, and Holtei + has worked it out with great skill in a drama that is very well written + and full of strong and pathetic situations; but the French librettist has + contrived to extract from it the most ridiculous farrago of nonsense. The + absurdities of the libretti of Vesari and Schikander are not to compare + with those of the words of Robert le Diable; it is a dramatic nightmare, + which oppresses the hearer without deeply moving him. + </p> + <p> + “And Meyerbeer has given the devil a too prominent part. Bertram and Alice + represent the contest between right and wrong, the spirits of good and + evil. This antagonism offered a splendid opportunity to the composer. The + sweetest melodies, in juxtaposition with harsh and crude strains, was the + natural outcome of the form of the story; but in the German composer’s + score the demons sing better than the saints. The heavenly airs belie + their origin, and when the composer abandons the infernal motives he + returns to them as soon as possible, fatigued with the effort of keeping + aloof from them. Melody, the golden thread that ought never to be lost + throughout so vast a plan, often vanishes from Meyerbeer’s work. Feeling + counts for nothing, the heart has no part in it. Hence we never come upon + those happy inventions, those artless scenes, which captivate all our + sympathies and leave a blissful impression on the soul. + </p> + <p> + “Harmony reigns supreme, instead of being the foundation from which the + melodic groups of the musical picture stand forth. These discordant + combinations, far from moving the listener, arouse in him a feeling + analogous to that which he would experience on seeing a rope-dancer + hanging to a thread and swaying between life and death. Never does a + soothing strain come in to mitigate the fatiguing suspense. It really is + as though the composer had had no other object in view than to produce a + baroque effect without troubling himself about musical truth or unity, or + about the capabilities of human voices which are swamped by this flood of + instrumental noise.” + </p> + <p> + “Silence, my friend!” cried Gambara. “I am still under the spell of that + glorious chorus of hell, made still more terrible by the long trumpets,—a + new method of instrumentation. The broken <i>cadenzas</i> which give such + force to Robert’s scene, the <i>cavatina</i> in the fourth act, the <i>finale</i> + of the first, all hold me in the grip of a supernatural power. No, not + even Gluck’s declamation ever produced so prodigious an effect, and I am + amazed by such skill and learning.” + </p> + <p> + “Signor Maestro,” said Andrea, smiling, “allow me to contradict you. + Gluck, before he wrote, reflected long; he calculated the chances, and he + decided on a plan which might be subsequently modified by his inspirations + as to detail, but hindered him from ever losing his way. Hence his power + of emphasis, his declamatory style thrilling with life and truth. I quite + agree with you that Meyerbeer’s learning is transcendent; but science is a + defect when it evicts inspiration, and it seems to me that we have in this + opera the painful toil of a refined craftsman who in his music has but + picked up thousands of phrases out of other operas, damned or forgotten, + and appropriated them, while extending, modifying, or condensing them. But + he has fallen into the error of all selectors of <i>centos</i>,—an + abuse of good things. This clever harvester of notes is lavish of + discords, which, when too often introduced, fatigue the ear till those + great effects pall upon it which a composer should husband with care to + make the more effective use of them when the situation requires it. These + enharmonic passages recur to satiety, and the abuse of the plagal cadence + deprives it of its religious solemnity. + </p> + <p> + “I know, of course, that every musician has certain forms to which he + drifts back in spite of himself; he should watch himself so as to avoid + that blunder. A picture in which there were no colors but blue and red + would be untrue to nature, and fatigue the eye. And thus the constantly + recurring rhythm in the score of <i>Robert le Diable</i> makes the work, + as a whole, appear monotonous. As to the effect of the long trumpets, of + which you speak, it has long been known in Germany; and what Meyerbeer + offers us as a novelty was constantly used by Mozart, who gives just such + a chorus to the devils in <i>Don Giovanni</i>.” + </p> + <p> + By plying Gambara, meanwhile, with fresh libations, Andrea thus strove, by + his contradictoriness, to bring the musician back to a true sense of + music, by proving to him that his so-called mission was not to try to + regenerate an art beyond his powers, but to seek to express himself in + another form; namely, that of poetry. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Count, you have understood nothing of that stupendous + musical drama,” said Gambara, airily, as standing in front of Andrea’s + piano he struck the keys, listened to the tone, and then seated himself, + meditating for a few minutes as if to collect his ideas. + </p> + <p> + “To begin with, you must know,” said he, “that an ear as practised as mine + at once detected that labor of choice and setting of which you spoke. Yes, + the music has been selected, lovingly, from the storehouse of a rich and + fertile imagination wherein learning has squeezed every idea to extract + the very essence of music. I will illustrate the process.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to carry the candles into the adjoining room, and before sitting + down again he drank a full glass of Giro, a Sardinian wine, as full of + fire as the old wines of Tokay can inspire. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you see,” said Gambara, “this music is not written for misbelievers, + nor for those who know not love. If you have never suffered from the + virulent attacks of an evil spirit who shifts your object just as you are + taking aim, who puts a fatal end to your highest hopes,—in one word, + if you have never felt the devil’s tail whisking over the world, the opera + of <i>Robert le Diable</i> must be to you, what the Apocalypse is to those + who believe that all things will end with them. But if, persecuted and + wretched, you understand that Spirit of Evil,—the monstrous ape who + is perpetually employed in destroying the work of God,—if you can + conceive of him as having, not indeed loved, but ravished, an almost + divine woman, and achieved through her the joy of paternity; as so loving + his son that he would rather have him eternally miserable with himself + than think of him as eternally happy with God; if, finally, you can + imagine the mother’s soul for ever hovering over the child’s head to + snatch it from the atrocious temptations offered by its father,—even + then you will have but a faint idea of this stupendous drama, which needs + but little to make it worthy of comparison with Mozart’s <i>Don Giovanni</i>. + <i>Don Giovanni</i> is in its perfection the greater, I grant; <i>Robert + le Diable</i> expresses ideas, <i>Don Giovanni</i> arouses sensations. <i>Don + Giovanni</i> is as yet the only musical work in which harmony and melody + are combined in exactly the right proportions. In this lies its only + superiority, for <i>Robert</i> is the richer work. But how vain are such + comparisons since each is so beautiful in its own way! + </p> + <p> + “To me, suffering as I do from the demon’s repeated shocks, Robert spoke + with greater power than to you; it struck me as being at the same time + vast and concentrated. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to you, I have been transported to the glorious land of dreams + where our senses expand, and the world works on a scale which is gigantic + as compared with man.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a space. + </p> + <p> + “I am trembling still,” said the ill-starred artist, “from the four bars + of cymbals which pierced to my marrow as they opened that short, abrupt + introduction with its solo for trombone, its flutes, oboes, and clarionet, + all suggesting the most fantastic effects of color. The <i>andante</i> in + C minor is a foretaste of the subject of the evocation of the ghosts in + the abbey, and gives grandeur to the scene by anticipating the spiritual + struggle. I shivered.” + </p> + <p> + Gambara pressed the keys with a firm hand and expanded Meyerbeer’s theme + in a masterly <i>fantasia</i>, a sort of outpouring of his soul after the + manner of Liszt. It was no longer the piano, it was a whole orchestra that + they heard; the very genius of music rose before them. + </p> + <p> + “That was worthy of Mozart!” he exclaimed. “See how that German can handle + his chords, and through what masterly modulations he raises the image of + terror to come to the dominant C. I can hear all hell in it! + </p> + <p> + “The curtain rises. What do I see? The only scene to which we gave the + epithet infernal: an orgy of knights in Sicily. In that chorus in F every + human passion is unchained in a bacchanalian <i>allegro</i>. Every thread + by which the devil holds us is pulled. Yes, that is the sort of glee that + comes over men when they dance on the edge of a precipice; they make + themselves giddy. What <i>go</i> there is in that chorus! + </p> + <p> + “Against that chorus—the reality of life—the simple life of + every-day virtue stands out in the air, in G minor, sung by Raimbaut. For + a moment it refreshed my spirit to hear the simple fellow, representative + of verdurous and fruitful Normandy, which he brings to Robert’s mind in + the midst of his drunkenness. The sweet influence of his beloved native + land lends a touch of tender color to this gloomy opening. + </p> + <p> + “Then comes the wonderful air in C major, supported by the chorus in C + minor, so expressive of the subject. ‘<i>Je suis Robert</i>!’ he + immediately breaks out. The wrath of the prince, insulted by his vassal, + is already more than natural anger; but it will die away, for memories of + his childhood come to him, with Alice, in the bright and graceful <i>allegro</i> + in A major. + </p> + <p> + “Can you not hear the cries of the innocent dragged into this infernal + drama,—a persecuted creature? ‘<i>Non, non</i>,’” sang Gambara, who + made the consumptive piano sing. “His native land and tender emotions have + come back to him; his childhood and its memories have blossomed anew in + Robert’s heart. And now his mother’s shade rises up, bringing with it + soothing religious thoughts. It is religion that lives in that beautiful + song in E major, with its wonderful harmonic and melodic progression in + the words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Car dans les cieux, comme sur la terre, + Sa mere va prier pour lui. +</pre> + <p> + “Here the struggle begins between the unseen powers and the only human + being who has the fire of hell in his veins to enable him to resist them; + and to make this quite clear, as Bertram comes on, the great musician has + given the orchestra a passage introducing a reminiscence of Raimbaut’s + ballad. What a stroke of art! What cohesion of all the parts! What + solidity of structure! + </p> + <p> + “The devil is there, in hiding, but restless. The conflict of the + antagonistic powers opens with Alice’s terror; she recognizes the devil of + the image of Saint Michael in her village. The musical subject is worked + out through an endless variety of phases. The antithesis indispensable in + opera is emphatically presented in a noble <i>recitative</i>, such as a + Gluck might have composed, between Bertram and Robert: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Tu se sauras jamais a quel exces je t’aime. +</pre> + <p> + “In that diabolical C minor, Bertram, with his terrible bass, begins his + work of undermining which will overthrow every effort of the vehement, + passionate man. + </p> + <p> + “Here, everything is appalling. Will the crime get possession of the + criminal? Will the executioner seize his victim? Will sorrow consume the + artist’s genius? Will the disease kill the patient? or, will the guardian + angel save the Christian? + </p> + <p> + “Then comes the <i>finale</i>, the gambling scene in which Bertram + tortures his son by rousing him to tremendous emotions. Robert, beggared, + frenzied, searching everything, eager for blood, fire, and sword, is his + own son; in this mood he is exactly like his father. What hideous glee we + hear in Bertram’s words: ‘<i>Je ris de tes coups</i>!’ And how perfectly + the Venetian <i>barcarole</i> comes in here. Through what wonderful + transitions the diabolical parent is brought on to the stage once more to + make Robert throw the dice. + </p> + <p> + “This first act is overwhelming to any one capable of working out the + subjects in his very heart, and lending them the breadth of development + which the composer intended them to call forth. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but love could now be contrasted with this noble symphony of + song, in which you will detect no monotony, no repetitions of means and + effects. It is one, but many; the characteristic of all that is truly + great and natural. + </p> + <p> + “I breathe more freely; I find myself in the elegant circle of a gallant + court; I hear Isabella’s charming phrases, fresh, but almost melancholy, + and the female chorus in two divisions, and in <i>imitation</i>, with a + suggestion of the Moorish coloring of Spain. Here the terrifying music is + softened to gentler hues, like a storm dying away, and ends in the florid + prettiness of a duet wholly unlike anything that has come before it. After + the turmoil of a camp full of errant heroes, we have a picture of love. + Poet! I thank thee! My heart could not have borne much more. If I could + not here and there pluck the daisies of a French light opera, if I could + not hear the gentle wit of a woman able to love and to charm, I could not + endure the terrible deep note on which Bertram comes in, saying to his + son: ‘<i>Si je la permets</i>!’ when Robert had promised the princess he + adores that he will conquer with the arms she has bestowed on him. + </p> + <p> + “The hopes of the gambler cured by love, the love of a most beautiful + woman,—did you observe that magnificent Sicilian, with her hawk’s + eye secure of her prey? (What interpreters that composer has found!) the + hopes of the man are mocked at by the hopes of hell in the tremendous cry: + ‘<i>A toi, Robert de Normandie</i>!’ + </p> + <p> + “And are not you struck by the gloom and horror of those long-held notes, + to which the words are set: ‘<i>Dans la foret prochaine</i>’? We find here + all the sinister spells of <i>Jerusalem Delivered</i>, just as we find all + chivalry in the chorus with the Spanish lilt, and in the march tune. How + original is the <i>alegro</i> with the modulations of the four cymbals + (tuned to C, D, C, G)! How elegant is the call to the lists! The whole + movement of the heroic life of the period is there: the mind enters into + it; I read in it a romance, a poem of chivalry. The <i>exposition</i> is + now finished; the resources of music would seem to be exhausted; you have + never heard anything like it before; and yet it is homogeneous. You have + had life set before you, and its one and only <i>crux</i>: ‘Shall I be + happy or unhappy?’ is the philosopher’s query. ‘Shall I be saved or + damned?’ asks the Christian.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Gambara struck the last chord of the chorus, dwelt on it + with a melancholy modulation, and then rose to drink another large glass + of Giro. This half-African vintage gave his face a deeper flush, for his + passionate and wonderful sketch of Meyerbeer’s opera had made him turn a + little pale. + </p> + <p> + “That nothing may be lacking to this composition,” he went on, “the great + artist has generously added the only <i>buffo</i> duet permissible for a + devil: that in which he tempts the unhappy troubadour. The composer has + set jocosity side by side with horror—a jocosity in which he mocks + at the only realism he had allowed himself amid the sublime imaginings of + his work—the pure calm love of Alice and Raimbaut; and their life is + overshadowed by the forecast of evil. + </p> + <p> + “None but a lofty soul can feel the noble style of these <i>buffo</i> + airs; they have neither the superabundant frivolity of Italian music nor + the vulgar accent of French commonplace; rather have they the majesty of + Olympus. There is the bitter laughter of a divine being mocking the + surprise of a troubadour Don-Juanizing himself. But for this dignity we + should be too suddenly brought down to the general tone of the opera, here + stamped on that terrible fury of diminished sevenths which resolves itself + into an infernal waltz, and finally brings us face to face with the + demons. + </p> + <p> + “How emphatically Bertram’s couplet stands out in B minor against that + diabolical chorus, depicting his paternity, but mingling in fearful + despair with these demoniacal strains. + </p> + <p> + “Then comes the delightful transition of Alice’s reappearance, with the <i>ritornel</i> + in B flat. I can still hear that air of angelical simplicity—the + nightingale after a storm. Thus the grand leading idea of the whole is + worked out in the details; for what could be more perfectly in contrast + with the tumult of devils tossing in the pit than that wonderful air given + to Alice? ‘<i>Quand j’ai quitte la Normandie</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “The golden thread of melody flows on, side by side with the mighty + harmony, like a heavenly hope; it is embroidered on it, and with what + marvelous skill! Genius never lets go of the science that guides it. Here + Alice’s song is in B flat leading into F sharp, the key of the demon’s + chorus. Do you hear the tremolo in the orchestra? The host of devils + clamor for Robert. + </p> + <p> + “Bertram now reappears, and this is the culminating point of musical + interest; after a <i>recitative</i>, worthy of comparison with the finest + work of the great masters, comes the fierce conflict in E flat between two + tremendous forces—one on the words ‘<i>Oui, tu me connais</i>!’ on a + diminished seventh; the other, on that sublime F, ‘<i>Le ciel est avec moi</i>.’ + Hell and the Crucifix have met for battle. Next we have Bertram + threatening Alice, the most violent pathos ever heard—the Spirit of + Evil expatiating complacently, and, as usual, appealing to personal + interest. Robert’s arrival gives us the magnificent unaccompanied trio in + A flat, the first skirmish between the two rival forces and the man. And + note how clearly that is expressed,” said Gambara, epitomizing the scene + with such passion of expression as startled Andrea. + </p> + <p> + “All this avalanche of music, from the clash of cymbals in common time, + has been gathering up to this contest of three voices. The magic of evil + triumphs! Alice flies, and you have the duet in D between Bertram and + Robert. The devil sets his talons in the man’s heart; he tears it to make + it his own; he works on every feeling. Honor, hope, eternal and infinite + pleasures—he displays them all. He places him, as he did Jesus, on + the pinnacle of the Temple, and shows him all the treasures of the earth, + the storehouse of sin. He nettles him to flaunt his courage; and the man’s + nobler mind is expressed in his exclamation: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Des chevaliers de ma patrie + L’honneur toujours fut le soutien! +</pre> + <p> + “And finally, to crown the work, the theme comes in which sounded the note + of fatality at the beginning. Thus, the leading strain, the magnificent + call to the deed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Nonnes qui reposez sous cette froide pierre, + M’entendez-vous? +</pre> + <p> + “The career of the music, gloriously worked out, is gloriously finished by + the <i>allegro vivace</i> of the bacchanalian chorus in D minor. This, + indeed, is the triumph of hell! Roll on, harmony, and wrap us in a + thousand folds! Roll on, bewitch us! The powers of darkness have clutched + their prey; they hold him while they dance. The great genius, born to + conquer and to reign, is lost! The devils rejoice, misery stifles genius, + passion will wreck the knight!” + </p> + <p> + And here Gambara improvised a <i>fantasia</i> of his own on the + bacchanalian chorus, with ingenious variations, and humming the air in a + melancholy drone as if to express the secret sufferings he had known. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear the heavenly lamentations of neglected love?” he said. + “Isabella calls to Robert above the grand chorus of knights riding forth + to the tournament, in which the <i>motifs</i> 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 <i>cavatina ‘Grace pour + toi!’’</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “The whole world now rises in arms against the reprobate. This <i>finale</i> + may be criticised for its resemblance to that of <i>Don Giovanni</i>; 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 <i>finale</i> since Mozart. The <i>finale</i> + to <i>Don Giovanni</i> is one of those classic forms that are invented + once for all. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “The whole house was stirred by the chorus: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Malheureaux on coupables + Hatez-vous d’accourir! +</pre> + <p> + “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: ‘<i>Gloire a la Providence</i>’ + in the manner of Handel. + </p> + <p> + “Robert rushes on with his heartrending cry: ‘<i>Si je pouvais prier</i>!’ + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I, as musician and a Catholic, wanted another prayer like that in <i>Mose</i>. + I should have liked to see how Germany would contend with Italy, what + Meyerbeer could do in rivalry with Rossini. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “It is because it expresses ideas,” the Count put in. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Hereupon Gambara fell into a musical day-dream, improvising the most + lovely melodious and harmonious <i>cavatina</i> that Andrea would ever + hear on earth; a divine strain divinely performed on a theme as exquisite + as that of <i>O filii et filioe</i>, but graced with additions such as + none but the loftiest musical genius could devise. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden silence. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you do not like my music?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What,” cried Gambara, “are twenty-five years of study in vain? Am I to + learn the imperfect language of men when I have the key to the heavenly + tongue? Oh, if you are right,—I should die.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. You are great and strong; you would begin life again, and I would + support you. We would show the world the noble and rare alliance of a rich + man and an artist in perfect sympathy and understanding.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean it?” asked Gambara, struck with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “As I have told you, you are a poet more than a musician.” + </p> + <p> + “A poet, a poet! It is better than nothing. But tell me truly, which do + you esteem most highly, Mozart or Homer?” + </p> + <p> + “I admire them equally.” + </p> + <p> + “On your honor?” + </p> + <p> + “On my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m! Once more. What do you think of Meyerbeer and Byron?” + </p> + <p> + “You have measured them by naming them together.” + </p> + <p> + The Count’s carriage was waiting. The composer and his noble physician ran + down-stairs, and in a few minutes they were with Marianna. + </p> + <p> + As they went in, Gambara threw himself into his wife’s arms, but she drew + back a step and turned away her head; the husband also drew back and + beamed on the Count. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur!” said Gambara in a husky voice, “you might have left me my + illusions.” He hung his head, and then fell. + </p> + <p> + “What have you done to him? He is dead drunk!” cried Marianna, looking + down at her husband with a mingled expression of pity and disgust. + </p> + <p> + The Count, with the help of his servant, picked up Gambara and laid him on + his bed. + </p> + <p> + Then Andrea left, his heart exultant with horrible gladness. + </p> + <p> + The Count let the usual hour for calling slip past next day, for he began + to fear lest he had duped himself and had made this humble couple pay too + dear for their improved circumstances and added wisdom, since their peace + was destroyed for ever. + </p> + <p> + At last Giardini came to him with a note from Marianna. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she wrote, “the mischief is not so great as you so cruelly meant + it to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellenza,” said the cook, while Andrea was making ready, “you treated + us splendidly last evening. But apart from the wine, which was excellent, + your steward did not put anything on the table that was worthy to set + before a true epicure. You will not deny, I suppose, that the dish I sent + to you on the day when you did me the honor to sit down at my board, + contained the quintessence of all those that disgraced your magnificent + service of plate? And when I awoke this morning I remembered the promise + you once made me of a place as <i>chef</i>. Henceforth I consider myself + as a member of your household.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of the same thing a few days ago,” replied Andrea. “I mentioned + you to the secretary of the Austrian Embassy, and you have permission to + recross the Alps as soon as you please. I have a castle in Croatia which I + rarely visit. There you may combine the offices of gate-keeper, butler, + and steward, with two hundred crowns a year. Your wife will have as much + for doing all the rest of the work. You may make all the experiments you + please <i>in anima vili</i>, that is to say on the stomach of my vassals. + Here is a cheque for your traveling expenses.” + </p> + <p> + Giardini kissed the Count’s hand after the Neapolitan fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Excellenza,” said he, “I accept the cheque, but beg to decline the place. + It would dishonor me to give up my art by losing the opinion of the most + perfect epicures, who are certainly to be found in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + When Andrea arrived at Gambara’s lodgings, the musician rose to welcome + him. + </p> + <p> + “My generous friend,” said he, with the utmost frankness, “you either took + advantage, last evening, of the weakness of my brain to make a fool of me, + or else your brain is no more capable of standing the test of the heady + liquors of our native Latium, than mine is. I will assume this latter + hypothesis; I would rather doubt your digestion than your heart. Be this + as it may, henceforth I drink no more wine—for ever. The abuse of + good liquor last evening led me into much guilty folly. When I remember + that I very nearly——” He gave a glance of terror at Marianna. + “As to the wretched opera you took me to hear, I have thought it over, and + it is, after all, music written on ordinary lines, a mountain of piled-up + notes, <i>verba et voces</i>. It is but the dregs of the nectar I can + drink in deep draughts as I reproduce the heavenly music that I hear! It + is a patchwork of airs of which I could trace the origin. The passage ‘<i>Gloire + a la Providence</i>’ is too much like a bit of Handel; the chorus of + knights is closely related to the Scotch air in <i>La Dame Blanche</i>; in + short, if this opera is a success, it is because the music is borrowed + from everybody’s—so it ought to be popular. + </p> + <p> + “I will say good-bye to you, my dear friend. I have had some ideas + seething in my brain since the morning that only wait to soar up to God on + the wings of song, but I wished to see you. Good-bye; I must ask + forgiveness of the Muse. We shall meet at dinner to-night—but no + wine; at any rate, none for me. I am firmly resolved—” + </p> + <p> + “I give him up!” cried Andrea, flushing red. + </p> + <p> + “And you restore my sense of conscience,” said Marianna. “I dared not + appeal to it! My friend, my friend, it is no fault of ours; he does not + want to be cured.” + </p> + <p> + Six years after this, in January 1837, such artists as were so unlucky as + to damage their wind or stringed instruments, generally took them to the + Rue Froid-Manteau, to a squalid and horrible house, where, on the fifth + floor, dwelt an old Italian named Gambara. + </p> + <p> + For five years past he had been left to himself, deserted by his wife; he + had gone through many misfortunes. An instrument on which he had relied to + make his fortune, and which he called a <i>Panharmonicon</i>, had been + sold by order of the Court on the public square, Place du Chatelet, + together with a cartload of music paper scrawled with notes. The day after + the sale, these scores had served in the market to wrap up butter, fish, + and fruit. + </p> + <p> + Thus the three grand operas of which the poor man would boast, but which + an old Neapolitan cook, who was now but a patcher up of broken meats, + declared to be a heap of nonsense, were scattered throughout Paris on the + trucks of costermongers. But at any rate, the landlord had got his rent + and the bailiffs their expenses. + </p> + <p> + According to the Neapolitan cook—who warmed up for the + street-walkers of the Rue Froid-Manteau the fragments left from the most + sumptuous dinners in Paris—Signora Gambara had gone off to Italy + with a Milanese nobleman, and no one knew what had become of her. Worn out + with fifteen years of misery, she was very likely ruining the Count by her + extravagant luxury, for they were so devotedly adoring, that in all his + life, Giardini could recall no instance of such a passion. + </p> + <p> + Towards the end of that very January, one evening when Giardini was + chatting with a girl who had come to buy her supper, about the divine + Marianna—so poor, so beautiful, so heroically devoted, and who had, + nevertheless, “gone the way of them all,” the cook, his wife, and the + street-girl saw coming towards them a woman fearfully thin, with a + sunburned, dusty face; a nervous walking skeleton, looking at the numbers, + and trying to recognize a house. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ecco la Marianna</i>!” exclaimed the cook. + </p> + <p> + Marianna recognized Giardini, the erewhile cook, in the poor fellow she + saw, without wondering by what series of disasters he had sunk to keep a + miserable shop for secondhand food. She went in and sat down, for she had + come from Fontainebleau. She had walked fourteen leagues that day, after + begging her bread from Turin to Paris. + </p> + <p> + She frightened that terrible trio! Of all her wondrous beauty nothing + remained but her fine eyes, dimmed and sunken. The only thing faithful to + her was misfortune. + </p> + <p> + She was welcomed by the skilled old instrument mender, who greeted her + with unspeakable joy. + </p> + <p> + “Why, here you are, my poor Marianna!” said he, warmly. “During your + absence they sold up my instrument and my operas.” + </p> + <p> + It would have been difficult to kill the fatted calf for the return of the + Samaritan, but Giardini contributed the fag end of a salmon, the trull + paid for wine, Gambara produced some bread, Signora Giardini lent a cloth, + and the unfortunates all supped together in the musician’s garret. + </p> + <p> + When questioned as to her adventures, Marianna would make no reply; she + only raised her beautiful eyes to heaven and whispered to Giardini: + </p> + <p> + “He married a dancer!” + </p> + <p> + “And how do you mean to live?” said the girl. “The journey has ruined you, + and——” + </p> + <p> + “And made me an old woman,” said Marianna. “No, that is not the result of + fatigue or hardship, but of grief.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you never send your man here any money?” asked the girl. + </p> + <p> + Marianna’s only answer was a look, but it went to the woman’s heart. + </p> + <p> + “She is proud with a vengeance!” she exclaimed. “And much good it has done + her!” she added in Giardini’s ear. + </p> + <p> + All that year musicians took especial care of their instruments, and + repairs did not bring in enough to enable the poor couple to pay their + way; the wife, too, did not earn much by her needle, and they were + compelled to turn their talents to account in the lowest form of + employment. They would go out together in the dark to the Champs Elysees + and sing duets, which Gambara, poor fellow, accompanied on a wretched + guitar. On the way, Marianna, who on these expeditions covered her head + with a sort of veil of coarse muslin, would take her husband to the + grocer’s shop in the Faubourg Saint-Honore and give him two or three + thimblefuls of brandy to make him tipsy; otherwise he could not play. Then + they would stand up together in front of the smart people sitting on the + chairs, and one of the greatest geniuses of the time, the unrecognized + Orpheus of Modern Music, would perform passages from his operas—pieces + so remarkable that they would extract a few half-pence from Parisian + supineness. When some <i>dilettante</i> of comic operas happened to be + sitting there and did not recognize from what work they were taken, he + would question the woman dressed like a Greek priestess, who held out a + bottle-stand of stamped metal in which she collected charity. + </p> + <p> + “I say, my dear, what is that music out of?” + </p> + <p> + “The opera of <i>Mahomet</i>,” Marianna would reply. + </p> + <p> + As Rossini composed an opera called <i>Mahomet II.</i>, the amateur would + say to his wife, sitting at his side: + </p> + <p> + “What a pity it is that they will never give us at the Italiens any operas + by Rossini but those we know. That is really fine music!” + </p> + <p> + And Gambara would smile. + </p> + <p> + Only a few days since, this unhappy couple had to pay the trifling sum of + thirty-six francs as arrears for rent for the cock-loft in which they + lived resigned. The grocer would not give them credit for the brandy with + which Marianna plied her husband to enable him to play. Gambara was, + consequently, so unendurably bad that the ears of the wealthy were + irresponsive, and the tin bottle-stand remained empty. + </p> + <p> + It was nine o’clock in the evening. A handsome Italian, the Principessa + Massimilla De Varese, took pity on the poor creatures; she gave them forty + francs and questioned them, discerning from the woman’s thanks that she + was a Venetian. Prince Emilio would know the history of their woes, and + Marianna told it, making no complaints of God or men. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Gambara, as she ended, for he was sober, “we are victims of + our own superiority. My music is good. But as soon as music transcends + feeling and becomes an idea, only persons of genius should be the hearers, + for they alone are capable of responding to it! It is my misfortune that I + have heard the chorus of angels, and believed that men could understand + the strains. The same thing happens to women when their love assumes a + divine aspect: men cannot understand them.” + </p> + <p> + This speech was well worth the forty francs bestowed by Massimilla; she + took out a second gold piece, and told Marianna she would write to Andrea + Marcosini. + </p> + <p> + “Do not write to him, madame!” exclaimed Marianna. “And God grant you to + always be beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + “Let us provide for them,” said the Princess to her husband; “for this man + has remained faithful to the Ideal which we have killed.” + </p> + <p> + As he saw the gold pieces, Gambara shed tears; and then a vague + reminiscence of old scientific experiments crossed his mind, and the + hapless composer, as he wiped his eyes, spoke these words, which the + circumstances made pathetic: + </p> + <p> + “Water is a product of burning.” + </p> + <p> + PARIS, June 1837. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Varese, Emilio Memmi, Prince of + Massimilla Doni + + Varese, Princess of + Massimilla Doni +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gambara, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GAMBARA *** + +***** This file should be named 1873-h.htm or 1873-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/1873/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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