Various

“ The cold, leaden, heavy spell of terror which had hung upon me was broke the moment I passed that frontier line, and the first use I made of my disenchantment was to drive the horses down that hill like a madman. Father Bonneville held tight on by the side of the carriage. Madame de Salins caught up Mariette, and clasped her tightly in her arms; but still I drove on without trepidation or pause; not that I disregarded the commands of my good preceptor: not that I was insensible to the alarm of Madame de Salins; but a spirit was upon me that I could not resist. ”

“ Thou art a tender bird to try the unseen path alone, but let not thy wing falter in the misty valley, for the blue hills are shining brightly beyond! Pass onward—thy mother hath spread her couch there; thou art the last bird of our nest, and she waiteth for thee! Tell her—her warrior hath dwelt alone in his wigwam since we laid her by the quiet river! Tell her—that thou alone hast been the sunbeam of his lodge, and hast spread the couch of the weary! O, Weetano! thy father is lonely now—why didst thou go before him to the dwelling-place of the happy? ”

“ It is the whole story of life, the one ever-repeated, although ever-varied drama of dramas; and it is set forth here, both sides of it, most earnestly in this sincere and hearty music, which in its own exhaustless beauty hints the reconciliation of the two principles, and to the last is true to the divine good of the senses and the passions, and to the presentiment of a pure and perfect state, when these shall be, not dreaded, not suppressed, but regulated, harmonized, made rhythmical and safe, and more than ever lifesome, and spontaneous by Law as broad and deep and divine us themselves. ”

“ Through music, which in acknowledging the error, in laying bare the fatal discord, at the same time symbolizes its resolution. Through music, in whose vocabulary sin and suffering and punishment are never final; in whose vivid coloring the great doom itself is but a vista into endless depths of harmony and peace and unexclusive bliss beyond.
The splendid sinner’s end is rather melodramatic in the opera; and yet there is a poetic and a moral truth in it; and the spectre of the Commendatore is a creation fully up to Shakspeare. No man ever literally came to that; but many have come to dread it. ”

“ She had never before seen a canoe like Weetano’s, it was befitting a chief’s daughter, or a princess royal, with its snowy mat of swan’s-down, and decorated with the quills of the porcupine and feathers of every hue. The Indian girl seized the paddles, and jumping into the fairy-looking bark motioned Anna to a seat on the mat opposite, but with all the romance and enthusiasm of her nature, she hesitated; for the thing seemed all too frail for the burden of a human weight on the dark waters. ”

“ Here mark a fine point in the action, a fine touch of poetic truth, worthy of Mozart’s genius. It is she, his better nature, as we have said, his own rejected truer self, who loves him better than he loves himself; it is she, Elvira, who, as she leaves the stage, is the first to meet the fearful apparition and by her shriek give warning. That shriek, thrown into the music, has suddenly changed its smooth, sparkling surface into fierce boiling eddies, and stirred up the whole sea of harmony from its profoundest depths. ”

“ No wonder, she thought, the forest-maiden should love the fair-browed captive who had come to her father’s wigwam and saved her life! No wonder her ardent, grateful heart should treasure up the rich, low tones of her preserver, and turn with sickening disgust from the stranger Huron! And, then she thought of Weetano, sick and wasting away perhaps with an untold sorrow, and she wished in her heart the love of her red friend had been requited, even though the bright spark she had so long nursed in her own breast had gone out in another’s joy. ”

“ The way of a man’s heart will be foreshadowed by what goodness lies in him—coming from above, and from around;—but a way foreshadowed, is not a way made. And the making of a man’s way comes only from that quickening of resolve, which we call Ambition. It is the spur that makes man struggle with Destiny: it is Heaven’s own incentive, to make Purpose great, and Achievement greater.
It would be strange if you, in that cloister-life of a college, did not sometimes feel a dawning of new resolves. They grapple you, indeed, oftener than you dare to speak of. ”

“ She has a new brother in her father’s lodge; he is a Book man, and will not take up the bow and tomahawk! He sings the songs of the spirit-land, but no war-song; and when Weetano was sick and dying, he pointed her to the blue home of the weary! Weetano has looked on the face of her pale brother, and the image of her Brave has faded from her heart! The Huron’s spirit no longer comes to me in dreams! Owanaw should take a warrior maiden to his wigwam, and leave the daughter of the Mohawk to dwell in peace! ”

“ Life, power, love, pleasure, crime, futurity and judgment—and a faith left beyond that!—what dream more natural, what circle of keys more obvious to modulation, to a soul, whose strings are all attuned to love and melody, whose genius is a powerful demon waiting on its will, and whose present destiny is cast here in a world so false and out of tune that, to so strong a nature, there seems no alternative besides wild excess upon the one hand, or a barren sublimity of self-denial on the other. ”

“ But the head of Weetano was drooping again like a sleeping flower.
“Drop the curtain, and let in more air and light,” said Anna in a beseeching tone, “she is faint and languid; something must be done to revive her. What can we do!”
“Send for the ‘medicine man,’ ” said old Zohah; “he will arouse her if any one can.”
“Yes, send for Francois Waldo quickly,” exclaimed Anna Temple; “his voice may have power to break this dreadful slumber.”
Oliwibatuc made a motion with his hand for some one to depart, but his eyes were fixed earnestly on the prostrate form of his daughter. ”

“ A rhythm without marked accent; a harmony without dissonances; a modulation which rests in the Tonic, and forgets itself, as if held fast there by a magic spell; a melody which cannot separate itself from its ineffaceable motiv; this tranquil rapture, this soft ecstasy, fill out the first half of the air. After the pause, hosts of nightingales begin to sing in chorus in the orchestra, while the voice, with exquisite monotony, murmurs, Sentilo battere, toccami quà. Then the same words are again uttered with the expression of passion; the heart of the young woman beats stronger and stronger ”

“ First appear the counterfeit Giovanni and Elvira, who is too happy to walk with him to the end of the world, if need be; while he, (Leporello,) tired of imitating his master’s voice, is groping about to find an exit. In an Andante melody, in the same key, and of a kindred character with that by which we first knew her (Ah! chi mi dice mai,) she utters her fear of being left alone in this bujo loco. Just as her companion finds the door, the groping, cautious music brightens into the bold key and trumpet-style which always heralds Anna and Ottavio, who enter amid blaze of torches. ”

“ France was rapidly sinking into that state of silent apathy which foreboded the Reign of Terror: discouraged by their experience of the past, men lost their faith in humanity, and selfishly despaired of the future. A maiden’s heroic spirit alone conceived the daring project of saving those who had so long and so nobly striven for freedom; or, if this might not be, of avenging their fall, and striking terror into the hearts of their foes, by a deed of solemn immolation, worthy of the stern sacrifices of paganism, offered of yore on the blood-stained shrines of the goddess Nemesis. ”

“ We listen to the joyous laugh, as to the gushing of music, and almost feel the presence of soft hands in ours. The glad, beaming face of the young creature we first worshiped, with all the innocence of love’s first delusion, sparkles with the radiant beauty of those happy hours. The mother in that quiet chamber, with the dim lamp and the snowy curtains gleaming out from the corner, where we knelt at her side and uttered the evening prayer, lifts her white hands to our brow again, and says, “God bless and keep thee, my boy!” ”

“ Father Bonneville shook his head.
“I am very sure of it,” replied the other, in answer to the doubtful shake. “There are many countries in which a pure democracy might exist—perhaps in England—but certainly not in France. Our very blood is feudal and chivalrous. History, which is the memory of nations, is filled with nothing but feudal and chivalrous facts. We are too light, too vain, too volatile to do without distinction for any length of time, and we have not a sufficient spirit of organization in our character to do without a king in some shape or other. ”

“ All was silence again in that forest wigwam, and the youthful captive held on his watch. Old Zohah was snoring loudly on one hand, and the old chief had at last spread his blanket, and laid down to rest after his weary march. The youth was alone. The deep shadows of the night hung a solitude over the wilderness, and as he sat there in the rude wigwam of the savage, his thoughts took backward wing: he was a child again, climbing the mountain-path with the flocks—gathering wild grapes in the valleys, and returning to a happy cottage-home at evening. ”

“ The meal was taken in silence, and at its close Red-Bird took Anna by the hand and led her to a soft couch of furs, tastefully spread over with embroidered blankets, side by side with her own.
“The way was long for the weak Lily,” she said in pleasant accents, “she must rest; Weetano will watch her first slumber—it will be secure in the lodge of the Mohawk chief. She will not fear,” added she, in an inquiring manner; and placing her hand at the same time in hers, Anna was struck with its mortal coldness. ”

“ The dreams of the valet are soon disturbed. Don Juan, his face hid by his mantle, rushes from the house, struggling from the grasp of Donna Anna, who, pale and disheveled, clings to him convulsively, and seeks to detain and to discover the bold, mysterious man, who has dared thus to invade her privacy and her honor. Her hurried and accusing melody, in these snatches of recitative, is full of a dignity and a pure and lofty fire that characterize alike her person and the whole music of her port. ”

“ Weetano did as she was desired, and whatever the words of her companion might have been, they had no effect on the Indian girl, for when she raised her head the same serene smile rested on her features.
“The heart of Red-Bird would be weak, indeed, to listen to the words,” she replied. “The white maiden has not read it rightly, for its pride is as stern as the rock of her mountains, that may be broken but cannot be bowed. It fears not the blast! Weetano’s heart is like it—it will bide its lot.” ”

“ An hour afterward, the low moaning had died away, and the voice of the captive youth whispered in the ears of Oliwibatuc—
“She sleeps: thy daughter sleeps!”
“Seven suns have set, and this is the maiden’s first quiet sleep,” said old Zohah. “The Pale Face brings witch-water.”
“Nay, nay, mother, thy good herbs and gentle nursing have aided the sufferer; but we must still watch, for on this slumber perhaps, depends her life.”
The old chief approached his captive, and said in grateful accents—
“Thy life is not sufficient; what boon wilt thou ask at the hand of the Mohawk?” ”

“ Winter is here! and the long, stormy nights have come, Jeremy—the nights of dread and desolation to the poor. The roar of the tempest has the voice of a demon out there! Do the moan and the howl, which sound so fearfully now, stir in the heart a thought of the perishing ones, who, in the midst of this splendid city, sit shivering, ragged, and starved? The pale brow and the hollow eye of the consumptive mother, sitting desolate amid her famishing ones, grow paler and sadder as the storm rolls on! Does her low wail of agony reach the ears of angels to-night? ”

“ In the most comic and most bacchanalian strains, the music saddens with a certain vague presentiment of the fearful dénouement of the drama.
The Don’s next adventure is the meeting of a gay group of peasants at a wedding festival, where he attempts to seduce away the pretty bride, Zerlina, whose naïve and delicious songs, right out of a simple, good, loving heart, a little coquettish withal, are among the purest gems of the piece, and have mingled their melody with the civilized world’s conceptions of truth and nature and the charm of innocence. ”

“ Zerlina sings, surrounded by the shadows of the marriage night, while just about to cross the threshold, at which virginity pauses with prayer and trembling, expecting the confirmation of the holy title of wife. In this place the Aria becomes a genuine scena of love, the source of life and of eternal rejuvenescence for all nature—of love, the spring-time of souls, and the most unstinted revelation of the all-goodness of the Creator. ”

“ When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand.
Ibid.
Not far from the shores of a sunny lake in the depths of the American forest stood the rude log-hut of an emigrant. The site was one of surpassing loveliness—for nature here, in her unbounded domain, had done the work of ages, and the majestic oak towered in silent grandeur beside the graceful elm and the drooping willow, making mockery of art. Birds of glittering plumage sang all day in this wildwood retreat—for, save this one log-cottage, for miles and miles around was no human habitation. ”

“ On the one side it is comic, grotesque and absurd; on the other, it is fearful. Seen in one light he is a charlatan, a splendid joke; seen in the other, he is an unfolding demon and a type of doom; while in his life he is but the free development of human passion in human circumstances. Man always walks between these two mirrors! One shows his shadow, as of destiny, projected, ever-widening, into the Infinite, where it grows vague and fearful. The other takes him in the act, and literally pins down all his high strivings and pretensions to such mere matter of fact, that he becomes ridiculous. ”

“ Only Music could conceive and treat it; Music, which is the language of the ideal, innermost, potential life, and not of the actual life. But music equally does justice to both sides of the fact. In this triumphant career of passion, inasmuch as it is among men and laws and sympathies and social customs, a fearful retribution is foreshadowed. But not in him, not in this Titan of the senses, this projected imagination of unlimited enjoyment and communion. It is through the music that the shuddering presentiment continually creeps. ”

“ At his side his faithful knave, droll Leporello, expostulating with his master very piously sometimes, yet bound to him by potent magnetism, both of metal and of character (for passion like Giovanni’s will be served.) Leporello is the foil and shadow to his master, and adds to the zest of his life-long intoxication by the blending of the comic with this exquisite wild fever of the blood. Throughout the whole he plays the part of contrast and brings all back to reality and earth again, lest the history should take too serious possession of us. ”

“ However she may appear in the libretto and in the common usage of the stage, Mozart in his music makes her the soul of ardent and devoted love and constancy, still fondly hoping in the deeper, better self of the man who has trifled with her; like a sweet, genuine ray of sun shine, always indicating to Don Juan a chance of escape from the dark labyrinthine fatality of crime in which he goes on involving himself; always offering him true love for false. ”