Mount Misery is one barren rock without a blade of grass on all its dark iron-like surface. Around it is a vast accumulation of granite boulders and vast rocky ledges. The trees are stunted, the very ferns can scarcely find a place to grow.
It was night. There was not a cloud in the sky. The moon shone with marvelous lustre.
Down in front of us lay the long arm of the sea that ran up between us and the city. On the opposite side were woods, and beyond them rose the citadel, on the other side of which the city lay nestling at its base like those Rhenish towns which lie at the foot of feudal castles.
On the left hand all was a wilderness; on the right, close by, was a small lake, which seemed like a sheet of silver in the moon’s rays. Farther on lay the ocean, stretching in its boundless extent away to the horizon. There lay islands and sand-banks with light-houses. There, under the moon, lay a broad path of golden light—molten gold—unruffled—undisturbed in that dead calm.
My Opera begins with an Alleluia Chorus. I have borrowed words from the Angel Song at the opening of “Faust” for my score. But the music has an expression of its own, and the words are feeble; and the only comfort is, that these words will be lost in the triumph strain of the tones that accompany them.
She was with me, exulting where I was exultant, sad where I was sorrowful; still with her air of Guide and Teacher. She is my Egeria. She is my Inspiring Muse. I invoke her when I sing.
But my song carried her away. Her own thoughts expressed by my utterance were returned to her, and she yielded herself up altogether to their power.
Ah me! there is one language common to all on earth, and to all in heaven, and that is music.
I exulted then on that bare, blasted rock. I triumphed. She joined me in it all. We exulted together. We triumphed. We mourned, we rejoiced, we despaired, we hoped, we sung alleluias in our hearts. The very winds were still. The very moon seemed to stay her course. All nature was hushed.
She stood before me, white, slender, aerial, like a spirit from on high, as pure, as holy, as stainless. Her soul and mine were blended. We moved to one common impulse. We obeyed one common motive.