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Musical Courier 1895-04-17: Vol 30 Iss 789, 1895
110 lines. Read by computer on 23 September 2026. Printed page 9. See the scan on archive.org.
1Air De Ballet.
2THE ROMANCE OF A VIOLIN VIRTUOSO.
3BY SHEILA.
5HERR ROSENTHAL was late, and as I sat half dozing, half dreaming in his fire lighted sanctum in the wintry twilight, awaiting his return, my eyes wandered speculatively about the little room, with its litter of music, rare instruments and souvenirs of a professional life, seeking some clue to the character and history of its strange owner, the "wizard of the violin," as he was termed by the musical world.
7And indeed a magic clung to the bow he wielded, a soul slept in the little wine red Amati to awaken at his call, and few could withstand the wondrous spell of his genius once under its dominion.
9Yet standing as he did in the full light of popular favor a world-renowned violin virtuoso at the height of his fame, in all that concerned his inner life or past career the Sphinx of the desert could not be more impenetrable. To me, indeed, the poor boy violinist, unknown and unfriended, struggling to gain a footing in the ranks of the profession where he reigned as master and king, he had ever shown a kindness and generosity both touching and unaccountable. It may be that my youthful enthusiasm recalled the days of his own eager boyhood before fame singled him out as a shining mark among men, or that my innocent idolatry awakened a response in the heart of the great artist satiated with fulsome flattery and homage of fair women. At all events he repaid my ingenuous devotion in royal measure, taught me the secrets of his craft in hours snatched from a busy and overcrowded life, and ever turned to me the warm and genial side of a somewhat imposing personality. The leonine head of the mighty Beethoven that dominated a corner of his little room was not more impressive in its majesty than the personnel of my musician, with his bold and noble characteristics and grand German physique—a figure that held the eye and filled the mind with a sense of completeness and power, a rare union of soul and strength seldom granted to mortal man.
11Yet this man, who thrilled all hearts and disarmed all criticism by the might of his genius, whose public career was a series of uninterrupted triumphs and honors that would have turned the head of a lesser nature, this man seemed to stand alone in the world, even as the great master did, isolated from humanity in the midst of homage, unstirred by the passions that sway and rule mankind, unfettered by a single human tie. What might his history be—this man with his great generous heart and impressive artistic temperament, his imagination, ideality and weird music, eloquent of a thousand thoughts and feelings unknown to common mortals? What romance and adventure, happiness, heartbreak or despair lay hidden in that past which was to me as a sealed book? What would I not give to read one page torn from the record of his fiery youth, when his impulses were warm and unreasoning, his genius in its first freshness and flower, before time and bitter experience has disciplined him to the calm grandeur of some god?
13As these thoughts rioted in my brain and gained color and credence from my excited fancy, something caught my eye in the glancing firelight, standing on a little bracket in the corner, something strangely incongruous in the midst of its bachelor surroundings. I rose to examine it with wakened curiosity. Only a tiny slipper of faded satin poised on a cushion of velvet; a slipper such as Cinderella might have worn, or a prince cherished for its dainty grace and suggestiveness.
15What has this fairy shoe, this pretty souvenir of some dancing girl, to do with my grave and lordly musician, my master, who has passed unscathed through brilliant salons and concert halls, and run the gauntlet of beautiful women so many years? Then, by an easy transition, my thoughts turned to Mlle. Seraphina, the reigning danseuse at the opera, and catching up my violin I played bits from the ballet to be given that night, till, losing all else in the swinging measure, I did not hear his entrance till he loomed up before me in the firelight.
17"So, my boy, you have not been dull in my absence, I'll venture to say. Lost in dreams of the fair Seraphina? So much for the ballet of to-day. Wait a moment, and I'll play you something."
19And, dropping his heavy furs on the floor, he took the violin from my hands and, pacing up and down in the dusky glow, preluded for a moment, and then broke into a light, tripping measure, so dainty, ethereal and spirit-like that I caught my breath with delight, and the little room seemed flooded with the delicate grace of the elfin music.
21For a space the air thrilled with the delicious melody, then the violin dropped into a minor strain, a movement slow, undulating, indescribable in its mournful beauty and richness of coloring, a romance wafted from the soul of the violin.
23"That was in the days of my youth and the dancer," he sighed. Ah, dancing is a lost art now! Mlle. Seraphina is but a painted doll beside the peerless grace and beauty of little Teresina, who reigned supreme here in this city thirty years ago. Yes—thirty years. I was but a boy then, a mere fiddler in the theatre orchestra, as you are to-day, Felix; an ambitious dreamer, unknowing of the future. Few now can recall even her name, I fancy, but to me she will live forever in her loveliness and imperishable charm."
25He came nearer and, bending over with sudden movement, scanned my countenance with his glowing glance, as if to read my inmost thoughts; then, as if satisfied with the scrutiny, he patted my cheek caressingly, and sat down beside me in the firelight.
27"At your age, boy, the face is like an open book; at mine it might well baffle a conjurer. Felix, you are a boy after my own heart; not a word or question, a glimmer of curiosity. Yet you are only nineteen, but true as steel, I dare swear."
29For a moment my cheek burned at recollection of the satin shoe, but I ventured no response.
31Could it be possible that my master, the man I loved and revered above all else in the world, was about to open his heart to me, take into his loyal confidence a mere stripling in the theatre orchestra, when great men and beautiful women had sued in vain for a word of favor?
33"Felix," he said, musingly, "something impels me to talk to-night. The train of recollection has been fired by your hand, and for once it shall have its way. I can speak to you as to a son, with the fullest assurance that you will never betray my confidence, break the frozen silence of thirty long years to a living soul. The music I have just played is alive with memories, memories dearer and sweeter than all the laurels and triumphs of my career."
35For a moment he paused and played fitfully on the violin, while the reddening fire glowed on his noble, speaking face, shaggy mane and deep eyes kindling with rich memories of the past.
37"Teresina was a dancer, Felix, and in those days dancing was a fine art, akin to poetry and music; a thing to kindle the imagination and dwell in the heart, not to allure the senses and set the blood afire. Only a little Italian girl, the child of Tuscan peasants, but trained to grace from earliest youth in the schools of Milan, and brought over here by some enterprising manager who scented a fortune in her winsome youth. Yet nature had done for the girl what all the schools of the world could not impart—granted to her the warm speaking beauty of sunny Italy, the inborn impulse of grace and expression, the exquisite aroma of a fresh, artless youth. I have seen poets and divines, pitiless critics, sages and men of the world hushed to breathless silence or thrilled to wild exultation as they watched that whirling figure like a meteor in its flight across the glare and glamour of the footlights. It was the very poetry of motion, embodied music, like a bird-song that floats down from a soaring lark at dawn. She seemed at times a thing scarce human, a sprite, an ariel fashioned of fire and flame, who could not be grasped by mortal hands.
39"She seemed to float on air like a puff of thistle-down, a gay winged butterfly, as she abandoned herself to the delirious music and ecstasy of the dance.
41"At that time she was the idol of the town, yet wielded her power with the innocent freedom of a petted child, untouched by feeling or fear as a bird on the wing; lived and breathed among painted scenes and artificial emotions, happy and fresh hearted, careless of the future and all it might hold of weal or woe.
43"A dazzling and a dangerous life for a girl of sixteen, exposed to the flattery and adoration of the jeunesse dorée of the city, the allurements and temptations of the idle profiligates, who nightly haunted the theatre for a glimpse of the bewitching girl.
45"And though she went on her careless way, laughing their protestations to scorn, one could not but foresee that one day she must yield to destiny like the weakest of her sisters. For the swift blood of Italy ran in her veins and spoke in each rare movement and vivid glance; the hot impulses of her race beat in her pulses and attuned her nature to love and romance. It needed no conjuror to tell that she was foredoomed to disaster when the moment came.
47"In those days I was her fast friend. The boy fiddler in the orchestra, with his visions of future greatness, and the lovely young dancer who had bewitched the town, met on common ground when the glamour of the spectacle was over.
49"By some means I cajoled the old duenna who guarded her like a dragon to and from the theatre, gained access to her simple home and won her artless confidence.
51"She was but a child—little Teresina, with her wild rose skin, fairy-like form and dark, appealing eyes like those of some pet fawn, unconscious of guile or worldliness, despite the incense of admiration burned nightly before her shrine, the snares and pitfalls spread for her little feet.
53"We exchanged confidences, shared our hopes and dreams and daily trials in boy and girl fashion, smiled across the dazzling row of lights, as she swayed like a flower in the wind to the music of the violins.
55"Among the vast throng of her admirers, I was the only one who did not fill her ears with idle flattery, or sue for her love, and yet, I believe, the only one who cherished her as my heart's ideal, and breathed no word to startle her youth or mar our friendship.
57"What her rare belief and enthusiasm were at that time to the lonely, friendless boy, I can never tell; but she kept my ambition aflame, and gave steadfastness to the indomitable purpose of my life.
59"Ah, those were happy days—wonderful nights—but by their very nature fleeting as the strains of some rare melody. The hour came, and the man, the man who had power to rob her heart of its lightness, her youth of its first flower-like freshness and purity.
61"Strange, one may pour out his heart's blood at a girl's feet, yet win no response; and another comes along careless, empty handed, and claims her love with a smile. Who shall solve the mystery?
63"I scented danger from the first moment I saw him in his box at the theatre; an unfailing instinct gave me warning as I watched his gaze riveted on her innocent grace and beauty throughout the dance; yet she, I think, was all unconscious of his presence.
65"Never mind his name; he was one of fortune's favorites from the start; a man of wealth and social standing, handsome, haughty and invincible; just returned from a prolonged Continental tour.
67"From my theatre companions I gleaned many an item concerning his character and career, not greatly to his credit it seemed to me with my straitlaced notions of honor and manliness; but I kept these unpopular sentiments hidden in my own breast.
69"Each night he came to watch the girl in her famous dances and sat alone in his box, motionless and spellbound by her every smile and movement.
71"Then he brought her flowers as tokens of his regard, singled her out among all others by his devotion; and gossip with its thousand tongues set the rumor afloat through the length and breadth of the town.
73"They say the infatuation was a genuine one while it lasted; but one and all, even the most credulous, knew it would have but one end.
75"And Teresina? As well may the bird seek to escape the fowler's snare or the charmed eye of the serpent, as that unconscious child the guile of this worldly man, who had never sought woman's love in vain, and counted his conquests by the score. Whether like Juliet she loved at first sight, I cannot say, but I do know that she fought bravely against it, and seemed to fear the inexplicable feeling that possessed her like a madness.
77"What the girl lived on those dazzling nights, when she danced before the excited multitude, and felt her heart beat hot and cold under the eyes that held her from the stage box, no tongue can tell. Yet her beauty kindled anew under the glamor of this new emotion, but it was a beauty that made my heart ache.
79"I saw it all from my place in the orchestra, the impotent struggle against fate, then the transformation that came over her with the realization of love; and in my heart I cursed the man who had wrought this change; yet I dared not speak. Dared not, did I say? Yes. One night, driven to desperation by his triumphant bearing as he sat facing me in his box, I sought her out after the performance, as she stood with her duenna, all cloaked for departure, and insisted on walking home with them.
81"Of late she had avoided me, and I now taxed her with it warmly.
83"'Don't be foolish, Carlo,' she said, hastily. 'You know that I have always favored you, but now I must be more prudent.'
85"'Teresina, you speak of prudence, and yet allow a man of infamous reputation to court you openly in public, accept his favors—'
87"'For shame, Carlo!'—hotly; 'you have no right to speak to me in this way.'
89"'Teresina, I claim a right by the title of our past friendship. Listen to me one moment. You are a mere child in worldly knowledge. You are flattered by this man's attention, as many a woman has been before you to her sorrow. You do not know the man.'
91"But she would not listen. She pulled her hand from my arm, and her eyes were ablaze with passion in the starlit night.
93"'Not another word, Carlo, or I will never speak to you again. It is not like you, this stabbing in the dark; it is mean—cowardly.'
95"'Teresina, call me a coward, what you will; but take one word of advice from a true friend, who thinks but of your welfare.'
97"'Carlo, you are too late with your advice, as you call it.'
99"'Too late!' I echoed.
101"'Yes, for I love the man'; and at this open declaration a subtle change crept over voice and face, the passion died away, and her eyes were soft and dewy again.
103"Teresina's anger was ever short-lived—a mere flash of heat lightning and all was over. She held out her little hand to me, saying gently:
105"'Carlo mio, we musn't quarrel, you know, of all people in the world. You can't understand, and I couldn't express it; but oh, it's wonderful. Some day, Carlo, when you love—'
107"And here she paused speechless with emotion, her eyes shining like twin stars in the night.
109"When I loved! God knows how I controlled myself at
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