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Musical Courier 1895-04-17: Vol 30 Iss 789, 1895
103 lines. Read by computer on 23 September 2026. Printed page 10. See the scan on archive.org.
1that moment, but the girl, lost in her own dreams, could not divine the anguish that clutched at my heart-strings, the longing that spoke in my glance.
3"So the moment passed, and I knew that my doom was sealed no less than that of little Teresina. Too late, indeed! Of what avail to speak when reason had taken its flight, and a mad infatuation ruled in its stead. As well seek to check the coming tide as influence a girl when awakened love is rising to its height.
5"One night a little later, owing to some mischance to my violin, I was detained behind the scenes for a while, and knowing that Teresina was not on at the time wandered about, hoping to get a word with her. Suddenly I came upon them unawares, he talking in eager, passionate tones, she listening with all her soul in her pure upraised face and imploring eyes, as if she drank in his words like nectar.
7"I could not hear a word—the pantomime alone was hard enough to endure at that moment—but when they drew nearer, unconscious of my presence, I dropped behind a scene, thinking in the half light they would pass me by. But no—they paused close at hand, and I was forced to listen to his honeyed accents, see the play of expression in the girl's lighted, ingenuous face, feel the flutter of her flowing scarf against my cheek where I lay speechless.
9"'Listen to me, my enchantress, and not to the tales idlers seek to pour in your ears. I have never loved before, I swear; or if I yielded to passing fancies at the moment, they took no hold on my heart, where you have ruled alone since first I saw you on that night. You remember?'
11"'Remember! Dio mio—shall I ever forget?'
13"'Heartless one, and do you speak of forgetfulness at this moment, the first we have had alone for a week?'
15"'Listen, cara mio'—impetuously. 'I care not for the past; 'tis of the future I speak. You are a man, and the world lies before you. I am only a poor little dancer, who by some happy chance or fatality have caught your fancy for the moment.'
17"'Teresina!' he protested, 'what injustice!'
19"'You love me now, it may be, but how will it be a year hence? Others will share your roving fancy more beautiful than I, but none who can love so well. Remember, carina, to me it means life or death. Be true to me, and I am yours against all the world. But if you doubt for one instant, let us part now, at once and forever.'
21"The girl's voice trembled, and I saw how she hung on his next words, an easy prey to his practiced deceit.
23"From the distant orchestra I could hear the sobbing voice of the 'cello in the silence that followed her words, and to me it sounded like a sad note of warning. I cannot recall his next words, his protestations and vows of eternal fidelity; to me they rang false; but I saw how the shadow vanished from her face as she listened, and knew that her fears were silenced for the time.
25"The next moment he clasped a gleaming necklace about her snowy throat that clung and sparkled there a thing of beauty and priceless value—a necklace of diamonds.
27"'See, Teresina, here is a bauble for you to wear to-night. A princess might prize it, but could never shine resplendent as you will, my beauty.'
29"For a breath's space her eyes dwelt lovingly on the glittering chain, then in a swift revulsion of feeling she tore it off and held it out to him, while her voice trembled with eagerness.
31"'Take it away. I will not have it. I did not sell my heart's love; I gave it to you fully and freely.'
33"For a moment the man was bewildered. Doubtless the experience was a novel one to him.
35"'Foolish girl, can you not take a simple gift in the spirit in which it was offered? I meant but to give you pleasure, Teresina, believe me.'
37"'You have given me pain. I will wear the flowers you sent, but with this necklace about my throat I could not face my audience to-night. Hush, someone is coming; leave me.'
39"He hastened in the opposite direction and left her alone. For a moment the girl stood pale and panting, her hand pressed to her heart and a world of conflicting emotions in her sweet, changing face, while I, a few feet away, holding my breath for fear of discovery, would have given my soul to aid her in this fiery ordeal, to protect her unguarded youth from the misfortunes that menaced, yet knowing well that one word of advice, one trace of sympathy, would open a chasm between us that friendship could never span.
41"Only a moment she stood thus, motionless as a statue, but in that moment it seemed to me that the future with all its thrilling possibilities of joy, pain or peril passed in rapid review before her startled vision. Then, throwing her hands out with a reckless movement of acceptance and the fire of resolve in color and glance, she slipped away silently as a shadow and was lost to my longing sight.
43"Later on a laughing bacchante danced and sported with her companions on the lighted stage, swung and swayed to the whirling music, and enchanted thousands by the witchery of her youth. And a heavy-hearted boy in the orchestra drew strains from his violin whose mirth seemed a mockery in the face of his soul's sadness.
45"He had won in the ill-matched battle—a worldly wise man pitted against a girl, whose only armor was her innocence; given in exchange for the first fresh love of that impetuous heart a jaded infatuation that soon burned itself out; for to a man of that type the pleasures of possession are not those of pursuit. As the season waned, his interest—I will not call it love—waned also. He played with her awhile, exulted in her fresh, fascinating youth and winning ways, then his attention wandered in another direction. He wearied of her earnestness and unfailing devotion, regretted the entanglement, absented himself from the theatre a week at a time, planned a winter's trip to the West Indies, and at last, to the amazement of all, it was bruited abroad that he had engaged himself to an heiress, a girl of social standing, whose family would not brook indifference or neglect on the part of a suitor.
47"He gave credence to the report by coming to the theatre that night and occupying a box with his fair inamorata; a haughty blonde, ablaze with diamonds and claiming his undivided attention throughout the performance. There they sat, calmly serene, in the self-same box that had witnessed each phase of the romance enacted between him and the poor little dancer now dethroned and forgotten. Whether the man came through sheer bravado or by compulsion I cannot say; but I know that as I looked upon his false face from my seat among the violins, the smoldering fire in my heart blazed anew, and I planned a summary vengeance on the traitor. For to me little Teresina was sacred as a sister might have been; never a beautiful dancer to be pursued and hunted down. Her very innocence appealed to all that was chivalrous and honorable in man, and should have been her safeguard. I would have laid down life itself in her service. And I alone of all the curious and admiring throng that had watched her during these trying winter months, the brief season of her love, triumph and pitiful downfall—I alone could read between the lines, see the cruel awakening to this dream of love, what the girl lived, suffered and endured, as night by night she hoped and despaired by turns, yet bravely faced her audience and danced to their enchantment.
49"And now the end had come, and what remained to Teresina but despair in her blighted love? what to me but vengeance sharp and sudden?
51"But for the strange turn of events I might never have lived to develop my powers or win fame as a violinist. I shall never forget that night. It is branded on my memory in characters of fire. None who were then present can quite outlive the recollection, I think, and even the false heart of that traitor must have been wrung by remorse at the tragic ending of the brief romance.
53"Teresina was transcendentally beautiful, transformed by her passion and pain into something so dazzling, I scarce breathed as I looked upon her. She shone like a star on the excited multitude, danced as one inspired. The whole house rose to her. Yet in that speaking face I could read it all—the despair that dwelt in her heart, the mad resolve to hold out till the end of the brilliant spectacle.
55"She gave us a new dance that night. I cannot recall its name now, but it will live in my heart and memory forever. It was a Spanish dance, and began with a lovely rocking melody, dreamy and rhythmical as summer waves lapsing on some southern shore, yet haunted even by an undercurrent of infinite sadness and pathos. Then the music changed and accelerated, grew momentarily more intense and impetuous, till it rose to a mad, whirling movement of frenzied passion, something akin to the wildest Saltarello mind ever conceived.
57"I remember that Teresina looked like a Spanish gypsy girl, with her vivid, glowing beauty heightened by the glittering coins in her dusky hair, the flaming tints of her broderied velvet jacket and silken skirt, and swung a gayly beribboned tambourine in her hand.
59"How it happened I never knew. One moment she floated above, a radiant vision, smiling and appealing to us with her lovely arms, the next a cry of horror broke from all; a smell of smoke; and, like a madman, I sprang over the footlights and caught her in my arms—she was all ablaze.
61"No more—I cannot speak of that night; even now I can hardly think of it with calmness. All that could be done I did, but it was too late; she lingered but a few hours and then left me desolate."
63The master paused and buried his face in his hands, and I had not the courage to break the deep silence that followed his words. But at last he lifted his head and resumed in a low tone: "From that day all was changed for me. I abandoned my profession and compatriots, lost all heart or ambition for a career; I wandered far away, and the next few years were as good as lost. But one day music claimed me again with imperious power. I took out my little violin for the first time since that fatal night, and all my soul awoke in me as it responded to my longing touch. I must have played for hours and lived cycles of emotion in that space, but I knew that never again could I close my heart to this appeal or pause in my career.
65"Music—heavenly maid—took the lonely wanderer by the hand and offered sweetest solace, inspired him once more with the dreams and lofty ideals of earliest youth. To music I consecrated my life, and she has repaid me in fullest measure. And yet, my boy, I hope that you may never be forced to learn her rare secrets through such heart sickness and despair. It may be that the world has profited by my pain, and that my genius could only reach its highest development and fullest expression through suffering. And yet some natures bloom best in the sunshine; and may this happier fate be granted to you, my Felix, as it was to your illustrious predecessor."
67A city clock struck somewhere in the distance, chiming through the frosty air, and arrested his attention. He sprang to his feet.
69"Bless my soul, Felix! at this moment the orchestra is beginning to play, while you sit here with me reliving the memories of thirty years ago. Here is your violin, boy; make haste! A strange lesson I've taught you to-day. Auf wiedersehen."
71And giving my hand a hearty grasp at parting, he hurried me from the house, and I ran blindly to the theatre, feeling like one lost in some strange dream.—Boston Home Journal.
73To Whom are the Oracles Committed?
74NEW YORK CITY, April 6, 1895.
75Editors The Musical Courier:
76BOSTON for a good many years has not been at all uncertain in replying to the question which heads this letter. And we children of this frivolous little town of New York have with graciousness and contentedness acceded that "Boston is the source of all knowledge!" so long as she does not attempt to educate us after the same pattern.
78It does therefore strike me as unseemly, to say the least, that the people of Boston can allow themselves to be represented by one of their leading journals in the tone of burlesque levity and unappreciativeness of the beautiful that the article in the Transcript, on the first giving last week there of Tristan and Isolde, displays. We make all due allowances for there not having been sufficiently long time yet, in Boston, a Wagner society to educate fully the Transcript's critic. But that any man or woman should be permitted to voice the people of that city in the following musical opinions of Tristan and Isolde seems incredible. I quote:
80This work on the whole is the most tiresome, the most uninteresting, of Wagner's dramas. All that is really charming is the prelude to the opera and the Liebestod. The prevailing characteristic of the opera is noise. It is exquisitely noisy in the orchestra. There is very little tenderness even in the love scenes. For the most part everybody shouts at everybody else.
82Then follows an account in minstrel style of the awakening and profession of Tristan's and Isolde's love; Tristan's kiss after the potion has been taken and worked its spell in them, and the love scene in the garden. The critic's deepest spleen and sense of humor here seem aroused, and because the expression and pledges of love are given in stage pitch of voice with other things according.
84Surely Boston must have imported from the garden of Eden this mind, that is so unwonted to the realistic requirements through all time on the lyric and dramatic stage! The climax to this description of the divine and the beautiful as Boston sees it is in these words:
86Nothing in any Italian opera can be readily recalled as silly as this. The most absurd Italian of all our Italian operas has no such absurdity as this.
88In contrast to the above, may I quote from a personal letter written the day following our opening night this year of German opera, when Tristan and Isolde was given?
90It is the opinion of one of our prominent physicians, who had not had time in his professional life to decide if he were a Wagnerite or an Italian, but who has heard all singers of both schools, from before the days of our own Mrs. Carey-Raymond, down through 1895, but who had never till Mr. Damrosch's great achievement heard Tristan and Isolde. Voila!
92"The opera last night was superb. Of course the singing was below the level of the late Italian company. Act I. was on the plane of a Greek play; (Edipus, or other, with a lot of narration, and little acting of the plot; only the outward and visible form of the inward mental actions, which of course is the lawful stage mirror of nature. But it was like a long set of speeches which your judgment commends, but which wearies the weak flesh! I felt all the time that I was at fault, that I was not as enthusiastic as the general!
94"Act II. was simply perfection; worth waiting for. I cannot conceive a more delicious love poem from first to last; in conception of poet, composer, actors, singers and the flood of accompanying orchestration. I cannot see how anything higher could be reached. I would go every night in the week and think I should comprehend it fully when I reached my daily attendance at about three score and ten."
96Then follows critical opinion of singers and setting, &c.
98"I cannot remember that any performance of any sort, lyric or literary, gave me the sense of pleasure as that second act of Tristan and Isolde; the picture, the vocal music, the orchestral flood like an atmosphere to it all. Of course, there are many incongruities in Tristan and Isolde, but, in what stage representation of life are there none such? I think the second act should be listened to on one's knees, and feeling in this way one is hypnotized to all incongruities."
100And this is the opinion of a busy physician (and not of a mad Wagnerite!) on hearing Tristan and Isolde for the first time, and not with our immortal Lehmann!
102Would it not be well for our Boston friends to let our benighted New York relatives know if the Transcript critic voices them?
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