The Findlay Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Hancock County, Ohio) 1870-1881, 1878-12-06
Ganbr;ca felt thst the scentre was slim

! Gambrica felt that the sceptre was slip
| ping from her hands. The applause which
she subsequently received was not what
it had been She left the stage, having
lost all inspiration, trembling, desperate
as though an evil spirit had taken pos
session of her. 4 large mirror hung In
the green-room. She gazed at herself in
! II. Her countenance was haggard, her
/ features dark and heavy with passion,
and. to throw the last shadow over her
gloom, at this inopportune time and mis-
cradle moment she detected wrinkle on
on her brow. and in the dark and glossy
/ hair parted over her forehead two or three
/ lines Of white. II is rhus that mortality
/ breaks upon the aspirations Of the earthly
dreamers The curtain fell, but the audi
ence remained, and, with vehement clam
ors, demanded the manager. On his ap-
pearance a general cry expressed the
wish that Marina should receive an i'm
mediate engagement as prima donna.
The ready caterer for their pleasure ac-
quiesced, of course delighted to find
new treasure. Three heavy rounds of
applause, offering parting tribute to the
newly risen star, and then night, calm
and quiet, settled over the glittering bay
and half aerial mountains, the silent and
| the sleeping city. For some days nothing
was talked of but Marina. How capri
cious is the popular judgment! How ut
| terly it will be ravished to-day with that
which tomorrow will be flung by and
forgottenl Gambrica's name was scarcely
heard but as the precursor of an invidious
comparison. Marina filled every heart.
Marina was uttered by every lip. Marina
was the theme of every cafe, every street,
every square.
s'How unlike Gambrica~ was the I'M
grateful exclamation.
'.Ah. pOrerino, she has had her day"
cried one.
'.She was good, but she is terrible
pdsse," said another.
For me, cried third, Il always knew
she was overrated."
"a sunflower by the rose, said fourth,
''Too large, too round, too tall, too
heavy; her hair too black, her eyes no
softness," added fifth.
Then" said the first, show oyer-dram-
attic! We are too cloyed with too stud
led and too voluptuous style. Nature is
lOO CldDOldlIlN
is left to itself. She may be the first Of
her school, but the school of Marina is
the first. Did you observe her attitude
last night when she drew her daggeri'
"She is great singer, though" ven
tured a little dandy who had not heard
Marina.
"Certainly very great, but she is always
the same"
"And what horrid faces"
These structures are general. They
were the first that GambrIca had ever en-
countered. They fell on her heart like
lava.
Again the night came, and the theatre
was besieged by an enthusiastic throng.
Equipage after equipage dashed up;
party after party fastened in; each seat
was filled; the isles were crowded; the
lobbies overfowed: all the nobility,
fashion, science and beauty fortunate
enough to secure places were assembled
Sounds of impatience arose. Never had
there been a more brilliant audience.
In a small private box over the stage,
in full view, sat Gambrica alone, a specta-
tator of this eventful hour, dressed in
simple white robe. No ornament on
her uncovered head, but the raven hair
parted over her brow. 1t was observed
that once or twice her dark eyes flashed
and that her cheeks were pale.
Poor Gambricam whispered many;
''her day is over"
Marina appeared. Not her fondest
friends had dared to depict so great a
triumph. She was trebly successful-as
the loveliest creature that was ever seen,
as the most touching, noble and pure ac-
tress, and as a singer, trancendant over
all her predecessors. Her voice was a
phenomenon. She herself had never be-
fore known all its deep powers, its di-
vine revelations. As she proceeded in
her role, at each instance subduing, cleo
trifying, inspiring her hearers, their en-
thusiasm and applause arose to an exal-
tation indescribable, and when she had
sung the finale several times, each time
more charmingly, the rounds of applause
were blended into one continued shock
the audience rose in a delirium, an &C.
stacy rarely seen outside Of an Italian
opera house, and crowns, verses, wreaths,
flowers. laurels and roses were showered
down at her feet
She stood silent, trembling, over
whelmed in the presence of these thun-
dering thousands, her hands crossed
upon her heaving bosom, her eyes bent
modestly and gracefully to the ground.
Few sights are more striking than the in
terror of spacious theatre completely
crowded, around, above, row behind
row, circle after circle, tier over tier-an
amphitheatre of heads; the floors, the |
ample walls, swaying with sea of faces |
alive with human intellect lurid with |
burning eyes, from the stage lights back |
to the receding columns, melting into |
vague masses up to the roof; and these |
thousands of awakened minds concen- |
trated upon one creature, worshipped like |
deity. Next to Roman ovation |
come the half, unearthly triumphs of an
opera.
Gambrica rose, attracting universal at
tention, and for moment the stormy
rear abated. The dethroned Queen
lifted her tall figure, and turned her eyes
upon the multitude. In her hand, and
resting upon the balustrade, she grasped
massive wreath of ever living green.
''OenerOus GamDrlca= cr1eu voice,
'she will award the wreath,''
The most lively applause followed this |
suggestion, proclaiming at once that it
was magnanimous and just, and the lips
of thousand echoed, "The wreath. the
WREATH" Then there was a moments
silence.
"Let her advancer was heard dis
tinctIy In every part OF tine house, In the
silver tones of that well known voice.
Marina, her lashes glittering with tears,
her cheek flushed, her bosom heaving
with delight, advanced few steps and |
bent her beautiful head in an attitude |
sweet as Psyche before the mother of |
Love.
That arm, majestic, was raised aloft. |
The wreath was cast. A chaos of ap-
plause greeted its fall; but high, shrill |
and audible above the roaring thunder |
pierced the shrek Of that beautiful vic
tim.
Marina fell dead upon the boards,
crimsoned with her blood.
The fatal wreath was of bronze.
Italy is the land of poetry, even in Its
crimes. The incident is said to be a lit
cral fact of recent occurrence.