The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1882-04-14
"a Short-Lived Triumph.

was crowded, from the undesirable stu
ations Immediately behind the orches-
trail stand up to the still less desirable
quar- ers. to be secured for trifiiDg rum,
in the lofty elevation Of the fifth gallery;
that gallery bnilt and reserved in a,ta
bellum days tor tie slaves who attended
their matters hither, lut now only
peopled, when, in the attiaction of Pop
ular favcrito or rising star it was peo.
pied at all, by the slaves OF that harsu-
est, most severe of all masters-impe-
oaniosi'y.
The pa quette ard dress circle held,
ns usual, representatives Of the wealthy,
more cultivated and richly dressed in
hshitants Of the city, most of whom
Lad ccrne here, as they went elsewhere
mercy to vile away an idle honr, AMI
were as YEARLY Indifferent to the throb-
bing heart iulscs Of the exQnisita
melodies as they were to oil else in
life. except their own qualification.
But in the less aristocratic, lower
priced positions, al oddly contrasting
clsss to these spoiled children, nause-
ated with their own good fortune, had
tonight found its way. Men to whom
the price Of this evenings indulgence
meant q day of hard, unin-
terr~ tied labor; women to whom these
S-,rt two hours OF respite from care
and worry in novel surroundings and
under the exciting influence of the mu-
to be remembered through all the
coming years, and alluded to as, "That
evening when 1 went to the opera.
house," and halfgrown youths and
maidens to whoTa the whole seemed like
poetical dream Of fairy-land, from
which they must soon awaken to the
dull prose of their daily lives, with only
q fierce resolution beating itself into
heart and brain to get back into this
blissful life to do something, to be
somebody
These members OF the middle class,
these men, women and children, who
in intellect and nature were on par with
their richer. highly-favored fellow.
mortals in the upper seats at this won
drcus bal qnet Of sound, but who had
been crushed and bent down to lower
level by the iron heel Of poverty, had
drunk in the musical strains from the
first low notes Of the orchestral selec-
tion. down through the intervening
pYl.lb ppHYmbers on the delicately scented pro-
increasing thirst, until now, 'S as the he
third number from the close was as
hand, their excitement reached its cul-
mination, and forgetting ell their trou-
ble and pain the y glanced frat at each
other with smiling lips and flushed,
radiant fac.s, ard then back to the
stage with eager, expectant eyes to
watch for the first appearing of the even
ine's debutsnte-the young violinist.
And then she came-a radiant vision,
in sheeuy silk and futtering, cloudy
lace this girl who had dvelt among
these poor, hard working people-now
watching her with such breatbless in
terest, since the early days OF her child
hood, whose sunny face and CHEEKY
laughter he'd been to them all, in their
distress, as the suns own cloud-dis-
rersing beams whose wonderful music
had so tfsen poured forth for them, now
merry roundelay to heiglten the
mirih OF wedding or festival now a soft,
mcurnful strain to carry balm to griev.
ing soul or, again, grooming lal-
lahy t. still the Eobbines Of some fret
ful child.
Our musician" they had called her.
with evident pride in the possession,
since the time when the small hands
had first drawn the laundering harmony
from her fathers priceless instrument,
and had watched the hu idinQ genius
as IL pat forth leaf after leaf, form
ing the gracious flower that now could
could give delight to ell who gaged
upon it.
all this had been the work OF time,
however. More than fifteen years had
elapsed since the day when the father,
himself gifted German artist, mad
dened by jealousy and the unfaithful
ness and harsh criticisms OF erstwhile
friends, bitter to death against n rival
violinist whose fame soon threatened to
eclipse his own, and crushed by the
loss OF his young wife, had seized the
two treasures still left to him-his two
year old child and his violin--and with
them had fed away from all old associa-
tions and buried himself in one OF tho
obscure streets OF an American city.
Here he had eked out scapiy pit
tance by teaching his mother tongue TO
those who would learn, and here he
trained his daughter his one music
pupil, for he steadily and obstinately
refused to impart aught OF his skill to
others from tho time the baby fingers
could clasp the bow and, In aiding her
progress, had forgotten somewhat OF
his own trial.
But the wound still ranked.
"Leihchen," he would say sometimes
to Marguerite, as she carefully laid
away his old violin, after hours of
practice, to busy herself about house
hold matters -" Leibchen, thou goest
bravely. Only see, / will tell thee
secret. Some day. when then nlsxesI