Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1890-07-24
THE Blind MUSICIAN.


Translated by Mary NJ. Mccarthy from tn,
French, for the Springfield tMass.) Republican,
In November lsS-, M. Nay, an old
music professor Of Toulouse, settled,
with his son Henry, in Mention. On
one Of the suburban streets he rented
ahouse which commanded a view OF
the highway and Of the path that de.
scended from the mountain. The
calm that reigned in this locality, its
pure and balmy air, and not the beau
ty of the site, had determined the
choice. Henry Nay was blind. AT
an early age he had manifested gen.
ius for music, and his passionate ap.
plication to this study had probably
injured his eyes. About the age Of
Is mist fell over his vision, which
prevented him from declphering mu-
sic. At last impenetrable darkness
hung over his sight One morning
he stood before the rising sun and
opened his eyes wide. They remained
fixed and insensible. When he closed
them two tears filtered between the
lids, and Henry felt that light existed
for him no longer. Then the father,
taking his child by the hand, departed
to seek cure. All the celebrated
specialists were consulted and agreed
that the blindness was not irremedi-
able but that the necessary operation
was painful and hazardous. Fortu-
nately the indecision of the distressed
father would not interfere with
the operation, and the precocious
judgment of the child would soon
be ripe enough to leave the matter to
him.
Henry, whose every whim was graf
i6ed, felt impelled by the indefasig-
able activity Of the blind to seek con
tinually change of scene, in the hope,
il not of not recovering sight, of see
ing little light. Five years then
passed in travel They lived very
retired at Mention, going out only in
the evening. The mornings were
devoted to reading aloud by M Nay;
the afternoons to music. 1t was the
supreme delight of Henry to spend
hour after hour expressing his moods
in melody. Now the notes flew like
sonorious gold-dust under his magical
touch, now they were long drawn out
in long and sad romances, in which be
wept for his lost treasure. In the
cool OF the evening Henry, leaning
upon his fathers arm, directed his
steps toward the sea. Seating himself
upon the sand, he concentrated his
attention upon the infni.e noise of the
waves, and endeavored to distinguish
from other the countless sounds that
make up the monotonous harmony of
the ocean.
One day they walked toward the
neighboring woods by the road that
ran past their house. At the end Of
quarter of an hour Henry stopped.
Are You tired father2'
mo, indeed answered the old man
vigorously.
tAh, you cannot deceive me-, said
the young man smiling. You lean
heavily upon your cane. Happily we
have reached our destination. l
hear the wind playing upon the
leaves
Not yet-we are passing the fence
that encloses apark whose trees lean
over the road.
At this moment the beauty and
serenito of the night seemed to find
expression in an exquisite harmony.
Then, after silince, the invisible mu-
sician played The Romances Of the
Star Henry stood motionless, lean
ing heavily upon his fathers arm. An
odd caprice suddenly interrupted
The Star. It was waltz by Chopin,
played with feverish haste; after the
waltz came necturine, marked with
deep despair. Then followed silence
and darkness. The light had dlssp.
peared.
"a real artist exclaimed M Nay,
enthusiastically.
Henry made no answer, but he
thought The musician was woman.
With the delicacy Of hearing that
almost takes the place Of lost sight, be
had recognized woman in tha tan.
derness of the expression. He had
even OWNED suffering in the cap.
riceous choice of pieces, in the
abrupt transitions from gayety to-