TRAGIC MIRACLE OF BUND SINGER’S SIGHT RESTORED

Shannon News, 9 July 1929, Page 4

TRAGIC MIRACLE OF BUND SINGER’S SIGHT RESTORED

Surgeon’s Sad Tale

DREAM OF BEAUTY THAT WAS DISPELLED

The bitter Arctic wind was sweep-, ing the West End when, walking with a surgeon from a London hospital, wo stopped, for a moment to watch a burly, stoutly-built man who, with hands cupped, over'liis mouth, was singing into the saloon bar of a well-known restaurant; Avrites Vincent Wray, in the Sunday News. My companion touched the singer on the shoulder and at the same time offered a silver coin. The man stopped singing, recognised the donor, thanked him, and then restarted liis song. As we hurried away, for the intense cold was intolerably penetrating, the surgeon told me one of the strangest stories I have over listened to. He prefaced his narrative by reminding me that his father had been a surgeon of eminence and Avas at one time a consultant at the London Hospital.

"The singer is George Burrctt,’’ he said, "and once he Avas known as the ‘Man Born Blind.’ It is obvious from the skill with Avhich he produced the opening notes of the okl-tiine ‘Sally In Our Alley,’ that he has had some training and still retains the relics of what Avas once a Avonderful voice. There was a time, indeed, Avlicn he had visions of Covent Garden and the opera houses of Paris, Berlin, and Vienna. lie even knoAVs what he might have accomplished had it not been for a shock, a thundering bIoAV of' a sort Avhich can only be thoroughly understood and appreciated by the psychologist. But I must tell you in my orvn words the surgeon's touching tale of science passion, and sacrifice^ Everybody who knoAvs the East End of London is familiar Avitli the Oid W upping stairs —which run sharply down into the murky waters of the Thames, and AA r hich ahvavs look sinister and tragic. Edith—And Her EVoy. It was hear tha't Edith Chuyncv ended her life, taking with her when she made the plunge into the unknoAvn her two-year-old- infant. She left behind her a letter which the coroner's officer shoAvctl me, and which contained the only explanation of the double crime—-murder and suicide. The .letter ran:— ."I have borne as much as I can. Mv heart has broken I Avas not good enough for him. . . . . . .. .. I did wrong, and I am punished terribly I could bear ibv cross no longer, and I have handed it back to God. .. . . .. May He bless George and keep him. Good-bye.’’ She had Avorkcd as a packer in some match Avorks in the East End. Her father and mother had died while she aa as yet a child, and she had fought her battle with a heroism that only the very poor understand. Burnett had had a strange history. He Avas said to be the son of a tradesman in the potteries; and it A\'as further asserted —though with what truth my friend the surgeon could not say—that he had been "farmed out’’ when quite young because of his affliction. He Avas blind. 1

AnvAA'-ay he drifted to London, and a Avoman avlio got charge of him, re cognising that he had a \ r oicc of uncommon merit, sent him into the street.-; singing, the v.'hilc she haunted the bars of public houses. She had a strain of natural crueltvj Avhich revealed itself In taunts, unbraidings, and even blow:

George Burnett -was poAverlcss in her large, filthy, greedy hands. Edith Choyney rescued him. She had often watched the blind man as he groped along' near the kerbstones, and an intense pity for him filled her avo manly heart. She spoke to him, heard of: his unhappy life at home; and snatched him aAvay from the harridan who tortured and sponged on him. There Avas many a battle before sin

achieved victory, but Avin she did, and took the blind man into her lonely home. ,

His Beautiful Angel,

She would take him out in the morn lug. leave him to sing while she wen: to her work, meet him for a. few moments in the afternoon, and then take iuni to. their ill-furnished, but scruplously clean, apartment for the remainder of the day. Marriage was never mentioned. In this she was undoubtedly wrong, and she paid the penalty.

George Burnett, in his imagination, painted her as beautiful. lie would run his fingers over her face and touch lines.which stood for him ns the hall marks of perfect loveliness. Edith did not undeceive him. In truth she was extremely plain, and there was no charm about her save a gentle brooding of grey eyes which redeemed "somewhat her blurred, ordinary features. George was knocked down and so injured that lie had to be carried to the hospital, and there my friend’s father became interested. He made a detailed examination, with the result that he expressed the opinion that the blind man's eyes could be opened. Edith came often to inquire how the patient was progressing, and ‘ showed . an anxiety about him that was both pathetic and commendable. “I- will not trouble you with the details,” said the surgeon, ” but after a lengthy period it was evident that Burnett’s slight could be given to him by skilled streatment. My father had him removed to a nursing home, where he was carefully looked after. Ho often talked about Edith Cheyney, and to a nurse wdio had him in her special care he painted her as supremely lovely and irresistibly attractive. Nurse Bcatiice knew better. She had seen Edith

when the girl called to inquire after the patient. "The quality of the man’s voice was soon observed, . and it Avas suggested that Avlicn he avus better he should be trained for the concert platform. My lather offered to bear the expense—and did so. But that is scarcely a part of the story. "There came a day when George could see —not like you and I, but with a certain clearness that made to him all the difference between light and darkness. When he met Clioynev the scene was intensely dramatic. 1 tic not suppose that ever playAvright invented a situation so fraught with sad- sentiment.

Edith came. She was dressed shabbily; a gaudy ribbon of which she, in her innocence, was inordinately proud, shone in contrast to her hopeless hat and clothes. • Woman Who Fled.

Her countenance was criss-crossed by wrinkles and her hands were coarse and the nails unclean.

“George, who had been so long in association with the real Nurse Beatrice—had been visited by other women interested in his case—looked aghast.

“In a moment his cherished visions of beauty were dispelled. There must have been something of a revolt in his soul, because he offered no words of affection. There was no response in his newly opened eyes to the flash of love that •sparkled in the eves of the daughter of the slums.

“ 'Edith/ lie said, with a note of agony in his voice; and she replied with infinite grief. ‘George/ “The woman knew instantly. The man’s new- sense revolted against the disillusion.

‘Nor did Edith Cheyney wait; she fled from the room and none ■who was there ever saw her more.

‘“George Burnett took lessons in singing. His voice gave great promise. And he seemed to have forgotten his terrible privations and oven Edith Chuyncy, too. He became engaged to a girl ot' beauty and of wealth. And if was whilst he was in her company that the blow fell. Ho was to sing at a social gathering, and just before his ‘number/ a messenger arrived. He was wanted by a policeman. “When he returned he was as a person stunned. He tried to sing, but he broke down utterly.

“The news that came to him was the tragedy of Wapping Stairs, of Edith and her babv.

“After that he lost grip. His conduct at times approached madness. His marriage engagement was broken off'. Despite everything that could be done for him, he went to wrack and ruin. Anti you have just seen him.” Is there anyone bold enough to sit in judgment on George—or Edith‘l The surgeon and' I declined to moralise..