Southern sentinel. [volume] (Plaquemine, Parish of Iberville [La.]) 1848-1858, 1849-11-14
PLAQUEMINE, LA, PARISH OF IBERVILLE, NOVEMBER, Ia 1S49.

literature, poetry, music, and all the liberal arts
But he wa. determined to have one nore trial
Having eaten, he dressed and went out in tn,
direction Of the shop Of the citoyen Dupont,
worthy and excellent man, who in his day hat
published more music, bad and good, than
musician would have played in a lifetime.
"You have something new then, ~caoyen!" sale
Dupont after the usual preliminaries, and aftel
apologizing to a lady within his office for leaving
her awhile. "As my time is precious, pray play
it at once, and sing it if you will" The young
man sat himself at the harpsicord which adorn
ed the shop, and began at once the "Song Of
the Army of the Rhine" The music publishe,
listened with the knowing air of one who i.
not to be deceived, and shook his head as the
composer ended.
Trough, crude, but clever. Young man, you
will, | doubt not, do something one of these
days; but at present, l am sorry to say, your eff
forts want finish, polish" The singer rose,
and bowling left the shop, with despair at his
heart. He had not a sou in the world; his mo.
ther came again to his aid-an aid he was very
unwilling to receive. His soul repunged from
it, for he had parted from her in anger. His
mother was a ~royalist, he wasa republican, and
she had said bitter things to him at parting
But most of all the composer felt one thing;
the world would never be able to Judge him, ne
yer be able to decide if he had or had not merit;
and this was the bitterest grief of all.
This day was spent in moody thought. The
evening came, and no sign again Of his secret
FRIEND, whether mother or unknown sympathizer.
Towards night the pangs of hunger became
intolerable, and after numerous parleys with
himself, the young man assembled to his room
with a heavy parcel. His eye was wild, his
cheek pale, his whole mien unearthly. AS he
passed the door of his lodge the concierge gave
him a ticket for the opera, signed Dupont, who
was comanager of the theatre.
go thyself," said the composer in low
husky voice, and he went up stairs.
Having gained the room, the unhappy and
misguided young man sat silent and motionless
for some hours, until at length hunger, despair,
and his dreamy visions had driven every calm
and good thought from his head, and then he
dared quietly proceed to carry out his dreadful
and desperate intent. He closed carefully the
window, stuffed his mattress up the chimney,
and with paper stopped every aperture where
air could enter. Then he drew forth from his
parcel charcoal and a burner, and lit it. Thus
had this wretched man determined to end his
sufferings. He had made one last effort, and
now in that solitary, dismal garrett he laid him
downto die; and poverty and misery genius and
death, were huddled close together.
Meanwhile, amid a blaze oflight, the evenings
amusement had begun at the theatre. A new
opera from Paris was to be played, and the prima
donna was the young, lovely, and whorshipped
The house was crowded, and the first act sue
in ecstacy.
"She is a jewel!' said M. Dupont, who from a
private box, admired the great supporter of his
theatre. A roar of applause from the pit de-
lighted at this instant the good mans ears
CIaudine, called before the curtain, was bowling
tothe audience. Butwhat is this? Instead Of
going off, she has just signed to the orchestra
to play. She is about to show her gratitude to
the audience in verse. M. Dupont rubs his hands,
and repeats vice between his teeth, "She is a
jewel" But with ease and rapidity the band
has commenced playing an unknown air, and
the next moment M. Dupont is standing up
with a strange wild look. flushed and still was
every breath; the audience look at each other;
not a word Of communication takes place; men
shudder, or rather tremble with emotion. But
the first stanza is ended; and then a frantic shout,
a starting of all their feet, a wild shrek of de-
light, acry of a thousand voices laundering the
chorus, shows how the song has electrified
them.
Nj. Dupont frowned, for the air and the song
were not new to him; it was the sSong of the
Army of the Rhine" he had refused that morn
ing! but Claudine proceeds; again the audience
is hushed in death-like silence; and the must
clans, reused to an unusual degree Of enthu-
siasm, played admirably; and Claudine, still
singing with all the purity,feeling and energy
of her rich, admirable voice, plunged her eyes
into every corner Of the honse-in vain. At
each couplet the enthusiasm Of the people be-
came greater, the anxiety of the singer more
intense. At length she concluded, and never
did applause more tremendous, more uproarous,
greet the voice of a public songstress. The ex.
citable population of Marseilles seemed mad.
When silence was restored, Claudine SPOKE
"Ctoyens and Citoyennes" she exclaimed, sthis
song is both written and composed by a young
and unknown man, who has in vain sought to
put his compositions before the public. Every
body has refused them. For myself, / thought
this the greatest musical effort Of modern times;
and as such Ipractised it to-day; and, unknown
to manager or author, l and the band prepared
this surprise. But the author ID not here. Poor
despairing, he is at home lamenting his un-
appreciated efforts! Let us awake himilet him
that the generous people of Marseilles
can understand and feel great music. Come,
let all who have hearts follow me, and chant
the mighty song rs w 60. And Claudine,
across the orchestra, landed in the pit,
and bareheaded, light dressed as she was, rushed
towards the door, followed by every spectator
and by the musicians, who, however, put on their
hats, and even threw a cloak and cap on the ex-
and generous songstress.
Meanwhile the composers dreadful resolve
being carried out. The suffocating, hor-
rid fumes Of the charcoal filed the room; soon
they began to consume and exhaust the pure
and the wretched youth felt all the pangs:
Of coming DEATH Hunger, exhaustion and