The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1852-05-27

The following touching narrative is from a
French work, entitled Men and Women of the
Eighteenth Century book which is bristling
all over with point and full Of life and charac-
ter. Gretry was French poet of the age of
Louis XIV
THE MAIDEN's DEATH.
Gretry's daughters all died at the age of six
teen. There is something strange in their life
and in their death, which strikes the dreamer
and the poet. This sport Of destiny, this freak
of death, this vengeance Of nature, appears
here invested with all the charms of romance.
You will see.
Jenny had the pale, sweet countenance of
virgin. On seeing her, Greuze said one
day. "lf | ever paint Purity, | shall paint
Jenny Make haste ~ murmured Gretry,
already a prey to sad presentiment. "Then
she is going to be married?D said Greuze.
Gretry did not answer. Soon, however, seek
ing to blind himself he continued I" She will
be the staff of my old age; like Antigone, she
will lead her father into the sun at the decline
of lifen
The next day Gretry came unexpectedly
upon Jenny, looking more pale and depressed
than ever. She was playing on the harpsichord,
sweetly and slowly AS She was playing an
air from Richard Cour-de-Lion in a melancholy
strain, ths poor father fancied that he was list
ening to the music of angels. One of her friends
entered-@Well, Jenny, you are going tonight
to the ball p Yes, yes, to the ball." answered
poor Jenny, looking towards heaven, and sud
denly resuming / shall not GO my
dance is ended Gretry pressed his daughter
to his heart. aJenny, you are suferingan 1T
is over,0 said she.
She bent her head and died instantly, with
out a struggle? Poor Gretry asked if she was
asleep. She slept with the angels.
Lucille was contrast to Jenny she was q
beautiful girl gay, enthusiastic, and froIcksome,
with all the caprices Of such disposition She
was almost portrait of her father, and possess
ed, besides, the same heart and the same mind
"Who knows said poor Gretry, but that
her gaiety may save her?D She was unfortu-
nately one of those precocious geniuses who de-
your their youth At thirteen she had COM
posed an opera which was played everywhere,
lie Marriage de Antonia A journalist friend
of Gretry who one day found hmselfn Lucile's
apartment without her being aware of it, so
much was she engrossed with her harp has re-
lated the rage and madness which transported
her during her contests with inspiration that
was often rebellious She wept, she sang, she
struck her harp with incredible energy. She
either did not see me, or took no notice OF me !;
for my own part, wept with JOY in beholding
this little girl transported with so glorious
zeal and 80 noble an enthusiasm for music
/ Lucille had learned to read music before she
knew her alphabet She had been so long lull-
ed to sleep with Gretrys airs, that at the age
when 50 many other young girls think only
of hoops and dolls, she had found sufficient mu-
sic in her soul for tue whole of a charming OPP
era She was prodigy. Had it not been for
death, who came to seize her at sixteen, like
her sister, the greatest musician of the eigh-
tenth century would, perhaps, have been a
woman But the twig, scarcely green, snap
| ped at the moment when the poor bird COM
menced her song. Gretry had Lucille married
at the solicitation of his friends MARY her,
marry her, they necessarily repeated. "If
Love has the start of Death, Lucille is Safe
| Lucille suffered herself to be married TO one Of
those artists Of the worst order, who have nei-
tber the religion of art nor the fire of genius,
and who have still less heart--for the heart is
the home of genius The poor Lucille saw at
glance the desert to which her family had ex.
lied her, She consoled herself with a harp and
q harpsiohord; bat her husband, who had been
brought up like q slave, cruelty took delight,
with towards vengeance, in making her feel
all the chains of Hymen. She would have died
like Jenny, ON her fathers bosom, amidst her
loving family, after having sung her farewell,
song; but, thanks to this barbarous fellow. she
died in his presence, that is to say, alone. At
the hour of her DEATH "Rring me my harm =,
said she, raising herself a little. sThe doctor
has forbidden il, y said this savage, She cast
q hitter yet suppliaut look upon him. aBut
as am dying said she. "You will die very
well without that" She fell back on her pillow.
" My poor father murmured she, I'll wish to bid
you adeu on my harp; but here | am not free,
except to die!n Lucille lit is the nurse who re-
lated the scene) suddenly extended her arms
called Jenny with broken voice, and fell
asleep like her forever.
THE woRLDLING's DEATH.
In strong contrast with the above is the &C.
count Of the death of Dorat, the courtier poet,
from the same work. Its levity is excessively
French
As soon as heard that he was dying, |
forgot the tickle poet only remembered the
poet who had loved me. flew to him He
was the same petit-maitre, without care, the
same bantering, smiling creature, He sprang
to my arms Il have been expecting you
long time, said he, with q cheerful dir and a
somewhat foolish expression. He wished still
to struggle with love he was gallant but with
his lips only he was worn-out player, wish
ling to play his part Of the lucky poet to the
last Alas when | went to see him again, he
was no longer struggling with love-. Mar
chioness, said he stretching out to me his parch-
ed, feverish hand, you see me struggling with
death ! yesterday had a visit from the cure,
who said as he went away he would return.
1t is not worth while, | told him, for shall
soon be gone
| at was with pain that looked upon the
/ IT, ..oc1v
his morning gown and slippers, 'Ah, there
you are said he, in rising with difficulty, Il
expect some visiters Madame Beauharnais,
Madame dAngeville, and Madame Death If
am not mistaken, have two hours longer to
live; have hardly time to dress He called
his valet, he begged me to wait, and he then
was assisted to his dressing room.
"When be returned, his little salon was
full Of visitors; he bowed to them as he leaned
upon his valet, and then took his seat Every
one observed the elegance of his last toilet;
he was never more carefully wigged, powdered
nor more finely dressed. What is the cause
Of this unusual dsplay!' asked the Marquis
de Saint Marc hiding his grief; there is some
mysterious intrigue behind all this You do
not know, then, said Dorat, assuming a cheerful
air. that have some acquaintance with Mad
anne Dsaski do not say it to SANDER her. but
she requires less urging than some others Her
messenger, that is to say, the doctor, told me
that she would come for me this afternoon you
will see that will not have to wait long.
have retained the gallant habit of being always
tine first at q rendezvous
"The Marquis de Saint Marc could not re-
strain deep sigh. Every lady present turned
away to conceal her tears; the young Freron
wept by himself in a corner. But the deep
griefof Mademoiselle Fannier, the comic actress,
nh. had ix.at It,