Washington sentinel., 1854-02-05
Wasbiagtua gsntinsl.
The Painter Duhobret.

OI cnarlty, u1Sccrnlng III MIN traces Oh taleHI
which he considered worth cultivation. This
cultivation was not hopeless, under the eye of
the master, even in one who had passed the
age Of forty, who was poor even to indigence,
and who had hitherto contrived to gain a
scanty subsistence by painting signs on the
coarsest tapestry at that time much used in
Germany. The name Of this man, on whom
fortune seemed to have wrealSed her utmost
spite, was Samuel Duhobret. He was short in
stature, crooked and ugly to .. proyerb, and
withal had an imperfection in his speech that
rendered his enunciaton difficult and at times
unintelligible. He was in consequence the
butt of his fellow-pupils, and they were contin-
ually breaking jokes upon him, which he bore
in patient silence. Still harder to endure were
the unfeeling taunts of Madame Durer, who
occasionally visited the studio, and always had
something harsh to say about the pupil who
brought her husband no recompense for his
trouble. In short, poor Duhobret's existence
was joyless enough; and it would have been q
burden intolerable, with his crust Of brown
bread, when he had it at home, and his lonely
life abroad, but that he sometimes found him
self able to escape from toll and humiliation
into the country. There, under the free sky
with the smiling landscape around him, with
the sound of streams and the song of birds in
his ears, the heart of the desolate artist would
expand. He amused himself with sketching
some of the beautiful country-seats in the
neighborhood of Nuremberg. In this pleasing
occupation, and with no one near to laugh and
leer him, Samuel was no longer the same man.
The abject and melancholy expression disap-
peared from his face, which lightened and
glowed with the strange happiness he felt, as
dropping plants revive and brighten in color
under the influence of sunshine.
Choosing some quiet and sheltered spot, d..
hobret was accustomed to pass many hours of
the day seated on the turf with his portfolio on
his lap. 1t was then that he produced those
happy touches which gave himself confidence
to undertake labors of more Importance, and
energy to shrink from no toll or privation.
When he returned to the city, he carefully put
aside the unfinished pieces, not daring even to
show his best sketches for he knew they would
bring upon him double portion Of scorn and
derision. He applied himself quietly to his
daily tasks in the studio, and, while he inn
proved in the mechanical part Of his art, nour-
ished conceptions that gave him world Of his
own creation.
Every day, as general rule Samuel came
early to the studio of Dnrer, and remained
until evening Then he retired to the COM
fortress cell in which he lodged, and worked in
the silent hours of night to transfer to his can
vass the dreams of beauty he had brought from
the country. He submitted TO incredible pri-
vations to obtain the means Of procuring pen
ellis, colors, &C.; nay, so ardent was his longing
for progress without obstacle, that he is said,
by the historian of his life, to have been only
withheld by stern principles from stealing
those indispensable articles from his compan-
ions.
Thus passed three years, and during that
time neither Albert Durer nor any of his pupils
knew Of the nocturnal labors of Duhobret.
How the powers of his physical nature were
sustained under the incessant task of their ell
ergies, it is impossible to imagine.
But nature at last gave way. The painter
was seized with fever which rapidly reduced
the little strength that remained to him. No
one came to see what had become of poor
Samuel, though for week he had not appeared
at the studio. No one had the humanity to
supply his wants.. though he had not for many
days tasted food, merely moistening his lips
with water that stood in a stone pitcher by his
bedside. As the fever abated, the wild dreams
of delirium vanished and Samuel thought him
self near to death. For the first time, a bitter.
ness entered his soul. He felt desire to pre-
serve the life which seemed so worthless to all
the world He must procure food, and adopted
a desperate resolution.
Having risen from his miserable couch, he
took under his arm the last picture he had fin
ished, and went out taking his way towards the
shop Of vender Of pictures. The piece was
one on which he had bestowed great pains
but he resolved to sell it for whatever price was
offered, if only enough to purchase single
meal.
AS he dragged himself with difficulty along
the street, he passed house in front Of which
a crowd was assembled. On inquiring the
cause, Duhohret learned that great sale was to
take place. Various works of art, collected
during thirty years, by an amateur, whose gal
lery was the admiration of all Nuremberg, were
to be sold at public auction, the death Of the
owner having occurred.
Struck with the hope Of here finding market
for his painting, Samuel pressed through the
crowd to the salesman, and, by dint ofentreaties
and the feelings of compassion awakened by his
wretched aspect prevailed on him to allow the
piece to be offered at auction. The price at
which he estimated its WORTH was three thalers.
"Let it CO." said the artist to himself; the
money will procure me bread for week, if q
purchaser can be found"
The picture was examined and criticised by
many persons. The exhausted and anxious
artist stood apart. At last it was set up for
sale. The monotonous voice of the auctioneer
repeated "at three thalers, who will buy it?
AT three thalers r. There was no response.
The stricken Samuel groaned, and buried
his face in his hands. 1t was his best work
The salesman called attention to its beauties.
Does it not seen" he said, that the wind is
really stirring the foliage of those trees, and
that the leaves bend as they glitter in the sun
How pure and crystalline is the water What
life breathes in the animals that come to drink
at that stream And the Abbey of Newbourg
with its fine buildings, and the village in the
distance" &c.
twenty-five thalers," said dry, weak
voice, and the sound startled Duhobret from
the stupor Of despair. He raised himself or
his feet to see whose lips uttered the blessed
words. It was the picture-vender, to whom he
had first thought of offering his work.
"Fify thalers" cried another sonorous
voice. The speaker was . large man, dressed
in black.
"A hundred u responded the picture dealer
evidently in considerable vexation. His ad
versary was equally prompt
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