Stephen H. Branch's Alligator, Vol. 1 no. 10, June 26, 1858

When I taught Alderman Orison Blunt the English branches at his elegant residence in Murray street, I gave instruction to Paul Julien, the juvenile Paganini, and to Rocco, and also to Madame Sontag in elocution, in anticipation of her appearance in English Opera at Niblo’s, on her return from Mexico. At the close of a long and interesting lesson, Sontag opened her great heart to me, and disclosed her career from her earliest recollection. Her narrative was eloquent and exciting, and as she sat before me at the parlor lattice, in alternate tears and smiles, with the moon rolling like a ball of silver through the air, she seemed too pure and beautiful for earth. Her tears were the very soul of sorrow, and none could resist their overwhelming influence,—her smiles were irresistibly enchanting,—her voice in conversation was full of entrancing melody,—her cavern dimples were the emblems of purity and charity, and her entire expression was divine. And as her blood warmed, and her bosom rose and fell, and her voice trembled and darted from the faintest whisper to its highest intonation, her glorious eyes reflected gorgeous temples in her soul, filled with sinless angels, breathing sweet music to millions of her species. And the beauteous Sontag told me, as we sat together in our last communion as human pilgrims, that her childhood, and girlhood, and early womanhood were all devoted to the cultivation of music for the enjoyment of the world more than herself, which rendered her early years an utter sacrifice, and had deprived her of the pastimes enjoyed by all her sex in the morning of life; that from the hour she was called “_The little Daughter of the Danube_,” there was no happiness for her; that she was early beset by lovers from nearly every nation of Europe; that kings and queens lavished their choicest treasures upon her; that princes besought her affections in tearful supplications; that all France prostrated herself at her feet; that amid the flattery and adulations of all classes and kingdoms, she was induced, in a thoughtless hour, to cast herself into the eternal embraces of a being who proved a jealous and savage tyrant, and a heartless gamester; that ere her emergence from the brief hours of bliss that should follow the marriage vow, he became odious in her eyes, and she beheld a life of misery in all her future; that after years of torture in his demon fangs, and after he had squandered her splendid fortune of four millions of dollars, he dragged her from the sacred precincts of private life, and from the pleasing society of her children, into the public arena, to toil for his subsistence; that he forced her to exchange hemispheres, and leave her tender offspring, when they most required a mother’s protection; that he often brandished a dagger in her eyes, when she refused to fill his purse for bibbling and gaming purposes; that she was in fear of his poignard throughout her long confinement in his hideous clutches; that for his traduction and persecution of Alboni in her early years, she resolved to pursue her to America to annoy, and, if possible, ruin her, for his sake, by singing against her in the leading cities; that on the very day she publicly announced her intention to visit America, Alboni went to the Cathedral, and knelt at the altar, and swore that she would pursue her through all latitudes, and cut the grass beneath her feet, to avenge herself on Count Rossi, who strove to blight the buds and blossoms of her youth and indigence; that she kept her oath, and followed her through city, town, and village, and allured her choristers, through extravagant salaries and donations, and sang on the evenings of her Concert and Opera entertainments, and greatly reduced her receipts; that Rossi seized her funds, as they accrued, and deposited them in banks unknown to her; that her children often wrote in vain for means to defray their domestic expenses; that Rossi, and Maretzek, and Ullman received all the benefit of her arduous labors; that her lovely daughters were in the care of strangers in Europe, and exposed to all the snares of life; that their education was fatally neglected in her absence; that she was a slave to Rossi, Maretzek, and Ullman, all of whom she thoroughly despised, and that she had very seriously contemplated suicide. And thus did this celestial being breathe her pensive music in my soul, and bathe my vision with nature’s hallowed waters. And amid our mutual tears, and smiles, and cheerful tones, and lingering glances, she enters the dismal cars, and the bell proclaims the parting signal, and she penetrates the deep perspective, until she is forever buried from my melancholy view. She gives concerts on the borders of the northern lakes, and visits Cincinnati, and quarrels and separates from Ullman, and goes to New Orleans, and performs in Opera, and enters Mexico, amid the revengeful maledictions of Ullman, who, as Rocco told me, dug her early grave, by arousing the fearful jealousy of Rossi, to whom Ullman wrote from New York, that he would find letters in her trunk from Pozzolini, the young and fascinating tenor; that Rossi did find letters in her trunk from Pozzolini, (filled with the most enthusiastic love,) which Rocco said were doubtless placed there by Ullman, prior to her departure for Mexico, to revenge himself on Sontag, for her refusal at Cincinnati to give more Concerts under his direction; that Rossi belched words of fire, and threatened her with instant death; that herself and Pozzolini were seized with violent pains, on their return from the Mexican festivals; that during her confinement, Rocco daily called, but was not permitted to see her; that Rossi paced the balcony as a sentinel for days and nights, and would let no one visit her; that he permitted Rocco to enter her apartment only one hour before she died, when he found her in the wildest delirium. And Rocco told me that Sontag and Pozzolini were doubtless poisoned by Count Rossi, and that Ullman was the instigator. Rossi artfully attributed their sudden death to cholera, but the rumor flew on the wings of lightning, that Rossi was their murderer, and he fled for his life to New York, with all her jewels, and went to Europe. And Rocco sorely grieved to see her borne to her sepulchre without kindred mourners in a far distant land; and when he saw her form exhumed, and borne through mud and stones, and deposited as luggage in the filthy suburbs of Vera Cruz, and exposed for weeks to the heat and rain of those withering latitudes,—when he gazed at the remains of a being who had been the pride and glory and adoration of all civilised nations, and who had long been his own dear friend, poor Rocco prostrated himself beside her coffin, and wept for hours in loneliness and utter desolation. And now, dear Sontag, I can see thy pure and genial spirit in its happy home, beyond the pretty stars. And while I indite these melancholy words, thy sweet face smiles upon me from my parlor wall, as you appeared in the immortal Somnambulist. It is the likeness you gave me at our final interview, and represents Amina, in the joyous bridal scene with Elvino, among her native cottagers in the mountains. All! Sontag! I often think of thee, and my highest solace is in gazing at thy bewitching smile, and laughing eyes, and lovely dimples, and even teeth, and classic temples, as depicted in thy likeness, which I shall keep while I linger in the dreary paths of earth. And I will part with fame and fortune and with life itself, ere I will separate from the precious picture of my adored Sontag. And my last prayer to God shall be, that I may join my Parents and Kindred and Sontag in the realms of eternal bliss.