Jasper County Democrat, Volume 17, Number 96, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 March 1915 — A MUSICIAN BY ACCIDENT [ARTICLE]

A MUSICIAN BY ACCIDENT

Strange Story of a Member of the French Commune.

Signor Caracalli, the great cornet player, retired when be had years of artistic and pecuniary success before him. Sitting with him one day in a case in Paris I asked him how he came to give up his profession at so early an age. “Because I hated it,” he replied. “Hated it? Were you not born to it?” “I suppose I was, though when a boy I heard no music and whatever ability I have lay dormant. It was brought out suddenly and under great stress.” I saw there was a story connected with the matter, and, after much pressure on my part, he reluctantly consented to tell it. I’m not an Italian. I’m a Frenchman, and my real name is Henrotin. Just before the downfall of Napoleon 111. I went to Paris from my father’s farm on the Givanne river and was solicited to join the commune. Being young and a countryman I believed anything any one told me and consented, thinking France to be on the eve of a new era of prosperity and happiness for all her people alike. We had everything our own way, but unfortunately we had no way for a time. Soon we were prisoners of the regular troops. They proposed to first imprison us, then take us out in droves and shoot us. I was expecting to go out. stand with mj- face to the wall with the rest and be shot, when a fellow prisoner told me that the French army was short of musicians and one of our number had been pardoned and enlisted to play the trombone. ' A drowning man will catch at a* straw, and. securing a bit of paper, I wrote on it that I was an accomplished musician and would like to enlist-as such in the army. The paper I gave to the officer Who had Us in charge. The next morning a roll was called of those who were to be shot, my name among them. But after calling it the sergeant paused, blinked his stupid eyes at the paper, tllen said:

“Nd, Jacques Hehrotin. you are. to gb to be examined for tile band being reorganized for the infantry." Well, this was like reprieving a man from being shot to strangle him later on. I had no knowledge of music and did not know one instrument from tin other. 1 could only think of some plan for delay. Our prison was cold, and that night I poured jvater over my clothes and sat in them in order to catch cold. Fortunately I succeeded, and the next day when I was marched to the bandmaster of the —— infantry I was coughing and sneezing, my windpipe being pretty nearly stopped.

"What instrument do you play?” inquired the bandmaster. I had purposely made inquiry about instruments and replied that I played the cornet. Whereupon the band master called for a cornet and told me to play something. “Great heavens!" I exclaimed. “Do you expect a man to use his lungs while they are not even fitted for breathing.” "Take him back and cross his name off the list of applicants." “Give me time, a month, a week,*and I promise you that 1 will make music such as you have never heard before.” ery well. I’ll give you a week.” “I have caught cold in prison. Can’t you have me put where I may recover and where I can practice a little? I’ve not played for some time.” "H m. let me see! I might put you with the band.”

He directed corporal to take me to the quarters of the band and have me locked in a room by myself. He also gave orders that I was to be provided with a cornet. This was done. I succeeded in inducing the man who brought the cornet to give me instruc tions. He was surprised at my ability to learn, but in a week I could not hope to pass an examination, so I purposely slammed the door on my fingers and when called before the bandmaster showed him the mutilated hand. He was sorry he had not sent me back to be shot, but now he was in for it he thought it best to give me more time. He allowed me a month My finger's were not crushed as badly as I claimed, and I did not cease my lessons. All day I practiced for my life. I hoped that the executions would cease and I would be lost sight of, but every day a number of communists were shot. A week before the end of the month I learned to play a tune which my instructor told me was a great favorite with the bandmaster. When I was called upon to show my proficiency I played this air, and It was like a pleading wail for my life. The bandmaster was astonished, and when I saw he was about to ask Mme play another piece I feigned to faint As soon as I came to myself - I was enlisted as cornet player and sent to the hospital. The bandmaster was in dread of losing me.

Soon after that they got tired of shooting communists. I served my enlistment with the band, though I played but one air that made people weep —the air I played on my examination. My whole reputation as a musician was made on that one air. I played it for ten years, and every time I did so I renewed the feelings with which I played for my life. It made for me half a million francs. I will never play it again.