Newspaper Page Text
nn for discussion the whole subject of the
, var — na y more —it brought forth from Mr.
Stephens the most masterly exposition of
great principles which lie as the
.inundation of our Confederated Govern
nent that has ever yet been given to tne
vorM It was a theme worthy of his ut
lost powers, and most triumphantly has
Vh genius accomplished the noble woik.
r n perusing the work, the reader feels
• ' it the discussion rises to the height of
■ moral sublime as objection after
, ct i on —argument after argument—
tatenient after statement —fact after fact—
harge after charge, brought forward by
the assailants of the South, as by Mr.
Stephens answered—overthrown—demol
is*ed—crushed.
\y e have in Mr. Stephens book the
most perfect history of the origin of our
Government -the progress of principles—
,<l their modes of settlement that has
..yer been written. He has given a per
f(U demonstration of the true character
of our Government, and he has done this
bv showing the true relation which the
States sustain in the compact, and the re
lation which the Congress—or the Govern
ment at Washington—sustaius IN THE
Constitution to the States forming the
Union. All this he does so plainly, so
dearly, that the humblest intellect can
understand.
His book is a text book upon the sub
ject. It should be in the hands of every
i,an, especially of every young man, in all
land—North —South —East —West. It
houM go wherever a voter is found, to
teach him a right understanding of the
mPure of the Government in which he
jjves. It should go forth to counteract, if
possible, the baleful errors respecting the
nature of our Government, now sweeping
over the land—or rather that have already
swept over it—and which errors are the
cause of the. terrible calamities which have
befallen the country in the last few years.
The war, which has desolated the land,
never would have occurred if there had
prevailed a right understanding of the
principles of the Government. The gross
assumptions of power by the Congress at
Washington never could have beeu at
tempted, or, if attempted, would never
have been sustained by the people, if the
true principles of the Government, as
established by the Constitution , had been
thoroughly understood.
The errors of Story, of Webster, of
Motley and others, are all expressed and
refuted with a master’s power, while the
views of the great patriot-statesmen—a
long list of glorious worthies —too length
ened to be introduced into this notice,*
are given in such clearness and power that
the reader seems almost to he in their very
midst, listening to the patriotic words that
fall from their lips, and catching the spirit
of Constitutional Liberty incorporated in
the Government they were founding for
their posterity.
Space does not allow us to say more in
reference to this work. We have written
merely to call attention to its attractive
pages, and urge upon all our people a pe
rusal of the book. They will reap a re
ward. M.
THE BAZAAR QUESTION.
LETTER OF THE LATE CARDINAL WISEMAN*.
Apropos of a discussion on the subject
of Catholic Bazaars, the London Tablet
publishes the following interesting letter
received some years ago from Cardinal
Wiseman. The Tablet had inserted some
letters against bazaars, &c., with the in
tention of replying to them, and impeach
ing their conclusions; but before doing
so, having heard that the Cardinal
thought that a discussion on the matter
might do harm, wrote to consult him. In
reply, the following letter was received :
Talacre, Rhyl, Sept. 2, 1862.
Lear Mr. Wallis : So far from wish
ing you to burke the subject of bazaars, I
hope you will go fully into it, more tuo.
1 could not believe that your sentiments
were expressedin the letters of “Cogitans,”
but 1 did not know of the plot. My
Tablet has not reached me yet. The
Ptopo’s lottery is a serious fact for the
enemies of those old-fashioned expedients
ot charity. You are perfectly right in
considering the antipathy to the blending
ot a little sober and innocent excitement
w ith a work of charity as a mixed result
oi Puseyism and Presbyterianism, whose
union here is mysterious. I believe the
1 rm ot amalgamation was the infusion of
1 uriranisrn into the High Church before
ai. v ot its members joined us.
* V) doubt it would be the heroism of
chanty fur two hundred Catholics to walk
demurely into a room with a ticket
| Overs box at the end and each put down
his contribution of <£s or os. to <£loo,
an | walk back home with a sort of self
sa -lied grimness in his countenance, and
“ 1 baiisaical mockery in his tossed ud
n< se at the thought that he had perform
ed a deed of charity. But, unfortunately,
‘‘heroes and heroines of charity’’ are
phenomena, and not generally people
who can give you £5. May not poor
human nature be coaxed and won a little
to do good, by an admixture of amenities,
and playfulness, and relaxation, which
even prolong and diversify the perform
ance of a virtuous act ? In the Hymn
lor Lauda, in the Office tor St. Elizabeth
■ 1 Portugal, (February 8,) there is a pret
ty allusion to her converting into roses
the charity she was bearing, so as to con
ceal it. We cannot do this, but we can
conceal it in the simpler way, as the verse
insinuates:
“ Id inn uit rosis operta charita V
Now this is what a Bazaar does. I
go in with £lO, say. I might stalk up
to kind Lady Bountiful’s stall, lay down
my money, desire it to be put down to
the account of the charity, and walk out
again without deigning to look at the
vanity fair on either side, nor at the
cheerful yet modest vestals who are try
ing to palm its goods or its evils on me.
This would be to my mind mock heroic,
and possibly real Pharisaical. Instead of
that, I wqjk through the Bazaar, go from
stall to stall, pretend to let myself be
taken in and done, by the kind-hearted
saleswomen, who know I have gone there
for no other purpose, and whose extrava
gant prices only mean “ the highest alms
you will give,” sow my ten pounds in
fractions over the various counters, and
retreat without any one the least knowing
what I have given, though the fractions
of it will join together to form the stated
figure. Igo out, covering my charity,
not indeed with roses (unless in Berlin
wool), but with slippers, pin-cushions,
most useless baby things, lucifer boxes,
and very coarse Roman collars, five shil
lings worth of the veriest trash, for which
I have giveu £lO. Yet Ido not grudge
it. They were the roses which conceal
my charity.
In the meantime, I have passed an hour
of London weather in a bright hall, and
have met and talked with scores of chari
table loungers like myself, whom I should
not otherwise have met without a formal
visit, who are also going off with pocket
and arms full of equally useless, flimsy,
and slang articles, which will be very
much valued at the distribution of prized
in their poor schools, or at the next
Bazaar.
Will any one go to bed heavier-hearted
for having thus mingled the utile of chari
ty with the dulcet) f recreation? Under
what commandment shall it be put in
our evening examination of conscience
when we come to look at our failings
that day ? I suppose one might write
an essay “on the ungodliness of Bazaars
which come of the Turks and the ma
lignitie of charitie lotteries which come
of the Pope of Rome and his shavel
ings.” But a Catholic could hardly do
it.
I have let myself ramble on, but,
really, there is a great deal to say on
the matter.
There is another subject, which I
want sometime to turn the bull’s eye
on your editorial lantern, connected with
the change in our religious literature,
to which you have already alluded.
But. I dare not enter on another sheet.
Your affect. Servt. in Xt.,
N. Card. Wiseman.
[From the Iberville (La.) South.]
Convent of the Holy Cross.— The
Annual Examination and Distribution of
Premiums, at the above named Institu
tion, took place at the Convent Buildings
on Monday and Tuesday of the present
week. The occasion was rendered doubly
interesting by the presence of the Lady
Superior of the Order of the “Holy Cross,”
who,together with a number of Ladies of
the same Order, from New Orleans, came
hither to attend the ceremonies, at the
close of the scholastic year. There were
also many of our leading citizens in at
tendance, all evincing a warm interest in
the welfare of the Academy of St. Basil.
The exercises commenced on Mon Jay
morning, and were continued until Tues
day eve. The young ladies all gave
evidence of thorough moral as well as
mental training, and rejected, by their
deportment and scholarly attainments,
much credit upon themselves, as well as
their teachers. While all did well,
Misses Minerva Dardenne, Elmire
Charre, Pocahontas Holliday, Celeste
Beck, and Clara Marix, particularly dis
tinguished themselves.
“Marco Bozzaris” was admirably re
cited by Miss Clara Marix, and the
English recitation of Miss Minerva Dar
denne was faultless. The recitations in
French were delivered in an impressive
style by two young ladies, whose names
we did not learn. “Molly Chatterbox,’’
as rendered by little Elmire Charre, was
perfection itself, and was warmly ap
plauded. After the conclusion of the
literary exercises, and the distribution of
premiums, a brief address, replete with
good advice and encouragement, to both
pupils and their parents, was delivered
by Rev. C. D’Uemecourt, the beloved
pastor of St. John’s Church. We may
safely say that “St. Basil’s Academy”
affords to parents and guardians every
educational advantage to be found in any
school in the State, and we hope that the
next academic year will witness a large
accession to the number of pupils.
Visitor.
[For the Banner of the South.]
IS THERE ANOTHER LIFE ?
BY MISS MATTIE CHAPMAN.
Another life ! Another world ! With
what strange meaning these words are
fraught! They ever arrest the wayward
thoughts, and stir the inquiries of the
heart. Our imaginations are ever tra
versing the etherial space of the bound
less Universe, to catch a view of that
mysterious other world. Yet, they ever
return to us, weary-worn and unsatisfied.
Sometimes the soul would ask : Is it a
reality, this future life of man ? or is it a
fervid, deceptive dream, that will end
with this short, mysterious life ? Is it,
like the body, to be consigned to death,
and the grave—its high aspirations for
knowledge, purity, and happiness, to be
put out in forgetfulness? Are its cease
less thirstings for glory, light, and ever
lasting life, to be quenched beneath the
dark waves of oblivion, and the pure
affections of the heart, the bright hopes
of life, never to be perfected? Oh! tell
me, are the chords of love and friendship,
that have been rudely severed by the
hand of Death, to be re-united never
again, and the friends that part with us
here to meet us no more forever ? Oh !
why is the human heart thus created,
with deep and lasting affections, bright
and glorious hopes, high and noble aspi
rations. if never to be realized ? But,
nay, we know there is another life, and
that life is in another world ! The Spirit
of God speaks to our souls, in tones un
mistakable, of a life un weakened by frail
mortality, undimmed by sorrow and care;
a life unclouded by folly and sin, and
uuembittered by pain and death; there,
the broken ties of earth shall be re-united,
and there Time’s desolating footsteps
shall never roam. Were it not for the
small voice that falls upon the heart, in
the hour of its trial and suffering, when
the spirit droops and sighs over the
heart’s loneliness and desolation, amid its
blighted hopes and chilled affections—
when those, who once filled it with joy.
light, and love, are.taken away ! away so
far, into the unknown beyond, and the
restless spirit chafes against its “prison
house of clay,” and longs to proudly soar
away from this dreary, darkened Earth,
to find its lost ones in a brighter, purer
sphere—then, how could this heart well
endure such pain as this, were it not for
this still, small voice that falls so softly,
soothingly, upon the troubled spirit, and
tells it to struggle on and suffer, in view
of this life to come.
And yet, fully delineated, how little do
we know of our future destiny ?—how
little, even of to-morrow? Beyond the
boundary of Earth, these mortal eyes
cannot penetrate. We cannot follow the
departing spirit of some loved one to the
brink of the “Dark River,” as it starts
oft’ on its unknown journey to another
world; but there we must turn back.
Beyond all is mystery impenetrable; yet,
could we snatch away the “veil of mor
tality” from these eyes, methinks we
could see them, ere the farewells are
hushed on Earth, greet their long-lost
friends on the shores of the other world;
and our ears might catch the music of
harp-strings swept by angelic fingers, as
they strike up their triumphant notes to
proclaim the victory of another soul over
Death and the Grave.
Through Deatli and the Grave must
we all go, ere we inherit the joys of that
glorious other world. The soul cannot
escape—’tis bound to Earth by chains of
clay, and encircled by the “River of
Death.” How often, when the soul
grows weary of the burdens and disap
pointments of life, does it long to burst
these bonds ? But Fate points to the
Dark River, and the pillow of dust!
Then the timid soul shrinks into its
“prison house of clay,” in woe and despair,
till Faith discerns the bright ray of light
which has lit up the dark way since the
passage through it of Death’s great
Conqueror.
Is it strange, that when we contemplate
this future existence, we should wonder
and fear ? Is it strange, the heart, be
wildered in the maze of alternate hopes
and fears, is ever asking, where ?
“ ’Till Faith and Hope, best boons to mortals given,
Catch up the bright ray, and point us up to Heaven.’*
A Noble Example —A meeting, com
posed of Catholic ladies, presided over by
his Eminence, Cardinal Cullen, was lately
held in Dublin for the purpose of raising
funds in support of the Pontifical Army.
Among the distinguished personages who
took an active part in this movement
were the Lady of the Mayor of Dublin,
the Marchioness of Londonderry, the
Countess of Portalingtor, the Countess of
Granard, Lady French, Lady Bellow,
Lady Burke, and other ladies of distinc
tion. What a noble example for the
Catholic ladies of Baltimore, especially
when the Garibaldian movements against
our holy Father have recommenced in
Italy.— Balt. Cath. Mirror.
[From the Loudon Musical World,]
C. M. VON WEBER AT MUNICH,
Weber arrived on the 14th March,
1811, at Munich, having always resolved I
to make that capital the central point of
his artistic tours. King Louis did not
yet sit upon the throne of Bavaria, and
Munieh could not boast of that aureola
of glory with which the name of Corne
lius, Hess, Kaulbach, Schvvanthaler,
Klenxer, and others, were destined to
surround it. But, since Carl Theodor,
all its princes had displayed both taste
and zeal for musical ait. Maximilian
Joseph had already done much to de
serve the name of the “ father of his peo
ple.” The fact is, however, the Bavarians
preferred the pleasures of the table, and
other sensual pleasures, to those which
art could procure them. Artists,there
fore, could scarcely* seek glory among
them, but they easily became popular.
The stage, which had altogether gone to
decay towards the end of the seventt e ith
century, had risen again under the
hand of Babo, a dramatic poet, the author
of “ Otto von Wittolsbach,” aided by
Max Heigel, an admirable and really
superior actor. But Babo struggled in
vain against the fatal tendencies of Count
Torring Seefeld, the Court Intendant,
who liked only the pomp, splendor, and
tinsel ot the Italian theatre. Seeing that
he could not resist the Count, Babo re
tired, and a committee was intrusted
with the task ot managing the theatre in
his place. The principal musical direct
or was Peter Winter, the composer of
“Das unierbrochene Opferfest” who
was twice invited to visit Paris, but was
not more successful there with his “Ta
merlan” than with his “Castor.” His
music, says M. Fetis, was considered more
antiquated than that of Rameau, and in
ferior even to that of Candeille. Ac
cording to Weber, he possessed a certain
degree of merit as an orchestral conduct
or, though he was deficient in delicacy of
ear, precision, and warmth. He was,
too, a man at petty mind, envious and
sly. Louis Spohr, in his autobiography,
has characterized him with a few touches.
His size was gigantic, and his strength
proportionate to it, but he was, with all
this, as timid as a bare. He flew every
instant into fits of excessive rage, and yet
allowed himself to be led like an infant.
His old housekeeper exercised the most
absolute control over him. If, for in
si nice, she happened to find him arranging
and preparing his little dolls for a Christ
mas tree, an occupation of which he was
madly fond, and to which he to de
vote himself for hours together, she
would run up, interrupt him in what he
was doing, and exclaim indignantly,
“ When do you mean to leave off play
ing ? Go to your piano directly, and
finish your air, sir !”
Weber bad letters from the Grand
Duke and the Grand Duchess of Darm
stadt, lor the Queen of Bavaria, and, also,
for some other persons, among whom
were Count von Montgelas, the all-pow
erful minister, and Wiebeking, the direc
tor ot public works. The minister
served him so well that, extraordinary as
the fact was under the reign of formal
etiquette, five days after his arrival,
Weber had an audience of the Queen,
who talked along time with him, and, in
the King’s name, promissed him per
mission to give concerts in the town, ex
pressing, moreover, a wish to hear him
herself, and be the first to enjoy that
pleasure. At YY iebeking’s house the art
ist found himself at home. In a very
short time he became attached to Wiebe
king, who was an original, and then busy
building, on anew plan of his own in
vention, the great bridge over the Isar.
Weber gave pianoforte lessons to Wiebe
king’s daughter Fanny, who possessed
real talent for the piano united to genuine
artistic feeling. At Wiebeking’s house,
from which he was now scarcely ever
absent, Weber made the acquaintance of
Barmann, the celebrated clarinetist, and
wrote for him the Clarinet Concertino,
op. 20, which Barmann played so often.
A friendship, which was never interrupt
ed, sprang up between the two men, and
ended only with life. But, though they
were like eacli other in sentiment and
character, nothing could be more dis
similar than their persons. Weber was
thin, pale, and spare ; Barmann was tall,
with the air ot an athlete, and a magni
ficently fine head. Carl Maria said
laughingly, in reference to his friend’s
physical advantages, “all the best bits are
offered him in a silver dish ; poor devils,
like myself, are obliged to content them
selves with the crumbs which fall from
his well supplied table.”
Prince Bariatinsky’s brilliant saloons,
also, were thrown open to the young
composer, who took a strange delight in
the manners and polite customs of the
old courts, the vestiges of which were
still found at the house of the Russian
minister. The pick of scholars and
artists was, likewise, to be*found there.
It was there that Weber met Schelling,
the celebrated philosopher, whose works
he had seriously studied, and whose
name inspired him with respect, mingled
with a kind of fear. “I thought I was
dreaming,” he says in a letter, ‘-the first
time I beheld this truly great man.” At
a subsequent period, he said, with simple
delight, “Schelling and myself are like
two good friends.”
1 eter \\ inter, the old conductor, be
haved at first to VY eber as he behaved
to all young persons ; he kept him at a
distance, and overwhelmed him with
compliments, as long as he saw in him
only an amateur; but, when he found out
what he really was, he treated him so
roughly, that all the members of his
orchestra were iudignant at such behavior.
Weber, however, had enlisted their sym
pathy, and entertained no doubt of their
support His evil star appeared to have
softened its rigor. On the Bth of April
he gave a concert at the Theatre Royal.
He had already become known, and peo
ple spoke of him a great deal. The at
tendance was large. But, though assisted
by excellent artists, his symphony,
which, with the exception of the allegro,
was feebly executed, failed to excite much
enthusiasm. His cantata, “The First
Sound,” did not obtain the applause
which usually greeted it. The great suc
cess of the evening was achieved by the
pianoforte concerto played by himself,
and by the new clarinet concertino. The
b* • made a marvellous impression. The
King was so enchanted with it that, after
the concert, he ordered YVeber to write
two more pieces of the same kind, for the
same instrument.
Weber immediately set about his task.
But, while working at the clariuet pieces
ordered by the King, he wrote, at the re
quest of the manager, Franzel, four airs
for the revival of Kotzebue’s “Armer
Minnesinger,” and contributed to the
Morgeriblatt an article on the improve
ment of the flute. “It appears,” he writes
to Gottfried Weber, “that the very
deuce is in the entire orchestra. There
is not one member of it who lias not asked
me to write a concerto for his particular
instrument. You see that I have plenty r
to do. I shall probably stay here all the
Summer. My receipts are satisfactory,
and another concert given before rav de
parture will certainly bring in a good
sum. The public belief is that I am to
be created a chapelmaster, but you know
what I think on that head. At any rate,
l have some hope of getting my opera<
played here.”
This hope was destined to be realized
sooner than the young composer antici
pated. It is evident that some secret in
fluence had been exerted on Winter, who,
from being exceedingly rude, suddenly
displayed an excess of attention and
friendly politeness. From the lips of the
grand director himself, Weber received an
intimation that his “Abou Hassarn” would
be forthwith put in preparation.
Truly enough, the rehearsals soon be
gan, and were rapidly carried on. The
orchestra was filled with zealousness for
the young composer, and displayed in the
execution of his light and easy music a
great amount of fire and spirit, The first
performance took place on the 14th June.
But, alas! the malignant body that
Weber persisted in calling his star, and
which had spared him on the occasion of
his concert, appeared to have determined
on repaying itself with usury. The theatre
was full, and the overture enthusiastically
applauded. The charming duet between
Hassarn and Fatima had just begun, when
cries of “fire!” were suddenly heard.
The public rushed to the doors, and the
alarm was general. They soon discover
ed that it was a false alarm, but it re
quired some time to restore calm, and the
state of feeling necessary for appreciating
a musical work was gono for the rest of
the evening.
The little opera was, however, sung
and played charmingly, despite this un
fortunate interruption. Several numbers
were applauded to the great delight of
the young composer, and the success was
all he could desire. Thus encouraged, he
wanted nothing better than to compose
another opera. ‘T am sighing most pro
foundly for a libretto,” he wrote to Gaus
bacher; “without an opera in progress, I
am the most unfortunate of men!”
His misfortune lasted no less than ten
years, since it was decreed that the first
creation of his genius, after the pretty
little opera of “Abou Hassarn” was to be
the greatest of all his works, “Der
Freischutz.”
___
Flunkevism. —How would the follow
ing read ? ‘‘On the 11th July’, at Bol
lingford Park, Wilts, the wife of Sir An
thony Stubbs, of a baronet.” Yet this is
the way the leading journals set to work,
when another baby is added to the house
hold of 11R.11., the Prince of Wales.
Why on earth will the Tunes talk about
the “Princess of Wales being safely de
livered of a Princess P Is there not
the word “daughter” in the English lan
guage ? — Tomahawk.
5