Newspaper Page Text
VOIi. 11.
For the Banner of the South.
The Mermaids.
BY S. K. PHILLIPS.
Wfcat a merry time the Mermaids have,
In their palace under the sea;
Never a night but they gaily meet,
In their dainty halls where their happy l'eet,
Keep time to the ocean’s minstrelsy.
High over all, on a diamond throne,
With a sceptre in her jewel’d hand,
Kits the queen of the realm in royal state,
While brilliant trains of mermaids wait,
And watch for her command.
Like Venice of old, their palace homes,
By waters are girt about,
But Venice ne’er saw in her proudest day,
Such festive scenes,—such a bright array,
Os barges gliding in and out.
No monarch of earth can boast such things,
As bedeck their palace halls,—
The mystic touch of a master’s hand,
Ne’er painted a picture fit to stand,
By those that adorn its walls.
Saphire, ruby, and mother-of-pearl,
In rich mosaics cover the floors,
While gossamer curtains of strangest dies,
Give a tinge like that of Italian skies,
To the gilding over the doors.
Pilasters and columns of coral made,
Its shell-lined dome up-bear,
While Corinthian cornice of gold in I'rost.
Kecalling the arts the ancients lost,
Circle the ceilings everywhere.
Silence reigns thro’ the corridors,
When they sing their ocean airs,
And never a mortal ear hath heard.—
And never a human heart been stirr’d,
By music as sweet as theirs.
Only the winds from temperate zones,
As they pass o’er fields of flowers,
Caii compare with the strange, sweet melody,
’-That fills with a chasten'd ecstaey,
Their swiftly gliding hours.
They know no cares like we mortals do;
They never have known a pain;
Even the storms that sweep the ocean’s breast,
Serve only to rock them sweetly to rest,
V\ hence they wake to joy* again.
Selma, Ala.
For the Banner of the South.
THE LAST OAYS OF CARTHAGE;
OR
A SISTER OF FABIOLA.
AFTER THE MANNER OF THE FRENCH.
CHAPTER I.
THE MESSAGE.
It was towards evening. The sun was
near its decline, and a soft breeze gdided
lightly over the blue waters that washed
found the proud and happy Carthage
Horne had been its enemy and had sought
ibs ruin by the force of arms. But its
time had not yet arrived, and it was still
called “alter Home the glory and pride
of the world/’ The day, as we have re
marked, was fast drawing to a close, and
the inhabitants were rapidly filling the
avenues that led along the coast. The
most delicious fruits grew in abundance
along the way, and the dark foliage of
the tig and olive formed a shade almost
impervious to the sun. As the crowd
passed along subjects of divers kinds
termed the subject of conversation,
spoke of commerce, and of the ar-
! ,ul °1 so many vessels within their
■moors; others spoke of politics and
grew animated in recounting the resist
ame oi their people to the eucroachments
Numerous battles had been
1 'l‘ght, and deeds of prowess had given
prestige to their arms. Feelings of Na-
pride filled their hearts and they
ready to sacrifice all for the inde
pendence of their country. The grand-
M 0 burthage was before their minds,
i a the names of Annibal and Ganna;
wo i 1 * U lc^r memor ies. But there
ere ot iers again that were occupied
v a subject totally different. There
anew religion, mysterious in its
i nn untl austere in its laws. It had
t! & *, or two ceQ turies had triumph
, ‘ UKr j lie clforts of science and the
j. * U j r Cmsars. Though perse
on every side, it had penetrated
(<• ! l ltJ bosoms of families of the higli
j,i; l,r^er > au d had made its influence be
X j Ucli among the members of the
° ‘iiate.
a inediey of topics engaged the
' L *‘ e £ r °up s that strolled along
the avenues. The rich cargoes that had
arrived at their shores and the increasing’
prosperity oi their trade—the grandeur
of their city—the formidable rival of
Rome, and the memorable deeds of their
generals; and dually the superhuman
struggles of the Nazarenes against the
strength of popular ideas, and an effect
ive opposition on the part of the ruling
power
There was one individual who walked
alone. He had chosen the borders of
that famous aqueduct which brought water
into the city from the steep and rugged
mountains that arose: far in the distance.
He was clad in a long cloak after the
manner of those who were termed “phil
osophers. ’ His countenance bore the
marks of study, though they still retain
ed the vigor and freshness of maturity.
He appeared absorbed in deep reflection
and unmindful of the beauties of nature
he was treading under foot. The things
of this world, it would seem, were too
trivial for his attention; thoughts of the
soul alone were a subject worthy of the
mind. He was tall and well formed,
and the regular coutour of his features
and his masculine deportment wore that
majesty which is inspired by virtue and
by self-control. But that sweet serenity
which attracts the affections of the heart,
was absent. His forehead was high and
his hair fell loosely and in large curls
over his shoulders. His eye was bril
liant. and penetrating and in it shone the
beauty and power of his noble genius.
Now and then his gaze wore a sombre
look and would indicate perhaps the ap
proach of some storm that was preparing
in the depths of his soul. It might be
said that there was something superhu
man in his character and appearance. He
seemed to be possessed of a nature dif
ferent from the generality of mankind
and to be free from their frailty and
weakness. There w r as something in him
which appeared to extend the limit, of
virtue and to recall the purity of the
angels in the children of Adam, and the
sanctity of heaven in this world of mise
ry and sin. His moral strength was
perhaps all but invincible, and if lie were
ever called to stiuggle with temptation,
it would be as the lion playing with the
lamb, bor him to communicate the in
terior operations of his being, it would
require another medium than that of
language, another eloquence than that
which is human, for the expression of
his elevated ideas. If lie were asked
what he desired od earth, he would reply
“nothing,” and point above as the term of
his ambition.
This man was Tertulliau.
I here was a street which led from the
aqueduct to the citadel. It was lined
with houses of sumptuous magnificence.
Numbers of slaves stood at the doors or
were grouped together on the galleries,
awaiting the return of their masters.
Songs of the most joyous kind, accom
panied with the harp or guitar, resound
ed everywhere and were wafted in deli
cious melody upon the evening air. The
theatres were numerous and superb and
the public baths were built of the most
precious marble and adorned with the
most elegant scnlptury. It was the
quarters to which resorted the most fash
ionable part of the population and was
the dwelling place for what might be
called the aristocracy. Fronting the
street stood the imposing facade and
magnificent brass gates of the temple
dedicated to Juno. The floor was inset
with the most precious stones, and glit
tered with all the tints of the rainbow.
The interior was spacious, and its area
was surrounded with huge columns sup
porting the dome which towered aloft
like the vault of heaven. The inhabi
tants regarded thisstupenduous monument
with feelings of pride and exultation, and
spared jio pains to make it rival in costly
magnificence the grandeur of the Roman
Capitol.
Tertullian had turned from the borders
ot the aqueuuct and was passing along
AUGUSTA, GA., MARCH 20, 1869.
this way. He surveyed everything as
he went along. He saw in all this
grandeur naught but the manifestations
of woidiy pride, and he accordingly con
templated what he suw with feelings of
contempt and disdain. The theatre at
tracted his attention. The paleness of his
countenance gave way to a crimson blush
as he thought of the immoral represen
tations that gathered together there the
voluptuous and corrupteapf the city. He
passed on and presently came to the tem
ple. The High Priest clothed in his
pontifical robes, and attended by his
ministers, was descending the steps
at the grand portal. Tertullian stood
still and watched him for a time.
His features once mure resumed their
pallid color. The convulsive trembling
of his entire frame and his darkened sul
len look indicated that his sympathies
were not there. Suddenly he advanced
and placing himself proudly before the gate
of the temple, muttered in a bitter tone:
“Oh! sacrilegious idols! how long will ye
be allowed to insult Christ, my God?
Y\ hen shall my eyes behold the cross rise
triumphant over the debris of your scat
tered, ruins ?” Happily the Pontiff did
not either hear or understand him, for
those that accompanied him would have
torn the “blasphemer’’ to pieces, and per
haps it would have been the signal fur
commencing a persecution against all the
Christian Churches of Africa. Tertul
lian pursued his way, and in a few mi
nutes came to a house inhabited by
wealthy people, judging from its princely
appearance. A Nubian slave opened the
door to admit him.
This dwelling, which had recently
been constructed, was composed of sev
eral distinct parts. There was the par
ticum, built of the purest marble. The
atrium, a sort of court, was surrounded
with arcades supported by pillars of dif
ferent kinds of stone, among which shone
with greatest raagnificenco the glittering
alabaster. Representations of flowers
and of all that was beautiful in nature
were sculptured along the sides and im-
parted an air of vitality to that peculiar
form of architecture. Luxury seemed
to have exhausted its ingenuity in the
decorations of the different apartments.
Rich soft carpets inwrought with the most
complicated and beautiful designss cover
ed the floors. Chandeliers of plated gold
hung from the ceiling, and statues of the
most exquisite workmanship, represent
ing the heroes of the nation, or the re
markable personag :s of the family, stood
like living realities in every available
place. Paintings such as to equal those
of more modern times were suspended on
the walls, and vases of flowers filling
the air with the most delicious fragrance,
reposed on tables carved into the most
fantastic shapes and formed of wood
brought from the far Last. Tapestries
of various colors hung around, and were
ornamented with family devices and cu
rious hieroglyphics, recalling to the differ
ent members of the household, the me
morable deeds of their ancestors. Em
broideries of gold and silver formed the
curtains that fell loosely and in graceful
folds over the couches and figures, the
embodiment of pure ideal conceptions,
wrought in ivory and mounted with the
most precious metal, served as fastenings
to these rich and delicate structures.
The climate here is hot and an artificial
coolness is sought to be produced by the
formation of deep reservoirs, filled with
the clearest water. In the centre of the
court there was a large fountain supplied
by one of these basins, and the ardors of
the noon-day sun were tempered by the
cool vaporous atmosphere that arose in
clouds from this troubled lake. Such
was the mansion into which Tertullian had
been conducted by the Nubian slave.
In one of the inner apartments was a
young lady, softly reclining upon a couch
and holding in her arms an infant. She
was gazing silently upon it, and a smile
of complacency played upon her lips.
Her attention seemed totally absorbed
with the object before her, so that she
did not feel aware of the stranger’s ap
proach. Never did she appear more to
advantage. Her features were of an ex
treme delicate paleness, and youth and
beauty were personified in her graceful
form. There was no haughtiness of ex
pression in her look, but on the contrary
every movement was graced with a sweet
air of modesty. It was evident that
she belonged to the new religion which
elevates and purifies the female heart.
I>ut she had not yet been fully initiated
into its mysterious depths, nor was her
mind sufficiently enlightened as to its
veritable spirit. She was virtuous and
chaste, but she was far from disdaining
the arts of luxury and wordly ostenta
tion. She was clad in robes of the most
costly material. Gold bracelets adorned
her wrists and a chain of coral, display
ing a curiously wrought clasp in front,
was suspended around her neck. Her
attire was in harmony with the elegance
of her apartments, and it was not diffi
cult to see that she had not yet entered
into the true spirit of the Christian faith.
“Vivia Perpetua, for 1 dare not call
you by the name of sister, much less by
that of daughter, Yivia, do you recog
nize me ?’’ And the voice of Tertullian
trembled with emotion.
“Why that severe word, Father?” an
swered the young lady, rising quickly
from the couch. “In what have I de
served your anger that you shoul treat
me with a severity that I have not as
yet experienced among the Christians,
my new brethren ? Oh! do not deprive
me of that happiness which God has
given me but rather bless the happv
mother and her innocent babe.” And she
knelt at his feet and presented him her
infant.
“May he from whom all paternity de
rives its name, in heaven aud on earth,
bless you and your child. You ask me,
Vivia, why my language is severe; Vi
via, why I did not call you by the name
of sister, by that name which the
Christian Priest loves to give to the
children of the true God. In, entering
your room, I have beheld nothing but
the luxury and ornaments of a pagan
house. Look around you, audit is doubt
less here that you meditate upon that
holy law which you have promised to
embrace; it is here that you study the
life of that God who has descended" upon
the earth to save you! Here , that you
adore and pray! here , Vivia!”
“Yes, father, it is thus. But it is a
place dear to me, for it is here where for
six months I have lived alone in the ab
sence of my beloved husband, and
where my .sad solitude has only been re
lieved by the presence of this sweet in
fant; and it is here, too, where I can re
call the pious instructions which I have
received from you and from other vener
ated masters of the Lord. Believe me
Father, believe the words of your hum
ble child. Here I have shed tears of
gratitude for the blessing of perceiv
ing the falsity of the ancient religion
and of being brought to the threshold of
the house of God. And this infant
which you have called an angel is a wit
ness that, often I have bent to the ground
and poured forth the deepest effusions of
my soul, asking the grace to be purified
in the salutary waters of Baptism, even
should my blood be demanded in return
for this mysterious regeneration!”
“Take care, \ ivia, presumption, the
offspring of pride, has, 1 am afraid, taken
possession of your heart. We have
many evidences of the evil resuls of pre
sumption, one of which is nothing less
than apostacy. Before you have entered
into the contest you proudly defy all
kinds of sufferings, and even the tor
tures ol death! But these riches, in
which you seem to take so much delight, ,
are more than sufficient to enervate and
weaken the heart of a young Neophyte.
And that infant in which you centre all
your affection—looking forward to its first
smile with all the devotedness of a ten-
der mother—of that infant which you
s*em to idolize— that infant !
Oli! spare me! Father spare me!
do not break the heart of the frail crea
ture that you see before you, and who
now implores your pity! oh! it is true
my child is dearer to me than all the
world beside. The very thought of
being separated from it pierces my heart
with a sword of grief. Nevertheless,
rather than deny the religion in which I
believe and which I am going to embrace,
1 would consent—yes, I would consent to
leave my beloved a wandering orphan
upon the earth. If this sacrifice is asked
of me, I trust, I shall receive a corres
ponding strength to pass nobly through
the ordeal.” She could say no more.
An unearthly pallor suffused itself over
her beautiful countenance as she fell
back upon the lounge. Tears coursed
down her cheeks, and seizing her infant
in her arms, she folded it convulsively
to her bosom.
Tertullian was overcome, but suddenly
accusing himself of a weakness un
worthy of his character he resumed:
ivia, I suspect not the sincerity of
your protestations, but we are all mortal,
aud the heart of man is even for himself
an abyss full of mystery. I know that
you have not forgotten your promises,
that you still desire to go on with the
good works you have begun, and that
you seek for strength at that fountain
head whence all graces flow. But if you
had understood the spirit of that divine
faith into which you ask to be initiated,
why this scandalous display of luxury
which is opposed to humility and Chris
tian modesty ? From the moment that
woman has the happiness of renouncing
the worship of the gods and of turning
her gaze towards the true sun of justice,
wordly pride and its outward manifesta
tions do not exist for her. The most
beautiful simplicity is visible in her attire
as well as in the decoration of her apart
ments. It is thus that she expresses the
griet and repentance of the first mother
of her sex, and it is thus that she en
deavors to expiate what she has re
ceived from her i e the shame of prevari
cation and the part she hud had in the
fall of humanity. Vivia, the justice of
God weighs heavily upon woman. Eve,
driven forth from that delicious garden in
which her first happy days were passed,
contented herself with garments which
the hand of God had woven, but for you,
the purple of Tyre, the rich wools of
Milet, the precious embroideries of Ba
bylon, the glitter of oriental diamonds,
gold brought from afar to satisfy your
vanity, and mirrors of silver to flatter you
by the eclat of a gaudy plumage, which
is not your own ! Do you know that this
empty display belongs to those who still
fall down before the pedestals of idols
and worship them as their gods ? Those
riches with which your attention is so
much engaged, have not been given you
to satisfy the caprices of your fancy.
The giver has had a more noble end in
view. lie desires that you should repre
sent his providence. Around you are
those who have been stricken with pover
ty and have not where with to satisfy the
necessities of life. Leave aside, Vivia,
all those vain ornaments, which are only
fit to be worn by pagans, and make a
more noble use of that opulence which
has fallen to your lot. Give bread to the
famished crowd that gather on your
doorsteps—clothe those whose ragged
garments scarcely protect them from ex
posure. Redeem the captives, and send
alms to your brethern who, for con
fessing the faith, have been mercilessly
deprived of all their possessions. You
will then have earned a blessing for your
self, for many a wound will be healed
and many a tear be spared.”
Vivia had listened with patience and
docility to the severe words of Tertul
lian. For the first time she began to
reflect seriously upon the inutility of her
luxurious mode of living, and she ex
perienced regret that she had
ISTo. 1.