VOL. 11.
For the Banner of the South.
Look Not Upon The Wine.
Look not upon the wino when it is red. when it giv
eth hia color in his cups, when it moveth itself aright.
At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like
adder.—Proverbs xxiii, 31, 32, King James’ Version.
Look not upon the wine-cup’s ray,
Look not upon the wine;
Though temptingly its bright waves play
And o’er the margin shine;
For though enchantment’s syren smile
The gleam of joy may wear,
Let net its rosy light beguile—
Wild frenzy lurketh there.
Look not upon the wine-cup’s light,
Look not upon the wine:
For not more falsely to the sight
Tlj,ose mimic fountain’s shine,
That o’er the desert’s burning waste
Weave their light showers in air,
To cheat the eye, to mock the taste,
And turn hope to despair.
Look not upon the wine-cup’s hue,
Look not upon the wine;
Though sparklingly its rays gleam through
The wreaths that round it twine;
Oh ! shun the phantom floating there,
Avoid its perfumed breath,
And. dee the stings its serpents bear
Os frenzy and of death.
Cedbic.
For the Banner of the South.
TIE LAST DAYS OF CARTHAGE;
OR
A SISTER OF FABIOLA.
AFTER THE MANNER OF THE FRENCH.
CHAPTER VI.
Whilst all these conspiracies were
being carried on in secret, the Church
of Carthage enjoyed comparative peace
and tranquility. A general assembly of
the Christians was to be held, and the
house belonging to a widow, a close rela
tive of the Bishop, was chosen for this
purpose. It was beautifully situated.
It was sheltered by the dark foliage of a
thick grove on the side of the country,
while the front looked towards the sea,
that washed in gentle murmurs the base
of the elevation upon which it stood. At
the end of one of the avenues which or
namented the pleasure grounds was
an altar. There were two scats placed
to the light and left, and were reserved
for the Primate and another Bishop who
had come to visit him.
The prayers preceding the sacrifice
were begun. The people assisted with
feelings of the most profound devotion.
TANARUS! tanks were offered to God for the peace
which the Church of Africa enjoyed,
and for the progress which the Gospel
had made among the Gentiles. Prayers
were said for those other Churches that
had suffered persecution, and were still
suffering from the penalties of cruel leg
islation. They prayed that those who
were called upou to profess the faith,
might do it fearlessly, and that they
might have the fortitude to suffer death
rather than offer incense to the Gods.
They prayed likewise for the poor iufi
<lels, that they might finally open their
eyes to light and abandon their super
stitious ways to enter the fold of Jesus
Christ; that the Caesars who were vic
torious over the barbarians that threaten
ed the Empire, should fall conquered
and repentant at. the foot of that cross
which, for two hundred years they tram
pled under foot in their blind and impo
tent rage. Several were then admitted
as catechumens. The time now came
for the ottering up of the real sacrifice.
A venerable dignitary, preceded by Op
talius, the Bishop of Carthage, now ap
proached the altar. Ho was old, and
his decrepit form showed that he hed ex
perienced the infirmities of age. His
hair was long and snowy white, and fell
in large natural curls down his shoulders.
He carried in his hand a crosier, which.
jvhde it served to support his enfeebled
hndy, indicated the dignity of his pastoral
office. His countenance was mild and
benevolent. It bore the expression of
profound piety, and the marks of a vivid
|aith were visible in the brightness and
° vin g anxiety of his eyes as he turned
d;em upwards in prayer. The sacrifice
>u 'nt on, and many approached the sacred
, tar and received from his venerable
oandsthe sacrament of love Towards
the close of the ceremonies, the Deacon
turned round to the people, and chanted
in a loud voice: “ lte misva est ” —“Go,
the mass is finished.” The Te Deum
was now sung, the people standing- np
and joining their voices in their sacred
chant.
But. who was this aged Priest? No
one had seen him before at Carthage.
He wore the pallium, the symbol of high
rank in the hierarchy of the Church.
The solemnity of the service had stifled
for a time all sentiments of curiosity but
once it was finished, all were naturally
anxious to discover who he was. He ad
dressed them in a few words on the im
portance of salvation, but modesty for
bade him to speak of himself. It was
Narcisse. He had beeu born in. the third
century of the Church. While he was a
child, he had listened to the accents that
fell from the lips of the Prophet of Pat
mos. lie had conversed with th 3 imme
diate successors of the Apostles, with St.
Clement, St. Polycarp, aud with St. Ig
natius of Antioch. He had been called
to witness the martyrdom of St. Pollius
of Lyons. He had tendered him conso
lation in prison, and had watched with
him to hie latest hour. At the time to
which we refer, he had already attained
his 112th year. His parents had been
christened, and lie was necessarily brought
up in the love of virtue, lie was, how
ever, left an orphan at an early age, but
he had already acquired a taste for
learning, and ho spared no eflfprt to study
the doctrines of the Apostles. He had
a natural aptitude for acquiring know
ledge, and under the influence of those
brilliant lights of the Church, he became
an able defender of its dogmas, and was
regarded as a formidable opponent of
the stronghold of Paganism. Nature
had marked him out as her favorite, and
had lavished upon him the gifts of a
pleasing countenance and a graceful
figure. The mild but firm glance of his
brilliant eye, could could not but com
mand respect at the same time that it
won its way to the heart and elicited the
deepest sentiments of affection. His
forehead was high, and would have borne
the expression of pride, but for the sweet
ness of the smile that ever played upon
his lips. It was in this latter trait that
the qualities of liis soul were principally
depicted, and judging from his outward
mark, it could not be but in close com
munion v.’itli God. There was no dis
guise nor dissimulation in his manner,
but, on the contrary, an openness and a
frankness that drew all arcund him and
impressed them with an unshaken confi
dence. But years had left this impression
upon his wrinkled brow, and already his
form was bent and his step unsafe. The
vigor of his iutellectual faculties alone
remained unimpaired, and seemed to
progress in inverse ratio of the feebleness
of their material tenement.
His blameless morals, his talents, and
vast acquirements in the traditions of
the Church, his iudefatigable efforts in
sustaining the doctrine of the faith
against the attacks of heretics, had
brought him into notice, and it was not
long before he was elevated to the digni
ty of the Priesthood. St. Poly carp, of
Smyrna, ordained him. The Saint was
exceedingly fond of him, and desired
most ardently that he would remain
with him, to aid in conducting the affairs
of his diocese- Narcisse came to Jeru
salein just at this time. His modesty
had induced him to take this step. He
considered that he could remain there
quiet and unobserved, but he was mis
taken. God had destined him to a no
bler position in his Church, and called
him to responsibilities before which his
timid nature would have shrunk with
fear. He was elected Bishop, despite
his remonstrances, and he now began to
fill the chair which had been formerly
occupied by the Apostle St. James.
It had been said of him that he had
restored sight to the blind, made the
deaf hear, and the tame walk. The
AUGUSTA, GLA., APRIL 10, 1860.
faith which is sufficient to remove moun
tains, was possessed by him in a degree
which might be termed supernatural.
His fame had gone abroad, though he
spared no pains to keep secret whatever
assistance he had afforded the people
through the power and will of the
Almighty.
His eminent virtues, however, did not
shield him from the curiosity of several
individuals whom he had been obliged to
reprove with severity. They had re
solved to have revenge. Their first idea
was to assassinate him, but they came to
reflect that death would be to him a boon
and anything but a punishment. They
know that he sighed only after Heaven,
and that he lovingly complained that God
had forgotten him upon this world.
Assassination, for this holy pontiff,
would not have been regarded as any
thing to be avoided, and would not have
satisfied the thirst of the wretch who
thirsted to do him harm.
The spirit of evil has often shed blood,
but one of its most powerful weapons is
calumny. They knew that this latter
instrument would inflict a wound on the
heart ol the patriarch more profound and
lasting than if they had brought sudden
ly to a close that life which he coveted
not, and which, in any was well
nigh extinct. From his earliest years,
Narcisse had cherished within his bosom
like a precious gift the sacred virtue of
purity. He had seen the world, and had
been surrounded with its enticing scenes,
but he heard the song of the syrens with
out being seduced to their fatal shore.
He was old, and it was impossible that
temptation should obtain the mastery
over his heart. It was still within their
power to harm him. The past offered
them a wide field upon which they might
labor to tarnish his character and drag
from his brow, in the esteem of the people,
that aureola of purity which, up to the
present time, had borne no stain to cloud
the brilliancy of its gems.
There was a woman living at this
time in Jerusalem. Her life was disso
lute, and her name was dissolute and her
uame was a scandal to those who knew
her. She lived in luxury, and lavished
upon her vanity the gold that was thrown
at her feet by the lascivious crowd. One
day, from some motive unknown, she
repaired to the house of the Bishop, to
ask the favor of doing public penance
and of being admitted to baptism. The
predecessor of Narcisse lived there at
this time. She succeeded in her demand,
and was received into the number of
those whom the Church supported with
alms.
Whence came this woman ? Her ac
cent and manners were foreign. Where
were her relatives ? Where was her
country ? No one could say. It was
simply known that she had come to Jeru
salem in all the beauty of her youth, ac
companied with a crowd of slaves that
trembled before her as they would before
the tyranny of a barbarous queen ; that
she had rented in the most fashionable
quarter of the town a beautiful dwelling,
which since became the receptacle of the
licentious of the city : that she had ever
held in contempt, and insulted by her
blasphemies, the Church of Jesus Christ.
Her conservatism was sometimes suspi
cious, and led to suppose that she was
not sincere in demanding the grace of
baptism, hut simply to obtain the succor
which was usually given by the Church.
The mask of hypocrisy was thick, but to
the close observer it was sufficiently
transparent to allow the traits of her con
cealed countenance to he seen.
A woman of this kind was what just
suited those parties who had sworn to re
venge themselves for the humiliation to
which they had been subjected. They
had money and influence, and with those
two powerful elements they hoped to
succeed. They consulted with each other,
and finally resolved to call upon her.
She appeared somewhat astonished to see
three men coming at the dead hour of night,
but when she saw that they had money,
her eyes flashed with delight. They
were not slow to observe this.
“ We know who thou art, woman,” be
gan one of the visitors. “ Thou hast been
called the ‘Beautiful Juno.’ This is the
name which thou gavest thyself at a time
when thou hadst crowds of adorers among
the Jews and Pagans, who were ruined
without briuging any advantage to thee.
Jewels and precious stones were thy
play toys, and viands lit for princes were
scarcely delicate enough to be placed
upon thy table. Thou hadst a palace to
live in, and thy retinue was numerous,
and always at thy side to assist thee.
What a change ? What is the meaning
of this poor cabin ! Is this all that is
left thee for thy old age ? The bread
thou hast to eat must indeed be bitter,
for it is the bread of the poor, the price
of lies and hypocrisy. It is useless to
deceive m >-by false protestations, for in
thy heart thou hast never abjured the re
ligion of thy fathers. Thou art Christian
only in name. Every one says it, and
the Bishop believes it, and, if I mistake
not, he will refuse thee for the future
the bread that enables thee to live.
What will become of thee ? But, listen;
if thou desirest, thou canst have the
means of going back to thy country.
Thou canst then have slaves to serve
thee, and canst profess freely the religion
in which thou hast been reared from thy
infancy. Consent to do us a favor and
ail thy hopes will fall short of the pleasure
that is in store for theei”
The infamous wretch listened to the
proposals that were made her, and con
sented to defame the pure name of Nar
cisse. She swore an oath to the Pagan
gods that she would accomplish her
promise. The visit of the strangers was
therefore successful.
Soon after reports were heard touch
ing the character of the Pontiff. They
were readily received. Many who had
accepted favors from his hands, were the
first to repeat them and give it as their
opinion that some of what was said was
true. It was reported that his election
had not been valid, and that ambition
alone had induced him to thrust himself
into dignities to which he had not been
called. His previous life 100 had been
spent in debauchery, and that he had
wandered about from place to place not
to acquire that science necessary for the
priesthood, but to satisfy his unbridled
passions. These false rumors naturally
increased as they passed from mouth to
mouth, and murmurs were soon heard
on all sides. The minds of tlie people
became excited to the highest pitch, and
it wanted very little to induce thorn to
an open revolt.
The day after, the aspect of affairs
became more serious. Crowds gathered
around the door of the patriarch, aud were
vociferous in their denunciations of his
sacred character. They demanded loud
ly his removal from the See as an un
worthy Priest and Bishop.
“ Let him be driven forth from the
Church and the city,” cried out the en
raged crowd. “He is a wolf in sheep’s
clothing.”
Narcisse appeared. He raised his
band to ask silence for a moment, but
the clamors of the unruly mob rang
through the air, and the holy Pontiff
could only raise his eyes to Heaven in
testimony of his innocence.
At this moment an old woman, bent
with age, and bearing the mark of time
in the hideous wrinkles that furrowed her
brow, and gave to her features a hateful
aspect, approached the door, and cried
out in a loud voice:
“ Villian ! dost thou recognise me ?
Dost thou recognise in the woman,
changed now by age and misery, the
virtuous young girl whom thou seduced ?
Dost thou not know the * Beautiful Juno/’
the timid maid, innocent and pure ? Dost
thou not remember Lucilia ? I was the
pride of my parents, but, through thy in
famy, I have become their shame T
g. She then turned towards the people :
“ This man,” she cried, raising her
voice,” this man came to Coriuth, my
native country. I was then young. He
came there, he said, to collect certain tra
ditions left there by St. Paul. My pa
rents were Christians, and occupied a
high rank in society. She received him
with a generous hospitality. But he
abused it with black ingratitude. He
saw me and conceived an affection for
me. My mother desired him to teach
me the doctrine of the Christians, and
prepare me for baptism. But, the wretch!
the infamous —. I can say no
more ! He left, to continue elsewhere,
no doubt, his evil doings. But I was
driven from home, and became a wander
ing fugitive on the face of the earth. I
passed from city to city until I came
amongst you here. Ah ! the miseries
of my youth ! Who is the cause ? Look,
that degraded man, Narcisse ! Let id in
now feel the weight of that shame that has
hitherto weighed upon his unfortunate
victim !”
The holy Bishop sustained by the tes
timony of a good conscience, and the
grace of God, heard patiently those grave
accusations which had been brought
against him by Lucilia. “Woman,” he
at length replied; “woman ! in the name
of Jesus Christ I pardou thee. The
Lord knows my innocence, and one day
it will be manifested before all men,”
The people were moved, for they could
not doubt the sincerity and truth of those
words that had fallen from the lips of
the venerable Priest. They raised their
voices to condemn the perfidious woman,
ami were it not for the timely interposi
tion of Narcisse they would have torn her
to pieces But all was not ended. The
three men who had suborned Lucilia to
utter those falsehoods were not to be
overcome by this sudden change of pub
lic opinion. They cried out loudly,
“That woman tells the truth We know
that the accusation is true for we have
been to Corinth too. He did seduce her;
we can swear it..”
The virtuous qualities of this eminent
Patriarch were so well known that it was
not difficult to clear himself of the charges
brought against him. Public opinion
was divided. He thought it better to re
tire secretly into solitude. He was glad
too to be released from the burden which
he had unwillingly accepted. He ac
cordingly left Palestine and came to
Africa. But God called him once more
and instructed him to return to Jerusalem
and to undertake once more the govern
ment of His Church.
Lucilia came to die sometime after
wards She lelt the stings of conscience
and fearing to meet her God before she
had repaired the evil she had done, she
gave public testimony to the innocence
ot the Bishop she had so cruelly ma
ligned. In the agony of death, she
raised her voice and repeated several
times, “I have calumniated him! I have
calumniated him!”
Such was the vem rable Pontiff who
had just celebrated the holy nuptials, and
who was the object of curiosity to the
Christians of Carthage.
CHAPTER Vil.
THE VEIL STAINED WITH BLOOD.
The same evening Narcisse, yielding
to the request of Optalius, related sever
al episodes of his exile. There was an
earnest simplicity in Lis manner which
lent a charm to his conversation and en
chained the attention of all presont.
The company was numerous, and chiefly
composed of Priests and Deacons, to
gether with a few Senators who had been
converted from Paganism' There were
in attendance several aged ladies who
had renounced the world for the faith
and who had been elevated to the rank
ot Deaconesses. They had distinguished
themselves by their" eminent virtues.
Their duty was to visit the sick and at
tend to the wants of the poor. They
made garments for the orphans and those
No. 4.
