Southern literary gazette. (Charleston, S.C.) 1850-1852, January 03, 1852, Page 4, Image 6
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for his sake, and that he had returned to
poverty, instead of the comfort, in which
he had left her. The reckless boy little
thought that he had eaten the very heart
of all her means before he had brought
this last sorrow upon her. But he under
stood it all now, (though she did not com
plain,) by her threadbare garments, and
her worn face. He shrank from every
touch of those wasted hands; he saw that
they had known unwonted toil. He did
not question her, nor did she tell him
how she had parted with the homestead,
and was now dependent on her own la
bour for the bread she ate. There were
friends who would have, received her to
their homes, but she knew they would
shrink from contact with a felon, and the
mother toiled that her son might have,
at least, the semblance of a home to come
to, when he should be free. And now
her patient loving-kindness had accom
plished all she had hoped and prayed for.
He was free, and, better than all, a pen
itent man.
She went out towards nightfall, to
purchase some needful garments, with a
hoard that she had long kept for that use.
She did not like to leave him, but thev
were going to commence their journey
homewards on the morrow, and so, see
ing that he was made very comfortable,
but not telling him her errand, she pre
pared to go out. She came back, even
after the door had closed, with a yearn
ing to look at her recovered treasure once
more, and found him sunk into an atti
tude of listless despondency, that gave
her a sudden pang ot pain. .
She went up to him and raised his
hand, pressing it between her own. She
longed to say something to comfort him.
“You have not asked for Lucy,” she
said, at length; but he only covered his
face and groaned.
“She is just the same,” his mother
said, hesitating a little, as if to approach
more carefully, for she had rightly di
vined his thoughts. “Just the same cheer
ful, dutiful girl, though not so light-heart
ed now. She comes to see me very often,
and it was she who persuaded her father
to sign”—and then she stopped again,
for she did not like to remind him that
he had ever needed such clemency.
“She sent you her love, James, and
bade me tell you that she had never be
lieved them, and that she had tried to be
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
a daughter to me. Dear child, she has,
indeed, James, been an angel in my dark
est days.”
“Did she tell you that mother ? Iler
love to such as 1 am.”
“And why not ? Do you think my
love has altered.”
“But you are my mother .”
She smiled, sadly perhaps. It was
such a testimony to the faithful love that
had borne him in her heart through “good
and evil report.”
“I must go now, James, but I shall be
back very soon, and you know we are to
be always together after this, so it will not
make in uch difference, a half hour. Will
it my son 1
She said this to hear the sound of his
voice again. No wonder that the long
hushed music was dear to her.
“Little difference, mother !”
And she went out with a heaviness
she could not define, caught from that
mournful tone.
CConclusion in our next.)
THE QUEEN’S OPERA.
BY THOMAS CARLYLE.
Os the Haymarket Opera, my account,
in fine, is this: —Lustres, candelabras,
painting, gilding at discretion : a hall as
of the Caliph Airaschid, or him that com
manded the slaves of the Lamp; a hall
as if fitted up by the genies, regardless
of expense. Upholstery and the outlay
of human capital, could do no more. Ar
tists, too, as they are called, have been
got together from the ends of the woild,
regardless likewise of expense, to do
dancing and singing, some of them even
geniuses in their craft. One singer in
particular, called Coletti, or some such
name, seemed to me, by the cast cf his
face, by the tones ol his voice, by his
general bearing, so far as I could read it,
to be a man of deep and ardent sensi
bilities, of delicate intuitions, just sym
pathies ; originally an almost poetic soul,
or man of genius as we term it; stamped
by nature as capable of far other work
than squalling here, like a blind Samson
to make the Philistines sport!
Nay, all of them had aptitudes, per
haps of a distinguished kind; and must,
by their own and other people’s labour,
have got a training equal or superior in
toilsomeness, earnest assiduity, and pa
tient travail, to what breeds men to the
most arduous trades. I speak not of
kings’ grandees, or the like show-figures;
but few soldiers, judges, men of letters,
can have had such pains taken with them,
lhe very ballet girls, with their muslin
saucers round them, were perhaps little
short of miraculous; whirling and spin-
ing there in strange mad vortexes, and
then suddenly fixing themselves motion
less, each upon her left or right great-toe,
with the other leg stretched out on an
angle of ninety degrees ; —as if you had
suddenly pricked into the floor, by one
of their points, a pair, or rather a multi
tudinous cohort, of mad restlessly jump
ing and clipping scissors, and so bidding
them rest, with opened blades, and stand
still, in the Devil’s name ! A truly nota
ble motion ; marvellous, almost miracu
lous, were not the people there so used
to it. Motion peculiar to the Opera ;
perhaps the ugliest, and surely one of the
most difficult, ever taught a female crea
ture in this world. Nature abhors it;
but Art does, at least, admit it to border
on the impossible. One little Cerito, or
Taglioni the Second, that night when I
was there, went bounding from the floor
as if she had been made of Indian-rub
ber, or filled with hydrogen gas, and in
clined by positive levity to bolt through
the ceiling ; perhaps neither Semiramis,
nor Catherine the Second, had bred her
self so carefully.
Such talent, and such martyrdom of
training, gathered from the four winds,
was now here, to do its feat and be paid
for it. Regardless of expense, indeed!
The purse of Fortunatus seemed to have
opened itself, and the divine art of Musi
cal Sound and Rhythmic Motion w r as
welcomed with an explosion of all the
magnificence which the other arts, fine
and course, could achieve. For you are
to think of some Rossini or Bellini in the
rear of it, too; to say nothing of the Stan
fields, and hosts of scene-painters, ma
chinists, engineers, enterprisers ; —fit to
have taken Gibraltar, written the History
of England, or reduced Ireland into In
dustrial Regiments, had they so set their
minds to it!
Alas, and of all these notable or notice
able human talents, and excellent perse
verances and energies, backed by moun
tains of wealth, and led by the divine
art of Music and Rhythm vouchsafed by
Heaven to them and us, what was to be
the issue here this evening ? An hour’s
amusement, not amusement either, but
wearisome and dreary, to a high-dizened
select populace of male and female per
sons, who seemed to me not worth much
amusing! Could any one have pealed
into their hearts once, one true thought,
and glimpse of self-vision:—“High di
zened, most expensive persons, aristo
cracy so called, or best of the world, be
ware, beware what proofs you give ;of
betterness and bestness !” And then the
salutary pang of conscience in reply:
“A select populace, with money in its
puise, and drilled a little by the posture
maker : good Heavens ! if that were wffiat,
here and everywhere in God’s creation,
lam ? And a world all dying because I
am, and show my self to be, and to have
[Jan. 3,