The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1868-03-01

a} admiration, and soft hands would nat hi
checks. The great success he met Wit
3 every where, the ahectionate Kindness o
l his teachers, Paer and Reiche, the tende
. care Of his parents, which seemed to hay,
} increased from the time they saw their 60,
7 suffering from disappointment, gradual,
Z indemniaed hts young soul for the pleasure
J Of enjoying CA5rubini's INSTRUCTION.
1t was the Duke of Orleans, afterwari
King of France, who first called the boy .
second Mozart, q name which was soo1
echoed by thousands. The Paris papers
without exception, lavished their eulogiei
upon this rare and charming talent, and
prophesied q great future for him. The
concerts in which Adam Liszt would occa-
sionally introduce his son to the public were
always crowded, and the excitable and en-
thusiastic French would bring all possible
ovations to the young virtuoso. But the
sweet wine of all this homage did not for q
moment bedizzen his clear head and his
high aspiring soul. Amy one who could
have seen him move about among his aris-
tOcratic friends, with perfect ease and innate
graeefafness, and then afterward could have
listened to him, when, alone in his plain
little study at home, he would play, with
| the greatest earnest, Bach's fugues and pre-
ludes, tryingtO transpOse them into other
keys, certainly would have been delighted
with such ardent ZEAL His face was then
flushed, and his eyes flashing, and he would
forget time and hour, and all around him,
until at length two fine white hands would
gently touch his fingers, and two soft arms
embrace him, and then his burning head
would sink on his mothers bosom. But
this gentle guardian angel did not long stay
at his side in Paris. She was summoned
to the sick bed of q sister at Graz.
After the departure of his mother, father
| and son made excursions into the depart
ments, and every where they earned gold
Rand glory. They finally crossed the chan
nefto visit old England there they created
q simifar sensation.
In 1925 operetta was performed at
Paris, entitled, 50 Don Sancho on le Chateau
de pAmour." The theatre of the ROYAL
Academy was filed to4overfiowing, the per
Torrance was mastery, and each scene met
the close of the performance, the audience
called with long acclamatiOns for the name
of the composer; it was Franz List. Fair
hands were waving handkerchiefs, and the
actor who had played the part of Don San
cho carried the boy, then hardly fifteen
years old, in his arms, before the delighted
audience. -
Perhaps it was the recollection of this
success, which he metywith after the first
performance of Don Sancho, which made
all other commentators appear cold and
poor to him; perhaps it was the earnest
correspondence with his mother which now
followed OF perhaps it was the well Unknown
disgust which sometimes seizes high aspir- |
ing souls, the consciousness of the impo-
tence of all human aspirations, and the |
futility of all earthly renown-whatever1
the reason, young Franz all at once lost his |
wonted gayety and mirth. Lost in meIan- |
gious books. T6,e Fathers Of the Desert s y
" The Life of the Martyrs, !" and The Con-
fessions of Augustine" were his favorite |
best and truest friend, he laid down ali his |
doubts and scruples, and she thanked God |
for his early conversion. She fancied her |
son already safe and escaped from all dan
gers, resting in the peace of a monastery.
On his father this sudden change made a
very different impression. Anxious about
the great prospects of his son, he made, on
the advice ofFhis physician, d journey with
him to Switzerland, and from there they
went to the beautiful watering place of
Boulogne. The joy of seeing the cheeks of
his son blooming again, and his joyfulness
was to be his last on earth.
On the day of St. Augustus, Adam List
died, and thus parted from his son in the
first dawn of his glory. Immediately upon
receiving this fatal news, his faithf::i mother
at once fastened to Paris, in order to re-
main with her equally bereaved son.
She soon observed him returning to his
favorite art; and although the hopes which
she had been cherishing died, she would not
allow one word to betray her grief. She .
was contented to be near him, to smile at
and nurse him when weary, and to witness
his triumphs from a distance, with the re-
signed looks of q saint. /,
1t was in those days that a woman crossed n
the path OF a young artist. A beautiful
little head, half concealed by IL gold-em-
broidered veil, as if painted by the brush
Of Tintoretto, on golden background, .
md encircled by a wreath of real roses and
1t was fiery young love,
md q desperate necessary resignation, and L.
none but mothers eyes to witness both,
md none but a mothers lips daring to J
breathe words of consolation.
His grief was so intense that Franz Liszt v
disappeared from the glittering halls of the y
and even the family circles of t
lis most intimate friends did see him no
h. nc l,so 1 L