+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+
CHARACTER OF A RICH MAN.
Gito has a florid complexion, full-blown cheeks, a fixed bold eye, is high-chested, and his gait is steady and deliberate; he speaks with confidence, and pays but little regard to what others say; he spits at a great distance from him, and sneezes very loud; at table and when walking, he takes up more room than another man; when taking a walk with his equals, he places himself in the center of them, he interrupts and corrects those who are speaking, but he himself will not be interrupted, and all listen to him so long as he thinks proper to talk; when seating himself, he sinks into a large easy chair, and then knits his brows, afterwards pulls his hat over his eyes, that he may not see any one, then pushes back again his hat, in order to discover his haughty and audacious front. He is sometimes jocose, laughs aloud, is impatient, presumptuous, choleric, loose; he is of a political turn, and mysterious with regard to the present times; he fancies himself possessed of talents and genius----he is rich . . .
NEW-YORK _Aug. 26, 1796_.
THE COURT OF LOVE.
This was a society formed by those high-priests of gallantry, the early poets, or Troubadours of Provence. It was shortly imitated by similar establishments in Gascony, Languedoc, Poictou, and Dauphiny. Picardy, the constant rival of Provence, had also its Plaids et Gieux sous l"Ormel, an inst.i.tution differing from the former only in name.
These establishments consisted of knights and ladies of the highest rank, exercised and approved in courtesy, who a.s.sumed an absolute judicial power in matters of the most delicate nature; trying, with the most consummate ceremony, all cases in love brought before their tribunals. Nor did their decrees receive effect from the voluntary submission only of their members; the general courtesy of the times stamped them with unquestionable authority, nor did the legislature itself disdain to sanction their decisions.
Of this a remarkable instance is recorded, which took place in France in the year 1206; when application was made to the queen to reverse a sentence deemed unjust by the party, and which had been p.r.o.nounced in the love pleas of one of these courts, in which the Countess of Champagne presided. It was deemed, however, that decrees of this nature admitted of no appeal; and her majesty declared, that she did not choose to interpose in a matter of such consequence, nor to scrutinize the decrees of a court whose power was absolute, and whose decisions were final; adding, "G.o.d forbid that I should presume to contradict the sentence of the Countess of Champagne."--So far may the manners, and even prejudices, of an age, sometimes have a tendency to correct the haughtiness even of despotic power!
THE VICTIM OF MAGICAL DELUSION.
_OR, INTERESTING MEMOIRS OF MIGUEL, DUKE DE CA*I*A._ Unfolding Many Curious Unknown Historical Facts.
_Translated from the German of Tsc.h.i.n.k._
(Continued from page 62.)
"Who has authorised you to try me?"
"Who has authorised me to save you from the waves?"
"Why this question instead of an answer?"
"To tell you that every body is authorised to be useful to another person, without his knowledge and permission."
"I hope you will not make me believe that you have deceived me in order to promote my happiness!"
"If delusions are leading to truth, then they are undoubtedly means of promoting happiness."
"Indeed! According to my notions, _real_ happiness never can be founded upon delusion, as truth can never originate from error. Delusions and errors are obstacles on the road to happiness and truth, but never will be the means of promoting them."
"Then you must blame nature for acting after a plan entirely opposite to your notions. Has she not made imagination, that mother of illusion, the source of unspeakable pleasures. It is imagination alone that can afford what reality never can give---never satiated enjoyment. Imagination preserves, renews and improves every pleasure of the senses--What else but imagination is the source of the purest and most sublime raptures of love? Or do you perhaps think, that the perceptions which we receive through our senses are free of illusion, that we are never deceived by the organs which nature has given us? Your ideas would be just if we could know by means of our senses, the objects themselves and not merely their appearances; the essential substance, and not merely the superficies of things; however, as our senses never shew us the thing itself, but only its exterior appearance, the reality of sensible perceptions is always very suspicious. And since, from our sensible perceptions, even our plainest notions are abstracted, one must either doubt the certainly of logical arguments, or allow that illusions are the path leading to truth. Common experience teaches us, that one improves in knowledge by committing errors. It is as incontrovertible that error precedes truth, as it cannot be denied that darkness precedes light. If therefore nature herself leads a man to truth and happiness by way of delusions and errors, then you cannot blame me for having endeavoured to lead you to that mark by the same road."
"But to what sort of happiness and truth? for no real happiness, and no pure truth can exist if all our perceptions and notions are founded on illusions."
"You are mistaken, my Lord, they really exist; however they differ widely from what men generally believe to be truth and happiness."
"Then you are going to make me acquainted with a new kind of happiness and truth, and to lead me to uncommon light by the common road of illusion?"
"Man must be treated in a human manner, and improve by degrees. A sudden transition from twilight to the radiant glare of the noon-tide sun, from the land of sweet fancies to pure paradisiacal bliss, would transport the son of dust beyond himself. For that reason, it was requisite you should experience all the intermediate degrees of illusion, but not of an ordinary one, in order to obtain possession of an extraordinary treasure. That spot, where you will find the talisman which breaks the magic charm whereby the treasure is withheld from you as yet, is the highest pinnacle of illusion, and for that very reason the last degree of it. He who has happily arrived at it, emerges from the mazy labyrinth of enchantments, beholds a new heaven and a new earth, and, as if new created, strides over into the kingdom of unadulterated truth and bliss; where he enters the sacred porch of that eternal temple from which only the grave separates him."
"I do not entirely comprehend your emblematical language; will you explain yourself more at large?" So saying, I offered him a chair; we sat down, and he began:
"The history of all ages and nations convinces us that all men strive to be happy: but only the better and n.o.bler part of mankind are in pursuit of truth; not as if the latter sort did not also contend for happiness, but because they find it in the contemplation of truth, and do not believe that happiness can exist, without being founded on the base of truth. The former cla.s.s pursue happiness on different and opposite roads, and when they fancy they have found it, embrace an airy phantom; the latter cla.s.s also go in pursuit of truth on different and opposite roads, and when they fancy they have discovered it, are enraptured at an _ignis fatuus_. Some of them perceive at last that they are deceived by illusions, and others do not. The former continue their pursuit by the road which they have once fallen in with, and finding nothing but new phantoms and new illusions, spread at length the rumour, that no real happiness and truth could be met with here below. But suppose a man of an extraordinary genius, who had been firmly convinced that this treasure can be found here below, should have attempted to go in search of it through uncommon and never trodden paths, and at length, after enormous deviations, which on the unbeaten paths he pursued could not be avoided, should have found truth and happiness in their natural purity and sisterly union, and entrusted the secret to his friends under the condition to communicate it only to a few, and not even to them till they should have been tried by uncommon delusions of different kinds, like himself; would you then forgive me, my Lord, if I had deceived you with that view?"
"Then I should not owe you forgiveness, but grat.i.tude. But as the time of probation (according to your own declaration) is past, will you not be so good as to let me see only a few rays of that light, the full splendor of which I am going to behold."
"I have orders not to disclose the secret to you before the liberation of your country should be accomplished."
"Then my probationary time is not yet finished?"
"The time of delusion is past, and you are now to begin the epocha of acting for which the former was designed to prepare you. Strain every nerve to deliver your country, and the last trial will be finished."
"How can I save my country?"
"At M***d you shall be informed of it."
"I am going to depart for that town to-morrow morning."
"At ****, twelve miles from hence, you may stop for a short time--but mark well, only for a short time. You will meet Amelia there"--
"Amelia?"
"And will find her differently disposed from what she would have been without my interference."
"What do you mean by that?"
"The Countess has vowed to be faithful unto death to the man of her heart. She has frequently renewed this rigorous vow at the tomb which she has devoted to his memory, and thus promised to the dear departed object of her love a sacrifice, which has driven to despair all those whom her uncommon charms have enchanted. You would have shared the same fate, my Lord, if my power had not dissolved the dreadful covenant which Amelia has made with the departed spirit of her Lord."
I started up like a maniac--"_That_ you have done? _You_ have done that?"
The Irishman rose coolly from his seat: "Moderate your joy," said he, "for you don"t know whether I have not deceived the Countess!"
"O forget what I have said in the heat of pa.s.sion. Beings like you are above slander. Forgive what I have said!"
"When you come to **** stop at the inn of St. James"s, and then you shall be convinced by my actions that I have forgiven you." So saying, he shook hands with me and left my apartment.
"Who is that incomprehensible man?" said I to myself, "Have I not been his mortal enemy half an hour ago, and now am again become his friend and admirer, am again enchained with fetters of which I fancied I had rid myself entirely? Is my weakness the source of this unaccountable change, or is he in possession of a magic charm by which he rules with secret power every heart?" O thou who once shall read this history, whoever thou art, do not look scornfully upon my relapse. Thou hast not seen the countenance of that man, hast not heard him speak: I have been less enthralled by what he said, than by the manner in which he spoke.
The magic power which his looks, his mien, his accent, and every gesture gave to his words, rendered credible even what was improbable, and raised the latter to certainty. While he was speaking I little thought to interrupt him, dwelling with secret pleasure upon the contemplation of the seducing pictures which he placed before me, and only when in cooler blood, I began to anatomize and to scan the train of his arguments. I discovered defects, gaps, and improbabilities which shook the very base of my belief, and overclouded the charming prospects which he displayed before my enraptured eyes. How ever, there was one idea on which I dwelled with joyful confidence. "It will be accomplished,"
I exclaimed, "although every other promise of the Irishman should prove airy phantoms. I shall see Amelia, and be happy!"
But this hope too began to dwindle away, after I had waited the next day at the inn to which I had been directed by the Irishman, from eight o"clock in the morning till seven o"clock at night without having received tidings from Amelia. I was just going to take up my guitar in order to give vent to my melancholy sensations, when my servant came to tell me that a girl wanted to speak to me. I ordered him to shew her to my apartment. After many courtisies and circ.u.mlocutions, the unknown fair one begged me at length to have the kindness to honour her lady with a wish. Asking her who her lady was, she replied that she durst not tell me her name, but would shew me the way to the castle. "Then _your lady_ has sent you to me?" "G.o.d forbid," she replied, "my lady knows not a syllable of my errand; and your Lordship must tell the servant to announce you by the name of the Marchese Albertini." "Who was it then that gave you that order?" "An officer in a blue uniform," she replied, "who has paid a visit to my lady some time ago. He told me where I should find your Lordship; but, for heaven"s sake do not tell my lady of it; for he has given me a louis d"or to conceal that circ.u.mstance from her!" Now I knew what to think of the matter. I could have kissed the little garrulous messenger. "There, take this;" said I, emptying my purse in her ap.r.o.n, "shew me instantly to the house of your lady!" The girl was enraptured with joy, hurried down stairs, and I followed her with impatient steps.