To review the transactions of former days, the many sportive hours which have long been past, and to recall the pleasures of innocence and virtue, is both pleasing and instructive; pleasing, because it delights the heart with joys it once partic.i.p.ated, and of which, while animated with the prospect, tho" only the delusive paintings of imagination, it seems even now to partake; instructive, because it presents our progress in happiness and virtue, or the mournful reverse our deviation from innocence and rect.i.tude. But it is particularly pleasing to look back on the scenes of youth and childhood; we review those seasons of life with the greatest partiality and delight. "Twas then health and beauty bloomed upon the cheek, and every object was decked with the charms of fascination. "Twas then the heart ignorant of vice and unacquainted with sorrow or misfortune, enjoyed every pleasure without alloy. There are likewise other parts of life which occupy the moment of reflection: the learned dwell with rapture on the hours spent in the acquirement of knowledge and instruction, the ambitious on their gradual progression to wealth and fame, and the brave on the many dangers and hardships they have undergone in the field of battle. Reflection is especially the attendant of age, it a.s.sists to enliven the many vacant hours which are common at this period. The aged almost feel their strength renewed in recounting their former seats of activity, and their hearts are animated by the virtuous deeds they have performed.
Happy then is he who having spent his days in the practice of every public and social virtue, reviews the past actions of his life with chearfulness and content: the pleasures of reflection shall chear the listless moments of decrepitude and age, and shall convey peace and comfort to his bosom in those moments when present enjoyments have lost their relish. Tho" he no more can perceive the splendour of the sun, and the various beauties of creation: tho" incapable of hearing the most harmonious music, and of enjoying the choicest delicacies; still shall the power of his mind survive the general ruin, and reflection chear him in the evening of his days.
A. D.
_Jan. 15, 1797._
FELICITY EQUALLY DISTRIBUTED.
Among the different conditions and ranks of men, the balance of happiness is preserved in a great measure equal; and the high and low, the rich and the poor, approach in point of real enjoyment much nearer to each other than is commonly imagined. Providence never intended that any state here should either be completely happy, or entirely miserable.
If the feelings of pleasure are more numerous and more lively, in the higher departments of life, such also are those of pain. If greatness flatters our vanity, it multiplies our dangers.--If opulence increases our gratifications, it increases in the same proportion our desires and demands.--If the poor are confined to a more narrow circle, yet within that circle lie most of those natural satisfactions, which, after all the refinements of art, are found to be the most genuine and true. For the happiness of every man depends more upon the state of his own mind than upon any one external circ.u.mstance; nay, more than upon all external things put together.
Inordinate pa.s.sions are the great disturbers of life; and unless we possess a good conscience, and a well governed mind, discontent will blast every enjoyment, and the highest prosperity will only prove disgusted misery. This conclusion then would be fixed in the mind: The destruction of virtue is the destruction of peace. In no station---in no period are we secure from the dangers which spring from our pa.s.sions.
Every age, and every station they beset, from youth to grey hairs, and from the peasant to the prince.
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 227.)
"Yet you have demonstrated nothing else but that we cannot see _pure_ spirits; we may, nevertheless, be capable of seeing spirits in bodily clothing."
"This I grant without the least hesitation, for daily experience proves it. We see _men_, of course we see spirits in _bodily clothing_."
"You fancy to escape me by this turn; but you are mistaken. You allow that we can see spirits if clothed in a bodily covering."
"What we _see_ is always nothing but the bodily covering; but we must _conclude_ by other marks and circ.u.mstances, whether it be inhabited by a spirit. Besides, there is in the whole dominion of our _sensible_ knowledge not one being that answers our idea of a spirit; this idea has been produced merely by _reasoning_, and therefore a spirit never can become an object of our _perception_."
"Very strange!" the Duke replied, shaking his head; "the Irishman has said much the same, and nevertheless, he hit upon an expedient of proving to me the possibility of apparitions."
"I have read that argument; it is taken from the dialectic. This circ.u.mstance alone ought to have made you suspect it. Or are you such a novice in that science that you should not know how pliable it is to accommodate itself to all opinions? Those philosophers who fancy all the beings of the whole creation to be spirits, as well as those who deny the existence of G.o.d, draw their arguments from that source. Is there any absurdity that could not be fitted to that baseless philosophy?"
"You are carrying matters too far. The Irishman did indeed propound several positions, which by their evidence enforce their claim to truth."
"That I do not deny. A great deal of philosophical penetration is however required, if one shall be able to discern the truth and falsehood, which its a.s.sertion imply in a strange and m One feels indeed, frequently, the falsehood of sophistical subtilities without being able to refute them."
"I should be glad to know what you have to object against the doctrine of the Irishman concerning the possibility of apparitions?"
"In order to do this, it will be necessary previously to abstract his doctrine.
"When a spirit, the Irishman says, operates on mine, then he is present to me. If I were a mere rational being, I then should be satisfied with _imagining_ the presence of the spirit, _without_ myself; but since I am a sensible being, by virtue of my nature, my imagination forms a corporeal idea of the object which my understanding _thinks_; that is, it forms an image of it. The presence of a spirit, therefore, puts my inferior intellectual powers in motion by means of the superior ones; I do not only imagine it merely without myself, but I perceive, at the same time, a shape answerable to it; I not only collect the ideas which he produces in my mind, but, at the same time, shape them in words. In short, I see the spirit and hear him speak.--Do you think, my friend, that I have comprehended the doctrine of the Irishman?"
"Perfectly!"
"The shape in which I see the spirit is, consequently, no real substance, but only the product of my sensitive power of perception, of my imagination."
"Very right."
"Consequently, the seeing of a spirit is, indeed, founded on a spiritual influx, which, however, is formed and shaped at pleasure by our imagination; therefore, on every apparition of spirits truth would be intermixed with illusion, and the notions which have been instilled in our mind by our education, and all the prejudices we have imbibed in our infancy, would act an important part on every occasion of that kind?"
"I perceive what you are aiming at."
"Then tell me, what would the gift of seeing spirits and ghosts benefit us, since the spiritual effect could not but be interwoven so closely with the phantoms of our imagination, that it would be impossible to discern reality from the gross illusions which it is surrounded with?"
The Duke was absorbed in silent meditation, and I continued:---
"Don"t you see that _superst.i.tion_ thus would be at full liberty to exercise its sway over us, because we would be led to believe that even the most absurd delusions of our imagination _could possibly_ be founded on a spiritual influx?"
The Duke continued to be silent, and I resumed.--
"And don"t you see that it would be impossible to discern a ghost-seer from a lunatic?"
The Duke started up: "How, from a lunatic?"
"Undoubtedly. The characteristic of lunacy consists in mistaking mere objects of the imagination for real substances, existing without ourselves, the original cause of which is a convulsion of the vessels of our brain, which are put out of their equilibrium. This suspension of the equilibrium can arise either from weakness of nerves, or from too strong a pressure of the blood towards the head, and mere phantoms of our imagination then appear to us, even while awake, to be real objects without ourselves. Although such an image should be but faint at first, yet the consternation at such an apparition, so contrary to the natural order of things, would soon excite the attention, and impart to the phantom a vivacity that would not suffer the deluded person to doubt its reality. It is therefore very natural; for the visionary fancies he sees and hears very plainly, what no person besides him perceives, or imagines he sees such phantoms appear and disappear suddenly, when they are gamboling only before _one_ sense that of _sight_, without being perceived through another sense; for example, that of _feeling_, and therefore appear to be penetrable. The distemper of the visionary does not affect the understanding immediately, but only the senses; in consequence of which the unhappy wretch cannot remove the delusion by arguments of reason, because the real or supposed perception through the senses, always antecedes the judgment of the understanding, and possesses an immediate evidence which surpa.s.ses all reflection. For which reason I can blame no person who treats the ghost-seers as candidates for the lunatic hospital, instead of looking upon them as people belonging, partly, to another world."
"Marquis, Marquis!" the Duke said, smiling, "you use the ghost-seers very ill. I should leave them entirely at your mercy, if the Irishman had not promised to communicate to me a criterion by which one can discern real apparitions from vain phantoms of the imagination."
"It is a pity he has only promised it, it being probable that this promise will not be performed with greater punctuality than the rest of his engagements."
"The event will prove how much you wrong him."
"But what would you say, if I could prove that he can communicate to you no criterion of that nature?"
"If you could do this---"
"Nothing is easier. The criterion whereby a real apparition of a ghost could be discerned from an illusion, must be either external or internal: that is, you must be able to ascertain the presence of a ghost, either by means of your senses, or by conclusions deduced from the impression your mind receives. Don"t you think so?"
"It would be much safer if these two criterions co-existed."
"It would be sufficient if only one of these two criterions were possible. However, you shall soon be convinced that neither can be proved. Whatever you perceive, or suppose you perceive by means of your senses, in case of an apparition, is either a real material object, whereby perhaps an impostor, perhaps nature, who is so inexhaustable in her effects, or an accidental meeting of uncommon incidents surprises you; or it is an object that exists no where but in your heated imagination; what you perceive through your senses never can be the spirit himself, because spirits are incorporeal beings, and therefore neither can be seen, heard, nor felt; it is, consequently, evident that no external criterion of the reality of an apparition can exist."
"This, I think, cannot be disputed."
"But there exists perhaps an internal criterion. In order to decide this question, let us consider what pa.s.ses in the human mind when a ghost appears. First of all, a lively idea of the presence of a ghost takes place, and sensations of terror, astonishment and awe arise---however, this idea and these sensations may be nothing else but the consequence of an uncommon, though natural external impression of a feverish fancy, and consequently never can be indubitable proofs of the presence of spirits. But perhaps the presence of spirits is ascertained by the co-existence of certain extraordinary notions, sensations, and cognitions! This too cannot be, for we must be convinced that they could not arise in our soul in a natural manner, if we shall be able to ascertain their having been produced by the influence of a spirit. In that case it would be requisite we should know the whole store of our clear and obscure ideas, all their reciprocal relations, and all possible compositions which our imagination can form of them, a knowledge that is reserved only for the omniscient Ruler of the world.
If we happen sometimes, in our dreams, to have the most wonderful visions, to reason in the most sensible manner, to discover new truths, and to predict incidents which afterwards really happen; why should not the same faculty of the soul which produces such uncommon effects in our dreams, surprise us sometimes with similar operations while we are awake, when it is agitated in a violent manner? In short, my friend, there exists neither an internal nor an external criterion whereby we could ascertain the reality of an apparition."
"O how insufficient is human reason!" the Duke groaned, "how ambiguous the faculty through which we fancy we resemble the G.o.dhead, and that guides us much unsafer than instinct directs brutes. But a short time since I thought it to be consonant with reason to believe in apparitions of ghosts, and now I am convinced of the contrary. Your arguments have pulled down what those of the Irishman have constructed, and thus I am constantly driven from one belief to the opposite one. Where shall I find, at length, a fixed point to rest upon? O! how happy is he, who undisturbed by the restless instinct of thinking, and of investigating the nature of things, rests in the lap of faith!"
(_To be continued._)