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 259.)
"I stood on the deck a prey to speechless agony, when suddenly somebody tapped me on the shoulder. Conceive my astonishment when, on turning round, I saw Alumbrado standing behind me. I staggered back as if a midnight spectre had taken hold of me with icy hands. Terror and surprise deprived me of the power of utterance, and suspended every motion of my limbs. He had made the voyage without my knowledge, and found means to keep himself concealed from me; you may therefore imagine, how violently I was affected by the sudden appearance of that man, whom I fancied to be at Lis*on.
"Are you not sorry now, that you have slighted my advice?" Alumbrado said, "it seems you will not see your friend in this world." Some minutes pa.s.sed before I was able to reply. "Let us now enjoy in silence the grandest spectacle that nature can afford!" So saying, he looked with tranquillity at the foaming ocean, as if he had been standing on the sheltering sh.o.r.e, far distant from the danger that surrounded us from all sides. His eyes beheld with inconceivable serenity the wild commotion of the waves, which now raised the vessel to the flaming clouds, and now hurled it into the gaping abyss of the boiling sea. The firm tranquillity which Alumbrado"s countenance bespoke, in spite of the furious combat of the elements, the impending destruction of the ship, and the doleful lamentations of the desponding crew, appeared to me to denote more than human courage. I gazed with secret awe at a being that seemed to be delighted with a spectacle, which made every hair of my head rise like bristles.
"At length the flashes of lightning grew fainter, the roaring of the thunder less violent, and the fury of the winds seemed to be exhausted; but the sea continued to be agitated in so dreadful a manner, that we apprehended the cables would not be able to stand the motion of the ship any longer. In vain did we implore human a.s.sistance by the discharge of our guns, the towering waves threatening destruction to the boats that attempted to come to our relief.
"In vain will human force endeavour to wage the unequal contest against all-powerful nature!" I exclaimed when I beheld that desponding sight.
Alumbrado turned round. "I will tame the fury of these foaming waves, if you will promise to return to Lis*on!" I gazed at him in speechless astonishment. "I am in earnest," he resumed, "will you return to Lis*on?" "If I will?" I replied, "If I will? how can you ask me that question? enable me to do it!" Alumbrado left me without returning an answer.
"A few minutes after he returned. "You will, presently, behold a miracle," he said, "but I must request you to tell n.o.body the author of it."
"I promised it, and the miracle ensued. The rolling foaming sea grew calm and smooth. We went on sh.o.r.e, and found ourselves not farther than a day"s journey from Lis*on.
"You see my friend, that a higher power, against which opposition would have been useless, has put a stop to my voyage. I have related the history of it without making any comments, and leave it to your own judgment to form a just opinion of it. As for me, I am convinced that I have at length found the man whom my boding soul has long been in search of."
This letter astonished me to the highest degree, and, at the same time, augmented my apprehensions very much. In my answer I declared neither for nor against Alumbrado"s supernatural power, because I neither chose to confirm the Duke in his belief in it, nor to risk losing his confidence; for how could I have expected to receive farther intelligence of his connection with Alumbrado, if I had been deprived of the latter? and yet it was of the utmost importance to me to learn every transaction of that designing man.
Notwithstanding this precaution, near a month elapsed without my having received an answer to my letter. I wrote a second time to him, but before his answer could reach me, was ordered by the King to return instantly, and to make an oral report of the issue of my commission.
I was, therefore, obliged to depart without being able to wait the arrival of his letter.
I antic.i.p.ated the pleasure of surprising him by my unexpected arrival, and went to his palace as soon as I arrived at Lis*on. He rather seemed surprised than pleased at the unexpected sight of me, asking with a kind of anxiety, whether I had received his last letter. When I answered in the negative he seemed to grow more easy, but adding, some time after, that it would be sent after me without delay, his brow began again to be overclouded. I was not much pleased with this behaviour, and begged him to relate to me the sequel of Alumbrado"s history, but he desired me to await the arrival of his letter, in which I should find a circ.u.mstantial account of it. In vain did I conjure him by the ties of our friendship to gratify my desire, and tried every art of persuasion in order to get the wished for information. He always evaded my questions, and frequently betrayed strong marks of uneasiness. Displeased with this reserve and mysterious behaviour, I took leave with evident coolness.
The two following days elapsed without our seeing each other. I must not forget to mention, that I received, the second day after my arrival, a letter from an unknown hand. When I opened the cover, I found a second sealed letter along with the following lines which were directed to me:
"Tomorrow you will receive a visit of an old acquaintance, to whom you will have the kindness to deliver the inclosed letter. But if he should not have made his appearance on the day after to-morrow, you may open the letter, which will give you farther information."
I could guess neither the writer of the note, nor who that old acquaintance could be.
The day following I received the Duke"s letter, which had been sent after me. I opened it with impatience, and read the following lines:
"It appears more and more probable to me, my friend, that Alumbrado has raised the tempest that threatened to prove fatal to me, in order to punish me for my disobedience to his advice. For should he, who can subdue the billowing waves, not also be able to agitate them? You may say whatever you choose, a supernatural power must have been concerned in that event, and who is capable to fix its extention, its limits? My father and myself venerate Alumbrado as a worker of miracles ever since that event, although he strives to hide himself behind the pious cloak of humility.
"O! why was Alumbrado not present when that tempest raged which deprived me of my Amelia? He would have saved her, and all the G.o.ds of earth would envy me for my felicity. The Irishman has cheated me of every earthly blessing, by not fulfilling his promise.
"Concerning the Irishman, Alumbrado has given me a very extraordinary hint. "The Marquis of F*" said he, "is undoubtedly right when he maintains, that G.o.d never intrusts an impostor with the power of working miracles. He is however mistaken, if he thinks the speaking phantom, which Hiermanfor made appear at the church-yard, had been nothing else but a natural deception; no one will ever persuade me that it is possible to effect any thing of that kind by natural means. Effected by mere natural means, you will say, and yet no miracle? certainly not; for cannot Hiermanfor have deluded you by the a.s.sistance of the father of lies? I will not explain my opinion on that head more at large, yet I think the Irishman is an hypocritical villain, who carries on a wicked trade. One ought to congratulate you, that your good principles deterred him from initiating you in his shocking mysteries. It was not without reason that he accused you of want of self-subsistence and resolution, for a dreadful degree of firmness of soul is required for joining in a contract whereby mortal men bid defiance to the great eternal Ruler of the world. However your better genius watched over you, and although you have been entangled a long time in the bonds of wickedness, yet he has delivered you from those snares before they were tied indissolubly. You ought to be thankful to the mercy of the G.o.d of love, and to be on your guard in future. If you should meet with men who perform supernatural works, you may easily find out what sort of people they are; if they deal in lies and imposition, they belong to the kingdom of darkness, but if truth and justice is sacred to them, they are children of light. If you had examined the Irishman after this standard, you would have fled with terror from the apparition of the church-yard, and he would never have succeeded in entangling you in an undertaking which has deprived the King of Spa*n of his lawful crown. The doctrine and the principles of the Irishman ought to have rendered him suspected to you. He endeavoured to point out to you the reason as the only infallible instructor and guide, at the expence of faith, and at the same time strove to confound that very reason by artful and fallacious conclusions, as the Marquis of F* has demonstrated in a masterly manner.
The Irishman was very careful not to make you reflect on the limits of reason and the power of men, because a genius like you would easily have concluded how much we are in want of divine illumination and grace; and it was his chief aim to remove the light of religion, because his works required being covered by delusive mists. You will never have seen him frequent the church, nor perform religious rites, will never have heard him p.r.o.nounce certain sacred names. I know that sort of people, who are so much the more dangerous, the more they are skilled in concealing their real shape behind deceiving masks. The spreading libertinism, and the furious rage of explaining every thing naturally, threatens indeed to suspend the belief in the existence, nay even in the possibility of miracles and sorcery, however they have not ceased notwithstanding that.
The opinions of men may alter, but things will remain as they are. The same Omnipotence that in times of old has led the Israelites through the red sea, manifests itself still in our days through signs and miracles, although they are not acknowledged as such by the blind mult.i.tude. The same reprobated spirit that spoke formerly through the oracle of Delphos, and by whose a.s.sistance Simon the magician performed extraordinary feats, is still active in our present times.
"Is it therefore, improbable that men who by their superior sanct.i.ty rise above the generality, and connect themselves more intimately with the G.o.dhead, should resemble the Supreme Being in power, and enjoy an immediate influence of the Ruler of the world? Is it so very incomprehensible that the spirit of darkness should favour those who resemble him in wickedness, and endow their inclination of perpetrating wicked deeds with a physical power of executing their diabolical designs? People of either description will, indeed, always rarely be met with; superst.i.tion will mistake as such many who do not belong to that cla.s.s, yet who can prove that they do not exist at all? I am, certainly, no enemy to reason, however I conceive it to be not less absurd obstinately to reject whatever is miraculous, than to believe it blindly. I esteem reason while it does not overstep the limits to which it is confined, as the Marquis of F* has justly observed, nor attempts to expel faith. There are supernatural things, sacred truths, which the former never can comprehend, being reserved only for the latter. Faith is hailed by noontide light, even where reason finds nothing but midnight darkness. While the latter proceeds slowly, and with uncertain steps, through a mazy labyrinth of conclusions and arguments, the former enjoys a clear immediate sight of truth, and experiences all the strength of its evidence.
(_To be continued._)
HAPPINESS.
----Tho" tempest frowns, Tho" nature shakes, how soft to lean on Heav"n!
To lean on Him, on whom archangels lean!
Dr. YOUNG.
Happiness is more sought after, and with much greater avidity, than any other blessing with which this terraqueous ball is supposed is be endued. Yet, notwithstanding the eagerness with which it is pursued, none has been less substantially obtained. The reason is obvious.
Mankind are dissatisfied with their respective situations in life, and content dwells not in their bosoms: their minds are satiated with what they possess; new objects hardly delight for a moment, ere fresh ones present themselves; and man, unthinking creature as he is, follows the airy phantom, promising himself perfect happiness, can he but attain another wish; but which, when acquired, proves, alas! like the former, the visionary satisfaction of an instant.
Content const.i.tutes continual happiness; for with that sweet companion, the peasant is greater than a prince dest.i.tute of the benign blessing.
The glittering, gaudy tinsel of a court, is unable to convey that real happiness to man, which the honest rustic feels at the sweet lispings of his innocent babes, and the heartfelt welcome of a faithful wife as they greet his return every evening from a hard day"s toil. Surrounded by this happy group, he sits down, breaks the bread of virtuous industry, blesses Him who gave him strength to earn the scanty meal, and lays down on the pallet of penury in peace, to arise with the morn to labour and to happiness. This life he enjoys, because he aspires to nothing above that sphere in which it has pleased Omnipotence to place him.
How few, even in any state, do we find happy? Alas! the number is by far too few. To the improper pursuit after happiness, can we only attribute the misery of mankind; daily, nay even hourly, do we see dread examples of this serious truth. But where is the eye that has not beheld, the mind that has not felt, or the heart that has not pitied, some object who has, in grasping at the shadow of happiness, lost the substance; whether it has met the observation as a culprit at the bar of a criminal court, a lunatic, a beggar, a deluded female, or a debtor in the dreary mansion of a prison? Where is the tongue but must confess, that they have lost their probity, their reason, their independence, their virtue, or their liberty, in an improper pursuit after happiness? However wrong their ideas might be, that, and that only, was the aim.
It will be asked, and with great propriety, what remedy we should apply for the prevention or cure of such an unremitting disease? We can only recommend content; not merely as the interest, but the duty of mankind.
For, if man repines, at whom is it? It is at Him who in mercy infinite made man. There are few, it is presumed, if they consider this serious and important truth, who will not cease to murmur and be discontented; or they must, at least, cease to offend the Almighty, by repeating those words which his beloved Son himself hath taught us, saying, "thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven."
+Of the GENIUS of the ARABS.+
Arabia has ever been as celebrated for horses of a gentle, generous spirit, as the Arabs for their skill in training them. That this praise is not undeserved, nothing can more clearly ill.u.s.trate, I conceive, than the following incident, recounted by an English gentleman, whose credit and repute are well known among his countrymen in Bengal.
Temporarily resident at Bussorah, after a trading voyage to the Gulph of Persia, Mr. T---- went, one afternoon, to pay a visit at the English factory. Whilst the Chief, with several other gentlemen besides himself, were drinking coffee in a balcony, an Arab, gallantly mounted, and his horse superbly caparisoned, galloped into the courtyard: there, for some time, he exercised his steed, displayed perfect address in the manege, curvetting, prancing, volting, wheeling, and caprioling his courser, with inimitable grace, and as much expertness in the easy management of his arms, darting a spear in the air, and recovering it again at full tilt, with other feats, equally dexterous and entertaining.
Unluckily, however, for the poor fellow, in crossing a bank and ditch, leading from the area to an adjacent field, the horse, being fatigued, fell down, and threw his rider headlong in the dust. A stream of blood gushed, at the same time, from the creature"s nostrils, and he lay extended and motionless on the ground. The Arab seemed stunned by the fall; but at length recovering, shook his ears, brushed the dust from his cloaths, replaced his turban, and approached his horse.
But no man nor pencil can express the anguish and affliction conspicuous in the man"s countenance, on beholding the animal lie in that condition.
At first he raved and screamed, in a delirium of agony; then bursting into tears, kissed and embraced his horse, bewailing and bemoaning his loss in all the excess of despondency. So animated, indeed, appeared his grief, and so deep his distress, as to inspire a sympathetic affection in the bosoms of all the spectators.
The gentlemen instantly called him up, and learning that the horse had been bred from a colt in his house, and was the only support (as the man served as a monthly Sepahi in the Bashaw"s army) of his father, mother, himself, his wife, and three small children, and that the loss now deprived the whole of subsistence, they humanely raised a handsome contribution for him, immediately among themselves and their dependents, and, giving the man the money, bid him be comforted, and go and buy another horse.
With effusions of the most lively grat.i.tude, yet not unaccompanied by sighs and sobs, the man received the bounty, and once more repaired, dejectedly, towards his horse, in order, as it should seem, to take off the trappings and furniture. But no sooner had the wily Arab repa.s.sed the ditch, than, at a word, the horse started up; the master vaulted upon his back, and rode away full speed, laughing aloud at the credulity of his staring and astonished dupes, and at the success of his own contrivance.
+The HISTORY of Mrs. MORDAUNT.+ [Written by Herself.]