George le Feur, a learned German author, tells us, that in the year
1529, there lived a man in Misnia in Thuringia, named Nicholas Klumber,
an ecclesiastic and provost of the great church, that by main strength,
and without the help of a pulley or other engine, took up a pipe of wine
in a cellar, carried it into the street, and laid it upon a cart. The
same author says, That there was a man at Mantua, named Rodomus, that
could break a cable as thick as a man’s arm, with as much ease as a
brown thread.
Mr. Richard Carew in his survey of Cornwall, tells us, that a tenant of
his, named John Bray, carried about the length of a butt, at one time,
six bushels of wheat meal, at the rate of fifteen gallons to the bushel,
and a great lubberly miller twenty years of age hanging upon it. To
which he adds, that John Roman of the same county, a short clownish
grub, would carry the whole carcase of an ox upon his back, with as much
ease as another of a greater stature could carry a lamb.
Caius Marius, who was originally a cutler, and in the time of Galienus
elected emperor by the soldiers, was so strong a bodied man, that the
veins of his hands appeared like sinews. He could stop a cart drawn with
horses, and pull it backwards with his fourth finger: If he gave the
strongest man a fillip, it was felt like a blow on the forehead with a
hammer: With two fingers he could break many things twisted together.
The emperor Aurelian, as it is recorded in history by Flavius Vopiscus,
was very tall of stature, and of such wonderful strength, that in a
pitched battle against the Samaritans, he killed in one day with his own
hands forty-eight of his enemies, and in some skirmishes afterward made
them up nine hundred and fifty. When he was colonel of the sixth legion,
he made such a slaughter among the Franci, that seven hundred of them
perished by his own sword, and three hundred were sold that were taken
prisoners by himself.
* * * * *
* * * *
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 Tschink._
(Continued from page 54.)
Of the following letter only the conclusion deserves to be transcribed.
“I am firmly convinced, that in Miguel’s and Amelia’s heart a passion
has taken rise, which soon will burst out in blazing flames; the present
which he has made her of a ring of great value, which she has accepted,
his looks at table, Amelia’s extraordinary kindness for him, and his
consternation on account of her illness, are incontestable proofs of the
truth of this observation. How much soever this mutual passion coincides
with my plan, because it furnishes me with infallible means to allure
the inconstant, fickle Miguel, yet I must make haste to interrupt this
growing passion because I am afraid he will be enslaved so much by that
enchanting lady, that he will be rendered unfit for matters of greater
importance.
“For that reason I have instructed the apparition to utter a few words,
which I could foresee would cause a small breach between the two lovers.
Your Excellency will recollect that the ghost accused Miguel’s father of
being his murderer. By these means, I hope to put at least a temporary
stop to Miguel’s and Amelia’s growing intimacy; for it cannot be
expected that the son of the supposed murderer of the Count will dare to
pay his addresses to his widow; and if he should, it is to be expected
that she will decline admitting his visits, or at least treat him with
coolness and reserve. However this misunderstanding would not be of long
duration, for on close examination, both would find themselves deceived
by the apparition, and their love would gain additional force. For that
reason I have wrote a pressing letter to Miguel’s father, without
subscribing my name, and advised him to order his son to continue his
travels without delay, that he may be cured of a foolish passion which
he had for the Countess of Barbis. I hope this letter will have the
desired effect; and I will keep myself in readiness to follow Miguel
every where with my myrmidons; for my plan requires that I never should
lose sight of him.”
The following letter is so important that I must insert it at full
length:
“MY LORD,
“You have accused me in your letter from the twelfth of this month, of
having acted equally dishonest and imprudent, by suffering the Count,
when disguised as a spectre, to say an untruth, which injures the honour
of an innocent man, and if ever discovered by his son or the Countess,
will brand him and myself as impostors. I could have prevented these
severe reproaches of your Excellency, if I had been at leisure to
explain this matter at large in my last letter. First you will give me
leave to observe, that the declaration of the ghost is no untruth, but
only an oracle, the duplicity to which, beings of that kind are much
addicted. Amelia’s husband has really been assassinated by order of the
man whom Miguel calls father; however, that person is not his parent,
but only the preserver of his life; in short, it is Vasconcello’s
Secretary of State at L**b*n, who has saved Miguel’s life when a boy,
and for that reason is called by him his second father. This man the
ghost had in view, and of course has spoken the truth, but only has been
misunderstood. This misunderstanding produced the accidental, and if
your Excellency will give me leave to add----the salutary consequence of
separating Miguel and the Countess. Fearing, however, the accusation of
the ghost might produce fatal consequences for the Marquis of Villa
R*al, and Amelia be tempted to revenge the death of her Lord, the ghost
took the precaution to add, ‘be generous and forgive my
murderer.’----The honour of the Marquis, which properly has received no
injury from the declaration of the ghost, but only from the
misunderstanding, shall, I vow solemnly, receive ample satisfaction.
I have it myself too much at heart that the Countess and Miguel shall
know the real murderer of Amelia’s husband, not to remove that error;
being desirous to see the good understanding of the two lovers restored
at some future period, and the assassin punished for his numberless
crimes. You have signed the sentence which the rest of the conspirators
have pronounced against this oppressor of the liberty of your country,
with the full conviction of his deserving death; but would not Miguel
look upon him rather as his benefactor and preserver of his life, than
as an enemy to his native country, and prompted by gratitude and pity,
endeavour to save his life? However, if he shall be informed that the
preserver of his life, is not only the oppressor of his native country,
but also the assassin of Amelia’s Lord, then his love for the Countess
will give an additional energy to his patriotism, and silence his
gratitude for Vas*****los; then the voice of his country and of the
beloved of his heart, demanding revenge upon the villain, will silence
the voice of his heart imploring his mercy; he will sacrifice the
devoted victim to justice, at the expence of his sensibility, and
consent to Vascon***los’s death. Not in vain did I introduce the
apparition in such a rueful shape, not in vain instruct it to display
the bleeding wounds, and to discover his horrid assassination! even the
coolest observer would have been inflamed violently by that scene, and
how vehemently must it have provoked the lover of the unfortunate lady
to resentment against me murderer? Your Excellency will consequently
easily conceive what my second secret aim was, which I designed to
attain by the apparition, and at the same time, be convinced that I have
exposed neither the ghost nor myself to the danger of being caught in a
_lie_, although Amelia and Miguel should discover that the murderer was
not the real father of the latter. However, this discovery could not
take place, because Miguel has ceased visiting the Countess, and
received orders from his father to leave, without delay, the castle and
its environs. Amelia’s servants have drawn this grateful intelligence
from his servant, and communicated it to me, upon which I put myself and
my people in readiness to follow Miguel on the day of his departure,
partly on horseback, and partly in coaches. To the valet of the
Countess, who is entirely in my interest, I have given some important
orders, which I intend to communicate at large in my next letter.”
I was already arrived at *ubia, and accommodated with a lodging at the
inn which the Count had pointed out to me, when I finished the
decyphering of this letter. Night had set in, and I was musing on the
important visit which the Count had promised me, when I heard the
rolling of a coach, which stopped under my window. A few moments after
my servant came to inform me that an Irish captain, whose name was
Dromley, wanted to speak to me. The word Irish chilled the very marrow
of my bones--“Let him come in!” said I, turning my face from the
servant, to conceal from him the emotions which must have been painted
in every feature. I stepped to the window in order to recover myself a
little; the door was flung open, and an officer in a blue uniform
entered the room----I advanced two steps to meet him, and saw the
_Unknown_ standing before me. The sight of him made me speechless. “You
will be surprised, my Lord! to see me here,” said he, “however the
concerns of your heart are of so much importance to me, that nothing
could deter me from paying you a visit.” Here he stopped. Not one
syllable escaped my lips. He looked at me with seeming unconcern,
advanced a step nearer, and resumed in a soft winning accent, “My Lord!
you love the beautiful Countess Clairval! however, you would love her in
vain, if my power had not removed every obstacle, and ensured you her
reciprocal love.”
Now I had recovered the power of utterance. “Then you have informed
her,” I exclaimed, “that her Lord has not been assassinated by my real
father?”
The Irishman seemed to be struck with surprise, examining inquisitively
my looks, and after a short pause, continued in a firmer accent: “It was
my duty to make this discovery to Amelia; however, it would never have
been sufficient to procure you her reciprocal love, if I had not done
something which was not my duty.”
“_What_ have you done? My notions of your actions have been confounded
so much, that I cannot thank you beforehand.”
“Thank!” he replied haughtily, “as if I had ever done any thing for the
sake of thanks! In order to save you that trouble, I will not tell you
what I have done for you.”
The strain in which he spoke confounded me. I returned no answer.
“However, I must caution you,” he continued, “not to represent me to the
Countess as an impostor, if you do not wish to destroy the effect of the
service which I have done you. You will be convinced at some future
period how necessary it is for your own happiness not to slight this
advice.”
“If I am to enjoy the happiness you have prepared for me, I must first
know the residence of Amelia.”
“Not before you have pledged your honour to follow my advice.”
“Should I suffer Amelia to be imposed upon like myself; I should owe her
love to a delusion?”
“Who has told you that I have imposed upon the Countess? You do not know
as yet what I have done; it would therefore be just not to condemn me
before-hand, as you refuse to thank me before-hand for. what I have
done!”
“I judge of an action of yours which I do not know, from your former
actions, which I know very well, at present. Can you call this unjust?”
“This conclusion is at least premature. Every plan ought to be adapted
to the existing circumstances, and every action fitted to the plan;
therefore, as soon as the circumstances and the plan are changed, one
ought not to judge of the present actions from the preceding ones.”
“I do not comprehend you completely.”
“You have been tried by delusions; however the time of probation is
past; the delusions have made room for the dawn of truth, which is
rising in your mind.”
(_To be continued._)
* * * * *
_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._
* * *
AN ACCOUNT OF A MELANCHOLY TRANSACTION,
WHICH TOOK PLACE IN THIS CITY, MANY YEARS AGO.
It was in the commencement of autumn that Orlando, the only son of a
respectable merchant of this place, prevailed upon the amiable Arria, to
whom he had long been engaged, to fix upon a day for the celebration of
their nuptials; and he had the happiness to see that morning ushered in
with the warmest benedictions and wishes for his future felicity that
pure friendship can bestow. Arria’s relations and his own, together with
a numerous acquaintance, attended at the house of her parents, whose
only child she was, and whose very existence seemed to hang upon
hers.--Unaffected satisfaction presided in the assembly, light-hearted
wit broke forth in a thousand brilliant sallies, while joy heightened
the flush on the cheek of youth, and smoothed the furrows on the brow of
age: nor did the sprightly fair one, who was just verging upon sixteen,
fail to exert herself to enhance the hilarity of the company.--When a
convenient time had elapsed, the priest arose in order to begin the
ceremony, but, upon looking round, observed that the young lady was not
present; one of the bride’s maids was therefore dispatched to inform her
that the company were in waiting for her, but she returned with much
disorder, and told them that Arria was not to be found:--her mother,
offended at this seeming want of respect for their guests, went in quest
of her herself, as did several of the family; but they all, after
absenting themselves for a long time, returned with the surprising
account that none knew where she was.--The alarmed assembly then
separated to search for her, some supposing that a false delicacy might
have prevailed upon her to conceal herself, and others were apprehensive
that some fearful accident had befallen her; every apartment, therefore,
of the house in which they were, and likewise the neighbours, together
with the wells and cisterns were examined, but all to no purpose; for
when night spread her shadows upon the earth, there still appeared no
trace of her they sought.
For several succeeding days strict enquiries were made concerning her,
but all proving fruitless, Orlando and her parents gave her up for lost,
abandoning themselves to all the agonies of grief:---Sometimes, in
frantic anguish, they would accuse her of being false to Orlando, and
being with some more favoured lover; and again they would melt in the
tenderness of affection and bewail the unknown chance which had wrested
her from their bosoms; but suspence barbed the shafts of sorrow,--the
susceptible heart of Orlando sunk beneath its weight, and before the
next May opened upon the smiling year, he had sought
“The dreary regions of the dead,
“Where _all things_ are forgot.”
It was in that month that the mother of Arria, having occasion to put
away some winter apparel, ascended to the garret, where in a remote
corner was placed a large sea-chest with a _spring-lock_;---believing it
to be empty, she attempted to open it, when finding that the spring had
catched, she had recourse to the key which lay by it---it unlocked---and
she partly raised the lid---but such a horrid smell of putridity burst
through the aperture, that the lid fell from her hand!----a frightful
idea flushed through her brain, and, uttering a death-like shriek, she
fell upon the floor!---Some of the family who were in the apartment
below, heard her and hasted to her assistance.---As soon as she was
capable of motion, she raised her hand, and pointing to the chest, they
instantly opened it, and beheld the ghastly skeleton of the once lovely
Arria!!! who, it seems, in a fit of frolic had thrown herself therein,
expecting every moment to be sought for! but, no doubt, she fainted as
soon as she heard the lock shut, and as the chest was too close to admit
any air, she must have suffocated before she had a full sense of her
deplorable situation!