Lord SOMERS was naturally of a choleric disposition; and the most
striking part of his character, was the power of controuling his passion
at the moment when it seemed ready to burst forth. Swift, in his “Four
last Years of Queen Anne,” has in vain endeavoured to blacken this
amiable part of that great man’s character, as what the dean mistook for
a severe censure, has proved the greatest panegyric. “Lord Somers being
sensible how subject he is to violent passions, avoids all incitements
to them by teaching those, whom he converses with, from his own example,
to keep within the bounds of decency; and it is indeed true, that no man
is more apt to take fire upon the least appearance of provocation; which
temper he strives to subdue, with the utmost violence upon himself; so
that his breast has been seen to heave, and his eyes to sparkle with
rage in those very moments when his words and the cadence of his voice
were in the humblest and softest manner.”
* * * * *
* * * *
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 70.)
She stopped in the second street at a large palace, telling me that we
were on the spot. I ordered the servant to tell his lady, the Marchese
Albertini would be glad to wait on her Ladyship, and was admitted.
I hastened through the first apartment with a panting heart, and the
second door being opened, was very kindly received by an old lady. I was
almost petrified by that unexpected sight, like a poor disappointed
wretch who, deceived by magic art, expects to rush into the arms of an
immortal beauty, suddenly embraces an old toothless beldam. The lady
seemed to be equally surprised. I did not know whether it was on account
of my person or my astonishment--and I begged her pardon, in a
faultering accent, for having committed that mistake, telling her that I
had taken the liberty to intrude upon her, in hopes of seeing the
Countess de Clairval, when----the door of a third apartment was opened,
and a lady beautiful as an angel, dressed in white satin, and of a
majestic form, made her appearance. I flew to meet her---and pressed
_Amelia_’s hand to my glowing lips.
Her lovely cheeks were covered with a crimson hue, and after a short
interval of silent astonishment, she exclaimed: “Is it possible, my
Lord! How does it happen that we have the honour of seeing you here?”
“I don’t know it myself!” I exclaimed, “my life is an uninterrupted
train of wonders, and it was certainly one of the most fortunate that
brought me to your Ladyship!”
“You find me in the company of a friend,” Amelia said, introducing me to
the old lady, “whom I had lost in my earlier youth, but found again four
months ago through a most singular accident, which however I think to be
one of the most fortunate of my life. You will recollect that when I
related to you the history of my youth, I mentioned a white lady who
appeared to me in the dusk of evening, in a grotto in my father’s
garden, and who had directed and cheered me in my juvenile years like a
heavenly being---”
“And that white lady---”
“Is the Baroness de Delier, who is now standing before you.”
“Is it possible?” I exclaimed.
“Yes, it is really so!” replied the lady archly smiling.
I now began to examine her face more attentively. Her physiognomy was
exceeding interesting, bearing strong marks of sensibility, and of
former beauty, the traces of which the voracious tooth of time had not
been able to destroy.
“My Lady,” said I, “the Countess has related to me so much that is noble
and wonderful of you, that my astonishment is as natural as my curiosity
will be deemed pardonable by you.”
“I dare say,” Amelia interrupted me, “it will give you pleasure if I beg
the Baroness to be so kind as to explain that wonderful circumstance to
you?”
“Why not,” replied Lady Delier, “let us sit down; old age is thought to
be talkative; however I shall be brief in my narrative:----A friend of
mine who knew Amelia, and was no stranger to the cruel treatment which
she received from her unnatural mother, lived in a house which was
separated from that of her parents only by two gardens. The description
which my friend gave me of the sufferings of the innocent girl, affected
me so much the more, as I ever have been uncommonly fond of children.
I resolved to alleviate the hapless fate of the poor child; and with
that view designed a plan, which I carried into execution, assisted by
her nurse, whom I bribed with fair words and a sum of money. The gardens
of my friend, and Amelia’s parents, were separated only by a wall, which
had a little gate leading from the garden of the former to the grotto
which was in that of the latter. This gate was opened for me by the
nurse, who, according to my direction, always retired when I came, and
watched at the entrance of the garden to warn me by a signal against
sudden surprise. I dare say, my Lord, Amelia will have informed you of
my conversations and actions in the grotto.”---
“But why did you conceal your name and rank from the Countess?”
I enquired.
“In order to prevent being found out, if the little girl in her childish
innocence should have spoken of her meetings with the white lady. When
Amelia advanced in years I continued the mystery, because I had observed
that it gave to my visits an additional value in her eyes, and rendered
my consolations and instructions more effective. However, I did not mean
never to disclose my name to her, and I had entrusted the solution of
the mystery to the sealed paper which I gave to the daughter of my heart
when I took leave of her, and which she afterwards lost.”
“If I am not mistaken, you gave the sealed paper to the Countess, with
the injunction to open it when she should have found the man whom her
heart should choose for a partner in her happiness and affliction!”
“You are not mistaken! it contained some instructions which are very
useful to a girl in love.”
“You foretold the Countess when you took leave of her, that her unhappy
fate would take a fortunate turn after three months, and that prediction
has really been accomplished by the aunt of the Countess.”
“This was very natural, because the whole matter had been arranged
already by the intercession of my friend, who was very intimate with her
aunt.”
“But why did you not continue your visits till the arrival of her aunt?”
“Because I went abroad with the Baron de Delier.”
“And you have never seen the Countess since?”
“No! and we should perhaps never have met again, if important affairs
had not called me to **** after the decease of the Baron. I saw the
Countess accidentally when I was coming from the cathedral. O! my Lord,
what are all worldly pleasures, if compared to the happiness of such a
re-union? The emotions of my heart broke out so violently, that we were
obliged to get in the carriage, and to drive to Amelia’s hermitage, to
prevent our being crushed to death by the gaping multitude.”
“Indeed,” exclaimed the Countess, shedding tears of sensibility, and
pressing the hand of the Baroness to her bosom, “I shall never forget
that day while this heart is beating!”
“And yet, would you believe it, my Lord,” resumed the Baroness, after an
affecting pause, “I could scarcely prevail upon her to leave the castle
in the forest, and to remove to mine, where we are leading an happy and
contented life. My Amelia indeed was turned a downright hermit.”
“I confess, my dear friend,” replied the Countess, “I was so charmed
with my solitary residence, and the retired and quiet life I led suited
the state of my mind so well, that no one but my dear Baroness could
have persuaded me to change my situation.”
The fleeting hours passed rapidly away amid pleasing discourses, and
evening was already far advanced before I could resolve to take leave of
Amelia and her amiable companion. At length I parted reluctantly, and
having been invited to repeat my visit the day following, returned to my
lodging in a trance of happiness and joy.
Amelia was the sole object of my thoughts before I fell asleep; Amelia’s
image sweetened my rest; her name was the first sound that came from my
lips when I awoke, and in her presence I spent the greatest part of the
day in a trance of unspeakable bliss.
Her cheerfulness declined, however, with every new day; her serene looks
began to grow gloomy; her innate frankness and affability gave room to
reserve and melancholy, which she endeavoured in vain to conceal.
I surprised her several times fixing her eyes on me in a melancholy
manner, and casting down her looks with consternation when she perceived
that I observed it--she spoke little, and what she said was
incoherent--yet her behaviour was not repelling--her bosom seemed to
conceal some secret uneasiness, the cause of which I strove in vain to
explore. As often as I began to speak of the _Unknown_, Amelia looked
perplexed and timid at Lady Delier, who always turned the conversation
to a different object. I was certain that the Irishman had been in the
house; they even confessed that he had informed them of my elevation to
the ducal dignity; but this was all I could learn. This circumstance and
Amelia’s behaviour gave rise to apprehensions which made me suffer the
torments of hell. I could not endure this situation longer than four
days; at the evening of the fourth day I took advantage of an
opportunity which I had to speak to Lady Delier in private, and pressed
her to unfold that mystery to me. After many fruitless persuasions,
I obtained at length the promise to be informed of what I so anxiously
wished to know, and was requested to meet her at twelve o’clock the next
day in the fir-grove behind the garden of the castle, when she would
satisfy my curiosity.
I awaited the noon-tide hour with impatience. At length the wished for
hour arrived, and with the last stroke I was going to hasten to the
fir-grove, however I met the Irishman on the stair-case. “Come with me,
my Lord!” he said, as soon as he saw me!
“Whither?”
“You will be surprised in a most pleasing manner. Make haste, my
carriage is waiting for you.”
“I cannot accept your invitation before one o’clock. I must finish first
a business of great importance, which cannot be postponed.”
“My business also cannot be postponed, and is of far greater importance.
I am going to take you to an old acquaintance whom you have ardently
wished to see this good while.”
“An old acquaintance--whom I have ardently wished to see?---It is
not---”
“Your _tutor_ I mean. Come, make haste!”
I embraced the Irishman with a loud exclamation of joy, pressed him
vehemently to my heart, and leaped into the carriage.
We drove through the city gate; our horses gallopped at a furious rate,
and yet they were too slow for my impatience. “Is he far from hence?”
I exclaimed, “where does he live, is he well, does he know that I am
coming?” “All that you shall know presently!” said the Irishman,
ordering the coachman to stop.
We got out of the carriage, and the sun was overclouding like the face
of the Irishman. He uttered not a word, and made a silent signal to
follow him.
The place where we were was a lonely solitary spot in the suburbs. The
Irishman stopped at a high wall over which the tops of tall trees were
portending. My conductor looked at me with a melancholy air, and then
beat with his fist against a large gate. The folding doors burst open
with a dreadful noise, and I beheld a burying-place before me. The
Irishman entered. “What business have we here?” I exclaimed in a
faultering accent. “Come along and be a man!” so saying, he pulled me
after him, and the door was shut again by an invisible hand.
(_To be continued._)
* * * * *