There are happy days, but no happy lives; this would be an enchanting
dream, without once wakening to sorrow.
* * * * *
* * * *
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 195.)
Alumbrado had spoken the truth; the Duke found the Count in his
apartment. The latter was at first incapable of uttering a word, but
having recovered from his astonishment, he declined in a faltering
accent to accept the invitation of my friend. But when he heard the Duke
talk of the guard, and saw that he was a prisoner, he submitted to his
fate. The Duke ordered his trunk to be carried to his coach, and then
drove with him to his palace.
Apprehending that the Count would be reserved in the presence of a third
person, he had previously requested me to retire with Alumbrado to a
closet, where we could hear and see them without being observed. The
introduction to their discourse had already been finished in the
carriage, consequently we heard only the continuation. As soon as they
had entered the room, the Duke desired the Count to give him the key of
his trunk, which was delivered to him without hesitation. While he was
opening the trunk and searching for papers which he could not find, the
Count took his letter-case out of his pocket and threw it in the chimney
fire.
Although the Duke hastened to save it, yet a great part of it had
already been consumed by the flames. The rest he locked up in his
writing desk.
“Why have you done this?” he said to the Count with rising anger.
“Because I do not like to have my secrets wrested from me by force.”
The Duke took several turns in his apartment in order to recover his
equanimity, and then rung the bell. “Wine,” he called to the servant,
who brought it immediately and retired.
“Count,” said the Duke in a mild accent, “the wine possesses the virtue
of rendering people communicative and sincere. Let us drink.”
“You shall draw my secrets from me neither by force nor artifice.
I shall at least have the merit of confessing voluntarily, what I can,
and dare confess.”
“Very well. However, wine possesses also the virtue of dispelling
animosity and perplexity. Come, let us drink.”
The Count consented to it.
“First of all,” said the Duke, after they had been seated, “tell me
where is Hiermanfor? He promised to pay me a visit as soon as Por***al
should be delivered from the Spa**sh yoke, but has not been as good as
his word.”
“He could not. Affairs of the greatest importance have called him to
Brasil, where he very probably is at present.”
“Do you think that he will fulfil his promise after his return?”
“Undoubtedly! but why do you wish for his visit?”
“He has promised to initiate me in the mysteries of an occult
philosophy. You are perhaps capable of supplying his place.”
“No, my Lord.”
“But you will be able to afford me some information with respect to
those illusions by which I have been put to the test?”
“Yes!” the Count replied, after a pause.
“I only desire you to explain to me the more intricate and most
important deceptions, for the rest I hope to unfold without your
assistance.”
“Most of them you have already discovered by the papers which you have
ta--- found in my trunk.”
“How do you know that?” The Duke asked with astonishment.
“I know it from Hiermanfor.”
“And by whom has _he_ been informed of it?”
“By your Grace.”
“By me? I do not recollect to have discovered to him any thing.”
“Not directly; however, you have betrayed yourself.”
“On what occasion?”
“When he paid you a visit at **ubia. Do you not recollect to have asked
him whether he had discovered to Amelia that your real father had not
been the murderer of her Lord? This you could not have known if you had
not seen my papers.”
“It is true,” the Duke replied after a short silence, “however, those
papers did not extend farther than to the time when Hiermanfor was taken
up in your and my tutor’s presence. I was then going to descend into the
subterraneous vaults of a ruinous building, in order to take a brilliant
pin out of the hair of a sleeping virgin.”
“I know it; but you would have found neither the sleeping virgin nor any
of those things which Hiermanfor told you you would meet with.”
“Is it possible; should he have risked a fraud in which I so easily
could have found him out?”
“He knew before-hand that you would not get to the bottom of the
staircase, for it was settled previously that I should appear in time
with the officers of the police, and recall your Grace by firing a
pistol.”
“Indeed!” said the Duke with astonishment, “now I recollect another very
strange incident. I should perhaps not have descended without your
interference, for I was seized with an uncommon anxiety, which increased
every step I proceeded. I cannot conceive what was the reason of it;
however it seemed as if an invisible power pushed me back.”
“This I will explain to you. Don’t you recollect that a thick smoke
ascended from the abyss? A stupifying incense which possessed the power
of straitening the breast, and creating anxiety, was burning at the
bottom of the stair-case.”
“I cannot but confess,” the Duke said, after a short pause, “that the
execution was not less cautious than the plan has been artful. I had
indeed been impelled, at that time, to believe Hiermanfor was not only
possessed of the knowledge of subterraneous treasures, but also of the
power and the inclination of affording me a share of them, and that it
had been merely my fault to have returned empty handed. His cursory
account of the wonderful things I should meet with in the abyss had
contributed to set my imagination at work, and I was more desirous to
see those miraculous things, than to get possession of the jewels.”
“Your Grace resented it very much that I had interrupted that adventure
by the seizure of Hiermanfor.”
“Indeed I did, but what view had you in doing it?”
“It was of great consequence to me, to prove myself to you and your
tutor, in an incontestible manner, an implacable enemy of Hiermanfor.
How could I have effected it better than by seizing him? the magistrate
was an intimate friend of mine, and the whole farce pre-concerted with
him.”
“Then the Irishman has not been taken up seriously?”
“The officers of the police had been ordered to set him at liberty as
soon as he should be out of your sight.”
“Now I can comprehend why you so obstinately opposed me when I intreated
my tutor to make an attempt at delivering Hiermanfor.----But what would
you have done, if I had persisted in my resolution of taking that step?”
“Then you should certainly not have done it alone; I would have
accompanied you to the magistrate, who undoubtedly would have found
means of consoling you with respect to Hiermanfor’s fate. It seemed,
nevertheless, not to be advisable to suffer you to remain any longer in
the neighbourhood of the theatre where that scene had been performed.
You might have peeped behind the curtain without our knowledge, and your
tutor could have made secret enquiries. An accident might easily have
betrayed to you that the process against Hiermanfor was a fiction; in
short, we could not have acted with safety and liberty while you should
have been near the scene of action, and for that reason the magistrate
was suborned to endeavour to persuade you to a speedy flight, in which
he succeeded to our greatest satisfaction.”
“Now it is evident how Hiermanfor could shew so much tranquility and
unconcern when he was taken up, how he could promise to see me at **n,
and make good his promise.”
“The latter was indeed an easy matter; however he wanted to render his
re-appearance interesting by concomitant extraordinary circumstances.
A lamentable incident procured him the means of effecting his purpose.
You will recollect the execution of Franciska, the too late discovery of
her innocence, and the nocturnal funeral to which I invited
you.---Hiermanfor could not have re-appeared to you on a more remarkable
opportunity. At that period, when your soul was thrilled with gloomy
melancholy and chilling sensations, the sight of a man whom you supposed
to languish in a dungeon, or perhaps to have finished already his career
on the stake, could not but make the deepest impression on you. You know
that he omitted nothing that promised to enforce that impression.”
“But how could he then already know that I had been raised to the ducal
dignity?”
“He had received early intelligence of it by a letter from a friend, who
was intimate with the secretary of your father.”
“Let us drop the discourse on the scene of that night, it is accompanied
with too horrid and painful ideas. Let us repair to the retired cell of
the royal hermit, where no inferior miracles are crowding upon us. First
of all, tell me whether you really think him to be the old banished
King?”
“I do, indeed, not only because Hiermanfor has told me so, but also
because his whole form resembles in a most striking manner, the picture
of the real King.”
“But when do you think he will ascend the throne of Port**al?”
“I suppose, very soon!”
“Do you, indeed? I can see, as yet, no preparations for it. They even do
not _talk_ of the old King; every one believes him to be dead; I think
it would be time to spread the news of his being still alive.”
“I must confess that I have neither heard nor seen any thing of him
since we left him in his cell. I hope Hiermanfor’s return will be the
period of his taking possession of the throne. Perhaps he intends to
introduce him in triumph in Port**al.”
“It seems, at least, that they are very intimately connected. Do you
recollect how Hiermanfor appeared at night, in a manner equally
mysterious and surprizing, when he was summoned by the royal Hermit?”
“O! as for that juggling trick---”
The Duke started from his chair. “A juggling trick---this too should
have been a juggling trick?”
“How can you be surprized at this discovery?”
“The incident was indeed wonderful enough for giving reason to think it
supernatural.”
“You are right. That artifice could not but produce an astonishing
effect on an uninformed spectator. The Hermit pronounces some
unintelligible words while he kisses the picture three times; the lamp
is extinguished and lighted again, as if it were by an invisible hand;
a sudden noise is heard, and a flame flashes over the picture. All this
is very surprising. However, if one knows that the altar, on which the
picture is placed, conceals a machine, that the Hermit’s finger touches
a secret spring, and this puts the wheels of the machine in motion, that
the wick in the lamp is connected with it, and pulled down and up again
through the tube in which it is fixed; if one knows _how_ Hiermanfor
entered the cell, then the whole incident will be divested of its
supernatural appearance.”
“But this very appearance of Hiermanfor is entirely mysterious to me.”
(_To be continued._)
* * * * *
* * * *
THE STORY OF ALCANDER AND SEPTIMIUS.
Taken from a Byzantine Historian.
Athens, long after the decline of the Roman empire, still continued the
seat of learning, politeness, and wisdom. Theodoric, the Ostrogoth,
repaired the schools which barbarity was suffering to fall into decay,
and continued those pensions to men of learning, which avaricious
governors had monopolized.
In this city, and about this period, Alcander and Septimius were fellow
students together; the one, the most subtle reasoner of all the Lyceum;
the other, the most eloquent speaker in the academic grove. Mutual
admiration soon begot friendship. Their fortunes were nearly equal, and
they were natives of the two most celebrated cities in the world; for
Alcander was of Athens, Septimius came from Rome.
In this state of harmony they lived for some time together, when
Alcander, after passing the first part of his youth in the indolence of
philosophy, thought at length of entering into the busy world; and, as a
step previous to this, placed his affections on Hypatia, a lady of
exquisite beauty. The day of their intended nuptials was fixed; the
previous ceremonies were performed; and nothing now remained but her
being conducted in triumph to the apartment of the intended bridegroom.
Alcander’s exultation in his own happiness, or being unable to enjoy any
satisfaction without making his friend Septimius a partner, prevailed
upon him to introduce Hypatia to his fellow-student; which he did with
all the gaiety of a man who found himself equally happy in friendship
and love. But this was an interview fatal to the future peace of both;
for Septimius no sooner saw her, but he was smitten with an involuntary
passion; and, though he used every effort to suppress desires at once so
imprudent and unjust, the emotions of his mind in a short time became so
strong, that they brought on a fever, which the physicians judged
incurable.
During this illness, Alcander watched him with all the anxiety of
fondness, and brought his mistress to join in those amiable offices of
friendship. The sagacity of the physicians, by these means, soon
discovered that the cause of their patient’s disorder was love; and
Alcander being apprised of their discovery, at length extorted a
confession from the reluctant dying lover.
It would but delay the narrative to describe the conflict between love
and friendship in the breast of Alcander on this occasion; it is enough
to say, that the Athenians were at that time arrived at such refinement
in morals, that every virtue was carried to excess. In short, forgetful
of his own felicity, he gave up his intended bride, in all her charms,
to the young Roman. They were married privately by his connivance, and
this unlooked for change of fortune wrought as unexpected a change in
the constitution of the now happy Septimius. In a few days he was
perfectly recovered, and set out with his fair partner for Rome. Here,
by an exertion of those talents which he was so eminently possessed of,
Septimius, in a few years, arrived at the highest dignities of the
state, and was constituted the city judge, or prætor.
In the mean time, Alcander not only felt the pain of being separated
from his friend and his mistress, but a prosecution was also commenced
against him, by the relations of Hypatia, for having basely given up his
bride, as was suggested, for money. His innocence of the crime laid to
his charge, and even his eloquence in his own defence, were not able to
withstand the influence of a powerful party. He was cast, and condemned
to pay an enormous fine. However, being unable to raise so large a sum
at the time appointed, his possessions were confiscated, he himself was
stripped of the habit of freedom, exposed as a slave in the
market-place, and sold to the highest bidder.
A merchant of Thrace becoming his purchaser, Alcander, with some other
companions of distress, was carried into that region of desolation and
sterility. His stated employment was to follow the herds of an imperious
master, and his success in hunting was all that was allowed him so
supply his precarious subsistence. Every morning waked him to a renewal
of famine or toil, and every change of season served but to aggravate
his unsheltered distress. After some years of bondage, however, an
opportunity of escaping offered; he embraced it with ardour; so that,
travelling by night, and lodging in caverns by day, to shorten a long
story, he at last arrived in Rome. The same day on which Alcander
arrived, Septimius sat administering justice in the forum, whither our
wanderer came, expecting to be instantly known, and publicly
acknowledged, by his former friend. Here he stood the whole day amongst
the crowd, watching the eyes of the judge, and expecting to be taken
notice of; but he was so much altered by a long succession of hardships,
that he continued unnoticed among the rest; and, in the evening, when he
was going up to the prætor’s chair, he was brutally repulsed by the
attending lictors. The attention of the poor is generally driven from
one ungrateful object to another; for night coming on, he now found
himself under the necessity of seeking a place to lie in, and yet knew
not where to apply. All emaciated and in rags, as he was, none of the
citizens would harbour so much wretchedness; and sleeping in the streets
might be attended with interruption or danger: in short, he was obliged
to take up his lodging in one of the tombs without the city, the usual
retreat of guilt, poverty, and despair. In this mansion of horror,
laying his head upon an inverted urn, he forgot his miseries for a while
in sleep; and found, on his flinty couch, more ease than beds of down
can supply to the guilty.
As he continued here, about midnight, two robbers came to make this
their retreat; but, happening to disagree about the division of their
plunder, one of them stabbed the other to the heart, and left him
weltering in blood at the entrance. In these circumstances he was found
next morning, dead, at the mouth of the vault. This naturally inducing a
further enquiry, an alarm was spread; the cave was examined, and
Alcander being found, was immediately apprehended, and accused of
robbery and murder. The circumstances against him were strong, and the
wretchedness of his appearance confirmed suspicion. Misfortune and he
were now so long acquainted, that he at last became regardless of life.
He detested a world where he had found only ingratitude, falsehood, and
cruelty; he was determined to make no defence; and thus, lowering with
resolution, he was dragged, bound with cords, before the tribunal of
Septimius. As the proofs were positive against him, and he offered
nothing in his own vindication, the judge was proceeding to doom him to
a most cruel and ignominious death, when the attention of the multitude
was soon divided by another object. The robber, who had been really
guilty, was apprehended selling his plunder, and, struck with a panic,
had confessed his crime. He was brought bound to the same tribunal, and
acquitted every other person of any partnership in his guilt. Alcander’s
innocence therefore appeared, but the sullen rashness of his conduct
remained a wonder to the surrounding multitude; but their astonishment
was still further increased, when they saw their judge start from his
tribunal to embrace the supposed criminal. Septimius recollected his
friend and former benefactor, and hung upon his neck with tears of pity
and of joy. Need the sequel be related? Alcander was acquitted; shared
the friendship and honours of the principal citizens of Rome; lived
afterwards in happiness and ease; and left it to be engraved on his
tomb, That no circumstances are so desperate, which Providence may not
relieve.
* * * * *
Interesting History Of
_THE BARON DE LOVZINSKI._
With a relation of the most remarkable occurrences in the life
of the celebrated COUNT PULASKI, well known as the champion of
American Liberty, and who bravely fell in its defence before
Savannah, 1779.
_Interspersed with Anecdotes of the late unfortunate KING of POLAND,
so recently dethroned._
(Continued from page 198.)
Had the horse, which I had left with them at my departure, afforded them
sufficient sustenance ever since? Had not hunger, cruel hunger, obliged
them to fly from their retreat? Were they still concealed in those
frightful deserts? If they were not there, where should I be able to
find them? Where, without them, should I drag out my miserable
existence?
. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
But could I believe that Pulaski had abandoned his son-in-law? that
Lodoiska had consented to separate herself from her husband?
No---undoubtedly not. They were still confined within the circle of this
frightful solitude; and if I abandoned them, they must die with famine
and cold! . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
These desperate reflections at length determined my conduct, and I no
longer examined whether or not, in removing at a distance from my
waggon, I was in danger of never finding it again. To carry some
provisions to my father-in-law and wife, to succour Pulaski and
Lodoiska---these were now the only sentiments that occupied my mind.
I accordingly seize my fowling-piece, take some powder and shot, and
load one of my horses with necessaries: I pierce into the woods much
farther than during the former evening; I again hollow with all my
strength; I again make frequent discharges with my gun. The most
melancholy silence reigned all around me.
I now find myself in a part of the forest where the trees were so
extremely thick, that there was no longer any passage for my horse: I,
therefore, tie him to a tree, and my despair getting the better of every
other consideration, I still continue to advance with my gun, and part
of my provisions. I had now wandered about for two hours more, my
inquietude forcing me every moment to redouble my pace, when at length I
perceive human footsteps imprinted on the snow.
Hope gives me new strength, and I therefore instantly follow the traces
which were still fresh. Soon after I discover Pulaski almost naked,
emaciated with hunger, and so changed as scarce to be known even by me!
He makes all the efforts in his power to drag his limbs towards me, and
to reply to my enquiries. The moment that I had rejoined him, he seizes,
with avidity, on the victuals that I present to him, and devours them in
an instant. I then demand of him where Lodoiska is.
“Alas!” says he, “you will see her there!” The tone of voice in which he
pronounced these words made me tremble. I run to, I arrive at, the
cavern, but too well prepared for the melancholy spectacle that awaited
me. Lodoiska, wrapped up in her own clothes, and covered with those of
her father, was extended upon a bed of half rotten leaves!
She raises, with some difficulty, her weary head, and refusing the
aliments which I now offer her, addresses me as follows:---“I am not
hungry! The death of my children; the loss of Dorliska; our journeys, so
long, so laborious, so difficult; your dangers, which seemed to increase
daily---these have killed me! I was unable to resist fatigue and sorrow.
My friend, I am dying---I heard thy voice, and my soul was stopped in
its flight. We shall meet again! Lodoiska ought to die in the arms of a
husband whom she adores!---Assist my father! May he live! Live both of
you---console yourselves, and forget me! . . . . . . . .
---Search every where for my dear . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .”
She was unable to pronounce the name of her daughter, and instantly
expired! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
Her father digs a grave for her at a little distance from the cavern;
and I behold the earth enclose all that I loved in this world! . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
What a trying moment! Pulaski alone prevented me from becoming the
victim of despair: he forces me to survive Lodoiska! . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . .
Pulaski, whose courage never abandoned him, and whose strength was by
this time restored, obliges me to occupy myself jointly with him, in the
business of procuring our subsistence.
By following along the snow the prints of my footsteps, we arrive at
length at the place where I had left my waggon, which we immediately
unload, and burn soon after, on purpose to withhold from our enemies the
most distant suspicion of the place of our retreat.
By the aid of our horses, for which we procure a passage, by making a
circuitous journey, instead of attempting to bring them straight to the
place of our retreat, we were at length able to transport those
provisions and moveables to our cavern, which it was so necessary for us
to procure, and to husband, if we resolved to remain much longer in this
solitude. We soon after killed our horses, which we were unable to
supply with food. We lived upon their flesh, which the rigour of the
season preserved for a considerable time; it corrupted, however, at
length; and our fire-arms being unable to procure us any other than a
scanty supply of game, we were obliged to have recourse to our
provisions; which at the end of three months, were entirely consumed.
Some gold, and the greater part of Lodoiska’s diamonds still remained.
Should I make a second voyage to Pultava? Or should we both run the
hazard of such an undertaking, and quit our retreat in company? We had
already suffered so much, and so cruelly in this forest, that we
resolved to embrace the latter resolution.
We accordingly sally forth; we pass the Sem near Rylks; we purchase a
boat there, and, disguising ourselves in the dress of fishermen, we
descend that river, and enter the Desna.
Our boat was visited at Czernicove, but misery had so disfigured
Pulaski, that it was impossible any longer to recognize him. We then
enter the Dnieper; we cross from Kiof* to Krylow. There we were obliged
to receive into our boat, and carry to the other side, several Russian
soldiers who were on their march to join a small army employed against
Pugatchew.
[* Kiof, or Kiow, is a palatinate, in which it situated a town of
the same name, which is reckoned the capital of the Ukraine. It is
built on the banks of the river Nieper, or Dnieper, as it is
sometimes called. T.]
At Zoporiskaia we heard of the capture of Bender and Oczakow, the
conquest of the Crimea, the defeat and subsequent death of the Vizir
Oglou.
Pulaski, reduced to a state of desperation, was anxious to traverse the
vast deserts that separated him from Pugatchew, on purpose to join
himself to that enemy of the Russians; but the excess of our fatigues
obliged us to remain at Zaporiskaia.
The peace, which was soon after concluded between Russia and the Porte,
at length afforded us the means of entering Turkey.
On foot, and still disguised, we crossed the Boudziac, part of Moldavia
and Wallachia, and after a thousand unforeseen and unexpected
difficulties and fatigues, we at length arrive at Adrianople.
Having remained for some time at this place, on purpose to repair our
exhausted forces, we prepare to depart: but we are arrested, and being
carried before the Cadi, are accused of having sold several diamonds in
the course of our journey, which we had apparently stolen. The miserable
clothes with which we were covered, had given rise to this suspicion.
Pulaski discovers himself to the mussulman judge, and he sends us
immediately to Constantinople.
We are admitted shortly after to an audience of the grand signior. He
orders apartments to be prepared for us, and assigns us a liberal
pension upon his treasury.
I then write to my sisters, and to Boleslas: we learn, by their answers,
that all the property of Pulaski had been confiscated, that he was
degraded from his rank, and condemned to lose his head.
My father-in-law is in the utmost consternation on receiving this
intelligence: he is filled with indignation at being accused as a
regicide: he writes home in his own justification.
Constantly animated, and devoured as it were with the love of his
country, continually influenced by the mortal hatred which he had sworn
against its enemies, he never ceased, during the four whole years that
we remained in Turkey, to endeavour, by his intrigues, to oblige the
Porte to declare war against Russia.
In 1774, amidst a transport of rage, he receives intelligence of the
triple invasion,* which bereaved the republic of one third of its
possessions.
[* The dismemberment of Poland, by the Empress of Russia, the
emperor of Germany, and the king of Prussia. This event, which took
place by the agreement of three royal robbers, is one of the most
disgraceful actions that ever stained the page of humanity. T.]
It was in the spring of 1776, that the patriots of America, fearful of
the tyranny of an island which once boasted of its own liberties,
resolved to redeem their violated rights by force of arms. My country
hath lost her freedom, says Pulaski to me one day: but, ah, let us still
fight for that of a new people!
We pass into Spain, we embark on board a vessel bound for the Havannah,
from whence we repair to Philadelphia. The congress instantly presents
us with commissions, and employs us in the army of General Washington.
(To be concluded in our next.)
* * * * *
* * * *