Justice may be defined that virtue which impels us to give to every
person what is his due. In this extended sense of the word, it
comprehends the practice of every virtue which reason prescribes, or
society should expect. Our duty to our Maker, to each other, and to
ourselves, are fully answered, if we give them what we owe them. Thus
justice, properly speaking, is the only virtue, and all the rest have
their origin in it.
The qualities of candour, fortitude, charity, and generosity, for
instance, are not in their own nature virtues: and, if ever they deserve
the title, it is owing only to justice, which impels and directs them.
Without such a moderator, candour might become indiscretion, fortitude
obstinacy, charity imprudence, and generosity mistaken profusion.
* * * * *
+DEATH of a PHILOSOPHER.+
Let others bestrew the hearses of the great with panegyric. When a
philosopher dies, I consider myself as losing a patron, an instructor,
and a friend; I consider the world as losing one who might serve to
console her amidst the desolations of war and ambition. Nature every day
produces in abundance men capable of filling all the requisite duties of
authority; but she is a niggard in the birth of an exalted mind,
scarcely producing in a century a single genius to bless and enlighten a
degenerate age. Prodigal in the production of kings, governors,
mandarines, chams, and courtiers, she seems to have forgotten, for more
than three thousand years, the manner in which she once formed the brain
of a Confucius; and well it is she has forgotten, when a bad world gave
him so very bad a reception.
* * * * *
* * * *
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 211.)
Alumbrado was of the same opinion, our advice was however neglected, for
the next morning when I went to see the Duke, I found the Count had
already been liberated. The matter happened in the following manner:
The Duke had paid him one more visit at night, in order to get some
explanation of Amelia’s history, asking the Count whether his account of
Amelia’s adventures had been strictly true, or intermixed with fiction?
The Count confessed frankly that he had not been very conscientious in
his relation, but had added to his picture many fictitious strokes; nay,
that he had disfigured even the principal incidents by interpolation, in
order to encrease by his adventrous tale, the Duke’s propensity to
wonderful incidents, and thus to render Amelia more interesting to him.
The Duke asked him how he could have risked a fraud which the first
meeting with the Countess could have laid open to him. “I was well
aware,” the Count replied, “that you as well as Amelia would be prompted
by the tender harmony which made your hearts beat in unison, to avoid
speaking of incidents which would have introduced Amelia’s late Lord and
her love for him.” The Duke asked him whether the Irishman had not acted
in concert with Lady Delier? “Only as far as he made use of her to
direct the love that had taken place between your Grace and Amelia,” the
Count answered; “the conditions and reflections under which the Baroness
was to assist in forwarding your mutual union are unknown to me.” The
Count being asked, whether that wonderful note by which Amelia had been
released from her vow of eternal fidelity to her deceased Lord, had been
a contrivance of Hiermanfor’s natural skill, or the effect of
supernatural power; the Count replied, the latter had been the case. The
Duke had been affected so much by the repeated mention of his Amelia,
that he began to melt in tears. The Count thought this state of mind
very propitious for regaining his liberty, and obtained it without
difficulty. What could the Duke have refused in that situation to
Amelia’s brother-in-law?
Alumbrado seemed to be not less displeased with this event than myself.
My hope that the Count would entirely destroy, by an ample discovery of
the juggling tricks of the Irishman, the Duke’s belief in the
supernatural skill of the latter was now utterly destroyed, for he had
not unfolded the most important mystery; the apparition of Antonio at
the church-yard. Yet I derived some consolation from the papers of
Clairval, which were still in the hands of the Duke, and proposed to
throw some light on that extraordinary incident. My friend himself
seemed to entertain the same hope, and although the papers had been
partly consumed by the fire, yet he was not discouraged, and undertook
the laborious task of decyphering them. We retired lest we should
disturb him.
The next morning Alumbrado came to my palace, informing me that he went
to pay a visit to the Duke, but had not been admitted. We concluded from
this, that he had not yet finished decyphering of the papers.
The Duke joined us about an hour after with gloomy looks, he gave me
some writings and said, “that is all that I could make out; read it and
edify yourself.”---
I began to read aloud, “Beloved and trusty---” the Duke interrupted
me--“It is a letter to Hiermanfor, written by the Lady of the late Duke
of B----a, at a time when he had little hope of ascending the royal
throne of P--------l.”
“Beloved and trusty! I have read all your letters to our Privy
Secretary, along with the note by which you acquaint him with your
intention of introducing Miguel to the Hermit. I always read your
letters with admiration, yet I cannot but confess that I have great
reason to suspect you have it more at heart to be admired, than to gain
Miguel over to our party. I should think Miguel could have been secured
to us in a safer, easier, and more expeditious manner, and you would
have saved yourself a great deal of time and trouble if you had
attempted it. Why those superfluous machinations, why those expensive,
intricate, artificial, and give me leave to add, those fragile machines
which so easily may be destroyed? You could certainly have ensnared
Miguel in a more simple and a less precarious manner. Machineries like
those which you have made use of are always liable to the danger of
being discovered by accident, which may ruin the whole plan.
“You will perhaps reply, that, if he should make such a discovery, it
would be of little consequence; that you know this Miguel too well, are
too sensible of your superiority, that he cannot do without you, and
that you keep him in chains which he will not be able to shake off,
though your whole miraculous web should be dissolved in smoke. But, if
so, wherefore those needless artifices? What benefit will arise from
your miracles and ghosts? The love intrigue with Amelia, and the charm
of your eloquence would have been sufficient for gaining Miguel over to
our party.
“I may be mistaken, your proceedings are however riddles to me, if I do
not suppose that an arrogant activity has prompted you to contrive
extraordinary intrigues, and to have recourse to marvellous machineries.
People of your genius are wont to do so. You despise the ways of common
men, force new roads through insurmountable rocks, entangle your man in
numberless magic fetters, with no other view, than to have the pleasure
of seeing your prisoner insnare himself deeper and deeper by his
attempts to regain his liberty. The simple, artless turn of a play, does
not suit a genius like your’s, which delights only in knitting and
dissolving intricate knots, and in having recourse to artificial,
complicated machines; obstacles and dangers serve only to give
additional energy to your activity. Miguel was, perhaps, only an object
which was to serve you for trying your skill and art, in order to see
how far you could rely on your capacities for more important
opportunities.
“But however it be, I am rather bound to thank you for your zeal to
serve our cause, than to criticise the choice of the means you have made
use of. Accomplish what you have begun, and you may be sure of my favour
and active gratitude.”
While I had been reading, the Duke walked up and down the room with
hasty strides. He now stopped. “Well, Marquis! well, Alumbrado!” said
he, “do I not act a charming part in this letter?”
We remained silent, became we saw that he was violently agitated.
“They treat me as a simpleton, as a blockhead. Is it not true?”
“How you exaggerate it!” said I. “They ascribe to you want of
experience, and that is all.”
“O Marquis, don’t you see in what a tone, and with how much contempt the
proud woman speaks of me?”
“She is a woman who mistakes you.”
“Heavens and earth! and I should brook her injuries without taking
revenge?”
“My Lord!” Alumbrado said, “in what relation have you been to the
Dutchess? I cannot see the connection of the whole affair?”
The Duke explained this connection to him, by discovering the share he
had had in the revolution.
Alumbrado was all attention during this account, and when it was
finished seemed to be absorbed in profound meditation.
“Friend!” said I to the Duke, “there are some more written
leaves”--------
“It is Hiermanfor’s answer to the letter you have been reading.”