A single disappointment is sufficient to embitter all the pleasures of
worldly prosperity. Though it might be expected, one in possession of
high power and station should disregard slight injuries. But prosperity
debilitates instead of strengthening the mind.--Its common effect is, to
create an extreme sensibility to the slightest wound.---It foments
impatient desires; and raises expectations which no success can
satisfy.---It fosters a false delicacy, which sickens in the midst of
indulgence; by repeated gratification, it blunts the feelings of men to
what is pleasing; and leaves them unhappily acute to whatever is uneasy.
* * * * *
* * * *
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 307.)
Grief, horror, pity, hope, and despair assailed my heart alternately,
after I had read this letter. I moistened it with burning tears. When
this violent agitation of my mind began to abate so much that I could
reflect again, I considered what could be done for the preservation of
this hapless man, and regardless of my indisposition, hastened to the
archbishop of Lis*on, who always had been very partial to the Duke, and
was much respected by the Queen. I entreated this worthy prelate to
intercede with the latter for my hapless friend. “Alas!” he replied,
“I have attempted it already without success.” “How, my Lord?” her reply
was, “how can you intercede for a traitor who has meditated our
destruction and the ruin of our kingdom. All that you can expect is,
that I shall forget what you have asked.”
This account of the archbishop rent my heart; however, I entertained
still some hope that the King, whose generous disposition I knew, would
not prove callous against my tears and prayers. I went without delay to
the palace, and was admitted. I supplicated him on my knees, to grant
his royal mercy to the unfortunate deluded young man, and exerted every
power of eloquence to excite his pity. “Rise, Marquis,” the King
replied, “there is no occasion for your intercession; I have determined
already to pardon the Duke and the rest of the conspirators; yet their
fate does not depend on myself alone, but also from the decision of the
Council of State.” With that resolution I was dismissed.
The following day, the gaoler brought me a second letter from the Duke,
which I shall transcribe literally:
“MY DEAREST FRIEND,
“I am allowed to converse with you once more. The 200 dobras have gained
the gaoler, and the promise of a like sum has prompted him to engage to
deliver this letter to you. I must inform you of an important incident,
that happened last night, within the walls of my dungeon. The door of my
prison was suddenly flung open, and _Hiermanfor_ entered. Although I
have great reason to be angry with him, yet he appeared to me an angel
of light, in comparison with Alumbrado. The sight of him roused my heart
from its state of despondency; however, my former gloominess of mind
soon returned, when after a long and solemn silence, he exclaimed: “must
we meet again in _this_ place?”
“I could return no answer; the consciousness of my guilt lay heavy on my
mind, and the looks of the Irishman confounded me. Without being
affected by my perplexity, he resumed, after a short silence: “you was a
noble, deserving young man when I left you, and now I find you a rebel.”
I do not know whether it was the accent in which he pronounced these
words, or the truth they implied, that made my blood ferment on a
sudden--in short, I exclaimed: “if you had fulfilled your promise as an
honest man, I should then perhaps not have been in this situation.” The
Irishman seemed to be affected vehemently. “By heaven! my Lord!” he
exclaimed, “it was no fault of mine, a journey, and business of great
importance, prevented me from seeing you sooner. But I do not comprehend
you sufficiently, will you be so kind as to explain the meaning of your
words?”
“I will, as soon as you shall have given me an explanation of an
incident which you have promised to clear up.”
“What incident do you mean?” the Irishman said.
“The apparition of Antonio, at the church-yard. Was it a natural
contrivance of your invention?”
“It was.”
“Merciful God!”
“What is the matter with you?”
“Don’t ask me, the explanation--the explanation--”
“The apparition was effected by means of a convex mirror; the vision
which you wanted to embrace, was nothing else but the image of a statue
of your tutor, which was reflected on the spot where it appeared by a
mirror placed before that statue.”
“But how did it happen that the mirror escaped my observation?”
“You will recollect that the vision appeared not far from the chapel,
behind the wall of which the mirror was placed in such a manner that it
could not be perceived by you.”
“And Antonio’s statue?”
“You would have observed it if the sight of the apparition had not
engrossed your whole attention; however, its having been painted white
like the rest of the statues in the church-yard, probably would have
induced you to mistake it for the statue of some saint or other, and
thus it would not have attracted your attention.”
“But how could the apparition disappear and re-appear at my desire?”
“That was not difficult. One of my people, who directed the mirror
through one of the church windows, removed it when the vision
disappeared, and replaced it again in its proper situation when you
desired the phantom to appear once more.”
“But if I had discovered the artifice?--”
“Don’t you believe that I had taken the necessary precaution? Even if
you had seen the mirror, yet you would not have discovered its effect.
I was, however, pretty sure that you would not enter into an
examination, being well aware that you would have no inclination of
doing it, because I had desired you to make every investigation you
should wish, and thus prompted you to believe that I apprehended no
discovery.”
“However, the phantom spoke, how could that be?”
“Not the phantom, but Count Clairval, who was in the gallery of the
chapel, spoke through a speaking trumpet. The direction of the trumpet,
and the striking resemblance the phantom bore to your tutor, induced you
to attribute the words which he pronounced to the vision.”
“Hiermanfor,” said I after a pause, “then your last miracle too was a
delusion?”
“You have my confession.”
“And nevertheless you assured me so solemnly that it was the work of
super-natural power!”
“I did so; but I intended to recant after the end which I had in view
should have been attained. Unforeseen incidents prevented me from doing
it sooner.”
“Why did not Count Clairval recant in your name, when I entreated him so
solemnly and so pressing to confess the fraud?”
“He had received no orders to that purpose.”
“You promised me, one time, to initiate me in a new philosophy, and to
introduce me to an happiness that is concealed from other mortals.”
“Then I promised you what I am not able to perform. Without
circumlocution, I imposed upon you!”
“And you have the courage to tell me this to my face?”
“I have spoken the truth, and hope you will forgive me. Yes, I have
deceived you, and the success of the revolution depended chiefly upon
that innocent fraud. I deceived you because--forgive me my
frankness--because you would be deceived.”
“Your morality agrees pretty well with your policy.”
“I am astonished,” the Irishman replied with a contemptuous smile, “that
_you_ presume to call my morality in question; the clangor of these
fetters contrasts very much with your moral speeches.”
“Scarcely able to retain my rising indignation, I replied, “But if I
could prove that this innocent fraud, as you please to call it, has been
the chief cause of my crime, of these fetters, and of my impending
execution!”
“Heaven forbid it!” the Irishman exclaimed, seized with terror.
“You have excited by your delusions my propensity to miraculous events.
The explanation of your deceptions did not at all destroy the dangerous
effect they produced on my mind, because I never was able to recover
entirely from the erroneous opinion that the apparition of the
church-yard had been the effect of supernatural power. An infernal
impostor took advantage of the situation of my mind, and incited me
through new delusions to engage in the undertaking that has been the
cause of these fetters. Are you now sensible of the injury I have
suffered through you?”
“The Irishman grew pale, and seemed deprived of the power of utterance.
At once he recovered from his sudden terror, and started up. “Whither
are you going?” I exclaimed. “To the King!” he replied. “What business
have you with the King?” I enquired. “I am going to implore him to spare
your life, and to set you at liberty. Forgive me, unfortunate young man!
(he added) forgive me! I will exert every power of persuasion for the
preservation of your life.” So saying, he left me, and I have not seen
him since. I must patiently await the effect of his application.
Farewell! my friend, farewell! I am not afraid of leaving this world,
for Amelia is dead, Antonio is no more, and alas! my father too will be
condemned to die. However, the idea of dying branded with ignominy,
thrills me with terror and desponding agony. Gracious Heaven, ward off
this dreadful blow, if it be possible!”
Hesitating between hope and fear, I awaited the day which was to decide
the fate of my hapless friend. It arrived.
My melancholy tale draws nearer towards its conclusion! why does my hand
tremble thus? why do these tears start from my eyes? what means this
dreadful agony that almost breaks my heart? Alas! thy doom is fixed,
ill-fated victim of delusion!
The judges who were to decide the fate of the conspirators met, and
decreed that the Marquis of Villa Re*l and the Duke of Ca*ina, should be
beheaded as rebels against the King, whose authority they had
acknowledged with the rest of the states of the empire, and the other
conspirators hanged and quartered. The punishment of the Primate and the
Grand Inquisitor was left to the decision of the King.
(To be concluded in our next.)
* * * * *