Que donne le monde aux siens plus souvent,
Echo _Vent_.
Que dois-je vaincre ici, sans jamais relacher,
Echo _la chair_.
Qui fit le cause des maux, qui me sont survenus,
Echo _Venus_.
Que faut dire après d’une telle infidelle,
Echo _Fi d’elle_.
_MAGDALENIADE, by Father Pierre de St Louis._
“Three years had elapsed since the parting of Immalee and the stranger,
when one evening the attention of some Spanish gentlemen, who were
walking in a public place in Madrid, was arrested by a figure that
passed them, habited in the dress of the country, (only without a
sword), and walking very slowly. They stopt by a kind of simultaneous
movement, and seemed to ask each other, with silent looks, what had been
the cause of the impression this person’s appearance had made on them.
There was nothing remarkable in his figure,--his demeanour was quiet; it
was the singular expression of his countenance which had struck them
with a sensation they could neither define or account for.
“As they paused, the person returned alone, and walking slowly--and they
again encountered that singular expression of the features, (the eyes
particularly), which no human glance could meet unappalled. Accustomed
to look on and converse with all things revolting to nature and to
man,--for ever exploring the mad-house, the jail, or the
Inquisition,--the den of famine, the dungeon of crime, or the death-bed
of despair,--his eyes had acquired a light and a language of their
own--a light that none could gaze on, and a language that few dare
understand.
“As he passed slowly by them, they observed two others whose attention
was apparently fixed on the same singular object, for they stood
pointing after him, and speaking to each other with gestures of strong
and obvious emotion. The curiosity of the groupe for once overcame the
restraint of Spanish reserve, and approaching the two cavaliers, they
inquired if the singular personage who had passed was not the subject of
their conversation, and the cause of the emotion which appeared to
accompany it. The others replied in the affirmative, and hinted at their
knowledge of circumstances in the character and history of that
extraordinary being that might justify even stronger marks of emotion at
his presence. This hint operated still more strongly on their
curiosity--the circle of listeners began to deepen. Some of them, it
appeared, had, or pretended to have, some information relative to this
extraordinary subject. And that kind of desultory conversation
commenced, whose principal ingredients are a plentiful proportion of
ignorance, curiosity, and fear, mingled with some small allowance of
information and truth;--that conversation, vague, unsatisfactory, but
not uninteresting, to which every speaker is welcome to contribute his
share of baseless report,--wild conjecture,--anecdote the more
incredible the better credited,--and conclusion the more falsely drawn
the more likely to carry home conviction.
“The conversation passed very much in language incoherent as this:--“But
why, if he be what he is described, what he is known to be,--why is he
not seized by order of government?--why is he not immured in the
Inquisition?”--“He has been often in the prison of the holy
office--oftener, perhaps, than the holy fathers wished,” said another.
“But it is a well-known fact, that whatever transpired on his
examination, he was liberated almost immediately.” Another added, “That
the stranger had been in almost every prison in Europe, but had always
contrived either to defeat or defy the power in whose grasp he appeared
to be inclosed,--and to be active in his purposes of mischief in the
remotest parts of Europe at the moment he was supposed to be expiating
them in others.” Another demanded, “If it was known to what country he
belonged?” and was answered, “He is said to be a native of Ireland--(a
country that no one knows, and which the natives are particularly
reluctant to dwell in from various causes)--and his name is Melmoth.”
The Spaniard had great difficulty in expressing the _theta_,
unpronounceable by continental lips. “Another, who had an appearance of
more intelligence than the rest, added the extraordinary fact of the
stranger’s being seen in various and distant parts of the earth within a
time in which no power merely human could be supposed to traverse
them--that his marked and fearful habit was every where to seek out the
most wretched, or the most profligate, of the community among which he
flung himself--what was his object in seeking them was unknown.”--“It is
well known,” said a deep-toned voice, falling on the ears of the
startled listeners like the toll of a strong but muffled bell,--“it is
well known both to him and them.”
“It was now twilight, but the eyes of all could distinguish the figure
of the stranger as he passed; and some even averred they could see the
ominous lustre of those eyes which never rose on human destiny but as
planets of woe. The groupe paused for some time to watch the retreat of
the figure that had produced on them the effect of the torpedo. It
departed slowly,--no one offered it molestation.
“I have heard,” said one of the company, “that a delicious music
precedes the approach of this person when his destined victim,--the
being whom he is permitted to tempt or to torture,--is about to appear
or to approach him. I have heard a strange tale of such music being
heard; and--Holy Mary be our guide! did you ever hear such
sounds?”--“Where--what?--” and the astonished listeners took off their
hats, unclasped their mantles, “opened their lips, and drew in their
breath,” in delicious ecstasy at the sounds that floated round them. “No
wonder,” said a young gallant of the party, “no wonder that such sounds
harbinger the approach of a being so heavenly. She deals with the good
spirits; and the blessed saints alone could send such music from above
to welcome her.” As he spoke, all eyes were turned to a figure, which,
though moving among a groupe of brilliant and attractive females,
appeared the only one among them on whom the eye could rest with pure
and undivided light and love. She did not catch observation--observation
caught her, and was proud of its prize.
“At the approach of a large party of females, there was all that anxious
and flattering preparation among the cavaliers,--all that eager
arrangement of capas, and hats, and plumes,--that characterized the
manners of a nation still half-feudal, and always gallant and
chivalrous. These preliminary movements were answered by corresponding
ones on the part of the fair and fatal host approaching. The creaking of
their large fans--the tremulous and purposely-delayed adjustment of
their floating veils, whose partial concealment flattered the
imagination beyond the most full and ostentatious disclosure of the
charms they seemed jealous of--the folds of the mantilla, of whose
graceful falls, and complicated manœuvres, and coquettish undulations,
the Spanish women know how to avail themselves so well--all these
announced an attack, which the cavaliers, according to the modes of
gallantry in that day (1683), were well prepared to meet and parry.
“But, amid the bright host that advanced against them, there was one
whose arms were not artificial, and the effect of whose singular and
simple attractions made a strong contrast to the studied arrangements of
her associates. If her fan moved, it was only to collect air--if she
arranged her veil, it was only to hide her face--if she adjusted her
mantilla, it was but to hide that form, whose exquisite symmetry defied
the voluminous drapery of even that day to conceal it. Men of the
loosest gallantry fell back as she approached, with involuntary awe--the
libertine who looked on her was half-converted--the susceptible beheld
her as one who realized that vision of imagination that must never be
embodied here--and the unfortunate as one whose sight alone was
consolation--the old, as they gazed on her, dreamt of their youth--and
the young for the first time dreamt of love--the only love which
deserves the name--that which purity alone can inspire, and perfect
purity alone can reward.
“As she mingled among the gay groupes that filled the place, one might
observe a certain air that distinguished her from every female
there,--not by pretension to superiority, (of that her unequalled
loveliness must have acquitted her, even to the vainest of the groupe),
but by an untainted, unsophisticated character, diffusing itself over
look and motion, and even thought--turning wildness into grace--giving
an emphasis to a single exclamation, that made polished sentences sound
trifling--for ever trespassing against etiquette with vivid and fearless
enthusiasm, and apologizing the next moment with such timid and graceful
repentance, that one doubted whether the offence or the apology were
most delightful.
“She presented altogether a singular contrast to the measured tones, the
mincing gait, and the organized uniformity of dress, and manner, and
look, and feeling, of the females about her. The harness of art was upon
every limb and feature from their birth, and its trappings concealed or
crippled every movement which nature had designed for graceful. But in
the movement of this young female, there was a bounding elasticity, a
springiness, a luxuriant and conscious vitality, that made every action
the expression of thought; and then, as she shrunk from the disclosure,
made it the more exquisite interpreter of feeling. There was around her
a mingled light of innocence and majesty, never united but in _her_ sex.
Men may long retain, and even confirm, the character of power which
nature has stamped on their frames, but they very soon forfeit their
claim to the expression of innocence.
“Amid the vivid and eccentric graces of a form that seemed like a comet
in the world of beauty, bound by no laws, or by laws that she alone
understood and obeyed, there was a shade of melancholy, that, to a
superficial observer, seemed transitory and assumed, perhaps as a
studied relief to the glowing colours of a picture so brilliant, but
which, to other eyes, announced, that with all the energies of intellect
occupied,--with all the instincts of sense excited,--the heart had as
yet no inmate, and wanted one.
“The groupe who had been conversing about the stranger, felt their
attention irresistibly attracted by this object; and the low murmur of
their fearful whispers was converted into broken exclamations of delight
and wonder, as the fair vision passed them. She had not long done so,
when the stranger was seen slowly returning, seeming, as before, known
to all, but knowing none. As the female party turned, they encountered
him. His emphatic glance selected and centered in one alone. She saw him
too, recognized him, and, uttering a wild shriek, fell on the earth
senseless.
“The tumult occasioned by this accident, which so many witnessed, and
none knew the cause of, for some moments drew off the attention of all
from the stranger--all were occupied either in assisting or inquiring
after the lady who had fainted. She was borne to her carriage by more
assistants than she needed or wished for--and just as she was lifted
into it, the voice of some one near her uttered the word “Immalee!” She
recognized the voice, and turned, with a look of anguish and a feeble
cry, towards the direction from which it proceeded. Those around her had
heard the sound,--but as they did not understand its meaning, or know to
whom it was addressed, they ascribed the lady’s emotion to
indisposition, and hastened to place her in her carriage. It drove away,
but the stranger pursued its course with his eyes--the company
dispersed, he remained alone--twilight faded into darkness--he appeared
not to notice the change--a few still continued lingering at the
extremity of the walk to mark him--they were wholly unmarked by him.
“One who remained the longest said, that he saw him use the action of
one who wipes away a tear hastily. To his eyes the tear of penitence was
denied for ever. Could this have been the tear of passion? If so, how
much woe did it announce to its object!