more particularly engaged in other inquiries. The things which we
ordinarily encounter during life, were far too dull and stupid for
his ardent nature. He longed for something more extraordinary and
marvelous, and accordingly betook himself to search for it. He had wit
enough to know, that nature, so far as it is understood, has fixed a
certain, definite rule of government which had first to be surmounted
before the supernatural could be attained. This had been done long
before his time, and so very signally, that even the most wonderful
metamorphosis were wrought with perfect ease. Does not Pliny himself
affirm, and he certainly should have known, that the change of females
into males is not fabulous, and Montaigne assure us that he actually
saw a man who had once been a woman? Thanks, we should rather say
to Felix, that such magic powers are known no more; for in our day,
when women so madly aspire to man’s condition, the stock would soon
be entirely lost. Felix, however, apprehended no evil consequences
from such a discovery, for women would then be no longer needed, and
who, argued he, could suffer to be incommoded with them but for their
absolute necessity? Whatever dangers suggested themselves to his mind
upon this score, he rapidly dismissed, with the reflection that the
world was at no loss for inhabitants, and after a sip from the mystic
spring, or a slice from Iduna’s apple, the race would no longer require
replenishing, and could therefore readily afford to dispense with the
fairer portion of creation. If we contemplate with awe the ruins of
nations, ideas of whose imposing grandeur have been transmitted to us
for our admiration and wonder, and ponder with melancholy anguish upon
the fact that millions of human creatures were crushed in their fall,
what strange emotions, what terrible feelings, would not be inspired by
the total extinction of the most lovely of the sexes--the first honored
companion of solitary man in the sacred bowers of Eden! No, Felix;
no discovery, though it should be a secret passage to the gates of
Paradise, could atone for so sad a loss. Woman was the only instrument
of Godly mercy fit to shed a ray of sunshine upon the path of man when
first his race began. Though she caused him to go astray, she has done
much to repair her error. In the bright glory yet in reserve for her,
to calm and cheer the agony and despair of his last hour with the sweet
and exhaustless affection of her lovely nature, well will she redeem
the stain her impulsive confidence brought upon her angelic character.
The realization of these unnatural powers constituted the dream of
Felix, and for this he had devoted his hours to magic in his solitary
study, which, to the view of a stranger, would have much resembled
the operating room of an industrious philosopher. Old, musty, and
neglected volumes, bearing ample evidence that they had undergone the
vicissitudes of many years, and suffered treatment too barbarous to
be entirely ascribed to the hands of studious and inquisitive man,
were piled promiscuously upon the shelves. Scarcely one of them could
boast an entire cover, and their black letter and roughly ornamented
pages presented a bold contrast to the volumes of the present day.
Around the room were seen numerous instruments, with now and then some
strange apparatus--things for which science had but few names, and
common parlance was a total blank. In one corner your eye met nothing
but crucibles, mortars, urns, pots, kettles, and cans; in another,
you beheld a variety of jugs, decanters, bottles, and vials; whilst
others contained a mass as indescribable as it was nameless. All, too,
bore testimony of having been frequently used, and emitted a repulsive
scent, sufficiently exhibiting that it required no very refined sense
of smell to detest the pursuit of an alchemist. The rules of neatness
and arrangement, however, were not neglected in all this confusion. In
the centre of the room a large circle was drawn, whilst the walls were
totally covered with odd signs, strange figures, and mystic devices.
Here it was that the magician employed his charms, and conjured up his
spells, and here the alchemist pursued his intricate investigations.
Here Felix had applied himself, with a devotion worthy of the greatest
commendation, to realize, by magic and alchemistic means, the dreams
of those deluded Germans whose fantastic theories, for so long a
time, had run away with the reason and good sense of their native
contemporaries, and eventually worked similar results in different
sections of the world. He longed to verify the fancies of Rosencreutz,
which had set many a man’s “wits a wool-gathering,” and made strange
fools of some of the cleverest, but too credulous, fellows of all
Europe and elsewhere. How happy he would have been in having been
brought into closer communion with his Maker, or made the companion
of noble spirits to whose wisdom he could have given the impress of
utility, and thus eventually succeeded in driving pain, disease, and
sorrow from the world! Had not the noted Dr. Torralba a magic Zequiel,
apparently unlimited in power, to accompany him as his pledged and
faithful friend, and had not Naude’s “zenith and rising sun of all the
Alchymists,” the skilful Paracelsus, a spirit confined in the hilt of
his sword, and another imprisoned in a jewel? The famous magician,
Cornelius Agrippa, whose talents are attested by the great Erasmus and
the smooth and gentle Melancthon, did not only command the demons of
the earth and the spirits of the air, but could even break in upon
the repose of the dead, in the presence of whose greatness he would
have cowered during their lives, and summon them before him, clothed
in their accustomed habiliments! Though the tunic and mantle of the
ancient Grecian had been decayed for centuries, and his body consumed
by the devouring limestone which had composed his singular sarcophagus,
the dismembered particles came together again, and were compelled to
reappear at the powerful bidding of Cornelius. This wonderful knowledge
of the historiographer of the Emperor Charles V., and the author of the
“Superiority of the Female Sex,” to the great loss of the world, had
been permitted to perish with him, and perhaps forever. Though Felix
was industriously laboring to restore it again, and revive the marvels
of magic and alchemy, it must be acknowledged he was not exceedingly
well adapted for the task. Although he had energy and perseverance
to surmount every conquerable obstacle, he yet lacked two essential
elements--he possessed too much honesty, and not enough imagination.
Every pursuit requires certain qualities of mind and heart, and in
none have imagery and dishonesty more to do than in that in which he
was engaged. They are indispensable to success in such an enterprise,
and in both Felix was deficient. To speak the simple truth, there was
a limit to his madness. He was weak enough not to doubt the truth of
the superhuman exploits and performances ascribed to the masters in
the art, whose works he had diligently studied; yet not sufficiently
crazy to see unearthly visions appearing in answer to his charms and
incantations, when, in truth, there was nothing but vacancy before his
eyes.
Combining the fanatical theories of Bohmen, with the more rational and
philosophic demonstrations of common chemistry, he would undoubtedly
have triumphed in his inquiries but for his deficiency in the qualities
alluded to as essential to the alchemist. Though he had dreaded a
search for the philosopher’s stone, that great marvel for ages, after
so many had failed before him; yet if Agrippa had so far succeeded as
to change iron into gold, though it was destined to be converted into
simple and worthless stone after one revolution of the earth, might
not an improvement be made which should render the metamorphosis more
permanent? Whether Agrippa had worked this wonder, which, indeed,
would have furnished the clue to all others, by the discovery of the
pebble for which so many had searched in vain, or through the direct
intervention of the devil, had always been a mystery to Felix; but he
had pondered upon it again and again, until it eventually brought him
to the determination of summoning his satanic majesty before him.
Although satan had unquestionably proved himself a bad magician, if he
had been the instrument made use of by Agrippa, Felix believed this
was owing rather to his wily and treacherous nature than to a want of
power. This determination once fixed, he resorted to the best approved
arts usually employed in invoking demons and spirits, and such had
been one of his principal occupations during the latter period of his
residence in the village. He by no means desired their visits upon
mere terms of intimacy and friendship, but demanded absolute dominion
over them before compelling them into his presence. Justin Martyr,
and all the most ancient Fathers,--and certainly their statements
ought to be of great weight,--had too strongly depicted the horrors
wrought by bad demons who had visited the earth, for Felix to desire
their reappearance without possessing full power to control them.
These learned and devout men, venerated even to this day with a kind
of religious fervor, had furnished enough, and more, to show that such
supernatural agents had not lost the worst vices of humanity, but in
addition possessed greater means of indulging them, which they were not
timid in exercising. Felix Deford knew the world’s many afflictions
too well to wish to add any more to their number; but he believed that
a charm so potent as to force the powers of darkness to obey its
summons, had only to be dispelled to drive them back to their homes
again.
It would be wrong to neglect stating here, that if the masters whose
astonishing knowledge and power Felix admired, mingled the mysteries of
religion with their theories and principles, he by no means disregarded
them. If it be true, (and who doubts it?) that in the antediluvian
age, men had lived so many years as to make life resemble a sweet and
pleasant immortality upon earth, a very remarkable change must have
been effected since then. In the opinions of his masters, that this
long life had been the result of a closer communion with the divine
element, of social intercourse with the many good spirits supposed to
inhabit and abound in space, and of possessing a controlling power over
the evil ones, he saw no poetry, but the serious truths of philosophy.
Here, then, there had been sufficient to attract his attention to the
mysterious portions of his Bible, just as the disbeliever is drawn to
those which human intellect is incapable of solving or reconciling. His
researches, however, had a less ruinous effect, for they perplexed only
himself, and did no harm to others.
He pursued his studies, boiled his mystic herbs, applied his
minerals, made his magic mixtures, and resolved his wild problems,
constantly expecting some answer from regions which he was incapable
of penetrating. His failures never daunted him, for the doctrines
of his masters had been too well settled in his mind, and he was too
thoroughly convinced of their accuracy, to permit a supposition of
their untruth. He was neither so vain nor impatient as to reproach
his predecessors because he had failed to meet with equal success,
but ascribed his repeated disappointments to his own deficiencies and
imperfections. He had been too intent upon his studies to have much
concerned himself about the villagers, who, ever since the meeting of
the evening party before described, suspected his motives and feared
his designs. Not knowing what evils he might bring upon them, and
impelled by a very troublesome curiosity, they imagined the worst,
so naturally are we given to exaggeration; and now began to refuse
supplying him with the requisite comforts of life, thus expecting to
bring matters to a decisive point. This, at last, compelled him to
greater sociability, but he refused to become communicative. Though
asked a thousand times, directly and indirectly, concerning his
solitary pursuits, he had as many civil and respectful answers, leaving
his questioners as ignorant as they were before. At length, however,
the curiosity of the village triumphed. A young rogue, more cautious
and cunning than the rest, ascertained what were his employments, and
smiled at the great consternation caused by the discovery. He adorned
his tale with all the poetry of his rough fancy, and so interwove it
with marvels and falsehoods that it gave ample proof that he would have
made a much better alchemist than Felix. His story fully realized the
imaginings of the wildest magician, and soon succeeded in persuading
the villagers that Deford was the absolute controller of spirits,
and the unlimited master of demons. As a dealer in forbidden things,
he was now still more carefully avoided. Had Felix here thrown away
his honesty, for he began to feel the undeserved reputation he was
acquiring, and issued from his cloister publicly to practice his
incantations, he could have performed wonders before the eyes of the
villagers not surpassed in splendor by any accredited to his masters:
but he preferred to continue his studies and his conjurations as if
unconscious of the opinions entertained concerning him. This only had
the effect of increasing the consternation of the villagers still
more. His name at once became an object of dread to the credulous, and
a subject of terror to the old women, who soon made it the fright of
the nursery. Recollections of old and marvelous stories were rapidly
revived, and for some time nothing seemed to be known or talked of
in the village but terrible tales. There was scarcely a man or woman
to be found who had not recently seen a ghost or been troubled by
some fearful spectre, for all which Felix had to bear the blame.
Amongst these, the most conspicuous was the sharp-visaged old maid,
who now saw more ghosts and phantoms than there had been Gods in the
heathen Pantheons, and pointed to this fact as a full and triumphant
verification of the opinions she had first expressed concerning him.
To billet an army upon a town is always attended with great confusion,
and necessarily with no little terror; but she accused him of something
more awful still. She unhesitatingly affirmed that he had filled the
village with spirits and devils, to trouble the repose of its people;
but an incredulous fellow, perhaps moved by a malicious disposition,
insisted that such could not possibly have been the case, otherwise she
could not have been secure for a single moment. No nook or corner could
be found where ghost or goblin had not been. The street had become
the dancing ground of the tenants of darkness, and the limits of the
village the general theatre for their sports and evil practices, and
all through the incantations of the conjuror. Every bare spot which
had refused to yield as abundantly as its neighbor, brought a curse
upon poor Felix; every strange mark discovered was regarded as a sure
indication of superhuman agency, and every odd foot-print afforded a
monstrous theme for conjecture. Singular noises began to be heard in
the air: some exulting and merry--others plaintive and melancholy.
Confusion seized the cattle, the horses became as stubborn as the
women, the dogs kept up a continual howl and fight, and night was
rendered hideous by caterwauls. The pigs and chickens were no less
rebellious, the noisy fowls became more noisy and restless, and the
barn yards resembled perfect Babels. The crow of the cock was no longer
the morning signal of the approach of day, for it was heard at all
hours of the night. Everything seemed to have been turned upside down,
or tossed about by some miraculous and fearful power. It is supposed
that the land inhabited by spirits is pleasant and enchanting, that
fairies and genii seek none but the abodes of beauty, but here all was
dismay. It was not strange that the majority of the villagers should
have been made afraid to venture out of doors after the decline of the
sun; yet notwithstanding all this, Felix had a few defenders. Though
none could deny the evidences of tumult existing, these assigned quite
a different cause for the fact. Make a village mad, said they, drive
all the good sense out of the heads of its women and substitute fear,
spread consternation amongst the children and discord amongst the men,
and it would be truly miraculous if matters followed their usually
peaceful routine. The brute will partake of the turbulent humors of its
master, and when constantly disturbed by surrounding dismay, cannot
avoid becoming infected with the general confusion.
Felix, at last, began to fear the mischief he had unintentionally been
creating, and sallied forth once a day with the view of allaying it.
As secresy was no longer possible, he endeavored to become as sociable
and communicative as circumstances would permit, but the villagers
generally shunned him as though he had been a pestilence. A few only
could tolerate his presence and submit to his conversations, and these
had to encounter the censure of being leagued with him. An evil motive
and wicked intention was now ascribed to every trifling thing he did,
and all his attempts to commingle sociably with the villagers were
quickly attributed to some base design. It is strange how error leads
us to phrensy, but such appears to be its very nature. When once it
has taken root, it spreads and increases with unaccountable rapidity.
With not one half the beauty and attraction of truth and reason; it
yet seems to possess a hundred times their power and influence over
our conduct. Truth moves with slow and certain tread--error with
fearful impetuosity. A town once set in motion the wrong way, presents
a terrific spectacle, and to arrest its career of madness is a task
not easily performed. It had been so in the case of Felix Deford,
and he soon ascertained that it was much less difficult to create a
turbulent storm than to allay it. The villagers became lavish in
threats and curses against him; yet, mistrusting and doubting, their
fears compelled them to act with caution. Repeated deputations were
sent to him, politely requesting him to retire from the village, lest
his personal safety might be endangered. His efforts to remove their
delusion proved unavailing, and they continued to insist until he
dismissed them, no less impatient at their importunities than they had
been apprehensive of his residence amongst them.
Whilst they had been thus engaged in devising means for the
expatriation of Felix, a danger more immediately threatening called
for their undivided attention. Though it had been supposed they were
entirely safe from Indian incursions, they noticed several suspicious
signs and indications which induced them to prepare for an attack.
The friendly feeling that had existed between the villagers and the
savages in their immediate vicinity, had not deterred other tribes from
ravaging wherever opportunities were presented. In this new difficulty,
the alchemist nobly volunteered his assistance. Without waiting for
such a call, he assumed the command as one familiar with the practices
and habits of the savage, and who had frequently been engaged in
similar skirmishes. As was apprehended, the war-whoop was suddenly
heard early one morning, and fully indicated the desperate encounter
to be expected. The attack was commenced with a fury common to Indian
warfare, and it was mainly through the vigilance of the magician
that the contest resulted in the total rout of the savages. All were
compelled to be lavish in their praises of his services, but even
the marvellous exploits which they ascribed to him could not inspire
confidence and friendship. They were simply regarded as convincing
proof of the exercise of forbidden power. Upon being rehearsed again
and again, no little magnified at each repetition, few were willing to
believe that he could have escaped unless protected by some superhuman
agency. Some had even seen strange figures hovering above his head and
arresting the many and repeated blows aimed at him. Others had seen him
surrounded by more than thirty savages at a time, yet none of these
could so closely approach him as to use any weapon. He appeared to be
encompassed by a mystic circle which no one could enter, thus enabling
him to deal destruction around, whilst his assailants were rendered
harmless. When tired of the slaughter in one section of the village, he
almost imperceptibly rose above the heads of friends and foes, and was
quickly transported to another that demanded his aid. Others, still,
had seen him rush wildly into the very midst of savage groups, and
rescue a number of brave villagers who had been defending themselves
against great odds, and so confusing the assailants that they even
fell upon themselves to hurry their retreat. The more marvellous his
exploits, the more did the villagers regret that he lived amongst
them, for he might eventually prove more dangerous than the savages
themselves, and how could they resist him?
Felix, however, was not disposed to be an object of dread to the
villagers any longer. A few days after the incursion of the Indians,
he was no more to be seen. To account for his sudden disappearance, it
was alleged that he had followed the savages, and would continue to
pursue them until their tribe was totally extinct. He was to become
their evil spirit, who would enter into their midst and slaughter as
he pleased, whilst their arms should be unavailing against him. This
opinion obtained almost general consent as the most plausible, after a
careful and cautious examination of his late residence had been made.
Nothing was there to be found or seen save the black circle upon the
floor, which, to the great astonishment of all, resisted every effort
made to erase it. The walls were now more clear and clean than ever,
and retained no traces of the mysterious devices that had formerly
ornamented them. The entire building appeared as though it had been
fitted up for the reception of some fastidious tenant. All this, in the
opinion of the villagers, had been the undoubted work of the spirits
which they supposed the conjuror had under his command, and which would
aid him in his avenging mission.
Their surmises were destined to be materially changed upon the arrival
of one of the villagers who had been absent for several months upon
public business. He was one of the principal men of the village, which
important distinction he had won more through the interest he had
manifested against Felix than any excellent qualities of his own. True,
there was a little of the German’s good nature in his composition,
and he had a great love for all that was wonderful and mysterious.
He heard with astonishment the details of the villagers--how they
had been attacked during his absence, and how Felix had assisted
them, and then suddenly departed, as they supposed, to take vengeance
upon the savages. In return, he had something interesting to relate,
which soon undeceived them. Whilst wending his solitary way towards
the village, he reported, night had overtaken him, and having been
still a considerable distance off, he kindled a fire upon the banks
of the river, intending to repose until morning. Sometime during
the night he was aroused from his quiet slumber, and looking round,
he beheld a bright, blazing light in the air, high above the water.
To his utter amazement, there was Felix Deford in the blaze! He was
vehemently remonstrating with a figure so closely arrayed in black
that its outlines could not be distinctly traced. The discussion
continued sharply for some time. Although circumstances sufficiently
indicated that Felix was in the presence of a superior, his spirit was
unconquerable, and he ever seemed the victor in the wordy conflict,
as the villager inferred from the manner of his antagonist. The black
figure continued to become more terrible at every word, and at last
began emitting foam from its mouth and fire from its nostrils, but
Felix refused to abate the least in his remonstrances. A different
encounter now commenced between them, which promised to be more
decisive than words. The blaze that enveloped them began to spread
and heave as though it partook of the anger of the combatants, much
resembling huge and boisterous billows when dashed into spray in quick
succession against an irresistible rock. It seemed to have been caught
up in a terrible tempest, and amid its turbulent agitation, the contest
between Felix and his antagonist was continued by rapidly hurling
large black darts at each other. No want of skilful aim was exhibited,
yet each appeared to be composed of an impenetrable substance, and
the destructive missiles no sooner touched the person of either than
they rebounded again, or flew off at angles, and vanished into air.
Abandoning these apparently inefficient instruments, they approached,
and engaged hand to hand with fiery swords; but so equally were they
matched in this mode of warfare that they only exhausted themselves,
and after making a number of furious, but ineffectual blows and
thrusts, they threw away their weapons. Panting from the exertion of
the desperate battle, they stood for some time gazing intently at
each other, exhibiting a fearful and unearthly savageness. At length
the contest was again resumed, and huge bolts, whose dark-blue color
contrasted beautifully with the glare that surrounded them, were thrown
with marvellous dexterity, but they were as vigilantly and skilfully
parried or avoided. It was now as difficult to be true to their aim as
it had been easy before, plainly indicating that a blow from the bolt
was held in different esteem than a stroke from the darts previously
used. Suddenly Felix sprang with a savage leap upon his antagonist,
having at the same moment been struck by one of these monstrous
missiles, when instantly the flame disappeared, and both fell rapidly
down into the water. Nothing was now heard but the rushing of the
current, which seemed to have become more boisterous, and the villager
composed himself to sleep again.