COMMUNION WITH OUR OWN HEARTS.
If we could but learn to commune with our own hearts, and know what noble company we can make them, we should little regard the elegance and the splendors of the worthless. Almost all men have been taught to call life a passage, and themselves the travellers. The similitude still may be improved, when we observe that the good are joyful and serene, like travellers that are going towards home; the wicked but by intervals happy, like travellers that are going into exile.
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 171].)
The Duke wrote only the following few lines:
“My dearest love! I address myself to you on the brink of the grave; your hand can save or hurl me down; my doom rests with you. O! come, angelic woman, and lead me from the gate of death to a paradisiacal life; come and reward my love, which alone supports my breaking heart.”
P.S. “Vasconcel*os has bled under the avenging sword of the redeemers of my country.”
The answer of the Countess was to the following purport:
“O! that this letter could fly on the pinions of love, in order to carry instantly to my friend health and joy. Yes, your request is granted. Receive, my dearest Duke, to whom my HEART has yielded, receive my HAND too, and the vow of eternal fidelity. My uncle having recovered his health, nothing shall detain me from embarking in the first vessel which shall sail for Port***l. The idea that your best wishes, the blessing of your father and my uncle, and the guardian genius of love, will conduct me on my voyage, will assist me to conquer my fear of the sea. I should never have done writing if this letter did not require expedition, and my friend, who arrived here the day before yesterday, insisted upon adding a few words to those of
“Your
“Amelia Clairval.”
“Give me leave, my Lord, to add only my sincerest congratulations, and to ask your Grace, whether you do not acknowledge now as a soothsayer
“Your humble and obedient servant,
Anna de Delier.”
The Duke had begun to mend rapidly ever since the Marquis consented to his union with Amelia; the letter of the Countess restored his health entirely. No mortal could be more happy and cheerful than the Duke of Cami*a. It was natural that Alumbrado, who, as the author of his happiness, had no small claim to his gratitude, should acquire in his eyes a value, which entirely dispelled the antipathy he at first had conceived against him. I soon was made sensible of that change, when I took one time the opportunity of dropping a few words concerning Alumbrado. “I cannot conceive,” the Duke replied warmly, “why you are so much prejudiced against that man; it is true his physiognomy does not speak much in his recommendation; it is, however, very unphilosophical to condemn a person merely on account of his features.” “Say whatever you will,” I replied, “an undescribable repelling sensation, which certainly does not deceive me—” “You have conceived an antipathy against him,” the Duke interrupted me, “and that cannot be refuted by arguments; however, I will remind you of a fact, which here will be in its proper place. Socrates, whose physiognomy, as you will recollect, was very much to his disadvantage, happened once to be in a company of friends, when a philosopher, who pretended to be a physiognomist, took the word; he was requested to delineate the character of Socrates, who was a stranger to him. The philosopher named several vices which he pretended to read plainly in his face. A general laughter was the effect of his judgment; however, Socrates remained serious, and declared that he really had felt a natural propensity to those vices, but had got the better of it by unremitted assiduity. The application of this instance, I leave to your own good sense.”
“How?” I exclaimed with surprise, “you compare Alumbrado with Socrates, an absurd ascetic with a reverend sage, hypocrisy with virtue?” This enormous infatuation vexed me to such a degree, that I could not help giving vent to my just resentment. However, I perceived soon that my words did not make the least impression on my misguided friend. Being therefore obliged to desist from my endeavours to change the opinion of the Duke, I strove with additional assiduity to cut off his connection with Alumbrado, at least till he should be united to Amelia, expecting that this angel would soon drive away that demon of darkness. I proposed to the Duke a journey to **ina, for the benefit of his health, and offered to accompany him. He consented to it without difficulty, expecting to beguile by exercise and diversions, the time which, from his impatience of seeing Amelia arrive, appeared to him to creep on with snail-like slowness. My aim would however have been attained without this expedient, Alumbrado leaving Li*bon unexpectedly; yet we set out on our proposed journey.
We had not been seven days at **ina when the Duke was already impatient to leave that place. However improbable it was Amelia could arrive so soon, yet this idea left him no rest. We returned on the eighth day, and travelled day and night.
It was five o’clock in the morning, when we alighted at his palace. Scarcely had we entered his apartment when his Secretary brought a letter which he said had been left by a pilot at a late hour last night. The Duke reddened and grew pale alternately, while he opened it.---“She is arrived, she is arrived!” he exclaimed, and the letter dropped out of his hand trembling with rapture. “She is arrived!” he repeated, taking it up and re-perusing the gladful lines. The emotions of his mind were so violent, that he was obliged to sit down. “Amelia is arrived!” he exclaimed again, rising and straining me to his bosom. The letter was couched in the following words:
“Has not your heart told you, my dearest Duke that I am near you? I should already have pressed you to my panting heart, if the Captain had suffered me to go in the boat which will set the pilot on shore. But he has opposed my design, on account of the swelling sea and the great distance. If Heaven favours us you will see me to-morrow.
Your
Amelia.”
“Well, my friend,” said the Duke, when I returned the paper to him, “has my presentiment deceived me? have not I done well to urge our return?—But why do we tarry here? (he added) let us fly to the harbour!”
The horses were instantly saddled, and we mounted them in our travelling dress. We rode in full speed, and each of us indulged silently his sentiments.—The sky was gloomy, and the universal stillness, not interrupted by the least breeze of air, seemed to presage no good. At length we fancied, with astonishment, we heard the distant rolling of thunder; however we soon perceived that it was the echo caused by the report of guns. The distant firing of cannon, and the forerunners of a rising tempest, thrilled my heart with chilling anxiety, for I apprehended the ship must be in great danger. Soon after the firing ceased, but this calm was more dreadful to me than the report of the cannon. We spurred our horses, without uttering a word, for neither of us dared to confess his apprehensions. Being at length arrived at the sea shore---Heavens! what a scene of horror did we behold! the surge was dreadful, the cliffs and the strand were covered with a white spume. The rays of the sun could not penetrate the fog which overspread the surface of the sea. We could, therefore, not discover the island where the ship was lying at anchor, it appearing to us in the shape of a black cloud, which seemed to be a mile distant from the shore. The veil which concealed the danger of the ship from our eyes only served to augment our anxiety.
A troop of mariners and soldiers under the command of Men*os, were arrived with us at the shore. The drums beat, and a general volley was fired. A flash of lightning darted instantly over the sea, and immediately after it the report of a gun was heard. We all hastened to the side where we had perceived the signal, and observed, through the fog, the body and the main-yard of a large ship. We were so near that we could hear the whistling and the acclamations of the sailors, in spite of the roaring of the mountainous billows. The ship’s crew fired a gun every three minutes, as soon as they perceived that assistance was near.
I admired my friend’s firmness of mind with which he, at a sight that ought to have rendered him almost distracted, shewed the greatest zeal to save the crew, ordering a large fire to be lighted on the cliffs, and boards, cables, empty casks and provisions to be kept in readiness.
An impending hurricane seemed to be lurking in the air. The middle of the clouds was of a horrid blackness, and their edges were of a copper colour. The leaves of the trees were moving, and yet not a breath of air was felt. The cries of the sea fowls, who were resorting to the island for protection, resounded through the air.
At length we heard suddenly a dreadful roaring, as if foaming torrents were rushing down from the summit of a lofty mountain, and every one exclaimed, this is the hurricane! In the same moment a violent whirlwind removed the foggy veil which had concealed the island from our eyes. We had now a clear view of the ship; her whole deck was covered with people, her colours were hoisted, her fore-part was secured by four anchors, and her stern by one. Her stem opposed the billowing waves which came roaring from the sea, and was raised so high above the surface of the water, that one could see her whole keel, while the stern was almost entirely buried in the foaming billows. The dangerous situation of the vessel rendered it impossible for her to put out to sea, or to run on store.
The howling of the wind, and the roaring of the waves, which were swelling higher every moment, was dreadful. The whole channel between the island and the shore was a mass of white thick froth, cut through by black and hollow waves. The appearance of the horizon prognosticated a long lasting storm. Some waves of a dreadful shape separated from the main every now and then, and darted with the velocity of lightning across the channel, while others remained immoveable like enormous rocks. Not one blue spot could be descried in the firmament; a pale faint glimmer enlightened heaven, earth and sea.
(To be continued.)