FRIENDSHIP.
Friendship, among people who have not been corrupted by those artificial vices which fatally wait upon civilized life, exists in the greatest possible purity and constancy. The Abbé Fortis gives some curious particulars relative to the friendships of the Morlacchi, a people who inhabit the mountainous part of inland Dalmatia. Friendship is lasting among the Morlacchi. They have even made it a kind of religious point, and tie the sacred bond at the foot of the altar. The Sclavonian ritual contains a particular benediction, for the solemn union of two male or two female friends, in the presence of the congregation. The Abbé says, that he was present at the union of two young women; who were made Posestre in the church of Perussich. The satisfaction that sparkled in their eyes when the ceremony was performed, gave a convincing proof, that delicacy of sentiments can lodge in minds not formed, or rather not corrupted by society, which we call civilized. The male friends thus united are called Pobratimi, and the females Posestreme, which mean half-brothers and half-sisters. Friendship between those of different sexes are not bound with so much solemnity, though perhaps in more ancient and innocent ages it was also the custom. From these consecrated friendships among the Morlacchi, and other nations of the same origin, it should seem that the sworn brothers arose, a denomination frequent enough among the common people in many parts of Europe. If discord happens to arise between two friends among the Morlacchi, it is talked of all over the country as a scandalous novelty; and there have been some examples of it of late years, to the great affliction of the old Morlacchi, who attribute the depravity of their countrymen to their intercourse with the Italians. Wine and strong liquors of which the nation is beginning to make daily abuse, after our example, will, of course, produce the same bad effects as among us.
Nor is the Abbé mistaken. When these simple people become more men of the world, the romantic part of their friendships will degenerate into that motly unintelligible thing which many people call Friendship. Whoever, therefore, wishes to enjoy real friendship, must in the first place expect no more from man than the frailty of his nature will admit; and in the second place, he must not expect friendship from those, who from their ignorance are not enabled, or from their wickedness are not disposed, to perform acts of mutual benevolence in trying situations.
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 103].)
“Good evening, my Lord,” said she with evident confusion, “have you not met Lady Delier?”
“No, my Lady! I have not.”
“She left me some time since, and might already have returned.”
“Very strange! I am come to take leave, and meet you first by accident.”
“Leave?” she replied with surprise, “Then you are determined to depart to-morrow.”
“I must.”
A long pause.
“And you are going to Ma***t?”
“To Ma***t, and from thence to my native country.”
A second pause. At length she said with emphasis and affection: “Heaven protect you on your journey.”
“Dearest Countess—”
“What is the matter with you, my Lord?” Amelia exclaimed, fixing her eyes on me, “Good God, how pale you look!”
The emotions of my heart were dreadful; my working bosom threatened to burst. “God knows,” I replied with a faltering voice, “whether I shall see you again.”
“We shall certainly meet again,” said she, looking up to heaven.
“Merciful God! should my hopes blossom first beyond the grave.”
“What hopes”? she exclaimed with inquisitive astonishment.
“And do you not divine how this separation will wound my heart?”
Amelia looked anxiously around, as if seeking Lady Delier; and then fixed her eyes again doubtfully on me.
“My Lord, your words and your behaviour are mysterious to me.”
“Then receive their explanation kindly,” I replied, letting myself down on one knee, and taking hold of her hand, “I love you.”
The Countess was struck dumb with surprise.——“And this you tell me when taking leave!” she lisped at length.
I fancied I perceived a soft pressure from her hand, and returned it with glowing lips. She bent her taper form to raise me up, and Lady Delier stepped suddenly between us. “What do I see?” she exclaimed, dissembling astonishment, “a declaration of love?”
Amelia remained silent, and the Baroness repeated her question.
“A declaration, my Lady!” I replied, but no answer.
“My sweet friend,” she whispered archly in Amelia’s ear, “I hope you will not let him despair.”
“I cannot conceive, my Lord,” Amelia replied, “why you make this declaration when taking leave!”
I told her nearly the same I had said to the Baroness in the morning. Amelia viewed me a long time with silent astonishment, and at length replied:
“A misunderstanding, a misunderstanding on both sides! very strange indeed!” she shook her head smiling.
“My dearest love,” the Baroness exclaimed, “look at the Duke, how he watches every word of yours in hope of receiving an answer.”
Amelia seemed to hesitate what to reply; however, after a short silence, said to me with the innate dignity of a noble, generous mind: “My Lord, if you want to have a consort, then I must beg you to forget me. But if you are in quest of a loving heart, then—” added she in a low accent, and with crimsoning cheeks, “you have found it.”
I don’t know what I replied, nor can I recollect what I said afterwards; for from the moment she had pronounced the confession of her reciprocal love, I thought myself transported to Paradise, and breathed in a new and better sphere. The possession of Amelia’s heart, ensured to me by the declaration of her own lips, had expelled from my breast every terrestrial wish; my whole nature seemed to me exalted and purified of all earthly dregs, and the flame which had penetrated my frame, was a sacred fire cleared of every particle of sensuality. O! innocent love, thou offspring of the sacred affinity of two congenial souls, thou art perhaps the sole species of union and enjoyment, which is capable to afford us here below a notion of the union and the pleasure of the inhabitants of the heavenly regions. How natural therefore, if we, particularly in the first moments of enjoyment, are incapable to express such sentiments by words. However, my faltering accents, my confused expressions, and my incoherent sentences, seemed nevertheless to be as well understood by Amelia, as if she were reading in my soul, which I could conclude from her words, and the still plainer speaking play of her mien. Love had diffused over her countenance new and unspeakable charms, which surrounded her with a glory that made her appear to me a more than mortal being. And to be beloved by her—that bliss would have overpowered me, if I had not been made acquainted with my happiness in the morning.
Lady Delier, who had left us to ourselves all the time, interrupted us at length. “Children!” said she, “do you know that it is not far from eleven o’clock?” I started up as if some grisly spectre had surprised me, because I recollected the Unknown, eleven o’clock being the time when I had promised to meet him at the place of rendezvous at a considerable distance.
To take leave!—without knowing whether I should ever see her again, for I was to depart the next morn with the dawn of day. This idea overpowered me so much, that I promised Amelia and myself to visit her once more to-morrow before my departure. Our separation was, nevertheless, so afflicting, the parting on both sides so difficult, and the last adieu pronounced with quivering lips.—Alas! a secret presentiment seemed to whisper in my ear that we should meet no more. How many times did I attempt to go and stopped again—how many times did I go and return again to assure Amelia that I should certainly see her once more!—Her emotions seemed, indeed, to be less vehement than mine, however, I could not be deceived, and observing the secret workings of her soul, perceived the pearly tear that started from her eye, and the violent heaving of her bosom.
Lady Delier did not long remain an idle spectator, exhorting us to dedicate the present moment to joy, and to yield to our grief to-morrow, tearing the Countess from my arms, and wishing me a good night.
I stopped once more on the terrace, saw the two ladies retiring to a grove, of beech-trees, and Amelia turned twice, beckoning to me. My tears flowed fluently, my arms were expanded for her, the darkness of the night concealed her from my wishful looks. I rushed mechanically into the street, and arrived at the place of rendezvous without knowing how. It was lonely spot covered with trees. The Irishman soon joined me.
“My time is short,” he said, “and I have to tell you a great deal; let us sit down.” So saying he led me to a stone bench beneath a spreading oak, and we seated ourselves.
He seemed to observe my being violently agitated, and kept a long and solemn silence to give me time to recover.—“I wish, my dear Duke!”—he at length began, “that you may not expect more from this interview than I am allowed to give. I must confine myself merely to the theoretical part of that occult science to which I have promised to initiate you after the time of probation shall be finished. However, it is here as it is with all other sciences; the pupil of sense guesses by the theory, what he may expect from the practical part of the science—as a painter beholds in a sketch the picture which is to be drawn, or as an architect sees in the plan drawn on the paper the building which is to be constructed; be therefore satisfied with what I dare impart to you for the present.”
“I do not desire you to disclose to me, more than I am able to bear at present.”
The Irishman paused again, and then began thus:
“If our powers of perception were confined only to our senses, the visible world would then encompass all our ideas, sentiments, wishes and hopes. No idea of spirits, of God and of immortality would raise us above the sphere of materiality. In order to produce and to conceive these ideas, a supersensible faculty is required. This faculty which, if closely examined, bears not the least resemblance to the rest of our intellectual powers, is called reason. The idea of the whole sensible world offers nothing to us that is not corporeal, finite, and perishable. However the territory of reason opens to us a prospect to a world without bounds, and of an everlasting duration; displays to us a kingdom of spirits which is governed by one Infinite Spirit after wise and sacred laws. An unknown world of which we had not the most distant notion, of which sensation gives us not the least hint, and for which our senses have no perception nor scale, opens to our view when our reason begins to unfold itself. You see, therefore what faculty of the soul must be our guide in our present investigation, if we wish to penetrate, by means of it, to the kingdom of spirits.”
“Reason!”
“Certainly! there is no other choice left; and therefore let us learn to value and to use this light that illuminates the darkness in which every object disappears from the eyes of mere sensitive men, or at most appears very obscure to them. That man whose reason is overdarkened, or discomposed by sensuality, either will deny the existence of spirits and our relation to them, or attribute to them the contradictory shape which his disordered imagination has hatched out, like the blind-born, who denies the existence of colours as ridiculous and absurd, or if he believes the unanimous testimony of those that see, imagines colours to bear some resemblance to sounds. Unbelief and superstition afford us numberless instances of people of that description. Only the more impartial have always maintained that one ought not to judge precipitately of these objects, and only the wisest of mankind have been able to form a just judgment of them.”
“O Hiermanfor! introduce me to the circle of the latter. I have already in the different periods of my life adhered to all the other parties. In the days of my earlier youth I believed in apparitions, like the most ignorant of the lowest class. In a more advanced period of life I fancied I was convinced of the impossibility of apparitions, and ever since I got acquainted with you, I have been wavering between unbelief and superstition. It was but lately that I resolved to postpone my judgment on these subjects, till I should be better convinced, and this conviction I expect of you.”
(To be continued.)
