PROSPERITY.
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.)