Thaumaturgia; Or, Elucidations of the Marvellous

by Oxonian

Sir Maurice still lingered under the window in conversation with his son, who at length complained of being cold and drowsy. "Mark," said he, as he closed the window, "mark father, Mars, the star of my fate, looks smilingly to-night, all will be well." Sir Maurice looked up—a dark cloud spot suddenly crossed the planet, and he shuddered at the omen. The anxious father could not leave the spot. Sleep he knew it was vain to court, and he therefore determined to remain where he was. The reflexions that occupied his mind continually varied: at one time he painted to himself the proud career of his high spirited boy, known and admired among the mighty of his time; a moment after he saw the prediction verified, and the child of his love lying in the tomb. Who can conceive his feelings as hour dragged after hour, while he walked to and fro, watching the blaze of the fire in the tower, as it brightened and sunk again—now pacing the court with hasty steps, and now praying fervently for the preservation of his son? The hour came. The cathedral bell struck heavy on the father's heart, which was not to be lightened by the cheerful voices of his daughters, who came running full of hope to the foot of the tower. They looked up, but Walter was not there;—they called his name, he answered not. "Nay," said the youngest, "this is only a jest; he thinks to frighten us, but I know he is safe." A servant had brought a ladder, which he ascended, and he looked in at the window. Sir Maurice stood immoveable and silent.—He looked up, and the man answered the anxious expression of his eyes. "He is asleep," said he. "He is dead!" murmured the father.

The servant broke a pane of glass in the window, and opening the casement, entered the room. The father, changing his gloomy stedfastness for frenzied anxiety, rushed up the ladder. The servant had thrown aside the curtains and the clothes, and displayed to the eyes of Sir Maurice, his son lying dead, a serpent twined round his arm, and his throat covered with blood. The reptile had crept up the faggot last sent him, and fulfilled the prophecy.

To this happy effort of the imagination in favour of prying into futurity, may be added, with the same intention.

THE FATED PARRICIDE; AN ORIENTAL TALE OF THE STARS.

Ibrahim was universally celebrated for his riches and magnificence. His armies were formidable, his victories splendid, and his treasury inexhaustible. He enjoyed, moreover, what was ten thousand times more solid and more valuable than riches—the love and veneration of his subjects; and he had a beautiful young wife, in whose endearing tenderness alone he could find happiness—if happiness could be found on earth. All these advantages entitled Ibrahim to the appellation of the Solomon of his age; and yet Ibrahim was not happy. A son was wanting to crown his felicity. In vain did a heart formed for all the charities of the wedded state, endeavour to supply the refusal of nature, by the adoption of a son; in vain did gratitude endeavour to deceive his heart, by caresses which any other would have thought to be the natural effusions of filial sensibility, of filial piety and affection; that heart incessantly perceived a solitude within itself. Even the consolatory visions of hope began to grow less frequent, when heaven at last heard his prayers, Alas! in the very instant that Fortune gratifies our fondest wishes, she often betrays us; and her smiles are a thousand times more fatal than her frowns. The birth of the prince was celebrated throughout the empire by the customary public demonstrations of joy. The felicity of Ibrahim was complete. He was perpetually revolving in his mind the sentiments and hopes which the nation would form of the royal infant. Scarce was he born, when paternal solicitude embraced, as it were, his whole life. Impatient to know his destiny, that solicitude plunged into futurity, determined, if possible, to wrest from time, the secrets of which he was the hoary-headed guardian.

In Ibrahim's dominions were some sages particularly honoured with the confidence of heaven. He commanded them to consult the stars, and to report their answer. "Tremble," said the sages; "thou unfortunate father, tremble! Never before have the skies presented such inauspicious omens. Let him fly; let this son, too dear to you, fly; let him avoid, if possible, the meeting with any savage beasts. His seventh year is the fatal one; and if he should happen then, to escape the misfortune that hangs over him, ah! do not wish him to live. His father, his very father, will not be able to escape from the hand of a parricide."

This answer threw the sultan into the deepest consternation. He did not sink, however, into absolute despondency; his courage soon revived. He determined to take all the precautions which paternal tenderness could suggest, to defeat the prediction of the astrologers. He, therefore, caused a kind of subterranean palace to be made on the summit of a lofty mountain. The labour and expense of the excavation was prodigious. Extensive walks were formed, with a variety of apartments, in which every thing was provided that could contribute to the conveniences, and even the luxuries of life. In this magnificent cavern, Ibrahim, as it were, inhumed his son, together with his governess, of whose care, and fidelity he had no doubt. Provisions were constantly carried thither at stated periods. The king forgot not a single day to visit the mountain that contained his beloved treasure, and to be satisfied of his safety with his own eyes. With what delight did he behold the growing beauties of his son! With what pleasure and rapture did he listen to his sprightly saillies of wit, his smart repartees, and those pretty nothings which a father, in particular, is fond to recollect and to repeat; at which the most rigid gravity may smile, and which are worth all the understanding of riper years. He was perpetually counting the hours and minutes that he had to spend with his son; and he incessantly reproached himself, for not seeing him more frequently.

Shah Abbas, for such was his name, at length reached his seventh year, that fatal year, which Ibrahim would fain have delayed, even at the expense of his crown. He would never leave his son a minute. But, alas! is it possible to escape our destiny? Summoned one day to his palace by affairs of the most pressing exigency, he left the mountain with extreme reluctance. Never had Shah Abbas appeared wore amiable in his father's eyes, never had Ibrahim appeared more affectionate to his son! Each was tormented by an uneasy sensation, an unaccountable presentiment that they were to meet there no more!

Some robbers were hunting wild beasts: the ardour of the pursuit brought them to this mountain. A lion that fled from them, perceived the subterraneous passage, and took refuge in it. The robbers, who durst not follow him, waited, however, for the sequel of this adventure. On a sudden, they heard a violent scream, and presently all was silent. This silence suggested to them, that the cavern now contained, not a living creature, but the lion. They threw down a quantity of stones, which soon put an end to the existence of the formidable animal. They then descended into the cavern, securing themselves from all further danger from the lion by cutting off his head. Wandering through every part of this subterraneous palace, they were astonished at the prodigious riches which they beheld. They perceived a slaughtered woman: this was the prince's governess. By her side lay a child covered with blood, who shewed, however, some signs of life. They examined his wounds: they found not one of them dangerous. The captain of these banditti, after stripping the cavern of its valuable contents, dressed the young prince's wounds himself, and effected a cure. The growing qualities of Shah Abbas endeared him to the chief, who adopted him as his son, and distinguished him as such by all the tenderness of a paternal heart.

Some years had elapsed since Ibrahim had first deplored the loss of a son, who, having been constantly ignorant of the name and titles of his father, had been unable to explain his origin to the robbers, was soon to become their chief. Such were the unaccountable caprices of fortune, which led to the completion of the prophecy, that had destined him to become one day a parricide. Ibrahim was wont to divert his grief by the pleasures of the chase; and this exercise soon became almost his only occupation. One evening that he had strayed, with a very slender escort, into the defiles of a very solitary mountain, a troop of robbers rushed upon him. The combat for sometime was furious. An arrow pierced the king; it excited the spirit of vengeance in his attendants, and they fought, determined to conquer or die. They were soon victorious. The murderer was taken, and conducted to the metropolis, that he might undergo the punishment due to his crime.