The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 62

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 Tsc.h.i.n.k._

(Continued from page 119.)

"The human soul, of course, is already, in this life, connected with the members of the invisible world, and this connection is lasting and essential, while that with the body is accidental and transient. However a union of substances, that is, of active natures, cannot be supposed to exist without a reciprocal influence; consequently the human soul must have an effective influence upon the spirits to whom she is linked, and the members of the spiritual world must act reciprocally on our soul.

But why are we not equally sensible of these reciprocal influences and communications, as of those which subsist between our soul and body? The cause of this is very obvious. The human spirit can have a clear idea only of the objects of the material world, because of its corporeal organ; it is, therefore, not even capable of a clear immediate contemplation of its own self, much less of its immaterial relations to other spirits: the difference which exists between those ideas which arise in our soul by means of its immateriality, and its communion with spiritual beings, and the ideas which it receives by the medium of the body, or abstracted from material objects, is so essential, that the ideas of the former kind cannot come in connection with those of the latter; for which reason we have either no notion at all of them, or, at most, a very obscure one; however, we become plainly conscious of them as soon as the union of the soul and its corporeal organ ceases."

"This, Hiermanfor, seems, in some measure to be the case when we are sleeping, and the sensitive organs are resting from their occupations.

Should therefore those philosophers of antiquity, who have believed that in our dreams we are capable of being influenced by superior beings, and of receiving supernatural inspirations, be mistaken?"

"There is, certainly, some truth in this remark. I must, however, observe, that we do not possess that capacity when dreaming, but when we are fast asleep. It is commonly thought that we have only obscure notions in the latter state, and this opinion arises from our not recollecting them when we awake; however, on what ground can we conclude therefrom that they have not been clear while we were sleeping? Such ideas, perhaps, may be clearer and more extensive, than even the most perspicuous when we are awake, because the activity of our soul is neither modified nor confined by any thing whatever, the sensitive organs being intirely at rest. However this very rest of our sensitive organs, is the cause which prevents the re-production of these ideas when we are awake, our sleeping body having no share in them, and, consequently, being dest.i.tute of its concomitant notion of them; they, of course, remain insulated in our soul, having no connection at all with those ideas which arise within ourselves before and after we are fast asleep, and in which our body takes a greater or a smaller share.

This is not the case with our dreams; for when we are dreaming, the faculties of the soul do not act so pure and uncontrouled as when we are fast asleep. Dreaming is an intermediate state between waking and sleeping. We have then already, in some measure, clear ideas, and interweave the actions of our soul with the impressions of our exterior senses, whereby a strange, and sometimes ridiculous mixture is engendered, which we partly recollect when we awake."

"You have, as yet, proved only the probability of clear notions during our being fast asleep; could you not also prove their reality?"

"Certainly! however these arguments do not belong to the theoretical part of our philosophy. Yet I must beg of you to recollect, en pa.s.sant, the actions of some noctambulos, who sometimes, during the profoundest sleep, shew more understanding than at any other time, but cannot recollect those actions when awake?"

"This is true!" I exclaimed, "this throws an astonishing light upon this matter."

"Yet not only while asleep," the Irishman continued, "but also when awake, many people can be capable of having a clear notion of their connection with the spiritual world, and the influence of spirits upon them. Yet the essential difference which exists between the notions of _spirits_ and those of _men_ is a great impediment, which, however, is not at all insurmountable. It is true than man cannot have an _immediate_ notion of those spiritual ideas, because of the co-operation of his corporeal organs; however they can, in virtue of the law of the a.s.sociation of ideas, produce in the human mind those images which are related to them and consequently procreate a.n.a.logical representations of our senses, which, although they be not the spiritual actions themselves, yet are their symbols."

"I perceive what you are aiming at."

"Examples will render the matter more intelligible to you. Experience teaches that our superior intellectual notions, which are near a-kin to the spiritual ideas, commonly a.s.sume a bodily garb, in order to render themselves perspicuous. Thence the poet transforms wisdom into the G.o.ddess Minerva, the stings of conscience into furies, and personifies virtues and vices; the mathematician describes time by a line, and is there any philosopher who always forms an idea even of the G.o.dhead, without intermixing human qualities? In that manner ideas, which have been imparted to us by spiritual influence, may dress themselves in the symbols of that _language_ which is common to us, and the presence of a spirit which we perceive, a.s.sume the image of a _human shape_--witness the late apparition of your tutor.----Thus the theory of all supernatural inspirations and visions is ascertained; consequently the apparitions of spirits have that in common with our dreams, that they represent to us effects which are produced within ourselves, as if happening _without ourselves_; however, at the same time, they differ from them with respect to their being really founded upon an effect from _without_, a spiritual influence. However this influence cannot reveal itself to our consciousness immediately, but only by means of a.s.sociated images of our fancy, which attain the vivacity of objects really perceived. You see, therefore, what an essential difference there is between the phantoms of our dreams, and the apparitions of spirits. But here is the boundary of theory. The criterion whereby apparitions of spirits, in every particular case, can be distinguished with certainty, from vain phantoms, and supernatural inspirations from natural ideas, and the means of effecting apparitions, and of obtaining a.s.sistance and instructions from spiritual beings; these and several more things belong to the practical part of the occult philosophy.

"Here, my Lord, I must conclude for the present, and drop the curtain.

Stress of time obliges me to abbreviate my discourse on a subject which would not be exhausted in many days; however I may safely leave to your own understanding the finishing and enlargement of this sketch. Suffice it that I have enabled you to comprehend the apparition of your friend, and to see that reason does not p.r.o.nounce judgment against subjects of this nature, but rather is the only mean which affords us light and certainty with respect to them. The theory which I have given you may, at the same time, serve you to judge whether it will be worth your trouble to be initiated in the mysteries of the practical part of this philosophy. However, I must tell you, that no mortal who has not sanctified himself by bridling his sensitive nature, and purifying his spiritual faculties, can be admitted to that sanctuary. Are you resolved to do this?"

"I am, put me to the test!"

"Then depart with the first dawn of day for Ma**id, without taking leave of the Countess."

The Irishman could not have chosen a severer trial, nor demanded a greater sacrifice. The combat which I had to fight with my heart, before I could come to a resolution, was short but dreadful.---I promised the Irishman to execute his will.

"Well!" said he, "then hear what measures you are to take. As soon as you shall be arrived at Ma**id, you must, without delay, wait upon the Prime Minister, Oliv**ez, and the Secretary of State Suma*ez, but take care not to discover your political views to either of them; pretend that you intend to stay some time at Ma**id merely for the sake of amus.e.m.e.nt. Repeat your visits till you have gained their confidence.

Your winning demeanor, my Lord, and your intimate connection with Vascon*ellos will render this conquest easy.---Farewell, at Ma**id we shall meet again!"

We parted. The Irishman returned once more. "Your manner of life while at Ma**id," said he, "will require great expences, and you must be well provided with money. I have taken care that you shall be well supplied with that needful article. You will find in your apartment a sum which you may dispose of at pleasure." So saying, he left me suddenly.

On coming home, I found on my table two bags with money, each of them containing a thousand ducats. Pietro told me they had been brought by a servant of the Irish Captain.

No one will doubt that I was now entirely devoted to the Irishman. By his discourse at the burying place he had _persuaded_, and by his liberality _convinced_ me, that I could not do better than to let myself be guided entirely by him; and as I at first had been determined to this by the conquering superiority of his soul, so I was now confirmed in it by the applause of my reason. Nay, if the Irishman should now have offered to break off all connection with me, I should have courted his friendship, so much had I been charmed by the profound wisdom of his discourse. Not the least vestige of mistrust against his secret power was left in my soul, and the very regard for philosophy which but lately had prejudiced me against him, was now one of the strongest bonds that chained me to him. How agreeably was I surprised to find in _Reason_ herself, whom I formerly had thought to be the princ.i.p.al adversary of the belief in miracles, the most convincing arguments for the same, and to have been conquered with the same weapons which I had been fighting with against the Irishman, without having the least reason to reproach him with having had recourse to any stratagem whatever. The frankness and strength of argument which distinguished every step of his philosophical instruction, were to me the most unexceptionable security for the justness of the result. If he had delivered his arguments in a flowery and mysterious language, supported by the charms of declamation, then I should certainly have suspected them; however he had made use of the cool, simple and clear language of reason, divested of all sophistical artifices; started from principles which are generally received, drew no conclusions to which he was not ent.i.tled by his premises, combatted errors and prejudices upon which he could have founded surreptious conclusions; nay, it appeared as if he, unmindful of what he was to prove, had left it entirely to the course of his impartial inquiry whither it would lead him, and I beheld myself, with astonishment, on the conclusion of it, at the mark from which the road we had taken threatened to lead us astray.

I cannot describe the wonderful bold ideas which the instructions I had received produced in my mind, nor the awfully agreeable sensations which those ideas were accompanied with. The rising sun surprised me in that indescribable state of mind, and reminded me by his rays, that it was time to set off.

(_To be continued._)

ARABIAN MAXIMS.

The car of Hope is always escorted by Want.

Consider the man that flatters you as an enemy.

If there were none but wise men in the world it would soon be desert.

Would you censure others? Examine your own conduct first.

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

METAMORPHOSIS OF CHARACTERS.

How much is man the creature of incidents!----The solitary student becomes a Hypochondriac, a Misanthropist; the world seems to him a prison, and its inhabitants a parcel of rogues and vagabonds; he no longer views mankind with complacency, with a fellow feeling for their infirmities and pity for their misfortunes, but considers them with the severity of a Censor.----But let him emerge from his closet, let him enter into the concerns of life and undergo the salutary agitation of gentle exercise, while he beholds his neighbours industriously and chearfully employed, and he becomes quite another man. If we now penetrate his mind we find him no longer disturbed by imaginary evils, or vexed with supposed injuries. He begins to view mankind as his brethren, and fellow travellers; and feels a disposition to a.s.sist the weary, and to recall the wanderer to the right path, with a friendly commiseration for his errors. Scrupulosus was once a crabbed, morose _sceptic_; he would believe nothing but what had undergone the ordeal of his own reason, nor trust any man farther than he could see him.--Necessity drove him into the busy world, and a concurrence of events, placed him in the matrimonial state.--He now finds fewer difficulties, than formerly, to encounter; and perceives that his self-sufficiency, and conceit had involved many things in an impenetrable mist.--Connections multiply, and a smiling progeny surrounds him.---Scrupulosus, is no longer a cavilling sceptic---he is a christian.

What a change is this! what a metamorphosis of characters! Neither is it the fiction of imagination, but the delineation of what daily occurs in real life.---The traveller is quite a different being from the sedentary man, because he is active, and constantly excited by a variety of objects.

Our ideas of the Almighty, are not less influenced by the circ.u.mstances which surround us. Behold the torpid monk, seeking the favour of a G.o.d of vengeance, by the rigours of an austere life. On the other hand, see the chearful friend of man, addressing the father of his fellow-creatures, with a heart full of love and grat.i.tude, and a lively hope of his favour and protection. Such, then, is the penalty imposed on immoderate study, and thus the solitary pursuit of knowledge, when excessive, will entirely frustrate our expectations, and destroy the health of both body and mind.

VIATOR.

MORAL MAXIMS.

Mankind are more indebted to industry than ingenuity: the G.o.ds set up their favours at a price, and industry is the purchaser.

A man without merit may live without envy; but who would wish to escape on these terms?

MARRIED,

On Thursday evening last by the Rev. Bishop Provost, Captain JOHN SANDERS, of Exeter, (England) to the amiable Miss CATHERINE LIVINGSTON, of this city.