The old bachelor admires the diminutive slippers
"We may mark that gentleman with black, at all events," said Leandro Perez. "We may indeed," replied the Devil;"and you may tar his nearest neighbour with the same brush, while you are about it—an original of an auditor, who, because he keeps a carriage, blushes whenever he is obliged to put his foot into a public vehicle. He again may be worthily paired with one of his own relations, a wealthy dignitary of the church here, who almost always rides in a hired coach, in order to save two very neat ones, and four splendid mules, which he keeps in his stables.
"In the immediate neighbourhood of the auditor and our amatory bachelor, I discover a man to whom, without injustice, no one could deny his title to a strait waistcoat. There he is—acavalier of sixty, making love to a damsel of sixteen. He visits her daily, and thinks to win her affections by a recital of the conquests of his youth; he hopes that she will love him now for the charms of which he formerly could boast.
The old cavalier wooing the young girl
"We may place in the same category with the aged swain, another who is sleeping about ten paces from us—a French count, who came to Madrid to see the court of Spain. This old gentleman, who is nearly seventy years of age, shone with great lustre in the court of his own sovereign, fifty years ago; he was indeed perfectly the rage; all the world envying his manly form, his gallant deportment, and above all the exquisite taste which he displayed in his apparel. He scrupulously preserved the dresses so much admired, and has continued to wear them on all occasions despite the changes of fashion, which in Paris occur every day. What, however, is most amusing in the matter is, that he fancies himself at this time as graceful and attractive as in the days of his youth."
"There is not the slightest doubt," said Don Cleophas, "that we may book a place in theCasa de los locosfor this French signor." "I must reserve another though," replied the Demon, "for a lady who resides in a garret, next to the count's mansion. She is an elderly widow, who, from excess of affection for her children, has had the kindness to make over to them all her property; reserving only a small stipend for herself, which, with proper filial gratitude, they take good care never to pay.
"I have another subject for the same establishment, in a youth of family, who no sooner has a ducat than he spends it; and who, as he cannot do without the ready, is capable of anything to obtain it. A fortnight ago, his washer-woman, to whom he owed thirty pistoles, came to dun him for that sum, stating that she wanted it particularly, as she was going to be married to a valet-de-chambre, who sought her hand. 'You must have more money than this,' said he, 'for where the devil is the valet-de-chambre who would take you to wife for thirty pistoles?''Oh! yes,' replied the sudorific dame, 'I have two hundred ducats besides.' 'The deuce!' replied our hero, with emotion—'two hundred ducats! You have only to give them to me, I will marry you myself, and we may then cry quits.' He was taken at his word, and the laundress became his wife.
"We must retain three places also for the same number of persons, whom you see returning from supper at a celebrated countess's, and now stopping before that house on the left, where they at present reside. One is a nobleman of an inferior grade, who piques himself on his passion for thebelles lettres;the second is his brother, your ambassador to Timbuctoo, or some such place; and the third is their foster-brother, a literary toady who follows in their train. They are almost always together, and especially when visiting in the clique to which they belong. The noble praises himself only; the ambassador praises his brother and himself also; but the toady has three things to look after,—the praises of the other two, and the mixing of his own praises with theirs.
"Two places more! One for a floricultural citizen, who, scarcely gaining his own bread, must need keep a gardener and his wife to look after a dozen plants that languish at his suburban villa; the other for an actor, who, complaining the other day to his brethren on the disagreeables inseparable from a strolling life, observed: 'Well, my friends, I am utterly disgusted with my profession; yes, so much so, that I would rather be a humble country gentleman with a thousand ducats a year.'
"On whichever side I turn my eyes," continued the Spirit, "I see nothing but addled brains. There, for instance, is a chevalier of Calatrava, who is so proud, or rather vain, of being privately encouraged by the daughter of a noble signor, that hethinks himself on a par with the first persons of the court. He reminds me of Villius, who thought himself son-in-law of Sylla, because he was on good terms with the daughter of that dictator; and the resemblance is the more striking, because this chevalier, like the Roman, has aLongarenus;that is to say, a rival of low degree, who, nevertheless, is still more favoured by the lady than himself.
"One would be inclined to affirm that the same men are born anew from time to time, but under other circumstances. I recognize, in that secretary of department, Bollanus, who kept measures with nobody, and who affronted all whose appearance was, at first sight, unpleasing to him. I behold again, in that old president, Fufidius, who lent his money at five per cent. per month; and Marsoeus, who gave his paternal mansion to the actress Origo, lives once more in that noble stripling, who is spending with a dancer of the ballet the proceeds of a country seat which he has near the Escurial."
Asmodeus was about to continue, when, suddenly hearing the sound of instruments which were tuning in the neighbourhood, he stopped, and said to Don Cleophas: "There are musicians at the end of this street, who are just commencing a serenade in honour of the daughter of analcade de corte;if you would like to witness this piece of gallantry, you have only to say so." "I am a great admirer of this sort of concert," replied Zambullo; "let us by all means get near them; there may chance to be some decent voices among the lot." He had hardly spoken, when he found himself on a house adjoining that of the alcade.
The serenade was commenced by the instruments alone, which played some new Italian airs; and then two of the voices sang alternately the following couplets:
"List, while the thousand charms I sing,Which round thee such enchantment fling,That even Love has plumed his wingTo seek thy bower."Thy neck, that shames the mountain snow,Thy lip, that mocks the peach's glow,Bid Cupid's self a captive bowBeneath thy power."Thine arched brows as bows are bentTo speed the shafts thine eyes have sent;E'en armed Love's own mail is rent,Resisting them."Thou art, in sooth, a queenly maid;Yet hast thou every heart betray'd,That thee its trusting pole-star made;Thou priceless gem!"Oh! would that I some spell possess'd,While painting thee, to touch thy breast;Thou evening star, thou heaven of rest,Thou morning sun!"[6]
[6]"Si de tu hermosura quieresUna copia con mil gracias;Escucha, porque pretendoEl pintarla."Es tu frente toda nieveY el alabastro, batallasOffreciò al Amor, haziendoEn ella vaya."Amor labrò de tus cejasDos arcos para su aljava:Y debaxo ha descubiertoQuien le mata."Eres duena de el lugarVandolera de las almas,Iman de los alvedrios,Linda alhaja."Un rasgo de tu hermosuraQuisiera yo retratarla;Que es estrella, es cielo, es sol;No es sino el alva."
[6]"Si de tu hermosura quieresUna copia con mil gracias;Escucha, porque pretendoEl pintarla."Es tu frente toda nieveY el alabastro, batallasOffreciò al Amor, haziendoEn ella vaya."Amor labrò de tus cejasDos arcos para su aljava:Y debaxo ha descubiertoQuien le mata."Eres duena de el lugarVandolera de las almas,Iman de los alvedrios,Linda alhaja."Un rasgo de tu hermosuraQuisiera yo retratarla;Que es estrella, es cielo, es sol;No es sino el alva."
"The couplets are gallant and delicate," cried the Student. "They seem so to you," replied the Demon, "because you are a Spaniard: if they were translated into French, forinstance, they would not be greatly admired. The readers of that nation would think the expressions too figurative; and would discover an extravagance of imagination in the conceptions, which would be to them absolutely laughable. Every nation has its own standard of taste and genius, and will admit no other: but enough of these couplets," continued he, "you will hear music of another kind.
"Follow with your eyes those four men who have suddenly appeared in the street. See! they pounce upon the serenaders: the latter raise their instruments to defend their heads, but their frail bucklers yield to the blows which fall on them, and are shattered into a thousand pieces. And now see, coming to their assistance, two cavaliers; one of whom is the gallant donor of the serenade. With what fury they charge on the four aggressors! Again, with what skill and valour do these latter receive them. What fire sparkles from their swords! See! one of the defenders of the serenade has fallen,—it is he who gave it,—he is mortally wounded. His companion, perceiving his fall, flies to preserve his own life; the aggressors, having effected their object, fly also; the musicians have disappeared during the combat; and there remains upon the spot the unfortunate cavalier alone, who has paid for his gallantry with his life. In the meanwhile, observe the alcade's daughter: she is at her window, whence she has observed all that has passed. This lady is so vain of her beauty,—although that isnothing extraordinary either,—that instead of deploring its fatal effect, she rejoices in the force of her attractions, of which she now thinks more than ever.
The cavalier apprehended by the watch
"This will not be the end of it. You see another cavalier, who has this moment stopped in the street to assist, were it possible, the unfortunate being who is swimming in his blood. While occupied in this charitable office, see! he is surprised by the watch. They are taking him to prison, where he will remain many months: and he will almost pay as dearly for this transaction as though he were the murderer himself."
"This is, indeed, a night of misfortunes!" said Zambullo. "And this will not be the last of them," added the Devil. "Were you, this moment, at the Gate of the Sun, you would be horror-stricken at the spectacle which is now exhibiting. Through the negligence of a domestic, a mansion is on fire, which in its rage has already reduced to ashes the magnificent furniture it contains, and threatens to consume the whole building; but great as might be his loss, Don Pedro de Escolano, to whom the house belongs, would not regret it for a moment, could he but save his only daughter, Seraphina, who is likely to perish in the flames."
Don Cleophas expressing the greatest anxiety to see this fire, the Cripple transported him in an instant to the Gate of the Sun, and placed him in a house exactly opposite to that which was burning.
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In the street beneath them nothing was to be heard but a confused noise, arising from cries of fire from one half of the crowd, and the more appropriate one of water from the other. As soon as Leandro was able to comprehend the scene, he saw that the grand staircase, which led to the principal apartments of Don Pedro's mansion, was all in flames, which also were issuing with clouds of smoke, from every window in the house.
"The fire is at its height," said the Demon; "it has just reached the roof, and its thousand tongues are spitting in the air millions of brilliant sparks. It is a magnificent sight: so much so, that the persons who have flocked from all parts around it, to assist in extinguishing the flames, are awed into helpless amazement. You may discern in the crowd of spectators an old man in a dressing-gown: it is the Signor de Escolano. Do you not hear his cries and lamentations? He is addressing the men who surround him, and conjuring them to rescue his child. But in vain does he implore them,—in vain does he offer all his wealth,—none dares expose his life to save the ill-fated lady, who is only sixteen, and whose beauty is incomparable. The old man is in despair: he accuses them of cowardice; he tears his hair and beard; he beats his breast; the excess of his grief has made him almost mad. Seraphina, poor girl, abandoned by her attendants, has just swooned with terror in her own apartment, where, in a few minutes, a dense smoke will stifle her. She is lost to him for ever: no mortal can save her."
"Ah! Signor Asmodeus," exclaimed Leandro Perez, prompted by feelings of generous compassion, "if you love me, yield to the pity which desolates my heart: reject not my humble prayer when I entreat you to save this lovely girl from the horrid death which threatens her. I demand it, as the price of the service I rendered but now to you. Do not, this time, oppose yourself to my desires: I shall die with grief if you refuse me."
The Devil smiled on witnessing the profound emotion of the Student. "The fire warms you, Signor Zambullo," said he. "Verily! you would have made an exquisite knight-errant: you are courageous, compassionate for the sufferings of others, and particularly prompt in the service of sorrowing damsels. You would be just the man, now, to throw yourself in the midst of the furnace yonder, like an Amadis, to attempt the deliverance of the beauteous Seraphina, and to restore her safe and sound to her disconsolate father." "Would to heaven!" replied Don Cleophas, "that it were possible. I would undertake the task without hesitation." "Pity that your death," resumed the Cripple, "would be the sole reward of so noble an exploit! I have already told you that human courage can avail nothing on the occasion. Well! I suppose, to gratify you, I must meddle in the matter; so observe how I shall set about it: you can watch from hence all my operations."
He had no sooner spoken these words than, borrowing the form of Leandro Perez, to the great astonishment of the Student, he alighted unobserved amid the crowd, which he elbowed without ceremony, and quickly passing through it, rushed into the fire as into his natural element. The spectators who beheld him, alarmed at the apparent madness of the attempt, uttered a cry of horror. "What insanity!" said one; "is it possible that interest can blind a man to such an extent as this? None but a downright idiot could have been tempted by any proffered recompence to dare such certain death." "The rash youth," said another, "must be the lover of Don Pedro's daughter; and in the desperation of his grief has resolved to save his mistress or to perish with her."
In short, they predicted for him the fate of Empedocles,[7]when, a minute afterwards, they saw him emerge from the flames with Seraphina in his arms. The air resounded with acclamations, and the people were loud in their praises of the brave cavalier who had performed so noble a feat. When rashness ends in success, critics are silent; and so this prodigy now appeared to the assembled multitude as a very natural result of a Spaniard's daring.
[7]A Sicilian poet and philosopher, who threw himself into the crater of Mount Ætna.
[7]A Sicilian poet and philosopher, who threw himself into the crater of Mount Ætna.
The rescue of Seraphina
As the lady was still insensible, her father did not dare to give himself up to joy: he feared that, although thus miraculously delivered from the fire, she would die before his eyes, from the terrible impression made upon her mind by the peril she had encountered. He was, however, soon reassured, when, recovering from her swoon, her eyes opened, and looking on the old man, she said to him with an affectionate voice:"Signor, I should have had more occasion for affliction than rejoicing at the preservation of my life, were not yours also in safety." "Ah! my child," replied her father, embracing her, "nothing is lost since you are saved. But let us thank," exclaimed he, presenting to her the double of Cleophas,—"letus testify our gratitude to this young cavalier. He is your preserver; it is to him you owe your life. How can we repay that debt? Not all that I possess would suffice to cancel the obligation he has conferred upon us."
To these observations the Devil replied, with an air which would have done Don Cleophas credit: "Signor, I am noble, and a Castilian. I seek no other reward for the service I have had the happiness to render you than the pleasure of having dried your tears, and of having saved from the flames the lovely object which they threatened to devour;—surely such a service is its own reward."
The disinterestedness and generosity of their benefactor raised for him the highest feelings of admiration and esteem in the breast of the Signor de Escolano, who entreated him to call upon them, and offered him his warmest friendship. The Devil replied in fitting terms to the frank advances of the old man; and, after many other compliments had passed, the father and daughter retired to a small building which remained uninjured, at the bottom of the garden. The Demon then rejoined the Student, who, seeing him return under his former guise, said to him: "Signor Asmodeus, have my eyes deceived me? Were you not but now in my shape and figure?" "Excuse the liberty," replied the Cripple; "and I will tell you the motive for this metamorphosis. I have formed a grand design: I intend that you should marry Seraphina, and, under your form, I have already inspired her with a violent passion for your lordship. Don Pedro, also, is highly satisfied with you, because I told him that in rescuing his daughter I had no other object than to render them both happy, and that the honour of having happily terminated so perilous an adventure was a sufficient reward for a Spanish gentleman. Thegood man has a noble soul, and will not easily be outdone in generosity; and he is at this moment deliberating within himself whether he shall not give you his daughter, as the most worthy return he can make to you for having saved her life.
Don Pedro and Seraphina thank Zambullo
"Well! while he is hesitating," added the Cripple, "let us get out of this smother into a place more favourable for continuing our observations." And so saying, away he flew with the Student to the top of a high church filled with splendid tombs.
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Asmodeus now said to the Student: "Before we continue our observations on the living, we will for a few moments disturb the peaceful rest of those who lie within this church. I will glance over all the tombs; reveal the secrets they contain, and the feelings which have prompted their elevation.
"The first of those which are on our right contains the sad remains of a general officer, who, like another Agamemnon, on his return from the wars found an Ægisthus in his house; in the second, reposes a young cavalier of noble birth, who, desirous of displaying in the sight of his mistress his strength and skill at a bull-fight, was gored to death by his furious opponent; and in the third lies an old prelate who left this world rather unceremoniously. He had made his will in the vigour of health, and was imprudent enough to read it to his domestics, whom, like a good master, he had not forgotten: his cook was in a hurry to receive his legacy.
"In the fourth mausoleum rests a courtier who never rested in his lifetime. Even at sixty years of age, he was daily seen in attendance on the king, from the levée until his majesty retired for the night: in recompense for all these attentions the king loaded him with favours." "And was he, now," said Don Cleophas, "the man to use his influence for others?" "For no one," replied the Devil: "he was liberal of his promises of service to his friends, but he was religiously scrupulous of never keeping them." "The scoundrel!" exclaimed Leandro. "Were we to think of lopping off the superfluous members of society,—men that like tumours on the body politic draw all its nourishment to themselves, it is with courtiers like this one would begin."
"The fifth tomb," resumed Asmodeus, "encloses the mortal remains of a signor, ever zealous for the interests of his country, and jealous of the glory of the king his master, in whose service he spent the best years of his life as ambassador to Rome or France, to England or Portugal. He ruined himself so effectually by his embassies that he did not leave behind him enough to defray the expenses of his funeral, which the king has therefore paid out of gratitude for his services.
"Let us turn to the monuments on the other side. The first is that of a great merchant who left enormous wealth to his children; but, lest they should forget, in its flood, the humble source from which it, like themselves, was derived, he directed that his name and occupation should be graven on his tomb, to the no small annoyance of his descendants.
"The next stone which surpasses every other in the church for its magnificence, is regarded with much admiration by all travellers." "In truth," said Zambullo, "it appears to me deserving of its reputation. I am absolutely enchanted by those two kneeling figures—how exquisitely are they chiselled? Not Phidias himself could have surpassed the sculpture of this splendid work! But tell me, dear Asmodeus, what in theirlives were those whom these all-breathing marbles represent?"
The Cripple replied: "You behold a duke and his noble spouse: the former was grand chamberlain to his majesty, and the duchess was celebrated for her extreme piety. I must, however, relate to you an anecdote of her grace, which you will think rather lively for a devotee;—it is as follows.
"She had been for a long time in the habit of confessing her sins to a monk of the order of Mercy, one Don Jerome d'Aguilar, a good man, and a famous preacher, with whom she was highly satisfied, when there suddenly appeared at Madrid a Dominican, who captivated the town by the novelty of his style, and the comfortable doctrines on which he insisted. This new orator was named the brother Placidus: the people flocked to his sermons as to those of Cardinal Ximenes; and as his reputation grew, the court, led to hear him by curiosity, became more loud in his praises than the town.
"Our duchess at first made it a point of honour to hold out against the renown of the new-comer, nor could even curiosity induce her to go to hear him, that she might judge for herself of his eloquence. She acted thus from a desire to prove to her spiritual director, that, like a good and grateful penitent, she sympathised with him in the chagrin which the presence of brother Placidus must have caused him. But the Dominican made so much noise, that at last she yielded to the temptation of seeing him, still however assured of her own fidelity: she saw him, heard him preach, liked him, followed him; and the little inconstant absolutely formed the project of putting herself under his direction.
"It was, however, necessary to get rid of her old confessor, and this was not aneasy matter; a spiritual guide cannot be thrown off like a lover; a devotee would not like to be thought a coquette, or to lose the esteem of the director whom she abandons; so what did the duchess? She sought Don Jerome, and with an air of sorrow which spoke a real affliction, said to him: 'Father, I am in despair: you see me in amazement;—in a grief,—in a perplexity of mind which I cannot depict.' 'What ails you then, Madam?' replied d'Aguilar. 'Would you believe it?' she replied; 'my husband, who has ever had the most perfect confidence in my virtue, after having seen me for so long a time under your guidance, has, without appearing in the least suspicious of myself, become suddenly jealous of you, and desires that you may no longer be my confessor. Did you ever hear of a similar caprice? In vain have I objected that by his suspicions he insulted not only myself, but a man of the strictest piety, freed from the tyranny of the passions; I only increased his jealous fears by my vindication of your sacred honour.'
"Don Jerome, despite his shrewdness, was taken in by this story: it is true that it was told with such demonstrations of candour as would have deceived all the world. Although sorry to lose a penitent of such importance, he did not fail to exhort her to obey her husband's will; but the eyes of his Reverence were opened at last, and the trick discovered, when he learned that the lady had chosen brother Placidus as his successor.
"After the grand chamberlain and his cunning spouse," continued the Devil, "comes a more modest tomb, which has only recently received the ill-assorted remains of a president of the council of the Indies and his young wife. This president, in his sixty-third year, married a girl of twenty: he had by a former wife two children, whom he was about to leave penniless, when a fit of apoplexy carried him off; and his wife diedtwenty-four hours after him from vexation at his not having lived three days longer.
"And now we have arrived at the most respectable monument this church contains. For it every Spaniard has as much veneration, as the Romans had for the tomb of Romulus." "Of what great personage, then, does it contain the ashes?" asked Leandro Perez. "Of a prime minister of Spain," replied Asmodeus; "and never did that monarchy possess his equal. The king left, with confidence, the cares of government to this great man; who so worthily acquitted himself of the charge, that monarch and subjects were equally contented. Under his ministry the state was ever flourishing, and its people happy; for his maxims of government were founded on the sure principles of humanity and religion. Still, although his life was blameless, he was not free from apprehension at his death,—the responsibility of his office might indeed make the best of mortals tremble.
"In a corner, a little beyond the tomb of this worthy minister, you may discern a marble tablet placed against one of the columns. Say! shall I open the sepulchre beneath it, and display before your eyes all that remains of a lowly maiden who perished in the flower of her youth, when her modest beauty won for her the love and admiration of all who beheld her? It has returned to its primeval dust, that fragile form, which in its life possessed so dangerous a beauty as to keep her fond parent in continual alarm, lest its bright temptation should expose her to the wiles of the seducer;—a misfortune which might have befallen had she lived much longer, for already was she the idol of three young cavaliers, who, inconsolable for her loss, died shortly afterwards by their own hands. Their tragical history is engraven in letters of gold onthe stone I shewed you, with three little figures which represent the despairing lovers in the act of self-destruction: one is draining a glass of poison; another is falling on his sword; and the third is tying a cord about his neck, having chosen to die by hanging."
The Demon finding that the Student laughed with all his might at this sorrowful story, and that the idea of the three figures thus depicted on the maiden's monument amused him, said: "Since you find food for mirth in the artist's imagination, I am almost in the mind to carry you this moment to the banks of the Tagus, and there shew you a monument erected by the will of a dramatic author, in the church of a village near Almaraz, whither he had retired, after having led a long and joyous life at Madrid. This scribe had produced a vast number of comedies full of ribald wit and low obscenity; but repenting of his outrages upon decency ere he died, and desirous of expiating the scandal they had caused, he directed that they should carve upon his tomb a sort of pile, composed of books, bearing the names of the various pieces he had written, and that beside it they should place the image of Modesty, who, with lighted torch, should be about to consign them to the flames.
"Besides the dead whose monuments I have described to you, there are within this church an infinity of others without a stone to mark the spot where their ashes repose. I see their shades wandering solemnly around: they glide along, passing and repassing one after another before us, without disturbing the profound quiet which reigns in this holy place. They speak not; but I read in their silence all their thoughts." "I am annoyed without measure," exclaimed Don Cleophas, "that I cannot, like you, have the pleasure of beholding them!" "That pleasure I can give you then," replied Asmodeus;"nothing is more easy." The Demon just touched the Student's eyes, and by a delusion caused him to perceive a great number of pallid spectres.
The sculpture of Modesty burning the books
As he looked on these apparitions, Zambullo trembled. "What!" said the Devil to him, "you are agitated! Is it with fear of these ghostly visitants? Let not their ghastly apparel alarm you! Look at it well! It will adorn your own majestic person some of these days. It is the uniform of the shades:collect yourself, and fear nothing. Is it possible your assurance can fail you now,—you, who have had the daring to look on me? These gentry are harmless compared with myself."
The Student, at these words, recalling his wonted courage, looked on the phantoms with tranquillity; which the Demon perceiving: "Bravo!" said he. "Well! now," he continued, "regard these shadows with attention! You will perceive that the occupant of the stately mausoleum is confounded with the inhabitant of the unstoned grave. The ranks by which they were distinguished in their lives died with them; and the grand chamberlain and the prime minister are no more now than the lowliest citizen that moulders in this church. The greatness of these noble shades ended with their days, as that of the strutting hero of a tragedy falls with the curtain."
"I have a remark to make," interrupted Leandro. "I see a lonely spirit hovering about, and seeming to shun all contact with his fellows." "Rather say," replied the Demon, "and you will speak the truth, that his fellows shun all company with him: and what now think you is that poor ghost? He was an old notary, who had the vanity to be buried in a leaden coffin; which has so offended the self-love of the more humble tenants of the surrounding tombs, that they resolved to black-ball him, and will not therefore permit his shade to mix with theirs."
"I have another observation yet to make," resumed Don Cleophas. "Two shadows, just now, on meeting, stopped for a moment to look upon each other, and then passed each on his way." "They are, or rather were, two intimate friends," replied the Devil; "one was a painter, and the other a musician: they both drew their inspiration from the bottle; but were, otherwise, honest fellows enough. It is worthy of note that they both brushed off in the same year; andwhen their spirits meet, struck by the remembrance of their former delights, they say to each other by their sorrowful but expressive silence: 'Ah! my friend, we shall drink no more.'"
"Grammercy!" cried the Student, "what do I see. At the other end of the church are two spirits, who are passing along together, but badly matched. Their forms and manners are immensely different: one is of enormous height, and moves with corresponding gravity, while the other is of dwarf-like stature, and passes o'er the ground like a breath." "The giant," replied the Cripple, "was a German, who lost his life in a debauch, by drinking three healths with tobacco mixed inadvertently in his wine; and the little ghost is that of a Parisian, who, with the gallantry belonging to his countrymen, was imprudent enough, on entering this very church, to present the holy water to a young lady who was leaving it: as a reward for his politeness, he was saluted on the same day with the contents of a carbine, which left him here a moral for all too attentive Frenchmen.
"For myself," continued Asmodeus, "I have been looking at three spirits which I discerned among the crowd; and I must tell you by what means they were separated from their earthly companions. They animated the charming forms of as many female performers, who made as much noise at Madrid, in their time, as did Origo, Cytheris and Arbuscula, in theirs, at Rome; and, like their said prototypes, they possessed the exquisite art of amusing mankind in public, and of privately ruining the same amiable animal. But, alas! all things must have an end, and these were the finales of those celebrated ladies: one died suddenly of envy, at an apopletic fit of applause, from the pit, which fell upon a lovely first-night; another found in excessive good cheer, at home, theinfallible drop which follows it; and, the third, undertaking the dangerous character, for an actress, of a vestal, became so excited with her part that she died of a miscarriage behind the scenes.
"But we will leave to their reposes(!) all these shades," again continued the Demon; "we have passed them sufficiently in review. I will now present to your sight a spectacle which, as a man, must impress you with a deeper feeling than the sight of the dead. I am about, by the same power which has rendered the shades of the departed visible to your sight, topresent to you the vision of Death himself. Yes! you shall behold that insatiable enemy of the human race, who prowls unceasingly in the haunts of man, unperceived by his victims; who surrounds the earth, in his speed, in the twinkling of an eye; and who strikes by his power, its most distant inhabitants at the same moment.
"Look towards the east! He rises on your sight. A million birds of baneful omen fly before his advent in terror, and announce his presence with funereal cries. His tireless hand is armed with the fatal scythe which mows successive generations as they spring from earth. But if, as mocking at humanity, on one wing is depicted war, pestilence, famine, shipwreck, conflagration, with other direful modes by which he sweeps upon his prey, the other shows the priests who offer to him daily hecatombs in sport; as youthful doctors, who receive from himself their diplomas, after swearing, in his presence, never to practise surgery or medicine contrary to the rules of the courts."
Although Don Cleophas suspected that all he saw was an illusion, and that it was merely to gratify his taste for the marvellous that the Devil raised this form of Death before his eyes, he could not look on it without trembling. He assumed, however, all the courage he was possessed of, and said to the Demon: "This fearful spectre will not, I suppose, pass vainly over Madrid: he will doubtless leave some awful traces of his flight?" "Yes! certainly," replied the Cripple; "he comes not here for nothing; and it depends but on yourself to be the witness of his visitation." "I take you at your word," exclaimed the Student; "let us follow in his train; let me visit with him the unhappy families on whom he will expend his present wrath. What tears are about to flow!" "Beyond adoubt," replied Asmodeus; "but many which come at convenience. Death, despite his horrors, causes at least as much joy as grief."
Death flies over the poor man's bed
Our two spectators took their flight, and followed the grim monarch in his progress. He entered first a modest house, whose owner lay in helpless sickness on his bed; the autocrat but touched the poor man with his scythe, and he expired in the midst of his weeping relations, who instantly commenced an affecting concert of cries and lamentions. "There is no mockery here," said the Demon: "the wife and children of this worthy citizen loved him with real affection: besides, they depended on him for their bread; and the belly is rarely a hypocrite.
"Not so, however, is it in the next house, in which you perceive his grisly majesty now occupied in releasing a bed-ridden old gentleman from his pains. He is an aged counsellor who, having always lived a bachelor of law, has passed his life as badly as he could, that he might leave behind him a good round sum for the benefit of his three nephews, who have flocked round his bed on hearing that he is about to quit it, at last. They of course displayed an extreme affliction, and very well they did it; but are now, you see, letting fall the mask, and are preparing to do their duties as heirs, after having performed their parts as relations. How they will rummage the old gentleman's effects! What heaps of gold and silver will they discover! 'How delightful!' said one of these heart-broken descendants to another, this moment,—'how delightful is it for nephews to be blessed with avaricious old uncles, who renounce the pleasures of life for their sakes!'" "A superb funeral oration," said Leandro Perez. "Oh! as to that," replied the Devil, "the majority of wealthy parents, who live to a good old age, ought not to expect a better from their own children.
"While these heritors are joyfully seeking the treasures of the deceased, Death is directing his flight to a large house, in which resides a young nobleman who has the small-pox. This noble, one of the brightest ornaments of the court, is about to perish, just as his star is rising, despite the famed physician who attends him,—or rather because he is attended by this learned doctor.
Death approaches the pious monk
"But see! with what rapidity does the fatal scythe perform its operations. Already has it completed the destiny of the youthful lord, and its unblunted edge is turned elsewhere. It hovers over yonder convent; it darts into its deepest cell, sweeps over a pious monk, and cuts the thread of the penitent and mortifying life that he has led during forty years. Death, all-fearful as he is, had no terrors for this holy man; so, in revenge, he seeks a mansion where his presence will be unwelcome indeed. He flies towards a licentiate of importance, who has only recently been appointed to the bishopric ofAlbarazin. This prelate is busily occupied with preparations for repairing to his diocese with all the pomp which in our day accompanies the princes of the church. Nevertheless, he is about to take his departure for the other world, where he will arrive with as few followers as the poor monk; and I am not sure that he will be quite as favourably received."
"Oh heavens!" cried Zambullo; "Death stoops upon the palace of the king. Alas! one stroke of his fatal scythe, and ail Spain will be plunged in dreadful consternation." "Well may you tremble," said the Cripple; "for the barbarian has no more respect for kings than for their meanest slaves. But be not alarmed," he added, a moment afterwards, "he aims not at the monarch yet; his business now is with a courtier only, one of those noble lords whose only occupation is to swell his master's train: such ministers as these are not exactly those the state can least afford to lose."
"But it would seem," replied the Student, "that the spectre king is not contented with so mean a prize as the parasite you speak of. See! he hovers still about the royal house; and, this time, near the chamber of the Queen." "Just so," replied the Devil, "and he might be worse employed: he is about to cut the windpipe of an amiable dame who delights to sow divisions in her sovereign's court; and who is now mortally chagrined, because two ladies whom she had cleverly set by the ears, have been unreasonable enough to become sincerely reconciled with each other.
The grieving wife tears her hair
"And now, my master, you will hear cries of real affliction," continued the Demon. "Deathenters that splendid mansion to the left; and a scene as touching as the world's stage offers is about to be acted there. Look, if you can, on the heart-rending tragedy." "In truth," said Don Cleophas, "I perceive a lady struggling in the arms of her attendants, and tearing her hair with signs of deepest grief. Tell me its cause!" "Look in the room adjoining, and you will see cause enough," replied the Devil. "You observe the man stretched on that stately couch: it is her dying husband,—to her a loss indeed! Their story is affecting, and deserves to be written:—I have a great mind to relate it to you."
"You will give me great pleasure in so doing," interrupted Leandro: "the sorrows of this world do not move less than its vices and follies amuse me." "It is rather long," resumed Asmodeus, "but it is too interesting to annoy you on that account. Besides, I will confess to you, that, all Demon as I am, I am sick of following the track of Death: let us leave him in his search of newer victims." "With all my heart," replied Zambullo: "I am more curious to hear your promised narrative Of suffering humanity, than to see my fellow-mortals, one after another, hurried into eternity." The Cripple then commenced as follows, after having transported the Student on to the roof of one of the highest houses in the Strada d'Alcala.
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