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THEODOSIUS DE ZULVIN, 
 
 THE MONK OF MADRID 
 
 J SPAXISII TALE, 
 
 EELINEATIKC 
 
 VARIOUS TRAITS OF THE HUMAN MIND. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE MOORE, 
 
 AUrHOK. OF GRASVILLE ABBEY. 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 O ever righteous Heaven \ cnnst thou suffer 
 This sacrilegious hypocrite, this spoiler. 
 To steal thy terrors and blaspheme thy name, 
 Nor doom him in^stant dead ? 
 
 MILLER'S IragtJ) :f MAUOMET. 
 
 Extremes in Nature equal ends produce ; 
 lu Man they join to some mysterious use. 
 Though each by turns the other's bovmds invade. 
 As in some well-wrought picture light and shade j 
 And oft so mix, the ditference is too nice 
 Where enda the virtue or begins the vice. 
 
 POPE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR G. AND J. ROBINSON, 
 
 PAlERNOSTtR-ROW; 
 Bj S. Hamilton, Falcon-Court, Plcet-StrcM, 
 
 J802. 
 

 ?4 3 
 
 I 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 4 
 
 ^ TO THE 
 
 INHABITANTS OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 
 
 i 1 SHOULD account myself truly ungrateful^ 
 
 ^ was I to fail dedicating the following little 
 
 ~ work to you, under whose cheering sociality 
 
 'and friendly politeness the first ideas of it 
 
 -*• were formed. 
 
 The few years which have passed since 
 J 'that period may perhaps have produced va- 
 ir rious changes in the domestic circles whom 
 I am now addressings but the recollection 
 *2x)f the happiness I once derived from them 
 ^is too powerfully impressed upon my mind 
 ^to fade under the absence of those who pro- 
 Jduced it. 
 
 ^ The comforts which I experienced in your 
 |little island (during a winter remarkable for 
 VOL. I. a 
 
VI 
 
 Its tedious gloom and severe inclemency) 
 -are not to be forgotten. It is a period 1 shall 
 €ver trace back, in a retrospection of past 
 scenes and enjoyments, with infinite satis- 
 faction. 
 
 By thus publicly acknowledging the high 
 regard and esteem I shall always retain for 
 my friends in the Isle of Wight, I both gra- 
 tify my own wishes, in confirming I have 
 not forgot the pleasures of their society, and 
 pay a just tribute to that genuine hospita- 
 lity, the virtues of which none can so justly 
 iiefine as the wandering traveller who re- 
 ceives them. 
 
 Tottenham Court Road, 
 June l, 1802. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 1 AM aware, that in submitting the Tale of 
 Theodosius de Zulvin to the public, I not 
 only hazard falling under the various de- 
 grees of criticism to which such works arc 
 subject, but likewise of being charged with 
 an attempt to maintain opinions, relative to 
 certain maxims of education, by some de- 
 clared to be incorrect. I also anticipate, 
 that perhaps to many to whom I am perso- 
 nally known, my exertions to illustrate those 
 opinions may be considered as presumption, 
 when they reflect I have had but a very few 
 more years' experience to acquire them than 
 tlie heroes of this tale whom I have chosen 
 as my instruments for that purpose. 
 
 To these several points I can make but 
 one answer. I in no respect wish to hold 
 a2 
 
Vlll 
 
 forth my sentiments to the world, either with 
 the obstinacy of one who is wrapt up in a 
 perfect confidence that he cannot err, or 
 under a degree of proud and sullen asser- 
 tion which might urge me to defy con- 
 viction from superior talent and more ma- 
 ture judgment. 
 
 I submit them to general inspection, rather 
 with diffidence as to the errors they may 
 contain, than prompted by a sanguine hope 
 that they must be faultless ; and while I 
 claim the common right of every individual, 
 to form ideas of my own, unbiassed by those 
 of others, I shall always be willing to resign 
 such conceptions, when convinced they are 
 founded on wrong principles, or mistaken 
 notions. 
 
 With respect to the few pieces of poetry 
 interspersed through the work, it will be 
 necessary to give some account of them. 
 Those which are not my own are marked 
 with an asterisk , and I became possessed 
 of them under the following circumstances. 
 
 At the latter end of 1798 I was called by 
 
iX 
 
 professional concerns to the Isle of Wiglit, 
 and was situated on the remote part of San- 
 down Bay, in the December of that year, 
 at the time the Henry Addington, an East- 
 Indiaman outward bound, was wrecked ofF 
 Foreland Ledge, on the night of an extreme 
 fog ; by which the vessel was entirely de- 
 stroyed, and the chief of her cargo lost. 
 
 A few days after this event, I was pre- 
 sented by a labouring man with a manu- 
 script, containing a few leaves, which he 
 informed me he had taken up from the 
 shore, among other trivial articles, from th.Q 
 wreck of the Henry Addington. 
 
 The paper when I received it was ex- 
 tremely damp, but the writing in no respect 
 obliterated. It contained several little 
 poems, which are introduced in this work -^ 
 namely, " Lines written in a walk dedicated 
 to Melancholy." " Translation of a Greek 
 Epitaph." " Reply to Dr. Percy's ' O 
 Nancy, wilt thou go with me V* " Sequel of 
 Auld Robin Cray." " Inscriptiojas in a Hut 
 a 3 
 
in a beautiful Situation in the Highlands j'* 
 and " The Withered Violet "—Before the 
 three last was the following paragraph : 
 ** The three following inscriptions were 
 written by Mr. Mackenzie, author of the 
 Man of Feeling, and were never printed.'* 
 
 The man would not permit me to pur- 
 chase the original. I was therefore neces- 
 sitated to content myself with taking a copy. 
 
 On mv return to London in the autumn 
 of 1799, I resolved on collecting those ma- 
 terials which I had already formed in parts 
 for the following Tale ; and likewise deter- 
 mined to introduce in it the fugitive poetry 
 which I had so strangely become possessed 
 of in the Isle of Wight ; prefixing to th^ 
 three pieces already mentioned the name of 
 him who, according to the paragraph at 
 the head of them, I supposed to be their 
 author. 
 
 These resolutions were taken under a full 
 supposition that Mr. Mackenzie was no 
 more, I can only account for having im- 
 
XI 
 
 blbed this idea through reading his excel- 
 lent little novel of The Man of Feeling at 
 a very early part of my life, recollecting it 
 was not a late publication, and never having 
 heard its author mentioned as being still 
 
 living. 
 
 More material concerns prevented a rapid 
 progress of my work, when, in May 1801> 
 I by chance observed in a daily paper * a 
 paragraph which related the death of Mr. 
 Mackenzie at Edinburgh a few days before, 
 occasioned by a fall from his horse. On 
 the following morning the same paper con- 
 tradicted its former assertion. 
 
 After receiving this information, that Mr. 
 Mackenzie was still in existence, I imme- 
 diately resolved to write to him an account 
 of the manner in which I discovered the 
 little poems that bore his name -, at the same 
 time offering him copies of what I had in my 
 possession. 
 
 Mr. Mackenzie, in his answer, informed 
 Tie, he recollected the two first to be his 
 * Tiie Morning Chronicle; 
 
 r 
 
xu 
 
 production, but that The Withered Violet 
 he rather supposed to be the work of some 
 other person; for although he had formerly 
 written some lines on a similar subject, they 
 did not bear that title, Mr. Mackenzie like- 
 wise, in the most friendly terms, offered me 
 his poems for the purpose I had before in- 
 tended them, at the same time requesting 
 copies of those I had in my possession. 
 
 I am happy in thus having an opportunity 
 of publicly returning him thanks for his po- 
 liteness, and expressing that high gratifica- 
 tion I experience, in being allowe-d to place 
 them in my little work. The author of the 
 remaining poems is still unknown to me; 
 yet I am happy to avail myself of the merit 
 I conceive they possess, by inserting them. 
 The *' Lines to a Primrose," " Serenade ta 
 Cassandra,^' and "The Midnight Hymn,** 
 are my own. The two former have before 
 been published in the European Magazine. 
 
THE 
 
 MONK OF MADRID, 
 
 A SPANISH TALE. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Oh, my heart's trea'->ure ! is tliis pale sad visage 
 All that remains of thee ? Oh, heavy hour ! 
 Bat I will fix my trembling lips to thine. 
 Till I am cold and senseless quite, as thou art !— 
 What, must we part, then ? 
 
 Rowe's Jane Shore. 
 
 " r ATHER of heaven ! whose all-seeins: 
 eye penetrates into the deep recesses of 
 the human soul, and encircles in one view 
 the prosperous, elevated, and happy, w^ith 
 the abject, miserable, and distressed, look 
 down on one whose grief threatens to over- 
 come his reason — whose mental anguish 
 will drive him to distraction. Oh God ! 
 
 VOL. I, ^ 
 
2 
 
 preserve the beloved, the expiring object 
 on which I now gaze -, divide not two hearts 
 whose existence seems entwmed with each 
 other, and whose separation must annihilate 
 every hope of future comfort to the sur- 
 vivor." Such was the whispered ejacula- 
 tion of Alphonso de Mellas, as he hung 
 over his dying wife. The scene was awful 
 and affecting ; it w^as midnight ; in one part 
 of the room, on a bed from Which she had 
 not been removed for many weeks, lay the 
 pale emaciated form of the late blooming 
 Matilda de Mellas. Her fine dark eyes, 
 which once had beamed w^ith sensibility 
 and tenderness, now sunk and lifeless, were 
 fixed on vacancy, while her short and pain- 
 ful breathings were continually interrupted 
 by convulsive sighs. Her young husband 
 watched over her in speechless misery ; his 
 burning tears fell upon her bosom, as he 
 damped his handkerchief with the last per- 
 spirating drops of expiring nature. 
 
 On the other side knelt an aged priest : 
 his hands were clasped together, and his 
 face lifted towards heaven under the most 
 pious form, while his whole soul appeared 
 
wrapt in fervent prayer. A lamp at the op- 
 posite part of the chamber shed its faint 
 rays on his pale yet expressive features ; and 
 the opening of his large black cowl disco- 
 vered a countenance the mod mild and be- 
 nevolent. An elderly woman, who officiated 
 as nurse, adminiftered every five minutes a 
 reviving cordial to her patient j while a 
 young girl, who was seated near her, with 
 two beautiful twin children (about nine 
 months old) on her lap, closed the wretched 
 and melancholy group. Alphonso some- 
 times withdrew his eyes from the bed, and 
 placed them on his little ones ; but his emo- 
 tions then became too great for conceal- 
 ment, and seemed bordering on phrensy. 
 Donna Melicent de Gaustivus entered the 
 apartment : she was nearly related to Ma- 
 tilda, and had lately arrived at Valencia. 
 Having retired at the fore part of the even- 
 ing, she now came to relieve the nurse, who 
 was nearly cxhaufted for want of reft ; and 
 likewise to renew her persuasions with Al- 
 phonso to quit the sick chamber. He had 
 not received the refreshment of an hour's 
 repose for five nights. Matilda had taken 
 B 2 
 
leave of him and her children at an early 
 hour in the morning, during the laft inter- 
 val she enjoyed of reason : every effort had 
 proved fruitless since that time to remove 
 him from her side : the priest at length 
 joined his entreaties to those of Donna 
 Melicent, and they forced him out of the 
 room. The unhappy husband threw him- 
 self distractedly on his bed, and gave vent 
 to the most violent effusions of sorrow. 
 Worn out with anxiety and loss of sleep, 
 after some little time he fell into a feverish 
 slumber. The most distressing visions float- 
 ed before him : he saw the figure of his 
 wife, adorned with the same glow of health 
 and beauty as when he first knew her. 
 He gazed with rapture, he heard her 
 speak, he listened with admiration w^hile 
 she sung a favourite air, and he beheld 
 her clasp their children to her heart with 
 her usual tenderness. His bliss w^as un- 
 bounded, and he awoke. Gracious God ! 
 what were his sensations ! He wept in 
 agony. Again he fell into a state of tor- 
 menting forgctfulness, and again his dis- 
 ordered brain brought forth phantoms to his 
 
harassed imagination. He beheld his two 
 sons at some distance arrived at the prime 
 of manhood : their forms and deportment 
 were equally noble and interesting, and he 
 W'atched their approach towards him with 
 all the impatience of a fond parent. As 
 Orlando (the eldest by a few hours) came 
 nearer, there w^as perceivable a peculiar 
 wildness in his eyes, and every feature gradu- 
 ally underw^ent a most terrific change as he 
 slowly approached. Alphonso involuntarily 
 shuddered as the youth extended his arms 
 to embrace him ; in the act of which he 
 drew a poniard from his cloak, and aimed 
 it at the breast of his father. Osmund, his 
 brother, at that moment snatched the fatal 
 instrument from his hand, and the parricide 
 form of Orlando sunk into a flame of vivid 
 fire. Alphonso started from his bed with 
 horror, and, almost insensible of his actions, 
 hurried to the room he had so lately left. 
 If it then appeared gloomy, that gloom was 
 now considerably increased : the reverend 
 priest. Donna Melicent, and the children, 
 were not to be seen : the flame from the 
 lamp was nearly expiring, and the furniture 
 B 3 
 
was drawn close round the bed ; his palpi- 
 tating heart foreboded his apprehensions 
 were confirmed, and that it was now indeed 
 the chamber of death. Gasping for breath, 
 his hand convulsively drew the curtains 
 aside, and he beheld his Matilda a corpse. 
 He saw no more, but sunk senseless by her 
 side. Donna Melicent entered in the course 
 of a few minutes : she had only left the 
 apartment to conduct the children and their 
 young attendant to her own room, and to 
 dispatch the nurse for Alphonso's two un- 
 cles, who had the day before arrived from a 
 distant province to give some consolation 
 to the troubles of their nephew. Astonished 
 and alarmed at the sight of the young man 
 in so dreadful a state, she immediately used 
 every effort to recover him, and sent a boy, 
 who lived in the same house, for the physician 
 that had attended the deceased Matilda. He 
 arrived nearly at the same time w^ith Don 
 Diego and Don John de Mellas, and pro- 
 nounced the unfortunate Alphonso under 
 the commencement of a brain fever. He 
 had the night before walked two miles 
 through a continued shower of rain to the 
 
house of a druggist, who had neglected to 
 send some medicines that were particularly- 
 required. His clothes were entirely wet ; 
 and his attention being too much engrossed 
 to change them, they slowly dried upon his 
 body ', by which means the cold he received, 
 added to the violent agitation of his mind, 
 produced those alarming symptoms which 
 now began to appear. Proper attendance 
 was procured by his uncles, who likewise 
 gave every necessary order for the funeral 
 of his wife. In less than a week the re- 
 mains of Matilda de Mellas were conveyed 
 to the grave, followed by her aunt, Don 
 Diego, and Don John, while the unhappy 
 husband was obliged to be confined in his bed 
 by four men. In a few days after the fever 
 arrived at its height, faint hopes were given 
 of his recovery ; and in less than a fort- 
 night he was declared out of danger. The 
 derangement of his intellects, however, ftill 
 continued : for some time it was supposed 
 excessive weakness might be the cause ; but 
 his friends at last received the melancholy 
 information from his physicians, that it 
 was their firm opinion the fever had, to 
 B 4 
 
8 
 
 all probability, settled on his brain". It 
 was now necessary some method should be 
 taken for the care of Alphonso and his in- 
 fants. His uncles, after some inquiries, 
 found a house open for the reception of ma- 
 niacs, where the expense which attended 
 their support prevented an unlimited num- 
 ber from being admitted, and where every 
 attention and care was paid to the unfortu- 
 nate inhabitants. It was agreed that Donna 
 Alelicent should for the present have the 
 charge of the children, and take them with 
 her to her own residence. These prelimi- 
 naries being settled, and Alphonso conveyed 
 to his melancholy abode, Don Diego and 
 Don John de Mellas(afterhaving discharged 
 every debt that their nephew had contract- 
 ed during his late sickness, as w^ell as the 
 lodgings and the nurse) departed for their 
 separate habitations in Andalusia ; while 
 Donna Melicent de Gaustivus, with the 
 twins and Stella their attendant, set forward 
 towards her humble abode at AlVa in Leon, 
 
CHAP. II. 
 
 Who now your infant steps shall guide ? 
 
 Ah ! where is now the hand whose tender care 
 To ev'ry virtue would have form'd your youth. 
 And strewM with flow'rs the thorny ways of truth ? 
 
 O loss beyond repair ! 
 O wretched father ! left alone 
 To weep their dire mi^vfortune and thy own I 
 
 -Lytxelton^ 
 
 JL/oNNA Mellcent de Gaustivus was the 
 second daughter of respectable yet not afflu- 
 ent parents in the province of Leon. Both 
 herself and sister, totally unbiassed in their 
 choice, married early, and nearly at the 
 same period. Melicent gave her hand to 
 an officer in the Spanish service, w^ho was 
 daily in hopes of promotion : unfortunately, 
 however, he was summoned to the duty of 
 his profession in a war which commenced 
 about that time, and was necessitated to leave 
 his young wife in an advanced state of 
 pregnancy eight months after their union. 
 In a few weeks she received information of 
 B 5 
 
10 
 
 his having fallen in the service of his country. 
 The shock of this intelligence destroyed the 
 fatherless infant which the afflicted mother 
 would otherwise have presented to the 
 w^orld, while the recent death of both her 
 parents served to render her situation still 
 more distressing. In the midst of these 
 calamities she had also to encounter the 
 dreadful anticipation of pecuniary embar- 
 rassment, as the small legacy shared with 
 her sister at the decease of their father, she 
 had dedicated to the payment of some 
 debts which her husband had contracted, 
 whose income had been by no means suffi- 
 cient to keep up that appearance his sta- 
 tion and interest demanded. These diffi- 
 culties with respect to a future subsistence 
 were shortly obviated ; for the king gene- 
 rously settled on her a small annuity for 
 life, as a reward for the past services of 
 Don Philip de Gaustivus. 
 
 Donna Melicent, whose yearly stipend 
 v/as by no means calculated for the support 
 of a family, under the influence of a good 
 heart cheerfully began to retrench some few 
 comforts she had enjoyed, to form a ba- 
 
11 
 
 lance against her present addition in ex- 
 penses. Such precautions, however, at the 
 end of three months she discovered to be 
 entirely unnecessary, by a letter she re- 
 ceived in the joint names of Don Diego 
 and Don John de Mellas, which inclosed 
 a sum fully equivalent to the cost of the 
 children, and in which they gave her to 
 understand she would receive quarterly a 
 certain allowance for the same purpose, that 
 should be regularly increased as the twins 
 became older. Donna Melicent found these 
 promises faithfully fulHlled in the three fol- 
 lowing quarters, while her care and tender- 
 ness to the infants served greatly to lessen 
 the magnitude of the loss they had sus- 
 tained. At the end of the year, the pack^ 
 which brought her remittance from Anda- 
 lusia contained information that gave her 
 equal surprise and pleasure. 
 
 It mentioned that Alphonso was so far 
 recovered as to be declared by the physi- 
 cians of the house where he v/as placed in 
 a proper state to receive his liberty, and 
 that Don Diego and Don John had left 
 Andalusia for the purpose of immediately 
 
12 
 
 releasing him from his confinement. This 
 intelligence was in the course of a week 
 followed by a letter in Alphonso's hand- 
 writing, where he mentioned that he hoped 
 to clasp his little ones to his heart in less 
 than a fortnight. Donna Melicent antici- 
 pated, with all the fervor of a benevolent 
 mind, the feelings of the father at the sight 
 of his boys under the full bloom of health 
 and beauty. Conscious of the maternal at- 
 tention with which she had watched over 
 them, she proudly partook of those sensa- 
 tions which a confirmation of acting right 
 is always sure to inspire. 
 
 Her expectations were by no means 
 damped on his arrival : he caught the twins 
 to his breast w^ith a wildness of rapture 
 which made his friends tremble at the pos- 
 sibility of a relapse in his disorder, w^hile, 
 as they incircled their little arms round his 
 neck with all the playful familiarity of in- 
 fancy, he saw in every smile and feature the 
 countenance of his beloved and much re- 
 gretted Matilda. Nor were his expressions 
 of gratitude to his friends for the care they 
 had received, less ardent, than his joy in 
 
13 
 
 seeing them the objects of the most tender 
 affection. 
 
 In the course of the day Donna Meli- 
 cent was informed of the proposal that had 
 been made to Alphonso for the further re- 
 establishment of his health. Some affairs, 
 between the court of Aladrid and the king 
 of Naples required that a confidential person 
 should be dispatched from the Spanish mon- 
 arch to Sicily; and Don John de Mellas, 
 since the knowledge of his nephew's reco- 
 very, had so far exerted his interest with 
 the minister as to procure the king's man- 
 date for the presentation of the embassy to 
 himself, under the promise of getting it 
 transferred to Alphonso, should, he be ap- 
 proved of by the council, as his represen- 
 tative. This station was particularly desir- 
 able, both with respect to the emoluments 
 arising from it, and the prospect it held 
 forth of promotion in state affairs. It like- 
 wise offered to Alphonso an opportunity of 
 eradicating that depression of spirits from 
 which he still seemed totally unable to re- 
 cover, by forcing him into life and action, 
 and presenting to his mind a continual di- 
 
versity of scenes and objects. He received 
 assurances (the sincerity of which had been 
 confirmed to him by experience) of the 
 attention that should be paid to his children 
 during his absence. The brothers, however, 
 by no means laid any particular stress upon 
 his accepting this offer, but generously 
 agreed, if his ideas led him to other views, 
 to settle on him an income which would 
 at once procure him every comfort that 
 could be purchased. 
 
 Alphonso, whose soul recoiled at the idea 
 of remaining under a continued obligation, 
 declared his willingness to grasp at any 
 opportunity which might enable him to sup- 
 port himself and boys independent of pecu- 
 niary assistance. This point being settled, 
 Don John wrote to his friend at Madrid, 
 expressing his wish to resign the post with 
 which he had been lately honoured, to his 
 nephew; and they were obliged to follow this 
 letter as soon as possible. Their stay at 
 Alva was but a few days, and the departure 
 of Alphonso from the twins was marked 
 with similar affecting emotions as when he 
 first embraced them on his arrival. 
 
15 
 
 Donna Melicent soon heard of his hav- 
 ing obttained the appointment : at the end 
 of two months she received from him a 
 letter, which he wrote the day before he left 
 Madrid for the sea-port where he w<iS to 
 embark. He once more mentioned the 
 happiness he received in the idea of his 
 children being placed under her protec- 
 tion, and the pleasure he anticipated of 
 again embracing them in a few months, 
 with the power of making her some amends 
 for her goodness. He concluded with a 
 heart-felt farewell to herself and his little 
 ones. Donna Melicent wept over this epi- 
 stle. It breathed in every line a mind sink- 
 ing under the weight of the most severe 
 despondency. She had known him the gay, 
 the happy Alphonso ; and the ideas which 
 brought those scenes to her memory were 
 so united with the remembrance of her 
 beloved niece, that her tears flowed plente- 
 ously from a double source. She anxiously 
 waited for her next quarterly remittance, 
 under the expectation that she should then 
 hear some intelligence of him. She was 
 however informed that none had been re- 
 
16 
 
 ceived. In a few weeks she understood 
 from public report, that it was universally 
 supposed either the vessel in which he 
 sailed had been lost in some heavy storms 
 which happened soon after the commence- 
 ment of his voyage, or was taken by one 
 of the Algerine corsairs which infested the 
 Adriatic seas. Donna Melicent under the 
 utmost distress wrote to Andalusia con- 
 cerning the dreadful suppositions which 
 were circulated, and received an answer 
 from the uncles which by no means quieted 
 her alarms. It appeared to confirm all she 
 had heard, and only concluded with the 
 feeble comfort that there were some hopes 
 the general conjecture might be erroneous, 
 on which account the government had al- 
 ready given orders for the truth, if possible, 
 to be ascertained. A few months brought 
 another letter from Andalusia, which men- 
 tioned that the fate of the unfortunate Al- 
 phonso appeared certain beyond the slight- 
 est doubt ; as the remainder of a wreck had 
 been discovered, which proved to be parts 
 of the very ship in which he had taken his 
 passage, and that the bodies of several of 
 
17 
 
 the crew had been found and recognised. 
 The uncles pathetically regretted the loss of 
 their nephew, and requested that Donna 
 Melicent would continue her charge of the 
 twins till they should arrive at a more ad- 
 vanced age, when each had agreed to take 
 one under his particular care. The old lady 
 received this mournful information with the 
 most unfeigned distress -, and while she de- 
 termined to dedicate every hour to the 
 happiness and improvement of her orphan 
 charge, she shed many tears as a tribute, of 
 the affection she possessed for their parents. 
 The twins daily improved in health, 
 beauty, and understanding. Their young 
 minds were bent with the most tender and 
 assiduous care towards the principles of 
 every moral and social virtue. Under these 
 circumstances Orlando and Osmund at- 
 tained their tenth year. They received the 
 first rudiments of education with a docility 
 which gave sanguine expectations of future 
 excellence. The most enlarged and liberal 
 sentiments were conveyed to them by their 
 aunt, in a plain and simple language suited 
 to the limited capacity of a child. Their 
 
18 
 
 first conceptions were moulded under the 
 dictates of humanity, not by any metaphy- 
 sical instructions, which told them they must 
 practise it as a virtue, because it was con- 
 sidered under that name, but by practical 
 lessons which struck deeply to the heart, 
 and which appealed only to the feelings of 
 human nature. The fly was not tormented 
 for their amusement, and the reason fully 
 urged under the pathetic plea of the poor 
 insect's sufferings while it gave them a tri- 
 vial and passive pleasure. The prisoned 
 mouse (which, by the example of their 
 school-fellows, they were taught to receive 
 amusement in tormenting) found a power- 
 ful pleader in the humble diction of Donna 
 Melicent ; who, instead of exerting her 
 authority in behalf of the little trembler, 
 proved a lowly suitor for its release; urging 
 the agonies its frame would undergo y the 
 anguish, the misery it would experience; 
 requesting for a moment they would place 
 themselves in the situation of the poor de- 
 fenceless animal, and consider if it was right, 
 wantonly to agonize and destroy that crea- 
 ture, which had received the breath of life 
 
19 
 
 from the same source that formed them so 
 superior to the victim they were going to tor-* 
 ture. The young bosoms of the twins would 
 heave high during these descriptions from 
 their aunt; and while they eagerly ran to 
 release the respited mouse, their tears would 
 fall plentifully on its cage as a proof of the 
 conviction they felt. 
 
 The period was now arrived which had 
 been fixed upon by Don Diego and Don 
 John to take the lads under their own care; 
 and Donna Melicent received a letter from 
 Andalusia, which mentioned, that in the 
 following month they intended once again 
 to visit her at Alva for that purpose. The 
 old lady stifled her grief at the prospect 
 of parting with them, under the considera- 
 tion of the benefit they would receive by 
 the change, as there was little doubt but 
 they would be considered as the adopted 
 children of their uncles. The fascinating 
 indearments of infancy had bound them to 
 her with the same ties of atfection she would 
 have felt for her own oflTspring ; and as the . 
 time of their departure drew near, she felt 
 the power they possessed over her heart with 
 
20 
 
 double force. Don Diego and Don John 
 ( de Mellas were punctual to their appointed 
 time. Donna Af elicent received them with 
 pleasure mixed with a melancholy she felt 
 at the recollection of their last visit. Nor 
 were the uncles insensible to similar feel- 
 ings; they had entertained the highest re- 
 gard for their nephew, and the present 
 meeting called forth sensations too forcible 
 to be concealed. Charmed with the enga- 
 ging manners and uncommon sensibility of 
 the boys, they beheld their regret at parting 
 with their adopted mother under the most 
 favourable considerations. They remained 
 at Alva but a few days. 
 
 The morning at length came that was to 
 divide Orlando and Osmund from their first 
 home 'and local connections. Their hearts 
 were too full to answer the last adieu which 
 Donna Alelicent could with difficulty arti- 
 culate, and the carriage was some distance 
 before they ventured to take their handker- 
 chiefs from their eyes. They gazed on 
 every object in mournful silence as they 
 swiftly passed through the town; and when 
 for the last time, on an eminence at some con- 
 
'2i 
 
 siderable distance, they could just perceive in 
 the horizon the range of buildings in which 
 stood the habitation of their aunt, it was in 
 vain they strove to overcome their emotions ; 
 while their uncles forbore to interrupt a sor- 
 row, the source of which they venerated and 
 esteemed. After the first day new scenes 
 began to have some claim on their atten- 
 tion ; which added to the soothings of Don 
 Diego and Don John, served to mitigate 
 their distress ; and they passed through the 
 remainder of their travelling with some de- 
 gree of pleasure. 
 
 It had been settled by the uncles, that 
 Don Diego, as the elder, should take Or- 
 lando the eldest boy, and Don John the 
 youngest. They closed their journey at the 
 house of the latter in Seville. Don Diego 
 'remained with his brother but a week : — the 
 gaiety of Don John's m.anner of living by no 
 means suited his disposition. The twins 
 had then another trial to undergo in their 
 own separation ; but the promise of their 
 seeing each other every year served to lessen 
 their regret. At an early hour in the morn- 
 
22 
 
 ing fixed for their departure, Don Diego, 
 accompanied by Orlando, gladly threw 
 himself into the coach that was to convey 
 them to his solitary castle, situated near 
 sixty miles from Seville, and in one of the 
 most remote parts of Andalusia. 
 
23 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Ye gods, what havock. does ambition make 
 Among your works ! 
 
 Addison's Caio, 
 
 -TJLLPHOXSO de Mellas was the only child 
 of Don Manuel of Madrid, who inherited 
 from his father an equal fortune with his 
 two brothers ; which, though not compe- 
 tent to support a splendid establishment, 
 was equal to a moderate and comfortable 
 subsistence. Don Manuel, who in no re- 
 spect possessed the national inactivity so 
 predominant in his countrymen, resolved 
 to share a part of those profits arising from 
 the manufactories of Spain which were 
 chiefly engrossed by foreigners. For this 
 purpose he took leave of his friends, and 
 removed to Cadiz, where he soon entered 
 into very extensive concerns in the silk mer- 
 chandize. In less than twelve months he 
 married the only daughter of a rich factor, 
 who not only presented him with a hand^ 
 
24. 
 
 some fortune on the day of his nuptials, but 
 considerably aided him by his interest and 
 connections in trade. Don Manuel in a 
 short time became the father of a fine boy : 
 the affections of both parents were centred 
 in this object of their love, for no further 
 increase of family tended to divide their 
 parental care. The young merchant found 
 his traffic rapidly increase ; in a very short 
 time he saw himself at the head of the mer- 
 cantile profession, both in extent and repu- 
 tation. At the expiration of eighteen years 
 (in the course of which he received a consi- 
 derable sum by the death of his father-in- 
 law), Don Manuel accumulated a fortune 
 beyond even his utmost expectations. Ur- 
 ged by that pride of ostentation which was 
 the leading trait of his character, he resolved 
 to return to Madrid, surrounded by the 
 splendor his immense wealth was com- 
 petent to support, and, by the sumptuous 
 manner of his living, prove to the world his 
 superiority over his two brothers, who had 
 remained contented with their moderate 
 paternal legacy. Sanguine in every scheme 
 he projected, he now began to settle his 
 
U5 . 
 
 affairs, and make preparations for quitting 
 Cadiz, under the positive and earnest views 
 ofamanwho conceives nothing can frus- 
 trate his dtisigns ; but unfortunately his wife, 
 in the act of choosing the colour of their 
 equipage, in which th^y were to make 
 their entree into Madrid, dropped suddenly 
 dead at his feet in a fit of apoplexy. Don 
 Manuel, whatever were his failings, cer- 
 tainly possessed for her a most unaffected 
 and sincere regard. Long inured to pro- 
 sperity and uninterrupted felicity, he felt 
 this sudden blow of misfortune with all the 
 force of one who believes himself perfectly 
 secure, and invulnerable to every attack. 
 He had no fortitude of mind to withstand 
 affliction, but sunk und^r his sorrows with 
 a pusillanimity which confirmed them to be 
 the first he had ever experienced. For six 
 months he was totally incapable to attend 
 to any part of his business ; and for a consi- 
 derable time the most serious alarms were 
 entertained for his life. The consideration 
 of the confused state in which his affairs re- 
 mained, in the midst of his settlements, was 
 perhaps the most forcible incitement that 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
26 
 
 could have roused him from his melancholy 
 lethargy. Several of his friends interfered ; 
 and representing the disordered state of his 
 accounts, he once again moved in the midst 
 of his mercantile concerns. As the poi- 
 gnancy of his grief gradually decreased, hi^ 
 ambition returned if possible with greater 
 strength from the dormant state in which 
 sorrow bad for a small interval lulled it in 
 his bosom. He yet determined in part to 
 pursue his former favourite schemes, and 
 consequently still continued to bring his 
 business to a conclusion. Alphonso, in 
 whom all his hopes and extended views 
 w-eTC centred, had been so far brought up 
 xmder the tenderest care and attention: no 
 ^expense had been spared in the early part 
 of his education, while the quickness of 
 his capacity, and the elegance of his form 
 and manners, fully answered the expecta- 
 tions of his father. As the splendid settle- 
 ment of his son was now the principal point 
 in Don Manuel's speculative ideas of aggran- 
 dizing his name, he wished to qualify him 
 for the elevated sphere of life in which it 
 was his intention to introduce him 5 and for 
 
27. 
 
 that purpose he resolved to send him to Sala^ 
 manca, to finish those studies he had already 
 commenced with considerable success. Still 
 labouring under a depression of spirits, that 
 at intervals threatened the most serious con- 
 sequences, and as travelling had been ad- 
 vised as the most likely remedy to eradicate 
 it, he determined to make a voyage to Mex- 
 ico upon some advantageous dealings in the 
 diamond trade,which business he had before 
 the death of his wife resolved to transact by 
 means of his principal clerk. This clerk, 
 in whom he placed the most implicit confi- 
 dence, he now determined should attend 
 Alphonso in capacity of a private governor 
 or tutor — as a monitor over his son's morals 
 and a spy upon his actions — lest he should 
 fall into any connections below that digni- 
 fied circle in which it was his desire he 
 should be initiated. Under such precau* 
 tions he conceived he might be able to 
 remain abroad some few years, if he had 
 prospects of still adding to that mass of 
 wealth he had already acquired. Seignor 
 Tapardo (the appointed governor) had or- 
 
2S 
 
 ders the most positive to keep a strict eye 
 over his pupil, and give timely information 
 should any events occur that might threaten 
 the least opposition to his patron's wishes. 
 To make these commands (which were 
 given under a tone and disposition of seve- 
 rity inherent in Don Manuel's nature) more 
 palatable, he settled on him a salary that at 
 once dubbed him a man of very handsome 
 independence. In the course of a few 
 months he closed the whole of his accounts; 
 and having taken an affectionate leave of 
 his son, who with Tapardo set off towards 
 Salamanca, on the following day he himself 
 embarked for Mexico. 
 
 Seignor Tapardo in vain strove to dispel 
 the melancholy of his pupil, occasioned by 
 his first leaving home and separation from 
 his friends: — he descanted on the beauties 
 of the prospects as they passed, and the 
 grandeur of those they were to see, with all 
 the consequence of a traveller, and with a 
 volubility peculiar to himself 3 although he 
 had never before been twenty miles from 
 the counting-house stool on which he was 
 
29 
 
 continually perched, or witnessed very few 
 prospects except the church-yard which 
 faced Don ManueFs ware-rooms. 
 
 Alphonso, by the order of his father, re- 
 mained a fortnight with each of his uncles 
 on the road; after which they proceeded im- 
 mediately to Salamanca. On their arrival 
 Tapardo hired handsome apartments, and 
 presented those letters of introduction for 
 his pupil which had been intrusted to him 
 by Don Manuel. Through the exertions 
 of these persons, who were mostly people 
 of considerable note, the young Spaniard 
 was shortly entered at one of the principal 
 universities, and recommenced his studies 
 with increased assiduity. 
 
 Five years now passed forward without 
 any material occurrence. Alphonso's im- 
 provements were such as the fondest parent 
 might have viewed with rapture, while the 
 consequence and importance of his tutor 
 daily increased. Tapardo had regularly 
 written his patron an account of the progress 
 and attainments of his son, while he in- 
 formed him his conduct was <^uch as might 
 c 3 
 
lead him to expect his utmost wishes would 
 be fulfilled. 
 
 It was about this period when Alphonso 
 one evening as he was comine out of the 
 
 'o 
 
 g 
 
 cathedra], accompanied by his tutor, felt 
 his cloak suddenly pulled by some one be- 
 hind him. He instantly turned round, and 
 beheld an elderly and decrepit woman, who 
 in a whisper desired him to follow her. 
 Supposing it the signal for some private 
 amour, he directly complied with her re- 
 quest; while Tapardo, who walked extreme- 
 ly erect, unconscious of his absence, pro- 
 ceeded on for a considerable time without 
 knowing he was alone. He stopped sud- 
 denly at the discovery ; when gazing round 
 him with a most unmeaning stare for a few 
 minutes, he continued the same solemn step 
 towards his own lodgings. 
 
 In the mean time Alphonso follow^ed his 
 guide a considerable distance, through a 
 number of small streets with which he was 
 little acquainted, till his patience became 
 nearly exhausted, and cooler thoughts be- 
 gan to whisper to him that there might be 
 
31 
 
 some danger in the adventure : under these 
 apprehensions he addressed the old woman 
 for the first time since he had begun to follow 
 her, and declared he would go no farther 
 unless she would acquaint him where, their 
 journey was to end. '^Ask no questions/* 
 returned the guide : " you will shortly be re- 
 paid for all your trouble/' Again the warm 
 and youthful imagination of Alphonso urged 
 him to suppose she would lead him to some 
 affair of gallantry, and he continued to fol- 
 low her without farther objection. At 
 length they arrived in a dark street where 
 only a single lamp could be perceived ; and 
 at the door over which it hung she halted, 
 and taking a key from her pocket soon threw 
 it open. Alphonso could see nothing but 
 a gloomy passage, and a glimmering light 
 at the farther end. His suspicion returned, 
 and he refused to enter. The old woman 
 sullenly told him he might remain where he 
 was. He still wavered in what manner he 
 should act j when moving rather nearer the 
 entrance she gave him a sudden push, and 
 instantly closed the door. They were now 
 in almost total darkness, and he was warniljr 
 c 4 
 
32 
 
 going to remonstrate, when she told him she 
 hardly could have believed he had been 
 such a novice in amours, as to be terrified 
 at a situation which three parts of the scho- 
 lars of Salamanca would have thought them- 
 selves blest to be engaged in. These insinua- , 
 tions against his courage again silenced Al- 
 phonso ; and finding no advantage taken ot 
 his present state, he followed his guide to 
 the bottom of the passage. It opened to a 
 small circular lobby, through which they 
 ascended to a beautiful garden. Alphonso 
 now began to be convinced the old woman 
 had spoken truly, and that he should shortly 
 be introduced to some lovely incognita. 
 The walks appeared laid out with great 
 taste, while a few lamps, at some distance 
 from each other, gave but an imperfect 
 light. ** This is the very place for an as- 
 signation !" whispered the elated youth to 
 himself, while his thanks to the old woman 
 were the most earnest and extravagant 
 They shortly discovered a female figure in 
 white; to whom Alphonso was instantly 
 conducted, and the old guide disap- 
 peared. The lady was veiled; her 6gure 
 seemed elegant and majestic. In a soft low 
 
33 
 
 voice, by no means void of harmony, she 
 thus addressed the student: " Seignor che- 
 valier, you are doubtless surprised at an in- 
 troduction of this kind to a stranger, so en- 
 tirely different from the accustomed rules 
 and etiquette observed by the world. It is 
 therefore necessary you should be informed, 
 I am one who despise its maxims, and am 
 above its precepts. I gratify my own 
 wishes without any consultation of those 
 punctilios which would sometimes cross my 
 inclinations, and put every desire in prac- 
 tice without regulating them by a set of 
 rules, which as 1 have never subscribed to 
 in opinion I conceive I have no right to 
 obey. In truth, I have seen you several 
 times at the cathedral. I liked your person, 
 and wished for your acquaintance; therefore 
 took this method to procure an interview." 
 Alphonso, though astonished at the ab- 
 ruptness of her declaration, possessed too 
 much gallantry to be abashed by it, and 
 returned a suitable answer. The even- 
 ing was delightful ; the young scholar 
 breathed the softest vows of love in a man- 
 ner which gave the lady no room to com-' 
 c 5 
 
34 
 
 plain of want of warmth or animation in 
 his behaviour. After sauntering to some 
 distance they arrived at a wide gravel walk 
 that led to an illuminated saloon. This' 
 building, which was both fanciful and ele^ 
 gant, they entered through a pair of hand- 
 some folding sashes, which opened to a 
 flight of marble steps. The internal part 
 was circular and decorated with paintings, 
 by the best masters, placed in the pannels, 
 and surrounded with gilt mouldings. Look- 
 ing-glasses of a very extensive size, the 
 -whole height of the room, were fixed at se- 
 veral parts, and served to render its appear- 
 ance still more superb. The top opened in 
 a large dome, formed into a transparency 
 admirably executed. The chairs and sofas 
 were of a pale blue satin ornamented with 
 silver fringe. In the centre was placed a 
 table covered with the most choice wines 
 and fruits, and decotated by artificial flow- 
 ers, which formed an airy covering on the 
 top, and intersected at certain parts of the 
 cornice in large and rich festoons. It seemed 
 a temple dedicated to voluptuous pleasure. 
 The lady seated herself on a sofa, and re- 
 
quested he would partake of some refresh- 
 ment. The enamoured youth, in the most 
 warm and passionate language, requested 
 to see her face. His arm encircled her 
 waist with the most amorous fervour; and 
 incroaching upon an affected diffidence 
 which appeared in her manner, he ven- 
 tured to draw away the lace which he sup- 
 posed concealed the features of an angel j 
 when, to his inexpressible chagrin and con- 
 fusion, he beheld a face excessive ordinary 
 by nature and wrinkled by age. The veil 
 dropped at his feet, and his arm involuntarily 
 shrunk from the form it had embraced* 
 The female, with a countenance agitated 
 with rage and disappointment, was going 
 to remonstrate, when she was interrupted by 
 the sudden entrance of the old woman, who 
 addressing herself to her mistress informed 
 her the marquis was returned. The lady 
 rose with considerable alarm, and, desiring 
 her, under the name of Alice, to conduct 
 the chevalier the way he came, precipi- 
 tately left the saloon. Happy to be released 
 from so embarrassing a situation, Alphonso 
 ^rose with pleasure to depart; when the 
 
3^ 
 
 shrieks of a female voice struck his ear, and 
 occasioned him to inquire from whence 
 they came. His guide answered surlily, 
 that she hoped he would make haste, and 
 not stand asking questions about a foolish 
 squeamish girl, who was always alarming the 
 house by her ridiculous cries if a man at- 
 tempted to speak to her. Alphonso, by no 
 weans satisfied with this reply, and hearing 
 the cries repeated, determined to search into 
 the cause: he knew it was not the voice of 
 the lady who had just left him; and by the 
 circumstances he had already witnessed, he 
 had no very favourable opinion of the inha- 
 bitants of a place to which he had been 
 60 strangely introduced. It was in vain 
 the old woman attempted to hurry him 
 away with her repeated exclamations, that 
 the marquis would discover him. He had 
 no weapon of defence : but fortunately, in 
 searching the saloon, he found a sword j 
 and immediately pushing the old woman 
 on one side, he rushed to that part of the 
 garden from whence the noise proceeded. 
 He shortly arrived at the spot, which waa 
 no great distance, and perceived, by the light 
 
37 
 
 of some coloured lamps that hung near, a 
 young man, splendidly drest, taking every 
 advantage of the unprotected state in which 
 he forcibly detained a female apparently 
 very young, and insulting her v^^ith the most 
 unmanly freedoms. The youth started at his 
 approach, and, relinquishing his hold of the 
 terrified girl, demanded, in a rage, who and 
 what he was that dared to intrude upon him in 
 so bold a manner. Alphonso, in no respect 
 alarmed at his passion, declared it was his 
 intention to release the young woman from 
 his power at the hazard of his life. He re- 
 ceived no answer from the young man, who 
 instantly drawing his sword rushed on him 
 with considerable fury. Alphonso for some 
 time merely defended himself from his re- 
 peated thrusts ; but finding he ran great dan- 
 ger in not acting more upon the oflfensive, 
 he was necessitated to change his manner, 
 and his antagonist shortly after fell senseless 
 and to all appearance dead at his feet. By 
 this time the old woman had arrived at the 
 place; and observing the bleeding body, 
 which lay extended on the earth, she began 
 to utter very loud cries, declaring the young 
 
lord Mazento was murdered. Alphonso in 
 vain attempted to silence her by his threats. 
 He now beheld himself in a very dangerous 
 and critical situation. He knew the mar- 
 quis Mazento to be a nobleman of consi- 
 derable rank and power, and Alice had dis- 
 covered that it was his son who had fallen. 
 He perceived there was no time to be lost 
 in his escape, and, turning to the young 
 female, who almost speechless supported 
 herself against a tree, demanded if she 
 wished to quit the place. She answered in 
 the affirmative ; upon which he commanded 
 the old woman to conduct them to the 
 part where he entered. After some hesi- 
 tation she complied; and, having produced 
 the keys, they arrived at the lobby, and Al- 
 phonso locked the door which led to the 
 garden on the inside. They then proceeded 
 ^to the other that opened into the street, 
 which he also fastened on the outside, leav- 
 ing his old guide barricaded between the 
 two, uttering the most doleful lamentations. 
 Alphonso was certain there was no danger 
 of her being confined there longer than the 
 morning, as that part would be the first search- 
 
S9 
 
 ed when the body of the young lord was dis- 
 covered. Assisted by the directions of his 
 fair companion, he soon arrived at the 
 house of a young cavalier who had been a 
 fellow-student, but who was now settled by 
 his father on a handsome establishment. 
 They consulted for some little time on the 
 most proper methods to betaken; audit 
 was resolved that he should not, at all 
 events, return to his lodgings. Alphonso 
 understanding from the young female that 
 she wished to be conveyed to the habitation 
 of her aunt, who resided at Alva, some 
 miles distant from Salamanca, he resolved 
 to convey her there himself, by the assist- 
 ance of his friend, who offered his own car- 
 riage and servants to prevent suspicions, 
 and who promised to make Tapardo ac- 
 quainted with the whole affair. 
 
 In about half an hour they quitted the 
 city, and Alphonso had then an opportunity 
 of observing more particularly the young 
 creature whom he had rescued from insult 
 under the most imminent danger. The 
 hurry and confusion in which they were in- 
 volved during the time they were waiting 
 
40 
 
 for the carriage, did not prevent him from 
 discovering she W3.s a lovely girl of about 
 tw^enty ; and he now found the simplicity 
 of her manner, and unaffected behaviour, 
 were equal to the elegance of her form 
 and the agreeable contour of her coun- 
 tenance. The artless and undisguised fears 
 which she expressed for his safety, would 
 have warmed a heart less susceptible of fe- 
 male beauty than Alphonso's; and although 
 they were then merely the effusions of gra- 
 titude, still they served to heighten her 
 charms and animate every feature. 
 
 After some hours quick travelling, they 
 arrived at Alva. 
 
 Donna Melicent was equally surprised 
 and alarmed at the sight of her niece under 
 such circumstances : but a short time served 
 to explain the reasons, and to inform her 
 she was under the greatest obligations to 
 the young Spaniard. The aunt expressed 
 her thanks as well as her present agitation 
 would admit, and regretted that she could 
 not offer him an asylum without placing 
 him under the immediate hazard of a dis- 
 covery : there was little doubt but her 
 
41 
 
 dwelling would undergo a strict examination, 
 and she requested he would immediately 
 ride across the country to a retired village 
 about sixteen miles distant. This he agreed 
 to ; and, after making some little alteration 
 in his dress, he took the horse belonging to the 
 servant who followed them, and gave him 
 directions how to answer in case he should 
 be questioned on returning. Having taken 
 leave of Matilda and her aunt, he rode di- 
 rectly to the village which the latter had 
 described, where he hired obscure lodgings 
 under the character of a traveller who halted 
 for a few days' reft. 
 
 He had now some time for reflexion ; and 
 the incidents of the last night appeared by 
 no means in pleasant colours on retrospec- 
 tion. He had often heard of the marquis 
 Alazento as one possessed of the most consi- 
 derable power in Salamanca ; and there was 
 little doubt but he would take every me- 
 thod to p inish the man, wh m he would 
 in all probability term the murderer of his 
 son. Alphonso, having been admitted into 
 the mansion by a private entrance, had no 
 conception of the place he was in, or other- 
 
42 
 
 wise the character which he had heard ot 
 the marchioness would immediately have 
 discovered the female incognita that enter- 
 tained him. Nor was he altogether happy 
 under the idea of having shed the blood of 
 one of his fellow-creatures, though done in 
 his own defence : he had not arrived at that 
 fashionable sayig froidy which w^ould aid him 
 to run a man through the body without feel- 
 ing some little regret for the action. The 
 form of the young woman who was the 
 cause of his present embarrassed situation 
 was continually before his eyes : she ap- 
 peared to him so different from the females 
 with whom he had been acquainted during 
 his residence at Salamanca, that by the com- 
 parison she became a divinity to his en- 
 raptured fancy. Under very great disquie- 
 tude he passed the whole of the next day, 
 on the evening of which he received a let- 
 ter from his college friend, which gave him 
 the most agreeable intelligence. It inform- 
 ed him the young lord Mazento was yet 
 alive, and some hopes were given of his 
 recovery; but that it would by no means 
 be pohcy in him to return to Salamanca, as 
 
43 
 
 ihe event would remain uncertain for many 
 weeks. He also mentioned that he had 
 informed Tapardo of the circumstances, 
 whose extravagant and ridiculous alarms 
 made him almost repent his trusting him 
 with the knowledge of the place of his 
 abode, as under the influence of his fears 
 there was great danger he might discover it. 
 Alphonso rode to Donna Melicent's to in- 
 form them of the news he had obtained, 
 and was received by Matilda and her aunt 
 with the most grateful welcome. He w^as 
 persuaded to remain the whole day, and re- 
 ceived a general invitation to their cottage 
 during the time of his uncomfortable banish- 
 ment. He felt himself too happy in the 
 presence and conversation of Matilda to 
 refuse even slightly what to him appeared 
 the greatest gratification, and he accepted 
 it with the most unfeigned pleasure. 
 
 Tapardo on the following morning paid 
 him a visit : the whole of his time was taken 
 up in one continued rhapsody on the folly 
 of his pupil's conduct, and the dangerous 
 situation in which he was placed. He had 
 been informed that the young lord was not 
 
44 
 
 likely to be pronounced out of danger for 
 some time, and that it was hourly expected 
 his family would commence a search after 
 him. The most agreeable part of the inter- 
 view to the pupil was when he rose to take 
 his leave ; and even then the pleasure occa- 
 sioned by the idea of his absence was great- 
 ly diminished, when he declared at parting 
 that he should regularly see him twice or 
 three times a week. 
 
 Two months now elapsed, during which 
 the young nobleman remained in a very 
 doubtful state, while Alphonso was a con- 
 stant visitor atDonnaMelicent's. The attrac- 
 tions of Matilda hourly increased, till he at 
 length began seriously to consider if they 
 might not prove dangerous to his repose. 
 It was in vain he persuaded himself that it 
 was merely an admiration of her person and 
 manners, to which no one could be insen- 
 sible. When absent from her he was un- 
 comfortable, unhappy, and full of ennui; 
 when with her he experienced a happiness 
 and satisfaction to which he had been a 
 stranger in the company of every other 
 woman. The severe^ and to him tremendous. 
 
45 
 
 Injunctions of his father, which had com- 
 menced when he was a boy, and had con- 
 tinued in every letter he had received, were 
 now called forward to his mind, with the 
 austere and positive deportment that accom- 
 panied them. Brought up under a severity 
 of tuition, that from his cradle had made 
 him tremble even at the voice of Don 
 Manuel, he had not yet learned to disobey 
 him without some remaining sensations of 
 that horror which had been implanted in 
 the early years of childhood. Unable to 
 form a resolution to abandon Donna Meli- 
 cent's cottage, Matilda's power over his 
 affections rapidly and hourly increased ; and 
 the discovery that she had an equal par- 
 tiality for him, added to the flame which 
 had already kindled in his bosom. Donna 
 Melicent, who perceived the inclinations 
 of both before they dared trust themselves 
 with the idea, gave every encourage- 
 ment to their interviews. She possessed a 
 warm benevolent heart, but an understand- 
 ing by no means above mediocrity. A 
 practical knowledge of the world would 
 have taught her, that an union between 
 
46 
 
 Alphonso and her niece would be looked 
 upon as an event equally astonishing as for- 
 tunate for the young lady. But Donna Meli- 
 cent, animated by the tender regard she 
 had for Matilda, under the most gothic 
 ignorance conceived that her personal and 
 acquired accomplishments, added to a mind 
 uniformly good and carefully cultivated, 
 rendered her equal to the most opulent and 
 splendid alliance. 
 
 Seignor Tapardo, entirely wrapped up iil 
 his own consequence and importance, had 
 not penetration enough to observe, that his 
 pupil was drawn to Donna Melicent^s cot- 
 tage by a more powerful motive than the 
 common-place visits of ah acquaintance. 
 But he no sooner received a hint of it from 
 a friend, than the following day brought 
 him to the retreat of Alphonso. 
 
 Seignor Tapardo, under all the hurry and 
 alarm to which weak minds are subject, ac- 
 cused Alphonso of dissimulation, with an 
 abruptness equally rude and unwarrantable. 
 It was in vain he attempted to appease 
 him. The tutor neither could nor would 
 hear any thing but his own upbraidings; 
 
47 
 
 while the young Spaniard, above all deceit, 
 by no means attempted to deny his partiali- 
 ty, but only wished to make him sensible he 
 never wanted to conceal it. Tapardo's ir- 
 ritation increased, as he found his reproofs 
 were useless, and in the height of his anger 
 he spoke slightingly of Matilda. Alphon- 
 so, though vexed at his behaviour, had for 
 some time command enough over his 
 temper to confine his indignation within 
 bounds ; but the tutor now touched upon 
 an electrical part of his passions, which at 
 once inflamed the whole, and Tapardo the 
 next minute found himself on the outside of 
 the room. He stopped but for a moment 
 to look round, and then travelled with 
 more than. his usual speed to Salamanca; 
 where he had no sooner gained his lodgings 
 than he was seated at his writing-desk. In 
 a letter that formed a confused mass of ap- 
 prehensions, terrors, &:c. &cc. (almost unin- 
 telligible, from the agitation in which he 
 wrote), he informed Don Manuel of the un- 
 fortunate event that had happened, which 
 threatened to frustrate those schemes on 
 which all his hopes of happiness were fixed 3 
 
48 
 
 and that there was danger of his pupiFs 
 marrying a girl whose ancestry could not 
 be traced beyond her great-grandfather, 
 and whose fortune was not even moderate. 
 The following week the young lord Ma- 
 zento was declared out of danger, and AI* 
 phonso was consequently recalled to his 
 studies. He had not discovered half his 
 attachment to Matilda until this period, 
 when their separation became necessary 
 only a few miles. In an unguarded mo- 
 ment he had declared his love, and her na- 
 tural frankness of disposition at once led her 
 to confess she felt similar affections towards 
 him. At times he would suddenly resolve 
 to acquaint her with the character and par- 
 ticularities of his father, and, if possible, take 
 leave of her for ever. But this was a sacri- 
 fice which cooler moments told him he was 
 unable to make ; while the idea of having 
 drawn from her the confession of her sen- 
 timents towards him, and then leaving her to 
 the calumny of those tales of scandal which 
 in a country town are continually In propaga- 
 tion, at once served to palliate his own want 
 of power in the resolation,by condemning the 
 
49 
 
 performance of it as an action both dastardly 
 and ungenerous. Thus, Alphonso still linger- 
 ed under the dread of his father's most violent 
 displeasure, while he found it totally im- 
 possible to forsake the object that must oc- 
 casion it. He departed from his retreat 
 under the agreement of seeing them every 
 week, and arrived at Salamanca with a 
 much heavier heart than when he left it. 
 His visits were not confined to his promise; 
 two days seldom passed without his spend- 
 ing some hours at the cottage, and every 
 Sunday was dedicated to the same mode 
 of pleasure. Tapardo remained sulky and 
 unsociable ; he appeared by his manner to 
 give up all authority over his pupil's con- 
 duct, while he gave him to understand he 
 hourly expected news that would demand a 
 little more respect should be paid to his 
 counsels and advice. Letters from Don 
 Manuel at length arrived ; one directed for 
 his son, the other for the tutor. Alphonso 
 trembled as he broke the seal ; and the con- 
 tents, whatever might have been his antici- 
 pations, increased his perplexity and anxiety. 
 The character of his father shone forth in 
 
 VOL. I, D 
 
50 
 
 each line ; every word was an invective, 
 every sentence composed a dreadful threat. 
 His hand had shaken with passion as he 
 wrote, while the whole exhibited proofs of 
 rage and disappointment. His menaces 
 approached to blasphemy, and the curses 
 that stained the paper chilled Alphonso's 
 soul. The conclusion informed him, that if 
 he had not already committed the fatal deed 
 that would at once lose him a father, with 
 every kind of protection, and had filial duty 
 enough remaining to marry into one of the 
 most splendid families of Madrid both in 
 rank and fortune (the preliminaries of which 
 were already settled between himself and a 
 noble grandee, whom he had become 
 acquainted with during his residence in 
 Mexico), he might still hope for forgive- 
 ness : — if, on the contrary, he had dared to 
 blast those views which he had cherished for 
 years, and which had served to support him 
 under the most poignant grief, he would at 
 once disown him for his son, shake him 
 from his heart, and curse him as the mur- 
 derer of his peace, and destroyer of every 
 future comfort. Under the severe distress 
 
51 
 
 and emotion which this letter occasioned^ 
 Alphonso ordered hishorse, and rode furious- 
 ly to Alva. The wildness of his appearance 
 and manner led Donna Melicent and Ma- 
 tilda to suppose he was rather elevated 
 with wine. They had never before observed 
 him in such a state. Fearful of his return- 
 ing to Salamanca that night, they persuaded 
 him to take a bed at the cottage. To this 
 he readily consented. The next morning he 
 found himself in a high fever; and medical 
 advice being immediately procured, he was 
 ordered by no means to leave his chamber. 
 A severe indisposition, that lasted five weeks, 
 followed. From Matilda and her aunt he 
 received the tenderest care ; they watched 
 every turn of the disorder with the most 
 anxious solicitude. During this illness, Al- 
 phonso formed the resolution of disobeying 
 Don Manuel's commands, and immediately 
 on his recovery he demanded of Donna Me- 
 licent the hand of her niece. The aunt re- 
 ceived his offers with a pleasure she did not 
 attempt to conceal ; and Matilda possessed 
 too little of female coquetry to deny, what 
 she had already confessed, that she loved 
 
 I 
 
 
52 
 
 Mm. Alphonso carefully concealed the con- 
 tents of the last letter he had received from 
 his father. He knew at all events it must 
 hurt their feelings, and he was by no means 
 certain whether it might not be the cause of 
 a positive refusal from both. His own heart 
 told him he adored Matilda. His partiality 
 had been cherished not only by the contem- 
 plation of a beautiful form, but by a mind 
 enriched by every gift of nature, carefully 
 cultivated, and endowed with the most 
 noble and delicate sentiments. The violence 
 of his father's declarations, while they made 
 him shrink with horror, were by no means 
 calculated to conciliate or soften the pas- 
 sions of a young man who felt their in- 
 justice with the most acute sensations. Don 
 Manuel, whatever might have been his spe- 
 culative abilities in the commodities of 
 trade, was certainly no connoisseur in his 
 conceptions of the human heart, or he must 
 have been convinced, that the exertion of 
 arbitrary power to attain a desired point 
 was the most effectual method to frustrate 
 the possession of it. It was certain Donna 
 Melicent was liable to the accusation of 
 
want of prudence, in so easily consenting to 
 a union, which some consideration might 
 have convinced her was diametrically op- 
 posite to the wishes and views of Don Ma- 
 nuel : but, as was observed before, she was 
 a total novice in the political finesse and 
 opinions of the world, while her admiration 
 of the good qualities of her niece led her to 
 suppose, that if he at first felt some little 
 displeasure at the marriage, it would soon 
 be obliterated by a knowledge of the amiable 
 disposition and accomplishments of the ob- 
 ject his son had selected. Matilda was the 
 only child of Donna Melicent*s younger 
 sister. Bereft of her maternal parent at a 
 very early age, she had experienced in the 
 tender behaviour of her father a consider- 
 able alleviation to her loss. Havinjr retired 
 from the world with a small independence, 
 he gave up every hour to the education and 
 instruction of his daughter, whose uncom- 
 mon affection and excellent capacity re- 
 paid all his care, and fulfilled every expec- 
 tation. Matilda had attained her sixteenth 
 year when he was persuaded to be bound 
 for an acquaintance of his early days in a 
 D 3 
 
54 
 
 very considerable sum. The man absconde^i 
 to Italy, and he was consequently neces- 
 sitated to pay the money which was demand- 
 ed. Through this circumstance he discover- 
 ed he should be unable to support himself 
 and daughter without assistance. The idea 
 preyed upon his spirits. A nervous fever 
 ensued, which brought on a rapid decline, 
 and he breathed his last in the arms of 
 his child fourteen months after the event. 
 Matilda then beheld herself an orphan at 
 eighteen, totally unprovided for, and un- 
 known to most of her relations, except her 
 mother's sister ; the family of her father 
 having been displeased at his marriage, 
 and forsaken him immediately they heard 
 of it. Finding herself possessed only of a 
 few pistoles, which were merely sufficient 
 to find her yearly in clothes, she resolved 
 to throw herself on the protection of her 
 aunt, until she could find some situation 
 where she could support herself indepen- 
 dently. Donna Melicent received her with 
 tenderness and pleasure : under her hospita- 
 ble cottage roof at Alva she gained both 
 comfort and consolations which helped to 
 
55 
 
 close those wounds of sorrow the death of her 
 father had so severely opened in her bosom. 
 In the course of eighteen months, an offer 
 apparently the most desirable was made to 
 Matilda by a friend of her aunt's. The 
 marchioness ^Mazento was in want of a 
 young w^oman of refined education under 
 the capacity of a companion, and the re- 
 fusal of this station was procured for her. 
 She gladly engaged with the marchioness, 
 and removed to their residence at Salaman- 
 ca in the course of a fortnight. ^latilda 
 in a short time discovered she had been 
 deceived wnth respect to the character of 
 the family. The marquis was a morose and 
 unpleasant man, and his wife a woman of 
 intrigue : their son, totally beyond the con- 
 trol of either, was a votary to every vice 
 and folly ; his behaviour, from her first en- 
 trance into the mansion, was such as to dis- 
 gust and alarm her. In a very few weeks 
 she determined to make her aunt acquaint- 
 ed with the objectionable parts of her situa- 
 tion ; and Donna Melicent, in her answer, 
 requested she would return to Alva as soon 
 as possible. The following day to that eveu- 
 D 4 
 
56 
 
 ing on which she was rescued by Alphon- 
 so was fixed for her departure ; when, as 
 crossing the garden to some lodges at a 
 small distance to collect flowers for the 
 marchioness's dressing-room, she was met 
 by the lord Mazento, who, in his usual 
 manner, began to treat her with too great 
 familiarity. Perceiving the unprotected state 
 in which he detained her, his freedoms be- 
 came more daring; till at length, terrified 
 in the extreme, she shrieked with the ut- 
 mofl violence, and by that rneans called Al- 
 phonso to her assistance. 
 
 Alphonso dreaded the idea of an inter- 
 view with his father, till his passion and re- 
 sentment at the information of his marriage 
 should in some degree have subsided. For 
 this reason, he determined to remain at Alva ; 
 he w^rote to Tapardo an accout of his 
 union with Matilda, and requested he would 
 inform Don Manuel of the event on his ar- 
 rival, which was shortly expected. Tapar- 
 do was too well aware of the effects of his 
 patron's passion, to have the least inclination 
 to follow his request ; he therefore deter- 
 mined, about a week before he expected 
 
'57 
 
 him, to retire to an obscure part of Salaman- 
 ca, and leave a direction where he might find 
 his son. Unfortunately, however, Don Ma- 
 nuel entered Salamanca, unknown to the tu- 
 tor, at least a fortnight before it was supposed 
 possible he could even have landed in Spain. 
 Seignor Tapardo, in a fit of musing one 
 morning, suddenly discovered him at his 
 elbow, and his surprise and terror were be 
 yond description. His person appeared hag 
 gard and fatigued through anxiety and quick 
 travelling, while the faltering of his speech 
 discovered he was in an agony of suspense. 
 The first question he put to Tapardo he w-as 
 hardly able to articulate, ^vhich demanded 
 whether Alphonso was married or not ? The 
 countenance of the affrighted tutor, w^io 
 was unable to utter a single syllable, at 
 ooce answered him in the affirmative ; when 
 the desperate and frantic Don Manuel 
 seized him violently by the collar, and threw 
 him with considerable force against the door 
 of the chamber. The seignor could not 
 have fallen upon a more fortunate place ; 
 and he plainly evinced that he was not in- 
 sensible of the good chance, by precipitately 
 D 5 
 
58 
 
 opening it, and jumping or rather tumbling 
 down stairs into the street, where he fled from 
 the house with a swiftness he had not exhi- 
 bited for years. The enraged father, having 
 now no one on whom he could vent his 
 fury, raved with a violence the most terrific 
 and awful. Those gilded scenes of ambi- 
 tion that he had so long nourished in his 
 bosom, and in the maturement of which he 
 would have sacrificed that very object in 
 whom he had taught himself to suppose his 
 whole affections were centred, were blasted 
 and annihilated. His overflowing coffers of 
 wealth were, to his ideas, now useless and 
 unnecessary : for Don Manuel had never 
 tried the experiment of those sensations 
 which the soul is capable of receiving in 
 giving succour to the wants and distress of 
 a fellow-creature. His ravings were dread- 
 ful and profane y he called down every evil 
 on his son and the innocent partner of his 
 disobedience. He cursed them with a ve- 
 hemence that distorted every feature ; while 
 the impious wishes which he uttered almost 
 choked him in t';e quickness of their suc- 
 cession. In the midst of these horrid eX- 
 
59 
 
 travagancies, his mouth and ears suddenly 
 overflowed with blood, and he sunk on the 
 floor in a fainting fit. The noise he occa- 
 sioned in falling called up the people of the 
 house, who, on discovering his situation, 
 immediately procured medical assistance, 
 Tapardo received notice of the event, and 
 returned just as the surgeon arrived, who 
 declared that Don Manuel had burst a blood- 
 vessel, which made it doubtful whether he 
 could survive till the next morning. The 
 unhappy man, who was recovered from his 
 insensibility, heard this declaration with 
 silent horror, and directly requested that 
 his two brothers might be sent for from An- 
 dalusia. Tapardo ventured to inquire if he 
 might also send for Alphonso ; but he re- 
 ceived a positive refusal to the request. 
 Whether the tutor acted under the influence 
 of the resentment he felt against his pupil, 
 or from interested motives, is uncertain ; 
 but it was plain he took every method to 
 conceal from Alphonso the information of 
 the arrival of his father, and the dangerous 
 state in which he was. In the evening 
 Don Manuel found his weakness increase 
 
60. 
 
 rapidly, and, being convinced his dissolution 
 was near, desired Tapardo to procure a no- 
 tary as soon as possible. This person ar- 
 rived in the course of half an hour, and he 
 immediately began to dictate the form of his 
 will. The dark traits of Don Manuel's dis- 
 position never appeared more predominant 
 than at this period. Every tie of affection 
 which he had boasted for his son was sacri- 
 ficed to a malignant revenge for one offence; 
 and he deliberately divided the bulk of his 
 immense fortune betv^een his two brothers 
 Don Diego and Dohn John de Mellas, 
 while he deprived his own child of even a 
 ducat to procure the subsistence of a single 
 day. Neither the idea of the awful crisis 
 which he hourly expected, nor the natural 
 attractions of human nature in a father to- 
 wards his offspring, could soften his obdurate 
 heart ; while his liberal donations to public 
 charities appeared to inspire him with the 
 hopes that they would serve him as a pass- 
 port to heaven. Tapardo, although disap- 
 pointed in some extensive ambitious hopes 
 which had crossed his mind as he ran for 
 the notary, yet found himself a legatee to 
 
61 
 
 a sum which would make him handsomely 
 independent. Don Manuel expired at an 
 early hour the following morning ; and a 
 messenger was then immediately dispatched 
 to Alphonso at Alva, with the news of his 
 arrival and death. His horror at this intel- 
 ligence may be easily conceived. He had 
 no sooner entered his lodgings at Salamanca, 
 than he was informed of the distributions 
 which Don Manuel had made of his pro- 
 perty, and at once beheld himself, through 
 the unnatural conduct of his father, thrown 
 on the world under the utm^ost pecuniary 
 distress. Although greatly shocked at this 
 last act of resentment, yet the idea of his 
 treatment served to lessen that poignancy 
 of grief which he might otherwise have felt 
 at his loss -, while he determined to pay the 
 same respect to his memory as if he had 
 experienced from him the tenderness of a 
 parent. In the course of a week Don Ma- 
 nuel was interred with considerable pomp, 
 and Don Diego and Don John de Mellas 
 arrived at Salamanca. The behaviour of 
 the uncles to their nephew, on this occasion, 
 was both noble and generous. They freely 
 
62 
 
 offered to settle on him an annual income 
 to any amount, or immediately make over 
 the principal part of the fortune they had 
 received. Alphonso at once positively de- 
 clined any such offer ; and he parted with 
 them the day after the funeral, without suf- 
 fering them to make him the least compen- 
 sation for the paternal inheritance he had 
 lost. On his acquainting Matilda and her 
 aunt with the state of his affairs, the former 
 confirmed the sincere attachment she had 
 for him by the very little regret with which 
 she received the intelligence ; while Donna 
 Melicent, however she might be disappoint- 
 ed in the idea of seeing her beloved niece 
 placed in the high sphere of life she con- 
 ceived was so justly her due, had too great 
 a sense of her young husband's virtues to 
 regret her union with him. Alphonso now 
 considered it would be necessary to adopt 
 5ome method whereby he might support his 
 beloved wife, and that addition to their 
 happiness which, in the course of a few 
 months, it was expected she would present 
 him with. He consequently applied to the 
 same cavalier who had aided him in his 
 
63 
 
 escape from Salamanca on the night of the 
 duel, and he faithfully promised to exert all 
 his interest to procure him a situation under 
 the governor of Valencia. After some time 
 he was requested to remove to that city, 
 that he might be able to make personal ap- 
 plication, assisted by the letters of his friend. 
 Here Alphonso was kept in a state of sus- 
 pense for twelve weeks; and soon after 
 Matilda was delivered of twins. Her health 
 gradually declined from that period ; while 
 a slight cold, which she received about four 
 months after, occasioned the most alarming 
 symptoms, and she was declared in a con- 
 sumption . Alphonso, almost in a state of dis- 
 traction, now saw himself reduced even to 
 poverty. The little ready money which he 
 had by him at his father's death was expend- 
 ed, while his expenses hourly increased. He 
 was still fed with hopes of the promised 
 place ; but he began to perceive there was 
 no dependence to be placed on them. In 
 a few weeks Matilda was necessitated to 
 keep her bed ; and he immediately sent for 
 her aunt, who set off for Valencia the fol- 
 lowing day to that on which she received 
 
64< 
 
 his letter. His uncles, in a short time after 
 hearing of his situation, and conceiving he 
 must, in all probability, be under some dis- 
 agreeable embarrassments, with a goodness 
 of heart which did them the highest honour, 
 determined, once again, personally to offer 
 him to share with them that fortune which, 
 they were well convinced, he had every 
 right to partake of. Under these very laud- 
 able motives they .departed from Andalusia, 
 and, as was before mentioned, arrived at 
 Valencia the day before Matilda expired. 
 
CHAP. IV. 
 
 With what unequal tempers are we framM I 
 
 One day the soul, supine with ease and fulness^ 
 
 , Revels secure, and fondly tells herself. 
 
 The hour of evil can return no more: 
 
 The next, the spirits, pall'd and sick of riot, 
 
 Turn all to discord, and we hate our beings ; 
 
 Curse the past joy, and think it folly all. 
 
 And bitterness, and anguish. 
 
 Rowers Fair Penitent, 
 
 Orlando and Osmund were educated 
 under the very different ideas and prejudices 
 of their uncles. As the characters of these 
 gentlemen were diametrically opposite to 
 each other, it will be necessary to give an 
 account of some material events in the 
 course of their lives, which formed the 
 causes of those peculiarities that so greatly 
 distinguished them. 
 
 Don Diego de Mellas, on receiving his 
 share of his paternal fortune, instead of pur- 
 suing the money-getting plan of his brother 
 Don Manuel, resolved to launch into that 
 
66 
 
 gaiety and extravagance he had so ardently 
 sighed after while under the control of his 
 father. A superficial view of various follies 
 which he saw followed by the generality of 
 mankind, served at once to inflame him with 
 a strong desire to be a partaker in the ap- 
 parent fascinating scenes which composed 
 them. Under the influence of such wishes, 
 Don Diego entered into all the extravagan- 
 cies which the gay city of Madrid held 
 forth to his deluded imagination. With a 
 constitution by no means competent to the 
 support of a fashionable life, he dived into 
 every species of dissipation with an avi- 
 dity which too w^ell confirmed his inexpe- 
 rience and misconception. Don Diego in 
 a very short time sunk into that kind of cha- 
 racter which partakes of every folly merely 
 to be considered as a votary of pleasure. 
 If he gamed, it was not because he actually 
 possessed a passion for play, but because 
 all other spirits of the beau monde were 
 gamblers. If he drank to excess, it was not 
 because he palated the liquor, but that he 
 might gain the name of a bon vivant the 
 following day. If he engaged in a quarrel 
 
6'7 
 
 at midnight, it was not owing to an irri- 
 table temper, but under the idea of the pub- 
 lic noise it would make among his acquaint- 
 ance. If he plunged into difficulties 
 through an intrigue with a married woman, 
 it was not altogether on account of any vio- 
 lent inclinations he felt for the lady, but 
 with the expectation of the splendour it 
 would add to the title he so assiduously 
 courted. It was not likely that Don Diego 
 would long follow pursuits, which, if he had 
 given himself but a little consideration, he 
 would have found to have been entirely re- 
 pugnant to his natural disposition. He was 
 enamoured of the shadow instead of the sub- 
 stance of his pleasures; and while he at- 
 tempted to enter into the spirit of amuse- 
 ments for which be had neither taste nor 
 inclination, he was in reaHty inflicting a 
 punishment on himself to preserve the name 
 of a character, which, of all others, he was 
 the most unfit to support. 
 
 Although the period arrived when he dis- 
 covered the inconsistency of his conduct, 
 yet it was not till the chief part of his for- 
 tune w^s expended in the purchase of hi^ 
 
68 
 
 experience. In the course of two years he 
 had spent, with a prodigality seldom equal- 
 led, a sum which, through total inexpe- 
 rience in the care and management of mo- 
 ney, he had vainly taught himself to believe 
 would be sufficient to answer all his de- 
 mands. He found his income so far re- 
 duced, that it would nqt even procure him 
 the necessaries of life without some addition; 
 and he began seriously to consider in what 
 manner he should act, to extricate himself 
 from the pecuniary difficulties which sur- 
 rounded him. Marriage seemed the only 
 resource that was likely to relieve his em- 
 barrassments ; and after some struggles he 
 determined to defy the ridicule of his friends, 
 and prove himself a second Benedict. A 
 widow of considerable income resided a 
 few miles from his country villa. She ap- 
 peared to seclude herself from the w^orld 
 in a manner that gave every reason to sup- 
 pose she detested it. This trait alone was 
 enough to give her charms in the eyes of 
 the transformed Don Diego, who now railed 
 against the follies of the age with a violence 
 of antipathy peculiar to himself. He began 
 
69 
 
 to view the actions of mankind with the 
 jaundiced eye of a misanthrope; and al- 
 though his heart was still good, and open to 
 the feeUngs of humanity, yet his temper and 
 disposition were soured with disappoint- 
 ment and discontent. His person was hand- 
 some, and his manners insinuating. The 
 widow, however hermitized in her mode of 
 existence, was not proof against the agree- 
 ables he possessed, and soon gave him to 
 understand he might hope for a happy ter- 
 mination to his suit. Don Diego in a few 
 months received her hand at the altar, and 
 once more saw himself surrounded with the 
 superfluities of wealth. Fully convinced 
 of his lady's disgust to the busy scenes of 
 Madrid, he dwelled with rapture on the re- 
 tired and recluse manner in which they 
 should live, and jointly rail against that part 
 of the world among which he had been a 
 principal performer. The lady, however, 
 under the apprehensions that so sudden a 
 change could not in truth be the wishes of 
 her dea?' Diego, and fearful a life of such 
 inactivity would endanger his health, in- 
 sisted upon an elegant furnished house 
 
70 
 
 being taken In the capital, and they re- 
 moved there the day of their nuptials. Her 
 husband could not make her believe the 
 dislike he professed v^as positively his sen- 
 timents, and that he did not adopt them out 
 of compliment to her. It was in vain he 
 pleaded the alteration of his ideas, his new 
 wife would not listen to them 3 she was de- 
 termined he should not sacrifice himself 
 merely to oblige her, and she increased her 
 parties and appointments to prove her asser- 
 tion. He at length began seriously to com- 
 plain; her extravagance and dissipation were 
 excessive, and he declared she made his days 
 miserable. He was then chided for his in- 
 gratitude in making so bad a return for her 
 affection, which had urged her,''however op- 
 posite to her late manner of living, to enter 
 a little into the world for his happiness and 
 comfort. Such was her daily answer to her 
 husband, who saw her launch into every 
 fashionable foible with an eagerness that 
 would not have been excusable in a girl 
 of sixteen. But Don Diego soon discovered 
 he had been most egregiously duped in the 
 object he had selected for the companion of 
 
71 
 
 his remaining years, and that she had only 
 retired to her late residence at the death of 
 her first husband, to ensure the possession 
 of a second; by which means she preserved 
 her character from those stigmas her former 
 and present state of conduct would other- 
 wise produce. Her gaiety and intrigues in 
 a distant province were now made known 
 to him, and he at once became the butt and 
 ridicule of Madrid. Fortunately for him, 
 his lady's career was stopped by a putrid fe- 
 ver, which put an end to her life in about 
 five years after their marriage, during which 
 time she had contrived to spend nearly the 
 whole of the very opulent income she had 
 received through the infatuated fondness of 
 her first consort. 
 
 Don Diego with the remainder, added to 
 the small sum he had saved from the wreck 
 of his own fortune, found he had enough to 
 procure common comforts under a strict and 
 regular frugality. 
 
 He was of a character ever subject to 
 extremes, and he now sunk into that kind 
 of misanthropic lethargy which separates 
 a man from the world, and weakens those 
 
7^ 
 
 natural ties of afFection he is bom to feel 
 towards his fellow-creatures. Still, how- 
 ever, the general effects of a good heart 
 served to soften the morose principles he 
 adopted, and cherished in his bosom senti- 
 ments which repelled the harsh doctrine he 
 pretended to claim as his system. Foiled 
 in those pursuits he had idolized with fer- 
 vency, laughed at by the world for attempt- 
 ing to support a part in it he was in no re- 
 spects suited for, and publicly duped by 
 artifices he had often vauntingly dared to de- 
 ceive him, he now dwindled under the feel- 
 ings of a disappointed man, and turned 
 sulky w^ith pleasures he would wish to have 
 partaken of, but was not competent to the 
 task. In a lonely cottage, situated in a 
 wild part of the country, he fretted away the 
 day in murmurs at mankind, and retired to 
 his hard bed but to dream of the punish- 
 ments they deserved. His meals were scanty 
 and humble, and his pastimes confined to 
 a few books which encouraged his ill tem- 
 per. But yet Don Diego's bosom was' not 
 hardened to the calls of humanity. The 
 mendicant who passed his hovel was wel- 
 
73 
 
 eome to the coarse food he had provided, 
 and he would shed tears at many fictitious 
 tales of woe they recited. 
 
 In a few years he found himself suddenly 
 the possessor of a large fortune by the death 
 and unnatural conduct of his brother Ma- 
 nuel. This event proved he was not sub- 
 ject to a relapse of his former follies. He 
 in no respect altered his reclused mode of 
 living, but merely extended in some de- 
 grees the limited comforts of life. His hut 
 w^as changed for a castle s but the castle was 
 equally, if not more gloomy, and situated 
 in a barren part of Andalusia. He hired a 
 few domestics, but they were such as had 
 nearly passed their labour. He entered into 
 no society, for he detested the very thought 
 of intermixing with the world ; and he fol- 
 lowed no avocation, for he disdained to 
 act like other men. 
 
 Such were the principal traits in the cha- 
 racter of Don Diego de Mellas, to whom 
 Orlando was now to look up as a guardian ; 
 however his ill humour rnight have been 
 exerted against mankind in general, he was 
 seldom observed to level it at individuals j 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74. 
 
 and the twin, under the austere and cynical 
 manners of his uncle, found a tender and 
 considerate relation, who acted towards 
 him with the anxious care of a parent. Still 
 he resolved to educate his nephew entirely 
 under his own system; but his indulgence 
 in other respects soon softened that rigour 
 of confinement which at first appeared irk- 
 some and unpleasant. He gloried in the 
 opportunity he now had of confirming to 
 the world proofs of those arguments he 
 had often held forth on the tuition and rear- 
 ing of a boy; and he began his operations 
 with that full confirmation of success which 
 every one is inclined to anticipate in favour 
 of his own hypothesis. 
 
 Having provided a tutor, with whose clas- 
 sical abilities and accommodating disposi- 
 tion he was well acquainted, he elucidated 
 at once the mode of education he intended 
 to pursue, by some instructions he gave him 
 on the commencement of his charge. " I 
 would have my nephew," said Don Diego, 
 "a scholar, and the possessor of every branch 
 of learning that constitutes that name. I 
 would have his genius and talents cuiti- 
 
IS 
 
 vated with the most assiduous care, and his 
 ideas refined and enlarged under the atten- 
 tion of a skilful instructor. I should like 
 him to acquire a dignity and politeness in 
 his behaviour, at the same time to be en- 
 tirely free from the fashionable accom- 
 plishments of the day. I would wish him 
 to be kept secluded from the world, and 
 deprived of even the theoretic information 
 of many scenes that in part compose it. I 
 would have him a child of nature in c\cry 
 respect except literary attainments, and 
 even his reading confined to a certain boun- 
 dary. I want him to be brought up a 
 stranger to the various evils and licentious 
 follies that are depictured in the chequered 
 delineation of life, and a novice to those 
 views where vice is displayed under the 
 alluring garb of pleasure. The descriptions 
 of this kind which a boy procures at an 
 early age, far from distorting the figure it 
 should present as hideous, artfully decks it 
 wuth so fascinating a robe, that the young 
 student is unable to discover the deformities 
 it conceals; and even when he arrives at 
 years to see through the deception, by a 
 
 E 2 
 
76 
 
 <:ontinual anticipation of the effects, he be- 
 comes callous to the power of conviction. 
 By an introduction to general society he 
 procures more dangerous information than 
 from books ; his acquaintance, to compli- 
 ment their own experience, relate events 
 they never witnessed, and praise pleasures 
 they never knew, while the poison is gra- 
 dually instilled into his young mind, and he 
 looks with indifference on those transac- 
 tions he otherwise would have observed 
 with horror. For these reasons I shall keep 
 him totally confined within my own castle 
 till he arrives at that age when his judg- 
 ment may be supposed to have gained some 
 maturity: he shall be then introduced to 
 the world, and allowed to judge for himself; 
 and I have no doubt but when he discovers 
 vice, and the impressions it produces are 
 entirely unbiassed by preceding ideas, he will 
 feel for it that abhorrence and detestation 
 I so ardently wish him to conceive." 
 
 The tutor, whatever might have been his 
 private sentiments, appeared perfectly to 
 agree with Don Diego, and declared such 
 notions were parallel with his own. The 
 
contradictory parts of this system of educa- 
 tion were easily to be discovered by an un* 
 prejudiced observer ; but it is to be remem- 
 bered that Don Diego was an enthusiast in 
 his opinions, and the tutor was paid for 
 assenting to them. 
 
 Don John de Mellas followed very dif- 
 ferent plans from either of his brothers at 
 the death of his father : he had for a long 
 time placed his affections on an amiable 
 young woman in the city of Madrid, whose 
 want of fortune had been an obstacle with 
 his parent to their union. That hindrance 
 being removed, in a few months after he 
 became his own master he publicly mar- 
 ried her, and immediately retired to a small 
 yet genteel residence in a remote part of 
 Andalusia, where he resolved to prepare 
 for the expenses of a family, by commen- 
 cing with a strict and regular economy in 
 his household. In a very few years he was 
 surrounded by a blooming family of three 
 children ; and Don John enjoyed a state! 
 of uninterrupted felicity seldom known 
 and most truly enviable. A period how- 
 ever at length arrived which tore from him 
 E 3 
 
78 
 
 every comfort, and annihilated those scenes 
 of future fehcity he anticipated in the 
 midst of the blessings he experienced. A 
 malignant fever deprived him of his beloved 
 wife ; and each of his children, from the in- 
 fection of the same disorder, expired in less 
 than a fortnight after. When Don John's 
 character is considered as that of a most 
 affectionate husband and tender father, his 
 situation is easily to be conceived at this 
 dreadful crisis. For a considerable time 
 he was in a state of inanimate stupor 
 with grief, and passed through each suc- 
 ceeding day with a kind of automatical 
 instinct. He took no notice of the friends 
 who attended him, and gazed hours toge- 
 ther in silent agony on the portraits of his 
 wife and children. The utmost exertions 
 were used to raise him from so alarming 
 a despondency, but he appeared to shun 
 every effort that was made to give him com- 
 fort and consolation. At length a distant 
 relation, after considerable entreaties, per- 
 suaded him to remove from the spot which 
 hourly reminded him of the dear relatives 
 he had lost, and tended to recall scenes to 
 
79 
 
 his memory which occasioned the most 
 poignant sorrows. He prevailed on liim to 
 purchase a small yet neat house in the gay 
 and lively city of Seville, and he took pos- 
 session of his new abode with the same 
 depression of spirits he had laboured under 
 for the last fourteen months. His relation, 
 how^ever, still watched him with unremitted 
 attention ; and by almost imperceptible gra- 
 dation introduced him to the society of some 
 respectable gentlemen who lived near, in a 
 manner which made it impossible for him 
 to refuse their acquaintance with any de- 
 gree of good manners. By these means 
 Don John, before he was aware of his ap- 
 pointments, found himself surrounded by a 
 choice collection of friends, w^ho, feeling for 
 his situation, and being pleased with the 
 gentleman-like behaviour he possessed, 
 used every means in their powder to make 
 themselves agreeable to his taste. Under 
 these circumstances he slowly entered into 
 the spirit of their parties, and experienced 
 some little alleviation to his sufferings. No 
 external objects tended to recall his mind 
 to a recollection of his late domestic hap- 
 E 4 
 
80 
 
 piness, and by degrees he began to enjoy 
 those scenes he had never before either fol- 
 lowed or noticed. Time and a continual 
 change of company served to occupy his 
 mind, and prevented him from dwelling on 
 a retrospection of the past. Habit ren- 
 dered his present mode of life daily more 
 agreeable ; as his spirits and vivacity in- 
 creased, his company became more courted, 
 while he enlarged his engagements hourly, 
 and appeared often at public places. Pleased 
 with a system of conduct which had reco- 
 vered him from the most dreadful state in 
 which human nature can be involved, he 
 followed it with avidity, under a confidence 
 of its good effects, till at length his life 
 might be accounted dissipated, and his 
 expenses extravagant. Don John's actions 
 were so far tinctured with discretion, that he 
 gathered the sweets and pleasures of recrea- 
 tion from scenes where others would have 
 been lost for ever. He, however, plainly 
 perceived his income would be embarrassed 
 if he did not retrench his expenditure, and 
 he had resolution to give up some super* 
 fluities for that purpose. Still he was gay. 
 
81 
 
 and never free from company and amuse- 
 ments, for Don John soon discovered the 
 salutary remedy he had chosen to reHeve 
 him from his mental anguish lasted no 
 longer than during the time it was admini- 
 stered ; and if he passed a few hours alone, 
 the figures of his wife and children, floated 
 before him, and he relapsed into the same 
 poignancy of grief from which he had so 
 lately recovered. It is not therefore sur*. 
 prising that he should continue in the midst 
 of society which gave such temporary relief 
 to his sorrows. On his receiving the consi- 
 derable fortune bequeathed to him by his 
 brother Manuel, his house at once became 
 a principal rendezvous for the whole circle 
 of fashion in Seville, and a resort for mea 
 of genius resident in that part of Spain, as 
 well as for those who visited the lively city 
 from distant provinces. 
 
 Don John was naturally of a gay, active, 
 and open disposition ; his manners highly 
 polished, his mind finely cultivated , his 
 ideas were noble, generous, and unpreju- 
 diced, and his heart warm and benevolent. 
 The most perfect characters possess their 
 £ 5 
 
82 
 
 failings : Don John was not excluded from 
 this general rule ; he had neither thought 
 nor foresight in the common occurrences of 
 life; he was negligent in every pursuit that 
 did not concern his pleasures, and careless 
 to a degree of childishness in cases that re- 
 quired the most steady attention and adhe- 
 rence. It is most likely that this defect or 
 folly which predominated in his character at 
 a very early period of life, might have slowly 
 faded under the care and anxiety attendant 
 on the rearing of a family ; but he was 
 doomed to lose these incitements to a refor- 
 mation ; and, having felt no such ties upon 
 his affections, his thoughtless malady rather 
 increased than diminished. It is very doubt- 
 ful whether he might have exerted himself 
 enough in his pecuniary affairs, to have 
 discovered that a retrenchment in them was 
 actually necessary; or still more, that he 
 would have taken the trouble to have formed 
 any resolutions for obviating such difhcul- 
 ties, had not a point of honour in the sup- 
 port of his character urged him to the task. 
 When he took upon himself the charge of 
 Osmund, under a considerable struggle he 
 
83 
 
 dedicated the chief part of two days to the 
 procuring of a private tutor of abilities, as 
 well as settling him at one of the first public 
 seminaries in Seville. Such arrangements 
 might in some respects have been considered 
 as superfluous ; but Don John wished his ne- 
 phew to be immediately introduced among 
 boys of his own age : at the same time he 
 engaged for him a separate governor, with 
 a view that he might himself by that means 
 be entirely free from various little attentions 
 Osmund might most likely require, distinct 
 from the advantages he would receive at 
 the school he had provided. After he had 
 settled these principal points, he conceived 
 he had overcome the most arduous part of 
 his undertaking. The instructor proved to 
 be a learned man, but at the same time an 
 interested one. If his pupil produced his 
 exercises right, and went through the regu- 
 lar tasks of school-study for tlie few hours it 
 was required, he cared very little what be- 
 came of him afterwards ; for although, un- 
 der the engagements into which he had erw- 
 tered with Don John, he was paid a very 
 handsome salary for dedicating the whole 
 
84. 
 
 of his time to his nephew, he soon disco- 
 Tered what little notice the former took of 
 his labours, and therefore determined to di- 
 vide them between Osmund and a youth 
 about his own age who lived near; and whose 
 parents, under the idea of a bargain, con- 
 sented to encourage his duplicity. Through 
 these circumstances the young inexperi- 
 enced Osmund was left entirely at his own 
 disposal, with full permission to draw upon 
 his uncle's steward for any money he might 
 want. It is not to be supposed but a youth 
 of seventeen would grasp at the unbounded 
 liberty which was given tahis actions. The 
 example of his uncle was sufficient incite- 
 ment to the alluring path he was tempted 
 to pursue, and he rushed into the giddy 
 vortex with a boyish precipitation. Don 
 John, encircled by his own pleasures and 
 engagements, had little time or inclination to 
 regulate the pursuits of Osmund : indeed, 
 if his observation had rested for a moment, 
 to have noticed some juvenile follies that 
 were rather glaring in the conduct of his 
 young nephew (and which were even whis- 
 pered ia his presence), it is very doubtful 
 
85 
 
 whether he might have considered them of 
 that serious nature as to demand a severe re- 
 prehension. Don John had entered into the 
 dissipated scenes of hfe at a time when years 
 and experience had taught him to avoid 
 those dangerous quicksands that surrounded 
 him. Invuhierable to every temptation that 
 tended to lead him beyond the boundary 
 of prudence and general rectitude, he 
 gleaned from them a pleasure,, and satis- 
 faction which neither corrupted his morals 
 or his heart. They had eased him of a load 
 of woe, raised him from a reverie of mi- 
 sery to social comforts 3 they had elevated 
 his spirits, and recruited his constitution. 
 It is not surprising that he should feel some 
 gratitude for the antidote that had proved 
 to him so beneficial : but the natural care- 
 lessness of his character prevented him from 
 considering the very great difference of a 
 youth entering the world at eighteen, and 
 a man being introduced to it at five-and- 
 thirty. He conceived there was no dan- 
 ger in the fashionable levities of the age, 
 because he had been fortunate enough to 
 avoid them. He admired the lively, volatile. 
 
S>6 
 
 and spirited manners of Osmund, without 
 supposing they required regulation, or that 
 he needed advice. He saw him the votary 
 of pleasures which he called innocent, for he 
 never found them otherwise ; and he took 
 no notice of those follies that might be 
 termed reproachable, because he had not 
 discovered their error. 
 
 Undet^^^tich a system the worst effects 
 might TiIvS' been produced ; but, fortu- 
 nately for Osmund, he obtained a friend in 
 his uncle's household, who supplied Don 
 John's place as a monitor and moral instruc- 
 tor. This person resided with him as a 
 steward, and was in his sixtieth year. Pos- 
 sessed of a liberal education, and thorough 
 knowledge of the w^orld, he became an 
 able guide to the forsaken pupil. His in- 
 structions and advice, by being given with 
 mildness and diffidence, under the cha- 
 racter of a domestic, acted perhaps with 
 greater force on the high and elevated spirits 
 of Osmund, than studied lessons from one 
 who claimed an absolute authority over his 
 actions. If he was embarrassed in any dif- 
 ficulties through his misconduct, the old 
 
87 
 
 man would first use his utmost exertions 
 to extricate him, and then mildly endeavour 
 to explain the folly of his conduct. Such 
 behaviour at once endeared him to the 
 youth, and urged him to receive his advice 
 with pleasure, while it carried conviction to 
 his heart. A principal, though young, per- 
 former in scenes where vice assumed many 
 shapes to deceive, he had an opportunity, 
 assisted by Fabian, of scrutinising its vari- 
 ous disguises. Although in many respects 
 thoughtless and void of methodical reflec- 
 tion, yet he had his moments of reasoning; 
 and the various parts of finesse and dupli- 
 city which he discovered in the world, made 
 a sensible impresion on his mind, while a 
 common observer would have supposed he 
 was incapable of such conceptions. Still, 
 not to screen his faults from the eyes of the 
 multitude, it will be necessary to remark 
 he possessed innumerable foibles incident 
 to youth ; and that, had it not been for the 
 good old steward, it is very doubtful what 
 might have been the consequences of his 
 uncle's mode of tuition. 
 
 Having premised these few particulars. 
 
88 
 
 with respect to the principal traits in the 
 characters of Don Diego and Don John de 
 Mellas, with some account of the causes 
 that produced them, the reader will be a 
 better judge of the general effects that arose 
 from their systems of education. 
 
SD 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Am I to blamc^ if Nature threw my body 
 In so perverse a mould ? Yet when she cast 
 Her envious hand upon my supple joints. 
 Unable to reset, and rumpled them 
 On heaps in their dark lodging, to revenge 
 Her bungled work, she stamp'd my mind more fair, 
 
 Drydex. 
 
 V>/rlando and Osmund attained their 
 twentieth year under the different methods 
 of tuition adopted by Don Diego and Don 
 John. During this interval no material cir- 
 cumstance occurred, except the death of 
 their aunt Donna Melicent de Gaustivus, 
 who paid the great debt of nature in less than 
 twelve months after the twins were taken 
 from her care. The good old lady had little 
 wealth to leave behind : her annuity had 
 but barely supported her ; and the few pis- 
 toles she was possessed of she bequeathed 
 to Stella, the young woman who had nursed 
 the twins, fully convinced that they were 
 
90 
 
 both well provided for in the protection of 
 their uncles. The bosoms of the lads swel- 
 led high with grief at the news of her death ; 
 they had not forgotten her maternal tender- 
 ness; nor did they fail to pay the tribute of 
 sincere sorrow to her memory. 
 
 The period was now arrived that had 
 been fixed upon by the uncles to introduce 
 their nephews to the world ; and on this 
 account Don John received a letter from 
 his brother, mentioning that they might ex- 
 pect himself and Orlando at Seville in a few 
 days, for the purpose of making the neces- 
 sary arrangements for that plan. They had 
 not strictly fulfilled their promise to the 
 twins with respect to their meeting every 
 year during the term of their education. 
 Don John and Don Diego's modes of living 
 were so very opposite, that they seldom 
 visited each other; and Orlando and Os- 
 mund had met but once during the eight 
 years they had been separated. 
 
 In person they greatly resembled each 
 other. Their figures were tall, majestic, 
 and finely shaped; their features regular, 
 pleasing, and expressive; while a clear. 
 
^1 
 
 though not fair, complexion added addi- 
 tional lustre to their dark eyes, which 
 beamed v/ith all the fire of youth and sensi- 
 bility. On the arrival of Don Diego, the 
 first interview between the twins exhibited 
 the strongest proofs of affection in each. 
 Osmund clasped his brother to his heart 
 with rapturous delight ; while Orlando, 
 though more composed and more reserved, 
 appeared to feel equal gratification. The 
 contrast of their manners was evident : at 
 first sight Orlando was grave, embarrassed, 
 and full of thought; Osmund, all life, viva- 
 city, and spirit. Orlando seemed confused, 
 and his joy at embracing his brother stifled 
 by an awkward shyness he experienced at 
 being among strangers ; while Osmund 
 laughed, talked, and welcomed him with 
 as much ease as if he had been wholly un- 
 conscious that any one witnessed their 
 meeting. His w^ords seemed to flow spon^ 
 taneously from his heart ; his ideas were 
 never kept back for the purpose ot decora* 
 ting them with studied language ; and al- 
 though his education prevented him from 
 committing gross inaccuracies, yet he was 
 
€)2 
 
 too thoughtless to be particular in the ar- 
 rangement of his sentences. His brother 
 spoke but little, and when he did it was 
 with great consideration. His periods were 
 harmonious, and his diction elegant : a hesi- 
 tation in the answering of every question pre- 
 pared the inquirer for something more than 
 a simple and passive reply ; while the man- 
 ner in which it was given evidently tended to 
 impress the auditor with the superiority of 
 the speaker. But Orlando was incapable of 
 such exertion, but among those he knew. 
 The uncommon reclused manner in which 
 he had been educated was evident in every 
 action. When among strangers, a timid 
 bashfulness pervaded his features^ his diffi- 
 dence and confusion were visible to every 
 beholder, and most acutely felt by himself. 
 Unused, to the society of those of his own 
 age, he now shrunk from their advances 
 with an inward awe he was unable to con- 
 ceal ; and while he gazed with wonder on 
 the vigorous manners and liveliness so pre- 
 dominant in Osmund, he could not help 
 feeling for the first time a humiliating idea 
 of his own inferiority. Don Diego had most 
 
93 
 
 certainly succeeded in part with respect to 
 moulding his nephew to the character he 
 had wished him to represent. Orlando was 
 possessed of a classical education, and his 
 natural understanding was superior to the 
 generality of mankind. He had read, but 
 his erudition had been confined, as much as 
 possible, from the details of the vices, fol- 
 lies, and propensities of his fellow-creatures 
 who formed the age in which he lived. It 
 would be a paradox to assert that he was 
 not acquainted with various characters 
 which disgraced human nature ; his very 
 school-exercises presented them to his views 
 and he could trace a tyrant, a murderer, 
 and a plunderer, in every task that he trans- 
 lated, and in every volume that was given 
 him for historical information. Still he might 
 be termed a novice in the youthful foibles 
 that triumphed in the days of his own exist- 
 ence. The books that he had perused were 
 always first examined by his uncle ; who, if 
 he discovered any relations of those scenes 
 where he had been so principal a dupe, 
 instantly tore out the leaf; or, if that could 
 not be done without unconnecting the 
 
^vhole/he would, in a fit of resentment, sa- 
 crifice every page to the flames. Not a youth 
 of either sex of his own years w^as suffered 
 to come within the castle-gates, nor a do- 
 inestic hired who had not passed their grand 
 climacteric ; and they were even then cau- 
 tioned to be silent on the history of their 
 younger days, with the threat of falling 
 under their master's displeasure. Women 
 in general were represented to him as a very 
 dangerous part of the creation. Don Diego 
 had too much liberality to impress on his 
 mind an idea of there being no exceptions; 
 but he seldom dwelled on the better part, 
 while he continually concluded his lectures 
 with oblique hints, that beauty was in ge- 
 neral the watch-word of the former. With 
 respect to men, he was most assiduously 
 taught to look upon the whole of the young 
 ones, except himself, as a set of beings di- 
 vided into two classes ; the one naturally 
 vicious, the other of a frivolous composition 
 who pretended to be so ; and who, in a few 
 years, might sink into good members of so- 
 ciety. Under this doctrine he imbibed a 
 most perfect contempt for every man under 
 
95 
 
 forty ; while his own merit was heightened 
 by the thought of being an exception to the 
 whole world. His heart was good, and 
 would melt at the recital of distress ; but he 
 was seldom allowed an opportunity of re- 
 ceiving such claims on his feelings. He 
 never proceeded outside the castle without 
 being accompanied by his uncle ; and then 
 he was seldom taken to any spot where 
 there was the least probability of his seeing 
 any mortal similar to himself: and if, by 
 chance, one out of the few old men who vi- 
 sited him called to introduce a yojjng one, 
 Orlando was never suffered to move from 
 his study. 
 
 Under such a system of education was Or- 
 lando matured, and destined to be presented 
 to the world, under a full confidence in his 
 own opinion of a capability to resist all 
 temptation, and unmask every deception. 
 Don Diego introduced him to Don John 
 with an inward consciousness of the lad's 
 excellencies, and a thorough persuasion 
 that he would, in a very short time, confirm 
 his favourite hypothesis. Don John re- 
 ceived him with his usual gaiety and good 
 
06 
 
 humour; but that diffidence in his manners, 
 which would have convinced a common 
 observer he was the pupil of retirement, to 
 Jiiin appeared still more outrL 
 
 A very material point was now to be set- 
 tled between the uncles, and on which 
 there was some danger of their not pre- 
 serving that unity they had as yet, however 
 different their characters, most strictly main- 
 tained. This was the procuring of a tutor 
 for the travelling companion of their ne- 
 phews. It had been for some months de- 
 cided by them that the young men should re- 
 side for a considerable time at Madrid, under 
 the advice, but not controul, of a man of ge- 
 nius and reflection, who was competent to 
 dissect the various characters and scenes 
 that might fall under their observation, and 
 caution them against those deceptions that 
 would be continually held forth for their 
 destruction. It was necessary such a per- 
 son should in part be distinguished by the 
 different prejudices predominant in both the 
 guardians, as they had too great a contempt 
 for each other's system to trust their charge 
 under any one, whose manners should be 
 
01 
 
 diametrically opposite to their awn. A gen- 
 tleman \^as recommended to Don John a 
 few weeks before the arrival of his brother, 
 (by a literary friend) whose eccentricity of 
 character at once rendered him a successful 
 candidate for the undertaking. 
 
 Signior Zadok Bellzenipp was of a short 
 and very slender stature; he appeared about 
 thirty years of age, and his person was ra- 
 ther deformed. A pair of uncommon slen- 
 der legs, in the whole length of which there 
 was little variation in point of thickness, 
 were hardly distinguishable in size from his 
 thighs, but by the addition which the latter 
 received in a full pair of breeches. With 
 every assistance, they looked but ill calcu- 
 lated to support a body not much out of 
 proportion to his general dimension s^ yet 
 rather corpulent and bulky. Although the^ 
 signior was a gainer by his protuberance 
 in front, he was a loser behind ; for from his 
 hips to his shoulders he described a curved 
 line, the convex part of which formed his 
 front, and the concave his back. His neck 
 was uncommonly short, so that his head 
 apparently was stuck upon his shoulders as 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 
 
 if a throat and its appendages had been by 
 no means necessary to his existence. His 
 complexion was very pale, his nose and chin 
 very long, and his mouth extremely wide ; 
 his eyes were dark, small, and rather sunk, 
 yet there was some expression and fire in 
 them when he spoke ; his brows by being 
 uncommonly arched, and his forehead parti- 
 cularly high, gave his face altogether a pe- 
 culiar kind of insignificance; while a dark 
 wig, in small curls, and extremely scanty .in 
 every part, was placed like a small patch 
 upon the back of his scull. Such was the 
 external figure of the person presented to 
 Don John as a tutor to his nephew 3 but be- 
 fore any ideas can be formed of the justness 
 of that gentleman's approbation and opi- 
 nion of him, it will be necessary to give 
 some account of his disposition, abilities, 
 and manners, which will naturally lead to 
 a train of events from the beginning of his 
 life. 
 
 Signior Zadok was the child of poverty 
 and distress: his parent-, hough honest, were 
 poor; although virtuous, were frienJ.ess. At 
 his birth they were near starving and sur- 
 
99 
 
 rounded by misery, while his infant counte- 
 nance, when the sun first shone upon it, 
 discovered traces of care and sorrow. His 
 father, a labouring and industrious man, 
 could with difficulty procure even a scanty 
 subsistence for his family, which consisted 
 of five children. Zadok was the youngest; 
 his extreme weakly constitution made it im- 
 possible for him to be put to those robust em- 
 ployments by which the others helped, in a 
 small degree, to procure their owm bread. 
 At the age of twelve years, a school-master of 
 some eminence, near Seville, (which was 
 the place of his nativity) ofifered to take him 
 as a kind of domestic attendant on his 
 scholars and school-room: the opportunity 
 was gladly embraced, and poor Zadok, under 
 every disadvantage, commenced his strug- 
 gles with the world, llie derision of the 
 young pupils immediately began upon his 
 deformity; they considered him as their ser- 
 vant, and conceived they had a right to in- 
 sult him with impunity. He soon felt the 
 difference of his present situation from his 
 home, where, though his bed was hard and 
 F2 
 
100 
 
 his meals coarse and scanty, he experienced 
 a tenderness to his infirmities, and in pa- 
 rental affection found an alleviation to his 
 sickly complaints. It was in vain he lan- 
 guished to return to that hoine-, his father 
 was unable to support him. He had many 
 tyrants in his new station, some even younger 
 than himself; and they would often, while 
 his bosom heaved with indignation, even 
 strike him. AVhatever might have been his. 
 sensations at receiving a blow, it would 
 have been an act only productive of ridi- 
 cule for him to have lifted his shrunk and 
 withered arms against his strong and healthy 
 opponents. He was an object easily van- 
 quished even by the youngest, and served 
 as a kind of practice- block for those who 
 were going to exert their skill with a more 
 powerful adversary. If he complained to 
 the master, the offender was always the son 
 of a man of some consequence (for the 
 worthy tutor took no children of inferior 
 quality under his instruction, for fear they 
 should corrupt the young sprigs of nobility 
 that were entrusted to his care)j and it was 
 
101 
 
 demanded, how he dare utter reproaches 
 against the offspring of a grandee ? The 
 poor trembling boy had no solace but to 
 weep, no satisfaction but the recollection of 
 his imbecility and forlorn state. Hie small 
 portion of time that he was unemployed 
 was dedicated in writing to his mother, 
 where the tears that blotted his letters con- 
 tradicted the palliating account he gave of 
 his sufferinsrs. Whatever mi":ht have been 
 the discomforts attendant on his situation, 
 it is certain that by an uncommon assiduity 
 and perseverance he cultivated those natural 
 abilities he possessed, which made ample 
 amends for the deformities of his figure. 
 Endowed with a mind continually on the 
 watch for information, which, even in the 
 subordinate station in which he was placed, 
 he had often opportunities of receiving, 
 it at once served as a small relief to his sor- 
 rows, and laid the basis of a future excellence 
 in every class of refined and literary know- 
 ledge. His ideas and conceptions were di- 
 gested by a reflexion seldom observed in a 
 youth of his years, while his application and 
 industry were uncommon. Zadok, however, 
 F 3 
 
10i> 
 
 still experienced most severely the illiberality 
 and cruelty of his young superiors, till he 
 adopted a train of methodical plans in his 
 conduct and manners, which at once had 
 the most happy effect in his favour. Unable 
 to protect himself by any manual exertions, 
 that which might have been termed pusilla- 
 nimity under different circumstances, i?i hini 
 was no other than a necessary system of 
 finesse in his own defence ; and he soon 
 discovered that implicitly acquiescing to 
 every one's opinion would be a material 
 aid to his happiness. His speculations on 
 this point were accurate, and the conse- 
 quences beyond his expectations; the scenes 
 of his degradation and insult were annihi- 
 lated, and he arose on the ruins a general fa- 
 vourite. His young bosom palpitated with 
 joy at the success of his duplicity. He fed 
 the pride of the young nobles that sur- 
 rounded him, he kissed the yoke they pre- 
 sented; the weight of it was instantly lost, 
 and he laughed contemptuously at their folly. 
 The master of the school discovered the al- 
 teration ; the effect, like electricity, did not 
 fail to agitate every part of the groupe it was 
 
103 
 
 aimed at ; he instantly perceived the poor 
 little wretch had some abilities, but, what 
 was of still greater importance, his pupils 
 were uncommonly fond of him. Zadok was 
 suddenly promoted to a small side desk, and 
 was found to be extremely useful in hearing 
 the lessons of the younger part of the scho- 
 lars. By being removed from the menial 
 duties of his late station, he had more time 
 to dedicate to his own improvement; and 
 his master, under the idea of his being of 
 still greater service, ordered that he should 
 undergo the regular process of school-study 
 with the chief of the boys. By these new 
 regulations he had full scope to gratify 
 every inclination for improvement, and his 
 uncommon industry and progress in every 
 branch of learning were a matter of asto- 
 nishment to all who knew him. Although 
 very young, he had considered too well 
 the various dispositions that encircled him 
 to slacken those exertions that had eleva:ed 
 him to his present sphere. He .still conti- 
 nued his accommodating system, never dif- 
 fered in opinion from any, agreed to what 
 ^yery body said, and had no sentiments of 
 F 4 
 
104 
 
 his own, but what he secretly enjoyed in 
 private reflexion. Habit soon rendered 
 such a modification of manners both easy 
 and natural; they increased with his years, 
 and ripened with him into manhood. Za- 
 dok in the course of fourteen months was 
 made under-usher, and had a small salary 
 allowed him, besides his board and lodging. 
 Every rial he received, except what pro- 
 cured him his humble clothing, was regularly 
 enclosed in a letter, breathing the most af- 
 fectionate assurances of his regard, and di- 
 spatched to his parents. 
 
 Thirteen years elapsed, during which he 
 became a principal assistant; he was uni- 
 versally respected for his philanthropic and 
 benevolent disposition, and generally al- 
 lowed to be a man of real classical know- 
 ledge and very extensive erudition. He 
 had for some time past entirely supported 
 his father and mother, who, afBicted by bad 
 health and infirmities, were totally unable to 
 earn their own living. The remainder of 
 their family had died during the last ten 
 years, and Zadok w^as the only prop to 
 their existence. An unfortunate event 
 
105 
 
 tvhich happened about this time at once de- 
 prived him of his situation, and the power of 
 continuing the comforts he had bestowed 
 upon his parents. His father one day happen- 
 ed to visit him at the time of the school play- 
 hours: the old man was weak and lame; he 
 tottered under the assistance of a stick, and 
 rested every two minutes against the pales 
 that formed the boundary of the play- 
 ground. A youth about twelve years old, 
 o^ noble birth, the son of a grandee^ by chance 
 observed the reverend figure labouring un* 
 der the disagreeables of his walk, and at 
 once pointed him out as a butt for ridicule 
 and amusement to some lads who stood 
 near. The young branch of quality was a 
 new resident, and unacquainted with the 
 relationship which subsisted between the 
 usher and the object of his remarks. His 
 companions, urged by a mischievous incli- 
 nation to get him into disgrace, did not un- 
 deceive him in his error, but incited him to 
 insult the old gentleman by the most pow- 
 erful persuasions. Zadok was on the spot, 
 and going to meet his father, when the 
 F 5 
 
10^ 
 
 youth, who had for several minutes been scof- 
 fing at him, suddenl)c snatched away the 
 stick he leant upon, and his trembling 
 form fell prostrate upon the earth. Zadok, 
 who had for some years suffered the most 
 pointed sarcasms upon his person,, the most 
 taunting and cruel reflexions on his defor^ 
 mity and want of power to defend himself, 
 never felt such a glow of passion agitate 
 every nerve as at this instant. An impulse 
 of the most violent indignation inspired a 
 Strength he had hitherto been a stranger to, 
 and the aggressor received a blow that at 
 once brought him to the ground. If the 
 young gentleman had possessed a degree of 
 courage equal to the cruelty of his disposi- 
 tion, there is little doubt but the tutor would 
 have been exposed to the brutality of an in- 
 fant conqueror ; but fortunately for Zadok he 
 had no such adversary to contend with : and 
 while he was engaged in helping his feeble 
 parent to rise, the pupil jumped upon his 
 legs, and ran from the spot as fast as they 
 would carry him. The old man was not 
 much hurt s he only feared what might be 
 
107 
 
 the consequence of his son's defending him, 
 while he rested upon his arm and proceeded 
 slowly towards the house. 
 
 The scholar had arrived there before 
 them, and exhibited his linen to the ma- 
 ster, stained with blood, occasioned by a 
 trifling wound he had received on his fore- 
 head. The good gentleman gazed in silent 
 astonishment and horror at the deed. He 
 foresaw and foretold the destruction of his 
 seminary by such a daring outrage ; — he 
 viewed the blood which had run through 
 the veins o^ nohility for centuries lost from 
 the body of a grandee's offspring, like a 
 common dreg, by a blow from a plebeian 
 arm. " Gracious God !" he exclaimed, " can 
 such things be ? Is It possible that a wretch 
 brought up under the very wing of charity, 
 whom I have nourished in my bosom, and 
 who has received his subsistence from the 
 crumbs which have fallen from my table, 
 should thus dare to lift his hand against 
 one of my pupils, who claims his lineage 
 from the most illustrious family in Spain ? 
 Holy virgin ! What madness could urge him 
 to an act of such desperation ?" ** He in- 
 
108 
 
 suited his father," cried a boy who stood 
 near. " Insulted his father," returned the 
 school monarch; ^^ a very fine provocation 
 indeed, for a base-born hireling like him to 
 put himself on equal footing with nobility. 
 Answer me !" he cried, turning to Zadok, 
 who had entered at the beginning of his 
 speech, and who now stood supporting his 
 parent at some little distance : " What have' 
 you to say in defence of such unequalled 
 depravity of conduct r" Za^ok lifted up 
 his eyes from the ground ; but the master 
 had never before seen^-them sparkle with 
 such fire : he no longer beheld the tame, 
 the humble culprit. Zadok had, for the 
 first time in his life, experienced sensations 
 which roused every energy of his soul, and 
 at once overcome the natural serenity of his 
 character. " Do you observe this poor old 
 man ?" he exclaimed, while his tears fell on 
 the trembling hand he grasped: " He is my 
 father : you are yourself a father, signior, 
 and consequently have claims on the filial 
 affections of your children : you have like- 
 wise experienced the feelings of a son; — to 
 those feelings I must now address myself. 
 
109 
 
 That youth insulted my parent -, he was un- 
 able to defend himself, and the common ties 
 of nature demanded I should protect him. 
 His wanton cruelty threw this poor old 
 man to the ground, and could I stand by 
 and witness his fall without resenting it ? 
 Because his birth is 7ioble, is he to be coun- 
 tenanced in Ignoble deeds ? Because his fa- 
 ther is a grandee, is he to insult with impu- 
 nity the same reverend character under a 
 plebeian title ? I glory in the deed I have 
 committed, whatever may be the conse- 
 quence resulting from it. You accuse me 
 as a wretch sheltered under the wing of cha- 
 rity; yet I have, helped to feather that wing, 
 and therefore earned my protection. You 
 say you have nourished me in your bosom ; 
 but you must recollect I assisted to procure 
 the animating warmth it conveyed. You 
 declare I have subsisted on the crumbs 
 which dropped from your table : this is 
 most certain ; but you must also know I 
 have been one who helped to gather the 
 food from which they fell. Whatever I have 
 received at your hands, signior, I claim as 
 a right for the produce of my labour. I 
 
no 
 
 allow no obligation on either side, because 
 our interests have been mutual ; nor will I 
 any longer submit to your tyranny, while, 
 as an independent member of society, I am 
 able to purchase my own subsistence." — The 
 governor was astonished : the words that 
 he heard, and the manner in which they 
 were delivered, were so very different from 
 Zadok's former behaviour, that he could 
 hardly believe the same oppressed object 
 of his boasted bounty stood before him. 
 " Ungrateful !'* he exclaimed : " is it thus I 
 am to be rewarded for my past favours ? But 
 he is certainly deranged 3 there is a wildness 
 in his eyes I never observed before 3 and if 
 I keep him any longer in my seminary we 
 may experience some dreadful accident. 
 Wretched profligate, his malice is pointed 
 towards nobility. It would be a good thing 
 for the state if such levelling rebels were 
 confined by themselves in a sequestered 
 spot, where the higher orders of society 
 might be screened from their violations,, 
 and run no hazard of being shocked by 
 the sight of such a grovelling part of the 
 creation.** Zadok received the small sum 
 
Ill 
 
 due to him, and was instantl}' dismissed 
 from his employment. He supported his 
 father in silence to their little hovel, and 
 bejran to reflect in what manner he should 
 procure their daily bread. Zadok's salary 
 had been but trifling; he had had no oppor- 
 tunity of saving from it, for his father and 
 mother had both subsisted by his industry. 
 Poverty in a few weeks threatened to over- 
 take them, unless he gained some situation 
 to profit by his talents. He had but few 
 friends, and his external appearance con- 
 veyed in general to strangers no very pre- 
 possessing opinion of his abilities ; while 
 the aggravating circumstances which his 
 late master circulated against him at once 
 raised him enemies among many whom he 
 never knew, nor indeed who had never 
 known him. He would have submitted to 
 the humble employment of a labourer, but 
 his weak body and infirm limbs refused to 
 sustain the sacrifice. His applications were 
 many, but he was mostly received with a 
 chilling coldness. Through the interest of a 
 cook in a great family, of some note for 
 making the most delicious dish of aumlets 
 
112 
 
 m the whole province, he was recommend- 
 ed to a bishop; but the bishop just before 
 the interview had discovered, that he once 
 was heard to draw a comparison between 
 the mitre and a fooFs cap, and the holy fa- 
 ther declared he could have no concerns 
 with one who was guilty of so impious a 
 simile. By means of a nobleman's valet, for 
 whom he had indited some billet-doux, 
 he obtained permission to wait on a minister 
 at the head of the Spanish government ; but 
 directly this nobleman saw him, he de- 
 clared it would be impossible to take him 
 into his service, as it sometimes would be 
 necessary he should be sent to one of the 
 mistresses of a prince of royal blood, v/ho 
 would never be able to endure the sight 
 of so strange a figure. The minister, how- 
 ever, referred him to an author of some fame, 
 who occasionally dined at his table, and 
 who was in want of an amanuensis. When 
 he applied to the man of letters, there was 
 no objectionable parts in the agreement but 
 a rule which he ahvays adhered to of mak- 
 ing triennial payments of his salary, which 
 he regulated according to the success of his 
 
113 
 
 works. After many weeks, during which 
 he languished with his parents under all the 
 horrors of the most dreadful penury, he by 
 chance met with an English merchant who 
 wanted an interpreter ; and who, when he 
 found he could get no other, agreed to en- 
 gage with him. Zadok had studied the 
 English tongue with the same assiduity he 
 had many others, and few of his country- 
 men were so well versed in it as himself. 
 He once again was able to allow his father 
 and mother the necessaries of existence ; 
 and his habitual propensity of agreeing im- 
 plicitly to every opinion had the same good 
 effect upon the London merchant as upon 
 the Spanish school-boys. He soon became 
 the factotum and right-hand of the man of 
 business ; and when the concerns which 
 brought him to Spain were concluded, he 
 made Zadok the most advantageous propo- 
 sals to return with him to England, and re- 
 ceive a principal place in his counting-house. 
 His offers appeared too beneficial to be neg- 
 lected : he had an opportunity of settling 
 on his parents a monthly stipend that would 
 procure them even the comforts of life. 
 
114 
 
 They parted with him as with the only bles- 
 sing that made life valuable, and Zadok felt 
 equal distress in the separation. He attend- 
 ed the merchant through France to his na- 
 tive city, who had not arrived there two 
 months before he suddenly died. Za- 
 dok again found himself under an embar- 
 rassed situation in a strange country, unex- 
 pectedly deprived of gaining a living by his 
 industry, and totally without friends to assist 
 him. His late employer had made no will, 
 he consequently only received a balance of 
 his salary that was due to him, and a small 
 present from the bounty of the heir who 
 inherited the possessions of the deceased. 
 He had now no plan to pursue, but that 
 of returning to Spain wnth all the horrors 
 of poverty. He regained his home in the 
 course of a few months after having spent 
 his last rial, and found his parents still 
 more infirm than when he left them, and 
 equally reduced. They had expended, un- 
 der a rigid economy, the allowance he was 
 able to send them ; and while his presence 
 inspired emotions of joy they had not expe- 
 rienced for years, their spirits w^ere near 
 
115 
 
 sinking for want of that nourishment their 
 age and sickly state of health so greatly de- 
 manded. Zadok felt the most acute an- 
 guish in thus witnessing their distresses 
 without being able to relieve them. He was 
 indefatigable in his exertions to procure 
 some employment 3 and offered to under- 
 take any, however menial, that his strength 
 would allow. At length, a printer of 
 montlily publications offered him a pre- 
 mium, sufficient to gain bread and water, for 
 tlie translation of some poems that had ap- 
 peared a few weeks before in a work of 
 considerable merit at Madrid by a French 
 writer, and in the French language. Zadok 
 succeeded in this attempt beyond his ex- 
 pectation : the translations were universally 
 admired for the spirit and beauties which 
 they preserved from the originals : the cu- 
 riosity of the public was excited, and a 
 universal buzz of inquiry was made for the 
 translator. The publisher concealed, with 
 the greatest care, his success in the sale 
 from the deserted Zadok ; who, immured 
 in a miserable hut with his father and mo* 
 ther, had no opportunity of discovering the 
 
11(3 
 
 praises that were lavished on his labours, 
 while he received from him, as a mite of 
 charity, a few more rials for each poem. 
 The author of the work was at this time in 
 Spain, and, among other places, visited Se- 
 ville, where he was introduced to the par- 
 ties of Don John de Mellas ; and, in a 
 solitary ramble one evening, by chance dis- 
 jcovered the humble dwelling of Zadok and 
 his parents. His benevolence tempted him 
 to give them instant relief ; and on his re- 
 questing to know upon what business Za- 
 dok was so attentively engaged, he discover- 
 ed, to his astonishment, one of his own. 
 sonnets in the Spanish language, which had 
 suffered very little from the change. This 
 event naturally led to a train of conversation, 
 wherein Zadok had full power to confirm 
 his abilities. The two following little poems 
 lay on the table among his other papers, 
 and were noticed by the visitor. The latter 
 w^as in imitation of the Scotch dialect, and 
 was written during his residence in England. 
 
117 
 
 Translation of a Greek Epitaph xiorlttcn bj 
 Alimetus, a freedman, on a tomb lie 
 erected to the memory of his fellow servant 
 
 HoNORIA. 
 
 [Author unknovm.'^See Preface^ 
 
 G 
 
 I THAT could sweeter than the syren sing, 
 I to \vho«;e beauty ev'ry bosom bow'd, 
 
 I the sleek swallow that announc'd the spring, 
 I, Honoria, moulder in my shroud. 
 
 To Alimetus I bequeath regret- 
 Sad legacy I — -ind unavailing tears ; 
 
 In youth' > gay dawn our first affections met, 
 
 Fate join'd our days, and love increased with years. 
 
 O ! lot of life most exquisitely planned; 
 
 Yet these delights, so blameless, so refin'd. 
 Some thoughtless power, with inconsiderate hand, 
 
 Dissolv'd at once, and scatter'd in the wind. 
 
 Sequel of Aiild Robin Gray, 
 
 [Author unknoivn. — See Preface. 'y 
 
 X HE spring it was past, it was summer nae mair. 
 And autumn had scatter'd the leaves in the air ; 
 " Come, winter," says Jenny, " thou'rt pleasing to me. 
 For the sun should look wac, when it shines upon thee." 
 
lis 
 
 Nac langer slie grat, her tears were all spent. 
 Despair it was come, and she thought it content ; 
 She thought it content, — but her clieek it grew pale. 
 And she lookM like a snaw-drop broke down by the haik 
 
 Her father was vex'd, and her mother look'd wae : 
 " What ails thee my bairn," she often would say ; 
 " Your wheel you turn round, but it comes little speedy 
 For feeble your fingers, and weak is your thread." 
 
 She smiled w^hen she heard her, to ease her of fear. 
 But sad is the smile that is seen through a tear ; 
 And bitter the tear that is shed for a love 
 Which honour and conscience can never approve. 
 
 Her father was vex'dj and her mother was wae. 
 But pensive and silent was auld Robin Gray; 
 He spake nae a word, but his cheek it grew lean. 
 Like the side of a brae, where the torrents have been. 
 
 He askM her nae questions concerning her health. 
 He lookM at her often, but aye ^twas by stealth ; 
 His heart it grew grit, and often he feign'd 
 To gang to the door, to see if it rain'd. 
 
 He took to bis bed, — nae physic he sought. 
 But bade all his friends around him be brought ; 
 While Jenny supported his head in its place. 
 Her tears trickled down, and they fell on his face. 
 
 " Oh ! kill me not Jenny," says auld Robin Gray ; 
 " I hae nae deserved this, Vve something to say ; 
 I ken'd nae, O' Jenny, I ken*d nae your vow ; 
 In mercy forgive me — 'twas I stealt your cow ! 
 
119 
 
 '* I care nae for Crommie, I tliought but o'thee, 
 I (bought that she stood be l ween you and me ; 
 While she fed your parents, O did nae ye say. 
 Ye never wad marry wi'auIJ Robin Gray." 
 
 The foreigner parted with him under the 
 promise of renewing his visit the following 
 day. The author was a man of universal phi- 
 lanthropy, but, like many more of his profes- 
 sion, his finances, although favourable, were 
 not adequate to his generosity. The whole 
 night was spent in thoughts how he should 
 be of service to the unfortunate Zadok : if 
 his own coffers could have furnished the 
 means, an hour instead of a night would 
 have sufficed for the consultation. A 
 thought after some time struck him, which 
 he conceived might answer his purpose. 
 He had heard Don John mention he should 
 want a tutor for his nephews, and he had 
 no doubt but he could prevail upon him to 
 give Zadok a trial, however oulj^e at first he 
 might appear. The Frenchman had even 
 less difficulty on this point than he expected. 
 His host possessed those unprejudiced and 
 
liberal opinions which are the highest orna- 
 ments of the possessor. Zadok had an in^ 
 terview with Don John, who soon discover- 
 ed his talents, and engaged him, provided 
 he should be approved by his brother. Of 
 his success in that point there was but little 
 doubt : he was the shadow of every man 
 who conversed with him ; and there are 
 very few men but what are pleased with 
 their own shadow. The habit of a child 
 had become even nature under the mature- 
 ment of manhood ; and Zadok was sure to 
 please every body, because he was of every 
 body's opinion. Don John insisted on his 
 removing his parents to a small cottage he 
 had empty in the suburbs- of the city ; and 
 the French author, who a few days after 
 quitted Seville, made him a present of a 
 few pistoles to procure some comforts in 
 their new dwelling. 
 
 Signior Zadok Bellzenipp and his parents 
 were thus relieved from their immediate 
 distresses, while the clouds of misfortune 
 which had so long overcast their prospects 
 were gradually dispelled by a few warm 
 and cheering rays of prosperity. 
 
121 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Good name in man or woman 
 Is the Immediate jewels of our souls ; 
 Who steals my purse, steals trash ; 'tis sometliing, 
 
 nothing ; 
 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: 
 But he that filches from me my good name 
 Robs me of that which not enriches him. 
 And makes me poor indeed. 
 
 Shakspeare's Othello, 
 
 jJoN John de Mellas, in the first few in- 
 terviews he had with signior Zadok, dis- 
 covered him to be a man of genius and abi- 
 lities ; while that part of his character which 
 like a charm prepossessed every one in his 
 favour, lost nothing of its force when pointed 
 at the gay, lively, and yet penetrating man 
 of fashion. Signior Zadok discovered from 
 his literary friend (and indeed from common 
 report) the principal traits in the disposition 
 of Don John before he was introduced to 
 
 VOL. I G 
 
122 
 
 him, and his manners were instantly adap- 
 ted to them : he was respectful, yet easy and 
 unembarrassed ; he was witty, but not im- 
 pertinent ; and facetious, without using 
 too much freedom. The relation of the 
 principal events in his life were pathetit 
 and delivered from his heart; they touched 
 the feelings of his auditor, while the lan- 
 guage in which they were given occasioned 
 his admiration. The deformities of his per- 
 son seemed to vanish when the spectator 
 heard the softness and melody of his voice 
 and he became immediately interested, when 
 that voice was heard not merely as an echo to 
 his own thoughts, but with arguments he was 
 himself perhaps unable to use in defence of 
 them. Such a man was certainly accounted 
 a wise one by him whose opinions he pre- 
 tended to adopt, and naturally attracted 
 his esteem for defending them. That this 
 trait in signior Zadok's manners might be 
 termed duplicity is most certain; and the 
 extenuations that must be claimed for him 
 are, the early habits of childhood, the cause 
 rhat first occasioned those habits, and his 
 never taking an ungenerous advantage of 
 
i^3 
 
 the effects they produced in his favour. He 
 had no vicious designs in making himself 
 agreeable to the world ; he had no motive 
 of interest but the procuring of an honest 
 living for himself and parents by his own 
 industry. Signior Zadok had been intro- 
 duced to his new patron about three weeks 
 before the arrival of Don Diego, during 
 which he had dined twice at his table. No 
 man was better versed in the delineation of 
 character than Don John. On his first in- 
 terview with Zadok he conceived his senti- 
 ments, manners, and ideas, to be very similar 
 to his own ; but he was astonished when ia 
 a large party secretly to observe he appeared 
 the counterpart of every man in company. 
 His doubts whether he might be approved 
 by his brother were soon dispelled, for he 
 plainly perceived he could make himself as 
 agreeable to Don Diego as to any other per- 
 son. He foresaw right ; Don Diego w'as 
 in raptures with him : signior Zadok was 
 every thing that he could have wished. He 
 talked much against the follies of the age; de- 
 clared Don Diego's system of education was 
 the only one likely to preserve a youth from 
 G 2 
 
I24f 
 
 tlie profligate vices of the day ; and ex- 
 pressed the most profound contempt for the 
 "whole world, Don Diego and his nephew 
 excepted, Don Diego, during the inter- 
 view, made some observations on philoso- 
 phy ; signior Zadok was instantly a philo- 
 sopher. Don Diego v^^as an advocate for 
 innate ideas, so was signior Zadok. Don 
 Diego was a strong immaterialist, so was 
 signior Zadok. Don Diego believed in pre- 
 destination, so did signior Zadok. Doil 
 Diego maintained the opinion of future re- 
 wards and punishments, so did signior Za- 
 dok ; and if Don Diego had thought quite 
 different on these subjects, so would signior 
 Zadok. He did not only implicitly agree 
 to his notions, but he brought forward ar- 
 -guments in favour of them ; and Don Diego 
 declared he was the most clever, agreeable, 
 Jittle philosopher he had ever conversed 
 with. '' His conceptions," he exclaimed, 
 *' are both accurate and just; and the lan- 
 guage in which he delivers them chaste 
 and elegant." — '* I perfectly agree with 
 you,'* replied Don John. — The reason that 
 
125 
 
 the two brothers agreed on this point was; 
 because Zadok bad agreed with both. 
 
 Orlando was permitted by his uncle to 
 learn to dance and fence during the time he 
 remained at Seville, but his imiprovement 
 was by no means rapid in these accomplish- 
 ments. They required a confidence he was 
 unable to assume, and a degree of vivacity 
 foreign to his disposition. His spirits were 
 damped by never having been called into ac^ 
 tion, and the natural vigour of youth was lost 
 for want of cultivation. He had been con- 
 fined to the company of old -people, and his 
 manners partook of the solemnity he had 
 witnessed in theirs. The robust and athletic 
 actions of a boy .v/ere sunk in the formal 
 weakness of age,- ^nd the fire and spirit 
 of a young man of twenty obliterated by a 
 nervous timidity which in general accom- 
 panies the latter years of existence. He had 
 been taught to look forward towards a good 
 name as Sigoal, to attain which he should sa- 
 crifice every thing ; and unfortunately his un- 
 cle's instructions on this point (although de- 
 livered under the best motives) were not sim- 
 plified enough toimpress on his mind the very 
 G 3 
 
126' 
 
 great difference between the possession of 
 such a name and the intrinsic qualities which 
 should procure it. It is true he continually 
 laboured to make him adore, even as a deity, 
 the preservation of a fair character, and he 
 at the same time informed him of the means 
 by which it v^^as to be obtained ; but in these 
 lectures, while he dwelled with epithets of 
 admiration on the title^ he would hastily pass 
 over the virtues that were to compose it. 
 This was by no means an error of the heart 
 in Don Diego; no man was more trembling- 
 ly alive to every generous feeling that does 
 honour to the human breast ; but he should 
 have considered, that, when he was inciting 
 his nephew to the noble emulation of 
 becoming a pattern to society, he was 
 talking to one who, if he had not witnessed 
 the vices of mankind, was, except in theory, 
 equally a stranger to their virtues. It is cer- 
 tain that Diego expatiated with rapture on 
 the perfect characters he traced in the pages 
 of ancient and modern history, but the pic- 
 tures of either virtue or vice are of faint co-» 
 louring to the originals. Orlando would study 
 such portraits in his closet 5 but was it po5-^ 
 
127 
 
 sible he could feel that glow of animation as- 
 if the impressions had been carried to hi^- 
 soul by witnessing them among his fellow 
 creatures ? The praises of the author which 
 were lavished on the heroes he was de- 
 sired to study as models of human excel- 
 lence heated his imagination, and made 
 him conceive the reward well worth the 
 exertions that gained them ; but the virtues 
 alone of the hero should have been held up 
 for his idol, without any temptation, under 
 the form of the benefits he would receive by 
 adopting them. That man who looks up to 
 his God only-with the selfish view of pro- 
 curing his own felicity hereaft^^r, is na 
 better than the profligate, who merely be- 
 comes reconciled to his father for the sake 
 of his estates ; and he who practises virtue 
 for the title it confers is almost as cul- 
 pable as him who commits vices without 
 any consideration to the opinion of the 
 world, or interested motives for his own 
 welfare : the one, it is true, is an example 
 to the community, — the other, perhaps, 
 an enemy to it ; but when we examine 
 their motives, the latter must be pitied, 
 G 4 
 
128 
 
 the former despised ; the one would be a 
 villain if he dared^ the other dares to be a 
 villain, yet may perhaps possess some virtues, 
 which, if they had been properly cherished, 
 might have produced the most favourable 
 consequences. These observations are by no 
 means intended to cast the slightest veil over 
 the deformities of vice, but to expose the fa- 
 lacy of a pretence to virtue, and reprobate 
 the hypocrisy that v/ould assume it, only as a 
 prize which repays the sacrifice of contrary 
 inclinations. Don Diego would have shud- 
 dered at such effects, had they for a mo- 
 ment crossed his mind. He conceived he 
 was forming his nephew as a model to the 
 whole world -, and the very extraordinary 
 pains he bestowed on the work might be 
 alleged as the cause o'i its destruction. He 
 educated him under all the anxiety of a man 
 infatuated with his task, and trembling for its 
 success; while in his over care of the jewel 
 with whose lustre he would have dazzled 
 mankind he dimmed its brightness, and re- 
 duced it to the commonest gem. Orlando, 
 in a very short time after his arrival at Se- 
 ville, discovered, with infinite mortification^ 
 
I2f9 
 
 that there were beings who appeared mucli 
 superior to himself. His pride had been ted 
 w^ith the idea that he was a rareie among 
 those of his own age ; he had no proof to 
 the contrary, and he impHcirly believed as- 
 sertions which sounded so agreeable. On 
 his first arrival at Don John's, although 
 labouring under a diffidence, the result of 
 his recluse education, he had inwardly a full 
 confidence of his own abilities, and began 
 to look upon the frvcolite of the companies 
 to which he was introduced with a contempt 
 similar to his uncle : but this contempt 
 originated from a very different source ; his 
 uncle most sincerely detested it, and had 
 some reasons for his abhorrence ; while Or- 
 lando's condemnation arose more through 
 spleen than real distate ; like iEsop's fox, 
 who railed against the grapes he could not 
 procure. It was in vain he strived to inter- 
 mix in the lively sallies of the young parties 
 who frequented Don John's ; if he attempted 
 to be gay, he perceived every one could dis- 
 cover it was merely an attempt \ and if he 
 copied the vivacity of their manners, it Was 
 indeedho'thing but a copy\' With thefemald 
 g5 
 
130 
 
 part of the visitors he was still more reserved 
 and awkward ; he looked upon them with 
 admiration; but if he spoke, he trem- 
 bled, blushed, and hesitated : he was most 
 acutely sensible of their charms, yet he 
 was timid, bashful, and embarrassed, in 
 their presence. He gazed with all the 
 eagerness of youthful passion on every girl 
 he saw; but if their eyes happened to 
 meet his, he hung his head with a childish 
 sheepishness. He observed his brother and 
 other young men romp and laugh with them 
 under the most perfect freedom ; he envied 
 them, and would have wished to have done 
 the same, yet he found it impossible. If 
 they addressed him first (which was mostly 
 the case), he laboured to make himself 
 agreeable, by giving a studied and florid 
 answer to their question ; but, to his disap- 
 pointm.ent, he perceived this was no passport 
 to their favour; none of them seemed in- 
 clined to listen to long sentimental ha- 
 rangues, or dry moralising precepts, ta 
 which they might have paid some attention 
 if delivered from his uncle, but in him only 
 created either their contempt or disgust. 
 
131 
 
 His formal deportment and extreme solidity 
 ex,cited their ridicule instead of admiration ; 
 and he would have behaved far more to 
 their taste, if, instead of his antique 
 distant bow, he had approached much 
 nearer, and treated them with far more fami- 
 liarity. But Orlando, however he might 
 appear to the world in general, was in the 
 eyes of his uncle the most perfect being in 
 it. ^^ This is not a youth of the present day," 
 he would exultingly whisper to himself, 
 "who is as well versed in scenes of life as his 
 grandfather; he is the very offspring of retire- 
 ment, the real child of nature, whose inno- 
 cence and ignorance of vLce will serve him 
 as a most powerful shield in his defence 
 against its temptations." 
 
 Don John de Mellas, as has been before 
 observed, was a man of considerable pene- 
 tration : his disposition was naturally open 
 and communicative, and there was no trait 
 in the human character he sp thoroughly de- 
 tested as deceit. However he might at first 
 have been interested in favour of signior 
 Zadok, he very soon observed the predomi^ 
 nant parts of his behaviour to be by no 
 
1S2 ' 
 
 means congenial to his taste. . He narrowly 
 watched him through the several progressive 
 changes of his accommodating system, and 
 the tutor lost much of his esteem by the 
 scrutiny. Don John found him at one part 
 of the day the very prototype of himself, lively, 
 spirited, and gay, full of vivacity and repartee. 
 The next hour, if Don Diego engaged his at- 
 tention, he sunk into the grave moralising 
 cynic. His discourse was intermixed with 
 metaphysical arguments and assertions, 
 adapted to the opinions of his auditor. In 
 the evenings his transformations became 
 general, he v/as any thing and every thing, 
 according to the persons who addressed 
 him, while the epithet of ^' the agreeable 
 little de/orrned gentleinan^^ was buzzed in 
 every part of the saloon. Signior Za- 
 dok was but little known to Don John. 
 Circumstances had appeared much to 
 his honour, and the relation of his di- 
 stresses had given him a claim on his 
 benevolence ; but these events were not 
 powerful enough to banish from his 
 breast some doubts with respect to the 
 sincerity of those virtues he had at first 
 
133 
 
 supposed him to possess. Zadok began gra- 
 dually to sink in his patron's opinion; and 
 had not a discovery occurred, which appeal- 
 ed forcibly to Don John's feelings (the most 
 vulnerable part to gain an opening to his 
 friendship), it is doubtful whether the 
 signior might ever have become the travel- 
 ing'companion to the heroes of this tale. It 
 happened one evening that Don Diego re- 
 tired earlier than usual to his bed, through a 
 slight indisposition, and that Don John had 
 no particular engagement: it was warm, 
 serene, and invitinglv refreshing: after the 
 
 '&V 
 
 g 
 
 sultry heat of the day, which induced him to 
 propose to the twins a ramble towards the 
 suburbs of Seville. They readily accepted 
 the pleasure of his company. The progress of 
 night-fall in the streets of a gay and busy 
 city gives various subjects for contemplation 
 to a reflective mind, as well as the romantic 
 scenery of a wild and picturesque country at 
 the same hour. The gradual gloom which 
 overspread itself in every part, and which is 
 as gradually, though feebly, dissipated by 
 the glare ofnumberiesslamps,with illumined 
 and decorated shops, added to the different 
 
134 
 
 classes of mortals which are continually 
 passing; at once produces an extensive field 
 for moral observation. Don John*s remarks 
 on the motley groupes they met were just, 
 spirited, and amusing. The time passed 
 swiftly, and their walk was extended beyond 
 their intended limits. They had strolled to 
 the very outskirts of the town, and the light 
 which gleamed from the casements of some 
 cottages reminded them of the distance they 
 had walked. *' Three of those cottages, sir," 
 said Osmund, " belong to you; and old Fa- 
 bian has wished to speak to you this fortnight 
 concerning some repairs which will shortly 
 be necessary." — '^ I think I have some recol- 
 lection," returned Don John, ''of receiving 
 a written complaint from one of the tenants. 
 two months past, but it has never since en- 
 tered my mind until this moment. We will 
 take the present opportunity of making some 
 inquiry concerning it, for it is very uncer- 
 tain when I may again be at leisure." They 
 accordingly proceeded to the humble range 
 of buildings, and Don John gained the in- 
 formation he wanted. In returning, the 
 lattices of a lower room in one of the cot- 
 
135 
 
 tages were open, and they were suddenly 
 struck with the figure of signior Zadok in 
 the apartment. It was the very habitation 
 Don John had presented him with, for the 
 short time he was to remain at Seville. An 
 outside shutter which was unfastened, and 
 which gently moved by the force of the wind, 
 served to screen them from the observation 
 of the inhabitants, while at intervals they 
 had a full view of them, and their conversa- 
 tion was clearly to be heard. A curiosity in 
 some respects foreign to the natural disposi- 
 tion of Don John at this interval seemed to 
 detain him on the spot ; the general charac- 
 ter of the tutor had arrested his attention 
 with a force he seldom experienced; and he 
 now felt an irresistible impulse to become 
 even a listener ^ to discover, if possible, the 
 real ideas of one whose manners were so 
 eccentric. He conceived, if ever Zadok 
 discovered actions which actually sprung 
 from the genuine dictates of his heart, it 
 would be at this period, when he appeared 
 to have no restraint in exhibiting his own 
 sentiments. The means by which he had 
 an opportunity to gain this information were 
 
136 
 
 not strictly consistent with the open and 
 liberal opinions he possessed ; yet we sel- 
 dom wish to obtain a point where a deviation 
 from the etiquette of society is necessary, 
 but we can palliate the error by numberless 
 little excuses, which to our own mind fully 
 justifies the conduct we pursue : thus it was 
 with Don John; he conceived he had a 
 right to the present advantage of signior 
 Zadok's privacy, in behalf of the welfare of 
 his nephews, who were to be committed to 
 his care and instructions. The tutor appear- 
 ed to have just entered, and seated himself 
 between an elderly man and woman, whom 
 the party instantly conjectured to be his pa- 
 rents. He took from his pocket a purse 
 which Don Diego had presented to him the 
 same morning, and which contained thirty 
 pistoles. ^'This purse," he exclaimed, "was" 
 given me to-day by Don Diego de Mellas : 
 my soul for a moment rev^olted at the idea of 
 accepting a gift totally unearned ; but when 
 I considered the various little comforts it 
 would procure my father and mother, I al- 
 most grasped at it with the avidity and ea- 
 gerness of a miser. Gracious God !" he eoii-^ 
 
137 
 
 tinued, '* could I refuse that which would 
 purchase you nourishment? Could I throw 
 away the means to give you that succour 
 you so much need and have so long wanted? 
 Could I see you languish for the necessary 
 comforts of existence, while I, in fastidious 
 delicacy, put aside the hand which offered 
 them ? No. I would sooner perish under 
 the ignominy of a robber to procure you food, 
 than stand like a tame inanimate WTetch 
 and behold your misery with philosophical 
 coolness. Take it," he cried, throwing it 
 into the lap of his mother, '' and purchase 
 freely the necessaries you require ; stint not 
 yourselves under the idea of preserving any 
 part for me. I am, thank Heaven ! at present 
 provided for^ my patrons are noble and gene- 
 rous, and the benefits I receive from their be- 
 nevolence shall convey warmth and anima- 
 tion to your aged bosoms. You cherished me 
 at a time when even the crumbs you forced 
 into my infant mouth served to lessen a part of 
 your own scantytneals ; you starved yourselves 
 in rearing this poor, this weakly frame ; and 
 shall I, now you require the aid you so la- 
 vishly bestowed on me, forsake you ? Shall 
 
138 
 
 I, after the tenderness received during a 
 sickly infancy, desert you in a sickly old 
 age ? No ; I will strain every nerve for 
 your subsistence; I will exert every pov^er 
 I possess to gild your declining years with 
 some degree of felicity ." — His parents wept : 
 Don John looked through the small open- 
 ing in the shutter, and observed tears of pa- 
 rental love and ecstacy trembling on their 
 withered cheeks: he saw the figure, the de- 
 formed figure of Zadok on one knee be- 
 tween them, his countenance beaming with 
 filial affection ; his person appeared that of 
 an angel ; while the moisture which dimmed 
 Don John's eyes confirmed how he sympa- 
 thised in their feelings. The tutor took 
 from his pockets some little dainties he had 
 purchased ; while Don John, taking an arm 
 of each of his nephews, involuntarily ex- 
 claimed, '* I have indeed discovered some 
 real traits of his character ! '* 
 
 Don Diego had now remained six weeks 
 at Seville, the longest period he had ever 
 spent in the midst of society since his retire- 
 ment in his melancholy castle ^ nor would 
 he in the present instance have so far sacri- 
 
139 
 
 ficed his inclinations, had not some power- 
 ful incitements urged him to be an eye wit* 
 ness of his nephews debut into Hfe. The 
 effects he discovered, which originated 
 from his system of education, during these 
 six weeks, answered his most sanguine 
 hopes. The time glided away with some 
 degree of pleasure, when he hourly wit- 
 nessed, in the manners of Orlando, what he 
 construed to be the most favourable augu- 
 ries to his design. But he soon began to 
 sicken, even under such circumstances, at 
 the gaiety and dissipation which surrounded 
 him : he urged his brother to fix with him the 
 day for Orlando and Osmund's departure; he 
 wished to see them set off tor Madrid, and 
 then resolved to return immediately to his 
 own mansion. This point was shortly set- 
 tled ; and the following week determined 
 uponfor the commencement of their journey. 
 Don John, in the interval, had a private 
 interview with signior Zadok, and, with a 
 sincerity of declaration peculiar to himself, 
 made the tutor acquainted with the fears he 
 had imbibed through his observations on a 
 particular trait he had discovered in his 
 
140 
 
 character. He freely confessed to him that 
 trait was a general acquiescence to every 
 one's opinion. He explained to him the 
 danger v/hich he conceived might result 
 from such a mode of conduct being pur- 
 sued with the young men who were 
 to be committed to his charge; and con- 
 cluded with a request, that they might re- 
 main an exception to the general rule he 
 appeared to have adopted. " I am aware," 
 continued Don John, '• that you may have 
 had the most powerful motives to procure 
 the good wdll of mankind. I will frankly 
 own to you that I am in some degree ac- 
 quainted with the very laudable incitement 
 that has urged you to practise such a modi- 
 fication of manners; and, as I request of 
 you in some degree to alter them, I have 
 certainly a right to alleviate the necessity 
 I conceive to have been the cause: you will 
 therefore do me a favour by accepting this 
 .piece of parchment, wherein I have made 
 your parents comfortably independent, by 
 giving them the cottage they now inhabit 
 for their lives, and settling on them a small 
 sum^ to be paid quarterly^ which will, I hope^ 
 
141 
 
 procure them every little comfort so neces- 
 sary to their age and infirm state of health.'* 
 Signior Zadok was unable to speak: the re- 
 ply he was going to utter faultered on his 
 lips. He clasped Don John's hand with a 
 respectful fervency, and he dropped on it a 
 tear of gratitude for his generosity. His 
 thanks after a little time were delivered with 
 a manly firmness. He informed him of the 
 early origin of the habit he had contracted ; 
 and, although he could not promise entirely 
 to divest himself of it, he most solemnly as- 
 sured him that his nephews should never 
 find him but of one character — that of a 
 watchful and anxious guardian for their 
 happiness. 
 
 The twins had several letters of introduc- 
 tion from each of their uncles to some of the 
 most opulent and noble families in Madrid. 
 The expenses of their domestic establish- 
 ment, for which both Don Diego and his 
 brother most liberally subscribed, were to 
 be paid by signior Zadok, who was to draw 
 for the sums on a banker of that city. - Besides 
 this settlement, the brothers w^ere to be al- 
 lowed a very handsome quarterly income. 
 
142 
 
 merely for the support of their pleasures or 
 extra expenditures. The evening before 
 their departure the uncles made each of the 
 twins a present of a purse with five hundred 
 pistoles, as a small capital in pocket-money, 
 for the commencement of their journey, and 
 their entrance at Madrid. They likewise 
 gave them some lessons for the arrange- 
 ment of their future conduct ; while they 
 most solemnly assured them, that as long as 
 they continued to deserve their regard, they 
 would in every respect be considered and 
 provided for as their own children. 
 
 " Be careful young men," said Don Diego 
 in one part of the advice which he conveyed 
 to them, "of committing one dishonourable 
 action, however trivial or petit it may ap- 
 pear^ consider it as the link of a chain com- 
 posed of many more, the magnitude of 
 which increase in regular progression, while 
 the enormities of the last are palliated by 
 practising the first. If you should ever he- 
 sitate on a point of conduct contrary to your 
 conscience, give yourself but one moment 
 for consideration; and, instead of confining 
 your thoughts to an abstracted view of the 
 
143 
 
 error in which you are going to plunge, 
 suffer them to expand and encircle the pro- 
 bable evils that may in various w^ays re- 
 sult from it. A man never acts against the 
 moral or social laws of the world, but he 
 in some way or other wishes to reconcile 
 himself to the deed, which an inward mo- 
 nitor he is unable to silence continually 
 tells him is wrong. He flies from convic- 
 tion because he wishes not to kcl its 
 power ; and he cheats himself under a sha- 
 dow of security, which he dares not exa- 
 mine for fear of discovering its fallacy. If 
 men in such situations were to behave with 
 more sincerity to themselves, and had reso- 
 lution enough to trace the progresshe evils 
 which may arise from one slight deviation 
 from virtue, they would in general shrink 
 from those effects with horror that other- 
 wise, by a regular gradation, they behold 
 with coldness and unconcern-.'* 
 
 At an early hour in the morning Orlando 
 and Osmund took an affectionate leave of 
 their uncles. Otto and Cecil, the two ser- 
 vants who had been engaged to attend 
 them, arrived with a very handsome equi- 
 
144 
 
 page that had been purchased for the occa'- 
 sion, and in which they were to travel with 
 hired horses until their arrival at Madrid. 
 The twins, accompanied by signior Zadok, 
 after many fartiwells, bid adieu to Seville, 
 with all the glowing expectations natural 
 to young minds which appear to have every 
 pleasure and felicity within their own at- 
 traction. 
 
 Don Diego the following day departed 
 towards his castle, under the most anxious 
 solicitude for the welfare of his adopted 
 child. 
 
 The period was indeed arrived that com- 
 menced the trial on the different characters 
 of the brothers. The very opposite systems 
 of education pursued by Don Diego and 
 Don John were now to be explored as 
 to their merits, by an experience at once 
 definite and certain. The local boy of 
 home-bred retirement, studiously screened 
 from every scene of vice, carefully reared 
 ignorant even of many of the various forms 
 it assumes, and a stranger to the society of 
 those of his own age, was to be contrasted 
 to the pupil of ea^y dissipation, the youthful 
 
145 
 
 follower of every juvenile indiscretion, tlie 
 votary of numerous follies, the possessor of 
 innumerable foibles. It is most certain that 
 neither of the systems of education adopted by 
 the uncles should be viewed as a model par- 
 ticularly deserving of imitation. They were 
 extended to tvv^o opposite points of extreme ; 
 and although, in the future delineation of 
 the characters of Orlando and Osmund de 
 Alellas, the effects of the one will be found 
 successful, and those of the other equally 
 unfortunate, it tends no further than to il- 
 lustrate the opinions of some individuals, 
 with respect to the far greater danger at- 
 tendant in the execution of Don Diego's 
 hypothesis, than in that which was pursued 
 by his brother. It is likewise to be remem- 
 bered, that Osmund experienced a most 
 sincere friend and able adviser in old Fabian, 
 his uncle's steward ; and that the origin of 
 various good traits, which he will hereafter 
 discover, may be traced from that source. 
 This faithful domestic nioditied in some de- 
 2:ree the unbounded svstem of his master; 
 and while Osmund might in every respect 
 be considered as a pupil of pleasure^ he was 
 
 VOL, I, H 
 
ricither suffered to remain in a brutal igno- 
 ranee of his errors, nor was his bosom 
 tainted with a hardened indifference to make 
 him callous to the feelings they would 
 sometimes occasion. 
 
U7 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 By my rough magic I have oft bedim'd 
 The noontide sun; call'd forth the mutinous winds; 
 And 'twixt the green sea and theazurM vault 
 Set roaring war ! To the dread rattling thunder 
 Have I given fire ; and rifted Jove's stout oak 
 With his own bolt ! Graves at my command 
 Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let them forth.. 
 By my so potent art ! 
 
 Shakspear£. 
 
 JNi o material circumstance worthy of notice 
 occurred to the travelers during the first 
 two days of their journey. On the second 
 evening it was near dark before they ar- 
 rived at a solitary inn which stood a consi- 
 derable distance from the road side. It be- 
 came necessary for them to stop at this 
 place, as there was no house of accommoda- 
 tion for some leagues forward, and the way 
 they had to proceed was through a lonely 
 and extensive forest. The building was in- 
 H 2 
 
1^8 
 
 deed by no means calculated to invite cus* 
 torn. It was large, gloomy, and antique j 
 and appeared formerly to have been a man- 
 sion of some, magnificence. The situa- 
 tion was uncommonly reclused, and it 
 was partly surrounded by a copse which 
 spread over a number of acres. The bro- 
 thers and their tutor were supposed to be of 
 some consequence by their equipage and at- 
 tendants. The landlord, a short man, whose 
 rosy plumpness foretold his calling, met 
 them at the door. His loquacity was as re- 
 markable as it was tiresome, while his head 
 was in continual motion with his repeated 
 bows. "This way, noble signiors!" he ex- 
 claimed, as he conducted them along an 
 old-fashioned passage of great length : 'Wery 
 fortunate you happened to stop at this inn ! 
 any thing in the world to be had here ; al- 
 ways ready, as I say to my wife — excuse my 
 freedom, signiors — she is a good creature. 
 Round this corner, if you please ; rather 
 dark to be sure; but never want light when 
 we are by ourselves, as my wife says. Pray 
 take care your honours of these steps — one. 
 
149 
 
 two, three. Get a lamp in a moment." lie 
 no sooner concluded the last words than he 
 disappeared for that purpose, after havhig 
 conducted them the worst part of the way 
 without one. Zadok opened a door which 
 stood opposite, and they instantly entered 
 a large Gothic room, at the farther end of 
 which was the remains of a wood fire, 
 and two persons seated by it, whom at the 
 first moment they did not observe, owing 
 to the gloom of the apartment, which had 
 no light but what it received from the dying 
 embers that at intervals gave a partial blaze. 
 In proceeding forward, they discovered a 
 tall figure of a man, wrapped close up in a 
 long cloak, and a young girl seated by his 
 side. They arose on discovering the vi- 
 .sitors, and the female was ordered by her 
 companion to leave the room in a voice pe- 
 culiar for its hollow solemnity. She in- 
 stantly obeyed the command, while Zadok 
 and the brothers gazed with some astonish- 
 ment on him who gave it. He appeared 
 chagrined and disturbed at the notice they 
 took of him, and instantly resumed the seat 
 H 3 
 
150 
 
 he had left. His person was uncommonly 
 tall, yet apparently well proportioned. Ah 
 though his outside cloak evidently tended 
 to conceal him, they easily perceived he 
 wore 'the habit of a priest, while a large 
 cowl covered his head and the principal 
 part of his face. At times, however, 
 they had a view of his countenance: it was 
 pale and ghastly, yet his features seemed ex- 
 pressive and regular. His eyes were dark 
 and penetrating ; but his brows, being ex- 
 tremely large and full, gave them a ferocious 
 wildness that struck the spectator with a 
 distaste and horror, for which at first sight 
 he could not account. The landlord, who 
 had returned Vvnth candles, began a number 
 of apologies for not being able to accommo- 
 date them with separate rooms, declaring that 
 was the only parlour any way habitable in 
 the whole house. He then began with va- 
 rious questions relative to w^hat they would 
 have for supper; and after giving a bill of 
 fare which contained twenty courses, they 
 found he was unable to produce any thing 
 but a dish of eggs and rabbits. This they 
 
151 
 
 ordered; and their talkative landlord, to 
 their great pleasure, left them to prepare it. 
 The priest continued to sit in the same pos- 
 ture, with his arms folded, and his eyes 
 fixed on the dying embers of the fire. It 
 was in vain they attempted to draw him 
 into conversation; he only answered their 
 questions by monosyllables, and, in his man- 
 ner of delivery, gave the inquirer to under- 
 stand he did not wish to be interrupted. 
 They at length desisted from any further 
 exertions, having received a refusal to a po- 
 lite oifer they made him to partake of their 
 supper. After the conclusion of their meal, 
 the party again drew round the fire, which 
 had been recruited by fresh wood, while the 
 discourse Wcis entirely confined to themselves. 
 The night was very tempestuous: loud 
 and sudden gusts of wind shook every 
 apartment in the solitary mansion, and died 
 away with a lingering noise similar to thun- 
 der. ''Such nights as these," said Zadok, 
 in answer to an observation on the weather, 
 ^' have ever been considered by poets as con- 
 genial to the perpetration of murder; and we 
 seldom in fiction read a recital of any bloody 
 H 4 
 
152 
 
 deed but what is accompanied with the ap- 
 propriate scenery of a v/iid country and tre- 
 mendous storm." Orlando by chance cast his 
 eyes on the priest: his whole frame appeared 
 agitated; his head was turned towards Za- 
 dok; for a moment his features seemed dis- 
 torted with horror, but he instantly with a 
 trembling hand pulled his cowl still further 
 over his face. The tutor, totally unconscious 
 of the emotions his last words had occasion- 
 ed, still continued: *' This evening, however, 
 brings to my recollection a dreadful event 
 which happened in my own family about 
 five-and-twenty years past. I was but 
 young; yet the impression it left on my mind 
 has never been erased. A distant relation 
 of my mother's, travelling from Oviedo to 
 Salvador, was cruelly murdered about this 
 hour, and on a similar night, in passing a 
 small wood into which she was led by the 
 perfidy of her guide ; but what made the 
 catastrophe still more dreadful, was the dis- 
 covery that the murderer was her own uncle.*' 
 The priest uttered a stifled groan; his eyes 
 moved with convulsive wildness, while he 
 stamped his foot with violence on the em- 
 
153 
 
 bers to smother the flame which shone on 
 his countenance. The attention of Za- 
 dok and the brothers was instantly fixed 
 upon him, but they alleged his behaviour 
 to the horror he felt at the tale. Orlando 
 soon after left the room to give some direc- 
 tions to his servant, when, in crossing the 
 kitchen of the inn, he was suddenly accost- 
 ed by the landlord, who requested to speak 
 with him alone, and for that purpose con- 
 ducted him to a small closet adjoining. "I 
 hope your honour will excuse what I am 
 going to say," he whispered in a tone of 
 some embarrassment; " but what can a man 
 do, as I says to my wife, when he is put to 
 the point. Now you see, your honour, we 
 have never had so large a company in this 
 house but twice since I have been landlord, 
 and therefore we are not very well prepared 
 for your honour's accommodation, as I may 
 say. To be sure, signior, you may very 
 justly remark, that I might have told you so 
 at first 3 but then one is loth to refuse a good 
 offer, as my wife says: — your honour takes 
 me? no oflfence I hope." Orlando was 
 tired with this harangue, and inquired ra- 
 H 5 
 
154 
 
 ther petulantly what it was he intended to 
 say, and why he detained him? '^ Stop but 
 for a moment, your honour, and I will tell 
 you all, returned the inn-keeper," still keep- 
 ing his finger up to his mouth as a motion 
 of secresy. " You must know that father 
 Theodosius, the priest who is in yonder 
 room, is a very strange kind of a man as I 
 may say : he has visited my inn twice during 
 these last twelve months; and what asto- 
 nishes us all is, that he will suffer no person 
 to sleep even in the next apartment to him. 
 The chamber he will always insist upon 
 having is at the very end of the long gal- 
 lery above; and although there is a good 
 bed and every accommodation in the ad- 
 joining one, yet he will never suffer it to be 
 inhabited when he occupies the other. Now, 
 your honour, we come to the very critical 
 part of the business, as my wife says ; 
 for, to tell you the truth, we have more 
 guests than beds. The young lady who 
 came with the priest was entirely an un- 
 expected visitor, for we never saw him in 
 such company before. Now, if your honour 
 would have the kindness to sleep in this 
 
155 
 
 chamber I have mentioned next to the fa- 
 ther's, we could manage well enough; for 1 
 have no doubt but I could prevail upon 
 that little, civil, crooked gentleman to put 
 up with a small bed in the same chamber 
 with your honour's brother." — Orlando's 
 curiosity was excited : there was something 
 very strange in the landlord's tale with re- 
 spect to the priest; and, after some hesita- 
 tion, he inquired if he knew the cause of 
 such particularity? '*Lord; no, your honour," 
 answered the man; "he is as silent and 
 close as the grave: no such thing as making 
 him out, as my wife says. Folks to be sure 
 talk strange things; and many even swear 
 downright he deals with the devil. Mercy 
 upon us!" he exclaimed, while he crossed 
 himself with great devotion: " the holy vir- 
 gin will, I hope, protect my apartment from 
 being made a band-box for Lucifer. To 
 be sure there are strange noises heard there 
 sometimes ; and there are people who de- 
 clare they have seen a tall figure look out 
 of the window as high as a steeple, and as 
 slim as the wax-tapers, in the church of our 
 ■lady." Orlando smiled. "Ah, indeed, your 
 
156 
 
 honour, but it is no laughing matter," con- 
 tinued the landlord: "I verily believe as 
 how he is in a kind of partnership v^ith the 
 old one, for he has all manner of devilish 
 instruments that he carries about with him. 
 You may tell a man by his accoutrements, 
 as my wife says. Why, your honour, his 
 room is sometimes covered with diabolical 
 magical tools that would make your ho- 
 nour's hair stand on end to look at them. 
 There is a crucible that I dare say he has 
 conjured Satan into many a time ; and my 
 wife swears the last time she warmed his 
 bed, she could feel the devil dance round 
 the pan like a whirligig." — The natural 
 eravity of Orlando's countenance could not 
 overcome the risibility which the landlord's 
 absurdity occasioned. His curiosity, how- 
 ever, would not permit him to refuse his re- 
 quest; but he inquired how he could possi- 
 bly sleep in the chamber unknown to the 
 priest, who was so extremely cautious. 
 " Very easily, your honour," answered the 
 landlords "he is always satisfied if he locks 
 the door, and takes the key himself: now 
 l>e is not aware that there is another small 
 
157 
 
 one which opens into the third chamber 
 from his, and which is prepared for your 
 honour's brother. Now, when the father 
 retires, he w^ill, as usual, look into the second 
 apartment, and fasten the door; but then 
 your honour can easily slip into it afterwards, 
 and he be none the wiser, as I may say." 
 Orlando agreed to the proposition, and the 
 landlord was unbounded in his thanks. 
 
 On his return to the parlour the priest 
 had just rose to depart; who, with a slight 
 bow, and in solemn silence, stalked out of 
 the room. Orlando concealed his conver- 
 sation with the landlord from his fellow- 
 travelers ; and, after a few general remarks 
 on the eccentricity of the father's behaviour, 
 they desired to be showed to their beds. 
 
 Orlando was first conducted by the land- 
 lord, the way he had mentioned, to hh 
 apartment, where he softly began to ex- 
 amine if there was any opening through 
 which he could see into the next room. 
 It was extensive, gloomy, and extremely 
 antique. The few articles of furniture it 
 contained had formerly been of no com- 
 mon quality. After a short examination 
 
158 
 
 he discovered a very small aperture be- 
 tween the boarding to the partition of 
 the adjoining chamber, by means of which 
 he was able to view one side of it. This 
 room appeared still larger than the one 
 he inhabited, and the contents of it about 
 the same value. By the direction in which 
 his eye was placed he saw part of the bed, 
 that appeared formerly to have been com- 
 posed of rich and elegant materials, but which 
 now, through the ravages of time, and the 
 uncommon heaviness of its form, resembled 
 the gloomy inclosure of a tomb. In the 
 front was a looking-glass of very large di- 
 mensions, surrounded by a heavy frame, 
 the gilding of which was entirely destroyed. 
 This glass refleded the remainder part of the 
 bed, and extended his view nearly to the 
 opposite angle of the chamber, which was 
 dark and obscure, receiving no other light 
 than from a lamp which w^as suspended 
 from the ceiling by a silk cord at some di- 
 stance. The monk was seated at a table 
 near it: he rested his head on one hand in 
 a thoughtful posture ; his eyes seemed fixed 
 on vacancy, while his countenance at in- 
 
159 
 
 tervals expressed considerable agitation. 
 The paleness of his complexion appeared 
 uncommonly ghastly from the faint beams 
 which fell on his face from the lamp ; and 
 his whole form was rendered particularly 
 awful through the gloom that surrounded 
 him. Orlando gazed on the scene before 
 him with astonishment, not entirely unac- 
 companied by some sensations of horror. 
 His attention had been too much taken up 
 in the first few moments of his observations 
 to notice a large crucible which was placed 
 upon the table at which the priest was seated. 
 This utensil brought to his mind the hints of 
 the landlord respectinghis concern in magic; 
 and he soon discovered many other instru- 
 ments of a strange figure, as well as several 
 phials containing liquids of various colours, 
 Orlando had read of men possessed of su- 
 pernatural powers, as well as those w^ho 
 were reported to be skilled in natural ma- 
 gic, by a knowledge in the mixture of mis- 
 cellaneous drugs. His mind, however, w^as 
 by no means shackled with superstition. 
 Although he had often heard the terrific tales 
 of his uncle's ancient domestics, yet Don 
 
160 
 
 Diego's lectures on these points had been 
 forcible enough to counteract the effects 
 they might otherwise have had on his under- 
 standing. He watched the actions of the 
 priest with an anxiety which proceeded 
 more from curiosity than from any con- 
 viction he felt of his being a magician ; and 
 when he saw him in the act of using those 
 drugs he had noticed, he waited the result 
 of their operations without labouring under 
 the least apprehensions that they would pro- 
 duce any thing to alarm him. 
 
 Theodosius had no sooner poured them 
 into the crucible, than he placed it on a 
 small iron grate which contained a fire com- 
 posed of charcoal. He then took a small 
 book from his pocket, and seemed to read 
 with some degree of attention 3 but his face 
 was visibly agitated, and the hand which 
 held it trembled violently. His eyes at in- 
 tervals were turned towards the glass, as if in 
 expectation of seeing other reflexions in it 
 more than his own figure ; but he quickly 
 removed them again; while the sight of his 
 countenance occasioned him uncommon 
 horror. Sometimes he threw the book on 
 
1(S1 
 
 llie table— after having appeared to repeat 
 part of tlie contents with pccuHar agony of 
 mind and body — as if he had finished a task 
 most acutely painfull and then again he 
 recommenced his use of it with a languid 
 unwillingness, that confirmed he committed 
 on himself a most severe punishment. After 
 half an hour spent under such kind of emo- 
 tions, he removed the crucible from the fire, 
 and placed it on a marble shelf which pro* 
 jected before the glass. He then took a small 
 phial from his pocket, which contained 
 a liquid the colour of putrefied blood, and 
 threw it by single drops into the vessel. A 
 kind of blue smoke immediately began gra- 
 dually to ascend from it, and continued 
 slowly to spread into a vapour, which rose 
 to the top of the chamber, and entirely con- 
 cealed the looking-glass from view. Or- 
 lando's astonishment increased : the figure 
 of the monk, in the midst of the apparent 
 sulphureous fog he had occasioned, was re- 
 markably striking : his hands were clenched 
 together as if he was agitated by excruci- 
 ating tortures ; his loose black garments 
 were swelled out with the farce of the in- 
 
162 
 
 flammable air that encircled him j while his 
 countenance was turned towards the glass 
 under an expression of the most dreadful 
 and horrid expectation. As the mist di- 
 spersed his features seemed less distorted, 
 Orlando's eyes were alternately turned to- 
 wards the priest and the object that ap- 
 peared so greatly to claim his attention, 
 when, to his inexpressible horror, he per- 
 ceived reflexions in the mirror totally diffe- 
 rent to any thing contained in the chamber. 
 He by degrees discovered a figure standing 
 in the centre, who across one arm supported 
 a lifeless female body. Orlando could hard- 
 ly believe his powers of vision were perfect ; 
 he removed his eyes from the aperture for 
 a few moments, and placed them again in 
 their former situation. The chamber was 
 clearer of smoke,, and he saw the ghastly 
 reflexion more correctly. The male figure 
 had an uncommonly ferocious and savage ap- 
 pearance : his dress was like that of a Spa- 
 nish bravo or leader of banditti ; his hat and 
 black feather screened a part of his visage, 
 but his looks were fixed upon the priest. 
 The corpse which he supported seemed the 
 
163 
 
 body cf a young female : it was covered 
 with white muslin. Her eyes were closed, 
 the face extremely pale, and the hair, w^hich 
 w^as clotted with blood, partly covered the 
 features. She appeared to have received 
 a wound between her breasts, and her coun- 
 tenance seemed convulsed with the last 
 pangs of dissolution. The male figure 
 moved several times : he extended his arms, 
 and pointed to the body he held. The monk 
 watched every motion with considerable 
 perturbation, although the sight appeared 
 to occasion him great pleasure. After some 
 minutes he again poured some drops of the 
 dark-coloured liquid into the crucible ; the 
 blue smoke, as before, arose and concealed 
 the glass from observation. The priest 
 seated himself and perused his book: the 
 mist evaporated ; but the reflexion of the 
 figures was no longer to be perceived. 
 
 Orlando, during the time he witnessed 
 this scene, was so engaged in attending to 
 its effects, that an idea of the causes which 
 produced them never entered his mind. 
 The sight occasioned in him a peculiar hor- 
 ror he had never before experienced. He 
 
164^ 
 
 could in no respect account tor the reflex- 
 ions in the looking-glass, but by superna- 
 tural means, however he had been taught 
 to consider such powers as ridiculous. That 
 there were no other persons in the chamber 
 but the priest was certain 3 for the only door 
 that opened into it was nearly opposite to his 
 eye, and on the same side as the glass. He 
 had now the thought to turn to the angle of 
 the apartment w^hich faced the mirror ; but, 
 although the rays of the lamp had little 
 power to dissipate the gloom which sha- 
 dowed it, he could plainly perceive there 
 were no signs of any entrance, and that a 
 large heavy picture occupied nearly the 
 whole of the space from the angle te the 
 bed. Lost in various conjectures on the 
 event, he softly undressed himself and re- 
 tired to rest, after observing the priest throw 
 himself upon the bed without taking off his 
 clothes. Orlando's reflexions on the cir- 
 cumstances he had discovered were con- 
 fused and various ; his sensations were simi- 
 lar to those of one who is, against his will, 
 made sensible of some truth he has all his 
 life been endeavouring to sugpose is false : 
 
163 
 
 file more be dwelt on the idea of a man 
 possessing powers so superior to his fellow- 
 creatures, the glaring absurdity of -it in- 
 * creased; and yet, when he attempted to 
 convince himself of the error, the sight he 
 had just beheld in the looking-glass baffled 
 at once all his arguments, and made him a 
 convert to the belief of magic. " Shall I,'* 
 said he, " who have received an education 
 which should serve to free my mind from 
 the shackles that oppress the unlearned, 
 fall under the most strong and gross ties that 
 they experience ? Shall I become a slave 
 to the idea, that a mixture of different 
 drugs, and the repeating caliginous words, 
 will produce effects opposite to the general 
 course of nature ? Yet I have just witnessed 
 a scene that seems to shake every doubt 
 I might have entertained to the contrary, 
 and which has impressed me with sensa- 
 tions of horror I shall ever most forcibly 
 rem.ember." 
 
 From such a mode of reasoning on the 
 behaviour of the priest, he was naturally led 
 into a train of conjectures on the causes 
 that could urge 'him to it: but he was 
 equally perplexed in this reverie. In his 
 
16G 
 
 resolutions with respect to his own conduct 
 on the discovery he made upon the monk's 
 privacy, traits which originated from his re- 
 clused education were again predominant, 
 and the confinement of his ideas for want 
 of general society appeared at once in co- 
 lours the most vivid. Orlando determined 
 that what he had seen should be care- 
 fully concealed within his own breast. It 
 might naturally have been supposed he 
 w^ould have flown with eagerness the next 
 iTLorning to have related the event to 
 Zadoc and his brother^ but his reflexions 
 on this subject were very different to those 
 which the generality of young men would 
 have experienced on the same occasion. He 
 panted for no confidant to share w^ith him 
 the knowledge he had gained ; the reason 
 was obvious ; he had never experienced the 
 satisfaction resulting from such a mode of 
 conduct ^ he had never been in a situation 
 to tempt him to pursue it. Accustomed 
 only to companions whose age was double 
 his own, he had never enjoyed that unli- 
 mited confidence which is mostly produced 
 by minds whose friendship is cemented by 
 a similarity of years and disposition. Even 
 
161 
 
 allowing that distinction to be annihilated 
 which is caused by a commanding respect 
 from the younger to the elder, a lad of fif- 
 teen could feel little inclination to disclose 
 his juvenile ideas to a man of fifty. If, then, 
 the opportunity is denied for such social 
 communication, the mind must be in some 
 degree confined -, and while it broods over 
 its own thoughts in silent attention, it be- 
 comes insensible to the felicity of sharing 
 them with another. Orlando had been 
 used to bury every little boyish notion in his 
 own bosom ; he had no one but his uncle 
 or his old domestics to participate with him, 
 and he consequently became a miser in the 
 possession of them. The scene he had just 
 witnessed was of a most extraordinary na- 
 ture, yet it is probable that the idea of im- 
 mediately communicating a description of 
 it to the companions of his journey was by 
 no means one of his first considerations. 
 Even if such a thought had entered his mind, 
 he had views which would at once have 
 urged him to have concealed his observa- 
 tions. . During the evening he had been in- 
 formed that the priest was traveling toward? 
 
168 
 
 the monastery of St. Mark, of which order 
 he had formerly been a member. Orlando 
 had understood that the residence of the 
 marquis d'OIvernardo, to whom their prin- 
 cipal letter of introduction was addressed, 
 joined the holy building. The behaviour 
 of father Theodosius had given him some 
 reason to suspect he was an aggressor 
 in crimes of a most heinous nature, inde- 
 pendent of his knowledge and use of magic. 
 From his extreme agitation at Zadok's ob- 
 servation after supper on the murder of his 
 relation, and from the reflexion of the figures 
 he had seen in the glass, there were some 
 grounds for supposing him to be guilty of 
 shedding human blood. If such was the case, 
 Orlando concluded he should in all proba- 
 bility have opportunities of making further 
 remarks on his arrival at Madrid. By such 
 proceedings, with the knowledge he already 
 possessed of the priest's private actions, there 
 was some likelihood of his bringing him to 
 justice, and perhaps making known crimes 
 under which the public might for years have 
 languished without being able to redress 
 them. Such a deed would at once convey 
 
163 
 
 an adequate conception of his sagacity to the 
 world, and astonish them with the steady, 
 wary, and uncommon penetration he pos- 
 sessed, so different from the generality of 
 men. His name would at once become 
 a general theme for approbation, and he 
 would be able to command that respect 
 for his understanding for which he so ar- 
 dently sighed. 
 
 Such was the concluding reverie of Or- 
 lando j and the resolution of concealing 
 this night's adventure within his own bo- 
 som might possibly in part arise from a 
 wish to monopolise the whole of the vi- 
 sionary fame he had planned. Orlando was 
 a young and avaricious advocate for this 
 kind of treasure : he adored It with that 
 voraciousness of appetite which urged him 
 to use every exertion for procuring it.— - 
 The following morning, at rather an early 
 hour, the travelers departed from the soli- 
 tary inn ; while the priest and his fair com- 
 panion had c[uitted it some hours before. 
 
 A'OL. I. 
 
170 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 The fleeting joys which all affords below 
 Work the fond heart with unperforming show ; 
 The wish that makes our happier life complete. 
 Nor grasps the wealth nor honours of the great ; 
 Nor loosely sails on pleasure's easy stream. 
 Nor gathers wreaths from all the groves of fame. 
 
 Parnell. 
 
 1 HE brothers experienced no farther ad- 
 venture during the remainder of their jour- 
 ney. On their arrival at Madrid they took 
 lodgings at one of the first hotels in the city, 
 and resolved to remain there until they had 
 viev^ed the principal parts, and should be 
 able to make choice of a situation to fix 
 their general residence. After a day's rest 
 they determined to present their letter of 
 introduction to the marquis d'Olvernardo. 
 This nobleman had Lived in great habits of 
 friendship with Don Diego and Don John 
 de Mellas; and although he was some years 
 younger, yet the strictest intimacy had sub- 
 sisted between them. After the removal of 
 
171 
 
 Don Diego and his brother to the province 
 of Andalusia, a correspondence had been 
 regularly kept up, and the marquis had paid 
 each of them one visit since they had taken 
 leave of Madrid. His attachment had ap- 
 peared in every respect truly sincere ; and 
 one of the principal causes was supposed 
 to arise from his having received a trifling 
 pecuniary assistance from them, at a time 
 when some unforeseen events had in a great 
 degree embarrassed his affairs. 
 
 The brothers and signior Zadok were 
 directed to the castle of Olvernardo, which 
 stood in the suburbs of the city. It was a 
 large gloomy pile of great dimensions, and 
 seemed formerly to have been a fortress of 
 very considerable strength. Its lofty turrets 
 and Gothic arches inspired a gloom totallv 
 inconsistent wuth the splendid and pom- 
 pous dwelling of a Spanish noble, and the 
 whole of the exterior conveyed no adequate 
 ideas of the refined luxuries which it was 
 known to contain. It had been surrounded 
 by a deep moat that was now filled up, 
 and the ground elevated several feet above 
 the surface of the earth to form a handsome 
 I 2 
 
172 
 
 terrace, which was inclosed with iron rail- 
 ing, and to which there was an ascent at 
 each end by a flight of circular stone steps. 
 The heavy porticoes in each of the four 
 wings still remained, and a piazza of low 
 Gothic columns was continued entirely round 
 the building. On requesting an audience 
 and sending in their names, they were con- 
 ducted through a gloomy hall to a library 
 magnificently furnished, although its embel- 
 lishments were massy and antique. The 
 inarquis was seated at the further end, 
 apparently lost in deep reflexion ; nor did 
 he notice the entrance of the visitors until 
 the servant announced their names. He 
 then immediately rose, and in a manner the 
 most warm welcomed them to Madrid. 
 The happiness he expressed at seeing the 
 adopted sons of his old friends was deli- 
 vered with an energy that proved it to 
 be sincere; and his having had no intima- 
 tion of their arrival in the last letters he 
 had received from Andalusia occasioned 
 him a greater -^ surprise and pleasure. He 
 was a man of large stature, but remarkably 
 well proportioned. His deportment was 
 
173 
 
 noble and dignified, his manners elegant 
 and graceful, yet formal and ceremonious. 
 His features were expressive; but there was 
 a sombre shade pervaded the whole of his 
 face, which was instantly perceivable, and 
 seemed to indicate a heart but ill at ease. 
 '* I must request your forgiveness," he cried, 
 " if I do not apparently fulfil the etiquette of 
 hospitality in such a manner as to express 
 the very great pleasure I experience at your 
 unexpected arrival in our city ; my health 
 has lately become much impaired, and I 
 must claim, under the character of a valetu- 
 dinarian, an excuse for my negligences.'* 
 After some further conversation he desired 
 to know if they had yet fixed upon a resi- 
 dence ; and, being answered in the negative, 
 he insisted that they should for the present 
 take up their abode in the castle. The bro- 
 thers urged that it was the desire of their 
 uncles that they should, as soon as possible, 
 form an establishment of their own. The 
 marquis declared that should be no hin- 
 derance; forif it was their wish to keep more 
 domestics there was plenty of room for 
 them. They were necessitated to agree to 
 I 3 
 
174 
 
 his invitation, and they promised, after hav- 
 ing given their servants some necessary 
 orders for their removal, to return to dinner. 
 There was a languid depression in the man- 
 ners of their host which appeared per- 
 fectly to confirm his complaints of the ill 
 state of his health. His complexion was 
 pale, his eyes sunk and heavy, and the 
 whole of his countenance expressive of a 
 most forcible dejection ; yet his majestic 
 noble deportment and insinuating man- 
 ners immediately interested every one 
 whom he addressed. On their return to the 
 castle at the hour appointed, they were in- 
 troduced to his family. Which consisted of 
 his wife, a son, and daughter. The mar- 
 chioness was a tall elegant woman, who 
 seemed turned of forty ; she possessed 
 some remains of beauty, but her manners 
 were gross and assuming. Her marriage 
 with the marquis, there was every reason 
 to suppose, must have originated from 
 sordid motives : her fortune was very large, 
 yet she was neither accomplished nor deli- 
 cate ; her understanding was but little culti- 
 valed > and, in short, when considered under 
 
175 
 
 the tout ensemble, she was by no means cal- 
 culated to dispense happiness to a man 
 whose refinements appeared so predomi- 
 nant as those of her husband. Albert was 
 two years older than his sister; he had just 
 attained his twentieth year : he greatly 
 resembled the figure which his father might 
 have been supposed to possess at this age. 
 His countenance was open and animated, 
 yet not regularly handsome. His form was 
 uncommonly graceful and manly, and his 
 manners remarkably spirited. His educa- 
 tion had been by no means neglected ; but 
 a peculiar passion for reading the romances 
 with which the libraries of his country so 
 plentifully abojnded had served in great 
 measure to impede those studies which his 
 father would have wished him to have pur- 
 sued, and had infused into his mind a 
 romantic disposition for adventures and dif- 
 ficulties that plunged him into various 
 unpleasant situations, in which he always 
 conceived himself the knight or hero of 
 some terrific tale he had read. Few younfy 
 women in Madrid who had any claim to 
 beauty failed to receive serenades from him by 
 I 4 
 
116 
 
 the light of the moon ; and where there was 
 any difficulty in becoming acquainted with 
 a female, such was immediately the object 
 of his choice. His form and manners were 
 well adapted to please that sex to wdiose 
 good opinion he would have sacrificed every 
 thing ; his heart was warm, generous, and 
 susceptible of the finest feelings ; but his 
 mind w^as by no means in a high state of 
 cultivation, or his understanding above 
 mediocrity. 
 
 Isabella was about eighteen ; her figure 
 was rather petite, yet elegant and interest- 
 ing: a natural. vivacity in her disposition 
 served perhaps to insure her that general 
 admiration which her person could in no 
 respect be supposed to excite. Her fea- 
 tures and contour of countenance were 
 pleasing, but by no means beautiful 3 the 
 hilarity of her blue eyes contained the prin- 
 cipal personal attraction she possessed; yet 
 yet there was a naivete in her carriage and 
 manner most truly fascinating. She was 
 accomplished in the modern acquiremeaits 
 of the day, and possessed powers of intel- 
 lect very different to what the general 
 
177 
 
 tenor of her conduct would have foretold; 
 but she was too thoughtless for much study, 
 and too volatile for reflexion. Good tem- 
 per, a good heart, and an uncommon since- 
 rity, were the leading traits in her charac- 
 ter; she was always easy, affable, and gay ; 
 and possessed merely that degree of pride 
 which was sufficient to support the dignity 
 of her sex, where an unjust conception of 
 her liveliness subjected her to the insults of 
 the ignorant or ungenerous. 
 
 Such were the outlines of the efiaracters 
 which formed the family of Olvernardo. 
 Their mode of living was sumptuous and 
 elegant ; they classed with the first rank 
 of the inhabitants of Madrid, and stood the 
 most favourite attendants at the throne of 
 their sovereign. The marquis had for many 
 years been a principal performer in the state, 
 and it was through his interest that Al- 
 phonso de Mellas, the father of the twins, 
 was appointed to that embassy in which he 
 was unfortunately lost. 
 
 . In a very short time the whole of the 
 
 party, except the marquis and Orlando, were 
 
 perfectly iree^ easy, and well acquainted 
 
 I 5 
 
178 
 
 with each other. The former was thought- 
 ful and spoke but little, yet laboured to 
 impress on the minds of his visitors the very 
 great pleasure he received from their com- 
 pany. The latter was, as usual, reserved, em- 
 barrassed, and uncomfortable; every action 
 was forced and mechanical, while the few 
 sentences he uttered appeared the result of 
 an hour*s consideration. His eyes wan- 
 dered round the splendid apartment in 
 which they dined, as if he dreaded to fix 
 them on anyone object in it; and during 
 the time he quitted his knife and fork be- 
 tv^^een each mouthful which he swallowed, 
 he was at a loss where to place his hands 
 or hov/ to adjust his elbows. He smiled at 
 the sprightly conversation between Os- 
 niund> Albert, and Isabella ; sometimes 
 he appeared as if going to answer them, 
 but the instant a pause of silence gave rise^ 
 for attention Orlando lost the power to 
 reply, and shrunk from every effort to draw 
 forth his sentiments. This timidity and 
 bashfulness w^as not altogether a matter of 
 astonishm.ent when his very recluse life, 
 from the early age of infancy, is considered : 
 
179 
 
 it Is true he had some opportunities of Im- 
 provement during his short stay at Se- 
 ville; but Orlando had arrived at those 
 years when the habits of childhood are 
 nearly matured into impressions which may 
 be termed second nature. He felt most 
 severely his own deficiencies, which was the 
 principal cause that retarded his attempts 
 to overcome them. Had his mind been 
 less susceptible of the difference he beheld 
 in himself to other young men, he would ' 
 the more easily Imve accomplished his 
 struggle to imitate them ; but his very 
 acute ideas of his diffidence served only 
 to increase it. Had he been a few years 
 younger, his aukward manners might have 
 seemed less outre, and passed without, such 
 general notice ^ but as it was the appearance 
 of a young and vigorous youth, of twenty, 
 was blended with the shyness of infancy, 
 and the listlessness of age. 
 
 " How is it," he would exclafni to him- 
 self, " that I was taught to suppose I should 
 strike the world with admiration immedi- 
 ately I appeared in it? So far from being 
 revered, I seem inferior to the generality 
 
180 
 
 of that part of mankind with whom I asso- 
 ciate ; instead of respect, their behaviour 
 to me borders on derision j instead of re- 
 ceiving pleasure from my company, I ap- 
 parently "almost create their disgust. Am 
 I not far above them in mental endow- 
 ments ? Do I not daily discover in them 
 errors, which prove them to be more un- 
 learned than myself? And am I not com- 
 petent to overcome them in every discus- 
 sion on school study in which I may choose 
 to engage ? Yet surely my uncle has painted 
 mankind very different to what they at pre* 
 sent appear ? Can the transformation have 
 been so general since he first abandoned 
 society, or has the picture he so laboriously 
 delineated on my youthful mind received 
 too harsh a colouring from the spleen or 
 prejudice of its artist ? Gracious heaven ! 
 it is impossible ; a man of Don Diego's 
 knowledge can never have been so de- 
 ceived. It is I that am obscured in error. 
 I am infatuated with the flimsy follies of 
 which he has so often cautioned me to be 
 wary. I have not an adequate conception 
 of my own abilities , and the idea that others 
 
181 
 
 are not sensible of them Is fancy. They 
 must in time be convinced, that I have not 
 for ten years past been carefully confined, 
 the pupil of retirement and study, to be 
 outshone by the mere empty and gaudy 
 butterflies of fashionable folly.'* 
 
 Every whispered soliloquy of this kind 
 was generally concluded in a full confir- 
 mation of his own merits by a degrada- 
 tion of those in others. He dwelt with 
 rapture on the thought that, when he 
 conquered the natural bashfulness of his 
 character, he should at once rise to that 
 eminence of perfection amongst his fellow 
 creatures for which he had so often lan- 
 guished and looked forward to in his mind's 
 eye. He panted to become an oracle to 
 his brother citizens, and by his example 
 make them reverence his doctrines. From 
 what secret springs did such emulation 
 arise? Alas! not from the benevolence of a 
 heart which is warmed for the welfare of 
 others, but from an inward pride, which de- 
 luded him under a semblance of virtue, and 
 which urged him to claim as a demand the 
 flattering epithets of the world, by persona- 
 
182 
 
 tins: a character which deserved them. — The 
 noble and disinterested actions of a good 
 man are performed almost intuitively, with- 
 out any considerations or forebodings of the 
 profits he may derive from them ; and such 
 a man w^ould sooner throw his purse in the 
 dark into the shivering bosom of a beggar, 
 (whose ignorance of his benefactor would 
 in every respect prevent his publishing his 
 name,) than he would, in the glare of day, 
 pompously relieve the mendicant, or enrol 
 his name w^ith a sumptuous donation in the 
 list of voluntary contributions to a public 
 charity. How often is the mercenary dis- 
 guised in the garb of liberality 1 How often 
 £re the dark designs of villany concealed 
 under the mask of universal philanthropy 1 
 
 The brothers understood a large party were 
 to assemble in the evening ; it was therefore 
 necessary they should make some alterations 
 in their dress. Albert conducted them to 
 the chambers which had been prepared for 
 ihem, and where their servants had already 
 conveyed the chief part of their wardrobe. 
 These rooms were in the east part of the cas- 
 tle, and at the further extent of those suit 
 
183 
 
 of apartments usually inhabited by the fa- 
 mily. They followed their young guide 
 through several arched passages of Gothic 
 structure which were elegantly ornamented. 
 At the further end of the gallery in which 
 the chambers for the twins and their tutor 
 were situated, a pair of folding doors ap- 
 peared to terminate the centre part of the 
 castle : they were of large dimensions, and 
 seemed extremely heavy ; while three iron 
 bars of great weight served, in addition 
 to two locks, to keep them from being 
 opened. The visitors viewed them with 
 some attention, which Albert observed. 
 " That is the dismal entrance," said he, " to 
 the east wing of our castle, which not a 
 soul is ever suffered to peep into ; I have 
 been told it contains nearly as many rooms 
 as the centre, and am certain it returns; 
 much further northwards, although not at 
 right angles ; for the boundary walls join 
 tliose of the monastery of St, Mark." Or- 
 lando invv'ardly started at the mention of 
 that building. '' My father is uncommonly 
 tenacious of these rooms ever being enter- 
 ed : we are all at a loss to account for his 
 meaning in this particular j and I confess I 
 
184 
 
 have more than once been tempted to dis- 
 obey his orders. Only conceive, now, the 
 faint and mellow beams of light which pro- 
 ceed from a full moon, conveyed into some 
 of those ruinous apartments through the 
 lofty and heavy casements. Gods ! how I 
 have longed to observe the effect. And 
 then some lovely damsel, close veiled, all in 
 Avhite, with palpitating bosom and sparkling 
 eyes, listening to her lover's vows, who 
 swearsby all that's ." During this excla- 
 mation he had grasped the delicate arm of 
 Zadok (the slimness of which might indeed 
 well be taken for that of a female) with an 
 ecstasy which made the tutor elevate his 
 voice with the pain he experienced. The 
 young Quixote was rather chagrined , and 
 having begged pardon for his abruptness, 
 in a Vv^hisper requested to know of Osmund 
 if he suffered that httle crooked gentleman, 
 his tutor, to follow them about like a spaniel ^ 
 " By heavens,'* said he, " he puts me ia 
 mind of the little dwarfs which pop up from 
 the walls of an enchanter's palace imme- 
 diatcly you sound the horn at the gate j 
 and I am sure if I was to see him on the 
 turrets 9f our castle, I should address him. 
 
185 
 
 under that character." Osmund laughed. 
 •' Nay, but now, my dear friend," continued 
 Albert, ** upon my soul that soHd looking 
 brother of yours and little Zadok exactly 
 personate the figures of some sage magician 
 and his familiar spirit. — Pray, is the little 
 gentleman married ? I declare it would be 
 something new to see him paired with a 
 lady of his own dimensions and shape. Egad 
 I have an excellent thought — You must know 
 I am going to write a romance, quite after 
 the old style, nothing but magic, witchcraft, 
 and hobgoblins : I'll introduce little Zadok 
 as a master of the black art, and make him 
 marry a twin sister equally skilled in magic, 
 while nobody shall be able to distinguish 
 one face from the other but by the appear- 
 ance of a beard." — " I admire the novelty 
 of your idea," answered Osmund, still laugh- 
 ing; " but if you are determined to represent 
 the traits of his disposition as well as the 
 accurate description of his person, you must 
 draw him as one possessed of a noble soul ; 
 whose deformed body may be compared to 
 a rough and ill-shaped casket which con- 
 tains jewels the most precious and valu' 
 
186 
 
 able."—** By all that*s wonderful," replied 
 Albert, ** I should not have supposed you 
 could have made so fine a speech : those 
 very words will do for my romance -, Til 
 take them down in a moment ; or perhaps 
 you will be able to keep them in mind till 
 night, when we shall have more leisure." 
 They now again joined Zadok and Orlando; 
 the latter was relating the history of a group 
 of figures that were represented on the ta- 
 pestry which formed the hangings of his 
 chaml er. *' Why your brother seems to 
 have found the use of his speech 1" exclaimed 
 Albert in a half whisper as they entered : 
 " by St. James he preaches like a parson ; 
 father Theod- sius, ou coi fessor, will be en- 
 vious of his eloquence." The name of Theo- 
 dosius struck forcibly on the ear of Orlando, 
 and did not escape the notice of Zadok ; 
 while Osmund, well recollecting his very 
 strange behaviour at the inn, inquired, with 
 some surprise, if it wasfatherTheodosius, late 
 of the monastery of St. Mark. " The very 
 same," answered Albert ; '* a most unac- 
 countable mortal, but very intimate with 
 my father i nobody knows wliat to make of 
 
187 
 
 him but myself, and I generally laugh at 
 him." Orlando, who listened to every word 
 of the conversation relative to tlie priest 
 with some agitation, felt himself irresistibly 
 urged to inquire further concerning him , 
 but beginning his questions with a very 
 solemn preface, Albert conceived, by the 
 grave turn of his countenance, that he was 
 going to rebuke him for speaking so lightly 
 of the father, and determined to escape 
 the expected lecture : therefore, affirming he 
 meant no affront to the sacred cloth of the 
 confessor, he declared he must immediately 
 leave them to dress for the evening. Or- 
 lando's mind was fully taken up with re- 
 flexions on his late discovery of Theodosius's 
 actions, until a servant summoned them to 
 the saloon, where he found other subjects 
 for observation, and plentiful employment 
 in regulating and adjusting his own actions. 
 Although it w^as then an early hour, the 
 assembly was brilliant ana niin\erous. The 
 twins were introduced by the marquis as the 
 nephews and adopted children of friends, 
 who, although resident in a distant pro- 
 vince, he should ever most sincerely esteem 
 
188 
 
 and regard. Nor was signior Zadok forgot 
 in his acts of courtesy. The letters of in- 
 troduction from the uncles mentioned him in 
 the highest terms, and requested he miglit 
 in every respect be considered as the friend, 
 and by no means the dependent on his pu- 
 pils. Such a request was at once a passport 
 to the m^arquis's friendship and civility -, but 
 the tutor, even in the few hours he had 
 been in the castle, had already so far exert- 
 ed his general system of pleasing, that he 
 was considered by all who had as yet spoke 
 to him as a very agreeable though crooked 
 little gentleman. The marquis, to every 
 party that was announced after Orlando 
 and Osmund had entered the saloon, took 
 a* hand of each and introduced them toge- 
 ther. Although the similarity of their per- 
 sons was remarkably striking, the dissimi- 
 larity of their manners was equally so. The 
 easy, frank, and polite address of Osmund, 
 added to the>ingenuous and open smile which 
 accompanied his words, rendered his bro- 
 ther's aukward timidity and downcast eyes 
 still more conspicuous 5 the generality of 
 the company gazed on him with an asto- 
 
189 
 
 nishment almost bordering upon ill man- 
 ners; till at length he sunk into a seat at 
 a remote and retired part of the room, where 
 he escaped their observations, and was tor- 
 tured by his own feeling. 
 
 Osmund wandered among the fashionable 
 crowd with Albert, from whom he gleaned 
 the outlines of several characters which 
 struck his eye. " That elderly and respect- 
 able looking gentleman you see yonder,*' 
 said he, " is Don Everard de Gosmond y 
 and that charming lovely female who sits 
 next to him is his only child.'* — '' The very 
 person I wished to see,'* exclaimed Osmund : 
 " I have a letter of introduction to him from 
 my uncle Don John." — " And you shall de- 
 liver it in due time," answered Albert; " but 
 first let me give you some few traits of his 
 character, that you may not innocently af- 
 front the old Don in the common topics of 
 conversation. You must know he was for- 
 merly a grazier, or dealer in beasts, which 
 he considers as the greatest misfortune of 
 his life, although the riches and splendor 
 he now enjoys may be traced from that 
 source. He accumulated, in the younger 
 
190 
 
 part of life, a very large fortune by such 
 kind of traffic ; which, added to a very hand- 
 some bequest from a distant relation, a1: 
 once placed him in point of riches on an 
 equality v^ith any man in Madrid. Imme- 
 diately his avarice was glutted by his suc- 
 cessful dealings and unexpected legacy, 
 Don Everard formed another goal for at- 
 tainment which he has been by no means 
 so fortunate as to gain. This was, to smother 
 the recollection of his late calling and situ- 
 ation by the elegance and splendor of his 
 present mode of living. The poor gentle- 
 man, however, soon found that his very 
 efforts to extinguish the publicity of his 
 origin only tended to increase it, and that 
 various malicious reports instantly arose 
 when it v/as discovered he felt ashamed to 
 own that the principal source of his riches 
 w^as industry ; which indeed was the only 
 point relative to them that did him honour. 
 So tenacious is he of reflexions on his late 
 profession, that he feels himself much dis- 
 pleased if the least allusion is made in his 
 presence any way relative to it : and stran- 
 gers have very often innocently offended 
 
191 
 
 him by making cattle the subject of their 
 conversation ; or praising, with two great 
 discrimination, the flavour of a joint of meat. 
 His general mode of acquainting strangers 
 with the sumptuous and elegant style of his 
 living is under pretended complaints of its 
 extravagance ; and while he gives a florid 
 description of the luxuries which surround 
 him, he condemns them as superfluous, to 
 raise the idea of their value. The charmino: 
 Cassandra has had every accomplishment 
 bestowed upon her that wealth or parental 
 care could procure. Her constitution is de- 
 licate, and her spirits generally seem de- 
 pressed ; yet her mind is highly cultivated, 
 and her bosom possessed of those inestima- 
 ble feminine feelings which gain her the 
 general admiration of all who know her." — 
 *' You paint her," answered Osmund, " in 
 such glovving colours, that by heavens I am 
 impatient to be introduced to the original.'- — 
 *' On the word of a true knight," contisued 
 Albert, as he led his companion to that part 
 of the saloon where Don Everard and his 
 daughter were seated, " I have not powers 
 of description equal to her merit ; and 
 
192 
 
 although she has neither laughing eyes nor 
 a playful countenance, yet her languishing 
 smile and timid blush is sure to enchant 
 every beholder/' — " By the days of chivalry, 
 sir knight," returned Osmund, " but this 
 fair damsel certainly holds you in her chains." 
 By this time they stood before the objects of 
 their conversation. After an introduction 
 by the marquis, who was near them, Os- 
 mund claimed pardon for a breach of eti- 
 quette, and delivered his letter. Orlando, 
 who had at that moment joined Zadok, was 
 passing near the spot, when the marquis 
 likewise introduced him to Don Everard. 
 The old gentleman paid them many com- 
 pliments, and expressed his happiness at 
 seeing the relatives of his old friends. '^ Cas- 
 sandra will I am sure," said he, turning to his 
 daughter, "join me in her congratulations 
 on the event , and at once let me convince 
 you I shall in no respect receive you in my 
 mansion under the form of complimentary 
 visitors, by giving you a mere verbal invita- 
 tion for to-morrow evening. The twins 
 and Zadok bowed assent, and returned him 
 thanks for his friendly politeness. His 
 
i9i 
 
 daughter likewise welcomed them to Ma- 
 drid. The softness of her manners was in- 
 deed, as Albert had described them, ex- 
 tremely fascinating; and although they might 
 almost have been construed into bashful ti- 
 midity, yet they seemed to heighten the na- 
 tural charms she possessed. Her form was 
 graceful and elegant ; her features regular, 
 delicate, and expressive; while the extreme 
 fairness of her complexion added a lustre to 
 her fine dark eyes. 
 
 A very strange figure now saluted the 
 marquis with great ceremony, although 
 he seemed to be perfectly well known to all 
 the company. He was a short thin man, ap- 
 parently about sixty : his back was curved, 
 and his head bent forward as if constantly 
 in the act of bowing : his face was long, 
 and his complexion remarkably swarthy; his 
 nose was the most prominent feature he 
 possessed ; yet his chin, which almost di- 
 minished to a point, seemed to stand as a 
 rival for preeminence, ap.d so far difl^ered 
 from its usual station, that at the extremity 
 it turned upwards as if drawn by attraction 
 4o his nostrils : his mouth, however, which 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
ivas uncommonly large, when open lodged 
 like a vacuum, which at once excluded the 
 idea of their ever meeting each other : 
 his small grey eyes were heavy, languid, 
 and dead , and the simpering smile which 
 was continually pictured on his countenance 
 seerried more like an habitual grin than the 
 effect of either happy sensations or pleasant 
 ideas. His dress was remarkably shabby; it 
 consisted of black velvet much worn; while 
 his cloak was trimmed with a narrow tar- 
 nished lace, and in some places was patched 
 with pieces of different shades to the original : 
 his manner of address was particularly for- 
 mal, and his voice shrill and effeminate ; 
 every sentence was accompanied with a mo- 
 tion of respect, while his head and hand 
 were in a continued state of complimentary 
 movements to every person whom his eye 
 happened to meet. " I see you are struck,** 
 said Albert to Osmund, whom he drew aside 
 for the remark, '^ by yonder figure ; bis name 
 is Don Esau de Cavet ; you must know, he 
 is one of the greatest misers in existence, 
 and at t'e same time a notorious gambler. 
 You are astonished ; but such is the fact: 
 
19 
 
 \\e resides all day In the attic of an old 
 house in the skirts of the city; his daily food 
 is in quality and cleanliness barely fit for 
 one of the human species , and he even 
 stints himself to a quantity which is but just 
 sufficient to support nature. His evenings are 
 dedicated to a gaming-table, v^'here he often 
 loses a thousand pistoles in the course of an 
 hour. " Is it possible," exclaimed Osmund, 
 " that two such opposite extremes of infatu- 
 ation can be blended in the same mortal ?" 
 *' True, on the word of a knight," answer- 
 ed Albert ; " and, what is still more sur- 
 prising, he is always one of the principal 
 guests at every tertuUa or assembly that is 
 given at Madrid." " And from what cause 
 -arises this absurdity?" inquired Osmund, 
 *' Because he is fashionable,^' replied the 
 other. Osmund smiled. " Nay, it is even so. 
 Don Esau, with all his oddities and all his 
 vices, is positively one of the lirst men in the 
 haul ton of this city : why, it is this very com- 
 bination of oddities that makeshim a welcome 
 visitor at the castles of the nobility." " But 
 how was he first introduced among them ?" 
 **' Upon my soul I can hardly tell : ever 
 K 2 
 
196 
 
 since I can remember he has been an article 
 as regularly looked for at every fashionable 
 •party as the dice-box or card-tables ; and 
 the brilliancy of a grandee's entertainment 
 would suffer a considerable eclipse if Don 
 Esau de Cavet did not grace it with his pre- 
 sence/* " For heaven's sake," cried Os- 
 mund, " who is that tall gentleman just en- 
 tering at the further part of the saloon r" 
 " Another original, by St. James 1" answered 
 Albert ; " but you must approach nearer to 
 be further acquainted with him." This was 
 a remarkably tall upright man ; although 
 thin, he was of extreme muscular make ; 
 and paced the apartment in the midst of the 
 company with gigantic strides, without tak- 
 ing the least notice of any one except by a 
 slight inclination of his head. He had an un- 
 commonly long sword, which swang by his 
 side to the disaccommodation of every person 
 who came near him. His features were large 
 and masculine ; his eyes dark, quick, and 
 penetrating; while in the whole of his coun- 
 tenance there was an uncommon confidence 
 and assurance. A large hat cocked, with a 
 high feather that hung over the front of his 
 
197 
 
 face, added to its natural brazen appearance, 
 and at once rendered him a figure truly strik- 
 ing. " That is Don Caesar de Grolvo," said 
 Albert : " his general tenor of conduct is to 
 affront all he meets, and to make an apology 
 immediately after. By these means, though 
 one of the rudest men in existence, he is 
 never concerned in duels, nor runs any ha- 
 zard from assassination ; he seldom waits to 
 have satisfaction demanded for an insult, 
 but gives it before you have time to make 
 the request. He is a gentleman of birth 
 and education, and keeps the best company 
 in Spain." 
 
 Osmund thanked his young friend for the 
 information he had derived from him in his 
 delineation of the characters he had noticed. 
 " Oh ! it is my forte," he answered ; " I shall 
 introduce them all in their turns in my ro- 
 mance, not merely under the shapes they at 
 present possess ; I am for the sublime and 
 wonderful, consequently shall turn them 
 into magicians, hobgoblins, and four-legged 
 beasts ; while I shall transform the women to 
 fairies, spirits, and female harpies." Os- 
 mund laughed heartily at the wildness of the 
 K 3 
 
IDS 
 
 idea. The company departed at a late Jioiir i. 
 after which the twins and the tutor took 
 leave of the marquis and his family, and 
 were conducted to their separate apait^ 
 ments. 
 
199 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Take Nature's path, and mad opinions leave ; 
 All states can reach it, and all heads conceive: 
 Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell ; 
 There needs but thinking right, and meaning well; 
 And mourn our various portions as we please. 
 Equal is common sense and common ease. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 V^RLANDo's tormenting reflexions on the 
 failure of that general admiration he had from 
 his infancy been taught to expect were in 
 some degree interrupted by others, which 
 arose from the knowledge he had lately ac- 
 quired of father Theodosius being an inmate 
 of the castle. Waving the idea of the power 
 this man might be supposed to possess by 
 magical preparations, there was a mystery in 
 his conduct fully sufficient to excite the cu- 
 riosity of an observer so totally unacquainted 
 with mankind as Orlando. His conjecture 
 with respect to the crime of which he be- 
 lieved him to be guilty had certainly no very 
 good foundation, yet, after what he had wit- 
 
 K 4. 
 
200 
 
 nessed. It could not be accounted an unna- 
 tural suspicion. The effects of his edu- 
 cation were most forcibly expressed in 
 his concealment of the discovery he made 
 upon the actions of the priest at the soli- 
 tary inn, and he still cherished the same 
 views which occasioned it. Wild and chi- 
 merical as such views might be, in Or- 
 lando's mind they existed in the most 
 strong and glowing colours. He anticipated 
 the probable chances they held forth to pub- 
 lish his sagacity and superior understanding 
 by detecting the guilt of Theodosius with 
 additional ardour, after the information he 
 received from the conversation of Albert. 
 He determined to act as a spy upon his 
 motions; to use every effort to develope his 
 character; in short, to watch him in all his 
 movements with that attention which would 
 in the end most likely unveil every decep^ 
 tion. 
 
 During breakfast it was agreed that Al- 
 bert should conduct his friends to the prin- 
 cipal parts of the city, and explain to them 
 every thing worthy of notice. Osmund, 
 before they arose for this purpose, mention- 
 
201 
 
 ed the accidental meeting with father Theo- 
 dosiiis (who he understood was the mar- 
 quis's confessor), and the very strange man- 
 ner of his behaviour. He was surprised to 
 find the subject was by no means a pleasant 
 topic of conversation to the marquis or his 
 family : a very slight answer was given to 
 his observation, while the embarrassment 
 and agitation of the former were uncommonly 
 striking. Osmund felt uneasy at the idea of 
 having innocently caused them disagreeable 
 sensations, while Orlando watched the ef- 
 fects they produced with a scrutinising eye, 
 Albert conducted the brothers to the various 
 parts of Madrid which were considered as 
 deserving of attention : but, afcer having seea 
 the ancient and handsome city of Seville, 
 they found but few incitements for their as- 
 tonishment or admiration ; while Zadok, 
 who had before resided for some time in the 
 capital, was perfectly acquainted with those 
 places that were usually held up to strangers 
 as novelties of general remark. They visited 
 the Plaza Mayor and the Casa-del-Campo ; 
 they admired the elegance and extent of 
 the former ; and were pleased with the fine 
 gardens and pleasant walks of the latter ^ 
 K 5 
 
202 
 
 but they could not discover in any of the pub- 
 lic buildings a superior degree of architec- 
 tural elegance to the cathedral, or the royal 
 palace Alcaza in Seville. They likewise 
 viewed the Buen Retiro, and walked upon 
 the Prado : having taken the whole of the 
 morning in the excursion, they returned at a 
 late hour to dinner. 
 
 On entering the eating-room, they were 
 suddenly struck with the sight of father 
 Theodosius, w^hose presence occasioned 
 them various emotions. The marquis intro- 
 duced them to the confessor, under a confu- 
 sion, which, although he evidently exerted 
 every effort to suppress, was yet too visible to 
 escape observation. The priest received 
 them with his usual reserve, while Orlando^s 
 perturbation was as evident as that of his- 
 host. Osmund and Zadok, who had less^ 
 reason to be any way appalled in his pre* 
 sence, by no means felt themselves comfort- 
 able j a forbidding austerity in his manners 
 was blended with a solemnity of deportment 
 peculiar to himself; while the ghastly pale- 
 ness of his complexion, the expressive fe- 
 rocity in his features, and the penetrating 
 quickness of his eyes, added to the distaste 
 
203 
 
 lie inspired. He conversed but little with 
 any part of the family ; the marquis seldom 
 addressed him, and when he did, it was 
 with great coolness and ceremony : at times 
 he looked towards the ground, as if his 
 whole soul was wrapt in secret thought ; 
 and then suddenly turning to some one near 
 him, he would gaze upon them with an 
 earnestness as remarkable as it was distress- 
 ino[. There was a somethins: in the lout en- 
 semble of his manners and person different 
 from the generality of mankind; he appear- 
 ed as a being in some degree separated from 
 the class of nature to which he belonged, 
 while an inward enmity to tne rest 
 of his fellow creatures seemed the most 
 prominent feature of his character. He 
 left the room soon after he had finished 
 his meal, apparently to the relief of 
 the whole company. The party sepa- 
 rated to dress for the evening ; and Os- 
 mund had no sooner seated himself in his 
 chamber for that purpose, than Cecil his 
 servant silently placed on his dressing-table 
 a small silver casket of very curious work- 
 manship, and began the duties of his office 
 with more than usual alacrity. His master 
 
204 
 
 inquired with some surprise how he became 
 possessed of so valuable an article, and why 
 he placed it in that situation. Cecil was a 
 rustic youth of about eighteen ; he was the 
 son of a cottager who resfded on a small 
 estate in a remote part of Andalusia, which 
 Don John purchased soon after his marriage. 
 He had been taken into the service of the 
 former but three months before Osmund 
 commenced his journey, who chose him for 
 his attendant in preference to a more polish- 
 ed one v/hich was offered by his uncle. An 
 uncommon simplicity of manners was the 
 principal characteristic in this lad : his whole 
 life had been dedicated to country labour, and 
 his mind confined within the narrow limits 
 of cultivation, which formed a boundary to 
 the knowledge of his parents. All that they 
 knew had been anxiously conveyed to their 
 son : although the stock might be termed 
 small, yet it was virtuous ; while they pos- 
 sessed enough to form a basis for their own 
 happiness, and make them valuable members 
 of society. Cecil was rather uncouth in his 
 appearance and dress ; and it may appear 
 strange, that a young man of so gay and fa- 
 shionable a character as Osmund should se- 
 
205 
 
 lect him for his domestic. On this account 
 it is necessary to mention that he was bound 
 to him by an obligation of some consequence ; 
 for, only a few weeks after his arrival at Se- 
 ville, he defended him from the brutality of 
 some ruffians who set. upon him with a de- 
 sign for plunder, in a remote street of the 
 city, and risked his own life to save that af 
 his young masters. 
 
 Osmund was compelled to repeat his 
 question with respect to the casket, before 
 he received any answer from Cecil, who, 
 after some deliberation, and the usual cere- 
 mony of rubbing his head, thus replied : — 
 " Why, your honour, you see that casket 
 there has been a mortal enemy to me for 
 some days past : your honour must know, I . 
 got it by no very lawful means, as I may say, 
 and the devil take me if I could keep it 
 for the soul of me !'* His master looked 
 astonished. " Ah ! I knew you would be 
 amazed," continued Cecil, *' but I under- 
 stand as how I can get absolution for it from 
 any of the fathers about here." **CoLld you 
 then," exclaimed Osmund, **commita theft 
 under the idea of annihilating the crime by 
 
2oe 
 
 absolution ?'' " Theft, your honour!"" re- 
 echoed the servant with a ghastly look of 
 wonder, *'can you suppose me to be a thief ?' 
 Holy Virgin ! that ever I should have lived to 
 be suspected of stealing ! I found the casket, 
 your honour — it is true, as I am a Christian — 
 I found it lying in the passage of that fright- 
 ful-looking inn where we stopped the second 
 night of our journey. Its brightness caught 
 my eye in a dark corner on the morning of 
 our departure : I took it up, and put it into- 
 my pocket : but I verily believe it has be- 
 witched me ; for I have never had a mo- 
 ment's peace since, nor have slept a single 
 night without dreaming I was going to be 
 hanged." The inward consciousness of a; 
 first fault could not perhaps be more fully 
 illustrated than in this instance of GeciFs 
 secret possession of the casket. The feelings, 
 he described were the natural effects of a. 
 slight deviation from virtue : he would have- 
 wished to have persuaded himself he lawful- 
 ly held the treasure, because it was not. 
 publicly claimed ; and he attempted to pal-- 
 liate the error of clandestinely taking it from 
 the spot where he first beheld it, with th& 
 
207 
 
 fallacrous plea that no one was near to op- 
 pose his actions. He well knew that the 
 least inquiry in the inn would have led to 
 a discovery of the owner ; but he wished 
 not for the information, and consequently 
 avoided the means to obtain it. Cecil, 
 although a rustic, had been taught to shud- 
 der at the name of theft : his bosom fluttered 
 with a sudden joy when he first grasped the 
 casket, yet the sensation was neither ge- 
 nuine nor pure^ for, while he breathed short 
 with ecstasy, he trembled with a guilty ter- 
 ror. No one* saw^ him remove it, but the 
 palpitation of his heart was a monitor which, 
 called to him aloud. It was in vain that he- 
 attempted to derive happiness from the pos* 
 session ; it was a thorn that tortured him- 
 with misery. Reflexion in his humble mind, 
 worked with an equal force, although under 
 images of less refinement to those which 
 are produced by intellects carefully matured 
 to a high state of cultivation. It was the first 
 time hehad suffered undera self-accusation of 
 guilt, and his incapacity to sustain it saved 
 him perhaps from destruction. Could he in 
 any way have reconciled the deed to his 
 
208 
 
 conscience so far as to have overcome his 
 scruples in retaining the prize, it is pro- 
 bable he would not have hesitated in taking 
 a second, under circumstances wherein he 
 might have been far more culpable; though 
 in his own eyes the magnitude of the error 
 must have been lost, by the regular pro- 
 gression in which it would have followed 
 the former. 
 
 Osmund felt these truths with a quick- 
 ness peculiar to himself^ but he was no mo- 
 ralist in speech. Young, gay, and in full 
 pursuit of pleasure, he had little time to. 
 explain his ideas on so serious a subject ;. 
 but the natural openness of his dispositioa 
 at once called from him a severe thouirh 
 short rebuke. Poor Cecil felt it with all its 
 force ; his heart was full, and he shed tears 
 of contrition. Osmund inquired if he had 
 opened the casket. Cecil declared he had 
 been afraid to attempt it. The former, how- 
 ever, discovered there was a small secret 
 spring at one end, which would at once 
 have frustrated his wishes in that respect. 
 He had seen seme of the same kind of work- 
 manship before, and consequently the top 
 
*209 
 
 soon yielded to bis pressure on one part, 
 and flew open. It contained three pieces 
 of written paper, a small miniature, and a 
 pair of valuable gold bracelets. The mini- 
 ature was exquisitely painted ; it was a por- 
 trait of a young woman apparently about 
 eighteen. The beauty and delicacy of the 
 face exceeded all he had ever seen. It was 
 encircled by a frame of diamonds particu- 
 larly large, and of great value ; and on the 
 back ^vere worked in a plain cypher, with 
 small pearls, the two letters L. O. Os- 
 mun 1 gazed on it with admiration. The 
 expressive features and languid smile were 
 so finely pourtrayed, that it almost seemed 
 animated with life ; while a melancholy de- 
 jection, that pervaded the countenance, at 
 once interested the beholder with more than 
 common force. *' What a lovely creature 
 it represents !'* he exclaimed. *' Gracious 
 heavens ! if such effects can be produced 
 by a mere artful combination of colours, 
 what must be the power of those occa- 
 sioned by a sight of the original!" The 
 bracelets were engraved with the same ini- 
 tials, and were richly ornamented by de- 
 vices worked in extremely small pearls. 
 
210 
 
 Osmund placed them on one side, to ex- 
 amine more particularly the manuscripts. 
 Two of them contained the following pieces 
 Qf poetry: 
 
 LINES TO THE PRIMROSE*. 
 
 Poor simple flower of the vale ! 
 
 Oft have I mark'd thy languid form. 
 When trembling in a wintVy gale. 
 
 Or wilher'd by a passing. storm. 
 
 I watch thee on thy humble bed. 
 
 And, wrapt in pensive thought, revere- 
 
 The dew-drop from thy bosom shed. 
 Pale hmpid emblem of a tear : 
 
 A tear which many ills impart. 
 
 The glistening gem of wan-eyed grief, 
 
 A tell-tale to the wounded heart. 
 The woe-press'd bosom's poor relief. 
 
 I trace thee on the upland lawn. 
 View thy trim leaf so neat, so gay,. 
 
 Expand with life at morning dawn. 
 
 And droop in death at close of day.— ^ 
 
 Alas, poor rose ! thy orphan state. 
 
 Exposed to ev'ry passing foe. 
 Shows various scenes of human fate. 
 
 Tells many tales oniuman zvoe, 
 
 * Published in the European Magazine for Novembef: 
 1-800. 
 
211' 
 
 Oft Iiave f mourn'd thy faded bloom. 
 
 Which blossom'd in a sun-shine hour ; 
 While Fancy whisper'd o'er thy doom 
 
 The poor man's fate, and rich man's power. 
 Many, alas ! so blith, so gay. 
 
 Despise thy simple rustic tale ; 
 While I enjoy the plaintive lay. 
 
 And nurse thee in thy native vale. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN FOR AN INSCRIPTION IN 
 
 A RETIRED WALK *. 
 
 Tread with awe the path around ; 
 Tread with awe its hallowed ground : 
 For here, in this sequester'd dell. 
 Wist ye who the guests that dwell ? 
 
 Simplicity, whose brows adorn 
 The daisies drest by dewy morn ; 
 And Pity, with a turtle prest, 
 A dying turtle, to her breast. 
 And here, beside the babbling stream. 
 Young Fancy winds her tangled dream ; 
 Or on the steep, with bursting eye,. 
 Gazes on a waste of sky. 
 
 Nor yet forbid they gentle Love 
 To lose him in the trackless grove ; 
 For oft, I ween, in Virtue's train. 
 Thee, gentle Love, they hear complain. 
 
 * By Mr. Mackenzie, author of The Man of Feeling* 
 See Preface, 
 
LM2 
 
 And sure with every sister grace 
 
 The white-rob'd seraph haunts the place ; 
 
 If led by her his steps appear. 
 
 The stranger's steps are welcome here. 
 
 On the third was written a strange and 
 mysterious paragraph, which appeared to 
 
 be the conclusion of a letter torn from the 
 
 » 
 
 remainder; the words of which were as 
 follow : 
 
 ** If I teach you to tremble at my name, I 
 would only wish you to experience the sen- 
 sation in those moments when you disobey 
 me. It is true, my character is calculated 
 to inspire dread, yet I have feelings in com- 
 mon with mankind. I well know that the 
 powers I possess so superior to my fellow- 
 creatures at once sever the ties of connexion 
 which subsist between man and m.an. I am 
 perfectly conscious that I stand alone in 
 the w^orld, an object of terror and disgust; 
 yet towards you I feel those workings of na- 
 ture which painfully remind me I still share 
 the gross particles of mortality. You, Leo- 
 nora, are my child. I trace in you the per- 
 fections of your mother : she rests in peace, 
 and I exist in torture. Seek not to discover 
 
213 
 
 more: your curiosity may be fatal. I am en- 
 veloped in a veil of mystery which can never 
 be removed: it is awfully secure. Men 
 look on me with distaste and affright; those 
 who are permitted to view my actions sicken 
 with horror. My general appearance ar- 
 rests their attention; a knowledge of my 
 attributes makes them curse the day they 
 first beheld me. You will shudder at the 
 portrait I have drawn : so I would have you. 
 There is not that being in existence whom I 
 could wish to look upon me without some de- 
 gree of dismay. It will be a natural inquiry 
 in your own mind, why I am thus separated 
 from the world, and why I seem at war 
 with every creature in it. Let it suffice to 
 say, such is the state in which I stand. 
 Subdue every wish to know the cause: 
 view me as a single mortal opposed to num- 
 bers, who has even prayed that his very 
 breath might become a deadly poison to 
 blast his fellow man. 
 
 "Theodosius." 
 
 Osmund involuntarily shuddered at the 
 impious wish which finished this strange 
 
214 
 
 epistle. The name at the bottom in part 
 explained to whom the casket belonged. 
 The female companion of the priest at the so- 
 litary inn, who so suddenly left the room at 
 command, instantly occurred to his mind, 
 and he had no doubt but she was the owner 
 of the treasure. The character of this man 
 beo:an now to arrest his attention with some 
 force : his uncommon appearance and strange 
 behaviour on that night; his peculiar agitation 
 on Zadok^s recital of a murder ; his unaccount- 
 able manner on his introduction to them in 
 the castle ; and the still more mysterious 
 paper w^hich lay before him, at once com- 
 bined to raise his curiosity and create his 
 suspicions. In the letter he evidently at- 
 tempted to impress a belief that he was 
 skilled in magic. Osmund smiled contemp- 
 tuously at the idea; but it is to be remem- 
 bered he had not witnessed any of his pri- 
 vate actions, similar to those discovered by 
 his brother, and consequently had as yet no 
 just grounds for a contrary opinion. There 
 was every reason to suppose the female 
 whom he addressed was his traveling com* 
 panion, and perhaps the original of the 
 
215 
 
 beautiful portrait he gazed upon. To her 
 and her only iA^ou\(\ the casket be deHvered; 
 but he had at present no clue whereby he 
 could procure an interview. He hesitated 
 for some time, whether he .should not imme- 
 diately make Theodosius acquainted with 
 his possession of it; but, on further reflex- 
 ion, he altered his plan; he considered, if 
 the poor girl laboured under the power of 
 his tyranny, she might wish to regain the 
 lost casket unknown to him ; and if his con- 
 jectures on that point w^ere erroneous, she 
 would at all events be at liberty to act ac- 
 cording to her own wishes. The only point 
 now to fix upon, was to communicate the 
 affair to some one who might be able to 
 give him farther information relative to the 
 priest and his daughter. The most proper 
 person for this inquiry was the marquis; 
 but Osmund had no inclination again to 
 mention a subject which seemed to occasion 
 him such poignant distress. Albert ap- 
 peared too volatile and thoughtless to be 
 entrusted with any subject that required se- 
 rious consideration; yet he was the only per- 
 
216 
 
 son, excepting his father, who was likely to 
 answer his questions. He therefore re* 
 solved at a proper opportunity privately to 
 show him the casket and its contents, and 
 consult with him on the most proper me- 
 thods to be taken in restoring it to its owner. 
 He likewise determined as soon as possible 
 to make Zadok and his brother acquainted 
 with them, and receive their joint opinions 
 on so strange an occurrence. His resolu- 
 tions on this business being adjusted, to the 
 great relief of Cecil he promised to under- 
 take the charge of conveying the casket to 
 the person to whom it belonged 3 and the poor 
 fellow once more breathed free and happy. 
 Osmond shortly received notice of the 
 whole party being ready to depart for Don 
 Everard de Gosmond's. He therefore has- 
 tily threw it into one of the drawersof his 
 dressing-table, and joined them time enough 
 to gain a place in the second carriage next 
 to the lively Isabella D'Olvernardo. Orlando 
 had stood debating some time with his incli- 
 nations to take it : his natural hesitation 
 kept him in suspense till the appearance 
 
217 
 
 ■of hrs brother, who jumped into the situa- 
 ation with the utmost sangfroid. 
 
 On their arrival at Don Everard's, al- 
 though it was an early hour, the rooms 
 of public reception were much crowded. 
 They were conducted to an elegant anti* 
 chamber, in which the old gentleman and 
 his daughter were seated, surrounded by a 
 circle of fashionable friends, whose intimacy 
 gave them a prior claim of attention to the 
 generality of the company, many of whom 
 were merely known to their host by name. 
 The marquis and his party immediately 
 joined them, and were placed close to Don 
 Everard and Cassandra during the time they 
 took their refreshments^ The former by his 
 conversation perfectly answered the cha- 
 racter given of him by Albert. He blended 
 a description of the costly luxuries which 
 surrounded them with a reprobation on 
 the extravagance of their purchase. "Now 
 you observe those looking-glasses," he ex- 
 claimed, " which cover yonder pannels, and 
 run the whole height of the room: to be 
 sure, they are very superb, very superb in- 
 deed; the largest sizes we have in Spain; 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 
 
 greatly admired, quite a curiosity, as I may 
 say. But then think of the expense, signiors, 
 each of them cost me a little fortune: 
 my poor dear wife, rest her soul ! took a 
 liking to them, and I could not refuse her 
 request to buy them." 
 
 Ihe consequence of this speech was a 
 general cry of approbation at -the beauty of 
 the mirrors, in which Don Everard joined, 
 chorusins: his commendations with com- 
 plaints of the sums which they cost. 
 
 " Your style of iiving," lisped a courtier 
 of the first rank, '^^ is indeed truly refined 
 and elegant : no man in Spain equals you 'm 
 that respect." 
 
 *^ Nor no.m.an in Spain pays more dearly 
 for it, my lord,'* answered Don Everard. 
 *MVhat your lordship observes is very just. 
 I -believe I am surrounded by all the luxu- 
 ries that can be wished foi*. Eut it is very 
 well my income is no common one, or, by 
 St. Anthony,! should be soon ruined! Why, 
 it has been often remarked, that in one of 
 my entertainments I expend more money 
 than would support a common family for 
 twelve months. Do not suppose I make 
 
1>10 
 
 31 merit of this. No, no : I set my face against 
 such extravagance ; there is but one excuse 
 for my submitting to it, and that is, I cer- 
 tainly can afford it." 
 
 Don Everard continued such kind of 
 observations for some time, equally tire- 
 some for their insipidity and bombast, while 
 the young ones of the company amused 
 themselves with their own conversations 
 and remarks. 
 
 In the course of an hour they returned to 
 the body of the company, who seemed under 
 some degree of confusion. Don Esau de 
 Cavet's shrill voice was predominant among 
 the group j he was collecting a party for the 
 game of Manilla. Don Esau was in his 
 very sphere : he moved along extremely 
 nimble ; the smile on his countenance was 
 uncommonly strong, and the motion of his 
 head remarkably quick. 
 
 *' Will any noble signior,'* he exclaimed, 
 *' join our table ? I have the honour to pre- 
 side j do every thing in my power to make 
 it comfortable." 
 
 *' To yourself,'' cried Don Caesar de 
 Grolvo, who passed him at that moment^ 
 L 2 
 
220 
 
 ** by filling yoiir own pockets, and emptying 
 those of the fools who engage with you." 
 
 " Now I declare," answered Don Esau 
 with some degree of resentment, " this is 
 "too severe." 
 
 " I hope no offence," continued Dori 
 Ceesar. " I. always speak my mind: that 
 is my way." After this apology he rudely 
 pushed among the company who stood near: 
 the long sword which dangled by his side 
 became entangled between the legs of 
 signior Zadok, while the quick and petulant 
 manner in which he attempted to disengage 
 it nearly upset the weakly form of the tutor. 
 Don CiEsar as usual apologised, and signior 
 Zadok answered with a compliment to Jong 
 swords, declaring they w-ere the most hand- 
 some ornament that could be worn. 
 
 The broad and public rebuke of Don 
 Caesar in no respect damped the eagerness 
 af Don Esau to make up his table. A few 
 were wanted to complete the party. The 
 brothers and Albert were unable to refuse 
 his ardent solicitations to play, and were 
 consequently soon surrounded, and initiated 
 among the infatuated votaries of fortune. 
 
221 
 
 Orlando had practised this game a few 
 times in Seville. He was acquainted with 
 the common rules which composed it^ but 
 by no means aware of the finesse and arti- 
 fice that were levied by the professional 
 members of the system. On the contrary, 
 Osmund and Albert had gained from expe- 
 rience (perhaps rather dearly purchased) 
 the mechanical process of perfect play, and 
 the danger of hazarding against its odds. 
 They soon perceived the chances that op- 
 posed them, and immediately quitted the 
 table, 
 
 Don Esau hoped they had taken no ex- 
 ceptions, was sorry to lose the pleasure of 
 their good company, and begged that young 
 cavalier (pointing to Orlando) would not 
 follow their example. 
 
 Osmund requested to speak with his bro- 
 ther for a few moments. The company ap- 
 peared dissatisfied. It was whispered, such 
 proceedings were unfair, and it would be 
 lowering the dignity of the table, as well 
 as a slur on the honour of the party who 
 composed it, to permit him to resume his 
 place after such an audience. 
 L 3 
 
222 
 
 The brothers walked to another part of 
 the room, and Osmund mentioned his su- 
 spicions to Orlando. ** Depend on it/' said 
 he, " their play is against you. Be not 
 offended at my taking upon me the charac- 
 ter of an adviser in this single instance. I 
 have had more practice in the game than 
 you have, and perceive we are mere dupes 
 to the superior knowledge of the party.'' 
 After this caution he quitted his brother, 
 and joined Albert, who called to him from 
 another part. 
 
 Orlando stood for some moments buried 
 in his own reflexions. The leading trait of 
 his character, as was before observed, was 
 a peculiar pride in the power of his own 
 abilities. Whenever his sagacity was called 
 in question upon any subject, (no matter 
 how few opportunities he had of becoming 
 conversant with it,) his spleen was instantly 
 observable ; a peculiar obstinacy, originating 
 from an unlimited reliance on his judg- 
 ments, would urge him to follow a pursuit 
 he had received a caution to avoid, which 
 perhaps, if left without any bias to his opi- 
 nion, he had totally discarded. That his 
 
brother shouid have penetration enough to 
 discover what he remained ignorant of, was 
 a severe reproof to his consequence : if he 
 attended to it, the degradation would be 
 still greater. From such reasoning he was 
 led to return to the table. 
 
 The company had anxiously watched his 
 motions since he quitted it; and when they 
 saw him moving towards them, it was uni- 
 versally allowed it would in no respect taint 
 their honour to suffer him to lose a hw 
 more pistoles, 
 
 Albert and Osmund strolled into another 
 room kept purposely for a promenade. The 
 first persons whom they saw were Don 
 Everard and signior Zadok Bellzenipp inr 
 close conversation. The latter appeared 
 defending with much earnestness that m,an 
 who had acquired riches by his own indus- 
 try, and who afterwards circulated them 
 liberally for the benefit of others. Thisw^as 
 a dangerous subject for the signior to take 
 up with a man of Don Everard's disposition. 
 But the old Don was not-proof against his 
 powerful talents to make himself agreeable.. 
 He defended the character m so masterly a 
 L 4 
 
manner, and intermixed his flattery with 
 such discrimination, that Don Everard in 
 the fulness of his approbation confessed he 
 himself represented such a man, and re- 
 ceived accordingly a handsome compliment 
 on the occasion. He declared to the mar- 
 quis he had never met w^ith so pleasant a 
 little man. The marquis readily acquiesced 
 to the observation, and added that his abili- 
 ties appeared equal to his pleasantry y while 
 the marchioness vowed that, although little^ 
 and rather deformed, he was exceedingly 
 entertaining. 
 
 An old man who appeared near upon 
 seventy now approached them. By the 
 respect he was paid he seemed to be a per- 
 son of high rank : he made use of an eye- 
 glass which hung to his waistcoatimmediately 
 he entered the rooms, and stared at every 
 young woman he met with an effrontery 
 uncommon at his age. Albert instantly 
 motioned Osmund to observe him, while 
 he whispered in his ear the following words : 
 
 " That is the duke de Brevon, one of the 
 lieads of the nobility of this country. Aa 
 lincommon penchant for the fair sex is the 
 
2^5 
 
 leading feature of his character. Although 
 arrived at those years when the passions of 
 youth are supposed to have sunk into a 
 cool Platonic admiration of a woman, he 
 still professes gallantry, and strives to main- 
 tain it. Nor are his impotent amours con- 
 fined to that unfortunate part of the sex 
 whose distress may urge them to gratify his 
 inclinations, although repugnant to the 
 feelings of the most abandoned ; he aims 
 them at innocence, youth, and accomplished 
 beauty : he has been known to throw his 
 withered arms r^und the form of a lovely 
 girl of eighteen, and attempt to toy with 
 females who were young enough to be his 
 great grand-children. He is squeamish and 
 delicate in his choice j music is the princi- 
 pal acquirement that gives a zest to the 
 object which he ogles -, while, like an epi- 
 cure whose appetite is wasted by luxuries, 
 he blights the petite dainty which he is 
 unable to enjoy.*' 
 
 ** Such a man," answered Osmund, 
 ^ must be surely disgusting to the mul7 
 titude, if they are acquainted with his 
 foibles," 
 
 L 5 
 
226 
 
 ** Oh, they are well known/* replied Al- 
 bert ; " he takes no pains to conceal them : 
 even the female pedestrian who passes his 
 house is subject to his insults, and he con- 
 ceives his rank, power, and fortune, to be 
 sufficient barriers to his profligacy. Still he 
 is an object of pity : his punishment is con- 
 nected with his error : his existence is a 
 "burthen to him : his fellow creatures look 
 upon him with abhorence : in short, he is a 
 public scarecrow, held up as a w^arning to 
 others from pursuing s-imilar enormities.'* 
 
 The duke was now attracted to another 
 part by the entrance of a beautiful young 
 girl of musical talents, who had lately en- 
 tered into the circles of fashion. She was 
 under the guidance of her mother. The 
 duke patronised her ; by which she claimed 
 a card to every assembly that was honoured 
 by his presence. Another figure now ac- 
 costed Isabella d'Olvernardo in a voice 
 which at first Osmund mistook for that of 
 a woman. He was a young sprig of fashion, 
 called Don Silvius de Rozeverez. His figure 
 was small, and delicately proportioned; his 
 face fair^ smooth, but totally void of ex- 
 
227 
 
 pression ; and his teeth uncommonly white. 
 His dress was chiefly composed of white 
 satin splendidly ornamented with foil ; 
 his hair was particularly nicely dressed, and 
 his linen so sweetly scented with perfume, 
 that he spread the most fragrant odours 
 around him in all directions. An elegant 
 eye-glass set in gold was suspended from 
 his neck by a silk ribbon, and he flourished 
 it with a negligent air peculiar to himself. 
 " You look charmingly to-night," he lisped 
 in a tone of affected ease : '^ 'Pon my soul 
 that dress is astonishingly becoming, yet 
 there is nothing new in it either." ^^ No 
 man has a better taste in the dress of a 
 lady," replied Isabella, " than Don Silvius 
 de Rozeverez ; I therefore feel gratified at 
 his approbation." 
 
 ** Why, 'pon my honour, it is universally 
 allowed I am well skilled in that part of 
 a female." 
 
 " Better than in any other part," re- 
 plied Don Caesar de Grolvo." 
 
 The laugh was general;. and Don Silvius, 
 to observe more accurately the author of it, 
 made use of his glass ; but unfortunately the 
 
22^ 
 
 former, in turning suddenly round upon his 
 heel, assailed the elbow of the petit-maitTe 
 with such violence as at once disengaged 
 it from his delicate hand,, and threw it with 
 so great a force against the studded hilt of 
 his sword, that it broke into several pieces^ 
 Don Caesar made an apology ; hoped na 
 offence ; and declared that to speak his 
 mind was his way. 
 
 " Oh the brute !" exclaimed Don Silvius- 
 *' It is astonishing to me that such wretches 
 are admitted into polished society." 
 
 ** Don Silvius,^"^ cried Isabella, stifling a 
 laugh, " your hair is dreadfully deranged,, 
 and the lace of your cravat much ruffled.** 
 
 '' Dreadful information !'* he answered. 
 ** I know not how I shall adjust them ; *pon 
 my honour I never was in a more torturing 
 situation. By the bloom of beauty, there is. 
 that enchanting creature Donna Casandra 
 de Gosmond y I positively must apply to 
 her to regulate my dress." He accordingly 
 left them for that purpose. — "Is it possible,'* 
 said Osmund, " that so frivolous a mortal 
 can either gain the admiration of a female^ 
 ©r escape the contempt of a man V\ 
 
229 
 
 " Oh ! you envious wretch/' answered 
 Isabella, " now you are mortified at Don 
 Silvius's gallantry." '^ You must view him/* 
 said Albert to his friend, " as a tinsel orna- 
 mented play-thing for women of fashion : 
 he is more innocent than their lap-dog, less 
 mischievous than their monkey, and gives 
 them some little relief to a fit of ennui. 
 He is that passive kind of animal with 
 which they can use every freedom without 
 any danger. In truth, he is almost consi- 
 dered among them as one of their own sex 
 under a different garb — a mere amphibious 
 being of a very doubtful gender.'* 
 
 The party with which Orlando had en- 
 gaged made full use of their dexterity on 
 the inexperience of their new companion. 
 He had begun with forty pistoles; during, 
 the first hour of their play be possessed 
 double that sum, but had only fifty at the 
 time he received the caution from his bro- 
 ther. From that period, after a few fluctua- 
 tions, he was reduced to a single one, and 
 was necessitated to leave the table with a 
 feigned excuse, by being unable to produce 
 another stake. 
 
230 
 
 Chagrined, harassed, and unhappy, he 
 proceeded to a splendid saloon just opened 
 for dancing. The agitation of his mind for 
 the last two hours, added to several copious 
 draughts of wine he had been persuaded to 
 swallow by the party in which he had been 
 engaged, served to flush him with an arti- 
 ficial warmth of spirits he had perhaps 
 never before experienced. The music ap- 
 peared to enliven him, yet his heart was ill 
 at ease -y and he wished to partake in the 
 festivity of the airy throng, although his 
 late losses had made him splenetic, cap- 
 tious, and unsocial. Isabella d'Olvernar- 
 do by chance caught his eye: she was as 
 usual in high spirits, and appeared to him 
 particularly fascinating. He had an inclina- 
 tion to dance ; he greatly wished to procure 
 her for a partner. At any other time Orlando 
 would have been unequal to the task of 
 asking for her hand ; but under his present 
 situation his confidence had increased with 
 the elevation of his spirits. He approached 
 close to her elbow ; bowed — hesitated — and, 
 under a confusion which the suddenness 
 
231 
 
 of his resolution had occasioned, stammered 
 out a long compliment, as a prelude to the 
 request he intended to make. Before Or- 
 lando could make known his wish, Osmund, 
 who had been detained by Albert in an- 
 other apartment, hastily arrived for the exact 
 same purpose that engaged his brother. So 
 far from prefacing his desire with a studied 
 introduction, his words flowed as eagerly 
 as his thoughts, and Isabella as quickly 
 gave him her hand. Whether her immediate 
 decision proceeded from a direct preference 
 to Osmund, or whether she was actually 
 too inattentive to the elocution of Orlando 
 to be aware that he stood a candidate for the 
 same boon, is uncertain: at all events, how- 
 ever, she arose at the conclusion of his 
 speech, and laughingly pleaded her excuse 
 in the prior application of his brother. 
 
 Orlando stood fixed to the spot in a stu- 
 por of disappointment : his pride urged him 
 to dispute his right with Osmund, but he 
 was too much abashed to make the public 
 declarations it would require. He in some 
 measure recovered from his embarrassment. 
 
252 
 
 and walked towards the lovely Cassandra, 
 who had not yet risen to dance. He made 
 another attempt for a partner in a second 
 edition of the preamble delivered to Isa- 
 bella, but Albert had engaged her a few 
 minutes before. He had no sooner received 
 the denial than the marquis d' Olvernardo, 
 who had heard his last request, led him to 
 the marchioness, and declared she would 
 be happy to dance with him. Orlando 
 blushed, bowed, and strived to express his 
 thanks for the honour conferred upon him ;. 
 while, almost stifled witb vexation, he- 
 silent ly and sheepishly led her to the 
 eompany. 
 
 The flirting vulgarity of the marchio- 
 jiess, and the awkward, stiff, and confused 
 air of Orlando, added to the great dispropor- 
 tion of their years, at once called upon 
 them the eyes of the whole assembly. The 
 general ridicule they excited was visible in 
 every countenance -, which increased the 
 affectations of the lady, and added to the 
 torturing situation of her partner. 
 
 At length, unable to support his own feefe 
 
235 
 
 ings, Orlando suddenly complained of In- 
 disposition, and retired to an inner apart- 
 ment; where he sullenly waited the an- 
 nouncement of the marquis's carriage for 
 their return to the castle* 
 
234^ 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Live you, or are ycu augfiC 
 
 That man may question ? 
 
 ir you can look into the seeds of time, 
 
 -And «ee which grain will grow, and which will not? 
 
 I conjure you, by that which you profess,. 
 
 To answer me> 
 
 S H A K s p £ A R t's Machuh •- 
 
 vJrlando had never suifered under such 
 a series of mortifications as he had endured 
 during the whole of the last evening. His 
 reflexions in the morning were poignantl^r 
 distressing : the loss of his forty pistoles 
 was trivial^ when compared to the convic- 
 tion of his own incapacity. His unsuccess- 
 ful attempts to procure either Cassandra or 
 Isabella for his partner in the dance were 
 sufficiently unpleasant but the public ridi- 
 cule which followed his accepting the hand' 
 of the affected marchioness, was still more, 
 degrading to his pride. The sentiments^ 
 ©pinions, and inclinations which might be 
 
235 
 
 said to compose the outline of hiscliaractcr, 
 had hitherto been fluclituating and unsettled. 
 It has been before observed that Orlando's 
 virtues proceeded more from a practical 
 etiquette of doing right, than from the 
 actual essence of a benevolent heart. The 
 basis therefore which supported them was 
 by no means firm or substantial, neither 
 calculated to stand the shock of temptation, 
 nor even to bear against the common depra- 
 vity too often discovered in human nature. 
 He was drawing fast toward that epoch 
 which was to determine and mould for 
 ever the unfinished model he represented. 
 The crisis was awful. In a mind similar 
 to that of Orlando's, virtue or vice gene- 
 rally predominates in the extreme ; a me- 
 diocrity is seldom preserved. His under- 
 standing was cultivated, but it was in a 
 state of fertility produced by an artificial 
 warmth, like a hot bed, which has power to 
 produce the obnoxious weed to an equal 
 strength and maturity with the most deli- 
 cate plant. Suddenly thrown on a world 
 which ridiculed and despised his very trivial 
 knowledge of it, he balanced for a time in 
 
23^ 
 
 the midst of his discomfits. But such acen^ 
 tral state of equilibrium was not long to 
 be expected : the impressions he daily 
 received diffused their effects in different 
 directions: the consequences, however s]ow>. 
 were definite and certain. Misanthropia 
 ideas were perhaps the most dangerous sti- 
 mulations ta one of Orlando's disposition : 
 when he once became sulky with the worlds 
 and opposed it under a regular defiance^ 
 there was every reason to dread his dege* 
 nerating under that brutish insensibility^ 
 which renders a man vicious without 
 any incitement but a general hatred ta 
 his fellow-creatures. His feelings were 
 acute, painfully acute, when his pride re- 
 ceived a shock from the superiority of an- 
 other, or from an inward consciousness of 
 inability. To soar above the generality of 
 his own species was a notioa which had 
 been ingrafted in his mind at so early an 
 age, that the struggle to overcome the 
 delusion was beyond his strength or power 
 to maintain. During the time of his edu- 
 cation he had been assiduously taught to 
 suppose that the recluse d life he led wauld 
 
237 
 
 be rewarded by an enviable preeminence In 
 society fully adequate to the task imposed. 
 His ears were constantly assailed by hints 
 of his own merits, of the great difference 
 between him and other lads of the same age: 
 their errors were held up as foils to his rec- 
 titude ; their juvenile indiscretions were 
 -magnified, to add a lustre to his virtues. 
 Other young men were dissipated, gamed, 
 and even intrigued; but Orlando. was a mo- 
 ralist, a philosopher^ and a puritan. He 
 neither threw dice, nor kept company with 
 gay women ; he was modest, sober, and 
 grave in his deportment, nor would have 
 been guilty oid. faux pas to gain the world. 
 Before however these qualities should re- 
 .-ceive the encomiums they may appear to 
 deserve, it will be necessary to consider 
 what were his temptations to a contrary 
 mode of conduct. None. He was a recluse, 
 a child of nature, and a pupil of retirement; 
 his passions were stifled, his spirits curbed 
 and oppressed : no external objects tended 
 to dejude him towards false pleasures: nei- 
 ther the blush of beauty nor the ties of 
 youthful friendship were permitted to exert 
 
238 
 
 their Influence to allure him from his her* 
 mitised life ; no lascivious scenes even in 
 theory were suffered to agitate his bosom ; 
 while the daily lectures of his uncle re- 
 minded him of his own importance, and 
 increased his vanity. The prospect was 
 now suddenly changed : he found himself 
 in a gay luxurious city, surrounded by 
 everv incitement to raise his desires 
 from the inert state in which they' had 
 hitherto remained, and possessed of suffi- 
 cient affluence to gratify them. So far from 
 striking the multitude with admiration, he 
 stood the object of their ridicule : instead 
 of procuring their respect, he received their 
 derision. Under such circumstances we 
 must conceive the feelings of one so trem- 
 blingly alive to every ideaofhisown incapa- 
 city as Orlando : we are to watch him la- 
 bouring to overcome that peculiar diffidence, 
 the result of his recluse education ; we are 
 to mark the failure of his attempts, and 
 observe the effects which followed. Vain 
 were the anticipations of Don Diego de 
 Mellas, when he proudly pictured to him- 
 self the perfect model he should present to 
 
235 
 
 llie world. How erroneous were the re- 
 •flexions which urged him to suppose that, 
 by cramping the natural vigor and spirits of 
 the boy, by a close, sedentary, and unsocial 
 •confinement, he should either soften his 
 beart, or frame his mind on such virtuous 
 principles as would withstand the test of 
 «very temptation. 
 
 Osmund in vain attempted to procure a 
 private interview with his brother the fol- 
 lowing day. He wished to make him his 
 iirst confidant v/ith respect to the casket; 
 but Orlando, conceiving he merely wanted 
 Gn opportunity to remind him of his losses 
 on the last evening, avoided every effort 
 which his brother made to remain with 
 liim alone. 
 
 A party to the theatre, consisting of Al- 
 bert, the twins, and signior Zadok, was 
 Exed for the evening. The marquis had 
 some urgent business to detain him at home, 
 and the marchioness and her daughter en- 
 tertained a select female party in their dress- 
 ing-room, her ladyship being rather indis- 
 posed. During the performance, the duke 
 de Brevon entered their box, accompanied 
 by the young girl and her mother whom 
 
mo 
 
 they liad noticed the night before. He sa* 
 luted them with great cordiaUty, and intro- 
 duced his female companions. The elderly 
 lady soon gave plfcntiful information of her 
 origin by the voluble vulgarity of her dis- 
 course ; while her daughter, whose beauty 
 was far above mediocrity, appeared to have 
 received a modern education, and to have 
 lost every trait of that feminine softness and 
 modesty which but a few months before 
 she possessed in the most ample degree. 
 Her mother w^as the widow of a tradesman, 
 "whose embarrassed circumstances at the time 
 of his death left her entirely destitute of for- 
 tune ; and having neither resolution to with- 
 stand penury, nor inclination to obviate it by 
 her own industry, she accepted the offer of 
 the noble duke to patronise her daughter, 
 whose musical talents had greatly charmed 
 him. Before the conclusion of the play, 
 Don Esau de Cavet and Don Ccesar de 
 Grolvo entered the theatre. The latter took, 
 the seat next signior Zadok. He, as usual, 
 found fault with every thing he saw ; his re- 
 marks were abrupt, and delivered without 
 any ceremony. The tutor used every exer- 
 t/on to put him in a good humour : he agreed 
 
241 
 
 to the justness of all his observations ; he 
 foimed arguments in favour of them, which 
 Don Caesar had never thought of, and paid 
 him many compliments, which appeared 
 totally unconnected, with gross flattery. 
 Don Caesar for some time withstood the at- 
 tack, but at length the natural crabbed spleen 
 of his disposition gave w^ay to the successful 
 system of signior Zadok : after turning sud- 
 denly round and looking stedfastlyathimfor 
 some time, he thus addressed him : — " Signior 
 Zadok, I like you." Signior Zadok bow- 
 ed. "Bythecrossit is true ! I never compli- 
 ment; that's not my way." Signior Zadok 
 declared it w^as the best way, and he should 
 be ever highly gratified by his approbation. 
 '* Will you sup with me?" continued the free- 
 spoken man : " by our lady you shall have as 
 good an aumlet as my cook can prepare for 
 you; aye, and a bottle of my best burgundy. 
 You are cursedly warped in your profile to be 
 sure — hope no offence ? — but I admire your 
 opinions, for a very good reason, because 
 they accord with my own; that's my way.*' 
 Zadok returned him many thanks for his po- 
 lite invitation, w^hile he declared it must de- 
 
 VOL, I. M 
 
242 
 
 f)end upon circumstances; for if his young 
 <!:harge, in whose company he was, re- 
 turned immediately after the play to the 
 castle of Olvernardo, he should of course at- 
 tend them ; but if they entered into any other 
 engagements for the evening (which was 
 not unlikely) he should then be extremely 
 happy to spend an hour with Don Caesar. 
 ^^ Be it so," exclaimed Don Caesar as he rose 
 to leave the box. " I shall look in again at the 
 conclusion of the piece, and then, if you can 
 go with me to my lodgings, you shall have a 
 good supper ; and if you do not, why you 
 may search for one elsewhere, and perhaps 
 fare worse ; — hope no offence? always speak 
 what I think; that's my way." 
 
 The old duke, who was wholly occupied 
 in amorous conversation with his dulci- 
 nea, blinded with infatuation, v/as unable 
 to perceive the peculiar advances which she 
 made to Osmund, who sat next to her on 
 the other side ; while Albert on the second 
 seat was entertaining himself with a young 
 damsel who had formerly enlisted under his 
 grace's banners, and who now received an al- 
 lowance from him, to become tutoress to his 
 
243 
 
 t\Qw protege. Orlando was placed in one 
 corner, solitary and alone : he sometimes 
 exerted himself so far as to speak to each of 
 the party by a slight remark, worded with 
 all the pomposity of pedantic accuracy. The 
 answers he received were mere negatives or 
 affirmatives ; they evinced, if not a con- 
 tempt, at least a pointed dislike, to the per- 
 son who required them. The young girl 
 with whom Albert was engaged possessed 
 a considerable share of personal charms ; 
 he attempted to take part in their conversa- 
 tion ; but Donna Susanna (the name of the 
 female), whose delicacy of manners was by 
 no means predominant, made no effort to 
 conceal the risibility of her countenance, 
 which his studied manner occasioned. Rest- 
 less and uncomfortable, he was just going 
 to leave the box, when Don Esau de Cavet 
 entered it. Don Esau took his hand, and ad- 
 dressed him with a warmth to which Orlando 
 had been totally unused since he left the man- 
 sion of his uncle Don Diego. Without any 
 consideration from what motives such a sa- 
 lutation might arise, his bosom throbbed with 
 a sensation of gratitude, perhaps the most 
 M 2 
 
genuine he had ever experienced. While he 
 pressed the offered hand of Don Esau it was 
 with difficulty he could command his tears. 
 He appeared an outcast from his party, yet 
 he sought his conversation, and gave him 
 that countenance he so much needed at the 
 present period. Don Esau apparently listen- 
 ed to his observations with pleasure, he 
 agreed to them, applauded them, and Don 
 Esau immediately became the friend of Or- 
 lando de Mellas. At the conclusion of the 
 play the duke engaged Osmund and Albert 
 to sup with him ; he likewise repeated the 
 invitation to Orlando and signior Zadok; 
 but the former had engaged to go with Don 
 Esau to a house near the theatre, to play a 
 sin*^le moderate game at pass-dice ; and the 
 latter had promised his company to Don 
 Csesar de Grolvo, who entering according 
 to agreement, and asking him abruptly if he 
 intended to accept his invitation or leave it 
 alone, being answered in the affirmative, he 
 suddenly seized him by the arm, and left the 
 remainder of the company without speaking 
 another word. 
 
 Osmund, the Duke de Brevon, his prO" 
 
245 
 
 lege and her mother, accompanied by Don- 
 na Susanna and Albert, soon followed, 
 while Orlando and Don Esau proceeded to 
 the place where they had already agreed to 
 spend the remainder of the night. The for- 
 mer proposed taking some refreshment in the 
 lower apartments (which were opened for 
 that purpose), but Don Esau never eat of an 
 evening; his health would not permit it; 
 his digestion was so extremely bad, that a 
 restless night w^as always the effects pro- 
 duced by gratifying himself with a supper. 
 Orlando was astonished; for at Don Everard 
 de Gosmond's he swallowed the delicacies 
 that were prepared with a voraciousness 
 that signified he had fasted for many hours. 
 Don Esau would however by no means pre- 
 vent him from taking some ; he would wait 
 with him for that purpose. Orlando or- 
 dered some oysters and fruit. He no 
 sooner eat one of the fish, than Don Esau, 
 pulling out a small pocket knife, declared 
 it was a pity to lose any thing, and began 
 to scrape the shell, to which some small 
 particles of the oyster remained. Orlando's 
 surprise increased when he saw him produce 
 M 3 
 
2i6 
 
 a large piece of stale bread, which he eat 
 with considerable goiit. It was in vain he 
 pressed him to take a whole oyster ; Don 
 Esau was afraid, positively afraid to eat; he 
 could only pick a bit now and then. Don 
 Esau, however, not only picked the remains 
 of the oysters, but actually devoured the rind 
 of the fruit, declaring he never could eat 
 fruit, but only amused himself with the 
 parings. Orlando, whatever descriptions he 
 had heard of his penury, was hardly able to 
 take his own supper, in gazing upon his 
 friend, whose behaviour appeared to create 
 little astonishment among the many persons 
 who passed them : the reason was obvious> 
 he w^as perfectly known to them all. 
 
 After a little time, they were conducted 
 up a handsome staircase, and entered a large 
 apartment elegantly fitted up, and superbly 
 decorated with wax-lights in glass chan- 
 deliers, where several persons were engaged 
 at different games. Orlando soon recognised 
 at some of the tables several of his companions 
 at maniliathe evening before at Don Everard 
 de Gosmond's: they addressed him with 
 uncommon civility, and professed a pleasure 
 
247 
 
 at the acquisition of his company, highly 
 gratifying to his pride. At length he and 
 Don Esau closed with a select party at the 
 further end of the room. Don Esau*s ears 
 were no sooner saluted by the rattling of 
 the dice-box than he seemed ^o acquire 
 renewed spirits and vigour ; his eyes, which 
 in general appeared dim and heavy, sudden- 
 ly became sharp and penetrating ; he moved 
 with an activity uncommon at his age, and 
 watched the minutiae of the game w^ith an 
 exactness peculiar to himself. Orlando, 
 however he was engaged on the events of 
 his own success, could not avoid becoming 
 in some degree an anxious spectator in the 
 scene that surrounded him. It claimed his 
 attention with that force wich novelty ever 
 effects upon a young mind. The general 
 agitation of the whole company at every 
 part of the room, and the various sources 
 from whence it arose, at once formed a 
 group highly interesting to a new ob- 
 server. The pause of silent expectation at 
 one table was interrupted by a combina- 
 tion of crfes expressive of happiness and 
 sorrow at another 3 the exclamation of 
 
 M 4 
 
248 
 
 sudden joy, dashed with the blasphemous 
 epithet of sudden misery and the cry of 
 ecstasy, was chorussed by the convul- 
 sive scream of anguish. The dice-box ap- 
 peared as a touch-stone to the minds of the 
 men who gazed upon It ; no sooner were the 
 fatal throws cast, than a short interval of 
 awful stillness prevailed, and instantly all 
 became influenced by different passions : 
 some danced with a wild intoxicating joy ; 
 others beat their head under an agony the 
 most acute and dreadful : some saw them- 
 selves reduced to beggary ; others rose on 
 their ruin to affluence and plenty : one ut- 
 tered the names of his wife and children 
 with a voice hardly articulate with horror; 
 another grasped the purse which was to have 
 procured that wife and children their daily 
 food. It was to a man under the situation 
 of the former that Orlando turned in one of 
 the intervals that he was at leisure ; he 
 heard him groan out the epithets of those 
 dear relatives in a paroxysm of grief, while 
 a cold perspiration dropped from his pale 
 and withered face. He seemed about fifty 
 years of age s his person was wasted by an 
 
249 
 
 irregular life ; his eyes were sunk and dead, 
 yet his features were manly and expressive* 
 He was well known in the room by having 
 been a constant attendant for many months. 
 He had had a series of ill fortune for some 
 nights past, but he had this evening lost one 
 hundred pistoles, and was not possessed of 
 another ducat in the world. He had for- 
 merly been a tradesman of some con- 
 sequence in Madrid ; but the extensive bu- 
 siness he inherited at the death of his father 
 had dwindled through his neglect to a very 
 scanty subsistence for his wife and daughter, 
 a lovely young girl of about seventeen. Or- 
 lando at this moment exhibited a proof of his 
 heart being open to sentiments of generosity : 
 he voluntarily offered this unfortunate votary 
 of fortune a loan of twenty pistoles, who re- 
 ceived it with an extravagance of joy which 
 drove him almost to phrensy. Instead, how- 
 ever, of reserving it for those objects of his 
 love upon whom he had called in his late 
 agony, he was tempted by his companions 
 again to risk it upon the table, and he once 
 more entered upon the business of the game 
 with an infatuation bordering on madness. 
 M 5 
 
250 
 
 Orlando, either by good fortune, or by the 
 designs of his collegues, was amply recom- 
 pensed for his losses of the night before ; in 
 almost every throw he was successful, and 
 soon found himself possessed of double the 
 sum he had been deprived of at Don Eve- 
 rard's. 
 
 In less than an hour after his voluntary 
 loan to the unfortunate tradesman, a young 
 man of very genteel appearance requested 
 of him a similar favour; he seemed under 
 the greatest distress; beat his head and fore- 
 head with the most frantic gestures, and de- 
 clared he had not another stake. Orlando 
 considered him by his mien, and dress as a 
 total novice in the scene that surrounded 
 him, and without further hesitation pre- 
 sented him with the sum he required. He 
 observed his companions look upon this last 
 act of generosity with peculiar astonishment, 
 particularly Don Esau de Cavet, whohad lost 
 considerably, but whose payments were made 
 with an honour and dignity totally incon^ 
 sistent with the general traits of his charac- 
 ter. Is it possible, thought Orlando, that a 
 man who stints himself not only of the com- 
 
i>5l 
 
 forts, but of the necessaries of life, whose 
 penury will barely allow him to exist, can 
 thus risk hundreds with the unconcern of a 
 prodigal, and lose them with the fortitude of 
 a philosopher ? 
 
 The company did not begin to depart 
 before day-light. Orlando and his party 
 were the last that left the room ; he found 
 himself a winner, exclusive of the money he 
 had lent, of one hundred and forty pistoles. 
 
 Don Esau took the way which led to the 
 castle of Olvernardo; Orlando consequently 
 accompanied him. The former informed 
 him that he had certainly been duped in his 
 last loan of the twenty pistoles. 
 
 ^' I am sorry to inform you,'' said he, 
 "that you may term them a gift, for there is 
 no probability of your ever seeing them 
 again.'* 
 
 " Surely,'^ answered 'Orlando, " he can- 
 not be so unprincipled as to borrow with- 
 out having even an idea of repaying?" 
 
 "Excuse my freedom, signior," said Don 
 Esau; "but you are a young man, and I 
 rather think a novice to the finesse which in 
 general predominates in our parties," 
 
252 
 
 Orlando coloured with indignation: even 
 Don Esau de Cavet, whom he supposed had 
 some just notions of his merits, accused him 
 of ignorance in a game in which he had 
 vainly considered himself an adept. 
 
 Don Esau continued : — ^' I give you this 
 advice as a friend; you must be extremely 
 cautious for the future how you suffer your 
 generosity to overcome your prudence. The 
 man whom you supposed an inexperienced 
 visitor is a gambler by profession ; his very 
 name is notorious for unfair play -, and he 
 sometimes assumes various appearances to 
 deceive new visitors; for there are few who 
 are acquainted with his character will engage 
 with him. He had neither been a loser, 
 nor was in want of the money; but knowing 
 you to be a stranger, and apparently little 
 versed in the amusement with which you 
 was engaged, after witnessing your beha- 
 viour to signior Barnarvo the jeweller, his 
 application on the same subject was merely 
 intended to ridicule you by the deceit, while 
 the whole of the assembly gazed with asto- 
 nishment to find you so void of penetra- 
 tion." 
 
253 
 
 Orlando could with difficulty conceal his 
 vexation : his companion observed it, and 
 immediately changed the subject of the con- 
 versation. " I understood/' said the former, 
 "you lodged at tlie other part of the city." 
 "So I do," answered Don Esau. "By no 
 means then," exclaimed Orlando, " let me 
 take you out of your way." " You do not 
 in the least," said the other : " I am now 
 going to the market-place." " The market- 
 place !" cried Orlando, with surprise: " Were 
 it not too impertinent a question, I should 
 be tempted to inquire what could be your 
 business there at so strange an hour r" 
 
 " The best hour in the day to sell olives," 
 answered Don Esau. 
 
 "To sell olives!" 
 
 " Aye to be sure ! I have several jars 
 com in 2: from mv warehouse at the other end 
 of the town: very scarce just at this time; 
 hope to turn an honest penny by them." 
 
 " Are you then a dealer in olives ?" asked 
 Orlando, 
 
 " I am a dealer in any thing," replied 
 Don Esau, " where there is a prospect of a 
 little profit. Very hard times, young gentle- 
 
Q54f 
 
 man : men like me, of scanty incomes, are 
 obliged to scrape as well as we can. Oh !** 
 he exclaimed, " yonder I perceive my cara- 
 vans; I do not wish to hurry you, but I 
 must mend my pace: the loitering rogue 
 is behind his time." 
 
 " Good heavens !'* said Orlando, " you 
 surely are not going to market with the 
 olives yourself?*' , 
 
 " Indeed but I am,'* said Don Esau ; 
 " never trust to servants ; it is the worst thing 
 in the world: always sell my own goods." 
 
 " But you have had neither food nor sleep 
 for these many hours." 
 
 *' O, I can easily manage that: got some 
 crusts of bread locked up snug in the closet 
 of my stall, and can easily take a nap there 
 after I have sold my olives." 
 
 " You have a stall of your own then ?" 
 said Orlando, with increased astonishment. 
 
 ** Certainly," said Don Esau; "but pay 
 very dear for it; costs me a pistole every 
 quarter. Would sell in my caravan, but 
 they wont suffer it to come into the middle 
 of the niarket-place, therefore should lose 
 some good chances." 
 
;j> 
 
 Don Esau by this time breathed short 
 through the quickness of his pace to over-* 
 take his goods, to which they no sooner 
 arrived, than he cried in a voice of extreme 
 anger, ** Here is a pretty piece of extrava* 
 gance for you — two lazy rascals, when one 
 might serve ! You prodigal vagabond," 
 he continued, turning to the first driver, 
 ** how dare you bring another man w^hen one 
 is perfectly sufficient to mind the caravans?" 
 
 "I could not have taken the charge of 
 both," said the carrier. 
 
 "Why not?" answered his master j "you 
 well knew I should overtake you before you 
 came into the public streets which lead to 
 the market, and then I could have assisted 
 you myself." 
 
 " But I hope as how you intend to pay me 
 for what I have done?" said the second man. 
 
 " Not a marevedi," replied Don Esau ; 
 "where do you think I can find money to 
 pay you for such unprofitable labour? Apply 
 to that lazy picaro who employed you ; he 
 is far better able to afford it than I am." 
 
 Having concluded the last sentence, and 
 politely wished Orlando a good morning. 
 
Q56 
 
 hoping he should have the pleasure of his 
 company for a few hours the next night, 
 he followed his caravans towards the 
 market-place, while the discarded driver 
 cursed his old tinsel jacket with the most 
 opprobrious epithets he could select from 
 his vocabulary. 
 
 The figure of Don Esau appeared indeed 
 most strikingly o?^/7'(?: his slender body, wrap- 
 ped in a full dress of old black velvet, covered 
 with tarnished lace, was an object as novel 
 to a stranger as it was ridiculous. But the 
 opposite traits of his character were far more 
 so: that the same man, who but a short time 
 before was engaged in the midst of a dissi- 
 pated assembly, venturing hundreds with the 
 most unbounded prodigality, should, after 
 quitting those scenes without any refresh- 
 ment either from sleep or food, attend his own 
 goods into a public market-place, and barter 
 them wath the exertions of a higgler, was a 
 strange instance of contrast in the pursuits of 
 an individual. Nor could the different ef- 
 fects produced by one passion be more strong- 
 ly delineated in human nature, than when 
 Don Esau de Cavet was in one hour disco- 
 
vered at a gambling-house, staking five 
 hundred pistoles on the chance of a single 
 throw from the dice-box, and in the next 
 observed masticating the moulded crust of 
 a roll, which had perhaps been thrown 
 aside by some shivering beggar of the city. 
 Avarice formed the source of each extreme; 
 the same sensations urged him to the two 
 opposite modes of conduct : it was the love 
 of gold which prompted him to satisfy the 
 cravings of nature with food as repugnant 
 to his taste as it was uncleanly and un- 
 healthy. It was likewise a love of gold that 
 tempted him to hazard with a profuse hand 
 considerable sums, under the hope of pro- 
 curing double their value by the risk. It 
 is but just, however, to observe, that Don 
 Esau never was discovered to take an unge- 
 nerous advantage either by unfair play, or 
 any other mean subterfuge, although often 
 surrounded by villains, who practised every 
 deception on the unwary, and to whose 
 knavery he was necessitatea to be blind. 
 
 Orlando slowly proceeded towards the 
 castle of Olvernardo wrapped in reflexions 
 on the proceedings he had witnessed in the 
 
1258 
 
 last few hours : he inquired of the porter 
 who opened the gates if his brother was re- 
 turned, and understood both he and Albert 
 had retired to rest almost an hour before. 
 Rather ashamed at the idea of being the last 
 home, he hurried to his chamber, where 
 he had no sooner closed the door than he 
 emptied his pockets on his dressing-table, 
 and viewed with astonishment and pleasure 
 the fruits of his good fortune. 
 
 To affirm that avarice had no concern in 
 the source of these sensations would be an 
 assertion contrary to reason; but it is certain 
 the most powerful stimulation to the satis- 
 faction he experienced was the supposition 
 that his gains were procured by his know- 
 ledge being superior to that of his adversaries. 
 
 A mere child in every scene of life which 
 deviated from moral rectitude and virtue, 
 the suspicion that he was actually permitted 
 to win under political motives never entered 
 his mind; and while his pride was galled 
 with the idea of having been publicly 
 duped by the pretended novice, he soothed 
 himself with the consolatory consideration, 
 that his profits of the night must have conr 
 
239 
 
 firmed his abilities to the company. He 
 only regretted that his brother and Albert 
 had not been spectators of his triumph: they 
 had had the presumption to doubt his judg- 
 ment, and he wished tor no higher gratifi- 
 cation than to convince them of their error. 
 All the former disagreeables he had experi- 
 enced since his departure from his uncle's 
 castle in Andalusia vanished before the re- 
 collection of his present success : iiushed 
 with the fallacious joy, it at once raised in 
 his bosom the foundation of a partiality for 
 gaming -, it was the first amusement from 
 which he had derived pleasure since his en- 
 trance into life, and its impressions were 
 unfortunately as fascinating as they were 
 durable. 
 
 Osmund and Albert spent a dissipated 
 night at the duke de Brevon*s ; a plen- 
 tiful supply of wine elevated their spirits : 
 the old noble, although naturally abste- 
 mious in his living, was not proof against 
 the convivial powers of his young compa- 
 nions ; the sleepy god overcame every efi^brt 
 to oppose him ; and the duke, after a se- 
 vere struggle, was removed senseless to his* 
 
260 
 
 bed. The elderly lady had withdrawn soon 
 after supper; w^hile the young visitors re- 
 velled in pleasures they had anticipated from 
 the beginning of the evening. The family 
 of Olvernardo assembled at a late hour to 
 breakfast; even signiorZadok had remained 
 with Don Caesar far beyond his usual time of 
 retiring to rest, and was not the most early 
 riser of the party in the morning. 
 
 The marquis had left the castle on urgent 
 public business : the marchioness was too 
 much indisposed to leave her chamber be- 
 fore dinner; while Isabella, as she made 
 breakfast, discovered, by the countenance 
 of her brother and Osmund, the effects of 
 their midnight orgies. 
 
 Orlando, though pale and apparently fa- 
 tigued for want of rest, was animated by a 
 degree of spirits rather foreign to his nature -, 
 he exerted himself under a studied system 
 of gaiety ; he talked more than usual ; but 
 he was too precise, too minute, and in short 
 too pedantic in his conversation ; nothing 
 appeared to come from his heart ; every 
 idea, every observation, was clothed with 
 so pompous a diction of words, that the iu- 
 
261 
 
 trinsic value of a simple heartfelt thought 
 was lost under the gaudy covering in which 
 it was presented. 
 
 In the course of the morning, Albert, 
 who wished to make some remarks to Os- 
 mund on their visit of the preceding even- 
 ing, accompanied him to his chamber for 
 that purpose : the latter conceived this was 
 an opportunity not to be neglected to gain 
 from him some information respecting fa- 
 ther Theodosius. He briefly acquainted 
 him with their first meeting him at the soli- 
 tary inn in their journey towards Madrid, 
 and with the circumstances by which he 
 became possessed of the casket : he opened 
 it^ and showed him the contents. Albert 
 gazed on the miniature under some degree 
 of agitation. 
 
 He listened to Osmund's narrative of the 
 priest with peculiar attention j the natural 
 gaiety of his disposition seemed lost under 
 the emotions of distress which it appeared 
 to occasion him. " I will confess to you,** 
 said he, *' this is a subject which gives me 
 the most unpleasant sensations/* Osmund 
 apologised. " Nay," continued Albert, 
 
262 
 
 ^^ I can have no charge against you for the 
 ishock which my feeUngs have sustained at 
 this moment : your curiosity is natural y it 
 •arises from more noble motives than merely 
 its own gratification; and as far as my know- 
 ledge extends I will give you every informa- 
 tion concerning those strange and mysterious 
 events which envelopes the history of my 
 father. I have but one promise to obtain 
 from you on this important point, which is, 
 an assurance that you will bury in your own 
 bosom the possession of the casket, as well 
 as the means by which you procured it; 
 and that the few incidents I shall commu- 
 nicate may also be cautiously concealed.'* 
 
 Osmund hesitated for a few moments ; 
 he had determined to make his brother and 
 ^adok acquainted with the contents of the 
 casket ; but as the happiness, perhaps the 
 honour of a family were concerned in his 
 secresy, he conceived there was no impro- 
 priety in giving his word to maintain it. 
 
 " The circumstances I am going to re- 
 late," said Albert, " have been collected 
 at different periods ; the veil of mystery 
 •which clouded the morning of my father's 
 
2C)3 
 
 life has never been unfolded, even to his 
 children. The principal parts of the infor- 
 mation I have received has been from my 
 mother : these have been /:onveyed to me 
 at various times ; but in a manner so con- 
 fused and obscure, that makes me greatly 
 suspect even she had not a regular know- 
 ledge of their foundation. To be brief then, 
 you are already acquainted that the marquis 
 d'Olvernardo is a native of Madrid : every 
 exertion was used in the progress of his 
 education to introduce him as an ornament 
 in that elevated sphere of life he appeared 
 by birth and fortune destined to enjoy. The 
 expectations of his surviving parent were 
 in part answered ; he lived to see him the 
 most favourite confidant of his sovereign, 
 A splendid alliance appeared the only event 
 necessary to establish him as one of the first 
 nobles of Spain. A grandee of very consi- 
 derable rank and great wealth, soon after 
 his return from his travels, offered his daugh- 
 ter, a young woman equally beautiful and 
 accomplished ; when to the astonishment 
 of all Madrid, and to the severe disap- 
 pointment of his friends, he refused the 
 
264 
 
 enviable gift. He resisted all importuni- 
 ties to alter his determination, nor would 
 he assign any reasons for adhering to it. 
 A short time elapsed : his father, deceived 
 by the insinuations of a noted contractor 
 for government stores, w^as persuaded, under 
 avaricious views of gaining peculiar emo- 
 luments, to lend a very large sum of money 
 on some speculative plans which were laid 
 before him : the plans failed, and the 
 author of them fled from Spain. Enraged 
 at the idea of being publicly duped by such 
 artifices, he expended nearly as much as he 
 had lost in his exertions to recover some 
 part of his property, and bring to justice 
 the villain who had deceived him. These 
 circumstances so far reduced his income, 
 that he was necessitated entirely to change 
 his mode of living, and suddenly retire to 
 an old family mansion 5ome distance from 
 the capital. His son, who had now entirely 
 to depend on the smiles of the king, soon 
 discovered that he received from them 
 far more empty honours than pecuniary 
 profit: his enemies increased with his pre- 
 ferments, and they took effectual methods to 
 
i>65 
 
 counteract every solid advantage he might 
 derive from what was generally termed his 
 good fortune. Unable to support those 
 luxuries of living which itjWas necessary to 
 maintain in so elevated a state, he followed 
 the example of his father, and joined him 
 in the habitation to which he had retired. 
 Their lives, though recluse, were social ; 
 the old marquis received an alleviation to 
 his misfortunes by the soothing attention of 
 his son, while the son in some degree forgot 
 the late splendid scenes which had sur- 
 rounded him, in his filial care and affection 
 towards his father. Their castle they still 
 retained : it had been the principal residence 
 of their family for many years; while my 
 grandfather, although he abandoned it as a 
 dwelling on account of its joining the city, 
 determined that no pecuniary motives should 
 urge him to part with it. The eastern parts 
 at the time of his prosperity were inhabited j 
 but on his quitting it they were carefully 
 closed up, and the adjoining chambers and 
 apartments (which are now in use, and 
 which were then merely the rooms of the 
 domestics) left totally open to decay. . The 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 
 
 * 
 
 fortune of my grandfather was again dimi* 
 nished by an unforeseen accident. He vested 
 the wreck of his income, on his quitting 
 Madrid, in the hands of a banker, whose 
 reputation w^as most firmly established 
 throughout Spain : about three months be- 
 fore he intended to draw it again into his 
 own hands, this man became insolvent, and 
 he saw himself and son nearly reduced to 
 beggary. Under these circumstances, aided 
 by the solicitations of his father, Reginald 
 d'Olvernardo was at length persuaded to 
 marry my mother, who had loved him in his 
 prosperity, and whose affections were not 
 lost by his adversity. Her uncle however^ 
 under whose guardianship she was placed, 
 most strenuously opposed their union : he 
 could not boast of family dignities, nor did 
 he wish to purchase them by uniting his 
 niece with a man whose income was not even 
 competent to support her with the common 
 comforts of life. Their nuptials were pri- 
 vately celebrated unknown to him, and on 
 receiving the information he most solemnly 
 swore he would abandon her for ever. By 
 the will of her father she was entitled to 
 
267 
 
 very considerable estates on her becoming 
 of age, provided she contracted in no mar- 
 riage against the consent of her uncle: if 
 however she forfeited the immediate pos- 
 session of her money by such an act, he was 
 unable to deprive her of it at his death. 
 Under these circumstances the penurious 
 manner of their living was in no respect 
 altered after this union ; their hardships were 
 chiefly confined within their own bosoms ; 
 their pride would not permit them to solicit 
 relief from those who had professed friend- 
 ship in the days of their affluence. It 
 was about twelve months after they com- 
 menced their retirement that strange re- 
 ports were circulated with respect to some 
 uncommon appearances which had been 
 witnessed in the eastern parts of the castle 
 of Olvernardo. My grandfather, who was 
 extremely ill at that time, and confined on 
 a bed of sickness, paid little attention to 
 the tales which were conveyed to him ; and 
 his son, wholly taken up in watching his 
 disorder, took even less notice of them. 
 The alarm however at length became gene- 
 ral 3 the terrific accounts daily increased : 
 >?2 
 
2^8 
 
 it was said, sudden gleams of light had 
 been seen to issue from many of the case- 
 ments 3 that figures of various descriptions 
 had passed them, and that noises equally 
 new and dreadful had been heard. At this 
 critical period my grandfather breathed his 
 last : his son, overwhelmed with grief for 
 his loss, and distressed with the continued 
 relations which he received from all quar- 
 ters respecting his parental estate, was 
 scarcely able to attend his remains to the 
 o^rave. A few hours after. the funeral it was 
 discovered he had left his cottage^ and the 
 two following days brought no news of 
 bim. His remarkable disappeararice was 
 instantly made known ; the rumour spread 
 through Madrid, and in the course of a few 
 days reached the ears of the king. Touched 
 with compassion for one who had formerly 
 been so near his person, and :fpf whom he 
 had a sincere regard, he immediately 
 ordered that a search should be made 
 through Madrid for the young marquis 
 d'Olvernardo. His commands were put in 
 execution, but without effect : a week 
 elapsed 3 no intelligence was gained of him, 
 
'2G9 
 
 and my mother was.nearly distracted -, when 
 it was conceived he might perhaps, in a 
 paroxysm of grief, have retired on the even- 
 ing of his father's burial to his castle, and 
 perished there, either by his own hand or 
 through violent emotions of sorrow. The 
 eastern part was instantly searched, and to 
 the astonishment of the whole city the mar- 
 quis was discovered in one of the inner 
 apartments. He lay extended on a couch, 
 apparently weak and languid through indis- 
 position. To have found him a. corpse in 
 one of the chambers would not have been 
 an object of surprise ; but to discover him 
 alive, and seemingly in no w^ant of suste- 
 nance, was an event the most wonderful. 
 He appeared perfectly sensible and com- 
 i:MDsed. To the first question put to him 
 relative to the time he had been in the 
 castle, he immediately answered, ^ since the 
 night .he had quitted his cottage.' To the 
 second^ however, which inquired hpw .hjP 
 hacl supported himself during that tiipe, h^ 
 declared he would give none, nor to any 
 others which might be hereafter put to him. 
 He was removed to his habitation, and 
 
 ■KT O 
 
270 
 
 f very possible care taken of his health. He 
 however recovered but slowly ; his mind 
 appeared oppressed by some secret cause ; 
 he seemed to languish under a mental 
 agony totally distinct from his sorrow for 
 the loss of his father. In a few months he 
 Was able to leave his cottage, and was con- 
 ducted to the king, who received him with 
 a warmth which fully expressed his attach- 
 ment. The malicious insinuations of my 
 father's enemies were entirely frustrated by 
 this interview ; he w^as immediately ap- 
 pointed to a lucrative employment at court, 
 the emoluments of which, added to the very 
 large fortune of his wife, which he soon 
 after received by the death of her uncle, at 
 once suddenly raised them to a state of 
 opulence equal to most of the nobility ^n 
 Spain. The castle of Olvernardo underwent 
 a thorough repair. My father would by na 
 means have removed to it ; but it was the 
 wish of his friends, and of the king in par- 
 ticular, that he should be re-instated in his 
 hereditary mansion, surrounded by equal 
 grandeur to that which had distinguished 
 it when the residence of his forefathers. 
 
271 
 
 He however took particular care that every 
 apartment belonging to the eastern part 
 should be carefully closed up, nor could 
 any persuasions draw from him his meaning 
 for such conduct. Although suddenly ele- 
 vated from a state of pecuniary distress to 
 every comfort and luxury of life, the mar- 
 quis remained gloomy, thoughtful, and 
 unhappy. My mother in vain used every 
 effort to gain a knowledge of the cause of 
 his melancholy. That he had itnbibed this 
 dreadful malady since his remarkable and 
 sudden flight from his cottage after the 
 funeral of his father was most certain, but 
 the origin of it was a mystery he carefully 
 concealed within his bosom. He had been 
 settled in the castle but a few months, when 
 a stranger appeared in Madrid, which at 
 once gave rise to a wonderment equal to 
 the stories of the east tower of Olvernardo, 
 or the strange discovery of my father within 
 its walls. Early one morning, in the chapei 
 belonging to the monastery of St; Mark', as 
 the holy brotherhood w^re assembled -^t 
 their matins, through the gloom of ihe ?fltx2- 
 rior part' of the altar, which Was slfpp<>rted 
 N 4 
 
under a portico of heavy columns, there was 
 discovered, by the faint rays that gleamed 
 from a few^ lighted tapers, a living figure 
 prostrate, and approached in pious devotion 
 before the elevated crucifix. The superior 
 instantly approached near to observe the 
 form which had arrested the attention of the 
 fathers, when to his unspeakable surprise, 
 a priest, clad in every respect similar to 
 their order, . with a countenance which at 
 once struck him with awe, (although totally 
 unknown,) gracefully raised himself on his 
 feet, and walked with a slow and solemn 
 pace down the marble steps which led to 
 the body of the chapel. The brothers, who 
 were ranged on each side, beheld the seem- 
 ing spectre pass them with terror and af- 
 fright: all felt appalled by his presence, yet 
 no one knew him. In his actions and 
 movements, in the costume of his dress and 
 manners, they recognised one of their own 
 order, yet none had ever seen or heard of 
 him before. A phsenomenon so uncommon 
 could in no respect be accounted for. The 
 gates of the monastery had been shut at the 
 usual hour the evening before, and had not 
 
been opened since that time : those of the 
 chapel were likewise closed at the conclu- 
 sion of their last worship : no one could 
 have entered till the commencement of the 
 matins. The unknown priest suddenly 
 halted in the midst of the monks, and waved 
 his hand in a manner which denoted he 
 wished to address them. An awful silence of 
 dreadful expectation immediately prevailed. 
 His manner was solemn, dignified, and 
 energetic, but the substance of his harangue 
 has never been related by the holy commu- 
 nity. Various conjectures have been put 
 upon the motives which urged them to 
 admit so strange a personage into their 
 society; but, be that as it may, he wa© 
 instantly initiated into the order of St. Mark, 
 An event of this kind soon occasioned con- 
 siderable noise in the city. Crowds of peo- 
 ple from all parts attended at the monas- 
 tery to gain a sight of the stranger, yet 
 none of them recollected his features. The 
 fathers of St. Mark were murmured at for 
 admitting him into the holy office, whea 
 every circumstance seemed to intimate he 
 was an infernal spirit. The body of the 
 
274 
 
 community defended themselves by the 
 plea, that although they could not pretend 
 to assert that he was of a similar class of 
 nature to mankind in general, yet they had 
 sufficient proofs to convince them his inspi- 
 rations were godly, and that he had power to 
 repel Satan. During this conflict of public 
 opinion, father Theodosius,** — Osmund start- 
 ed — ''for it is even he whom I am speaking 
 of, conducted himself in a manner the most 
 firm and resolute : he in no respect con- 
 cealed himself from the populace, nor did 
 he cringe for their support : he appeared 
 neither to covet their good-will, nor to fear 
 their dislike. The strange reports which 
 arose from this singular affair by no means 
 subsided after a short interval from their 
 circulation : totally different from the gene- 
 rality of those subjects, they increased 
 rather than diminished, while every day 
 brought new rumours equally vague and 
 astonishing. Another event tended to alarm 
 the minds of the people. This superna- 
 tural monk, who was a stranger in Ma- 
 drid, whose appearance was as sudden as 
 it was remarkable, atd whose actions epr^ad 
 
275 
 
 a universal belief of his connexion with the 
 arch enemy of mankind, one night, one 
 dreadful night, shortly after his entrance at 
 the monastery, visited our castle, and de- 
 manded an interview vvith my father. The 
 terror and dismay with which the marquis 
 received notice of this visitor perfectly 
 evinced his feelings on the occasion. He 
 had before ever shown himself a man of 
 considerable personal courage and reso- 
 lution ; his fortitude and presence of mind 
 had been proved exemplary in many inci- 
 dents of his life ^ but on this event he seemed 
 to have totally lost those valuable qualities. 
 He was sitting with my mother at the mo- 
 ment the wizard monk (for such was the 
 appellation father Theodosius received from 
 the multitude) was announced. It was mid- 
 night, and the family were on the point 
 of retiring to rest. The servant,, whose 
 affright almost prevented his articulating 
 the name of the guest, was necessitated to 
 repeat it twice, before my father had so far 
 .recovered from the sudden horror, with 
 which the news, appeared to strike him, as^ 
 to give any answer to the message: at 
 
216 
 
 length turning to the man, he asked with a 
 
 wildness of terror and rage, why he suffered 
 
 him to enter the outer gates of the castle? 
 
 The trembling domestic answered, no one 
 
 had suflered any such thing ; for the great 
 
 bell in the outer hall having sounded in a 
 
 most awful manner, and chilled the very 
 
 hearts of the servants below, a few of them, 
 
 among which was himself, had ventured to 
 
 enter it, to discover the cause, when to 
 
 their inexpressible surprise they perceived 
 
 the monk standing in the centre with a 
 
 lighted torch. He addressed them in a voice 
 
 the most peculiar they had ever heard, and 
 
 demanded an audience with their lord. The 
 
 marquis stood for many minutes under the 
 
 most violent emotions of dismay : his anxiety, 
 
 increased that of my mother: she requested 
 
 he would refuse the desired interview, or 
 
 at least receive the guest in the midst of 
 
 his own people. This proposition, however, 
 
 he seemed equally averse to, as to see him 
 
 at M. The bell in the hail again sounded. 
 
 The marquis . was scarcely able to break 
 
 from, his wife, who attempted to detain 
 
 him 3 he snatched the lamp which the ser- 
 
277 
 
 vant held in his hand, and precipitately flew 
 to his visitor. My mother followed him 
 to the staircase: she saw him enter the hall, 
 and waited under the most dreadful expec- 
 tation for his return. The form of the priest 
 in a short time glided past the folding doors 
 below, followed by the marquis. Instead of 
 ascending towards the habitable apartments, 
 they proceeded down an arched passage 
 which led to the east chambers. The mar- 
 chioness screamed in agony as the last 
 gleam from the flaming torch which Theo- 
 dosius held faintly dispelled the gloom 
 which enveloped their figures. The domes- 
 tics, equally alarmed \^ ith herself, hurried 
 round her in confusion, and it was a consi- 
 derable time before she recovered her senses 
 so far as to recollect the situation of her 
 husband. Her sensations were then most 
 poignant; she beggedj she entreated the 
 servants to proceed to the east chambers in 
 search of their lord: but her solicitations 
 were in vain ; the poor wretches were already 
 peirified with fear; no reward of whatever 
 magnit-ude could have tempted them to go 
 be joiid lh^ passage where th*6 in6ttk and the 
 
278 
 
 marquis were last seen. The marchioness 
 was herself going to follow them : but they 
 prevented her, and after much persuasion 
 she was prevailed upon to retire to her 
 chamber. Several hours passed under a 
 most anxious solicitation for the safety of 
 her husband, which almost drove her to 
 madness. The dreadful tales which had 
 been circulated respecting those apartments, 
 the late strange, mysterious, and alarming 
 behaviour of the marquis since he was dis- 
 covered within them, and his unaccountable 
 resolution of entirely abandoning that part 
 of the castle, served to increase her appre- 
 hensions and distress. The peculiar horrid 
 appearance of the monk, as he passed, left 
 an impression on her memory never to be 
 erased : his figure floated before her eyes 
 the whok night ; sleep was banished from 
 her pillow ; while the servants watched in 
 ^ body the return of their lord at the entrance 
 of the passage through which he had fol- 
 lowed his guest. A short time before day- 
 break they perceived him advancing from 
 the further end : they at first shrunk back 
 with horror s they supposed the priest would 
 
279 
 
 follow, but to their great relief they saw 
 him not, while they received ^their master 
 with the greatest joy. He passed them with 
 hasty steps, his looks were wild and hag- 
 gard, and he appeared to be totally uncon- 
 scious that they surrounded him. With 
 great precipitation he immediately pro- 
 ceeded to his chamber, and received in his 
 arms his almost senseless wife. The exces- 
 sive agitation of my mother, on his return, 
 prevented her for some time from making 
 any inquiry concerning his audience with 
 the priests. When however she requested 
 some information on that subject, his dis- 
 tress increased, he assured her at present 
 all was well, but declared she could not 
 be acquainted with the purport of his inter- 
 view that evening with father Theodosius, 
 while he drew from her a solemn promise 
 that she would never again urge him on 
 that point. On the following day the ser- 
 vants were commanded by their lord by no 
 means to publish the transactions of the 
 over-night out of his family. He observed 
 that the minds of the people of Madrid were 
 already fermented enough with th^ strange 
 
'280 
 
 tales respecting the wizard mor.k, and he 
 by no means wished to increase them. He 
 attempted to make light of the visit he had 
 received^ and the consequences of it ; but his 
 inward emotions were too visible to pass 
 unnoticed ; and although his caution to 
 keep the affair private was attempted to be 
 given in a manner which implied no parti- 
 cular wish of his own as to the result, still 
 his anxiety on the performance of his re- 
 quest was easily to be discovered. His com- 
 mands had little effect; it was shortly whis- 
 pered through the city, that the supernatural 
 priest had visited the castle of OJvernardo : 
 and the buzz of astonishment and wonder in- 
 creased, from this additional source for anti- 
 cipation. The king's curiosity was again 
 raised ; he requested a private interview 
 with my father, and they were closeted to- 
 gether many hours. For several months after 
 this interview he behaved with a coolness 
 towards the marquis, which seemed to 
 threaten sudden disgrace, and it was daily 
 expected his displeasure would be made 
 ■public. After some time, however, he gra- 
 dually became reconciled, and his attach- 
 
ment has ever since continued without in- 
 terruption. The disposition of my father 
 received a total change after these strange" 
 events ; a settled melancholy continuailly 
 pervaded his features ; and his health ap- 
 peared slowly to decline. His temper, which' 
 had ever been mild and amiable, became 
 irritable at every little circumstance that 
 crossed his inclinations ; at times he was 
 even morose and uncivil. Four years elaps- 
 ed, and the marquis's malady rather in- 
 creased than diminished. During this time 
 father Theodosius was generally considered 
 as a regular brother of the holy order of 
 St. Mark; but his person, manners, and, 
 above all, his uncommon and sudden ap- 
 pearance in Madrid, at once rendered him 
 an object neither beloved nor revered. An- 
 other event which happened during this pe- 
 riod revived the alarm concerning the east- 
 ern part of the castle, which had for some 
 time gradually subsided. One of the do- 
 mestics, whose sleeping room was situated 
 opposite to the right wing, asserted that he one 
 night (a few minutes after he heard the mid- 
 night bell from the, tower of St. Mark*s mo- 
 
282 
 
 nastery) plainly perceived a figure pass along 
 the terrace that extended round the front, 
 which glided under a parch at the extremity. 
 It was in vain my father exerted the most 
 austere manners to demand that they would 
 cease to circulate such idle reports, which 
 not only agitated his own family, but tended 
 to inflame the minds of the commonalty of 
 Madrid. The servant declared a second 
 time he witnessed a similar appearance, and 
 he was discharged for his audacity. This 
 was the most impolitic method the marquis 
 could have taken. The former tales of the 
 eastern chambers revived with rapidity, 
 and the discharged domestic became an 
 object of general commiseration. At thia 
 *period, likewise, the regular confessor to our 
 family died, and father Theodosius, to the 
 astonishment of my mother and the whole 
 city, was appointed by my father in his 
 place. On his introduction to our castle 
 under his new^ce, his behairiour appeared 
 in every respect to correspond with his cha* 
 ractcr. To the solemnity of his deport* 
 ment was added a peculiar reserve, which 
 seemed to impress a general idea of bis 
 
283 
 
 superiority. The tone of his voice was 
 holJow and awful, his language classically 
 chaste and elegant, his manner austere, 
 rigid, and forbidding. The behaviour be- 
 tween him and my father was exactly the 
 same on his first entrance into our family 
 as it has since continued. A coolness, a 
 distaste towards each other, was the most 
 striking feature in their intimacy : so far 
 from the ties of friendship being the cause, 
 their hatred seemed mutual, every effort of 
 common civility appeared forced, every 
 action that conferred benefit was appa- 
 rently the work of compulsion. It is not 
 to be supposed that under such circum- 
 stances father Theodosius could find many 
 friends in the castle of Olvemardo : his 
 daily appearance cause'd a general gloom ; 
 his absence dissipated it with gleams of 
 returning pleasure. In the course of a 
 few years an accusation was suddenly 
 brought against him by the brotherhood of 
 St. Mark, on a supposition of his connex- 
 ion with the infernal enemy of mankind: 
 this accusation contained several charges 
 against him for having a, knowledge in 
 
magic, and exercising its diabolical powers. 
 It was said he had been seen at midnight 
 in situations the most strange and myste- 
 rious ; that by certain preparations he had 
 raised vapours from various and secret drugs, 
 through which the most horrid shapes and 
 appearances had been discovered. It was 
 alleged that he had worked upon the 
 minds of several of the brotherhood of the 
 holy order, by devilish incantations ; that 
 they had experienced sensations of a most 
 dreadful nature, which they would prove 
 to originate from his supernatural agency. 
 It \\ as universally supposed that he would 
 have been delivered over to the powers of 
 the Inquisition, but through the interest of 
 my father he was rescued from the cogni- 
 zance of that fatal court. He was however 
 totally discarded from the monastery of 
 St. Mark, and consequently became a more 
 constant inhabitant of the castle. From that 
 time to the present period his manners have 
 continued uniformly the same. He is a ge- 
 neral object of terror and disgust,; even the 
 children of the city fly from him with 
 affright, while their parents stand, appalled 
 
L>85 
 
 in his presence. Nor does he use any exer- 
 tion to obviate the dislike he universally 
 inspires ; on the contrary, he seems to carry 
 in his heart an enmity to the whole human 
 race, which he in no respect attempts to 
 conceal. 
 
 " The melancholy of my father seems 
 hourly to increase, he secretes the source 
 in his own bosom, and it must in all pro- 
 bability bring him to the grave. 
 
 " The discovery of this casket has opened 
 another anecdote in the history of father 
 Theodosius. That in this strange letter he 
 addresses the female companion whom you 
 observed with him at the solitary inn there 
 is little doubt ; but from whence she came, 
 or where he has placed her, is to me totally 
 unknown, I never before heard that he 
 claimed a relationship to any being upon 
 earth : he has several times been absent 
 from the castle for many days together ; but, 
 as his character is composed of eccentrici- 
 ties and mystery, his sudden disappearances 
 have been considered as no ways striking. 
 
 " 1 have thus related to you,'* continued 
 Albert, *' those extraordinary events which 
 
2815 
 
 have served for some years past, at different 
 intervals, to agitate the people of Madrid, 
 and to cast a veil of mystery on our family. 
 From what secret arises the strange con- 
 nexion between the marquis and father 
 Theodosius' I am wholly at a Joss tQ define ; 
 and while we mournfully watch the gradual 
 decline of his health, we neither have the 
 means of alleviating his misery, nor even the 
 power of condolence." 
 
 ^^ I must sincerely sympathise in your di- 
 stress," answered Osmund ; *^ but surely 
 some exertions might be used to discover 
 more relative to this supernatural monk. 
 You cannot be a convert to his artful insi- 
 nuations of possessing powers different from 
 the generality of his fellow creatures." 
 
 "I know not what to believe," exclaimed 
 Albert 3 " I am almost distracted with doubts j 
 and if ever you require me to be serious, 
 you have only to commence this subject, 
 and I shall instantly become one of the most 
 grave mortals in existence." 
 
 The late conversation fully proved this 
 remark: he appeared, while reciting the be- 
 fore-mentioned events, to have lost all his 
 
287 
 
 vivacity, while bis feelings seemed suscep- 
 tible to the most heart-felt sorrow. 
 
 *' In v^hat manner shall I act w^ith respect 
 to the casket ?" said Osmund. "To retain it 
 would be injustice ; and yet I know not how 
 to dispose of it, without I convey it to the 
 priest." 
 
 " By no means," answered Albert : " there 
 is nothing within it to distress the owner for 
 its immediate possession, and we may per- 
 haps in time discover the lovely incognita. 
 — Gracious heaven!" he exclaimed, " she 
 may be confined by this enchanter within 
 the gloomy walls of some desolate castle j 
 she may languish under his power ; she may 
 solicit heaven for the aid of some daring 
 youth to deliver her from his tyranny. Who 
 knows but we may be the instruments of her 
 freedom? that after a little peril we may 
 gloriously present her to the world, as a ta- 
 lisman which has been recovered by the 
 efforts of chivalry, and receive from her 
 bright eyes those soft refulgent beams of 
 grateful pleasure which are the most en- 
 viable rewards to a true knight ?" 
 
 Osmund smiled at the vehemence of the 
 
288 
 
 young enthusiast, who, during this rhapsody, 
 relapsed under his usual romantic ideas. 
 The former agreed to assist him in any ex- 
 ertions that might be necessary to discover 
 the owner of the casket, and faithfully pro- 
 mised the circumstances he had related 
 should be carefully concealed within his own 
 bosom. 
 
 Being now interrupted by the entrance of 
 signior Zadok and Orlando, they proceeded 
 to the saloon. The marquis was not return- 
 ed, but several visitors were announced ; 
 ^mong which were Don Everard de Gos- 
 mond and his daughter, the Duke de Bre- 
 von, and Don Silvius de Roseverez. The 
 conversation became general, trifling, and 
 uninteresting., 
 
 END OF VOL. T. 
 
 Ilamilton, Printer, Falcon-Court, Fieet-Strce:. 
 
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