Chapter C: S. Q (3)

Though my uncle was far advanced in years, heaven still permitted him to remain with me ten years, after which I had the misfortune to lose him: I purchased his estate, and retired thither for the rest of my days.

Sinclair promised to come and see me once a-year, and though fifteen are now past since that event, we have never been eighteen months without seeing each other.

Sinclair, at present in his fifty-eighth year, has run a career the most brilliant and the most fortunate: a happy husband, a happy father, a successful warrior, covered with glory, loaded with fortune’s favours, he enjoys a felicity and fate the more transcendant, in that they only could be procured by virtue united to genius.

As for me, I, in my obscure mediocrity, might yet find happiness, were it not for the mournful, the bitter remembrance of the evils which others have suffered through the errors of my youth.

[[Sources:

Original: _Les veillées du château_, 1785, by Stéphanie Félicité,
comtesse de Genlis, 1746-1830.
English Translation: _Tales of the castle; or, Stories of instruction
and delight_, trans. Thomas Holcroft, 1745-1809. This selection is
pages 203-270 in Volume 1 (of 5), in the 1793 (4th) edition.
The serial began in no. 45 of the New-York Weekly; the first 8 of its
12 installments are in Volume I.

Link: http://www.archive.org/details/talesofcastleors01genluoft]]

* * * * *

EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE OF A SPANISH NOBLEMAN.

_From the Chevalier De Rabilier’s remarkable
Events of the present Century._

Francis Anthony De Sandoval, duke of Medina Celi, and of St. Lucar, in the province of Andalusia, was not only a grandee of the first class, but exceedingly beloved in the country where he usually resided, on account of his great benevolence and affability to all ranks of people who approached him. Having a prodigious estate in lands, besides the duties and customs of the port of St. Lucar, near Seville, which were conferred on his family by Roderick the last monarch of the Gothic race, he kept a sort of vice royal court, to which the nobility, gentry, and merchants, around his wide domain, were always welcomed with the grandeur of a prince, the hospitality of a burgher, and the smiles of a friend. Young, rich, powerful, and revered by thousands, who considered him as the pride of their country, and an honour to the whole nation, nothing seemed wanting to complete the felicity of this worthy nobleman, but an alliance suitable to his elevated rank and more distinguished virtues. Many were the overtures on that head, from the most illustrious families in every part of Spain; but his grace, who was of a domestic turn, and averse from the vanities of high life, declined entering into any engagement which might subject him to the impertinence, folly, and etiquette, to which the major part of the fashionable world seem to abound, either as servile imitators, or involuntary slaves. He loved magnificence, but abhorred ceremony as much as the amusements wherein persons of fortune usually lose the best part of their time. Hunting he considered as a manly exercise, calculated to brace the nerves, and give circulation to the blood, therefore to be taken occasionally as physic, not followed as a trade. It may be asked by some fantastic man of pleasure of the court, or jolly squire of the country, how then could a person of his quality spend his leisure hours? Why, in reading, walking, entertaining his numerous friends at home, and returning the necessary visits abroad, in various innocent parties on land and water, in keeping up his gardens and improvements, in examining his vast houshold accounts, inspecting the state of his vassals and farmers, hearing and redressing their grievances, portioning the marriageable daughters of his poor tenantry, and presiding at those nuptials, where he is considered in the threefold light of father, benefactor, and guardian; as the ministering angel of comfort, and deputed commissioner of a bountiful Providence, to dispense his gracious mercies amongst the sons and daughters of affliction. If to these healthful avocations and duties, so worthy elevated rank and rich possessions, we add the public and private attendance on religious worship, frequent self-examination, and the distribution of super-abundant wealth, to modest indigence and clamorous distress, as a small tribute for the distinguished blessings, which rightly enjoyed, will confer the purest happiness here, and a crown of glory in the regions of everlasting day hereafter, little or no time can be spared for frivolous amusements or sinful pursuits. Think of this, ye extravagant and debauched men of quality without peace, morals, or good faith, whose hours are sacrificed to folly, whose minds are the sport of delusion, whose bodies are the sinks of disease, and whose fortunes are hastening to the hands of the extortioner who sooner or later, will consume all you possess! Let the example of the duke of Medina point out the true man of sense, honour and distinction; act like him and be happy!

Whilst this model of real nobility was thus blessed, and blessing all around, chance led him to the house of a tradesman in Seville, whose only son was that very day to be married to an amiable girl of that city. The condescension with which his grace always accepted an offer of contributing to the pleasure of his friends and neighbours, rendered much solicitation needless, and he determined to stand bridesman on the occasion. The guests were a company of genteel citizens, who with their wives and daughters, made a very tolerable appearance, and the duke seemed delighted with manners not viciously refined, where elegance, unsullied by pride or affectation, and beauty, unassisted by art, shone out in native meridian lustre. But, with what joy did he behold a plain, modest maiden, daughter to a linen-draper, named Anthony de Valdez, who came with her mother to the wedding! He gazed, he admired, he loved, this picture of rural innocence, with as much elegance and sensibility as suited his ideas of a perfect form, joined to an amiable and virtuous mind. After some acquaintance and private enquiries, which terminated to the advantage of the young lady and her family, the duke demanded the fair Elvira de Valdez in marriage, and was received with equal joy and astonishment by the honest couple, who shed tears of gratitude for the happiness offered their beloved child by the richest and most illustrious lord in the whole monarchy of Spain. Miss Elvira expressed no reluctance, but what proceeded from her own demerit and total inequality; but this was soon got over, and the happy day fixed for the Sunday following.

(_To be concluded in our next._)

* * * * *
* * * *

AN ACCOUNT

OF A MURDER COMMITTED BY MR. J---- Y----, UPON HIS FAMILY,
IN DECEMBER, A. D. 1781.

(_Concluded from page 20._)

At the noise of my feet upon the dry corn stalks---she turned hastily round and seeing me exclaimed, “O father, my dear father, spare me, let me live--let me live,--I will be a comfort to you and my mother--spare me to take care of my little sister Diana--do--do let me live.”--She was my darling child, and her fearful cries pierced me to the soul---the tears of _natural pity_ fell as plentifully down my cheeks, as those of terror did down her’s, and methought that to destroy _all_ my idols, was a hard task---I again relapsed at the voice of complaining; and taking her by the hand, led her to where her mother lay; then thinking that if I intended to retain her, I must make some other severe sacrifice, I bade her sing and dance---She complied, terribly situated as she was,---but I was not asking in the line of my duty--I was convinced of my error, and catching up a hatchet that stuck in a log, with one well aimed stroke cleft her forehead in twain---she fell---and no sign of retaining life appeared.

I then sat down on the threshold, to consider what I had best do---“I shall be called a murderer (said I) I shall be seized--imprisoned--executed, and for what?--for destroying my idols---for obeying the mandate of my father---no, I will put all the dead in the house together, and after setting fire to it, run to my sister’s and say the Indians have done it---“I was preparing to drag my wife in, when the idea struck me that I was going to tell a _horrible lie_;” and how will that accord with my profession? (asked I.) No, let me speak the truth, and declare the good motive for my actions, be the consequences what they may.”

His sister, who was the principal evidence against him, stated---that she had scarce got home, when a message came to Mr. J----n, her husband, informing him that his mother was ill and wished to see him; he accordingly set off immediately, and she not expecting him home again till the next day, went to bed---there being no other person in the house. About four in the morning she heard her brother Y------ call her, she started up and bade him come in. “I will not (returned he) for I have committed the unpardonable sin---I have burnt the Bible.” She knew not what to think, but rising hastily opened the door which was only latched, and caught hold of his hand: let me go, Nelly (said he) my hands are wet with blood---the blood of my Elizabeth and her children.---She saw the blood dripping from his fingers, and her’s chilled in the veins, yet with a fortitude unparalleled she begged him to enter, which--as he did, he attempted to sieze a case knife, that by the light of a bright pine-knot fire, he perceived lying on the dresser---she prevented him, however, and tearing a trammel from the chimney, bound him with it to the bed post---fastening his hands behind him---She then quitted the house in order to go to his, which as she approached she heard the voice of loud lamentation, the hope that it was some one of the family who had escaped the effects of her brother’s frenzy, subdued the fears natural to such a situation and time, she quickened her steps, and when she came to the place where Mrs. Y---- lay, she perceived that the moans came from Mrs. Y----’s aged father, who expecting that his daughter would set out upon her journey by day break, had come at that early hour to bid her farewel.

They alarmed their nearest neighbours immediately, who proceeded to Mrs. J----n’s, and there found Mr. Y---- in the situation she had left him; they took him from hence to Tomhanick, where he remained near two days---during which time Mr. W--tz--l (a pious old Lutheran, who occasionally acted as preacher) attended upon him, exhorting him to pray and repent; but he received the admonitions with contempt, and several times with ridicule, refusing to confess his error or _join_ in prayer---I say _join_ in prayer, for he would not kneel when the rest did, but when they arose he would prostrate himself and address his “father,” frequently saying “my father, thou knowest that it was in obedience to thy commands, and for thy glory that I have done this deed.” Mrs. Bl--------r, at whose house he then was, bade some one ask him who his father was?--he made no reply---but pushing away the person who stood between her and himself, darted at her a look of such indignation as thrilled horror to her heart---his speech was connected, and he told his tale without variation; he expressed much sorrow for the loss of his dear family, but consoled himself with the idea of having performed his duty--he was taken to ALBANY and there confined as a lunatic in the goal, from which he escaped twice, once by the assistance of Aqua Fortis, with which he opened the front door.

I went in 1782 with a little girl, by whom Mr. Bl-----r had sent him some fruit; he was then confined in dungeon, and had several chains on---he appeared to be much affected at her remembrance of him, and put up a pious ejaculation for her and her family---since then I have received no accounts respecting him.

The cause for his wonderfully cruel proceedings is beyond the conception of human beings---the deed so unpremeditated, so unprovoked, that we do not hesitate to pronounce it the effect of insanity---yet upon the other hand, when we reflect on the equanimity of his temper, and the comfortable situation in which he was, and no visible circumstance operating to render him frantic, we are apt to conclude, that he was under a strong delusion of Satan. But what avail our conjectures, perhaps it is best that some things are concealed from us, and the only use we can now make of our knowledge of this affair, is to be humble under a scene of human frailty to renew our petition, “Lead us not into temptation.”

May 27, 1796.

[[Sources:

This is believed to be the original publication of the narrative.
The author may be Margaretta Faugères, daughter of Ann Eliza Bleecker
(“Mrs. Bl----er”)

Notes: Tomhanick is now spelled Tomhannock.]]

* * * * *

BEAUTIFUL ALLEGORY.

Happiness and virtue are twins, which can never be divided; they are born and flourish, or sicken and die together.---They are joint offsprings of good-sense and innocence, and while they continue under the guidance of such parents, they are invulnerable to injury, and incapable of decay.

* * * * *
* * * *

THE VICTIM OF MAGICAL DELUSION.
_OR, INTERESTING MEMOIRS OF MIGUEL, DUKE DE CA*I*A._
Unfolding Many Curious Unknown Historical Facts.

_Translated from the German of Tschink._

(Continued from page 22.)

I found indeed a number of letters, however, they were written in cyphers. Now I comprehended why the Count had asked repeatedly whether I could read cyphers? Having made it a rule, in regard to this point, always to deny the question, he had probably left these writings on the supposition that I should not be able to read them, and saved only those which were written in common characters. However, the Count had deceived himself this time, for I am pretty well skilled in the art of decyphering. I took one of the papers which were marked 1. 2. 3. &c. &c. however, I perceived on the first attempt, that my art would encounter a hard trial. Yet this did not deter, but rather animated me to exert all my skill to find the key to these papers, while my servant was occupied with taking an exact copy of the rest.

I had already been working above twenty-four hours without seeing my labour crowned with success, when my servant, whom I had sent to the post, returned with a letter. Conceive my astonishment, when I found it was from the Count.

“Whatever Paleski may have discovered to your Grace with respect to me, yet I am assured that he cannot have said any thing for which my conscience condemns me, though I should not be able to defend it before an ecclesiastical, or a civil court of justice. I have deceived you; however, I have done it for a great and noble purpose, and by order of a powerful being, whose authority I and you acknowledge. I should despise myself, if mean, or self-interested views, could have prompted me to do what I have done. To stimulate you to take an active part in the delivery of your country, was the sole reason for which you have been imposed upon. Although Paleski should not have disclosed the secret to you, yet you would not have remained in the dark much longer, because it was the plan of the _Unknown_ to remove the veil from your eyes, and to introduce you into a new world, for which you was to be prepared by the delusions which you have experienced. Man is led to truth by error, according to an eternal law of nature. It was necessary that you should be made acquainted with delusions, that your look might be sharpened for future knowledge; it was necessary you should experience the highest degree of delusion, that you might acquire the prerogative of discerning fraud from reality, and of never suffering yourself to be imposed upon again. Then, and not sooner, the time would have arrived, when the _Unknown_ would have shown himself to you in his real shape, and embraced you not only as a preserver of your country, but also as a member of that sacred society of wise men, who are admitted behind the curtain of nature, whither no eye of common short-sighted men can penetrate. A power and a happiness of which you can form no adequate notion, would have been your reward. Your tutor already enjoys that reward, and if you had been keen-sighted enough to penetrate, without assistance, the mist of delusions with which you have been encompassed, you would have been admitted some time since to the sanctuary where that reward awaits you. More I dare not say at present; however, I would advise you not to postpone your journey, and neither to betray me or the U_nknown_. If you slight my advice, then you must ascribe to yourself all the bad consequences which may arise from it, and you never will meet again in this world your tutor or Amelia. I conjure you not to mistake this for a new delusion. If you, on the other side, are inclined to profit by this advice, you will continue your journey with all possible expedition, and not think it finished before you shall be arrived at Ma***d, the capital of Sp***n, you will meet the _Unknown_, Amelia and your tutor, on the road. At *ubea you will stop at the inn which bears the sign of the golden mirror, where you are to receive an important visit. You will have the goodness to send my trunk to the post-house, where one of my people will call for it. I remain, with that respect and love with which I always have been,

“Your Grace’s, &c. &c.”

I must confess, I never should have expected _such_ a letter. I fancied it would be couched in terms of repentance and submission, and when I opened it, found it to be a letter of a man of good conscience, who took it upon himself to advise and to warn me. What he told me of a hidden sanctuary to which the _Unknown_ had designed to introduce me after I should have completed my time of probation, was an utter riddle to me, but what he told me about my tutor was still more so. At first I fancied this to be nothing but a varnish, by which he would conceal his deceptions, and an artifice to ensnare me a second time; however the idea that the matter _might_ be as he had stated it, made me uneasy, and his menaces with respect to the bad consequences of my discontinuing my journey, frightened me. The bare possibility of the execution of his threats, was sufficient to determine me to continue my journey.---Pietro, my faithful servant, endeavoured indeed to persuade me to drop my design assailing me with tears and prayers; however, nothing could change my resolution. I would have encountered any danger and difficulty in order to meet Amelia and my tutor again, and departed with the first dawn of day. I left the Count’s trunk at the post-house at **zin. At ***jelo, I was, at length, so fortunate as to find a key to the cyphers which I had despaired to unfold. I had already tried all languages which I was master of, and succeeded at length with the Latin. How amply did I think my trouble rewarded, when I found the papers to be copies of letters which the _Unknown_ had wrote on my account to Pinto Ribeiro, privy counsellor of the Duke of Br**za. Here follows the translation:

“Your Excellency knows how carefully we endeavoured to conceal the place of our secret meetings from the intrusion of prying strangers, by spreading the report that it was haunted. However, this did not deter a young nobleman who is on his travels, from entering last night the castle, in company of his tutor, with the intention of forming an acquaintance with the ghosts. No sooner had we been informed of their being arrived at the castle, when Georgio de M**** offered to chastise them for their inquisitiveness, fixing twelve o’clock at night for the execution of his design. He disguised himself as the most dreadful spectre which ever has appeared at midnight. Concluding from the undertaking of the two strangers that they were men of spirit and resolution, he put on a coat of mail, and covered his face with a mask made of bull-skins, in order to be proof against swords and pistols; a precaution which, as the event proved, was not superfluous. Thus accoutred, he approached at twelve o’clock the apartment of the strangers with a tremendous noise. Their door was bolted from within as he had apprehended; however, all the locks and bolts in the castle being constructed in such a manner that they can be opened from without, Georgio found it not difficult to push their door open. I remained at the threshold in order to wait the event. Georgio no sooner had entered the room with a design to chastise the young man who was sitting near the window, at a table on which two candles were burning, than his tutor started up, aiming a blow at him from behind which would have done his business at once, if Georgio had not been protected by his coat of mail. The pretended spectre threw the old gentleman so violently on the ground that he was unable to move a limb. This sight entirely disconcerted the young man, who was on the point of firing a pistol at his frightful visitor, rushed on him with a thundering voice, extinguished the candles, and beating him in such a manner as if he was going to beat him to atoms. Georgio’s dress being anointed with a salve composed of phosphorus, he appeared in the dark, to be all on fire. The dreadful impression which this sight produced on the mind of the young man was increased by the howling, groaning, and the tremendous noise which some of our company raised in the apartment over his head; he seemed to be senseless. As soon as Georgio perceived his helpless state, he lighted the candles with phosphorus, and left the apartment which he carefully bolted and locked.

“An hour after this scene had been acted, Georgio returned to the apartment, partly with the intention of seeing what effect the incident had produced on the strangers, and partly with a view to deter them from paying a second visit to the castle, and renewed the former scene. Both of them were again stretched senseless on their beds. As soon as Georgio had done with the young nobleman, he left the room without kindling the taper, for fear of being watched by the young spark, if he should recover his recollection a little too soon. He was not mistaken. But who would have thought that the young man would be so daring to pursue the spectre on his return through the dark passage? Georgio, who did not entertain the most distant idea of such an attempt, neither looked back, nor shut the trap-door thro’ which he had jumped down into the subterraneous vault, upon a heap of hay and straw. He had not advanced four steps, when the report of a pistol re-echoed through the subterraneous fabric. Some of our company who were at hand, hastened to the spot from whence the report of the pistol had proceeded, wrapt in black cloaks, and provided with torches and swords. They found the young man lying upon the straw upon which he had fallen in the dark through the trap-door. He was instantly seized and conducted to the assembly-room, where the conspirators, who had previously masked their faces, were sitting around a long table. Hearing that he was to pay with his life for his rashness, he drew his sword, but was soon disarmed and confined in an adjoining chamber.

(_To be continued._)

* * * * *

CURSORY THOUGHTS ON THE FICKLE GODDESS,
SHEWING WITH WHAT INJUSTICE SHE GENERALLY DISPENSES HER FAVOURS.

It has long been the complaint of the experienced, that no human foresight, no prudence, can at all times ensure prosperity, and avert ill fortune. Something still arises to baffle the counsels of the wise, and to counteract the intentions of the good. The Roman satirist has indeed asserted, that fortune is a deity of our own creation, and that he, who submits to the guidance of prudence, needs not the interposition of any supernatural power; but experience proves the assertion to be rather the effusion of rigid and affected philosophy, than the cool suggestion of well-informed reason.

The observation of a sacred moralist, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, is more agreeable to truth, and has been confirmed by the repeated testimony of some thousand years. Wisdom is often found guilty of folly, and ingenuity of error.

As merit cannot always ensure success, even in the exertion of its peculiar excellence, so it is by no means certain of obtaining a good reception in the world: for history and experience furnish many examples to prove, that wealth and power are not the necessary consequences of wisdom and virtue. To be wise and virtuous, may be learned from an Epictetus, to be fortunate from others.

It might indeed be supposed, that strength of intellects, accuracy of judgment, and extensive erudition, would either secure to themselves good fortune, or would, at least, be rewarded by the world; but it is an incontestable truth, that poets and philosophers, of every age and every nation, have been as much distinguished by their indigence, as their ingenuity. Poverty and poetry are almost synonymous, while the unerring experience of mankind has reduced it to a proverb, that fools have fortune.

The insufficiency of merit, and of honest endeavours, to the acquisition of fame and fortune, has given occasion to the discontented to repine, and censure the economy of human affairs: but they who are conversant in the investigation of final causes, easily perceive, that such a dispensation tends to perfect virtue, by the exercise of patience.

* * * * *

_MORAL AXIOM._

Those who reprove with passion for every trifle, in a little time will not be regarded when they reprove with reason.

* * * * *
* * * *

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

* * *

ACTIVITY CONDUCIVE TO HAPPINESS.

The final cause of the many obstacles which we meet with, and the numerous difficulties in which this journey of life involves us, will readily appear to a confederate mind, as an excellent contrivance of Providence to stimulate us to exertion. Without this order of things, many faculties would lay dormant, the ends of our being would be frustrated, and this world be no longer a scene of trial. Man is naturally inclined to indulge himself in ease and inactivity, and were it not for certain motives, would always remain in a state of rest: But the fluctuating nature of all human affairs constantly counteracts this propensity to accommodate ourselves to every situation, and urges forward on the road in pursuit of something we call happiness, or hastens our flight from some evil. The long-expected hour of happiness is perhaps at length arrived, and deluded man sits down to enjoy life, and hopes at last to find innocent and tranquil pleasures. The storms of adversity arise and obscure the delightful prospect; his attention is excited, and some unforeseen emergency demands the exertion of his talents, and proves that man is made for action.

* * * * *

Account of a WONDERFUL DELIVERANCE at SEA near fifty years ago.

A Dutch seaman being condemned to death, his punishment was changed, and he was ordered to be left at St. Helen’s Island. This unhappy person representing to himself the horror of that solitude, fell upon a resolution to attempt the strangest action that ever was heard of. There had that day been interred in the same island an officer of the ship: the seaman took up the body out of the coffin; and having made a rudder of the upper board, ventured himself to sea in the coffin. It happened fortunately for him to be so great a calm that the ship lay immoveable within a league and a half of the island; when his companions seeing so strange a boat float upon the waters, imagined they saw a spectre, and at last were not a little startled at the resolution of the man, who durst hazard himself upon that element in three boards slightly nailed together, though he had no confidence to find or to be received by those who lately sentenced him to death. Accordingly it was put to the question, whether he should be received or not; some would have the sentence put into execution, but at last mercy prevailed, and he was taken aboard, and came afterwards to Holland; where he lived in the town of Horn, and related to many how miraculously God had delivered him.

* * * * *

OBSERVATION.

A youth is generally laughed at by his youthful companions where they see him pursue the paths of virtue and piety with alacrity and zeal; but let him not be discouraged; if God be on his side, who can be against him?

* * * * *
* * * *

_NEW-YORK._

* * *

MARRIED.

On Tuesday, the 28th ult. by the Rev. Thomas L. Moore, of Hempstead, Mr. MINNE SCHENK, of Cow Neck, to Miss PHEBE TOFFEY, daughter of Mr. Daniel Toffey, of Herricks, (L. I.)

On Thursday evening the 14th inst. by the Rev. Dr. Foster, Mr. CORNELIUS DAY, to Mrs. ANN HAMELLER, both of this city.

* * * * *

_METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS._
_From the 10th to the 23d inst._

_Days of the Month._
_Thermometor observed at 8, A.M. 1, P.M. 6, P.M._
_Prevailing winds._
_OBSERVATIONS on the WEATHER._

deg. deg. deg. 8. 1. 6. 8. 1. 6.
100 100 100
JULY 10 73 78 50 74 NW. SW S. clear do. do.
11 73 25 78 77 50 S. do. do. cloudy do. do. rn. at n.
12 80 75 87 50 78 S. SW. W. cr. cy. do. thun. & light
13 76 72 50 74 25 SW do SW rain do. do.
14 72 74 75 72 SW do NW rain do. do. thun. & lit
15 72 76 50 72 N se sw cy. rn. cy. thun. & lit.
16 74 50 82 50 76 75 W do SW cloudy clear do.
17 74 25 80 50 79 SW do. do clear do. do.
18 72 79 73 W. SW W. clear. do. thun. & light
19 70 75 78 79 W. do do. thun. in the nt. cy. do cr
20 70 50 66 63 NE. do. N. cloudy rain do.
21 74 50 77 50 77 N. do. SW. cloudy clear do.
22 75 80 73 NE. do se clear do. do.
23 69 74 69 Ne do. e cloudy clear do.

* * * * *

+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

* * *

TO ELIZA.

Come, my Eliza, grace the sylvan scene,
Ah! fly, and leave the careful seats of woe;
No sorrows here intrude, all calm, serene,
Our happy hours in sweet contentment flow;
Bring guileless pleasures each succeeding day,
Then clap their joyous wings, and quickly haste away.

O’er neighbouring fields, unlike our smiling plain,
Fell tyranny his iron rod extends:
There furious war and devastation reign,
And pity bids us weep our slaughter’d friends
Yet cannot sympathy our peace molest,
We grow by sad comparison more blest.

O come, the time prophetic bards foretold,
When tyranny, and war shall be no more;
When circling years, restore the age of gold,
And every sorrow, want, and pain are o’er;
When heaven-born love, and peace shall reign again,
To bless an unambitious gentle race of men.

MATILDA.

Cedar Grove, 1776.

* * * * *

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

EJACULATION

+Over the grave of my wife.+

And does this little space contain
The person of my wife?
Who, when alive, no house could hold,
Her _tongue! ! !_----Ah! what is _life_?

THEODORE.

New-York, July 24, 1796.

* * * * *
* * * *

TO AMANDA.

From me, dear maid, one faithful verse receive,
The last sad offering that a wretch can give;
Warm from that heart, decreed by heaven to prove,
The sad experience of too great a love.
When first, Amanda, with your friendship blest,
Your form too lovely, all my soul possest;
Tho’ sweet the hours, how swift the minutes flew,
While pleas’d I sat and fondly gaz’d on you.
Ah! how I listen’d when your silence broke,
And kiss’d the air which trembled as you spoke;
Did you not, dearest, see my fond distress,
Beyond all power of language to express?
Did not my soul betray the young disease,
The soften’d look, the tender wish to please?
To sooth your cares, when all in vain I strove,
Did not each action speak increase of love?
’Tis done! but ah, how wretched must I be,
That lovely bosom heaves no sigh for me;
For me, that heart with no warm passion glows,
Nor my Amanda one soft word bestows:
But could she see the anguish of my heart,
And view the tumults that her charms impart;
Could she but read the sorrows of my mind,
She sure would pity, for she must be kind.
Ah! what avails, dear maid, to souls like mine,
That gen’rous friendship is your sweet design?
The pleasing thought with rapture I pursue,
It must be lovely, for it comes from you.
But oh! how vain is friendship to repress
The soul-felt pang of exquisite distress.
How small the balm, by friendship you impart,
To the sharp tortures of th’ impassion’d heart.
What tender wish, for you alone to live,
Could once each dear deluding moment give?
When every look, bewitching as ’twas fair,
Seiz’d all my heart, and play’d the tyrant there.
How did those eyes with soften’d lustre shine,
Thought unexpress’d, and sympathy divine?
While still the hope within my bosom grew;
Vain hope!----to live for happiness and you.
Some swain more blest has taught thy breast to glow,
But who can soothe the wretched Arouet’s woe?
Ah! think not absence can afford a cure,
To the sharp woes, the sorrows I endure:
Amanda, no! ’twill but augment distress
To such a height no mortal can express.
My soul, distracted, still is fix’d on you;
Was ever heart so wretched and so true!
Oh! say, shall selfish love my bosom fire?
Shall you reluctant meet my fond desire?
If that dear heart has vow’d eternal truth,
To some blest swain, some more engaging youth;
Forgive the thought, dear angel of my breast,
I must be wretched; O! may you be blest.
Yes, may the youth to whom you prove more kind,
Know the rich treasures of that lovely mind:
May he be fond, and may no cloud o’ercast
The virtuous passion, born to ever last.
But though his love in every act may shine,
Yet know, sweet maid, it cannot be like mine:
Your image never can from me depart;
Fixt in my soul, and written on my heart.

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_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

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THE WISH.

Where’s my Olivia, tell me where?
Oh! could she all my pleasures share;
Oh! could she---- No-- That thought restrain,
She must not, shall not share my pain.

How oft with her I’ve rang’d the fields,
Pleas’d with the blessings friendship yields;
Contented then, no more desir’d,
And only sung what it inspir’d.

Soon may she come, and with her bring
That peace which taught me first to sing,
That calm contentment which attends
The gentle intercourse of friends.

’Till then in vain I seek relief,
And sooth, with ev’ry art, my grief;
Friendship alone can grief destroy,
And tune the soul again to joy.

Can bid each flatt’ring hope be still,
To reason’s power subdue the will;
Each feeling of the heart improve,
And guard it from the darts of love.

HENRICUS.

New-York, _July 22, 1796_.

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_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

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To a Gentleman who Obliged Me to Read Aloud,
and Made Me Promise to Write Some Verses.

THE THREAT.

Strephon, as yet you have your way,
No contradictions tease you;
Submissive to despotic sway,
I’ve read, I’ve wrote to please you.

Howe’er this empire to secure,
You less should seem to know it,
Your pow’r, believe me, won’t endure,
If thus you strive to shew it.

If conscious triumph you’d enjoy,
You must not still perplex me;
Nor all your wit and sense employ,
On themes, _you know_, will vex me.

The woman’s pride may rouze at last,
It can’t be _always_ neuter,
I freely can forgive the past,
But do not tempt the future.

PHYLLIS.

New-York, _July 22, 1796_.

NEW-YORK: _+Printed by JOHN BULL, No. 115, Cherry-Street+, where every Kind of Printing work is executed with the utmost Accuracy and Dispatch.--+Subscriptions+ for this +Magazine+ (at 2s. per month) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and by E. MITCHELL, Bookseller, No. 9, Maiden-Lane._

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_UTILE DULCI._

THE NEW-YORK WEEKLY MAGAZINE;
or, Miscellaneous Repository.

+Vol. II.+] +Wednesday, August 3, 1796.+ [+No. 57.+

[[For sources, see the end of the e-text.]]

_+View+ of the STARRY HEAVENS._

(_Concluded from page 25._)

Each star, then, is not only a world, but also the center of a planetary system. It is in this light we must consider the stars, which shine over our heads in a winter night. They are distinguished from the planets by their brilliancy, and because they never change their place in the sky. According to their apparent size, they are divided into six classes, which comprehend altogether about three thousand stars. But though they have endeavoured to fix the exact number of them, it is certain they are innumerable. The very number of stars sowed here and there, and which the most piercing eye can with difficulty perceive, prove that it would be in vain to attempt to reckon them. Telescopes indeed have opened to us new points in the creation, since by their assistance millions of stars are discovered. But it would be a very senseless pride in man to try to fix the limits or the universe, by those of his telescope. If we reflect on the distance between the fixed stars and our earth, we shall have new cause to admire the greatness of the creation. Our senses alone make us already know that the stars must be farther from us than the planets. Their apparent littleness only proceeds from their distance from the earth. And in reality, this distance cannot be measured: since a cannon-ball, supposing it always to preserve the same degree of swiftness, would scarce, at the end of six hundred thousand years, reach the star nearest to our earth. What then must the stars be? Their prodigious distance and their brightness tell us,---they are suns which reflect as far as us, not a borrowed light, but their own light; suns, which the Creator has sowed by millions in the immeasurable space; and each of which is accompanied by several terrestrial globes, which it is designed to illuminate.

In the mean time, all these observations, however surprising they are, lead us, at the utmost, but to the first limits of the creation. If we could transport ourselves above the moon; if we could reach the highest star over our heads, we should discover new skies, new suns, new stars, new systems of worlds, and perhaps still more magnificent. Even there, however, the dominions of our great Creator would not end; and we should find, with the greatest surprize, that we had only arrived at the frontiers of the worldly space. But the little we do know of his works, is sufficient to make us admire the infinite wisdom, power, and goodness of our adorable Creator. Let us stop here, then, and reflect, how great must be that Being who has created those immense globes! who has regulated their course, and whose right hand directs and supports them! And what is the clod of earth we inhabit, with the magnificent scene it presents us, in comparison of the beauty of the firmament? If this earth was annihilated, its absence would be no more observed than that of a grain of sand from the sea-shore. What are provinces and kingdoms in comparison of those worlds? Nothing but atoms which play in the air, and are seen in the sun-beams. And what am I, when I reckon myself amongst this infinite number of God’s creatures? How I am lost in my own nothingness! But however little I appear in this, how great do I find myself in other respects! “How beautiful this starry firmament, which God has chosen for his throne! What is more admirable than the celestial bodies! Their splendor dazzles me; their beauty enchants me. However, all beautiful as it is, and richly adorned, yet is this sky void of intelligence. It knows not its own beauty; whilst I, mere clay, whom God has moulded with his hands, am endowed with sense and reason.” I can contemplate the beauty of those shining orbs. Still more, I am already, to a certain degree, acquainted with their sublime Author; and I partly see some rays of his glory. I will endeavour to be more and more acquainted with his works, and make it my employment, till by a glorious change I rise above the starry regions, and enter the world of spirits.

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MAXIM.

If we would be truly great, we must think nothing below our notice, nor any thing too high for our attainment.

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EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE OF A SPANISH NOBLEMAN

_From the Chevalier De Rabilier’s remarkable
Events of the present Century._

(Concluded from page 27)

They were accordingly united in the pleasing bonds of Hymen, which are never so indissoluble, as when religion and virtue, disinterested love, and real worth form the bright links of the mystic chain. But as all sublunary happiness is liable to a change, a most dreadful reverse succeeded to this seemingly well established scheme of domestic enjoyment. The duchess from some accident in lying-in, notwithstanding every possible assistance from the faculty, expired three days after presenting her spouse with an heir to his noble possessions. It would be needless to attempt a description of the grief and confusion caused by so dire a misfortune, which were not confined to the castle of St. Lucar, but spread like an epidemic disease throughout the whole district. The church bells rang their usual melancholy dirge, and were echoed by the responsive sighs of city and country for many miles round: to complete this scene of woe, the disconsolate widower, penetrated with the most lively anguish, followed his beloved partner to the tomb in less than six months.

The young duke, now an orphan, remained under the tutelage of the count d’Alvarez, uncle to his father, a nobleman whose fortune was by no means equal to his rank and numerous family.--The immense riches of his ward tempted him to sacrifice the last of this illustrious family to the abominable desire of enriching his own children with the spoils. A mind capable of forming so black a design is commonly capable of carrying it into execution; yet this barbarian, not daring to shed innocent blood with his own hand, bribed one of his domestics to carry the young nobleman to some remote place, and there strangle him. But the servant who fortunately had never been stained with so detestable a crime as wilful murder, though somewhat encouraged by the hopes of a further recompense, seized the wretched victim, and with a tremor and agitation, that equally denoted reluctance and want of skill in the weapons of death, gave him three stabs in the left arm with a poignard, which instantly fell from his convulsed and shaking hand. The cries of this lovely infant, and the blood which ran plentifully from his wounds, quite overcame the youthful assassin, and recalled a sense of the act he was about to perpetrate. He melted into tears, and forgetting both his interest and rigid lord’s commands, ran with speed to a neighbouring surgeon, who on examining the wounds, found them not mortal, though dangerous, and deep enough to leave indelible marks of their malignity on the back of his shoulders.

The domestic having in part discharged the duties of humanity, returned to his lord, and informed him that he had fully executed the bloody commission, which was readily believed, and a report immediately circulated that the young duke died suddenly in a convulsion fit, a coffin was accordingly filled with rubbish, and solemnly interred the following night.

Notwithstanding these precautions, the servant became very uneasy in his mind, and returned privately to the surgeon, under whose care he had left the wounded infant. He found him much mended, and dreading a discovery of the fraud put on his cruel master, which would have endangered his own life, as well as that of the young nobleman, whom he was now determined to preserve, he conveyed him to a distant province, and committed him to the care of an honest peasant, who for a considerable sum in hand promised to take particular notice both of his nurture and safety.

The young duke remained six years in this situation, when the same domestic appeared, and to rid himself effectually of every probable idea of being discovered, brought the child to Malaga, where he sold him to one Jacob de Mendez, a Portuguese Jew, who was about to embark for Constantinople, at the same time telling him, that being the natural son of a Spanish nobleman, by a young lady of the first distinction at the court, it was necessary on several accounts, that so strong a proof of frailty should be removed to a great distance. The Jew paid the price, promised secrecy, embarked with his slave, or pupil, for the Levant, and happily arrived at the port of Modon, in the Morea, from whence he went by land to Constantinople, where we will leave him for the present, and return to the uncle in Spain, whose project of murdering his innocent ward was not attended with the satisfaction he had at first imagined.

About two years after, a strange malady, unknown to the most experienced physicians, broke into the old nobleman’s house, and carried off every one of his numerous issue in less than a month. He himself was attacked by a malignant fever, in which he remained delirious for above six weeks. At length he recovered, and penetrated with the keenest remorse for the unworthy steps he had taken to destroy his innocent pupil, the first use he made of his understanding was a participation of his griefs to the servant who had been his accomplice in the crime, who, believing all danger from his lord’s resentment at an end, confessed the whole truth. This indeed appeased in some measure, the agonies with which the Count’s mind was tortured; he now conceived a glimmering ray of hope that he might one day be instrumental in restoring the young nobleman to his lawful possessions; Providence, moved by his deep contrition, seemed to applaud the just design; he recovered his health, and took every method that prudence could suggest, but his enquiries were a long time fruitless. Happening, however, to be at Marseilles when the Cæsar, a ship in the Levant trade, arrived in the port, the disconsolate count, learned from the captain, who had sailed from Constantinople about six weeks before, that the Portuguese Jew, to whom the young duke was sold by the servant at Malaga, had presented him to lord Paget, ambassador from England, who had returned to London before the French vessel set sail. Count d’Alvarez, on receiving this agreeable news, sent an express to London, but the messenger arrived too late; the young gentleman was not to be found in that city, all he could learn was, that, after living with a barber in Picadilly, who taught him to shave and dress, he had engaged with Count de Gallas, the Imperial Minister, who returned to Vienna some months before. Old Alvarez, not in the least discouraged, sent his confessor to the Emperor’s court, where the Count de Gallas informed him that the domestic in question had quitted his service, and went to live with the Baron d’Obersdorf, governor of Inspruck in Tyrol, where he then resided. That he had married a chamber-maid belonging to Madame, the Baroness, and was much respected in the family.

On this interesting intelligence, the good priest set out for Inspruck, and being conducted to an audience, the governor acquainted him, that the young man he so diligently sought, was gone about a month before to reside on a farm, which the governor had let him at an easy rent, sixteen miles from Munich in Bavaria, where he believed him to be extremely happy, with an amiable girl who had waited on his lady, and was now become his wife. Hither the indefatigable friar hastened, and at length discovered the retreat of this long-lost alien from his family and friends. After some preparatory compliments and questions, the young farmer confessed that he knew nothing of his real name, rank or country. All that he possibly could remember of his early days was his being a slave to a merchant in Turkey, who told him frequently that he was natural son to a Spanish lord. The friar requested to examine his shoulders, and beholding three distinct marks of a poignard, or other sharp weapon, in the places before described, hesitated not a moment to pronounce him the undoubted heir of the duchies of Medina, and St. Lucar. It is impossible to describe the astonishment of the young gentleman, or the lively alarms of his amiable spouse, on the discovery of their true condition. Instead of being elevated or flattered by this double access of immense wealth and princely dignity, they only feared that such a change in circumstances might some way or other deprive them of the innocence and tranquility they enjoyed with each other in a moderate sphere of life. The young farmer, now duke of Medina Celi, and lord of the town and port of St. Lucar, positively insisted on the acquiescence of his family with his choice, and their respect for the deserving person, whom he should introduce to them as his wife, as a necessary condition of his returning amongst them. Matters being thus settled, the confessor, with the duke and his fair spouse, set off for Inspruck, to take leave of, and thank the noble Baron and Baroness d’Obersdorff for all their favours, who understanding, that their graces intended passing through Vienna in their way to Spain, recommended them so strenuously to his imperial majesty Charles the sixth, father to the present illustrious dowager queen of Hungary and Bohemia, as to ensure them a very honourable reception.

After a few weeks stay at the court of Vienna, they all set out for Spain by the way of Italy, and arrived by easy journies at Genoa, embarked on board the Princess Louisa, an English man of war, who landed them safely at Cadiz, where the old count d’Alvarez, with a number of domestics and carriages, waited their arrival. From hence their graces set out with a retinue worthy their rank and virtues, for the castle of St. Lucar, which was finely illuminated on this joyful occasion, and where they yet enjoy the reward of their sufferings and constancy. His grace is now in the seventy-fourth year of his age, and the duchess in her grand climacteric. Both are strong and healthy for their time of life, and continue patterns of every virtue than can do honour to their rank and fortune; happy parents of a numerous and lovely offspring, blessed by the poor, revered by the rich, and in favour with God and man.

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+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

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OBSERVATION.

It is never best to bestow encomiums on our friends which are too brilliant for them, in order to hide their defects: for by this means we frequently bring failings to light, which would otherwise have been unobserved; and so defeat the end we aim at. This remark was suggested by the following anecdote:

A young lady, not long since, with a view to represent her brother, who was a mere dunce, as a person of great learning, took occasion to say, in a large assembly, that, “For her part, she was very fond of reading; but Johnny’s books being chiefly _Latin_ or _French_ authors, they afforded her little or no amusement at all.” “Then,” said a gentleman present, who knew his abilities, “I cannot see what use they can be to him, for he hardly understands English.”

ETHICUS.

NEW-YORK _July 29, 1796_.

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_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

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ADVICE.