The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 105

My friend, my death would be indeed horrible, if a ray of hope did not remain to cheer me! Ah! I hope I do not deceive myself----No, I am not mistaken," adds he in a firmer accent.

"A consoling Deity discloses in my last thoughts a futurity, a happier futurity which approaches!

"I behold one of the first nations in the world awakening from a long and deep slumber, and re-demanding of its proud oppressors its violated honours, and its ancient rights; its sacred, imprescriptible rights, the rights of humanity.

"I behold in an immense capital, long dishonoured by every species of servility, a crowd of soldiers discovering themselves to be citizens, and millions of citizens becoming soldiers.

"Beneath their redoubled blows, the Bastille shall be overturned; the signal is already given from one extremity of the empire to another;---the reign of tyrants is no more!

"A neighbouring people, sometimes an enemy, but always generous, always worthy of deciding upon great actions, shall applaud those unexpected efforts, crowned with such a speedy success!

"Ah, may a reciprocal esteem commence and strengthen between these two nations an unalterable friends.h.i.+p! May that horrible science of trick, imposture, and treason, which courts denominate _politics_, hold out no obstacle to prevent this fraternal re-union!

"n.o.ble rivals, in talents and philosophy, Frenchmen! Englishmen! suspend at length, and suspend for ever, those b.l.o.o.d.y discords, the fury of which has but too often extended over the two hemispheres;---no longer decide between you the empire of the universe, but by the force of your example, and the ascendancy of your genius. Instead of the cruel advantage of affrighting and subduing the nations around you, dispute between yourselves the more solid glory of enlightening their ignorance, and breaking their chains.

"Approach," adds Pulaski, "behold at a little distance from, and in the midst of the carnage that surrounds us, among such a crowd of famous warriors, a warrior celebrated even in the midst of them, by his masculine courage, his early talents, and his virtues truly republican.

He is the heir of a name long ill.u.s.trious; but he had no occasion for the glory of his ancestors, to render himself celebrated.

"It is young FAYETTE, already an honour to France, and a scourge to tyrants: but he has scarce begun his immortal labours!

"Envy his fate, Lovzinski; endeavour to imitate his virtues, and follow as near as possible the steps of so great a man. He, the worthy pupil of a Was.h.i.+ngton, shall soon be the Was.h.i.+ngton of his own country. It is almost at the same time, my friend, it is at that memorable epoch of the regeneration of nations, that the eternal justice shall also present to our fellow-citizens, the days of vengeance and of liberty.

"Then Lovzinski, in whatever place thou mayest be, let thy hate re-kindle! Again combat gloriously on the side of Poland.

"Let the remembrance of our injuries, and of our successes, call forth thy courage! May thy sword, so many times empurpled with the blood of our enemies, be still turned against those oppressors. May they tremble while thinking on thy exploits! May they tremble in recalling the name of Pulaski!

"They have ravished from us our property; they have a.s.sa.s.sinated thy wife; they have robbed thee of thy daughter; they have dishonoured my memory!

"The barbarians! They have dismembered our provinces! Lovzinski, these are injuries which you ought never to forget.

"When our persecutors are those also of our country, vengeance becomes at once sacred and indispensible.

"You owe to the Russians an eternal hatred! You owe to Poland the last drop of your blood!"

Saying this he expires.*

[* Pulaski was killed at the siege of Savannah, in 1779.]

Death, in s.n.a.t.c.hing him from me, bereaved me of my last consolation.

I fought for the United States of America, until the happy peace which ensured their independence. M. de C***, who had served along with me, and who was attached to the _corps_ commanded by the Marquis de la Fayette--- M. de C*** gave me letters of recommendation, to his friends in Paris, and this capital I have chosen for my retreat in the meridian of life, from the bustle of politics, and the clangor of arms.

Having informed my sisters, of the place of my residence, they collected the small remains of my fortune, formerly immense, and hastened to solace me after the distressing scenes I had unfortunately witnessed.

The affecting history of the Baron Lovzinski, which he relates to a friend, breaks off, without giving any account of Dorliska, his darling daughter, whom the Russians carried off, in one of their engagements with Pulaski. It appears, from more recent accounts, given by an acquaintance of the Baron's, that she fell into the hands of Count Gorlitz, a German n.o.bleman, who placed her in a suitable seminary, where she acquired every necessary accomplishment, and was by accident restored to her father, and united to a branch of a very distinguished family.

_The candid acknowledgment of an Old Batchelor._

I am that insulated being called an Old Batchelor. A creature wearisome to myself and beloved by no one, I have spent the noon of my days in a single state, from the dread of incurring the expences incident to a married life with a woman who had nothing, and now surely do I repent that I had not generosity enough to overlook this consideration in favour of a charming girl that I truly loved, and who wanted nothing but fortune to recommend her. I was formerly clerk to her father, then a mechanic of great respectability, but some years after greatly reduced by the unfortunate turn of affairs in his business, incidents to many.

When he failed, I was settled in the world, and might have saved his amiable girl from many a year of fatigue and distress into which their poverty immersed them. But with _sang froid_, for which I now detest myself, I then stood aloof, tore my thoughts from the sweet Eliza, and driving forward into the heart of the city, determined to lose myself in the recesses of counting-houses, and the acc.u.mulation of money. Thus avoiding all the plagues and expences of a family, for which I deemed the society of an elegant and affectionate woman by no means an equivalent. Alas! I now see how I miscalculated; how much such a partners.h.i.+p would have been for my advantage in the long run. I now put the mutual partic.i.p.ation of pleasure and pain, the endearments of our children, that flattering interest which Eliza would have taken in me (for whom by the way n.o.body now cares a straw,) I put all these on the credit side of the ledger, and find in the opposite page, only such a portion of expences as I have actually brought upon myself, by being drawn in to give tavern dinners, and a thousand other extravagancies that young men know not how to avoid. You will easily see, when a just account is made out, what I have gained, or rather what I have lost.

Instead of the bright hearth and smiling faces of my family, instead of sitting down in the midst of beings who owe life to me, and portioning out their little meal with the delicious sensations of a father, I take my solitary chop at a coffee-house and afterwards saunter to the theatre, where venal beauty spreads her net and I am caught! Alas! here is no mind, here is no modesty to make sentiment interesting. After having seen a public entertainment with Eliza, with what delight might we have pa.s.sed the remainder of the evening. Her taste and sensibility would have made us live the hours over again with additional pleasure.

Her bosom would have been my harbour in the storms of life, and there I should have found resources from _ennui_ in the calm season of prosperity. In the day of sickness her voice could have whispered comfort, and in my dying hour the pure invocations of my children might have availed me at the throne of grace. What a sad reckoner have I been, I am now as grey as a badger, and have not a single relative in the world. I have long retired from business, but my fortune brings me no enjoyment, my dog leads nearly as rational a life: I eat and drink and sleep alternately as he does, for I now fear to become the prey of some indigent dame, who would overlook my grey hairs and infirmities in consideration of coming in for a third of my wealth, and therefore avoid much commerce with the s.e.x, from which, though I might once have derived happiness, I can now only expect trick, or at best ridicule. But what can a man do who has let avarice run away with him in his youth, when all the social affections should have been at their out-posts to prevent it? All that remains for such a man (after the example of a culprit going to execution) is to warn the mult.i.tude how they fall into this error. To a.s.sure them that the good which is not partic.i.p.ated is not half enjoyed, and that those who abandon a young woman from motives like mine, as they do not deserve happiness so they never will obtain it. And moreover, if you print this, pause to add, that an equal mixture of love and prudence forms the only, and most delicious conserve they will have the faculty of relis.h.i.+ng all their life long. Either, taken separately, is prejudicial; one being too austere, and the other too sweet. They must be blended to render them happily effective, and if any persons have skill enough to make up the composition after my recipe, I shall not have bemoaned myself, nor you have inserted this in vain.

STEPHEN SORROWFUL.

REMARKS.

Custom regulates our ideas of shame. In China, the emperor orders the bastinado to be given to a minister or a mandarin; and afterward these persons continue in their employments, without thinking themselves dishonoured or degraded. They are like scholars who return to their places after having been whipped.

The idea of virtue is become so effaced, that scarcely do we hear the name of it p.r.o.nounced. The usual expression now is, an _honest man_, which contains but negative qualities; or sometimes qualities are mentioned, as bravery, fidelity, &c. but a collective word which expresses them all is seldom made use of.

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

CANDIDUS.

No. I.

In an age when supernatural influence was universally acknowledged, in a country where temples innumerable rose to the fancied deities of every department of nature and of art; where even the different and opposite combinations of accident and exertion were reverenced as the decrees of a being divine and irresistable; convinced no less perhaps by self experience than observation on others, discarding the prejudices of his nation and his times, an historian published to the world and to posterity, the opinion: "Fabrum esse suae quemque fortunae." Whatever _then_ might have been the case, it would _now_ perhaps be impossible to extend universally this proposition, and denying at once the influence of accident and chance, to prove the power of man to accomplish his wishes in every circ.u.mstance of situation and in every sphere of action.

The partiality of favours and the crash of unforeseen misfortune too often expose neglected merit and ruined industry, as warning monitors in the road to honour and to riches. While sudden unlooked for prosperity not unfrequently demonstrates the best grounded fears of men unjustified by events. But, however incompetent may be our power at all times to acquire and confirm extraneous and advent.i.tious greatness, or however limited and erroneous our views of distant consequences in the common affairs of life, as it respects the endowments of mind, it may with no little propriety be averred, Fabrum else suae quemque fortunae. By the great philosophers of nature, Newton and Buffon, genius was defined only a superior degree of patience and perseverence, and at the present day the advocates of this doctrine are not inconsiderable either in numbers or in talents. True indeed it is, that they incur no disgrace by entering the lists with many of their opponents. On the subject of genius three distinct opinions appear to be entertained. By some it is held to be an innate superiority of apt.i.tude to knowledge, independent of the labours of its possessor and unsubjected to the influence of circ.u.mstance or situation. Others rejecting altogether the idea of original difference in capacity, ascribe it to the co-operation of accident and tuition confirming after years of infancy a greater or less degree of comprehension. A third set denying at once innate distinction and the agency of chance, give all the credit to a.s.siduity and allow to the mind no other wealth than the requisitions of its industry. Of these opinions the first has long been upon the decline, and the sentiments of the generality of speculative men, are now divided between the second and the last. But on which ever side of this question we enlist our conviction, we shall find an investigation, that so much is owing to their own exertions as to afford to the present demonstration sufficient for a moral proposition. Pity that a truth so grateful to the friend of humanity, so encouraging to the aspiring mind, should be so seldom and so feebly inculcated. Ardent in pursuit, sanguine in expectation, with this impression what obstacles would obstruct what difficulties dishearten the youthful devotee of science. On the improvement of mind much has been written to enlarge its stores and strengthen its capacity, many and different methods have been recommended; but if want of attention to rules of acknowledged necessity can warrant a repet.i.tion, a few hints on this subject will need no excuse. In nothing probably are the generality of men more deceived than in the opinion they form of the mental progress of different individuals. To the lifeless soul whose diseased eyes bespeak his labours over the midnight lamp--who, secluded from society in the solitude of a study, loses his vivacity beneath a ponderous load of immethodized undigested matter; duped by specious appearance they give without examination the palm of learning. But in the hour of exigence, when the intellectual host is summoned to the field; when profit to ourselves and benefit to mankind stand the criterions of useful acquisitions, then will it uniformly be proved that reading well is infinitely better than reading much. In many who have formed a taste for reading, that taste so productive of benefit and delight; curiosity active and aspiring, still urging on even to flights beyond its sketch, hurries attention over the field of view. The different objects are but transiently inspected, and a ma.s.s of faint and indistinct impressions are mixed in the brain, of which each in succession makes the last less clear. With far less rapidity must he travel who would explore with advantage the land of knowledge. Selecting from the mult.i.tude of objects those most worthy of examination, he should with persevering care investigate their principles and structure and leave them not till satisfied he possesses all the information they can give. To read as we ought, we must read with attention and with thought. Many there are who read with attention, but few with thought.

Simply to comprehend the meaning and keep in mind the connection of an author's arguments is not sufficient, we must see and feel their force.

Never to take upon trust the sentiments of another, to examine with minuteness his principles and his deductions, and to be a.s.sured of the justness of the former and the accuracy of the latter, before he adopts them as his own, should be the constant practice of him who would read with real and permanent utility. In order to this, it is necessary to form in youth a habit of deep severe persevering thought. To form this habit is at first indeed difficult, nay painful. Inclined to ease, the mind especially in early life, averts from the labour of reflection; but when confirmed, it finds in it a never ending treasure: every surrounding object affords it employment; the man who possesses it discovers in the worlds of sentiment, of manners, of science and of art, sources of continual unbounded improvement. An eminent instance of this was the celebrated Gibbon, "I have been led by a novel (says that elegant historian) into a deep and instructive train of thinking."

(_To be concluded in our next._)

[[Notes:

"an historian published to the world and to posterity": Sall.u.s.t, quoting Appius]]

ANECDOTE.