The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 9

Not so, said he, again embracing me; I know thy heart, thy native sensibility and n.o.ble mind: had I nothing but compa.s.sion to offer, certain I could not comfort, I should have wept for and a.s.sisted thee in secret; but thou wouldst not have seen me here. No; friends.h.i.+p inspires and brings me hither, with a happy a.s.surance I shall soften thy anguish.

Sinclair's discourse not only awakened the most lively grat.i.tude, but raised me in my own esteem. In giving me back his friends.h.i.+p, he gave me hopes of myself. I immediately opened my whole heart to him, and found a satisfaction of which I had long been deprived, that of speaking without disguise of all my faults, and all my sorrows. The melancholy tale was often interrupted by my tears; and Sinclair, after hearing me with as much attention as tenderness, raised his eyes to heaven and gave a deep sigh.

Of what use, said he, are wit, sensibility of soul, or virtuous dispositions, without those solid, those invariable principles which education or experience alone can give! He who has never profited by the lessons of others, can never grow wise but at his own expence, and is only to be taught by his errors and misfortunes.

Sinclair then conjured me to leave Paris for a time, and travel; adding that he would go with me, and pressed me to depart without delay for Italy. I give myself up entirely to your guidance, said I; dispose of a wretch who without your aid must sink beneath his load of misery.

Profiting accordingly by the temper in which he found me, he made me give my word to set off in two days. The evening before my departure, I wished once more to revisit the place where I had first beheld my Julia. It was in the gardens of the Palais-Royal; but, ashamed of appearing in public, I waited till it was dark. There was music there that evening, and a great concourse of people; so hiding myself in the most obscure part of the great alley, I sat down behind a large tree.

I had not sat long, before two men came and placed themselves on the other tide of the tree. I instantly knew one of them, by the sound of his voice, to be Dainval, a young c.o.xcomb, without wit, breeding, or principles; joining to ridiculous affectation of perpetual irony, a pretension to think philosophically; laughing at every thing; deciding with self-sufficiency; at once pedantic and superficial; speaking with contempt of the best men and the most virtuous actions; and believing himself profound by calumniating goodness.

Such was Dainval, a man whom I had believed my friend till the moment of my ruin, and whose pernicious example and advice I had too often followed. I was going to rise and remove, when the sound of my own name awakened my curiosity, and I heard the following dialogue began by Dainval:

"Oh yes, it is very certain he sets off to-morrow morning with Sinclair for Italy."

"How! is he reconciled to Sinclair?"

"The best friends on earth! Generosity on one side, repentance on the other; mutual tenderness, tears, and tortures; prayers, pardons, and pacifications. The scene was truly pathetic."

"So there is not a word of truth in all the late town talk?"

"What, of their being rivals? Why should you think so?"

"Why, how is it possible that Sinclair should be so interested about a man he had betrayed?"

"Ha! ha!----I do not pique myself much for finding reasons for other men's actions, though I do a little for the faculty of seeing things as they are. Sinclair, still fond of Julia, would reconcile her to her husband, in order to get her out of a convent again. The thing is evident enough."

"But wherefore then go to Italy?"

"To give the town time to forget the history of the picture and the pocket book."

"And yet there are many people who pretend the pocket-book was Belinda's."

"A fable invented at leisure! The fact is, poor La Paliniere knew well enough, previous to that discovery, how matters went, and had told what he knew above a year before to whoever would listen."

"Is he amiable, pray? What sort of a man is he?"

"Who? La Paliniere!--------A poor creature! talents excessively confined; half stupid; no imagination; no resource; no character. At his first coming into life he threw himself in my way, and I took him under my tuition; but I soon saw it was labour in vain; could never make any figure; a head ill turned; Gothic notions; trifling views; scarce common sense; a Prodigal that gaped with confusion at the sight of a Creditor: a Gamester, that prided himself on generosity and greatness of soul with a dice-box in his hand; any man's dupe; ruining himself without enjoyment, and without eclat."

"Have you seen him since his clash?"

"No; but I have burnt all our accounts; he'll never hear of them more."

"Did he owe you many play-debts?"

"Numberless. I have destroyed his notes; not that I brag of such things, nor should I mention this to any body else, 'Tis a thing of course you know with a man of spirit; though I would not have you speak of it."

I could contain myself no longer at this last falsehood. Liar! cried I, behold me ready to pay all I owe you; retire from this place, and I hope to acquit myself.

"Faith, said Dainval, with a forced smile, I did not expect you just now, I must confess. As to your cut-throat proposal, it is natural enough for you; you have nothing to lose, but I must take another year to complete my ruin: therefore, when you return from Italy, or thereabouts, why we shall fight on equal terms."

So saying, he ran off without waiting for a reply, and left me with too much contempt for his cowardice to think of pursuit.

This then is the man, said I to myself, whom I once thought amiable, by whose councils I have been often guided! What a depth of depravity! What a vile and corrupted heart! Oh how hideous is vice when seen without a veil! It never reduces but when concealed; and having ever a greater proportion of impudence than of artifice, it soon or late will break the brittle mask with which its true face is covered.

This last adventure furnished me with more than one subject for reflection; it taught me how carefully those who prize their reputation, ought to avoid making themselves the topic of public conversation, in which the sarcasms of scandal are always most prevalent. The malicious add and invent, and the foolish and the idle hear and repeat; truth is obscured, and the deceived public condemn without appeal.

(_To be concluded in our next._)

+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

ON THE THREE CORNERED HAT.

Among the many things invented by man for his use, none perhaps is more ridiculous than the _three cornered hat_ at present used by some persons. That it affords but an inconsiderable shelter for the head, is a truth scarcely to be denied; and that the face of him who wears it remains exposed to the piercing rays of the sun, is equally true. If our ancestors deemed it a conveniency to wear the hats in question, experience teaches us at the present day, their great inutility: And shall we then willingly smile on those customs which (tho' formerly practised) proves at present highly injurious? No; Let us consult our own feelings, and not the habits of former times.---Common sense points out their inconsistency, and reason mocks the stupidity of him who madly submits to be ruled by custom, that tyrant of the human mind, to whose government three-fourths of this creation foolishly subscribe their a.s.sent. Again, the weight which is comprised in a hat of that size, is a sufficient argument for their abolition. Wherein then can the utility of such an unwieldy machine consist? Is not the round hat more becoming?

And does it not finally prove to the head by far the best covering? The contrary cannot be urged unless through prejudice or selfishness. That it looks respectable and sacred, may be urged in favour of it; to this I reply, that if to be _impudent_, const.i.tutes either of those characters, the _three cornered hat_ has the great good fortune to be superior to the other. It may be further advanced in its favour, that by letting down its brims it will answer the purpose of an _umbrella_ in a hot summer's day: true that for size it may, but where is the person that would not rather make use of the real than the fict.i.tious machine? Why was the pains taken for the invention of an umbrella, if the hat could be made to answer the same views? Was it not because the hat attracting the rays of the sun, was found to be injurious to the eyes, and therefore recourse was had to a machine which proved not only a shelter from the sun, but to the eyes far more beneficial. To conclude, nothing but a false pride, and a desire to be _conspicuous_, could ever induce a person thus inconsistently to use that which will finally prove his folly.

TYRUNCULUS.

NEW-YORK _July 7, 1796_.

A SPEAKING STATUE.

Laugingen, a city of Germany, is famous for the birth of Albert the Great, who made a statue, with such admirable clockwork, that it could walk, move its tongue, and speak distinctly.

It one day happened that Thomas d'Aquinas, disciple of Albert, having entered the chamber where this statue was left alone, the statue advanced towards him, and spoke to him before he was aware. Thomas was so frighted at this, that he struck it several times, and broke to pieces this admirable work, which had cost Albert thirty years labour.

_To the +Editor+ of the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

SIR,

The inclosed Account I transmit to you for publication, at the particular request of a friend, who is well acquainted with the circ.u.mstances that gave rise to it.--It is drawn up by a female hand, and she here relates respecting Mr. Y-------- what she knew of him herself, and what she had heard of him in her father's family, where he had been an occasional visitant; as I have no reason to believe that this transaction has ever appeared in print, you will be pleased to give it a place among your original compositions.

ANNA.

NEW-YORK _May 17, 1796_.