The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 16

New-York, _July 22, 1796_.

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

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. MITCh.e.l.l, Bookseller, No. 9, Maiden-Lane._

_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 s.h.i.+ne 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 cla.s.ses, 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 a.s.sistance 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 s.p.a.ce; 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 s.p.a.ce. 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-sh.o.r.e. 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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d has moulded with his hands, am endowed with sense and reason." I can contemplate the beauty of those s.h.i.+ning 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.

MAXIM.

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

EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE OF A SPANISH n.o.bLEMAN

_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 d.u.c.h.ess from some accident in lying-in, notwithstanding every possible a.s.sistance from the faculty, expired three days after presenting her spouse with an heir to his n.o.ble 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 n.o.bleman 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 ill.u.s.trious 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 n.o.bleman 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 a.s.sa.s.sin, 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 n.o.bleman, 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 n.o.bleman, 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 n.o.bleman'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 partic.i.p.ation 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 n.o.bleman 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 Ma.r.s.eilles when the Caesar, a s.h.i.+p 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, amba.s.sador 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 p.r.o.nounce 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 circ.u.mstances 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 n.o.ble Baron and Baroness d'Obersdorff for all their favours, who understanding, that their graces intended pa.s.sing through Vienna in their way to Spain, recommended them so strenuously to his imperial majesty Charles the sixth, father to the present ill.u.s.trious 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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 G.o.d and man.

+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

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 un.o.bserved; and so defeat the end we aim at. This remark was suggested by the following anecdote: