MORNING REFLECTIONS.
In one of my rambles I saw a collection of people, some appeared highly elated, while others in stupid indifference were not the least affected; I advanced, and found two boys fighting; in attempting to part them, I had nearly got myself in the same predicament, from a motley bullying fellow, whose feelings, if he was possessed of any, were more becoming a tyger than a human being. Those who were before mute, appeared delighted in the prospect of another scene of brutality, expecting that we would decide our dispute with blows; I plainly saw that the most prudent step for me, would be to leave them as peaceable as possible in possession of the field.
From what source these barbarous dispositions spring, and how they can exist in a country where information is so easily attained, would, to a foreigner, appear a mystery; every child of nature has a vacancy in their understandings to be filled up, and why it should not be stored with rational humanity, let parents judge. Slaves from dejection become callous, hence barbarous sports are congenial with their minds, in proportion to the severe treatment they receive from their matters.
How degraded is that master who neglects to inculcate moral principles into his slave, and how much more wretched are parents who attend not to the improvement of their own children; too many instances of such omissions momentarily occur; a parent who entertains a child with a bull-beat, fixes a supposition in the tender mind that the creation was formed only for caprice, and is verified in their tormenting domestic animals; with years the feelings naturally become hardened, and the youth thus brought up, only waits an opportunity to leave off all restraint. This is plainly evinced in war, when the law is suspended, murders and robbery become fashionable, and those very men who were peaceable inhabitants, with exultation take the lives of strangers whom they have never seen, and by whom they have never been injured.
T.
New-York, July 1, 1796.
Description of the famous SALT MINES at Williska in Poland.
There are mines of salt in Hungary, Catalonia, and many other parts of Europe, but the greatest in the world is that at Williska in Poland, from which a great part of the continent is supplied. Williska is a small town not far from Cracow, and the mine has been worked ever since the year 1251, when it was accidentally found in digging for a well. There are eight openings or descents into this mine, six in the field, and two in the town itself, which are most used for letting down the workmen, and taking up the salt; the others being mostly used for letting in wood and necessaries.
The openings are five square, and about four feet wide; they are lined throughout with timber, and at the top of each there is a large wheel with a rope as thick as a cable, by which things are let down and drawn up: it is worked by a horse. When a stranger has a curiosity to see these works, he must descend by one of these holes; he is first to put on a miner’s coat over his clothes, and then being led to the mouth of the hole by a miner, who serves for a guide, the miner fastens a smaller rope to the larger one, and ties it about himself; he sits in this, and taking the stranger in his lap, he gives the sign to be let down. They are carried down a narrow and dark well to the depth of six hundred feet perpendicular; this is in reality an immense depth, but the terror and tediousness of the descent makes it appear to most people vastly more than it is. As soon as the miner touches the ground at the bottom, he slips out of the rope, and sets his companion upon his legs.
The place where they are set down here is perfectly dark, but the miner strikes fire, and lights a small lamp, by means of which (taking the stranger he has care of by the arm) he leads him through a number of strange passages and meanders, all descending lower and lower, till they come to certain ladders by which they descend an immense depth, and this through passages perfectly dark. The damp, cold, and darkness of these places, and the horror of being so many yards under ground, generally makes strangers heartily repent before they get thus far; but when at bottom they are well rewarded for their pains, by a sight that could never have been expected after so much horror.
(The conclusion in our next.)
This serial began in No. 45 of the New-York Weekly; the last 4 of its 12 installments are in Volume II. For sources, see the [end of this file].
THE FATAL EFFECTS OF INDULGING THE PASSIONS,
EXEMPLIFIED IN THE HISTORY OF M. DE LA PALINIERE.
Translated from the French.
(Continued from page 410 of Vol. I.)
I informed her of my determination, assuring her, at the same time, it was irrevocable. I confess, however, notwithstanding my certitude, at moments, of her hatred, I secretly flattered myself, that this declaration would astonish, and produce a most lively emotion in Julia; and it is certain, had I discovered the least signs of regret on her part, I should have cast myself at her feet, and abjured a resolution which pierced my very soul.
I was deceived in supposing myself hated; I was equally wrong in imagining my conduct could inspire even momentary love. Great minds are incapable of hatred; but a continued improper and bad conduct will produce indifference, as it did with Julia. I had lost her heart past recal. She heard me with tranquility, without surprize, and without emotion. My reputation, said she, is already injured, and this will confirm the unjust suspicions of the public; but if my presence is an obstacle to your happiness, I am ready to depart; my innocence is still my own, and I shall have sufficient strength to submit to my fate.
Cruel woman! cried I, shedding a torrent of tears, with what ease do you speak of parting!
Is it not your own proposal!
And is it not I who adore you, and you who hate me!
Of what benefit is your love to me; or of what injury is what you call my hatred to you?
I have made you unhappy; I am unjust, capricious, mad; and yet if you do hate me, Julia, your revenge is too severe; there is no misery can equal your hatred.
I do not hate you.
The manner in which she pronounced this, said so positively I do not love you, that I was transported beyond all bounds of patience; I became furious, yet the next instant, imagining I saw terror in the eyes of Julia, I fell at her feet. A tear, a sigh at that moment, had changed my future fate, but she still preserved her cold tranquility. I hastily got up, went to the door, and stopped. Farewell for ever! said I, half suffocated with passion. Julia turned pale, and rose as if to come to me; I advanced towards her, and she fell back into her chair, ready almost to faint. I interpreted this violent agitation, into terror. What, am I become a subject of horror! cried I; well, I will deliver you from this odious object. So saying, I darted from the chamber in an agony of despair.
My uncle was absent, I no longer had a friend, no one to advise or counteract the rashness of the moment. Distracted, totally beside myself, I ran to the parents of Julia, declared my intention, added, Julia herself was desirous of a separation, and that I would give back all her fortune.
They endeavoured to reason with me, but in vain; I informed them I should go directly into the country, where I should stay three days, and when I came back I expected to find myself alone in my own house. I next wrote to Julia to inform her of my proceedings, and departed, as I had said I would, the same evening for the country.
My passions were too much agitated to let me perceive the extent of misery to which I condemned myself; and what seems now inconceivable was, that though I loved my wife dearer than ever, and was inwardly persuaded I might yet regain her affections, I found a kind of satisfaction in making our rupture thus ridiculously public. I never could have determined on a separation from Julia with that coolness and propriety which such things, when absolutely necessary, demand. I wanted to astonish, to agitate, to rouze her from her state of indifference, which, to me, was more dreadful even than her hatred. I flattered myself that, hearing me, she had doubted my sincerity, and supposed me incapable of finally parting from her.
I likewise imagined that event would rekindle in her heart all her former affection; and this hope alone was enough to confirm me in the execution of my project. I took pleasure in supposing her incertitude, astonishment, and distress; my fancy represented her when reading my letter; beheld her, conducted by her relations, pale and trembling, descend the stairs; saw her stop and sigh as she passed the door of my apartment, and weep as she stepped into the carriage.
I had left a trusty person at Paris, with orders to observe her as carefully as possible; to watch her, follow her, question her women, and inform me of all she said or did at this critical moment; but the relation was not long. Julia continued secluded in her chamber, received her friends without a witness, and departed by a private stair-case unseen of any one.
The same afternoon that she left my house she wrote me a note, which contained nearly these words.
“I have followed your orders, and departed from a place whither I shall always be ready to return, whenever your heart shall recall me. As to your proposal of giving back a fortune too considerable for my present situation, I dare expect as a proof of your esteem, it will not be insisted upon: so to do is now the only remaining thing that can add to my uneasiness. Condescend therefore, to accept the half of an income, which can give me no pleasure if you do not partake it with me.”
This billet, which I washed with my tears, gave birth to a crowd of reflections. The contrast of behaviour between me and Julia forcibly struck me, and I saw by the effects how much affection, founded upon duty, is preferable to passion. I adore Julia, said I, and yet am become her tormentor; have determined to proceed even to a separation; she loved me without passion, and was constantly endeavouring to make me happy; ever ready to sacrifice her opinions, wishes and will and continually pardoning real offences, while I have been imputing to her imaginary ones; and, at last, when my excessive folly and injustice have lost her heart, her forgiveness and generosity have yet survived her tenderness, and she thinks and acts the most noble and affecting duties towards an object she once loved. Oh yes! I now perceive true affection to be that which reason approves, and virtue strengthens.
Overwhelmed by such reflections, the most bitter repentance widened every wound of my bleeding heart. I shuddered when I remembered the public manner in which I had put away my wife; and in this fearful state of mind, I had doubtless gone and cast myself at Julia’s feet, acknowledged all my wrongs, and declared I could not live without her, had I not been prevented by scruples, which for once were but too well founded.
I had been a Prodigal and a Gamester and, what was still worse, had a steward, who possessed in a superior degree the art of confusing his accounts, which indubitably proves such a person to want either honesty or capacity. Instead of at first discharging him, I only begged he would not trouble me with his bills and papers; which order with him needed no repetition, for it was not unintentionally he had been so obscure and diffuse.
About six months, however, before the period I at present speak of, he had several times demanded an audience, to shew me the declining state of my affairs. At the moment, this made little impression upon me; but after reading Julia’s note it came into my mind, and before I could think of obtaining my pardon, I resolved to learn my real situation.
Unhappily for me, my conduct had been such that I had no right to depend on my wife’s esteem; and, if ruined, how could I ask her to return and forget what was passed? Would not she ascribe that to interest, which love alone had inspired? The idea was insupportable, and I would rather even never behold Julia more, than be liable to be so suspected.
With such fears I returned hastily to Paris. But what were my sensations at entering a house which Julia no longer inhabited, and whence I myself had had the madness and folly to banish her! Attacked by a thousand afflicting thoughts, overwhelmed with grief and regret, I had one only hope, which was, that by œconomy and care I might again re-establish my affairs, and afterwards obtain forgiveness, and be reconciled to Julia.
I sent for my steward, and began by declaring, the first step I should take would be to return my wife’s fortune. He seemed astonished at this, and wanted to dissuade me, by saying he did not think it possible I could make this restitution without absolute ruin being the consequence. I saw by this my affairs were even much worse than I had imagined.
The discovery threw me into the most dreadful despair; for to lose my fortune was, according to my principles, to lose Julia eternally.
Before I searched my situation to the bottom, I restored Julia’s whole portion; I then paid my debts; and these affairs finished, I found myself so completely ruined, that, in order to live, I was obliged to purchase a trifling life-annuity, with what remained of a large fortune. My estates, horses, houses, all were sold, and I hired a small apartment near the Luxembourg, about three months after my separation from my wife. My Uncle was not rich; he had little to live on except a pension from the government, though he offered me assistance, which I refused.
Julia, in the mean time, had retired to a convent. On the very day I had quitted my house, I received a letter from her in the following terms:
“Since you have forced me to receive what you call mine, since you treat me like a stranger, I think myself justified in doing the same. When I left your house, the fear of offending you, in appearing to despise your gifts, occasioned me to take with me the diamonds and jewels which you had presented to me: it was your request, your command that I should do so, and I held obedience my duty. But since you shew me you will not act with the same delicacy, I have determined to part with these useless ornaments, which never were valuable but as coming from you. I found a favourable opportunity of selling them advantageously for twenty-four thousand livres (a thousand pounds sterling), which I have sent to your Attorney, as a sum I was indebted to you, and which you cannot oblige me to take back, since it is not mine.
“I have been in the convent of * * * for these two months past, where I intend to remain for some weeks at least, unless you take me hence.——We have a fine estate in Flanders; they say it is a charming country. Speak but a word, and I am ready to go with you, to live with you, to die with you.”
(To be continued.)
For the New-York Weekly Magazine.