If heaven has bliss for me in store,
Grant me but this, I ask no more,
And I am truly bless’d.
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.
UTILE DULCI. | ||
The New-York Weekly Magazine;OR, MISCELLANEOUS REPOSITORY. | ||
| Vol. II.] | WEDNESDAY, September 21, 1796. | [No. 64. |
AN ENQUIRY INTO THE EFFECTS OF LOVE ON LIFE AND MANNERS.
There is something irresistibly pleasing in the conversation of a fine woman: even though her tongue be silent, the eloquence of her eyes teaches wisdom. The mind sympathizes with the regularity of the object in view, and struck with external grace, vibrates into respondent harmony.
Whether love be natural or no, it contributes to the happiness of every society into which it is introduced. All our pleasures are short, and can only charm at intervals: love is a method of protracting our greatest pleasure; and surely that gamester, who plays the greatest stake to the best advantage, will at the end of life, rise victorious. This was the opinion of Vanini, who affirmed that, “every hour was lost which was not spent in love.” His accusers were unable to comprehend his meaning, end the poor advocate for love was burned in flames, alas! no way metaphorical. But whatever advantages the individual may reap from this passion, society will certainly be refined and improved by its introduction; all laws, calculated to discourage it, tend to embrute the species and weaken the state. Though it cannot plant morals in the human breast, it cultivates them when there: pity, generosity, and honour, receive a brighter polish from its assistance; and a single amour is sufficient entirely to brush off the clown.
But it is an exotic of the most delicate constitution; it requires the greatest art to introduce it into a state, and the smallest discouragement is sufficient to repress it again. Let us only consider with what ease it was formerly extinguished in Rome, and with what difficulty it was lately revived in Europe: it seemed to sleep for ages, and at last fought its way through tilts, tournaments, dragons, and all the dreams of chivalry. The rest of the world, are, and have ever been, utter strangers to its delights and advantages. In other countries, as men find themselves stronger than women, they lay a claim to rigorous superiority: this is natural, and love which gives up this natural advantage, must certainly be the effect of art. An art, calculated to lengthen out our happier moments, and add new graces to society.
Those countries where it is rejected, are obliged to have recourse to art to stifle so natural a projection, and those nations where it is cultivated, only make nearer advances to nature. The same efforts, that are used in some places to suppress pity and other natural passions, may have been employed to extinguish love. No nation, however unpolished, is remarkable for innocence, that has not been famous for passion; it has flourished in the coldest, as well as the warmest regions. Even in the sultry wilds of southern America, the lover is not satisfied with possessing his mistress’s person, without having her mind.