The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 183

_NEW-YORK: +Printed by JOHN TIEBOUT, No. 358, Pearl-Street, for THOMAS BURLING, Jun. & Co.+ +Subscriptions+ for this +Magazine+ (at 6s. per quarter) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and at the Book-Store of Mr. J. FELLOWS, Pine-Street._

THE NEW-YORK WEEKLY MAGAZINE; or, Miscellaneous Repository.

+Vol. II.+] _Wednesday, June 7, 1797._ [+No. 101.+

[_A late writer in the London Monthly Magazine, in expatiating on the unreasonable disposition of the fair s.e.x, brings forward, as a proof of the authenticity of his remarks, the following Letter of Lady COMPTON to her husband, which is now preserved in the British Museum, as a curiosity._]

"MY SWEET LIFE,

"Now I have declared to you my mind for the settling of your state, I supposed that it were best for me to bethink and consider within myself, what allowance were meetest for me: for considering what care I ever had of your estate, and how respectfully I dealt with those which both by the laws of G.o.d, of nature, and civil policy, wit, religion, government, and honesty, you, my dear, is bound to; I pray and beseech you to grant to me, your most kind and loving wife, the sum of 2600l.

quarterly to be paid. Also I would, besides that allowance, have 600l.

quarterly to be paid, for the performance of charitable works: and those things I WOULD NOT, neither WILL BE, accountable for. Also I WILL HAVE three horses for my own saddle, that none shall dare to lend or borrow: none lend but I, none borrow but you. Also I would have two gentlewomen, lest one should be sick, or have some other let. Also, believe it, it is an undecent thing for a gentlewoman to stand mumping alone, when G.o.d hath blessed their lord and lady with a great estate. Also, when I ride a-hunting, or a hawking, or travel from one house to another, I will have them attending; so, for either of those said women, I MUST AND WILL HAVE for either of them a horse. Also I will have six or eight gentlemen; and I will have my two coaches, one lined with velvet to myself, with four very fair horses; and a coach for my women, lined with cloth, and laced with gold; the other with scarlet, and laced with silver, with four good horses. Also I will have two coachmen, one for my own coach, the other for my women. Also at any time when I travel, I will be allowed not only _carroches_, and spare horses for me and my women, but I will have such carriages as shall be fitting for all, orderly, not pestering my things with my women's; nor their's with either chambermaid's; nor their's with wash-maids. Also for laundresses, when I travel, I will have them sent away before with the carriages, to see all safe. And the chambermaids I will have go before, that the chamber may be ready, sweet, and clean. Also for that it is undecent to crowd up myself with my gentleman usher in my coach, I will have him to have a convenient horse to attend me, either in city or country. And I must have two footmen. And my desire is, that you defray all the charges for me. And for myself, besides my yearly allowance, I would have twenty gowns of apparel, six of them excellent good ones, eight of them for the country, and six other of them very excellent good ones. Also I would have to put in my purse 2000l. and 200l. and so you to PAY MY DEBTS.

Also I would have 6000l. to buy me jewels, and 4000l. to buy me a pearl chain. Now, seeing I have been, and am, so REASONABLE unto you, I pray you do find my children apparel, and schooling, and all my servants, men and women, their wages. Also, I will have all my houses furnished, and my lodging chambers to be suited with all such furniture as is fit; as beds, stools, chairs, suitable cushions, carpets, silver warming-pans, cupboards of plate, fair hangings, and such like. So for my drawing chamber in all houses, I will have them delicately furnished, both with hangings, couch, canopy, gla.s.s, carpet, chairs, cushions, and all things thereunto belonging. Also my desire is, that you would PAY YOUR DEBTS, build up Ashby-house, and purchase lands, and lend no money, as you love G.o.d, to the Lord-Chamberlain, who would have all, perhaps your life, from you. Remember his son, my lord Walden, what entertainment he gave me, when you were at Tilt-yard. If you were dead, he said, he would be a husband, a father, a brother, and said he would marry me. I protest, I grieve to see the poor man have so little wit and honesty to use his friends so vilely. Also he fed me with untruths concerning the Charter-house, but that is the least; he wished me much harm, you know how. G.o.d keep you and me from him, and any such as he is. So now that I have declared to you what I would have, and what it is that I would not have, I pray, when you be an earl, to allow me 2000l. more than now I desire, and double attendance.

"Your loving wife,

"ELIZA COMPTON."

[[Notes:

This is apparently a real letter. William Compton, Eliza's husband, inherited somewhere between 500,000 and 800,000 in 1610. The letter may date from 1617; it can be no later than 1618, when William was created Earl of Northumberland.]]

The _WANDERINGS_ of the IMAGINATION.

_BY MRS. GOOCH._

(Continued from page 379.)

_FOURTH WANDERING._

There are few subjects which deserve a closer investigation of the legislation of the legislative power, and which is more neglected, than the excessive cruelty that is exercised in this metropolis over unhappy, and devoted _animals_. As they have no law to protect them, they are doubly ent.i.tled to the attention of Humanity. It is scarcely possible to walk through the city (London) without having one's feelings tortured by the abandoned race of butcher's boys, and drovers. I could mention many, I might say daily instances of what I have been painfully compelled to witness, whenever I was led into that part of the town. One only I will mention, which strongly evinces philanthropy on one hand, and infamy on the other.

These contrasted practices belonging to the same cla.s.s of people, the lowest order, of the vulgar, are convincing proofs, that _Education_ has less to do with the formation of our ideas, and the realization of our actions, than _Nature_. She governs the human system, while she forms it; and however villainy may be glossed over by the specious arts of accomplished deception in splendid life, or worth may lie concealed under the thick shade of retirement, the innate sentiment still "grows with our growth," and effectually steers us throughout the course of our existence.

It is not three weeks since I was going up Snow-hill, and was met by a number of sheep, followed by one of these imps of the Devil that I have mentioned. As I was standing by, to let them pa.s.s, I was struck by the voice of an old woman, whose "tattered garment spoke variety of wretchedness," and who, (to continue the simile) was exactly what Fancy pictures _Otway_'s witch to have been. She was mourning over one of these wretched animals, who had sunk on its knees, exhausted by ill-usage and fatigue. One horn was plucked out by the roots; its legs were lacerated, and streaming with blood, which issued from the nostrils, while the _man_ (why I am _forced_ to call him so) was employing all his strength in belabouring, with a thick stick, its agonized sides!--The old woman was remonstrating, with all the eloquence of genuine humanity. It was a foreign language to a wretch of this description, and he answered her in his own; while I walked on; unable to bear the sight before me, or to attend to the impious execrations of the infernal cause of it.

How continually do we behold the newly-expired carcase of the generous Horse, that has at last surrendered to toils beyond his strength! The horse, which has been proudly contended for, and brought a little mine of wealth to his ungrateful master, is now denied by him even that little that would make his old age comfortable. Houseless, and hungry, he smarts under the galling whip, and is not allowed _that_ rest which G.o.d has equally ordained for man and brute. Mr. Dibdin's justly celebrated song of _The Race-Horse_, is more descriptive than I can be of the horrid barbarities practised against this most useful creature; and which is, both in strength and generosity, superior to his masters.

There are many licensed abuses; and I will confine myself to one more only. It is an essential one, and ought to be remedied. I mean, respecting _Servants_. This cla.s.s of people is particularly happy in its privileges. The Soldier, and the Sailor, are sure to meet with severe corporal punishment, if, in the slightest instance, they disobey the commands of their superior; but for the Servant, there is no punishment, unless caught in the very act of robbery; and even then, much money, time, and uneasiness, must be the cost, before you can bring yourself publicly to expose them.

How continually it happens, that exorbitant wages are due to these people, which it is not immediately convenient for the master, or mistress, to discharge. In that case, the servant, well acquainted with the circ.u.mstance, becomes insolent, or, at best, regardless; and if you find fault with them, they ask you, why you do not pay, and discharge them? while they are well convinced, that if you did pay and discharge them, they must either adopt another mode of conduct, or be reduced to beggary. But though these are facts too common throughout life, yet still, for the honour of humanity, some exceptions are to be found, but, in general, this inference may be drawn from contrasting characters of the same description in different, though similar situations, and proves one important fact, that in all situations, where vulgar minds can have an ascendancy, or pre-eminence, tyranny will ever be the result of their conduct, whether in the Drover or the Domestic.

The Courtezan, who, from dirt and darkness, emerges, by fortuitous circ.u.mstances, to gaudy splendor, and untasted affluence; or the low-bred mechanic, who, by carping care, and a.s.siduous industry, in taking the advantage of the wants of those with whom he has acquaintance, or connection, rises into opulence, the vulgar mind will always appear in their conduct and behaviour. A haughty overbearing demeanor will always mark their manner to those who may have the misfortune to be under their power, and inconsistent meanness will ever appear, from under their most sumptuous trappings, when attempting elegance and refinement--but why it should be so is neither unnatural or wonderful--for the truth is, that conscious of their own innate meanness, and incapacity to sustain the character they would wish to a.s.sume, they conceive that all who have known them, or do know them, entertain the same contemptible ideas of them as they do of themselves, and hence conclude it necessary, in support of that dignity to which they aspire, or a.s.sume, to treat those around them with hauteur and tyranny, to impress on their minds a constant practice of the submission and obedience they wish to exact. It were well if the indigent, who may attain to affluence, or the menial servant, who may arise to superiority of situation in life, would recollect that greatness of soul, and elevation of sentiment, are equally shown, though not so efficaciously proved, in want as in wealth; in being commanded as in commanding.

Ostensible situations to such as are incapable of filling them, only display the imperfections of the possessor in a more prominent point of view; and it were well also, if those whom Nature made in hasty moments, and in its coa.r.s.est moulds, whom Reason never regenerated, nor Education ever refined--whose ideas never have, and perhaps never can be enlarged, and whose sentiments, if ever sentiments arose in the breast of such persons, were only conducive to encourage them in the pursuit of their grovelling designs, and barbarous and unrefined opinions, would seek the coverture of the shade, rather than expose their fantastic enormities, and preposterous ignorance and inability in the sunshine.

_FIFTH WANDERING._

It has been said, and more than that it is generally believed, that happiness is not to be found on earth. I deny it. For although I have never been allowed even to taste it in domestic life (with which the world is too well acquainted to doubt my veracity) yet I have observed almost daily instances of what I call happiness; and which, if not admitted to be such by those in the enjoyment of it, fully demonstrates a wilful incapacity to know its value, and ingrat.i.tude to that Being who, for his own wise purposes, bestows or takes it away.

There are two conditions of life from which only I conceive happiness to be naturally excluded; and by these I mean the extremes of affluence and penury. The man who abounds in wealth cannot be happy. His soul, if naturally great, is confined within the narrow precincts of custom and education, and has no room to expand itself. Few of these have courage, if they do not want inclination, to pry into the distresses of their fellow-creatures; and they dread the effect of prejudice, as they would dread the effect of treason. I am sorry to speak from my own observation, when I declare, that throughout this wealthy metropolis, (London) I have never yet found one man, rich in the gifts of fortune, who had spirit enough to disdain the tinsel shew that surrounded him, and consecrate his time and his money to those whom he seemed sent into the world to gladden and relieve. One only instance have I heard of it in the female world; and to her virtues, more than to her rank, may the honest tribute of applause, not the flattering voice of adulation, be given: I mean the Dowager Countess S----, where virtue unites itself to talents, and both combine to render _her_ on whom they are bestowed inestimable. What heart can refrain from offering up thanks to its Creator, who now and then condescends, as in _her_, to shew a well-drawn picture of himself? While she lives, her numerous charities cannot be forgotten; and when that G.o.d whom she adores transplants her to a world more worthy of her, still shall her name remain immortalized, while grat.i.tude holds a place in the hearts of the many indigent her bounties have deigned to relieve!

But to proceed to my ideas of happiness;--I say ideas, because I have only drawn a sketch of it from what I have seen, and from "_The Wanderings of my Imagination_." Can I picture to myself a greater felicity than a happy independent family I once saw in Yorkshire? They were many in number, yet one soul seemed to animate all. The old farmer, who had no more than he wished for, nor wished for more than he possessed, was one of those jovial, honest, well-meaning men, whose knowledge of the world extended not beyond the limits of his own farm.

His family consisted of an old widowed sister, whom he supported, his wife, three daughters, and a son, who imitating his sire in industrious labour and attention to the peaceful and useful arts of agriculture, was requited by that tranquillity of mind which is ever the result of a good disposition.

Nature had by no means slighted the daughters in the formation of their outward graces; but had, on the contrary, given convincing proofs that those requisites necessary to engage the eye, and interest the heart of every beholder, were to be met with in the una.s.suming manners, and unaffected benignity, which beamed in each of their countenances. These strongly indicated that their minds was the soil where all the social virtues, that diffuse happiness alike to the possessor and those in connection with them, were to be found cultivated and sublimed; endowments which require more of the sunshine in life to sustain or invigorate; but blossoming and ripening in the shade, bid defiance to the canker of time, and the chilling damps of progressive age. Their prospects in life bounded and unenlarged, gave increase of pleasure and tranquillity, by their having fewer wants to suffice, and fewer expectations to pursue; for the less desire we have for the gratification of our pa.s.sions, the more our minds must be at ease. The airy phantoms and deluding visions raised by the magic of Imagination, are more or less conjured up by awakened pa.s.sions roused by variety of scenes striking our different senses; those once awakened, are soon allured; and allurements once indulged, are seldom allayed. But why do I thus insensibly wander? Why am I deviating so widely and wildly from my intended narration of rustic felicity? Yes, I must indulge it. Visions of earthly pleasure, whither are you fled? Oh, social delights, known only in domestic seclusion, and blooming only in sequestered retirement, why am I forbid to enter your hallowed abodes? I must now only in sadness survey what once I might have enjoyed, had the dictates of nature (in me) been obeyed; and instead of being made the victim of fashion, I should now be solacing myself with the inestimable pleasures of a tranquil mind, and the rational reflection of enjoying all that is worth enjoyment in life, and consequently fulfilling all the ends for which life was bestowed. But, ah! like thousands more who have lived, and will live hereafter, and in spite of all that Poets have sung, and Philosophers taught, we live not for ourselves, but for others.

(To be continued.)

_THE FARRAGO._

N. VI.

Stephen and you are now both even, Stephen cheats you, and you cheat Stephen.

PARODY OF A NOTED EPIGRAM.

In the highlands of Scotland, when a benighted traveller knocks at a cottage door, and is denied admittance by a female voice, he never dreams of grumbling at the refusal, if the Caledonian dame subjoin, in her country's phrase, that she is a _lone_ woman. Should some carping critic look through my lattice, and censure me for sameness of sentiment, or barrenness of fancy, I would reply, in an accent of deprecation--Mr. Zoilus, I am a _lone author_. In the periodical publications of Great Britain, the papers are usually furnished by the members of a literary society, who a.s.semble at some coffee-house or tavern, and club their genius to amuse the public, as they club their cash to discharge their reckoning. Those speculations, which have improved, and have gladdened life, were rarely the fruit of a single brain, but the offspring of wit in conjunction. The union of abilities is almost as essential to the perfection of a miscellany, as the union of s.e.xes to the formation of our being. Both Genius and Dullness are p.r.o.ne to court alliances.--Beaumont and Fletcher, composed comedies in company; and Sternhold, when he undertook a translation of David's psalms, employed Hopkins to _eke_ out his metre. Relying on his native strength, Dr. Johnson composed a series of lucubrations himself; but who is endowed with the comprehensive mind of the author of the Rambler?

Like a poor man loaded with a _fardel_ of debt, common writers are glad to borrow. Cursed occasionally with a penury of thought, and most willing to pay my _public debt_, I solicit a hint from one, a sentiment from another, and a subject from a third. Conscious of imbecility, I dread stumbling in my _solitary_ walk, and timidity warns me to lean, sometimes on the staff of quotation, and sometimes, to employ a guide.

My acquaintance, Adage, who loves sentences short and pithy, like himself, and who has read with diligence, and who admires with judgment, the PROMPTER, requests me to compose an essay in his laconic style. No, I replied, he has exhausted _Franklinisms_, he has commented upon almost every common saying in the popular mouth. Your reasons, Adage rejoined, are like Gratiano's in the Merchant of Venice; they are two grains of wheat, hid in two bushels of chaff, you shall search all day ere you find them, and when found, they are not worth the search. Be it my task to furnish a _subject_, to take the pen and write quickly be thine. My neighbour Crispin, quoth Adage, contracted last week with a countryman for cheese. It was damaged; Crispin gives five pence per lb. and promises to pay in leather. I thought he was over-reached; but, when the cheese-monger had departed, Crispin laughingly cries, "if his cheese is mouldy, my leather is unmerchantable, and _two cheats make an even bargain_." As the PROMPTER, continued Adage, never preached a sermon from that text, and as, to continue the allusion, the bishop is slumbering in his stall, do you become his chaplain, and ascend the pulpit yourself.

Reflecting on my friends advice, I quickly perceived that this _even_ bargain was concluded by many characters besides _professional_ cheats.

An old London magazine, which I read many years ago, and which memory just handed me, offers the first example.