New-York, June 28, 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. MITCHELL, Bookseller, No. 9,
Maiden-Lane._
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_UTILE DULCI._
THE NEW-YORK WEEKLY MAGAZINE;
or, Miscellaneous Repository.
+Vol. II.+] +Wednesday, July 13, 1796.+ [+No. 54.+
_+Description+ of the famous SALT MINES at +Williska+ in +Poland+._
(Concluded from page 1.)
At the bottom of the last ladder the stranger is received in a small
cavern, walled up, perfectly close on all sides. To encrease the terror
of the scene, it is usual for the guide to pretend the utmost terror on
the apprehension of his lamp going out, declaring they must perish in
the mazes of the mine if it did. When arrived in this dreary chamber, he
puts out his light as if by accident, and after much cant, catches the
stranger by the hand, and drags him through a narrow creek into the body
of the mine, when there bursts at once upon his view, a world, the
lustre of which is scarce to be imagined. It is a spacious plain,
containing a whole people, a kind of subterraneous republic, with
houses, carriages, roads, &c. This is wholly scooped out of one vast bed
of salt, which is all a hard rock, as bright and glittering as crystal;
and the whole space before him is formed of lofty arched vaults,
supported by columns of salt, and roofed and floored with the same, so
that the columns, and indeed the whole fabric, seem composed of the
purest crystal.
They have many public lights in this place continually burning for the
general use, and the blaze of those reflected from every part of the
mine, gives a more glittering prospect than any thing above ground can
possibly exhibit. Were this the whole beauty of the spot, it were
sufficient to attract our wonder; but this is but a small part. The salt
(though generally clear and bright as crystal) is in some parts tinged
with all the colours of precious stones, as blue, yellow, purple, and
green; there are numerous columns wholly composed of these kinds, and
they look like masses of rubies, emeralds, amethysts, and sapphires,
darting a radiance which the eye can hardly bear, and which has given
many people occasion to compare it to the supposed magnificence of
heaven.
Besides the variegated forms of these vaults, tables, arches, and
columns, which are formed as they dig out the salt for the purpose of
keeping up the roof, there is a vast variety of others, grotesque and
finely figured, the work of nature, and these are generally of the
purest and brightest salt.
The roofs of the arches are in many places full of salt, hanging pendant
from the top in the form of icicles, and having all the hues and colours
of the rainbow; the walks are covered with various congelations of the
same kind, and the very floors, when not too much trodden and battered,
are covered with globules of the same sort of beautiful materials.
In various parts of this spacious plain stand the huts of the miners and
families, some standing single, and others in clusters like villages.
They have very little communication with the world above ground, and
many hundreds of people are born, and live all their lives here.
Through the midst of this plain lies the great road to the mouth of the
mine. This road is always filled with carriages loaded with masses of
salt out of the farther part of the mine, and carrying them to the place
where the rope belonging to the wheel receives them. The drivers of
these carriages are all merry and singing, and the salt looks like a
load of gems. The horses kept here are a very great number, and when
once let down, they never see the day-light again; but some of the men
take frequent occasions of going up and breathing the fresh air. The
instruments principally used by the miners are pick-axes, hammers, and
chissels: with these they dig out the salt in forms of huge cylinders,
each of many hundred weight. This is found the most convenient method of
getting them out of the mine, and as soon as got above ground, they are
broken into smaller pieces, and sent to the mills, where they are ground
to powder. The finest sort of the salt is frequently cut into toys, and
often passes for real crystal. This hard kind makes a great part of the
floor of the mine, and what is most surprising of all in the whole place
is, that there runs constantly over this, and through a large part of
the mine, a spring of fresh water, sufficient to supply the inhabitants
and their horses, so that they need not have any from above ground. The
horses usually grow blind after they have been some little time in the
mine, but they do as well for service afterwards as before. After
admiring the wonders of this amazing place, it is no very comfortable
remembrance to the stranger, that he is to go back again through the
same dismal way he came.
[[Sources:
Earlier publication: “The New magazine of knowledge concerning Heaven
and Hell, and the Universal World of Nature” Vol. I, June 1790
Background: The Polish spelling is Wieliczka. The salt mines are
currently a major tourist attraction.]]
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THE FATAL EFFECTS OF INDULGING THE PASSIONS,
Exemplified in the History of M. De La Paliniere.
_Translated from the French._
(Continued from page 3.)
How shall I describe my feelings at reading this letter! Oh, Julia!
cried I, lovely, adorable woman! Is it possible! O God! Can it be that I
have accused you of perfidy!--have done every thing in my power to
dishonour you!---have abandoned you! What! a heart so delicate, so
noble, did I once possess, and have I lost it! Oh misery! I might have
been the happiest of men; I am the most wretched. And can I, in my
present circumstances, accept the generous pardon thou offerest! O, no!
Better die than so debase myself! No, Julia, though thou mayest truly
accuse me of extravagance and injustice, thou never shalt have reason to
suspect me of meanness.
Streams of tears ran down my cheeks, while I reasoned thus. I wrote
twenty answers, and tore them all: at last I sent the following:
“I admire the noble manner of your proceeding, the sublimity of your
mind; and this excess of generosity is not incomprehensible _to me_.
Yes, I conceive all the self-satisfaction of saying, _All which the most
tender love can inspire, virtue alone shall make me perform._---But I
will not take advantage of its empire over you--Live free, be happy,
forget me.----Adieu! Julia---You have indisputably all the superiority
of reason over passion------and yet I have a heart, perhaps, not
unworthy of yours.”
With this letter I returned the twenty-four thousand livres, ordering it
to be told her, that the diamonds having been given at her marriage,
were undoubtedly her’s; and having once received, she had no right to
force them back upon me.
I had now made a sacrifice the most painful; Julia had offered to
consecrate her life to me, and I had renounced a happiness without which
there was neither happiness nor peace on earth for me. My grief,
however, was rather profound than violent; I had offered up felicity at
the altar of honour, and that idea, in some measure, supported me.
Besides, I did not doubt but my letter would prove to Julia that,
notwithstanding all my errors, I yet was worthy of her esteem. The hope
of exciting her pity, and especially her regret at parting from me,
again animated my heart: I supposed her relenting, and grieved, and the
supposition gave me a little ease.
I had lived about a fortnight retired in my lodging near the Luxembourg,
when I received an order to depart immediately, and join my regiment.
Peace had been declared near a year, and my regiment was in garrison two
hundred leagues from Paris. I was one of the most ignorant Colonels in
Europe; besides that I still secretly cherished the fond hope Julia was
not lost to me for ever; though I perfectly felt I could not recede, nor
could she make any further advances, yet I still flattered myself some
unforeseen event would again confer a blessing on me which I had never
sincerely renounced.
In fact, I could not resolve to quit Paris, and put the intolerable
space of two hundred leagues between me and Julia; I wrote therefore to
the minister, to obtain leave of absence, which was refused me, and I
instantly threw up my commission.
Thus did I quit the service at five-and-twenty, and thus did passion and
folly direct my conduct in all the most important events of life.
This last act of extravagance was the cause of great vexation to me; it
increased and completed the difference between me and my Uncle, who was
previously very angry with me for rashly separating from my wife: so
that I now found myself absolutely forsaken by every person in the world
whom most I loved.
At first, indeed, I did not feel the horror of my situation, being
solely occupied by one idea, which swallowed up all the rest. I wished
to see Julia once more. I imagined, if I could but find any means of
appearing suddenly and unexpectedly before her, I should revive some
part of the affection she formerly had for me. But I could not ask for
her at the convent; for what had I to say? She never went out, and her
apartment was in the interior part of the house; how then could I come
to the sight of her?
I had a valet, who happened to be acquainted with a cousin of one of the
Tourieres†. I spoke to this man, and got him to give me a letter for his
cousin the Touriere, in which I was announced as one of his friends, and
steward to a country lady, who wanted to send her daughter to a convent.
[† A kind of female runner or turnkey to a convent.]
Accordingly, at twilight, I wrapped myself up in a great coat, put on an
old slouched hat, and went to the convent. The Touriere was exactly such
a person as I wished; that is, she was exceedingly talkative and
communicative. At first I put some vague questions to her, and
afterwards said, my mistress was not absolutely determined to send her
daughter to a convent; whence I took occasion to ask if they had many
boarders.
Oh yes, replied she, and married women too, I assure you. Here my heart
beat violently, and she, with a whisper, a smile, and an air of secrecy,
added----You must know, Sir, it is this very convent that incloses the
beautiful Madame de la Paliniere, of whom you have certainly heard so
much.
Yes---yes---I have---She is a charming woman.
Charming! Oh beautiful to a degree! It is a great pit!---but it is to be
hoped God will grant her the gift of repentance.
Repent! of what?
Sir!----Yes, yes, Sir, it is plain enough you are just come from the
country, or you could not ask such a question. So you don’t know!