Indiana Palladium, Volume 2, Number 20, Lawrenceburg, Dearborn County, 27 May 1826 — Page 1

WMJf.. W Wjmjh iu Jtw wn mi m m wi EQUALITY OF RIGHTS IS NATURE'S PLAN AND FOLLOWING NATURE IS THE MARCH OF 3IAN.-Bari.ow. LAWRENCEBURGH, INDIANA; SATURDAY, MAY 27, 1826. Number 20. Volume II.

7Y BROKEN HEART. 1 ntrer heard Of any true affection but 'twas nipt "With care, that, I ke the cutiei pillar, eats The leaves of the springs sweetest book, the rose. JWdd'fton

It is common to laugh at all Jove stories, and to treat the tales of romantic, passion as mere fictions of poets, and novelists, that never existed in reai life. JIy observations on human nature have convinced me of the contrary, and have satisfied me, that however the surface of the character may he chilled and frozen by the cares of the world. & the pleasures of society, still there is a warm current of affection running through the depths of the coldest heart, which prevent? its being utterly congealed. Indeed, I am a true believer in the blind deity, and go to the full extent of his doctrines. Shall I confess it? I believe in broken hearts, and the possibility of dying of disappointed love! I do not however, consider it a malady often fatal to my own sex; but I firmly believe, that it withers down many a lovely woman into an early grave. Man is the creature. of interest and ambition. His nature leads him forth into the struggle and hustle of the world. Love is but the embellishment of his early life, or a song piped in the intervals of the acts, he seeks for fame, for fortune, for space in the world's thought and dominion over his fellow men. But a woman's whole life is a history of the affections. The heart is her world; it is there her ambition strives for empire it is there her avarice seeks for hidden tre asures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventure; she embarks her whole soul in the traiiick of affection; and if shipwreck-id, her case is hopeless for it is a bankruptcy of the heart. To a man the disappointment of love may occasion some bitter pangs: it wounds some feelings of tenderness it blasts some prospects of felirity; but he 5s an active bei.ig he can dissipate his thoughts in the whirl of varied occupation, or plunge into the tide of pleasure; or, if the scene of disappointment be too full of painful associations, he can shift his abode at will, and taking, as it were the wings of the morning, can fly to the uttermost parts of the earth, and he" at rest. But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a meditative life. She is more the companion of her own thoughts and feelings; and if they are turned to ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation! Her lot is to be wooed and won; and if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured, arid sacked and abandoned, and left desolate. How many bright eyes grow dim how many soft cheeks grow pale how many lovely forms fade away into the tomb; and none can tell the cause that blighted their loveliness. As the dove will clasp its wings to its side, and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying on its vitals so. it is the nature of woman, to hide from the world the pangs of wounded affection. The Jove of a delicate female is always shy and silent. Even when fortunate, she scarcely breathes it to herself; but when otherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her bosom, and there lets it cower and brood anions the ruins of her peace. With her the desire of the heart has failed, the great charm of exis is at an end. She neglects all the cl 'fin exercise that gladden the quicken the pulses, and send the tide life ill healthful niprnnti fhrnrl veins. Her rest is broken the refreshment of sleep is poisoned by mel ancholy dreams "dry sorrow drinks her! blood, until her enfeebled frame sinks under the least external assailment. Look for her, after a little while, and you find friendship weeping over her untimely grave, and wondering that one, who but lately glowed with all the radiance of health and beauty, should now be brought down to "darkness and the worm.' You will be told of some wintry chill, some slight indisposition, that laid her low but no one knows the mental malady that previously sapped her strength, and made her so" easy a prey to the spoiler. She is like some tender tree, the pride anu neauty 01 me grove: gracetul in its form, bright in its foliage, but with the worm preying at its core. We find it suddenly withering, when it should be most fresh and luxuriant. We see it drooping its branches to the earth, and shedding leaf by leaf; until, wasted and perished away, it falls even in the still ness of the forest, and ns we muse over the beautiful ruin, we strive in vain to

recollect the blast or thunderbolt that could have smitten it with decay. I have seen many instances of women running to waste and self neglect, & diappearing gradually from the earth, almost as if they had been exhaled to heaven; and have repeatedly fancied, that 1 could trace their deaths through the various declensions of cor sumption, cold, debility, languor, melancholy until 1

(reached the hist symptom of disappoint ed love. Put an instance of tue kind was latelv told to me: the circurnstanres are wei) known in the country where ih, 1... .....I ! Kut in the manner they were i elated. Every one must recollect the tragical story of young E , the Irish patriot! it was too touching to he soon forgotten. During the in ul les in belaud he was tried, condemned, and executed, on a charge of treason. His late n-de a a deep impression on public sympathy. He was so voung so intelligent m generous so brave so every thing ihat we are are apt to like n, a you -;g man. His conduct under trial, loo, wa so lofty and intrepid. The noble indignation with which he repelled the chaige of treason against his country the eloquent vindication of his name and his pathetic appeal to posterity, in the hopeless hour of condemnation all these entered deeply into every generous bosom and even his enemies lamented the stern policy that dictated his execution. But there was one heart, whose anguish no tongue nor pen could describe. In happier days and fairer fortunes, he had won the affections of a beautiful and interesting girl, the daughter of a late celebrated Irish barrister. She loved him with the disinterested fervour of a woman's first and early love. When every worldly maxim arrayed itself against him; when blasted in fortune, and disgrace and danger darkened around his name, she loved him the more ardently for his very sufferings. If, then, his fate could awaken the sympathy even of his foes, what must have been the agony of her whose whole soul was occupied by his image! Let those tell who have had the portals of the tomb suddenly closed, between them and the being they most loved on earth w ho have sat at its threshold, as one shut out in a cold and lonely world, from whence all that was most lovely aad loving had departed. But then the horrors of such a grave! so frightful, so dishonoured! There was nothing for memory to dwell on that could sooth the pang of separation none of those tender, though inelancuolv rircumstanccs, that endear the parting scene nothing to melt sorrow inlo those ales-ed tears, sent, like the dovts of heav en, to revive the heart in the parching aou r ot anguisin To render" her widowed situation more dcsolale, she had ii eurred her f - i - thers displeasure by oer unfortunate at-; tacnment, and was an oxne Hum u.e p ternal roof. But enuhl the s mj. aioy j rind bind nfllffs rd frind !;:np rf-n i Ci ! ! ... Bnirireil.nrL-P. u A d ,1 v,n i n bv l.r. , ' r. ,ii , vnnr;nptJ , J . r ,i.w:., r... 4i ' r -1 J

nam ui luuauuuiu.j, iui mu iiin .in. gooa, oy ner unerring precepts, uun T . ,. . y- . , 1 f . . 1, 1 , . 11C, -1 -1 r ' J , - i i !" . . jLiKe many subordinate artists employpeople oi quick and generous sensioui-! m:n, exnosed naked, and indigent to , . A . , , . :

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wealth and distinction. She was led infri.- ,,.1 .:.i 1,.. ..11 p;.,H.,f -uv-lJ 5 tiij tutu uj tin iu'.uowi forth bud or blossom. She never obiec ted to frequent the haunts of pleasure; but she was as much alone there, as in the depths of solitude. She walked about in a sad reverie, apparently unconcsious of the world around her. She carried with her an inward wo that mocked at all the blandishments of frendship, and "heeded not the song of the charmer, charm he never so wise ly." The person who told me her story, had seen her at a masquerade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone wretch edness more striking and painful than to meet it in such a scene. JPo find it wan dering like a sceptre, lonely and joyless, where all around is gay to see it dressed out in the trappings of mirth, and looking so wan wo-begone, as if it had tried in vain to cheat the poor heart into a momentary forgetfuluess of sorrow. After strolling through the splendid rooms and giddy crowd with an air of utter abstraction, she sat herself down on the steps of an orchestra, and looking about for some time with a vacant air,

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veer- caUtorv of her loves. But it was all in! tbin :a sold , still rl h.h.r nnll'T . Produc ln,e ieI,ri

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that showed her insensibility to the garish scene, she began, with the capaciousness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plaintive air. She bad an exquisite oice ; hut on this occasion it was so simple, so touching it breathed forth such a soul of wretchedness that she drew a crowd, mute and silent, around her, .and melted every one into tears. The story of one so true and tender, mnld not hut excite rreat interest in a

er.iintrv remarkable for enthusiasm. It comnletelv won the heart of a brave I . . 1 11 . I I ilieer, who paiu ins audi esses to Her, ai:ti

give themithought that one so true to the dead,

could not hut prove affectionate to the living. She declined his attentions for her thoughts were irrevocably engrossed b the memorv of her former lover. He, how evei, persisted in his :?uit. He solicited not her tenderness, but her esteem. He was assisted by her conviction of his w orth, and her sense of her uva destitute and dependent situation., Itsr she was existing on the kindness of frier (Is. In a word, he at length succeedded in gaining her hand, though with the olemn assa ranee, that her heart was unalterably another's. i!e took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a chai ge of scene might wear ut the reniembrar.ee of earlv woes. She was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an effort to be a happy one; but nothing could cure the silent and devouring melancholy that had entered into her very soul. She wasted away in a slow, but hopeless decline, and at length unk into the grave, the victim of a broken heart. It was on her that Moore, the Irish poet, composed the following lines: She is far from the land where her joung1 hert sleeps, And lovrrs around hr are sighing1; tiu coli'Iy she turns from thf ir aze and wetpt, Tor Lei- heart in his grave is lm she sing's t tie wilct song of her dear native plain?, Every note wh;ch she lov'a awakenirg Ah! Ill lie they think, who de'ight in her strains. How the heart or the minblrtli breaking-! !lr. had liv'd for his love for his country ht. tiied , They were all that to life had entwinM him Nor soon shall the tear of his country He dried. Nor lung will his love stuy behind him ! On ! mftke her a grave where the sunbeams rt-st, When i try promise a glorious murinw ; They'd shine o'er her sltep, like a srrnli froRj ihe west, From her own lov'd island of sorrow ! THE MAN OF ACTION AND VIRTUE. There is this obvious and material difference in the conduct of nature, with regard to man and other animals, that having endowed the former with a sublime celestial spirit, and having given him an affinity with superior being-, she allows not such noble faculties to lie le thargic or idle; hut urges him, bv ne cessity, to emplo, on everv emergence. nts utmost art and uiuustnj. Jjruie-c re jtuies! iave rnanv oi their necessities sup Jlir d by nature, being clothed and arm-a-;(Hj bv this henchcient parent ot all thing? ; and where their own industry is . . ; ', , . . ,..,r- . U. .-Ll ..V ; .L ..III I i: ' ri i x 1? . 1 -1 1 , 4, , , , . ' . . ; . C f , l I lj t U VI V. i V. IL I I. I 1 ( . . . . V l... . . II I'lii! m lencc ofl.U parc.U; m.d having aHafn- - , j 1.:. ....;.. lu Jua U ilIU9l LIOH ctiU! ICt UOII.. 1 ( r-- 1 ,1 J a i ii .i f Al

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iiCKnowieuge, mereaoie, tj man, ne r t c i . 1 t .t , ? c I i ; ingredient of the felicity to which thou henetieenee ot nature ; ior she has given . 3 ,1 . J . . 4l . , ,,. ' i ty ,'aspirest, and that everv cniovment soon thee that intelligence which supplies all I ' , , J ; , , ... n . , , , i i .becomes msipcd and distasteful, when thy necessities. But let not indolence, , , 1 , . 4. , . , . J i c i - i V'Ot acquired by fatigue and industry, under the false appearance, ot gratitude C 1 x . . r tl , ., . r . . . i 'iii 3te the hardy hunters rise irom their persuade thec to rest contented with her i . - . , ,T tX , , 1 Tt. . . A A i downy couches shake oil the slumbers

presents. ivouuim tnou reiurn io met to ci i v savatre manners, to iv tirriornns: superstition, to thy brutal ignorance; and sink thyself below those animals. whose condition thou admirest, and wouldst so fondly imitate. Thy kind parent, nature, having given thee art and intelligence, has titled the whole globe with materials, to employ these talents: Hearken to her voice. which so plainly tells thee, that thou thy self shouldst also be the object of thy industry, and that by art and attention alone thou canst acquire that ability, which will raise thee to thy proper station in the universe. Behold this arti-

raw herbage for ihy food, to the open h-i a ? u , h i r j h J hds, and ere Aurora has vet covered the suv lor th covering, and to stones andii i a - .i t - . . s' . , I heav ens with, ler flatr.ir.g mantle, h;i?clubs for thy defence against tne raven- 4 r Tk,.''i i 'i i , , rn. ten to the forctt. 1 tiey h ave, behind, ous animals of the desert? Then return ,e- n - i

who converts a rude and shapeless stone ir.to a noble metal; and mould ing that metal by his cunning hands, creates, as it w ere b magic, every weapon for his defence, and every utensil ' . Til " . . I tor las ccrvenience. lie lias not tin skill from nature: Use and practic have taught it him: And if thou would emulate his sucsess, thou must follow his laborious foot-steps. But while llou ctnbitievsJy aspire 5t to I s . 1 I 1 1 perfect!! g thy ncdily powers and tacul-of-itks, wouldst thou nmmty neglec t thv mind, and from a preposterous sloth, leave it still rude and uncultivated, as it came from the bands of nature? Far be such fclh and negligence from everv rational being. If nature has been f in -gal in her gifts and endowments, there is the more r.eed of art to sup pi her defects. If she has been geneious and liberal, know that she still expects industry and application on our part, and revenges herself in propoition to our negligent ingratitude. The richest genius, like the most fertile soil, when uncultivated, shoots up into the rankest weeds; ai d instead of vines and olives for the pleasure and use of man, produces, to its slothful ower, the most abundant crop of poison. The great end of dl human industry, is the attainment of happiness. For this wen :rt invented, sciences cultivated, laws ordained, and societies meddled, by the most profound wisdom of patriots and legislators. Even the lonely savage, who lies exposed to the inclemency of the elements, and the fury of the w ild beasts, forgets not, for a moment this grand object of his being. Ignorant as he is of every art of life, he still keeps in view the end of all those arts, and eagerly seeks for felicity amidst that darkness with which he is environed But as much as the wildest savage is inferior to the polished citizen, who, under the protection of law s, enjoys every convenience which industry has invent ed; so much is this citizen himself inferior to the man of virtue, and the true philosopher, who governs his appetites, subdues his passions, and has learned, from reason to sot a just value On every pursuit and enjoyment. For is there an art and apprenticeship necessary for every other attainment.? And is there no art of life, no rule, no precepts to diicct us in this princ ipal cotc-ns ? Can no particular pleasure be attained without skill; arid can the whole be regulated without reflection or intelligence, bv the blind guidance of the appetite and instinct? Surelv then no mistakes arc ever committed in this affair; but every man, however desolute and negligent, pro ceeds in the puiuit of happiness, with

zen,

- ' (importance ; let us enquire for their remedics. i When from this we have fixed a11 the r"le f COllduct, WC are phlloSGpfiCTs: H nun we have reduced these i rules to practice, we are sages. ea to mini tne several wneeisand springs III a machine: Such are those who excel !? ml "f ,arU"lar arS of U 15 Ih master workman who puts those seI " . ciiu 'in t tu 'v. iuli iir.iu iiiV-Ui " 4 . and rronortion: 11 r ty as the result r. uch an alluring shall that labour & attenlinment of thy v.liu.v.11.1 Clill uumiiv.ii;u (. Ul U 111 I'll. rrwt fl rn' iniirn linrllinnciMn 1 irahle? Know this labor itself is the chief boring plains, rriirnals of every kind, whose flesh furnishes the mc st delicious fare, and w hich offer themselves to the fatal stroke. Laborious man disdains so easy a purchase, l ie sc eks for a prey, w hich hides itself from his search, or flies from his pursuit, or defends itself from his violence. Havino- exerted in the chase every passion of mind, arc! eve ry member of the body, he then finds the charms of repose, and with joy compares its pleasures to those of his engaging labours. And can vigorous industry give plea ure to the pursuit even of the must

as unerring a motion, as that which the w ith compassion, on the errors ed mistacelestial bodies observ e, when, conduct-! ken mortals v ho blindly seek for the true ed by the hand of the Ahiiightv, they! path of life, and pursue i iches, nobility, roll along the ethereal plains. But if; honour or power, for genuine felicity, mistakes be often, be inevitably commit- The greater part he beholds disappointted, let us register the mistakes; let listed of their fond vihcs: Seme lament, consider their causes ; let us weigh their! that having once possesse d the object of

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worthless prey, w

lilwll frequently escapes our toils? And cannot the same industry render the cultivating oi our mind, the moderating of our passions, the enlightening of our reason, and agrecnbla t f unation; while tteare even day ser.

:e stble of our progress, and behold ourihst ward features and countenance bright-

ening incessantly with new charms f Begin by c uring )ourself of this lethargic indolence; the task is rot dili.cult: Vou need but taste the sweets of honeat labor. Ficcced to learn the just value of every puisuit; long study is not re quisite: Compare, though but for once the mind to the body, htue to fortune and gh'iy to pleasure. You will theii perceive the advantages of industry: You will then be sensible what are the proper obje cts of your industry. In vain do you seek repose from beds of roses: In vain do ou hope for enjoyment iiom the- most delicious wines and fruits. Your indolenc e itself becomes a fatigue: Your pleasure itself cieatea disgust. The mind, unexercised, finds eerv delight insipid and loathsome; and ere yet the body, full of noxious humours, feels the torment of its multiplied diseases, otir nobler part is sensible of the invading poison, and seeks in vain to relieve its anxiety 'by new pleasures which still augment the fatal malady. I r.c-ed net tell you, that, by this eager pursuit of pleasure, you more and more expose yourself to fortune and accidents and rivet vour affections on external ob jeets, which chance may, in a moment, ravish irom you. I shall suppose, that your indulgent stars favour )u still with the enjoyment of your riches and possessions. I prove to you, that eve a in the midst of your luxurious pleasures, you are unhappy; and that by too much indulgence, you are incapable of enjoy ing what prosperous foituue still allore ) ou to possess. . But surely the instability of fortune ic a consideration not to be overlooked or neglected. Happiness cannot possibly exist, where there is no security; aid senility can have no place, where lVr tune has any dominion Though that unstable deity should not exert her rage against you the dread of it would still torment you; would disturb your slumbers, haunt your dreams, and throw a chimp on the jollity of) our most dtlU clvus banquets. The temple of wisdow isseatedon a rock above the rage of the lighting elemeht3 and inaccessible to all the malice of mnn.. The rolling thunder breaks below; and those mure terrible instruments of human fury reach not to so sublime a height. The sage, whde he brerath.es that sercvie air, l.ioks down with pleasure, ir.i.ed . their desires, it is ravished irom them by 'envious fortune: Ai d all complain, that CV 'even their own vows, though granted, cannot give them happiness, or reluive the anxiety oi tueir distracted minds. But does the sage always preserve himself in this philosophical indifference and rest contented with lamenting the miseries of mankind, without ever cm ploying himself for their relief? Does he constantly indulge this severe wisdom: which by pretending to elevate him a bove human accidents, does in reality harden his heart, and render him care !less of the interests of mankind, and of society? No; he knows that in this sullen Apatl y, neither true wisdom nor true happiness can be found. lie feels too strongly the charm of the social affections ever to counteract so sweet so natural, so virtuous a propensity. Eve a when, bathed in tears, lie laments the miseries of the human race, of his country, of his friends, and unable to give succour, can only relieve them by com passion; he yet rejoices in the generous disposition, and feels a satisfaction superior to that of the most indulged sense. So engaging are the sentiments of hu inanity, that they brighten up the very face of sorrow, and operate like the sun, which, shining on a dusky cloud or falling rain, paints on them the most glori-. ous colours which aie to be found iu the wlule circle of nature. But it is not here alone, that the ?ochl virtues display their energy. V ith whatever ingredient you mix them, they are still predominant. As sorrow cannot overcome them, so neither can sensual pleasure obscure them. The joys of love, however tumultuous, banish rot the tender sentiments of sympathy nrd auction. Thev even derive their chief iuiluencc from that genereus passion;