In that period of life too often characterized by forward presumption
and headlong pursuit, self-conceit is the great source of those dangers
to which men are exposed; and it is peculiarly unfortunate, that the age
which stands most in need of the counsel of the wise, should be the most
prone to contemn it. Confident in the opinions which they adopt, and in
the measures which they pursue, the bliss which youth aim at is, in
their opinion, fully apparent. It is not the danger of mistake, but the
failure of success, which they dread. Activity to seize, not sagacity to
discern, is the only requisite which they value.
The whole state of nature is now become a scene of delusion to the
sensual mind. Hardly any thing is what it appears to be: and what
flatters most is always farthest from reality. There are voices which
sing around us, but whose strains allure to ruin. There is a banquet
spread where poison is in every dish. There is a couch which invites us
to repose, but to slumber upon it is death. Sobriety should temper
unwary ardour; Modesty check rash presumption; Wisdom be the offspring
of reflection now, rather than the bitter fruit of experience hereafter.
* * * * *
* * * *
The
_WANDERINGS_
of the
IMAGINATION.
_BY MRS. GOOCH._
(Continued from page 371.)
* * *
Conclusion
of the
_HISTORY OF CAPTAIN S----._
She arrived at the house of Mrs. Moore, and on enquiring for Mrs. S----,
was answered by a coarse, vulgar-looking woman, that “she know’d no such
person; but that she was a stranger, and her mistress was out.” Mrs.
Wilmot was not to be so easily repulsed after her morning’s fatigue; and
on her mentioning the child, the woman added, “Oh, to be sure, she meant
the grand lady that had supped there the night before, after she had
been to the play; for that she had lighted her home, and would tell the
coachman where she lived.”
Thus directed, they proceeded near half a mile farther; from whence Mrs.
Wilmot would have been probably sent back as much in the dark, had not
the sudden appearance of Mrs. S---- at an upper window caught her eye,
and there was no possibility of denying herself. Mrs. Wilmot ordered the
coachman, without much ceremony, to open the door, but knocked
repeatedly at that of the house before she was let in. She was at length
shewn into a sumptuous parlour where every thing bespoke luxury, and
Mrs. S---- came to her. Her visible confusion, and the style of her
dress so different to that in which Mrs. Wilmot had been accustomed to
behold her, would have soon convinced a person of less penetration than
that worthy woman, of the deception practised on her master.
“Without making any comments, she delivered her message, and earnestly
intimated that the little boy might return with her; to which Mrs. S----
most reluctantly assented. They were soon seated in the coach, and Mrs.
Wilmot thought it her duty to forbear interrogating the child; but
confined herself to her own pious reflections on that gentle pity which
she thought it necessary for every human being to bestow on the lost
young creature, from whom she had just parted. She wished it had not
been reserved for her to make the discovery of unquestionable guilt; and
while she contemplated the sweet features of the lovely boy, she
inwardly ejaculated a prayer to his Creator, that his young mind might
remain uncontaminated by bad example; for she could not suppose that at
such early years he could be an adept in the school of deception; or
that a mother, though lost in her own person, could train up her child
in the paths that led to infamy and corruption. Alas, his little heart
was already less pure than her own; and he was an able practitioner in
the art of dissembling.
“Mrs. Wilmot’s silence lasted no longer than till her return home; when
immediately requesting a few minutes private audience with her master in
his study, she, with many apologies, entered into a full explanation of
what she had seen, and what she conjectured.
“When dinner was over, my uncle questioned Frederick; and was astonished
at the hardened resolution with which he at first equivocated. On
finding, however, that his secret had transpired, and his interrogator
was resolved, the weakness of a mind not yet sufficiently strong to be
consummate in hypocrisy, betrayed him, and he revealed all he knew.
Shocked at the idea of suffering the child to return to his imprudent
mother, yet not possessing in himself sufficient authority to detain
him, there was but one expedient, and that was to send for me. He drew
from him a promise not to mention to his mother a word of what had
passed; and promising to him if he did not, such presents as were most
desirable at his age, he sent him home; and it was the day following on
which, at his own request, I waited on him.
Our conversation was such as might be expected, and I had the happiness
to see myself restored to a relation, whom I had hitherto scarcely
known. He invited me to reside at his house; and in a few days his
attorney waited on Mrs. S---- with a formal requisition, in my behalf,
for the restoration of my son. She complied by force, but had the
littleness to take from him all his wearing apparel, save that in which
he sullenly appeared before us. My emotions on seeing him cannot be
described. He received my caresses with disgust; and seemed to consider
us both more as his tyrants than his protectors. For several weeks we
tried what effect kindness, little presents, and the partaking of
different amusements, would have on his mind. None of these succeeded;
his temper was vindictive, stubborn, morose, and even revengeful. He
never spoke of his mother, and we as carefully avoided her name in his
presence. We fitted up without his knowledge a small room in the house
for his use, and stored it with such books as might amuse his fancy, and
instruct his mind. No act of kindness made any impression on him. Often
did the unmanly tear roll silently down my cheek, as I traced the
distant, but well-finished resemblance of his lovely mother. He
frequently observed me as my heart yearned to embrace him, but his
ungracious looks repelled the too tender emotion. My uncle at length
told me of his determination to send him to school, and hinted at the
same time his intentions in his favour. We soon after placed him at an
academy ten miles from town, and had the pleasure to receive very
satisfactory accounts of his conduct and improvements. We seldom
visited, or sent for him, but at the time of the general holidays; as
from that mistaken indulgence arises so frequently a love of pleasure
and idleness, and a disgust to all which should be materially attended
to. He wrote, at my express desire, to his mother, to inform her of his
new situation, and of the orders which had been given to prevent any
interruption of his studies; but this caution proved needless, as she
neither answered his letter, nor took any farther notice of him.
I passed about two years in this state of negative happiness, when death
suddenly robbed me of my valuable relation; a misfortune the more
grievous, as it was wholly unexpected. The physician who occasionally
attended him had not perceived any alarming symptoms; and a few mornings
after his last visit, Mrs. Wilmot found him dead in his bed. He was a
man of sound morals, but great eccentricity. He had been so long
estranged from the world, and those few who had any claim of
relationship, that ’tis probable he would have left his possessions for
the use of public charities, had not Mrs. S------, without intending to
serve me, so materially effected it.
As it was not unusual for my uncle to pass several days together in his
own apartment, during which I seldom or ever saw him, I had no idea till
Mrs. Wilmot suggested to me her opinion that a new will had been lately
made. Mr. Term, the lawyer, whom he had employed to bring my son to us,
and in whom he had always appeared to place much confidence, had been
latterly more frequent than usual in his visits; and Mrs. Wilmot was
afterwards justified in her opinion that her master had been guided by
him in the regulation of his affairs. I sent immediately for that
gentleman, and we proceeded into the gloomy chamber of death, where we
had no difficulty to find the object of our search. He opened and read
it to us. We found that he had left the bulk of his fortune to my son;
an annuity of two hundred pounds to myself; and to Mrs. Wilmot, his
houshold furniture, plate, and other articles, besides fifty pounds
a year for her life. Mr. Term was his sole executor; and I had no cause
to be displeased with the choice. He appointed that gentleman and myself
the joint guardians of Frederick. Mrs. S------ was not mentioned, but
some trifling sums were bequeathed to different people.
“We found on investigation, that after discharging these incumbrances,
my son’s property would not exceed from seven to eight thousand pounds.
When the funeral was over, I took lodgings in the neighbourhood; and my
son, whom I had sent for on that occasion, returned to his school. I had
not been there many days, before I received a letter from Doctor C----,
his worthy preceptor, informing me that Frederick had suddenly
disappeared; and that in so secret a manner, that none of the boys, whom
he had severally questioned, could give the least intimation of his
design. I immediately waited on Mr. Term, and invested him with full
power over him, desiring him to act for me as well as himself.
“We had no doubt of his mother’s being privy to his flight; but though
she did not deny having any knowledge of him, it was impossible to
prevail on her to reveal what she had done with him. We gave up the
pursuit; and, though I could not be happy, I endeavoured to be composed.
“I knew that my re-union with my wife was now beyond the reach of
possibility. Dear, and undeserving as she was, I could only pity, and
lament her. I knew too that she must be inevitably wretched; for though
I was well assured she had a settlement nearly double to my income, yet
I was equally so that no provision, however splendid, could compensate
for the loss of every social virtue, and the self-accusation of perfidy,
and ingratitude.
“In a few months, she sent me an insulting letter; telling me, that as
she knew her son’s fortune to be out of the reach of his guardians, she
could be under no apprehensions for his future welfare; but that of his
present conduct she should take charge; which, if we objected to, would
oblige her to continue silent respecting his residence. We soon,
however, without any difficulty, found out that he was at a respectable
military academy; and as we could not suggest any reasonable motives for
withdrawing him, unless it was to prevent him from seeing his mother,
which we knew would drive them both to extremities, we were silent on
the subject; and, at length, answered the different bills that were
necessarily contracted for his support and education.
“My son is now in his twenty-fifth year, and has been nearly nine in a
regiment of foot, at this time in Ireland. For my present poverty, I can
only alledge, that dangerous rock on which all my peace has been
wrecked, a too large portion of _natural affection_. His unbounded
extravagance has reduced me to distress; and I have taken up, at
different times, to assist him, sums so inadequate to my circumstances,
that some years must pass before I can enjoy anew that comfortable
independance, which was forfeited almost as soon as acquired!
“Of Mrs. S---- I know nothing. Time has blunted the sharp edge of grief;
but the wound has penetrated my heart, and _that_ will never know a
_cure_.
“My son knows I can do no more for him, and leaves me to my fate. Thus
is every balsamic drop that is mixed in the full cup of human woe,
converted into deadly poison; the more fatal to me, as they issue from
the fount that flowed pure and unadulterated from the hands of its
Creator.
“Thus, Madam, have you patiently attended to the undisguised story of a
poor, unfortunate old man, worn out by sorrow more than by years; a man,
who has been a friend, though an unsuccessful one, to human nature, but
who is now become a burden to himself, and to the World.”
I pitied him--I wept with him:--But it is reserved to the High Power
alone whom he worships, to administer consolation.
Should the eyes of youth, and levity, be cast over the preceding
history, may they be moistened by the tear of Sensibility! And may the
heart of every child that is callous to the distresses of a parent,
recoil with horror at the unnatural crime; and, by returning to his
duty, fulfil _the great Commandment of Heaven!_
(To be continued.)
* * * * *