* * * * *
The
_WANDERINGS_
of the
IMAGINATION.
_BY MRS. GOOCH._
[Concluded from page 403.]
“I was one morning expecting her at the usual hour, and for the first
time she disappointed me. I waited for her in vain, and toward evening
began to grow alarmed at her absence. I borrowed the arm of a servant,
and repaired to her lodging. She had not been seen there since the
morning; and after leaving a message for her, I returned home, under the
certainty of finding her there. But no one had seen her, neither did I
hear from her till the following evening, when she entered my apartment,
and I could discover, from the trembling agitation of her voice, that
something particular had disturbed her. On my questioning her about the
disposal of her time during the preceding day, I found that her answers
were vague and incoherent, which, on my observing, the native candour of
her heart prevailed, and she eagerly asked me if I could forgive her
revealing to me a secret that had got the better of her reason, and
without too harshly condemning, advise her how to act under the present
embarrassing state of her mind?--I was so totally thunderstruck by this
preparation, that I could only entreat her instantly to satisfy me--but
to my first emotion surprize, terror, every sensation that could proceed
from the honesty of my heart succeeded, while she uttered--“Your Julia
has dared to aspire to the son of her father’s benefactor.”--I
interrupted her, and for a moment all my past affection for her was
buried in the most bitter resentment.
“She conjured me to hear her, and I promised to do so. “Yes,” she
continued, “your daughter has listened to the most tender professions of
honourable love, but she is bold to say that she could despise HIM who
has offered it, had he even hinted at the destruction of her innocence.
Mr. Williams has privately and frequently met me. He has pledged his
honor that he will never give his hand to another; but he expresses
himself too well convinced of your integrity, and gratitude to his
father, to entrust you with a secret, which it is most essential to his
views should never be discovered by him.”
I entreated my daughter to leave me, while I ruminated what measures I
could adopt to secure my own esteem, without betraying Mr. Williams.
I determined to see him; for how was it possible my Julia should suffer
in his esteem by the candid declaration she had made me?--I requested
the honour of half an hour’s private conversation with him in my
apartment the same evening, and I had no reason to repent my sincerity.
He was ingenuous in the extreme, and in a few minutes dispelled the
anxiety, (I will not say doubt) that my daughter’s first words had
occasioned. He declared to me, in the most solemn manner, his
unalterable resolution of uniting himself to her, whenever he should be
at liberty to declare his choice, which was restrained for the present,
both by his father and his uncle; from the latter he had only to combat
with pecuniary considerations; but for his father he had the most tender
affection, and the idea of distressing him would have been nearly as
terrible as that of forsaking the darling object to whom I perceived,
but too plainly, he was forever devoted.
“Mr. Williams’s confidence demanded the fullest return of mine; but my
honor was deeply interested, and to his I consigned the care of it.
“After many conferences, and meetings between us, (during which he saw
not Julia) he consented to my urgent request, that of unbosoming our
situation to Sir Herbert. Mr. Williams, with all the impetuosity of
youth, believed what he hoped; and left to me the hardest task for the
human heart to perform, that of wilfully risking the displeasure of its
first benefactor.
“Sir Herbert heard my recital with more emotion than surprize; and I
could discover that the obstacles he held forth to his son’s union with
my daughter, were not so entirely on his own account as that of the Lady
Williams’s brother, the old Admiral Clayton; who having no children, had
declared his nephew his heir, but who possessed too much pride of blood
to listen to the proposal of an alliance, that would not be at least
adequate to his own.
“To this sentiment he added great inflexibility of temper, and a mind
bordering on suspicion. Sir Herbert thought it would, therefore, be
prudent to remove my daughter, and was generous enough to propose my
going with her, though he deprived himself by it of what afforded his
principal delight in the Winter Evenings. He recommended Chepstow, where
we have remained ever since, nor have I ever left her, but for six weeks
at the return of Christmas, when I regularly go for that time to Sir
Herbert’s house.
“Mr. Williams still perseveres in his intention, and Sir Herbert does
not oppose a correspondence, that he knows would be in vain to prohibit.
Once, indeed, Mr. Williams has visited us here, and has given us every
reason to believe, that the death of the Admiral, who is now in his 75th
year, is the only barrier to his wishes, and I most candidly acknowledge
to my own.”
Here ended the Narrator; and Julia, who had been all the time absent,
returned to gladden us with her presence.
She saw that her secret was discovered; and having no farther restraint
in my society, soon convinced me that her whole happiness was wound up
in her future prospects, a disappointment in which would not fail to
embitter, if not actually destroy, it.
In a few months my wandering stars compelled me to leave Chepstow; but,
alas, they have never served to light me to happiness! My correspondence
with Julia has continued ever since uninterrupted; and the Admiral,
though not deprived of existence, is become so far dead to the world by
the suspension of his faculties, that Sir Herbert having come to the
knowledge of his will being made wholly in favour of Mr. Williams, no
longer withheld his happiness, but united him to his long-loved Julia.
Mr. and Mrs. Williams took up their residence in his house, and the
latter days of the aged Llewyllin, who lived with them, were crowned
with content; while, like Israel’s Monarch, he turned the dulcet strains
of his harp to the divinest melody--the praises of his God.
* * * * *
+ANECDOTES and REMAINS+
Of Persons Connected with the French Revolution.
* * *
+Marie Anne Victoire Charlotte Cordet,+
The daughter of a man attached by a place to the court. The _demoiselle_
Cordet was zealous for freedom; rich, young, beautiful--a woman--she
was, nevertheless, a republican. An enthusiast, but not a frantic; she
possessed the warmth of the one character, without the extravagance of
the other. At the place of execution, she uttered not a single word. Her
face still possessed an heroic calmness; and she seemed conscious of
future glory, and approaching happiness. Although silent, her
gesticulations were, however, eloquently impressive; for she frequently
placed her hand on her heart, and seemed to say, “I rejoice, in having
exterminated a monster!”
Brutus and Cordet both equally struck for liberty, and, alas! neither of
them was happy enough to secure it; but the execution of Robespierre
seems to have effected for modern France, what the punishment of Antony,
and the banishment of Octavius, could not perhaps have produced in
degenerate Rome.
To this woman, Greece would have erected statues; Rome, temples. France
may some day insert her name in the calendar of her martyrs;--the
ancients would have placed her among their gods!
_Translation of a letter from Marie Anne Victoire Charlotte Cordet, to
her father, written on the evening before her trial:_
“From the prison of the Conciergerie, in the apartment lately
occupied by the deputy Brisot,
“_July_ 16, 1793.
“My dear respected Father,
“Peace is about to reign in my dear native country, for Marat is no
more!
“Be comforted, and bury my memory in eternal oblivion.
“I am to be tried to-morrow, the 17th, at seven o’clock in the
morning.
“I have lived long enough, as I have achieved a glorious exploit.
“I put you under the protection of Barbaroux and his colleagues,
in case you should be molested.
“Let not my family blush at my fate; for remember, according to
Voltaire,
‘That crimes beget disgrace, and not the scaffold.’
“Your affectionate daughter,
“MARIE ANNE VICTOIRE
“CHARLOTTE CORDET.”
* * * * *
+Voltaire,+
Superstition ridiculed; tyranny exposed; innocence protected:--a nation,
if not prepared for liberty, yet unfitted for bondage. Such were the
labours and the triumphs of Voltaire.
The Parisians were always fond of him. Their vanity was, indeed,
gratified by his glory, in which they supposed themselves to
participate. On his return from banishment, in the time of the monarchy
(from what free country would the author of the _Henriade_ have been
banished?) he was presented with a wreath of laurel, in the public
theatre, and crowned, like the heroes of the ancient republics, in the
presence of the whole people.
On the recovery of liberty, his ashes were claimed by the nation, and on
the 10th of July, 1791, conducted into Paris, amidst the shouts of the
national guards, and the tears of the citizens. The carriage, containing
the corpse, was shaded with green branches, and adorned with appropriate
devices. On one side was the following inscription:
“_Si l’homme a des tirans, il doit les détrôner._”
On another:
“_Si l’homme est créé libre, il doit se gouverner._”
The above mottos were selected from his own immortal works.
[[Source:
This article previously appeared in The Monthly Magazine and British
Register (ed. Richard Phillips), May 1796.
Notes: These pieces are listed in the Index under the names of the
individual persons.]]
* * * * *
* * * *
_THE FARRAGO._
* * *