In fact, I could not resolve to quit Paris, and put the intolerable s.p.a.ce 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 pa.s.sion 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 a.s.sure 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 G.o.d 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!
I have heard she had a capricious unjust husband, but--------
Oh yes! That to be sure she had; every body talks of his folly and brutality, but that will not excuse her conduct. I hear every thing, and can a.s.sure you she is here much against her inclination; nay, she would not have come, had she not dreaded an order for imprisonment.
Imprisonment! Oh! heavens!
Not for her good behaviour, as you may suppose. Why she is neither suffered to go out, nor see any person whatever, except her nearest relations. Oh! she leads a very melancholy life! You may well think, our Nuns won"t have any communication with a wife false to her husband"s bed. The very Boarders will not look at her; every body avoids her as they would infection. G.o.d forgive her! she must do penance yet: but instead of that, she is playing upon the harpsichord all day long; is as fresh as a rose, and looks better every day: she must be stubborn in sin.
And does not she seem sorrowful?
Not at all; her woman says, she never saw her so contented; for my own part, I am charitable, and hope she may yet be reclaimed, for she has not a bad heart; she is generous and charitable; and yet she has insisted upon having all her fortune restored, and has left her husband in absolute want. You will tell me he is mad and foolish, has ruined himself n.o.body knows how, and has just suffered the disgrace of being degraded in the army. I own they have taken away his commission: yes, he has lost his regiment; but yet, I say, a husband is a husband. The poor man wrote to her about a month since to beg her a.s.sistance, but no! she told him plainly, no! "Tis very hard though!---I have all these things from the best authority; I don"t talk by hearsay; I have been fifteen years in this house, and, I thank my G.o.d, n.o.body could ever say I was a tatler, or a vender of scandal.
The Touriere continued at her own ease praising herself; I had not the power of interruption left. She was loudly called for, kept talking all the way she went, and in a few minutes returned.
It was the relation of a young Novice who takes the veil to-morrow, that wanted me, said she. Ah! now; there; there is a true convert! A call of grace! Gives fifty thousand francs (2083l. sterling) to the convent! You ought to see the ceremony: our Boarders will all be there, and you can take a peep through the church window.
At what o"clock will it begin?
Three in the afternoon. The Novice is as beautiful as an angel, and is only twenty. Had she not lost her lover and her father in the same year, the would never have attended to the blessed inspiration of the Spirit.
How good Providence is to us! Her father died first, and her lover, who was imprisoned at Saumur, about five months after, of a broken heart, as it is thought.
What was his name? cried I, in an agony not to be described.
The Marquis of Clainville, replied the Touriere, and our novice is called Mademoiselle d"Elbene.
This last sentence went with inexpressible torture to my heart. I rose suddenly, and ran out with an exclamation that threw the Touriere into astonishment and terror.
Arrived at my lodgings, I threw myself upon the sopha, penetrated, torn, and confounded at all that I had heard. The veil was rent away, the illusion pa.s.sed, I knew at length the extent of my misery; saw to what a point my extravagant conduct had stained my wife"s reputation; felt how impossible it was for this innocent victim of my destruction truly to pardon the injury I had done her, by destroying the most precious thing a woman possesses; and owned, that the unjust contempt with which the world treated her, ought incessantly to reanimate her resentment against me its author. To her virtue alone could I now attribute her generous manner of acting.
In fact from the account given by the Touriere, it was evident that Julia, consoled by the testimony of a good conscience, was resigned to her fate, and lived at peace; which she could not continue to do, but by burying my memory in eternal oblivion.
(_To be continued._)
+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+
ON G.o.d"S PROVIDENCE IN THE FORMATION OF HIS CREATURES.
When G.o.d created man he endowed him with certain principles of action, which distinguished him from the animal or brute creation.---It is a question which involves in it much disquisition and philosophy, whether men were aboriginally white, black, or brown; but the popular opinion with us seems to be, that all men were radically white. We see around us on the face of nature, people of various complexions, some of whom are the sons of science and education; others beclouded by the chilling mists of profound ignorance: Those, however, that are more enlightened presumptuously advance in the face of truth, that they alone are favoured mortals, because of their superiority in the knowledge of things.---Fallacious reasoning!---G.o.d is an equal providence, his endowments are not partial but universal. He has given all men equal abilities, which time and circ.u.mstance have rendered more conspicuous in some; and if the same opportunities, the same education, the same youthful care and social intercourse had been extended to all---_all_ would have been equally conspicuous. The sons of Ethiopia would vie with the ablest of mankind, we should blush to call them slaves, and attach to their reputation a more becoming appellation. Were I to argue from other deductions, I should justly be accused of an attempt to argue a defect in the G.o.d of nature---impossible!---It may not be improper here to ask the ingenious advocates for opposite principles, what grounds they rest their theory upon. Alive to the feelings of sensibility, with reluctance I antic.i.p.ate their answer: "_Appearances are the criterions by which we judge!_" Generous Deity! is a whole nation to be imposed upon and bear the shackles of ignominious bondage, because there is an external difference of appearances? I shudder at concomitant reflections! and must suspend the inquiry with deploring their miserable condition if they ever consult their consciences.
LUCIUS.
PINE-STREET, June 28, 1796.
_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._
IF A STORY BE NOT GOOD, SAY "TIS A DUTCH ONE.--ERASMUS.
_A Good Name_ is better than _precious Ointment_----SOLOMON.
"Tis certainly a strange and a ludicrous sentiment--there appears to be such a contrast in the objects--I presume, in former days, ointments were in greater estimation than at present---for it seems to have been as currently talked of as _bank bills_ with us.---I recollect his father"s wonderful conception, that love and unity were similar to the _precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron"s beard that went down to the skirts of his garments._---I cannot conjecture the reason for their prizing it so highly:---Is this the ointment or oil, pray, that made their kings? Well, admitting it is,---why should it be set along side a _good name_.---We lessen the importance of the n.o.ble object by placing it with a trivial one----The fact is, I believe, Solomon said it because he happened to hear it (like many other things) at home. Does there need much inspiration to raise so n.o.ble a thought?---What if he said, a good name is better than _300 wives and 700 concubines_---would it not have made an admirable sound indeed? Yes, how striking it would have been, had he only said, "tis better than 1000 stalls of horses---how some _penetrating diving old gentlemen_ would have eyed it thro" their spectacles.---But such _trivial things_ as a _few_ wives, concubines, or horses extra did not pop into his mind just then. When I recollect how far the Queen of the South came to _see_ his wisdom, and that, in fact, he was acknowleged able to distinguish and divide a hair twixt south and south-west side---I must blush and confess it folly and presumption to _smile_ at him---though I had nothing else to do and cannot sleep;---but truly it would have read so handsomely to me had it been a _good name_ is better, far better, (understand me right,) than the best of _gingerbread_.
R. G. W.
EFFECT OF MUSIC.
(From a London Paper.)
The effect of music on the senses was oddly and wonderfully verified, during the mourning for the late DUKE of c.u.mBERLAND: A taylor had a great number of black suits, which were to be finished in a very short s.p.a.ce of time---among his workmen, there was a fellow who was always singing _Rule Britannia_, and the rest of the journeymen joined in the chorus.---The taylor made his observations, and found that the slow time of his tune r.e.t.a.r.ded the work, in consequence, he engaged a blind fidler and placing him near the workshop, made him play constantly the lively tune of _Nancy Dawson_.---The design had the proper effect---the taylors elbows moved obedient to the melody, and the clothes were sent home within the prescribed period.