Death, in snatching him from me, bereaved me of my last consolation.
I fought for the United States of America, until the happy peace which ensured their independence. M. de C***, who had served along with me, and who was attached to the corps commanded by the Marquis de la Fayette--- M. de C*** gave me letters of recommendation, to his friends in Paris, and this capital I have chosen for my retreat in the meridian of life, from the bustle of politics, and the clangor of arms.
Having informed my sisters, of the place of my residence, they collected the small remains of my fortune, formerly immense, and hastened to solace me after the distressing scenes I had unfortunately witnessed.
* * * * * *
The affecting history of the Baron Lovzinski, which he relates to a friend, breaks off, without giving any account of Dorliska, his darling daughter, whom the Russians carried off, in one of their engagements with Pulaski. It appears, from more recent accounts, given by an acquaintance of the Baron’s, that she fell into the hands of Count Gorlitz, a German Nobleman, who placed her in a suitable seminary, where she acquired every necessary accomplishment, and was by accident restored to her father, and united to a branch of a very distinguished family.
[*] Pulaski was killed at the siege of Savannah, in 1779.
The candid acknowledgment of an Old Batchelor.
I am that insulated being called an Old Batchelor. A creature wearisome to myself and beloved by no one, I have spent the noon of my days in a single state, from the dread of incurring the expences incident to a married life with a woman who had nothing, and now surely do I repent that I had not generosity enough to overlook this consideration in favour of a charming girl that I truly loved, and who wanted nothing but fortune to recommend her. I was formerly clerk to her father, then a mechanic of great respectability, but some years after greatly reduced by the unfortunate turn of affairs in his business, incidents to many. When he failed, I was settled in the world, and might have saved his amiable girl from many a year of fatigue and distress into which their poverty immersed them. But with sang froid, for which I now detest myself, I then stood aloof, tore my thoughts from the sweet Eliza, and driving forward into the heart of the city, determined to lose myself in the recesses of counting-houses, and the accumulation of money. Thus avoiding all the plagues and expences of a family, for which I deemed the society of an elegant and affectionate woman by no means an equivalent. Alas! I now see how I miscalculated; how much such a partnership would have been for my advantage in the long run. I now put the mutual participation of pleasure and pain, the endearments of our children, that flattering interest which Eliza would have taken in me (for whom by the way nobody now cares a straw,) I put all these on the credit side of the ledger, and find in the opposite page, only such a portion of expences as I have actually brought upon myself, by being drawn in to give tavern dinners, and a thousand other extravagancies that young men know not how to avoid. You will easily see, when a just account is made out, what I have gained, or rather what I have lost. Instead of the bright hearth and smiling faces of my family, instead of sitting down in the midst of beings who owe life to me, and portioning out their little meal with the delicious sensations of a father, I take my solitary chop at a coffee-house and afterwards saunter to the theatre, where venal beauty spreads her net and I am caught! Alas! here is no mind, here is no modesty to make sentiment interesting. After having seen a public entertainment with Eliza, with what delight might we have passed the remainder of the evening. Her taste and sensibility would have made us live the hours over again with additional pleasure. Her bosom would have been my harbour in the storms of life, and there I should have found resources from ennui in the calm season of prosperity. In the day of sickness her voice could have whispered comfort, and in my dying hour the pure invocations of my children might have availed me at the throne of grace. What a sad reckoner have I been, I am now as grey as a badger, and have not a single relative in the world. I have long retired from business, but my fortune brings me no enjoyment, my dog leads nearly as rational a life: I eat and drink and sleep alternately as he does, for I now fear to become the prey of some indigent dame, who would overlook my grey hairs and infirmities in consideration of coming in for a third of my wealth, and therefore avoid much commerce with the sex, from which, though I might once have derived happiness, I can now only expect trick, or at best ridicule. But what can a man do who has let avarice run away with him in his youth, when all the social affections should have been at their out-posts to prevent it? All that remains for such a man (after the example of a culprit going to execution) is to warn the multitude how they fall into this error. To assure them that the good which is not participated is not half enjoyed, and that those who abandon a young woman from motives like mine, as they do not deserve happiness so they never will obtain it. And moreover, if you print this, pause to add, that an equal mixture of love and prudence forms the only, and most delicious conserve they will have the faculty of relishing all their life long. Either, taken separately, is prejudicial; one being too austere, and the other too sweet. They must be blended to render them happily effective, and if any persons have skill enough to make up the composition after my recipe, I shall not have bemoaned myself, nor you have inserted this in vain.