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hand sent her to heaven before her time, with all her few foibles on her head.
Charles, I saw the expiation--thefe eyes beheld her undergo the heavenly punifunent.
That past, she was called, I thought, to the reward of her ten thoufand virtues.
Then, in very deed, began iny hell, my worse than woman ever dreained of hell. Charles, I saw her, as plainly as I see the bars of my dungeon, through which the
of day looks upon me now for almoft the last tiine. Her face, her person were still more divine than when on earth--they were cast ánew, in angel ajoulds. Her mind too I beheld, as plainly as her face ; and all its features. That was the faine that was not capable of alteration for the better.
But, what saw I elle? That mind, that person, that face, that angel-was in the bofom of another angel. Between us was a gulph, à gulph impassible! I could not go to her, neither could the coine to me.
No-nor did she wish it. There was the curse.
Charles, she saw me, where I was, steeped to: the lips in misery. She saw me; but without a tear, without one sigh.
One figh from her, I thought--and I could have borne all my sufferings.
a tear! She smiled at all my sufferings. Yes, she, even the, enjoyed the tortures,
the wrackings of my soul. She bade her companion angel too enjoy them. She seemed to feast upon my griefs; and only turned away her more than damning eyes, to turn them on her more than bleft companion.
Flames and brimstone-corporal sufferance-were paradise to such eternal mental hell as this.
Oh! how I rejoiced, how I wept, fobbed with joy, when I awoke, and discovered it was only a dream, and found myself in the condemned cell of Newgate.
Mr. H. and Dr. V. neither of whom
you know, I believe, are exceedingly kind to me. The latter writes to me, the former fees me, continually. Your poor
H. finds more friends than he merits.
Among my papers you will see some lines I wrote on reading Goethe's “ Werther,” translated from German into French, which, while I was in Ire
• Extract from the French Translator's preface to
Werther. (Werther, traduit de l'Allemande, Maestricht.
1776. Second partie, p. 229.) Jeune homme sensible ! quand tu éprouveras la premiere atteinte de la plus violente des passions pour un objet qui ne peut être à toi, tu diras : tel
land, she refused to lend me, When I returned to England, I made her let ine read it. But I never Thewed these lines to her, for fear they should make her uneasy.-Unhappy Werther! Still lefs pretence hadtt thou for suicide than I. After quietly seeing thy Charlotte marry another man, without so much as offering to marry her thyself; hadst thou a right over thy existence because she was not thy wife ? Yet waft thou less barbarous than I, for thou didft not seek to die in her presence-but neither didit thou doubt her love. We can neither of us hope , for pardon.
Lines found, after Werther's death, upon the
ground by the pistol.
étoit l'état de Werther, le premier jour qu'il vit Charlotte. Ah! fi je revois cet objet qui porte le trouble dans mes sens, je l'adorerai tous les jours davantage ; bientôt je souffrirai les tourments que Werther éprouva, bientôt la langueur ou le désespoir termineront ma malheureuse carriere! Ou'plus in
# Vide, Sorrows of Werther, lately published by C. Jackson.
And should the affecting page bc haply read
Nay, much loved M. though a fond defire To prove thy husband, prove thy childrens' fire ; Tho' these, and other duties, thou muft know, Would hold his hand from death's forbidden
fortuné encore, peut-être la vertu s'éloignera de mon cæur ; je chercherai á séduire cette femine ; and si mes efforts font vains, je massacrerai son époux-elle même-Fuyons! évitons le crime, ou l'infortune: allons chercher dans d'autres climats l'oubli d'un objet trop dangereux, & la jouissance de plaisirs moins funeftes.
And yet, Elle même had no effect on H.
Yet might my gloomy tale full surely throud
Newgate, Sunday, 18 April, 79,
5 o'clock in the afternoon.
Since I wrote to you this morning I have more than once taken up my pen. For what can I do, which affords me more pleasure than writing to such a friend as you are, and have been, to me?
Pleasure! Alas, what businefs has such a wretch as I with such a word as that? However, pouring myself out 10 you thus upon paper is, in some measure, drawing off my sorrows it is not thinking.
Cruel G.! And yet I can excuse her. She knew not of what materials I was made. Lord S. wished to preserve a treasure which any one would have prized. G. was employed to preserve the treasure. And the suspected not that my foul, my existence, were wrapped up in it.
o, my dear Charles, that you could prevail upon yourself to visit this sad place! And yet our mutual feelings would render the visit useless. So it is better thus.