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M E ]\r O I II s 
 
 AND 
 
 CONFESSIONS 
 
 Oh' 
 
 C A P [' A I N A S 1 1 E. 
 
 V o r,. I. 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 AND 
 
 CONFESSIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 CAPTAIN ASHE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE SPIRIT OF THE BOOK, 
 
 Sfc. S^c. &ic, 
 WRITTEN BY IIIMSFLF. 
 
 IN THREE TOLUMES. 
 
 '* Rien nVst beau que le vrai, 
 •' Le vrai sciil ckt aimable." 
 
 VOL I. 
 
 LONDON r 
 
 PRINTED FOR HINRY COLBURN, 
 
 rUDLIC LIBRARY, CO M DUlT-STRBETi H ANQ VER-SQU A RR. 
 
 181f. 
 
V. ! . 
 
 B. Clarke, Printer, Well Street, London, 
 
 ^1 
 
f 
 
 TO Ills GRACE 
 
 THE 
 
 DUKE (»F NORTIUMBEIILAND, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 RIGHT HON. LORD BYRON. 
 
 My Lori>s, 
 
 The obligations, under which I lie 
 to your Lordships, are of so transcendent 
 a nature, as to demand the warmest and 
 most public acknowledgments I can 
 make ; and at the same lime suggest the 
 propriety of the present address in so 
 forcible a manner, as to preclude all 
 hesitation and demur on the subject. 
 
 I am sensible it has been your Lord- 
 ships' invariable rule to do good by 
 
 Pncifi'^ N. V ', ' !ir:/'>r / Dcpt. 
 
 PROV'!^: \' /^l LIBRARY 
 
 563'l'3 
 
 VIUTOHiA, e. c. 
 
VI DEDICATION, 
 
 Stealth, whenever |)racticable ; and your 
 caution in tliis respect often such as to 
 defy discovery. It is always, I believe, 
 your wish to avoid it, but it is always a 
 rule with me to be grateful. As your 
 hearts felt acutely for the sufferings 
 related in my Memoirs, and as you ad- 
 vanced to me, from time to time, upwards 
 of three hundred pounds for their allevi- 
 ation, my heart glows with impatience 
 to express its gratitude, and my pen is 
 proud to proclaim that I know you to 
 be a private as well as a public blessing 
 to mankind. .i;<..i«f{ 't » - -• 
 
 I never was known to your Lordships 
 personally. The unhappy circumstances 
 of my life were my only introduction to 
 you ; and even in these you found the 
 fatal effects of courage without conduct, 
 
 genius without discretion, and greatness 
 
 1 . 
 
 I 
 
 > ■ • 
 
■:! 
 
 DEDICATIOIS. Vli 
 
 of mind without integrity of principle; 
 but these discoveries did not extinguish 
 the fire of nature in your hearts, and 
 you relieved me because you considered 
 me a poor visionary, and the most piti- 
 able object that ever was abandoned by 
 fortune. 
 
 Your Lordships are not like those who 
 want the bravery to do a generous action, 
 for fear of 'leing identified with misery 
 and misconduct. Such, indeed, was your 
 courage at the time you approached me, 
 that I myself was confounded and asto- 
 lushed at it. The rest of the world had 
 long abandoned me, and a conquest over 
 mv uuorovernable nature was thought im- 
 practicable. It became fashionable to 
 think that I was a sort of wild beast 
 which could neither be dragooned nor 
 caressed into lameness ; or that, if I som^- 
 
VIM DEDICATION, 
 
 times appeared so, I was still to be 
 shunned as an old lion in a caLre, ever 
 apt to leap into his natural wildness. 
 
 Thus, my Lords, while the cowardly 
 part of my couwirymen framed a pretence 
 for neglect or flight, you, with a noble 
 and generous spirit, fixed your eyes upon 
 me, «\nd enabled me to remove beyond 
 the terror and cruelty, which had driven 
 me from the pale of civilized man.— 
 What the effect of your munificence and 
 bravery may be is not for me to predict. 
 I can only say, that I shall labour in 
 solitude with undaunted fortitude to re- 
 deem my name from barbarity, and that 
 none will pray more devoutly for your 
 Lordships* happiness than 
 
 THOMAS ASHE. 
 
 Havre de Grace. 
 
MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMAS ASHE, Esq. 
 
 CHAP. 1. 
 
 31r. Ashe retires from the World. — Ih looks into 
 the Mirror of Rctro^p^'dion. — It rejlccts Jm 
 past Life, and e\'crij CircuvKfance of his event- 
 ful lllstortj. 
 
 XN a portrait where the features are pro- 
 minent and strikinij, where boldness of 
 manner in some degree compensates for 
 want of elegance, and where the rugged- 
 ness of the surface, though it betrays u 
 neglect, yet strongly indicates tli«." hand 
 of a master, such a picture is frequently 
 sought,and not much lessesteenKd,ij) liie 
 cabinets of the curious, than the finished 
 productionsof t he most laborious artists, 
 VOL. I, 1 
 
g MEMOIRS AND CONFFSSIONS 
 
 The dollncal '11 of character mny he 
 allowed such an aHiiiityto portrait paiiit- 
 ing, as to justify this allusion ; es{)ecially 
 when we attempt to sketch such a 
 visionary as myself; — one, who endea- 
 voured to be distinguished through life 
 by a studied singularity of action and 
 manner, utterly abhorrent from every 
 thing that can be thought common-place: 
 and by it 1 am indeed eminently distin- 
 guished. 
 
 But with all this singularity of manner, 
 and with so much loud and pompous 
 pretences to undeviating turpitude and 
 folly, my mind is not formed of that 
 vacillating stuff which never settles, or 
 &tops to attend to the voice which 
 conveys satisfaction to the judgment, 
 conviction to the understanding, and 
 strength to the memory. Nor are its 
 oscillations so rapid but that it may bo 
 struck by those arrows of conscience and 
 remorse, which have a poignancy that is 
 deeply felt, and a sting that surely wounds. 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 "1> 
 if 
 
 
 i 
 
 fi'C 
 
 
 xn 
 
 
 nn 
 
 
 w 
 
 
 as 
 
 
 m 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 » 
 
 Til testimony of this, I have retired 
 from the world, and with the full deter- 
 mination of employing my utmost ability, 
 and the most sacred regard to truth, in 
 writing the memoirs of my own life; so 
 as to shew, that misery and destruction 
 must finally await the man who neglectg 
 to cherii^j the great cause of reason and 
 morality, and who learns not how to 
 restrain his passions within the sway 
 and command of religion, wisdom, and 
 virtue. 
 
 Having such an end in view, I shall 
 present my memoirs to the world; and, 
 in them, I pledge myself to set forth the 
 evils that resulted to me from the vices 
 of my luart, as well as the ince^ .liable 
 ntlvantages 1 often attained by thepursiiit 
 of objects which required a virtuous and 
 cultivated minti. Above all, I shall draw 
 a faithful picture of transactions that have 
 cither tended to debase my moral and 
 intellectual character, or that have ;idded 
 lustre to luy humble name. 
 
 B 9 
 
4 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 I shall make no apology tor introducing 
 my life to the notice of the public, be- 
 cause my intention in cluing so is good : 
 therefore, if I unwittingly draw upon ine 
 the censure of that public, the reproach 
 must, in justice, be attached to my head, 
 and not to my heart, which now beats 
 most fervently, in the general cause of 
 human nature, and the best interests of 
 my fellow-subjects in particular. 
 
 But if, amongst those who may peruse 
 my life and actions, any shall be found, 
 who waste their days and consume their 
 nights in hanging over the dangerous j)ro- 
 ductions that so profusely teem from the 
 press, I must observe to these, that, not- 
 withstanding fiction may be clotheil in 
 the magic garb of enchantment, and hir 
 many-coloured robes be decorated by the 
 choicest ornaments of taste, yet it cannot 
 steal upon the alVections of the finely- 
 organized heart, like the plain, unvar- 
 nished tale of awakened remorse, insulted 
 genius, or neglected worth. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 re I 
 
 to 
 
 loL 
 
 as 
 
'.K 
 
 1 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 5 
 
 IM1C power of fiction, when well 
 wrought up, is indeed great over the 
 sencralitv of minds for a short time. The 
 tairy forms of delusion seem to charm the 
 scnsesofthe infatuated votary, and beckon 
 him on to new scv<^nos of delight : but the 
 gay visions are scon fled ; the realities of 
 life appear doubly loathsome to the 
 vitiated mind ; and it is then that th^ 
 picture, wiiich it has been contemplating 
 with rapture, appears in its true and na- 
 tural colours. 
 
 It is not thus with truth. The influ- 
 enoe of truth increases in proportion to 
 th(j cultivation of the mind, which it 
 interests as much as it improves, at the 
 same time that it increases the sources of 
 virtuous pleasure and gc nuine happiness. 
 I shall endeavour, notwithstanding, to 
 render my plain matter of fact interesting 
 to my readers, by as warm a glow of co- 
 louring as the sub.ji-Cis may admit of; and, 
 as to the facts tiiemsi Ivcs, I believe it 
 will be allowed, that, had 1 been bred and 
 
 B a 
 
b MEMOlfiS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 nourished b}^ the Floroiitine muses, in 
 their sacred, solitary eavorns, auiid the 
 paler shrines of Gothic superstition, and, 
 in all the dreariness of enchantment, they 
 could not have been more magical or 
 extraordinary. 
 
 Under this conviction, it is even tht 
 poor deluded votaries, the promiscuous 
 worshippers of absurd fiction, whom I 
 now call upon to forsake the flimsy de- 
 corations and outward glare of a fabric 
 that contains nourrht but pollution of 
 every kind, and endeavour to gain the 
 Temple of Virtue, on whose high altar 
 the pure and everlasting flame of know- 
 ledge and truth burns with ethereal 
 splendour and never-fading lustre, 
 
 I call upon those, who have studied 
 by the lamp which was lighted up by the 
 miglity magician of the Mysteries of 
 Udolpho, to read the memoirs of my life, 
 and to raise up unto themselves a strong 
 hold, even in the recesses of their own 
 hearts, which no human power can 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 7 
 
 give or deprive tliem of. Let them 
 mark my confessiotis ; and contemplate 
 my lijind, at one time, as a vast and 
 fiuitiul plain, a perfect paradise, yielding 
 every joy and every blessing that the 
 highest degree of nature's perfection can 
 bestow, and, at another, as a desolated 
 vvilderness, across whose dreary waste no 
 refreshing stream is seen to glide, nor any 
 summer's sun to cheer by his enlivening 
 ravs. 
 
 It will be perceived that these states of 
 mind accorded with the degree of atten- 
 tion paid to reason and virtue, or to the 
 wanton mazes which invited the steps of 
 the enthusiast. 
 
 I am under some apprehensions that 
 many incidents, r( lated in my life, may 
 scarcely be credited bv those who are 
 unacquainted with similar vicissitudes 
 and circumstances. 1 am under these ap- 
 prehensions, because, in long struggling 
 with the storms of fate, I liav(^ met with 
 as wonderful occurrences, as hair-breadth 
 
 B 4 
 
8 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 escapes, as sliocking crimes, as those are 
 in search of, wIjo ransack the most popu- 
 lar romances of the age, for idle stories 
 and the most improbable tales. Besides, 
 my life is not a puny rill, fancifully dis- 
 posed, and trimly decked for an hour of 
 display; but it is a copious river, full, 
 abundant, and tremendous ; flowing with 
 an uninterrupted stream of uncommon 
 imagery and luminous figures, that hurries 
 away the unwilling mind by the force of 
 its current, and a})pal8 the mind rather 
 than gains the admiration of the ob- 
 server. 
 
 Whatever impression my memoirs may 
 make, I assert, however, that truth alone 
 is their foundation ; for so singularly 
 eventful has been my life, that 1 ha^/c no 
 occasion to lly to the ebullitions of a 
 distempered fancy for the purjiosc of fill- 
 ing my volumes, or afibrding the reader 
 a temporary pleasure. A great many of 
 the first characters in the church and the 
 state, in the army and in the navy, know 
 
 ■i 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 9 
 
 me well : they are leferred to in my 
 j)ages — they will recognise my hints — 
 and I dare them to deny any of those 
 numerous transactions, in vvhicli they and 
 I have been so frequently commixed and 
 associated. 
 
 At all events, and under every circum- 
 stance, the diversified particulars of my 
 life shall be related in an animated, yet 
 natural style. The sensibility of the 
 reader will be excited by the most simple 
 and unaffected details of real occurrences; 
 he will see me often oppressed; but never 
 overpovvered ; and often prosperous, but 
 never happy ; because the principal in- 
 gredient of happiness does not lie in ex- 
 terior circumstances, but in the inward 
 honour and composure of the mind. 
 
 As this is the great maxim which my 
 life lays down, there will be scarcely a pag« 
 of my memoirs but must prove its im- 
 portant truth ; while 1 shall, at the same 
 time, shew that the best and most vir- 
 tuous passion may border uon vice, 
 
 U6 
 
10 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 when carried too far, and when not 
 directed by reason and piety. The en- 
 lightened reader wil! easily perceive that 
 I have been a man of passions, and so 
 strong, that thry have sometimes trans- 
 ported me beyond the strict bounds of 
 principle; but, at the same time, he will 
 wonder how a man, amidst sucli a muiti- 
 tiide of events, and such a variety of 
 pressures, should always find resources 
 in his own counige and su j)erior audacity ; 
 extricating himself thereby out of diifi- 
 culties, under which a man of less spirit 
 and enterprise would have sunk into the 
 oblivious pool of ignominy or contempt. 
 
 The moral th;it is conveyed in every 
 incident of my life, is such as may be 
 expected from a philosopher now totally 
 withdrawn from the world; and I confi- 
 dently hope that the relation of those 
 incidefits will be found a warning to the 
 proud, a lesson to the unrelenting, a 
 solace to the unfortunate, and a shield to 
 the misguided. 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 n 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 The uiiithor (Icac^ibes the Origin of hit Familj/, 
 and (he Vlaee of his Nativitij — His Pencii is 
 dipped in the Stream of Nature — He rejects all 
 Assistance from Art — lie exhibits the pa/er?jai 
 Habitat ion — IJe illustrates the Noviciate of L'fe, 
 by sketching the popular Characters and Customs 
 of his carli) Contemporaries. 
 
 To rise into notoriety, unaided by the 
 force offannly connexions, or the inter- 
 vention of those fortunate incidents 
 which sometimes exalt the worthless, is 
 ever honourable; as it marks tiie pos- 
 session of superior abilities, and the (\uq. 
 application of them to their proper ends 
 — tlie attainment of personal merit, and 
 the promotion of public good. 
 
 This has not been my lot; and yet my 
 name has acquired that de^^ice of pub- 
 licity, which renders it of consequence 
 to mc and to thousands that I publish 
 my memoirs. The world will, at least, 
 
% 
 
 12 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 find in my history a melancholy proof, 
 that a man may be wretched, though in 
 the possession of all the advantages of 
 birth and education, when his heart has 
 not a favourable bias, or when he is ad- 
 dicted to feed upon dreams, and drink 
 deep of the cup of illusion. 
 
 Both the circumstances of birth and 
 education fell to my share. I descend 
 liom a family, eminent for producing 
 several great men. My ancestors were, 
 for many ages, possessed of an estate in 
 Normandy : they held considerable em- 
 ployments under the kings of France; 
 and upon the invasion of William, sur- 
 named the Conqueror, the chief of the 
 family followed his fortunes into Eng- 
 land, and received as a reward for the 
 success of his arms two estates ; the one 
 in Wiltshire, the other in Kent. 
 
 At the period above alluded to, the 
 family name was Ashe A'Court; and to 
 this day the proprietor of the Wiltshire 
 estate is so designated. In process of 
 
 ..ij 
 
Of THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 13 
 
 time, liowover, and on the multiplication 
 oF the family, the younji^er branches re- 
 tained only the name of Ashe, and dis- 
 tiiJ2:uished themselves so much under 
 that simple signature, that a baronetcy 
 was conferred on their principal — though 
 it has not been claimed since the decease 
 of the late Sir Thomas Ashe. 
 
 Thus far the family is traced from Nor- 
 mandy to England : we will now trace 
 their footsteps to Ireland. From the 
 date of the English establishment in Ire- 
 land, first eifected, afterwards extended, 
 finally secured, by domestic treachery 
 and the foreign sword, there was, till the 
 time of King William, no civil govern- 
 ment. The king's deputies, and the de- 
 putiifs of the deputies, were strangers and 
 soldiers? needy and tyrannical ; their 
 duty, conquest; their reward, plunder; 
 their residence, an encampment; their 
 administration, a campaign. This is all 
 the history Ireland has to tell. Youth 
 became age, and age sank into the grave 
 
14 MF.MOIRS AND CONiTESSIONS 
 
 ill silence and ignoraiice. For the glory 
 of the country, nothinii: was achieved »* 
 for iis improvement, nolhin<jj attempted. 
 Almost fifteen centuries were almost a 
 bhink. 
 
 With one great exception. On this 
 gloom, one luminary rose ; and Ir^'laiid 
 worshipped it with Persian idolatry. 
 Tiiis luniinary was William, in whose 
 orhit rny first Irish ancestor moved as a 
 principal satellite. Attached to his mas- 
 ter in England, fearing the reverse of his 
 fortune in Ireland, and dazzled wit!i the 
 lustre of arms or the pride of fame, Lovet 
 Ashe, the first of the name known in 
 Ireland, commanded a troop of horse 
 during the first camjjaign made by the 
 king; and as his good furtune gave him 
 several opportunities of distinguishing 
 himself by courage and conduct, he soon 
 found himself at the head of a regiment, 
 and in possession of the esteem of both 
 court and army. 
 
 At last Ireland was tranquil ; in alle- 
 
 ' ' ' ' 
 
 it'l'- 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 15 
 
 tiim 
 
 glance sullen, perhnj)s, but unbroken. 
 As Lovct Aslic considtTcd liimseit" to be 
 the only descendant of Ins tamdy in that 
 kingdom, lie conciuilcd that the respect 
 he owL'd to Ills name ought to induce 
 him to quit the camp, and assume a more 
 settled state of lite. With this intention, 
 he petiliontd his master tor his dismis- 
 sioji ; and that prince, who never failed 
 in generosity to his brave followers and 
 supporters, having heard his inoti.ves, 
 al!o^ved him to retire, covered with ho-^ 
 riour, and with a grant of land, now 
 worth three thousajid pounds a-year, 
 called Aslie-Grove, and lying in the most 
 tertile part of the county of Tipperary. 
 
 1 will not wade thrcu<jli the slouoh of 
 nn Irish pedigree. Jt answers every good 
 purpose to know that my father descend- 
 ed from this distinguished hero, and that, 
 in imitation of him, he commenced a 
 career of arms; distinguished himself at 
 the siege of Oelle-lsle, and retired upon 
 half-pay, on the catablishment of the re- 
 
16 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 giment of Rufane, with the reputation 
 of being a humane man and a gallant sol- 
 dier. Previously to the reduction of his 
 regiment, he married Margaret Hickman, 
 a co-heiress, whose estates lay in the 
 county of Clare, to a considerable extent, 
 and who was nearly allied to the Earl of 
 Inchiquin, the Masseys, Stackpolcs, Fitz- 
 geralds, and other families of equal dis- 
 tinction and worth. 
 
 This union was productive of eleven 
 children, of whom 1 am a third son. As 
 I grew up, I experienced little attention 
 from my father, but my mother neglect- 
 ed nothing that might contribute to my 
 education ; and I believe she had the sa- 
 tisfaction to observe that I answered the 
 fondest expectations of her tender and 
 generous heart. The novitiate of this 
 instruction was at Glassniven, a village 
 near Dublin, in which 1 was born on the 
 fifteenth of July, 1770, and it continued 
 under the paternal roof, at a country seat 
 of my fiither's, culled Ashevillc, near 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ, 
 
 17 
 
 Limerick, till it was found proper to 
 send me to a public school in the ^'ear 
 17S3. 
 
 It is not my intention to be too elabo- 
 rate or diffuse. AVhat I have said is not 
 digression, it is instruction ; justice to 
 the dead, example to the living; it is a 
 debt ue owe, and the precept we should 
 inculcate, to remember our parentage 
 and our origin. Had I emulated the one, 
 or thought on the other, 1 should have 
 retained my own rank in society, and 
 possessed a name that required not to be 
 redeemed. 
 
 To speak with ease and elegance his 
 native language, has ever been deemed 
 one oT the n.ost iudispcisible requisites 
 in a man of family, without which, ability 
 was fiuitlcss, ami understanding obscur- 
 ed : and some of the most celebrateu 
 llomans, such as the Gracchi and Julius 
 Ciesar, dtrivid no siuall share of their 
 fame from their superior excellence in 
 that attainment, due to the early cares 
 
18 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONPESSIONB 
 
 of a venerable parent, and arc said to have 
 been edncatecl '* Nun lam in graaio 
 
 it 
 
 (juam in sernione mains. 
 
 AV^hether I asi)ired to emnlate such 
 noted names in the region of eloquenee, 
 I presume not to determine ; but this I 
 am proud to say, that the foiinchitions of 
 v\ liatever fame 1 have acfjuired, as a pub- 
 lic speaker or pubhc writer, were laid in 
 the rudimental instruction, and cnhght- 
 ened knowledge t* one of the first of 
 women, and certainly the very best of 
 mothers^ 
 
 I have said, that this early course of 
 education was pursued at iny father's 
 country seat, remote from towns, and 
 from the influ^Mice and exam|)le of po- 
 lished or artificial life. It is essential 
 tliat I reviMt to this circumstance, be- 
 CiUise it will i»e found to have a predo- 
 rninaiing power o\ er many of the events 
 which are to 1)0 recorch cl in tlu.'se re- 
 markable nu'moirs. The fust impression, 
 made upon my n\ind, was nut traced in 
 
OF THOMAS ^SHE, ESQ. 
 
 TfJ 
 
 uich 
 
 the academies oF the great, or under the 
 porticoes of tiie learned, but graduaUy 
 delineated on a mother's bosoin, and con- 
 iirnied hy an intercourse wiih the simple 
 inhabitants of the fields and villages, sur- 
 rounding' the paternal csUite. 
 
 To convey to the Kn'^lish reader a just 
 idea of the impression I have alluded to, 
 it is incumbent on me here to touch on 
 those popular characters and customs, 
 which distinguish and disincline Ireland 
 from England. Varieties have been 
 songht in the national disposition, refer- 
 able to the double origin of the people, 
 but in vain; lor however diiferiiig in 
 lank, party, or ancestry, they Inar the 
 inde]il)lc mark of acomuion nativity. 
 
 Itcstless, yet indolent ; shrewd and 
 indiscreet ; impetuous, impatient, and 
 improvident; instinctively l)rave, thought- 
 lessly oenerous : (uiick to resent and to 
 ibrgive nilences, to form and renounce 
 friendships; they will forgive injury ra- 
 ther than insult. Their country's ^ood 
 
50 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 they selooni, their own they carelessly, 
 pursue; bi't the honour of both they 
 c^^'erly vindicate. Oppression they have 
 long borne, insolence never. 
 
 With genius they r.re profusely gifted ; 
 \vith judgment, sparingly. To acquire 
 knowledge, they find more easy than to 
 arrange and employ it. Inferior in vanity 
 only to tlie French, and in wit superior 
 even to the Italian, they are more able 
 to give and more ready to receive amuse- 
 ment than instruction. In raillery and 
 adulation they freely indulge, and with- 
 out malignity or baseness. It is the sin- 
 gular temper of my countrymen, that 
 they are prone crjually to satirize and to 
 praise, and patient alike to sarcasm and 
 flattery. 
 
 Inclining to exaggerate, but not intend- 
 ing to deceive, you will ai)])laud them 
 rather for sincerity than truth. Accuracy 
 is not tile merit, nor duplicity the failing, 
 of a lively but neglected and uncultivated 
 peo})lc. Their passions lie on the sur- 
 
 face, 
 tice : 
 
 C(»gll!/ 
 
 enjoy.. 
 
 e legal 
 
 Su< 
 
 custo 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 21 
 
 ilessiy, 
 1 they 
 y have 
 
 gifted ; 
 i<!quire 
 than to 
 
 vanity 
 uperior 
 re able 
 amuse- 
 ry and 
 1 vvith- 
 he sin- 
 n, that 
 
 and to 
 >m and 
 
 inteiuU 
 d tliem 
 icuracy 
 failing, 
 Itivatcd 
 hu sur- 
 
 face, unsheltered from irritation or no- 
 tice : and cautious England is glad to re- 
 cognize the Irish character only hy these 
 inconsistencies and errors, which her own 
 government has produced or perpetuated. 
 
 In their domestic life, the gentry and 
 traders differ from the English of ecjual 
 rank, not in essentials but in modes. 
 Here are less neatness and economy, 
 more enjoyment and society. Emidative 
 profusion is an Irish folly. Tiie gentry 
 would rival the nobility ; the merchant 
 aifects to surpass, and the shopkeeper to 
 Mj'proach, the splendour of tl»e gentry. 
 Jlcnce, patrimonies are dilnpidalcd ; 
 hence, ca[)ital is diverted from business 
 to pN'asure. Tlie profit of one enterprize 
 :s not, as in England, embarked in ano- 
 ther, but sunk in a villa or an equipage, 
 riie J'^nglish trader becjueaths, the Irish 
 enjoys; but his enjoyment is not ot'ten 
 elegant, nor always secure. 
 
 Such arc the popular characters and 
 customs of those whom 1 was early ilcs^ 
 
52 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 tilled to imitate or observe. Nor was my 
 observation confined to those. No fa- 
 vourite of my father, and glad to emanci- 
 pate from the assiduous care and instruc- 
 tion of my mother, it was my dehght to 
 wander from liome at every opportunity, 
 to associate with the peasantry, and par- 
 take both of their pastime and their food. 
 But what is the state or condition of the 
 Irish peasant, and how was it likely to 
 atfect my maruiers and my mind ? 
 
 The condition of the peasant was of 
 hitc utterly, and is still almost barba- 
 •.ous. What the Romans found the Bri- 
 tons and Germans, the firitons found 
 the Irish — and so left them. Neglect 
 or degeneracy of the colonists, and obsti- 
 nacy of the natives, have preserved, even 
 to our day, living proofs of the veracity 
 of Caesur and Tacitus. As to this, many 
 will affect to be incredulous — the Irish, 
 lest it diminish the character of their 
 country — the English, because it arraigns 
 the wisdom and policy of their system. 
 
A' as my 
 No ta- 
 manci- 
 nstruc- 
 light to 
 t unity, 
 nd par- 
 'ir food. 
 I of the 
 ikely to 
 
 : was of 
 t barba- 
 thc Bri- 
 5 found 
 Neglect 
 id obsti- 
 id, even 
 veracity 
 s, many 
 le Irish, 
 of their 
 arraigns 
 system. 
 
 eF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 S3 
 
 Cut th','' expcri<Mi.'td k'low t to be true, 
 and iliC impartialvvil! own it. 
 
 As 1 grew up^ the hostility between 
 mv ialher and me encreased to such 
 a degree, that on the smallest provoca- 
 tion 1 ran from home, and lived with 
 the poor auil the peasantry for weeks to- 
 gether. During these vagrant wander- 
 ings, my dwellings were of primitive and 
 easy construction ; the walls and floors 
 of clay ; the roof of sod or thateh ; the 
 rooms filthy and unfurnished. In the 
 larger room, on a hearth, without grate 
 or cliimney, a scanty fu'e warmed rather 
 by its smoke than its blaze, and dis..^>- 
 1 >ured what it warmed. Cilazed windo\»'s 
 there were none ; the open door amply 
 sufficed foi' light and air to nw% who be- 
 came careless uf either, innuiture 1 nei- 
 ther had nor wanted, my tbod and it*i 
 ! preparation being simple. I'oiatoes or 
 oaten cakes, sour milk, and sometimes 
 «;alted hsh, constituted my general repast. 
 Directed by the customs of these 
 
 I 
 
24 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 simple children of nature, my earliest 
 amusements were polemical. Firrhting 
 was a pastime, which we seldom assem- 
 bled without enjoying; not indeed with 
 iron weapons, hut with sticks and clubs, 
 which young and old carried, and as fre- 
 quently as skilfully used. When not 
 driven by necessity to labour, my humble 
 companions and hosts willingly consum- 
 ed whole days in sloth, or as willingly 
 employed them in riot. Strange diversity 
 of nature, to love indolence and to hate 
 quiet; to be reduced to slavery, but not 
 yet to obedience I 
 
 The influence of a people so extrava- 
 gantly gifted over a mind so young and 
 susceptible as mine must be obvious to 
 every observer of human nature. At 
 the age of ten years, I had some endow- 
 ments, considerable acquisitions, and 
 transcendent arrogance. Bold and vo- 
 luble in my speech, daring in my con- 
 duct, and fixed in my resolves, the stature 
 of my mind overtopped my associates, 
 
0£ THOMAS ASH£, ESQ. 
 
 2j 
 
 cnrliest 
 iijhting 
 asscm- 
 cl with 
 clubs, 
 as fre- 
 n not 
 humble 
 onsum- 
 illingly 
 
 iversitjr 
 to hate 
 but not 
 
 xtrava- 
 \n^ and 
 ious to 
 e. At 
 ^ncJovv- 
 s, and 
 nd vo- 
 \y :on- 
 stature 
 iciates» 
 
 and collected upon me the eyes of all, 
 the shafts of many. The tenderness of 
 my age could not moderate my pride; 
 though the dread of my father and the 
 love of my mother seemed to temper it. 
 But there was something in me that 
 would be obeyed. ISIy brothers fled, 
 and my companions fell before my victo- 
 rious and envied ascendency. To my 
 mother I was amiable : to my father I 
 was insolent ; to my sisters, servants, and 
 companions, I was fiiithful, generous, 
 and kind. At this period my father sent 
 me to school, and with the reputation oi 
 being an inconsistent, impudent, incorri- 
 gible character. 
 
 VOL. I, 
 
^b MEMOJKS AND C0NFF.SS10>S 
 
 CHAP. 111. 
 
 A. School described. — He makes a Progress in 
 Science^ and shezcs some Sparks of Fancy. — I J is 
 Ambition is to become the noblest Work of God, 
 *' an honest Man.^^—IJe completes his Educa. 
 Hon. — Returns Home. — Juvenile Indiscretions. 
 — Ardency of Passion. — lie quarrels ziith his 
 Father. — Pays a Tribute to the Merits of his 
 Mother, 
 
 The necessity of curbing the loquacity 
 of presuming youth, and of restraining the 
 self-sufficient arrogance of babbling pert- 
 ness, has been felt so forcibly, that some 
 of the most celebrated legislative as- 
 semblies of antiquity allowed none of 
 their members to speak, till they had 
 attained the period of life, at which it 
 might reasonably havebeen expected that 
 these faulty excrescences of the mind 
 would be either lopped oii" by experience 
 of their hurtful nature, or eradicated by 
 maturity of jud.'jmcnt. 
 
.s 
 
 )gress in 
 cy. — His 
 of God^ 
 s Eiluca- 
 scretions. 
 :ith his 
 its of his 
 
 quacity 
 ling the 
 ng pert- 
 at some 
 ive as- 
 none of 
 ley had 
 vhich it 
 ted that 
 e mind 
 ierience 
 :ated by 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 5? 
 
 The investigation of truth, or the elu- 
 cidation of error, they did not conceive 
 likely to be promoted by petulance 
 puffed up with station, or overwcaning 
 confidence heightened by the servile 
 flattery of dependants. Modesty, defer- 
 ence, and submissive regard to the 
 dictates of hoary wisdom, were deemed 
 the tjualities most consonant to, and most 
 becoming in the young; whilst their 
 opposites both exposed to contempt and 
 iu'jected to hatred. 
 
 Unacquainted with the modern practice 
 of tbrcing frames, the ancients looked 
 oiiiy for the constant productions of 
 nature; and if at any time the mature 
 juices and rich fruits of autumn appeared 
 instead of the blossoms and the flowers of 
 spring, they regarded them as prodigies 
 to be admired, not as regular grants to be 
 expected. The modern world has, in 
 these respects, widely deviated from the 
 sober maxims of antiquity ; and som€ 
 late instanc is of juvenile excellence seem 
 
 c 9 
 
 J 
 
Sd MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 Strongly to corroborate the justness of 
 its decisions : but Foxes and Piifs are 
 not every day born ; and from the opinion 
 I entertain of myself, I do not conceive 
 that I thought myself equal to either of 
 those gentlemen while at Eaton, 
 
 Yet had I not been more than three 
 years under the tuition of Mr. Cheator 
 of Clonmel, when, just bursting from the 
 embryo shell, my first academic exhibi- 
 tions were a pointed attack upon the eru- 
 dition of my instructor and his disciples. 
 So daring was my outset in the polemical 
 field, and my succeeding campaigns were 
 distinguished by similar deeds of hardi- 
 hood ; alike marked by a full confidence 
 in my own superior powers, and a super- 
 cilious disregard of the learned, the dig- 
 nified, and the venerable. 
 
 In manners, my preceptor was gentle ; 
 in mind, elegant; in intentions, pure; 
 but in learning, hollow. To such a cha- 
 racter I was too great an opposite tc re- 
 main 00 terms of constant amity. We had 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ* 
 
 29 
 
 frequent contests : but victory was with- 
 out triunnph, and defeat without dejec- 
 tion. At length, however, I became too 
 enlightened for my master; and he could 
 teach me nothing more. My manner 
 in consequence was insolent, assum- 
 ing, and offensive; equally distant from 
 the conciliating graciousness of ingenuous 
 youth, and the commanding dignity of 
 maturer years. It seemed formed to excite 
 offence by a studied arrogance of charac- 
 ter, for which abilities, even if they were 
 possessed, would but poorly compensate. 
 It is not to be understood, from what 
 I have observed, that I was by any means 
 a prodigy of learning. On the contrary, 
 I was a mere pretender; a superficial 
 scholar, deficient in the stores of ancient 
 and modern languages, and standing upon 
 the vain presumption, that depth, solidity, 
 and extent of information, are the natural 
 products of a vigorous intellect^ and not 
 the exclusive gift of workshops and 
 schools. Rhetoric and composition were 
 
 C 3 
 
30 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS. 
 
 wiy favourite studies : hut 1 was very far 
 from perfection in either style. I sh*ll 
 describe my progress in these arts. 
 
 Sometimes aiming at g.^ace in my action, 
 the attempt was but seldom successful, 
 as I had an awkward modeof cariying my 
 person, and forming my attitude, tiiat 
 strongly counteracted my endeavours: 
 energy and force came not into my design. 
 As to my compositions, in argument 1 
 was diffuse and comprehensive, dilating 
 every reason, and swelling every sentiment 
 much beyond its just extt;iit; labouring to 
 give my tinsel all tlic expansion of gold: 
 not often accurate, and at times sophisti- 
 cal ; but in general adhering closely to 
 the thesis without digressive flii^hts, that 
 might be supposed to spring from some 
 sparks of fancy. j\ly arrange ment, had 
 it been regular, might have been clear; 
 or if mt ihodical, it mii>ht have been lumi- 
 nous; but as it was completely bereft of 
 these qualilief*, scarcely " darkness 
 visible'* pervaded it. I certainly knew 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 31 
 
 the rules of logic, but these I disdained 
 to use, leavinc^ such mechanical drudgery 
 to inferior spirits, whilst I was resolved — 
 *' to catch a grace beyond the power of 
 ort,"ai)(i, without labour or application, 
 pass for the standard of genius, and the 
 master of the Helles Lettres. — In fine, at 
 the expiration of three years, 1 left school 
 with the reputation of being a fine scholar, 
 and with my instructor's comment to my 
 father, that there was little power of 
 physiognomical divination wanted, to 
 (Hscover that I was no ordinary boy. Fof 
 my own part, I prided myself on my spirit 
 »nd integrity. If at so young an age I 
 had framed to mysel^any line of conduct, 
 it was, to be steady to the cause of truth, 
 jusiice, and liberty; and b}'^ the whols 
 tenor of my conduct to approve myself, 
 what the poet truly culls the noblest 
 work ol" the Creator, — " an honest man.'* 
 The most envial)lc conditions rX huma 
 nityare not exempt IVoni misery. Sa;l 
 fugitives of an hour, that pass away like a 
 
MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 shadow, our first principles of life arc 
 neglected ; and instead of labouring, by 
 mutual acts of complacency and benefi- 
 cence, to improve the unhappy lot. the 
 whole is one universal state of v ^r- , 
 where the strong and the weak, the rich 
 and the poor, are in eternal conflict. 
 
 This observation, which unfortunately 
 applies so generally to the bulk of man- 
 kind, springs immediately out of my own 
 particular example. On my return home 
 from school, the conduct of my father 
 towards me soon made my home a hell, 
 and my existence a curse. But death 
 has since canonized that father's bones, 
 and it is fit that I cast the veil of oblivion 
 over the grave that contains them. Let it 
 suffice, that no juvenile indiscretions iio 
 ardent impetuosity of passion, ever bursi. 
 forth to prevent the success of his early 
 plains ; and that therefore a character, sc 
 contrary as mine, when coming in exaci. 
 opposition to his, never failed to draw 
 down upon me the wljole collected bat 
 
 tery ( 
 when 
 
 1 justif 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 S3 
 
 tery of his persecuting resentment; and 
 when once his choler was raised, it was aa 
 invariable maxim with him never to for- 
 give. " Inimiciiice elernce" was his motto. 
 In the heat of these unnatural contests, 
 the voice of my fathc rolled the thunder, 
 but his tongue did not carry the convic- 
 tions of a Demosthenes. To this I had 
 the spirit to oppose a manner warm, and 
 at times even vehement; indeed so vehe- 
 ment as to bring down upon me the se- 
 verest personal correction ; for although it 
 evidently arose from the force of galled 
 '^'feelings, and the indignation of insulted 
 nmson, it was neither prudent nor filial ; 
 V i ;le it both diminished the weight and 
 enieebled the strength of my arguments, 
 colouring v/ith passion the sober dictates 
 of trutli. 
 
 1 would fain extenupte what I cannot 
 justify. The independence of my prin- 
 ciples, combined with my instinctive 
 antipathy and fixed abhorrence to a life 
 of slavery and oppression, were not likeJjP 
 
 C 6 
 
 
54' 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 to prove a necessary restriction to the 
 tide of impetuous passions which so often 
 ^owed in my father's breast ; a tide that 
 urried him along, at last, too far on its 
 stormy current, and by which his peace 
 was nearly wrecked. In a moment of 
 lieightened asperity, he inflicted on me so 
 severe a chastisement, that my life was 
 for some time despaired of. On my reco- 
 very, I refused to go into his presence, 
 sending him this exact message: — "Tell 
 my father, that, as long as 1 have a 
 §park of life, 1 will dash defiance in the 
 teeth of the minions of tyranny, and that 
 the severest reproach on his life will be 
 the purity of my own." 
 
 Directed by aj)prehension, or awctl by 
 such unconquerable resistance and auda- 
 city, my father came into the measure of 
 separation, by forbidding nic ever to come 
 into hispresence, or of dining at his table, 
 till he thought of some profession prupc r 
 for so desperate a villain, as he was pleased 
 to call me. 
 
 hui 
 
 am 
 
 iici' 
 siti 
 
) the 
 often 
 3 that 
 )n its 
 peac<3 
 3nt of 
 me so 
 e was 
 reco- 
 scnce, 
 " Tell 
 lave a 
 in the 
 ul that 
 nil be 
 
 ved by 
 auda- 
 uic of 
 come 
 s table, 
 proptr 
 [)leased 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 35 
 
 I was now tnrnecl over to the entire 
 care and observation of my mother, for 
 wliom I ever had the most unbounded 
 veneration and love; and I prided myself 
 much on the idea, that as I was the par- 
 ticular child, of the eleven, whom she 
 herself nursed and reared, so I was the 
 one who excited the still fonder emotions 
 of her heart. The education of my 
 mother was equal to her birth and for- 
 tune. One was great, not niiddling; the 
 other set her far beyond dependence or 
 humiliation. She was proud though 
 aftbctionate ; — demandiris^ court from her 
 superiors, — paying it to those beneath her. 
 
 Exalted in her nature, her manners 
 were marked by a cjraceful humility. 
 She submitted to the tyranny of my 
 father with fortitude ; but one saw that 
 she was formed for a better fate, by her 
 generous conduct and liberal principles. 
 
 Coniplaisancc made occasional sacri- 
 fices to the society, which her retired 
 situation exposed her to ; but the strong-er 
 
36 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 influence of superior taste and genius 
 withdrew her more frequently to a soli- 
 tude, filled by her imagination with a 
 world created for herself. Her*s was a 
 spirit finely, but too liighly touched. 
 She loved me, not more for being her 
 son, than from the oppression which she 
 found I had uniformly endured ; and I 
 loved her with all the grateful afifection 
 that sways the heart of one who considers 
 himself on the father's part a neglected, 
 on the mother's, a favourite, child. 
 
 To'amuse my solitude, and inform my 
 mind, this best of women procured me 
 books from my father's library ; and as 
 they were principally well chosen, nu- 
 merous, and select, 1 read them to much 
 advantage, but with a passion bordering 
 on enthusiasm. To prove to the reader 
 the advantage and extent of my studies at 
 that early period of my existence, I will 
 refer him to my *' Liberal Critic/' 
 where he will find a characteristic review, 
 which J then formed, of all the books 
 
 c 6 
 
eP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 37 
 
 renius 
 soli- 
 'ith a 
 was a 
 J died. 
 g her 
 ch she 
 and I 
 ectioii 
 nsiders 
 ,iected, 
 
 • 
 
 ►rm my 
 'ed me 
 and as 
 ;n, nu- 
 3 much 
 rdering 
 
 reader 
 idles at 
 
 I will 
 
 IITIC," 
 
 review, 
 B books 
 
 I had perused. It comprehended the 
 works of the most celebrated English 
 writers since the reign of Queen Eliza- 
 beth, being the time that the English 
 language came to any degree of perfec- 
 tion. 
 
 In this characteristic review, I am not 
 conscious of having advanced much dull- 
 ness to disgust, or any sentiment or 
 opinion which may not be deduced from 
 some general moral principle, and from 
 some knowledge of taste and criticism. 
 But I have not the vanity to think it 
 exempted from errors and mistakes. 
 Excellence in literary judgment requires 
 such a combination of talents as seldom 
 falls to the lot of youthful inexperience. 
 Many allowances will, therefore, be made 
 for an attempt in composition, wherein 
 perfection must be allowed to be a rare 
 and difficult attainment. 
 
 I 
 1 
 
13 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Fatnilij Discussion on the Choice of a Profession.— 
 Motives for rrjt'ctitii; the Pulpit and the liar. — 
 IJis Uncle's Opinion prevails,- and he is allowed 
 to become a Soldier. — Ills Father buys him a 
 Commission in the Eighty. third Foot. — He 
 shews a Disposition to become a JMilitarij Fop. — 
 The Regiment is disbanded.- -lie is reduced to 
 Ilalf-pai/, 
 
 Whkn the oflspring of illustrious 
 houses are ambitious of distinguishing 
 themselves in the world, we should ever 
 be happy that their exertions were such 
 as entitled them to receive the deserved 
 meed of praise : and, as 1 was the third 
 ison of one of the most rcspectablo 
 families in the kingdom, few men, in that 
 respect, had more claim to the public 
 regard. But, though 1 wish to celebrate, 
 I freely avow, that 1 am not incliried to 
 flatter. 
 
 O 
 
 n my emancipation from sc 
 
 hool, 
 
 my 
 
 J 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 m 
 
 conduct was stroD^^ly marked by that 
 singularity of spirit which is liable to 
 severe retorts, and is never safe from the 
 severity of censure. Inconsequence of 
 this, and of the animosity of my father 
 towards me, he and my mother, with 
 other members of the family, entered into 
 an early and serious consultation, regard- 
 u\^ mv future destination in life. 
 
 I had an uncle, of the name of Dalton, 
 in the church ; I had a relation eminent 
 in the law ; and some obscure branches 
 of the fa;r.ily had created an immense 
 fortune by iheir success in trade. The 
 pulpit, the bar, and the cour.tiug-house, 
 therefore, were open to me, if my father 
 had been desirous of seeing me shine in 
 any of them. My ovv n secret wishes were 
 for the army ; and in these 1 had beva 
 encouraged by the former profession of 
 iny father, to which he always entertained 
 » bias; and by the example of my uncle, 
 Ca})tain Lovelt Ajhe, of the sixty-third 
 Vi^^imciit, than whom there was nut a 
 
40 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 man of more gallantry and spirit in the 
 whole British army. 
 
 It was resolved, on my thirteenth birth- 
 day, that I should be admitted into the 
 presence of my father, who would de- 
 cide, by the advice of my friends, as to 
 my future profession. Fearing that the 
 determination might be against my own 
 wishes, I expected the return of my own 
 festival with little pleasure. The morning 
 of that day was to me the most an^ ous 
 and pensive I had ever known. The 
 company assembled, and sat down to 
 table. My uncle Lovett was of the party. 
 When he drank to my health, he kindly 
 took me by the hand, and asked whether 
 I would not be a soldier, 
 
 I presumed not to make any direct 
 reply. But my father answered that my 
 future profession was hitherto not deter- 
 mined upon ; though he had hopes that 
 the advice of his friends would, in the 
 conversation of that afternoon, fix the 
 choice, both of himself and his son. In 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, tSQ. 
 
 41 
 
 n the 
 
 birth, 
 to the 
 Id de- 
 as to 
 lat the 
 ly own 
 \y own 
 lorning 
 Da ous 
 The 
 )wn to 
 2 party, 
 kindly 
 vhether 
 
 ' direct 
 that my 
 t deter- 
 >es that 
 , in the 
 fix the 
 on. In 
 
 . the course of this conversation numerous 
 were the opinions, but most of them ad- 
 verse to the army. One said, that the 
 university was safer, and a rich benefice 
 better than the pay of a general officer; 
 another, that the bar was the only fit 
 scene for the exercise of such mixed 
 talents as mine; while a third asserted 
 that my ambition should have no higher 
 aim than the situation of an honourable 
 .and successful merchant or trader. 
 
 Such were the prevailingopinions: and, 
 IS the conversation proceeded, every one 
 loffered new reasons in support of his own 
 advice ; while all, save my uncle, de- 
 •clared that no good could come of making 
 me a soldier. With bows of apology 
 to him, one urged the common poverty 
 of mere soldiers of fortune ; another 
 idescanted on their profligacy and dissi- 
 pation. The captain heard all with 
 smiling attention, and, as it seemed, per- 
 fectly without offence. Though my father 
 ^'arncstly lequested to have his opinion, 
 1 know not whether he would have 
 
43 MEMOIRS AND CONTESSION^' 
 
 been persuaded to utter it, if he had not 
 remarked the solicitude with which my 
 looiis were turned upon him, and the 
 air of dissatisfaction with which 1 seemed 
 to hear the different advice of our other 
 friends. 
 
 My uncle began by observing, — "You 
 would surely be surprised, if I vild 
 hear all this advanced against my own 
 profession — a profession that has been to 
 me not at all an unfortunate one — vet 
 refrain from saying a few words in its 
 defence. But if experience had given me 
 any reason to suspect that a military life 
 is either less favourable to the culture of 
 wisdom and virtue, or much more hope- 
 less in the views of fortune, or greatly 
 more insecure as to length of life, than 
 any of the professions which you rather 
 prefer to it ; no littK- solf-partiality should 
 move nie to say here, what might encou- 
 rage any hasty enthusiasm, on the part 
 of my nephew, for what his books have, 
 no doubt, taught hnn to regard as the 
 profession of heroes. 
 
 :( 
 
 to m^ 
 
 son, 5 
 
 not a 
 
 and t 
 
 hopes 
 
 other' 
 
 nvhen 
 
 in th( 
 
 orders 
 
 lofNo 
 
 .^this cl 
 
 iliappi 
 
 Isoldie 
 
 f tries 
 
 Inoxio 
 
 ?was 
 
 jfear.'' 
 
 I ^f 
 •|detail( 
 
 j]iic,w 
 
 ■to be r 
 
 I'lhuM 
 
 vliich 
 
lad not 
 ich my 
 \nd the 
 seemed 
 r other 
 
 -''You 
 
 Mid 
 
 11) y own 
 been to 
 )ne — vet 
 is in its 
 ^iven me 
 itary life 
 uUure of 
 3re hope- 
 r greatly 
 iilc, than 
 3U rather 
 ty should 
 It encou- 
 thc part 
 oks have, 
 rd as the 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 43 
 
 •=' You know," continued he, turning 
 to my father, '* that I was a poor younger 
 son, and so idle and ignorant, that I had 
 not a single merit to recommend me. You 
 and the rest of my friends had lost all 
 hopes of my ever turning out in life 
 otherwise than shamefully and miserably, 
 hen 1 obtained an ensign's commission 
 |in the sixty-third regiment, then under 
 forders for service in his Majesty's colonies 
 |of North America. With joy I embraced 
 .'this change. 1 thought nothing could be 
 ihappier than the gay rambling life of a 
 Isoldier. I longed to visit distant coun- 
 |tries ; and of the danger of death, by a 
 fnoxious climate, or an enemy's sword, I 
 fwas so inconsiderate as to have little 
 iiear." 
 
 I After this humble preamble, my uncle 
 
 ^detailed the memoirs of his prolessional 
 
 Jlife, wiiicliiiretoo well known to the world 
 
 ■■r 
 
 ^tobe recorded here, and thus continued : 
 
 '1 have troubled you with the narratireof 
 
 hich 1 am myself the hero, in the hope 
 
i4 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 that it might, more effectually than aught 
 else I had to say, remove some prejudices 
 which you appear to have conceived 
 against the active exercise of the military 
 profession. A less promising youth than 
 myself rarely entered the army. It was 
 by the particular circumstances of my 
 situation in the army ti. : my character 
 was gradually ameliorated. In my ad- 
 vancement, 1 had no advantages but those 
 of common fortune, and a very small 
 share of merit. 
 
 " In what other profession should I not 
 have turned out worthless ? In what 
 other profession could I have risen so 
 high, with so little interest ? Nor are the 
 chances of premature death so much more 
 numerous, as people commonly imagine, 
 in the army, than in the fields of civil 
 employment. It is true, that the military 
 profession is not without bad characters, 
 any more than the other professions: but 
 it possesses a large proportion of the 
 noblest characters that have ever adorned 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 45 
 
 humaiiiiy. In almost every regimental 
 iiuss,you shall meet with a greater propor- 
 tion of men of genuine, not fals.^ honour, 
 of politc'iess the result of goodness of 
 heart, and of enlarged intelligence, fornr jd 
 by converse with books and practice in 
 the world, than is to be found in the same 
 nu'iibor of gentlemen thrown accidentally 
 together, in almost any other situation of 
 life. Not that 1 would send a young man 
 into the army at all adventures; but, if 
 he has a predilection (or the military pro- 
 fession, why should that be violently 
 resisted ?'* 
 
 My uncle's advice prevailed, and I 
 was allowed to become a soldier. 
 
 Occupations are to be met with in so- 
 (iety which impose duties :rduous to 
 execute, and expose to danp crs alarming 
 to encounter. When these duties are 
 executed with knowledge and ability, 
 and these dangers encountered with spirit 
 and perseverance, they never fail to pro- 
 rure to the deserving individual the 
 grateful thanks of the community. 
 
46 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 Moreover, if the occupations are essen- 
 tial, not only to the honour and safety, 
 but to the very existence of the state, tlie 
 warmth of gratitude increases in propor- 
 tion to the magnitude of its object, and 
 the strong impulse of sentiment is con- 
 firmed by tiie deliberate sanction of rea- 
 son. The military ])rofession is evidently, 
 in these kingdoms, one of that descrip- 
 tion ; as, by its means, we have withstood 
 a world in arms combined against us, and 
 have risen superior to the arts and to the 
 po\% er of our foes. 
 
 Such were the observations which my 
 father made to mc on his presenting me 
 with an ensign's commission in the 
 eighty-third regiment of foot, and which 
 he had purchased for me immediately on 
 his determining that I should become a 
 soldier. To these remarks my motiier 
 added : *' My dear boy, distinguish your- 
 ielf with an honour becoming the illus- 
 trious houses from whence you spring, 
 as well as with a zeal and ifjtrepidity 
 that may reilect credit on your native 
 
*4 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 47 
 
 1 
 
 country. Above all, be governed by 
 tlicse principles — There is no condition 
 of life so abject but thai virtue and pa- 
 tience may soften and retrieve; nothing 
 hut merit can lay a solid foundation for 
 happiness ; and nothing is so valuable to 
 man as sincerity and truth." 
 
 It is more than probable, that, at the 
 lime, I paid but little regard to these 
 political and moral axiouis. Infatuated 
 with the ideas I entertained of ttie man- 
 ners and habits of a mill / life, and 
 having the best dispositions in tlie world 
 to become a military ibp, I thoui;ni of 
 little else than of joining my regiment, 
 which lay at Portsmouth, and under 
 orders for his INlajesty's East India ser- 
 vice. At length the du^ of departure 
 arrived — the day oh which 1 must tear 
 myself from my good mother, my dear 
 sisters and brothers ; from my liome, and 
 from every thing that, till then, had been 
 dt.ar to me. 
 
 Those, who possess a feeling heart, can 
 
48 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 easily imagine the pathetic scene which 
 took place vvlien I parted frroi my mother. 
 The pangs of separation were too bitter 
 and acute for her tender heart to support, 
 and she sunk into a chair near her in a 
 state of torpid grief; whilst I, notwith- 
 standing the assumed haughtiness of my 
 nature, became wkolly absorbed in my 
 sorrow, and my violent throbs of anguish 
 rendered me unable to speak the last 
 melancholy adieu. To shorten this pain- 
 ful scene, 1 threw myself into the carriage 
 that waited for me; wliere, after many 
 ineffectual efforts, I received some ease 
 in a copious flood of lears. 
 
 Alter an uninteresting journey of uiree 
 days to Dublin, I had the mortification to 
 learn, from my father's army agent, that^ 
 as the eighty-third regiment liad been 
 raised by contract for three years, or 
 during the American war, the men, in 
 consecjuence «^'f the cessation of the war, 
 had revolted, and refused to go out to 
 ladiaf. Heace they were cJisbamied by 
 
 soverr 
 
 the est 
 
 a blow 
 
 render 
 
 ) father, 
 
 journe^ 
 
 I should 
 
 iof a sol 
 
 VOL 
 
i vvhicli 
 mother. 
 
 bitter 
 iipport, 
 ler in a 
 otwith* 
 
 1 of my 
 in my 
 
 inguish 
 he last 
 is pain- 
 carriage 
 r mai\y 
 ne ease 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 government, and tl officers placed on 
 
 'i the establishment of half-pay. This was 
 
 a blow as severe as unexpected: and, to 
 
 render its effects still more poignant, my 
 
 i father, who was the companion of my 
 
 1 journey, declared that my uncle's advice 
 
 i should no longer prevail; for that, instead 
 
 I of a soldier, I should become a merchant. 
 
 Df three 
 [Uion to 
 it, that, 
 d been 
 ars, or 
 lien, in 
 !ie war, 
 out to 
 iled by 
 
 VOL. I 
 
60 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 He is sent to a Counting. house at Bourdeaux. — 
 He studies Petrarch and TibuUus. — Manifests 
 Symptoms of becoming an unsteadif Man. — Mc. 
 lanic, the Daughter of his Employer^ attracts his 
 Attention. 
 
 It has been offen and j>istly remarked, 
 that the mostbrilliant characters In society 
 are by no means the most respectable ; 
 that they gh tier but to deceive, and shine 
 but to mislead: that abilities, eloquence, 
 and genius, are frequently accompanied 
 by such meanness ofmindand profligacy 
 of principle, as depreciate their worth, 
 and tarnish their lustre, whilst integrity 
 of soul and rectitude of intention exalt 
 the humblest talents, and dign'fy tlie 
 weakest exertions. 
 
 Without having the arrogance to think 
 that I was a brilliant character, endowed 
 with abilities, elocpience, and genius, 
 
 r \i, 
 
ss 
 
 deaux. — 
 ^lanifests 
 m. — Mc- 
 tracts his 
 
 narked, 
 society 
 c table ; 
 id shine 
 quence, 
 npanied 
 ofligacy 
 worth, 
 nte2;rily 
 )M exalt 
 viy tlie 
 
 to think 
 n do wed 
 
 genius, 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 61 
 
 still have I the vanity to conceive that 
 the above paragraph will be consider(?d as 
 a very appropriate leader to the present 
 chapter. 1 have already shewn that it 
 was with the utmost consternation and 
 grief 1 found my father come to the 
 resolution of making a merchant, not a 
 soldier of me. Nor had he formed this 
 resolution lon^^ before he put it into im- 
 mediate effect and operation, lie had a 
 relation at Bourdeaux in the wine trade, 
 of the name of Martin., and with whom 
 iie corresponded. On this gentleman 
 lie prevailed to take me under his con- 
 duct. A ship that was destined for Bour- 
 deaux received me on board, and in 
 twenty days 1 was wafted to the golden 
 shores and cloudless skies of Franco, 
 rhere I was received, with great kindness 
 and affection, into the house of ]\lr. Alar- 
 lin, liian whom there was not a man of 
 more wealth and {►rincijiie in the Bour- 
 deaux British factory. 
 I had not been more than four.and- 
 
 D 2 
 
32 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 twenty hours under the care of this gen- 
 tleman, before I felt a deep conviction that 
 trade was not a pursuit adapted to one 
 of my frame of mind ; and time only 
 served to confirm this early anticipation. 
 I distinguished indeed and valued INIr. 
 Martin's good qualities; but even his 
 kindness could not aver that I had a single 
 merit more to recommend me. 
 
 At the same time, my heart might not 
 have been absolutely bad ; and 1 had 
 received the advantages of education for 
 the culture of my understanding; but I 
 had acquired no fixed habits of industry 
 and virtue. My mind was not deeply 
 enough impressed with any good principle. 
 I supposed myself under no obligation to 
 any thing which I did not like, while 1 
 liked nothing but boyish amusements, 
 and the premature gratification of those 
 passions of manhood, which were but 
 ust beofinninff to make themselves felt 
 
 J 
 
 within me. 
 
 Mr. Martin soon discovered that there 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 55 
 
 was nothing to be made of one, so idle and 
 uncomplying as I was, in the counting- 
 house. But to 9;ive me a fairer trial, by 
 withdrawing me from the dissolute and 
 thoughtless companions I had collected 
 around me at Bourdeaux, he sent me to 
 his correspondents, Messieurs Gaudette 
 andRaynaudofMarennes,asmalltovvnon 
 the banks of the Charante, in the province 
 of Saint Onge, with a desire that I might 
 assist them in their correspondence, as 
 well as learn the French and other lan- 
 guages useful to persons carrying on a 
 general and extensive trade. 
 
 1 was placed then with Messieurs 
 Gaudette and Raynaud; and being there 
 my own master, free from all inspection 
 and controul, I never bestowed a thought 
 on business. If I appeared to be occupied 
 in the counting-house, that occupation 
 consisted in rendering Petrarch, Colar- 
 deau, Metastasio, &c. into English prose 
 or verse. But as Marennes was too 
 simple and too small a place fordissii 
 
 ipa- 
 
 D 3 
 
54 
 
 MEMOIKS A>.B CONFKSSION* 
 
 tion or licentiousness, 1 fortunately dicJ 
 not run into those vices and tollies which 
 marked my conduct at Bourdeaux;, and 
 which I still blush to recollect. — Thus 
 circumstanced, and impatient under 
 inactivity, 1 took frequent rides and 
 walks in the vicinity of Marennes, and 
 often joined in parties of fishini^, shoot- 
 ing, and the chase. 
 
 rf;,From my earliest youth, a contempla- 
 tion of the earth, its animals, vegetables, 
 minerals, and other productions, however 
 neglected by some {)artsof the community, 
 was certainly a most entertaining disport 
 and usefid study to me. The glory of 
 France, therefore, its mountaiiis, woods, 
 groves, and palaces; its seas, lakes, and 
 rivers; its verdant landscapes, and nu- 
 merous animals, could not fail of afford- 
 ing me occupation, or of attracting a 
 principal share of my admiration and 
 regard. Were I able to take in, at one 
 view, tlie compass and the beauties of the 
 banks of the Charante, I would eagerly 
 
 I 
 
 tiie 
 
""^J, 
 
 
 I 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 65 
 
 seize my pallet and pencil, and finish 
 the grandest picture that man ever beheld. 
 As an artist, 1 should be honoured by 
 kings. My picture would be sublime and 
 beautiful. The liveliest pleasure would 
 be excited in the spectators, and every 
 soul would be filled with a sense of, and 
 a reverence for that Almighty Being, who 
 said, " Let the waters of the heavens be 
 feathered together into one place, and let 
 the dry land appear; and it was so." 
 
 1 may here venture to assert that both 
 my condition and my mind received more 
 improvement from the contemplation of 
 nature, during my stay at Marennes, than 
 it ever did from my studies in the schools, 
 1 am convinced that the study of nature 
 is of vast importance, and should be more 
 particularly cultivated than it is. Itabates 
 a taste for frivolous amusements, prevents 
 a tumult of the passions, and provides 
 i!ie mind with a nourishment which is 
 salutary, by filling it with an object most 
 worthy of its contemplations. Thus im- 
 
66 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 pressed, I often walked abroad, and, in 
 the language of the Poet and the heart, 
 exclaimed, 
 
 These are thy glorious worlds, Parent of good! 
 
 Almighty! Thine this universal frame, 
 
 Thus wondrous fair. Thyself how vv ondrous then! 
 
 There are characters so generally flagi- 
 tious, that the world will not give theui 
 credit for one good quality; but 1 cer- 
 tainly was not deficient in a love of God 
 and of Nature, and that single virtue 
 ought to expiate a number of sins. Happy 
 should 1 be, were it in my power to 
 extend my unaffected praises further; 
 but truth is the basis of this workj and I 
 must not depart fkom it. 
 
 Under the influence of my love for the 
 works of God and the productions of 
 Nature, I took frequent walks around 
 Marennes, and was as often accompanied 
 by Henrie, the eldest son of Mr. Gau-* 
 dette. His aunt lived in a delightful 
 villa on the banks of the Charante, and> 
 
 ing 1 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 good! 
 
 during one of our evening excursions, wc 
 aureed tliut it was to be the first restins:- 
 place we should make. On our arrival, 
 an engaging, innocent, lovely figure, flew 
 into the arms of Henrie. It was his 
 sist(u*, whose name was Melanie, and 
 who was bred and educated under the 
 immediate eye of Madame, his aunt. 
 
 Henrie embraced his sister, and 1 was 
 interested in her from the tendernef? she 
 displayed, which forced me to reflect, 
 how enviable would be the man, who 
 should excite the still fonder emotions of 
 her heart. After taking some refresh- 
 ment, a proposition for walking was made. 
 The evening was unusually beautiful, the 
 road romantically recluse, and so serpen- 
 tine as never to be visible beyond a hun- 
 dred yards. The nightingales were sing- 
 ing in the adjoining woods. The road 
 was also bordered with lofty hedges, inter- 
 mingled with fruit trees, and even vines 
 in full bearing. Indeed, I know of no 
 scenery in England so rich and beautiful; 
 
 D 6 
 
^3 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFtSSIONS 
 
 and the peasantry, wctrequently met with, 
 reminded me very forcibly of the figures 
 I had seen in the landscape pictures of 
 the best Italian and French artists. 
 
 The conversation of the ladies was 
 
 very pleasing and intelligent. On the 
 
 first opportunity, I confined that of the 
 
 innocent Mel '.nie to myself, by proffering 
 
 her \Ay arm, and wandering, at times, 
 
 beyond or aroand ouv little party. I had 
 
 now p.othing more to seek for: this was 
 
 an indulgence which filled me with the 
 
 most inexpressible pleasure. I seemed 
 
 to float without obstruction on the stream 
 
 of life, and lelt myself entirely to the 
 
 wind and tide of fortune. Mcliuiie was 
 
 then in the filleenth year of her age; and 
 
 seemed the loveliest female form I hitd 
 
 ever beheld. In short, 1 felt for her all 
 
 the impetuous passion that first sways an 
 
 ungoverned boyish heart. 
 
 1 was then in the hey-day of youth, of 
 a remarkably tall person; haruing to 
 possess some insinuation of address, and 
 
""»s,. 
 
 i 
 
 OF TIIOAIA*; ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 ^9 
 
 to unite the acquirements of the scholar 
 with the manners of a perfect gentleman. 
 Durint^ m\ walk, I made no secret to 
 Melanie of my admiration for her, and 
 was coxcojnb enouy,h to think that I 
 easily read in her eyes some favourable 
 sentiments in her heart towards me. On 
 tiie termination of our walk, the aunt 
 ^ave me a general invitation to hev 
 charming villa. I profited by her good- 
 ness as often as I could with propriety, 
 and without being thought intrusive to 
 so amiable a family. 
 
 JNlany weeks and even months had 
 elapsed, ere my tender assiduities were 
 able to obtain any manner A' indulgence 
 Irom tltis interesting girl ; but at length 
 they ap|)eared to i»ave some eifect, and 
 she became pleased with the constant 
 attentions she received from me. Indeed, 
 they soon began to make a very sensible 
 impression upon her susceptible heart, 
 which, notwithstanding her endeavours 
 fo destroy it, gained strength daily ; yet 
 
I 
 
 (iO MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 she had sufficient coniinand over herself 
 to prevent this prepossession in my favour 
 being noticed by me, save that she wouhi 
 sometimes steal upon me looks of ten- 
 derness, from which 1 was presumptuous 
 enough to infer that my love was already 
 returned. 
 
 My attentions were indeed particularly 
 marked towards her, and she, who had 
 never before received any of these pecu- 
 liar tokens of regard, imagined they pro- 
 ceeded from the pure dictates of alTeetion, 
 And not from mere gallantry. At the 
 iirst moment, admiration must have hecn 
 the sole motive of my conduct, but it 
 eventually gave place to one of a more 
 tender nature. In the course of my visits, 
 I frecjuently read to her, played, and re- 
 cited. Sometimes too I interested her 
 icelings by anecdotes of my family, my 
 ruuntry, and myself, doing all that lay in 
 my power to amuse her. These atten- 
 tions, although in themselves trilliii'.!;, 
 bcrved to increase the (lame that burned 
 
 111 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 61 
 
 jii the soft bosom of iSIelaiiie, whicli gra- 
 dually took possession of her whole soul, 
 and which she never afterwards could 
 eradicate. 
 
 With my gratitude and respect for the 
 father of Melanie, and my admiration for 
 herself, it was impossible to entertain any 
 idea hostile to their honour and happiness; 
 yet marriage was an event that I could 
 not, in the smallest degree, prevail upon 
 myself to contemplate. 1 would have 
 died sooner than marry, an.d I would have 
 died sooner than attempt to destroy the 
 virtue of one, who was the chief pride 
 «rid felicity of her family. For a consi- 
 derable time I persisted in that struggle 
 against passion, which honour, truth, and 
 gratitude, appeared to demand; nay, mis- 
 trustful uf my fortitude, had resolved to 
 discontinue my visits to Madame Florin- 
 court, the aunt of Melanie. 
 
 At length I was compelled to go thither, 
 in eonipany with her father and olher 
 relatives. On my entraiice, 1 was sur- 
 
62 MEMOIRS AND CONFKSSIONS. 
 
 prised to find that the ch;\rmii)g girl did 
 not aj)pear as clieerful and lively as for- 
 merly. Ilor placid features evinced the 
 serenity of lier mind, but it still seemed 
 to have lost its accustomed elasticity. 
 Her animated eye no longer beamed with 
 its usual intelligence; and the brilliant 
 flashes of her wit were entirely fled, leav- 
 ing her conversational powers deprived of 
 their hitherto unrivalled charms. To me 
 she was particularly distant and cold. 
 Astonished and stung to the soul by a 
 behaviour so unexpected, 1 begged her 
 aunt would intercede foi me, and endea- 
 vour to discover the cause of this sudden 
 alteration. 
 
 My vanity was alarmed, my curiosity 
 awakened. 1 renewed my visits; but 
 several of them were wasted in vain 
 attempts to wrest the fond secret from 
 her tender bosom : nor was it till I por- 
 trayed my own passion in tiie most ardent 
 and fervid colours, that 1 was capable of 
 fixing any sentiment, or discovering tlie 
 
 ^ 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 63 
 
 cause of charif^c hi her character and tem- 
 per. Her workings of mind now hecame 
 strong, and did not pass unobserved by 
 me. I saw a laboured thought; I saw 
 tliat her soul was all mine. Her tears 
 flowed as she disclosed her affection for 
 me. 1 was at an age when juy is a storm 
 of passion, not a habit of the soul. Like 
 a storm did joy assail me; like a storm 
 were its effects ; nor did it subsiiie till it 
 wrecked the happiness and innocence of 
 Melanie, and exposed me to all the 
 horrors of a criminal and degenerate mind. 
 
64 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP. A'^I. 
 
 He plants the Thorn of Love in the Bosom of the 
 once innocent Melanie. — Through the Vista of 
 Pleasure she sees the IlubUation of Rtn't; and 
 Remorse. — lie trembles. — He feeds the dclnded 
 girl with Dreams. — She drinks deep of the Cup 
 of Illusion, — She becomes pregvant, and predicts 
 all the Horrors of her future Destinv. 
 
 When a character is distinguislied by 
 the amiable qualities of humanity, bene- 
 volence, friendship, and liberality, those 
 ioiiores unimcB imtutes^ as Cicero calls 
 them, their natural and necessary effect 
 is to captivate the affections of mankind : 
 but when they arc united with the vices 
 of dissipation, and that false honour which 
 aspires to fame by immoral actions, 
 aifection is soon destroyed, and cojiverted 
 into a contempt, which the lapse of time 
 only increases. 
 
 This is not the language of u mere 
 speculative moralist, but of a man ofdeej) 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 65 
 
 and liiglily purchased experience. Pre- 
 viously to my unfortunate intimacy with 
 the once lovely Melanie, 1 stood con- 
 siderably high in the public opinion ; 
 and, notwithstanding the little regard I 
 paid to business, I gradually gained the 
 esteem of her father, and the friendship of 
 his associate. Monsieur Raynaud. 
 
 M. Gaudette, the father of r\Ielanie, 
 was not only a good man, a liberal and 
 eminent merchant, but he had an enthu- 
 siasm for his pursuit, which taught him 
 to regard it as, of all schools, the best for 
 forming good and lionest men, and made 
 him still cherish in his own breast the 
 most passionate desire to attain, not so 
 nuich its most splendid profits and emo- 
 luments, as its most consummate excel- 
 lence in qualities and habits. He loved 
 me, he said, because he did me the 
 iionour of believing that my heart was 
 good ; and because he was of opinion, 
 that he, who was in his early youth the 
 most dissipated and unthinking, would 
 
"-% 
 
 66 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 become, through time and reflection, the 
 most amiable man, and the most sincere 
 friend. 
 
 I continued in so much favour, that he 
 did not, as with the other young' men, 
 coldly slight my further intimate acquaint- 
 ance, but delighted to make me his fre- 
 quent companion, introducing^ me to the 
 whole of his family as a young English- 
 man, whose talents and merit had engaged 
 his warmest esteem. In one of his con- 
 fidential conversations, this excellent man 
 at length opened his heart to me. He 
 had observed, he said, my growing affec- 
 tion for his daughter : it was what he 
 from the first desired ; but he had wished 
 to make trial ol my honour and constancy, 
 in an instance, al)ove all others, the most 
 diflicult; -.im], as he was well assured 
 thai I liad not disappointed his wishes, no 
 rewavd should be wanting to me, which 
 it was in his power to l»estow. 
 
 " Yet," added he, " 1 will never be so 
 much your enemy, as to wish you to 
 
OF THOMAS AS?IE, P:SQ, 
 
 desert your country for the sake of your 
 
 ffiaf 
 
 lo 
 
 ve, without your family's full consent. 
 My daughter is very young, and you are 
 not old. 1 will take you as a partner 
 into our house, and you will catch a 
 portion of our mercantile spirit. You 
 shall write to your father for his approba- 
 tion, and then Melanie shall be your's." 
 
 As the good man ceased to speak, my 
 heart sunk within me, and I could make 
 no reply. I cannot paint the nature of 
 mv sensations. Unless such have been felt, 
 th(7 are not to be conceived. My heart 
 was filled, agitated, softened. Beauty, 
 grace, and goodness, had been at my 
 disposition : sympathy attracted, to 
 the amiable possessuf, mv lirst notice, 
 my fixed attentions; and l was liurried 
 (jn, by circumstancv^s, — by fate, — by 
 madness — to involve her in a state of 
 inox|)licable wrt'tchedness. 
 
 Despair, mingled with the most acute 
 anguish, lor some time operated in so 
 ibrcible a manner on my mind as lo 
 
C8 
 
 iMEMOIllS AND CONFI'SSIONS 
 
 prevent me from forming any direct plan 
 for the government of my future conduct. 
 Absorbed in reflections on the past and 
 the present condition of the much injured 
 girl, 1 knew nor what to say, what to 
 do, or what to think. When 1 reviewed 
 the past, aii j thought of the day I first 
 beheld her, how delightful, yet how 
 grievous was the recollection ! At the 
 instant she appeared, I was most forcibly 
 struck with the uncommon beauty and 
 elegance of her form. Her person was of 
 the middle stature, and framed in so 
 exquisite a mouldy that all her motions 
 were distinguished hy their peculiar grace 
 and captivating symmetry. Her features 
 were most exquisitely soft. The coun- 
 tenance exhibited the bewitching cha- 
 racters of a Grecian beauty, and her large 
 dark eyes, sparkling through their dewy 
 lustre, kindled strange and impetuous 
 sensations in the mind of the enraptured 
 beholder. The bloom of her youth was 
 high and flond, but its glow was in some 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 6^ 
 
 degree tempered I)y the uncommon mild- 
 ness and piety of heart, which beamed 
 softly throii,2;h her soul-speaking eyes. 
 
 But, alas ! when I thought of the con- 
 dition to which I had reduced her, what 
 a sad reverse had I to contemplate! Her 
 lovely countenance was now overspread 
 by a melancholy sadness ; her mind was 
 evidently borne down by a heavy load of 
 oricf, and she spent most of her time in 
 solitude ; seldom appearing amongst the 
 company which frequented her aunt's 
 house, who severally felt the loss of her 
 intere ting society. Ill-fated Melanit.! 
 Remorse and grief had taken up their 
 abode in that bosom which was once the 
 seat of innocent delight, but which was 
 now ready to burst witii agony, as she 
 sued for a lover's mercy. She was 
 ruined — the bloom of her innocence 
 faded. She was as a fair garden laid 
 waste, whose verdure was gone, never 
 again to return. Her early blossom had 
 been trampled on by me; but yet was 
 
■^ 
 
 70 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 her soul untainted. That indeed was 
 very far beyond my polluted touch. I 
 had no power but over the poor irail 
 body, and it was for this alone she feared. 
 
 Such, and similar were the sentiments 
 that agitated my mind, immediately after 
 my conversation with the good and 
 generous father of the angelic Melanie. 
 1 saw her, however, repeatedly, and had 
 no power to strnijgle against the senti- 
 ment slie inspired. It carried me to her 
 feet ; it hurried me to her arms, though 
 more than her ruin awaited me. 
 
 It is not surprising to see men, low and 
 contemptible in their origin, labouring 
 with assiduous diligence in the service of 
 vice, and wasting the dregs of their life 
 in sapping the foundations of a virtue, 
 which they have neither hearts to love 
 nor abilities to comprehend. 
 
 The meanness of such men's souls 
 casts some shadow of apology over the 
 baseness of their conduct, and their 
 stupidity may be pleaded in bar of their 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 71 
 
 
 profligacy ; for even the solar beam affects 
 not the benighted eye-ball, and nothing, 
 save self-interest, operates on hardened 
 obdnracy. 
 
 J]ut if a similarity of behaviour is ob- 
 servable in those of exalted birth, and 
 who should possess elevated minds ; in 
 those whose education has been liberal, 
 and intercourse polished, astonishment 
 and shame at once oppress us : astonish- 
 ment at such a flagant perversion of moral 
 conduct, and shame at such a deplorable 
 instance of human weakness. We can 
 neither view them with indulgence, nor 
 regard them with pity. They may be 
 beacons to deter, but cannot prove lights 
 to direct our course. 
 
 Among" this unhappy class of men I 
 fear I shall be numbered by the reader, 
 as I proceed in my narrative. 1 have 
 said that 1 saw Melanie repeatedly; in 
 public, because, from the day her father 
 opened bis heart to me, 1 was permitted 
 to address her as her lover, and all was 
 settled as prescribed ; and in private, that 
 
72 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 we might repose on each others bosom, 
 and awake from dreams of ideal, to real 
 but temporary happiness. 
 
 The mysterious conduct I was obliged 
 to observe in these private visits, pre- 
 served to mv vain and romantic heart all 
 the variety, all the enchantment, of an 
 ever-renewing passion ; while the beauty, 
 the fidelitv, the taste, and the talents of 
 the interesting Melanie, gave her all the 
 attraction and ascendency of the mistress, 
 which are so seldom combined with the 
 obliG-aticns and forced observances said 
 to be due towards a wife. 
 
 liip. lustre of these moments was, not- 
 withstanding, often dimmed by the mists 
 of doubt and fear. At one time, she 
 would presage a change in my heart, and 
 draw beautiful and melancholy visions; 
 in which she woiild insist that 1 was 
 already bound to iier by the most solemn 
 of all ties. At other times she would 
 compare her simplicity with the polish of 
 the English beauties, and declare her 
 conviction that I meant to forsake her. 
 
^V THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 7» 
 
 m 
 
 Thou would the pensive lovely visionary 
 melt into tears, and offer up her soul- 
 4iihduing supplications that Heaven 
 would avert such miseryt or take her at 
 once from earth. 
 
 More than three months from my first 
 criminal intimacy i^lapsed in this manner, 
 when Melaiiie sometimes imagined that 
 she saw an inequality of conduct in me. 
 In truth, she was often very lung without 
 -■ecing me at all. When with her, my 
 conversations sometimes ajipenred myste- 
 rious ; and her happiness so entirely de- 
 pended upon me, thiit she could not he 
 iidifferent to such circumstances. She 
 mentioned her anxiety to m(3 at every 
 meeting; and I appeared more confused 
 than surprised. She became more and 
 inore uneasy. She began to apj)r(^hend 
 that I should want steadiness to perse- 
 vere in my attachment till the period 
 prescribed. Her fears disturbed her mind, 
 and occasioned those periods of heaviness 
 md calamity which I have already noticed. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 £ 
 
7* MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 During one of my vihiits, 1 f(uincl hor 
 particularly heart-struck. 1 strove, by 
 tenderness and attentions, to aiuviaio lier 
 i^rief, or to chase all fears tVoni In i timid 
 mind, 1 evei] promised to re pair my 
 lault by marriage, and comiJinsale, by 
 future conduct, for the sliann- antl ills 
 vvliich she dreaded that she \v.is iilxmi. ii 
 suiler. The hapless mourner, burnd in 
 prolound lorpoi-, seemed lost to a cmu- 
 .sciousness of her own existence. I'n- 
 afl'ected by my presence, untouched Ity 
 my tears and prayers U) be Jioticed, no- 
 thing could raise lier downcast eye. 1 1( r 
 ear was deaf to every sound — her heart 
 lost to every sensation. 
 
 This most melancholy, most wretched 
 spectacle, was finally interrupted by her 
 accHJsing me of duplicity, aiitl softly com- 
 plaining that she was pregnant of a beij)g, 
 wliose birth she could never boast ; whose 
 name she could never acknowledge; add- 
 ing, that she could no longer conceal the 
 lu'stbrtuno which her attachment to mc 
 
OF 1H0.MA5 ASflE, ESQ. 7i 
 
 iiiul hiutiglil Upon [u:r. Wounded by 
 appearances that would destroy her re- 
 putation, the expected mcther of a child 
 whom 10 father dared to chiim, she saw 
 herself in the direct path of bein"- 
 suspected, desf>ised, and avoided This 
 preyed upon her sensibility, and made 
 her suffer alt tije horrors of a distracted 
 niind. I live to confess her situation, 
 luid to deserve the K clings that now 
 make lier memory an adder's poit^on to 
 iny heart. 
 
 
76 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 The Brother of Melanic challcn<;cs the Seducer. — 
 The Seducer conquers. — Ihc ill.Juted iSlclanie 
 forfeits all her Happiness and. all her Hopes. — He 
 leaves her leather's House. — Remorse folloxos the 
 Consummation of the guilt y Passion. — It arrivcx 
 too late. — Mclanie dies, — Her Fathc*" commits 
 her Seducer to Prison, 
 
 A 
 
 Prostitution of talents and mental 
 advantages, though oi'ten amply paid for, 
 is ever a melancholy object, humbling to 
 the pride of genius, and degrading to the 
 loftiness of abilities; as it siiews but too 
 plainly to what meanness the one will 
 descend, and to what drudg. ry the other 
 will submit. 
 
 It iscJ""' one of those faults that a man 
 cannot conceal from himself; the same 
 sensibility of soul, which gives their fust 
 merit to mental exertions, causing liim 
 forcibly to feel the impropriety of wrong, 
 and the turpitude of base actions. 
 
4 
 
 or THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 77 
 
 Alas! I could not conceal from myself 
 the injuries I had mtlicted upon the Iicart 
 .aid mind of the gentle, suffering Melanie. 
 \ could not conceal thein ; and I promised 
 most solemnly to make her amends, by 
 obtaining' her father's consent to marry 
 her, previously to the public discovery of 
 her existins: circumstances and condition. 
 
 On this assurance, her pangs appeared 
 to be considerably alleviated, if not re- 
 moved by thesoothiLg delight, which her 
 wounded heart experienced in comtem- 
 plating the happy continuance of repu- 
 tation and fame. All the lively feelings 
 of pristine innocence were awakened in 
 her bosom. Days ofjoy and bliss dawned 
 upon her glowing fancy ; and whilst she 
 pressed me to her bosom, throbbing with 
 new and silent ecstacy, her sorrows re- 
 tired to a distance, and years of transport 
 opened to hervicw, in the delightful task 
 of domestic pursuits — in rearing and 
 educating the expected dear and tender 
 ()l)jcct of her care. 
 
 £ 3 
 

 MEMOIKS AND COML^sIONS 
 
 Alas! alas! she know not of the da\i 
 of sorrow that were yet in store for Iht. 
 Her dreams of happiness were as tleetiiii: 
 as the beams of a clondrc! sun. Her 
 si^eret, first discovered by her aniit, was 
 not long- concealed. All the tncnd'^ of 
 the unhappy girl were made acquainted 
 "With it,' and the most powcrlul of hci 
 relations endeavoured to prevail upon nu, 
 first by caresses, and afterwards by threats, 
 to make atonement )>y marrying Melanie 
 immediately. I know not how far 1 
 might have yielded to fiiendly interposi- 
 tion : but the instant a system of terror or 
 menace was displayed, 1 obstinately 
 refused to hear the parties, and made 
 preparatiouti to proceed to iJourdeaux 
 from ]\bu\i!n< s. 
 
 jNian>' liays 5iad not elapsed after the first 
 discovci'v, and mydi>reuard to comj)ulsive 
 measures, when tiie poor unbelriended 
 d blracted girl was torn from the arms of 
 111 r aunt, and sent to a distance, she knew 
 not \\ hither; and this was done by her 
 
 ^1 
 
 pr 
 
ti 
 
 \ 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 79 
 
 mieland calloiis-liearted relatives. The 
 poignancy of lier grief, and the acuteness 
 of her sufifcrinc-s, can scarcely be ima- 
 gined, much less described. Reader! 
 j/ictiire to yourself a young and beautiful 
 girl, already nearly borne down by a heavy 
 load of grief, prostrate on the earth before 
 her unfeeling parents, uttering accents of 
 woe, that might have softened the heart 
 of the most atrocious villain, asking only 
 for that liberty which nature had given 
 her, and which no human being had a 
 right to deprive her of. 
 
 13ut it was in vain she implored, raved, 
 and tore her beautiful liair: her prayers 
 and convidsioMS were equally disregarded 
 by the lnutal wretches around her, u ho 
 could not j>'ty, because they could not 
 feel. Dreadful indeed is the want of 
 i'eeling. i\Ien that are destitute of this 
 principal charni aud oriiament ol ihn 
 human mind, are sunk belovv the level of 
 the bestial herd that r.uige the forests, or 
 dwell on the mountai'i*s brow; for these 
 
80 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 feel the stronir affectinns of nature, and 
 instinctively obey their impulse ; but tlie 
 man who is devoid of the finer feelings of 
 the heart, is alwaj's obdurate, cruel, and 
 Jnivage. 
 
 And where were those finer feeiinf^s of 
 my heart at the time I first injured, and 
 p.ext saw this lovely girl dragged bom 
 her homo, in order to hide her own dis- 
 honour, and the wounded pride of her 
 numerous relatives? Was I totally des- 
 titute of those intellectual qualities which 
 constitute the chief excellence of man, 
 or was I a savage, who wished to wound 
 deeper and deeper, and annihilate what 
 1 should cherish and restore ? No, heaven 
 be praised! But my fate was indeed 
 bitter. I was forced ♦o act as I did, I was 
 forced to wound the hearts of the inno- 
 cent. Time was not given for entreaty ; 
 and I could not yield io violence. Some 
 must be victims, though none deserved to 
 be so. — Would that I i'lone had expiated 
 my fiiult — would that my tortures had 
 screened a whole family from disgrace I 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 81 
 
 " I have stained the innocent/' ex- 
 claimed I, before 1 departed from Maren- 
 nes. This short confession, strengthened 
 by the above sentiments, and above all, 
 the impropriety of leaving Marennes till 
 the return of .Monsieur Gaudette's eldest 
 son, who, it was loudly said, would wash 
 away the stain on his family by the blood 
 of the perpetrator, induced me not to 
 depart for Bourdeaux till my error might 
 be atoned for, or the cup of calamity filled 
 to the brim. 
 
 Henrie, the senior son^ and brother of 
 Melanie, soon returned : and the morning 
 after his arrival, 1 was obliged to attend 
 his challenge, for having dishonoured his 
 family ; such being the language of his 
 invitatioti. We fought with our swords, 
 and I easily conquered him, though not 
 without myself receiving a dangerous 
 wounri. I know not that 1 ever endured 
 a more fearlul perturbation of mind, than 
 on the evening between the challenge and 
 our encounter, and during those few mo- 
 
 iL 6 
 
6i? 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSION-^ 
 
 Clients which pnssnl after our c:onil>at. 
 betbre the hfe of my antagonist was |)ro- 
 nounccd by the surgeon to be no hunger 
 in danger. After this event — that is tl.r 
 day of menace over — 1 resolved that the 
 ill-fated Melanie should not lose her 
 happiness in this world, by the generou'^ 
 sacrifice s c made. 
 
 Honesty of intention, thoujrh it ought 
 undoubtedly to form the ground-work of 
 a character, is yet not the only (luaiity 
 that constitutes its worth ; for there are 
 others as essential in their nature, and 
 uiore rare in their existence. 
 
 it is aiiecessary,and, I will allow, even an 
 indispensable requisite in the constitution 
 of a virtuous man; but still we have 
 known ambition, vanity, and the lust ot 
 admiration, to compensate for its want, 
 producing advantages to the individual, 
 as great as could be hoped for from the 
 utmost exertion of its powers. 
 
 Clearness of intellect, together with a 
 libernl and comprehensive mind, are 
 
 «j. 
 
 I 
 
or THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 8.-J 
 
 :lit 
 
 qnaliricatioiis as rerjuisite to the due 
 discharge of duty ; and their deficiency* 
 sliould lacy be defective, is neither so 
 (..aslly si!j)|tlied, uor so obv'iously reme- 
 died : tliey may be aided by advice, but 
 that advice may deceive; they maybe 
 assisted by instruction, but that instruc- 
 tion may be fallacious. 
 
 1 formed the honest determination, as 
 I have above stated, of atoning to Melanic 
 for her sufierings,and of shewing that my 
 heart was formed by rectitude, and was 
 unavved by any voice, uljich dictated 
 another lanQ^uayc. But I was deficient 
 as to intellect and comprehension in the 
 execution of my desiun, and failed alto- 
 g(Hher in the so much wished for effects. 
 The reader shall judge for himself. 
 
 Having obtained information that Me- 
 lanin v.as placed under the conduct of a 
 disliuit relative, who resided near La 
 lloc.iellc, 1 hastily repaired to the place 
 of her seclusion, and was admitted into 
 her presence, on being announced as the 
 
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 aiEMOIRS AND C0NFI.SSIONS 
 
 friend of Monsieur Gaudettc. — I found 
 her most painfully chant^edi she was 
 thin, emaciated, but not inelegant; and 
 she advanced to meet me with that pre- 
 cipitancy of gesture and humidity of eye, 
 which proclaimed iier early probation to 
 sorrow, and too evidently shewed she had 
 but just come from drinking deep of the 
 waters of affliction. 
 
 I was above the affectation of tedious- 
 ness in the relation of my desiqjns, and 
 hastily said every thing that might have 
 flattered a mind less sanguine than her's 
 with the hopes of success. To all this 
 she made no reply. Sometimes the tears 
 of apprehensive affection would start to 
 her eye; but I as often wiped them off, 
 and bade hor hope, swearing that I would 
 marry her, and that death alone should 
 dissolve the nuptial tie. As 1 swore to 
 this the last time, she looked on me for a 
 moment; her cheeks grew pale as death — 
 she seemed as if struck by his hand — she 
 faintly uttered my name—and sunk ino- 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 85 
 
 tionless into my arms. Finding that she 
 did not soon revive, I shrieked, and, with 
 frantic horror, called for assistance: it 
 arrived; but before I recovered from the 
 first confusion of my mind, she was with- 
 drawn from my presence ; nor was it till 
 two hours after that 1 was informed her 
 life was in danger, from a contention 
 of ideas, which caused a dreadful and 
 sudden miscarriage. 
 
 I retired from this house of mourning; 
 and looked upon myself as the wretch of 
 despair, devoted to future hopeless 
 misery. My mind could no longer dis- 
 guise its feelings. " 1 have stained the 
 innocent," exclaimed 1 again, ''and lam 
 denied thepovverof making reparation." 
 My tears fell, I mourned in spirit, and 
 strove to seek consolation in sleep; but 
 though sleep ditl not visit me, I did find 
 r 'posc ; and a strange influence, I know 
 not how to describe or term it, stole over 
 my mind. It was like the calm induced 
 by an opiate, without i^s heaviness — a 
 
86 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 Stillness oflicart, a quiet of rnnl)s, a pc.i :c- 
 fulness of spirit, I liad never know 
 
 before. 
 
 Oh ! what a scene did it forerun — 
 perhaps prepared me the better to endure ! 
 — If there are guardian angels, who sug- 
 gest to mortals holy inspirations oa 
 approaching' awful trials of their minds, 
 such a power then entered mine in kindly 
 visitation. From this cahn I was startled 
 by a kind of struggling voice. A person 
 called upon me by name — it was the 
 father of the unfortunate Melanie. I arose 
 alarmed ; and saw him agitated by a 
 convulsive motion ; his countenance 
 frantic, his eyes Hxcc' upon me. 
 
 This sight pierced my very soul. 1 
 threw myself on my knees before him ; I 
 thought, with a pang of maddening re- 
 morse, on my conduct to his amiable 
 daugliter, which had thus deeply moved 
 the feelings of the father, shaking his frail 
 ^nd feeble body. This deeply injured 
 person paid no regard to my situation, till 
 
 I 
 
 cor 
 
 the 
 
 trai 
 
 mil 
 
 I 
 
 th< 
 
 au( 
 
lOWIl 
 
 lire! 
 
 sug- 
 
 VV TIIOM/VS ASHK, ISQ. 8? 
 
 lie voci it' rated aloud: "Follow mc." 
 Awed and confounded, 1 hesitated to 
 obey, when he seized my arm, and forci- 
 bly led me along 1 knew not whither. 
 W'c at length arrived at the residence of 
 iMelanio. I followed my conductor in 
 silent astonishment, until we reached 
 her apartment, and even her bedside. 
 The father stopped, and rolling his eyes 
 on me, who trembled in fearful expecta- 
 tion, for some time continued to gaze 
 upon me, when he silently drew down 
 the sheet, and then in a voice that might 
 have appalled a much more determined 
 heart than mine, bade mc look, look! — 
 liogardez, rcgardez.*' 
 1 did so, a!id iubian^ly saw the lifeless 
 corpse of the once h -autiful Melanie, 
 the sw« etgirl 1 had seduced. A confused 
 train of ideas rushed at once across my 
 mind ; and, overcome by my emotions, 
 L was sinking under their weight, vvhv.i 
 the father again grasped me by the arm, 
 and once more arrested my attention. 
 
88 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 " Knovvest thou that deeply injured 
 person?** said he: '* and now look upon 
 me, — behold the most injured of all 
 mankind. Look upon the father of those 
 beloved beings, of whom tliy consummate 
 villany has deprived me. Wretched 
 youth! didst thou imagine that every 
 tie, which unites mankind together, was 
 to be trampled upon at pleasure; that the 
 throb of parental affection was to be 
 annihilated ; that the innocence and 
 purity of a beloved and only daughter 
 were to be blasted for ever ; that an only 
 son was to be swept away from society 
 to which he was an honour, and from the 
 arms of a fond parent by thy murderous 
 hand ; that every ray of hope and every 
 prospect of happiness were at once to be 
 extinguished in the breast of a deeply 
 injured and heart-broken father ? 
 
 " And all for what? Surely thou canst 
 not be so lost to all sense of honour and 
 virtue as to make thyself a pest of society, 
 and a hideous monster in the eyes of 
 
I 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHEj ESQ. 89 
 
 lliosc who can alone be called men. 
 Surely thou canst not, for one moment, 
 suppose that thy godlike image, bearing 
 the stamp of immortality, was given thee 
 by the Great God for the dreadful pur- 
 poses of increasing the evils of life, instead 
 of employing the utmost power of thy 
 united and cultivated talents in the great 
 cause of virtue and knowledge, by which 
 the perfectability of man is finally at- 
 tained. 
 
 " Instead of laying a foundation for thy 
 present and future happiness, and assist- 
 ing, with the great lovers of science and 
 literature, to remove the vast weight of 
 evil that clogs up every path of life, and 
 by the practice of virtue evincirig its 
 great objects, thou hast been guilty of 
 the most diabolical crimes, and been the 
 means of injuring uiany individuals in 
 their dearest interests. Surely never v is 
 a father blessed in the possession of such 
 children as I once could boast; but the 
 ^lOYy of their morn was only permitted 
 
90 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSION!* 
 
 to illumine the vast expanse of life in 
 partial and fleeting splendour; their day- 
 star was checked in its course ere it had 
 reached the meridian, and was, alas! 
 suddenly hurried to extinction by the 
 furious whirlwind of passion, which at 
 times is permitted by the Just Disposer of 
 events, to break forth from the dark and 
 gloomy caves in which it lias its abode, 
 destroying the most noble of his works, 
 or at once blasting all their hopes and 
 golden dreams of happiness. 
 
 *' But I feel I cannot survive so severe 
 a stroke as the loss of my poor children, 
 whom I fondly hoped to have been the 
 support of my old age. My heart has 
 received its mortal wound, and, ere it 
 sinks to rest, and beats no more, I have 
 only one object to accomplish, which 
 will soon be done. Know, then, that 
 1 have procured an arrest against thee 
 on a charge of seduction and murder, and 
 that this very hour thou wilt be conveyed 
 to a prison, from which there is no 
 
or THOMAS ASHEj ESQ. [)l 
 
 escape,— where impenetrable gloom and 
 II II wholesome damps are never removed 
 by the cheering rays of the sun, and 
 where in horrid solitude there is no oppor- 
 tunity of committing those crimes, of 
 which thou hast been guilty; but where 
 ihou wilt have leisure to review the 
 injuries of those who never injured thee, 
 and raise thy thoughts to the Deity 
 whom thou hast so deeply offended, 
 
 "Yet thou must know that my beloved 
 daughter fell by thy means. Look upon 
 her. She is dead ; and my heart bleeds 
 when I remember that she died amidst 
 the wreck and utter prostitution of all 
 her charms. Ah ! unfortunate stranger, 
 the blood of my two children is on thy 
 head, and 1 leave thee to thy fate.*' 
 
 in saying this, the distracted old man 
 rung the bell with violence. Instantly 
 three armed men rushed into the apart- 
 ment, seized me, and bore me away in 
 silence to the obscurest dungeon of a 
 prison, from wliich no tidings of my fate 
 ever seemed likely to transpire. 
 
92 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSION* 
 
 CHAP. VIIL 
 
 The Gloom of a Prison is darkened by the Terrors 
 of Fancy. — Mr, Ashe is conscious of his Errors, 
 but Reason refuses to regulate the Feelings of 
 his Soul. — Description of a French Prison.-^ 
 Visit of a Priest. — Jle rejects the Unction of the 
 Holy Father.— Wars tcith him and Nature."-^ 
 Disdains such relief. 
 
 No production, however small, ought 
 to be held in contempt, provided it is 
 found to contain any pleasing imagery, 
 any usfFuI insfruction, or a display of any 
 of the finer tecliiigs of the heart ; or pro- 
 vided it shews tile good or bad tendency 
 of the human passions and actions. 
 Shf>rJd any Itenrfi-ia] illustration or re- 
 cital he toi.incl, tiiat production is un- 
 douhiediy vuluahie to a certain degree, 
 inasmuch as it is capable of producing 
 good. 
 
 The reader will easily perceive by this 
 preliminary paragraph, that I am fabri- 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 93 
 
 caling excuses for various amplifications 
 and extraneous ornaments; but I beg 
 him lo be convinced, that these, if pro- 
 perly regulated, can alone give life, in- 
 terest, and value to the memoirs of an 
 individual. I shall, therefore, continue 
 to employ an ardent imagination in the 
 embellishment of my facts ; to be guided 
 by its dictates, whether it leads me to 
 pour out the eftus'ions of my mind in the 
 exalted measure of rhetorical eloquence, 
 or in theentlnisiastic language of Arabian 
 romance. But 1 again declare my deter- 
 mined adhesion to the sacred voice of 
 truth. All i mean is, to array the naked- 
 ness of that truth with the garments of 
 fancy ; for, were I to state my facts 
 witliout sliewing the workings of mind 
 which they gave birth to, they would 
 infallibly be devoid of interest, and be 
 like a body without a soul. 
 
 1 now proceed to the very lamentable 
 tact so recently ^ " 'crted to; that isj my 
 imprisonment, through the interposition 
 
»4 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFl.SSIONA 
 
 of the unhappy father of the once lovely 
 and lost INIelanie. lUit I was soafl'ected 
 and confounded by his terrible anathema 
 against me, that I know not how 1 was 
 conveyed to so horrible an abode, I 
 scarcely even knew that I was there, till 
 I found myself in a cold perspit !^on,and 
 awakened from mystupoi by the rattlinij 
 of chains, and the noise of my keeper, 
 who came to leave me some bread and 
 water; after which he sullenly retired. 
 On coming so far to myself, I can recol- 
 lect that my demeanour was quiet, meek, 
 composed — yet awfully SiuL My work 
 seemed accomplished : the fire of my eye 
 was quenched in the dew of the deepest 
 affliction : my heating, palpitating heart, 
 exhausted by its late workings, sent 
 forth smothered sighs of weariness. 1 
 sat still, with folded arms, as one dead. 
 Indeed, I was in equal silence and obscu- 
 rity; for what is imprisonment but a 
 civil death ? I sat still, revolving all that 
 had passed, since the first shock of re- 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 V5 
 
 morse and affliction had assailed my 
 heart. The languor of pain (for my 
 agitation had irritated my wound) at 
 length suhdu^f' the contlicts of passion. 
 Every power of uiy busy, restless mind 
 seemed tamed by weakness and sorrow. 
 Every affection we.3 extinguished. Gra- 
 titude, family -love —all those powerfully 
 actuating sentiments, that influenced 
 me on former scenes and actions, had 
 faded quite from my heart. J thought, 
 with moody pleasure, of my wound ; I 
 saw it abridge my days, and rejoiced in 
 the prospect that my release was at hand ; 
 tor 1 felt my heart could endure no more, 
 • The dreadful accidents that brouy:ht 
 me to the prison, the promulgation of 
 the circumstances, and the uncertainty 
 of the event, combined to make my case 
 desperate, and far beyond the palliations 
 of prudence or the interventions of ten- 
 derness. In my lieart no sources of com- 
 posure could spring; tori was conscious 
 of the criminality of my conduct, and 
 
95 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 reason refused to regulate the feelings of 
 the soul. 
 
 We make, however, rapid proofress to- 
 wards the eradication of evil, when we 
 can truly lament its fatal effects. We 
 must learn to feel, before We can be 
 instrumental in the removal of any vice; 
 though it is extremely difficult to con- 
 vince a dissipated character, that misery 
 is the certain consequence of vicious 
 pursuits, and that happiness is the re- 
 sult only of a moral and honourable 
 condiict. 
 
 I had learned to feel, and tears were at 
 first my only language ; but resolution, 
 not tears, was at length necessary. 1 pe- 
 titioned for strength of mind, and God 
 bestowed it. Weak as I felt before, 1 
 rose, and hoped for the recovery of my 
 liberty. My spirit swelled indignant 
 at the imprisonment I sustained : I ex- 
 postulated, but in vain. 1 had to re- 
 main one month immured, before I had 
 notice of any legal proceedings, and was 
 
Oi THOMAS ASIIE, ESQ. 
 
 97 
 
 incapable of fixing any sentiment, even 
 that of pity, iu any person's breast. 
 
 At the expiration of the month I was 
 visited by a priest, who, on entering uiy 
 cell, desired, in a tone of authority, that 
 I would attend to him. I did so; and, 
 looking in his face, saw his tidings— that 
 I should never more communicate with 
 the world ; that this was to be my last 
 scene on earth ; and that it was fit I 
 should confess my sins, with penitence 
 and sorrow. 1 fell into this train of 
 thought on perceiving the priest to be a 
 friar of the Order of Mercy, a class of the 
 French church, whose province it was to 
 visit the prisons, and administer the last 
 offices of the holy church to such crimi- 
 nals as wer .ondemned, or expected to 
 be condemned. And what hopes could 
 1 entertain of life in a strangfc countrv. 
 in which there was no jury to give an 
 unbiased verdict, and where the judge 
 could be swayed more by the power of my 
 enemy than by the equity of the cause ? 
 
 The friar began with a Latin orison, a 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
9S 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 kind of fervent suitable prayer for malefac- 
 tors, or persons of demoniac minds. I was 
 silent, 1 was stupid, while his voice re- 
 sounded throughout the dungeon. When 
 he ceased his solemn address, he led me 
 to kneel at the foot of a little white marble 
 shrine, bearing a diadem and cross, that 
 stood silent and unlettered in one corner 
 of my dreary abode. — He ordered me to 
 kneel. I refused to obey. His voice 
 trembled with passion. " How, miserable 
 wretch!" cried he. "Are youthen so 
 devoted to vice, and violent corroding pas- 
 sions, as to despise this sacred emblem of 
 hope and Christianity? Do you refuse to be 
 cheered by hope, by that religious hope 
 which can alone replace in your aspir- 
 ing and wicked nature those mental pos- 
 sessions, wrested from you by licentious- 
 ness? Must you be scourged, and compel- 
 led to solicit, at the foot of the cross, that 
 immoveably virtuous principl* which 
 you so much require, and which the 
 cross alone has the faculty to dispense?" 
 On uttering these words, he sought to 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ES^, 
 
 99 
 
 
 force me on my knees. "With an effort 
 of maddening impulse I casthim from me, 
 and retired to a distant part of my cell. 
 He followed, and looked at me — it was a 
 look, which neither age nor time can 
 ever erase from my memory. He was no 
 longer a man, but a wild beast, and his 
 whole face was distorted. But he had 
 too deeply moved my soul with indigna* 
 tion, to retain the power of shaking my 
 frail and feeble body. He perceived this, 
 and the more violent passions of his heart 
 were disguised under the sullen cloud of 
 vengeance and hypocrisy, which now 
 overspread his terrific countenance. 
 
 After a short pause, during which his 
 eye was stedfastly fixed upon me, he 
 drew a Bible from his pocket, and demand- 
 ed of me, with more sarcasm than piety, 
 whether 1 did not subscribe tothatvolume, 
 and implicitly believe in its contents?— 
 My mind was raised to the fever of action, 
 and with the force of fever I moved and 
 spoke, ** No,'* exclaimed J, *'no, 1 do 
 
 F 2 
 
100 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 not subscribe to it, nor can I think it of 
 divine authority, when I see it made the 
 instrument of tyranny and abuse.'* 
 " What then is the Bible?" vociferated 
 this vestured demon. *' It is a vast 
 collection of different treatises,*' replied 
 I. " The man, who liolds the divine au- 
 thority of one, may consider the other as 
 merely human." — " How !" retorted 
 he — '*the Scripture then with you is not 
 of divine origin, nor even one summary 
 ofdoctrines regularly digested, in which a 
 man cannot mistake his way?" -" No," 
 interrupted I with equal elevation of voice, 
 *' but it is a most venerable, a most multi- 
 farious collection of the divine economy ; 
 a collection of infinite variety of cosmogo- 
 ny, theology, history, prophecy, morality, 
 allegory, legislation, and ethics, carried 
 through different books, by different 
 authors, at different ages, ibr different 
 ends and purposes." — 1 ceased to speak. 
 The friar retained a stubborn silence ibr 
 the space of a few moments ; when, as 
 
OF THOMAS ASIIL, ESQ, 
 
 101 
 
 if stung to the soul by my replies, lie 
 struck me to the earth with his Bible, 
 and rapidly withdrew. As I rose, stunned 
 from the blow, 1 felt at war with nature 
 and affinity: ihcy were enemies to me; 
 and as such I sickened at their remem* 
 brancG, 
 
 I e 
 
102 MEMOIBS AJ!D COKFFSSIOKS 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 The Day of Trial arrives. — Paroxijfm of Feeling. 
 — Ignorance adds her Chastisement, — He is 
 rciiored to Freedom. — Quits France. — IJis Fa* 
 iher refuses to see him. — He repairs to hi$ 
 Brother in Dublin, 
 
 However a writer of the day may 
 despair of future fame, he ought at least 
 to forbear any present mischief. Though 
 he cannot arrive at any eminent heights 
 of excellence, he might keep himself 
 harmless. He might take care to inform 
 himself before he attempts to inform 
 others, and exert the little influence, 
 which he may have, for honest purposes. 
 
 So warmly do I admire these senti- 
 ments, that I have ever sought to keep 
 them in my view; and whether I have to 
 any purpose or not, my readers must by 
 this time be able to judge. But so much 
 prejudice is abroad in the land, that it is 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 103 
 
 fxtremely difficult to please a majority. 
 If many men contemplate the same ob- 
 ject, it is almost certain they will all 
 regard it through different mediums, and 
 consequently make it liable to all manner 
 of interpretation. To vague opinions I 
 cannot be amenable. 
 
 Governed by the integrity of this inten- 
 tion, I proceed in my memoirs after the 
 manner and design with which they were 
 first begun. — The scene, in which I 
 found myself engaged, after the depar- 
 ture of the Holy Father, was too awful for 
 tears; too wretched for uttered lamenta- 
 tion. Then came over my heart the me- 
 Tiory of former times, and the recollection 
 of Asheville, where I had known pure 
 happiness in childhood. There my bro- 
 thers had never been aught but brothers. 
 There I had chased my smiling sisters, 
 who lessened their speed through the 
 trees, to let me enjoy the triumph of 
 overtaking them. There i had a mothert 
 How well I remembered her smiles, iios 
 
 F 4 
 
jO'i MEMOIRS AND COM ESSIONS. 
 
 cares, and her embraces ! There I liad a 
 father, respected and esteemed. There 
 I had friends, who held me in their arms 
 during infancy, lent themselves to my 
 boyish ways, and bore wiih good humour 
 my infant caprice. But in France, shame 
 and reproach had overpowered me, had 
 wrested from me all that was worth 
 existing for. Besides, a judge without a 
 jury might find me guilty, though my 
 conscience could not confirm the decree. 
 However, I felt remorse; 1 felt my 
 folly, my impetuous folly and impru- 
 dence; and was framing on this ground 
 of torture and anxiety a variety of con- 
 jectures applicable to my melancholy 
 condition, when I was conducted by a 
 guard, without preface or previous inti- 
 mation, before the public tribunal, 
 which was then open for the trial of 
 criminal causes. The judge was already 
 seated as 1 entered. He was surrounded 
 by the officers of his court ; and all, from 
 long habits of respect, appeared disposed 
 
OF TH0MA5 ASHE, ESQ. 105 
 
 to execute his will without the smallest 
 dissatisfaction or investigation. — The 
 scene to me was awfully impressive and 
 terrific; as I perceived that power, thoi:gh 
 it sometimes slept, was far from dead in 
 my judge^s breast. Though assisted by 
 several men, eminent in legal talents and 
 station, he finally decided on the merits 
 of each case, and his decisions in general 
 were less correct and merciful, than erro- 
 neous and bloody. 
 
 It came to my turn, and I was placed at 
 the bar. I was in a dreadful paroxysm of 
 feeling. Ignorance added her chastise- 
 ments. My full heart swelled, and re- 
 fused every comfort. Indignant tears 
 dropped upon the bar, at which ray 
 sentence was to be received. When the 
 charges against me were read by the 
 court advocate, the principal witness was 
 called. Oh I how can I paint his entry — 
 his conduct ; when, as a divinity, he dic- 
 tated ; from aseat like that of judgment, 
 those testimonies to which I was to owe 
 
 I 5 
 
106 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 my life and my liberty. His son he 
 said had recovered from his wounds ; and 
 as he had learned, since my imprisonment, 
 that it had been my intention, by marry- 
 ing his daughter, whom 1 had seduced, to 
 wipe away the stains which I had fixed 
 upon his name, he would wave all further 
 prosecution, and solicit my discharge. — 
 Kever was transition so great as this. 
 Never was man more taken by surprise. 
 Instead of a shameful penal sentence, 
 the judge liberated me, with a few obser- 
 vations on the errors which caused mc 
 to be confined. As 1 left the court, my 
 late prosecutor painted most feelingly the 
 transition of my fate, ameliorated by 
 expectations so different: he called upon 
 my honour, my love for my family, my 
 pity'for himseK, not to heap on my soul a 
 sense of remorse by a repetition of my 
 conduct. He shamed my selfishness. 
 In short, he gave me no peace > he allowed 
 me no moment to reflect : he carried me 
 bound to his feet ; he held mc to the earth, 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 107 
 
 and trampled over my bleeding heart, till 
 I almost cursed my fate that my life had 
 been so far prolonged. When he had 
 thus broken the very chords of my heart, 
 he dismissed me, and bade me farewell 
 forever. I went trembling to the house 
 of Monsieur Raynaud, where the fever 
 of conflicting passions, resentments, and 
 wishes, endangered my wretched life for 
 some weeks. On my recovery I set off 
 for Bourdeaux, but was not received 
 under the roof of Mr. Martin: he con- 
 ceived an invincible horror against my 
 conduct, and instantly provided me 
 with a passage home to my friends in 
 Ireland. 
 
 The reader has now before him my 
 whole French undertaking, and I hope 
 he will find in it some palliation for the 
 infirmities of my nature and temper. 
 Excesses of feeling are misfortunes. 
 They lead the weak to guilt, and even 
 the wisest ko trouble. We pray against 
 hardness of heart : it is an evil ; and may 
 mine never be so defended from pain ! 
 
lOS MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 But be it my equal prayer that I may not 
 again become so enervated by fictitious 
 feelings, as to be unable to resist temp- 
 tation. Above all, I shall pray heaven 
 to defend me from the dangerous seduc- 
 tions of passion, clothed in the false 
 drapery which the imaginations of men 
 have made alluring. 15 ut let me quit this 
 painful subject. 
 
 Mankind in general seem urged by a 
 kind of instinct to pursue the natural 
 bias of their genius, and, when happily 
 not diverted from their course are most 
 commonly observed to attain the favour- 
 ed object of pursuit, witlj credit to them- 
 selves, and honour to their country. 
 
 Homer and Virgil would scarcely have 
 attained superlative eminence, but i\s 
 poets; Demosthenes and Cicero had 
 probably been rivalled in any other pur- 
 suit but that of eloquence. The strong 
 innate impulse of feeling suggested their 
 respective paths, and they followed them 
 with unerring steps to the very summit 
 ©f the Temple of Fame. . .. i 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 109 
 
 The subject of these strictures, proba- 
 bly, could he retrace the first dawningsof 
 youthful inclination, feltsimilarimpulsive 
 emotions. Like Wellington, he com- 
 batted almost in infancy on his native 
 mountains, and anticipated those military 
 laurels, which have since so profusely 
 adorned that hero's brow. 
 
 Other views, nevertheless, under the 
 influence of other guides, had, it seems, 
 struck out for me a very different plan of 
 life. 1 was destined, by the ill-judged 
 election of my father, to a life of commerce 
 in a foreign land, and the consequence 
 was that 1 returned home in disgrace, 
 to cause a prediction of my father, on my 
 arrival, that he bad lost all hopes of my 
 ever turning out in life otherwise than 
 shamefully and miserably. 
 '. Having adopted this opinion, he re- 
 fused to see me ; or to hold any manner 
 of intercourse with me. " My early 
 life," as he said, " shewed a disposition 
 naturally profligate, and bent on pur- 
 
110 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS. 
 
 suing, through every situation, my own 
 selfish gratification, without regard to the 
 distinctions between right and wrong, 
 and without concern for the joys or 
 sufferings of others." He stated that such 
 conduct could not fail to render the 
 perpetrator of it eternally miserable, and 
 continually more and more so, in every 
 scene of life: it would probably bring him 
 to the end of his vices and crimes by a 
 death at once shameful, terrible, and pre- 
 mature. 
 
 Such was my reception on my arrival 
 in my native country. But although rny 
 heart was agonized by the most acute 
 pangs, yet was I careful to conceal the 
 strong emotions of my grief, till, as 1 
 ascended the last hill that overlooks the. 
 paternal habitation, then for ever shut 
 against me, the recollection of my former 
 happiness, rushing in full force upon my 
 harassed mind, nearly overwhelmed me. 
 In vain I strove to repress the tears that 
 trickled fast down my faded cheek. The 
 
09 THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 Ill 
 
 scenes of all my early pastime were 
 brought before my view, and with them 
 the fond remembrance of my once spot- 
 less innocence, now for ever fled. I 
 relapsed into an agony of tears, that 
 seemed to subdue the remaining fortitude 
 of my brother, who had been contempla- 
 ting in silence the various agitations of my 
 countenance. 
 
 It was my eldest brother, Jonathan. 
 He was bred in theUniversity of Dublin, 
 and was at that time curate of Saint 
 Andrews, one of the best churches in 
 that city. He attended me to my father's 
 house in quality of mediator, and on the 
 unfortunate failure of his mission, took 
 me with him to the capital, where his 
 genius and character had prof^ured him 
 many friends, some of whom were high in 
 power. — When he perceived my deep 
 aftliction, as I have just observed, he 
 threw his arms round my neck, and 
 conjured me by the affection I bore him 
 to be more composed. 
 
112 JIEMOIRS AND CONFESSiaNS 
 
 *' We are now approaching my home,'* 
 continued this good brother ; " and let me 
 beg of you not to add another pang to 
 my wounded heart, by giving way to 
 your sorrows. All may yet be well. 
 Look up to the fountain of all goodness: 
 your devotions will not be in vain, and 
 the God of Mercies will send you conso- 
 lation. Suffer your reason to gain its 
 proper ascendency, and your misfortunes 
 will retire to a distance, whilst new pros- 
 pects of happiness will unfold themselves 
 to your view." 
 
 This brotherly conduct roused my 
 sleeping faculties to a sense of my far- 
 tallen situation. 1 appeared, for a mo- 
 ment, willing to make an attempt to 
 relinquish my vicious career, and, in no 
 long time, to return again to my offended 
 family with the affecting language of — 
 " father, 1 have sinned against heaven 
 and in thy sight ; and am no more worthy 
 to be called thy son,'' Such were the 
 sentiments and fefilings which marked 
 
OF niOAlAS ASIIE, ESQ. 1)3 
 
 my career from Limerick to Dublin. 
 But man has no permanency, and is 
 certain of nothing except the wreck of his 
 existence. Hope leads him on by the 
 hand, and whispers delight tohibsoul; 
 but sorrow marks him for her prey, and 
 death consumes his vitality. 
 
 ♦■ j» j.^ 
 
114 MEMOIRS AVD CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 .fits Brother obtains for him an Appointment in the 
 Castle of Dublin, — lie commences his official 
 Career under happier Auspice4 than he had ream 
 son to expect, — Becomes a Courtier^ and betrayg 
 a Mind cai tble and flexible. — He veins the 
 Esteem of the Officers of the Castle,— 'Faniti/ flUt 
 his Heart, 
 
 This life is but a vision. Happy are 
 they who regard it as such, and be- 
 nefit by its fleeting hours; for to those, 
 the never-fading glories of immortality 
 are in store. In the poet's words, " Men 
 are such stuff as dreams are made of, and 
 our little life is rounded with a sleep.** 
 
 Like the rest of thoughtless mankind, 
 I had no sooner escaped from misery, and 
 arrived in the haven of Dublin with my 
 kind and generous brother, tlian a vision 
 of fancy presented the brightest prospects 
 of future happiness before my deluded 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 115 
 
 view. The youthful ardour of my ima" 
 gination had painted the enjoyment of 
 my new life in the most glowing colours ; 
 but an early night of darkness was already 
 lowering upon my horizon, and the soul- 
 inspiring influence of hope scarcely beam- 
 ed through the gloom that pervaded my 
 path, when my fate was again marked 
 with darkness, doubt, and uncertainty. 
 
 I must now pass from anticipation to 
 history. AVhen I arrived in Dublin, Ire- 
 land was governed by His Excellency 
 the Marquis of Buckingham, a nobleman 
 who possessed such great and innume- 
 rable virtues, as justly entitled him to the 
 highest favours of his sovereign, and ren- 
 dered him a shining example to those who 
 were hereafter destined to fill his exalted 
 station. He was universally beloved by 
 the Irish of all ranks and degrees. They 
 united with one voice to proclaim his 
 worth, declaring in that genuine simpli- 
 city so peculiar to the native Irish, that 
 *' when he died, he would go to his God." 
 
116 MEM 01 us AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 To enlighten the minds of those deeply 
 neglected Irish, the noble marquis ap- 
 pointed connmissioners to enquire into 
 the state of all the diocesan and endowed 
 schools, and to report to him the total 
 amount of the endowments, the manner 
 of its appropriation, the number of free 
 scholars, &c. &c. These commissioners 
 formed a board, called the Board of Edu- 
 cation : their sittings were held in the 
 Council Chamber of the Castle of Dub- 
 lin ; and, through the interest of my bro- 
 ther Jonathan, I was appointed their 
 under secretary, with an appointment of 
 two hundred and fifty pounds per annum. 
 
 During my short stay in Dublin, pre- 
 viously to this appointment, 1 endeavour- 
 ed to gain some knowledge of Ireland, 
 its resources and government, as well as 
 an insight into the manners, customs, and 
 opinions of its inhabitants. 1 could not 
 but admire that warmth of heart, that 
 liberality of sentiment, and that gene- 
 rous confidence, always maintained by my 
 
OF THOMAS ASIiE, ESQ. 
 
 117 
 
 countrymen towards each other. All 
 those, whom I had the pleasure of being 
 intimate with, did great honour to their 
 national character. But I was yet very 
 deficient in political science; nor was it 
 till 1 fulfilled my duty as under secretary 
 to the Board of Education, that I acquired 
 any considerable degree of knowledge in 
 this respect. 
 
 It must be allowed that my official ca- 
 reer commenced under the happiest aus- 
 pices. The commissioners of the board, 
 under whom I acted, were the Right 
 Honourable John Heley Hutchinson, the 
 Jiight Honourable Denis Daly, Isaac 
 Corry, Thomas Burgh, and John Forbes, 
 Esquires, all menbers of the House of 
 ('ommons, and men who possessed the 
 highest knowledge and information of 
 any in tiiat august assembly. Mr. Hut- 
 chinson, father of the present I<ord, rose 
 from the meanest ranks of life, to fame 
 and fortune, high dignity, and exalted 
 station. His elevation was truly pleas- 
 
lis MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 ing, as the ascent to it had been facili* 
 tated by the exertion of conspicuous ta- 
 lents, the labours of genius, and that 
 wisdom which enobles the toils inspired 
 by a laudable ambition. 
 
 The Right Honourable Denis Daly 
 united in the same person the rarest com- 
 bination of birth and fortune, genius and 
 industry, eloquence and sagacity, that 
 were perhaps ever seen blended in any 
 one individual. Such, indeed, were the 
 splendour of his attainments, that he was 
 esteemed a towerof strength to his friends, 
 a bulwark against the rudest assaults of 
 opponents, and a centre of refuge to the 
 people, where they deemed their dear- 
 est rights safe from violation. In the 
 hour of security he was an ornament, in 
 the day of danger a protection. If not 
 subservient as the profligate, he was not 
 unsteady as the venal : if not submissive 
 to each mandate of ministers, he could 
 enlighten their ignorance, and guide 
 their inexperience : if not the ready de- 
 
 wit 
 
 voic 
 and 
 der 
 or t( 
 capl 
 of c 
 freei 
 In 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ, 119^ 
 
 fender of misconduct, he was the invin- 
 cible advocate of equity and truth. 
 
 The Right Honourable Isaac Corry, 
 without the weight of family connexions, 
 or the influence of powerful patronage, 
 was solicited to represent the independent 
 citizens of Newry ; aud his amiable man- 
 ners conciliated their affections, while 
 the spirit and integrity of his mind com- 
 manded their reverence. Possessing from 
 nature a very pleasing exterior, he lost 
 not that advantage by a slovenly neglect 
 of it; but instantly impressed strangers 
 with a favourable opinion of him, by the 
 gracefulness of his manner, and the un- 
 affected propriety of his deportment. His 
 voice was remarkably good, clear, distinct, 
 and melodious; equally adapted to thun- 
 der in the storm of impetuous eloquence, 
 or to insinuate in the soothing accents of 
 captivating persuasion. Ever the friend 
 of constitutional liberty and commercial 
 freedom, he uniformly supported them. 
 In all things, and on all occasions, he 
 
120 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 approved himself the worthy represen- 
 tative of a free people. 
 . Mr. Burgh and Mr. Forbes may well 
 be noticed together. They were equally 
 distinguished figures in the House of 
 Commons; and, from their exertions and 
 abilities, had been thought worthy of the 
 highest stations, which were at that time 
 vacant under the Lord Lieutenant. Of 
 the two, Mr. Forbes was the greater man. 
 His language was good, manly, and abun- 
 dant; more remarkable for great energy 
 than elegance ; more invigorated by sen- 
 timent than adorned with figures — yet 
 generally correct and pure. Such were 
 the men under whom 1 had the honour 
 to act ; such were the men whom I ad- 
 mired and imitated. I did more: I exerted 
 myself to the utmost to gain their ap- 
 plause. I called forth my latent powers, 
 and roused my torpid energies, not su Ber- 
 ing dissipation or play to repress my 
 faculties. Lfound my reward in the very 
 spirit of the effort; but, to a person of my 
 
®F THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 121 
 
 turn of mind, one much more flattering, 
 in the increased power which I had thus 
 acquired of redeeming my name, and 
 serving the community. 
 
 Apphcation and perseverance achieve 
 miracles. Demosthenes, notwithstanding 
 a natural defect in his speech, became the 
 most animated and sublime orator that 
 tradition has recorded; and, in spite of 
 innumerable moral causes, 1 obtained the 
 reputation of being a young man who was 
 eminently fitted for official business, and 
 whonevercould havemerited the obloquy 
 phich my enemies had attempted to fix 
 )n mvname. 
 
 While in the enjoyment of this distin- 
 Iguished blessing-, the government of Ire- 
 land was handed over from the Marquis 
 'oi" Buckingham to the Earl of Westmore- 
 land. To the latter nobleman, therefore, 
 it waSj that I had to make a report of our 
 committee on the state, value, and con- 
 dition of the endowed schools, as well as 
 the genius and character of the persons 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
1S9 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 who held the exclusive enjoyment of 
 their funds. 
 
 The report contained four hundred 
 folio pages, all in my own hand-writing, 
 and composed by me from the testimonies 
 of the various persons who were sum- 
 moned by the Board, and interrogated 
 upon oath as to the value and utility of 
 the schools in question. Nor was it the 
 appearance of this report alone which re- 
 flected credit upon me. The language 
 was allowed to be elegant, nervous, 
 glowing, and spirited ; abounding in 
 vigour and variety ; now copious and 
 splendid; now enlivened with apposite 
 imagery; and again plain, concise, and 
 acute, as the occasion demanded. 
 
 Of the persons who honoured this re- 
 port with their notice and admiration, the 
 Earl of Westmoreland stood the highest. 
 This was the more flattering to me, be- 
 cause his Lordship was endowed by 
 nature with strong natural abilities; while 
 persevering diligence and industry had 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, J5SQ. 123 
 
 added to them all the ornaments of polite 
 and classic literature. Besides, the 
 generality of his conduct reflected the 
 highest honour on his judgment and in- 
 tegrity. Amidst all the schisms and ca- 
 bals that had distracted Ireland, dividing 
 the different leaders in politics and their 
 followers, his friends in the House of 
 Commons unalterably adhered to him. 
 No defalcation or falling off from them 
 had he ever experienced : in consequence 
 it was expected his power would be long 
 lived, and that those whom he patronised 
 were sure to be pushed up into the highest 
 chambers of the state. 
 
 As the report was too voluminous for 
 royal inspection, 1 received orders from 
 his Excellency to compose an abstract of 
 it for his JNlajesty. In executing this 
 order, I appeared more anxious to con- 
 vince than to entertain ; and did not pro- 
 duce, from my stores, the glittering tinsel 
 of wordy writers, but the sterling ore of 
 manly sense. My mode of compression 
 
 g2 
 
If4 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 added much grace to my composition ; as 
 it was lively without rapidity, and accu- 
 rate without affectation. This abstract 
 I had the honour of delivering into his 
 Excellency's own hands; on which occa- 
 sion he thanked me for my diligence and 
 application to business, assuring me that 
 it was his intention to advance me in 
 office as soon as a judicious vacancy 
 should happen to occur. 
 
 With a mind so capable and flexible as 
 I possessed, and backed by such power- 
 ful patronage, I began to hope that I 
 should one day arrive at the most exalted 
 situation in life. Animated by this pre- 
 sumption, my attention continued to be 
 transferred from pleasure to interest. 
 From the moment 1 met the sanction ot 
 his Excellency, I devoted every hour to 
 the attainment of information, or to the 
 activity of business. 
 
 Prudence and forcfiight exerted their 
 influence. Every motion referred to the 
 wished-lbr end. The accomplishment 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 i2S 
 
 of my ambition appeared in view — the 
 gradations of eminence diminished — 
 wealth and power danced before my 
 eyes. The voice of fame rung in my ears ; 
 and, in ambitious anticipations, I heard 
 the plaudits of my friends, and the shouts 
 of the multitude. Nor were such reveries 
 altogether unattended by some shew of 
 realization in the result; for so ignorant 
 were the government and the people of 
 my real vacillating character, that they 
 supported me in my hopes; encouraged 
 me to proceed from vanity to vanity; 
 and, in the place of cautioning a cox- 
 coml) that he might be reduced to beg- 
 gary and disgrace, they erected altars, 
 and ofFered up incense to a gilded de- 
 ceiver. 
 
 gJ 
 
126 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CilAP. XL 
 
 Jh becomes a Man of Fashion — lie meets with a 
 Syren in tin: /"',> - of Pleasure. — The Modern 
 Millzcood (dlnres him to her Armnfrom a rtaskcd 
 Tiall. — Singular Rencounter in her Boudoir.-^ 
 A Mirror held up to Nature^ and Vice shewn its 
 cwn Image, 
 
 Nothing corrupts and hardens the 
 breast like vanity. Men in that state are 
 unapt to contemplate follies they never 
 felt, as they are generally inexorable 
 against weaknesses ;;o o which they 
 themselves consider '■i'jii: fives exempt. 
 Such men abhor auvict. wid soar aloft 
 insensible to the real merits of humanity. 
 
 It was so w' \ < le. A^ain of the ap- 
 plause which my labours had excited, 
 and, having but little business to claim 
 my attention sine the delivery of uiy 
 official report, a v v id of new delights 
 was opened to my infatuated view, and 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 127 
 
 
 I rushed impetuously into every scene of 
 gaiety and amusement which Dublin, 
 then in the meridian ot'its splendour and 
 luxury, could afford. The transient 
 shade of sorrow, which had, for a short 
 time, dwelt on my pale countenance, 
 and which was occasioned by the fate 
 of the unfortunate Melanie, soon pass- 
 ed away, and my memory no longer lin- 
 gered in the contemplation of objects 
 and scones which were never to return. 
 A rapid career of vice had poisoned the 
 source of the finer feelings of my heart, 
 which were once again nearly utterly de- 
 stroyed; and I no longer felt the wicked- 
 ness or danger of my situation. 
 
 1 was tioaiing on this dangerous stream 
 of pleasure some time, when one evening 
 I vUtended a public mr.s(|uerade. Amongst 
 the numerous characters that graced the 
 motley assembly, was one that seemed to 
 attract the general attention of the others. 
 This was a young lady who personated a 
 Persian priucess. Wherever she turned 
 
 6 4 
 
128 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 her steps, a number of youths, in various 
 habits, were to be seen in her train, gazing 
 upon the enchanting figure before them 
 in silent rapture; but, notwithstanding 
 they appeared so much struck by her, it 
 was easy to understand, from a few words 
 which some of them dropped, that she was 
 altogether unknown to them. 
 
 The fine turnings and exquisite mould- 
 ings of her form, that seemed all graceful 
 and bewitchingly elegant, soon caught my 
 eye; who, though long accustomed togaze 
 upon beauty when adorned by art, was 
 almost involuntarily compelled to mingle 
 with others in her train, and at length 
 became so enamoured of her, that 1 
 determined to accost her, in hopes that I 
 should be able to discover who the fair 
 unknown was. As to myself, 1 possessed 
 a commanding person, and my address 
 had in it much of the insinuation and 
 gallantry of the French school. 
 
 With such a superiority in these accom- 
 plishments, it became my good fortune 
 
op THOMAS ASHE, ESQ, 129 
 
 to be noticed by the lovely unknown 
 more than any other of the young gallants 
 that flocked in crowds about her ; and I 
 had the happiness to continue with her 
 the whole evening. Without much diffi- 
 culty I prevailed upon her, towards the 
 close of the amusement, to retire to a 
 recess in the rotunda, where the masque- 
 rade was held, in order to obtain some 
 refreshment. When alone, the lady, after 
 some hesitation, and after having observed 
 me with an uncommon degree of atten- 
 tion, consented to remove her mask. 
 
 I had been unusually struck by the 
 perfect symmetry of her form, and had 
 scarcely dared to hope that her foce would 
 be proportioiiably beautiful ; but when 
 she threw off her mask, I was astonished 
 by the matchless beauty of a countenance 
 in which the loves and the graces seemed 
 to dwell in perpetual dalliance. Never 
 had I beheld so bewitching a countenance, 
 and I became completely fascinated; but, 
 anudst the mad delirium which heated 
 
 G 5 
 
130 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 my ardent desires, I felt there was a cer- 
 tain indescribable expression, that beamed 
 from her soul-piercing eyes, which told 
 me 1 had once seen a face bearing some 
 resemblance to the one then before me. 
 I trembled at the recollection (hat I had 
 totally destroyed the happiness of a per- 
 son equally fair, and who, but for me, 
 might have been a blessing as well as an 
 ornament to the world. 
 
 A pang of remorse for a moment tinged 
 my countenance with the pallid hue of 
 melancholy. The lovely stranger, per- 
 ceiving this, redoubled her efforts to 
 please, and soon dispelled this transient 
 shade of my inconstant sorrow. Wholly 
 enchanted by the charming girl, the hoiiirs 
 passed away unnoticed, and n)y faculties 
 were absorbed by the magic of her con- 
 versation, in which her powers were 
 &3 extraordinary as the beauty of her 
 person. Whatever the sul)jects we con- 
 versed upon, she appeared ecpially skilled 
 jn them j and every one, on which she 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 131 
 
 touched, appeared to be one that she 
 had made her particular study, evincing 
 a greater expansion of intellect than is 
 usunllv found in the female sex. 
 
 It was a very late hour when a servant 
 announced the lady's carriage, and roused 
 me from my rapturous dream of enchant- 
 ment to a sense of my real situation. Un- 
 willing to part with my prize as soon as 
 gained, yet not daring to detain her, 
 1 attended her to the door, iianded her 
 into the carria2:ej and was turning away 
 with a look of despondency, when she, 
 with an irresistible smile, asked me to take 
 a seat by her side. 
 
 Astonished and confused at what I 
 scarcely dared to believe, 1 for a moment 
 hesitated ; until the invitation being re- 
 peated, 1 no longer doubted my happi- 
 
 ness, eaaei 
 
 ly sp 
 
 rung in 
 
 to th 
 
 e carriage, 
 
 and seated myself by her ia a state of 
 
 ecstasv 
 
 It it be more grateful to an ingenuous 
 mind to celebrate the praises of humanity. 
 
132 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 it is no less necessary to expose the vices 
 that deform it. In enumerating the 
 excellencies of men, we present a model 
 to imitate; in detecting their depravity, 
 we hold out an example to deter. 
 
 " To hold the mirror up to nature, and 
 to shew vice its own image,** is the design 
 of these memoirs. It will be styled a 
 severe one; but there are cases where 
 severity is justice, and I freely acknow- 
 ledge my own case to be such. 1 must 
 be severe on myself. If the public, how- 
 ever, gain benefit or instruction thereby, 
 my original wish will be most effectually 
 accomplished. 
 
 Having acknowledged my merit where 
 it was due, I must now turn from the 
 happy side of my character, and view 
 myself where it appears very much in 
 the shade. As 1 have stated, 1 entered 
 the carriage with the fair unknown ; and, 
 alter many turnings through a variety of 
 streets, we arrived at the door of an im- 
 mense mansion, situated in Merion Square, 
 
OF THOMAS ASHK, ESQ. 
 
 15.' 
 
 the most fashionable quarter of the city. 
 It was opened by servants arrayed in the 
 most splendid liveries, and bearing wax 
 lights ; who conducted me into a saloon, 
 decorated with all that was most valuable 
 and costly in art. 
 
 In this apartment a sumptuous colla- 
 tion was prej^ared, consisting of every 
 delicacy which the luxurious seascQ 
 afforded. I had not waited long, when 
 this magnificent scene became more m- 
 teresting, by the entrance of the fairy-like 
 form with which 1 was so much fasci- 
 nated. She was now attired in a loose 
 muslin robe, through whose white trans- 
 parency the fairest iimbs, that ever gam- 
 bolled in love's wanton mazes, shewed 
 their soft outline; and, being but half 
 concealed, excited the convulsive throb 
 of desire, while they dazzled the sigh': of 
 the enraptured beholder. 
 
 She approached me, and, while her 
 warm touch coursed through all my veins, 
 led tne to the banquet; where, during 
 
IM MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 the melody of music, I continued to gaze 
 uninterruptedly upon the heavenly form 
 before uiy view. Amidst the unrivalled 
 charms of this lady, I frtquently imagined 
 1 beheld a more beautiful likeness of the 
 unluippy girl ! had seduced; and perhaps 
 this idea served to increase the violence 
 of my emotions, when I regarded her with 
 such impassioned looks. 
 
 The supper at lenuth concluded, and 
 we retired to u more private apartment, 
 ivhere some time was spent amidst that 
 dtlicous pleasure which a beautiful 
 woman has it in her power to bestow 
 upon a favoured youth. But dreadful, in- 
 deed, is the reflection, that those charms, 
 which w« re uivt n hv the Almighty in 
 Older to increase the happiness of man, 
 should be prostituted to the worst of all 
 purpctsts, and irequently be rendeied tlie 
 cause of the destruction of those very 
 beinps, whose happiness tliey should 
 hav( Constituted throughout the whole of 
 their days. > ; 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ, 
 
 135 
 
 A loud kriockingf was heard at the 
 door. Suddenly, amidst all our pleasure, 
 
 tlir lady bt 
 
 thoughtful, and 
 
 )ecauie 
 aj^itat jd hy some important matter; nor 
 had she time to recover her usual sere- 
 nity, before a gentU man introduced him- 
 self, afid demanded of her, in a tone of 
 authority, why she admitted a stranger, 
 at a litne that she might have expected 
 his company, " Sir," said he, next 
 turning abruptly towards me, " i desire 
 you will depart, and be no longer here 
 an intruder." I gave him a glance of 
 contempt, and told him that nothing but 
 my respect for that lady restrained me 
 from throwing him out of the window. 
 These few words awakened all the emo- 
 tions of passion in ids : :;snm. He made 
 an eObrt to force me from the apartment; 
 and, as I resisted with a violence which 
 removed h.s mask, I soon discovered n;y 
 oppou'-nt to be the Lord Lieutenant! — my 
 late euloj;ist, — my promised patron — the 
 sheet-anchor of my existing vanity and 
 future pride ! 
 
1S6 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 From the instant I recognized his 
 Lordship, I gazed upon him, with folded 
 arms, and incapable of uttering a single 
 ejaculation. As for the lady, a cold 
 perspiration distilled from her brow, and 
 her whole frame was convulsed with 
 terror. She cc ♦^inued in an immoveable 
 attitude of g ht, and implored me, 
 with uplifted hands, to leave the house 
 at the instant. I foolishly imagined my 
 honour concerned, and hesitated to com- 
 ply; on which the Noble Earl hastily left 
 the apartment, first bidding ;he lady an 
 eternal farewell. 
 
 In a moment all the loveliness of her 
 countenance fled, giving place to th« 
 iiend-like contortions of phrenzy; and, 
 as the pallid hue of violent anger spread 
 over her altered features, an indignant 
 smile of irony dwelt upon her lips. My 
 whole attention was arrested by her man- 
 ner. My eyes, as if by a magic power, 
 were rivetted upon hei's, in a steady 
 i.rtmoveable stare; and, like the dangerous 
 fasciuaiion of the rattle-snake, the more 1 
 
or THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 137 
 
 endeavoured to remove the charm, the 
 more powerful it became. 
 
 In this state we remained during a long 
 and dreary pause of death-like silence, 
 which was at length interrupted by a 
 dreadful fit of hysteric laughter, that 
 appalled my very soul. Scarcely knowing 
 what I did, I called for help. The usual 
 restoratives were appHed with the greatest 
 assiduity. On her recovery, .1 learned 
 from her that she was the celebrated 
 Nora Stratford, the avowed mistress of 
 the Noble Earl ; and that, through my 
 obstinacy and misconduct, there remained 
 no doubt but that he would withdraw 
 his protection, and cast her, friendless 
 and abandoned, upon the town. 
 
 My head was then racking with pain, 
 to such a degree, that 1 could enter into 
 no discussion ; but begging her to be 
 more composed, hastily retired — flew to 
 my own chambers, and was soon buried 
 in profound slumber. 
 
138 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 27ie Writer leads a Life of gilded Luxury. — He 
 has no fixed Principles of Moralihj, and no Sense 
 of Diitjj, — His Ih'otlur cndccn^ours t< snatch 
 kirn frov i,npending Ruin, — His Prospoc/s are 
 shrouded <,; an impervious Gloom. — Covered 
 tcith Dehts^ he abandons his Ojjice^ and Jlics 
 to Switzerland, 
 
 A MAN, in the hey-day of his exist- 
 ence, endowed with vanity or talents, 
 and engn^i,ed in the routine of dissipation., 
 never considers the more remote conse- 
 quences of his actions, hut commits what 
 l)e thinks a triflinj^j fault, without liaving 
 the least idea of the quantity of evil it 
 may produce; or, if he does consider it, 
 he imaj^ines that it docs not concern 
 himself, and consequently wholly disre- 
 gards it. 
 
 Hut menoui^ht never to forget that the 
 smallest dereliction from virtue in a ma- 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESft. 
 
 139 
 
 tcrial evil, even if not followed by a 
 greater, whicli is too commonly the case. 
 When once that safeguard is impaired, 
 ruin and devastation are the certain con- 
 quence. Header, w'tness my own life. 
 Notwithstanding the fatigue, confusion, 
 and anxietv I had underjjone duriuGr the 
 preceding night, I awoke at an early 
 hour, and all my gloomy apprehensions 
 gave place to m.ore pleasing reflections. 
 The soft blushes of Aurora had tinged 
 the h\\' face of incense-breathing morn, 
 and I felta'ive to all herfilowinij beauties : 
 the murky gloom of darkness had fled, 
 with all lier host of imag'nary dangers; 
 and the bright (Jod of day once more 
 benignantly smiled upon the earth. 
 
 1 arosi', nnd passed that day, and 
 days and 'veeks, in a total disresfard 
 to oilicial duties, but in a strict observ- 
 ance of every place ol public amusement, 
 as Weil as the manners and habits of 
 fashionable life. These occupations na- 
 turally brought uie into the ciiclu and 
 
140 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIOKS 
 
 friendship of the most celebrated charac- 
 ters of the times. At the board of green 
 cloth I dined with Colonels Lenox, St, 
 Ledger, and Freeman tie. To the barracks 
 I was often invited by the present Gene- 
 ral Hope, then an 5insign in Pomeroy's 
 Sixty-Fourth Foot. A* the billiard table 
 I played with Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 
 Denis Bowes Daly, Vandeleur, and 
 Sturt. In the ball-room I danced with 
 the Allboroughs, Montgomeries, and 
 Llewcllins ; and on the Circular Iload, I 
 drove Nora Stratford, and sometimes the 
 equally fair Emily Rose. 
 
 But this was a state of luxury, which 
 required the gold of Mexico for its sup- 
 port. 1 had not that possession ; I, there- 
 fore, became an utter stranger to any 
 fixed principle of morality. No sense 
 of duty or attachment to obligation ever 
 served as a restraint on my conduct, from 
 the moment I moved in a circle above 
 my means. Punctuality, or adherence 
 to engagement, seemed beneath my no- 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 Ul 
 
 tice ; and hence, my credit became un- 
 usually bad ; equally in disrepute with 
 Jews and Gentiles; with the tradesmen 
 in Dublin, and the black-legs on the 
 Curragh of Kildare. A libertine in all 
 my principles, I was more sensual in my 
 j)leapures than delicacy will permit me to 
 mention : and over this part of my life I 
 cast a veil. 
 
 With a mind so capable and flexible as 
 mine, as I befor* had to observe, I might 
 have arrived at the most exalted situation 
 in life; but 1 unfortunately engaged ori- 
 ginally in a professi'Mi, at an age when 
 my reason was not sufficiently matured 
 to form a proper estimate of human prin- 
 ciples and their actions. Thus, at the 
 period of my career in oliice, I united 
 with a set of profligate wretches, who 
 possessed not even the shad i anyone 
 good principle ; who laughed at religion; 
 who daily insulted virtue by their actions, 
 and who nightly revelled in scenes of 
 drunkenness, debauchery, and vice. 
 
143 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 These beings, calling themselves men, 
 by degrees allured me into iheir snares. 
 I was hurried away, by the illusive phan- 
 tom of pleasure, to the precipice, on the 
 brink of which I stood awhile, looking in 
 vain for any one who could give me good 
 advice; and my innocence was soon 
 overwhelmed in the wide vortex of dissi- 
 pation, into which I had been hurled. A 
 long course of licentiousness had reduced 
 me to the fallen appearance which Ibore, 
 when I arrived at my father*s house, after 
 my imprisonment for my imputed murder 
 of the brother of the once lovely and lost 
 Melanie. I have been thus particular 
 in describing my sitnation, because it 
 forms ihe principal feature in the remain- 
 ing part of my narrative. 
 
 Notwithstanding I had deeply neglect- 
 ed my l>rother Jonathan, and appeared 
 to despise both his habits of life and social 
 cfiiinexions, be no sooner discovered me 
 to be on the brink of rum, than he flew 
 to ii>y assistance; and after aiding me 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 \A5 
 
 wit' means to the extent of his capacity, 
 addressed me in the following most ten- 
 der and affectionate terms: 
 
 *' In you, my dear Tom, are fully ex- 
 emplified the terrible c (Tects of a dissi- 
 pated life. The keen flashes of your 
 once ardent imagination no longer shoot 
 from your eye ; they are for ever tied, 
 and are supplied by that sickly languor 
 which betrays a decayed constitution. An 
 invariable paleness covers your altered 
 features, which are seldom disturbed 
 except by an affected smile ; but I most 
 regret the destruction of your sensibility. 
 You once pc^ssessed feelings that were .I'l 
 alive to the sufferings of mankind, and 
 you were ever attentive to the plaintive 
 voice of private woe. There was a 
 time when your honour and integrity 
 commanded the admiration of all who 
 knew you. Universal homage was paid 
 to your nunurous and rare talents, by 
 thos<^ high above you, an I by those who 
 ranked within the iuiuicdiale circle of your 
 
144 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 acquaintance; but, as is always the case 
 in great minds, your passions are ardent 
 and powerful in the extreme, and require 
 the firm and temperate hand of virtue to 
 direct them with proper effect to the ob- 
 jects of your present pursuit. Like all 
 others, who possess passions unusually 
 strong, you have much to guard against; 
 for such persons are capable of the great- 
 est advancement in virtue and knowledge, 
 or the greatest excess in vice, according 
 to the stimulus applied. 
 
 " It is much to be feared, dear Tom," 
 continued this amiable brother, *' that 
 you are now little in the habit of serious 
 reflection ; yet I am fain to hope that sen- 
 sibility is not utterly extinct; and th?t 
 time will open your mind to a sense of 
 its important and relative duties: lor 
 will it be any derogation from your cir- 
 cumstances, if you attend to the few sug- 
 gestions which I throw out to you. Ar- 
 rived at the full vigour and maturity of 
 mauhood, the crimi ^al ebullitions of 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 145 
 
 Tom," 
 ♦' that 
 serious 
 at sen- 
 el th?t 
 ense .>f 
 s : Mor 
 ur cir- 
 w sug- 
 Ar. 
 rity of 
 )ns of 
 
 youth are no longer pardonable in one, 
 whose bad example must necessarily have 
 such wide and deleterious influence. It 
 is time that you should for ever abandon 
 your disgraceful follies, and early com- 
 panions, associating only with those who 
 would point out to you the paths of ge- 
 nuine greatness, and inculcate the duty 
 of morals, religion, and patriotism.'* '' 
 
 With that nervous eloquence which 
 characterises my brother's language, he 
 continued till 1 sunk under his entire do- 
 minion, and promised, as there was faith 
 in man,to be guided in future by the obser- 
 vations of his great and enlightened mind, 
 instead of tlie vagaries and wanderings of 
 my own pervt ited heart, and extravagant 
 em passioned soul. 
 
 Some men are gained by lenity and 
 indulgence, others require the rod of 
 severity. Insensible to kindness, thcv 
 are to be corrected only by rigid disci- 
 pline. I had long airorded a singular 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 example of depravity. Let me now, be- 
 fore I proceed in my sad eventful liis- 
 tory, be awakened to the duties of hu- 
 manity. 
 
 No sooner had my brother finished his 
 pathetic remonstrance, than I sank into 
 a state of sensibility, which continued 
 for more than three or four days. After 
 that period, my faculties received a sud- 
 den energy, and I came to the fixed and 
 unalterable resolution of throwing up my 
 office, abandoning Dublin for ever, and 
 proceeding to Switzerland, there to live 
 on my ensign's half-pay, cultivate the 
 finer feelings of the heart, and range 
 through the bright regions of intellec- 
 tuality, to a final scene of perpetual and 
 heavenly joy. 
 
 With eyes ready to overflow, and a 
 mind refusing every solace, save that of 
 expatriation, I exclaimed : — " Why did 
 1 ever listen to the soothnig dictates of 
 pleasure, which bound me to a vicious 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 ur 
 
 ■, be- 
 ll is- 
 f hu- 
 
 ?d bis 
 . into 
 i lined 
 After 
 1 sud- 
 ?d and 
 up my 
 r, and 
 to live 
 te tbe 
 range 
 tellec- 
 lal and 
 
 and a 
 
 that of 
 
 by did 
 
 ates of 
 
 vicious 
 
 world ? But I did listen, and my heart, 
 unable to resist the fascination, first 
 yielded itself a i?ilent, mournful, and 
 secret victim to tbe all-subduing power ; 
 then awoke to that cursed reality which 
 my brother has so beautifully pictured, 
 and which has left me amidst the sur- 
 rounding shades of despondency and 
 distress. 
 
 *' Yes ! I will retire to Switzerland,'* 
 continued I, *' and the storms of mankind 
 shall rave over my humble cot unnoticed 
 by me. The cruel vices of men cannot reach 
 my innocent abode, or agitate the passions 
 of my tranquil breast. My soul, wound- 
 ed and sick unto death, only requires 
 the calm of solitude to wean it effectually 
 from the fading pleasures of this world.'* 
 
 Thus did I come to the resolution of 
 exiling myself, and felt delighted at the 
 thought ; for what ray of hope, however 
 feeble, what gleam of honour was there 
 remaining, to cheer me on my way through 
 
 h2 
 
HS MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 the weary pilgrimage of public life ? Had 
 I not incurred the displeasure of the 
 viceroy, forfeited the opinion of the com- 
 munity, lost the esteem of my friends, 
 sullied my fame, blotted my intellects, 
 and contracted debts which 1 had not the 
 capacity to discharge ? 
 
 Were not, then, all my prospects, 
 which were once so bright, shrouded in 
 an impervious gloom ? Was not my 
 youthful bud, which might have opened 
 into a fair flower, and adorned the weedy 
 garden of the state, nipt in its earliest 
 blossoms, by the chilling blasts of licen- 
 tiousness and vice ? My honour had no 
 foundation, on which to rest in my native 
 country. But some feeble glimmerings 
 of happier days lighted up my desponding 
 mind, as I looked towards Switzerland, 
 and like the rays of the morning sun 
 they appeared, dispelling the gloom of a 
 stormy n/ght. My mind now became 
 calm and resigned. I made my peace 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 149 
 
 with my God. I mingled with fervid 
 thaukfiihiess the most grateful sensations 
 of sympathy, and hastened towards my 
 chosen retreat, there to find a balm for 
 the wounds of my heart, and pursue a 
 virtuous course of life, which would 
 sweeten the most painful moments of 
 retrospection. 
 
 M 9 
 
150 M£MOir»S AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP, XIII. 
 
 The Feelings of the Reader ar- shocked. — Th« 
 jiuthor confesses to the Robbery of his Father. — 
 He pursues his Route to Switzerland — Acts like a 
 Fool^ and moralizes like n Saint. — Paints tht 
 principal Features and Or- rrencea of his Jour^ 
 fiei/, — Arrives at Zurich, — Fisits Lavater,-" 
 Courts and betrays him. 
 
 There is a manliness of character in a 
 public writer, which operates on the 
 mind, much in the same manner that 
 courage in the individual affects us. 
 When not engaged in the support of 
 arowed villainy it commands respect and 
 regard, and shades many imperfections, 
 that, without its aid, would prove too 
 sufficiently glaring. 
 
 Bravery bestows more than a temporary 
 lustre on the deeds which it dignifies : it 
 sheds a general radiance over the whole 
 series of actions, and gives to each of them 
 
 .^ 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 151 
 
 a Strength of impression captivatingtothe 
 passions, and imposing to the understand- 
 ing. Though its possessor may not be 
 peculiarly devoted to the service of the 
 community, but often seeks by his labours 
 the acquisition of private emolument, and 
 the completion of private schemes, he 
 seeks them by open and direct roads; 
 neither working his way through the 
 windings of craft, nor advancing his pro- 
 gress by overleaping the obstacles of 
 honour and the dictates of truth, 
 
 I hope I have given some evidence of 
 this manliness of literary character in the 
 preceding pages. To evince my further 
 claim to it, I have the mortification to 
 confess that I have not yet recited one of 
 the gre itest outrages 1 committed, pre- 
 viously to my departure from Ireland. I 
 have to shock the reader's feelings by 
 another instance of the dreadful effectsof 
 extravagance and libertinism. Finding 
 my§elf deeply involved in debt, at Dublin, 
 and having long experienced the futility 
 
 H 4 
 
152 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 of appealing to relatives and friends, I 
 framed a plan for drawing the sum o( 
 three hundred pounds out of the hands; 
 of an agent or attorney of my father, 
 and succeeded to the full extent of my 
 attempt. 
 
 Like the faint cry of the aflVighted sea- 
 
 fecbh 
 
 )f di 
 
 1 stress 
 
 endeavour in vain to appease the storms 
 thai agitate the mighty waters of the great 
 deep, so did the plaintive voice of insult- 
 ed virtue fruitlessly strive to arouse my 
 attention to the iniquity of this act. 
 Clouds of mental darkness yet obscured 
 the sun of knowledge, and vice had 
 again in this instance to destroy virtue, by 
 sweepmg with the maddening course of a 
 whirlwind over my whole soul. 
 
 After this deed of impiety, I was no 
 longer able to remain in Ireland, and 
 prepared to depart for the continent 
 with all that caution and precipitancy 
 which characterize the conduct of cor* 
 ruptiou and guilt. The morning, which 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 153 
 
 dawned upon my departure, at length 
 anived. The sails were unfurled ; the 
 lofty streamers floated on the breeze 
 that swelled their widely-expanded 
 hosoms, and the crowded deck was all in 
 motion. The ship was under sail, and 
 the shores of Ireland had retired into 
 distance, and had sunk below the horizon ; 
 yet was 1 gazing on the vacancy. Many 
 minutes elapsed before I started from my 
 reverie, and cast a glance through the 
 whole prospect, searching in vain for 
 some object, however rude, to break the 
 general sameness; but when not even 
 the haggard front of a rock presented 
 Itself, nor yet the wheeling flight of the 
 sea-mew, to attract the attention, 1 flew 
 to the imagination fur aid, and poured 
 out my sorrows in wild lamentation: — 
 
 " Farewell, ye gay scenes of former 
 delight," said I; '* ye mountains, whose 
 dangerous steeps Iso often have climbed, 
 ye waving woods, in whose dark recesses 
 1 so oft have listened- to the gentle sighs 
 
 II 6 
 
154 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 of the wind, and ye silver streams, to 
 whose murmurs I so oft have lent my 
 attentive ear with delight — farewell ! Oh, 
 may I again tread your sweet retirements, 
 may I again rove in these flowery meads, 
 and pluck the inviting hawthorn from 
 your shrubs! But no. My light and 
 cheerful steps will never again ramble 
 amid your beauties ; never more shall I 
 steal your choicest flowers to deck the 
 bosom of the fair nymphs who oficn ram- 
 bled with me, and whose hearts glowed 
 with silent rapture as they viewed with 
 me these scenes of my youthful pleasure. 
 The hidden warbler of the grove shall 
 tune his heaven-taught melody unheard 
 by me. The refreshed blade shall retain 
 its dew-drop undisturbed. The flowers 
 of my native valley shall spring up, bloom 
 and wither, unnoticed by me ; for alas ! 
 I shall be far away from all that has 
 hitherto yielded me pleasure. Yes, I 
 must tear myself from my friends, from 
 my home, and every thing that till now 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 15.5 
 
 liad been rendered dear to me. But the 
 
 )f mv life 
 
 id it, and I obey 
 
 errors ot my lite commanc 
 
 At length the ship reached England. 
 I proceeded on to London ; settled the 
 mode of receiving my half-pay with 
 Messieurs Meyricks, the army ugents; 
 received a letter of credit on Lausanne 
 for my three hundred pounds, and, with- 
 out loss of time, set off for Switzerland by 
 the way of France and Stralsburg. This 
 journey abounded in objects proper for 
 intellectual pursuits, and pleasurable 
 occupations; but in the midst of them, 
 my memory would fondly recur to the 
 scenes I had left behind me; and when [ 
 considered that I had left my aged parents, 
 my brothers and sisters, without impart- 
 ing to them my intention, without 
 soliciting their forgiveness, or even with- 
 out bidding them a last adieu, a heavy 
 sigh would escape my bosom, — yet the 
 same exalted motive, which at first in- 
 duced me to quit my native land, still 
 actuated me, and with additional ardour. 
 
\S6 MEMOIRS ANX> CONFESSIONS 
 
 I had already experienced a kind of fore- 
 taste of the sweet and placid joys, which 
 reward the labours of those who bend the 
 whole force of their minds towards some 
 one simple and honest point, and who 
 come to the conviction that rural life is the 
 Rource of all worldly good, and virtue and 
 piety the fountain of eternal happiness. 
 
 When discovering little to praise or 
 admire, it affords a kind of negative satis- 
 faction if there docs not appear much to- 
 censure or condemn. When a p<'rsoa 
 possesses no very great resources from 
 nature or fortune^ it were unjust to expect 
 any very liberal accomplishments. The 
 character of a traveller is almost worn 
 out ; and every attempt to keep or revive 
 one, so useful and meritorious, is entitled 
 to our warmest approbation. ' 
 
 But 1 am a biographer, not a tourist; 
 therefore it only remains for lUe to give 
 an account of myself, not f my travels. 
 In doing this, however, i; e the aged 
 Nestor, i shall strive to give the retro- 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE^ ESQ. 
 
 J57 
 
 hich 
 
 spect of my early days a glow and ardour 
 of colouring that may make it interest- 
 ing; or, like the wise Ulysses, convey 
 my adventures in such a manner as will 
 yield the greatest degree of utility and 
 satisfaction to the reader. 
 
 It is already known to him that I 
 resolved on proceeding to Switzerland 
 through Paris and the Upper Rhine. 
 The principal features and occurrences 
 of that journey 1 now present. No 
 country in the world is more luxuriant, 
 or can boast of more riches, than the one 
 which lies on the route 1 had chosen to 
 take. On my arrival in France, 1 beheld 
 the happy soil, every where teeming with 
 the most luxurious fruits, and covered 
 with the most enchanting verdure. No 
 desolated wilderness, no barren spot, 
 arrested the delighted eye ; but cultiva- 
 tion was every where displayed, arrayed 
 in her choicest robes. Aromatic herbs 
 of various hues bespangled the eternal 
 verdure of the plains, and scented all the 
 
133 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 soft winds that wantoned through the 
 silent groves with balmy fragrance. 
 
 Large and numerous cities, and popu- 
 lous villages, were seated in delightful 
 
 situations throughout this 
 
 charming 
 
 country, and severally afforded delight 
 to my ardent mind, which investigated 
 every object both in art and nature that 
 came under its notice. At length the 
 walls of Zurich appeared in the blue 
 distance, and awakened fr'jsh emotions 
 of pleasure in my breast. Hope at once 
 unveiled a golden prospect to my view; 
 and, as the enchanted goddess smiled 
 upon the scenes before me, beckoned me 
 on to delights yet unknown. 
 
 Zurich exhibited a scene to me entirely 
 new; being filled with strangers from all 
 parts of the world, who were busily en- 
 gaged in observing the preparations made 
 in France, for the exhibition of the most 
 extraordinary tragedy that was ever per- 
 formi^d upon any great public stage. At 
 Zurich I was introduced to all the men 
 
 ribh 
 
 ing 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 159 
 
 of distinction in the place; nor had I 
 tarried there long before I became con- 
 versant with the habits and manners of 
 the place. Nay, more : I was fast accu- 
 mulating a store of general knowledge 
 and local information as to every canton 
 or state. 
 
 In the course of these engagements I 
 had several times the good fortune to 
 meet with the celebrated Lavater. I at 
 first approached him as a respectful ad- 
 mirer, but was soon admitted into his 
 confidence and esteem. Yet there was 
 something mysterious, sublime, and ter- 
 rible in the idea of a man, who, by look- 
 ing in my face, could read the inmost 
 habitual sentiments of my heart. A 
 person, claiming this power, and confirm- 
 ing his claim by some striking instances 
 of the exercise of it, becomes an object 
 of admiration and awful curiositv to those 
 before whom liis claims are thus pre- 
 ferred, linthusiasm exalting in him, with 
 whom it begins, the native ftrvour of true 
 
160 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 genius, rarely fails to propagate itself 
 with the power and rapidity of a confla- 
 gration, spreading itself over a town built 
 of dry wood. 
 
 We are all by nature, to a certain de- 
 gree, dabblers in physiognomy ; liking 
 or disliking strangers, at first sight, ac- 
 cordirrg to their looks ; attaching in 
 opinion certain intellectual and moral 
 qualities, to certain diversities of form, 
 and often conceivhig prejudices on these 
 heads, which we can never afterwards 
 suffer reason to efface. Besides these 
 sentiments, which favour, in the heart of 
 almost every person, Lavater's preten- 
 sions to a physiognomist, there is another 
 and still more powerful auxiliary in that 
 anxious curiosity, which racks every 
 man's and woman's bosom, to know the 
 secrets of their neighbours* hearts. 
 
 Hence 1 found the science of Lavater, 
 during my stay at Zurich, to confer some 
 part of the advantages of the ring of 
 Gyges. To the adepts in it, a window 
 
OF THOMAS ASJIE, ESQ. 
 
 161 
 
 ac- 
 
 nas, in some sort, opened (If it were not 
 lalse science) in every other person's 
 breast. The passion for the study became 
 almost universal. His book lay on every 
 table. The sublimity, the sensibility, 
 the reason which it was supposed to ex- 
 liibit, were most ardently approved. Not 
 a servant could be hired, in many families, 
 without a comparison of his looks with 
 those features, which were said to indi- 
 cate virtue and wisdom, or crime and 
 sensuality. 
 
 The celebrity of his name attracted 
 all my attention; and, as I have observed, 
 I visited him frequently, and observed 
 him much. His life was innocent, his 
 Uianners were gentle, his conversation 
 had the insinuations ofobligingpoliteness, 
 and the enchantments of sensibility and 
 fancy. They, who came in idle curiosity, 
 seldom went away from him otherwise than 
 as fond and implicit disciples. But this 
 was not the exact case with me. 1 admired 
 the man, but I was not the dupe of tho 
 
162 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 mysterious, overweening pretensions of 
 the physiognomist. In truth, I considered 
 the whole to proceed from the head of an 
 ingenious impostor, or from the folly of 
 a silly dreamer. 
 
 Availing myself of this opinion, I com- 
 posed, with shrewdly satirical intent, a 
 little work, called Tke Physiognomical 
 Quixote., in which all the follies and artifice 
 of Lavater were exposed to derision, with 
 acknowledged pleasantry and unaffected 
 humour. I sold t! i^; for sixty crowns 
 to a German, and he brought ou*^ the 
 satirical fiction at a seasonable moment^ 
 when physiognomy was so much in vogue 
 as to draw popular notice on whatever 
 might be written with tolerable ability, 
 either for or against it. Its circulation 
 was very great. It was universally read ; 
 and to this early success in a foreign land, 
 is to be attributed my having, some time 
 after, formed the resolution of one day 
 becoming a public writer. On coming 
 to this determination, I resolved to leave 
 
)ns of 
 idered 
 [ of an 
 oily of 
 
 I com- 
 ent, a 
 mica I 
 artifice 
 1, with 
 fFected 
 crowns 
 u*^ the 
 omenta 
 I vogue 
 hatever 
 abihty, 
 ulation 
 y read ; 
 ;n land, 
 [\e time 
 ne day 
 coming 
 ;o leave 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. l63 
 
 Zurich, and seek for such a solitude as 
 would be favourable to the perusal of 
 the French, German, and Italian authors ; 
 and as might prove essentially useful, by 
 enabling me to purify my heart and affec- 
 tions, and to improve the whole tenor of 
 my conduct, , . . '. 
 
 .y,\ 
 
164 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP- XIV. 
 
 Reaches hausanne. ^-Becomes intimate with Mr, 
 Gibbon, — Sketches his Character.— Mention of 
 the Duke of Richmond^ and Paymaster Steele.-^ 
 Mr. Gibbon inspires the Traveller with a new 
 train of moral Reasoning. — lie resolves to live 
 in the Vicinitif of Vevay. — The Rock of Saint 
 Freitx. — Experiences the Pleasures of a contem* 
 plaiive Mind, 
 
 Deserters from the standard of dissi- 
 pation, when duly enrolled under the 
 banners of virtue, are remarked to possess 
 a promptitude of zeal, and an ardour of 
 exertion, superior to those who havecon^ 
 stantly fought in its cause. 
 
 Hence speculative theorists deduce a 
 reason why all churchmen are so anxious 
 to procure the aid of those atheists who 
 have risen to eminence by combating 
 against them; attaching them to their 
 creed at an expense greater than they are 
 usually worn to lavish on those who have 
 
iith Mr, 
 mtion of 
 Steele.-- 
 h a new 
 ri to live 
 of Saint 
 I contemm 
 
 jfdissi- 
 ier the 
 possess 
 lour of 
 ive con* 
 
 ;duce a 
 anxious 
 sts who 
 nbating 
 to their 
 they are 
 ho have 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESiJ. 165 
 
 borne, in their service, the vv^hole burden 
 and lieat of the cross. 
 
 On my departure from Zurich in search 
 of a retreat favourable to literature and 
 worth, 1 laboured with all the vehemence 
 of the latest proselyte, and all the eager- 
 ness of the newest convert. I reached 
 Lausanne, with an unfaded sensibility to 
 the attractions of a useful and rural life, 
 and had scarcely delivered my letters of 
 credit and introduction, before I began 
 to look around me for a situation com- 
 mensurate with my means, or favourable 
 to mv views. To the town of Lausanne 
 1 took an invincible dislike. It appeared 
 to me to generate nothing but sloth and 
 indolence; and was at the time infested 
 by that order of Englishmen, who, having 
 no resources within themselves, first get 
 dissatisfied with their own home, and 
 next goaboutcomplainingof ewwMi in the 
 streets of foreign cities. 
 
 This sarcasm is subject to one great 
 exception ; to a wonderful one — that a 
 
166 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 man like Gibbon, whose writings have 
 exalted the glory of his country, and 
 whose great literary fame has reached the 
 utmost extremities of the civilised world, 
 was necessitated to live, an exile, as it 
 were, at Lausanne, in obscurity and 
 distress, while such a numb'?r of locusts 
 were preying on its vitals, and supported 
 by K profligate de()endance. 
 
 It was impossible to behold Mr. Gibbon 
 without being occupied by this political 
 idea. Surely such perversion of national 
 property proves the insenssibility and 
 degeneracy of the government that encou- 
 rages it. Mr. Steele, the son of the Duke 
 of Rutland's butler, was a privy-coun- 
 sellor, and joint paymaster ot :he forces, 
 while iMr. Gibbon was left to cultivate 
 philosophy and science at Lausanne, 
 without a protector or iriend! Nay, more: 
 when the Duke of Manchester went am- 
 bassador to Paris, Mr. Gibbon was de- 
 sirous to attend him as secretary; but at 
 that time, likewise, his merits were super- 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 \67 
 
 scded by the superior claim and preten- 
 sions of ', mere novice in diplomacy, Mr. 
 Scriven, to whom the appointment was 
 cranted. Mr. Scriven had the sanction 
 of Lord Carlisle's recommendation ; IMr. 
 Gihbou had only his own merit to recom- 
 mend him. The philosopher, however, 
 has this advantage in all countries — his 
 vast comprehensive mind creates a field 
 of resources any and every where. 
 
 Mr, Gibbon exceeded all men I had 
 ever before met for great practical learning 
 and sound extensive philosophy. What a 
 contemptible being did I consider mvsclf 
 when contrasted with so distinguisiied a 
 character! How prostrate and low did I 
 fall before his overwhelming and envied 
 ascendency ! 1 had the good ibrtune to 
 meet him several times, and to have 
 considerable opportunities of observing 
 his powers and character. 
 
 His conversation accorded much with 
 his writings, llis voice was strong, arti- 
 culate, and hjud; abounding with great 
 
168 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSK) 
 
 \s 
 
 variety of tones, and filled with every no)(^ 
 of melody ; it overpowered by its force. 
 and captivated with its sweetness: and 
 his delivery, neither slow nor preciptate, 
 seemed to have been well studied, and 
 was judiciously managed. His language 
 was good, clear, mnsculine, and nervous; 
 not deficient in purity or correctness, and 
 often illumined by brilliant terms and 
 illustrative metaphors. In argument he 
 was acute, artful, and insidious; wielding 
 at pleasure, and managing with skill all 
 the weapons of debate, from the diiTuse 
 laxity of rainbling observation, to the 
 accuracy and closeness of just reasoning. 
 He sometimes also »Miliveiied his argti- 
 ment with sallies of wit and flashes of 
 fancy ; not, oerhaps, of that kind adapted 
 to abide the judgment of the severe critic, 
 but of that broad and popular sj)ecies, 
 which Cicero recommends to the adop- 
 tion of the forensic speaker. 
 
 To Mr. Gibbon was I indebted for all 
 the pleasure and information I had -..'xpt^ 
 
rv iio).p. 
 
 )S: and 
 ip'tate, 
 ?d, and 
 luguage 
 ervou"^; 
 pss, and 
 US and 
 lent he 
 rieLding 
 skill all 
 diiTuse 
 to the 
 isonirig, 
 s ar2:ii- 
 Ashcs of 
 adapted 
 •e critic, 
 species, 
 e adop- 
 
 J for all 
 id '.^xpC' 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ, 169 
 
 i'ienced during my short slay in Lausanne; 
 and though his memory may f)e disre- 
 garded hj l»arden(?d dulness, (for on some 
 lieads the impassive lightnings play,) and 
 though his principles may bo despised by 
 obstinate prejudice, (r'or on them all evi- 
 dence is lost,) vet am I resolved ever to 
 consi-ler him with respect, and to ac- 
 knowh dge liis attentions to me >vith 
 gratitude. 
 
 'I'here are certain elementary parts of 
 our knowledge, which nothing can com- 
 nuini("ate but the actual coiiteinplationof 
 the face of nature; hut to me the coun- 
 try had still more commanding advan- 
 tages. 1 was only tn the novitijite of 
 virtue, and recpiired to be placed beyond 
 !he limits of temptation and the preva- 
 lence of example. Now the country is 
 ever comjjaratively barren of all the gra- 
 tifications and excitements to vicious 
 desire. Its pleasures are addressed to 
 those simple appetites which nature has 
 given us to be our purveyors of the iirsC 
 
 VOL, 1. I 
 
170 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 nectssaries of life, to be the guardians of 
 our very existence. It presents few of 
 those things which pall to satiety and 
 loathing, and therefore leave the sense 
 and fancy in a state requiring artificial 
 stimuli to rouse them again into salu- 
 tary activity. It presents not society in 
 those modes and forms which render its 
 intercourst irritating and seductive. It 
 leads not to those meditations, in the 
 depth of which the heart and the under- 
 standing are the most liable to estrange 
 themselves from nature and from God. 
 Happily for me, I was under the direc- 
 tion of this new train of moral reasoning, 
 and left Lausanne to reside at an old 
 chateau in the vicinity of Vevay, to the 
 owner of which 1 was introduced through 
 the means of Mr. Gibbon, who was very 
 partial to his society. It was towards 
 the close of the fuicst summer's day I ever 
 beheld, when 1 arrived at this long wish- 
 ed for retreat. My eye eagerly wander- 
 ed over the scene before me, which ap- 
 
dians of 
 
 few of 
 ety and 
 le sense 
 artificial 
 :o salii- 
 3ciety in 
 snder its 
 tive. It 
 
 in the 
 e under- 
 estranc;c 
 )in God. 
 lie direc- 
 :>asoninLr, 
 t an old 
 r, to the 
 I through 
 was very 
 
 towards 
 ay 1 ever 
 )ng vvisli- 
 
 wander- 
 v'hich ap- 
 
 OF illOMAS ASHE, KSQ. 
 
 in 
 
 peared to combine all the grand and 
 Most beautiful objects of nature in one 
 spot. There, indeed, the descriptive 
 powers of a llatclifTe, or the magic pencil 
 of a Claude, would be found insufficient 
 to convey an adequate idea of the lovely 
 prospect. 
 
 Just beneath my feet an extensive and 
 most sublime lake expanded its undulat- 
 ing surface, until it reached the cities of 
 Lausanne and (jencva, and mountains 
 ^carjnq; their bold heads over the white 
 and silvery clouds that gently floated on 
 1 he breeze. At the opposite side, opened 
 lather to the ii'ft, a superb view of 
 Mount Juru, with its various projections, 
 rc'(tesses, and gradations of ascent, here 
 viothed with the richest vines, there ex- 
 hibiting ni'st-like cottages, the ri'ins of 
 pucient castles, or solitary towers. To- 
 wards L.ausanne, on the right, appeared 
 l)cautiful meadows skirled wit'i wood, 
 the smoDth ex[>anse of the lake of Geneva, 
 and beyond th(;se, the gloon)y terrific 
 ix'cks of the Savoy shore, 
 
 I 2 
 
172 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIO^S 
 
 Before I entered the house, I sat down 
 on an eminence undtr the shade of a 
 chesnut tree, and thence raised my eyes 
 to the steep heights of Mellieraie, from 
 which the disconsolate Saint Prieux once 
 thought of throwing himself head-long, 
 and from which also he wrote a letter to 
 his Julia. In my earliest youth I read 
 this letter with the wildest enthusiasm. 
 Reader, judge, then, what were my 
 feelings at the sight of such a scene. 
 
 The education of the heart is the work 
 of rural life, and where this preliminary 
 is neglected, all the pursuits of the indi- 
 vidual after human happiness will be fruit- 
 less ; for happiness, as far as it is attain- 
 able by mortals, ronsists in the pcrlrct 
 harmony of the soul. All the turbulent 
 and dissocial passions, as disturbers of 
 this harmony, are inimical to happitiess. 
 
 But example is more beneficial than 
 theory; and 1 shall proceed to sliew the 
 fountain whence these aphorisms origi- 
 nate. Situated as 1 was, at the njoment 
 jMst described, the picturesque view wa$ 
 
 sp 
 
 th^ 
 n)(| 
 
 sc;, 
 
s9 
 
 at down 
 de of a 
 my eyes 
 ie, f'rotn 
 n\x once 
 ad-long, 
 letter to 
 h I read 
 husiasm. 
 vere my 
 ene. 
 
 the work 
 el i mi nary 
 the indi- 
 Ibe fruit- 
 is uttain- 
 lic pcrtpct 
 turbulent 
 :urbers of 
 vappiiiess. 
 ficial than 
 . shew the 
 sms origi- 
 e moment 
 i view was 
 
 O* THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 173 
 
 bounded on every side by the finest bar- 
 riers of nature, but confined on the land 
 side to a few miles in extent ; yet this 
 was most beautifully diversified with 
 woods, meadows, vineyards, and corn 
 fields, which were so admirably inter- 
 mingled, as to produce the most enchant- 
 ing effect, and more than enable it to vie 
 with the rural vales of Arno and An-^ 
 dalusia. 
 
 At a small distance, under my feet, 
 a roaring cataract gushed from the side 
 of the mountain, and tumbled its foam- 
 ing flood precipitately into the lake be- 
 low, where its waters were lost in the 
 misty distance, and its reiterated dashings 
 from rock to rock could be heard no morr. 
 On its ridge was a small hamlet, and a 
 chapel reared its humble, but beautiful 
 spire, over the tops of some fine old 
 walnut trees, that appeared coeval with 
 the building they surrounded ; whilst the 
 more lowly dwellings of the rustics were 
 scarcely distinguishable amidst the varied 
 
 I 3 
 
174- .MKMOJJIS AND CON FF SSI ()> S 
 
 foliaojc of the iutrrniijiglrd trcts. The 
 whole had a wild and most romnnli<: 
 effect. The mansion chosen for my re- 
 sidence ivas about two liundrcd yards 
 from the church. It appeared to he an 
 antique building, and the only good house 
 in the picturesque view. 
 
 As 1 stood gazing upon this pleasing 
 prospect, the sun suddenly emerged from 
 a cloud, and darted his feeble rays across 
 the lake, throwing one half under the 
 lengthened shadow of Mount Jura, that 
 obstructed his departing beams, whilst 
 the other part glowed in all the warmth 
 of the richest tints imaginable : but the 
 shade almost imperceptibly increased as 
 the great luminary of day pursued Ins 
 glorious descent in the western heavens, 
 .\nd the shaggy summits of the moun- 
 tains only remauicd gilded with his 
 golden rays. 
 
 A numerous herd of goals scamper- 
 ing by me roused my attention, and 1 
 perceived them gambolling among the 
 
 for 
 day 
 
OF THOMAS ASHEj ESQ. l/'-i 
 
 crags and bushes tliat surrounded me, 
 skipping from point to point with amaz- 
 ing agihty and ease, which added a pleas- 
 ing variety to the scene. I stood for 
 some minutes admiring their wonderful 
 c;vohjtions, when the deep sullen toll of 
 a bell struck my ear. It was slowly 
 repeated at distant intervals, and sounded 
 like the solemn dirge of death, evidently 
 proceeding from the hamlet. Some one 
 must be dead, thought I ; and, in a 
 moment, a thousand melancholy ideas 
 rushed into rny mind, which, in some 
 degree harmonised with the still calm- 
 ness of the scene. 
 
 All was serene, and none but pleasing 
 sounds broke the general silence. Nought 
 was heard, save the hollow lowing of the 
 cattle, the plaintive bleating of the sheep 
 moving towards the fold, the drowsy hum 
 of the beetle, or the occasional merry note 
 of the peasant, as he plodded his weary 
 way towards his cheerful cottage, there to 
 forget in his humbleness the toils of the 
 day and the wants of the morrow. 
 
 I 4 
 
■^76 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 J felt that such moments as I then en- 
 joyed, Were the dearest j)Ieas»ires of a 
 contemplative mind. It is in sohtiide, 
 surrounded by the dearest objects in 
 nature, where all her beauties smile upon 
 us, and when her grandeur calls forth 
 our admiration, that the finest ideas of 
 the human mind arc created : it is then 
 that our thoughts are borne upon the 
 loi^ty wings of imagination lo the confines 
 of perfect felicity. Thus it was witli a 
 bard, whose fame was immortal. His 
 great pleasure was to walU on the shel- 
 tered side of a wood in a cloudy winter 
 day, and to hear the storm rave amonijst 
 the trees ; but greater still was his delight 
 to ascend some eminence during the agi- 
 tations of nature ; to stride along its sum- 
 mit, while the lightning flashed aro'irid 
 him ; and amidst the bowlings of the 
 tempest, to apostrophize the spirit of ihe 
 storm. 
 
 Did not the mountains, the woods, and 
 the streams of Morven, light up the sub- 
 lime imagery and conceptions of Ossian's 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 177 
 
 agi. 
 
 favoured bards, every sentence of whose 
 effusions presents an identical image, 
 and that in the most sublime forn» ? But 
 it is to the warm and ardent imagination 
 only that nature unfolds her chiefest 
 beauties with their proper effect ; and 
 those, who arc endowed with this greatest 
 of all blessings, know how to value 
 the sensations which scenes like these 
 inspire. 
 
 Under the dark shade of trees amid the 
 rocks, I marked the mellow light of the 
 setting sun. 1 observed what romantic 
 and picturesque forms the features of this 
 scenery successively assume, as they are 
 by degrees totally lost under the shades 
 of night ; and i continued there in" a 
 musingdelightful enthusiasm of taste and 
 sentiment, till heaven and earth were 
 uniformly veiled in the darkness of ma- 
 jestic night. 
 
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173 MEMOIRI AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 }ia«'tnof the Inmate of Mr. La Tour.— Cousiders 
 itimmon ISitise the bat Guide through Civil 
 Lift. — The }Vorhi»gs of hit Mind are strong. 
 — Ilr ]>anscs in a Church. Yard. — lie reveres 
 the lltiunti of Innocence and Peace. 
 
 (.Ji.M US, virtue, piety, the kindest oi 
 dispositions, and the happiest elasticity' 
 of iancy, must be fpiicidy lost to everv 
 uset'u! purpose, if the delusions of one 
 passion, however amiable, be suft'ered to 
 acquire habitually an unbounded power 
 over the mind ; if a sensibility, naturally 
 irritable, shall be cherished till it become 
 H feverish disease ; if the dreams of the 
 imagination shall be continually indulged 
 to the exclusion of all the common sense 
 t)f sober ordinary life. 
 
 These reflections rushed upon my mind, 
 on finding the evening far advanced, and 
 no useful object by any means accom- 
 
'ouiiders 
 gh Civil 
 
 strong. 
 
 reveres 
 
 dost o{ 
 asticitv 
 evcrv 
 
 of one 
 Vered to 
 J powrr 
 atu rally 
 become 
 s of tl»e 
 ndulged 
 DM sense 
 
 iiyniind, 
 
 ced, and 
 
 accom- 
 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 179 
 
 j)lished. I should have presented my- 
 self at my new habitation in time to have 
 observed something of the family, to have 
 had my apartment arranged, and to have 
 seen myself in other respects made com- 
 fortable ; whereas by yielding to an en- 
 thusiastic sensibility, the day was con- 
 sumed without having achieved any thing 
 for the promotion of my accommodation 
 and prosperity. 
 
 The moon had reached an elevated 
 situation, and hung like a beautiful lamp 
 suspended in the blue expanse of heaven, 
 immediately above a gothic arch way form- 
 ed by the broad ex tending armsof the trees, 
 entwining their branches over my head, 
 through which she darted her pale beams, 
 and threw their varied shadows on the 
 walk before me,.as 1 passed to the house 
 of my destined rcpost ; whilst the quiet 
 solitude of the place was disturbed only 
 by the murmuring noise of the adjacent 
 lake, and the hollow hootings of an owl, 
 that wheeled around the neighbouring 
 
ISO MKMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 Steeple, as the clock was telling the tenth 
 hour. 
 
 I at length reached a long flight of steps 
 leading to the hall-door, and knocked for 
 admittance, but no one came: I repeat- 
 ed it again and again with additional 
 vehemence, but still without the desired 
 effect. At length, as I was raising the 
 knocker for the fourth time, the old 
 gentleman, with whom the agreement 
 had been made for me, came to the door, 
 aiid admitted me, with an address that 
 manifested much gravity and goodness of 
 hearf. We now entered a spacious hall, 
 hung round with the family portraits of 
 persons, whose names, partaking with the 
 Dature oftheir bodies, had long ago perish- 
 ed in oblivion. Mr. La Tour, for so he was 
 called, conducted me into an oak waius- 
 cotted parlour, on the right of this ghostly 
 looking hall, in which was a most com- 
 fortable fire. The cheerful blaze contri- 
 buted wot a little to raise my spirits ; and 
 here a CiOth was sj)rcad lor supper, 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 181 
 
 tenth 
 
 *step» 
 :ed for 
 epeat- 
 itional 
 lesired 
 ng the 
 le old 
 eement 
 e door, 
 ss that 
 ness of 
 us hall, 
 traits of 
 vith the 
 perish- 
 ► he was 
 wains- 
 ghostly 
 St com- 
 I contri- 
 its ; and 
 
 T, 
 
 The figure and countenance of my kind 
 host was very impressive, at once con- 
 veying to my mind the most favourable 
 opinion of him. He appeared to be above 
 fifty years of age ; his person was tall, 
 well-proportioned, graceful, and extreme- 
 ly commanding: but the dignity of his 
 countenance even exceeded that of his 
 person. The radiartce of intellectual 
 glory beamed there in full splendour, 
 receiving additional lustre from the gene- 
 ral air of benevolence that harmonized 
 all his features; yet there was a depres- 
 sion visible upon his brow, and a certain 
 softness of expression dwelt in his fine 
 dark eyes, which indicated the abode of 
 sorrow, or at least hinted that melancholy 
 had recently held her gloomy empire over 
 his mind. His was one of th se few faces 
 that denoted the greatest powers of un- 
 derstanding, joined to all the most amiable 
 qualities of the heart ; rendering him in- 
 capable of injuring even the least worthy 
 mI his fellow creatures. 
 
1S2 MEMOIRS AND CONFESf? I0N6 
 
 At siipprr the conversation turned 
 upon various subjects ; among which the 
 antiquity of the liouse was canvassed, 
 and the character of the personages repre- 
 sented hy the portraits on the walls. 
 With many more subjects of a like nature 
 we amuserl the time until the hour of 
 withdrawing to rest arrived. IJe then 
 conducted me to a room at the further 
 extremity of the house, so large, that the 
 glare of a single candle was not sufTicieni 
 to illumine all the walls at the same mo- 
 ment; but one end remained in gloom. 
 The bed and the rest of the furniture 
 were all covered with green damask, 
 somewhat torn ; the walls exhibited the 
 remains of some once valuable tapestry, 
 "which now hung down in ragged festoons^ 
 with here and there an old oil picture, so 
 effaced that even the subject was not 
 distinguishable. Fatigued to death, I 
 ceased to criticise, and was soon buried 
 in a profound slumber. 
 
 When a train of thought, romantic and 
 
or THOMAS ASHE, LSCi. 
 
 18^ 
 
 unprontahlo, occuj/ies the imagination, 
 it IrecnuMitl}' acquires such power over 
 the attei»tion, as to rcnclcr its exertion 
 upon present objects quite impossible, 
 i'he imagination alone is exercised, and 
 the mind acquires a habit of indulging in 
 visionary reveries, till it neither sees, 
 hears, understands, marks, nor inwardly 
 digests what passes around it. 
 
 Ot" this absence of mind 1 mvself was 
 an example, immediately on my arrival 
 at the house of the annable JNIonsieur La 
 Tour. The workings of my mind were 
 so strong, that 1 arose before the night 
 had expired, and moved the shutters 
 iVom the windows, drew a chair, and sat 
 contemplating the still serenity of the 
 scene. 1 never beheld so clear, so beauti- 
 ful a night: no part of the vast expanse 
 of heaven was obscured by a single cloud, 
 but tlie same deej) azure every where 
 prevailed, over which the bright twink- 
 ling stars were bespangled in countless 
 multitude ; and ever J anon the swiftly 
 
184 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 winged meteor would sweep its rapid 
 course through the bright regions of air; 
 and sometimes down shot a starry light 
 to the earth, where, ail extinguislied, it 
 left not a wreck bt^hind; while the pale- 
 faced moon rode on the steady wing of 
 time, in slow but solemn majesty through 
 lier nocturnal course, yielding her silver 
 light to enliven the gloom that hung 
 around the globe. 
 
 The fine antique tower of the church 
 formed the principal object in the view. 
 It stood exactly opposite to my window, 
 and was seen through an opening in the 
 old walnut-trees that nearly surrounded 
 it, among whose branches the gently 
 whispering breeze played her wild notes, 
 whilst the white tombstones reared their 
 lowly heads among the long grass that 
 bent mournfully over them, and quivered 
 in the wind. The awful stillness of the 
 scene, together with the solemnity of the 
 objects which composed it, conspired to 
 bringononcofmyenthusiasticrlmpsodies. 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 185 
 
 " And are these the mansions of the 
 tload ?" said I, as 1 regarded one stone 
 that stood a little higher than the rest. — 
 " ^'es; one small mound of earth is all 
 ihy j)roud ensign, thou poor mortal ! All 
 thy honours are comprised in one small 
 stone, on which, mayhap, is graved thy 
 name, no where else recorded ; or that 
 thou hast fulfilled the several duties of 
 father, son, husband, or brother, with 
 pious care. Thou didst rejoice in thy 
 existence; thou didst feel the possession 
 of superior faculties; thou didst boast 
 thy strength, and imagine thyself immor- 
 tal : but, where art thou now ? Is all laid 
 with thee in the narrow house? Not even 
 a name left behind ! Nothing but a poor 
 perishable monument of earth, raised as a 
 warning to the sexton not to dig there! 
 —Oh, short-lived, vain, presumptuous 
 man ! thou fluttercst like the butterfly, 
 or the insect of the day, from flower to 
 flower. Thou feedest on trifles light as 
 air, exulting in the name and condition 
 
IS6 MEMOIIIS AND CONFKSSIONS 
 
 of man, as superior to that of other created 
 beings, without performing his great 
 duties, until a cruel blast sinks thee, with 
 all thy chimerical possessions, into the 
 oblivious grave!" 
 
 I know not how long I might have 
 continued my soliloquy, had not a matin 
 bell tolled, and roused me from my medi- 
 tations. 1 hastily dressed for the day, 
 and took a charming walk, before any of 
 the family were prepared to breakfast. I 
 sauntered, on my return, into a forlorn 
 garden behind the house, from which I 
 entered the church-yard by a small gate. 
 In a remote corner of this sacred place 
 stood a marble urn, under the shade of a 
 weeping willow': a wreath of sculptured 
 flowers encircled the initials A. L. T. on 
 its pedestal. Many withered lilies antl 
 roses were scattered upon the ground, 
 which appeared to have been newly dis- 
 turbed. As 1 stood over the tomb, con- 
 jecturing the cause of those flowers being 
 there, jNI. La Tour appioachcd me, and, 
 
 tor 
 my 
 and 
 
 illJIK 
 
 irom 
 year 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 187 
 
 reated 
 
 great 
 
 J, with 
 
 to the 
 
 t have 
 matin 
 medi- 
 e dav, 
 any of 
 ast. I 
 forlorn 
 v'hich 1 
 11 gate. 
 d place 
 de of a 
 Iptured 
 i. 1. on 
 ies ami 
 ;;round, 
 vly dis- 
 h, con- 
 rs being 
 le, and, 
 
 ns the tears trickled down his cheeks, 
 s lid, "This is the tomb of my poordaugh- 
 icr Agnes; these are the flowers which 
 the six virgins, who bore her corpse, 
 strewed upon her grave." 
 
 I took him by the arm. " Come 
 away, Sir," said 1 ; and we retired to 
 breakfast. 1 avoided all reference to his 
 poor Agnes, and turned the conversation 
 npon common-place subjects, in which 
 his family joined. 1 had not seen them 
 the night before, and was happy to per- 
 ceive that my society would be select 
 and amiable, consisting of M. La Tour's 
 wife, son, and niece, the last of whom 
 supplied the place of the once lovely and 
 recently deceased daughter. My agree- 
 ment was to board and lodge with them 
 tor twenty-four pounds a-year; and as 
 my half-pay amounted to thirty-three, 
 and mv funds in the bank to fiear three 
 hundred in cash, my mind was relieved 
 from any pecuniary dread, while ni*;' y 
 years of security and happiness rose 
 
188 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIOns 
 
 above the horizon before me. To add to 
 my advantages, M. I.a Tour had, but a 
 few vears beibre, retired from the Swiss 
 Guards; was well acquainted with the 
 court of Fr" co; and, previously to his 
 retirement from the world, had collected 
 a well chosen library. He took alsoevery 
 other measure proper for mingling the 
 pleasures of a rural life with those of a 
 man of science and letters. 
 
 Here, then, had I fortunately chosen 
 the proper place for weaning my mind 
 from the illicit pleasures of the town ; for 
 shewing me that 1 ought ever to remem- 
 ber I was endowed with an immortal 
 soul ; making it my great business to 
 cultivate and improve it, and training my- 
 self up for a more exalted state in future. 
 I felt that, while j^oung, I ought to lay in 
 such a stock of knowledge as might 
 qualify me for some higi) and honourable 
 employment ; and that, fcir this purpose, 
 I should redouble my diligence, endea* 
 vouring to acquire a taste for whatever is 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ES^. 18<> 
 
 beautiful eitbor In sontimerit or manners. 
 For tli()ui;h knowleilge is useful, as well 
 as ornamental, in lile ; yet we are not to 
 rest satisfied with any accjuisitions ". e 
 may have made of *liat kind ; we slvuld 
 he still more desirous to acqui e those 
 disjx jtiiions, with regard to the Ueity and 
 our fellow-creatures, which have been 
 inculcated by the first of men. Above 
 all, never should we forget that our life 
 is circumscribed within a narrow period, 
 and exposed to a thousand accidents, 
 which we can neither foresee nor prevent. 
 Kver cheerful, fiom feeling that 1 was 
 under the government of a great and good 
 Being, who knows our thoughts, and de- 
 lights in a pious and upright heart, I 
 resolved to train myself up in my solitude 
 to the practice of virtue; that, when 
 called out of so transitory a state, I might 
 be prepared for those purer and more 
 exalted joys, which God hath reserved 
 for those who love him. 
 
■^.13 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Fi7t(h in rural Life the purest Source of human 
 Happiness. — Vifits the Heights of Mellicraia. — 
 Contemplates the Beauties of Nature xsith 
 Warmth. — Ascribes the Merit of Rousseau to 
 the RocIcSf the JJills^ and Torrents of Vevuy. — 
 Repairs to the Village of Clarens. — Anecdotes 
 relative to Rousseau. 
 
 Man is eminently distingnislicd among 
 the inhabitants of this globe. 1 Fe derives 
 this distinction from the structure and 
 aspect of his body, and stiii more from the 
 powers and affections of his mmd. 
 
 The mind indeed seems to have few 
 ideas at first, and is indebted for these to 
 rxternal obiects. But the noble and ex- 
 tensive powers, witli which it is endowed, 
 discover themselves by dr^^rces, and ren- 
 der it highly susceptible of improvenjent. 
 This improvement is closely connected 
 with the perfection and happiness of 
 mankind. - 
 
 I give myself as an example to 
 
OF T'iOMAl ASHE, ESQ. 191 
 
 .strenffthc'ji tbis moral aphorism. When 
 niv mind was darkened by the ciror^, and 
 covrupted by the vices of great towns^ I 
 was miserabie as weil as mean ; but no 
 sooner was it enhghtened by knowledf^e, 
 and formed to virtue in the great school 
 of nature, than I found myself a different 
 being, more capable of ornamenting life, 
 and of opening to myself the truest source 
 of human happiness. 
 
 This source was nature. After form* 
 ing a philusophy of pastime, my greatest 
 pk^asure was to ascend the heights of 
 Mellieraie, and thence extend my ob- 
 servation over the whole face of the 
 earth. Tliere is a delusion in all moun- 
 tains that imposes on the imagination^ 
 and gives ihe mind a stature whiwd it can 
 never attain on level liTound. From 
 iMelli raie I surveyed the various genera- 
 tions of mankind, passing, as it were, in 
 review before my eyes. 
 
 There 1 observed the different charac- 
 ters of men ; marked tiieir fate ; found it 
 
192 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 proportioned to their behaviour; dis- 
 cerned the superior advantages of wisdom 
 and virtue, and h^arned that misfortune 
 and shame are the dismal portion of folly 
 and vice. There I discovered that to 
 sacrifice our intellectual and moral en- 
 joyments, to the lower and more inglo- 
 rious propensities of our nature, is, in 
 reality, to inflict a heavy punishment on 
 ourselves. 
 
 There, likewise, I saw that no acquisi- 
 tion we can make is so fair and so valuable, 
 as a mind enlightened with knowledge, 
 and principled with virtue. There I 
 observed, from my proud and superior 
 eminence, not only the fate of individuals, 
 but also the various revolutions of em- 
 pires, beholding the conquerors and the 
 conquered swallowed up at length in 
 undistinguishable ruin. 
 
 If 1 looked back but a few years, they, 
 who acted on the theatre of human life, 
 were now no more. What was become, 
 it might be asked, of their deep-laid 
 
Olr THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 193 
 
 schemes, their ambitious projects, their 
 anxious cares, their adored riches, their 
 dazzling honours, their alluring pleasures ? 
 Of what consequence to them were all 
 those objects, which so much engrossed 
 their wishes, or exercised their passions ? 
 If I looked forward but one century 
 into futurity, where were we ourselves to 
 be ? Gone, for ever gone, and the places 
 of our abode would know us again no 
 more. 
 
 But it is only to those, who study 
 upon high ground, and upon an extensive 
 scale, that the map of the world affords 
 instruction. From the height on which 
 I stood, I conceived all mankind to be 
 converged within the circle of my horizon, 
 and while I waded through the wars and 
 the vices of men, I was careful to bestow, 
 upon the unhappy actors of those unna- 
 tural scenes, that pity which is due to 
 the delusions, as well as that detestation 
 which is due to the vices of mnnkind. I 
 learned to puss them over with a slighter 
 
 TOL. I. K 
 
194 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSION; 
 
 glance, and give more particular atten- 
 tion to those objects which were worthy 
 of my approbation and esteem — tlie ci- 
 vihzers of society, the inventors of useful 
 arts, the friends of liberty and learning, 
 and all those persons whom history records 
 as most eminent for justice, generosity, 
 temperance, fidelity, fortitude, humanity, 
 and public spirit. 
 
 What a pity is it, thought I> as I cast 
 my glance over the whole face of the 
 earth, that examples of this sort, in the 
 humbler, as well as the most exalted 
 stations of life, have not been more par- 
 ticularly attended to, and more carefully 
 collected ! Whiit a pity is it that they 
 have not been honoured with those mo- 
 numents which they deserve, and trans- 
 mitted from age to age for the example 
 of mankind ! But this honour is reserved 
 for tyrants and slaughterers. Furnished 
 with a more amiable picture of human 
 nature, and dazzled no longer with the 
 glare of pomp and conquest, we should be 
 
 •''em 
 
 .'ura. 
 
OF TJIOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 195 
 
 in less danger of deceiving ourselves ia 
 our notions of grandeur and of happiness. 
 Such illustrious patterns of private as 
 well as of public virtue, thus held up 
 for our imitation, would naturally pro- 
 duce in us a glorious emulation, and a 
 heroic desire to promote the most va- 
 luable interests of mankind. Hence it 
 appears, that of all the objects which can 
 attract the attention, there is none so 
 interesting as a grand theatre, from which 
 the world can be distinctly anatomized 
 and seen. From ISIellieraie I saw the 
 beauties of nature with life and warmth; 
 I saw them forcibly without efforl, as the 
 morning sun does the scenes he rises 
 upon ; and, in several instances, I saw 
 ''^cm with a morning freshness and un- 
 accountable lustre, unknown in the 
 shades of nature. The poet, the statuary, 
 tiie painter, have produced images that 
 left the vallies far behind; but they never 
 dared to exercise their art on Mount 
 .'ura. 
 
 It9 
 
196 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 There is a truth which cannot be too 
 strongly inculcated : it is, that most 
 people have far more light, judgment, 
 and genius, latent within their breasts, 
 than they are able to draw forth or em- 
 ploy; that the utmost skill and address 
 are requisite to tune those fine springs of 
 the soul, and bring into execution the 
 harmony of which they are capable ; and 
 that the perfection of those powers, what- 
 ever they be, is the highest degree of 
 improvement which any person's genius 
 can attain. 
 
 This moral truth was manifested to me 
 from day to day during my residence in 
 the vicinity of Vevay. 1 will expose the 
 reason. The ideas of nature are all vast 
 and affecting ; and they open to the mind 
 prospects by far mo.o grand than those of 
 artificial life. How does the soul ex- 
 pand to grasp a system of the whole 
 earth! What sublime dignity does an 
 acquaintance with the works of the Al- 
 mighty bestow upon the human state ! 
 
OF THOMAS ASKE, ESQ, 
 
 197 
 
 3 too 
 
 most 
 nent, 
 ?asts, 
 r em- 
 Idress 
 igs of 
 1 the 
 ; and 
 what- 
 ree of 
 jenius 
 
 tome 
 nee in 
 )se the 
 ,11 vast 
 i mind 
 lose of 
 ul ex- 
 whole 
 oes an 
 he Al- 
 state ! 
 
 Let a knowledge of nature be thrown 
 out of doors, what can be substituted in 
 its place ? Wit, humour, and raillery 
 are pleasing in the levities and piay-hourt 
 of the soul ; but they must not pretend 
 to the admiration which attends on eleva- 
 tion and grandeur of thought. 
 
 Enthusiasm, more or less, is an inse- 
 parable appendage of nature's study. In 
 moments of this happy kind, I often ex- 
 plored the rocks, the hills, and the tor- 
 rents, of my delightful neighbourhood. 
 One morning in particular, when I was 
 in a tone of tranquil musing cheerfulneis, 
 which fitted me for rising to poetical en- 
 thusiasm, I set out at the early hour of 
 five, with Rousseau's Eloisa in my hand. 
 The reader already guesses the purpose 
 of my excursion. Yes, 1 went to view, 
 with my own eyes, the scenes where 
 the immortal Rousseau has placed the 
 interviews of the fondest and most inte- 
 resting lovers, whose existence was ever 
 imagined by human fancy. 
 
 k3 
 
lyS MEMOIRS AND CONFf,SSION< 
 
 Rousseau surely owed, to tlio imf)res- 
 sion of these beautiful scenes, the tender, 
 pensive, amorous cast of his whole soul, 
 I have mentioned before, that 1 have 
 gazed on the rocks which had such 
 attractions for Saint Preux, and from 
 which he wrote to his Julia. Why docs 
 Rousseau forbid us here to trace the 
 for.tsteps of the lovers ? Unfeeling man ! 
 first to give all the power of reality to the 
 wildest but most enchanting dream of 
 fancy, and then coldlv to tell us there is 
 nothing at all in it. This is what he does 
 in his confessions: "I would advise anv 
 one," says he, *' who possesses taste and 
 feeling, to visit A^evay and its environs, 
 and to contemplate the borders of the 
 lake. He will own such scenes to be 
 worthy of Julia and Saint Preux. But, 
 in vain would he attempt to trace the 
 lovers there." 
 
 At another time, and under the same 
 influence of enthusiasm, 1 went along 
 the shore of the lake, to see another par- 
 
 vali 
 
 grcc 
 
 vilh 
 
 in 
 
 the 
 
 iab( 
 
 strai 
 
 ed 
 
 you 
 
 Hist: 
 
 wh( 
 
OF THOM.\S ASHE, ESQ." 199 
 
 ticular scene in the romance, namely, the 
 villaj^e of Clarens. Lofty trees, thickly 
 clad with leaves, conceal it worn prying 
 eyes till the traveller approaches very 
 near to it. I at last descried a small 
 village under a hill, overgrown with fir- 
 trees. 1 observed also the residence of 
 Julia, so finely described by Rousseau. 
 It is an old turreted castle; and its ex- 
 terior appearance sufficiently bespeaks 
 the remoteness as well as barbarism of 
 tlie time when it was erected. 
 
 ^lany of the inhabitants of Clarens are 
 acquainted with the new Eloisa, and 
 value themselves not a little because the 
 great Rousseau has made their native 
 village the scene of the events recorded 
 in his romance, thus rendering it one of 
 the most famous places in thj world. A 
 labouring peasant of this p' ice seeing a 
 stranger contemplate its scenes, approach- 
 ed him, and, smiling, said, '* Have not 
 you read the new i'^loisa, Sir?" A similar 
 instance occurred to mys(?lf at Lustwald, 
 whole Julia gave her Saint Preux the 
 
200 
 
 MEMOIRI AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 first impassioned kiss of love. An old 
 man there enquired whether 1 had not 
 read the n^\e\ ?— But I was sorry to learn 
 from M. La Tour, that, although it was 
 generally understood to have been written 
 at Mcllieraie, Rousseau in reality wrote 
 it at the hermitage, and at the distance of 
 only four or five miles from Paris. 
 
 Behind the village of Clarens, the 
 waves of the lake are broken on the shore, 
 with a hollow noise, which attempers the 
 soul to pensive melancholy. On my re- 
 turn, I enjoyed, from every part, the 
 noblest prospects imaginable — the bright 
 expanse of the lake of Geneva — the lofty 
 chain of Savoy mountains — the towns and 
 villages scattered round the borders of 
 the lake — Morges, Roiie, Nyon. What- 
 ever charms can vary or decoratr a series 
 of scenery, there fill the gazer's eyes. 
 Often, often did 1 meditate, for hours, 
 with that feeling of calm, yet rapturous 
 joy, which the surrounding scents are 
 fitted to inspire. 
 
or THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 201 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Begins to grow taeary of Groves, Lakes, and Vales, 
 — Meets with Srline, one oj the fairest Daughters 
 of Vera If. — Ijove. makesasaift Progress through 
 his Soul. — IJe p^ai/i with the Phantoms ofSeline^s 
 Imagination. — IJis plans are fugitive, — Seline 
 eludes his Pursuits. 
 
 All mankind, whose common sense 
 is not diverted by system, will agree, 
 that solitude and silence naturally op- 
 press the mind by a tremendous and sub- 
 lime sensation. It is to avoid this awful 
 feeling that we for ever seek amusement 
 and company, and that any diversion, 
 however msipid and trifling in itself, be- 
 comes to us a pleasing relief, merely by 
 jccupying our attention. 
 
 Reason smiles at the puerility of our 
 amusements. The very slaves of plea- 
 sures hold them in contempt, and ac- 
 knowledge they will not bear examina* 
 
 K 5 
 
202 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 tion : yet the wise and the vain find 
 solitude alike insu])pf)rtable, and alike 
 desire the company and diversion they 
 despise. The sublime influence ot'groves, 
 lakes, vales, and solitary study, began 
 gradually to be weakened, yielding to an 
 occasional discontent, or love of change 
 and social enjoyment. 
 
 But I reconciled this to myself by the 
 following species of philosophy. Man 
 is ennobled and distinguished from the 
 other inhabitants of this earth by the 
 universal passion for variety. If he were 
 bereft of it, he would fall to the condition 
 of a sagacious brute. lie would, in such 
 case, as soon as he had eaten and drank 
 to satisfy nature, lie down on the next 
 sunny bank, and repose in thoughtiess 
 content. We should have no heroes, no 
 misers, and no mighty projects. Human 
 love, th it now refines and ennobles the 
 soul, would never rise beyond the brutal 
 ap[)cfcite. Happiness would be cheaply 
 obtained, and we should never be uneasy 
 
 hopJ 
 life, 
 curil 
 and 
 
OF T!IOMAS ASIIE, ESQ. 
 
 203 
 
 find 
 alike 
 
 they 
 roves, 
 began 
 : to an 
 bange 
 
 by the 
 Man 
 
 m the 
 Dy the 
 le were 
 ndition 
 in such 
 J drank 
 16 next 
 ightiess 
 oes, no 
 Human 
 ►les the 
 e brutal 
 cheaply 
 
 uneasy 
 
 excopt when in actual distress. But then 
 our happiness would be poor and taste- 
 less ; and indeed the mere glimmering 
 hope of the obscure enthusiastic delight 
 which we never enjoy, with all its endless 
 cares and disappointments, is infinitely 
 more noble and captivating than the un- 
 broken supine content of sensible enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 What makes content sound so fine in 
 the human ear, is the satiation of the 
 mighty unktiown want, which we are 
 obliged to unite in our idea of content, 
 because without it we can never enjoy 
 undisturbed tranquillity. But this heart- 
 easing, this gilded content, is not the 
 content of brutes: for as they have no 
 desire but to allay the present appetite, 
 their ease is stupid indifteronce. The 
 annihilation of that bright-boamini^ human 
 hope, which travels on before us during 
 life, would be attended with a want of 
 curiosity; nothing would be new to us, 
 and nothing old: we should run into few 
 
904 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 errors and few cares ; we should be wise, 
 content, and worthless. Thus are our 
 misery, our folly, and our grandeur, con- 
 nected and inseparable. 
 
 Hence it was, that at length I fre- 
 quently abandoned the gloom, solitude, 
 and silence of my fixed abode near the 
 lake, and entered into the spirit of the 
 rural sports, pursued by the young gen- 
 try of the neighbourhood, to whom L 
 now became so universally known* 
 Fishing, shooting, and hur.iiiig the cha- 
 mois, were what principally constituted 
 these amusements; and the younger La 
 Tour was my companion whenever I 
 thought proper lo go abroad. M. La 
 Tour's son was called Theodore ; and he 
 bad a friend living not far distant, whose 
 name was Dc Hrie. This wjis a vtrv fine 
 youiJg man : he spent much of his time 
 in rural sports ; and on one occasion, 
 more particularly to be remembered, he 
 proposed a liunting match in the great 
 forest "vhich formed a part of his estate. 
 
 her 
 
 It Vi 
 
 insu 
 
 Nevi 
 
 soull 
 
 llau 
 
 secrl 
 
 whil 
 
 est 
 
 rcn( 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 005 
 
 His secondary design in this was to carry 
 the company to his own bouse, where he 
 had provided a handsome entertainment, 
 to celebrate the departure of bis sister 
 Sebne for a convent, in which it was her 
 determination to take the veil. 
 
 Instead of this being her intention, 
 one would have supposed her object tO' 
 be a desire of appearing agreeab4e to man j 
 indeed, had this been her motive, her 
 success was greater than would reason- 
 ably have been expected, I had seea 
 her once before in a very transient man« 
 ner ; and if the first appearance she made 
 did not finish the conquest of my heart, 
 it was certainly captivated at the very 
 insi.aiit I the second time beheld her. 
 Never did love make swifter progress in a 
 soul. Till this time I had never felt a real 
 flame, and I trembled with, as it were, a 
 secret presage of the misfortunes into 
 which 1 was to be plunged by the sweets 
 est of passions ; but the bias of my heart 
 rendered all the reflections that sprung 
 
206 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 from this ineffectual. Every moment 
 I continued in her company 1 found new 
 charms in her appearance, and somethini^ 
 so engaging in her conversation, that I 
 remained the most enamoured man in tlie 
 world. . . . .1 ' 
 
 I must now introduce Seiine to the 
 more accurate knowledge of the reader. 
 She was scarcely eighteen years of age ; 
 and an exquisitely moulded person was 
 united to one of ne most lovely faces I 
 ever gazed upon. Every personal charm 
 of her sex smiled and wantoned in this 
 favoured child of nature. The playful loves 
 dwelt in fond dalliance on her bewitched 
 countenance, and rivettcd the attention 
 of all the male part of the company, who 
 were not a little ambitious to be noticed 
 by her, although they knew her resolu- 
 tion of devoting herself to religious se- 
 clusion. Her fine azure eyes surpassed 
 the cloudless Indian sky, and her cheek 
 displayed the tropic morn's delicious 
 bloom. The rich vermillion of her lips, 
 
©F THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 207 
 
 th( 
 
 but half concealing the ivory whiteness 
 of her teeth, and decked with fascinat- 
 ing smiles, seemed better adapted to tell 
 a tale of love, than to count the rosary, 
 which now hung as an emblem of her 
 vocation rouhd her snowy neck. 
 
 It was my good fortune to sit next her 
 at dinner. After that repast, a proposal 
 was made to take a turn in the gerden. 
 1 offered my hand to Selinc. I was vex- 
 ed to death at the cruel resolution she 
 had taken to retire from the world. I 
 evinced this vexation, and in the course 
 of the conversation, which 1 artfully led 
 her into, J. employed every argument to 
 counteract her intention. But being 
 fixed in her determination to retire 
 from the world, she rejected all niyargu- 
 ments, and assured nie that she did so 
 without making any sacrifice whatever. 
 This hurt my vanity ; I had hoped that 
 \ should bring her to confess some part 
 of the sentiments 1 entertained for her ; 
 and that at some time I might encourage 
 ihe idea of being tenderly loved. 
 
SOS MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 The ?m passioned soul displays re- 
 sources that surprize by their novelty 
 and greatnesL". It employs an ingenuity 
 and light which are not within the reach 
 of common reason, and endows us with 
 powers of execution far above our ordi- 
 nary strength. 
 
 The passions are strangely infectious; 
 they lay hold on onr affections by vio- 
 lence ; they bear us away from a state of 
 indifference, and plunge us into concern 
 and emotion. The mind, that before 
 rested upon itself, selfish and alone, at 
 the appearance of passion, feels in a mo- 
 ment its relation to mankind ; it extends- 
 iVs feelings beyond ourselves, and finds 
 itself irresistibly engaged by the interests 
 of others, 
 
 I shall leave the application of these 
 opinions to the facts I have now to dis- 
 close. Situiited and circumstanced as I 
 was, I had frequent opportunities of see- 
 ing and conversing with the lovely Seline ; 
 and these happy opportunities were mul- 
 tiplied by the apprehensions entertained 
 
OF THOMAS A6M£, ESQ. 209 
 
 as to the Stability of convents, caused by 
 the commencement of that revolutionary 
 storm, which has since desolated the 
 moral and religious world. But after 
 all my efforts, and notwithstanding her 
 stay at home was retarded by the appre- 
 hensions alluded to, I could obtain no 
 greater favour from her, than to know 
 that she esteemed me as her brother's 
 friend, or thought me more amiable than 
 other men, merely on that account. 
 
 I was not a man to be content with 
 negative merit ; I therefore resolved to 
 discover my real power over the heart and 
 mind of Seline, or to perish in the attempt. 
 For this purpose I frequented her society 
 with the utmost assiduity ; conversed 
 with her on subjects the most likely to 
 empassion the mind, and read to her •^ucli 
 works as were best calculated to display 
 the impression of that love which she had 
 so irrevocably fixed in my own heart. 
 
 In the execution of the plan embraced 
 by my system, I had many difficulties to 
 
210 
 
 MEMOIUS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 encounter : in consequence, I found 
 her judirmcnt dormant, her conceptions 
 weak, her idens few and confused, and 
 her mora! principles mere feelings direct- 
 ed by religious prejudire. But in the 
 course of my instruction, how many 
 sources of pleasure were opened in her 
 breast, totally unknown to her before! 
 In readmg, she contemplated with admi- 
 ration the genius displayed in the con- 
 duct of the fable. She marked each trait 
 of character, entered into the train of as- 
 sociations by which it was produced, 
 observed how natunlly they sprung from 
 the situation t'i the person described, and 
 perceived howjustly the author had pour- 
 trayed the inevitable consequences of the 
 conduct to which they li^d. 
 
 Every sentiment, every moral reflec- 
 tion, attracted her notice, and called 
 forili the powers of judgment. Her vi- 
 gorous conceptions embracid every idea 
 of the author, and her cultivauil mind 
 felt all the exquisite emotions of taste, or 
 
OK THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 211 
 
 was filled with the fondest ideas of ima- 
 triiiarv bliss. One day after dinner we 
 walked out to indulge in our favourite to- 
 j)ics. Our excursion terminated at a rock, 
 the base of which was washed by the waters 
 of the lake, it was one of those fine days 
 ill ^iay, when the cool of the fevening 
 l)rou?;ht on a refreshing: sweetness. We 
 sat down to rest, and enjoy the prospect 
 of the hike, that stretched before us be- 
 yond the limits of the eye. 
 
 The sun was just setting, and his last 
 softening beams, flying to the shore, 
 seemed to dip into ;' thousand waves, and 
 leave in the waters the blaze they lost. 
 We had been conversing on the subject 
 of her exclusion from the world on our 
 way to the lake ; and after we had been 
 seated some time, still occupied by the 
 s;nne melancholy idea, 1 took her gently 
 by the hand, and said, in reply to one of 
 her observations: " What, Seline, will 
 you at eighteen years of age, adored by 
 the most faithful lover in the world, and 
 
21S MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 crowned with all the blessings nature can 
 bestow, will you retire to solitude, and 
 deprive yourself of all the pleasures that 
 love promises you ? The death, which so 
 cruel a resolution will give me, is what 
 I do not consider, nor do I so much as 
 pretend to inspire you with any compas- 
 sion for my pains ; I only beg you would 
 pity yourself." She here interrupted me. 
 ** I know well how much it will cost me,'' 
 answered she ; ** for after my owning to 
 you that I esteem you, 1 need not con- 
 ceal my fears, lest that esteem for you 
 should be my punishment. But I was 
 not born to be happy," continued the 
 amiable Seline. *' My heart has been 
 long accustonjed to suffer, it can only 
 now know a change of pain, and be the 
 victim of sentiment, having been before 
 the prey of grief and despair.'* 
 
 •* But why," resumed I in a tone 
 the most impassioned, ** why do you in- 
 form me that you esteem me, since you 
 resolve to yield nothing to that esteem ? 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE^ ESQ. 313 
 
 How barbarous it is in you to oppress, to 
 tear, to ruin me utterly! Is this the part 
 of one who esteems i" Have I, who adore 
 you, and would die to save you from the 
 slightest injury, deserved this?" — "Well, 
 then," exclaimed she, with more than 
 her usual energy, " learn to hate me, for 
 your iiatred will conform more to my 
 quiet than your love. Never view me 
 but in a light that may make me disa- 
 greeable in your eyes. Consider me as 
 insensible to your attentions, and unequal 
 to your station in life, as a maid without 
 fortune, without hopes. And you may 
 add to this, that my heart has been a prey 
 to grief from my tenderest years ; and, 
 alas! how ill suits that with love ! After 
 it has experienced the severities of for- 
 tune, how can it prove the tenderness of 
 passion ? No, look upon me as insensible, 
 and as one who imposes upon you, when 
 she tells you that she thinks you amiable. 
 Cure yourself of your passion, and let. 
 
214 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 me fly to solitude^ there to conceal my 
 esteem, my grief, and my misfortune.*' 
 
 Seline pronounced these words in so 
 touching a manner, that I regarded her 
 for some momenta with a pensive and 
 disconsolate air. Bu4: considering on a 
 sudden that she inflicted severities, and 
 inspired despair, with a view to excite 
 desire, and to encourage hope, I seized 
 her in my arms, and impressed a thousand 
 burning kisses on her hps. The violence 
 with whicli she extricated herself from 
 my embrace,, the tumultuous agitations 
 of her breast, and the lightning that 
 flashed from her eyes, soon convinced me 
 that I was grievously deceived in the 
 fallacious opinion I entertained. She 
 uttered no reproaches, but she suddenly 
 rose to depart. I threw myself on my 
 knees to stop her. She would hear no- 
 thing, but turned on her heel and passed 
 towards home. I walked by her side, 
 a silent spectator of all her agitations. 
 
>> 
 
 01- THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. S15 
 
 Oil our arrival, she immcdiattly retired to 
 her apartment, and I left the house 
 nearly as soon, aggravating her cruelty, 
 calling her insensible and inhuman ; yet, 
 after wasting all my sighs and reproaches, 
 owning that she was the most amiable 
 creature ever formed by heaven or beheld 
 upon earth. . . , 
 
QlG MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 CHAP. XVIIL 
 
 The Tide of Virtue Jiows in the Bosom of Seline^ 
 and he tries in vain to achieve his Object. — Virtue 
 triumphs. — He cannot bear to live, and is unfit 
 to die. 
 
 The repulse I met with neither ex- 
 tinguished curiosity nor suppressed hope. 
 On the contrary, I apphed all my endea- 
 vours to one point, which was that of 
 conquest and triumph. The first step was 
 to seek an interview with Seline. This 
 indulgence was denied me for some time; 
 and when I was admitted into her pre- 
 sence, the sight was so affecting, that I 
 was unable to judge of the real situation 
 of her heart and mind. As I entered the 
 saloon, she supported her head with her 
 hand, her elbow leaning on a table, and 
 had a handkerchief in the same hand, 
 with which she endeavoured tc wipe 
 
OF THOMAi ASHK, ESQ. 917 
 
 away some tears that dropped from hec 
 
 Selinef 
 ■ Virtue 
 is unfit 
 
 IT ex- 
 hope. 
 
 endea- 
 
 jhat of 
 
 p was 
 
 This 
 
 3 time; 
 
 er pre- 
 that 1 
 uation 
 ed the 
 th her 
 e, and 
 hand, 
 wipe 
 
 i""V(» 
 
 'yes. 
 
 I sat down by her^ holding her other 
 hand clasped within mine, and said every 
 thing that the reader can conceive possi- 
 ble to effect a confidential reconciliation, 
 and inspire an impassioned love. For & 
 moment I was ail hope. When she no 
 longer could hide her blushes, or the 
 paleness that seized her as 1 pressed her 
 liand to my lips — when I saw love dancing 
 in her eves, and her false heart beat 
 with rapid motions— when I saw soft 
 trembling palsy every limb, then I 
 thouofht myseh' no loniier obliu^ed to 
 restrain my passion. But on the first 
 trifling liberty I took, a sudden glance of 
 honour fell ii[)on me from her indignant 
 c.ye, and made me again repent. 
 
 " IJuld, Sirl" exclaimed Seline, while 
 ihe tide of virtue flowed in upon lur; 
 -' hold ! and forget not that I am tlai}L;htcr 
 to tiie great Heralti, and sister lo (Jctavio, 
 your friend. Ueinember that 1 am an 
 vol.. r. L 
 
2 IS MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 unspotted maid ; and that if you can set 
 no higher value upon me than poor base 
 prostitution, you had better retire from 
 my acquaintance, and never see me more. 
 Remember, too,'* continued the exalted 
 Cfirl, " that it is in vain vou think to 
 obtain the glory of conquest over one, who 
 lias been taught to know that when a 
 woman falls from virtue, she exceeds 
 mankind in the flagr uicy of her crimes. 
 Oh, how many pangs would your inglo- 
 rious passion cost the great, unfortunate 
 house of Beralti, were you to make way 
 to it through the heart of the wretch(;d 
 Scline !'* — As she concluded these words, 
 she hastily rose, and, with an agitated 
 precipitancy, left the a{)artment, not even 
 biddinii me farewell. 
 
 1 shall not go into a detail of my own 
 sufferings or sensations. The reader 
 must perceive that I played away my 
 heart at a game 1 did not understand. 
 Honour, which I had almost van(|uis}ied, 
 revived and warred a"ain!:,t me: and 
 
 dignii 
 us u a II 
 ulthoi 
 man J 
 ■ issunl 
 
 <-'iIaccl 
 
 desiitl 
 oonsic 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 2i5 
 
 m set 
 
 ' base 
 from 
 
 more. 
 
 xalted 
 
 nk to 
 
 e, who 
 
 /hen a 
 
 xcceds 
 
 crimes. 
 
 ■ inglo- 
 
 rtunatc 
 
 ke way 
 tcbccl 
 words, 
 .rritated 
 lot rvcn 
 
 x\y own 
 reader 
 
 way n^y 
 krstand. 
 (|uislicd, 
 u> ; and 
 
 re 
 
 Seline, whc so nearly resolved to love, 
 by an inconstancy natural to her sex^ Oi- 
 rather from virtuous fears, turned over to 
 honour's side, and left me a slave to dis- 
 appointment and contempt. Thus tli« 
 despairing man stands on the river's 
 l)ank, designing to plunge into the rapid 
 stream ; till, cowardly fear seizing his 
 timorous soul, he views around once 
 more the flowery plain?!, and looks witli 
 wishing eyes back to the groves; then, 
 S!i::hing, stops, and cries, '* 1 was too 
 I ash !" forsakes the dangerous shore, and 
 iiastes awav. 
 
 Jn all human terrors the soul loses its 
 dignity ; and, as it were, shrinks below its 
 usual size: but by tfie terror of love, 
 although it be always awful, the soul of 
 man seems to be raised out of a trance ; it 
 assumes an unknown grandeur; it is seized 
 with a new appetite, that in a moment 
 elVaccii its ibrmer little pros])eot3 and 
 desires; it is rapt ( ut of the sight and 
 oonsider.ition of this diminutive world, 
 
 J. 2 
 
220 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS. 
 
 into a kind of gigantic creation : it over- 
 looks the Apennines, and the clouds 
 upon them, and sees nothing in view 
 around it, but immense obiects. 
 
 In the poet's hinguage, it flies, it so.iis, 
 it pursues a beauty in the mivi'-i^' )i 
 rapture, tliat words or description cannot 
 conta-in ; and if these expressions be ex- 
 travagant and improper in the ordinary 
 commerce of life, they yet exactly de- 
 scribe the intellectual and real state of 
 the mind at the presence of a combated 
 passion. At first, it is indeed true, like 
 a weak mortal, the conduct of Seline re- 
 
 duced me to a momenta 
 
 ry 
 
 and impotoncy. In this torment, unab; 
 to hide my disorder, on i y return home, 
 I retired to rest at an early hour; hvt the 
 restless acronies of the nitiht exd; cd 
 those of the day, and were not even by 
 myself to be expressed. The returning 
 light, however, brought a short slumi'; :' 
 upon its win^s ; and I awoke from drea.n. 
 more 'jgrecable than ail my watchfu] 
 
 state of despa"^ I 
 rme 
 
 lioa' 
 pcrinj 
 'Oh 
 the hj 
 ■'he l(] 
 Ijc'cau 
 
O? THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 221 
 
 iir 
 
 -I 
 
 hours could bring; for they were all tor- 
 tured, and even the softest mixed with a 
 thousand despairs, difficulties, and disap- 
 pointments. 
 
 Winged with these delusive dreams, I 
 flew to ihe habitation of the innocent 
 Seline. I was informed that she had but 
 the moment before gone across the 
 mountains to the village of Clarens. I 
 instantly resolved to follow her. " Selina 
 shall now be mine," said I. *' In shades 
 and gloomy lights, the phantom honour 
 vanishes. In silent groves and grottos, 
 dark alcoves, and lonely recesses, nil its 
 ;brmalities are laid aside. It is then and 
 ■ 'ere Seline will yield. With a faint 
 struggle, and a soft resistance, I shall 
 hear her broken sighs, her tender whis- 
 pering voice, that trembling will say— 
 ' Oh ! can you be so cruel > Have you 
 the heart ? Will vou ruin Seline because 
 v-'he loves you ? Oh! will you ruin Seline 
 L'ecause you may ?' Then will she, 
 
 V 
 
5'i5 MKMOIRS AND CONFESSION i 
 
 sighing, yield, and make me liapi)ier than 
 a triumphant god !'' 
 
 With these cruel and ambitious hopes, 
 I hastily set oil for Clarens, pursuing 
 the path taken by Seline. 1 at length 
 came in sight of her ; but did not approach 
 or accost her. 1 was content to observe 
 her with minute attention. As she came 
 to a mountain that rose high on the left, 
 she found sho had strayed from her road, 
 and might observe other mountains rising 
 HI strange confusion — the furthest off 
 almost lost in the distance, yet great 
 in the obscurity. I saw her pause. Her 
 imagination laboured to travel over them ; 
 and the iidiabitants, no doubt, appeared 
 to her as if they resided in another world. 
 She pursued her walk ; but here she had a 
 different prospect. The next mountain 
 covered all the rest from her view ; and, by 
 its nearer approach, presented distinctly 
 to her eye ohjects of new admiration. 
 
 The rocks on its sides met the clouds 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 2i?3 
 
 with vast irregularity. Her pensive eye 
 traced the rugged precipice down to the 
 bottom, and surveyed there the mighty 
 ruins, which time had mouldered and 
 tumbled below. It was easy for me to 
 tlistinguish that Seline was terrified and 
 silenced into awe, at these vestiges of 
 immense power ; and the more manifest 
 were the appearances of disorder, the 
 more plainly she felt the boundless might 
 tlieso rude monuments arc owing to. 
 IJut, beside this silent fear, I found her 
 curiosity roused from the deepest springs 
 iu her soul, on reaching the highest 
 boundary of the lake, and perceiving that 
 ]t was disturbed and agitated in storms; 
 while the forests of its banks roared and 
 bent under the force of a tempest, though 
 the summit on which slie stood refused 
 to yield to its destructive power^ and re- 
 mained in awful deep serenity, 
 
 'I'liis calm grandeur, this sublime dis- 
 tinction, was not of long duration. The 
 storm suddenly rose above the unnica- 
 
 L 4 
 
 i M 
 
524 MEMOIRS AND CONFKSSIOMf 
 
 sured eminence. Tlnindcr, with brokpr? 
 bursts of jiglitning, through bh\ck clouds, 
 appalled the heart of the timid Selitie ; 
 and as I advanced towards her, olTeriiii:;: 
 my arm, she appeared frightened and 
 faint, ready to fall to the earth, prostrate 
 before the genius of such immense and 
 terrific power. 
 
 She uttered an exclamation of appre- 
 hension on seeing me, but did not refuse 
 my arm. I felt obscure hopes and ob- 
 scure fears. " Nay, tremble not," said 1, 
 " nor fear this fond pursuit. I dare not 
 speak of love. To you, alas! I know it 
 is painful now. — Enough. All heaven, 
 in darkness, threatens another ^.torm. 
 AVhat ! are you not afraid, Seline ? Ob- 
 serve the blackenin'j: skv. See how the 
 winds arise in maddening whirls, scatter 
 the dust, antl high uprenr the leaves, 
 which, darkly withering, lately strewed 
 the ground. Judge by the sulh^i roaring 
 of the woods ; the wild disordered llut- 
 tcr of the birds, and by the tears thai 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 225 
 
 trickle down your cheeks. Too well 
 presiigcd. — Duar Seliiie, look; alas! the 
 lightninjT^ darts, the thunder rolls/* 
 
 She started, and looked around with 
 a(rri"ht. The scene was awful. The 
 hillows of a cataract, flung' themselves 
 down with eternal rage, the agitation of 
 the lake was excessive, and the summits 
 of all tlie mountains were clad with 
 Irowning clouds. On one side only was 
 there any security : it was offered by a 
 cavern in the rock on which we stood.— 
 " Haste," continued I, pointing to this 
 retreat, 
 
 Ilaslo ! — reach tlic shelter of yon friendly cave ; 
 And I nill watch you, as the whirlwind!) lavc. 
 
 But still, my angol, still you fear; 
 And still your iit-art throbs high — 
 Na\ , do not tremble; I am near, 
 
 I mock tht'se Hashes, whiUt with you, 
 Exult amid the thnndci's roar; 
 
 Aud when the storm subsidcti, adieu! 
 Ungratclul maid, to uiect iiv inoie ! 
 h4 
 
556 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 With s:entlc violence, I drew her to- 
 wards the cave, and continued — 
 
 Here sit, here rest secure, 
 Tfie lightning never pierced this cavern's gloom, 
 'Jhick groves of pendent umbrage swell 
 
 around, 
 And nniuerous laurels stretch their branching 
 
 shades 
 To bound the darting fire 1 
 Sit, my fair Seraph, calmly here respire. 
 
 '* You seem aUunned, and creep close to 
 nic as if vou would arrest mv ilij^ht — • 
 vou grasp my hand. — Forbear; forbear 
 to doubt. Though heaven be hurled in 
 dreadful ruin down, 1 will not move. 
 For this delicious hour oft have I longet) 
 in vain. Ah sacred bliss, were but your 
 tremors those of tender love! — All, Se- 
 line! let me nurse this sweet, this dear 
 delusion, What! who knows but you 
 have loved me? Your scornful frowns 
 reluctantly, perhaps, arose from coyness, 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 227 
 
 and not from coM disdain : and, haply, 
 iove now fVi^'ns excessive Tear. 
 
 *' W^liat say you, Seline ? Answer. — Ah ! 
 you pause as if perplexed. You turn 
 away your tell-tale eyes abashed — you 
 blush — you sweetly smile. — Enough 1 
 enough ! What niodestv conceals, that 
 angel-look, that virgin blush, reveals. 
 Here, while tlie tempest rules the night, 
 and howls along the waste, taste 1 se- 
 ronest calm, nor wish the blithe return 
 of iiijlit: Though darkness wraps the 
 sky, to me this shines the brightest day. 
 Oli ! may my life thus glide away, thus 
 hap[)y may i die !'* 
 
 At tlie conclusion of these words, in 
 which the reader will perceive I was 
 amply i)rovided from La Tciupcsta del 
 ISIttastano^ and which I had previously 
 translated tor the amusement of Seline, 
 the diflerent sentiments which actuated 
 her soul were so violent, that her eyes 
 rushed full of tears. *» Ah, Ashe/' cried 
 she, " at length you are master of my 
 
fC'S MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 life; l)iit do not siifllT me to uii(lci:ro a 
 thoijsiind deaths, hy hciipiiin: upon me a 
 load of dishonour too dreadful to endure. 
 1 cannot lose my virtue but with loss of 
 life. I love you, I confess. If you love 
 ine, respect that virtue which alone I 
 prize." She here fell on her knees, and 
 with uplifted hands besought me. But 
 she had no occasion. A sudden sense 
 of honour enlightened my unc'erstanding. 
 1 raised her from the earth, and con- 
 ducted her to Clarens, where 1 left her, 
 with this expression. "Oh! what fate 
 is reserved for me! Tor thus 1 cannot 
 bear to live ; and surely 1 am far from, 
 being fit to die," 
 
OF THOMAS ASUr:, ESQ. 
 
 C'?9 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 The Traveller floats in nn Ocedn of Doubt and 
 Uitcertainty. — Sellne retires to a Convent. — He 
 laments her Loss. — Disappointment the Parent 
 of Wi.idum. — It rouses his Soul to a sulutari/ 
 Activity. — Uehecomcs the Friend of Lor aE(I:card' 
 Fiiigcrald. — Consequences of that Frictidship, 
 
 Tjie Greeks, the fathers of thought 
 p.ud sublime knowledge, always nicely 
 observed the difference between the na- 
 live powers of tlie mind over its stock of 
 sensible ideas, and the sublime influence 
 to which it was passive.. 
 
 They traced the hitter throuc'h its 
 several appearances^ and never failed to 
 attribute it to divine power. It was so 
 with nie. At first doubtfid as to the 
 motive of my generous conduct towards 
 the amiable Seline, 1 divided it out, ac- 
 cording as my imagination hapj)cncd to 
 be struck, and to the concomitant in- 
 
 ! . 
 
 I 
 
230 MEMOIUS AND CONFESSION'S 
 
 ternal ideas ; but I fiiiallv acknowlcdofed 
 a supernatural interposition, and tlianked 
 God that the crime ol" seduction was not 
 again laid upon my head. Stdl 1 knew 
 not how to act. The small portion left 
 to Seline, bv her father, was to b^^ r- 
 felted if she did not take refuge in f 
 vent ior life. For myself, 1 had eternally 
 oifended my father, and had nothing to 
 depend on but an ensign's half-paj'. To 
 marry her was ridiculous ; to seduce her 
 a crime ! Those v^'ere my opinions ; and 
 such was my situation: the inevitable 
 fiite of coquetry and vice. 
 
 I was floating in this ocean of tumult 
 and perplexity, when I received the fol- 
 lowintr note from Seline: — " Beinu: irre- 
 vocably fixed in my design of retiring 
 from the world, I bid you farewell. Do 
 not oppose me. Let me bury myself in 
 solitude; for that i^ the only course now 
 left to me. 1 am not formed for society. 
 Such were my resolves before I became 
 acquainted with you. Tlicy are not 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 231 
 
 changed; hut I know not whence it is, 
 that my heart entertains sentiments, to 
 which it ought to bo a stranger. 1 have 
 not even been able to disnruise them from 
 you. How feeble are we rendered by love ! 
 However, I own that it is you alone who 
 could touch me ; and in whatever manner 
 Heaven shall dispose of me, 1 perceive 
 that you will be always dear to my 
 heart. 
 
 " But, notwithstanding this acknow- 
 ledgment, which shews so much weak- 
 ness, I have still strength enough to tell 
 you, that my first reasons make more 
 impression upon me than all my tender- 
 ness. I am sensible how much I forfeit 
 by losing you, but I am persuaded that 
 my future repose demands this sacrifice. 
 You thought that you would remove my 
 difficulties, after your generous conduct 
 at the time OL the tempest; but these are 
 the very motives that seal my resolution. 
 I am incapable of flattering myself ; and 
 
 ♦7cll know, that a little beautv, and 
 
23S' MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 some other feeble attractions about me, 
 can never make up my defects in point 
 of fortune. So amiable a man was not 
 born for Seline Herulti. I well know 
 what glory, and even love requires of me. 
 1 will not disturb the course of vour for- 
 tune; nor will I Jbe a hindrance . those 
 great lUiances that wait on your merit 
 and worth. Farewell, Sir; never se" me 
 more, for it never can contribute to your 
 happiness. You will only increase my 
 infelicitv, and hasten the moment of 
 my retreat. Farewell! I cannot conceal 
 the tears that drop from my eyes. Fare- 
 well!" 
 
 A thunderbolt from Heaven could not 
 have struck me u ith more confusion and 
 surprise than the receipt of this extraor- 
 dinary and unexpected letter. On my 
 recovery, I replied to it in a few incohe- 
 rent lines: — " VVould so amiable a woman 
 wish for the doa ih ol the man she es- 
 teemed ? My lite depended upon one 
 word under her hand! 1 loved with a 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 2:3.5 
 
 j)assioii groater than evnr man loved. I 
 fiirew my heart at her feet, and conjured 
 her to accept it. If she would not hear 
 me, to what despair should I be reduced ! 
 I was no longer myself. Life had no 
 pleasure for me, &c. &c.'* But this 
 reached the hands of the innocent Seline 
 too late. She had previously departed 
 for I'er convent ; and I felt the heart- 
 rending conviction that she was at once 
 beloved, admirei', and lost ! 
 
 Disappointment is the parent of wis- 
 dom. It is disaj)pointmcnt only that 
 can produce " common sense,'* which 
 is sterling in every region; the current 
 coin erpially useful to the high and to 
 the low, to the learned and the unlearned. 
 It is ever in roijuisition, ever ne»v'ssary; 
 nor can all the stores of wit r.iid know- 
 lediie, nor all the artificial stimuli to the 
 itnaginalion, comj)ensatc for its absence. 
 
 When I recovered, in some degree, 
 from the severe disappointnient caused by 
 t!ie fatal and fixed resolution ot" the lovely 
 
231' MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 lost Seliiie, and when I discovered the 
 entire futility of endeavouring to see her 
 more, I turned with averted eyes from 
 the borders of the Lake of Geneva, and 
 began to compare the town with the 
 country, in regard to their respective 
 atl vantages for the acquisition oF know- 
 ledge. How stood the comparison ? I 
 have already said much in praise of the 
 country; but, on comparison, I found 
 its charms feeble. 
 
 The town is the region where all the 
 energies of true virtue are naturally 
 called into an exercise the most strenuous 
 and invigorating. It is where temptations 
 to vice and crimes assail in so many 
 winning forms, and with such giant tbrcc^ 
 to drag away the soul, that even negative 
 innocence cannot be maintained without 
 heroic virtue. Here vou mingle in 
 crowded society; and how dilHcult the 
 task, but how noble the virtue, to check 
 those malignities and disgusts^ and selt- 
 preferenccs, which even amid the com- 
 
OF TIIOMA« ISHK, ESQ. 
 
 
 I the 
 her 
 
 petitions of true merit, and of social ex- 
 
 cnllenco^ are for ever 
 
 springing up in 
 
 every heart ! Here only is the acti- 
 vity of genius and of industry fully 
 exerted. 
 
 h\ towUj too, while you walk abroad, 
 amid a field of human misery, at every 
 step you move, all the generous benigni- 
 ties are assailed with a force sufficient to 
 create tenderness and compassion in the 
 very breast of apathy and selfishness. 
 Here, in short, all the humaii itlections 
 are kept in full play ; and man it* at once 
 enfeebled and strengthened by being re- 
 duced into the most implicit dependence 
 on human aid, 3'et rendered thus even ten 
 times more powerful over nature and 
 fortune, than while he wa;* accustomed 
 to stand sullenly aloof from the rest of 
 the world, and to eonlide only in the 
 inventions of his own mind, and in tho 
 vigour of his own single arm. Yes, 
 yes, argued I, alter my cruel disappoint- 
 
 ii 
 
*^36 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 ment, if I be too feeble for the exertions 
 of active virtue, let me hide mvself 
 
 s of Switzerland; 
 
 the 
 
 iti 
 
 anion f> tne moui 
 but if my soul be not incapable of those 
 energies, which are the best pride of our 
 nature, let me rather mingle in the busy 
 life of the town. 
 
 These elements of comparison v/ere no 
 sooner formed, than I took leave of my 
 good friend M. In Tour, and repaired to 
 Lausanne, intending to consult with my 
 friend, Mr. Gibbon, and some other va- 
 luable acquaintances, whom 1 had the 
 happiness to form there, on my future 
 mode of life, and on the town and the 
 country most favourable to the extent of 
 my instruction and the coiUracted state 
 of my means. In noticing the extent 
 of my instruction, it is proper 1 should 
 remark, that during my stay at M. la 
 Tour's, I passed tin »'jgh a regular course 
 of French, Italian, and (jerman litera- 
 tur«', historical and geographical know- 
 
OF THOMAS ASHF, ESJ^. ^j/ 
 
 ledge, scientific and tronomical calcu- 
 lations, and political, theological, and 
 moral controversy. The place of my 
 residence \\as more doubtful than the 
 question of talents and attainments. A 
 revolution, like the sweep ot a whi-iwind, 
 was passing over France, while it ti; eat- 
 cned likewise to ravage all the neigh- 
 bouring states^niid territor < s. I had an 
 insuperable ol)jectiontr "nglanf-, b< > ause 
 of my debts contracteti in Ireland, Fi- 
 nally I resolved on goin^i- to Brussels, 
 and there seeing in what manner I couhi 
 live or assist my half-pay, winch I con- 
 tinued regularly to receive. 
 
 In this determination I was biased by 
 Lord Edw'.rd Fitzgerald, a young noble- 
 man whom I met with at [iausanne, a[id 
 who honoured me with his friendship 
 to such a height, that he propos^ed to 
 take me in his carriage all the way to 
 Brussels free of expense, if I would ac- 
 company him on foot in an excursion 
 
2J3 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS. 
 
 amono- some of the most moinitainoiis 
 cantons in Switzerland. 1 eagerly 
 embraced this flattering proposition, 
 anxiously longing for the moment when 
 1 should depart, and find my soul again 
 roused to salutary activity. 
 
OF THOMAS ASIIE, ESQ. ?;'i9 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 Sets Old xci'th Lord Edicard upon a Pedestrian 
 Tour, — Curiusitij excited at the opening of nczo 
 Scenes.'— Historical Jnccdote. — Tribute to Lord 
 Edward. — Visit to a Convent. — IlindersPamelay 
 the Dauffliter of the Duke of Orleans, from 
 ta/cini^ the Veil. — Description of a sainted 
 Vestal. 
 
 WnKN our curiosity is excited at the 
 opening of new scenes, our ideas are af- 
 fc'Ctins:, and beyond life ; so that we see 
 objects in a brighter hue than they after- 
 wards appear in: for when curiosity is 
 sated, the objects grow dull, and our 
 ideas fall to their diminutive natural con- 
 formity. 
 
 AVhat \ have said may account for the 
 raptilred prospect of our youth. Novelty 
 always recommends, because expecta- 
 tions of the unknown are everhijxh ; and 
 in youth we have an eternal novelty. In- 
 
<» ', 
 
 '?iO 
 
 MEMOIRS AND ^DNFESSIOKS 
 
 experienced credulity gilds our young 
 ideas, and imparts to every thing a tresli 
 lustre, which is not yet alloyed by doubts. 
 With this species of curiosity it was that 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald and 1 set out 
 upon our pedestrian tour. Youth strewed 
 our wayward path with blossoms ; butJiow 
 that my imagination is cooled by age, 
 I cannot recollect what flowers 1 met 
 with that are worthy of the reader's 
 retrard. 
 
 I shall present hut one or two ; more 
 because thev serve to adorn the character 
 of my late noble frien<l, than from any 
 intrinsic beauty they otherwise possess. 
 We first repa red to Berne. The way 
 passes throuuh a garden, one of the finest 
 1 have ever seen. The trees on both 
 sides bend under the weight of the rich 
 fruits with which thev are overcharc'ed ; 
 and the golden grain waves over the fields 
 where they spread out to a wider dis- 
 tance. It was a noliday. The p» asanls, 
 in ih(.'ir best attire, wtre making merry 
 
OF THOMJts ASHE, ES(l. 24 1 
 
 in the houses of public entertainment, 
 smoking tlieir pipes, carousiug with wine, 
 and joyously shouting through the ai:, 
 " Thus lives the jc^Uy Switzer." 
 
 As we parsed the town of Murten, 
 our guide, who carried a change of clothes, 
 a'sked, " Would you not chuse to see 
 the remainsofour enemies ?"—-*' Where?'* 
 *' Here, to the left." We followed his 
 steps, and through a large iron trellising 
 saw a heap of human bones. Their ori- 
 gin was this: Charles the Bold, Duke of 
 Curgundy, was one of the most powerful 
 princes of his time, and personally one 
 of the most daring and lieroic. But his 
 ambition made him the constant terror 
 of his neighbours, and a scourge to the 
 human race. 
 
 In the year 1710', he determined to 
 make war on the Swiss cantons, and 
 to crush their proud liberties under the 
 iron scej)tre ut^ tyranny. His army 
 marched. Their banners blazed in th« 
 irky ; and the earth groaned under the 
 VOL. r H 
 
24:2 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 movements of their engines and artillery. 
 The troops of Burgundy were drawn out 
 in arrav on the banks of the lake, and 
 Charles looked with envious eve towards 
 the vales of Switzerland, already count- 
 ing them his own. But at once the signal 
 was given, and the alarm pervaded all 
 Switzerland. " The enemy approaches !" 
 ■was the general cry. The peaceful shep- 
 herds left the cottages and their flocks; 
 seized their battle axes and spears ; as- 
 sembled thus armed ; and, while the love 
 of their country swelled their hearts, 
 rushed down like the Alpine torrent, 
 upon those hosts of foes that menaced 
 the passes of their hills. 
 
 Charles's cannon played upon the 
 Swiss : but they came on unappalled. 
 The Burgundian ranks were broken, and 
 their fire was silenced. The duke him- 
 self plunged on horseback into the lake, 
 and his stout courser conveyed him safe 
 to the further shore. A few trusty ser- 
 vants were the attendants of his flight. 
 
OF THOMAS ASUE, ESQ. 
 
 24.3 
 
 He was reserved to perish afterwards 
 by liis own hand. Looking back to the 
 field of carnase, out of which he had 
 escaped, and beholding the general 
 slaughter of his army, he indignantly 
 cried; " Shall I be such a dastard as to 
 survive their fall ?'* and with a pistol 
 put an end to his existence. 
 
 The Swiss afterwards gathered up the 
 bones of their slaughtered enemies, and 
 deposited them together in a heap, which 
 still remains there. I, for my part, 
 exulted in tliis triumph of liberty ; but, 
 althouGfh Lord Edward was an innate and 
 professed lover of freedom, it was not so 
 with him. He shuddered at the sight 
 of such a monument of the errors and 
 miserable mortality of man. " And 
 you men of Switzerland," exclaim- 
 ed his Lordship, " how can you be- 
 hold with exultation such trophies as 
 these ? Were not the IJurgundians your 
 brethren of humanity ? Why should not 
 the remains of these thirty thousand 
 
 M 2 
 
Si4 MEMOIRS AKD CONFESSIOKS 
 
 Burgundians have been watered with 
 your tears ; committed with decent so- 
 lemnity to earth, and dishonoured with 
 no other monument than thst on a simple 
 funeral structure should hove been in- 
 scribed, in honour of the conquerors, this 
 brief memorial. — ' Here fought the Swiss 
 for their country: they record their vic- 
 tory, but th€y mingle tears with their 
 songs of triumph !* — '* Oh !" continued 
 his Lordship, " had you, men of Swit- 
 zerland, done thus, then might your 
 glory have been pure, and your triumph 
 fitted to command the sympathy of every 
 generous heart. But hide, oh hide this 
 monument of barbarous ferocity in tri- 
 umph ; and when you boast of the proud 
 name of Switzer, remember there is one 
 yet far more honourable — that of man !'* 
 
 I must abandon this theme for the pre- 
 sent. The noble subject of it is no more. 
 He tvas carried off in the prime of his 
 life, and deemed a traitor to his God and 
 his country. Yet God never endowed 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 245 
 
 maawith a better heart than his. Bless- 
 ed be his memory ! 
 
 We know not the bounds of pleasure, 
 because we are unacquainted with the 
 extent and boundaries of the human in- 
 tellect. The mind in ignorance is like a 
 sleeping giant ; it has immense capacities 
 without the power of using them. By 
 listening to the letters of Socrates, men 
 grew heroes, philosophers, and legislators; 
 for he, of all mankind, seemed to have 
 discovered the short and lightsome path 
 to the faculties of the mind. 
 
 To give an instance of the human capa- 
 city, that comes more immediately within 
 our notice, what sentiments of pleasure 
 did Lord Edward and I ^^xperience in 
 our tour through the mountainous can- 
 tons of Switzerland! And to what must 
 these sentiments be attributed ? — To an 
 expansion of mind, which enabled us to 
 see two different natures laying claim t(> 
 'js, and dragging us different ways. We 
 saw a necessity that arose from our former 
 
 M 3 
 
246 MEMOIRS AND CON Fl-ISSIONX 
 
 r ituation and circumstances, benrling us 
 down into 'unworthy misery and sordid 
 baseness; and wcsaw, when we had escap- 
 ed from theinbulting tyranny of our fate, 
 and had acquired ease and freedom from 
 trave), a generous nature that hiy stupi- 
 fied and oppressed, beginning to awake 
 and i^harm us with new prospects of 
 beauty and glory. 
 
 Directed by this waking genius, we 
 gazed in rapture on the bi auties and ele- 
 vated scenes of nature. 'Ihc beauties of 
 nature are famihar, and charm us like a 
 mother's bosom ; and the objects in 
 Switzerland, wh'ch have the plain marks 
 of immense power and grandeur, raised in 
 us a still, an inquisitive, and trembling 
 delight. V^e before believed that geniu* 
 often threw over the objects of its descrip- 
 tions colours finer than those of nature, 
 and opened a paradise that existed no 
 where but in its own creations. We 
 once thought the bright and peaceful 
 scenes of Arcadia, and the lovely de- 
 
 desc 
 
 ciei 
 
 to 
 
 th( 
 
 sen? 
 
 Th( 
 
 his 
 
 dtiefi 
 
 asii. 
 
 guii 
 
 niea 
 
OP THOMAS A3HE, ESQ. 
 
 247 
 
 we 
 
 scriptioiis of pastoral poetry, never exist- 
 ed on earti) any more than Pope's shep- 
 liercls, or tlio river Gods of Windsor 
 Forest ; that it was all a charming illusion, 
 which the mind first painted in celestial 
 colours, and then confided in. But in 
 the course of our excursion, we discover- 
 ed the reality of those amazing beauties, 
 whose very shadow glimmering, upon the 
 poet's imagination, conveyed to it in- 
 describable raptures, and elevated it with 
 enthusiastic pleasure. 
 
 In iny quality of biogrnpher, I cannot 
 descend to local exactness: it is suffi- 
 cient that I distinguisli the o))jectsI offer 
 to view, by son)e general lines, and make 
 them move the render by the enlivening 
 sensations that toui^h us by sympathy. 
 The poet, who calls the imagination to 
 his beloved groves and chrystai springs, 
 does not distinguish his trees into oak, 
 ash, or elm ; he shews them neither re- 
 gularly nor in confusion ; nor does he 
 measure the windings of his streams, and 
 
 M 4 
 
54!8 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 mark out the ford?, the shallows, aiK^ 
 depths. He just mentions the rurarl 
 scene, and then proceeds to paint the 
 engaging image of calm content, and easy 
 unsurfeiting joys, that are not objects of 
 sense, and yet are the real objects of 
 beauty. 
 
 Bui however liltle it may be my pro- 
 vince to dilate upon particular description, 
 that has no absolute analogy with my 
 own gGueral history, I should not think 
 myself justified in an omission of the fol- 
 lowing incident or local circumstance* It 
 would appear, that previously to Lord 
 Edward's residence in Switzerland, he 
 had resided in France, and for a sufficient 
 time to form the most pure and fixed 
 attachment for Pamela, the natural 
 daughter of the Duke of Orleans, after- 
 wards surnamod l\;;alite. The attach- 
 ment was an imi)rutlent one ; and the 
 Duke, ilreading its tern)ination, sent 
 Pamela out of the kingdom, instructing 
 the governess to whom he confided htr 
 
or THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 24'9 
 
 to place her at a convent in Swilzerland, 
 and after lier novitiate, to see her made a 
 permanent sister of the nunnery. The 
 phice of her retreat was kept a profound 
 secret, nor could all the ingenuity and 
 research of his Lordship discover any 
 thing more than the broad fact above 
 stated. 
 
 The frequent agitation and abstraction 
 of Lord Edward's mind convinced me 
 that he had a sik-nt sorrow there which 
 he wished to conceal, or of wliich he 
 feared the discovery. Whatever it ivas, 
 1 respected it, and perhaps never should 
 have kn«wn its nature, iiad it not been, 
 that, after several days travelling, our 
 undirected steps brought us to the con- 
 vent of Vilvere. The deep-toned bell, 
 and the vestured saints that attended the 
 shrine within the grating, announced the 
 hour of orisons to be near. We entered 
 the chapel just as the curtain was drawn 
 from the front of the vestal gallery. It 
 had before concealed the nuua froai the 
 
 M 6 
 
250 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 observation of the spectators below ; and 
 now one of these lovely victims attracted 
 much of the public attention. A veil of 
 the purest white, which swept with 
 graceful fokls to the ground, fell from her 
 head. A crovvn of thorns encircled her 
 brow. Trembling with tears, her soft 
 blue eyes shone like the moon before 
 the storm ; now bright, now dark, now 
 dim. She seemed an angcl at the shrine ; 
 and, as with pious rapture she kissed the 
 crossjthe solemn organ pealed to the skies, 
 and filled the mind with the delusions of 
 a dream. 
 
 The scene now changed, and we \\\n] 
 a nearer view of this interesting object. 
 She was conducted to an altar in the 
 chapel, which was covered with cloth 
 of the blackest hue. She knelt — her 
 gentle bosom heaved — the lily usurped 
 her cheek. The sigh, repressed by piety, 
 spoke resignation to her fate. The ex- 
 pecting crowd gazed on the maid, and a 
 moan escaped from every breast. Trom 
 
OF TtlOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 251 
 
 tliis we learned, that for the sweet victim 
 the sacred shrine was thus decked out. 
 She rose from prayer ; and, with tremulous 
 voice, was about to make the vows bv 
 which she would have engaged herself to 
 quit the world forever, and live immured 
 within the cloister's shade, when Lord 
 Edward approached the base of the altar, 
 and snatcliing out of her hands the scroll 
 fron. which she intended to recite her 
 vows, the dovr-hke ey* s of Pamela now 
 viewed, for tlie first time in Switzerland, 
 her ijord Edward's face 1 
 
 Oh, tailhful found ! what joy in grief 1 
 The parchment was torn, and the happy 
 Fitzgerald pressed the trembling Pamela 
 to his tender breast. An awful silence 
 now ensued. Pale terror overspread the 
 face oi'the abbess. It reigned a moment, 
 ard was chased by one loud burst of 
 •ngeance : " (lO to thy cell, and hide 
 ti. e there!" cried she to the affrighted 
 victim; but all pitied and admired the 
 pair, earnestly wishing to know their 
 
S5t3 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 story. Besides, the holy benediction 
 was not given — the last solemn vow not 
 taken. What was the abbess to do? Vior 
 lence she durst' not use. She strove for 
 speech, but it was in vain. Pamela ap- 
 pealed to the people, and declared that 
 she was about to take the veil through 
 tyranny, not by choice; that she was be- 
 trothed to Lord Edward, and had no 
 other desire than that of leaving the con- 
 vent, and of giving her hand to him. 
 
 The times were favourable to the lovers ; 
 for the discipline of the convents was 
 much rclaxcdi; The abbess was soon 
 brought to her senses, and a handsome 
 bribe from Lord Edward procured him 
 access to her parlour, where he saw his 
 beloved Pamela when he pleased, and 
 where he negociated with her father that 
 treaty, which eflected his marriage with 
 the object of his affections, thus allying 
 him to the royal house of France. 
 
 c\ci 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE. ESQ. 
 
 2^3 
 
 GlIAP. XXI. 
 
 •fc^ 
 
 Leaves Sxcitzerlandy and enters France. — Contract 
 between France and England. — Arrives at Paris. 
 — jinticipates a Storm of Revolutions and poptu 
 lar Outrage. — Sepurationfrom Lord Edward, — 
 Removes from Paris to Maestrickt. — Is ap~ 
 pointed Governor to the Children of Prince 
 Frederick of Ilcsse,'^ Portraiture of a German, 
 Court. 
 
 Nature, that bestows her favours 
 without respect of persons, often denies, 
 to tlie great tlie capacity of distinguished 
 elegance, and flings it away in obscure 
 villages. It is sometimes seen at a coun- 
 try fair, spreading an amiableness over a 
 s.un-burnt girl, like the moon through a 
 mist ; and sheas often excites the admira- 
 tion of the peer, as the hope and jealousy 
 of the rustic* 
 
 This sentiment was the last I enter- 
 tained on leaving the borders of Switzer- 
 land. There is iio great opulence and 
 
*i.54 MEMOIRS AN1> CONFESSIONS 
 
 munificence, no splendid establishments, 
 no commerce, no immense capital em- 
 
 arked in the structure oF docks, roads, 
 harbours, and canals, no Lloyd's Coffee 
 Rooms, India House, or Stock Exchange; 
 but there is a high state of cultivation 
 and civilization, as well as comfort and 
 cheerfulness among all ranks, which are 
 the best and proudest proofs of Udtional 
 prosperity, a satisfied population, and a 
 wise system of government. 
 
 On leaving this charming country, with 
 many regrets of the heart, Lord Edward 
 Fitzgerald, contrary to my wish, required 
 me to accompany him through France. 
 1 did so; and, in the course of three 
 months (travelling post,) visited all the 
 large towns, and every object of curiosity 
 throughout that magnificent country. — 
 We also encountered numerous adven- 
 tures ; but as they were more imme- 
 diately connected with my noble com- 
 panion than myself, I cannot think them 
 fit for individual history. I only mention 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 225 
 
 the circumstance of going to France at 
 this period, to shew the reader what 
 opportunities I had of seeing the world, 
 studying mankind, and acquiring know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Paris indeed was a grand school of 
 knowledge. Ingenuous curiosity was 
 there excited by every means tiiat could 
 possibly be devised. It was there that I 
 readily found all those media of informa- 
 tions, by the living voice, by books, by 
 the sight of numberless assemblages of 
 various objects of art, which in»prove the 
 taste, and store the intellect with science. 
 How many regions might 1 have travelled 
 over ere 1 had met with half those 
 establishments of ingenuity, those speci- 
 mens of objects in nature, those exhibi- 
 tions of languages and manners, which 
 Paris alone, within its narrow compass 
 of a few miles, could furnish ! While I 
 was fixed on the mountains of Switzer- 
 land, if at a loss for any one piece of 
 information, liowever simple, in a scries 
 
556 WEM01R3 AND CO-NFESSIONS 
 
 ef researches, 1 had to pause for monthS) 
 before I was able, by corresponrleuce, 
 and incjuiries, ainl new readings, and 
 possibly long journies, or tedious experi- 
 ments, to obta'iP that article of informa- 
 tion vvhieh I wanted. But to the s-tudent 
 in Paris, such a desideratum may be at 
 any time, and within a few. hours, sup- 
 plied. 
 
 Besides, there is, in the continual, 
 collision of minds, and the reciprocal, 
 comparison of characters at such a place 
 as Paris, something that, in the most 
 powerful andeminent miinner,contributes 
 to invigorate our reasoning powers, and. 
 to give the intellect a ready command of 
 Aviiatevcr knowledge it may have accjuired 
 in the schools. This conclusion I drew 
 from mv residence in the coura v and la 
 town. Those pleasures, of whicli the 
 perfection consists in their native deli- 
 cacy, simplicity, and suitableness to the 
 natural character of man, are to be sought 
 in the country. It is the situation for 
 
 nesi 
 
 and 
 
 piel 
 
 cen 
 
 its 
 
 the I 
 
 of 
 
 ^orl 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ, 
 
 257 
 
 easy abstinence from vice; the town pre- 
 sents the field for the sublime, the ardu- 
 ous, and the heroic virtues. The ele- 
 mentary knowledge is best acquired in 
 rural retirement ; the town is the scene 
 of fervour in scientific and moral inquiry, 
 and of all those efforts by which art and 
 knowledge arc the most successfully ad- 
 vanced. 
 
 It was not, however, possible for me 
 to leave France without observing that 
 small black spot on the distaat horizon, 
 which \\i > togenerate a storm of unbridled, 
 licentious and ferocious anarchy; a storm 
 of incessant revolutions and popular out- 
 rage; of moral depravity, and dissolute- 
 ness of manners; of wanton bloodshed^ 
 and worse than savage cruelty; of im- 
 piety and atheism ; a storm wluch was 
 certain to bring, as subordinate evils in 
 its train, the destruction of commerce, 
 the aiHiihilation of credit, the extinction 
 c>f arts and manuiiicturrs, and all the 
 Ifiorrurs of' indigence, famine, and disease ;, 
 
26S MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 a Storm, insliort, that vvoiiltl render earth 
 a hell, and existence a curse. 
 
 The human genius, with the best 
 assistance, and the finest exain[)lts, 
 breaks forth but slowly ; and the greatest 
 men have but gradually acquired a just 
 taste, and chaste simple conceptions of 
 beautv. 
 
 At an immature age, the sense of 
 beauty is weak and confused, and requires 
 an excess of colouring to catch its atten- 
 tion. We then prefer extravagance and 
 rant to justness ; a gross false wit to the 
 engaging light of nature ; and the shewy, 
 rich, and glaring, to the fine and an^.iable. 
 
 This is the childhood of taste : but as 
 the human genius strengthens, and grows 
 to maturity, the sense of universal beauty 
 awakens; it begins to be disgusted with 
 the false and misshapen deceptions that 
 pleased before, and rests with delight on 
 elegant simplicity, on objects of natural 
 beauty, and unaffected grandeur. 
 
 These opinions were impressed upon 
 
OF THOMAS ASIIE, ESQ, 
 
 2.^9 
 
 }artlj 
 
 my mind in proportion as 1 advanced in 
 years, but more particularly on my re- 
 moval from Paris to Maestricht ; a cir- 
 cumstance which took place in conse- 
 quence of my friend Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald having to pass through that town. 
 Finding, on our visit to court, that a 
 master of languages was wanted in the 
 n^mily of Prince Frederick of Hesse, then 
 Governor of Maastricht, his Lordship 
 recommended me to that hum hie situa- 
 tion, and 1 obtained it in the most gra- 
 cious manner that it could possibly be 
 conferred. 
 
 At this amiable little court I experi- 
 enced the humiliating conviction that I 
 was destitute of the extended genius and 
 purity of taste which I have alluded to; 
 but at the same time I had the consola- 
 tion of perceiving that I had fixed my 
 residence iti the very place, which was 
 most likely to confer upon me the qua- 
 lities and ornaments I so much wished 
 for, and deplored the want of. Th.-. 
 
560 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 governor was a most learned and distin- 
 guished character; the J'rinccss of Ilesse 
 was one of the most lovely and exalted 
 women I ever beheld; and their court 
 boasted several of the most accomplished 
 personages of the German states. 
 
 The mornmgs were uniformly devoted 
 to the study of languages, poetry, music, 
 painting, and even sculpture. The prin- 
 cess instituted for the evening frequent 
 public assemblies, where the men of 
 genius, the idle, anc^ opulent, who had 
 leisure fjr retlection, met regularly ; 
 among:bl other decisionr>, to judge of 
 works of taste, particularly dramatic pro- 
 ductions. In these noble assemblies, 
 there was no common })rejudice, but in 
 favour of what was really beautiful. The 
 universal j.iidgfnciit was thercfo'e always 
 right, and could he no other than the 
 common universal taste of improved na- 
 ture : for \V(; arc never to forget, that, 
 jillhough laslc may be overwhehncd by 
 j)rqudicc, it is never totally lost, 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 2G1 
 
 listin- 
 [lesse 
 >ialted 
 court 
 lishcd 
 
 ivoted 
 nusic, 
 3 prin- 
 iquent 
 en ot" 
 10 had 
 ilarly ; 
 Jge of 
 ic pro- 
 nblies, 
 but in 
 
 always 
 an the 
 /cd tia- 
 t, that, 
 icd bv 
 
 I. 
 
 C.Viu\'^rK; ,xijf'i on-ras were other ureat 
 sourc(s (»i li.L' V. ninu's amusements at 
 the court; and s'JT»'ly there arc few who 
 liave not fell th; ch^inns of music, and 
 aoknowicdge(' its ex pros ions to be in- 
 structive to Hie heart • tor music is a lan- 
 guage directed to th'^ passi )ns, and 
 awakens some which we perceive not in 
 ordinary life. The effect <:)f this court 
 system was very manifest. It ^le- 
 vated the character of the men, and be- 
 4'towed on the women a degree of ele- 
 gance, which no other mode of life could 
 possibly bestow. 
 
 Elegance, the most undoubted offspring 
 and visible image of fine taste, is univer- 
 sally admired the moment it appears. Men 
 •disagree about the other constituent parts 
 of beauty; but they all unite, without 
 hesitation, in acknowledging the power 
 of elegance. The general opinion is, that 
 this most distinguished part of beauty, 
 which is perceived and acknowledged by 
 every body, is yet utterly inexplicable, 
 
2()!2 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 and retires from our search, when we 
 would discover what it is. 
 
 Where shall 1 find the secret retreat of 
 the graces, to explain the elegance they 
 dictate, and to paint, in visible colours, 
 the fugiiive and varying enchantment that 
 hovers round a gract^ful person, yet leave 
 us for ever in agreeable suspense and 
 confusion ? I need not ask. The graces 
 are but emblems of the human mind, in 
 its loveliest appearances ; and while I 
 remember the Princess of Fit sse and the 
 ladies of her court, it is impossible not to 
 feel their influence. 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 'iOJ 
 
 we 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 He is att'ii'hed to the House of Hesse. — Acconim 
 punies the Princess of Brunsrcick. — Becomes 
 acquainted u'i/h the Genius and Churactei nf the 
 Princess of fVales. — Origin of a Court intrigue, 
 — Angelica, a Court Bcauf^^ patronizes our [Jero, 
 — She obtains for him a Lieutcnunct/ in the 
 IlrHns'u:icJcers. — He describes the Duke's Cam' 
 paign in France. — Is created ('aptain, and serves 
 as Aid de Camp to his Serene Highness. 
 
 \\ iiAT pleases man, generally appears 
 beautifij]. Complaisance is engaging, 
 gives an agreeableness to the whole per- 
 son, and creates a charm that nature gave 
 not to the features; it submits, it pro- 
 mises, it applauds, in the countenance. 
 The heart lays itself in smiles at the feet, 
 and a voice that is indulgent and tender 
 is always heard with pleasure and regard. 
 
 I was naturally inclined to love the 
 House of Hesse, because they had an 
 afllclion forme. By this weakness they 
 
564 MEMOrkS AND COKPESStOXS 
 
 attacked me ; and so greut was my ve- 
 neration for the whoic^ family, that I 
 would have li soon thought of losing my 
 life as of leaving their service. Nor was 
 it by any means a situation of servitude. 
 I had frequent access to the table of the 
 prince, and was of every party they either 
 went to, or formed at their own court. 
 I had also tlie honour of aitenling the 
 princess on several of her excursions with 
 the young prince, my first pupil ; and, on 
 one particular occasion, 1 passed six 
 weeks at Brunswick. Bv such means I 
 acquired much cf that iii(i;rni;ition re- 
 specting the genius and character of tiic 
 Princess of Wales, which the readerniav 
 sec embodied in a work subsequently 
 compos( d by me, and entitled, " Thi^ 
 S[)iritof tho Book; or, INIemoirs of Caro- 
 line J^'incess of llasbourjih." In short, 
 the time I passed at the Court of Maes- 
 tricht, was the most delightful period of 
 my life. I yet view it distinctly; but it 
 siidf.s and escapes, like the dissolving 
 
 5" 
 
 peani 
 
 natiii 
 
 mailj 
 
 illite 
 
 had ll 
 
 suite 
 
 my t;| 
 
 verod 
 
 it w 
 
 poehl 
 
 the n| 
 
 Vo 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESfJ. 
 
 26j; 
 
 ideas of a deliglitfiil droani, that arc 
 neither within the reach of the memorv, 
 nor yet totally fled. 
 
 I was in a truly euliglitened and 
 ntniable tamiiv; not distiniruished from 
 the crowd bv birth alone, but bv taste 
 
 am 
 
 ge 
 
 nius. Thev assumed a more ele- 
 
 vated character than the generality of 
 Germans ; they seemed to be inspirt (i 
 by a nobler soul. A more g(merous vein 
 discovered itself in their bosoms. Eie- 
 ffance and lofty decencv made their ap- 
 p-earance in them, arifl nn illustriou'? 
 
 fl t 
 
 nature appeaiefl to view, which never 
 arked the conduct of the low and 
 
 m 
 
 illiterate. Hence, from the moment I 
 had the good fortune to form one of their 
 suite, my real nature took the lead, and 
 my taste assumed its honest ri-hts. It co- 
 vered me with polished accomplishments ; 
 it ^^ rapped me in the golden visions of 
 pc^etry and music ; it charmed me witli 
 file new ideas of beauty and grandeur. 
 These were the natural passions ihnt 
 
 voj., J, 
 
 N 
 
266 MEMOIRS AND CONFFSSIONS 
 
 lay hidj and now broke forth to view, when 
 the pressure was taken off, that bent 
 down the slave, and chained his atten- 
 tion to the wilds of Switzerland. Tli(» 
 appetite of beauty lies always in the 
 mind, ready to direct us to fifier prospects. 
 Long astray upon a barren heath, anriongst 
 miserable villagers, my infant years almost 
 forgotten, and my thoughts wholly taken 
 up by my neglected circumstances, I at 
 length discovered, and was received into 
 a court of grandeur, pleasure, and power. 
 Taste found me in this manner a forlorr 
 outcast; she stripped me of my rudeness 
 and led me to scenes and prospects where 
 all was beautitiil, and all was familiar. 
 
 Another and principal advantage J re- 
 ceived from mv residence at the Court of 
 Maestricht, was a daily intercourse with 
 some of the most interesting and accom- 
 pli'shed women of the times. 1 am ac- 
 (juainted with no joy and no improvement 
 so gratifying as that which a youth ot 
 great sensibility and warmth of Jmu^inu- 
 
 tilul 
 txpr. 
 teriol 
 ardoj 
 '" an 
 
0F THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. !56f 
 
 tion derives from an intimate converse 
 with superior women ; and I can safely 
 aver, that I never associated with any 
 highly-gifted, or particularly charming 
 woman, but I felt myself better and liap- 
 pier after such an agreeable collision. I 
 had a right to claim an extraordinary 
 portion of these blessings in t\\o family 
 of Hesse. Independently of my joining 
 m every party of pleasure, I instructed 
 all the ladies of the cou't in the J'lnglisli 
 lanciuaue and "eneral literature. Of those 
 ladie?, my intercourse with one, who 
 was the principal companion of the 
 princess, was much more constant than 
 vvitli any otht r personages of the court. 
 She was truly an interesting girl. She 
 possessed none (.f the fading charms of 
 her sex : she was not remarkablv beau- 
 tilul, but her countenance shone in an 
 t'xpression that very far surpassed all ex- 
 terior beauty. 1 never saw so much 
 ardour and vehemence of imagination 
 beam from any eyes as from those of this 
 
 N 9 
 
268 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 young woman. Her son! lighted her 
 countenance with the most animated 
 glow of intellect, and she seemed to he 
 endued with an uncommon degree of 
 sensibility ; which, happily for her, ap- 
 peared not to have been injured by an 
 improper education. So much genuine 
 modesty, simplicity, and truth, added to 
 all the softness of delicacy, were marked 
 ill every word and action of this elegant 
 girl, that I was very proud of her as a 
 pupil, and very happy in her society. 
 
 In the course of my abode at the court 
 of her serene mistress, I liad an opportu- 
 nity of rendering some essential service 
 to this interesting creature. Calumny 
 was at work to injure her in the eyes of 
 the prince. But as 1 was acquainted 
 both with the anthers and the motives of 
 the calumny, I was resolved on using the 
 utmost means in my ;.'0vvcr to rescue the 
 injured fair one from that disgrace to 
 which she would otherwise have been 
 infallibly reduced. I interested myself 
 
 to 
 
 tun 
 
 int( 
 
 alr( 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 269 
 
 with such ardour in the cause, and dis- 
 played the truth so much to the satisfac- 
 tion of his serene highness, that he not 
 only rc-jnstated her in his esteem, and 
 her own good name, but obtained ample 
 apologies from those vvlio had so deeply 
 injured lier. 
 
 During the whole of the transaction, 
 ilie lady, whose name was Angelica 
 Brunswick Ocis, had never made her 
 appearance. This circumstance arose 
 partly from her delicacy, and partly from 
 the fear of being observed by the original 
 cnhunniators of her innocence and fame, 
 But having received so great a favour, as 
 she conceived, from me, she was desirous 
 of thanking me in person for the important 
 services I had rendered her. 
 
 This desire was no sooner made known 
 to me, than I embraced so fair an oppor- 
 tunity of being introduced to a particular 
 interview with a lady, of whom I had 
 already tbrrned so high an idea. A tire- 
 woman, who was sent to guide me to 
 
 N J 
 
S70 MEMOIRS AND (ONr KS .SiO>. v 
 
 iier presence, ooiuhictcd rue in t?ilencf 
 through a vast number ot' tliose dark, 
 winding, and intricate passages, so fre- 
 quent in all the German houses of any 
 distinction. Vie at length arrived at a 
 saloon, most sumptuously adorned, and 
 elegantly furnished, uith fitic-wrought 
 carpets, splendid sofas, and the most 
 "valuable antique paintings. 1 had scarcely 
 entered, when sounds of the most delight- 
 ful music I had ever heard gradually 
 swiiled upon my ear. They rose from an 
 adjoining aparti.icnt ; and as the dying ca- 
 dences of their silvery tones languished 
 into a pause, the deeper swell of the hu- 
 man voice soared aloft, and bore my de- 
 lighted soul on the wings of an enraptured 
 imagmation, to the mansions of eternal 
 bliss. 
 
 As the music ceased, Angelica, richly 
 dressed and closely veiled, entered the 
 apartment, where I stood as if in a state 
 li enchnntmvzMit. Her form was of the 
 most exquisite mould, and all her motions 
 
 m; 
 
 bu 
 
 mj 
 
 csl 
 
 so 
 
 nie 
 
 tin 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 271 
 
 so thrillingly graceful and elegant, that [ 
 naturally felt the palpitation of heart and 
 general tremor which at once denotes the 
 rising passions of the love-influenced 
 soul. — Grateful for the benefits she had 
 so recently received from me, she scrupled 
 not to pour forth the genuine effusions of 
 Iier heart, and thanked me in terms the 
 most flattering to my feelings. — 1 was so 
 enamoured of her inviting person, her 
 lively and intellectual manners, and so 
 mistaken in the motives of lier conduct, 
 that 1 could not resist the utterance of 
 many softandtenderepithetsof love, which 
 the superior Germans always mingle in 
 their conversation with the fair sex. 
 
 Angelica did not, as is usual with fe- 
 males, affect an ignorance of my meaning, 
 but, with she most engaging freedom of 
 manne*. asiwrcd me that she valued my 
 esteem in a very high degree, and wished 
 so much to evince her own friendsliip for 
 me, that she b^d sent tor me, for the dis- 
 tinct purpose of pointing out to me the 
 
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5?72 MEMOIKS /ND CONrr.SSION s 
 
 means of risinpj out of mediocrity, and 
 thereby qualifying me to offer my af- 
 fections publicly to any lady of the 
 court. ** My nenr relative, the Duke of 
 Brunswick, " continued she, '* is proceed- 
 ing with an artny againsit France. If your 
 soul is above servitude ; if you aspire to 
 military fame, and to the hand of owy dis- 
 tinguished woman, take this letter, and be 
 assured you will one day return with pride 
 and honour to the court." ^"y'"S these 
 words, she presented me w ith a very va- 
 luable diamond ring. 1 [Messed her hand 
 in the most cmpassioned uianner to my 
 lips, declared that no circumstance, how- 
 ever powerful, should prevent me fron\ 
 pursuing tiie path of glury she had pointed 
 out, and took a most respectful and grate- 
 ful leave. 
 
 (jlenerositv rovers almost all other de- 
 foots, and raises a blaze around them, in 
 w hich they disappear and are lost. Like 
 sovereign beauty, it makes a short cut to 
 ourafl'ections ; it wins our hearts witliout 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 273 
 
 resistance or delay, and unites all the 
 world to favour and support its designs. 
 
 My gratitude to the illustrious Ange- 
 lica was such, that I instantly assumed a 
 nature deserving the opinion, as much as 
 lay in my power, of so highly honourable 
 and elegant a mind, it is true, I had ima- 
 gined that the atFair was taking the fea- 
 tures of a court intrigue, but when she so 
 firmly convinced me that she preferred my 
 glory and prosj)erity to every other consi- 
 deration upon earth, slie devoted me irre- 
 vocably to her interests, and 1 burned, 
 not with a sensva!, but religious zeal, to 
 signalize myself, and to obtain that rank 
 at court, to which I was not entitled from 
 the situation I then held. 
 
 It is also true, that my aspiring genius 
 and strong passions w ere ill-calculated to 
 allow lie to grovel on in obscurity, and I 
 had early in life regarded the profession of 
 arms as the most likely to call forth the 
 powers of a youth born with a lofty and 
 cntcrpnzing spirit. I had often sighed in 
 
 N ft 
 
•27't MK.MOIRS AND CONFF. 53IONS 
 
 secret for an opportunity of engaging in a 
 military capacity, and now such an oppor- 
 tunity was offered to me. I declared my 
 wish to the Prince of Hesse, and in no 
 long time took my affeciionate leave of 
 his most amiable and enlightened family, 
 
 I joined the Duke of Brunswick di- 
 rectly at the period he was about to rescue 
 France from the grasp of usurpation, and 
 carry war to the very gates of the capital. 
 He received me very kindly; read the 
 letter of Angelica with attention, and gave 
 me the immediate appointment of a lieu- 
 tenancy in the regiment of Brunswick, 
 with a promise of prelermv.nt in propor- 
 tion to my military conduct and capa- 
 city. — This campaign turned out an un- 
 fortunate one, presenting more sources of 
 disgrace and misery, than of fame, prefer- 
 ment, and glory. 
 
 It is commonly supposed that the pre- 
 sumption, or ignorance of the duke was 
 the spring or origin of this romantic un- 
 dertaking. There is no greater error. It 
 
OF THOMAS ASflE ESQ. 
 
 27; 
 
 js to a high and honourahle spirit, that his 
 conduct is to be attributed. He it wg.^ 
 who first advised the grand idea of a ge~ 
 fjeral confederation against France. He 
 was moved to it by the melancholy suf- 
 ferings of the emigrants, and a hope that, 
 by marching rapidly into France, he 
 should suppress the designs of the trea- 
 sonable, and bring effectual succour to the 
 cause of the royalists. He also thought, 
 that while France was lacerated by inter- 
 nal divisions, and the hand of every man 
 was armed against his brother, this de- 
 ploral>le scene could only be brought to 
 a conclusion by an armed mediator, and 
 that, if a suliicicnt fore \vere seen under 
 th<e walls of Paris, discorc would cease, 
 and France h(?rself ^vouid again prosper 
 and be happy. These views were cor- 
 rect, but tliey were rendered abortive, 
 both by the moral depravity of the French, 
 and by an ill-timed and contradictory ma- 
 nifesto, issued by order of the Court of 
 Berlin, and adverse to the private senti^ 
 ments of my illustrious commander. 
 
!276 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 However, iiotvvithstanding the general 
 disgrace which attended oiir expedition, 
 it was the cause of some individual fame 
 and preferment. Among otliers, 1 had the 
 good fortune to he noticed by my general ; 
 to be appointed captain in the Hruns- 
 wickers, on the pkiins of Champagne, 
 and to retreat from France with tlie dis^ 
 tinguished and partial title of aid-de-camp 
 to his serene highness. At the same la- 
 mentable period of a forced retreat, my 
 regiment was ordered to garrison the town 
 ofMaestricht. Happy event! Isoonap- 
 })eared in the presf ice of the generous 
 Angrelica, arrayed i.i all the rec:imental 
 foppery of military pomp, and almost 
 daring to attempt the conquest of so fair x 
 kingdoiDf 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, liSQ. 
 
 
 CHAP. XXIIL 
 
 Naestricht is besieged. — lie shcics a Inffy and en. 
 terprising Spirit. —It reins for him the miffed ions 
 of Angelica. — She proposes to promote^ and 
 next to marnj him. — Disgusted zoith the Prussian 
 Service, he accepts a Commission in the Rangers, 
 commanded by the lion. G. II. Ramsaj/. 
 
 Grandeur of soul, fortitude, and a 
 rosolution that hauj^htily struggles vvitli 
 fate, and will neither yield to nor make 
 terms with misfortunes ; which, through 
 every situation, reposes a noble confi- 
 dence in itself, and has an immovc 
 able view to future glory and honour, 
 astonishes the world with admiration and 
 delight. 
 
 We, as it were, lean forv/ard with sur- 
 prise and trembling joy to behold the 
 human soul collecting its strength, and 
 asserting its right to superior destinies. 
 When e leave man out of our account, 
 and view the whole visible creation be- 
 
•?73 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSTOWS 
 
 side, we indeed see several traces of 
 grandeur and unspeakable power, amidst 
 tiie intermixture of a rich scenery of 
 beauty ; yet still the whole appears to be 
 but a solemn absurdity, and to have a 
 littleness and insignificancy. But when 
 we restore man to the prospect, and put 
 him at the head of it, endowed with ge- 
 nius and an immortal soul ; when we give 
 him a passion for truth, boundless views 
 that spread along through eternity, and 
 a fortitude that struggles with despair, 
 and yields not to misfortune, then the 
 skies, the ocean, and the earth, lake the 
 stamp of worth and dignity from the 
 noble inhabitant whose purposes they 
 serve. 
 
 A mind, fraught with these virtues, 
 was now required by me, and every other 
 officer of the garrison of Macstric)>t. Our 
 defeat in Champagne had inspired the 
 French with an arrogance that knew no 
 bounds, and they left their own frontiers 
 with the impious design of overturning 
 
 ai 
 a! 
 
 \\\ 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 27 9 
 
 the altars, and trampling on the thrones 
 of every neighbouring state. Brabant 
 and Flanders were the first theatres of 
 their sanguinary deeds; and as they ad- 
 vanced to the siege of Maestricht, their 
 conduct was dreadful in the extreme. 
 They fought to murder, they conquered 
 to destroy. Liberty, the most chastened, 
 fled at their approach, and death attend- 
 ed all their victories. No age, no sex, no 
 condition was spared. The wife, weep- 
 ing for her butchered husband, and em- 
 bracing her helpless children, was pierced 
 with them, and perished by the same 
 blow. The old, the young, the vigorous, 
 and the infirm, underwent the same fate, 
 and were confounded in one common 
 ruin. 
 
 In vain did flight save from the first 
 assault: destruction was every where let 
 loose, and met the hunted victims at every 
 turn. In vain was recourse had to con- 
 trition, to repentance, to tears; for death 
 was every where seen to be dealt, 
 
•j}!?0 MEMOIUS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 nltliougli protection was expected when 
 implored. But death was the slightest 
 punishment inflicted by the Frencli. All 
 the tortures which wanton cruelty could 
 devise ; all the lingering pains of body, 
 the anq-uish of mind, and the a2:onies of 
 despair, were inflicted ; and they zea- 
 lously strove to shew a love of liberty, 
 bv the commission of enormities, for 
 which depraved nature and perverted re- 
 ligion have h.udly h'ft a precedent or a 
 name. 
 
 Flushed with blood and conquest, these 
 Gallic demons approached the walls of 
 jMaestricht, and summoned us to sur- 
 render under pain of every man being put 
 to the sword. The reply of the governor 
 was worthy of the house of llesse, and 
 nothing was heard soon after but the 
 roaring of cannon, the bursting of bombs, 
 and the lamentations of the women^ for 
 the loss of those who were sluin or 
 wounded in the houses or streets. Du- 
 ring the siege, we made several vigorous 
 
or THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. i>Sl 
 
 sorties, one of the most successful of 
 which it was my good fortune to com- 
 iiiatid. Oil the followiiiir dav I had to 
 mount guard at tlie palace. As I enter- 
 ed this splendid scene of mv former servi- 
 tude and enchantment, I beheld in the 
 upper hall the exquisitely amiable An- 
 gelica, reclining in a pensive melancholy 
 attitude upon a sofa. I had never seen 
 her but in public since the day she ho- 
 noured me with a private interview, for 
 the purpose of exciting my ambition, and 
 pushing my fortunes in the army. 
 
 I advanced towards her, and was 
 pressing her hand tenderly to my lips, 
 when she rose and told me that she never 
 ceased to felicitate herself on having rc- 
 commendied me to a station, the duties 
 of which, she was informed, I fdled with 
 the utmost spirit and gallantry. As she 
 uttered these words, her beauteous face 
 was rendered fascinati.;^^ by an oppression 
 of sentiment, which she vainly cndca- 
 Toured to conceal. Her i>olden tresses 
 
(* 
 
 S^J iME.MOlRS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 too played in tlowcMv ringlets down her 
 slender waist, and wantoned over her 
 snowy bosom more sweet than Scythian 
 Tiiisk. Not heaven's pure ether display- 
 ed so bri«;lit an azure is slione in the 
 clear lustre of her love-kindling eyn, 
 which darted soft lightning upon me, 
 though yet humid with recent tears. She 
 breathed a fragrance uioro sweet than 
 kindliest summer's air. p{er lips moved 
 in enchanting and heavon-born smiles ; 
 while her timid breast swelled throuofh 
 the thin transparent gauze, which loosely 
 veiled those hidden treasures now heav- 
 ing with the silent throbs of a former 
 kindled flame. 
 
 In the sweet accents of a melodious 
 voice, she begged me to remain, and not 
 be disappointed by the absence of my 
 illustrious friend the princess, for, since 
 the siege, she seldom left the nursery, 
 fearing every moment that some fatal 
 bomb would ligh^ upon the palace, and 
 crush to pieces her dear helpless infants. 
 
ay- 
 ihe 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, KSQ. 25.3 
 
 ** Hilt she knows tliat you have the coin- 
 snand of the pal, ice-guard to-day," said 
 Angelica, " and she tv :d me I must strive 
 to LMitertain you in her absence." Saying 
 this, she took me hy the band, and led me 
 towards tJie couch Irom which she had 
 just risen, telliui,^ ine in hmguage more 
 sweet ih;in ever was suno: bv Italian 
 nymph, that she hoped my disappoint- 
 ment would not deprive her of the plea- 
 sure of my company. Not liaving dared 
 to hope for this transporting freedom, I 
 scarcely knew how to reply, but seated 
 myself in silent rapture at her side, while 
 she sought to sooth me with the most 
 tender tokens of esteem, and by telling 
 me that she believed the day was not fiir 
 off, when, as she had prophesied, I might, 
 without fear of rejection, express my sen- 
 timents of ailection to any lady I valued 
 about the court. All overpowered by 
 love's potent cliarm, 1 clasped the ami- 
 able maid in my circling arms, and re- 
 vealed, for the first time, to her, the in- 
 
284- MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS. 
 
 delible impression wtiichshe had so soon 
 made upon my mind. As I uttered this 
 confession, she had no reply immediately 
 to make : she pressed my hand, iier bosom 
 gently heaved, her dazzled vision seemed 
 veiled in dreamsof never-failing bliss. 
 
 Oncoming to herself,shesaid she doubt- 
 ed not but that, after the siege, or in the 
 course of another campaign, I should ob- 
 tain a majority, and that I should then have 
 her full consent to pay my addresses to her 
 publi^dy, and to demand her hand of the 
 j)rince, her guardian, if that object should 
 remain my wish. Having assured her of 
 my faith and implicit obedience, fast fled 
 the happy hour, till the roaring of cannon 
 called my attention abroad, and dissipated 
 without ceremony or afl'ection the fond 
 and tender scene, 
 
 A mixture of the sublime consider- 
 ably aids the idea of beauty, and heightens 
 the horrors of disorder and ugliness. Per- 
 sonal beauty is vastly raised by a dignified 
 air; on the contrary, the dissolution mid 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. -JSS 
 
 ruins of a larq:e citv distress tlie mind 
 propr •. i.onably ; but while we mourn 
 over great ruins, and tiio destruction ofour 
 species, we are aUo soothed by the gene- 
 rous commiseration we feel in our own 
 breasts, and therefore ruins give us the 
 same kind of grateful melancholy we feel 
 at a tragedy. 
 
 Hut of all the objects of discord and 
 confusion, none is so shocking as a town 
 besieged by a furious and unrelenting 
 enem} . A\ hen we see the principle of 
 religion and morality disordered ; when 
 we hear the impious thunder of man 
 shakin"' the foundation of the hijjhest 
 spheres; when we behold the rockets, 
 like stars, scatte** .'. over the heavens; 
 when we attend to the cries of tlie people 
 for their altars which are upset, for the 
 houses which are burned, for the relatives 
 which are destroyed, for the fields which 
 are laid waste, and for the virgins which 
 they fear to be violated, the horror is 
 too high, and we feel no sensations but 
 those of dismay and terror. 
 
286 MEMOIllS AND CON il ESSIO.N $ 
 
 Without exactly intending it, I have 
 sketched the precise situation of Maes- 
 tricht, and the feehngs of a population 
 during a siege, which for violence of at- 
 tack, and intrepidity of resistance, has 
 no parallel in the annals of military his- 
 tory. In the midst of the disorder and 
 confusion of this tremendous siege, wlien 
 each lofty steeple was tottering on its 
 mutilated base, and the mind viewing 
 the effects of boundless power with still 
 nmazemcnt, the siege was suddenly rais- 
 ed by the approach of the Austrians; and 
 theunavoidable transition, which the mind 
 made fro»n the eilect to the cause, forced 
 it to recoil upon itself in joy, raj)ture, 
 and a sublime idea of divine interpo- 
 sition. 
 
 These passions had scarcely subsided, 
 when a portion of the garrison, to which L 
 was attached, set out immediately with 
 renewed vigour in pursuit of the enemy. 
 1 departed without taking any other leave 
 of Angelica, than telling her that mv atlec- 
 tions should experience no decay in ab« 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 287 
 
 sencc : that I would fight witii desperation 
 to merit my majority, and that death ah)ne 
 or her hand could put an end to my anxie- 
 ty. Vain delusions of man ! I served with 
 the Brunswickers for a considerable time, 
 and had the good fortune to signalize 
 invaL'lf on various memorable occasions, 
 but I always felt that the intruded i'lllu- 
 ence of some titled rival impedea my 
 way to preferment, and that a majority 
 in the Prussian service was a rank I was 
 never likely to obtain. 
 
 This conviction was strengthened by 
 the defection of the king from the great 
 cause, and by the return of our troops to 
 Maestricht, there to remain in a shame- 
 ful inactivity, politically called neutra- 
 lity of arms. Nothing could be more 
 adv(;rse either to my ambition or to my 
 affection, than these pusillanimous mea- 
 sures ; for Angelica herself having named 
 a majority as essential if I aspired to her 
 hand, 1 resolved, in the pride of heart, 
 uever to seek the felicity till that distrnt 
 
28S MEMOIRS AND CONTESSIONH. 
 
 rank was previously secured. Hence 
 our love appeared to degenerate into an 
 ordinary intimacy, thoui^h our souls ac- 
 knowledged an elevation and enthusiasm 
 that do not attend on common or cold 
 ideas. 
 
 In this St: . of things, the Honourable 
 Lieutenant Colonel George William 
 Ramsay arrived at Maestricht with a let- 
 ter of service from his Koval IJiufhness 
 the Duke of York, directing him to raise 
 a regiment of infantry on the continent, 
 and appoint to it such oflicers as he 
 might think fit. 'J'he regiment was to 
 be called the York Hangers, and, in pro- 
 portion as its companies were formed, 
 they were to join the troops of his Royal 
 Highness, which had but recently 
 separated from the allied army, after the 
 taking of Valencienn( s, and were on 
 their march to lay siege to the town of 
 Dunkirk. Colonel Ramsay had su(ll- 
 cient penetration to discover how qua- 
 lifiod 1 was to assist his views : he, 
 
 vo 
 
OP THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 289 
 
 therefore, proffered me a company in his 
 regiment, and finally prevailed upon me 
 to abandon the Brunswickers ; so that I 
 once more ranged myself with him, 
 under the standard of my g^ood old sovt.'- 
 reign and master. 
 
 VOL. !• 
 
590 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS' 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. 
 
 fic Joins the Duke of Yurk^s Army before Dutim 
 kirk. — Fights like a Knight-Errant. — Dreams 
 of Promotion. — Receives tzco fVoinids, and is 
 sent to the Hospital. — lie recovers^ and returns 
 Home. — Goes into the Cheshire Fcnciblcs. — Cct>'- 
 vivolved in the Recruiting Service.- -Flies to 
 Portugal for fear of Arrest. — Looks to Corsica^ 
 find again hopes. 
 
 Knight-errantry is a kind of do«- 
 lusion, which, though it be fictitious in 
 fact, yet is true in sentiment. Thert 
 are few people, who in thtjir youth, be- 
 fore they are corrupted by the commerce 
 of the world, are not knight-errants or 
 princv-sses in their hearts. 
 
 The soul, in an enthusiastic ecstasy, 
 comnuinicates a flame to words which 
 they have not ; and poetry, by its quick 
 transitions, bold figures, lively images, 
 and the variety of efforts to paint the la- 
 tent rapture, bears witness, that the 
 confused ideas of the mind are still infi- 
 
 the 
 
 ran Id 
 of 111 
 head 
 less 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 
 
 291 
 
 nitely superior, and beyond the reach of 
 all description. It is this divine spirit 
 thiit, when roused from its lethargy, 
 breathes in noble sentiments, that charms 
 in elegance, that stamps upon marble or 
 Ciinvas the fmures of ijods and heroes, 
 that inspires them with an air above hu- 
 manity, and leads the soul through the 
 enchanting meanders of music in awak- 
 ing vision, through which it cannot 
 break to discover the near objects which 
 charm it. 
 
 Be the above true or false philosophy, 
 sure I am that no man was ever cn- 
 dowL \ with more of tlie enthusiastic 
 spirit of genuine knight-errantry, than I 
 was in removing fion) the l^russian to his 
 Britannic majesty's service. As on a 
 former occasion, every act referred to 
 the wished-lbr end. 'J'lie uradations of 
 rank diminished, and in the perspective 
 o( hope were to be seen, Angelica at the 
 head, and a long train of gilded and end- 
 less enjoyments. Actuated by this spirit, 
 
 o9 
 
592 MEMOIRS AND COMhSSIONS 
 
 and with these views, ass'sted also hv 
 some flatteri 111^^ I)0(»iihirUy in the German 
 states, I completed my company in h-ss 
 than one month, and JiVined liis Royal 
 Highness the Duke of York, at the mo- 
 ment he was drawing his lines ofcircmn- 
 vallation around the walls of Dunkirk. 
 An out-post of danger was immedia'tely 
 assigned to rr/e, and I waited with anx- 
 iety for the fruition of those splendid 
 hopes, whicfi filled my hosoni in the 
 lieight of my knight-errantry. 
 
 When a nation is nuicli corrupted ; 
 when avarice and a love of gain have 
 seized uj)on l\\e Iiearts of men; when the 
 gentry ignominiousiy bend their necks 
 to corruption and bribery, or enter into 
 the base mysteries of gaming ; then bra- 
 very, elevated j)rinciples, and greatness 
 of soul expire, and all thnt remains is a 
 comedy, or puppet-shew of patriotism, 
 in which the dancing-master and the 
 prince are upon a level, and the mind 
 is understood to have no part in the drama 
 
 I 
 
 th 
 of 
 so 
 int 
 «d 
 
OF THr.MAS ASHK, ESQ. 2^' 
 
 of warfare, or else to act under a mean 
 disguise of virtues, which it is not pos- 
 sessed of. This was nearly the situation 
 of England at tlie breaking out of the 
 war, and to this humiliating situation 
 it is owing that we failed in our attempt 
 u|)on Dunkirk. Although we seemed 
 to possess powers superior to the rest of 
 mankind, and to displav a pomp of mili- 
 tary genius that never appeared before in 
 the science of a siege, we had suddenly to 
 tly, like wild beasts pursued, and turn all 
 our attention to the necessaries required 
 by exhausted strength, by cold, and by 
 liunoer. 
 
 For myself individually, J was for a 
 considerable time insensible to the gene- 
 ral distress and iirnominv. Neither did 
 1 sulfer irom the privations common to 
 the bulk C! the army. On the morning 
 of the retreat 1 received two wounds, of 
 so desperate a nature, that I was cast 
 into a commissary's wajjoron, and remain- 
 td in a state of impotent stupefaction, 
 
 J 
 
?9^ MEMOIKS AND CONFESSIONS 
 
 till I was restored to my strength and 
 st;iises in an hospital at Bruges, where I 
 was left with but little hopes of my 
 recovery. 
 
 No situation, however calamitous, can 
 quench the enthusiastic ardour of the 
 visionary ; for, as he feels strongly, he 
 still hopes, and rushes to snatch into 
 view another grand prospect. 
 
 The variety of his efforts shews the 
 object, which the mind labours with, to 
 be different from any thing we know ; to 
 be beyond the power of utterance ; and 
 yet the very labour and confusion of 
 images, and the anxiety he betrays, paint 
 sufficiently his perceptions ; and we are 
 sensible of what he cannot express, be- 
 cause we all feel it in our own bosoms. 
 
 In like manner I oannot express what 
 1 felt, although the reader may conceive 
 what 1 should feel, when I awoke to life 
 and recollection, and discovered my 
 situation. I had apparently every thing 
 to deprecate and nothing to hope. But 
 
Ol? THOMAS AS HE, ESQ. 295 
 
 I was not born to sink under calamities. 
 On the approacli of'tlie French, 1 ictt the 
 hospital, sick as I was, took the road for 
 Bremen on foot, and, after a detention 
 there of two months, from indisposition 
 and fatigue, embarked for England with 
 the full expectation of obtaining a majo- 
 rity, and of being enabled to realize, at 
 no distant period-, my former views of 
 domestic happiness in the arms of the 
 ever-beloved AnErelica. 
 
 Occupied with these pleasing visions, 
 I arrived in London, presented myself 
 at the IIorse-Guards, and was awoke, as 
 if by a clap of taunder, from all my de- 
 lightful reveries. The returning officer 
 reported me as killed in the retreat from 
 Dunkirk, and, as all the commissions 
 were filled up by the king since that un- 
 happy event, I not only lost the chance of 
 a majority, but the company for which 
 I had fought and bled. Nor had I any 
 remedy ; for as the York Rangers, during 
 my service in that corps, acted only 
 
296 a MEMOIRS AND CONFKSSIONS 
 
 iintler a letter of permission from hh 
 lloyal Highness the Duke of York, none 
 of the officers' commissions were sii;ned 
 bv the kin" ; therefore it could not rank 
 as a regiment, giving claim to its oliicers, 
 nor could I demand as a right from the 
 father what 1 only held through the 
 courtesy of the son. It is also true that 
 1 had no friend in I.ondon to back mv 
 memorials, and that, smarting under 
 grievances supposed as well as real, I 
 employed a language in my remonstrances 
 which made them disgust and fail. 
 
 Scarcely was I emancipated from the 
 despair occasioned by my reception at 
 the Horse-Guards, before 1 met, at the 
 house of a most amiable woman at Black- 
 heath, Mrs. Horsfall, a Lieutenant-Co- 
 lonel Campbell of the Cheshire Fencibles. 
 He heard my story with pity and admi- 
 ration, introduced me to Colonel Cour- 
 tenay of the same regiment, and obtained 
 forme, from that gentleman, a letter of 
 service to raise men, which, if attended 
 
the 
 
 OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 2'J7 
 
 with success, would undoubtedly intro- 
 duce me to a majority. In consequence, 
 I went down to Chester, and took a 
 recruiting party with me into North and 
 South Wales. 
 
 This kind of life had its pleasures for 
 a time, btit it soon became dangerous 
 and insipid, Meji were with great diffi- 
 culty to be obtained ; and 'of those that 
 were obtained, one-third deserted, leav- 
 ini;: me involved in debt to the amount 
 of the bounty they had individually re- 
 ceived. Hence, at the expiration of 
 seven monlhs, instead of the promised 
 majority, Mr. Lawrie, the agent, sent 
 me back my protested bill, stopped my 
 pay, and hurt my credit so much at 
 Aber>:avennv, where I was recruiting, 
 that 1 suddenly threw up my commission, 
 and left the kingdom, to avoid the conse- 
 quences of the debts 1 hud so unfortu- 
 nately incurred. 
 
 The countrv I went to was Portugal. 
 On my landing at Lisbon, I possessed 
 
598 
 
 MEMOIRS AND CONFESSTONS 
 
 but ten pounds in the \vor!d ; nor !idd I 
 a single friend, or letter of recommen- 
 dation to procure one of any sort. For a 
 short lime I felt that dreadful complaint, 
 despondency, which renders life itself a 
 burthen, which turns black the light of 
 the sun, and defaces all the beiuties of 
 nature. While in this depressed state, I 
 thouo'l t that all creation was to me a 
 perfect blank — that neither man nor wo- 
 man delighted me ; that I was a blot 
 upon the face of the earth ; antl that, if 
 my present feelings continued, 1 cared 
 not how soon J was removed. 
 
 This despondency Mas not of long 
 continuance. An ohje(;t soon presented 
 itself, which a\\ak< jk d all my ambition, 
 and revived my hopes. Corsica had 
 just at tliis piTiod fallen into the pos- 
 session of the Englisfi, ami the Lieuten- 
 ant-Governor, Sir Gilbert Elliot, had 
 instructions to form an establishment 
 there, civil and military, on a very grand 
 and extent! vc scale. It immediately 
 
OF THOMAS ASHE, ESQ. 2^/9 
 
 Struck me that Corsica was the only 
 proper theatre for mc to appear at, un- 
 der my existing circumstances, and I 
 therefore resolved to proceed to tliat 
 settlement, notwithstanding tlie want of 
 introductory letters, and the absence of 
 sufficient funds.. 
 
 KND OF VOL. I. 
 
 i». <:iarkf, Priuter, Well Street, London.