The Innocent Transgression

Here is a sad story. This article was found in the news section of The Times and is titled “The Innocent Transgression”. In the end, whether you believe the transgressors to be innocent or conniving, the outcome for all those involved is sad indeed.

The Times, Saturday, Jan 06, 1787; pg. 3; Issue 870106; col A 

The article reads: THE INNOCENT TRANSGRESSION. ACCIDENTS the most trifling are often productive of the greatest good and evil. Celia possessed beauty and virtue, she was the joy of her father, beloved by her friends, and respected by all who knew her.

     Cleveland, a young fellow of education, whose sole dependence was on the exertion of his literary abilities, paid a visit at the house of her father – it was at the festival of Christmas, a, there being much company in the house, it so happened that Celia was removed from her own chamber to another, and Cleveland lay in her’s.

     Celia had for some time been accustomed to walk in her sleep, but was unconscious of the circumstance. She had never, however, exceeded the bounds of her own chamber, nor had she ever given credit to a maid servant who had mentioned the circumstance to her. On the night of Cleveland’s lying at her father’s, Celia arose from her bed, and, taking a lamp, walked to the chamber she had formally lain in, where Cleveland was wrapt in a heavy sleep – and laid herself gently by his side.

     The additional warmth awoke the youth by degrees – astonishment first seized him on seeing the Lady, but as he was immediately seized with a fervency of desire, which bid defiance to the admonitions of honour and dictates of philosophy.

     Cleveland had long admired Celia, and though he never made any formal declaration of love had intimated his passion sufficiently to be understood, and the Lady had received his hints in such a manner as, at least, flattered his hopes.

     She awoke overwhelmed with confusion – but here let us put out her lamp and draw the curtain – Celia lost her honour.

     Cleveland remained in the house for some days, and his amour with Celia was carried on with the utmost secrecy – on his departure he swore the strictest fidelity.

     Two months elapsed, when the unfortunate Celia discovered the consequence of her love must shortly expose her to the world – she wrote to Cleveland on the subject, but received no answer.

     Stimulated by pride and shame, she left her father’s house in search of the object of her love, and cause of her dishonour – she found him – but how – in the very struggle of death. – He had fought a duel some weeks before, and received a shot to his body – by his side lay a letter; it was directed to Celia, desiring her attendance, that marriage might, is some degree, repair the injury she had sustained.  

     But she arrived too late – Cleveland expired within a few minutes after she entered his chamber – she received his last breath in a kiss, and they sunk together on the bed.

     It would have being happy for Celia had she never recovered – life returned, accompanied by misery.

     A friend of Cleveland had her removed to a lodging, and wrote to her father – her father was inexorable – the disgrace of his daughter afflicted him with a melancholy insanity; he retired from the world to a cave in the neighbourhood, and subsisted upon the bounty of those who brought him food.

     The consequence to Celia was horrid – it was a life of prostitution – accompanied by a continual series of repentance.

     Reduced to indigence, despair ensued, and she resolved to seek the residence of her unhappy father, there to put a period to her existence; for which purpose she procured a dose of laudanum.

     She arrived at his cell just at the close of the night, and saw him enter to take repose – she retired a few paces, and, having taken her melancholy station at the foot of an old tree, swallowed the fatal drought.

     Early in the morning the unhappy father discovered the body of his daughter – the shock called back his senses for a moment – and in that moment he died of a broken heart.

Is it fair of me to judge? To me, it seems that there was one individual who was less innocent, or more guilty, than the rest – and he was the one to die of a broken heart.