WIELAND; OR THE TRANSFORMATION. CHAPTER I.
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I Feel little reluctance in complying with your
reque&longs;t. You know not fully the cau&longs;e of my
&longs;orrows. You are a &longs;tranger to the depth of my
di&longs;tre&longs;&longs;es. Hence your efforts at con&longs;olation mu&longs;t
nece&longs;&longs;arily fail. Yet the tale that I am going to tell
is not intended as a claim upon your &longs;ympathy. In
the mid&longs;t of my de&longs;pair, I do not dildain to contribute
what little I can to the benefit of mankind.
I acknowledge your right to be informed of the
events that have lately happened in my family.
Make what u&longs;e of the tale you &longs;hall think proper.
If it be communicated to the world, it will inculcate
the duty of avoiding deceit. It will exemplify
the force of early impre&longs;&longs;ions, and &longs;how the immeasurable
evils that flow from an erroneous or
imperfect di&longs;cipline.
My &longs;tate is not de&longs;titute of tranquillity. The
&longs;entiment that dictates my feelings is not hope.
Futurity has no power over my thoughts. To all
that is to come I am perfectly indifferent. With
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regard to my&longs;elf, I have nothing more to fear. Fate
has done its wor&longs;t. Henceforth, I am callous to
misfortune.
I addre&longs;s no &longs;upplication to the Deity. The
power that governs the cour&longs;e of human affairs has
cho&longs;en his path. The decree that a&longs;certained the
condition of my life, admits of no recal. No doubt
it &longs;quares with the maxims of eternal equity. That
is neither to be que&longs;tioned nor denied by me. It suffices
that the pa&longs;t is exempt from mutation. The
&longs;torm that tore up our happine&longs;s, and changed into
drearine&longs;s and de&longs;ert the blooming &longs;cene of our existence,
is lulled into grim repo&longs;e; but not until
the victim was transfixed and mangled; till every
ob&longs;tacle was di&longs;&longs;ipated by its rage; till every remnant
of good was wre&longs;ted from our gra&longs;p and exterminated.
How will your wonder, and that of your companions,
be excited by my &longs;tory! Every &longs;entiment
will yield to your amazement. If my te&longs;timony
were without corroborations, you would reject it
as incredible. The experience of no human being
can furni&longs;h a parallel: That I, beyond the re&longs;t of
mankind, &longs;hould be re&longs;erved for a de&longs;tiny without
alleviation, and without example! Li&longs;ten to my
narrative, and then &longs;ay what it is that has made me
de&longs;erve to be placed on this dreadful eminence, if,
indeed, every faculty be not &longs;u&longs;pended in wonder
that I am &longs;till alive, and am able to relate it.
My father's ance&longs;try was noble on the paternal
&longs;ide; but his mother was the daughter of a merchant.
My grand-father was a younger brother,
and a native of Saxony. He was placed, when he
had reached the &longs;uitable age, at a German college.
During the vacations, he employed him&longs;elf in traversing
the neighbouring territory. On one
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occasion it was his fortune to vi&longs;it Hamburg. He
formed an acquaintance with Leonard Wei&longs;e, a
merchant of that city, and was a frequent gue&longs;t at
his hou&longs;e. The merchant had an only daughter,
for whom his gue&longs;t &longs;peedily contracted an affection;
and, in &longs;pite of parental menaces and prohibitions,
he, in due &longs;ea&longs;on, became her hu&longs;band.
By this act he mortally offended his relations.
Thenceforward he was entirely di&longs;owned and rejected
by them. They refu&longs;ed to contribute any
thing to his &longs;upport. All intercour&longs;e cea&longs;ed, and
he received from them merely that treatment to
which an ab&longs;olute &longs;tranger, or dete&longs;ted enemy,
would be entitled.
He found an a&longs;ylum in the hou&longs;e of his new father,
who&longs;e temper was kind, and who&longs;e pride
was flattered by this alliance. The nobility of his
birth was put in the balance again&longs;t his poverty.
Wei&longs;e conceived him&longs;elf, on the whole, to have
acted with the highe&longs;t di&longs;cretion, in thus di&longs;po&longs;ing
of his child. My grand-father found it incumbent
on him to &longs;earch out &longs;ome mode of independent
&longs;ub&longs;i&longs;tence. His youth had been eagerly devoted
to literature and mu&longs;ic. The&longs;e had hitherto been
cultivated merely as &longs;ources of amu&longs;ement. They
were now converted into the means of gain. At
this period there were few works of ta&longs;te in the
Saxon dialect. My ance&longs;tor may be con&longs;idered as
the &longs;ounder of the German Theatre. The modern
poet of the &longs;ame name is &longs;prung from the &longs;ame family,
and, perhaps, &longs;urpa&longs;&longs;es but little, in the fruitfulness
of his invention, or the &longs;oundne&longs;s of his
ta&longs;te, the elder Wieland. His life was &longs;pent in the
compo&longs;ition of &longs;onatas and dramatic pieces. They
were not unpopular, but merely afforded him a
&longs;canty &longs;ub&longs;i&longs;tence. He died in the bloom of his life,
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and was quickly followed to the grave by his wife.
Their only child was taken under the protection of
the merchant. At an early age he was apprenticed
to a London trader, and pa&longs;&longs;ed &longs;even years of mercantile
&longs;ervitude.
My father was not fortunate in the character of
him under who&longs;e care he was now placed. He was
treated with rigor, and full employment was provided
for every hour of his time. His duties were
laborious and mechanical. He had been educated
with a view to this profe&longs;&longs;ion, and, therefore, was
not tormented with un&longs;atisfied de&longs;ires. He did not
hold his pre&longs;ent occupations in abhorrence, becau&longs;e
they withheld him from paths more flowery and
more &longs;mooth, but he found in unintermitted labour,
and in the &longs;ternne&longs;s of his ma&longs;ter, &longs;ufficient occasions
for di&longs;content. No opportunities of recreation
were allowed him. He &longs;pent all his time pent
up in a gloomy apartment, or traver&longs;ing narrow
and crowded &longs;treets. His food was coar&longs;e, and
his lodging humble.
His heart gradually contracted a habit of moro&longs;e
and gloomy reflection. He could not accurately
define what was wanting to his happine&longs;s. He was
not tortured by compari&longs;ons drawn between his own
&longs;ituation and that of others. His &longs;tate was &longs;uch as
&longs;uited his age and his views as to fortune. He did
not imagine him&longs;elf treated with extraordinary or
unju&longs;tifiable rigor. In this re&longs;pect he &longs;uppo&longs;ed the
condition of others, bound like him&longs;elf to mercantile
&longs;ervice, to re&longs;emble his own; yet every engagement
was irk&longs;ome, and every hour tedious in
its lap&longs;e.
In this &longs;tate of mind he chanced to light upon a
book written by one of the teachers of the Albigenses,
or French Prote&longs;tants. He entertained no
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reli&longs;h for books, and was wholly uncon&longs;cious of
any power they po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed to delight or in&longs;truct.
This volume had lain for years in a corner of his
garret, half buried in du&longs;t and rubbi&longs;h. He had
marked it as it lay; had thrown it, as his occa&longs;ions
required, from one &longs;pot to another; but had felt no
inclination to examine its contents, or even to inquire
what was the &longs;ubject of which it treated.
One Sunday afternoon, being induced to retire
for a few minutes to his garret, his eye was attracted
by a page of this book, which, by &longs;ome accident,
had been opened and placed full in his view.
He was &longs;eated on the edge of his bed, and was employed
in repairing a rent in &longs;ome part of his clothes.
His eyes were not confined to his work, but occasionally
wandering, lighted at length upon the page.
The words “Seek and ye &longs;hall find,” were tho&longs;e
that fir&longs;t offered them&longs;elves to his notice. His curiosity
was rou&longs;ed by the&longs;e &longs;o far as to prompt him
to proceed. As &longs;oon as he fini&longs;hed his work, he
took up the book and turned to the fir&longs;t page. The
further he read, the more inducement he found to
continue, and he regretted the decline of the light
which obliged him for the pre&longs;ent to clo&longs;e it.
The book contained an expo&longs;ition of the doctrine
of the &longs;ect of Cami&longs;&longs;ards, and an hi&longs;torical
account of its origin. His mind was in a &longs;tate peculiarly
fitted for the reception of devotional sentiments.
The craving which had haunted him was
now &longs;upplied with an object. His mind was at no
lo&longs;s for a theme of meditation. On days of business,
he ro&longs;e at the dawn, and retired to his chamber
not till late at night. He now &longs;upplied him&longs;elf
with candles, and employed his nocturnal and Sunday
hours in &longs;tudying this book. It, of cour&longs;e,
abounded with allu&longs;ions to the Bible. All its
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conclusions were deduced from the &longs;acred text. This
was the fountain, beyond which it was unnece&longs;&longs;ary
to trace the &longs;tream of religious truth; but it was
his duty to trace it thus far.
A Bible was ea&longs;ily procured, and he ardently
entered on the &longs;tudy of it. His under&longs;tanding had
received a particular direction. All his reveries
were fa&longs;hioned in the &longs;ame mould. His progre&longs;s
towards the formation of his creed was rapid.
Every fact and &longs;entiment in this book were viewed
through a medium which the writings of the Camissard
apo&longs;tle had &longs;ugge&longs;ted. His con&longs;tructions
of the text were ha&longs;ty, and formed on a narrow
&longs;cale. Every thing was viewed in a di&longs;connected
po&longs;ition. One action and one precept were not
employed to illu&longs;trate and re&longs;trict the meaning of
another. Hence aro&longs;e a thou&longs;and &longs;cruples to which
he had hitherto been a &longs;tranger. He was alternately
agirated by fear and by ec&longs;tacy. He imagined
him&longs;elf be&longs;et by the &longs;nares of a &longs;piritual foe,
and that his &longs;ecurity lay in cea&longs;ele&longs;s watchfulne&longs;s
and prayer.
Hís morals, which had never been loo&longs;e, were now
modelled by a &longs;tricter &longs;tandard. The empire of
religious duty extended it&longs;elf to his looks, ge&longs;tures,
and phra&longs;es. All levities of &longs;peech, and negligences
of behaviour, were pro&longs;cribed. His air was mournful
and contemplative. He laboured to keep alive
a &longs;entiment of fear, and a belief of the awe-creating
pre&longs;ence of the Deity. Ideas foreign to this were
&longs;edulou&longs;ly excluded. To &longs;uffer their intru&longs;ion was
a crime again&longs;t the Divine Maje&longs;ty inexpiable but
by days and weeks of the keene&longs;t agonies.
No material variation had occurred in the lap&longs;e
of two years. Every day confirmed him in his
pre&longs;ent modes of thinking and acting. It was to
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be expected that the tide of his emotions would
&longs;ometimes recede, that intervals of de&longs;pondency and
doubt would occur; but the&longs;e gradually were more
rare, and of &longs;horter duration; and he, at la&longs;t, arrived
at a &longs;tate con&longs;iderably uniform in this re&longs;ect.
His apprentice&longs;hip was now almo&longs;t expired. On
his arrival of age he became entitled, by the will
of my grand-father, to a &longs;mall &longs;um. This &longs;um
would hardly &longs;uffice to &longs;et him afloat as a trader in
his pre&longs;ent &longs;ituation, and he had nothing to expect
from the genero&longs;ity of his ma&longs;ter. Re&longs;idence in
England had, be&longs;ides, become almo&longs;t impo&longs;&longs;ible,
on account of his religious tenets. In addition to
the&longs;e motives for &longs;eeking a new habitation, there
was another of the mo&longs;t imperious and irre&longs;i&longs;table
nece&longs;&longs;ity. He had imbibed an opinion that it was
his duty to di&longs;&longs;eminate the truths of the go&longs;pel among
the unbelieving nations. He was terrified at fir&longs;t
by the perils and hard&longs;hips to which the life of a
mi&longs;&longs;onary is expo&longs;ed. This cowardice made him
diligent in the invention of objections and excu&longs;es;
but he found it impo&longs;&longs;ible wholly to &longs;hake off the
belief that &longs;uch was the injunction of his duty.
The belief, after every new conflict with his passions,
acquired new &longs;trength; and, at length, he
formed a re&longs;olution of complying with what he
deemed the will of heaven.
The North-American Indians naturally pre&longs;ented
them&longs;elves as the fir&longs;t objects for this &longs;pecies of benevolence.
As &longs;oon as his &longs;ervitude expired, he
converted his little fortune into money, and embarked
for Philadelphia. Here his fears were revived,
and a nearer &longs;urvey of &longs;avage manners once
more &longs;hook his re&longs;olution. For a while he relinquished
his purpo&longs;e, and purcha&longs;ing a farm on
Sehuylkill, within a few miles of the city, &longs;et
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himself down to the cultivation of it. The cheapne&longs;s
of land, and the &longs;ervice of African &longs;laves, which
were then in general u&longs;e, gave him who was poor
in Europe all the advantages of wealth. He pa&longs;&longs;ed
fourteen years in a thrifty and laborious manner.
In this time new objects, new employments, and
new a&longs;&longs;ociates appeared to have nearly obliterated
the devout impre&longs;&longs;ions of his youth. He now became
acquainted with a woman of a meek and
quiet di&longs;po&longs;ition, and of &longs;lender acquirements like
him&longs;elf. He proffered his hand and was accepted.
His previous indu&longs;try had now enabled him to
di&longs;pen&longs;e with per&longs;onal labour, and direct attention
to his own concerns. He enjoyed lei&longs;ure, and was
vi&longs;ited afre&longs;h by devotional contemplation. The
reading of the &longs;criptures, and other religious books,
became once more his favorite employment. His
ancient belief relative to the conver&longs;ion of the savage
tribes, was revived with uncommon energy.
To the former ob&longs;tacles were now added the pleadings
of parental and conjugal love. The &longs;truggle
was long and vehement; but his &longs;en&longs;e of duty would
not be &longs;tifled or enfeebled, and finally triumphed
over every impediment.
His efforts were attended with no permanent success.
His exhortations had &longs;ometimes a temporary
power, but more frequently were repelled with insult
and deri&longs;ion. In pur&longs;uit of this object he encountered
the mo&longs;t imminent perils, and underwent
incredible fatigues, hunger, &longs;ickne&longs;s, and &longs;olitude.
The licence of &longs;avage pa&longs;&longs;ion, and the artifices of
his depraved countrymen, all oppo&longs;ed them&longs;elves
to his progre&longs;s. His courage did not for&longs;ake him
till there appeared no rea&longs;onable ground to hope
for &longs;ucce&longs;s. He de&longs;i&longs;ted not till his heart was relieved
from the &longs;uppo&longs;ed obligation to per&longs;evere.
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With a con&longs;titution &longs;omewhat decayed, he at length
returned to his family. An interval of tranquillity
&longs;ucceeded. He was &longs;rugal, regular, and &longs;trict in
the performance of dome&longs;tic duties. He allied himself
with no &longs;ect, becau&longs;e he perfectly agreed with
none. Social wor&longs;hip is that by which they are
all di&longs;tingui&longs;hed; but this article found no place in
his creed. He rigidly interpreted that precept which
enjoins us, when we wor&longs;hip, to retire into solitude,
and &longs;hut out every &longs;pecies of &longs;ociety. According
to him devotion was not only a &longs;ilent office,
but mu&longs;t be performed alone. An hour at noon,
and an hour at midnight were thus appropriated.
At the di&longs;tance of three hundred yards from his
hou&longs;e, on the top of a rock who&longs;e &longs;ides were &longs;teep,
rugged, and encumbered with dwarf cedars and
&longs;tony a&longs;perities, he built what to a common eye
would have &longs;eemed a &longs;ummer-hou&longs;e. The ea&longs;tern
verge of this precipice was &longs;ixty feet above the tiver
which flowed at its foot. The view before it
con&longs;i&longs;ted of a tran&longs;parent current, fluctuating and
rippling in a rocky channel, and bounded by a rising
&longs;cene of cornfields and orchards. The edifice
was &longs;light and airy. It was no more than a circular
area, twelve feet in diameter, who&longs;e flooring
was the rock, cleared of mo&longs;s and &longs;hrubs, and exactly
levelled, edged by twelve Tu&longs;can columns,
and covered by an undulating dome. My father
furni&longs;hed the dimen&longs;ions and outlines, but allowed
the arti&longs;t whom he employed to complete the structure
on his own plan. It was without &longs;eat, table,
or ornament of any kind.
This was the temple of his Deity. Twice in
twenty-four hours he repaired hither, unaccompanied
by any human being. Nothing but phy&longs;ical
inability to move was allowed to ab&longs;truct or
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postpone this vi&longs;it. He did not exact from his family
compliance with his example. Few men, equally
&longs;incere in their faith, were as &longs;paring in their censures
and re&longs;trictions, with re&longs;pect to the conduct
of others, as my father. The character of my
mother was no le&longs;s devout; but her education had
habituated her to a different mode of wor&longs;hip.
The loneline&longs;s of their dwelling prevented her from
joining any e&longs;tabli&longs;hed congregation; but &longs;he was
punctual in the offices of prayer, and in the performance
of hymns to her Saviour, after the manner
of the di&longs;ciples of Zinzendorf. My father refused
to interfere in her arrangements. His own
&longs;y&longs;tem was embraced not, accurately &longs;peaking, because
it was the be&longs;t, but becau&longs;e it had been expreslly
pre&longs;cribed to him. Other modes, if practifed
by other per&longs;ons, might be equally acceptable.
His deportment to others was full of charity and
mildne&longs;s. A &longs;adne&longs;s perpetually over&longs;pread his features,
but was unmingled with &longs;ternne&longs;s or discontent.
The tones of his voice, his ge&longs;tures, his &longs;teps
were all in tranquil uni&longs;on. His conduct was characterised
by a certain forbearance and humility,
which &longs;ecured the e&longs;teem of tho&longs;e to whom his tenets
were mo&longs;t obnoxious. They might call him
a fanatic and a dreamer, but they could not deny
their veneration to his invincible candour and invariable
integrity. His own belief of rectitude was
the foundation of his happine&longs;s. This, however,
was de&longs;tined to find an end.
Suddenly the &longs;adne&longs;s that con&longs;tantly attended him
was deepened. Sighs, and even tears, &longs;ometimes
e&longs;caped him. To the expo&longs;tulations of his wife
he &longs;eldom an&longs;wered any thing. When he de&longs;igned
to be communicative, he hinted that his peace of
mind was flown, in con&longs;equence of deviation from
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his duty. A command had been laid upon him,
which he had delayed to perform. He felt as if a
certain period of he&longs;itation and reluctance had been
allowed him, but that this period was pa&longs;&longs;ed. He
was no longer permitted to obey. The duty assigned
to him was transferred, in con&longs;equence of
his di&longs;obedience, to another, and all that remained
was to endure the penalty.
He did not de&longs;cribe this penalty. It appeared to
be nothing more for &longs;ome time than a &longs;en&longs;e of
wrong. This was &longs;ufficiently acute, and was aggravated
by the belief that his offence was incapable
of explation. No one could contemplate the
agonies which he &longs;eemed to &longs;uffer without the deepest
compa&longs;&longs;ion. Time, in&longs;tead of lightening the
burthen, appeared to add to it. At length he hinted
to his wife, that his end was near. His imagination
did not prefigure the mode or the time of his
decea&longs;e, but was fraught with an incurable persuasion
that his death was at hand. He was likewise
haunted by the belief that the kind of death
that a waited him was &longs;trange and terrible. His
anticipations were thus far vague and indefinite;
but they &longs;ufficed to poi&longs;on every moment of his being,
and devote him to cea&longs;ele&longs;s angui&longs;h.
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CHAPTER II.
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Early in the morning of a &longs;ultry day in August,
he left Mettingen, to go to the city. He had
&longs;eldom pa&longs;&longs;ed a day from home &longs;ince his return
from the &longs;hores of the Ohio. Some urgent engagements
at this time exi&longs;ted, which would not
admit of further delay. He returned in the evening,
but appeared to be greatly oppre&longs;&longs;ed with fatigue.
His &longs;ilence and dejection were likewi&longs;e in
a more than ordinary degree con&longs;picuous. My
mother's brother, who&longs;e profe&longs;&longs;ion was that of a
&longs;urgeon, chanced to &longs;pend this night at our hou&longs;e.
It was from him that I have frequently received an
exact account of the mournful cata&longs;trophe that
followed.
As the evening advanced, my father's inquietudes
increa&longs;ed. He &longs;at with his family as u&longs;ual, but
took no part in their conver&longs;ation. He appeared
fully engro&longs;&longs;ed by his own reflections. Occasionally
his countenance exhibited tokens of alarm; he
gazed &longs;tedfa&longs;tly and wildly at the ceiling; and the
exertions of his companions were &longs;carcely sufficient
to interrupt his reverie. On recovering from
the&longs;e fits, he expre&longs;&longs;ed no &longs;urprize; but pre&longs;&longs;ing his
hand to his head, complained, in a tremulous and
terrified tone, that his brain was &longs;corched to cinders.
He would then betray marks of in&longs;upportable anxiety.
My uncle perceived, by his pul&longs;e, that he was indisposed,
but in no alarming degree, and a&longs;cribed
appearances chiefly to the workings of his mind.
He exhorted him to recollection and compo&longs;ure, but
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in vain. At the hour of repo&longs;e he readily retired
to his chamber. At the per&longs;ua&longs;ion of my mother
he even undre&longs;&longs;ed and went to bed. Nothing could
abate his re&longs;tle&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s. He checked her tender expostulations
with &longs;ome &longs;ternne&longs;s. “Be &longs;ilent,” &longs;aid
he, “for that which I feel there is but one cure,
and that will &longs;hortly come. You can help me nothing.
Look to your own condition, and pray to
God to &longs;trengthen you under the calamities that
await you.” “What am I to fear?” &longs;he answered.
“What terrible di&longs;a&longs;ter is it that you think
of?” “Peace—as yet I know it not my&longs;elf, but
come it will, and &longs;hortly.” She repeated her inquiries
and doubts; but he &longs;uddenly put an end to
the di&longs;cour&longs;e, by a &longs;tern command to be &longs;ilent.
She had never before known him in this mood.
Hitherto all was benign in his deportment. Her
heart was pierced with &longs;orrow at the contemplation
of this change. She was utterly unable to account
for it, or to figure to her&longs;elf the &longs;pecies of di&longs;a&longs;ter
that was menaced.
Contrary to cu&longs;tom, the lamp, in&longs;tead of being
placed on the hearth, was left upon the table. Over
it again&longs;t the wall there hung a &longs;mall clock, &longs;o contrived
as to &longs;trike a very hard &longs;troke at the end of
every &longs;ixth hour. That which was now approaching
was the &longs;ignal for retiring to the fane at which he
addre&longs;&longs;ed his devotions. Long habit had occasioned
him to be always awake at this hour, and the
toll was in&longs;tantly obeyed.
Now frequent and anxious glances were ca&longs;t at
the clock. Not a &longs;ingle movement of the index
appeared to e&longs;cape his notice. As the hour verged
towards twelve his anxiety vi&longs;ibly augmented. The
trepidations of my mother kept pace with tho&longs;e of
her hu&longs;band; but &longs;he was intimidated into &longs;ilence.
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All that was left to her was to watch every change
of his features, and give vent to her &longs;ympathy in
tears.
At length the hour was &longs;pent, and the clock tolled.
The &longs;ound appeared to communicate a &longs;hock
to every part of my father's frame. He ro&longs;e immediately,
and threw over him&longs;elf a loo&longs;e gown.
Even this office was performed with difficulty, for
his joints trembled, and his teeth chattered with dismay.
At this hour his duty called him to the rock,
and my mother naturally concluded that it was thither
he intended to repair. Yet the&longs;e incidents
were &longs;o uncommon, as to fill her with astonishment
and foreboding. She &longs;aw him leave the room,
and heard his &longs;teps as they ha&longs;tily de&longs;cended the
&longs;tairs. She half re&longs;olved to ri&longs;e and pur&longs;ue him,
but the wildne&longs;s of the &longs;cheme quickly &longs;ugge&longs;ted
it&longs;elf. He was going to a place whither no power
on earth could induce him to &longs;uffer an attendant.
The window of her chamber looked toward the
rock. The atmo&longs;phere was clear and calm, but
the edifice could not be di&longs;covered at that di&longs;tance
through the du&longs;k. My mother's anxiety would
not allow her to remain where &longs;he was. She ro&longs;e,
and &longs;eated her&longs;elf at the window. She &longs;trained her
&longs;ight to get a view of the dome, and of the path
that led to it. The fir&longs;t painted it&longs;elf with &longs;ufficient
di&longs;tinctne&longs;s on her fancy, but was undi&longs;tingui&longs;hable
by the eye from the rocky ma&longs;s on which it was
erected. The &longs;econd could be imperfectly &longs;een;
but her hu&longs;band had already pa&longs;&longs;ed, or had taken
a different direction.
What was it that &longs;he feared? Some di&longs;a&longs;ter impended
over her hu&longs;band or her&longs;elf. He had predicted
evils, but profe&longs;&longs;ed him&longs;elf ignorant of what
nature they were. When were they to come?
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Was this night, or this hour to witne&longs;s the accomplishment?
She was tortured with impatience, and
uncertainty. All her fears were at pre&longs;ent linked
to his per&longs;on, and &longs;he gazed at the clock, with nearly
as much eagerne&longs;s as my father had done, in expectation
of the next hour.
An half hour pa&longs;&longs;ed away in this &longs;tate of suspence.
Her eyes were fixed upon the rock; suddenly
it was illuminated. A light proceeding from
the edifice, made every part of the &longs;cene vi&longs;ible. A
gleam diffu&longs;ed it&longs;elf over the intermediate &longs;pace,
and in&longs;tantly a loud report, like the explo&longs;ion of a
mine, followed. She uttered an involuntary &longs;hriek,
but the new &longs;ounds that greeted her ear, quickly
conquered her &longs;urpri&longs;e. They were piercing
&longs;hrieks, and uttered without intermi&longs;&longs;ion. The
gleams which had diffu&longs;ed them&longs;elves far and wide
were in a moment withdrawn, but the interior of
the edifice was filled with rays.
The fir&longs;t &longs;ugge&longs;tion was that a pi&longs;tol was discharged,
and that the &longs;tructure was on fire. She
did not allow her&longs;elf time to meditate a &longs;econd
thought, but ru&longs;hed into the entry and knocked
loudly at the door of her brother's chamber. My
uncle had been previou&longs;ly rou&longs;ed by the noi&longs;e, and
in&longs;tantly flew to the window. He al&longs;o imagined
what he &longs;aw to be fire. The loud and vehement
&longs;hrieks which &longs;ucceeded the fir&longs;t explo&longs;ion, &longs;eemed
to be an invocation of &longs;uccour. The incident was
inexplicable; but he could not fail to perceive the
propriety of ha&longs;tening to the &longs;pot. He was unbolting
the door, when his &longs;i&longs;ter's voice was heard
on the out&longs;ide conjuring him to come forth.
He obeyed the &longs;ummons with all the &longs;peed in his
power. He &longs;topped not to que&longs;tion her, but hurried
down &longs;tairs and acro&longs;s the meadow which lay
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between the hou&longs;e and the rock. The &longs;hrieks
were no longer to be heard; but a blazing light was
clearly di&longs;cernible between the columns of the
temple. Irregular &longs;teps, hewn in the &longs;tone, led him
to the &longs;ummit. On three &longs;ides, this edifice touched
the very verge of the cliff. On the fourth &longs;ide, which
might be regarded as the front, there was an area
of &longs;mall extent, to which the rude &longs;tairca&longs;e conducted
you. My uncle &longs;peedily gained this &longs;pot.
His &longs;trength was for a moment exhau&longs;ted by his
ha&longs;te. He pau&longs;ed to re&longs;t him&longs;elf. Meanwhile he
bent the mo&longs;t vigilant attention towards the object
before him.
Within the columns he beheld what he could no
better de&longs;cribe, than by &longs;aying that it re&longs;embled a
cloud impregnated with light. It had the brightness
of flame, but was without its upward motion.
It did not occupy the whole area, and ro&longs;e but a
few feet above the floor. No part of the building
was on fire. This appearance was a&longs;toni&longs;hing.
He approached the temple. As he went forward
the light retired, and, when he put his feet within
the apartment, utterly vani&longs;hed. The &longs;uddenne&longs;s of
this tran&longs;ition increa&longs;ed the darkne&longs;s that &longs;ucceeded
in a tenfold degree. Fear and wonder rendered him
powerle&longs;s. An occurrence like this, in a place
a&longs;&longs;igned to devotion, was adapted to intimidate the
&longs;toute&longs;t heart.
His wandering thoughts were recalled by the
groans of one near him. His &longs;ight gradually recovered
its power, and he was able to di&longs;cern my
father &longs;tretched on the floor. At that moment, my
mother and &longs;ervants arrived with a lanthorn, and
enabled my uncle to examine more clo&longs;ely this
&longs;cene. My father, when he left the hou&longs;e, be&longs;ides
a loo&longs;e upper ve&longs;t and &longs;lippers, wore a &longs;hirt and
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drawers. Now he was naked, his &longs;kin throughout
the greater part of his body was &longs;corched and
brui&longs;ed. His right arm exhibited marks as of having
been &longs;truck by &longs;ome heavy body. His clothes had
been removed, and it was not immediately perceived
that they were reduced to a&longs;hes. His &longs;lippers and
his hair were untouched.
He was removed to his chamber, and the requisite
attention paid to his wounds, which gradually
became more painful. A mortification &longs;peedily
&longs;hewed it&longs;elf in the arm, which had been mo&longs;t
hurt. Soon after, the other wounded parts exhibited
the like appearance.
Immediately &longs;ub&longs;equent to this di&longs;a&longs;ter, my father
&longs;eemed nearly in a &longs;tate of in&longs;en&longs;ibility. He was
pa&longs;&longs;ive under every operation. He &longs;carcely opened
his eyes, and was with difficulty prevailed upon to
an&longs;wer the que&longs;tions that were put to him. By
his imperfect account, it appeared, that while engaged
in &longs;ilent ori&longs;ons, with thoughts full of confusion
and anxiety, a faint gleam &longs;uddenly &longs;hot
athwart the apartment. His fancy immediately
pictured to it&longs;elf, a per&longs;on bearing a lamp. It
&longs;eemed to come from behind. He was in the act
of turning to examine the vi&longs;itant, when his right
arm received a blow from a heavy club. At the
&longs;ame in&longs;tant, a very bright &longs;park was &longs;een to light
upon his clothes. In a moment, the whole was
reduced to a&longs;hes. This was the &longs;um of the information
which he cho&longs;e to give. There was somewhat
in his manner that indicated an imperfect
tale. My uncle was inclined to believe that half
the truth had been &longs;uppre&longs;&longs;ed.
Meanwhile, the di&longs;ea&longs;e thus wonderfully generated,
betrayed more terrible &longs;ymptoms. Fever and
delirium terminated in lethargic &longs;lumber, which,
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in the cour&longs;e of two hours, gave place to death.
Yet not till in&longs;upportable exhalations and crawling
putrefaction had driven from his chamber and the
hou&longs;e every one whom their duty did not detain.
Such was the end of my father. None &longs;urely
was ever more my&longs;terious. When we recollect his
gloomy anticipations and unconquerable anxiety;
the &longs;ecurity from human malice which his character,
the place, and the condition of the times, might
be &longs;uppo&longs;ed to confer; the purity and cloudlessness
of the atmo&longs;phere, which rended it impo&longs;&longs;ible
that lightning was the cau&longs;e; what are the conclusions
that we mu&longs;t form?
The prelu&longs;ive gleam, the blow upon his arm,
the fatal &longs;park, the explo&longs;ion heard &longs;o far, the
fiery cloud that environed him, without detriment
to the &longs;tructure, though compo&longs;ed of combustible
materials, the &longs;udden vani&longs;hing of this
cloud at my uncle's approach—what is the inference
to be drawn from the&longs;e facts? Their truth
cannot be doubted. My uncle's te&longs;timony is peculiarly
worthy of credit, becau&longs;e no man's temper
is more &longs;ceptical, and his belief is unalterably attached
to natural cau&longs;es.
I was at this time a child of &longs;ix years of age.
The impre&longs;&longs;ions that were then made upon me,
can never be effaced. I was ill qualified to judge
re&longs;pecting what was then pa&longs;&longs;ing; but as I advanced
in age, and became more fully acquainted with
the&longs;e facts, they oftener became the &longs;ubject of my
thoughts. Their re&longs;emblance to recent events revived
them with new force in my memory, and
made me more anxious to explain them. Was this
the penalty of di&longs;obedience? this the &longs;troke of a
vindictive and invi&longs;ible hand? Is it a fre&longs;h proof
that the Divine Ruler interferes in human affairs,
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meditates an end, &longs;elects, and commi&longs;&longs;ions his
agents, and enforces, by unequivocal &longs;anctions,
&longs;ubmi&longs;&longs;ion to his will? Or, was it merely the irregular
expan&longs;ion of the fluid that imparts warmth
to our heart and our blood, cau&longs;ed by the fatigue
of the preceding day, or flowing, by e&longs;tabli&longs;hed
laws, from the condition of his thoughts? *
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CHAPTER III.
[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]
The &longs;hock which this di&longs;a&longs;trous occurrence
occa&longs;ioned to my mother, was the foundation of a
di&longs;ea&longs;e which carried her, in a few months, to the
grave. My brother and my&longs;elf were children at
this time, and were now reduced to the condition
of orphans. The property which our parents left
was by no means incon&longs;iderable. It was entru&longs;ted
to faithful hands, till we &longs;hould arrive at a &longs;uitable
age. Meanwhile, our education was a&longs;&longs;igned to a
maiden aunt who re&longs;ided in the city, and who&longs;e
tenderne&longs;s made us in a &longs;hort time cea&longs;e to regret
that we had lo&longs;t a mother.
The years that &longs;ucceeded were tranquil and
happy. Our lives were mole&longs;ted by few of tho&longs;e
cares that are incident to childhood. By accident
more than de&longs;ign, the indulgence and yielding temper
of our aunt was mingled with re&longs;olution and
&longs;tedfa&longs;tne&longs;s. She &longs;eldom deviated into either extreme
of rigour or lenity. Our &longs;ocial plea&longs;ures
were &longs;ubject to no unrea&longs;onable re&longs;traints. We
were in&longs;tructed in mo&longs;t branches of u&longs;eful knowledge,
and were &longs;aved from the corruption and
tyranny of colleges and boarding-&longs;chools.
Our companions were chiefly &longs;elected from the
children of our neighbours. Between one of the&longs;e
and my brother, there quickly grew the mo&longs;t affectionate
intimacy. Her name was Catharine Pleyel.
She was rich, beautiful, and contrived to blend the
mo&longs;t bewitching &longs;oftne&longs;s with the mo&longs;t exuberant
vivacity. The tie by which my brother and &longs;he
were united, &longs;eemed to add force to the love which
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I bore her, and which was amply returned. Between
her and my&longs;elf there was every circum&longs;tance
tending to produce and &longs;ofter friend&longs;hip. Our &longs;ex
and age were the &longs;ame. We lived within &longs;ight of
each other's abode. Our tempers were remarkably
congenial, and the &longs;uperintendants of our education
not only pre&longs;cribed to us the &longs;ame pur&longs;uits, but
allowed us to cultivate them together.
Every day added &longs;trength to the triple bonds
that united us. We gradually withdrew our&longs;elves
from the &longs;ociety of others, and found every moment
irk&longs;ome that was not devoted to each other. My
brother's advance in age made no change in our
&longs;ituation. It was determined that his profe&longs;&longs;ion
&longs;hould be agriculture. His fortune exempted him
from the nece&longs;&longs;ity of per&longs;onal labour. The ta&longs;k to
be performed by him was nothing more than superintendance.
The &longs;kill that was demanded by this
was merely theoretical, and was furni&longs;hed by ca&longs;ual
in&longs;pection, or by clo&longs;et &longs;tudy. The attention that
was paid to this &longs;ubject did not &longs;eclude him for
any long time from us, on whom time had no other
effect than to augment our impatience in the absence
of each other and of him. Our ta&longs;ks, our
walks, our mu&longs;ic, were &longs;eldom performed but in
each other's company.
It was ea&longs;y to &longs;ee that Catharine and my brother
were born for each other. The pa&longs;&longs;ion which
they mutually entertained quickly broke tho&longs;e
bounds which extreme youth had &longs;et to it; confessions
were made or extorted, and their union was
po&longs;tponed only till my brother had pa&longs;&longs;ed his minority.
The previous lap&longs;e of two years was constantly
and u&longs;efully employed.
O my brother! But the ta&longs;k I have &longs;et my&longs;elf
let me perform with &longs;teadine&longs;s. The felicity of
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that period was marred by no gloomy anticipations.
The future, like the pre&longs;ent, was &longs;erene.
Time was &longs;uppo&longs;ed to have only new delights in
&longs;tore. I mean not to dwell on previous incidents
longer than is nece&longs;&longs;ary to illu&longs;trate or explain the
great events that have &longs;ince happened. The nuptial
day at length arrived. My brother took possession
of the hou&longs;e in which he was born, and
here the long protracted marriage was &longs;olemnized.
My father's property was equally divided between
us. A neat dwelling, &longs;ituated on the bank
of the river, three quarters of a mile from my brother's,
was now occupied by me. The&longs;e domains
were called, from the name of the fir&longs;t po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;or,
Mettingen. I can &longs;carcely account for my refusing
to take up my abode with him, unle&longs;s it were
from a di&longs;po&longs;ition to be an economi&longs;t of plea&longs;ure.
Self-denial, &longs;ea&longs;onably exerci&longs;ed, is one means of
enhancing our gratifications. I was, be&longs;ide, desirous
of admini&longs;tering a fund, and regulating an
hou&longs;ehold, of my own. The &longs;hort di&longs;tance allowed
us to exchange vi&longs;its as often as we plea&longs;ed. The
walk from one man&longs;ion to the other was no undelightful
prelude to our interviews. I was sometimes
their vi&longs;itant, and they, as frequently, were
my gue&longs;ts.
Our education had been modelled by no religious
&longs;tandard. We were left to the guidance of
our own under&longs;tanding, and the ca&longs;ual impre&longs;&longs;ions
which &longs;ociety might make upon us. My friend's
temper, as well as my own, exempted us from
much anxiety on this account. It mu&longs;t not be
&longs;uppo&longs;ed that we were without religion, but with
us it was the product of lively feelings, excited by
reflection on our own happine&longs;s, and by the grandeur
of external nature. We &longs;ought not a ba&longs;is
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for our faith, in the weighing of proofs, and the
di&longs;&longs;ection of creeds. Our devotion was a mixed
and ca&longs;ual &longs;entiment, &longs;eldom verbally expre&longs;&longs;ed, or
&longs;olicitou&longs;ly &longs;ought, or carefully retained. In the
mid&longs;t of pre&longs;ent enjoyment, no thought was bestowed
on the future. As a con&longs;olation in calamity
religion is dear. But calamity was yet at a distance,
and its only tendency was to heighten
enjoyments which needed not this addition to
&longs;atisfy every craving.
My brother's &longs;ituation was &longs;omewhat different
His deportment was grave, con&longs;iderate, and thoughtful.
I will not &longs;ay whether he was indebted to
&longs;ublimer views for this di&longs;po&longs;ition. Human life,
in his opinion, was made up of changeable elements,
and the principles of duty were not ea&longs;ily unfolded.
The future, either as anterior, or &longs;ub&longs;equent to
death, was a &longs;cene that required &longs;ome preparation
and provi&longs;ion to be made for it. The&longs;e po&longs;itions
we could not deny, but what di&longs;tingui&longs;hed him
was a propen&longs;ity to ruminate on the&longs;e truths. The
images that vi&longs;ited us were blith&longs;ome and gay, but
tho&longs;e with which he was mo&longs;t familiar were of an
oppo&longs;ite hue. They did not generate affliction and
fear, but they di&longs;&longs;u&longs;ed over his behaviour a certain
air of forethought and &longs;obriety. The principal
effect of this temper was vi&longs;ible in his features and
tones. The&longs;e, in general, be&longs;poke a &longs;ort of thrilling
melancholy. I &longs;carcely ever knew him to
laugh. He never accompanied the lawle&longs;s mirth
of his companions with more than a &longs;mile, but his
conduct was the &longs;ame as ours.
He partook of our occupations and amu&longs;ements
with a zeal not le&longs;s than ours, but of a different
kind. The diver&longs;ity in our temper was never the
parent of di&longs;cord, and was &longs;carcely a topic of
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[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]
regret. The &longs;cene was variegated, but not tarni&longs;hed
or di&longs;ordered by it. It hindered the element in
which we moved from &longs;tagnating. Some agitation
and concu&longs;&longs;ion is requi&longs;ite to the due exerci&longs;e of
human under&longs;tanding. In his &longs;tudies, he pur&longs;ued
an au&longs;terer and more arduous path. He was much
conver&longs;ant with the hi&longs;tory of religious opinions,
and took pains to a&longs;certain their validity. He
deerned it indi&longs;pen&longs;able to examine the ground of
his belief, to &longs;ettle the relation between motives and
actions, the criterion of merit, and the kinds and
properties of evidence.
There was an obvious re&longs;emblance between him
and my father, in their conceptions of the importance
of certain topics, and in the light in which the
vici&longs;&longs;itudes of human life were accu&longs;tomed to be
viewed. Their characters were &longs;imilar, but the
mind of the &longs;on was enriched by &longs;cience, and embellished
with literature.
The temple was no longer a&longs;&longs;igned to its ancient
u&longs;e. From an Italian adventurer, who erroneously
imagined that he could find employment for
his &longs;kill, and &longs;ale for his &longs;culptures in America,
my brother had purcha&longs;ed a bu&longs;t of Cicero. He
profe&longs;&longs;ed to have copied this piece from an antique
dug up with his own hands in the environs of Modena.
Of the truth of his a&longs;&longs;ertions we were not
qualified to judge; but the marble was pure and
poli&longs;hed, and we were contented to admire the performance,
without waiting for the &longs;anction of connoisseurs.
We hired the &longs;ame arti&longs;t to hew a &longs;uitable
pede&longs;tal from a neighbouring quarry. This was
placed in the temple, and the bu&longs;t re&longs;ted upon it.
Oppo&longs;ite to this was a harp&longs;ichord, &longs;heltered by a
temporary roof from the weather. This was the
place of re&longs;ort in the evenings of &longs;ummer. Here
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we &longs;ung, and talked, and read, and occa&longs;ionally banqueted.
Every joyous and tender &longs;cene mo&longs;t dear
to my memory, is connected with this edifice. Here
the performances of our mu&longs;ical and poetical ancestor
were rehear&longs;ed. Here my brother's children received
the rudiments of their education; here a
thou&longs;and conver&longs;ations, pregnant with delight and
improvement, took place; and here the &longs;ocial affections
were accu&longs;tomed to expand, and the tear
of delicious &longs;ympathy to be &longs;hed.
My brother was an indefatigable &longs;tudent. The
authors whom he read were numerous, but the
chief object of his veneration was Cicero. He
was never tired of conning and rchear&longs;ing his productions.
To under&longs;tand them was not &longs;ufficient.
He was anxious to di&longs;cover the ge&longs;tures and cadences
with which they ought to be delivered. He
was very &longs;crupulous in &longs;electing a true &longs;cheme of
pronuciation for the Latin tongue, and in adapting
it to the words of his darling writer. His
favorite occupation con&longs;i&longs;ted in embelli&longs;hing his
rhetoric with all the proprieties of ge&longs;ticulation
and utterance.
Not contented with this, he was diligent in settling
and re&longs;toring the purity of the text. For this
end, he collected all the editions and commentaries
that could be procured, and employed months of
&longs;evere &longs;tudy in exploring and comparing them. He
never betrayed more &longs;atisfaction than when he
made a di&longs;covery of this kind.
It was not till the addition of Henry Pleyel, my
friend's only brother, to our &longs;ociety, that his pa&longs;&longs;ion
for Roman eloquence was countenanced and fostered
by a &longs;ympathy of ta&longs;tes. This young man
had been &longs;ome years in Europe. We had
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[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]
separated at a very early age, and he was now returned
to &longs;pend the remainder of his days among us.
Our circle was greatly enlivened by the acce&longs;&longs;ion
of a new member. His conver&longs;ation abounded
with novelty. His gaiety was almo&longs;t boi&longs;terous,
but was capable of yielding to a grave deportment,
when the occa&longs;ion required it. His di&longs;cernment
was acute, but he was prone to view every object
merely as &longs;upplying materials for mirth. His conceptions
were ardent but ludicrous, and his memory,
aided, as he hone&longs;tly acknowledged, by his
invention, was an inexhau&longs;tible fund of entertainment.
His re&longs;idence was at the &longs;ame di&longs;tance below the
city as ours was above, but there &longs;eldom pa&longs;&longs;ed a
day without our being favoured with a vi&longs;it. My
brother and he were endowed with the &longs;ame attachment
to the Latin writers; and Pleyel was not behind
his friend in his knowledge of the hi&longs;tory and
metaphy&longs;ics of religion. Their creeds, however,
were in many re&longs;pects oppo&longs;ite. Where one discovered
only confirmations of his faith, the other
could find nothing but rea&longs;ons for doubt. Moral
nece&longs;&longs;ity, and calvini&longs;tic in&longs;piration, were the props
on which my brother thought proper to repo&longs;e.
Pleyel was the champion of intellectual liberty,
and rejected all guidance but that of his rea&longs;on.
Their di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ions were frequent, but, being managed
with candour as well as with &longs;kill, they
were always li&longs;tened to by us with avidity and benefit.
Pleyel, like his new friends, was fond of mu&longs;ic
and poctry. Henceforth our concerts con&longs;i&longs;ted of
two violins, an harp&longs;ichord, and three voices.
We were frequently reminded how much
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happiness depends upon &longs;ociety. This new friend,
though, before his arrival, we were &longs;en&longs;ible of no
vacuity, could not now be &longs;pared. His departure
would ocen&longs;ion a void which nothing could till,
and which would produce in&longs;upportable regrer,
Even my brother, though his opinions were hourly
a&longs;&longs;ailed, and even the divinity of Cicero conte&longs;ted,
was captivated with his friend, and laid a&longs;ide
&longs;ome part of his ancient gravity at Pleyel's approach.
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CHAPTER IV.
[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]
Six years of uninterrupted happine&longs;s had rolled
away, &longs;ince my brother's marriage. The &longs;ound
of war had been heard, but it was at &longs;uch a distance
as to enhance our enjoyment by affording
objects of compari&longs;on. The Indians were repulsed
on the one &longs;ide, and Canada was conquered on
the other. Revolutions and battles, however calamitous
to tho&longs;e who occupied the &longs;cene, contributed
in &longs;ome &longs;ort to our happine&longs;s, by agitating
our minds with curio&longs;ity, and furni&longs;hing cau&longs;es of
patriotic exultation. Four children, three of whom
were of an age to compen&longs;ate, by their per&longs;onal
and mental progre&longs;s, the cares of which they had
been, at a more helple&longs;s age, the objects, exerci&longs;ed
my brother's tenderne&longs;s. The fourth was a charming
babe that promi&longs;ed to di&longs;play the image of her
mother, and enjoyed perfect health. To the&longs;e
were added a &longs;weet girl fourteen years old, who
was loved by all of us, with an affection more
than parental.
Her mother's &longs;tory was a mournful one. She
had come hither from England when this child
was an infant, alone, without friends, and without
money. She appeared to have embarked in a ha&longs;ty
and clande&longs;tine manner. She pa&longs;&longs;ed three years of
&longs;olitude and angui&longs;h under my aunt's protection,
and died a martyr to woe; the &longs;ource of which &longs;he
could, by no importunities, be prevailed upon to
unfold. Her education and manners be&longs;poke her
to be of no mean birth. Her la&longs;t moments were
rendered &longs;erene, by the a&longs;&longs;urances &longs;he received from
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my aunt, that her daughter &longs;hould experience the
&longs;ame protection that had been extended to her&longs;elf.
On my brother's marriage, it was agreed that
&longs;he &longs;hould make a part of his family. I cannot
do ju&longs;tice to the attractions of this girl. Perhaps
the tenderne&longs;s &longs;he excited might partly originate
in her per&longs;onal re&longs;emblance to her mother, who&longs;e
character and misfortunes were &longs;till fre&longs;h in our
remembrance. She was habitually pen&longs;ive, and
this circum&longs;tance tended to remind the &longs;pectator of
her friendle&longs;s condition; and yet that epithet was
&longs;urely mi&longs;applied in this ca&longs;e. This being was
cheri&longs;hed by tho&longs;e with whom &longs;he now re&longs;ided, with
un&longs;peakable fondne&longs;s. Every exertion was made
to enlarge and improve her mind. Her &longs;afety was
the object of a &longs;olicitude that almo&longs;t exceeded the
bounds of di&longs;cretion. Our affection indeed could
&longs;carcely tran&longs;cend her merits. She never met my
eye, or occurred to my reflections, without exciting
a kind of enthu&longs;ia&longs;in. Her &longs;oftne&longs;s, her intelligence,
her equanimity, never &longs;hall I &longs;ee surpassed.
I have often &longs;hed tears of plea&longs;ure at her
approach, and pre&longs;&longs;ed her to my bo&longs;om in an agony
of fondne&longs;s.
While every day was adding to the charms of
her per&longs;on, and the &longs;tores of her mind, there occurred
an event which threatened to deprive us of her. An
officer of &longs;ome rank, who had been di&longs;abled by a
wound at Quebec, had employed him&longs;elf, &longs;ince the
ratification of peace, in travelling through the colonies.
He remained a con&longs;iderable period at Philadelphia,
but was at la&longs;t preparing for his departure.
No one had been more frequently honoured with his
vi&longs;its than Mrs. Baynton, a worthy lady with whom
our family were intimate. He went to her house
with a view to perform a farewell vi&longs;it, and was on
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the point of taking his leave, when I and my young
friend entered the apartment. It is impo&longs;&longs;ible to
de&longs;cribe the emotions of the &longs;tranger, when he fixed
his eyes upon my companion. He was motionless
with &longs;urpri&longs;e. He was unable to conceal his
feelings, but &longs;at &longs;ilently gazing at the &longs;pectacle before
him. At length he turned to Mrs. Baynton,
and more by his looks and ge&longs;tures than by words,
be&longs;ought her for an explanation of the &longs;cene. He
&longs;eized the hand of the girl, who, in her turn, was
&longs;urpri&longs;ed by his behaviour, and drawing her forward,
&longs;aid in an eager and faultering tone, Who is
&longs;he? whence does &longs;he come? what is her name?
The an&longs;wers that were given only increa&longs;ed
the confu&longs;ion of his thoughts. He was &longs;ucce&longs;&longs;ively
told, that &longs;he was the daughter of one who&longs;e name
was Loui&longs;a Conway, who arrived among us at
&longs;uch a time, who &longs;eduou&longs;ly concealed her parentage,
and the motives of her flight, who&longs;e incurable griefs
had finally de&longs;troyed her, and who had left this
child under the protection of her friends. Having
heard the tale, he melted into tears, eagerly cla&longs;ped
the young lady in his arms, and called him&longs;elf her
father. When the tumults excited in his brea&longs;t by
this unlooked-for meeting were &longs;omewhat &longs;ub&longs;ided,
he gratified our curio&longs;ity by relating the following
incidents.
“Mi&longs;s Conway was the only daughter of a banker
in London, who di&longs;charged towards her every
duty of an affectionate father. He had chanced to
fall into her company, had been &longs;ubdued by her
attractions, had tendered her his hand, and been
joyfully accepted both by parent and child. His
wife had given him every proof of the fonde&longs;t attachment.
Her father, who po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed immen&longs;e
wealth, treated him with di&longs;tingui&longs;hed re&longs;pect,
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liberally &longs;upplied his wants, and had made one condition
of his con&longs;ent to their union, a re&longs;olution to
take up their abode with him.
“They had pa&longs;&longs;ed three years of conjugal felicity,
which had been augmented by the birth of this
child; when his profe&longs;&longs;ional duty called him into
Germany. It was not without an arduous &longs;truggle,
that &longs;he was per&longs;uaded to relinqui&longs;h the de&longs;ign of
accompanying him through all the toils and perils
of war. No parting was ever more di&longs;tre&longs;sful.
They &longs;trove to alleviate, by frequent letters, the evils
of their lot. Tho&longs;e of his wife, breathed nothing
but anxiety for his &longs;afety, and impatience of his absence.
At length, a new arrangement was made,
and he was obliged to repair from We&longs;tphalia to
Canada. One advantage attended this change. It
afforded him an opportunity of meeting his family.
His wife anticipated this interview, with no le&longs;s
rapture than him&longs;elf. He hurried to London, and
the moment he alighted from the &longs;tage-coach, ran
with all &longs;peed to Mr. Conway's hou&longs;e.
“It was an hou&longs;e of mourning. His father was
overwhelmed with grief, and incapable of answering
his inquiries. The &longs;ervants, &longs;orrowful and
mute, were equally refractory. He explored the
hou&longs;e, and called on the names of his wife and
daughter, but his &longs;ummons was fruitle&longs;s. At length,
this new di&longs;a&longs;ter was explained. Two days before
his arrival, his wife's chamber was found empty.
No &longs;earch, however diligent and anxious, could
trace her &longs;teps. No cau&longs;e could be a&longs;&longs;igned for
her di&longs;appearance. The mother and child had fled
away together.
“New exertions were made, her chamber and
cabinets were ran&longs;acked, but no ve&longs;tige was found
&longs;erving to inform them as to the motives of her
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flight whether it had been voluntary or otherwi&longs;e,
and in what corner of the kingdom or of the world
&longs;he was concealed. Who &longs;hall de&longs;cribe the &longs;orrow
and amazement of the hu&longs;band? His re&longs;tle&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s, his
vici&longs;&longs;itudes of hope and fear, and his ultimate de&longs;pair?
His duty called him to America. He had been in
this city, and had frequently pa&longs;&longs;ed the door of the
hou&longs;e in which his wife, at that moment, re&longs;ided.
Her father had not remitted his exertions to elucidate
this painful my&longs;tery, but they had failed.
This di&longs;appointment ha&longs;tened his death; in consequence
of which, Loui&longs;a's father became po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;or
of his immen&longs;e property.”
This tale was a copious theme of &longs;peculation.
A thou&longs;and que&longs;tions were &longs;tarted and di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ed in
our dome&longs;tic circle, re&longs;pecting the motives that
influenced Mrs. Stuart to abandon her country.
It did not appear that her proceeding was involuntary.
We recalled and reviewed every particular
that had fallen under our own ob&longs;ervation. By
none of the&longs;e were we furni&longs;hed with a clue. Her
conduct, after the mo&longs;t rigorous &longs;crutiny, &longs;till remained
an impenetrable &longs;ecret. On a nearer view,
Major Stuart proved him&longs;elf a man of mo&longs;t
amiable character. His attachment to Loui&longs;a appeared
hourly to increa&longs;e. She was no &longs;tranger to
the &longs;entiments &longs;uitable to her new character. She
could not but readily embrace the &longs;cheme which
was propo&longs;ed to her, to return with her father to
England. This &longs;cheme his regard for her induced
him, however, to po&longs;tpone. Sometime was
nece&longs;&longs;ary to prepare her for &longs;o great a change and
enable her to think without agony of her separation
from us.
I was not without hopes of prevailing on her
father entirely to relinqui&longs;h this unwelcome de&longs;ign.
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Meanwhile, he pur&longs;ued his travels through the
&longs;outhern colonies, and his daughter continued with
us. Loui&longs;a and my brother frequently received
letters from him, which indicated a mind of no
common order. They were filled with amu&longs;ing
details, and profound reflections. While here, he
often partook of our evening conver&longs;ations at the
temple; and &longs;ince his departure, his correspondence
had frequently &longs;upplied us with topics of discourse.
One afternoon in May, the blandne&longs;s of the air,
and brightne&longs;s of the verdure, induced us to assemble,
earlier than u&longs;ual, in the temple. We females
were bu&longs;y at the needle, while my brother and
Pleyel were bandying quotations and &longs;yllogi&longs;ms.
The point di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ed was the merit of the oration
for Cluentius, as de&longs;criptive, fir&longs;t, of the genius of
the &longs;peaker; and, &longs;econdly, of the manners of the
times. Pleyel laboured to extenuate both the&longs;e
&longs;pecies of merit, and ta&longs;ked his ingenuity, to &longs;hew
that the orator had embraced a bad cau&longs;e; or, at
lea&longs;t, a doubtful one. He urged, that to rely on
the exaggerations of an advocate, or to make the
picture of a &longs;ingle family a model from which to
&longs;ketch the condition of a nation, was ab&longs;urd. The
controver&longs;y was &longs;uddenly diverted into a new channel,
by a mi&longs;quotation. Pleyel accu&longs;ed his companion
of &longs;aying “polliciatur” when he &longs;hould
have &longs;aid “polliccretur.” Nothing would decide
the conte&longs;t, but an appeal to the volume. My
brother was returning to the hou&longs;e for this purpo&longs;e,
when a &longs;ervant met him with a letter from Major
Stuart. He immediately returned to read it in our
company.
Be&longs;ides affectionate compliments to us, and paternal
benedictions on Louifa, his letter contained
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[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]
a de&longs;cription of a waterfall on the Monongahela.
A &longs;udden gu&longs;t of rain falling, we were compelled
to remove to the hou&longs;e. The &longs;torm pa&longs;&longs;ed away,
and a radiant moon-light &longs;ucceeded. There was
no motion to re&longs;ume our &longs;eats in the temple. We
therefore remained where we were, and engaged in
&longs;prightly conver&longs;ation. The letter lately received
naturally &longs;ugge&longs;ted the topic. A parallel was
drawn between the cataract there de&longs;cribed, and
one which Pleyel had di&longs;covered among the Alps
of Glarus. In the &longs;tate of the former, &longs;ome particular
was mentioned, the truth of which was
que&longs;tionable. To &longs;ettle the di&longs;pute which thence
aro&longs;e, it was propo&longs;ed to have recour&longs;e to
the letter. My brother &longs;earched for it in his
pocket. It was no where to be found. At length,
he remembered to have left it in the temple, and he
determined to go in &longs;earch of it. His wife, Pleyel,
Loui&longs;a, and my&longs;elf, remained where we were.
In a few minutes he returned. I was &longs;omewhat
intere&longs;ted in the di&longs;pute, and was therefore impatient
for his return; yet, as I heard him a&longs;cending
the &longs;tairs, I could not but remark, that he had cxecuted
his intention with remarkable di&longs;patch. My
cyes were fixed upon him on his entrance. Methought
he brought with him looks con&longs;iderably
different from tho&longs;e with which he departed. Wonder,
and a &longs;light portion of anxiety were mingled
in them. His eyes &longs;eemed to be in &longs;earch of &longs;ome
object. They pa&longs;&longs;ed quickly from one per&longs;on to
another, till they re&longs;ted on his wife. She was
&longs;eated in a carele&longs;s attitude on the &longs;ofa, in the &longs;ame
&longs;pot as before. She had the &longs;ame mu&longs;lin in her
hand, by which her attention was chiefly engrossed.
The moment he &longs;aw her, his perplexity vi&longs;ibly
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[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]
increa&longs;ed. He quietly &longs;eated him&longs;elf, and fixing
his eyes on the floor, appeared to be ab&longs;orbed in
meditation. The&longs;e &longs;ingularities &longs;u&longs;pended the inquiry
which I was preparing to make re&longs;pecting
the letter. In a &longs;hort time, the company relinquished
the &longs;ubject which engaged them, and directed
their attention to Wieland. They thought
that he only waited for a pau&longs;e in the di&longs;cour&longs;e, to
produce the letter. The pau&longs;e was uninterrupted
by him. At length Pleyel &longs;aid, “Well, I &longs;uppo&longs;e
you have found the letter.”
“No,” &longs;aid he, without any abatement of his
gravity, and looking &longs;tedfa&longs;tly at his wife, “I did
not mount the hill.”—“Why not?”—“Catharine,
have you not moved from that &longs;pot &longs;ince I
left the room?”—She was affected with the solemnity
of his manner, and laying down her work, answered
in a tone of &longs;urpri&longs;e, “No; Why do you a&longs;k
that que&longs;tion?”—His eyes were again fixed upon
the floor, and he did not immediately an&longs;wer. At
length, he &longs;aid, looking round upon us, “Is it true
that Catharine did not follow me to the hill? That
&longs;he did not ju&longs;t now enter the room?”—We assured
him, with one voice, that &longs;he had not been ab&longs;ent
for a moment, and inquired into the motive of his
que&longs;tions.
“Your a&longs;&longs;urances,” &longs;aid he, “are &longs;olemn and
unanimous; and yet I mu&longs;t deny credit to your
a&longs;&longs;ertions, or di&longs;believe the te&longs;timony of my &longs;en&longs;es,
which informed me, when I was half way up the
hill, that Catharine was at the bottom.”
We were confounded at this declaration, Pleyel
rallied him with great levity on his behaviour. He
li&longs;tened to his friend with calmne&longs;s, but without
any relaxation of features.
“One thing,” &longs;aid he with empha&longs;is, “is true,
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[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]
either I heard my wife's voice at the bottom of the
hill, or I do not hear your voice at pre&longs;ent.”
“Truly,” returned Pleyel, “it is a &longs;ad dilemma
to which you have reduced your&longs;elf. Certain it is,
if our eyes can give us certainty, that your wife
has been &longs;itting in that &longs;pot during every moment of
your ab&longs;ence. You have heard her voice, you &longs;ay,
upon the hill. In general, her voice, like her temper,
is all &longs;oftne&longs;s. To be heard acro&longs;s the room,
the is obliged to exert her&longs;elf. While you were
gone, if I mi&longs;take not, &longs;he did not utter a word.
Clara and I had all the talk to our&longs;elves. Still
it may be that &longs;he held a whi&longs;pering conference
with you on the hill; but tell us the particulars.”
“The conference,” &longs;aid he, “was &longs;hort; and far
from being carried on in a whi&longs;per. You know with
what intention I left the hou&longs;e. Half way to the
rock, the moon was for a moment hidden from
us by a cloud. I never knew the air to be more
bland and more calm. In this interval I glanced
at the temple, and thought I &longs;aw a glimmering between
the columns. It was &longs;o faint, that it would
not perhaps have been vi&longs;ible, if the moon had not
been &longs;hrowded. I looked again, but &longs;aw nothing.
I never vi&longs;it this building alone, or at night, without
being reminded of the fate of my father. There
was nothing wonderful in this appearance; yet it
&longs;uggefted &longs;omething more than mere &longs;olitude and
darkne&longs;s in the &longs;ame place would have done.
“I kept on my way. The images that haunted
me were &longs;olemn; and I entertained an imperfect
curio&longs;ity, but no fear, as to the nature of this object.
I had a&longs;cended the hill little more than half
way, when a voice called me from behind. The
accents were clear, di&longs;tinct, powerful, and were
uttered, as I fully believed, by my wife, Her voice
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[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]
is not commonly &longs;o loud. She has &longs;eldom occa&longs;ion
to exert it, but, neverthele&longs;s, I have &longs;ometimes heard
her call with force and eagerne&longs;s. If my ear was
not deceived, it was her voice which I heard.
“Stop, go no further. There is danger in your
path.” The &longs;uddenne&longs;s and unexpectedne&longs;s of this
warning, the tone of alarm with which it was
given, and, above all, the per&longs;ua&longs;ion that it was my
wife who &longs;poke, were enough to di&longs;concert and
make me pau&longs;e. I turned and li&longs;tened to a&longs;&longs;ure
my&longs;elf that I was not mi&longs;taken. The deepe&longs;t
&longs;ilence &longs;ucceeded. At length, I &longs;poke in my turn.
Who calls? is it you, Catharine? I &longs;topped and
pre&longs;ently received an anfwen “Yes, it is I; go
not up; return in&longs;tantly; you are wanted at the
hou&longs;e.” Still the voice was Catharine's, and &longs;till
it proceeded from the foot of the &longs;tairs.
“What could I do? The warning was mysterious.
To be uttered by Catharine at a place, and
on an occa&longs;ion like the&longs;e, enhanced the my&longs;tery.
I could do nothing but obey. Accordingly, I trod
back my &longs;teps, expecting that &longs;he waited for me at
the bottom of the hill, When I reached the bottom,
no one was vi&longs;rble. The moon-light was once
more univer&longs;al and brilliant, and yet, as far as I
could &longs;ee no human or moving figure was discernable.
If &longs;he had returned to the hou&longs;e, &longs;he mu&longs;t
have u&longs;ed wonderous expedition to have pa&longs;&longs;ed
already beyond the reach of my eye. I exerted my
voice, but in vain. To my repeated exclamations,
no an&longs;wer was returned.
“Ruminating on the&longs;e incidents, I returned hither.
There was no room to doubt that I had heard my
wife's voice; attending incidents were not ea&longs;ily explained;
but you now a&longs;&longs;ure me that nothing
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extraordinary has happened to urge my return, and
that my wife has not moved from her &longs;eat.”
Such was my brother's narrative. It was heard
by us with different emotions. Pleyel did not scruple
to regard the whole as a deception of the &longs;en&longs;es.
Perhaps a voice had been heard; but Wieland's imagination
had mi&longs;led him in &longs;uppo&longs;ing a re&longs;emblance
to that of his wife, and giving &longs;uch a &longs;ignificantion
to the &longs;ounds. According to his cu&longs;tom he &longs;poke
what he thought. Sometimes, he made it the theme
of grave di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ion, but more frequently treated it
with ridicule. He did not believe that &longs;ober reasoning
would convince his friend, and gaiety, he
thought, was u&longs;eful to take away the &longs;olemnities
which, in a mind like Wieland's, an accident of this
kind was calculated to produce.
Pleyel propo&longs;ed to go in &longs;earch of the letter. He
went and &longs;peedily returned, bearing it in his hand.
He had found it open on the pede&longs;tal; and neither
voice nor vi&longs;age had ri&longs;en to impede his de&longs;ign.
Catharine was endowed with an uncommon
portion of good &longs;en&longs;e; but her mind was acce&longs;&longs;ible,
on this quarter, to wonder and panic. That
her voice &longs;hould be thus inexplicably and unwarrantably
a&longs;&longs;umed, was a &longs;ource of no &longs;mall disquietude.
She admitted the plau&longs;ibility of the arguments
by which Pleyel endeavoured to prove, that
this was no more than an auricular deception; but
this conviction was &longs;ure to be &longs;haken, when &longs;he
turned her eyes upon her hu&longs;band, and perceived
that Pleyel's logic was far from having produced the
&longs;ame effect upon him.
As to my&longs;elf, my attention was engaged by
this occurrence. I could not fail to perceive a
&longs;hadowy re&longs;emblance between it and my father's
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death. On the latter event, I had frequently reflected;
my reflections never conducted me to
certainty, but the doubts that exi&longs;ted were not
of a tormenting kind. I could not deny that
the event was miraculous, and yet I was invincibly
aver&longs;e to that method of &longs;olution. My wonder
was excited by the in&longs;crutablene&longs;s of the cau&longs;e, but
my wonder was unmixed with &longs;orrow or fear. It
begat in me a thrilling, and not unplea&longs;ing solemnity.
Similar to the&longs;e were the &longs;en&longs;ations produced
by the recent adventure.
But its effect upon my brother's imagination was
of chief moment. All that was de&longs;nable was, that
it &longs;hould be regarded by him with indifferenced.
The wor&longs;t effect that could flow, was nor indeed
very formidable. Yet I could not bent to think
that his &longs;en&longs;es &longs;hould be the victims of &longs;uch delusion.
It argued a di&longs;ea&longs;ed condition of his frame,
which might &longs;how it&longs;elf herea&longs;ter in more dangerous
&longs;ymptoms. The will is the tool of the understanding,
which mu&longs;t fa&longs;hion its conclu&longs;ions on
the notices of &longs;en&longs;e. If the &longs;en&longs;es be depraved, it is
impo&longs;&longs;ible to calculate the evils that may flow from
the con&longs;equent deductions of the under&longs;tanding.
I &longs;aid, this man is of an ardent and melancholy
character. Tho&longs;e ideas which, in others, are ca&longs;ual
or ob&longs;cture, which are entertained in moments of
ab&longs;traction and &longs;olitude, and ea&longs;ily e&longs;cape when
the &longs;cene is changed, have obtained an immoveable
hold upon his mind. The conclu&longs;ions which long
habit has rendered familiar, and, in &longs;ome &longs;ort, palpable
to his intellect, are drawn from the deepestsources.
All his actions and practical &longs;entiments
are linked with long and ab&longs;tru&longs;e deductions from
the &longs;y&longs;tem of divine government and the laws of
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our intellectual con&longs;titution. He is, in &longs;ome respects,
an enthu&longs;ia&longs;t, but is fortified in his belief
by innumerable arguments and &longs;ubtilties.
His father's death was always regarded by him
as flowing from a direct and &longs;upernatural decree.
It vi&longs;ited his meditations oftener than it did mine.
The traces which it left were more gloomy and
permanent. This new incident had a vi&longs;ible effect
in augmenting his gravity. He was le&longs;s di&longs;po&longs;ed
than formerly to conver&longs;e and reading. When we
&longs;i&longs;ted his thoughts, they were generally found to
have a relation, more or le&longs;s direct, with this incident.
It was difficult to a&longs;certain the exact &longs;pecies of impression
which it made upon him. He never introduced
the &longs;ubject into conver&longs;ation, and li&longs;tened
with a &longs;ilent and half-&longs;erious &longs;mile to the &longs;atirical
effu&longs;ions of Pleyel.
One evening we chanced to be alone together
in the temple. I &longs;eized that opportunity of investigating
the &longs;tate of his thoughts. After a pau&longs;e,
which he &longs;eemed in no wife inclined to interrupt,
I &longs;poke to him—“How almo&longs;t palpable is this dark;
yet a ray from above would di&longs;pel it.” “Ay,”
&longs;aid Wieland, with &longs;ervor, “not only the phy&longs;ical,
but moral night would be di&longs;pelled.” “But why,”
&longs;aid I, “mu&longs;t the Divine Will addre&longs;s its precepts
to the eye!” He &longs;miled &longs;ignificantly. “True,”
&longs;aid he, “the under&longs;tanding has other avenues.”
“You have never,” &longs;aid I, approaching nearer to
the point—“you have never told me in what way
you con&longs;idered the late extraordinary incident.”
“There is no determinate way in which the subject
can be viewed. Here is an effect, but the
cau&longs;e is utterly in&longs;crutable. To &longs;uppo&longs;e a deception
will not do. Such is po&longs;&longs;ible, but there are
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twenty other &longs;uppo&longs;itions more probable. They
mu&longs;t all he &longs;et a&longs;ide before We reach that
point.” “What, are the&longs;e twenty suppositions?”
“It is needle&longs;s to mention them. They
are only le&longs;s improtiable than Pleyel's. Time may
convert one of them into certaitily. Till then it is
u&longs;ele&longs;s to expatiate on them.”
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CHAPTER V.
[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]
Some time had elap&longs;ed when there happened
another occurrence, &longs;till more remarkable. Pleyel,
on his return from Europe, brought information of
con&longs;iderable importance to my brother. My ancestors
were noble Saxons, and po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed large domains
in Lu&longs;atia. The Pru&longs;&longs;ian wars had de&longs;troyed
tho&longs;e per&longs;ons who&longs;e right to the&longs;e e&longs;tates precluded
my brother's. Pleyel had been exact in his
inquiries, and had di&longs;covered that, by the law
of male-primogeniture, my brother's claims were
&longs;uperior to tho&longs;e of any other per&longs;on now living.
Nothing was wanting but his pre&longs;ence in that
country, and a legal application to e&longs;tabli&longs;h this
claim.
Pleyel &longs;trenuou&longs;ly recommended this mea&longs;ure.
The advantages he thought attending it were numerous,
and it would argue the utmo&longs;t folly to
neglect them. Contrary to his expectation he
found my brother aver&longs;e to the &longs;cheme. Slight efforts,
he, at fir&longs;t, thought would &longs;ubdue his reluctance;
but he found this aver&longs;ion by no means
&longs;light. The intere&longs;t that he took in the happine&longs;s
of his friend and his &longs;i&longs;ter, and his own partiality
to the Saxon &longs;oil, from which he had likewi&longs;e
&longs;prung, and where he had &longs;pen; &longs;everal years of
his youth, made him redouble his exertions to win
Wieland's con&longs;ent. For this end he employed every
argument that his invention could &longs;ugge&longs;t. He painted,
in attractive colours, the &longs;tate of manners and
government in that country, the &longs;ecurity of civil
rights, and the freedom of religious &longs;entiments. He
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dwelt on the privileges of wealth and rank, and
drew from the &longs;ervile condition of one cla&longs;s, an
argument in favor of his &longs;cheme, &longs;ince the revenue
and power annexed to a German principality afford
&longs;o large a field for benevolence. The evil
flowing from this power, in malignant hands, was
proportioned to the good that would ari&longs;e from the
virtuous u&longs;e of it. Hence, Wieland, in forbearing
to claim his own, withheld all the po&longs;itive felicity
that would accrue to his va&longs;&longs;als from his &longs;ucce&longs;s,
and hazarded all the mi&longs;ery that would redound
from a le&longs;s enlightened proprietor.
It was ea&longs;y for my brother to repel the&longs;e arguments,
and to &longs;hew that no &longs;pot on the globe enjoyed
equal &longs;ecurity and liberty to that which he
at pre&longs;ent inhabited. That if the Saxons had nothing
to fear from mi&longs;-government, the external
cau&longs;es of havoc and alarm were numerous and
manife&longs;t. The recent deva&longs;tations committed by
the Pru&longs;&longs;ians furni&longs;hed a &longs;pecimen of the&longs;e. The
horrors of war would always impend over them,
till Germany were &longs;eized and divided by Au&longs;trian
and Pru&longs;&longs;ian tyrants; an event which he &longs;trongly
&longs;u&longs;pected was at no great di&longs;tance. But &longs;etting
the&longs;e con&longs;iderations a&longs;ide, was it laudable to gra&longs;p
at wealth and power even when they were within
our reach? Were not the&longs;e the two great &longs;ources
of depravity? What &longs;ecurity had he, that in this
change of place and condition, he &longs;hould not degenerate
into a tyrant and voluptuary? Power
and riches were chiefly to be dreaded on account of
their tendency to deprave the po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;or. He held
them in abhorrence, not only as in&longs;truments of
mi&longs;ery to others, but to him on whom they were
con&longs;erred. Be&longs;ides, riches were comparative, and
was he not rich already? He lived at pre&longs;ent in the
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bo&longs;om of &longs;ecurity and luxury. All the in&longs;truments
of plea&longs;ure, on which his rea&longs;on or imagination
&longs;et any value, were within his reach. But the&longs;e
he mu&longs;t forego, for the &longs;ake of advantages which,
whatever were their value, were as yet uncertain.
In pur&longs;uit of an imaginary addition to his wealth,
he mu&longs;t reduce him&longs;elf to poverty, he mu&longs;t exchange
pre&longs;ent certainties for what was di&longs;tant and contingent;
for who knows not that the law is a &longs;y&longs;tem
of expence, delay and uncertainty? If he &longs;hould
embrace this &longs;cheme, it would lay him under the
nece&longs;&longs;ity of making a voyage to Europe, and remaining
for a certain period, &longs;eparate from his
family. He mu&longs;t undergo the perils and discomforts
of the ocean; he mu&longs;t dive&longs;t him&longs;elf of all
dome&longs;tic plea&longs;ures; he mu&longs;t deprive his wi&longs;e of her
companion, and his children of a father and instructor,
and all for what? For the ambiguous advantages
which overgrown wealth and flagitious tyranny
have to be&longs;tow? For a precarious po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion in a land
of turbulence and war? Advantages, which will
not certainly be gained, and of which the acquistion,
if it were &longs;ure, is nece&longs;&longs;arily di&longs;tant.
Pleyel was enamoured of his &longs;cheme on account
of its intrin&longs;ic benefits, but, likewi&longs;e, for other reasons.
His abode at Leip&longs;ig made that country
appear to him like home. He was connected with
this place by many &longs;ocial ties. While there he had
not e&longs;caped the amorous contagion. But the lady,
though her heart was impre&longs;&longs;ed in his favor, was
compelled to be&longs;tow her hand upon another. Death
had removed this impediment, and he was now invited
by the lady her&longs;elf to return. This he was
of cour&longs;e determined to do, but was anxious to obtain
the company of Wieland; he could not bear
to think of an eternal &longs;eparation from his pre&longs;ent
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a&longs;&longs;ociates. Their intere&longs;t, he thought, would be no
le&longs;s promoted by the change than his own. Hence
he was importunate and indefatigable in his arguments
and &longs;olicitations.
He knew that he could not hope for mine or his
&longs;i&longs;ter's ready concurrence in this &longs;cheme. Should
the &longs;ubject be mentioned to us, we &longs;hould league
our efforts again&longs;t him, and &longs;trengthen that reluctance
in Wieland which already was &longs;ufficiently
difficult to conquer. He, therefore, anxiou&longs;ly concealed
from us his purpo&longs;e. If Wieland were
previou&longs;ly enli&longs;ted in his cau&longs;e, he would find it a
le&longs;s difficult ta&longs;k to overcome our aver&longs;ion. My
brother was &longs;ilent on this &longs;ubject, becau&longs;e he believed
him&longs;elf in no danger of changing his opinion,
and he was willing to &longs;ave us from any unea&longs;ine&longs;s.
The mere mention of &longs;uch a &longs;cheme, and the possibility
of his embracing it, he knew, would considerably
impair our tranquillity.
One day, about three weeks &longs;ub&longs;equent to the
my&longs;terious call, it was agreed that the family &longs;hould
be my gue&longs;ts. Seldom had a day been pa&longs;&longs;ed by
us, of more &longs;erene enjoyment. Pleyel had promised
us his company, but we did not &longs;ee him till the
&longs;un had nearly declined. He brought with him a
countenance that betokened di&longs;appointment and
vexation. He did not wait for our inquiries, but
immediately explained the cau&longs;e. Two days before
a packet had arrived from Hamburgh, by which
he had &longs;lattered him&longs;elf with the expectation of
receiving letters, but no letters had arrived. I never
&longs;aw him &longs;o much &longs;ubdued by an untoward event.
His thoughts were employed in accounting for the
&longs;ilence of his friends. He was &longs;eized with the torments
of jealou&longs;y, and &longs;u&longs;pected nothing le&longs;s than
the infidelity of her to whom he had devoted his
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heart. The &longs;ilence mu&longs;t have been concerted.
Her &longs;ickne&longs;s, or ab&longs;ence, or death, would have increased
the certainty of &longs;ome one's having written.
No &longs;uppo&longs;ition could be formed but that his mistress
had grown indifferent, or that &longs;he had transferred
her affections to another. The mi&longs;carriage
of a letter was hardly within the reach of po&longs;&longs;ibility.
From Leip&longs;ig to Hamburgh, and from Hamburgh
hither, the conveyance was expo&longs;ed to no hazard.
He had been &longs;o long detained in America chiefly
in con&longs;equence of Wieland's aver&longs;ion to the &longs;cheme
which he propo&longs;ed. He now became more impatient
than ever to return to Europe. When he
reflected that, by his delays, he had probably forfeited
the affections of his mi&longs;tre&longs;s, his &longs;en&longs;ations
amounted to agony. It only remained, by his
&longs;peedy departure, to repair, if po&longs;&longs;ible, or prevent
&longs;o intolerable an evil. Already he had half re&longs;olved
to embark in this very &longs;hip which, he was informed,
would &longs;et out in a few weeks on her return.
Meanwhile he determined to make a new attempt
to &longs;hake the re&longs;olution of Wieland. The
evening was &longs;omewhat advanced when he invited
the latter to walk abroad with him. The invitation
was accepted, and they left Catharine, Loui&longs;a and
me, to amu&longs;e our&longs;elves by the be&longs;t means in our
power. During this walk, Pleyel renewed the
&longs;ubject that was neare&longs;t his heart. He re-urged all
his former arguments, and placed them in more
forcible lights.
They promi&longs;ed to return &longs;hortly; but hour after
hour pa&longs;&longs;ed, and they made not their appearance.
Engaged in &longs;prightly conver&longs;ation, it was not till
the clock &longs;truck twelve that we were reminded of
the lap&longs;e of time. The ab&longs;ence of our friends excited
&longs;ome unea&longs;y apprehen&longs;ions. We were
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expressing our fears, and comparing our conjectures
as to what might be the cau&longs;e, when they entered
together. There were indications in their countenances
that &longs;truck me mute. The&longs;e were unnoticed
by Catharine, who was eager to expre&longs;s her
&longs;urprize and curio&longs;ity at the length of their
walk. As they li&longs;tened to her, I remarked that
their &longs;urprize was not le&longs;s than ours. They
gazed in &longs;ilence on each other, and on her. I
watched their looks, but could not under&longs;tand the
emotions that were written in them.
The&longs;e appearances diverted Catharine's inquiries
into a new channel. What did they mean, &longs;he
a&longs;ked, by their &longs;ilence, and by their thus gazing
wildly at each other, and at her? Pleyel profited by
this hint, and a&longs;&longs;uming an air of indifference, framed
&longs;ome trifling excu&longs;e, at the &longs;ame time darting significant
glances at Wieland, as if to caution him
again&longs;t di&longs;clo&longs;ing the truth. My brother &longs;aid nothing,
but delivered him&longs;elf up to meditation. I
likewi&longs;e was &longs;ilent, but burned with impatience to
fathom this my&longs;tery. Pre&longs;ently my brother and
his wife, and Loui&longs;a, returned home. Pleyel proposed,
of his own accord, to be my gue&longs;t for the
night. This circum&longs;tance, in addition to tho&longs;e
which preceded, gave new edge to my wonder.
As &longs;oon as we were left alone, Pleyel's countenance
a&longs;&longs;umed an air of &longs;eriou&longs;ne&longs;s, and even consternation,
which I had never before beheld in him.
The &longs;teps with which he mea&longs;ured the floor betokened
the trouble of his thoughts. My inquiries were
&longs;u&longs;pended by the hope that he would give me the
information that I wanted without the importunity
of que&longs;tions. I waited &longs;ome time, but the confusion
of his thoughts appeared in no degree to abate.
At length I mentioned the apprehen&longs;ions which
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their unu&longs;ual ab&longs;ence had occa&longs;ioned, and which
were increa&longs;ed by their behaviour &longs;ince their return,
and &longs;olicited an explanation. He &longs;topped when I
began to &longs;peak, and looked &longs;tedfa&longs;tly at me. When
I had done, he &longs;aid, to me, in a tone which faultered
through the vehemence of his emotions, “How
were you employed during our ab&longs;ence?” “In
curning over the Della Cru&longs;ca dictionary, and talking
on different &longs;ubjects; but ju&longs;t before your entrance,
we were tormenting our&longs;elves with omens
and progno&longs;ticks relative to your ab&longs;ence.” “Catharine
was with you the whole time?” “Yes,”
“But are you &longs;ure?” “Mo&longs;t &longs;ure. She was not
ab&longs;ent a moment.” He &longs;tood, for a time, as if to
a&longs;&longs;ure him&longs;elf of my &longs;incerity. Then, clenching
his hands, and wildly lifting them above his head,
“Lo,” cried he, “I have news to tell you. The
Barone&longs;s de Stolberg is dead?”
This was her whom he loved. I was not surprised
at the agitations which he betrayed. “But
how was the information procured? How was
the truth of this news connected with the circumstance
of Catharine's remaining in our company?”
He was for &longs;ome time inattentive to my que&longs;tions.
When he &longs;poke, it &longs;eemed merely a continuation of
the reverie into which he had been plunged.
“And yet it might be a mere deception. But
could both of us in that ca&longs;e have been deceived?
A rare and prodigious coincidence! Barely not
impo&longs;&longs;ible. And yet, if the accent be oracular—
There&longs;a is dead. No, no,” continued he, covering
his face with his hands, and in a tone half
broken into &longs;obs, “I cannot believe it. She has
not written, but if &longs;he were dead, the faithful Bertrand
would have given me the earlie&longs;t information.
And yet if he knew his ma&longs;ter, he mu&longs;t have ea&longs;ily
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gue&longs;&longs;ed at the effect of &longs;uch tidings. In pity to me
he was &longs;ilent.”
“Clara, forgive me; to you, this behaviour is
my&longs;terious. I will explain as well as I am able.
But &longs;ay not a word to Catharine. Her &longs;trength of
mind is inferior to your's. She will, be&longs;ides, have
more rea&longs;on to be &longs;tartled. She is Wieland's angel.”
Pleyel proceeded to inform me, for the fir&longs;t time,
of the &longs;cheme which he had pre&longs;&longs;ed, with &longs;o much
earne&longs;tne&longs;s, on my brother. He enumerated the
objections which had been made, and the indu&longs;try
with which he had endeavoured to confuse them.
He mentioned the effect upon his re&longs;olutions produced
by the failure of a letter. “During our late
walk,” continued he, “I introduced the &longs;ubject
that was neare&longs;t my heart. I re-urged all my former
arguments, and placed them in more forcible lights.
Wieland was &longs;till refractory. He expatiated on
the perils of wealth and power, on the &longs;acredne&longs;s
of conjugal and parental duties, and the happine&longs;s
of mediocrity.
“No wonder that the time pa&longs;&longs;ed, unperceived,
away. Our whole &longs;ouls were engaged in this
cau&longs;e. Several times we came to the foot of the
rock; as &longs;oon as we perceived it, we changed
our cour&longs;e, but never failed to terminate our
circuitous and devious ramble at this &longs;pot. At
length your brother ob&longs;erved, “We &longs;eem to be
led hither by a kind of fatality. Since we are &longs;o
near, let us a&longs;cend and re&longs;t our&longs;elves a while. If
you are not weary of this argument we will re&longs;ume
it there.”
“I tacitly con&longs;ented. We mounted the &longs;tairs,
and drawing the &longs;ofa in front of the river, we
&longs;eated our&longs;elves upon it. I took up the thread of
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our di&longs;cour&longs;e where we had dropped it. I ridiculed
his dread of the &longs;ea, and his attachment to home.
I kept on in this &longs;train, &longs;o congenial with my disposition,
for &longs;ome time, uninterrupted by him. At
length, he &longs;aid to me, “Suppo&longs;e now that I, whom
argument has not convinced, &longs;hould yield to ridicule,
and &longs;hould agree that your &longs;cheme is eligible;
what will you have gained? Nothing. You
have other enemies be&longs;ide my&longs;elf to encounter.
When you have vanqui&longs;hed me, your toil has
&longs;carcely begun. There are my &longs;i&longs;ter and wife,
with whom it will remain for you to maintain the
conte&longs;t. And tru&longs;t me, they are adver&longs;aries whom
all your force and &longs;tratagem will never &longs;ubdue.”
I in&longs;inuated that they would model them&longs;elves by
his will: that Catharine would think obedience
her duty. He an&longs;wered, with &longs;ome quickne&longs;s,
“You mi&longs;take. Their concurrence is indispensable.
It is not my cu&longs;tom to exact &longs;acrifices of
this kind. I live to be their protector and friend,
and not their tyrant and foe. If my wife &longs;hall
deem her happine&longs;s, and that of her children, mo&longs;t
con&longs;ulted by remaining where &longs;he is, here &longs;he &longs;hall
remain.” “But,” &longs;aid I, “when &longs;he knows your
plea&longs;ure, will &longs;he not conform to it?” Before
my friend had time to an&longs;wer this que&longs;tion, a negative
was clearly and di&longs;tinctly uttered from another
quarter. It did not come from one &longs;ide or the
other, from before us or behind. Whence then
did it come? By who&longs;e organs was it fa&longs;hioned?
“If any uncertainty had exi&longs;ted with regard to
the&longs;e particulars, it would have been removed by a
deliberate and equally di&longs;tinct repetition of the &longs;ame
mono&longs;yllable, “No.” The voice was my &longs;i&longs;ter's.
It appeared to come from the roof. I &longs;tarted from
my &longs;eat. Catharine, exclaimed I, where are you?
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No an&longs;wer was returned. I &longs;earched the room,
and the area before it, but in vain. Your brother
was motionle&longs;s in his &longs;eat. I returned to him,
and placed my&longs;elf again by his &longs;ide. My astonishment
was not le&longs;s than his.”
“Well,” &longs;aid he, at length, “What think you
of this? This is the &longs;elf-&longs;ame voice which I formerly
heard; you are now convinced that my ears
were well informed.”
“Yes,” &longs;aid I, “this, it is plain, is no fiction
of the fancy.” We again &longs;unk into mutual and
thoughtful &longs;ilence. A recollection of the hour,
and of the length of our ab&longs;ence, made me at la&longs;t
propo&longs;e to return. We ro&longs;e up for this purpo&longs;e.
In doing this, my mind reverted to the contemplation
of my own condition. “Yes,” &longs;aid I aloud,
but without particularly addre&longs;&longs;ing my&longs;elf to Wieland,
“my re&longs;olution is taken. I cannot hope to
prevail with my friends to accompany me. They
may doze away their days on the banks of Schuylkill,
but as to me, I go in the next ve&longs;&longs;el; I will
fly to her pre&longs;ence, and demand the rea&longs;on of this
extraordinary &longs;ilence.”
“I had &longs;carcely fini&longs;hed the &longs;entence, when the
&longs;ame my&longs;terious voice exclaimed, “You &longs;hall not
go. The &longs;eal of death is on her lips. Her &longs;ilence
is the &longs;ilence of the tomb.” Think of the effects
which accents like the&longs;e mu&longs;t have had upon me.
I &longs;huddered as I
li&longs;tened. As &longs;oon as I recovered
from my fir&longs;t amazement, “Who is it that &longs;peaks?”
&longs;aid I, “whence did you procure the&longs;e di&longs;mal tidings?”
I did not wait long for an an&longs;wer. “From
a &longs;ource that cannot fail. Be &longs;atisfied. She is dead.”
You may ju&longs;tly be &longs;urpri&longs;ed, that, in the circumstances
in which I heard the tidings, and notwithstanding
the my&longs;tery which environed him by
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whom they were imparted, I could give an undivided
attention to the facts, which were the &longs;ubject
of our dialogue. I eagerly inquired, when and
where did &longs;he die? What was the cau&longs;e of her
death? Was her death ab&longs;olutely certain? An
an&longs;wer was returned only to the la&longs;t of the&longs;e questions.
“Yes,” was pronounced by the &longs;ame voice;
but it now &longs;ounded from a greater di&longs;tance, and
the deepe&longs;t &longs;ilence was all the return made to my
&longs;ub&longs;equent interrogatories.
“It was my &longs;i&longs;ter's voice; but it could not be
uttered by her; and yet, if not by her, by whom
was it uttered? When we returned hither, and
di&longs;covered you together, the doubt that had previously
exi&longs;ted was removed. It was manife&longs;t that
the intimation came not from her. Yet if not
from her, from whom could it come? Are the
circum&longs;tances attending the imparting of this news
proof that the tidings are true? God forbid that
they &longs;hould be true.”
Here Pleyel &longs;unk into anxious &longs;ilence, and gave
me lei&longs;ure to ruminate on this inexplicable event.
I am at a lo&longs;s to de&longs;cribe the &longs;en&longs;ations that affected
me. I am not fearful of &longs;hadows. The tales of
apparitions and enchantments did not po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s that
power over my belief which could even render
them intere&longs;ting. I &longs;aw nothing in them but ignorance
and folly, and was a &longs;tranger even to that
terror which is plea&longs;ing. But this incident was
different from any that I had ever before known.
Here were proofs of a &longs;en&longs;ible and intelligent
exi&longs;tence, which could not be denied. Here was
information obtained and imparted by means unquestionably
&longs;uper-human.
That there are con&longs;cious beings, be&longs;ide our&longs;elves,
in exi&longs;tence, who&longs;e modes of activity and
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information &longs;urpa&longs;s our own, can &longs;carcely be denied.
Is there a glimp&longs;e afforded us into a world of the&longs;e
&longs;uperior beings? My heart was &longs;carcely large
enough to give admittance to &longs;o &longs;welling a thought.
An awe, the &longs;weete&longs;t and mo&longs;t &longs;olemn that imagination
can conceive, pervaded my whole frame.
It for&longs;ook me not when I parted from Pleyel and
retired to my chamber. An impul&longs;e was given to
my &longs;pirits utterly incompatible with &longs;leep. I pa&longs;&longs;ed
the night wakeful and full of meditation. I was
impre&longs;&longs;ed with the belief of my&longs;terious, but not of
malignant agency. Hitherto nothing had occurred
to per&longs;uade me that this airy mini&longs;ter was bu&longs;y to
evil rather than to good purpo&longs;es. On the contrary,
the idea of &longs;uperior virtue had always been
a&longs;&longs;ociated in my mind with that of &longs;uperior power.
The warnings that had thus been heard appeared
to have been prompted by beneficent intentions.
My brother had been hindered by this voice from
a&longs;cending the hill. He was told that danger lurked
in his path, and his obedience to the intimation had
perhaps &longs;aved him from a de&longs;tiny &longs;imilar to that
of my father.
Pleyel had been re&longs;cued from tormenting uncertainty,
and from the hazards and fatigues of a
fruitle&longs;s voyage, by the &longs;ame interpo&longs;ition. It had
a&longs;&longs;ured him of the death of his There&longs;a.
This woman was then dead. A confirmation
of the tidings, if true, would &longs;peedily arrive. Was
this confirmation to be deprecated or de&longs;ired? By
her death, the tie that attached him to Europe, was
taken away. Henceforward every motive would
combine to retain him in his native country, and
we were re&longs;cued from the deep regrets that would
accompany his hopele&longs;s ab&longs;ence from us, Propitious
was the &longs;pirit that imparted the&longs;e tidings.
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Propitious he would perhaps have been, if he had
been in&longs;trumental in producing, as well as in communicating
the ridings of her death. Propitious to
us, the friends of Pleyel, to whom has thereby been
&longs;ecured the enjoyment of his &longs;ociety; and not unpropitious
to him&longs;elf; for though this object of his love
be &longs;natched away, is there not another who is able
and willing to con&longs;ole him for her lo&longs;s?
Twenty days after this, another ve&longs;&longs;el arrived
from the &longs;ame port. In this interval, Pleyel, for
the mo&longs;t part, e&longs;tranged him&longs;elf from his old companions.
He was become the prey of a gloomy
and un&longs;ociable grief. His walks were limited to
the bank of the Delaware. This bank is an
artificial one. Reeds and the river are on one &longs;ide,
and a watery mar&longs;h on the other, in that part
which bounded his lands, and which extended from
the mouth of Hollander's creek to that of Schuylkill.
No &longs;cene can be imagined le&longs;s enticing to a
lover of the picture&longs;que than this. The &longs;hore is
deformed with mud, and incumbered with a fore&longs;t
of reeds. The fields, in mo&longs;t &longs;ea&longs;ons, are mire;
but when they afford a firm footing, the ditches
by which they are bounded and inter&longs;ected, are
mantled with &longs;tagnating green, and emit the mo&longs;t
noxious exhalations. Health is no le&longs;s a &longs;tranger
to tho&longs;e &longs;eats than plea&longs;ure. Spring and autumn
are &longs;ure to be accompanied with agues and bilious
remittents.
The &longs;cenes which environed our dwellings at
Mettingen con&longs;tituted the rever&longs;e of this. Schuylkill
was here a pure and tran&longs;lucid current, broken
into wild and cea&longs;ele&longs;s mu&longs;ic by rocky points, murmuring
on a &longs;andy margin, and reflecting on its
&longs;urface, banks of all varieties of height and degrees
of declivity. The&longs;e banks were chequered by
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patches of dark verdure and &longs;hapele&longs;s ma&longs;&longs;es of
white marble, and crowned by cop&longs;es of cedar,
or by the regular magnificence of orchards, which,
at this &longs;ea&longs;on, were in blo&longs;&longs;om, and were prodigal
of odours. The ground which receded from the
river was &longs;cooped into valleys and dales. Its beauties
were enhanced by the horticultural &longs;kill of my
brother, who bedecked this exqui&longs;ite a&longs;&longs;emblage of
&longs;lopes and ri&longs;ings with every &longs;pecies of vegetable
ornament, from the giant arms of the oak to the
clu&longs;tering tendrils of the honey-&longs;uckle.
To &longs;creen him from the unwhole&longs;ome airs of
his own re&longs;idence, it had been propo&longs;ed to Pleyel
to &longs;pend the months of &longs;pring with us. He had
apparently acquie&longs;ced in this propo&longs;al; but the late
event induced him to change his purpo&longs;e. He was
only to be &longs;een by vi&longs;iting him in his retirements.
His gaiety had flown, and every pa&longs;&longs;ion was absorbed
in eagerne&longs;s to procure tidings from Saxony. I
have mentioned the arrival of another ve&longs;&longs;el from
the Elbe. He de&longs;cried her early one morning as
he was pa&longs;&longs;ing along the &longs;kirt of the river. She
was ea&longs;ily recognized, being the &longs;hip in which he
had performed his fir&longs;t voyage to Germany. He
immediately went on board, but found no letters
directed to him. This omi&longs;&longs;ion was, in &longs;ome degree,
compen&longs;ated by meeting with an old acquaintance
among the pa&longs;&longs;engers, who had till lately been
a re&longs;ident in Leip&longs;ig. This per&longs;on put an end to
all &longs;u&longs;pen&longs;e re&longs;pecting the fate of There&longs;a, by relating
the particulars of her death and funeral.
Thus was the truth of the former intimation
atte&longs;ted. No longer devoured by &longs;u&longs;pen&longs;e, the
grief of Pleyel was not long in yielding to the influence
of &longs;ociety. He gave him&longs;elf up once more
to our company. His vivacity had indeed been
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damped; but even in this re&longs;pect he was a more
acceptable companion than formerly, &longs;ince his seriousness
was neither incommunicative nor &longs;ullen.
The&longs;e incidents, for a time, occupied all our
thoughts. In me they produced a &longs;entiment not
unallied to plea&longs;ure, and more &longs;peedily than in the
ca&longs;e of my friends were intermixed with other topics.
My brother was particularly affected by them.
It was ea&longs;y to perceive that mo&longs;t of his meditations
were tinctured from this &longs;ource. To this was to
be a&longs;cribed a de&longs;ign in which his pen was, at this
period, engaged, of collecting and inve&longs;tigating the
facts which relate to that my&longs;terious per&longs;onage,
the Dæmon of Socrates.
My brother's &longs;kill in Greek and Roman learning
was exceeded by that of few, and no doubt the
world would have accepted a treati&longs;e upon this
&longs;ubject from his hand with avidity; but alas! this
and every other &longs;cheme of &longs;elicity and honor,
were doomed to &longs;udden bla&longs;t and hopele&longs;s extermination.
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CHAPTER VI.
[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]
I now come to the mention of a per&longs;on with
who&longs;e name the mo&longs;t turbulent &longs;en&longs;ations are connected.
It is with a &longs;huddering reluctance that I
enter on the province of de&longs;cribing him. Now it
is that I begin to perceive the difficulty of the ta&longs;k
which I have undertaken; but it would be weakne&longs;s
to &longs;hrink from it. My blood is congealed: and
my fingers are pal&longs;ied when I call up his image.
Shame upon my cowardly and infirm heart! Hitherto
I have proceeded with &longs;ome degree of composure,
but now I mu&longs;t pau&longs;e. I mean not that
dire remembrance &longs;hall &longs;ubdue my courage or baffle
my de&longs;ign, but this weakne&longs;s cannot be immediately
conquered. I mu&longs;t de&longs;i&longs;t for a little while.
I have taken a few turns in my chamber, and
have gathered &longs;trength enough to proceed. Yet
have I not projected a ta&longs;k beyond my power to
execute? If thus, on the very thre&longs;hold of the
&longs;cene, my knees faulter and I &longs;ink, how &longs;hall I support
my&longs;elf, when I ru&longs;h into the mid&longs;t of horrors
&longs;uch as no heart has hitherto conceived, nor tongue
related? I &longs;icken and recoil at the pro&longs;pect, and yet
my irre&longs;olution is momentary. I have not formed
this de&longs;ign upon &longs;light grounds, and though I may at
times pau&longs;e and he&longs;itate, I will not be finally
diverted from it.
And thou, O mo&longs;t fatal and potent of mankind,
in what terms &longs;hall I de&longs;cribe thee? What words
are adequate to the ju&longs;t delineation of thy character?
How &longs;hall I detail the means which rendered
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the &longs;ecrecy of thy purpo&longs;es unfathomable? But
I will not anticipate. Let me recover if po&longs;&longs;ible,
a &longs;ober &longs;train. Let me keep down the flood of
pa&longs;&longs;ion that would render me precipitate or powerless.
Let me &longs;tifle the agonies that are awakened
by thy name. Let me, for a time, regard thee as a
being of no terrible attributes. Let me tear my&longs;elf
from contemplation of the evils of which it is but
too certain that thou wa&longs;t the author, and limit my
view to tho&longs;e harmle&longs;s appearances which attended
thy entrance on the &longs;tage.
One &longs;unny afternoon, I was &longs;tanding in the door
of my hou&longs;e, when I marked a per&longs;on pa&longs;&longs;ing clo&longs;e
to the edge of the bank that was in front. His
pace was a carele&longs;s and lingering one, and had
none of that gracefulne&longs;s and ea&longs;e which distinguish
a per&longs;on with certain advantages of education
from a clown. His gait was ru&longs;tic and
aukward. His form was ungainly and disproportioned.
Shoulders broad and &longs;quare, brea&longs;t &longs;unken,
his head drooping, his body of uniform breadth,
&longs;upported by long and lank legs, were the ingredients
of his frame. His garb was not ill adapted
to &longs;uch a figure. A &longs;louched hat, tarni&longs;hed by the
weather, a coat of thick grey cloth, cut and
wrought, as it &longs;eemed, by a country tailor, blue
wor&longs;ted &longs;tockings, and &longs;hoes fa&longs;tened by thongs,
and deeply di&longs;coloured by du&longs;t, which bru&longs;h had
never di&longs;turbed, con&longs;tituted his dre&longs;s.
There was nothing remarkable in the&longs;e appearances;
they were frequently to be met with on the
road, and in the harve&longs;t field. I cannot tell why
I gazed upon them, on this occa&longs;ion, with more
than ordinary attention, unle&longs;s it were that &longs;uch
figures were &longs;eldom &longs;teen by me, except on the road
or field. This lawn was only traver&longs;ed by men
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who&longs;e views were directed to the plea&longs;ures of the
walk, or the grandeur of the &longs;cenery.
He pa&longs;&longs;ed &longs;lowly along, frequently pau&longs;ing, as
if to examine the pro&longs;pect more deliberately, but
never turning his eye towards the hou&longs;e, &longs;o as to
allow me a view of his countenance. Pre&longs;ently,
he entered a cop&longs;e at a &longs;mall di&longs;tance, and disappeared.
My eye followed him while he remained
in &longs;ight. If his image remained for any duration
in my fancy after his departure, it was becau&longs;e no
other object occurred &longs;ufficient to expel it.
I continued in the &longs;ame &longs;pot for half an hour,
vaguely, and by fits, contemplating the image of this
wanderer, and drawing, from outward appearances,
tho&longs;e inferences with re&longs;pect to the intellectual
hi&longs;tory of this per&longs;on, which experience affords us.
I reflected on the alliance which commonly &longs;ub&longs;i&longs;ts
between ignorance and the practice of agriculture,
and indulged my&longs;elf in airy &longs;peculations as to the
influence of progre&longs;&longs;ive knowledge in di&longs;&longs;olving
this alliance, and embodying the dreams of the
poets. I a&longs;ked why the plough and the hoe might
not become the trade of every human being, and
how this trade might be made conducive to, or, at
lea&longs;t, con&longs;i&longs;tent with the acqui&longs;ition of wi&longs;dom
and eloquence.
Weary with the&longs;e reflections, I returned to the
kitchen to perform &longs;ome hou&longs;ehold office. I had
u&longs;ually but one &longs;ervant, and &longs;he was a girl about
my own age. I was bu&longs;y near the chimney, and
&longs;he was employed near the door of the apartment,
when &longs;ome one knocked. The door was opened
by her, and &longs;he was immediately addre&longs;&longs;ed with
“Pry'thee, good girl, can&longs;t thou &longs;upply a thir&longs;ty
man with a gla&longs;s of buttermilk?” She an&longs;wered
that there was none in the hou&longs;e. “Aye, but
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there is &longs;ome in the dairy yonder. Thou knowe&longs;t
as well as I, though Hermes never taught thee, that
though every dairy be an hou&longs;e, every hou&longs;e is not
a dairy.” To this &longs;peech, though &longs;he under&longs;tood
only a part of it, &longs;he replied by repeating her assurances,
that &longs;he had none to give. “Well then,”
rejoined the &longs;tranger, “for charity's &longs;weet &longs;ake, hand
me forth a cup of cold water.” The girl &longs;aid &longs;he
would go to the &longs;pring and fetch it. “Nay, give
me the cup, and &longs;uffer me to help my&longs;elf. Neither
manacled nor lame, I &longs;hould merit burial in the
maw of carrion crows, if I laid this ta&longs;k upon
thee.” She gave him the cup, and he turned to
go to the &longs;pring.
I li&longs;tened to this dialogue in &longs;ilence. The words
uttered by the per&longs;on without, affected me as somewhat
&longs;ingular, but what chiefly rendered them remarkable,
was the tone that accompanied them. It
was wholly new. My brother's voice and Pleyel's
were mu&longs;ical and energetic. I had fondly imagined,
that, in this re&longs;pect, they were &longs;urpa&longs;&longs;ed by
none. Now my mi&longs;take was detected. I cannot
pretend to communicate the impre&longs;&longs;ion that was
made upon me by the&longs;e accents, or to depict the
degree in which force and &longs;weetne&longs;s were blended
in them. They were articulated with a distinctness
that was unexampled in my experience. But
this was not all. The voice was not only mellifluent
and clear, but the empha&longs;is was &longs;o ju&longs;t, and
the modulation &longs;o impa&longs;&longs;ioned, that it &longs;eemed as if
an heart of &longs;tone could not fail of being moved by
it. It imparted to me an emotion altogether involuntary
and incontroulable. When he uttered
the words “for charity's &longs;weet &longs;ake,” I dropped the
cloth that I held in my hand, my heart overflowed
with &longs;ympathy, and my eyes with unbidden tears.
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This de&longs;cription will appear to you trifling or
incredible. The importance of the&longs;e circum&longs;tances
will be manife&longs;ted in the
&longs;equel. The manner in
which I was affected on this occa&longs;ion, was, to
my own apprehen&longs;ion, a &longs;ubject of a&longs;toni&longs;hment.
The tones were indeed &longs;uch as I never heard before;
but that they &longs;hould, in an in&longs;tant, as it
were, di&longs;&longs;olve me in tears, will not ea&longs;ily believed
by others, and can &longs;carcely be comprehended
by my&longs;elf.
It will be readily &longs;uppo&longs;ed that I was &longs;omewhat
inqui&longs;itive as to the per&longs;on and demeanour of our
vi&longs;itant. After a moment's pau&longs;e, I &longs;tepped to the
door and looked after him. Judge my &longs;urprize,
when I beheld the &longs;elf-&longs;ame figure that had appeared
an half hour before upon the bank. My fancy
had conjured up a very different image. A form,
and attitude, and garb, were in&longs;tantly created worthy
to accompany &longs;uch elocution; but this per&longs;on
was, in all vi&longs;ible re&longs;pects, the rever&longs;e of this phantom.
Strange as it may &longs;eem, I could not &longs;peedily
reconcile my&longs;elf to this di&longs;appointment. In&longs;tead
of returning to my employment, I threw my&longs;elf in
a chair that was placed oppo&longs;ite the door, and &longs;unk
into a fit of mu&longs;ing.
My attention was, in a few minutes, recalled
by the &longs;tranger, who returned with the empty cup
in his hand. I had not thought of the circumstance,
or &longs;hould certainly have cho&longs;en a different
&longs;eat. He no &longs;ooner &longs;hewed him&longs;elf, than a confused
&longs;en&longs;e of impropriety, added to the &longs;uddenne&longs;s
of the interview, for which, not having fore&longs;een it,
I had made no preparation, threw me into a &longs;tate
of the mo&longs;t painful embarra&longs;&longs;ment. He brought
with him a placid brow; but no &longs;ooner had he ca&longs;t
his eyes upon me, than his face was as glowingly
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[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]
&longs;uffu&longs;ed as my own. He placed the cup upon the
bench, &longs;tammered out thanks, and retired.
It was &longs;ome time before I could recover my wonted
compo&longs;ure. I had &longs;natched a view of the &longs;tranger's
countenance. The impre&longs;&longs;ion that it made was
vivid and indelible. His cheeks were pallid and
lank, his eyes &longs;unken, his forehead over&longs;hadowed
by coar&longs;e &longs;traggling hairs, his teeth large and irregular,
though &longs;ound and brilliantly white, and his
chin di&longs;coloured by a tetter. His &longs;kin was of
coar&longs;e grain, and &longs;allow hue. Every feature was
wide of beauty, and the outline of his face reminded
you of an inverted cone.
And yet his forehead, &longs;o far as &longs;haggy locks.
would allow it to be &longs;een, his eyes
lu&longs;trou&longs;ly black,
and po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ing, in the mid&longs;t of haggardne&longs;s, a radiance
inexpre&longs;&longs;ibly &longs;erene and potent, and &longs;omething
in the re&longs;t of his features, which it would be in
vain to de&longs;cribe, but which &longs;erved to betoken a
mind of the highe&longs;t order, were e&longs;&longs;ential ingredients
in the portrait. This, in the effects which immediately
flowed from it, I count among the mo&longs;t extraordinary
incidents of my life. This face, &longs;een
for a moment, continued for hours to occupy my
fancy, to the exclu&longs;ion of almo&longs;t every other image.
I had purpo&longs;ed to &longs;pend the evening with my brother,
but I could not re&longs;i&longs;t the inclination of forming
a &longs;ketch upon paper of this memorable vi&longs;age.
Whether my hand was aided by any peculiar inspiration,
or I was deceived by my own fond conceptions,
this portrait, though ha&longs;tily executed, appeared
unexceptionable to my own ta&longs;te.
I placed it at all di&longs;tances, and in all lights; my
eyes were rivetted upon it. Half the night pa&longs;&longs;ed
away in wakefulne&longs;s and in contemplation of this
picture. So flexible, and yet &longs;o &longs;tubborn, is the
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human mind. So obedient to impul&longs;es the mo&longs;t
tran&longs;ient and brief, and yet &longs;o unalterably ob&longs;ervant
of the direction which is given to it! How little did
I then fore&longs;ee the termination of that chain, of which
this may be regarded as the fir&longs;t link?
Next day aro&longs;e in darkne&longs;s and &longs;torm. Torrents
of rain fell during the whole day, attended
with ince&longs;&longs;ant thunder, which reverberated in stunning
echoes from the oppo&longs;ite declivity. The inclemency
of the air would not allow me to walk
out. I had, indeed, no inclination to leave my
apartment. I betook my&longs;elf to the contemplation
of this portrait, who&longs;e attractions time had
rather enhanced than dimini&longs;hed. I laid a&longs;ide my
u&longs;ual occupations, and &longs;eating my&longs;elf at a window,
con&longs;umed the day in alternately looking out upon
the &longs;torm, and gazing at the picture which lay
upon a table before me. You will, perhaps, deem
this conduct &longs;omewhat &longs;ingular, and a&longs;cribe it to
certain peculiarities of temper. I am not aware
of any &longs;uch peculiarities. I can account for my
devotion to this image no otherwi&longs;e, than by supposing
that its properties were rare and prodigious.
Perhaps you will &longs;u&longs;pect that &longs;uch were the fir&longs;t inroads
of a pa&longs;&longs;ion incident to every female heart,
and which frequently gains a &longs;ooting by means even
more &longs;light, and more improbable than the&longs;e. I
&longs;hall not controvert the rea&longs;onablene&longs;s of the suspicion,
but leave you at liberty to draw; from my
narrative, what conclu&longs;ions you plea&longs;e.
Night at length returned, and the &longs;torm cea&longs;ed.
The air was once more clear and calm, and bore
an a&longs;&longs;ecting contra&longs;t to that uproar of the elements
by which it had been preceded. I &longs;pent the darksome
hours, as I &longs;pent the day, contemplative and
&longs;eated at the window. Why was my mind
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absorbed in thoughts ominous and dreary? Why did
my bo&longs;om heave with &longs;ighs, and my eyes overflow
with tears? Was the tempe&longs;t that had ju&longs;t pa&longs;t
a &longs;ignal of the ruin which impended over me?
My &longs;oul fondly dwelt upon the images of my
brother and his children, yet they only increa&longs;ed
the mournfulne&longs;s of my contemplations. The
&longs;miles of the charming babes were as bland as
formerly. The &longs;ame dignity &longs;at on the brow of
their father, and yet I thought of them with anguish.
Something whi&longs;pered that the happine&longs;s
we at pre&longs;ent enjoyed was &longs;et on mutable foundations.
Death mu&longs;t happen to all. Whether our
felicity was to be &longs;ubverted by it to-morrow, or
whether it was ordained that we &longs;hould lay down
our heads full of years and of honor, was a que&longs;tion
that no human being could &longs;olve. At other times,
the&longs;e ideas &longs;eldom intruded. I either forbore to reflect
upon the de&longs;tiny that is re&longs;erved for all men,
or the reflection was mixed up with images that
di&longs;robed it of terror; but now the uncertainty of life
occurred to me without any of its u&longs;ual and alleviating
accompaniments. I &longs;aid to my&longs;elf, we mu&longs;t
die. Sooner or later, we mu&longs;t di&longs;appear for ever
from the face of the earth. Whatever be the links
that hold us to life, they mu&longs;t be broken. This
&longs;cene of exi&longs;tence is, in all its parts, calamitous. The
greater number is oppre&longs;&longs;ed with immediate evils,
and tho&longs;e, the tide of who&longs;e fortunes is full, how
&longs;inall is their portion of enjoyment, &longs;ince they know
that it will terminate.
For &longs;ome time I indulged my&longs;elf, without reluctance,
in the&longs;e gloomy thoughts; but at length,
the dejection which they produced became insupportably
painful. I endeavoured to di&longs;&longs;ipate it with
mu&longs;ic. I had all my grand-father's melody as well
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as poetry by rote. I now lighted by chance on a
ballad, which commemorated the fate of a German
Cavalier, who fell at the &longs;iege of Nice under Godfrey
of Bouillon. My choice was unfortunate, for
the &longs;cenes of violence and carnage which were here
wildly but forcibly pourtrayed, only &longs;ugge&longs;ted to
my thoughts a new topic in the horrors of war.
I &longs;ought refuge, but ineffectually, in &longs;leep. My
mind was thronged by vivid, but confu&longs;ed images,
and no effort that I made was &longs;ufficient to drive
them away. In this &longs;ituation I heard the clock,
which hung in the room, give the &longs;ignal for twelve.
It was the &longs;ame in&longs;trument which formerly hung
in my father's chamber, and which, on account of
its being his workman&longs;hip, was regarded, by every
one of our family, with veneration. It had fallen
to me, in the divi&longs;ion of his property, and was
placed in this a&longs;ylum. The &longs;ound awakened a
&longs;eries of reflections, re&longs;pecting his death. I was
not allowed to pur&longs;ue them; for &longs;carcely had the
vibrations cea&longs;ed, when my attention was attracted
by a whi&longs;per, which, at fir&longs;t, appeared to proceed
from lips that were laid clo&longs;e to my ear.
No wonder that a circum&longs;tance like this &longs;tartled
me. In the fir&longs;t impul&longs;e of my terror, I uttered a
&longs;light &longs;cream, and &longs;hrunk to the oppo&longs;ite &longs;ide of the
bed. In a moment, however, I recovered from my
trepidation. I was habitually indifferent to all the
cau&longs;es of fear, by which the majority are afflicted.
I entertained no apprehen&longs;ion of either gho&longs;ts or
robbers. Our &longs;ecurity had never been mole&longs;ted by
either, and I made u&longs;e of no means to prevent or
counterwork their machinations. My tranquillity,
on this occa&longs;ion, was quickly retrieved. The
whi&longs;per evidently proceeded from one who was
po&longs;ted at my bed-&longs;ide. The fir&longs;t idea that &longs;ugge&longs;ted
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it&longs;elf was, that it was uttered by the girl who lived
with me as a &longs;ervant. Perhaps, &longs;omewhat had
alarmed her, or &longs;he was &longs;ick, and had come to request
my a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tance. By whi&longs;pering in my ear, &longs;he
intended to rou&longs;e without alarming me.
Full of this per&longs;ua&longs;ion, I called; “Judith,” &longs;aid
I, “is it you? What do you want? Is there
any thing the matter with you?” No an&longs;wer was
returned. I repeated my inquiry, but equally in
vain. Cloudy as was the atmo&longs;phere, and curtained
as my bed was, nothing was vi&longs;ible, I
withdrew the curtain, and leaning my head on my
elbow, I li&longs;tened with the deepe&longs;t attention to catch
&longs;ome new &longs;ound. Meanwhile, I ran over in my
thoughts, every circum&longs;tance that could a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t my
conjectures.
My habitation was a wooden edifice, con&longs;i&longs;ting
of two &longs;tories. In each &longs;tory were two rooms,
&longs;eparated by an entry, or middle pa&longs;&longs;age, with
which they communicated by oppo&longs;ite doors. The
pa&longs;&longs;age, on the lower &longs;tory, had doors at the two
ends, and a &longs;tair-ca&longs;e. Windows an&longs;wered to the
doors on the upper &longs;tory. Annexed to this, on the
ea&longs;tern &longs;ide, were wings, divided, in like manner,
into an upper and lower room; one of them comprized
a kitchen, and chamber above it for the servant,
and communicated, on both &longs;tories, with the
parlour adjoining it below, and the chamber adjoining
it above. The oppo&longs;ite wing is of &longs;maller
dimen&longs;ions, the rooms not being above eight feet
&longs;quare. The lower of the&longs;e was u&longs;ed as a depository
of hou&longs;ehold implements, the upper was a
clo&longs;et in which I depo&longs;ited my books and papers.
They had but one inlet, which was from the room
adjoining. There was no window in the lower
one, and in the upper, a &longs;mall aperture which
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communicated light and air, but would &longs;carcely admit
the body. The door which led into this, was
clo&longs;e to my bed-head, and was always locked, but
when I my&longs;elf was within. The avenues below
were accu&longs;tomed to be clo&longs;ed and bolted at nights.
The maid was my only companion, and &longs;he
could not reach my chamber without previou&longs;ly
pa&longs;&longs;ing through the oppo&longs;ite chamber, and the middle
pa&longs;&longs;age, of which, however, the doors were
u&longs;ually unfa&longs;tened. If &longs;he had occa&longs;ioned this
noi&longs;e, &longs;he would have an&longs;wered my repeated calls.
No other conclu&longs;ion, therefore, was left me, but
that I had mi&longs;taken the &longs;ounds, and that my imagination
had transformed &longs;ome ca&longs;ual noi&longs;e into the
voice of a human creature. Satisfied with this
&longs;olution, I was preparing to relinqui&longs;h my li&longs;tening
attitude, when my ear was again &longs;aluted with a
new and yet louder whi&longs;pering. It appeared, as before,
to i&longs;&longs;ue from lips that touched my pillow. A
&longs;econd effort of attention, however, clearly &longs;hewed
me, that the &longs;ounds i&longs;&longs;ued from within the clo&longs;et,
the door of which was not more than eight inches
from my pillow.
This &longs;econd interruption occa&longs;ioned a &longs;hock le&longs;s
vehement than the former. I &longs;tarted, but gave no
audible token of alarm. I was &longs;o much mi&longs;tre&longs;s
of my feelings, as to continue li&longs;tening to what
&longs;hould be &longs;aid. The whi&longs;per was di&longs;tinct, hoar&longs;e,
and uttered &longs;o as to &longs;hew that the &longs;peaker was desirous
of being heard by &longs;ome one near, but, at
the &longs;ame time, &longs;tudious to avoid being overheard
by any other.
“Stop, &longs;top, I &longs;ay; madmam as you are! there
are better means than that. Cur&longs;e upon your
ra&longs;hne&longs;s! There is no need to &longs;hoot.”
Such were the words uttered in a tone of
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eagerness and anger, within &longs;o &longs;mall a di&longs;tance of
my pillow. What con&longs;truction could I put upon
them? My heart began to palpitate with dread of
&longs;ome unknown danger. Pre&longs;ently, another voice,
but equally near me, was heard whi&longs;pering in answer.
“Why not? I will draw a trigger in this
bu&longs;ine&longs;s, but perdition be my lot if I do more.”
To this, the fir&longs;t voice returned, in a tone which
rage had heightened in a &longs;mall degree above a
whi&longs;per, “Coward! &longs;tand a&longs;ide, and &longs;ee me do
it. I will gra&longs;p her throat; I will do her bu&longs;ine&longs;s
in an in&longs;tant; &longs;he &longs;hall not have time &longs;o much
as to groan.” What wonder that I was petrified
by &longs;ounds &longs;o dreadful! Murderers lurked in my
clo&longs;et. They were planning the means of my destruction.
One re&longs;olved to &longs;hoot, and the other
menaced &longs;uffocation. Their means being cho&longs;en,
they would forthwith break the door. Flight instantly
&longs;ugge&longs;ted it&longs;elf as mo&longs;t eligible in circumstances
&longs;o perilous. I deliberated not a moment;
but, fear adding wings to my &longs;peed, I leaped out
of bed, and &longs;cantily robed as I was, ru&longs;hed out of
the chamber, down &longs;tairs, and into the open air.
I can hardly recollect the proce&longs;s of turning keys,
and withdrawing bolts. My terrors urged me
forward with almo&longs;t a mechanical impul&longs;e. I
&longs;topped not till I reached my brother's door. I
had not gained the thre&longs;hold, when, exhau&longs;ted by
the violence of my emotions, and by my &longs;peed, I
&longs;unk down in a &longs;it.
How long I remained in this &longs;ituation I know
not. When I recovered, I found my&longs;elf &longs;tretched
on a bed, &longs;urrounded by my &longs;i&longs;ter and her female
&longs;ervants. I was a&longs;tonished at the &longs;cene before me,
but gradually recovered the recollection of what
had happened. I an&longs;wered their importunate
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inquiries as well as I was able. My brother and
Pleyel, whom the &longs;torm of the preceding day
chanced to detain here, informing them&longs;elves of
every particular, proceeded with lights and weapons
to my de&longs;erted habitation. They entered my chamber
and my clo&longs;et, and found every thing in its proper
place and cu&longs;tomary order. The door of the
clo&longs;et was locked, and appeared not to have been
opened in my ab&longs;ence. They went to Judith's
apartment. They found her a&longs;leep and in &longs;afety.
Pleyel's caution induced him to forbear alarming
the girl; and finding her wholly ignorant of what
had pa&longs;&longs;ed, they directed her to return to her chamber.
They then fa&longs;tened the doors, and returned.
My friends were di&longs;po&longs;ed to regard this transaction
as a dream. That per&longs;ons &longs;hould be actually
immured in this clo&longs;et, to which, in the circumstances
of the time, acce&longs;s from without or within
was apparently impo&longs;&longs;ible, they could not &longs;eriou&longs;ly
believe. That any human beings had intended
murder, unle&longs;s it were to cover a &longs;cheme of pillage,
was incredible; but that no &longs;uch de&longs;ign had been
formed, was evident from the &longs;ecurity in which the
furniture of the hou&longs;e and the clo&longs;et remained.
I revolved every incident and expre&longs;&longs;ion that had
occurred. My &longs;en&longs;es a&longs;&longs;ured me of the truth of
them, and yet their abruptne&longs;s and improbability
made me, in my turn, &longs;omewhat incredulous. The
adventure had made a deep impre&longs;&longs;ion on my fancy,
and it was not till after a week's abode at my brother's,
that I re&longs;olved to re&longs;ume the po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of
my own dwelling.
There was another circum&longs;tance that enhanced
the my&longs;teriou&longs;ne&longs;s of this event. After my recovery
it was obvious to inquire by what means the attention
of the family had been drawn to my &longs;ituation.
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I had fallen before I had reached the thre&longs;hold, or
was able to give any &longs;ignal. My brother related,
that while this was tran&longs;acting in my chamber, he
him&longs;elf was awake, in con&longs;equence of &longs;ome &longs;light
indi&longs;po&longs;ition, and lay, according to his cu&longs;tom,
mu&longs;ing on &longs;ome &longs;avorite topic. Suddenly the
&longs;ilence, which was remarkably profound, was broken
by a voice of mo&longs;t piercing &longs;hrillne&longs;s, that
&longs;eemed to be uttered by one in the hall below his
chamber. “Awake! ari&longs;e!” it exclaimed: “hasten
to &longs;uccour one that is dying at your door.”
This &longs;ummons was effectual. There was no
one in the hou&longs;e who was not rou&longs;ed by it. Pleyel
was the fir&longs;t to obey, and my brother overtook him
before he reached the hall. What was the general
a&longs;toni&longs;hment when your friend was di&longs;covered
&longs;tretched upon the gra&longs;s before the door, pale,
gha&longs;tly, and with every mark of death!
This was the third in&longs;tance of a voice, exerted
for the benefit of this little community. The agent
was no le&longs;s in&longs;crutable in this, than in the former
ca&longs;e. When I ruminated upon the&longs;e events, my
&longs;oul was &longs;u&longs;pended in wonder and awe. Was I
really deceived in imagining that I heard the clo&longs;et
conver&longs;ation? I was no longer at liberty to question
the reality of tho&longs;e accents which had formerly
recalled my brother from the hill; which had imparted
tidings of the death of the German lady to
Pleyel; and which had lately &longs;ummoned them to
my a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tance.
But how was I to regard this midnight conversation?
Hoar&longs;e and manlike voices con&longs;erring on
the means of death, &longs;o near my bed, and at &longs;uch
an hour! How had my ancient &longs;ecurity vani&longs;hed!
That dwelling, which had hitherto been an inviolate
a&longs;ylum, was now be&longs;et with danger to my life.
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That &longs;olitude, formerly &longs;o dear to me, could no
longer be endured. Pleyel, who had con&longs;ented to
re&longs;ide with us during the months of &longs;pring, lodged
in the vacant chamber, in order to quiet my alarms.
He treated my fears with ridicule, and in a &longs;hort
time very &longs;ight traces of them remained: but as it
was wholly indifferent to him whether his nights
were pa&longs;&longs;ed at my hou&longs;e or at my brother's, this
arrangement gave general &longs;atisfaction.
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CHAPTER VII.
[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]
I will not enumerate the various inquiries and
conjectures which the&longs;e incidents occa&longs;ioned. After
all our efforts, we came no nearer to di&longs;pelling the
mi&longs;t in which they were involved; and time, in&longs;tead
of facilitating a &longs;olution, only accumulated our
doubts.
In the mid&longs;t of thoughts excited by the&longs;e events,
I was not unmindful of my interview with the
&longs;tranger. I related the particulars, and &longs;hewed the
portrait to my friends. Pleyel recollected to have
met with a figure re&longs;embling my de&longs;cription in the
city; but neither his face or garb made the &longs;ame impression
upon him that it made upon me. It was a
hint to rally me upon my prepo&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ions, and to
amu&longs;e us with a thou&longs;and ludicrous anecdotes which
he had collected in his travels. He made no &longs;cruple
to charge me with being in love; and threatened to
inform the &longs;wain, when he met him, of his good
fortune.
Pleyel's temper made him &longs;u&longs;ceptible of no durable
impre&longs;&longs;ions. His conver&longs;ation was occasionally
vi&longs;ited by gleams of his ancient vivacity; but,
though his impetuo&longs;ity was &longs;ometimes inconvenient,
there was nothing to dread from his malice. I had
no fear that my character or dignity would &longs;uffer
in his hands, and was not heartily di&longs;plea&longs;ed when
he declared his intention of profiting by his fir&longs;t
meeting with the &longs;tranger to introduce him to our
acquaintance.
Some weeks after this I had &longs;pent a toil&longs;ome day,
and, as the &longs;un declined, found my&longs;elf di&longs;po&longs;ed to
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&longs;eek relief in a walk. The river bank is, at this
part of it, and for &longs;ome con&longs;iderable &longs;pace upward,
&longs;o rugged and &longs;teep as not to be ea&longs;ily de&longs;cended.
In a rece&longs;s of this declivity, near the &longs;outhern verge
of my little deme&longs;ne, was placed a &longs;light building,
with &longs;eats and lattices. From a crevice of the
rock, to which this edifice was attached, there bur&longs;t
forth a &longs;tream of the pure&longs;t water, which, leaping
from ledge to ledge, for the &longs;pace of &longs;ixty feet,
produced a fre&longs;hne&longs;s in the air, and a murmur, the
mo&longs;t delicious and &longs;oothing imaginable. The&longs;e,
added to the odours of the cedars which embowered
it, and of the honey-&longs;uckle which clu&longs;tered among the
lattices, rendered this my favorite retreat in &longs;ummer.
On this occa&longs;ion I repaired hither. My &longs;pirits
drooped through the fatigue of long attention, and
I threw my&longs;elf upon a bench, in a &longs;tate, both
mentally and per&longs;onally, of the utmo&longs;t &longs;upinene&longs;s.
The lulling &longs;ounds of the waterfall, the fragrance
and the du&longs;k combined to becalm my &longs;pirits, and,
in a &longs;hort time, to &longs;ink me into &longs;leep. Either the
unea&longs;ine&longs;s of my po&longs;ture, or &longs;ome &longs;light indisposition
mole&longs;ted my repo&longs;e with dreams of no cheerful
hue. After various incoherences had taken
their turn to occupy my fancy, I at length imagined
my&longs;elf walking, in the evening twilight, to
my brother's habitation. A pit, methought, had
been dug in the path I had taken, of which I was
not aware. As I carele&longs;&longs;ly pur&longs;ued my walk, I
thought I &longs;aw my brother, &longs;tanding at &longs;ome distance
before me, beckoning and calling me to make
ha&longs;te. He &longs;tood on the oppo&longs;ite edge of the gulph.
I mended my pace, and one &longs;tep more would have
plunged me into this aby&longs;s, had not &longs;ome one from
behind caught &longs;uddenly my arm, and exclaimed, in
a voice of eagerne&longs;s and terror, “Hold! hold!”
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The &longs;ound broke my &longs;leep, and I found my&longs;elf,
at the next moment, &longs;tanding on my feet, and surrounded
by the deepe&longs;t darkne&longs;s. Images &longs;o terrific
and forcible di&longs;abled me, for a time, from distinguishing
between &longs;leep and wakefulne&longs;s, and withheld
from me the knowledge of my actual condition.
My fir&longs;t panics were &longs;ucceeded by the perturbations
of &longs;urprize, to find my&longs;elf alone in the
open air, and immer&longs;ed in &longs;o deep a gloom. I
&longs;lowly recollected the incidents of the afternoon,
and how I came hither. I could not e&longs;timate the
time, but &longs;aw the propriety of returning with &longs;peed
to the hou&longs;e. My faculties were &longs;till too confu&longs;ed,
and the darkne&longs;s too inten&longs;e, to allow me immediately
to find my way up the &longs;teep. I &longs;at down,
therefore, to recover my&longs;elf, and to reflect upon
my &longs;ituation.
This was no &longs;ooner done, than a low voice was
heard from behind the lattice, on the &longs;ide where I
&longs;at. Between the rock and the lattice was a cha&longs;m
not wide enough to admit a human body; yet, in
this cha&longs;m he that &longs;poke appeared to be &longs;tationed.
“Attend! attend! but be not terrified.”
I &longs;tarted and exclaimed, “Good heavens! what
is that? Who are you?”
“A friend; one come, not to injure, but to &longs;ave
you; fear nothing.”
This voice was immediately recognized to be the
&longs;ame with one of tho&longs;e which I had heard in the
clo&longs;et; it was the voice of him who had propo&longs;ed
to &longs;hoot, rather than to &longs;trangle, his victim. My
terror made me, at once, mute and motionle&longs;s. He
continued, “I leagued to murder you. I repent.
Mark my bidding, and be &longs;afe. Avoid this &longs;pot.
The &longs;nares of death encompa&longs;s it. El&longs;ewhere
danger will be di&longs;tant; but this &longs;pot, &longs;hun it as you
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value your life. Mark me further; profit by this
warning, but divulge it not. If a &longs;yllable of what
has pa&longs;&longs;ed e&longs;cape you, your doom is &longs;ealed. Remember
your father, and be faithful.”
Here the accents cea&longs;ed, and left me overwhelmed
with di&longs;may. I was fraught with the per&longs;ua&longs;ion,
that during every moment I remained here, my
life was endangered; but I could not take a &longs;tep
without hazard of falling to the bottom of the precipice.
The path, leading to the &longs;ummit, was
&longs;hort, but rugged and intricate. Even &longs;tar-light
was excluded by the umbrage, and not the fainte&longs;t
gleam was afforded to guide my &longs;teps. What
&longs;hould I do? To depart or remain was equally
and eminently perilous.
In this &longs;tate of uncertainty, I perceived a ray flit
acro&longs;s the gloom and di&longs;appear. Another succeeded,
which was &longs;tronger, and remained for a pa&longs;&longs;ing
moment. It glittered on the &longs;hrubs that were scattered
at the entrance, and gleam continued to succeed
gleam for a few &longs;econds, till they, finally,
gave place to unintermitted darkne&longs;s.
The fir&longs;t vi&longs;itings of this light called up a train
of horrors in my mind; de&longs;truction impended over
this &longs;pot; the voice which I had lately heard had
warned me to retire, and had menaced me with the
fate of my father if I refu&longs;ed. I was de&longs;irous, but
unable, to obey; the&longs;e gleams were &longs;uch as preluded
the &longs;troke by which he fell; the hour, perhaps,
was the &longs;ame—I &longs;huddered as if I had beheld,
&longs;u&longs;pended over me, the exterminating &longs;word.
Pre&longs;ently a new and &longs;tronger illumination bur&longs;t
through the lattice on the right hand, and a voice,
from the edge of the precipice above, called out my
name. It was Pleyel. Joyfully did I recognize
his accents; but &longs;uch was the tumult of my thoughts
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that I had not power to an&longs;wer him till he had frequently
repeated his &longs;ummons. I hurried, at length,
from the fatal &longs;pot, and, directed by the lanthorn
which he bore, a&longs;cended the hill.
Pale and breathie&longs;s, it was with difficulty I could
&longs;upport my&longs;elf. He anxiou&longs;ly inquired into the
cau&longs;e of my affright, and the motive of my unusual
ab&longs;ence. He had returned from my brother's
at a late hour, and was informed by Judith, that I
had walked out before &longs;un-&longs;et, and had not yet returned.
This intelligence was &longs;omewhat alarming.
He waited &longs;ome time; but, my ab&longs;ence continuing,
he had &longs;et out in &longs;earch of me. He had explored
the neighbourhood with the utmo&longs;t care, but, receiving
no tidings of me, he was preparing to acquaint
my brother with this circum&longs;tance, when he
recollected the &longs;ummer-hou&longs;e on the bank, and conceived
it po&longs;&longs;ible that &longs;ome accident had detained
me there. He again inquired into the cau&longs;e of this
detention, and of that confu&longs;ion and di&longs;may which
my looks te&longs;tified.
I told him that I had &longs;trolled hither in the afternoon,
that &longs;leep had overtaken me as I &longs;at, and that
I had awakened a few minutes before his arrival.
I could tell him no more. In the pre&longs;ent impetuosity
of my thoughts, I was almo&longs;t dubious, whether
the pit, into which my brother had endeavoured
to entice me, and the voice that talked through the
lattice, were not parts of the &longs;ame dream. I remembered,
likewi&longs;e, the charge of &longs;ecrecy, and the
penatly denounced, if I &longs;hould ra&longs;hly divulge what
I had heard. For the&longs;e rea&longs;ons, I was &longs;ilent on
that &longs;ubject, and &longs;hutting my&longs;elf in my chamber,
delivered my&longs;elf up to contemplation.
What I have related will, no doubt, appear to
you a fable. You will believe that calamity has
-- 077 --
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&longs;ubverted my rea&longs;on, and that I am amu&longs;ing you
with the chimeras of my brain, in&longs;tead of facts that
have really happened. I &longs;hall not be &longs;urprized or
offened, if the&longs;e be your &longs;u&longs;picions. I know not,
indeed, how you can deny them admi&longs;&longs;ion. For,
if to me, the immediate witne&longs;s, they were fertile of
perplexity and doubt, how mu&longs;t they affect another
to whom they are recommended only by my testimony?
It was only by &longs;ub&longs;equent events, that I
was fully and inconte&longs;tibly a&longs;&longs;ured of the veracity
of my &longs;en&longs;es.
Meanwhile what was I to think? I had been
a&longs;&longs;ured that a de&longs;ign had been formed again&longs;t my
life. The ruffians had leagued to murder me.
Whom had I offended? Who was there with
whom I had ever maintained intercour&longs;e, who was
capable of harbouring &longs;uch atrocious purpo&longs;es?
My temper was the rever&longs;e of cruel and imperious.
My heart was touched with &longs;ympathy for
the children of misfortune. But this &longs;ympathy was
not a barren &longs;entiment. My pur&longs;e, &longs;canty as it
was, was ever open, and my hands ever active, to
relieve di&longs;tre&longs;s. Many were the wretches whom
my per&longs;onal exertions had extricated from want and
di&longs;ea&longs;e, and who rewarded me with their gratitude.
There was no face which lowered at my approach,
and no lips which uttered imprecations in my hearing.
On the contrary, there was none, over who&longs;e
fate I had exerted any influence, or to whom I
was known by reputation, who did not greet me
with &longs;miles, and di&longs;mi&longs;s me with proofs of veneration;
yet did not my &longs;en&longs;es a&longs;&longs;ure me that a plot
was laid again&longs;t my life?
I am not de&longs;titute of courage, I have &longs;hewn
my&longs;elf deliberative and calm in the mid&longs;t of peril.
I have hazarded my own life, for the pre&longs;ervation
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of another, but now was I confu&longs;ed and panic
&longs;truck. I have not lived &longs;o as to fear death, yet
to peri&longs;h by an un&longs;een and &longs;ecret &longs;troke, to be
mangled by the knife of an a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in, was a thought
at which I &longs;huddered; what had I done to de&longs;erve
to be made the victim of malignant pa&longs;&longs;ions?
But &longs;oft! was I not a&longs;&longs;ured, that my life was
&longs;afe in all places but one? And why was the treason
limited to take effect in this &longs;pot? I was every
where equally defencele&longs;s. My hou&longs;e and chamber
were, at all times, acce&longs;&longs;ible. Danger &longs;till impended
over me; the bloody purpo&longs;e was &longs;till entertained,
but the hand that was to execute it, was
powerle&longs;s in all places but one!
Here I had remained for the la&longs;t four or five
hours, without the means of re&longs;i&longs;tance or defence,
yet I had not been attacked. A human being was
at hand, who was con&longs;cious of my pre&longs;ence, and
warned me hereafter to avoid this retreat. His
voice was not ab&longs;olutely new, but had I never
heard it but once before? But why did he prohibit
me from relating this incident to others, and
what &longs;pecies of death will be awarded if I di&longs;obey?
He talked of my father. He intimated, that disclosure
would pull upon my head, the &longs;ame destruction.
Was then the death of my father, portentous
and inexplicable as it was, the con&longs;equence
of human machinations? It &longs;hould &longs;eem, that this
being is appri&longs;ed of the true nature of this event,
and is con&longs;cious of the means that led to it. Whether
it &longs;hall likewi&longs;e fall upon me, depends upon
the ob&longs;ervance of &longs;ilence. Was it the infraction
of a &longs;imilar command, that brought &longs; horrible a
penalty upon my father?
Such were the reflections that haunted me during
the night, and which effectually deprived me of
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&longs;leep. Next morning, at breakfa&longs;t, Pleyel related
an event which my di&longs;appearance had hindered him
from mentioning the night before. Early the preceding
morning, his occa&longs;ions called him to the
city; he had &longs;tepped into a coffee-hou&longs;e to while
away an hour; here he had met a per&longs;on who&longs;e
appearance in&longs;tantly be&longs;poke him to be the &longs;ame
who&longs;e ha&longs;ty vi&longs;it I have mentioned, and who&longs;e
extraordinary vi&longs;age and tones had &longs;o powerfully
affected me. On an attentive &longs;urvey, however,
he proved, likewi&longs;e, to be one with whom my
friend had had &longs;ome intercour&longs;e in Europe. This
authori&longs;ed the liberty of acco&longs;ting him, and after
&longs;ome conver&longs;ation, mindful, as Pleyel &longs;aid, of the
footing which this &longs;tranger had gained in my heart,
he had ventured to invite him to Mettingen. The
invitation had been cheerfully accepted, and a vi&longs;it
promi&longs;ed on the afternoon of the next day.
This information excited no &longs;ober emotions in
my brea&longs;t. I was, of cour&longs;e, eager to be informed
as to the circum&longs;tances of their ancient intercour&longs;e.
When, and where had they met? What knew
he of the life and character of this man?
In an&longs;wer to my inquiries, he informed me that,
three years before, he was a traveller in Spain. He
had made an excur&longs;ion from Valencia to Murviedro,
with a view to in&longs;pect the remains of Roman
magnificence, &longs;cattered in the environs of that town.
While traver&longs;ing the &longs;cite of the theatre of old
Saguntum, he lighted upon this man, &longs;eated on a
&longs;tone, and deeply engaged in peru&longs;ing the work of
the deacon Marti. A &longs;hort conver&longs;ation en&longs;ued,
which proved the &longs;tranger to be Engli&longs;h. They
returned to Valencia together.
His garb, a&longs;pect, and deportment, were wholly
Spani&longs;h. A re&longs;idence of three years in the
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[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]
country, indefatigable attention to the language, and a
&longs;tudious conformity with the cu&longs;toms of the people,
had made him indi&longs;ting ui&longs;hable from a native, when
he cho&longs;e to a&longs;&longs;ume that character. Pleyel found
him to be connected, on the footing of friend&longs;hip and
re&longs;pect, with many eminent merchants in that city.
He had embraced the catholic religion, and adopted
a Spani&longs;h name in&longs;tead of his own, which was
Carwin, and devoted him&longs;elf to the literature and
religion of his new country. He pur&longs;ued no profession,
but &longs;ub&longs;i&longs;ted on remittances from England.
While Pleyel remained in Valencia, Carwin betrayed
no aver&longs;ion to intercour&longs;e, and the former
found no &longs;mall attractions in the &longs;ociety of this new
acquaintance. On general topics he was highly
intelligent and communicative. He had vi&longs;ited every
corner of Spain, and could furni&longs;h the mo&longs;t accurate
details re&longs;pecting its ancient and pre&longs;ent &longs;tate.
On topics of religion and of his own hi&longs;tory, previous
to his transformation into a Spaniard, he
was invariably &longs;ilent. You could merely gather
from his di&longs;cour&longs;e that he was Engli&longs;h, and that he
was well acquainted with the neighbouring countries.
His character excited con&longs;iderable curio&longs;ity in
this ob&longs;erver. It was not ea&longs;y to reconcile his conversion
to the Romi&longs;h faith, with tho&longs;e proofs of
knowledge and capacity that were exhibited by him
on different occa&longs;ions. A &longs;u&longs;picion was, &longs;ometimes,
admitted, that his belief was counterfeited for &longs;ome
political purpo&longs;e. The mo&longs;t careful ob&longs;ervation,
however, produced no di&longs;covery. His manners
were, at all times, harmle&longs;s and inartificial, and his
habits tho&longs;e of a lover of contemplation and seclusion.
He appeared to have contracted an affection
for Pleyel, who was not &longs;low to return it.
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My friend, after a month's re&longs;idence in this city,
returned into France, and, &longs;ince that period, had
heard nothing concerning Carwin till his appearance
at Mettingen.
On this occa&longs;ion Carwin had received Pleyel's
greeting with a certain di&longs;tance and &longs;olemnity to
which the latter had not been accu&longs;tomed. He had
waved noticing the inquiries of Pleyel re&longs;pecting
his de&longs;ertion of Spain, in which he had formerly declared
that it was his purpo&longs;e to &longs;pend his life. He
had a&longs;&longs;iduou&longs;ly divertted the attention of the latter
to indifferent topics, but was &longs;till, on every theme,
as eloquent and judicious as formerly. Why he
had a&longs;&longs;umed the garb of a ru&longs;tic, Pleyel was unable
to conjecture. Perhaps it might be poverty,
perhaps he was &longs;wayed by motives which it was
his intere&longs;t to conceal, but which were connected
with con&longs;equences of the utmo&longs;t moment.
Such was the &longs;um of my friend's information.
I was not &longs;orry to be left alone during the greater
part of this day. Every employment was irk&longs;ome
which did not leave me at liberty to meditate. I
had now a new &longs;ubject on which to exerci&longs;e my
thoughts. Before evening I &longs;hould be u&longs;hered into
his pre&longs;ence, and li&longs;ten to tho&longs;e tones who&longs;e magical
and thrilling power I had already experienced.
But with what new images would he then be accompanied?
Carwin was an adherent to the Romi&longs;h faith,
yet was an Engli&longs;hman by birth, and, perhaps, a
prote&longs;tant by education. He had adopted Spain
for his country, and had intimated a de&longs;ign to &longs;pend
his days there, yet now was an inhabitant of this
di&longs;trict, and di&longs;gui&longs;ed by the habiliments of a
clown! What could have obliterated the impressions
of his youth, and made him abjure his religion
-- 082 --
[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]
and his country? What &longs;ub&longs;equent events had introduced
&longs;o total a change in his plans? In withdrawing
from Spain, had he reverted to the religion
of his ance&longs;tors; or was it true, that his former
conver&longs;ion was deceitful, and that his conduct had
been &longs;wayed by motives which it was prudent to
conceal?
Hours were con&longs;umed in revolving the&longs;e ideas.
My mediatations were inten&longs;e; and, when the &longs;eries
was broken, I began to reflect with a&longs;toni&longs;hment on
my &longs;ituation. From the death of my parents, till
the commencement of this year, my life had been
&longs;erene and bli&longs;sful, beyond the ordinary portion of
humanity; but, now, my bo&longs;om was corroded by
anxiety. I was vi&longs;ited by dread of unknown dangers,
and the future was a &longs;cene over which clouds
rolled, and thunders muttered. I compared the
cau&longs;e with the effect, and they &longs;eemed disproportioned
to each other. All unaware, and in a
manner which I had no power to explain, I was
pu&longs;hed from my immoveable and lo&longs;ty &longs;tation, and
ca&longs;t upon a &longs;ea of troubles.
I determined to be my brother's vi&longs;itant on this
evening, yet my re&longs;olves were not unattended with
wavering and reluctance. Pleyel's in&longs;inuations that
I was in love, affected, in no degree, my belief, yet
the con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s that this was the opinion of one
who would, probably, be pre&longs;ent at our introduction
to each other, would excite all that confusion
which the pa&longs;&longs;ion it&longs;elf is apt to produce.
This would confirm him in his error, and call forth
new railleries. His mirth, when exerted upon this
topic, was the &longs;ource of the bittere&longs;t vexation.
Had he been aware of its influence upon my happiness,
his temper would not have allowed him to
per&longs;i&longs;t; but this influence, it was my chief
-- 083 --
[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]
endeavour to conceal. That the belief of my having
be&longs;towed my heart upon another, produced in my
friend none but ludicrous &longs;en&longs;ations, was the true
cau&longs;e of my di&longs;tre&longs;s; but if this had been discovered
by him, my di&longs;tre&longs;s would have been unspeakably
aggravated.
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CHAPTER VIII.
[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]
As &longs;oon as evening arrived, I performed my visit.
Carwin made one of the company, into which
I was u&longs;hered. Appearances were the &longs;ame as
when I before beheld him. His garb was equally
negligent and ru&longs;tic. I gazed upon his countenance
with new curio&longs;ity. My &longs;ituation was &longs;uch
as to enable me to be&longs;tow upon it a deliberate examination.
Viewed at more lei&longs;ure, it lo&longs;t none
of its wonderful properties. I could not deny my
homage to the intelligence expre&longs;&longs;ed in it, but was
wholly uncertain, whether he were an object to be
dreaded or adored, and whether his powers had
been exerted to evil or to good.
He was &longs;paring in di&longs;cour&longs;e; but whatever he
&longs;aid was pregnant with meaning, and uttered with
rectitude of articulation, and force of empha&longs;is, of
which I had entertained no conception previou&longs;ly
to my knowledge of him. Notwith&longs;tanding the
uncouthne&longs;s of his garb, his manners were not unpolished.
All topics were handled by him with
&longs;kill, and without pedantry or affectation. He
uttered no &longs;entiment calculated to produce a disadvantageous
impre&longs;&longs;ion: on the contrary, his observations
denoted a mind alive to every generous and
heroic feeling. They were introduced without parade,
and accompanied with that degree of earnestness
which indicates &longs;incerity.
He parted from us not till late, refu&longs;ing an invitation
to &longs;pend the night here, but readily con&longs;ented
to repeat his vi&longs;it. His vi&longs;its were frequently repeated.
Each day introduced us to a more intimate
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acquaintance with his &longs;entiments, but left us wholly
in the dark, concerning that about which we were
mo&longs;t inqui&longs;itive. He &longs;tudiou&longs;ly avoided all mention
of his pa&longs;t or pre&longs;ent &longs;ituation. Even the place
of his abode in the city he concealed from us.
Our &longs;phere, in this re&longs;pect, being &longs;omewhat
limited, and the intellectual endowments of this man
being indi&longs;putably great, his deportment was more
diligently marked, and copiou&longs;ly commented on by
us, than you, perhaps, will think the circum&longs;tances
warranted. Not a ge&longs;ture, or glance, or accent,
that was not, in our private a&longs;&longs;emblies, di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ed,
and inferences deduced from it. It may well be
thought that he modelled his behaviour by an uncommon
&longs;tandard, when, with all our opportunities
and accuracy of ob&longs;ervation, we were able,
for a long time, to gather no &longs;atisfactory information.
He afforded us no ground on which to
build even a plau&longs;ible conjecture.
There is a degree of familiarity which takes
place between con&longs;tant a&longs;&longs;ociates, that ju&longs;tifies the
negligence of many rules of which, in an earlier
period of their intercour&longs;e, politene&longs;s requires the
exact ob&longs;ervance. Inquiries into our condition are
allowable when they are prompted by a di&longs;intere&longs;ted
concern for our welfare; and this &longs;olicitude is not
only pardonable, but may ju&longs;tly be demanded from
tho&longs;e who chu&longs;e us for their companions. This
&longs;tate of things was more &longs;low to arrive on this occasion
than on mo&longs;t others, on account of the gravity
and loftine&longs;s of this man's behaviour.
Pleyel, however, began, at length, to employ regular
means for this end. He occa&longs;ionally alluded
to the circum&longs;tances in which they had formerly
met, and remarked the incongruou&longs;ne&longs;s between the
religion and habits of a Spaniard, with tho&longs;e of a
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native of Britain. He expre&longs;&longs;ed his a&longs;toni&longs;hment
at meeting our gue&longs;t in this corner of the globe,
e&longs;pecially as, when they parted in Spain, he was
taught to believe that Carwin &longs;hould never leave
that country. He in&longs;inuated, that a change &longs;o
great mu&longs;t have been prompted by motives of a
&longs;ingular and momentous kind.
No an&longs;wer, or an an&longs;wer wide of the purpo&longs;e;
was generally made to the&longs;e in&longs;inuations. Britons
and Spaniards, he &longs;aid, are votaries of the &longs;ame
Deity, and &longs;quare their faith by the &longs;ame precepts;
their ideas are drawn from the &longs;ame fountains of
literature, and they &longs;peak dialects of the &longs;ame
tongue; their government and laws have more resemblances
than differences; they were formerly
provinces of the &longs;ame civil, and till lately, of the
&longs;ame religious, Empire.
As to the motives which induce men to change
the place of their abode, the&longs;e mu&longs;t unavoidably
be fleeting and mutable. If not bound to one &longs;pot
by conjugal or parental ties, or by the nature of
that employment to which we are indebted for
&longs;ub&longs;i&longs;tence, the inducements to change are far
more numerous and powerful, than oppo&longs;ite inducements.
He &longs;poke as if de&longs;irous of &longs;hewing that he was
not aware of the tendency of Pleyel's remarks;
yet, certain tokens were apparent, that proved him
by no means wanting in penetration. The&longs;e tokens
were to be read in his countenance, and not in his
words. When any thing was &longs;aid, indicating curiosity
in us, the gloom of his countenance was
deepened, his eyes &longs;unk to the ground, and his
wonted air was not re&longs;umed without vi&longs;ible struggle.
Hence, it was obvious to infer, that &longs;ome incidents
of his life were reflected on by him with
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regret; and that, &longs;ince the&longs;e incidents were carefully
concealed, and even that regret which flowed from
them laboriou&longs;ly &longs;tifled, they had not been merely
di&longs;a&longs;trous. The &longs;ecrecy that was ob&longs;erved appeared
not de&longs;igned to provoke or baffle the inquisitive,
but was prompted by the &longs;hame, or by the
prudence of guilt.
The&longs;e ideas, which were adopted by Pleyel and
my brother, as well as my&longs;elf, hindered us from
employing more direct means for accompli&longs;hing
our wi&longs;hes. Que&longs;tions might have been put in
&longs;uch terms, that no room &longs;hould be left for the pretence
of mi&longs;apprehen&longs;ion, and if mode&longs;ty merely
had been the ob&longs;tacle, &longs;uch que&longs;tions would not
have been wanting; but we con&longs;idered, that, if the
di&longs;clo&longs;ure were productive of pain or di&longs;grace, it
was inhuman to extort it.
Amid&longs;t the various topics that were di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ed in
his pre&longs;ence, allu&longs;ions were, of cour&longs;e, made to the
inexplicable events that had lately happened. At
tho&longs;e times, the words and looks of this man were
objects of my particular attention. The &longs;ubject
was extraordinary; and any one who&longs;e experience
or reflections could throw any light upon it, was
entitled to my gratitude. As this man was enlightened
by reading and travel, I li&longs;tened with
eagerne&longs;s to the remarks which he &longs;hould make.
At fir&longs;t, I entertained a kind of apprehen&longs;ion,
that the tale would be heard by him with incredulity
and &longs;ecret ridicule. I had formerly heard
&longs;tories that re&longs;embled this in &longs;ome of their mysterious
circum&longs;tances, but they were, commonly,
heard by me with contempt. I was doubtful, whether
the &longs;ame impre&longs;&longs;ion would not now be made
on the mind of our gue&longs;t; but I was mi&longs;taken in
my fears.
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He heard them with &longs;eriou&longs;ne&longs;s, and without any
marks either of &longs;urprize or incredulity. He pur&longs;ued,
with vi&longs;ible plea&longs;ure, that kind of di&longs;qui&longs;ition which
was naturally &longs;ugge&longs;ted by them. His fancy was
eminently vigorous and prolific, and if he did not
per&longs;uade us, that human beings are, &longs;ometimes, admitted
to a &longs;en&longs;ible intercour&longs;e with the author of
nature, he, at lea&longs;t, won over our inclination to the
cau&longs;e. He merely deduced, from his own reasonings,
that &longs;uch intercour&longs;e was probable; but confessed
that, though he was acquainted with many
in&longs;tances &longs;omewhat &longs;imilar to tho&longs;e which had been
related by us, none of them were perfectly exempted
from the &longs;u&longs;picion of human agency.
On being reque&longs;ted to relate the&longs;e in&longs;tances, he
amu&longs;ed us with many curious details. His narratives
were con&longs;tructed with &longs;o much &longs;kill, and rehearsed
with &longs;o much energy, that all the effects
of a dramatic exhibition were frequently produced
by them. Tho&longs;e that were mo&longs;t coherent and mo&longs;t
minute, and, of con&longs;equence, lea&longs;t entitled to credit,
were yet rendered probable by the exqui&longs;ite art of
this rhetorician. For every difficulty that was
&longs;ugge&longs;ted, a ready and plau&longs;ible &longs;olution was furnished.
My&longs;terious voices had always a &longs;hare in
producing the cata&longs;trophe, but they were always
to be explained on &longs;ome known principles, either
as reflected into a focus, or communicated through
a tube. I could not but remark that his narratives,
however complex or marvellous, contained no instance
&longs;ufficiently parallel to tho&longs;e that had befallen
our&longs;elves, and in which the &longs;olution was applicable
to our own case.
My brother was a much more &longs;anguine rea&longs;oner
than our gue&longs;t. Even in &longs;ome of the facts which
were related by Carwin, he maintained the
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probability of cele&longs;tial interference, when the latter was
di&longs;po&longs;ed to deny it, and had found, as he imagined,
foot&longs;teps of an human agent. Pleyel was by no
means equally credulous. He &longs;crupled not to deny
faith to any te&longs;timony but that of his &longs;en&longs;es, and
allowed the facts which had lately been &longs;upported by
this te&longs;timony, not to mould his belief, but merely
to give birth to doubts.
It was &longs;oon ob&longs;erved that Carwin adopted, in
&longs;ome degree, a &longs;imilar di&longs;tinction. A tale of this
kind, related by others, he would believe, provided
it was explicable upon known principles; but that
&longs;uch notices were actually communicated by beings
of an higher order, he would believe only when his
own ears were a&longs;&longs;ailed in a manner which could not
be otherwi&longs;e accounted for. Civility forbad him
to contradict my brother or my&longs;elf, but his understanding
refu&longs;ed to acquie&longs;ce in our te&longs;timony. Besides,
he was di&longs;po&longs;ed to que&longs;tion whether the voices
heard in the temple, at the foot of the hill, and in
my clo&longs;et, were not really uttered by human organs.
On this &longs;upposition he was de&longs;ired to explain
how the effect was produced.
He an&longs;wered, that the power of mimickry was
very common. Catharine's voice might ea&longs;ily be
imitated by one at the foot of the hill, who would
find no difficulty in eluding, by flight, the &longs;earch
of Wieland. The tidings of the death of the Saxon
lady were uttered by one near at hand, who overheard
the conver&longs;ation, who conjectured her death,
and who&longs;e conjecture happened to accord with the
truth. That the voice appeared to come from the
cieling was to be con&longs;idered as an illu&longs;ion of the
fancy. The cry for help, heard in the hall on the
night of my adventure, was to be a&longs;cribed to an
human creature, who actually &longs;tood in the hall
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when he uttered it. It was of no moment, he &longs;aid,
that we could not explain by what motives he that
made the &longs;ignal was led hither. How imperfectly
acquainted were we with the condition and de&longs;igns
of the beings that &longs;urrounded us? The city was
near at hand, and thou&longs;ands might there exi&longs;t
who&longs;e powers and purpo&longs;es might ea&longs;ily explain
whatever was my&longs;terious in this tran&longs;action. As
to the clo&longs;et dialogue, he was obliged to adopt one
of two &longs;uppo&longs;itions, and affirm either that it was
fa&longs;hioned in my own fancy, or that it actually took
place between two per&longs;ons in the clo&longs;et.
Such was Carwin's mode of explaining the&longs;e
appearances. It is &longs;uch, perhaps, as would commend
it&longs;elf as mo&longs;t plau&longs;ible to the mo&longs;t &longs;agacious
minds, but it was in&longs;ufficient to impart conviction
to us. As to the trea&longs;on that was meditated again&longs;t
me, it was doubtle&longs;s ju&longs;t to conclude that it was
either real or imaginary; but that it was real was
atte&longs;ted by the my&longs;terious warning in the summer-house,
the &longs;ecret of which I had hitherto locked up
in my own brea&longs;t.
A month pa&longs;&longs;ed away in this kind of intercour&longs;e.
As to Carwin, our ignorance was in no degree
enlightened re&longs;pecting his genuine character and
views. Appearances were uniform. No man
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed a larger &longs;tore of knowledge, or a greater
degree of &longs;kill in the communication of it to others;
Hence he was regarded as an ine&longs;timable addition
to our &longs;ociety. Con&longs;idering the di&longs;tance of my
brother's hou&longs;e from the city, he was frequently
prevailed upon to pa&longs;s the night where he &longs;pent the
evening. Two days &longs;eldom elap&longs;ed without a vi&longs;it
from him; hence he was regarded as a kind of inmate
of the hou&longs;e. He entered and departed without
ceremony. When he arrived he received an
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unaffected welcome, and when he cho&longs;e to retire,
no importunities were u&longs;ed to induce him to remain.
The temple was the principal &longs;cene of our &longs;ocial
enjoyments; yet the felicity that we ta&longs;ted when assembled
in this a&longs;ylum, was but the gleam of a
former &longs;un-&longs;hine. Carwin never parted with his
gravity. The in&longs;crutablene&longs;s of his character, and
the uncertainty whether his fellow&longs;hip tended to
good or to evil, were &longs;eldom ab&longs;ent from our
minds. This circum&longs;tance powerfully contributed
to &longs;adden us.
My heart was the &longs;eat of growing di&longs;quietudes.
This change in one who had formerly been characterized
by all the exuberances of &longs;oul, could not
fail to be remarked by my friends. My brother was
always a pattern of &longs;olemnity. My &longs;i&longs;ter was clay,
moulded by the circum&longs;tances in which &longs;he happened
to be placed. There was but one who&longs;e deportment
remains to be de&longs;cribed as being of importance
to our happine&longs;s. Had Pleyel likewi&longs;e
di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed his vivacity?
He was as whim&longs;ical and je&longs;tful as ever, but he
was not happy. The truth, in this re&longs;pect, was
of too much importance to me not to make me a
vigilant ob&longs;erver. His mirth was ea&longs;ily perceived
to be the fruit of exertion. When his thoughts
wandered from the company, an air of dissatisfaction
and impatience &longs;tole acro&longs;s his features. Even
the punctuality and frequency of his vi&longs;its were
&longs;omewhat le&longs;&longs;ened. It may be &longs;uppo&longs;ed that my
own unea&longs;ine&longs;s was heightened by the&longs;e tokens;
but, &longs;trange as it may &longs;eem, I found, in the pre&longs;ent
&longs;tate of my mind, no relief but in the per&longs;ua&longs;ion
that Pleyel was unhappy.
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That unhappine&longs;s, indeed, depended, for its value
in my eyes, on the cau&longs;e that produced it. It did
not ari&longs;e from the death of the Saxon lady: it was
not a contagious emanation from the countenances
of Wieland or Carwin. There was but one other
&longs;ource whence it could flow. A namele&longs;s ec&longs;tacy
thrilled through my frame when any new proof
occurred that the ambiguou&longs;ne&longs;s of my behaviour
was the cau&longs;e.
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CHAPTER IX.
[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]
My brother had received a new book from Germany.
It was a tragedy, and the fir&longs;t attempt of a
Saxon poet, of whom my brother had been taught
to entertain the highe&longs;t expectations. The exploits
of Zi&longs;ca, the Bohemian hero, were woven
into a dramatic &longs;eries and connection. According
to German cu&longs;tom, it was minute and diffu&longs;e, and
dictated by an adventurous and lawle&longs;s fancy. It
was a chain of audacious acts, and unheard-of disasters.
The moated fortre&longs;s, and the thicket; the
ambu&longs;h and the battle; and the conflict of headlong
pa&longs;&longs;ions, were pourtrayed in wild numbers, and
with terrific energy. An afternoon was &longs;et apart
to rehear&longs;e this performance. The language was
familiar to all of us but Carwin, who&longs;e company,
therefore, was tacitly di&longs;pen&longs;ed with.
The morning previous to this intended rehear&longs;al,
I &longs;pent at home. My mind was occupied with reflections
relative to my own &longs;ituation. The sentiment
which lived with chief energy in my heart,
was connected with the image of Pleyel. In the
mid&longs;t of my angui&longs;h, I had not been de&longs;titute of
con&longs;olation. His late deportment had given &longs;pring
to my hopes. Was not the hour at hand, which
&longs;hould render me the happie&longs;t of human creatures?
He &longs;u&longs;pected that I looked with favorable
eyes upon Carwin. Hence aro&longs;e di&longs;quietudes,
which he &longs;truggled in vain to conceal. He loved
me, but was hopele&longs;s that his love would be compensated.
Is it not time, &longs;aid I, to rectify this
error? But by what means is this to be effected?
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It can only be done by a change of deportment
in me; but how mu&longs;t I demean my&longs;elf for this purpose?
I mu&longs;t not &longs;peak. Neither eyes, nor lips, mu&longs;t
impart the information. He mu&longs;t not be a&longs;&longs;ured
that my heart is his, previous to the tender of his
own; but he mu&longs;t be convinced that it has not
been given to another; he mu&longs;t be &longs;upplied with
&longs;pace whereon to build a doubt as to the true &longs;tate
of my affections; he mu&longs;t be prompted to avow
him&longs;elf. The line of delicate propriety; how hard
it is, not to fall &longs;hort, and not to overleap it!
This afternoon we &longs;hall meet at the temple. We
&longs;hall not &longs;eparate till late. It will be his province
to accompany me home. The airy expan&longs;c is
without a &longs;peck. This breeze is u&longs;ually &longs;tedfa&longs;t,
and its promi&longs;e of a bland and cloudless evening,
may be tru&longs;ted. The moon will ri&longs;e at eleven,
and at that hour, we &longs;hall wind along this bank.
Po&longs;&longs;ibly that hour may decide my fate. If &longs;uitable
encouragement be given, Pleyel will reveal his &longs;oul
to me; and I, ere I reach this thre&longs;hold, will be
made the happie&longs;t of beings. And is this good to
be mine? Add wings to thy &longs;peed, &longs;weet evening;
and thou, moon, I charge thee, &longs;hroud thy beams
at the moment when my Pleyel whi&longs;pers love. I
would not for the world, that the burning blu&longs;hes,
and the mounting raptures of that moment, &longs;hould
be vi&longs;ible.
But what encouragement is wanting? I mu&longs;t
be regardful of in&longs;urmountable limits. Yet when
minds are imbued with a genuine &longs;ympathy, are
not words and looks &longs;uperfluous? Are not motion
and touch &longs;ufficient to impart feelings &longs;uch as mine?
Has he not eyed me at moments, when the pre&longs;&longs;ure
of his hand has thrown me into tumults, and was
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it po&longs;&longs;ible that he mi&longs;took the impetuo&longs;ities of love,
for the eloquence of indignation?
But the ha&longs;tening evening will decide. Would
it were come! And yet I &longs;hudder at its near approach.
An interview that mu&longs;t thus terminate,
is &longs;urely to be wi&longs;hed for by me; and yet it is not
without its terrors. Would to heaven it were come
and gone!
I feel no reluctance, my friends to be thus explicit.
Time was, when the&longs;e emotions would be
hidden with immea&longs;urable &longs;olicitude, from every
human eye. Alas! the&longs;e airy and fleeting impulses
of &longs;hame are gone. My &longs;cruples were
prepo&longs;terous and criminal. They are bred in all
hearts, by a perver&longs;e and vicious education, and
they would &longs;till have maintained their place in my
heart, had not my portion been &longs;et in mi&longs;ery. My
errors have taught me thus much wi&longs;dom; that
tho&longs;e &longs;entiments which we ought not to di&longs;clo&longs;e, it
is criminal to harbour.
It was propo&longs;ed to begin the rehear&longs;al at four
o'clock; I counted the minutes as they pa&longs;&longs;ed;
their flight was at once too rapid and too &longs;low;
my &longs;en&longs;ations were of an excruciating kind; I could
ta&longs;te no food, nor apply to any talk, nor enjoy a
moment's repo&longs;e: when the hour arrived, I hastened
to my brother's.
Pleyel was not there. He had not yet come.
On ordinary occa&longs;ions, he was eminent for punctuality.
He had te&longs;tified great eagerne&longs;s to &longs;hare
in the plea&longs;ures of this rehear&longs;al. He was to divide
the ta&longs;k with my brother, and, in ta&longs;ks like the&longs;e,
he always engaged with peculiar zeal. His elocution
was le&longs;s &longs;weet than &longs;onorous; and, therefore,
better adapted than the mellifluences of his
friend, to the outrageous vehemence of this drama.
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What could detain him? Perhaps he lingered
through forgetfulne&longs;s. Yet this was incredible.
Never had his memory been known to fail upon
even more trivial occa&longs;ions. Not le&longs;s impo&longs;&longs;ible
was it, that the &longs;cheme had lo&longs;t its attractions, and
that he &longs;taid, becau&longs;e his coming would afford him
no gratification. But why &longs;hould we expect him
to adhere to the minute?
An half hour elap&longs;ed, but Pleyel was &longs;till at a
di&longs;tance. Perhaps he had mi&longs;under&longs;tood the hour
which had been propo&longs;ed. Perhaps he had conceived
that to-morrow, and not to-day, had been
&longs;elected for this purpo&longs;e: but no. A review of preceding
circum&longs;tances demon&longs;trated that &longs;uch misapprehension
was impo&longs;&longs;ible; for he had him&longs;elf
propo&longs;ed this day, and this hour. This day, his
attention would not otherwi&longs;e be occupied; but to-morrow,
an indi&longs;pen&longs;ible engagement was fore&longs;een,
by which all his time would be engro&longs;&longs;ed: his detention,
therefore, mu&longs;t be owing to &longs;ome unforeseen
and extraordinary event. Our conjectures
were vague, tumultuous, and &longs;ometimes fearful.
His &longs;ickne&longs;s and his death might po&longs;&longs;ibly have detained
him.
Tortured with &longs;u&longs;pen&longs;e, we &longs;at gazing at each
other, and at the path which led from the road.
Every hor&longs;eman that pa&longs;&longs;ed was, for a moment,
imagined to be him. Hour &longs;ucceeded hour, and
the &longs;un, gradually declining, at length, di&longs;appeared.
Every &longs;ignal of his coming proved &longs;allacious, and
our hopes were at length di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed. His ab&longs;ence
affected my friends in no in&longs;upportable degree.
They &longs;hould be obliged, they &longs;aid, to defer this undertaking
till the morrow; and, perhaps, their impatient
curio&longs;ity would compel them to di&longs;pen&longs;e entirely
with his pre&longs;ence. No doubt, &longs;ome harmle&longs;s
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occurrence had diverted him from his purpo&longs;e;
and they tru&longs;ted that they &longs;hould receive a satisfactory
account of him in the morning.
It may be &longs;uppo&longs;ed that this di&longs;appointment affected
me in a very different manner. I turned a&longs;ide
my head to conceal my tears. I fled into &longs;olitude,
to give vent to my reproaches, without interruption
or re&longs;traint. My heart was ready to bur&longs;t with
indignation and grief. Pleyel was not the only object
of my keen but unju&longs;t upbraiding. Deeply did
I execrate my own folly. Thus fallen into ruins
was the gay fabric which I had reared! Thus had
my golden vi&longs;ion melted into air!
How fondly did I dream that Pleyel was a lover!
If he were, would he have &longs;uffered any ob&longs;tacle to
hinder his coming? Blind and infatuated man! I
exclaimed. Thou &longs;porte&longs;t with happine&longs;s. The
good that is offered thee, thou ha&longs;t the in&longs;olence and
folly to refu&longs;e. Well, I will henceforth intru&longs;t
my felicity to no one's keeping but my own.
The fir&longs;t agonies of this di&longs;appointment would
not allow me to be rea&longs;onable or ju&longs;t. Every
ground on which I had built the per&longs;ua&longs;ion that
Pleyel was not unimpre&longs;&longs;ed in my favor, appeared
to vani&longs;h. It seemed as if I had been mi&longs;led into
this opinion, by the mo&longs;t palpable illu&longs;ions.
I made &longs;ome trifling excu&longs;e, and returned, much
earlier than I expected, to my own hou&longs;e. I retired
early to my chamber, without de&longs;igning to
&longs;leep. I placed my&longs;elf at a window, and gave the
reins to reflection.
The hateful and degrading impul&longs;es which had
lately controuled me were, in &longs;ome degree, removed.
New dejection &longs;ucceeded, but was now
produced by contemplating my late behaviour.
Surely that pa&longs;&longs;ion is worthy to be abhorred which
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ob&longs;cures our under&longs;tanding, and urges us to the
commi&longs;&longs;ion of inju&longs;tice. What right had I to expect
his attendance? Had I not demeaned my&longs;elf
like one indifferent to his happine&longs;s, and as having
be&longs;towed my regards upon another? His ab&longs;ence
might be prompted by the love which I con&longs;idered
his ab&longs;ence as a proof that he wanted. He came
not becau&longs;e the &longs;ight of me, the &longs;pectacle of my
coldne&longs;s or aver&longs;ion, contributed to his de&longs;pair.
Why &longs;hould I prolong, by hyprocri&longs;y or &longs;ilence,
his mi&longs;ery as well as my own? Why not deal
with him explicity, and a&longs;&longs;ure him of the truth?
You will hardly believe that, in obedience to
this &longs;ugge&longs;tion, I ro&longs;e for the purpo&longs;e of ordering
a light, that I might in&longs;tantly make this confe&longs;&longs;ion
in a letter. A &longs;econd thought &longs;hewed me the rashness
of this &longs;cheme, and I wondered by what infirmity
of mind I could be betrayed into a momentary
approbation of it. I &longs;aw with the utmo&longs;t
clearne&longs;s that a confe&longs;&longs;ion like that would be the
mo&longs;t remedile&longs;s and unpardonable outrage upon the
dignity of my &longs;ex, and utterly unworthy of that
pa&longs;&longs;ion which controuled me.
I re&longs;umed my &longs;eat and my mu&longs;ing. To account
for the ab&longs;ence of Pleyel became once more the
&longs;cope of my conjectures. How many incidents
might occur to rai&longs;e an in&longs;uperable impediment in
his way? When I was a child, a &longs;cheme of pleasure,
in which he and his &longs;i&longs;ter were parties, had
been, in like manner, fru&longs;trated by his ab&longs;ence; but
his ab&longs;ence, in that in&longs;tance, had been occa&longs;ioned
by his falling from a boat into the river, in consequence
of which he had run the mo&longs;t imminent
hazard of being drowned. Here was a &longs;econd disappointment
endured by the &longs;ame per&longs;ons, and produced
by his failure. Might it not originate in the
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&longs;ame cau&longs;e? Had he not de&longs;igned to cro&longs;s the river
that morning to make &longs;ome nece&longs;&longs;ary purcha&longs;es in
Jer&longs;ey? He had preconcerted to return to his own
hou&longs;e to dinner; but, perhaps, some di&longs;a&longs;ter had
befallen him. Experience had taught me the insecurity
of a canoe, and that was the only kind of
boat which Pleyel u&longs;ed: I was, likewi&longs;e, actuated
by an hereditary dread of water. The&longs;e circumstances
combined to be&longs;tow con&longs;iderable plau&longs;ibility
on this conjecture; but the con&longs;ternation with
which I began to be &longs;eized was allayed by reflecting,
that if this di&longs;a&longs;ter had happened my brother
would have received the &longs;peedie&longs;t information of it.
The con&longs;olation which this idea imparted was ravished
from me by a new thought. This di&longs;a&longs;ter
might have happened, and his family not be apprized
of it. The fir&longs;t intelligence of his fate may be
communicated by the livid corp&longs;e which the tide
may ca&longs;t, many days hence, upon the &longs;hore.
Thus was I di&longs;tre&longs;&longs;ed by oppo&longs;ite conjectures:
thus was I tormented by phantoms of my own creation.
It was not always thus. I can a&longs;certain
the date when my mind became the victim of this
imbecility; perhaps it was coeval with the inroad
of a fatal pa&longs;&longs;ion; a pa&longs;&longs;ion that will never rank
me in the number of its eulogi&longs;ts; it was alone
&longs;ufficient to the extermination of my peace: it was
it&longs;elf a plenteous &longs;ource of calamity, and needed
not the concurrence of other evils to take away the
attractions of exi&longs;tence, and dig for me an untimely
grave.
The &longs;tate of my mind naturally introduced a
train of reflections upon the dangers and cares
which inevitably be&longs;et an human being. By no
violent tran&longs;ition was I led to ponder on the turbulent
life and my&longs;terious end of my father. I
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cheri&longs;hed, with the utmo&longs;t veneration, the memory
of this man, and every relique connected with his
fate was pre&longs;erved with the mo&longs;t &longs;crupulous care.
Among the&longs;e was to be numbered a manu&longs;cript,
containing memoirs of his own life. The narrative
was by no means recommended by its eloquence;
but neither did all its value flow from my relationship
to the author. Its &longs;tile had an unaffected and
picture&longs;que &longs;implicity. The great variety and circumstantial
di&longs;play of the incidents, together with
their intrin&longs;ic importance, as de&longs;criptive of human
manners and pa&longs;&longs;ions, made it the mo&longs;t u&longs;eful book
in my collection. It was late; but being &longs;en&longs;ible
of no inclination to &longs;leep, I re&longs;olved to betake myself
to the perusal of it.
To do this it was requi&longs;ite to procure a light.
The girl had long &longs;ince retired to her chamber: it
was therefore proper to wait upon my&longs;elf. A lamp,
and the means of lighting it, were only to be found
in the kitchen. Thither I re&longs;olved forthwith to
repair; but the light was of u&longs;e merely to enable
me to read the book. I knew the &longs;helf and the
&longs;pot where it &longs;tood. Whether I took down the
book, or prepared the lamp in the &longs;ir&longs;t place, appeared
to be a matter of no moment. The latter
was preferred, and, leaving my &longs;eat, I approached
the clo&longs;et in which, as I mentioned formerly, my
books and papers were depo&longs;ited.
Suddenly the remembrance of what had lately
pa&longs;&longs;ed in this clo&longs;et occurred. Whether midnight
was approaching, or had pa&longs;&longs;ed, I knew not. I
was, as then, alone, and defencele&longs;s. The wind was
in that direction in which, aided by the deathlike
repo&longs;e of nature, it brought to me the murmur of
the water-fall. This was mingled with that &longs;olemn
and enchanting &longs;ound, which a breeze produces
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among the leaves of pines. The words of that
my&longs;terious dialogue, their fearful import, and the
wild exce&longs;s to which I was tran&longs;ported by my terrors,
filled my imagination anew. My &longs;teps faultered,
and I &longs;tood a moment to recover my&longs;elf.
I prevailed on my&longs;elf at length to move towards
the clo&longs;et. I touched the lock, but my fingers were
powerle&longs;s; I was vi&longs;ited afre&longs;h by unconquerable
apprehen&longs;ions. A &longs;ort of belief darted into my
mind, that &longs;ome being was concealed within, who&longs;e
purpo&longs;es were evil. I began to contend with tho&longs;e
fears, when it occurred to me that I might, without
impropriety, go for a lamp previou&longs;ly to opening
the clo&longs;et. I receded a few &longs;teps; but before I
reached my chamber door my thoughts took a new
direction. Motion &longs;eemed to produce a mechanical
influence upon me. I was a&longs;hamed of my weakness.
Be&longs;ides, what aid could be afforded me by a
lamp?
My fears had pictured to them&longs;elves no preci&longs;e
object. It would be difficult to depict, in words,
the ingredients and hues of that phantom which
haunted me. An hand invi&longs;ible and of preternatural
&longs;trength, lifted by human pa&longs;&longs;ions, and selecting
my life for its aim, were parts of this terrific
image. All places were alike acce&longs;&longs;ible to this foe,
or if his empire were re&longs;tricted by local bounds,
tho&longs;e bounds were utterly in&longs;crutable by me. But
had I not been told by &longs;ome one in league with this
enemy, that every place but the rece&longs;s in the bank
was exempt from danger?
I returned to the clo&longs;et, and once more put my
hand upon the lock. O! may my ears lo&longs;e their
&longs;en&longs;ibility, ere they be again affailed by a &longs;hriek &longs;o
terrible! Not merely my under&longs;tanding was subdued
by the &longs;ound: it acted on my nerves like an
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edge of &longs;teel. It appeared to cut a&longs;under the fibres
of my brain, and rack every joint with agony.
The cry, loud and piercing as it was, was nevertheless
human. No articulation was ever more
di&longs;tinct. The breath which accompanied it did
note fan my hair, yet did every circum&longs;tance combine
to per&longs;uade me that the lips which uttered it
touched my very &longs;houlder.
“Hold! Hold!” were the words of this tremendous
prohibition, in who&longs;e tone the whole &longs;oul
&longs;eemed to be rapt up, and every energy converted
into eagerne&longs;s and terror.
Shuddering, I da&longs;hed my&longs;elf again&longs;t the wall, and
by the &longs;ame involuntary impul&longs;e, turned my face
backward to examine the my&longs;terious monitor. The
moon-light &longs;treamed into each window, and every
corner of the room was con&longs;picuous, and yet I
beheld nothing!
The interval was too brief to be artificially measured,
between the utterance of the&longs;e words, and
my &longs;crutiny directed to the quarter whence they
came. Yet if a human being had been there, could
he fail to have been vi&longs;ible? Which of my &longs;en&longs;es
was the prey of a fatal illu&longs;ion? The &longs;hock which
the &longs;ound produced was &longs;till felt in every part of
my frame. The &longs;ound, therefore, could not but
be a genuine commotion. But that I had heard it,
was not more true than that the being who uttered
it was &longs;tationed at my right ear; yet my attendant
was invi&longs;ible.
I cannot de&longs;cribe the &longs;tate of my thoughts at that
moment. Surprize had ma&longs;tered my faculties. My
frame &longs;hook, and the vital current was congealed.
I was con&longs;cious only to the vehemence of my sensations.
This condition could not be la&longs;ting. Like
a tide, which &longs;uddenly mounts to an overwhelming
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height, and then gradually &longs;ub&longs;ides, my confu&longs;ion
&longs;lowly gave place to order, and my tumults to a
calm. I was able to deliberate and move. I resumed
my feet, and advanced into the mid&longs;t of the
room. Upward, and behind, and on each &longs;ide,
I threw penetrating glances. I was not &longs;atisfied
with one examination. He that hitherto refu&longs;ed
to be &longs;een, might change his purpo&longs;e, and on the
next &longs;urvey be clearly di&longs;tingui&longs;hable.
Solitude impo&longs;es lea&longs;t re&longs;traint upon the fancy.
Dark is le&longs;s fertile of images than the feeble lu&longs;tre
of the moon. I was alone, and the walls were
chequered by &longs;hadowy forms. As the moon pa&longs;&longs;ed
behind a cloud and emerged, the&longs;e &longs;hadows &longs;eemed
to be endowed with life, and to move. The apartment
was open to the breeze, and the curtain was
occa&longs;ionally blown from its ordinary po&longs;ition.
This motion was not unaccompanied with &longs;ound.
I failed not to &longs;natch a look, and to li&longs;ten when this
motion and this &longs;ound occurred. My belief that
my monitor was po&longs;ted near, was &longs;trong, and instantly
converted the&longs;e appearances to tokens of his
pre&longs;ence, and yet I could di&longs;cern nothing.
When my thoughts were at length permitted to
revert to the pa&longs;t, the fir&longs;t idea that occurred was
the re&longs;emblance between the words of the voice
which I had ju&longs;t heard, and tho&longs;e which had terminated
my dream in the &longs;ummer-hou&longs;e. There are
means by which we are able to di&longs;tingui&longs;h a substance
from a &longs;hadow, a reality from the phantom
of a dream. The pit, my brother beckoning me
forward, the &longs;eizure of my arm, and the voice behind,
were &longs;urely imaginary. That the&longs;e incidents
were fa&longs;hioned in my &longs;leep, is &longs;upported by the
fame indubitable evidence that compels me to believe
my&longs;elf awake at pre&longs;ent; yet the words and
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the voice were the &longs;ame. Then, by &longs;ome inexplicable
contrivance, I was aware of the danger, while
my actions and &longs;en&longs;ations were tho&longs;e of one wholly
unacquainted with it. Now, was it not equally
true that my actions and per&longs;ua&longs;ions were at war?
Had not the belief, that evil lurked in the clo&longs;et,
gained admittance, and had not my actions betokened
an unwarrantable &longs;ecurity? To obviate the
effects of my infatuation, the &longs;ame means had been
u&longs;ed.
In my dream, he that tempted me to my destruction,
was my brother. Death was ambu&longs;hed in my
path. From what evil was I now re&longs;cued? What
mini&longs;ter or implement of ill was &longs;hut up in this
rece&longs;s? Who was it who&longs;e &longs;uffocating gra&longs;p I
was to feel, &longs;hould I dare to enter it? What monstrous
conception is this? my brother!
No; protection, and not injury is his province.
Strange and terrible chimera! Yet it would not be
&longs;uddenly di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed. It was &longs;urely no vulgar agency
that gave this form to my fears. He to whom all
parts of time are equally pre&longs;ent, whom no contingency,
approaches, was the author of that &longs;pell
which now &longs;eized upon me. Life was dear to me.
No con&longs;ideration was pre&longs;ent that enjoined me to
relinqui&longs;h it. Sacred duty combined with every
&longs;pontaneous &longs;entiment to endear to me my being.
Should I not &longs;hudder when my being was endangered?
But what emotion &longs;hould po&longs;&longs;e&longs;e me when
the arm lifted again&longs;t me was Wieland's?
Ideas exi&longs;t in our minds that can be accounted
for by no e&longs;tabli&longs;hed laws. Why did I dream that
my brother was my foe? Why but becau&longs;e an
omen of my &longs;ate was ordained to be communicated?
Yet what &longs;alutary end did it &longs;erve? Did
it arm me with caution to elude, or fortitude to
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bear the evils to which I was re&longs;erved? My present
thoughts were, no doubt, indebted for their hue
to the &longs;imilitude exi&longs;ting between the&longs;e incidents
and tho&longs;e of my dream. Surely it was phrenzy
that dictated my deed. That a ruffian was hidden
in the clo&longs;et, was an idea, the genuine tendency of
which was to urge me to &longs;light. Such had been
the effect formerly produced. Had my mind been
&longs;imply occupied with this thought at pre&longs;ent, no
doubt, the &longs;ame impul&longs;e would have been experienced;
but now it was my brother whom I was
irre&longs;i&longs;tably per&longs;uaded to regard as the contriver of
that ill of which I had been forewarned. This
per&longs;ua&longs;ion did not extenuate my fears or my danger.
Why then did I again approach the clo&longs;et and
withdraw the bolt? My re&longs;olution was in&longs;tantly
conceived, and executed without faultering.
The door was formed of light materials. The
lock, of &longs;imple &longs;tructure, ea&longs;ily forewent its hold.
It opened into the room, and commonly moved
upon its hinges, after being unfa&longs;tened, without any
effort of mine. This effort, however, was bestowed
upon the pre&longs;ent occa&longs;ion. It was my
purpo&longs;e to open it with quickne&longs;s, but the exertion
which I made was ineffectual. It refu&longs;ed to
open.
At another time, this circum&longs;tance would not
have looked with a face of my&longs;tery. I &longs;hould
have &longs;uppo&longs;ed &longs;ome ca&longs;ual ob&longs;truction, and repeated
my efforts to &longs;urmount it. But now my mind
was acce&longs;&longs;ible to no conjecture but one. The
door was hindered from opening by human force.
Surely, here was new cau&longs;e for affright. This was
confirmation proper to decide my conduct. Now
was all ground of he&longs;itation taken away. What
could be &longs;uppo&longs;ed but that I de&longs;erted the chamber
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and the hou&longs;e? that I at lea&longs;t endeavoured no
longer to withdraw the door?
Have I not &longs;aid that my actions were dictated by
phrenzy? My rea&longs;on had forborne, for a time, to
&longs;ugge&longs;t or to &longs;way my re&longs;olves. I reiterated my
endeavours. I exerted all my force to overcome
the ob&longs;tacle, but in vain. The &longs;trength that was
exerted to keep it &longs;hut, was &longs;uperior to mine.
A ca&longs;ual ob&longs;erver might, perhaps, applaud the
audaciou&longs;ne&longs;s of this conduct. Whence, but from
an habitual defiance of danger, could my perseverance
ari&longs;e? I have already a&longs;&longs;igned, as di&longs;tinctly
as I am able, the cau&longs;e of it. The frantic conception
that my brother was within, that the resistance
made to my de&longs;ign was exerted by him, had
rooted it&longs;elf in my mind. You will comprehend
the height of this infatuation, when I tell you, that,
finding all my exertions vain, I betook my&longs;elf to
exclamations. Surely I was utterly bere&longs;t of understanding.
Now had I arrived at the cri&longs;is of my fate. “O!
hinder not the door to open,” I exclaimed, in a tone
that had le&longs;s of fear than of grief in it. “I know
you well. Come forth, but harm me not. I beseech
you come forth.”
I had taken my hand from the lock, and removed
to a &longs;mall di&longs;tance from the door. I had &longs;carcely
uttered the&longs;e words, when the door &longs;wung upon its
hinges, and di&longs;played to my view the interior of
the clo&longs;et. Whoever was within, was &longs;hrouded
in darkne&longs;s. A few &longs;econds pa&longs;&longs;ed without interruption
of the &longs;ilence. I knew not what to expect
or to fear. My eyes would not &longs;tray from the
rece&longs;s. Pre&longs;ently, a deep &longs;igh was heard. The
quarter from which it came heightened the eagerness
of my gaze. Some one approached from the
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farther end. I quickly perceived the outlines of a
human figure. Its &longs;teps were irre&longs;olute and &longs;low.
I recoiled as it advanced.
By coming at length within the verge of the
room, his form was clearly di&longs;tingui&longs;hable. I had
prefigured to my&longs;elf a very different per&longs;onage.
The face that pre&longs;ented it&longs;elf was the la&longs;t that I
&longs;hould de&longs;ire to meet at an hour, and in a place like
this. My wonder was &longs;tifled by my fears. Assassins
had lurked in this rece&longs;s. Some divine voice
warned me of danger, that at this moment awaited
me. I had &longs;purned the intimation, and challenged
my adver&longs;ary.
I recalled the my&longs;terious countenance and dubious
character of Carwin. What motive but
atrocious ones could guide his &longs;teps hither? I was
alone. My habit &longs;uited the hour, and the place,
and the warmth of the &longs;ea&longs;on. All &longs;uccour was
remote. He had placed him&longs;elf between me and
the door. My frame &longs;hook with the vehemence
of my apprehen&longs;ions.
Yet I was not wholly lo&longs;t to my&longs;elf: I vigilantly
marked his demeanour. His looks were grave, but
not without perturbation. What &longs;pecies of inquietude
it betrayed, the light was not &longs;trong enough
to enable me to di&longs;cover. He &longs;tood &longs;till; but his
eyes wandered from one object to another. When
the&longs;e powerful organs were fixed upon me, I
&longs;hrunk into my&longs;elf. At length, he broke &longs;ilence.
Earne&longs;tne&longs;s, and not embarra&longs;&longs;ment, was in his
tone. He advanced clo&longs;e to me while he &longs;poke.
“What voice was that which lately addre&longs;&longs;ed
you?”
He pau&longs;ed for an an&longs;wer; but ob&longs;erving my trepidation,
he re&longs;umed, with undimini&longs;hed &longs;olemnity:
“Be not terrified. Whoever he was, he ha&longs;t done
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you an important &longs;ervice. I need not a&longs;k you it it
were the voice of a companion. That &longs;ound was
beyond the compa&longs;s of human organs. The knowledge
that enabled him to tell you who was in the
clo&longs;et, was obtained by incomprehen&longs;ible means.
“You knew that Carwin was there. Were you
not apprized of his intents? The &longs;ame power could
impart the one as well as the other. Yet, knowing
the&longs;e, you per&longs;i&longs;ted. Audacious girl! but, perhaps,
you confided in his guardian&longs;hip. Your confidence
was ju&longs;t. With &longs;uccour like this at hand
you may &longs;afely de&longs;y me.
“He is my eternal foe; the baffler of my be&longs;t
concerted &longs;chemes. Twice have you been &longs;aved
by his accur&longs;ed interpo&longs;ition. But for him I &longs;hould
long ere now have borne away the &longs;poils of your
honor.”
He looked at me with greater &longs;tedfa&longs;tne&longs;s than
before. I became every moment more anxious for
my &longs;afety. It was with difficulty I &longs;tammered out
an entreaty that he would in&longs;tantly depart, or &longs;uffer
me to do &longs;o. He paid no regard to my reque&longs;t,
but proceeded in a more impa&longs;&longs;ioned manner.
“What is it you fear? Have I not told you, you
are &longs;afe? Has not one in whom you more reasonably
place tru&longs;t a&longs;&longs;ered you of it? Even if I
execute my purpo&longs;e, what injury is done? Your
prejudices will call it by that name, but it merits
it not.
“I was impelled by a &longs;entiment that does you
honor; a &longs;entiment, that would &longs;anctify my deed;
but, whatever it be, you are &longs;afe. Be this chimera
&longs;till wor&longs;hipped; I will do nothing to pollute it.”
There he &longs;topped.
The accents and ge&longs;tures of this man left me
drained of all courage. Surely, on no other
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occasion &longs;hould I have been thus pu&longs;illanimous. My
&longs;tate I regarded as a hopele&longs;s one. I was wholly
at the mercy of this being. Whichever way I
turned my eyes, I &longs;aw no avenue by which I might
e&longs;cape. The re&longs;ources of my per&longs;onal &longs;trength,
my ingenuity, and my eloquence, I e&longs;timated at
nothing. The dignity of virtue, and the force of
truth, I had been accu&longs;tomed to celebrate; and
had frequently vaunted of the conque&longs;ts which I
&longs;hould make with their a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tance.
I u&longs;ed to &longs;uppo&longs;e that certain evils could never
be&longs;all a being in po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of a &longs;ound mind; that
true virtue &longs;upplies us with energy whcih vice can
never re&longs;i&longs;t; that it was always in our power to
ob&longs;truct, by his own death, the de&longs;igns of an enemy
who aimed at le&longs;s than our life. How was it that
a &longs;entiment like de&longs;pair had now invaded me, and
that I tru&longs;ted to the protection of chance, or to the
pity of my per&longs;ecutor?
His words imparted &longs;ome notion of the injury
which he had meditated. He talked of ob&longs;tacles
that had ri&longs;en in his way. He had relinqui&longs;hed his
de&longs;ign. The&longs;e &longs;ources &longs;upplied me with &longs;lender
con&longs;olation. There was no &longs;ecurity but in his absence.
When I looked at my&longs;elf, when I reflected
on the hour and the place, I was overpowered by
horror and dejection.
He was &longs;ilent, mu&longs;eful, and inattentive to my
&longs;ituation, yet made no motion to depart. I was
&longs;ilent in my turn. What could I &longs;ay? I was confident
that rea&longs;on in this cont&longs;t would be impotent.
I mu&longs;t owe my &longs;afety to his own &longs;ugge&longs;tions.
Whatever purpo&longs;e brought him hither, he had
changed it. Why then did he remain? His resolutions
might fluctuate, and the pau&longs;e of a few minutes
re&longs;tore to him his fir&longs;t re&longs;olutions.
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Yet was not this the man whom we had treated
with unwearied kindne&longs;s? Who&longs;e &longs;ociety was endeared
to us by his intellectual elevation and accomplishments?
Who had a thou&longs;and times expatiated
on the u&longs;efulne&longs;s and beauty of virtue? Why
&longs;hould &longs;uch a one be dreaded? If I could have
forgotten the circum&longs;tances in which our interview
had taken place, I might have treated his words as
je&longs;ts. Pre&longs;ently, he re&longs;umed:
“Fear me not: the &longs;pace that &longs;evers us is &longs;mall,
and all vi&longs;ible &longs;uccour is di&longs;tant. You believe yourself
completely in my power; that you &longs;tand upon
the brink of ruin. Such are your groundle&longs;s fears.
I cannot lift a finger to hurt you. Ea&longs;ier it would
be to &longs;top the moon in her cour&longs;e than to injure
you. The power that protects you would crumble
my &longs;inews, and reduce me to a heap of a&longs;hes
in a moment, if I were to harbour a thought hostile
to your &longs;afety.
“Thus are appearances at length &longs;olved. Little
did I expect that they originated hence. What a
portion is a&longs;&longs;igned to you? Scanned by the eyes
of this intelligence, your path will be without pits
to &longs;wallow, or &longs;nares to entangle you. Environed
by the arms of this protection, all artifices will be
fru&longs;trated, and all malice repelled.”
Here &longs;ucceeded a new pau&longs;e. I was &longs;till observant
of every ge&longs;ture and look. The tranquil solemnity
that had lately po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed his countenance
gave way to a new expre&longs;&longs;ion. All now was trepidation
and anxiety.
“I mu&longs;t be gone,” &longs;aid he in a faltering accent.
“Why do I linger here? I will not a&longs;k your forgiveness.
I &longs;ee that your terrors are invincible.
Your pardon will be extorted by fear, and not dictated
by compa&longs;&longs;ion. I mu&longs;t fly from you forever
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He that could plot again&longs;t your honor, mu&longs;t expect
from you and your friends per&longs;ecution and death.
I mu&longs;t doom my&longs;elf to endle&longs;s exile.”
Saying this, he ha&longs;tily left the room. I li&longs;tened
while he de&longs;cended the &longs;tairs, and, unbolting the
outer door, went forth. I did not follow him with
my eyes, as the moon-light would have enabled me
to do. Relieved by his ab&longs;ence, and exhau&longs;ted by
the conflict of my fears, I threw my&longs;elf on a chair,
and re&longs;igned my&longs;elf to tho&longs;e bewildering ideas which
incidents like the&longs;e could not fail to produce.
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CHAPTER X.
[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]
Order could not readily be introduced into my
thoughts. The voice &longs;till rung in my ears. Every
accent that was uttered by Carwin was fre&longs;h in my
remembrance. His unwelcome approach, the recognition
of his per&longs;on, his ha&longs;ty departure, pro&longs;
duced a complex impre&longs;&longs;ion on my mind which no
words can delineate. I &longs;trove to give a &longs;lower motion
to my thoughts, and to regulate a confu&longs;ion
which became painful; but my efforts were nugatory.
I covered my eyes with my hand, and &longs;at,
I know not how long, without power to arrange or
utter my conceptions.
I had remained for hours, as I believed, in absolute
&longs;olitude. No thought of per&longs;onal danger
had mole&longs;ted my tranquillity. I had made no preparation
for defence. What was it that &longs;ugge&longs;ted
the de&longs;ign of peru&longs;ing my father's manu&longs;cript? If,
in&longs;tead of this, I had retired to bed, and to &longs;leep,
to what fate might I not have been re&longs;erved? The
ruffian, who mu&longs;t almo&longs;t have &longs;uppre&longs;&longs;ed his breathings
to &longs;creen him&longs;elf from di&longs;covery, would have
noticed this &longs;ignal, and I &longs;hould have awakened
only to peri&longs;h with affright, and to abhor my&longs;elf.
Could I have remained uncon&longs;cious of my danger?
Could I have tranquilly &longs;lept in the mid&longs;t of &longs;o
deadly a &longs;nare?
And who was he that threatened to de&longs;troy me?
By what means could he hide him&longs;elf in this clo&longs;et?
Surely he is gifted with &longs;upernatural power. Such
is the enemy of who&longs;e attempts I was forewarned.
Daily I had &longs;een him and conver&longs;ed with him.
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Nothing could be di&longs;cerned through the impenetrable
veil of his duplicity. When bu&longs;ied in conjectures,
as to the author of the evil that was threatened, my
mind did not light, for a moment, upon his image.
Yet has he not avowed him&longs;elf my enemy? Why
&longs;hould he be here if he had not meditated evil?
He confe&longs;&longs;es that this has been his &longs;econd attempt.
What was the &longs;cene of his former conspiracy?
Was it not he who&longs;e whi&longs;pers betrayed
him? Am I deceived; or was there not a faint resemblance
between the voice of this man and that
which talked of gra&longs;ping my throat, and extinguishing
my life in a moment? Then he had a colleague
in his crime; now he is alone. Then death was
the &longs;cope of his thoughts; now an injury unspeakably
more dreadful. How thankful &longs;hould I be to
the power that has interpo&longs;ed to &longs;ave me!
That power is invi&longs;ible. It is &longs;ubject to the cognizance
of one of my &longs;en&longs;es. What are the means
that will inform me of what nature it is? He has
&longs;et him&longs;elf to counterwork the machinations of this
man, who had menaced de&longs;truction to all that is
dear to me, and who&longs;e cunning had &longs;urmounted
every human impediment. There was none to
re&longs;cue me from his gra&longs;p. My ra&longs;hne&longs;s even hastened
the completion of his &longs;cheme, and precluded
him from the benefits of deliberation. I had robbed
him of the power to repent and forbear. Had I
been apprized of the danger, I &longs;hould have regarded
my conduct as the means of rendering my e&longs;cape
from it impo&longs;&longs;ible. Such, likewi&longs;e, &longs;eem to have
been the fears of my invi&longs;ible protector. El&longs;e why
that &longs;tartling intreaty to refrain from opening the
clo&longs;et? By what inexplicable
in&longs;atuation was I
compelled to proceed?
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Yet my conduct was wi&longs;e. Carwin, unable to
comprehend my folly, a&longs;cribed my behaviour to my
knowledge. He conceived him&longs;elf previou&longs;ly detected,
and &longs;uch detection being po&longs;&longs;ible to flow
only from my heavenly friend, and his enemy, his
fears acquired additional &longs;trength.
He is apprized of the nature and intentions of this
being. Perhaps he is a human agent. Yet, on
that &longs;uppo&longs;ition his atchievements are incredible.
Why &longs;hould I be &longs;elected as the object of his care;
or, if a mere mortal, &longs;hould I not recognize &longs;ome one,
whom, benefits imparted and received had prompted
to love me? What were the limits and duration
of his guardian&longs;hip? Was the genius of my birth
entru&longs;ted by divine benignity with this province?
Are human faculties adequate to receive &longs;tronger
proofs of the exi&longs;tence of un&longs;ettered and beneficent
intelligences than I have received?
But who was this man's coadjutor? The voice
that acknowledged an alliance in treachery with
Carwin warned me to avoid the &longs;ummer-hou&longs;e.
He a&longs;&longs;ured me that there only my &longs;afety was endangered.
His a&longs;&longs;urance, as it now appears, was sallacious.
Was there not deceit in his admonition?
Was his compact really annulled? Some purpo&longs;e
was, perhaps, to be accompli&longs;hed by preventing my
future vi&longs;its to that &longs;pot. Why was I enjoined
&longs;ilence to others, on the &longs;ubject of this admonition,
unle&longs;s it were for &longs;ome unauthorized and guilty
purpo&longs;e?
No one but my&longs;elf was accu&longs;tomed to vi&longs;it it.
Backward, it was hidden from di&longs;tant view by the
rock, and in front, it was &longs;creened from all examination,
by creeping plants, and the branches of cedars.
What rece&longs;s could be more propitious to &longs;ecrecy?
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The &longs;pirit which haunted it formerly was pure and
rapturous. It was a &longs;ane &longs;acred to the memory of
infantile days, and to bli&longs;sful imaginations of the
future! What a gloomy rever&longs;e had &longs;ucceeded
&longs;ince the ominous arrival of this &longs;tranger! Now,
perhaps, it is the &longs;cene of his meditations. Purposes
fraught with horror, that &longs;hun the light, and
contemplate the pollution of innocence, are here
engendered, and fo&longs;tered, and reared to maturity.
Such were the ideas that, during the night, were
tumultuou&longs;ly revolved by me. I reviewed every
conver&longs;ation in which Carwin had borne a part.
I &longs;tudied to di&longs;cover the true inferences deducible
from his deportment and words with regard to his
former adventures and actual views. I pondered
on the comments which he made on the relation
which I had given of the clo&longs;et dialogue. No new
ideas &longs;ugge&longs;ted them&longs;elves in the cour&longs;e of this review.
My expectation had, from the fir&longs;t, been
di&longs;appointed on the &longs;mall degree of &longs;urprize which
this narrative excited in him. He never explicitly
declared his opinion as to the nature of tho&longs;e voices,
or decided whether they were real or vi&longs;ionary.
He recommended no mea&longs;ures of caution or prevention.
But what mea&longs;ures were now to be taken? Was
the danger which threatened me at an end? Had
I nothing more to fear? I was lonely, and without
means of defence. I could not calculate the motives
and regulate the foot&longs;teps of this per&longs;on. What
certainty was there, that he would not re-a&longs;&longs;ume
his purpo&longs;es, and &longs;wiftly return to the execution of
them?
This idea covered me once more with di&longs;may.
How deeply did I regret the &longs;olitude in which I was
placed, and how ardently did I de&longs;ire the return of
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day! But neither of the&longs;e inconveniencies were
&longs;u&longs;ceptible of remedy. At fir&longs;t, it occurred to me
to &longs;ummon my &longs;ervant, and make her &longs;pend the
night in my chamber; but the inefficacy of this expedient
to enhance my &longs;afety was ea&longs;ily &longs;een. Once
I re&longs;olved to leave the hou&longs;e, and retire to my brother's,
but was deterred by reflecting on the unseasonableness
of the hour, on the alarm which my
arrival, and the account which I &longs;hould be obliged
to give, might occa&longs;ion, and on the danger to which
I might expo&longs;e my&longs;elf in the way thither. I began,
likewi&longs;e, to con&longs;ider Carwin's return to mole&longs;t me
as exceedingly improbable. He had relinqui&longs;hed,
of his own accord, his de&longs;ign, and departed without
compul&longs;ion.
“Surely,” &longs;aid I, “there is omnipotence in the
cau&longs;e that changed the views of a man like Carwin.
The divinity that &longs;hielded me from his attempts will
take &longs;uitable care of my future &longs;afety. Thus to yield
to my fears is to de&longs;erve that they &longs;hould be real.”
Scarcely had I uttered the&longs;e words, when my
attention was &longs;tartled by the &longs;ound of foot&longs;teps.
They denoted &longs;ome one &longs;tepping into the piazza in
front of my hou&longs;e. My new-born confidence was
extingui&longs;hed in a moment. Carwin, I thought,
had repented his departure, and was ha&longs;tily returning.
The po&longs;&longs;ibility that his return was prompted
by intentions con&longs;i&longs;tent with my &longs;afety, found no
place in my mind. Images of violation and murder
a&longs;&longs;ailed me anew, and the terrors which succeeded
almo&longs;t incapacitated me from taking any
mea&longs;ures for my defence. It was an impul&longs;e of
which I was &longs;carcely con&longs;cious, that made me fa&longs;ten
the lock and draw the bolts of my chamber door.
Having done this, I threw my&longs;elf on a &longs;eat; for I
trembled to a degree which di&longs;abled me from
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standing, and my &longs;oul was &longs;o perfectly ab&longs;orbed in the
act of li&longs;tening, that almo&longs;t the vital motions were
&longs;topped.
The door below creaked on its hinges. It was
not again thru&longs;t to, but appeared to remain open.
Foot&longs;teps entered, traver&longs;ed the entry, and began
to mount the &longs;tairs. How I dete&longs;ted the folly of
not pur&longs;uing the man when he withdrew, and bolting
after him the outer door! Might he not conceive
this omi&longs;&longs;ion to be a proof that my angel had
de&longs;erted me, and be thereby fortified in guilt?
Every &longs;tep on the &longs;tairs, which brought him
nearer to my chamber, added vigor to my desperation.
The evil with which I was menaced was to
be at any rate eluded. How little did I preconceive
the conduct which, in an exigence like this, I
&longs;hould be prone to adopt. You will &longs;uppo&longs;e that
deliberation and de&longs;pair would have &longs;ugge&longs;ted the
&longs;ame cour&longs;e of action, and that I &longs;hould have, unhesitatingly,
re&longs;orted to the be&longs;t means of per&longs;onal
defence within my power. A penknife lay open
upon my table. I remembered that it was there,
and &longs;eized it. For what purpo&longs;e you will &longs;carcely
inquire. It will be immediately &longs;uppo&longs;ed that I
meant it for my la&longs;t refuge, and that if all other
means &longs;hould fail, I &longs;hould plunge it into the heart
of my ravi&longs;her.
I have lo&longs;t all faith in the &longs;tedfa&longs;tne&longs;s of human
re&longs;olves. It was thus that in periods of calm I had
determined to act. No cowardice had been held by
me in greater abhorrence than that which prompted
an injured female to de&longs;troy, not her injurer ere
the injury was perpetrated, but her&longs;elf when it was
without remedy. Yet now this penknife appeared
to me of no other u&longs;e than to baffle my a&longs;&longs;ailant,
and prevent the crime by de&longs;troying my&longs;elf. To
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deliberate at &longs;uch a time was impo&longs;&longs;ible; but among
the tumultuous &longs;ugge&longs;tions of the moment, I do
not recollect that it once occurred to me to u&longs;e it
as an in&longs;trument of direct defence.
The &longs;teps had now reached the &longs;econd floor.
Every footfall accelerated the completion, without
augmenting, the certainty of evil. The consciousness
that the door was fa&longs;t, now that nothing but
that was interpo&longs;ed between me and danger, was a
&longs;ource of &longs;ome con&longs;olation. I ca&longs;t my eye towards
the window. This, likewi&longs;e, was a new suggestion.
If the door &longs;hould give way, it was my
&longs;udden re&longs;olution to throw my&longs;elf from the window.
Its height from the ground, which was covered
beneath by a brick pavement, would in&longs;ure
my de&longs;truction; but I thought not of that.
When oppo&longs;ite to my door the foot&longs;teps cea&longs;ed.
Was he li&longs;tening whether my fears were allayed,
and my caution were a&longs;leep? Did he hope to take
me by &longs;urprize? Yet, if &longs;o, why did he allow &longs;o
many noi&longs;y &longs;ignals to betray his approach? Presently
the &longs;teps were again heard to approach the
door. An hand was laid upon the lock, and the
latch pulled back. Did he imagine it po&longs;&longs;ible that
I &longs;hould fail to &longs;ecure the door? A &longs;light effort
was made to pu&longs;h it open, as if all bolts being withdrawn,
a &longs;light effort only was required.
I no &longs;ooner perceived this, than I moved &longs;wiftly
towards the window. Carwin's frame might be
&longs;aid to be all mu&longs;cle. His &longs;trength and activity
had appeared, in various in&longs;tances, to be prodigious.
A &longs;light exertion of his force would demoli&longs;h the
door. Would not that exertion be made? Too
&longs;urely it would; but, at the &longs;ame moment that this
ob&longs;tacle &longs;hould yield, and he &longs;hould enter the apartment,
my determination was formed to leap from
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the window. My &longs;en&longs;es were &longs;till bound to this
object. I gazed at the door in momentary expectation
that the a&longs;&longs;ault would be made. The pau&longs;e
continued. The per&longs;on without was irre&longs;olute and
motionle&longs;s.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that Carwin might
conceive me to have fled. That I had not betaken
my&longs;elf to flight was, indeed, the lea&longs;t probable of all
conclu&longs;ions. In this per&longs;ua&longs;ion he mu&longs;t have been
confirmed on finding the lower door unfa&longs;tened,
and the chamber door locked. Was it not wi&longs;e
to fo&longs;ter this per&longs;ua&longs;ion? Should I maintain deep
&longs;ilence, this, in addition to other circum&longs;tances,
might encourage the belief, and he would once
more depart. Every new reflection added plausibility
to this rea&longs;oning. It was pre&longs;ently more
&longs;trongly enforced, when I noticed foot&longs;teps withdrawing
from the door. The blood once more
flowed back to my heart, and a dawn of exultation
began to ri&longs;e: but my joy was &longs;hort lived. Instead
of de&longs;cending the &longs;tairs, he pa&longs;&longs;ed to the door
of the oppo&longs;ite chamber, opened it, and having entered,
&longs;hut it after him with a violence that &longs;hook
the hou&longs;e.
How was I to interpret this circum&longs;tance? For
what end could he have entered this chamber? Did
the violence with which he clo&longs;ed the door te&longs;tify
the depth of his vexation? This room was u&longs;ually
occupied by Pleyel. Was Carwin aware of his
ab&longs;ence on this night? Could he be &longs;u&longs;pected of
a de&longs;ign &longs;o &longs;ordid as pillage? If this were his view
there were no means in my power to fru&longs;trate it. It
behoved me to &longs;eize the fir&longs;t opportunity to e&longs;cape;
but if my e&longs;cape were &longs;uppo&longs;ed by my enemy to
have been already effected, no a&longs;ylum was more
&longs;ecure than the pre&longs;ent. How could my pa&longs;&longs;age
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from the hou&longs;e be accompli&longs;hed without noi&longs;es that
might incite him to pur&longs;ue me?
Utterly at a lo&longs;s to account for his going into
Pleyel's chamber, I waited in in&longs;tant expectation
of hearing him come forth. All, however, was profoundly
&longs;till. I li&longs;tened in vain for a con&longs;iderable
period, to catch the &longs;ound of the door when it
&longs;hould again be opened. There was no other
avenue by which he could e&longs;cape, but a door which
led into the girl's chamber. Would any evil from
this quarter befall the girl?
Hence aro&longs;e a new train of apprehen&longs;ions. They
merely added to the turbulence and agony of
my reflections. Whatever evil impended over her,
I had no power to avert it. Seclu&longs;ion and &longs;ilence
were the only means of &longs;aving my&longs;elf from the
perils of this fatal night. What &longs;olemn vows did
I put up, that if I &longs;hould once more behold the
light of day, I would never tru&longs;t my&longs;elf again
within the thre&longs;hold of this dwelling!
Minute lingered after minute, but no token was
given that Carwin had returned to the pa&longs;&longs;age.
What, I again a&longs;ked, could detain him in this
room? Was it po&longs;&longs;ible that he had returned, and
glided, unperceived, away? I was &longs;peedily aware
of the difficulty that attended an enterprize like
this; and yet, as if by that means I were capable
of gaining any information on that head, I ca&longs;t
anxious looks from the window.
The object that fir&longs;t attracted my attention was
an human figure &longs;tanding on the edge of the bank.
Perhaps my penetration was a&longs;&longs;i&longs;ted by my hopes.
Be that as it will, the figure of Carwin was clearly
di&longs;tingui&longs;hable. From the ob&longs;curity of my &longs;tation,
it was impo&longs;&longs;ible that I &longs;hould be di&longs;cerned by him,
and yet he &longs;carcely
&longs;uffered me to catch a glimp&longs;e
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of him. He turned and went down the &longs;teep,
which, in this part, was not difficult to be &longs;caled.
My conjecture then had been right. Carwin
has &longs;oftly opened the door, de&longs;cended the &longs;tairs, and
i&longs;&longs;ued forth. That I &longs;hould not have overheard
his &longs;teps, was only le&longs;s incredible than that my eyes
had deceived me. But what was now to be done?
The hou&longs;e was at length delivered from this dete&longs;ted
inmate. By one avenue might he again re-enter.
Was it not wife to bar the lower door? Perhaps
he had gone out by the kitchen door. For this
end, he mu&longs;t have pa&longs;&longs;ed through Judith's chamber.
The&longs;e entrances being clo&longs;ed and bolted, as
great &longs;ecurity was gained as was compatible with my
lonely condition.
The propriety of the&longs;e mea&longs;ures was too manifest
not to make me &longs;truggle &longs;ucce&longs;sfully with my
fears. Yet I opened my own door with the utmo&longs;t
caution, and de&longs;cended as if I were affraid that
Carwin had been &longs;till immured in Pleyel's chamber.
The outer door was a-jar. I &longs;hut, with
trembling eagerne&longs;s, and drew every bolt that appended
to it. I then pa&longs;&longs;ed with light and le&longs;s cautious
&longs;teps through the parlour, but was &longs;urprized
to di&longs;cover that the kitchen door was &longs;ecure. I
was compelled to acquie&longs;ce in the fir&longs;t conjecture
that Carwin had e&longs;caped through the entry.
My heart was now &longs;omewhat ea&longs;ed of the load
of apprehen&longs;ion. I returned once more to my
chamber, the door of which I was careful to lock.
It was no time to think of repo&longs;e. The moon-light
began already to fade before the light of the
day. The approach of morning was betokened
by the u&longs;ual &longs;ignals. I mu&longs;ed upon the events of
this night, and determined to take up my abode
henceforth at my brother's. Whether I &longs;hould
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inform him of what had happened was a que&longs;tion
which &longs;eemed to demand &longs;ome con&longs;ideration. My
&longs;afety unque&longs;tionably required that I &longs;hould abandon
my pre&longs;ent habitation.
As my thoughts began to flow with fewer impediments,
the image of Pleyel, and the dubiousness
of his condition, again recurred to me. I
again ran over the po&longs;&longs;ible cau&longs;es of his ab&longs;ence
on the preceding day. My mind was attuned to
melancholy. I dwelt, with an ob&longs;tinacy for which
I could not account, on the idea of his death. I
painted to my&longs;elf his &longs;truggles with the billows,
and his la&longs;t appearance. I imagined my&longs;elf a midnight
wanderer on the &longs;hore, and to have &longs;tumbled
on his corp&longs;e, which the tide had ca&longs;t up. The&longs;e
dreary images affected me even to tears. I endeavoured
not to re&longs;train them. They imparted a relief
which I had not anticipated. The more copiously
they flowed, the more did my general sensations
appear to &longs;ub&longs;ide into calm, and a certain
re&longs;tle&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s give way to repo&longs;e.
Perhaps, relieved by this effu&longs;ion, the &longs;lumber
&longs;o much wanted might have &longs;tolen on my &longs;en&longs;es,
had there been no new cau&longs;e of alarm.
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CHAPTER XI.
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I was arou&longs;ed from this &longs;tupor by &longs;ounds that
evidently aro&longs;e in the next chamber. Was it possible
that I had been mi&longs;taken in the figure which
I had &longs;een on the bank? or had Carwin, by &longs;ome
in&longs;crutable means, penetrated once more into this
chamber? The oppo&longs;ite door opened; foot&longs;teps
came forth, and the per&longs;on, advancing to mine,
knocked.
So unexpected an incident robbed me of all presence
of mind, and, &longs;tarting up, I involuntarily exclaimed,
“Who is there?” An an&longs;wer was immediately
given. The voice, to my inexpre&longs;&longs;ible
a&longs;toni&longs;hment, was Pleyel's.
“It is I. Have you ri&longs;en? If you have not,
make ha&longs;te; I want three minutes conver&longs;ation with
you in the parlour—I will wait for you there.”
Saying this he retired from the door.
Should I confide in the te&longs;timony of my ears?
If that were true, it was Pleyel that had been hitherto
immured in the oppo&longs;ite chamber: he whom
my rueful fancy had depicted in &longs;o many ruinous
and gha&longs;tly &longs;hapes: he who&longs;e foot&longs;teps had been
li&longs;tened to with &longs;uch inquietude! What is man,
that knowledge is &longs;o &longs;paringly conferred upon him!
that his heart &longs;hould be wrung with di&longs;tre&longs;s, and
his frame be exanimated with fear, though his &longs;afety
be encompa&longs;&longs;ed with impregnable walls! What
are the bounds of human imbecility! He that
warned me of the pre&longs;ence of my foe refu&longs;ed the
intimation by which &longs;o many racking fears would
have been precluded.
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Yet who would have imagined the arrival of
Pleyel at &longs;uch an hour? His tone was de&longs;ponding
and anxious. Why this un&longs;ea&longs;onable &longs;ummons?
and why this ha&longs;ty departure? Some tidings he,
perhaps, bears of my&longs;terious and unwelcome import.
My impatience would not allow me to con&longs;ume
much time in deliberation: I ha&longs;tened down. Pleyel
I found &longs;tanding at a window, with eyes ca&longs;t down
as in meditation, and arms folded on his brea&longs;t.
Every line in his countenance was pregnant with
&longs;orrow. To this was added a certain wanne&longs;s and
air of fatigue. The la&longs;t time I had &longs;een him appearances
had been the rever&longs;e of the&longs;e. I was
&longs;tartled at the change. The fir&longs;t impul&longs;e was to
que&longs;tion him as to the cau&longs;e. This impul&longs;e was supplanted
by &longs;ome degree of confu&longs;ion, flowing from
a con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s that love had too large, and, as it
might prove, a perceptible &longs;hare in creating this impulse.
I was &longs;ilent.
Pre&longs;ently he rai&longs;ed his eyes and fixed them upon
me. I read in them an angui&longs;h altogether ineffable.
Never had I witne&longs;&longs;ed a like demeanour in
Pleyel. Never, indeed, had I ob&longs;erved an human
countenance in which grief was more legibly inscribed.
He &longs;eemed &longs;truggling for utterance; but
his &longs;truggles being fruitle&longs;s, he &longs;hook his head and
turned away from me.
My impatience would not allow me to be longer
&longs;ilent: “What,” &longs;aid I, “for heaven's &longs;ake, my
friend, what is the matter?”
He &longs;tarted at the &longs;ound of my voice. His looks,
for a moment, became convul&longs;ed with an emotion
very different from grief. His accents were broken
with rage.
“The matter—O wretch!—thus exqui&longs;itely
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fa&longs;hioned—on whom nature &longs;eemed to have exhausted
all her graces; with charms &longs;o awful and &longs;o
pure! how art thou fallen! From what height
fallen! A ruin &longs;o complete—&longs;o unheard of!”
His words were again choaked by emotion.
Grief and pity were again mingled in his features.
He re&longs;umed, in a tone half &longs;uffocated by &longs;obs:
“But why &longs;hould I upbraid thee? Could I restore
to thee what thou ha&longs;t lo&longs;t; efface this
cur&longs;ed &longs;tain; &longs;natch thee from the jaws of this fiend;
I would do it. Yet what will avail my efforts?
I have not arms with which to contend with &longs;o consummate,
&longs;o frightful a depravity.
“Evidence le&longs;s than this would only have excited
re&longs;entment and &longs;corn. The wretch who &longs;hould
have breathed a &longs;u&longs;picion injurious to thy honor,
would have been regarded without anger; not
hatred or envy could have prompted him; it would
merely be an argument of madne&longs;s. That my eyes,
that my ears, &longs;hould bear witne&longs;s to thy fall! By
no other way could dete&longs;tible conviction be imparted.
“Why do I &longs;ummon thee to this conference?
Why expo&longs;e my&longs;elf to thy deri&longs;ion? Here admonition
and entreaty are vain. Thou knowe&longs;t him
already, for a murderer and thief. I had thought
to have been the fir&longs;t to di&longs;clo&longs;e to thee his in&longs;amy;
to have warned thee of the pit to which thou art
ha&longs;tening; but thy eyes are open in vain. O &longs;oul
and in&longs;upportable di&longs;grace!
“There is but one path. I know you will disappear
together. In thy ruin, how will the &longs;elicity
and honor of multitudes be involved! But it mu&longs;t
come. This &longs;cene &longs;hall not be blotted by his presence.
No doubt thou wilt &longs;hortly &longs;ee thy dete&longs;ted
paramour. This &longs;cene will be again polluted by
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a midnight a&longs;&longs;ignation. Inform him of his danger;
tell him that his crimes are known; let him fly
far and in&longs;tantly from this &longs;pot, if he de&longs;ires to
avoid the fate which menaced him in Ireland.
“And wilt thou not &longs;tay behind?—But &longs;hame
upon my weakne&longs;s. I know not what I would
&longs;ay.—I have done what I purpo&longs;ed. To &longs;tay
longer, to expo&longs;tulate, to be&longs;eech, to enumerate
the con&longs;equences of thy act—what end can it
&longs;erve but to blazon thy infamy and embitter our
woes? And yet, O think, think ere it be too late,
on the di&longs;tre&longs;&longs;es which thy flight will entail upon
us; on the ba&longs;e, grovelling, and atrocious character
of the wretch to whom thou ha&longs;t &longs;old thy
honor. But what is this? Is not thy effrontery
impenetrable, and thy heart thoroughly cankered?
O mo&longs;t &longs;pecious, and mo&longs;t profligate of women!”
Saying this, he ru&longs;hed out of the hou&longs;e. I &longs;aw
him in a few moments hurrying along the path
which led to my brother's. I had no power to
prevent his going, or to recall, or to follow him.
The accents I had heard were calculated to
confound and bewilder. I looked around me to
a&longs;&longs;ure my&longs;elf that the &longs;cene was real. I moved
that I might bani&longs;h the doubt that I was awake.
Such enormous imputations from the mouth of
Pleyel! To be &longs;tigmatized with the names of
wanton and profligate! To be charged with the
&longs;acrifice of honor! with midnight meetings with a
wretch known to be a murderer and thief! with an
intention to fly in his company!
What I had heard was &longs;urely the dictate of
phrenzy, or it was built upon &longs;ome fatal, &longs;ome incomprehensible
mi&longs;take. After the horrors of the
night; after undergoing perils &longs;o imminent from
this man, to be &longs;ummoned to an interview like this;
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to find Pleyel fraught with a belief that, in&longs;tead
of having cho&longs;en death as a refuge from the violence
of this man, I had hugged his ba&longs;ene&longs;s to my
heart, had &longs;acrificed for him my purity, my &longs;potle&longs;s
name, my friend&longs;hips, and my fortune! that even
madne&longs;s could engender accu&longs;ations like the&longs;e was
not to be believed.
What evidence could po&longs;&longs;ibly &longs;ugge&longs;t conceptions
&longs;o wild? After the unlooked-for interview
with Carwin in my chamber, he retired. Could
Pleyel have ob&longs;erved his exit? It was not long
after that Pleyel him&longs;elf entered. Did he build on
this incident, his odious conclu&longs;ions? Could the
long &longs;eries of my actions and &longs;entiments grant me
no exemption from &longs;u&longs;picions &longs;o foul? Was it
not more rational to infer that Carwin's de&longs;igns
had been illicit; that my life had been endangered
by the fury of one whom, by &longs;ome means, he had
di&longs;covered to be an a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in and robber; that
my honor had been a&longs;&longs;ailed, not by blandi&longs;hments,
but by violence?
He has judged me without hearing. He has
drawn from dubious appearances, conclu&longs;ions the
mo&longs;t improbable and unju&longs;t. He has loaded me
with all outrageous epithets. He has ranked me
with pro&longs;titutes and thieves. I cannot pardon thee.
Pleyel, for this inju&longs;tice. Thy under&longs;tanding mu&longs;t
be hurt. If it be not, if thy conduct was &longs;ober
and deliberate, I can never forgive an outrage &longs;o
unmanly, and &longs;o gro&longs;s.
The&longs;e thoughts gradually gave place to others.
Pleyel was po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed by &longs;ome momentary phrenzy:
appearances had led him into palpable errors.
Whence could his &longs;agacity have contracted this
blindne&longs;s? Was it not love? Previou&longs;ly a&longs;&longs;ured of
my affection for Carwin, di&longs;tracted with grief and
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jealou&longs;y, and impelled hither at that late hour by
&longs;ome unknown in&longs;tigation, his imagination transformed
&longs;hadows into mon&longs;ters, and plunged him
into the&longs;e deplorable errors.
This idea was not unattended with con&longs;olation.
My &longs;oul was divided between indignation at his injustice,
and delight on account of the &longs;ource from
which I conceived it to &longs;pring. For a long time
they would allow admi&longs;&longs;ion to no other thoughts.
Surprize is an emotion that enfeebles, not invigorates.
All my meditations were accompanied with
wonder. I rambled with vaguene&longs;s, or clung to
one image with an ob&longs;tinacy which &longs;ufficiently testified
the maddening influence of late tran&longs;actions.
Gradually I proceeded to reflect upon the consequences
of Pleyel's mi&longs;take, and on the mea&longs;ures
I &longs;hould take to guard my&longs;elf again&longs;t future injury
from Carwin. Should I &longs;uffer this mi&longs;take to be
detected by time? When his pa&longs;&longs;ion &longs;hould subside,
would he not perceive the flagrancy of his injustice,
and ha&longs;ten to atone for it? Did it not become
my character to te&longs;tify re&longs;entment for language
and treatment &longs;o opprobrious? Wrapt up in
the con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s of innocence, and confiding in
the influence of time and reflection to con&longs;ute &longs;o
groundle&longs;s a charge, it was my province to be passive
and &longs;ilent.
As to the violences meditated by Carwin, and
the means of eluding them, the path to be taken by
me was obvious. I re&longs;olved to tell the tale to my
brother, and regulate my&longs;elf by his advice. For
this end, when the morning was &longs;omewhat advanced,
I took the way to his hou&longs;e. My &longs;i&longs;ter was
engaged in her cu&longs;tomary occupations. As &longs;oon
as I appeared, &longs;he remarked a change in my looks.
I was not willing to alarm her by the information
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which I had to communicate. Her health was in
that condition which rendered a di&longs;a&longs;trous tale particularly
un&longs;uitable. I forbore a direct an&longs;wer to
her inquiries, and inquired, in my turn, for Wieland.
“Why,” &longs;aid &longs;he, “I &longs;u&longs;pect &longs;omething mysterious
and unplea&longs;ant has happened this morning.
Scarcely had we ri&longs;en when Pleyel dropped among
us. What could have prompted him to make us
&longs;o early and &longs;o un&longs;ea&longs;onable a vi&longs;it I cannot tell.
To judge from the di&longs;order of his dre&longs;s, and his
countenance, &longs;omething of an extraordinary nature
has occurred. He permitted me merely to know
that he had &longs;lept none, nor even undre&longs;&longs;ed, during
the pa&longs;t night. He took your brother to walk with
him. Some topic mu&longs;t have deeply engaged them,
for Wieland did not return till the breakfa&longs;t hour
was pa&longs;&longs;ed, and returned alone. His di&longs;turbance
was exce&longs;&longs;ive; but he would not li&longs;ten to my importunities,
or tell me what had happened. I gathered
from hints which he let fall, that your situation
was, in &longs;ome way, the cau&longs;e: yet he a&longs;&longs;ured
me that you were at your own hou&longs;e, alive, in good
health, and in perfect &longs;afety. He &longs;carcely ate a
mor&longs;el, and immediately after breakfa&longs;t went out
again. He would not inform me whither he was
going, but mentioned that he probably might not
return before night.”
I was equally a&longs;toni&longs;hed and alarmed by this information.
Pleyel had told his tale to my brother,
and had, by a plau&longs;ible and exaggerated picture,
in&longs;tilled into him unfavorable thoughts of me. Yet
would not the more correct judgment of Wieland
perceive and expo&longs;e the fallacy of his conclu&longs;ions?
Perhaps his unea&longs;ine&longs;s might ari&longs;e from &longs;ome insight
into the character of Carwin, and from
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apprehensions for my &longs;afety. The appearances by
which Pleyel had been mi&longs;led, might induce him
likewi&longs;e to believe that I entertained an indi&longs;creet,
though not di&longs;honorable affection for Carwin.
Such were the conjectures rapidly formed. I was
inexpre&longs;&longs;ibly anxious to change them into certainty.
For this end an interview with my brother was
de&longs;irable. He was gone, no one knew whither,
and was not expected &longs;peedily to return. I had no
clue by which to trace his foot&longs;teps.
My anxieties could not be concealed from my
&longs;i&longs;ter. They heightened her &longs;olicitude to be acquainted
with the cau&longs;e. There were many reasons
per&longs;uading me to &longs;ilence: at lea&longs;t, till I had
&longs;een my brother, it would be an act of inexcu&longs;able
temerity to unfold what had lately pa&longs;&longs;ed. No
other expedient for eluding her importunities occurred
to me, but that of returning to my own
hou&longs;e. I recollected my determination to become
a tenant of this roof. I mentioned it to her. She
joyfully acceded to this propo&longs;al, and &longs;uffered me,
with le&longs;s reluctance, to depart, when I told her that
it was with a view to collect and &longs;end to my new
dwelling what articles would be immediately u&longs;eful
to me.
Once more I returned to the hou&longs;e which had
been the &longs;cene of &longs;o much turbulence and danger.
I was at no great di&longs;tance from it when I ob&longs;erved
my brother coming out. On &longs;eeing me he &longs;topped,
and after a&longs;certaining, as it &longs;eemed, which way I
was going, he returned into the hou&longs;e before me.
I &longs;incerely rejoiced at this event, and I ha&longs;tened to
&longs;et things, if po&longs;&longs;ible, on their right footing.
His brow was by no means expre&longs;&longs;ive of tho&longs;e
vehement emotions with which Pleyel had been
agitated. I drew a favorable omen from this
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circumstance. Without delay I began the conversation.
“I have been to look for you,” &longs;aid I, “but
was told by Catharine that Pleyel had engaged you
on &longs;ome important and di&longs;agreeable affair. Before
his interview with you he &longs;pent a few minutes with
me. The&longs;e minutes he employed in upbraiding me
for crimes and intentions with which I am by no
means chargeable. I believe him to have taken up
his opinions on very in&longs;ufficient grounds. His behaviour
was in the highe&longs;t degree precipitate and
unju&longs;t, and, until I receive &longs;ome atonement, I &longs;hall
treat him, in my turn, with that contempt which
he ju&longs;tly merits: meanwhile I am fearful that he
has prejudiced my brother again&longs;t me. That is an
evil which I mo&longs;t anxiou&longs;ly deprecate, and which I
&longs;hall indeed exert my&longs;elf to remove. Has he made
me the &longs;ubject of this morning's conver&longs;ation?”
My brother's countenance te&longs;tified no &longs;urprize
at my addre&longs;s. The benignity of his looks were
no wife dimini&longs;hed.
“It is true,” &longs;aid he, “your conduct was the
&longs;ubject of our di&longs;cour&longs;e. I am your friend, as well
as your brother. There is no human being whom
I love with more tenderne&longs;s, and who&longs;e welfare is
nearer my heart. Judge then with what emotions
I li&longs;tened to Pleyel's &longs;tory. I expect and de&longs;ire
you to vindicate your&longs;elf from a&longs;per&longs;ions &longs;o &longs;oul,
if vindication be po&longs;&longs;ible.”
The tone with which he uttered the la&longs;t words
affected me deeply. “If vindication be po&longs;&longs;ible!”
repeated I. “From what you know, do you deem
a formal vindication nece&longs;&longs;ary? Can you harbour
for a moment the belief of my guilt?”
He &longs;hook his head with an air of acute angui&longs;h.
“I have &longs;truggled,” &longs;aid he, “to di&longs;mi&longs;s that
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belief. You &longs;peak before a judge who will profit by
any pretence to acquit you: who is ready to question
his own &longs;en&longs;es when they plead again&longs;t you.”
The&longs;e words incited a new &longs;et of thoughts in my
mind. I began to &longs;u&longs;pect that Pleyel had built his
accu&longs;ations on &longs;ome foundation unknown to me.
“I may be a &longs;tranger to the grounds of your belief.
Pleyel loaded me with indecent and virulent invectives,
but he withheld from me the facts that
generated his &longs;u&longs;picions. Events took place la&longs;t
night of which &longs;ome of the circum&longs;tances were of
an ambiguous nature. I conceived that the&longs;e might
po&longs;&longs;ibly have fallen under his cognizance, and that,
viewed through the mi&longs;ts of prejudice and pa&longs;&longs;ion,
they &longs;upplied a pretence for his conduct, but believed
that your more unbia&longs;&longs;ed judgment would
e&longs;timate them at their ju&longs;t value. Perhaps his tale
has been different from what I &longs;u&longs;pect it to be.
Li&longs;ten then to my narrative. If there be any thing
in his &longs;tory incon&longs;i&longs;tent with mine, his &longs;tory is
fal&longs;e.”
I then proceeded to a circum&longs;tantial relation of
the incidents of the la&longs;t night. Wieland li&longs;tened
with deep attention. Having fini&longs;hed, “This,”
continued I, “is the truth; you &longs;ee in what circumstances
an interview took place between Carwin
and me. He remained for hours in my clo&longs;et,
and for &longs;ome minutes in my chamber. He departed
without ha&longs;te or interruption. If Pleyel
marked him as he left the hou&longs;e, and it is not impossible
that he did, inferences injurious to my
character might &longs;ugge&longs;t them&longs;elves to him. In admitting
them, he gave proofs of le&longs;s di&longs;cernment and
le&longs;s candor than I once a&longs;cribed to him.”
“His proofs,” &longs;aid Wieland, after a considerable
pau&longs;e, “are different. That he &longs;hould be
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deceived, is not po&longs;&longs;ible. That he him&longs;elf is not
the deceiver, could not be believed, if his te&longs;timony
were not incon&longs;i&longs;tent with yours; but the doubts
which I entertained are now removed. Your tale,
&longs;ome parts of it, is marvellous; the voice which
exclaimed again&longs;t your ra&longs;hne&longs;s in approaching the
clo&longs;et, your per&longs;i&longs;ting notwith&longs;tanding that prohibition,
your belief that I was the ruffian, and your
&longs;ub&longs;equent conduct, are believed by me, becau&longs;e I
have known you from childhood, becau&longs;e a thousand
in&longs;tances have atte&longs;ted your veracity, and because
nothing le&longs;s than my own hearing and vi&longs;ion
would convince me, in oppo&longs;ition to her own assertions,
that my &longs;i&longs;ter had fallen into wickedne&longs;s like
this.”
I threw my arms around him, and bathed his
cheek with my tears. “That,” &longs;aid I, “is &longs;poken
like my brother. But what are the proofs?”
He replied—“Pleyel informed me that, in going
to your hou&longs;e, his attention was attracted by two
voices. The per&longs;ons &longs;peaking &longs;at beneath the
bank out of &longs;ight. The&longs;e per&longs;ons, judging by their
voices, were Carwin and you. I will not repeat
the dialogue. If my &longs;i&longs;ter was the female, Pleyel
was ju&longs;tified in concluding you to be, indeed, one
of the mo&longs;t profligate of women. Hence, his accusations
of you, and his efforts to obtain my concurrence
to a plan by which an eternal &longs;eparation
&longs;hould be brought about between my &longs;i&longs;ter and this
man.”
I made Wieland repeat this recital. Here, indeed,
was a tale to fill me with terrible foreboding.
I had vainly thought that my &longs;afety could be sufficiently
&longs;ecured by doors and bars, but this is a foe
from who&longs;e gra&longs;p no power of divinity can &longs;ave
me! His artifices will ever lay my fame and
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happiness at his mercy. How &longs;hall I counterwork
his plots, or detect his coadjutor? He has taught
&longs;ome vile and abandoned female to mimic my
voice. Pleyel's ears were the witne&longs;&longs;es of my dishonor.
This is the midnight a&longs;&longs;ignation to which
he alluded. Thus is the &longs;ilence he maintained when
attempting to open the door of my chamber, accounted
for. He &longs;uppo&longs;ed me ab&longs;ent, and meant,
perhaps, had my apartment been acce&longs;&longs;ible, to leave
in it &longs;ome accu&longs;ing memorial.
Pleyel was no longer equally culpable. The
&longs;incerity of his angui&longs;h, the depth of his de&longs;pair, I
remembered with &longs;ome tendencies to gratitude. Yet
was he not precipitate? Was the conjecture that
my part was played by &longs;ome mimic &longs;o utterly untenable?
In&longs;tances of this faculty are common.
The wickedne&longs;s of Carwin mu&longs;t, in his opinion,
have been adequate to &longs;uch contrivances, and yet
the &longs;uppo&longs;ition of my guilt was adopted in preference
to that.
But how was this error to be unveiled? What but
my own a&longs;&longs;ertion had I to throw in the balance
again&longs;t it? Would this be permitted to outweigh
the te&longs;timony of his &longs;en&longs;es? I had no witnesses
to prove my exi&longs;tence in another place.
The real events of that night are marvellous. Few,
to whom they &longs;hould be related, would &longs;cruple to
di&longs;credit them. Pleyel is &longs;ceptical in a transcendant
degree. I cannot &longs;ummon Carwin to my bar,
and make him the atte&longs;tor of my innocence, and
the accu&longs;er of him&longs;elf.
My brother &longs;aw and comprehended my di&longs;tre&longs;s.
He was unacquainted, however, with the full extent
of it. He knew not by how many motives I
was incited to retrieve the good opinion of Pleyel.
He endeavored to con&longs;ole me. Some new event,
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he &longs;aid, would occur to di&longs;entangle the maze. He
did not que&longs;tion the influence of my eloquence, if I
thought proper to exert it. Why not &longs;eek an interview
with Pleyel, and exact from him a minute
relation, in which &longs;omething may be met with serving
to de&longs;troy the probability of the whole?
I caught, with eagerne&longs;s, at this hope; but my
alacrity was damped by new reflections. Should
I, perfect in this re&longs;pect, and unblemi&longs;hed as I was,
thru&longs;t my&longs;elf, uncalled, into his pre&longs;ence, and make
my felicity depend upon his arbitrary verdict?
“If you chu&longs;e to &longs;eek an interview,” continued
Wieland, “you mu&longs;t make ha&longs;te, for Pleyel informed
me of his intention to &longs;et out this evening
or to-morrow on a long journey.”
No intelligence was le&longs;s expected or le&longs;s welcome
than this. I had thrown my&longs;elf in a window
&longs;eat; but now, &longs;tarting on my feet, I exclaimed,
“Good heavens! what is it you &longs;ay? a journey?
whither? when?”
“I cannot &longs;ay whither. It is a &longs;udden re&longs;olution
I believe. I did not hear of it till this morning. He
promi&longs;es to write to me as &longs;oon as he is &longs;ettled.”
I needed no further information as to the cau&longs;e
and i&longs;&longs;ue of this journey. The &longs;cheme of happiness
to which he had devoted his thoughts was
bla&longs;ted by the di&longs;covery of la&longs;t night. My preference
of another, and my unworthine&longs;s to be any
longer the object of his adoration, were evinced
by the &longs;ame act and in the &longs;ame moment. The
thought of utter de&longs;ertion, a de&longs;ertion originating
in &longs;uch a cau&longs;e, was the prelude to di&longs;traction.
That Pleyel &longs;hould abandon me forever, becau&longs;e
I was blind to his excellence, becau&longs;e I coveted
pollution, and wedded infamy, when, on the contrary,
my heart was the &longs;hrine of all purity, and
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beat only for his &longs;ake, was a de&longs;tiny which, as long
as my life was in my own hands, I would by no
means con&longs;ent to endure.
I remembered that this evil was &longs;till preventable;
that this fatal journey it was &longs;till in my power to
procra&longs;tinate, or, perhaps, to occa&longs;ion it to be laid
a&longs;ide. There were no impediments to a vi&longs;it: I
only dreaded left the interview &longs;hould be too long
delayed. My brother befriended my impatience,
and readily con&longs;ented to furni&longs;h me with a chai&longs;e
and &longs;ervant to attend me. My purpo&longs;e was to go
immediately to Pleyel's farm, where his engagements
u&longs;ually detained him during the day.
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CHAPTER XII.
[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]
My way lay through the city. I had &longs;carcely
entered it when I was &longs;eized with a general sensation
of &longs;ickne&longs;s. Every object grew dim and &longs;wam
before my &longs;ight. It was with difficulty I prevented
my&longs;elf from &longs;inking to the bottom of the carriage.
I ordered my&longs;elf to be carried to Mrs. Baynton's,
in hope that an interval of repo&longs;e would invigorate
and refre&longs;h me. My di&longs;tracted thoughts would
allow me but little re&longs;t. Growing &longs;omewhat better
in the afternoon, I re&longs;umed my journey.
My contemplations were limited to a few objects.
I regarded my &longs;ucce&longs;s, in the purpo&longs;e which I had
in view, as con&longs;iderably doubtful. I depended, in
&longs;ome degree, on the &longs;ugge&longs;tions of the moment,
and on the materials which Pleyel him&longs;elf &longs;hould
furni&longs;h me. When I reflected on the nature of
the accu&longs;ation, I burned with di&longs;dain. Would not
truth, and the con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s of innocence, render
me triumphant? Should I not ca&longs;t from me, with
irre&longs;i&longs;tible force, &longs;uch atrocious imputations?
What an entire and mournful change has been
effected in a few hours! The gulf that &longs;eparates
man from infects is not wider than that which fevers
the polluted from the cha&longs;te among women.
Ye&longs;terday and to-day I am the &longs;ame. There is a
degree of depravity to which it is impo&longs;&longs;ible for me
to &longs;ink; yet, in the apprehen&longs;ion of another, my
ancient and intimate a&longs;&longs;ociate, the perpetual witness
of my actions, and partaker of my thoughts,
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I had cea&longs;ed to be the &longs;ame. My integrity was tarnished
and withered in his eyes. I was the colleague
of a murderer, and the paramour of a thief!
His opinion was not de&longs;titute of evidence: yet
what proofs could rea&longs;onably avail to e&longs;tabli&longs;h an
opinion like this? If the &longs;entiments corre&longs;ponded
not with the voice that was heard, the evidence
was deficient; but this want of corre&longs;pondence
would have been &longs;uppo&longs;ed by me if I had been
the auditor and Pleyel the criminal. But mimicry
might &longs;till more plau&longs;ibly have been employed to
explain the &longs;cene. Alas! it is the fate of Clara
Wieland to fall into the hands of a precipitate and
inexorable judge.
But what, O man of mi&longs;chief! is the tendency
of thy thoughts? Fru&longs;trated in thy fir&longs;t de&longs;ign,
thou wilt not forego the immolation of thy victim.
To exterminate my reputation was all that remained
to thee, and this my guardian has permitted.
To di&longs;po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s Pleyel of this prejudice may be impossible;
but if that be effected, it cannot be supposed
that thy wiles are exhau&longs;ted; thy cunning
will di&longs;cover innumerable avenues to the accomplishment
of thy malignant purpo&longs;e.
Why &longs;hould I enter the li&longs;ts again&longs;t thee? Would
to heaven I could di&longs;arm thy vengeance by my deprecations!
When I think of all the re&longs;ources
with which nature and education have &longs;upplied
thee; that thy form is a combination of &longs;teely fibres
and organs of exqui&longs;ite ductility and boundle&longs;s compass,
actuated by an intelligence gifted with infinite
endowments, and comprehending all knowledge,
I perceive that my doom is fixed. What ob&longs;tacle
will be able to divert thy zeal or repel thy efforts?
That being who has hitherto protected me has
borne te&longs;timony to the formidablene&longs;s of thy
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attempts, &longs;ince nothing le&longs;s than &longs;upernatural interference
could check thy career.
Mu&longs;ing on the&longs;e thoughts, I arrived, towards the
clo&longs;e of the day, at Pleyel's hou&longs;e. A month before,
I had traver&longs;ed the &longs;ame path; but how different
were my &longs;en&longs;ations! Now I was &longs;eeking
the pre&longs;ence of one who regarded me as the mo&longs;t
degenerate of human kind. I was to plead the
cau&longs;e of my innocence, again&longs;t witne&longs;&longs;es the mo&longs;t
explicit and unerring, of tho&longs;e which &longs;upport the
fabric of human knowledge. The nearer I approached
the cri&longs;is, the more did my confidence decay.
When the chai&longs;e &longs;topped at the door, my
&longs;trength refu&longs;ed to &longs;upport me, and I threw my&longs;elf
into the arms of an ancient female dome&longs;tic. I
had not courage to inquire whether her ma&longs;ter was
at home. I was tormented with fears that the projected
journey was already undertaken. The&longs;e
fears were removed, by her a&longs;king me whether &longs;he
&longs;hould call her young ma&longs;ter, who had ju&longs;t gone
into his own room. I was &longs;omewhat revived by
this intelligence, and re&longs;olved immediately to &longs;eek
him there.
In my confu&longs;ion of mind, I neglected to knock
at the door, but entered his apartment without
previous notice. This abruptne&longs;s was altogether
involuntary. Ab&longs;orbed in reflections of &longs;uch unspeakable
moment, I had no lei&longs;ure to heed the
niceties of punctilio. I di&longs;covered him &longs;tanding
with his back towards the entrance. A &longs;mall trunk,
with its lid rai&longs;ed, was before him, in which it
&longs;eemed as if he had been bu&longs;y in packing his clothes.
The moment of my entrance, he was employed in
gazing at &longs;omething which he held in his hand.
I imagined that I fully comprehended this &longs;cene.
The image which he held before him, and by which
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his attention was &longs;o deeply engaged, I doubted not
to be my own. The&longs;e preparations for his journey,
the cau&longs;e to which it was to be imputed, the
hopele&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s of &longs;ucce&longs;s in the undertaking on which
I had entered, ru&longs;hed at once upon my feelings, and
di&longs;&longs;olved me into a flood of tears.
Startled by this &longs;ound, he dropped the lid of the
trunk and turned. The &longs;olemn &longs;adne&longs;s that previously
over&longs;pread his countenance, gave &longs;udden
way to an attitude and look of the mo&longs;t vehement
a&longs;toni&longs;hment. Perceiving me unable to uphold myself,
he &longs;tepped towards me without &longs;peaking, and
&longs;upported me by his arm. The kindne&longs;s of this
action called forth a new effu&longs;ion from my eyes.
Weeping was a &longs;olace to which, at that time, I had
not grown familiar, and which, therefore, was peculiarly
delicious. Indignation was no longer to
be read in the features of my friend. They were
pregnant with a mixture of wonder and pity.
Their expre&longs;&longs;ion was ea&longs;ily interpreted. This vi&longs;it,
and the&longs;e tears, were tokens of my penitence. The
wretch whom he had &longs;tigmatized as incurably and
obdurately wicked, now &longs;hewed her&longs;elf &longs;u&longs;ceptible
of remor&longs;e, and had come to confe&longs;s her guilt.
This per&longs;ua&longs;ion had no tendency to comfort
me: It only &longs;hewed me, with new evidence, the
difficulty of the ta&longs;k which I had a&longs;&longs;igned my&longs;elf.
We were mutually &longs;ilent. I had le&longs;s power and
le&longs;s inclination than ever to &longs;peak. I extricated
my&longs;elf from his hold, and threw my&longs;elf on a &longs;ofa.
He placed him&longs;elf by my &longs;ide, and appeared to wait
with impatience and anxiety for &longs;ome beginning of
the conver&longs;ation. What could I &longs;ay? It my mind
had &longs;ugge&longs;ted any thing &longs;uitable to the occa&longs;ion, my
utterance was &longs;uffocated by tears.
Frequently he attempted to &longs;peak, but &longs;eemed
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deterred by &longs;ome degree of uncertainty as to the true
nature of the &longs;cene. At length, in faltering accents
he &longs;poke:
“My friend! would to heaven I were &longs;till permitted
to call you by that name. The image that
I once adored exi&longs;ted only in my fancy; but though
I cannot hope to &longs;ee it realized, you may not be
totally in&longs;en&longs;ible to the horrors of that gulf into
which you are about to plunge. What heart is
forever exempt from the goadings of compunction
and the influx of laudable propen&longs;ities?
“I thought you accompli&longs;hed and wi&longs;e beyond
the re&longs;t of women. Not a &longs;entiment you uttered,
not a look you a&longs;&longs;umed, that were not, in my apprehension,
sraught with the &longs;ublimities of rectitude
and the illuminations of genius. Deceit has
&longs;ome bounds. Your education could not be without
influence. A vigorous under&longs;tanding cannot be utterly
devoid of virtue; but you could not counterfeit
the powers of invention and rea&longs;oning. I was
ra&longs;h in my invectives. I will not, but with life,
relinqui&longs;h all hopes of you. I will &longs;hut out every
proof that would tell me that your heart is incura—
bly di&longs;ea&longs;ed.
“You come to re&longs;tore me once more to happiness;
to convince me that you have torn her ma&longs;k
from vice, and feel nothing but abhorrence for the
part you have hitherto acted.”
At the&longs;e words my equanimity for&longs;ook me. For
a moment I forgot the evidence from which Pleyel's
opinions were derived, the benevolence of his remonstrances,
and the grief which his accents bespoke;
I was filled with indignation and horror at
charges &longs;o black; I &longs;hrunk back and darted at him
a look of di&longs;dain and anger. My pa&longs;&longs;ion &longs;upplied
me with words.
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“What dete&longs;table infatuation was it that led me
hither! Why do I patiently endure the&longs;e horrible
in&longs;ults! My offences exi&longs;t only in your own distempered
imagination: you are leagued with the
traitor who a&longs;&longs;ailed my life: you have vowed the
de&longs;truction of my peace and honor. I de&longs;erve infamy
for li&longs;tening to calumnies &longs;o ba&longs;e!”
The&longs;e words were heard by Pleyel without visible
re&longs;entment. His countenance relap&longs;ed into its
former gloom; but he did not even look at me.
The ideas which had given place to my angry
emotions returned, and once more melted me into
tears. “O!” I exclaimed, in a voice broken by
&longs;obs, “what a ta&longs;k is mine! Compelled to hear-ken
to charges which I feel to be fal&longs;e, but which
I know to be believed by him that utters them;
believed too not without evidence, which, though
fallacious, is not unplau&longs;ible.
“I came hither not to confe&longs;s, but to vindicate.
I know the &longs;ource of your opinions. Wieland has
informed me on what your &longs;u&longs;picions are built.
The&longs;e &longs;u&longs;picions are fo&longs;tered by you as certainties;
the tenor of my life, of all my conver&longs;ations and
letters, affords me no &longs;ecurity; every &longs;entiment that
my tongue and my pen have uttered, bear te&longs;timony
to the rectitude of my mind; but this te&longs;timony is
rejected. I am condemned as brutally profligate: I
am cla&longs;&longs;ed with the &longs;tupidly and &longs;ordidly wicked.
“And where are the proofs that mu&longs;t ju&longs;tify &longs;o
foul and &longs;o improbable an accu&longs;ation? You have
overheard a midnight conference. Voices have saluted
your ear, in which you imagine your&longs;elf to
have recognized mine, and that of a detected villain.
The &longs;entiments expre&longs;&longs;ed were not allowed
to outweigh the ca&longs;ual or concerted re&longs;emblance of
voice. Sentiments the rever&longs;e of all tho&longs;e who&longs;e
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influence my former life had atte&longs;ted, denoting a
mind polluted by grovelling vices, and entering into
compact with that of a thief and a murderer. The
nature of the&longs;e &longs;entiments did not enable you to
detect the cheat, did not &longs;ugge&longs;t to you the possibility
that my voice had been
counterfeited by another.
“You were precipitate and prone to condemn.
In&longs;tead of ru&longs;hing on the impo&longs;tors, and comparing
the evidence of &longs;ight with that of hearing, you
&longs;tood aloof, or you fled. My innocence would
not now have &longs;tood in need of vindication, if this
conduct had been pur&longs;ued. That you did not pursue
it, your pre&longs;ent thoughts inconte&longs;tibly prove.
Yet this conduct might &longs;urely have been expected
from Pleyel. That he would not ha&longs;tily impute
the blacke&longs;t of crimes, that he would not couple
my name with infamy, and cover me with ruin for
inadequate or &longs;light rea&longs;ons, might rea&longs;onably have
been expected.” The &longs;obs which convul&longs;ed my
bo&longs;om would not &longs;uffer me to proceed.
Pleyel was for a moment affected. He looked at
me with &longs;ome expre&longs;&longs;ion of doubt; but this quickly
gave place to a mournful &longs;olemnity. He fixed his
eyes on the floor as in reverie, and &longs;poke:
“Two hours hence I am gone. Shall I carry
away with me the &longs;orrow that is now my gue&longs;t?
or &longs;hall that &longs;orrow be accumulated tenfold? What
is &longs;he that is now before me? Shall every hour
&longs;upply me with new proofs of a wickedne&longs;s beyond
example? Already I deem her the mo&longs;t abandoned
and dete&longs;table of human creatures. Her coming
and her tears imparted a gleam of hope, but that
gleam has vani&longs;hed.”
He now fixed his eyes upon me, and every
mu&longs;cle in his face trembled. His tone was hollow
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and terrible—“Thou knowe&longs;t that I was a witne&longs;s
of your interview, yet thou come&longs;t hither to upbraid
me for inju&longs;tice! Thou can&longs;t look me in
the face and &longs;ay that I am deceived!—An inscrutable
providence has fa&longs;hioned thee for &longs;ome end.
Thou wilt live, no doubt, to fulfil the purpo&longs;es
of thy maker, if he repent not of his workmanship,
and &longs;end not his vengeance to exterminate
thee, ere the mea&longs;ure of thy days be full. Surely
nothing in the &longs;hape of man can vie with thee!
“But I thought I had &longs;tifled this fury. I am
not con&longs;tituted thy judge. My office is to pity and
amend, and not to puni&longs;h and revile. I deemed myself
exempt from all tempe&longs;tuous pa&longs;&longs;ions. I had
almo&longs;t per&longs;uaded my&longs;elf to weep over thy fall; but
I am frail as du&longs;t, and mutable as water; I am
calm, I am compa&longs;&longs;ionate only in thy ab&longs;ence.—
Make this hou&longs;e, this room, thy abode as long as
thou wilt, but forgive me if I prefer &longs;olitude for the
&longs;hort time during which I &longs;hall &longs;tay.” Saying this,
he motioned as if to leave the apartment.
The &longs;tormy pa&longs;&longs;ions of this man affected me by
&longs;ympathy. I cea&longs;ed to weep. I was motionle&longs;s
and &longs;peechle&longs;s with agony. I &longs;at with my hands
cla&longs;ped, mutely gazing after him as he withdrew.
I de&longs;ired to detain him, but was unable to make
any effort for that purpo&longs;e, till he had pa&longs;&longs;ed out
of the room. I then uttered an involuntary and
piercing cry—“Pleyel! Art thou gone? Gone
forever?”
At this &longs;ummons he ha&longs;tily returned. He beheld
me wild, pale, ga&longs;ping for breath, and my head already
&longs;inking on my bo&longs;om. A painful dizzine&longs;s
&longs;eized me, and I fainted away.
When I recovered, I found my&longs;elf &longs;tretched on
a bed in the outer apartment, and Pleyel, with two
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female &longs;ervants &longs;tanding be&longs;ide it. All the fury and
&longs;corn which the countenance of the former lately
expre&longs;&longs;ed, had now di&longs;appeared, and was &longs;ucceded
by the mo&longs;t tender anxiety. As &longs;oon as he perceived
that my &longs;en&longs;es were returned to me, he cla&longs;ped
his hands, and exclaimed, “God be thanked! you
are once more alive. I had almo&longs;t de&longs;paired of
your recovery. I fear I have been precipitate and
unju&longs;t. My &longs;en&longs;es mu&longs;t have been the victims of
&longs;ome inexplicable and momentary phrenzy. Forgive
me, I be&longs;eech you, forgive my reproaches. I
would purcha&longs;e conviction of your purity, at the
price of my exi&longs;tence here and hereafter.”
He once more, in a tone of the mo&longs;t &longs;ervent
tenderne&longs;s, be&longs;ought me to be compo&longs;ed, and then
left me to the care of the women.
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CHAPTER XIII.
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Here was wrought a &longs;urprizing change in my
friend. What was it that had &longs;haken conviction
&longs;o firm? Had any thing occurred during my fit,
adequate to produce &longs;o total an alteration? My
attendants informed me that he had not left my
apartment; that the unu&longs;ual duration of my fit, and
the failure, for a time, of all the means u&longs;ed for my
recovery, had filled him with grief and di&longs;may. Did
he regard the effect which his reproaches had produced
as a proof of my &longs;incerity?
In this &longs;tate of mind, I little regarded my languors
of body. I ro&longs;e and reque&longs;ted an interview with
him before my departure, on which I was re&longs;olved,
notwith&longs;tanding his earne&longs;t &longs;olicitation to &longs;pend the
night at his hou&longs;e. He complied with my reque&longs;t.
The tenderne&longs;s which he had lately betrayed, had
now di&longs;appeared, and he once more relap&longs;ed into a
chilling &longs;olemnity.
I told him that I was preparing to return to my
brother's; that I had come hither to vindicate my
innocence from the foul a&longs;per&longs;ions which he had
ca&longs;t upon it. My pride had not taken refuge in
&longs;ilence or di&longs;tance. I had not relied upon time, or
the &longs;ugge&longs;tions of his cooler thoughts, to consute his
charges. Con&longs;cious as I was that I was perfectly
guiltle&longs;s, and entertaining &longs;ome value for his good
opinion, I could not prevail upon my&longs;elf to believe
that my efforts to make my innocence manifest,
would be fruitle&longs;s. Adver&longs;e appearances might
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be numerous and &longs;pecious, but they were unquestionably
fal&longs;e. I was willing to believe him sincere,
that he made no charges which he him&longs;elf
did not believe; but the&longs;e charges were de&longs;titute of
truth. The grounds of his opinion were fallacious;
and I de&longs;ired an opportunity of detecting their fallacy.
I entreated him to be explicit, and to give
me a detail of what he had heard, and what he had
&longs;een.
At the&longs;e words, my companion's countenance
grew darker. He appeared to be &longs;truggling with
his rage. He opened his lips to &longs;peak, but his accents
died away ere they were formed. This conflict
la&longs;ted for &longs;ome minutes, but his fortitude was
finally &longs;ucce&longs;sful. He &longs;poke as follows:
“I would fain put an end to this hateful &longs;cene:
what I &longs;hall &longs;ay, will be breath idly and unprofitably
con&longs;umed. The cleare&longs;t narrative will add
nothing to your pre&longs;ent knowledge. You are acquainted
with the grounds of my opinion, and yet
you avow your&longs;elf innocent: Why then &longs;hould I
rehear&longs;e the&longs;e grounds? You are apprized of the
character of Carwin: Why then &longs;hould I enumerate
the di&longs;coveries which I have made re&longs;pecting
him? Yet, &longs;ince it is your reque&longs;t; &longs;ince, considering
the limitedne&longs;s of human faculties, &longs;ome error
may po&longs;&longs;ibly lurk in tho&longs;e appearances which I
have witne&longs;&longs;ed, I will briefly relate what I know.
“Need I dwell upon the impre&longs;&longs;ions which your
conver&longs;ation and deportment originally made upon
me? We parted in childhood; but our intercour&longs;e,
by letter, was copious and uninterrupted. How
fondly did I anticipate a meeting with one whom
her letters had previou&longs;ly taught me to con&longs;ider as
the fir&longs;t of women, and how fully realized were
the expectations that I had formed!
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“Here, &longs;aid I, is a being, after whom &longs;ages
may model their tran&longs;cendent intelligence, and
painters, their ideal beauty. Here is exemplified,
that union between intellect and form, which has
hitherto exi&longs;ted only in the conceptions of the poet.
I have watched your eyes; my attention has hung
upon your lips. I have que&longs;tioned whether the
enchantments of your voice were more con&longs;picuous
in the intricacies of melody, or the empha&longs;is of
rhetoric. I have marked the tran&longs;itions of your
di&longs;cour&longs;e, the felicities of your expre&longs;&longs;ion, your
refined argumentation, and glowing imagery; and
been forced to acknowledge, that all delights were
meagre and contemptible, compared with tho&longs;e connected
with the audience and &longs;ight of you. I have
contemplated your principles, and been a&longs;toni&longs;hed at
the &longs;olidity of their foundation, and the perfection
of their &longs;tructure. I have traced you to your home.
I have viewed you in relation to your &longs;ervants, to
your family, to your neighbours, and to the world.
I have &longs;een by what &longs;kilful arrangements you facilitate
the performance of the mo&longs;t arduous and complicated
duties; what daily acce&longs;&longs;ions of &longs;trength
your judicious di&longs;cipline be&longs;towed upon your memory;
what correctne&longs;s and abundance of knowledge
was daily experienced by your unwearied application
to books, and to writing. If &longs;he that
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;es &longs;o much in the bloom of youth, will go
on accumulating her &longs;tores, what, &longs;aid I, is the
picture &longs;he will di&longs;play at a mature age?
“You know not the accuracy of my ob&longs;ervation.
I was de&longs;irous that others &longs;hould profit by an example
&longs;o rare. I therefore noted down, in writing,
every particular of your conduct. I was anxious
to benefit by an opportunity &longs;o &longs;eldom afforded us.
I laboured not to omit the &longs;lighte&longs;t &longs;hade, or the
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mo&longs;t petty line in your portrait. Here there was
no other ta&longs;k incumbent on me but to copy; there
was no need to exaggerate or overlook, in order
to produce a more unexceptionable pattern. Here
was a combination of harmonies and graces, incapable
of diminution or acce&longs;lion without injury to
its completene&longs;s.
“I found no end and no bounds to my ta&longs;k. No
di&longs;play of a &longs;cene like this could be chargeable with
redundancy or &longs;uperfluity. Even the colour of a
&longs;hoe, the knot of a ribband, or your attitude in
plucking a ro&longs;e, were of moment to be recorded.
Even the arrangements of your breakfa&longs;t-table and
your toilet have been amply di&longs;played.
“I know that mankind are more ea&longs;ily enticed to
virtue by example than by precept. I know that
the ab&longs;olutene&longs;s of a model, when &longs;upplied by invention,
dimini&longs;hes its &longs;alutary influence, &longs;ince it is
u&longs;ele&longs;s, we think, to &longs;trive after that which we know
to be beyond our reach. But the picture which I
drew was not a phantom; as a model, it was devoid
of imperfection; and to a&longs;pire to that height
which had been really attained, was by no means
unrea&longs;onable. I had another and more intere&longs;ting
object in view. One exi&longs;ted who claimed all my
tenderne&longs;s. Here, in all its parts, was a model
worthy of affiduous &longs;tudy, and indefatigable imitation.
I called upon her, as &longs;he wi&longs;hed to &longs;ecure and
enhance my e&longs;teem, to mould her thoughts, her
words, her countenance, her actions, by this pattern.
“The ta&longs;k was exuberant of plea&longs;ure, and I
was deeply engaged in it, when an imp of mi&longs;chief
was let loo&longs;e in the form of Carwin. I admired his
powers and accompli&longs;hments. I did not wonder
that they were admired by you. On the rectitude
of your judgment, however, I relied to keep this
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admiration within di&longs;creet and &longs;crupulous bounds.
I a&longs;&longs;ured my&longs;elf, that the &longs;trangene&longs;s of his deportment,
and the ob&longs;curity of his life, would teach you
caution. Of all errors, my knowledge of your
character informed me that this was lea&longs;t likely to
be&longs;all you.
“You were powerfully affected by his fir&longs;t appearance;
you were bewitched by his countenance
and his tones; your de&longs;cription was ardent and pathetic:
I li&longs;tened to you with &longs;ome emotions of surprize.
The portrait you drew in his ab&longs;ence, and
the inten&longs;ity with which you mu&longs;ed upon it, were
new and unexpected incidents. They be&longs;poke a
&longs;en&longs;ibility &longs;omewhat too vivid; but from which,
while &longs;ubjected to the guidance of an understanding
like yours, there was nothing to dread.
“A more direct intercour&longs;e took place between
you. I need not apologize for the &longs;olicitude which
I entertained for your &longs;afety. He that gifted me
with perception of excellence, compelled me to love
it. In the mid&longs;t of danger and pain, my contemplations
have ever been cheered by your image.
Every object in competition with you, was worthless
and trivial. No price was too great by which
your &longs;afety could be purcha&longs;ed. For that end, the
&longs;acrifice of ea&longs;e, of health, and even of life, would
cheerfully have been made by me. What wonder
then, that I &longs;crutinized the &longs;entiments and deportment
of this man with cea&longs;ele&longs;s vigilance; that I
watched your words and your looks when he was
pre&longs;ent; and that I extracted cau&longs;e for the deepe&longs;t
inquietudes, from every token which you gave of
having put your happine&longs;s into this man's keeping?
“I was cautious in deciding. I recalled the various
conver&longs;ations in which the topics of love and
marriage had been di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ed. As a woman, young,
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beautiful, and independent, it behoved you to have
fortified your mind with ju&longs;t principles on this subject.
Your principles were eminently ju&longs;t. Had
not their rectitude and their firmne&longs;s been atte&longs;ted
by your treatment of that &longs;pecious &longs;educer Dashwood?
The&longs;e principles, I was prone to believe,
exempted you from danger in this new &longs;tate of
things. I was not the la&longs;t to pay my homage to the
unrivalled capacity, in&longs;inuation, and eloquence of
this man. I have di&longs;gui&longs;ed, but could never &longs;tifle
the conviction, that his eyes and voice had a witchcraft
in them, which rendered him truly formidable:
but I reflected on the ambiguous expre&longs;&longs;ion of his
countenance—an ambiguity which you were the
fir&longs;t to remark; on the cloud which ob&longs;cured his
character; and on the &longs;u&longs;picious nature of that concealment
which he &longs;tudied; and concluded you to
be &longs;afe. I denied the obvious con&longs;truction to appearances.
I referred your conduct to &longs;ome principle
which had not been hitherto di&longs;clo&longs;ed, but
which was reconcileable with tho&longs;e already known.
“I was not &longs;uffered to remain long in this suspence.
One evening, you may recollect, I came
to your hou&longs;e, where it was my purpo&longs;e, as u&longs;ual,
to lodge, &longs;omewhat earlier than ordinary. I &longs;pied
a light in your chamber as I approached from the
out&longs;ide, and on inquiring of Judith, was informed
that you were writing. As your kin&longs;man and
friend, and fellow-lodger, I thought I had a right to
be familiar. You were in your chamber, but your
employment and the time were &longs;uch as to make it
no infraction of decorum to follow you thither.
The &longs;pirit of mi&longs;chievous gaiety po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed me. I
proceeded on tiptoe. You did not perceive my entrance;
and I advanced &longs;oftly till I was able to
overlook your &longs;houlder.
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“I had gone thus far in error, and had no power
to recede. How cautiou&longs;ly &longs;hould we guard again&longs;t
the fir&longs;t inroads of temptation! I knew that to pry
into your papers was criminal; but I reflected that
no &longs;entiment of yours was of a nature which made
it your intere&longs;t to conceal it. You wrote much
more than you permitted your friends to peru&longs;e.
My curio&longs;ity was &longs;trong, and I had only to throw
a glance upon the paper, to &longs;ecure its gratification.
I &longs;hould never have deliberately committed an act
like this. The &longs;lighte&longs;t ob&longs;tacle would have repelled
me; but my eye glanced almo&longs;t spontaneously
upon the paper. I caught only parts of sentences;
but my eyes comprehended more at a glance,
becau&longs;e the characters were &longs;hort-hand. I lighted
on the words &longs;ummer-hou&longs;e, midnight, and made
out a pa&longs;&longs;age which &longs;poke of the propriety and of
the effects to be expected from another interview.
All this pa&longs;&longs;ed in le&longs;s than a moment. I then
checked my&longs;elf, and made my&longs;elf known to you,
by a tap upon your &longs;houlder.
“I could pardon and account for &longs;ome trifling
alarm; but your trepidation and blu&longs;hes were excessive.
You hurried the paper out of &longs;ight, and
&longs;eemed too anxious to di&longs;cover whether I knew the
contents to allow your&longs;elf to make any inquiries. I
wondered at the&longs;e appearances of con&longs;ternation, but
did not rea&longs;on on them until I had retired. When
alone, the&longs;e incidents &longs;ugge&longs;ted them&longs;elves to my
reflections a new.
“To what &longs;cene, or what interview, I a&longs;ked,
did you allude? Your di&longs;appearance on a former
evening, my tracing you to the rece&longs;s in the bank,
your &longs;ilence on my fir&longs;t and &longs;econd call, your vague
an&longs;wers and invincible embarra&longs;&longs;ment, when you,
at length, a&longs;cended the hill, I recollected with new
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&longs;urprize. Could this be the &longs;ummer-hou&longs;e alluded
to? A certain timidity and con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s had generally
attended you, when this incident and this recess
had been the &longs;ubjects of conver&longs;ation. Nay,
I imagined that the la&longs;t time that adventure was
mentioned, which happened in the pre&longs;ence of Carwin,
the countenance of the latter betrayed &longs;ome
emotion. Could the interview have been with
him?
“This was an idea calculated to rou&longs;e every
faculty to contemplation. An interview at that
hour, in this dark&longs;ome retreat, with a man of this
my&longs;terious but formidable character; a clande&longs;tine
interview, and one which you afterwards endeavoured
with &longs;o much &longs;olicitude to conceal! It was
a fearful and portentous occurrence. I could not
mea&longs;ure his power, or fathom his de&longs;igns. Had he
rifled from you the &longs;ecret of your love, and reconciled
you to concealment and nocturnal meetings?
I &longs;carcely ever &longs;pent a night of more inquietude.
“I knew not how to act. The a&longs;certainment
of this man's character and views &longs;eemed to be,
in the fir&longs;t place, nece&longs;&longs;ary. Had he openly preferred
his &longs;uit to you, we &longs;hould have been impowered
to make direct inquiries; but &longs;ince he had
cho&longs;en this ob&longs;cure path, it &longs;eemed rea&longs;onable to
infer that his character was exceptionable. It, at
lea&longs;t, &longs;ubjected us to the nece&longs;&longs;ity of re&longs;orting to
other means of information. Yet the improbability
that you &longs;hould commit a deed of &longs;uch rashness,
made me reflect anew upon the in&longs;ufficiency
of tho&longs;e grounds on which my &longs;u&longs;picions had been
built, and almo&longs;t to condemn my&longs;elf for harbouring
them.
“Though it was mere conjecture that the interview
&longs;poken of had taken place with Carwin,
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yet two ideas occurred to involve me in the mo&longs;t
painful doubts. This man's rea&longs;onings might be &longs;o
&longs;pecious, and his artifices &longs;o profound, that, aided
by the pa&longs;&longs;ion which you had conceived for him, he
had finally &longs;ucceeded; or his &longs;ituation might be &longs;uch
as to ju&longs;tify the &longs;ecrecy which you maintained. In
neither ca&longs;e did my wilde&longs;t reveries &longs;ugge&longs;t to me,
that your honor had been forfeited.
“I could not talk with you on this &longs;ubject. If
the imputation was fal&longs;e, its atrociou&longs;ne&longs;s would
have ju&longs;tly drawn upon me your re&longs;entment, and I
mu&longs;t have explained by what facts it had been suggested.
If it were true, no benefit would follow
from the mention of it. You had cho&longs;en to conceal
it for &longs;ome rea&longs;ons, and whether the&longs;e rea&longs;ons
were true or fal&longs;e, it was proper to di&longs;cover and
remove them in the fir&longs;t place. Finally, I acquiesced
in the lea&longs;t painful &longs;uppo&longs;ition, trammelled as
it was with perplexities, that Carwin was upright,
and that, if the rea&longs;ons of your &longs;ilence were known
they would be found to be ju&longs;t.
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CHAPTER XIV.
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“Three days have elap&longs;ed &longs;ince this occurrence.
I have been haunted by perpetual inquietude.
To bring my&longs;elf to regard Carwin without
terror, and to acquie&longs;ce in the belief of your &longs;afety,
was impo&longs;&longs;ible. Yet to put an end to my doubts,
&longs;eemed to be impracticable. If &longs;ome light could
be reflected on the actual &longs;ituation of this man, a
direct path would pre&longs;ent it&longs;elf. If he were, contrary
to the tenor of his conver&longs;ation, cunning and
malignant, to apprize you of this, would be to
place you in &longs;ecurity. If he were merely unfortunate
and innocent, mo&longs;t readily would I e&longs;pou&longs;e
his cau&longs;e; and if his intentions were upright with
regard to you, mo&longs;t eagerly would I &longs;anctify your
choice by my approbation.
“It would be vain to call upon Carwin for an
avowal of his deeds. It was better to know nothing,
than to be deceived by an artful tale. What
he was unwilling to communicate, and this unwillingness
had been repeatedly manife&longs;ted, could never
be extorted from him. Importunity might be appeased,
or impo&longs;ture effected by fallacious representations.
To the re&longs;t of the world he was unknown.
I had often made him the &longs;ubject of discourse;
but a glimp&longs;e of his figure in the &longs;treet was
the &longs;um of their knowledge who knew mo&longs;t. None
had ever &longs;een him before, and received as new, the
information which my intercour&longs;e with him in
Valencia, and my pre&longs;ent intercour&longs;e, enabled me
to give.
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“Wieland was your brother. If he had really
made you the object of his court&longs;hip, was not a
brother authorized to interfere and demand from
him the confe&longs;&longs;ion of his views? Yet what were
the grounds on which I had reared this &longs;uppo&longs;ition?
Would they ju&longs;tify a mea&longs;ure like this? Surely
not.
“In the cour&longs;e of my re&longs;tle&longs;s meditations, it
occurred to me, at length, that my duty required
me to &longs;peak to you, to confe&longs;s the indecorum of
which I had been guilty, and to &longs;tate the reflections
to which it had led me. I was prompted by no
mean or &longs;elfi&longs;h views. The heart within my brea&longs;t
was not more precious than your &longs;afety: mo&longs;t
cheerfully would I have interpo&longs;ed my life between
you and danger. Would you cheri&longs;h re&longs;entment
at my conduct? When acquainted with the motive
which produced it, it would not only exempt
me from cen&longs;ure, but entitle me to gratitude.
“Ye&longs;terday had been &longs;elected for the rehear&longs;al
of the newly-imported tragedy. I promi&longs;ed to be
pre&longs;ent. The &longs;tate of my thoughts but little qualified
me for a performer or auditor in &longs;uch a &longs;cene;
but I reflected that, after it was fini&longs;hed, I &longs;hould
return home with you, and &longs;hould then enjoy an
opportunity of di&longs;cour&longs;ing with you fully on this
topic. My re&longs;olution was not formed without a
remnant of doubt, as to its propriety. When I left
this hou&longs;e to perform the vi&longs;it I had promi&longs;ed, my
mind was full of apprehen&longs;ion and de&longs;pondency.
The dubiou&longs;ne&longs;s of the event of our conver&longs;ation,
fear that my interference was too late to &longs;ecure your
peace, and the uncertainty to which hope gave birth,
whether I had not erred in believing you devoted
to this man, or, at lea&longs;t, in imagining that he had
obtained your con&longs;ent to midnight conferences,
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distracted me with contradictory opinions, and repugnant
emotions.
“I can a&longs;&longs;ign no rea&longs;on for calling at Mrs.
Baynton's. I had &longs;een her in the morning, and
knew her to be well. The concerted hour had
nearly arrived, and yet I turned up the &longs;treet which
leads to her hou&longs;e, and di&longs;mounted at her door. I
entered the parlour and threw my&longs;elf in a chair. I
&longs;aw and inquired for no one. My whole frame
was overpowered by dreary and comfortle&longs;s sensations.
One idea po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed me wholly; the inexpressible
importance of unveiling the de&longs;igns
and character of Carwin, and the utter improbability
that this ever would be effected. Some instinct
induced me to lay my hand upon a newspaper.
I had peru&longs;ed all the general intelligence it
contained in the morning, and at the &longs;ame &longs;pot.
The act was rather mechanical than voluntary.
“I threw a languid glance at the fir&longs;t column
that pre&longs;ented it&longs;elf. The fir&longs;t words which I read,
began with the offer of a reward of three hundred
guineas for the apprehen&longs;ion of a convict under
&longs;entence of death, who had e&longs;caped from Newgate
pri&longs;on in Dublin. Good heaven! how every fibre
of my frame tingled when I proceeded to read that
the name of the criminal was Francis Carwin!
“The de&longs;criptions of his per&longs;on and addre&longs;s
were minute. His &longs;tature, hair, complexion, the
extraordinary po&longs;ition and arrangement of his features,
his aukward and di&longs;proportionate form, his
ge&longs;ture and gait, corre&longs;ponded perfectly with tho&longs;e
of our my&longs;terious vi&longs;itant. He had been found guilty
in two indictments. One for the murder of the
Lady Jane Conway, and the other for a robbery committed
on the per&longs;on of the honorable Mr. Ludloe.
“I repeatedly peru&longs;ed this pa&longs;&longs;age. The ideas
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which flowed in upon my mind, affected me like
an in&longs;tant tran&longs;ition from death to life. The purpose
deare&longs;t to my heart was thus effected, at a time
and by means the lea&longs;t of all others within the
&longs;cope of my fore&longs;ight. But what purpo&longs;e? Carwin
was detected. Acts of the blacke&longs;t and mo&longs;t
&longs;ordid guilt had been committed by him. Here was
evidence which imparted to my under&longs;tanding the
mo&longs;t luminous certainty. The name, vi&longs;age, and
deportment, were the &longs;ame. Between the time of
his e&longs;cape, and his appearance among us, there
was a &longs;ufficient agreement. Such was the man
with whom I &longs;u&longs;pected you to maintain a clandestine
corre&longs;pondence. Should I not ha&longs;te to &longs;natch
you from the talons of this vulture? Should I &longs;ee
you ru&longs;hing to the verge of a dizzy precipice, and
not &longs;tretch forth a hand to pull you back? I had
no need to deliberate. I thru&longs;t the paper in my
pocket, and re&longs;olved to obtain an immediate conference
with you. For a time, no other image
made its way to my under&longs;tanding. At length, it
occurred to me, that though the information I possessed
was, in one &longs;en&longs;e, &longs;ufficient, yet if more
could be obtained, more was de&longs;irable. This passage
was copied from a Briti&longs;h paper; part of it
only, perhaps, was tran&longs;cribed. The printer was
in po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of the original.
“Towards his hou&longs;e I immediately turned my
hor&longs;e's head. He produced the paper, but I found
nothing more than had already been &longs;een. While
bu&longs;y in peru&longs;ing it, the printer &longs;tood by my &longs;ide.
He noticed the object of which I was in &longs;earch.
“Aye,” &longs;aid he, “that is a &longs;trange affair. I &longs;hould
never have met with it, had not Mr. Hallet &longs;ent
to me the paper, with a particular reque&longs;t to republish
that adverti&longs;ement.”
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“Mr. Hallet! What rea&longs;ons could he have for
making this reque&longs;t? Had the paper &longs;ent to him
been accompanied by any information re&longs;pecting
the convict? Had he per&longs;onal or extraordinary
rea&longs;ons for de&longs;iring its republication? This was
to be known only in one way. I &longs;peeded to his
hou&longs;e. In an&longs;wer to my interrogations, he told
me that Ludloe had formerly been in America, and
that during his re&longs;idence in this city, con&longs;iderable
intercour&longs;e had taken place between them. Hence
a confidence aro&longs;e, which has &longs;ince been kept alive
by occa&longs;ional letters. He had lately received a
letter from him, enclo&longs;ing the new&longs;paper from
which this extract had been made. He put in into
my hands, and pointed out the pa&longs;&longs;ages which related
to Carwin.
“Ludloe confirms the facts of his conviction
and e&longs;cape; and adds, that he had rea&longs;on to believe
him to have embarked for America. He de&longs;cribes
him in general terms, as the mo&longs;t incomprehensible
and formidable among men; as engaged in
&longs;chemes, rea&longs;onably &longs;u&longs;pected to be, in the highe&longs;t
degree, criminal, but &longs;uch as no human intelligence
is able to unravel: that his ends are pur&longs;ued by
means which leave it in doubt whether he be not in
league with &longs;ome infernal &longs;pirit: that his crimes
have hitherto been perpetrated with the aid of &longs;ome
unknown but de&longs;perate accomplices: that he wages
a perpetual war again&longs;t the happine&longs;s of mankind,
and &longs;ets his engines of de&longs;truction at work again&longs;t
every object that pre&longs;ents it&longs;elf.
“This is the &longs;ub&longs;tance of the letter. Hallet
expre&longs;&longs;ed &longs;ome &longs;urprize at the curio&longs;ity which was
manife&longs;ted by me on this occa&longs;ion. I was too much
ab&longs;orbed by the ideas &longs;ugge&longs;ted by this letter, to pay
attention to his remarks. I &longs;huddered with the
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apprehen&longs;ion of the evil to which our indi&longs;creet
familiarity with this man had probably expo&longs;ed us.
I burnt with impatience to &longs;ee you, and to do what
in me lay to avert the calamity which threatened
us. It was already five o'clock. Night was hastening,
and there was no time to be lo&longs;t. On
leaving Mr. Hallet's hou&longs;e, who &longs;hould meet me in
the &longs;treet, but Bertrand, the &longs;ervant whom I left in
Germany. His appearance and accoutrements bespoke
him to have ju&longs;t alighted from a toil&longs;ome and
long journey. I was not wholly without expectation
of &longs;eeing him about this time, but no one was
then more di&longs;tant from my thoughts. You know
what rea&longs;ons I have for anxiety re&longs;pecting &longs;cenes
with which this man was conver&longs;ant. Carwin was
for a moment forgotten. In an&longs;wer to my vehement
inquiries, Bertrand produced a copious packet. I
&longs;hall not at pre&longs;ent mention its contents, nor the
mea&longs;ures which they obliged me to adopt. I bestowed
a brief peru&longs;al on the&longs;e papers, and having
given &longs;ome directions to Bertrand, re&longs;umed my purpose
with regard to you. My hor&longs;e I was obliged
to re&longs;ign to my &longs;ervant, he being charged with a
commi&longs;&longs;ion that required &longs;peed. The clock had
&longs;truck ten, and Mettingen was five miles di&longs;tant.
I was to journey thither on foot. The&longs;e circumstances
only added to my expedition.
“As I pa&longs;&longs;ed &longs;wiftly along, I reviewed all the
incidents accompanying the appearance and deportment
of that man among us. Late events have
been inexplicable and my&longs;terious beyond any of
which I have either read or heard. The&longs;e events
were coeval with Carwin's introduction. I am
unable to explain their origin and mutual dependance;
but I do not, on that account, believe them
to have a &longs;upernatural original. Is not this man
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the agent? Some of them &longs;eem to be propitious;
but what &longs;hould I think of tho&longs;e threats of assassination
with which you were lately alarmed? Bloodshed
is the trade, and horror is the element of this
man. The proce&longs;s by which the &longs;ympathies of
nature are extingui&longs;hed in our hearts, by which
evil is made our good, and by which we are made
&longs;u&longs;ceptible of no activity but in the infliction, and
no joy but in the &longs;pectacle of woes, is an obvious
proce&longs;s. As to an alliance with evil geniu&longs;es, the
power and the malice of dæmons have been a thousand
times exemplified in human beings. There are
no devils but tho&longs;e which are begotten upon selfishness,
and reared by cunning.
“Now, indeed, the &longs;cene was changed. It was
not his &longs;ecret poniard that I dreaded. It was only
the &longs;ucce&longs;s of his efforts to make you a confederate
in your own de&longs;truction, to make your will the
in&longs;trument by which he might bereave you of
liberty and honor.
“I took, as u&longs;ual, the path through your brother's
ground. I ranged with celerity and &longs;ilence
along the bank. I approached the &longs;ence, which
divides Wieland's e&longs;tate from yours. The rece&longs;s
in the bank being near this line, it being nece&longs;&longs;ary
for me to pa&longs;s near it, my mind being tainted with
inveterate &longs;u&longs;picions concerning you; &longs;u&longs;picions
which were indebted for their &longs;trength to incidents
connected with this &longs;pot; what wonder that it &longs;eized
upon my thoughts!
“I leaped on the fence; but before I de&longs;cended
on the oppo&longs;ite &longs;ide, I pau&longs;ed to &longs;urvey the &longs;cene.
Leaves dropping with dew, and gli&longs;tening in the
moon's rays, with no moving object to mole&longs;t the
deep repo&longs;e, filled me with &longs;ecurity and hope. I
left the &longs;tation at length, and tended forward. You
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were probably at re&longs;t. How &longs;hould I communicate
without alarming you, the intelligence of my
arrival? An immediate interview was to be procured.
I could not bear to think that a minute
&longs;hould be lo&longs;t by remi&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s or he&longs;itation. Should
I knock at the door? or &longs;hould I &longs;tand under your
chamber windows, which I perceived to be open,
and awaken you by my calls?
“The&longs;e reflections employed me, as I pa&longs;&longs;ed
oppo&longs;ite to the &longs;ummer-hou&longs;e. I had &longs;carcely gone
by, when my ear caught a &longs;ound unu&longs;ual at this
time and place. It was almo&longs;t too &longs;aint and too
tran&longs;ient to allow me a di&longs;tinct perception of it. I
&longs;topped to li&longs;ten; pre&longs;ently it was heard again, and
now it was &longs;omewhat in a louder key. It was
laughter; and unque&longs;tionably produced by a female
voice. That voice was familiar to my &longs;en&longs;es. It
was yours.
“Whence it came, I was at fir&longs;t at a lo&longs;s to
conjecture; but this uncertainty vani&longs;hed when it
was heard the third time. I threw back my eyes
towards the rece&longs;s. Every other organ and limb
was u&longs;ele&longs;s to me. I did not rea&longs;on on the &longs;ubject.
I did not, in a direct manner, draw my conclu&longs;ions
from the hour, the place, the hilarity which this
&longs;ound betokened, and the circum&longs;tance of having a
companion, which it no le&longs;s inconte&longs;tably proved.
In an in&longs;tant, as it were, my heart was invaded
with cold, and the pul&longs;es of life at a &longs;tand.
“Why &longs;hould I go further? Why &longs;hould I
return? Should I not hurry to a di&longs;tance from a
&longs;ound, which, though formerly &longs;o &longs;weet and delectable,
was now more hideous than the &longs;hrieks of
owls?
“I had no time to yield to this impul&longs;e. The
thought of approaching and li&longs;tening occurred to
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me. I had no doubt of which I was con&longs;cious.
Yet my certainty was capable of increa&longs;e. I was
likewi&longs;e &longs;timulated by a &longs;entiment that partook of
rage. I was governed by an half-formed and tempestuous
re&longs;olution to break in upon your interview,
and &longs;trike you dead with my upbraiding.
“I approached with the utmo&longs;t caution. When
I reached the edge of the bank immediately above
the &longs;ummer-hou&longs;e, I thought I heard voices from
below, as bu&longs;y in conver&longs;ation. The &longs;teps in the
rock are clear of bu&longs;hy impediments. They allowed
me to de&longs;cend into a cavity be&longs;ide the building
without being detected. Thus to lie in wait
could only be ju&longs;tified by the momentou&longs;ne&longs;s of the
occa&longs;ion.”
Here Pleyel pau&longs;ed in his narrative, and fixed
his eyes upon me. Situated as I was, my horror
and a&longs;toni&longs;hment at this tale gave way to compassion
for the angui&longs;h which the countenance of my
friend betrayed. I reflected on his force of understanding.
I reflected on the powers of my enemy.
I could ea&longs;ily divine the &longs;ub&longs;tance of the conversation
that was overheard. Carwin had con&longs;tructed
his plot in a manner &longs;uited to the characters of tho&longs;e
whom he had &longs;elected for his victims. I &longs;aw that
the convictions of Pleyel were immutable. I forbore
to &longs;truggle again&longs;t the &longs;torm, becau&longs;e I &longs;aw
that all &longs;truggles would be fruitle&longs;s. I was calm;
but my calmne&longs;s was the torpor of de&longs;pair, and not
the tranquillity of fortitude. It was calmne&longs;s invincible
by any thing that his grief and his fury
could &longs;ugge&longs;t to Pleyel. He re&longs;umed—
“Woman! wilt thou hear me further? Shall I
go on to repeat the conver&longs;ation? Is it &longs;hame that
makes thee tongue-tied? Shall I go on? or art
thou &longs;atisfied with what has been already &longs;aid?”
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I bowed my head. “Go on,” &longs;aid I. “I make
not this reque&longs;t in the hope of undeceiving you. I
&longs;hall no longer contend with my own weakne&longs;s.
The &longs;torm is let loo&longs;e, and I &longs;hall peaceably &longs;ubmit
to be driven by its fury. But go on. This conference
will end only with affording me a clearer
fore&longs;ight of my de&longs;tiny; but that will be &longs;ome satisfaction,
and I will not part without it.”
Why, on hearing the&longs;e words, did Pleyel hesitate?
Did &longs;ome unlooked-for doubt in&longs;inuate it&longs;elf
into his mind? Was his belief &longs;uddenly &longs;haken by
my looks, or my words, or by &longs;ome newly recollected
circum&longs;tance? Whence&longs;oever it aro&longs;e, it
could not endure the te&longs;t of deliberation. In a few
minutes the flame of re&longs;entment was again lighted
up in his bo&longs;om. He proceeded with his accustomed
vehemence—
“I hate my&longs;elf for this folly. I can find no
apology for this tale. Yet I am irre&longs;i&longs;tibly impelled
to relate it. She that hears me is apprized
of every particular. I have only to repeat to her
her own words. She will li&longs;ten with a tranquil
air, and the &longs;pectacle of her obduracy will drive
me to &longs;ome de&longs;perate act. Why then &longs;hould I
per&longs;i&longs;t! yet per&longs;i&longs;t I mu&longs;t.”
Again he pau&longs;ed. “No,” &longs;aid he, “it is impossible
to repeat your avowals of love, your appeals
to former confe&longs;&longs;ions of your tenderne&longs;s, to
former deeds of di&longs;honor, to the circum&longs;tances
of the fir&longs;t interview that took place between you.
It was on that night when I traced you to this recess.
Thither had he enticed you, and there had
you ratified an unhallowed compact by admitting
him—
“Great God! Thou witne&longs;&longs;ed&longs;t the agonies
that tore my bo&longs;om at that moment! Thou
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witnessedst my efforts to repel the te&longs;timony of my
ears! It was in vain that you dwelt upon the confusion
which my unlooked-for &longs;ummons excited in
you; the tardine&longs;s with which a &longs;uitable excu&longs;e
occurred to you; your re&longs;entment that my impertinent
intru&longs;ion had put an end to that charming
interview: A di&longs;appointment for which you endeavoured
to compen&longs;ate your&longs;elf, by the frequency
and duration of &longs;ub&longs;equent meetings.
“In vain you dwelt upon incidents of which
you only could be con&longs;cious; incidents that occurred
on occa&longs;ions on which none be&longs;ide your
own family were witne&longs;&longs;es. In vain was your
di&longs;cour&longs;e characterized by peculiarities inimitable
of &longs;entiment and language. My conviction was
effected only by an accumulation of the &longs;ame tokens.
I yielded not but to evidence which took
away the power to withhold my faith.
“My &longs;ight was of no u&longs;e to me. Beneath &longs;o
thick an umbrage, the darkne&longs;s was inten&longs;e. Hearing
was the only avenue to information, which the
circum&longs;tances allowed to be open. I was couched
within three feet of you. Why &longs;hould I approach
nearer? I could not contend with your betrayer.
What could be the purpo&longs;e of a conte&longs;t? You
&longs;tood in no need of a protector. What could I
do, but retire from the &longs;pot overwhelmed with confusion
and di&longs;may? I &longs;ought my chamber, and endeavoured
to regain my compo&longs;ure. The door of
the hou&longs;e, which I found open, your &longs;ub&longs;equent
entrance, clo&longs;ing, and &longs;a&longs;tening it, and going into
your chamber, which had been thus long de&longs;erted,
were only confirmations of the truth.
“Why &longs;hould I paint the tempe&longs;tuous fluctuation
of my thoughts between grief and revenge, between
rage and de&longs;pair? Why &longs;hould I repeat my
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vows of eternal implacability and per&longs;ecution, and
the &longs;peedy recantation of the&longs;e vows?
“I have &longs;aid enough. You have di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed me
from a place in your e&longs;teem. What I think, and
what I feel, is of no importance in your eyes.
May the duty which I owe my&longs;elf enable me
to forget your exi&longs;tence. In a few minutes I go
hence. Be the maker of your fortune, and may
adver&longs;ity in&longs;truct you in that wi&longs;dom, which education
was unable to impart to you.”
Tho&longs;e were the la&longs;t words which Pleyel uttered.
He left the room, and my new emotions enabled
me to witne&longs;s his departure without any apparent
lo&longs;s of compo&longs;ure. As I &longs;at alone, I ruminated
on the&longs;e incidents. Nothing was more evident
than that I had taken an eternal leave of happine&longs;s.
Life was a worthle&longs;s thing, &longs;eparate from that good
which had now been wre&longs;ted from me; yet the sentimen:
that now po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed me had no tendency to
pal&longs;y my exertions, and overbear my &longs;trength. I
noticed that the light was declining, and perceived
the propriety of leaving this hou&longs;e. I placed myself
again in the chai&longs;e, and returned &longs;lowly towards
the city.
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CHAPTER XV.
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Before I reached the city it was du&longs;k. It was
my purpo&longs;e to &longs;pend the night at Mettingen. I
was not &longs;olicitous, as long as I was attended by a
faithful &longs;ervant, to be there at an early hour. My
exhau&longs;ted &longs;trength required me to take &longs;ome refreshment.
With this view, and in order to pay re&longs;pect
to one who&longs;e affection for me was truly maternal,
I &longs;topped at Mrs. Baynton's. She was ab&longs;ent from
home; but I had &longs;carcely entered the hou&longs;e when
one of her dome&longs;tics pre&longs;ented me a letter. I opened
and read as follows:
“To Clara Wieland,
“What &longs;hall I &longs;ay to extenuate the mi&longs;conduct
of la&longs;t night? It is my duty to repair it to the
utmo&longs;t of my power, but the only way in which
it can be repaired, you will not, I fear, be prevailed
on to adopt. It is by granting me an interview, at
your own hou&longs;e, at eleven o'clock this night. I
have no means of removing any fears that you may
entertain of my de&longs;igns, but my &longs;imple and &longs;olemn
declarations. The&longs;e, after what has pa&longs;&longs;ed between
us, you may deem unworthy of confidence. I
cannot help it. My folly and ra&longs;hne&longs;s has left me
no other re&longs;ource. I will be at your door by that
hour. If you chu&longs;e to admit me to a conference,
provided that conference has no witne&longs;&longs;es, I will disclose
to you particulars, the knowledge of which
is of the utmo&longs;t importance to your happine&longs;s.
Farewell.
CAR WIN.”
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What a letter was this! A man known to be
an a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in and robber; one capable of plotting
again&longs;t my life and my fame; detected lurking in my
chamber, and avowing de&longs;igns the mo&longs;t flagitious
and dreadful, now &longs;olicits me to grant him a midnight
interview! To admit him alone into my presence!
Could he make this reque&longs;t with the expectation
of my compliance? What had he &longs;een
in me, that could ju&longs;tify him in admitting &longs;o wild a
belief? Yet this reque&longs;t is preferred with the utmo&longs;t
gravity. It is not accompanied by an appearance
of uncommon earne&longs;tne&longs;s. Had the mi&longs;conduct
to which he alludes been a &longs;light incivility, and
the interview reque&longs;ted to take place in the mid&longs;t
of my friends, there would have been no extravagance
in the tenor of this letter; but, as it was, the
writer had &longs;urely been bere&longs;t of his rea&longs;on.
I peru&longs;ed this epi&longs;tle frequently. The reque&longs;t it
contained might be called audacious or &longs;tupid, if it
had been made by a different per&longs;on; but from
Carwin, who could not be unaware of the effect
which it mu&longs;t naturally produce, and of the manner
in which it would unavoidably be treated, it was
perfectly inexplicable. He mu&longs;t have counted on
the &longs;ucce&longs;s of &longs;ome plot, in order to extort my
a&longs;&longs;ent. None of tho&longs;e motives by which I am
u&longs;ually governed would ever have per&longs;uaded me
to meet any one of his &longs;ex, at the time and place
which he had pre&longs;cribed. Much le&longs;s would I consent
to a meeting with a man, tainted with the mo&longs;t
dete&longs;table crimes, and by who&longs;e arts my own &longs;afety
had been &longs;o imminently endangered, and my happiness
irretrievably de&longs;troyed. I &longs;huddered at the
idea that &longs;uch a meeting was po&longs;&longs;ible. I felt &longs;ome
reluctance to approach a &longs;pot which he &longs;till vi&longs;ited
and haunted.
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Such were the ideas which fir&longs;t &longs;ugge&longs;ted themselves
on the peru&longs;al of the letter. Meanwhile, I
re&longs;umed my journey. My thoughts &longs;till dwelt upon
the &longs;ame topic. Gradually from ruminating on
this epi&longs;tle, I reverted to my interview with Pleyel.
I recalled the particulars of the dialogue to which
he had been an auditor. My heart &longs;unk anew on
viewing the inextricable complexity of this deception,
and the inau&longs;picious concurrence of events,
which tended to confirm him in his error. When
he approached my chamber door, my terror kept
me mute. He put his ear, perhaps, to the crevice,
but it caught the &longs;ound of nothing human. Had I
called, or made any token that denoted &longs;ome one to
be within, words would have en&longs;ued; and as omnipresence
was impo&longs;&longs;ible, this di&longs;covery, and the artless
narrative of what had ju&longs;t pa&longs;&longs;ed, would have
&longs;aved me from his murderous invectives. He went
into his chamber, and after &longs;ome interval, I &longs;tole
acro&longs;s the entry and down the &longs;tairs, with inaudible
&longs;teps. Having &longs;ecured the outer doors, I returned
with le&longs;s circum&longs;pection. He heard me not when I
de&longs;cended; but my returning &longs;teps were ea&longs;ily distinguished.
Now he thought was the guilty interview
at an end. In what other way was it po&longs;&longs;ible
for him to con&longs;true the&longs;e &longs;ignals?
How fallacious and precipitate was my deci&longs;ion!
Carwin's plot owed its &longs;ucce&longs;s to a coincidence of
events &longs;carcely credible. The balance was &longs;wayed
from its equipoi&longs;e by a hair. Had I even begun
the conver&longs;ation with an account of what be&longs;el me
in my chamber, my previous interview with Wieland
would have taught him to &longs;u&longs;pect me of imposture;
yet, if I were di&longs;cour&longs;ing with this ruffian,
when Pleyel touched the lock of my chamber door,
and when he &longs;hut his own door with &longs;o much
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violence, how, he might a&longs;k, &longs;hould I be able to relate
the&longs;e incidents? Perhaps he had withheld the
knowledge of the&longs;e circum&longs;tances from my brother,
from whom, therefore, I could not obtain it, &longs;o that
my innocence would have thus been irre&longs;i&longs;tibly demonstrated.
The fir&longs;t impul&longs;e which flowed from the&longs;e ideas
was to return upon my &longs;teps, and demand once
more an interview; but he was gone: his parting
declarations were remembered.
Pleyel, I exclaimed, thou art gone for ever! Are
thy mi&longs;takes beyond the reach of detection? Am
I helple&longs;s in the mid&longs;t of this &longs;nare? The plotter
is at hand. He even &longs;peaks in the &longs;tyle of penitence.
He &longs;olicits an interview which he promi&longs;es
&longs;hall end in the di&longs;clo&longs;ure of &longs;omething momentous
to my happine&longs;s. What can he &longs;ay which will
avail to turn a&longs;ide this evil? But why &longs;hould his
remor&longs;e be feigned? I have done him no injury.
His wickedne&longs;s is fertile only of de&longs;pair; and the
billows of remor&longs;e will &longs;ome time overbear him.
Why may not this event have already taken place?
Why &longs;hould I refu&longs;e to &longs;ee him?
This idea was pre&longs;ent, as it were, for a moment.
I &longs;uddenly recoiled from it, con&longs;ounded at that
frenzy which could give even momentary harbour
to &longs;uch a &longs;cheme; yet pre&longs;ently it returned. A
length I even conceived it to de&longs;erve deliberation.
I que&longs;tioned whether it was not proper to admit, at
a lonely &longs;pot, in a &longs;acred hour, this man of tremendous
and in&longs;crutable attributes, this performer of
horrid deeds, and who&longs;e pre&longs;ence was predicted to
call down unheard-of and unutterable horrors.
What was it that &longs;wayed me? I &longs;elt my&longs;elf divested
of the power to will contrary to the motives
that determined me to &longs;eek his pre&longs;ence. My mind
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&longs;eemed to be &longs;plit into &longs;eparate parts, and the&longs;e parts
to have entered into &longs;urious and implacable contention.
The&longs;e tumults gradually &longs;ub&longs;ided. The
rea&longs;ons why I &longs;hould con&longs;ide in that interposition
which had hitherto defended me; in tho&longs;e
tokens of compunction which this letter contained;
in the efficacy of this interview to re&longs;tore its spotlessness
to my character, and bani&longs;h all illu&longs;ions
from the mind of my friend, continually acquired
new evidence and new &longs;trength.
What &longs;hould I fear in his pre&longs;ence? This was
unlike an artifice intended to betray me into his
hands. If it were an artifice, what purpo&longs;e would
it &longs;erve? The freedom of my mind was untouched,
and that freedom would de&longs;y the a&longs;&longs;aults of
blandi&longs;hments or magic. Force was I not able
to repel. On the former occa&longs;ion my courage,
it is true, had failed at the imminent approach of
danger; but then I had not enjoyed opportunities of
deliberation; I had fore&longs;een nothing; I was &longs;unk
into imbecility by my previous thoughts; I had
been the victim of recent di&longs;appointments and anticipated
ills: Witne&longs;s my infatuation in opening
the clo&longs;et in oppo&longs;ition to divine injunctions.
Now, perhaps, my courage was the offspring
of a no le&longs;s erring principle. Pleyel was for ever
lo&longs;t to me. I &longs;trove in vain to a&longs;&longs;ume his per&longs;on,
and &longs;uppre&longs;s my re&longs;entment; I &longs;trove in vain to believe
in the a&longs;&longs;uaging influence of time, to look
forward to the birth-day of new hopes, and the reexaltation
of that luminary, of who&longs;e effulgencies
I had &longs;o long and &longs;o liberally partaken.
What had I to &longs;uffer wor&longs;e than was already
inflicted?
Was not Carwin my &longs;oe? I owed my untimely
&longs;ate to his trea&longs;on. In&longs;tead of flying from his
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presence, ought I not to devote all my faculties to the
gaining of an interview, and compel him to repair
the ills of which he has been the author? Why
&longs;hould I &longs;uppo&longs;e him impregnable to argument?
Have I not rea&longs;on on my &longs;ide, and the power of
imparting conviction? Cannot he be made to &longs;ee
the ju&longs;tice of unravelling the maze in which Pleyel
is bewildered?
He may, at lea&longs;t, be acce&longs;&longs;ible to fear. Has he
nothing to fear from the rage of an injured woman?
But &longs;uppo&longs;e him inacce&longs;&longs;ible to &longs;uch inducements;
&longs;uppo&longs;e him to per&longs;i&longs;t in all his flagitious purposes;
are not the means of defence and re&longs;i&longs;tance
in my power?
In the progre&longs;s of &longs;uch thoughts, was the resolution
at la&longs;t formed. I hoped that the interview was
&longs;ought by him for a laudable end; but, be that as
it would, I tru&longs;ted that, by energy of rea&longs;oning or
of action, I &longs;hould render it au&longs;picious, or, at lea&longs;t,
harmle&longs;s.
Such a determination mu&longs;t unavoidably fluctuate.
The poet's chaos was no unapt emblem of the &longs;tate
of my mind. A torment was awakened in my
bo&longs;om, which I fore&longs;aw would end only when this
interview was pa&longs;t, and its con&longs;equences fully experienced.
Hence my impatience for the arrival
of the hour which had been pre&longs;cribed by Carwin.
Meanwhile, my meditations were tumultuou&longs;ly
active. New impediments to the execution of the
&longs;cheme were &longs;peedily &longs;ugge&longs;ted. I had apprized
Catharine of my intention to &longs;pend this and many
future nights with her. Her hu&longs;band was informed
of this arrangement, and had zealou&longs;ly approved
it. Eleven o'clock exceeded their hour of retiring.
What excu&longs;e &longs;hould I form for changing my plan?
Should I &longs;hew this letter to Wieland, and &longs;ubmit
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my&longs;elf to his direction? But I knew in what way
he would decide. He would &longs;ervently di&longs;&longs;uade me
from going. Nay, would he not do more? He
was apprized of the offences of Carwin, and of
the reward offered for his apprehen&longs;ion. Would
he not &longs;eize this opportunity of executing ju&longs;tice
on a criminal?
This idea was new. I was plunged once more
into doubt. Did not equity enjoin me thus to facilitate
his arre&longs;t? No. I di&longs;dained the office of
betrayer. Carwin was unapprized of his danger,
and his intentions were po&longs;&longs;ibly beneficent. Should
I &longs;tation guards about the hou&longs;e, and make an act,
intended perhaps for my benefit, in&longs;trumental to
his own de&longs;truction? Wieland might be ju&longs;tified
in thus employing the knowledge which I &longs;hould
impart, but I, by imparting it, &longs;hould pollute my&longs;elf
with more hateful crimes than tho&longs;e unde&longs;ervedly
imputed to me. This &longs;cheme, therefore, I unhesitatingly
rejected. The views with which I &longs;hould
return to my own hou&longs;e, it would therefore be necessary
to conceal. Yet &longs;ome pretext mu&longs;t be invented.
I had never been initiated into the trade
of lying. Yet what but fal&longs;hood was a deliberate
&longs;uppre&longs;&longs;ion of the truth? To deceive by &longs;ilence or
by words is the &longs;ame.
Yet what would a lie avail me? What pretext
would ju&longs;tify this change in my plan? Would it
not tend to confirm the imputations of Pleyel?
That I &longs;hould voluntarily return to an hou&longs;e in
which honor and life had &longs;o lately been endangered,
could be explained in no way favorable to my
integrity.
The&longs;e reflections, if they did not change, at lea&longs;t
&longs;u&longs;pended my deci&longs;ion. In this &longs;tate of uncertainty
I alighted at the hut. We gave this name to the
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hou&longs;e tenanted by the farmer and his &longs;ervants, and
which was &longs;ituated on the verge of my brother's
ground, and at a con&longs;iderable di&longs;tance from the mansion.
The path to the man&longs;ion was planted by a
double row of walnuts. Along this path I proceeded
alone. I entered the parlour, in which was
a light ju&longs;t expiring in the &longs;ocket. There was no
one in the room. I perceived by the clock that
&longs;tood again&longs;t the wall, that it was near eleven. The
latene&longs;s of the hour &longs;tartled me. What had become
of the family? They were u&longs;ually retired
an hour before this; but the unextingui&longs;hed taper,
and the unbarred door were indications that they
had not retired. I again returned to the hall, and
pa&longs;&longs;ed from one room to another, but &longs;till encountered
not a human being.
I imagined that, perhaps, the lap&longs;e of a few minutes
would explain the&longs;e appearances. Meanwhile
I reflected that the preconcerted hour had
arrived. Carwin was perhaps waiting my approach.
Should I immediately retire to my own hou&longs;e, no
one would be apprized of my proceeding. Nay,
the interview might pa&longs;s, and I be enabled to return
in half an hour. Hence no nece&longs;&longs;ity would ari&longs;e
for di&longs;&longs;imulation.
I was &longs;o far influenced by the&longs;e views that I ro&longs;e
to execute this de&longs;ign; but again the unu&longs;ual condition
of the hou&longs;e occurred to me, and &longs;ome vague
&longs;olicitude as to the condition of the family. I was
nearly certain that my brother had not retired; but
by what motives he could be induced to de&longs;ert his
hou&longs;e thus un&longs;ea&longs;onably, I could by no means
divine. Loui&longs;a Conway, at lea&longs;t, was at home, and
had, probably, retired to her chamber; perhaps &longs;he
was able to impart the information I wanted.
I went to her chamber, and found her a&longs;leep.
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She was delighted and &longs;urprized at my arrival, and
told me with how much impatience and anxiety
my brother and his wife had waited my coming.
They were fearful that &longs;ome mi&longs;hap had befallen
me, and had remained up longer than the u&longs;ual
period. Notwith&longs;tanding the latene&longs;s of the hour,
Catharine would not re&longs;ign the hope of &longs;eeing me.
Loui&longs;a &longs;aid &longs;he had left them both in the parlour,
and &longs;he knew of no cau&longs;e for their ab&longs;ence.
As yet I was not without &longs;olicitude on account
of their per&longs;onal &longs;afety. I was far from being perfectly
at ea&longs;e on that head, but entertained no distinct
conception of the danger that impended over
them. Perhaps to beguile the moments of my long
protracted &longs;tay, they had gone to walk upon the
bank. The atmo&longs;phere, though illuminated only
by the &longs;tar-light, was remarkably &longs;erene. Meanwhile
the de&longs;ireablene&longs;s of an interview with Carwin
again returned, and I finally re&longs;olved to &longs;eek
it.
I pa&longs;&longs;ed with doubting and ha&longs;ty &longs;teps along the
path. My dwelling, &longs;een at a di&longs;tance, was gloomy
and de&longs;olate. It had no inhabitant, for my &longs;ervant,
in con&longs;equence of my new arrangement, had gone
to Mettingen. The temerity of this attempt began
to &longs;hew it&longs;elf in more vivid colours to my understanding.
Whoever has pointed &longs;teel is not without
arms; yet what mu&longs;t have been the &longs;tate of my
mind when I could meditate, without &longs;huddering,
on the u&longs;e of a murderous weapon, and believe myself
&longs;ecure merely becau&longs;e I was capable of being
made &longs;o by the death of another? Yet this was
not my &longs;tate. I felt as if I was ru&longs;hing into deadly
toils, without the power of pau&longs;ing or receding.
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CHAPTER XVI.
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As &longs;oon as I arrived in &longs;ight of the front of the
hou&longs;e, my attention was excited by a light from the
window of my own chamber. No appearance
could be le&longs;s explicable. A meeting was expected
with Carwin, but that he pre-occupied my chamber,
and had &longs;upplied him&longs;elf with light, was not to
be believed. What motive could influence him to
adopt this conduct? Could I proceed until this
was explained? Perhaps, if I &longs;hould proceed to a
di&longs;tance in front, &longs;ome one would be vi&longs;ible. A
&longs;idelong but seeble beam from the window, fell
upon the piny cop&longs;e which &longs;kirted the bank. As I
eyed it, it &longs;uddenly became mutable, and after flitting
to and fro, for a &longs;hort time, it vani&longs;hed. I turned
my eye again toward the window, and perceived
that the light was &longs;till there; but the change which
I had noticed was occa&longs;ioned by a change in the
po&longs;ition of the lamp or candle within. Hence,
that &longs;ome per&longs;on was there was an unavoidable
inference.
I pau&longs;ed to deliberate on the propriety of advancing.
Might I not advance cautiou&longs;ly, and,
therefore, without danger? Might I not knock at
the door, or call, and be apprized of the nature of
my vi&longs;itant before I entered? I approached and
li&longs;tened at the door, but could hear nothing. I
knocked at fir&longs;t timidly, but afterwards with loudness.
My &longs;ignals were unnoticed. I &longs;tepped back
and looked, but the light was no longer di&longs;cernible.
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Was it &longs;uddenly extingui&longs;hed by a human agent?
What purpo&longs;e but concealment was intended?
Why was the illumination produced, to be thus
&longs;uddenly brought to an end? And why, &longs;ince &longs;ome
one was there, had &longs;ilence been ob&longs;erved?
The&longs;e were que&longs;tions, the &longs;olution of which may
be readily &longs;uppo&longs;ed to be entangled with danger.
Would not this danger, when mea&longs;ured by a woman's
fears, expand into gigantic dimen&longs;ions?
Menaces of death; the &longs;tunning exertions of a
warning voice; the known and unknown attributes
of Carwin; our recent interview in this chamber;
the pre-appointment of a meeting at this place and
hour, all thronged into my memory. What was
to be done?
Courage is no definite or &longs;tedfa&longs;t principle. Let
that man who &longs;hall purpo&longs;e to a&longs;&longs;ign motives to the
actions of another, blu&longs;h at his folly and forbear.
Not more pre&longs;umptuous would it be to attempt the
cla&longs;&longs;ification of all nature, and the &longs;canning of supreme
intelligence. I gazed for a minute at the
window, and fixed my eyes, for a &longs;econd minute, on
the ground. I drew forth from my pocket, and
opened, a penknife. This, &longs;aid I, be my &longs;afe-guard
and avenger. The a&longs;&longs;ailant &longs;hall peri&longs;h, or my&longs;elf
&longs;hall fall.
I had locked up the hou&longs;e in the morning, but had
the key of the kitchen door in my pocket. I, therefore,
determined to gain acce&longs;s behind. Thither I
ha&longs;tened, unlocked and entered. All was lonely,
dark&longs;ome, and wa&longs;te. Familiar as I was with every
part of my dwelling, I ea&longs;ily found my way to a
clo&longs;et, drew forth a taper, a flint, tinder, and &longs;teel,
and, in a moment as it were, gave my&longs;elf the guidance
and protection of light.
What purpo&longs;e did I meditate? Should I explore
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my way to my chamber, and confront the being
who had dared to intrude into this rece&longs;s, and had
laboured for concealment? By putting out the light
did he &longs;eek to hide him&longs;elf, or mean only to circumvent
my incautious &longs;teps? Yet was it not more
probable that he de&longs;ired my ab&longs;ence by thus encouraging
the &longs;uppo&longs;ition that the hou&longs;e was unoccupied?
I would &longs;ee this man in &longs;pite of all impediments;
ere I died, I would &longs;ee his face, and &longs;ummon
him to penitence and retribution; no matter at what
co&longs;t an interview was purcha&longs;ed. Reputation and
life might be wre&longs;ted from me by another, but my
rectitude and honor were in my own keeping, and
were &longs;afe.
I proceeded to the foot of the &longs;tairs. At &longs;uch a
cri&longs;is my thoughts may be &longs;uppo&longs;ed at no liberty
to range; yet vague images ru&longs;hed into my mind,
of the my&longs;terious interpo&longs;ition which had been experienced
on the la&longs;t night. My ca&longs;e, at pre&longs;ent,
was not di&longs;&longs;imilar; and, if my angel were not
weary of fruitle&longs;s exertions to &longs;ave, might not a
new warning be expected? Who could &longs;ay whether
his &longs;ilence were a&longs;cribable to the ab&longs;ence of
danger, or to his own ab&longs;ence?
In this &longs;tate of mind, no wonder that a &longs;hivering
cold crept through my veins; that my pau&longs;e was
prolonged; and, that a fearful glance was thrown
backward.
Alas! my heart droops, and my fingers are enervated;
my ideas are vivid, but my language is faint;
now know I what it is to entertain incommunicable
&longs;entiments. The chain of &longs;ub&longs;equent incidents
is drawn through my mind, and being linked with
tho&longs;e which forewent, by turns rou&longs;e up agonies
and &longs;ink me into hopele&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s.
Yet I will per&longs;i&longs;t to the end. My narrative may
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be invaded by inaccuracy and confu&longs;ion; but if I
live no longer, I will, at lea&longs;t, live to complete it.
What but ambiguities, abruptne&longs;&longs;es, and dark transitions,
can be expected from the hi&longs;torian who is,
at the &longs;ame time, the &longs;ufferer of the&longs;e di&longs;a&longs;ters?
I have &longs;aid that I ca&longs;t a look behind. Some object
was expected to be &longs;een, or why &longs;hould I have
gazed in that direction? Two &longs;en&longs;es were at once
a&longs;&longs;ailed. The &longs;ame piercing exclamation of hold!
hold! was uttered within the &longs;ame di&longs;tance of my
ear. This it was that I heard. The airy undulation,
and the &longs;hock given to my nerves, were real.
Whether the &longs;pectacle which I beheld exi&longs;ted in
my fancy or without, might be doubted.
I had not clo&longs;ed the door of the apartment I had
ju&longs;t left. The &longs;tair-ca&longs;e, at the foot of which I
&longs;tood, was eight or ten feet from the door, and attached
to the wall through which the door led.
My view, therefore, was &longs;idelong, and took in no
part of the room.
Through this aperture was an head thru&longs;t and
drawn back with &longs;o much &longs;wiftne&longs;s, that the immediate
conviction was, that thus much of a form,
ordinarily invi&longs;ible, had been un&longs;hrowded. The
face was turned towards me. Every mu&longs;cle was
ten&longs;e; the forehead and brows were drawn into
vehement expre&longs;&longs;ion; the lips were &longs;tretched as in
the act of &longs;hrieking, and the eyes emitted &longs;parks,
which, no doubt, if I had been unattended by a
light, would have illuminated like the corru&longs;cations
of a meteor. The &longs;ound and the vi&longs;ion were present,
and departed together at the &longs;ame in&longs;tant; but
the cry was blown into my ear, while the face was
many paces di&longs;tant.
This face was well &longs;uited to a being who&longs;e performances
exceeded the &longs;tandard of humanity, and
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yet its features were akin to tho&longs;e I had before &longs;een.
The image of Carwin was blended in a thou&longs;and
ways with the &longs;tream of my thoughts. This vi&longs;age
was, perhaps, pourtrayed by my fancy. If &longs;o, it
will excite no &longs;urprize that &longs;ome of his lineaments
were now di&longs;covered. Yet affinities were few and
uncon&longs;picuous, and were lo&longs;t amid&longs;t the blaze of
oppo&longs;ite qualities.
What conclu&longs;ion could I form? Be the face
human or not, the intimation was imparted from
above. Experience had evinced the benignity of
that being who gave it. Once he had interpo&longs;ed
to &longs;hield me from harm, and &longs;ub&longs;equent events demonstrated
the u&longs;efulne&longs;s of that interpo&longs;ition.
Now was I again warned to forbear. I was hurrying
to the verge of the &longs;ame gulf, and the &longs;ame
power was exerted to recall my &longs;teps. Was it possible
for me not to obey? Was I capable of holding
on in the &longs;ame perilous career? Yes. Even
of this I was capable!
The intimation was imperfect: it gave no form
to my danger, and pre&longs;cribed no limits to my caution.
I had formerly neglected it, and yet e&longs;caped.
Might I not tru&longs;t to the &longs;ame i&longs;&longs;ue? This idea
might po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s, though imperceptibly, &longs;ome influence.
I per&longs;i&longs;ted; but it was not merely on this account.
I cannot delineate the motives that led me on. I
now &longs;peak as if no remnant of doubt exi&longs;ted in my
mind as to the &longs;upernal origin of the&longs;e sounds; but
this is owing to the imperfection of my language,
for I only mean that the belief was more permanent,
and vi&longs;ited more frequently my &longs;ober meditations
than its oppo&longs;ite. The immediate effects
&longs;erved only to undermine the foundations of my
judgment and precipitate my re&longs;olutions.
I mu&longs;t either advance or return. I cho&longs;e the
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former, and began to a&longs;cend the &longs;tairs. The &longs;ilence
underwent no &longs;econd interruption. My chamber
door was clo&longs;ed, but unlocked, and, aided by vehement
efforts of my courage, I opened and looked
in.
No hideous or uncommon object was di&longs;cernible.
The danger, indeed, might ea&longs;ily have lurked out
of &longs;ight, have &longs;prung upon me as I entered, and
have rent me with his iron talons; but I was blind
to this fate, and advanced, though cautiou&longs;ly, into
the room.
Still every thing wore its accu&longs;tomed a&longs;pect.
Neither lamp nor candle was to be found. Now,
for the fir&longs;t time, &longs;u&longs;picions were &longs;ugge&longs;ted as to
the nature of the light which I had &longs;een. Was it
po&longs;&longs;ible to have been the companion of that supernatural
vi&longs;age; a meteorous re&longs;ulgence producible
at the will of him to whom that vi&longs;age belonged,
and partaking of the nature of that which accompanied
my father's death?
The clo&longs;et was near, and I remembered the complicated
horrors of which it had been productive.
Here, perhaps, was inclo&longs;ed the &longs;ource of my peril,
and the gratification of my curio&longs;ity. Should I
adventure once more to explore its rece&longs;&longs;es? This
was a re&longs;olution not ea&longs;ily formed. I was suspended
in thought: when glancing my eye on a
table, I perceived a written paper. Carwin's hand
was in&longs;tantly recognized, and &longs;natching up the paper,
I read as follows:—
“There was folly in expecting your compliance
with my invitation. Judge how I was disappointed
in finding another in your place. I have waited,
but to wait any longer would be perilous. I
&longs;hall &longs;till &longs;eek an interview, but it mu&longs;t be at a different
time and place: meanwhile, I will write this
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—How will you bear—How inexplicable will be
this tran&longs;action!—An event &longs;o unexpected—a &longs;ight
&longs;o horrible!”
Such was this abrupt and un&longs;atisfactory &longs;cript.
The ink was yet moi&longs;t, the hand was that of Carwin.
Hence it was to be inferred that he had this
moment left the apartment, or was &longs;till in it. I
looked back, on the &longs;udden expectation of &longs;eeing
him behind me.
What other did he mean? What tran&longs;action
had taken place adver&longs;e to my expectations?
What &longs;ight was about to be exhibited? I looked
around me once more, but &longs;aw nothing which indicated
&longs;trangene&longs;s. Again I remembered the clo&longs;et,
and was re&longs;olved to &longs;eek in that the &longs;olution of
the&longs;e my&longs;teries. Here, perhaps, was inclo&longs;ed the
&longs;cene de&longs;tined to awaken my horrors and baffle my
fore&longs;ight.
I have already &longs;aid, that the entrance into this
clo&longs;et was be&longs;ide my bed, which, on two &longs;ides,
was clo&longs;ely &longs;hrowded by curtains. On that &longs;ide
neare&longs;t the clo&longs;et, the curtain was rai&longs;ed. As I
pa&longs;&longs;ed along I ca&longs;t my eye thither. I &longs;tarted, and
looked again. I bore a light in my hand, and
brought it nearer my eyes, in order to di&longs;pel any
illu&longs;ive mi&longs;ts that might have hovered before them.
Once more I fixed my eyes upon the bed, in hope
that this more &longs;tedfa&longs;t &longs;crutiny would annihilate the
object which before &longs;eemed to be there.
This then was the &longs;ight which Carwin had predicted!
This was the event which my understanding
was to find inexplicable! This was the fate
which had been re&longs;erved for me, but which, by
&longs;ome untoward chance, had befallen on another!
I had not been terrified by empty menaces. Violation
and death awaited my entrance into this
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chamber. Some in&longs;crutable chance had led her
hither before me, and the mercile&longs;s fangs of which
I was de&longs;igned to be the prey, had mi&longs;taken their
victim, and had fixed them&longs;elves in her heart. But
where was my &longs;afety? Was the mi&longs;chief exhau&longs;ted
or flown? The &longs;teps of the a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in had ju&longs;t been
here; they could not be far off; in a moment he
would ru&longs;h into my pre&longs;ence, and I &longs;hould peri&longs;h
under the &longs;ame polluting and &longs;uffocating gra&longs;p!
My frame &longs;hook, and my knees were unable to
&longs;upport me. I gazed alternately at the clo&longs;et door
and at the door of my room. At one of the&longs;e
avenues would enter the exterminator of my honor
and my life. I was prepared for defence; but now
that danger was imminent, my means of defence,
and my power to u&longs;e them were gone. I was not
qualified, by education and experience, to encounter
perils like the&longs;e: or, perhaps, I was powerle&longs;s
becau&longs;e I was again a&longs;&longs;aulted by &longs;urprize, and had
not fortified my mind by fore&longs;ight and previous reflection
again&longs;t a &longs;cene like this.
Fears for my own &longs;afety again yielded place to
reflections on the &longs;cene before me. I fixed my eyes
upon her countenance. My &longs;i&longs;ter's well-known
and beloved features could not be concealed by
convul&longs;ion or lividne&longs;s. What direful illu&longs;ion led
thee hither? Berest of thee, what hold on happiness
remains to thy offspring and thy &longs;pou&longs;e? To
lo&longs;e thee by a common fate would have been sufficiently
hard; but thus &longs;uddenly to peri&longs;h—to become
the prey of this gha&longs;tly death! How will a
&longs;pectacle like this be endured by Wieland? To
die beneath his gra&longs;p would not &longs;atisfy thy enemy.
This was mercy to the evils which he previou&longs;ly
made thee &longs;uffer! After the&longs;e evils death was a
boon which thou be&longs;oughte&longs;t him to grant. He
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entertained no enmity again&longs;t thee: I was the object
of his trea&longs;on; but by &longs;ome tremendous mistake
his fury was mi&longs;placed. But how come&longs;t thou
hither? and where was Wieland in thy hour of
di&longs;tress?
I approached the corp&longs;e: I lifted the &longs;till flexible
hand, and ki&longs;&longs;ed the lips which were breathle&longs;s.
Her flowing drapery was di&longs;compo&longs;ed. I re&longs;tored
it to order, and &longs;eating my&longs;elf on the bed, again
fixed &longs;tedfa&longs;t eyes upon her countenance. I cannot
distinctly recollect the ruminations of that moment.
I saw confu&longs;edly, but forcibly, that every
hope was extingui&longs;hed with the life of Catharine.
All happine&longs;s and dignity mu&longs;t henceforth be banished
from the hou&longs;e and name of Wieland: all
that remained was to linger out in agonies a &longs;hort
exi&longs;tence; and leave to the world a monument of
bla&longs;ted hopes and changeable fortune. Pleyel was
already lo&longs;t to me; yet, while Catharine lived life
was not a dete&longs;table po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion: but now, &longs;evered
from the companion of my infancy, the partaker
of all my thoughts, my cares, and my wi&longs;hes, I
was like one &longs;et afloat upon a &longs;tormy &longs;ea, and
hanging his &longs;afety upon a plank; night was closing
upon him, and an unexpected &longs;urge had torn
him from his hold and overwhelmed him forever.
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CHAPTER XVII.
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I had no inclination nor power to move from
this &longs;pot. For more than an hour, my faculties
and limbs &longs;eemed to be deprived of all activity.
The door below creaked on its hinges, and &longs;teps
a&longs;cended the &longs;tairs. My wandering and confu&longs;ed
thoughts were in&longs;tantly recalled by the&longs;e sounds,
and dropping the curtain of the bed, I moved to a
part of the room where any one who entered
&longs;hould be vi&longs;ible; &longs;uch are the vibrations of sentiment,
that notwith&longs;tanding the &longs;eeming fulfilment
of my fears, and increa&longs;e of my danger, I
was con&longs;cious, on this occa&longs;ion, to no turbulence
but that of curio&longs;ity.
At length he entered the apartment, and I recognized
my brother. It was the &longs;ame Wieland
whom I had ever &longs;een. Yet his features were
pervaded by a new expre&longs;&longs;ion. I &longs;uppo&longs;ed him
unacquainted with the fate of his wife, and his appearance
confirmed this per&longs;ua&longs;ion. A brow expanding
into exultation I had hitherto never &longs;een
in him, yet &longs;uch a brow did he now wear. Not
only was he unapprized of the di&longs;a&longs;ter that had happened,
but &longs;ome joyous occurrence had betided.
What a rever&longs;e was preparing to annihilate his transitory
bli&longs;s! No hu&longs;band ever doated more fondly,
for no wife ever claimed &longs;o boundle&longs;s a devotion. I
was not uncertain as to the effects to flow from the
di&longs;covery of her fate. I confided not at all in the
efforts of his rea&longs;on or his piety. There were few
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evils which his modes of thinking would not di&longs;arm
of their &longs;ting; but here, all opiates to grief, and all
compellers of patience were vain. This &longs;pectacle
would be unavoidably followed by the outrages of
de&longs;peration, and a ru&longs;hing to death.
For the pre&longs;ent, I neglected to a&longs;k my&longs;elf what
motive brought him hither. I was only fearful of
the effects to flow from the sight of the dead. Yet
could it be long concealed from him? Some time
and &longs;peedily he would obtain this knowledge. No
&longs;tratagems could con&longs;iderably or u&longs;efully prolong
his ignorance. All that could be &longs;ought was to
take away the abruptne&longs;s of the change, and &longs;hut
out the confu&longs;ion of'de&longs;pair, and the inroads of
madne&longs;s: but I knew my brother, and knew that
all exertions to con&longs;ole him would be fruitle&longs;s.
What could I &longs;ay? I was mute, and poured
forth tho&longs;e tears on his account, which my own
unhappine&longs;s had been unable to extort. In the
mid&longs;t of my tears, I was not unob&longs;ervant of his
motions. The&longs;e were of a nature to rou&longs;e &longs;ome
other &longs;entiment than grief, or, at lea&longs;t, to mix with
it a portion of a&longs;toni&longs;hment.
His countenance &longs;uddenly became troubled. His
hands were cla&longs;ped with a force that left the print
of his nails in his fle&longs;h. His eyes were fixed on
my feet. His brain &longs;eemed to &longs;well beyond its continent.
He did not cea&longs;e to breathe, but his breath
was &longs;tifled into groans. I had never witne&longs;&longs;ed the
hurricane of human pa&longs;&longs;ions. My element had,
till lately, been all &longs;un&longs;hine and calm. I was unconversant
with the altitudes and energies of sentiment,
and was transfixed with inexplicable horror
by the &longs;ymptoms which I now beheld.
After a &longs;ilence and a conflict which I could not
interpret, be lifted his eyes to heaven, and in broken
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accents exclaimed, “This is too much! Any victim
but this, and thy will be done. Have I not sufficiently
atte&longs;ted my faith and my obedience? She
that is gone, they that have peri&longs;hed, were linked
with my &longs;oul by ties which only thy command
would have broken; but here is &longs;anctity and excellence
&longs;urpa&longs;&longs;ing human. This workman&longs;hip
is thine, and it cannot be thy will to heap it into
ruins.”
Here &longs;uddenly uncla&longs;ping his hands, he &longs;truck
one of them again&longs;t his forehead, and continued—
“Wretch! who made thee quick &longs;ighted in the
councils of thy Maker? Deliverance from mortal
setters is awarded to this being, and thou art the
mini&longs;ter of this decree.”
So &longs;aying, Wieland advanced towards me. His
words and his motions were without meaning, except
on one &longs;uppo&longs;ition. The death of Catharine
was already known to him, and that knowledge, as
might have been &longs;u&longs;pected, had de&longs;troyed his rea&longs;on.
I had feared nothing le&longs;s; but now that I beheld
the extinction of a mind the mo&longs;t luminous and
penetrating that ever dignified the human form, my
&longs;en&longs;ations were fraught with new and in&longs;upportable
angui&longs;h.
I had not time to reflect in what way my own
&longs;afety would be effected by this revolution, or what
I had to dread from the wild conceptions of a madman.
He advanced towards me. Some hollow
noi&longs;es were wa&longs;ted by the breeze. Confu&longs;ed clamours
were &longs;ucceeded by many feet traver&longs;ing the
gra&longs;s, and then crowding into the piazza.
The&longs;e &longs;ounds &longs;u&longs;pended my brother's purpo&longs;e,
and he &longs;tood to li&longs;ten. The &longs;ignals multiplied and
grew louder; perceiving this, he turned from me,
and hurried out of my &longs;ight. All about me was
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pregnant with motives to a&longs;toni&longs;hment. My sister's
corp&longs;e, Wieland's frantic demeanour, and, at
length, this crowd of vi&longs;itants &longs;o little accorded with
my fore&longs;ight, that my mental progre&longs;s was &longs;topped.
The impul&longs;e had cea&longs;ed which was accu&longs;tomed to
give motion and order to my thoughts.
Foot&longs;teps thronged upon the &longs;tairs, and pre&longs;ently
many faces &longs;hewed them&longs;elves within the door of
my apartment. The&longs;e looks were full of alarm
and watchfulne&longs;s. They pryed into corners as if
in &longs;earch of &longs;ome fugitive; next their gaze was
fixed upon me, and betokened all the vehemence of
terror and pity. For a time I que&longs;tioned whether
the&longs;e were not &longs;hapes and faces like that which I
had &longs;een at the bottom of the &longs;tairs, creatures of my
fancy or airy exi&longs;tences.
My eye wandered from one to another, till at
length it fell on a countenance which I well knew.
It was that of Mr. Hallet. This man was a distant
kin&longs;man of my mother, venerable for his age,
his uprightne&longs;s, and &longs;agacity. He had long discharged
the functions of a magi&longs;trate and good citizen.
If any terrors remained, his pre&longs;ence was
&longs;ufficient to di&longs;pel them.
He approached, took my hand with a compassionate
air, and &longs;aid in a low voice. “Where, my dear
Clara, are your brother and &longs;i&longs;ter?” I made no
an&longs;wer, but pointed to the bed. His attendants drew
a&longs;ide the curtain, and while their eyes glared with
horror at the &longs;pectacle which they beheld, tho&longs;e of
Mr. Hallet overflowed with tears.
After con&longs;iderable pau&longs;e, he once more turned
to me. “My dear girl, this &longs;ight is not for you.
Can you confide in my care, and that of Mrs.
Baynton's? We will &longs;ee performed all that circumstances
require.”
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I made &longs;trenuous oppo&longs;ition to this reque&longs;t. I
in&longs;i&longs;ted on remaining near her till &longs;he were interred.
His remon&longs;trances, however, and my own feelings,
&longs;hewed me the propriety of a temporary dereliction.
Loui&longs;a &longs;tood in need of a comforter, and my brother's
children of a nur&longs;e. My unhappy brother
was him&longs;elf an object of &longs;olicitude and care. At
length, I con&longs;ented to relinqui&longs;h the corp&longs;e, and go
to my brother's, who&longs;e hou&longs;e, I &longs;aid, would need
mi&longs;tre&longs;s, and his children a parent.
During this di&longs;cour&longs;e, my venerable friend struggled
with his tears, but my la&longs;t intimation called
them forth with fre&longs;h violence. Meanwhile, his
attendants &longs;tood round in mournful &longs;ilence, gazing
on me and at each other. I repeated my resolution,
and ro&longs;e to execute it; but he took my hand
to detain me. His countenance betrayed irresolution
and reluctance. I reque&longs;ted him to &longs;tate the
rea&longs;on of his oppo&longs;ition to this mea&longs;ure. I entreated
him to be explicit. I told him that my brother
had ju&longs;t been there, and that I knew his condition.
This misfortune had driven him to madne&longs;s, and
his offspring mu&longs;t not want a protector. If he
cho&longs;e, I would re&longs;ign Wieland to his care; but his
innocent and helple&longs;s babes &longs;tood in in&longs;tant need of
nur&longs;e and mother, and the&longs;e offices I would by no
means allow another to perform while I had life.
Every word that I uttered &longs;eemed to augment his
perplexity and di&longs;tre&longs;s. At la&longs;t he &longs;aid, “I think,
Clara, I have entitled my&longs;elf to &longs;ome regard from
you. You have profe&longs;&longs;ed your willingne&longs;s to oblige
me. Now I call upon you to confer upon me
the highe&longs;t obligation in your power. Permit Mrs.
Baynton to have the management of your brother's
hou&longs;e for two or three days; then it &longs;hall be yours
to act in it as you plea&longs;e. No matter what are my
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motives in making this reque&longs;t: perhaps I think
your age, your &longs;ex, or the di&longs;tre&longs;s which this disaster
mu&longs;t occa&longs;ion, incapacitates you for the office.
Surely you have no doubt of Mrs. Baynton's tenderness
or di&longs;cretion.”
New ideas now ru&longs;hed into my mind. I fixed
my eyes &longs;tedfa&longs;tly on Mr. Hallet. “Are they
well?” &longs;aid I. “Is Loui&longs;a well? Are Benjamin,
and William, and Con&longs;tantine, and Little Clara,
are they &longs;afe? Tell me truly, I be&longs;eech you!”
“They are well,” he replied; “they are perfectly
&longs;afe.”
“Fear no effeminate weekne&longs;s in me: I can bear
to hear the truth. Tell me truly, are they well?”
He again a&longs;&longs;ured me that they were well.
“What then,” re&longs;umed I, “do you fear? Is
it po&longs;&longs;ible for any calamity to di&longs;qualify me for performing
my duty to the&longs;e helple&longs;s innocents? I am
willing to divide the care of them with Mrs. Baynton;
I &longs;hall be grateful for her &longs;ympathy and aid;
but what &longs;hould I be to de&longs;ert them at an hour like
this!”
I will cut &longs;hort this di&longs;tre&longs;sful dialogue. I &longs;till
per&longs;i&longs;ted in my purpo&longs;e, and he &longs;till per&longs;i&longs;ted in his
oppo&longs;ition. This excited my &longs;u&longs;picions anew; but
the&longs;e were removed by &longs;olemn declarations of their
&longs;afety. I could not explain this conduct in my
friend; but at length con&longs;ented to go to the city,
provided I &longs;hould &longs;ee them for a few minutes at
pre&longs;ent, and &longs;hould return on the morrow.
Even this arrangement was objected to. At
length he told me they were removed to the city.
Why were they removed, I a&longs;ked, and whither?
My importunities would not now be eluded. My
&longs;u&longs;picions were rou&longs;ed, and no eva&longs;ion or artifice
was &longs;ufficient to allay them. Many of the
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audience began to give vent to their emotions in tears.
Mr. Hallet him&longs;elf &longs;eemed as if the conflict were
too hard to be longer &longs;u&longs;tained. Something whispered
to my heart that havoc had been wider than
I now witne&longs;&longs;ed. I &longs;u&longs;pected this concealment to
ari&longs;e from apprehen&longs;ions of the effects which a
knowledge of the truth would produce in me. I
once more entreated him to inform me truly of
their &longs;tate. To enforce my entreaties, I put on an
air of in&longs;en&longs;ibility. “I can gue&longs;s,” &longs;aid I, “what
has happened—They are indeed beyond the reach
of injury, for they are dead! Is it not &longs;o?” My
voice faltered in &longs;pite of my courageous efforts.
“Yes,” &longs;aid he, “they are dead! Dead by the
&longs;ame fate, and by the &longs;ame hand, with their mother!”
“Dead!” replied I; “what, all?”
“All!” replied he: “he &longs;pared not one!”
Allow me, my friends, to clo&longs;e my eyes upon
the after-&longs;cene. Why &longs;hould I protract a tale which
I already begin to feel is too long? Over this &longs;cene
at lea&longs;t let me pa&longs;s lightly. Here, indeed, my narrative
would be imperfect. All was tempe&longs;tuous
commotion in my heart and in my brain. I have
no memory for ought but uncon&longs;cious tran&longs;itions
and rueful &longs;ights. I was ingenious and indefatigable
in the invention of torments. I would not dispense
with any &longs;pectacle adapted to exa&longs;perate my
grief. Each pale and mangled form I cru&longs;hed to
my bo&longs;om. Loui&longs;a, whom I loved with &longs;o ineffable
a pa&longs;&longs;ion, was denied to me at fir&longs;t, but my obstinacy
conquered their reluctance.
They led the way into a darkened hall. A lamp
pendant from the ceiling was uncovered, and they
pointed to a table. The a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in had defrauded me
of my la&longs;t and mi&longs;erable con&longs;olation. I &longs;ought not
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not in her vi&longs;age, for the tinge of the morning, and
the lu&longs;tre of heaven. The&longs;e had vani&longs;hed with
life; but I hoped for liberty to print a la&longs;t ki&longs;s upon
her lips. This was denied me; for &longs;uch had been
the mercile&longs;s blow that de&longs;troyed her, that not a
lineament remained!
I was carried hence to the city. Mrs. Hallet was
my companion and my nur&longs;e. Why &longs;hould I dwell
upon the rage of fever, and the effu&longs;ions of delirium?
Carwin was the phantom that pur&longs;ued my
dreams, the giant oppre&longs;&longs;or under who&longs;e arm I was
for ever on the point of being cru&longs;hed. Strenuous
mu&longs;cles were required to hinder my flight, and
hearts of &longs;teel to with &longs;tand the eloquence of my
fears. In vain I called upon them to look upward,
to mark his &longs;parkling rage and &longs;cowling contempt.
All I &longs;ought was to fly from the &longs;troke that was lifted.
Then I heaped upon my guards the mo&longs;t vehement
reproaches, or betook my&longs;elf to wailings on
the haple&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s of my condition.
This malady, at length, declined, and my weeping
friends began to look for my re&longs;toration. Slowly,
and with intermitted beams, memory revi&longs;ited
me. The &longs;cenes that I had witne&longs;&longs;ed were revived,
became the theme of deliberation and deduction,
and called forth the effu&longs;ions of more rational sorrow.
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CHAPTER XVIII.
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I had imperfectly recovered my &longs;trength, when
I was informed of the arrival of my mother's brother,
Thomas Cambridge. Ten years &longs;ince, he
went to Europe, and was a &longs;urgeon in the Briti&longs;h
forces in Germany, during the whole of the late
war. After its conclu&longs;ion, &longs;ome connection that
he had formed with an Iri&longs;h officer, made him retire
into Ireland. Intercour&longs;e had been punctually
maintained by letters with his &longs;i&longs;ter's children, and
hopes were given that he would &longs;hortly return to
his native country, and pa&longs;s his old age in our society.
He was now in an evil hour arrived.
I de&longs;ired an interview with him for numerous
and urgent rea&longs;ons. With the fir&longs;t returns of my
under&longs;tanding I had anxiou&longs;ly &longs;ought information
of the fate of my brother. During the cour&longs;e of
my di&longs;ea&longs;e I had never &longs;een him; and vague and
un&longs;atisfactory an&longs;wers were returned to all my inquiries.
I had vehemently interrogated Mrs. Hallet
and her hu&longs;band, and &longs;olicited an interview with
this unfortunate man; but they my&longs;teriou&longs;ly insinuated
that his rea&longs;on was &longs;till un&longs;ettled, and that
his circum&longs;tances rendered an interview impo&longs;&longs;ible.
Their re&longs;erve on the particulars of this de&longs;truction,
and the author of it, was equally invincible.
For &longs;ome time, finding all my efforts fruitle&longs;s, I
had de&longs;i&longs;ted from direct inquiries and &longs;olicitations,
determined, as &longs;oon as my &longs;trength was &longs;ufficiently
renewed, to pur&longs;ue other means of di&longs;pelling my
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uncertainty. In this &longs;tate of things my uncle's arrival
and intention to vi&longs;it me were announced. I
almo&longs;t &longs;huddered to behold the face of this man.
When I reflected on the di&longs;a&longs;ters that had befallen
us, I was half unwilling to witne&longs;s that dejection
and grief which would be di&longs;clo&longs;ed in his countenance.
But I believed that all tran&longs;actions had
been thoroughly di&longs;clo&longs;ed to him, and confided in
my importunity to extort from him the knowledge
that I &longs;ought.
I had no doubt as to the per&longs;on of our enemy;
but the motives that urged him to perpetrate the&longs;e
horrors, the means that he u&longs;ed, and his pre&longs;ent
condition, were totally unknown. It was reasonable
to expect &longs;ome information on this head, from
my uncle. I therefore waited his coming with
impatience. At length, in the du&longs;k of the evening,
and in my &longs;olitary chamber, this meeting took
place.
This man was our neare&longs;t relation, and had ever
treated us with the affection of a parent. Our
meeting, therefore, could not be without overflowing
tenderne&longs;s and gloomy joy. He rather encouraged
than re&longs;trained the tears that I poured out
in his arms, and took upon him&longs;elf the ta&longs;k of
comforter. Allu&longs;ions to recent di&longs;a&longs;ters could not
be long omitted. One topic facilitated the admission
of another. At length, I mentioned and deplored
the ignorance in which I had been kept respecting
my brother's de&longs;tiny, and the circumstances
of our misfortunes. I entreated him to tell
me what was Wieland's condition, and what progress
had been made in detecting or puni&longs;hing the
author of this unheard-of deva&longs;tation.
“The author!” &longs;aid he; “Do you know the
author?”
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“Alas!” I an&longs;wered, “I am too well acquainted
with him. The &longs;tory of the grounds of my suspicions
would be painful and too long. I am not
apprized of the extent of your pre&longs;ent knowledge.
There are none but Wieland, Pleyel, and my&longs;elf,
who are able to relate certain facts.”
“Spare your&longs;elf the pain,” &longs;aid he. “All that
Wieland and Pleyel can communicate, I know
already. If any thing of moment has fallen within
your own exclu&longs;ive knowledge, and the relation be
not too arduous for your pre&longs;ent &longs;trength, I confe&longs;s I
am de&longs;irous of hearing it. Perhaps you allude to
one by the name of Carwin. I will anticipate your
curio&longs;ity by &longs;aying, that &longs;ince the&longs;e di&longs;a&longs;ters, no
one has &longs;een or heard of him. His agency is,
therefore, a my&longs;tery &longs;till un&longs;olved.”
I readily complied with his reque&longs;t, and related
as di&longs;tinctly as I could, though in general terms,
the events tran&longs;acted in the &longs;ummer-hou&longs;e and my
chamber. He li&longs;tened without apparent &longs;urprize
to the tale of Pleyel's errors and &longs;u&longs;p cions, and with
augmented &longs;eriou&longs;ne&longs;s, to my narrative of the warnings
and inexplicable vi&longs;ion, and the letter found
up on the table. I waited for his comments.
“You gather from this,” &longs;aid he, “that Carwin
is the author of all this mi&longs;ery.”
“Is it not,” an&longs;wered I, “an unavoidable inference?
But what know you re&longs;pecting it? Was
it po&longs;&longs;ible to execute this mi&longs;chief without witne&longs;s
or coadjutor? I be&longs;eech you to relate to me,
when and why Mr. Hallet was &longs;ummoned to the
&longs;cene, and by whom this di&longs;a&longs;ter was fir&longs;t &longs;u&longs;pected
or di&longs;covered. Surely, &longs;u&longs;picion mu&longs;t have fallen
upon &longs;ome one, and pur&longs;uit was made.”
My uncle ro&longs;e from his &longs;eat, and traver&longs;ed the
floor with ha&longs;ty &longs;teps. His eyes were fixed upon
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the ground, and he &longs;eemed buried in perplexity.
At length he pau&longs;ed, and &longs;aid with an emphatic
tone, “It is true; the in&longs;trument is known. Carwin
may have plotted, but the execution was another's.
That other is found, and his deed is ascertained.”
“Good heaven!” I exclaimed, “what &longs;ay you?
Was not Carwin the a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in? Could any hand but
his have carried into act this dreadful purpo&longs;e?”
“Have I not &longs;aid,” returned he, “that the performance
was another's? Carwin, perhaps, or
heaven, or in&longs;anity, prompted the murderer; but
Carwin is unknown. The actual performer has,
long &longs;ince, been called to judgment and convicted,
and is, at this moment, at the bottom of a dungeon
loaded with chains.”
I lifted my hands and eyes. “Who then is
this a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in? By what means, and whither was
he traced? What is the te&longs;timony of his guilt?”
“His own, corroborated with that of a servantmaid
who &longs;pied the murder of the children from a
clo&longs;et where &longs;he was concealed. The magi&longs;trate returned
from your dwelling to your brother's. He
was employed in hearing and recording the testimony
of the only witne&longs;s, when the criminal himself,
unexpected, un&longs;olicited, un&longs;ought, entered the
hall, acknowledged his guilt, and rendered him&longs;elf
up to ju&longs;tice.
“He has &longs;ince been &longs;ummoned to the bar. The
audience was compo&longs;ed of thou&longs;ands whom rumours
of this wonderful event had attracted from
the greate&longs;t di&longs;tance. A long and impartial examination
was made, and the pri&longs;oner was called
upon for his defence. In compliance with this
call he delivered an ample relation of his motives
and actions.” There he &longs;topped.
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I be&longs;ought him to &longs;ay who this criminal was, and
what the in&longs;tigations that compelled him. My
uncle was &longs;ilent. I urged this inquiry with new
force. I reverted to my own knowledge, and
&longs;ought in this &longs;ome ba&longs;is to conjecture. I ran over
the &longs;canty catalogue of the men whom I knew; I
lighted on no one who was qualified for ministering
to malice like this. Again I re&longs;orted to importunity.
Had I ever &longs;een the criminal? Was
it &longs;heer cruelty, or diabolical revenge that produced
this overthrow?
He &longs;urveyed me, for a con&longs;iderable time, and
li&longs;tened to my interrogations in &longs;ilence. At length
he &longs;poke: “Clara, I have known thee by report,
and in &longs;ome degree by ob&longs;ervation. Thou art a
being of no vulgar &longs;ort. Thy friends have hitherto
treated thee as a child. They meant well, but,
perhaps, they were unacquainted with thy &longs;trength.
I a&longs;&longs;ure my&longs;elf that nothing will &longs;urpa&longs;s thy fortitude.
“Thou art anxious to know the de&longs;troyer of
thy family, his actions, and his motives. Shall I
call him to thy pre&longs;ence, and permit him to confe&longs;s
before thee? Shall I make him the narrator of his
own tale?”
I &longs;tarted on my feet, and looked round me with
fearful glances, as if the murderer was clo&longs;e at
hand. “What do you mean?” &longs;aid I; “put an
end, I be&longs;eech you, to this &longs;u&longs;pence.”
“Be not alarmed; you will never more behold
the face of this criminal, unle&longs;s he be gifted with
&longs;upernatural &longs;trength, and &longs;ever like threads the
con&longs;traint of links and bolts. I have &longs;aid that the
a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in was arraigned at the bar, and that the trial
ended with a &longs;ummons from the judge to confe&longs;s or
to vindicate his actions. A reply was immediately
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made with &longs;ignificance of ge&longs;ture, and a tranquil
maje&longs;ty, which denoted le&longs;s of humanity than godhead.
Judges, advocates and auditors were panicstruck
and breathle&longs;s with attention. One of the
hearers faithfully recorded the &longs;peech. There it
is,” continued he, putting a roll of papers in my
hand, “you may read it at your lei&longs;ure.”
With the&longs;e words my uncle left me alone. My
curio&longs;ity refu&longs;ed me a moment's delay. I opened
the papers, and read as follows.
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CHAPTER XIX.
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“Theodore wieland, the pri&longs;oner at
the bar, was now called upon for his defence. He
looked around him for &longs;ome time in &longs;ilence, and
with a mild countenance. At length he &longs;poke:
“It is &longs;trange; I am known to my judges and
my auditors. Who is there pre&longs;ent a &longs;tranger to
the character of Wieland? who knows him not as
an hu&longs;band—as a father—as a friend? yet here am
I arraigned as criminal. I am charged with diabolical
malice; I am accu&longs;ed of the murder of my
wife and my children!
“It is true, they were &longs;lain by me; they all perished
by my hand. The ta&longs;k of vindication is ignoble.
What is it that I am called to vindicate?
and before whom?
“You know that they are dead, and that they
were killed by me. What more would you have?
Would you extort from me a &longs;tatement of my motives?
Have you failed to di&longs;cover them already?
You charge me with malice; but your eyes are not
&longs;hut; your rea&longs;on is &longs;till vigorous; your memory
has not for&longs;aken you. You know whom it is that
you thus charge. The habits of his life are known
to you; his treatment of his wife and his offspring
is known to you; the &longs;oundne&longs;s of his integrity,
and the unchangeablene&longs;s of his principles, are familiar
to your apprehen&longs;ion; yet you per&longs;i&longs;t in this
charge! You lead me hither manacled as a felon;
you deem me worthy of a vile and tormenting
death!
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“Who are they whom I have devoted to death?
My wife—the little ones, that drew their being
from me—that creature who, as &longs;he &longs;urpa&longs;&longs;ed them
in excellence, claimed a larger affection than tho&longs;e
whom natural affinities bound to my heart. Think
ye that malice could have urged me to this deed?
Hide your audacious fronts from the &longs;crutiny of
heaven. Take refuge in &longs;ome cavern unvi&longs;ited by
human eyes. Ye may deplore your wickedne&longs;s
or folly, but ye cannot expiate it.
“Think not that I &longs;peak for your &longs;akes. Hug
to your hearts this dete&longs;table infatuation. Deem
me &longs;till a murderer, and drag me to untimely death.
I make not an effort to di&longs;pel your illu&longs;ion: I utter
not a word to cure you of your &longs;anguinary folly:
but there are probably &longs;ome in this a&longs;&longs;embly who
have come from far: for their &longs;akes, who&longs;e di&longs;tance
has di&longs;abled them from knowing me, I will tell
what I have done, and why.
“It is needle&longs;s to &longs;ay that God is the object of
my &longs;upreme pa&longs;&longs;ion. I have cheri&longs;hed, in his presence,
a &longs;ingle and upright heart. I have thir&longs;ted
for the knowledge of his will. I have burnt with
ardour to approve my faith and my obedience.
“My days have been &longs;pent in &longs;earching for the
revelation of that will; but my days have been
mournful, becau&longs;e my &longs;earch failed. I &longs;olicited
direction: I turned on every &longs;ide where glimmerings
of light could be di&longs;covered. I have not been
wholly uninformed; but my knowledge has always
&longs;topped &longs;hort of certainty. Di&longs;&longs;atisfaction has insinuated
it&longs;elf into all my thoughts. My purpo&longs;es
have been pure; my wi&longs;hes indefatigable; but not
till lately were the&longs;e purpo&longs;es thoroughly accomplished,
and the&longs;e wi&longs;hes fully gratified.
“I thank thee, my father, for thy bounty; that
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thou did&longs;t not a&longs;k a le&longs;s &longs;acrifice than this; that
thou placed&longs;t me in a condition to te&longs;tify my submission
to thy will! What have I withheld which
it was thy plea&longs;ure to exact? Now may I, with
dauntle&longs;s and erect eye, claim my reward, &longs;ince I
have given thee the trea&longs;ure of my &longs;oul.
“I was at my own hou&longs;e: it was late in the
evening: my &longs;i&longs;ter had gone to the city, but proposed
to return. It was in expectation of her return
that my wife and I delayed going to bed beyond
the u&longs;ual hour; the re&longs;t of the family, however,
were retired.
“My mind was contemplative and calm; not
wholly devoid of apprehen&longs;ion on account of my
&longs;i&longs;ter's &longs;afety. Recent events, not ea&longs;ily explained,
had &longs;ugge&longs;ted the exi&longs;tence of &longs;ome danger; but
this danger was without a di&longs;tinct form in our imagination,
and &longs;carcely ruffled our tranquillity.
“Time pa&longs;&longs;ed, and my &longs;i&longs;ter did not arrive; her
hou&longs;e is at &longs;ome di&longs;tance from mine, and though
her arrangements had been made with a view to
re&longs;iding with us, it was po&longs;&longs;ible that, through forgetfulness,
or the occurrence of unfore&longs;een emergencies,
&longs;he had returned to her own dwelling.
“Hence it was conceived proper that I &longs;hould
a&longs;certain the truth by going thither. I went. On
my way my mind was full of the&longs;e ideas which related
to my intellectual condition. In the torrent
of fervid conceptions, I lo&longs;t &longs;ight of my purpo&longs;e.
Some times I &longs;tood &longs;till; &longs;ome times I wandered
from my path, and experienced &longs;ome difficulty, on
recovering from my fit of mu&longs;ing, to regain it.
“The &longs;eries of my thoughts is ea&longs;ily traced. At
fir&longs;t every vein beat with raptures known only to
the man who&longs;e parental and conjugal love is
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without limits, and the cup of who&longs;e de&longs;ires, immen&longs;e
as it is, overflows with gratification. I know not
why emotions that were perpetual vi&longs;itants &longs;hould
now have recurred with unu&longs;ual energy. The
tran&longs;ition was not new from &longs;en&longs;ations of joy to a
con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s of gratitude. The author of my being
was likewi&longs;e the di&longs;pen&longs;er of every gift with
which that being was embelli&longs;hed. The &longs;ervice to
which a benefactor like this was entitled, could not
be circum&longs;cribed. My &longs;ocial &longs;entiments were indebted
to their alliance with devotion for all their
value. All pa&longs;&longs;ions are ba&longs;e, all joys feeble, all
energies malignant, which are not drawn from this
&longs;ource.
“For a time, my contemplations &longs;oared above
earth and its inhabitants. I &longs;tretched forth my
hands; I li&longs;ted my eyes, and exclaimed, O! that I
might be admitted to thy pre&longs;ence; that mine were
the &longs;upreme delight of knowing thy will, and of
performing it! The bli&longs;sful privilege of direct
communication with thee, and of li&longs;tening to the
audible enunciation of thy plea&longs;ure!
“What ta&longs;k would I not undertake, what privation
would I not cheerfully endure, to te&longs;tify my
love of thee? Alas! thou hide&longs;t thy&longs;elf from my
view: glimp&longs;es only of thy excellence and beauty
are afforded me. Would that a momentary emanation
from thy glory would vi&longs;it me! that &longs;ome
unambiguous token of thy pre&longs;ence would &longs;alute
my &longs;en&longs;es!
“In this mood, I entered the hou&longs;e of my &longs;i&longs;ter.
It was vacant. Scarcely had I regained recollection
of the purpo&longs;e that brought me hither. Thoughts
of a different tendency had &longs;uch ab&longs;olute po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion
of my mind, that the relations of time and &longs;pace
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were almo&longs;t obliterated from my under&longs;tanding.
The&longs;e wanderings, however, were re&longs;trained, and
I a&longs;cended to her chamber.
“I had no light, and might have known by external
ob&longs;ervation, that the hou&longs;e was without any
inhabitant. With this, however, I was not &longs;atisfied.
I entered the room, and the object of my &longs;earch not
appearing, I prepared to return.
“The darkne&longs;s required &longs;ome caution in descending
the &longs;tair. I &longs;tretched my hand to &longs;eize the
balu&longs;trade by which I might regulate my &longs;teps.
How &longs;hall I de&longs;cribe the lu&longs;tre, which, at that moment,
bur&longs;t upon my vi&longs;ion!
“I was dazzled. My organs were bereaved of
their activity. My eye-lids were half-clo&longs;ed, and
my hands withdrawn from the balu&longs;trade. A nameless
fear chilled my veins, and I &longs;tood motionle&longs;s.
This irradiation did not retire or le&longs;&longs;en. It &longs;eemed
as if &longs;ome powerful effulgence covered me like a
mantle.
“I opened my eyes and found all about me luminous
and glowing. It was the element of heaven
that flowed around. Nothing but a fiery &longs;tream
was at fir&longs;t vi&longs;ible; but, anon, a &longs;hrill voice from
behind called upon me to attend.
“I turned: It is forbidden to de&longs;cribe what I
&longs;aw: Words, indeed, would be wanting to the
ta&longs;k. The lineaments of that being, who&longs;e veil was
now lifted, and who&longs;e vi&longs;age beamed upon my
&longs;ight, no hues of pencil or of language can pourtray.
“As it &longs;poke, the accents thrilled to my heart.
“Thy prayers are heard. In proof of thy faith,
render me thy wife. This is the victim I chu&longs;e.
Call her hither, and here let her fall.”—The &longs;ound,
and vi&longs;age, and light vani&longs;hed at once.
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“What demand was this? The blood of Catharine
was to be &longs;hed! My wife was to peri&longs;h by
my hand! I &longs;ought opportunity to atte&longs;t my virtue.
Little did I expect that a proof like this would have
been demanded.
“My wife! I exclaimed: O God! &longs;ub&longs;titute
&longs;ome other victim. Make me not the butcher of
my wife. My own blood is cheap. This will I
pour out before thee with a willing heart; but
&longs;pare, I be&longs;eech thee, this precious life, or commission
&longs;ome other than her hu&longs;band to perform the
bloody deed.
“In vain. The conditions were pre&longs;cribed; the
decree had gone forth, and nothing remained but to
execute it. I ru&longs;hed out of the hou&longs;e and acro&longs;s
the intermediate fields, and &longs;topped not till I entered
my own parlour.
“My wife had remained here during my absence,
in anxious expectation of my return with
&longs;ome tidings of her &longs;i&longs;ter. I had none to communicate.
For a time, I was breathle&longs;s with my &longs;peed:
This, and the tremors that &longs;hook my frame, and
the wildne&longs;s of my looks, alarmed her. She immediately
&longs;u&longs;pected &longs;ome di&longs;a&longs;ter to have happened
to her friend, and her own &longs;peech was as much
overpowered by emotion as mine.
“She was &longs;ilent, but her looks mani&longs;e&longs;ted her
impatience to hear what I had to communicate. I
&longs;poke, but with &longs;o much precipitation as &longs;carcely to
be under&longs;tood; catching her, at the &longs;ame time, by
the arm, and forcibly pulling her from her &longs;eat.
“Come along with me: fly: wa&longs;te not a moment:
time will be lo&longs;t, and the deed will be omitted.
Tarry not; que&longs;tion not; but fly with me!
“This deportment added afre&longs;h to her alarms.
Her eyes pur&longs;ued mine, and &longs;he &longs;aid, “What is the
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matter? For God's &longs;ake what is the matter? Where
would you have me go?”
“My eyes were fixed upon her countenance
while &longs;he &longs;poke. I thought upon her virtues; I
viewed her as the mother of my babes; as my wife:
I recalled the purpo&longs;e for which I thus urged her
attendance. My heart faltered, and I &longs;aw that I
mu&longs;t rou&longs;e to this work all my faculties. The
danger of the lea&longs;t delay was imminent.
“I looked away from her, and again exerting
my force, drew her towards the door—`You mu&longs;t
go with me—indeed you mu&longs;t.'
“In her fright &longs;he half-re&longs;i&longs;ted my efforts, and
again exclaimed, `Good heaven! what is it you
mean? Where go? What has happened? Have
you found Clara?'
“Follow me, and you will &longs;ee,” I an&longs;wered, &longs;till
urging her reluctant &longs;teps forward.
“What phrenzy has &longs;eized you? Something
mu&longs;t needs have happened. Is &longs;he &longs;ick? Have you
foundh er?”
“Come and &longs;ee. Follow me, and know for
your&longs;elf.”
“Still &longs;he expo&longs;tulated and be&longs;ought me to explain
this my&longs;terious behaviour. I could not tru&longs;t
my&longs;elf to an&longs;wer her; to look at her; but gra&longs;ping
her arm, I drew her after me. She he&longs;itated, rather
through confu&longs;ion of mind than from unwillingness
to accompany me. This confu&longs;ion gradually
abated, and &longs;he moved forward, but with irre&longs;olute
foot&longs;teps, and continual exclamations of wonder
and terror. Her interrogations of “what was the
matter?” and “whither was I going?” were ceaseless
and vehement.
“It was the &longs;cope of my efforts not to think;
to keep up a conflict and uproar in my mind in
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which all order and di&longs;tinctne&longs;s &longs;hould be lo&longs;t; to
e&longs;cape from the &longs;en&longs;ations produced by her voice.
I was, therefore, &longs;ilent. I &longs;trove to abridge this
interval by my ha&longs;te, and to wa&longs;te all my attention
in furious ge&longs;ticulations.
“In this &longs;tate of mind we reached my &longs;i&longs;ter's
door. She looked at the windows and &longs;aw that all
was de&longs;olate—“Why come we here? There is
no body here. I will not go in.”
“Still I was dumb; but opening the door, I drew
her into the entry. This was the allotted &longs;cene;
here &longs;he was to fall. I let to go her hand, and pre&longs;&longs;ing
my palms again&longs;t my forehead, made one mighty
effort to work up my &longs;oul to the deed.
“In vain; it would not be; my courage was
appalled; my arms nervele&longs;s: I muttered prayers
that my &longs;trength might be aided from above. They
availed nothing.
“Horror diffu&longs;ed it&longs;elf over me. This conviction
of my cowardice, my rebellion, fa&longs;tened
upon me, and I &longs;tood rigid and cold as marble.
From this &longs;tate I was &longs;omewhat relieved by my
wife's voice, who renewed her &longs;upplications to be
told why we came hither, and what was the fate of
my &longs;i&longs;ter.
“What could I an&longs;wer? My words were broken
and inarticulate. Her fears naturally acquired
force from the ob&longs;ervation of the&longs;e &longs;ymptoms; but
the&longs;e fears were mi&longs;placed. The only inference
&longs;he deduced from my conduct was, that &longs;ome terrible
mi&longs;hap had befallen Clara.
“She wrung her hands, and exclaimed in an
agony, “O tell me, where is &longs;he? What has become
of her? Is &longs;he &longs;ick? Dead? Is &longs;he in her
chamber? O let me go thither and know the
wor&longs;t!”
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“This propo&longs;al &longs;et my thoughts once more in
motion. Perhaps what my rebellious heart refu&longs;ed
to perform here, I might obtain &longs;trength enough to
execute el&longs;ewhere.
“Come then,” &longs;aid I, “let us go.”
“I will, but not in the dark. We mu&longs;t fir&longs;t
procure a light.”
“Fly then and procure it; but I charge you, linger
not. I will await for your return.
“While &longs;he was gone, I &longs;trode along the entry.
The fellne&longs;s of a gloomy hurricane but &longs;aintly resembled
the di&longs;cord that reigned in my mind. To
omit this &longs;acrifice mu&longs;t not be; yet my &longs;inews had
refu&longs;ed to perform it. No alternative was offered.
To rebel again&longs;t the mandate was impo&longs;&longs;ible; but
obedience would render me the executioner of my
wife. My will was &longs;trong, but my limbs refu&longs;ed
their office.
“She returned with a light; I led the way to
the chamber; &longs;he looked round her; &longs;he lifted the
curtain of the bed; &longs;he &longs;aw nothing.
“At length, &longs;he fixed inquiring eyes upon me.
The light now enabled her to di&longs;cover in my vi&longs;age
what darkne&longs;s had hitherto concealed. Her cares
were now transferred from my &longs;i&longs;ter to my&longs;elf, and
&longs;he &longs;aid in a tremulous voice, “Wieland! you are
not well: What ails you? Can I do nothing for
you?”
“That accents and looks &longs;o winning &longs;hould
di&longs;arm me of my re&longs;olution, was to be expected.
My thoughts were thrown anew into anarchy. I
&longs;pread my hand before my eyes that I might not
&longs;ee her, and an&longs;wered only by groans. She took
my other hand between her's, and pre&longs;&longs;ing it to her
heart, &longs;poke with that voice which had ever &longs;wayed
my will, and wa&longs;ted away &longs;orrow.
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“My friend! my &longs;oul's friend! tell me thy
cau&longs;e of grief. Do I not merit to partake with
thee in thy cares? Am I not thy wife?”
“This was too much. I broke from her embrace,
and retired to a corner of the room. In this
pau&longs;e, courage was once more infu&longs;ed into me. I
re&longs;olved to execute my duty. She followed me,
and renewed her pa&longs;&longs;ionate entreaties to know the
cau&longs;e of my di&longs;tre&longs;s.
“I rai&longs;ed my head and regarded her with &longs;tedfa&longs;t
looks. I muttered &longs;omething about death, and the
injunctions of my duty. At the&longs;e words &longs;he &longs;hrunk
back, and looked at me with a new expre&longs;&longs;ion of
angui&longs;h. After a pau&longs;e, &longs;he cla&longs;ped her hands, and
exclaimed—
“O Wieland! Wieland! God grant that I am
mi&longs;taken; but &longs;urely &longs;omething is wrong. I &longs;ee it:
it is too plain: thou art undone—lo&longs;t to me and to
thy&longs;elf.” At the &longs;ame time &longs;he gazed on my features
with inten&longs;e&longs;t anxiety, in hope that different
&longs;ymptoms would take place. I replied to her with
vehemence—
“Undone! No; my duty is known, and I thank
my God that my cowardice is now vanqui&longs;hed, and
I have power to fulfil it. Catharine! I pity the
weakne&longs;s of thy nature: I pity thee, but mu&longs;t not
&longs;pare. Thy life is claimed from my hands: thou
mu&longs;t die!”
“Fear was now, added to her grief. `What
mean you? Why talk you of death? Bethink
your&longs;elf, Wieland: bethink your&longs;elf, and this fit
will pa&longs;s. O why came I hither! Why did you
drag me hither?'
“I brought thee hither to fulfil a divine command.
I am appointed thy de&longs;troyer, and de&longs;troy
thee I mu&longs;t.” Saying this I &longs;eized her wri&longs;ts. She
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&longs;hrieked aloud, and endeavoured to free her&longs;elf
from my gra&longs;p; but her efforts were vain.
“Surely, &longs;urely Wieland, thou do&longs;t not mean
it. Am I not thy wife? and would&longs;t thou kill me?
Thou wilt not; and yet—I &longs;ee—thou art Wieland
no longer! A fury re&longs;i&longs;tle&longs;s and horrible po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;es
thee—Spare me—&longs;pare—help—help—”
“Till her breath was &longs;topped &longs;he &longs;hrieked for
help—for mercy. When &longs;he could &longs;peak no longer,
her ge&longs;tures, her looks appealed to my compa&longs;&longs;ion.
My accur&longs;ed hand was irre&longs;olute and tremulous. I
meant thy death to be &longs;udden, thy &longs;truggles to be
brief. Alas! my heart was infirm; my re&longs;olves
mutable. Thrice I &longs;lackened my gra&longs;p, and life
kept its hold, though in the mid&longs;t of pangs. Her
eye-balls &longs;tarted from their &longs;ockets. Grimne&longs;s and
di&longs;tortion took place of all that u&longs;ed to bewitch me
into tran&longs;port, and &longs;ubdue me into reverence.
“I was commi&longs;&longs;ioned to kill thee, but not to
torment thee with the fore&longs;ight of thy death; not
to multiply thy fears, and prolong thy agonies.
Haggard, and pale, and lifele&longs;s, at length thou
cea&longs;ed&longs;t to contend with thy de&longs;tiny.
“This was a moment of triumph. Thus had
I &longs;ucce&longs;sfully &longs;ubdued the &longs;tubbornne&longs;s of human
pa&longs;&longs;ions: the victim which had been demanded was
given: the deed was done pa&longs;t recal.
“I lifted the corp&longs;e in my arms and laid it on
the bed. I gazed upon it with delight. Such was
the elation of my thoughts, that I even broke into
laughter. I clapped my hands and exclaimed, `It
is done! My &longs;acred duty is fulfilled! To that I
have &longs;acrificed, O my God! thy la&longs;t and be&longs;t gift,
my wife!'
“For a while I thus &longs;oared above frailty. I imagined
I had &longs;et my&longs;elf forever beyond the reach of
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&longs;elfi&longs;hne&longs;s; but my imaginations were fal&longs;e. This
rapture quickly &longs;ub&longs;ided. I looked again at my
wife. My joyous ebullitions vani&longs;hed, and I asked
my&longs;elf who it was whom I &longs;aw? Methought
it could not be Catharine. It could not be the woman
who had lodged for years in my heart; who
had &longs;lept, nightly, in my bo&longs;om; who had borne
in her womb, who had fo&longs;tered at her brea&longs;t, the
beings who called me father; whom I had watched
with delight, and cheri&longs;hed with a fondne&longs;s ever new
and perpetually growing: it could not be the &longs;ame.
“Where was her bloom! The&longs;e deadly and
blood-&longs;uffu&longs;ed orbs but ill re&longs;emble the azure and
ex&longs;tatic tenderne&longs;s of her eyes. The lucid &longs;tream
that meandered over that bo&longs;om, the glow of love
that was wont to &longs;it upon that cheek, are much unlike
the&longs;e livid &longs;tains and this hideous deformity.
Alas! the&longs;e were the traces of agony; the gripe of
the a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in had been here!
“I will not dwell upon my lap&longs;e into de&longs;perate
and outrageous &longs;orrow. The breath of heaven that
&longs;u&longs;tained me was withdrawn, and I &longs;unk into mere
man. I leaped from the floor: I da&longs;hed my head
again&longs;t the wall: I uttered &longs;creams of horror: I
panted after torment and pain. Eternal fire, and
the bickerings of hell, compared with what I felt,
were mu&longs;ic and a bed of ro&longs;es.
“I thank my God that this degeneracy was transient,
that he deigned once more to rai&longs;e me alo&longs;t.
I thought upon what I had done as a &longs;acrifice to
duty, and was calm. My wife was dead; but I
reflected, that though this &longs;ource of human consolation
was clo&longs;ed, yet others were &longs;till open. If
the tran&longs;ports of an hu&longs;band were no more, the
feelings of a father had &longs;till &longs;cope for exerci&longs;e.
When remembrance of their mother &longs;hould excite
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too keen a pang, I would look upon them, and
be comforted.
“While I revolved the&longs;e ideas, new warmth
flowed in upon my heart—I was wrong. The&longs;e
feelings were the growth of &longs;elfi&longs;hne&longs;s. Of this I
was not aware, and to di&longs;pel the mi&longs;t that ob&longs;cured
my perceptions, a new effulgence and a new mandate
were nece&longs;&longs;ary.
“From the&longs;e thoughts I was recalled by a ray
that was &longs;hot into the room. A voice &longs;pake like
that which I had before heard—`Thou ha&longs;t done
well; but all is not done—the &longs;acrifice is incomplete—
thy children mu&longs;t be offered—they mu&longs;t perish
with their mother!—'
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CHAPTER XX.
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Will you wonder that I read no farther?
Will you not rather be a&longs;toni&longs;hed that I read thus
far? What power &longs;upported me through &longs;uch a
ta&longs;k I know not. Perhaps the doubt from which
I could not di&longs;engage my mind, that the &longs;cene here
depicted was a dream, contributed to my perseverance.
In vain the &longs;olemn introduction of my uncle,
his appeals to my fortitude, and allu&longs;ions to
&longs;omething mon&longs;trous in the events he was about to
di&longs;clo&longs;e; in vain the di&longs;tre&longs;sful perplexity, the mysterious
&longs;ilence and ambiguous an&longs;wers of my attendants,
e&longs;pecially when the condition of my brother
was the theme of my inquiries, were remembered.
I recalled the interview with Wieland in my chamber,
his preternatural tranquillity &longs;ucceeded by bur&longs;ts
of pa&longs;&longs;ion and menacing actions. All the&longs;e coincided
with the tenor of this paper.
Catharine and her children, and Loui&longs;a were
dead. The act that de&longs;troyed them was, in the
highe&longs;t degree, inhuman. It was worthy of savages
trained to murder, and exulting in agonies.
Who was the performer of the deed? Wieland!
My brother! The hu&longs;band and the father! That
man of gentle virtues and invincible benignity!
placable and mild—an idolator of peace! Surely,
&longs;aid I, it is a dream. For many days have I been
vexed with frenzy. Its dominion is &longs;till felt; but
new forms are called up to diver&longs;ify and augment
my torments.
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The paper dropped from my hand, and my eyes
followed it. I &longs;hrunk back, as if to avoid &longs;ome
petrifying influence that approached me. My
tongue was mute; all the functions of nature were
at a &longs;tand, and I &longs;unk upon the floor lifele&longs;s.
The noi&longs;e of my fall, as I afterwards heard,
alarmed my uncle, who was in a lower apartment,
and who&longs;e apprehen&longs;ions had detained him. He
ha&longs;tened to my chamber, and admini&longs;tered the assistance
which my condition required. When I
opened my eyes I beheld him before me. His &longs;kill
as a rea&longs;oner as well as a phy&longs;ician, was exerted
to obviate the injurious effects of this di&longs;clo&longs;ure;
but he had wrongly e&longs;timated the &longs;trength of my
body or of my mind. This new &longs;hock brought me
once more to the brink of the grave, and my malady
was much more difficult to &longs;ubdue than at
fir&longs;t.
I will not dwell upon the long train of dreary
&longs;en&longs;ations, and the hideous confu&longs;ion of my understanding.
Time &longs;lowly re&longs;tored its cu&longs;tomary firmness
to my frame, and order to my thoughts. The
images impre&longs;&longs;ed upon my mind by this fatal paper
were &longs;omewhat effaced by my malady. They were
ob&longs;cure and disjointed like the parts of a dream. I
was de&longs;irous of freeing my imagination from this
chaos. For this end I que&longs;tioned my uncle, who
was my con&longs;tant companion. He was intimidated
by the i&longs;&longs;ue of his fir&longs;t experiment, and took pains
to elude or di&longs;courage my inquiry. My impetuosity
&longs;ome times compelled him to have re&longs;ort to
mi&longs;repre&longs;entations and untruths.
Time effected that end, perhaps, in a more beneficial
manner. In the cour&longs;e of my meditations
the recollections of the pa&longs;t gradually became more
di&longs;tinct. I revolved them, however, in &longs;ilence,
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and being no longer accompanied with &longs;urprize,
they did not exerci&longs;e a death-dealing power. I had
di&longs;continued the peru&longs;al of the paper in the mid&longs;t
of the narrative; but what I read, combined with
information el&longs;ewhere obtained, threw, perhaps, a
&longs;ufficient light upon the&longs;e dete&longs;table tran&longs;actions;
yet my curio&longs;ity was not inactive. I de&longs;ired to
peru&longs;e the remainder.
My eagerne&longs;s to know the particulars of this
tale was mingled and abated by my antipathy to the
&longs;cene which would be di&longs;clo&longs;ed. Hence I employed
no means to effect my purpo&longs;e. I de&longs;ired knowledge,
and, at the &longs;ame time, &longs;hrunk back from
receiving the boon.
One morning, being left alone, I ro&longs;e from my
bed, and went to a drawer where my finer clothing
u&longs;ed to be kept. I opened it, and this fatal paper
&longs;aluted my &longs;ight. I &longs;natched it involuntarily,
and withdrew to a chair. I debated, for a few minutes,
whether I &longs;hould open and read. Now that
my fortitude was put to trial, it failed. I felt myself
incapable of deliberately &longs;urveying a &longs;cene of
&longs;o much horror. I was prompted to return it to
its place, but this re&longs;olution gave way, and I determined
to peru&longs;e &longs;ome part of it. I turned over the
leaves till I came near the conclu&longs;ion. The narrative
of the criminal was fini&longs;hed. The verdict
of guilty reluctantly pronounced by the jury, and
the accu&longs;ed interrogated why &longs;entence of death
&longs;hould not pa&longs;s. The an&longs;wer was brief, &longs;olemn,
and emphatical.
“No. I have nothing to &longs;ay. My tale has been
told. My motives have been truly &longs;tated. If my
judges are unable to di&longs;cern the purity of my intentions,
or to credit the &longs;tatement of them, which I
have ju&longs;t made; if they &longs;ee not that my deed was
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enjoined by heaven; that obedience was the te&longs;t of
perfect virtue, and the extinction of &longs;elfi&longs;hne&longs;s and
error, they mu&longs;t pronounce me a murderer.
“They refu&longs;e to credit my tale; they impute
my acts to the influence of dæmons; they account
me an example of the highe&longs;t wickedne&longs;s of which
human nature is capable; they doom me to death
and in&longs;amy. Have I power to e&longs;cape this evil?
If I have, be &longs;ure I will exert it. I will not accept
evil at their hand, when I am entitled to good; I
will &longs;uffer only when I cannot elude &longs;uffering.
“You &longs;ay that I am guilty. Impious and ra&longs;h!
thus to u&longs;urp the prerogatives of your Maker!
to &longs;et up your bounded views and halting rea&longs;on,
as the mea&longs;ure of truth!
“Thou, Omnipotent and Holy! Thou knowe&longs;t
that my actions were conformable to thy will. I
know not what is crime; what actions are evil
in their ultimate and comprehen&longs;ive tendency or
what are good. Thy knowledge, as thy power,
is unlimited. I have taken thee for my guide, and
cannot err. To the arms of thy protection, I entrust
my &longs;afety. In the awards of thy ju&longs;tice, I
confide for my recompen&longs;e.
“Come death when it will, I am &longs;afe. Let
calumuy and abhorrence pur&longs;ue me among men; I
&longs;hall not be defrauded of my dues. The peace of
virtue, and the glory of obedience, will be my portion
hereafter.”
Here ended the &longs;peaker. I withdrew my eyes
from the page; but before I had time to reflect on
what I had read, Mr. Cambridge entered the room.
He quickly perceived how I had been employed,
and betrayed &longs;ome &longs;olicitude re&longs;pecting the condition
of my mind.
His fears, however, were &longs;uperfluous. What I
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had read, threw me into a &longs;tate not ea&longs;ily de&longs;cribed.
Angui&longs;h and fury, however, had no part in it. My
faculties were chained up in wonder and awe. Ju&longs;t
then, I was unable to &longs;peak. I looked at my friend
with an air of inqui&longs;itivene&longs;s, and pointed at the
roll. He comprehended my inquiry, and an&longs;wered
me with looks of gloomy acquie&longs;cence. After &longs;ome
time, my thoughts found their way to my lips.
Such then were the acts of my brother. Such
were his words. For this he was condemned to
die: To die upon the gallows! A fate, cruel and
unmerited! And is it &longs;o? continued I, &longs;truggling
for utterance, which this new idea made difficult;
is he—dead!
“No. He is alive. There could be no doubt
as to the cau&longs;e of the&longs;e exce&longs;&longs;es. They originated
in &longs;udden madne&longs;s; but that madne&longs;s continues, and
he is condemned to perpetual impri&longs;onment.”
“Madne&longs;s, &longs;ay you? Are you &longs;ure? Were
not the&longs;e &longs;ights, and the&longs;e &longs;ounds, really &longs;een and
heard?”
My uncle was &longs;urprized at my que&longs;tion. He
looked at me with apparent inquietude. “Can
you doubt,” &longs;aid he, “that the&longs;e were illu&longs;ions?
Does heaven, think you, interfere for &longs;uch ends?”
“O no; I think it not. Heaven cannot stimulate
to &longs;uch unheard-of outrage. The agent was
not good, but evil.”
“Nay, my dear girl,” &longs;aid my friend, “lay
a&longs;ide the&longs;e fancies. Neither angel nor devil had
any part in this affair.”
“You mi&longs;under&longs;tand me,” I an&longs;wered; “I believe
the agency to be external and real, but not
&longs;upernatural.”
“Indeed!” &longs;aid he, in an accent of &longs;urprize.
“Whom do you then &longs;uppo&longs;e to be the agent?”
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“I know not. All is wildering conjecture. I
cannot forget Carwin. I cannot bani&longs;h the suspicion
that he was the &longs;etter of the&longs;e &longs;nares. But how
can we &longs;uppo&longs;e it to be madne&longs;s? Did in&longs;anity
ever before a&longs;&longs;ume this form?”
“Frequently. The illu&longs;ion, in this ca&longs;e, was
more dreadful in its con&longs;equences, than any that
has come to my knowledge; but, I repeat that
&longs;imilar illu&longs;ions are not rare. Did you never hear
of an in&longs;tance which occurred in your mother's
family?”
“No. I be&longs;eech you relate it. My grandfather's
death I have under&longs;tood to have been extraordinary,
but I know not in what re&longs;pect. A brother,
to whom he was much attached, died in his
youth, and this, as I have heard, influenced, in &longs;ome
remarkable way, the fate of my grandfather; but I
am unacquainted with particulars.”
“On the death of that brother,” re&longs;umed my
friend, “my father was &longs;eized with dejection,
which was found to flow from two &longs;ources. He
not only grieved for the lo&longs;s of a friend, but entertained
the belief that his own death would be inevitably
con&longs;equent on that of his brother. He
waited from day to day in expectation of the &longs;troke
which he predicted was &longs;peedily to fall upon him.
Gradually, however, he recovered his cheerfulne&longs;s
and confidence. He married, and performed his
part in the world with &longs;pirit and activity. At the
end of twenty-one years it happened that he &longs;pent
the &longs;ummer with his family at an hou&longs;e which he
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed on the &longs;ea coa&longs;t in Cornwall. It was at
no great di&longs;tance from a cliff which overhung
the ocean, and ro&longs;e into the air to a great height.
The &longs;ummit was level and &longs;ecure, and ea&longs;ily ascended
on the land &longs;ide. The company frequently
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repaired hither in clear weather, invited by its pure
airs and exten&longs;ive pro&longs;pects. One evening in June
my father, with his wife and &longs;ome friends, chanced
to be on this &longs;pot. Every one was happy, and
my father's imagination &longs;eemed particularly alive
to the grandeur of the &longs;cenery.
“Suddenly, however, his limbs trembled and his
features betrayed alarm. He threw him&longs;elf into
the attitude of one li&longs;tening. He gazed earne&longs;tly
in a direction in which nothing was vi&longs;ible to his
friends. This la&longs;ted for a minute; then turning
to his companions, he told them that his brother
had ju&longs;t delivered to him a &longs;ummons, which mu&longs;t
be in&longs;tantly obeyed. He then took an ha&longs;ty and
&longs;olemn leave of each per&longs;on, and, before their surprize
would allow them to under&longs;tand the &longs;cene,
he ru&longs;hed to the edge of the cliff, threw him&longs;elf
headlong, and was &longs;een no more.
“In the cour&longs;e of my practice in the German
army, many ca&longs;es, equally remarkable, have occurred,
Unque&longs;tionably the illu&longs;ions were maniacal,
though the vulgar thought otherwi&longs;e. They
are all reducible to one cla&longs;s, * and are not more difficult
of explication and cure than mo&longs;t affections
of our frame.”
This opinion my uncle endeavoured, by various
means, to impre&longs;s upon me. I li&longs;tened to his reasonings
and illu&longs;trations with &longs;ilent re&longs;pect. My astonishment
was great on finding proofs of an influence
of which I had &longs;uppo&longs;ed there were no examples;
but I was far from accounting for appearances
in my uncle's manner. Ideas thronged into my
mind which I was unable to disjoin or to regulate.
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I reflected that this madne&longs;s, if madne&longs;s it were,
had affected Pleyel and my&longs;elf as well as Wieland,
Pleyel had heard a my&longs;terious voice. I had &longs;een
and heard. A form had &longs;howed it&longs;elf to me as
well as to Wieland. The di&longs;clo&longs;ure had been made
in the &longs;ame &longs;pot. The appearance was equally
complete and equally prodigious in both in&longs;tances.
Whatever &longs;uppo&longs;ition I &longs;hould adopt, had I not
equal rea&longs;on to tremble? What was my &longs;ecurity
again&longs;t influences equally terrific and equally irresistable?
It would be vain to attempt to de&longs;cribe the &longs;tate
of mind which this idea produced. I wondered at
the change which a moment had affected in my brother's
condition. Now was I &longs;tupified with tenfold
wonder in contemplating my&longs;elf. Was I not
likewi&longs;e transformed from rational and human into
a creature of namele&longs;s and fearful attributes? Was
I not tran&longs;ported to the brink of the &longs;ame aby&longs;s?
Ere a new day &longs;hould come, my hands might be
embrued in blood, and my remaining life be consigned
to a dungeon and chains.
With moral &longs;en&longs;ibility like mine, no wonder that
this new dread was more in&longs;upportable than the
angui&longs;h I had lately endured. Grief carries its own
antidote along with it. When thought becomes
merely a vehicle of pain, its progre&longs;s mu&longs;t be stopped.
Death is a cure which nature or our&longs;elves
mu&longs;t admini&longs;ter: To this cure I now looked forward
with gloomy &longs;atisfaction.
My &longs;ilence could not conceal from my uncle the
&longs;tate of my thoughts. He made unwearied efforts
to divert my attention from views &longs;o pregnant with
danger. His efforts, aided by time, were in &longs;ome
mea&longs;ure &longs;ucce&longs;sful. Confidence in the &longs;trength of
my re&longs;olution, and in the healthful &longs;tate of my
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faculties, was once more revived. I was able to devote
my thoughts to my brother's &longs;tate, and the
cau&longs;es of this di&longs;a&longs;terous proceeding.
My opinions were the &longs;port of eternal change.
Some times I conceived the apparition to be more
than human. I had no grounds on which to build
a di&longs;belief. I could not deny faith to the evidence
of my religion; the te&longs;timony of men was loud and
unanimous: both the&longs;e concurred to per&longs;uade me
that evil &longs;pirits exi&longs;ted, and that their energy was
frequently exerted in the &longs;y&longs;tem of the world.
The&longs;e ideas connected them&longs;elves with the image
of Carwin. Where is the proof, &longs;aid I, that
dæmons may not be &longs;ubjected to the controul of
men? This truth may be di&longs;torted and deba&longs;ed in
the minds of the ignorant. The dogmas of the
vulgar, with regard to this &longs;ubject, are glaringly
ab&longs;urd; but though the&longs;e may ju&longs;tly be neglected
by the wife, we are &longs;carcely ju&longs;tified in totally rejecting
the po&longs;&longs;ibility that men may obtain supernatural
aid.
The dreams of &longs;uper&longs;tition are worthy of contempt.
Witchcraft, its in&longs;truments and miracles,
the compact ratified by a bloody &longs;ignature, the apparatus
of &longs;ulpherous &longs;mells and thundering explosions,
are mon&longs;trous and chimerical. The&longs;e
have no part in the &longs;cene over which the genius of
Carwin pre&longs;ides. That con&longs;cious beings, di&longs;&longs;imilar
from human, but moral and voluntary agents as we
are, &longs;ome where exi&longs;t, can &longs;carcely be denied. That
their aid may be employed to benign or malignant
purpo&longs;es, cannot be di&longs;proved.
Darkne&longs;s re&longs;ts upon the de&longs;igns of this man.
The extent of his power is unknown; but is there
not evidence that it has been now exerted?
I recurred to my own experience. Here
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Carwin had actually appeared upon the &longs;tage; but this
was in a human character. A voice and a form
were di&longs;covered; but one was apparently exerted,
and the other di&longs;clo&longs;ed, not to befriend, but to counteract
Carwin's de&longs;igns. There were tokens of
ho&longs;tility, and not of alliance, between them. Carwin
was the mi&longs;creant who&longs;e projects were re&longs;i&longs;ted
by a mini&longs;ter of heaven. How can this be reconciled
to the &longs;tratagem which ruined my brother?
There the agency was at once preternatural and
malignant.
The recollection of this fact led my thoughts into
a new channel. The malignity of that influence
which governed my brother had hitherto been no
&longs;ubject of doubt. His wife and children were destroyed;
they had expired in agony and fear; yet
was it indi&longs;putably certain that their murderer was
criminal? He was acquitted at the tribunal of his
own con&longs;cience; his behaviour at his trial and &longs;ince,
was faithfully reported to me; appearances were
uniform; not for a moment did he lay a&longs;ide the
maje&longs;ty of virtue; he repelled all invectives by appealing
to the deity, and to the tenor of his pa&longs;t life;
&longs;urely there was truth in this appeal: none but a
command from heaven could have &longs;wayed his will;
and nothing but unerring proof of divine approbation
could &longs;u&longs;tain his mind in its pre&longs;ent elevation.
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CHAPTER XXI.
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Such, for &longs;ome time, was the cour&longs;e of my meditations.
My weakne&longs;s, and my aver&longs;ion to be
pointed at as an object of &longs;urprize or compa&longs;&longs;ion,
prevented me from going into public. I &longs;tudiou&longs;ly
avoided the vi&longs;its of tho&longs;e who came to expre&longs;s their
&longs;ympathy, or gratify their curio&longs;ity. My uncle was
my principal companion. Nothing more powerfully
tended to con&longs;ole me than his conver&longs;ation.
With regard to Pleyel, my feelings &longs;eemed to
have undergone a total revolution. It often happens
that one pa&longs;&longs;ion &longs;upplants another. Late disasters
had rent my heart, and now that the wound
was in &longs;ome degree clo&longs;ed, the love which I had
cheri&longs;hed for this man &longs;eemed likewi&longs;e to have vanished.
Hitherto, indeed, I had had no cau&longs;e for de&longs;pair.
I was innocent of that offence which had e&longs;tranged
him from my pre&longs;ence. I might rea&longs;onably expect
that my innocence would at &longs;ome time be irre&longs;i&longs;tably
demon&longs;trated, and his affection for me be revived
with his e&longs;teem. Now my aver&longs;ion to be thought
culpable by him continued, but was unattended
with the &longs;ame impatience. I de&longs;ired the removal of
his &longs;u&longs;picions, not for the &longs;ake of regaining his
love, but becau&longs;e I delighted in the veneration of
&longs;o excellent a man, and becau&longs;e he him&longs;elf would
derive plea&longs;ure from conviction of my integrity.
My uncle had early informed me that Pleyel and
he had &longs;een each other, &longs;ince the return of the latter
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from Europe. Amid&longs;t the topics of their conversation,
I di&longs;covered that Pleyel had carefully omitted
the mention of tho&longs;e events which had drawn upon
me &longs;o much abhorrence. I could not account for
his &longs;ilence on this &longs;ubject. Perhaps time or &longs;ome
new di&longs;covery had altered or &longs;haken his opinion.
Perhaps he was unwilling, though I were guilty, to
injure me in the opinion of my venerable kin&longs;man.
I under&longs;tood that he had frequently vi&longs;ited me during
my di&longs;ea&longs;e, had watched many &longs;ucce&longs;&longs;ive nights
by my bed&longs;ide, and manife&longs;ted the utmo&longs;t anxiety
on my account.
The journey which he was preparing to take, at
the termination of our la&longs;t interview, the cata&longs;trophe
of the en&longs;uing night induced him to delay. The
motives of this journey I had, till now, totally mistaken.
They were explained to me by my uncle,
who&longs;e tale excited my a&longs;toni&longs;hment without awakening
my regret. In a different &longs;tate of mind, it
would have added un&longs;peakably to my di&longs;tre&longs;s, but
now it was more a &longs;ource of plea&longs;ure than pain.
This, perhaps, is not the lea&longs;t extraordinary of the
facts contained in this narrative. It will excite le&longs;s
wonder when I add, that my indifference was temporary,
and that the lap&longs;e of a few days &longs;hewod me
that my feelings were deadened for a time, rather
than finally extingui&longs;hed.
There&longs;a de Stolberg was alive. She had conceived
the re&longs;olution of &longs;eeking her lover in America.
To conceal her flight, &longs;he had cau&longs;ed the
report of her death to be propagated. She put herself
under the conduct of Bertrand, the faithful servant
of Pleyel. The pacquet which the latter received
from the hands of his &longs;ervant, contained the
tidings of her &longs;afe arrival at Bo&longs;ton, and to meet
her there was the purpo&longs;e of his journey.
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This di&longs;covery had &longs;et this man's character in a
new light. I had mi&longs;taken the heroi&longs;m of friendship
for the phrenzy of love. He who had gained
my affections, may be &longs;uppo&longs;ed to have previou&longs;ly
entitled him&longs;elf to my reverence; but the levity which
had formerly characterized the behaviour of this man,
tended to ob&longs;cure the greatne&longs;s of his &longs;entiments. I
did not fail to remark, that &longs;ince this lady was &longs;till
alive, the voice in the temple which a&longs;&longs;erted her
death, mu&longs;t either have been intended to deceive, or
have been it&longs;elf deceived. The latter &longs;uppo&longs;ition
was incon&longs;i&longs;tent with the notion of a &longs;piritual, and
the former with that of a benevolent being.
When my di&longs;ea&longs;e abated, Pleyel had forborne
his vi&longs;its, and had lately &longs;et out upon this journey.
This amounted to a proof that my guilt was &longs;till
believed by him. I was grieved for his errors, but
tru&longs;ted that my vindication would, &longs;ooner or later,
be made.
Meanwhile, tumultuous thoughts were again &longs;et
afloat by a propo&longs;al made to me by my uncle. He
imagined that new airs would re&longs;tore my languishing
con&longs;titution, and a varied &longs;ucce&longs;&longs;ion of objects
tend to repair the &longs;hock which my mind had received.
For this end, he propo&longs;ed to me to take up
my abode with him in France or Italy.
At a more pro&longs;perous period, this &longs;cheme would
have plea&longs;ed for its own &longs;ake. Now my heart
&longs;ickened at the pro&longs;pect of nature. The world of
man was &longs;hrowded in mi&longs;ery and blood, and constituted
a loath&longs;ome &longs;pectacle. I willingly clo&longs;ed
my eyes in &longs;leep, and regretted that the re&longs;pite it
afforded me was &longs;o &longs;hort. I marked with satisfaction
the progre&longs;s of decay in my frame, and consented
to live, merely in the hope that the cour&longs;e
of nature would &longs;peedily relieve me from the
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burthen. Neverthele&longs;s, as he per&longs;i&longs;ted in his &longs;cheme,
I concurred in it merely becau&longs;e he was entitled to
my gratitude, and becau&longs;e my refu&longs;al gave him
pain.
No &longs;ooner was he informed of my con&longs;ent, than
he told me I mu&longs;t make immediate preparation to
embark, as the &longs;hip in which he had engaged a
pa&longs;&longs;age would be ready to depart in three days.
This expedition was unexpected. There was an
impatience in his manner when he urged the necessity
of di&longs;patch that excited my &longs;urprize. When
I que&longs;tioned him as to the cau&longs;e of this ha&longs;te, he
generally &longs;tated rea&longs;ons which, at that time, I could
not deny to be plau&longs;ible; but which, on the review,
appeared in&longs;ufficient. I &longs;u&longs;pected that the true motives
were concealed, and believed that the&longs;e motives
had &longs;ome connection with my brother's de&longs;tiny.
I now recollected that the information re&longs;pecting
Wieland which had, from time to time, been imparted
to me, was always accompanied with airs
of re&longs;erve and my&longs;teriou&longs;ne&longs;s. What had appeared
&longs;ufficiently explicit at the time it was uttered, I now
remembered to have been faltering and ambiguous.
I was re&longs;olved to remove my doubts, by vi&longs;iting the
unfortunate man in his dungeon.
Heretofore the idea of this vi&longs;it had occurred to
me; but the horrors of his dwelling-place, his wild
yet placid phy&longs;iognomy, his neglected locks, the
fetters which con&longs;trained his limbs, terrible as they
were in de&longs;cription, how could I endure to behold!
Now, however, that I was preparing to take an
everla&longs;ting farewell of my country, now that an
ocean was henceforth to &longs;eparate me from him,
how could I part without an interview? I would
examine his &longs;ituation with my own eyes. I would
know whether the repre&longs;entations which had
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been made to me were true. Perhaps the &longs;ight of
the &longs;i&longs;ter whom he was wont to love with a pa&longs;&longs;ion
more than fraternal, might have an au&longs;picious influence
on his malady.
Having formed this re&longs;olution, I waited to communicate
it to Mr. Cambridge. I was aware that,
without his concurrence, I could not hope to carry
it into execution, and could di&longs;cover no objection
to which it was liable. If I had not been deceived
as to his condition, no inconvenience could ari&longs;e
from this proceeding. His con&longs;ent, therefore, would
be the te&longs;t of his &longs;incerity.
I &longs;eized this opportunity to &longs;tate my wi&longs;hes on
this head. My &longs;u&longs;picions were confirmed by the
manner in which my reque&longs;t affected him. After
&longs;ome pau&longs;e, in which his countenance betrayed
every mark of perplexity, he &longs;aid to me, “Why
would you pay this vi&longs;it? What u&longs;eful purpo&longs;e
can it &longs;erve?”
“We are preparing,” &longs;aid I, “to leave the
country forever: What kind of being &longs;hould I be
to leave behind me a brother in calamity without
even a parting interview? Indulge me for three
minutes in the &longs;ight of him. My heart will be
much ea&longs;ier after I have looked at him, and &longs;hed
a few tears in his pre&longs;ence.”
“I believe otherwi&longs;e. The &longs;ight of him would
only augment your di&longs;tre&longs;s, without contributing,
in any degree, to his benefit.”
“I know not that,” returned I. “Surely the
&longs;ympathy of his &longs;i&longs;ter, proofs that her tenderne&longs;s is
as lively as ever, mu&longs;t be a &longs;ource of &longs;atisfaction
to him. At pre&longs;ent he mu&longs;t regard all mankind as
his enemies and calumnjators. His &longs;i&longs;ter he, probably,
conceives to partake in the general infatuation,
and to join in the cry of abhorrence that is
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rai&longs;ed again&longs;t him. To be undeceived in this respect,
to be a&longs;&longs;ured that, however I may impute
his conduct to delu&longs;ion, I &longs;till retain all my former
affection for his per&longs;on, and veneration for the purity
of his motives, cannot but afford him plea&longs;ure.
When he hears that I have left the country, without
even the ceremonious attention of a vi&longs;it, what
will he think of me? His magnanimity may hinder
him from repining, but he will &longs;urely con&longs;ider
my behaviour as &longs;avage and unfeeling. Indeed,
dear Sir, I mu&longs;t pay this vi&longs;it. To embark with
you without paying it, will be impo&longs;&longs;ible. It may
be of no &longs;ervice to him, but will enable me to acquit
my&longs;elf of what I cannot but e&longs;teem a duty. Besides,”
continued I, “if it be a mere fit of infanity
that has &longs;eized him, may not my pre&longs;ence chance to
have a &longs;alutary influence? The mere &longs;ight of me,
it is not impo&longs;&longs;ible, may rectify his perceptions.”
“Ay,” &longs;aid my uncle, with &longs;ome eagerne&longs;s; “it
is by no means impo&longs;&longs;ible that your interview may
have that effect; and for that rea&longs;on, beyond all
others, would I di&longs;&longs;uade you from it.”
I expre&longs;&longs;ed my &longs;urprize at this declaration. “Is
it not to be de&longs;ired that an error &longs;o fatal as this
&longs;hould be rectified?”
“I wonder at your que&longs;tion. Reflect on the
con&longs;equences of this error. Has he not de&longs;troyed
the wife whom he loved, the children whom he
idolized? What is it that enables him to bear the
remembrance, but the belief that he acted as his
duty enjoined? Would you ra&longs;hly bereave him of
this belief? Would you re&longs;tore him to him&longs;elf, and
convince him that he was in&longs;tigated to this dreadful
outrage by a perver&longs;ion of his organs, or a delu&longs;ion
from hell?
“Now his vi&longs;ions are joyous and elate. He
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conceives him&longs;elf to have reached a loftier degree of
virtue, than any other human being. The merit
of his &longs;acrifice is only enhanced in the eyes of superior
beings, by the dete&longs;tation that pur&longs;ues him here,
and the &longs;ufferings to which he is condemned. The
belief that even his &longs;i&longs;ter has de&longs;erted him, and gone
over to his enemies, adds to his &longs;ublimity of feelings,
and his confidence in divine approbation and
future recompen&longs;e.
“Let him be undeceived in this re&longs;pect, and what
floods of de&longs;pair and of horror will overwhelm him!
In&longs;tead of glowing approbation and &longs;erene hope,
will he not hate and torture him&longs;elf? Self-violence,
or a phrenzy far more &longs;avage and de&longs;tructive than
this, may be expected to &longs;ucceed. I be&longs;eech you,
therefore, to relinqui&longs;h this &longs;cheme. If you calmly
reflect upon it, you will di&longs;cover that your duty lies
in carefully &longs;hunning him.”
Mr. Cambridge's rea&longs;onings &longs;ugge&longs;ted views to
my under&longs;tanding, that had not hitherto occurred.
I could not but admit their validity, but they shewed,
in a new light, the depth of that misfortune in
which my brother was plunged. I was &longs;ilent and
irre&longs;olute.
Pre&longs;ently, I con&longs;idered, that whether Wieland
was a maniac, a faithful &longs;ervant of his God, the
victim of helli&longs;h illu&longs;ions, or the dupe of human
impo&longs;ture, was by no means certain. In this &longs;tate
of my mind it became me to be &longs;ilent during the
vi&longs;it that I projected. This vi&longs;it &longs;hould be brief;
I &longs;hould be &longs;atisfied merely to &longs;natch a look at him.
Admitting that a change in his opinions were not
to be de&longs;ired, there was no danger from the conduct
which I &longs;hould pur&longs;ue, that this change &longs;hould
be wrought.
But I could not conquer my uncle's aver&longs;ion to
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this &longs;cheme. Yet I per&longs;i&longs;ted, and he found that to
make me voluntarily relinqui&longs;h it, it was nece&longs;&longs;ary
to be more explicit than he had hitherto been. He
took both my hands, and anxiou&longs;ly examining my
countenance as he &longs;poke, “Clara,” &longs;aid he, “this
vi&longs;it mu&longs;t not be paid. We mu&longs;t ha&longs;ten with the
utmo&longs;t expedition from this &longs;hore. It is folly to
conceal the truth from you, and &longs;ince it is only
by di&longs;clo&longs;ing the truth that you can be prevailed
upon to lay a&longs;ide this project, the truth &longs;hall be
told.
“O my dear girl!” continued he with increa&longs;ing
energy in his accent, “your brother's phrenzy is,
indeed, &longs;tupendous and frightful. The &longs;oul that
formerly actuated his frame has di&longs;appeared. The
&longs;ame form remains; but the wi&longs;e and benevolent
Wieland is no more. A fury that is rapacious of
blood, that lifts his &longs;trength almo&longs;t above that of
mortals, that bends all his energies to the destruction
of whatever was once dear to him, po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;es
him wholly.
“You mu&longs;t not enter his dungeon; his eyes
will no &longs;ooner be fixed upon you, than an exertion
of his force will be made. He will &longs;hake off his
fetters in a moment, and ru&longs;h upon you. No
interpo&longs;ition will then be &longs;trong or quick enough
to &longs;ave you.
“The phantom that has urged him to the murder
of Catharine and her children is not yet appeased.
Your life, and that of Pleyel, are exacted
from him by this imaginary being. He is eager to
comply with this demand. Twice he has e&longs;caped
from his pri&longs;on. The fir&longs;t time, he no &longs;ooner found
him&longs;elf at liberty, than he ha&longs;ted to Pleyel's hou&longs;e.
It being midnight, the latter was in bed. Wieland
penetrated unob&longs;erved to his chamber, and opened
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his curtain. Happily, Pleyel awoke at the critical
moment, and e&longs;caped the fury of his kin&longs;man, by
leaping from his chamber-window into the court.
Happily, he reached the ground without injury.
Alarms were given, and after diligent &longs;earch, your
brother was found in a chamber of your hou&longs;e,
whither, no doubt, he had &longs;ought you.
“His chains, and the watchfulne&longs;s of his guards,
were redoubled; but again, by &longs;ome miracle, he restored
him&longs;elf to liberty. He was now incautiou&longs;ly
apprized of the place of your abode: and had not
information of his e&longs;cape been in&longs;tantly given, your
death would have been added to the number of his
atrocious acts.
“You now &longs;ee the danger of your project. You
mu&longs;t not only forbear to vi&longs;it him, but if you would
&longs;ave him from the crime of embruing his hands in
your blood, you mu&longs;t leave the country. There is
no hope that his malady will end but with his life,
and no precaution will en&longs;ure your &longs;afety, but that
of placing the ocean between you.
“I confe&longs;s I came over with an intention to reside
among you, but the&longs;e di&longs;a&longs;ters have changed
my views. Your own &longs;afety and my happine&longs;s
require that you &longs;hould accompany me in my return,
and I entreat you to give your cheerful concurrence
to this mea&longs;ure.”
After the&longs;e repre&longs;entations from my uncle, it was
impo&longs;&longs;ible to retain my purpo&longs;e. I readily con&longs;ented
to &longs;eclude my&longs;elf from Wieland's pre&longs;ence. I likewise
acquie&longs;ced in the propo&longs;al to go to Europe;
not that I ever expected to arrive there, but because,
&longs;ince my principles forbad me to a&longs;&longs;ail my
own life, change had &longs;ome tendency to make supportable
the few days which di&longs;ea&longs;e &longs;hould &longs;pare to
me.
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What a tale had thus been unfolded! I was
hunted to death, not by one whom my mi&longs;conduct
had exa&longs;perated, who was con&longs;cious of illicit motives,
and who &longs;ought his end by circumvention and
&longs;urprize; but by one who deemed him&longs;elf commissioned
for this act by heaven; who regarded this career
of horror as the la&longs;t refinement of virtue; who&longs;e
implacability was proportioned to the reverence and
love which he felt for me, and who was inacce&longs;&longs;ible
to the fear of puni&longs;hment and ignominy!
In vain &longs;hould I endeavour to &longs;tay his hand by
urging the claims of a &longs;i&longs;ter or friend: the&longs;e were
his only rea&longs;ons for pur&longs;uing my de&longs;truction. Had
I been a &longs;tranger to his blood; had I been the mo&longs;t
worthle&longs;s of human kind; my &longs;afety had not been
endangered.
Surely, &longs;aid I, my fate is without example. The
phrenzy which is charged upon my brother, mu&longs;t
belong to my&longs;elf. My foe is manacled and guarded;
but I derive no &longs;ecurity from the&longs;e re&longs;traints. I live
not in a community of &longs;avages; yet, whether I &longs;it
or walk, go into crouds, or hide my&longs;elf in &longs;olitude,
my life is marked for a prey to inhuman violence;
I am in perpetual danger of peri&longs;hing; of peri&longs;hing
under the gra&longs;p of a brother!
I recollected the omens of this de&longs;tiny; I remembered
the gulf to which my brother's invitation had
conducted me; I remembered that, when on the
brink of danger, the author of my peril was depicted
by my fears in his form: Thus realized,
were the creatures of prophetic &longs;leep, and of wakeful
terror!
The&longs;e images were unavoidably connected with
that of Carwin. In this paroxy&longs;m of di&longs;tre&longs;s, my
attention fa&longs;tened on him as the grand deceiver; the
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author of this black con&longs;piracy; the intelligence
that governed in this &longs;torm.
Some relief is afforded in the mid&longs;t of &longs;uffering,
when its author is di&longs;covered or imagined; and an
object found on which we may pour out our indignation
and our vengeance. I ran over the events that
had taken place &longs;ince the origin of our intercour&longs;e
with him, and reflected on the tenor of that description
which was received from Ludloe. Mixed up
with notions of &longs;upernatural agency, were the vehement
&longs;u&longs;picions which I entertained, that Carwin was
the enemy who&longs;e machinations had de&longs;troyed us.
I thir&longs;ted for knowledge and for vengeance. I
regarded my ha&longs;ty departure with reluctance, &longs;ince
it would remove me from the means by which this
knowledge might be obtained, and this vengeance
gratified. This departure was to take place in two
days. At the end of two days I was to bid an
eternal adieu to my native country. Should I not
pay a parting vi&longs;it to the &longs;cene of the&longs;e di&longs;a&longs;ters?
Should I not bedew with my tears the graves of my
&longs;i&longs;ter and her children? Should I not explore their
de&longs;olate habitation, and gather from the &longs;ight of its
walls and furniture food for my eternal melancholy?
This &longs;ugge&longs;tion was &longs;ucceeded by a &longs;ecret shuddering.
Some di&longs;a&longs;trous influence appeared to
overhang the &longs;cene. How many memorials &longs;hould
I meet with &longs;erving to recall the images of tho&longs;e I
had lo&longs;t!
I was tempted to relinqui&longs;h my de&longs;ign, when it
occurred to me that I had left among my papers a
journal of tran&longs;actions in &longs;hort-hand. I was employed
in this manu&longs;cript on that night when Pleyel's
incautious curio&longs;ity tempted him to look over my
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&longs;houlder. I was then recording my adventure in
the rece&longs;s, an imperfect &longs;ight of which led him into
&longs;uch fatal errors.
I had regulated the di&longs;po&longs;ition of all my property.
This manu&longs;cript, however, which contained
the mo&longs;t &longs;ecret tran&longs;actions of my life, I was desirous
of de&longs;troying. For this end I mu&longs;t return to
my hou&longs;e, and this I immediately determined to
do.
I was not willing to expo&longs;e my&longs;elf to oppo&longs;ition
from my friends, by mentioning my de&longs;ign; I therefore
be&longs;poke the u&longs;e of Mr. Hallet's chai&longs;e, under
pretence of enjoying an airing, as the day was remarkably
bright.
This reque&longs;t was gladly complied with, and I
directed the &longs;ervant to conduct me to Mettingen.
I di&longs;ini&longs;&longs;ed him at the gate, intending to u&longs;e, in returning,
a carriage belonging to my brother.
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CHAPTER XXII.
[figure description] Page 234.[end figure description]
The inhabitants of the HUT received me with
a mixture of joy and &longs;urprize. Their homely welcome,
and their artle&longs;s &longs;ympathy, were grateful to
my feelings. In the mid&longs;t of their inquiries, as to
my health, they avoided all allu&longs;ions to the &longs;ource
of my malady. They were hone&longs;t creatures, and
I loved them well. I participated in the tears which
they &longs;hed when I mentioned to them my &longs;peedy departure
for Europe, and promi&longs;ed to acquaint them
with my welfare during my long ab&longs;ence.
They expre&longs;&longs;ed great &longs;urprize when I informed
them of my intention to vi&longs;it my cottage. Alarm
and foreboding over&longs;pread their features, and they
attempted to di&longs;&longs;uade me from vi&longs;iting an hou&longs;e
which they firmly believed to be haunted by a thousand
gha&longs;tly apparitions.
The&longs;e apprehen&longs;ions, however, had no power
over my conduct. I took an irregular path which
led me to my own hou&longs;e. All was vacant and forlorn.
A &longs;mall enclo&longs;ure, near which the path led,
was the burying-ground belonging to the family.
This I was obliged to pa&longs;s. Once I had intended
to enter it, and ponder on the emblems and inscriptions
which my uncle had cau&longs;ed to be made on
the tombs of Catharine and her children; but now
my heart faltered as I approached, and I ha&longs;tened
forward, that di&longs;tance might conceal it from my
view.
When I approached the rece&longs;s, my heart again
&longs;unk. I averted my eyes, and left it behind me as
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quickly as po&longs;&longs;ible. Silence reigned through my
habitation, and a darkne&longs;s which clo&longs;ed doors and
&longs;hutters produced. Every object was connected
with mine or my brother's hi&longs;tory. I pa&longs;&longs;ed the
entry, mounted the &longs;tair, and unlocked the door of
my chamber. It was with difficulty that I curbed
my fancy and &longs;mothered my fears. Slight movements
and ca&longs;ual &longs;ounds were transformed into beckoning
&longs;hadows and calling &longs;hapes.
I proceeded to the clo&longs;et. I opened and looked
round it with fearfulne&longs;s. All things were in their
accu&longs;tomed order. I &longs;ought and found the manuscript
where I was u&longs;ed to depo&longs;it it. This being
&longs;ecured, there was nothing to detain me; yet I &longs;tood
and contemplated awhile the furniture and walls of
my chamber. I remembered how long this apartment
had been a &longs;weet and tranquil
a&longs;ylum; I compared
its former &longs;tate with its pre&longs;ent drearine&longs;s,
and reflected that I now beheld it for the la&longs;t time.
Here it was that the incomprehen&longs;ible behaviour
of Carwin was witne&longs;&longs;ed: this the &longs;tage on which
that enemy of man &longs;hewed him&longs;elf for a moment
unma&longs;ked. Here the menaces of murder were
wa&longs;ted to my ear; and here the&longs;e menaces were
executed.
The&longs;e thoughts had a tendency to take from me
my &longs;elf-command. My feeble limbs refu&longs;ed to support
me, and I &longs;unk upon a chair. Incoherent and
half-articulate exclamations e&longs;caped my lips. The
name of Carwin was uttered, and eternal woes,
woes like that which his malice had entailed upon
us, were heaped upon him. I invoked all-&longs;eeing
heaven to drag to light and to puni&longs;h this betrayer,
and accu&longs;ed its providence for having thus long
delayed the retribution that was due to &longs;o enormous
a guilt.
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I have &longs;aid that the window &longs;hutters were clo&longs;ed.
A feeble light, however, found entrance through the
crevices. A &longs;mall window illuminated the clo&longs;et,
and the door being clo&longs;ed, a dim ray &longs;treamed
through the key-hole. A kind of twilight was thus
created, &longs;ufficient for the purpo&longs;es of vi&longs;ion; but,
at the &longs;ame time, involving all minuter objects in
ob&longs;curity.
This darkne&longs;s &longs;uited the colour of my thoughts.
I &longs;ickened at the remembrance of the pa&longs;t. The
pro&longs;pect of the future excited my loathing. I muttered
in a low voice, Why &longs;hould I live longer?
Why &longs;hould I drag a mi&longs;erable being? All, for
whom I ought to live, have peri&longs;hed. Am I not
my&longs;elf hunted to death?
At that moment, my de&longs;pair &longs;uddenly became
vigorous. My nerves were no longer un&longs;trung.
My powers, that had long been deadened, were revived.
My bo&longs;om &longs;welled with a &longs;udden energy,
and the conviction darted through my mind, that
to end my torments was, at once, practicable and
wi&longs;e.
I knew how to find way to the rece&longs;&longs;es of life.
I could u&longs;e a laneet with &longs;ome &longs;kill, and could distinguish
between vein and artery. By piercing deep
into the latter, I &longs;hould &longs;hun the evils which the
future had in &longs;tore for me, and take refuge from my
woes in quiet death.
I &longs;tarted on my feet, for my feeblene&longs;s was gone,
and ha&longs;ted to the clo&longs;et. A lancet and other &longs;mall
in&longs;truments were pre&longs;erved in a ca&longs;e which I had
depo&longs;ited here. Inattentive as I was to foreign considerations,
my ears were &longs;till open to any &longs;ound of
my&longs;terious import that &longs;hould occur. I thought I
heard a &longs;tep in the entry. My purpo&longs;e was suspended,
and I ca&longs;t an eager glance at my chamber
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door, which was open. No one appeared, unle&longs;s
the &longs;hadow which I di&longs;cerned upon the floor, was
the outline of a man. If it were, I was authorized
to &longs;u&longs;pect that &longs;ome one was po&longs;ted clo&longs;e to the entrance,
who po&longs;&longs;ibly had overheard my exclamations.
My teeth chattered, and a wild confu&longs;ion took
place of my momentary calm. Thus it was when
a terrific vi&longs;age had di&longs;clo&longs;ed it&longs;elf on a former night.
Thus it was when the evil de&longs;tiny of Wieland assumed
the lineaments of &longs;omething human. What
horrid apparition was preparing to bla&longs;t my &longs;ight?
Still I li&longs;tened and gazed. Not long, for the
&longs;hadow moved; a foot, un&longs;hapely and huge, was
thru&longs;t forward; a form advanced from its concealment,
and &longs;talked into the room. It was Carwin!
While I had breath I &longs;hrieked. While I had
power over my mu&longs;cles, I motioned with my hand
that he &longs;hould vani&longs;h. My exertions could not la&longs;t
long; I &longs;unk into a fit.
O that this grateful oblivion had la&longs;ted for ever!
Too quickly I recovered my &longs;en&longs;es. The power
of di&longs;tinct vi&longs;ion was no &longs;ooner re&longs;tored to me, than
this hateful form again pre&longs;ented it&longs;elf, and I once
more relap&longs;ed.
A &longs;econd time, untoward nature recalled me from
the &longs;leep of death. I found my&longs;elf &longs;tretched upon
the bed. When I had power to look up, I remembered
only that I had cau&longs;e to fear. My distempered
fancy fa&longs;hioned to it&longs;elf no di&longs;tingui&longs;hable
image. I threw a languid glance round me; once
more my eyes lighted upon Carwin.
He was &longs;eated on the floor, his back re&longs;ted again&longs;t
the wall, his knees were drawn up, and his face was
buried in his hands. That his &longs;tation was at &longs;ome
di&longs;tance, that his attitude was not menacing, that
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his ominous vi&longs;age was concealed, may account for
my now e&longs;caping a &longs;hock, violent as tho&longs;e which
were pa&longs;t. I withdrew my eyes, but was not again
de&longs;erted by my &longs;en&longs;es.
On perceiving that I had recovered my &longs;en&longs;ibility,
he lifted his head. This motion attracted my
attention. His countenance was mild, but &longs;orrow
and a&longs;toni&longs;hment &longs;at upon his features. I averted
my eyes and feebly exclaimed—“O! fly—fly far
and for ever!—I cannot behold you and live!”
He did not ri&longs;e upon his feet, but cla&longs;ped his
hands, and faid in a tone of deprecation—“I will
fly. I am become a fiend, the &longs;ight of whom destroys.
Yet tell me my offence! You have linked
cur&longs;es with my name; you a&longs;cribe to me a malice
mon&longs;trous and infernal. I look around; all is
loneline&longs;s and de&longs;ert! This hou&longs;e and your brother's
are &longs;olitary and di&longs;mantled! You die away
at the &longs;ight of me! My fear whi&longs;pers that &longs;ome
deed of horror has been perpetrated; that I am the
unde&longs;igning cau&longs;e.”
What language was this? Had he not avowed
him&longs;elf a ravi&longs;her? Had not this chamber witne&longs;&longs;ed
his atrocious purpo&longs;es? I be&longs;ought him with new
vehemence to go.
He lifted his eyes—“Great heaven! what have
I done? I think I know the extent of my offences.
I have acted, but my actions have po&longs;&longs;ibly effected
more than I de&longs;igned. This fear has brought
me back from my retreat. I come to repair the
evil of which my ra&longs;hne&longs;s was the cau&longs;e, and to
prevent more evil. I come to confe&longs;s my errors.”
“Wretch!” I cried when my &longs;uffocating emotions
would permit me to &longs;peak, “the gho&longs;ts of my
&longs;i&longs;ter and her children, do they not ri&longs;e to accu&longs;e
thee? Who was it that bla&longs;ted the intellects of
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Wieland? Who was it that urged him to fury,
and guided him to murder? Who, but thou and
the devil, with whom thou art confederated?”
At the&longs;e words a new &longs;pirit pervaded his countenance.
His eyes once more appealed to heaven.
“If I have memory, if I have being, I am innocent.
I intended no ill; but my folly, indirectly
and remotely, may have cau&longs;ed it; but what words
are the&longs;e! Your brother lunatic! His children
dead!”
What &longs;hould I infer from this deportment? Was
the ignorance which the&longs;e words implied real or
pretended?—Yet how could I imagine a mere human
agency in the&longs;e events? But if the influence
was preternatural or maniacal in my brother's ca&longs;e,
they mu&longs;t be equally &longs;o in my own. Then I remembered
that the voice exerted, was to &longs;ave me
from Carwin's attempts. The&longs;e ideas tended to
abate my abhorrence of this man, and to detect the
ab&longs;urdity of my accu&longs;ations.
“Alas!” &longs;aid I, “I have no one to accu&longs;e.
Leave me to my fate. Fly from a &longs;cene &longs;tained
with cruelty; devoted to de&longs;pair.”
Carwin &longs;tood for a time mu&longs;ing and mournful.
At length he faid, “What has happened? I came
to expiate my crimes: let me know them in their
full extent. I have horrible forebodings! What
has happened?”
I was &longs;ilent; but recollecting the intimation given
by this man when he was detected in my closet,
which implied &longs;ome knowledge of that power
which interfered in my favor, I eagerly inquired,
“What was that voice which called upon me to
hold when I attempted to open the clo&longs;et? What
face was that which I &longs;aw at the bottom of the
&longs;tairs? An&longs;wer me truly.”
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“I came to confe&longs;s the truth. Your allu&longs;ions
are horrible and &longs;trange. Perhaps I have but &longs;aint
conceptions of the evils which my infatuation has
produced; but what remains I will perform. It was
my voice that you heard! It was my face that
you &longs;aw!”
For a moment I doubted whether my remembrance
of events were not confu&longs;ed. How could
he be at once &longs;tationed at my &longs;houlder and &longs;hut up
in my clo&longs;et? How could he &longs;tand near me and
yet be invi&longs;ible? But if Carwin's were the thrilling
voice and the fiery vi&longs;age which I had heard
and &longs;een, then was he the prompter of my brother,
and the author of the&longs;e di&longs;mal outrages.
Once more I averted my eyes and &longs;truggled for
&longs;peech. “Begone! thou man of mi&longs;chief! Remorseless
and implacable mi&longs;creant! begone!”
“I will obey,” &longs;aid he in a di&longs;con&longs;olate voice;
“yet, wretch as I am, am I unworthy to repair
the evils that I have committed? I came as a repentant
criminal. It is you whom I have injured,
and at your bar am I willing to appear, and confe&longs;s
and expiate my crimes. I have deceived you: I
have &longs;ported with your terrors: I have plotted to
de&longs;troy your reputation. I come now to remove
your errors; to &longs;et you beyond the reach of &longs;imilar
fears; to rebuild your &longs;ame as far as I am able.
“This is the amount of my guilt, and this the
fruit of my remor&longs;e. Will you not hear me? Listen
to my con&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion, and then denounce punishment.
All I a&longs;k is a patient audience.”
“What!” I replied, “was not thine the voice
that commanded my brother to imbrue his hands in
the blood of his children—to &longs;trangle that angel of
&longs;weetne&longs;s his wife? Has he not vowed my death,
and the death of Pleyel, at thy bidding? Ha&longs;t thou
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not made him the butcher of his family; changed
him who was the glory of his &longs;pecies into wor&longs;e
than brute; robbed him of rea&longs;on, and con&longs;igned
the re&longs;t of his days to fetters and &longs;tripes?”
Carwin's eyes glared, and his limbs were petrified
at this intelligence. No words were requi&longs;ite
to prove him guiltle&longs;s of the&longs;e enormities: at the
time, however, I was nearly in&longs;en&longs;ible to the&longs;e exculpatory
tokens. He walked to the farther end
of the room, and having recovered fome degree of
compo&longs;ure, he &longs;poke—
“I am not this villain; I have &longs;lain no one; I
have prompted none to &longs;lay; I have handled a tool
of wonderful efficacy without malignant intentions,
but without caution; ample will be the puni&longs;hment
of my temerity, if my conduct has contributed to
this evil.” He pau&longs;ed.—
I likewi&longs;e was &longs;ilent. I &longs;truggled to command
my&longs;elf &longs;o far as to li&longs;ten to the tale which he &longs;hould
tell. Ob&longs;erving this, he continued—
“You are not apprized of the exi&longs;tence of a
power which I po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s. I know not by what name
to call it.* It enables me to mimic exactly the
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voice of another, and to modify the &longs;ound &longs;o that
it &longs;hall appear to come from what quarter, and be
uttered at what di&longs;tance I plea&longs;e.
“I know not that every one po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;es this power.
Perhaps, though a ca&longs;ual po&longs;ition of my organs in
my youth &longs;hewed me that I po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed it, it is an art
which may be taught to all. Would to God I had
died unknowing of the &longs;ecret! It has produced nothing
but degradation and calamity.
“For a time the po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of &longs;o potent and stupendous
an endowment elated me with pride. Unfortified
by principle, &longs;ubjected to poverty, stimulated
by headlong pa&longs;&longs;ions, I made this powerful
engine &longs;ub&longs;ervient to the &longs;upply of my wants, and
the gratification of my vanity. I &longs;hall not mention
how diligently I cultivated this gift, which &longs;eemed
capable of unlimited improvement; nor detail the
various occa&longs;ions on which it was &longs;ucce&longs;sfully exerted
to lead &longs;uper&longs;tition, conquer avarice, or excite
awe.
“I left America, which is my native &longs;oil, in my
youth. I have been engaged in various &longs;cenes of
life, in which my peculiar talent has been exercised
with more or le&longs;s &longs;ucce&longs;s. I was finally betrayed
by one who called him&longs;elf my friend, into acts
which cannot be ju&longs;tified, though they are susceptible
of apology.
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“The perfidy of this man compelled me to withdraw
from Europe. I returned to my native country,
uncertain whether &longs;ilence and ob&longs;curity would
&longs;ave me from his malice. I re&longs;ided in the purlieus
of the city. I put on the garb and a&longs;&longs;umed the
manners of a clown.
“My chief recreation was walking. My principal
haunts were the lawns and gardens of Mettingen.
In this delightful region the luxuriances
of nature had been cha&longs;tened by judicious art, and
each &longs;ucce&longs;&longs;ive contemplation unfolded new enchantments.
“I was &longs;tudious of &longs;eclu&longs;ion: I was &longs;atiated
with the intercour&longs;e of mankind, and di&longs;cretion required
me to &longs;hun their intercour&longs;e. For the&longs;e reasons
I long avoided the ob&longs;ervation of your family,
and chiefly vi&longs;ited the&longs;e precincts at night.
“I was never weary of admiring the po&longs;ition
and ornaments of the temple. Many a night have
I pa&longs;&longs;ed under its roof, revolving no plea&longs;ing meditations.
When, in my frequent rambles, I perceived
this apartment was occupied, I gave a different
direction to my &longs;teps. One evening, when
a &longs;hower had ju&longs;t pa&longs;&longs;ed, judging by the &longs;ilence that
no one was within, I a&longs;cended to this building.
Glancing carele&longs;&longs;ly round, I perceived an open letter
on the pede&longs;tal. To read it was doubtle&longs;s an
offence again&longs;t
politene&longs;s. Of this offence, however,
I was guilty.
“Scarcely had I gone half through when I was
alarmed by the approach of your brother. To
&longs;cramble down the cliff on the oppo&longs;ite &longs;ide was
impracticable. I was unprepared to meet a stranger.
Be&longs;ides the aukwardne&longs;s attending &longs;uch an
interview in the&longs;e circum&longs;tances, concealment was
nece&longs;&longs;ary to my &longs;afety. A thou&longs;and times had I
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vowed never again to employ the dangerous talent
which I po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed; but &longs;uch was the force of habit
and the influence of pre&longs;ent convenience, that I
u&longs;ed this method of arre&longs;ting his progre&longs;s and leading
him back to the hou&longs;e, with his errand, whatever
it was, unperformed. I had often caught parts,
from my &longs;tation below, of your conver&longs;ation in
this place, and was well acquainted with the voice
of your &longs;i&longs;ter.
“Some weeks after this I was again quietly seated
in this rece&longs;s. The latene&longs;s of the hour &longs;ecured
me, as I thought, from all interruption. In this,
however, I was mi&longs;taken, for Wieland and Pleyel,
as I judged by their voices, earne&longs;t in di&longs;pute, ascended
the hill.
“I was not &longs;en&longs;ible that any inconvenience could
po&longs;&longs;ibly have flowed from my former exertion; yet
it was followed with compunction, becau&longs;e it was
a deviation from a path which I had a&longs;&longs;igned to
my&longs;elf. Now my aver&longs;ion to this means of e&longs;cape
was enforced by an unauthorized curio&longs;ity, and by
the knowledge of a bu&longs;hy hollow on the edge of
the hill, where I &longs;hould be &longs;afe from di&longs;covery.
Into this hollow I thru&longs;t my&longs;elf.
“The propriety of removal to Europe was the
que&longs;tion eagerly di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ed. Pleyel intimated that
his anxiety to go was augmented by the &longs;ilence of
There&longs;a de Stolberg. The temptation to interfere
in this di&longs;pute was irre&longs;i&longs;tible. In vain I contended
with inveterate habits. I di&longs;gui&longs;ed to my&longs;elf the
impropriety of my conduct, by recollecting the
benefits which it might produce. Pleyel's propo&longs;al
was unwi&longs;e, yet it was enforced with plau&longs;ible arguments
and indefatigable zeal. Your brother
might be puzzled and wearied, but could not be convinced.
I conceived that to terminate the
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controversy in favor of the latter was conferring a benefit
on all parties. For this end I profited by an opening
in the conver&longs;ation, and a&longs;&longs;ured them of Catharine's
irreconcilable aver&longs;ion to the &longs;cheme, and
of the death of the Saxon barone&longs;s. The latter
event was merely a conjecture, but rendered extremely
probable by Pleyel's repre&longs;entations. My
purpo&longs;e, you need not be told, was effected.
“My pa&longs;&longs;ion for my&longs;tery, and a &longs;pecies of imposture,
which I deemed harmle&longs;s, was thus awakened
afre&longs;h. This &longs;econd lap&longs;e into error made
my recovery more difficult. I cannot convey to
you an adequate idea of the kind of gratification
which I derived from the&longs;e exploits; yet I meditated
nothing. My views were bounded to the pa&longs;&longs;ing
moment, and commonly &longs;ugge&longs;ted by the momentary
exigence.
“I mu&longs;t not conceal any thing. Your principles
teach you to abhor a voluptuous temper; but,
with whatever reluctance, I acknowledge this temper
to be mine. You imagine your &longs;ervant Judith
to be innocent as well as beautiful; but you took
her from a family where hypocri&longs;y, as well as licentiousness,
was wrought into a &longs;y&longs;tem. My attention
was captivated by her charms, and her principles
were ea&longs;ily &longs;een to be flexible.
“Deem me not capable of the iniquity of seduction.
Your &longs;ervant is not de&longs;titute of feminine and
virtuous qualities; but &longs;he was taught that the be&longs;t
u&longs;e of her charms con&longs;i&longs;ts in the &longs;ale of them. My
nocturnal vi&longs;its to Mettingen were now prompted
by a double view, and my corre&longs;pondence with
your &longs;ervant gave me, at all times, acce&longs;s to your
hou&longs;e.
“The &longs;econd night after our interview, &longs;o brief
and &longs;o little fore&longs;een by either of us, &longs;ome dæmon
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of mi&longs;chief &longs;eized me. According to my companion's
report, your perfections were little le&longs;s than
divine. Her uncouth but copious narratives converted
you into an object of wor&longs;hip. She chiefly
dwelt upon your courage, becau&longs;e &longs;he her&longs;elf was
deficient in that quality. You held apparitions and
goblins in contempt. You took no precautions
again&longs;t robbers. You were ju&longs;t as tranquil and
&longs;ecure in this lonely dwelling, as if you were in the
mid&longs;t of a crowd.
“Hence a vague project occurred to me, to put
this courage to the te&longs;t. A woman capable of
recollection in danger, of warding off groundle&longs;s
panics, of di&longs;cerning the true mode of proceeding,
and profiting by her be&longs;t re&longs;ources, is a prodigy.
I was de&longs;irous of a&longs;certaining whether you were
&longs;uch an one.
“My expedient was obvious and &longs;imple: I was
to counterfeit a murderous dialogue; but this was
to be &longs;o conducted that another, and not your&longs;elf,
&longs;hould appear to be the object. I was not aware
of the po&longs;&longs;ibility that you &longs;hould appropriate the&longs;e
menaces to your&longs;elf. Had you been &longs;till and listened,
you would have heard the &longs;truggles and
prayers of the victim, who would likewi&longs;e have
appeared to be &longs;hut up in the clo&longs;et, and who&longs;e
voice would have been Judith's. This &longs;cene would
have been an appeal to your compa&longs;&longs;ion; and the
proof of cowardice or courage which I expected
from you, would have been your remaining inactive
in your bed, or your entering the clo&longs;et with
a view to a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t the &longs;ufferer. Some in&longs;tances which
Judith related of your fearle&longs;ne&longs;s and promptitude
made me adopt the latter &longs;uppo&longs;ition with &longs;ome degree
of confidence.
“By the girl's direction I found a ladder, and
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mounted to your clo&longs;et window. This is &longs;carcely
large enough to admit the head, but it an&longs;wered
my purpo&longs;e too well.
“I cannot expre&longs;s my confu&longs;ion and &longs;urprize at
your abrupt and precipitate flight. I ha&longs;tily removed
the ladder; and, after &longs;ome pau&longs;e, curio&longs;ity
and doubts of your &longs;afety induced me to follow you.
I found you &longs;tretched on the turf before your brother's
door, without &longs;en&longs;e or motion. I felt the
deepe&longs;t regret at this unlooked-for con&longs;equence of
my &longs;cheme. I knew not what to do to procure
you relief. The idea of awakening the family naturally
pre&longs;ented it&longs;elf. This emergency was critical,
and there was no time to deliberate. It was
a &longs;udden thought that occurred. I put my lips to
the key-hole, and founded an alarm which effectually
rou&longs;ed the &longs;leepers. My organs were naturally
forcible, and had been improved by long and
affiduous exerci&longs;e.
“Long and bitterly did I repent of my &longs;cheme.
I was &longs;omewhat con&longs;oled by reflecting that my purpose
had not been evil, and renewed my fruitle&longs;s
vows never to attempt &longs;uch dangerous experiments.
For &longs;ome time I adhered, with laudable forbearance,
to this re&longs;olution.
“My life has been a life of hard&longs;hip and exposure.
In the &longs;ummer I prefer to make my bed of
the &longs;mooth turf, or, at mo&longs;t, the &longs;helter of a summer-house
&longs;uffices. In all my rambles I never
found a &longs;pot in which &longs;o many picture&longs;que beauties
and rural delights were a&longs;&longs;embled as at Mettingen.
No corner of your little domain unites fragrance
and &longs;ecrecy in &longs;o perfect a degree as the rece&longs;s in
the bank. The odour of its leaves, the coolne&longs;s
of its &longs;hade, and the mu&longs;ic of its water-fall, had
early attracted my attention. Here my &longs;adne&longs;s was
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converted into peaceful melancholy—here my
&longs;lumbers were &longs;ound, and my plea&longs;ures enhanced.
“As mo&longs;t free from interruption, I cho&longs;e this as
the &longs;cene of my midnight interviews with Judith.
One evening, as the &longs;un declined, I was &longs;eated
here, when I was alarmed by your approach. It
was with difficulty that I effected my e&longs;cape unnoticed
by you.
“At the cu&longs;tomary hour, I returned to your
habitation, and was made acquainted by Judith,
with your unu&longs;ual ab&longs;ence. I half &longs;u&longs;pected the
true cau&longs;e, and felt unea&longs;ine&longs;s at the danger there
was that I &longs;hould be deprived of my retreat; or, at
lea&longs;t, interrupted in the po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of it. The girl,
likewi&longs;e, informed me, that among your other singularities,
it was not uncommon for you to leave
your bed, and walk forth for the &longs;ake of night-airs
and &longs;tarlight contemplations.
“I de&longs;ired to prevent this inconvenience. I found
you ea&longs;ily &longs;wayed by fear. I was influenced, in
my choice of means, by the facility and certainty
of that to which I had been accu&longs;tomed. All that
I for&longs;aw was, that, in future, this &longs;pot would be
cautiou&longs;ly &longs;hunned by you.
“I entered the rece&longs;s with the utmo&longs;t caution,
and di&longs;covered, by your breathings, in what condition
you were. The unexpected interpretation
which you placed upon my former proceeding, suggested
my conduct on the pre&longs;ent occa&longs;ion. The
mode in which heaven is &longs;aid by the poet, to interfere
for the prevention of crimes,* was &longs;omewhat
analogous to my province, and never failed to occur
to me at &longs;ea&longs;ons like this. It was requi&longs;ite to break
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your &longs;lumbers, and for this end I uttered the powerful
mono&longs;yllable, “hold! hold!” My purpo&longs;e was
not pre&longs;cribed by duty, yet &longs;urely it was far from
being atrocious and inexpiable. To effect it, I
uttered what was fal&longs;e, but it was well &longs;uited to my
purpo&longs;e. Nothing le&longs;s was intended than to injure
you. Nay, the evil re&longs;ulting from my former act,
was partly removed by a&longs;&longs;uring you that in all
places but this you were &longs;afe.
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CHAPTER XXIII.
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“My morals will appear to you far from rigid,
yet my conduct will fall &longs;hort of your &longs;u&longs;picions.
I am now to confe&longs;s actions le&longs;s excu&longs;able, and yet
&longs;urely they will not entitle me to the name of a
de&longs;perate or &longs;ordid criminal.
“Your hou&longs;e was rendered, by your frequent
and long ab&longs;ences, ea&longs;ily acce&longs;&longs;ible to my curio&longs;ity.
My meeting with Pleyel was the prelude to direct
intercour&longs;e with you. I had &longs;een much of the
world, but your character exhibited a &longs;pecimen of
human powers that was wholly new to me. My
intercour&longs;e with your &longs;ervant furni&longs;hed me with
curious details of your dome&longs;tic management. I
was of a different &longs;ex: I was not your hu&longs;band; I
was not even your friend; yet my knowledge of
you was of that kind, which conjugal intimacies
can give, and, in &longs;ome re&longs;pects, more accurate.
The ob&longs;ervation of your dome&longs;tic was guided by
me.
“You will not be &longs;urprized that I &longs;hould sometimes
profit by your ab&longs;ence, and adventure to examine
with my own eyes, the interior of your chamber.
Upright and &longs;incere, you u&longs;ed no watchfulne&longs;s,
and practifed no precautions. I &longs;crutinized every
thing, and pried every where. Your clo&longs;et was
u&longs;ually locked, but it was once my fortune to find
the key on a bureau. I opened and found new &longs;cope
for my curio&longs;ity in your books. One of the&longs;e was
manu&longs;cript, and written in characters which
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essentially agreed with a &longs;hort-hand &longs;y&longs;tem which I had
learned from a Je&longs;uit mi&longs;&longs;ionary.
“I cannot ju&longs;tify my conduct, yet my only
crime was curio&longs;ity. I peru&longs;ed this volume with
eagerne&longs;s. The intellect which it unveiled, was
brighter than my limited and feeble organs could
bear. I was naturally inqui&longs;itive as to your ideas
re&longs;pecting my deportment, and the my&longs;teries that
had lately occurred.
“You know what you have written. You
know that in this volume the key to your inmo&longs;t
&longs;oul was contained. If I had been a profound and
malignant impo&longs;tor, what plenteous materials were
thus furni&longs;hed me of &longs;tratagems and plots!
“The coincidence of your dream in the summer-house
with my exclamation, was truly wonderful.
The voice which warned you to forbear
was, doubtle&longs;s, mine; but mixed by a common
proce&longs;s of the fancy, with the train of vi&longs;ionary
incidents.
“I &longs;aw in a &longs;tronger light than ever, the dangerousness
of that in&longs;trument which I employed,
and renewed my re&longs;olutions to ab&longs;tain from the u&longs;e
of it in future; but I was de&longs;tined perpetually to
violate my re&longs;olutions. By &longs;ome perver&longs;e fate, I
was led into circum&longs;tances in which the exertion
of my powers was the &longs;ole or the be&longs;t means of
e&longs;cape.
“On that memorable night on which our la&longs;t
interview took place, I came as u&longs;ual to Mettingen.
I was apprized of your engagement at your
brother's, from which you did not expect to return
till late. Some incident &longs;ugge&longs;ted the de&longs;ign of visiting
your chamber. Among your books which I
had not examined, might be &longs;omething tending to
illu&longs;trate your character, or the hi&longs;tory of your
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family. Some intimation had been dropped by you in
di&longs;cour&longs;e, re&longs;pecting a performance of your father,
in which &longs;ome important tran&longs;action in his life was
recorded.
“I was de&longs;irous of &longs;eeing this book; and &longs;uch
was my habitual attachment to my&longs;tery, that I preferred
the clande&longs;tine peru&longs;al of it. Such were the
motives that induced me to make this attempt. Judith
had di&longs;appeared, and finding the hou&longs;e unoccupied,
I &longs;upplied my&longs;elf with a light, and proceeded
to your chamber.
“I found it ea&longs;y, on experiment, to lock and
unlock your clo&longs;et door without the aid of a key.
I &longs;hut my&longs;elf in this rece&longs;s, and was bu&longs;ily exploring
your &longs;helves, when I heard &longs;ome one enter
the room below. I was at a lo&longs;s who it could
be, whether you or your &longs;ervant. Doubtful, however,
as I was, I conceived it prudent to extingui&longs;h
the light. Scarcely was this done, when &longs;ome one
entered the chamber. The foot&longs;teps were ea&longs;ily
di&longs;tingui&longs;hed to be yours.
“My &longs;ituation was now full of danger and perplexity.
For &longs;ome time, I cheri&longs;hed the hope that
you would leave the room &longs;o long as to afford me
an opportunity of e&longs;caping. As the hours pa&longs;&longs;ed,
this hope gradually de&longs;erted me. It was plain that
you had retired for the night.
“I knew not how &longs;oon you might find occa&longs;ion
to enter the clo&longs;et. I was alive to all the horrors
of detection, and ruminated without cea&longs;ing, on
the behaviour which it would be proper, in ca&longs;e of
detection, to adopt. I was unable to di&longs;cover any
con&longs;i&longs;tent method of accounting for my being thus
immured.
“It occurred to me that I might withdraw you
from your chamber for a few minutes, by
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counterfeiting a voice from without. Some me&longs;&longs;age from
your brother might be delivered, requiring your prefence
at his hou&longs;e. I was deterred from this &longs;cheme
by reflecting on the re&longs;olution I had formed, and on
the po&longs;&longs;ible evils that might re&longs;ult from it. Be&longs;ides,
it was not improbable that you would &longs;peedily retire
to bed, and then, by the exerci&longs;e of &longs;ufficient caution,
I might hope to e&longs;cape unob&longs;erved.
“Meanwhile I li&longs;tened with the deepe&longs;t anxiety
to every motion from without. I di&longs;covered nothing
which betokened preparation for &longs;leep. Instead
of this I heard deep-drawn &longs;ighs, and occasionally
an half-expre&longs;&longs;ed and mournful ejaculation.
Hence I inferred that you were unhappy. The true
&longs;tate of your mind with regard to Pleyel your own
pen had di&longs;clo&longs;ed; but I &longs;uppo&longs;ed you to be framed
of &longs;uch materials, that, though a momentary &longs;adne&longs;s
might affect you, you were impregnable to any permanent
and heartfelt grief. Inquietude for my own
&longs;afety was, for a moment, &longs;u&longs;pended by &longs;ympathy
with your di&longs;tre&longs;s.
“To the former con&longs;ideration I was quickly
recalled by a motion of yours which indicated I
knew not what. I fo&longs;tered the per&longs;ua&longs;ion that you
would now retire to bed; but pre&longs;ently you approached
the clo&longs;et, and detection &longs;eemed to be inevitable.
You put your hand upon the lock. I
had formed no plan to extricate my&longs;elf from the
dilemma in which the opening of the door would
involve me. I felt an irreconcilable aver&longs;ion to detection.
Thus &longs;ituated, I involuntarily &longs;eized the
door with a re&longs;olution to re&longs;i&longs;t your efforts to open
it.
“Suddenly you receded from the door. This deportment
was inexplicable, but the relief it afforded
me was quickly gone. You returned, and I once
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more was thrown into perplexity. The expedient
that &longs;ugge&longs;ted it&longs;elf was precipitate and inartificial.
I exerted my organs and called upon you to hold.
“That you &longs;hould per&longs;i&longs;t in &longs;pite of this admonition,
was a &longs;ubject of a&longs;toni&longs;hment. I again resisted
your efforts; for the fir&longs;t expedient having
failed, I knew not what other to refort to. In this
&longs;tate, how was my a&longs;toni&longs;hment increa&longs;ed when I
heard your exclamations!
“It was now plain that you knew me to be
within. Further re&longs;i&longs;tance was unavailing and useless.
The door opened, and I &longs;hrunk backward.
Seldom have I felt deeper mortification, and more
painful perplexity. I did not con&longs;ider that the truth
would be le&longs;s injurious than any lie which I could
ha&longs;tily frame. Con&longs;cious as I was of a certain degree
of guilt, I conceived that you would form the
mo&longs;t odious &longs;u&longs;picions. The truth would be imperfect,
unle&longs;s I were likewi&longs;e to explain the mysterious
admonition which had been given; but that
explanation was of too great moment, and involved
too exten&longs;ive con&longs;equences to make me &longs;uddenly
re&longs;olve to give it.
“I was aware that this di&longs;covery would a&longs;&longs;ociate
it&longs;elf in your mind, with the dialogue formerly heard
in this clo&longs;et. Thence would your &longs;u&longs;picions be
aggravated, and to e&longs;cape from the&longs;e &longs;u&longs;picions
would be impo&longs;&longs;ible. But the mere truth would be
&longs;ufficiently opprobrious, and deprive me for ever of
your good opinion.
“Thus was I rendered de&longs;perate, and my mind
rapidly pa&longs;&longs;ed to the contemplation of the u&longs;e that
might be made of previous events. Some good
genius would appear to you to have interpo&longs;ed to
&longs;ave you from injury intended by me. Why, I &longs;aid,
&longs;ince I mu&longs;t &longs;ink in her opinion, &longs;hould I not cheri&longs;h
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this belief? Why not per&longs;onate an enemy, and
pretend that cele&longs;tial interference has fru&longs;trated my
&longs;chemes? I mu&longs;t fly, but let me leave wonder and
fear behind me. Elucidation of the my&longs;tery will
always be practicable. I &longs;hall do no injury, but
merely talk of evil that was de&longs;igned, but is now
pa&longs;t.
“Thus I extenuated my conduct to my&longs;elf, but
I &longs;carcely expect that this will be to you a &longs;ufficient
explication of the &longs;cene that followed. Tho&longs;e habits
which I have imbibed, the rooted pa&longs;&longs;ion which
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;es me for &longs;cattering around me amazement
and fear, you enjoy no opportunities of knowing.
That a man &longs;hould wantonly impute to him&longs;elf the
mo&longs;t flagitious de&longs;igns, will hardly be credited, even
though you reflect that my reputation was already,
by my own folly, irretrievably ruined; and that it
was always in my power to communicate the truth,
and rectify the mi&longs;take.
“I left you to ponder on this &longs;cene. My mind
was full of rapid and incongruous ideas. Compunction,
&longs;elf-upbraiding, hopele&longs;ne&longs;s, &longs;atisfaction
at the view of tho&longs;e effects likely to flow from my
new &longs;cheme, mi&longs;givings as to the beneficial re&longs;ult of
this &longs;cheme took po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of my mind, and &longs;eemed
to &longs;truggle for the ma&longs;tery.
“I had gone too far to recede. I had painted
my&longs;elf to you as an a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in and ravi&longs;her, withheld
from guilt only by a voice from heaven. I had
thus reverted into the path of error, and now, having
gone thus far, my progre&longs;s &longs;eemed to be irrevocable.
I &longs;aid to my&longs;elf, I mu&longs;t leave the&longs;e precincts
for ever. My acts have bla&longs;ted my fame in
the eyes of the Wiclands. For the &longs;ake of creating
a my&longs;terious dread, I have made my&longs;elf a villain.
I may complete this my&longs;terious plan by &longs;ome new
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impo&longs;ture, but I cannot aggravate my &longs;uppo&longs;ed
guilt.
“My re&longs;olution was formed, and I was &longs;wiftly
ruminating on the means for executing it, when
Pleyel appeared in &longs;ight. This incident decided my
conduct. It was plain that Pleyel was a devoted
lover, but he was, at the &longs;ame time, a man of cold
re&longs;olves and exqui&longs;ite &longs;agacity. To deceive him
would be the &longs;weete&longs;t triumph I had ever enjoyed.
The deception would be momentary, but it would
likewi&longs;e be complete. That his delu&longs;ion would &longs;o
&longs;oon be rectified, was a recommendation to my
&longs;cheme, for I e&longs;teemed him too much to de&longs;ire to
entail upon him la&longs;ting agonies.
“I had no time to reflect further, for he proceeded,
with a quick &longs;tep, towards the hou&longs;e. I
was hurried onward involuntarily and by a mechanical
impul&longs;e. I followed him as he pa&longs;&longs;ed the recess
in the bank, and &longs;hrowding my&longs;elf in that
&longs;pot, I counterfeited &longs;ounds which I knew would
arre&longs;t his &longs;teps.
“He &longs;topped, turned, li&longs;tened, approached, and
overheard a dialogue who&longs;e purpo&longs;e was to vanquish
his belief in a point where his belief was mo&longs;t
difficult to vanqui&longs;h. I exerted all my powers to
imitate your voice, your general &longs;entiments, and
your language. Being ma&longs;ter, by means of your
journal, of your per&longs;onal hi&longs;tory and mo&longs;t &longs;ecret
thoughts, my efforts were the more &longs;ucce&longs;sful.
When I reviewed the tenor of this dialogue, I cannot
believe but that Pleyel was deluded. When I
think of your character, and of the inferences
which this dialogue was intended to &longs;ugge&longs;t, it
&longs;eems incredible that this delu&longs;ion &longs;hould be produced.
“I &longs;pared not my&longs;elf. I called my&longs;elf murderer,
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thief, guilty of innumerable prejuries and mi&longs;deeds:
that you had deba&longs;ed your&longs;elf to the level of &longs;uch
an one, no evidence, methought, would &longs;uffice to
convince him who knew you &longs;o thoroughly as
Pleyel; and yet the impo&longs;ture amounted to proof
which the mo&longs;t jealous &longs;crutiny would find to be
unexceptionable.
“He left his &longs;tation precipitately and re&longs;umed
his way to the hou&longs;e. I &longs;aw that the detection of
his error would be in&longs;tantaneous, &longs;ince, not having
gone to bed, an immediate interview would take
place between you. At fir&longs;t this circum&longs;tance was
con&longs;idered with regret; but as time opened my eyes
to the po&longs;&longs;ible con&longs;equences of this &longs;cene, I regarded
it with plea&longs;ure.
“In a &longs;hort time the infatuation which had led
me thus far began to &longs;ub&longs;ide. The remembrance
of former rea&longs;onings and tran&longs;actions was renewed.
How often I had repented this kind of exertion;
how many evils were produced by it which I had
not fore&longs;een; what occa&longs;ions for the bittere&longs;t remorse
it had admini&longs;tered, now pa&longs;&longs;ed through my
mind. The black catalogue of &longs;tratagems was now
increa&longs;ed. I had in&longs;pired you with the mo&longs;t vehement
terrors: I had filled your mind with faith in
&longs;hadows and confidence in dreams: I had depraved
the imagination of Pleyel: I had exhibited you to
his under&longs;tanding as devoted to brutal gratifications
and con&longs;ummate in hypocri&longs;y. The evidence which
accompanied this delu&longs;ion would be irre&longs;i&longs;tible to
one who&longs;e pa&longs;&longs;ion had perverted his judgment,
who&longs;e jealou&longs;y with regard to me had already been
excited, and who, therefore, would not fail to
overrate the force of this evidence. What fatal
act of de&longs;pair or of vengeance might not this error
produce?
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“With regard to my&longs;elf, I had acted with a
phrenzy that &longs;urpa&longs;&longs;ed belief. I had warred again&longs;t
my peace and my fame: I had bani&longs;hed my&longs;elf from
the fellow&longs;hip of vigorous and pure minds: I was
&longs;elf-expelled from a &longs;cene which the munificence
of nature had adorned with unrivalled beauties, and
from haunts in which all the mu&longs;es and humanities
had taken refuge.
“I was thus torn by conflicting fears and tumultuous
regrets. The night pa&longs;&longs;ed away in this
&longs;tate of confu&longs;ion; and next morning in the gazette
left at my ob&longs;cure lodging, I read a de&longs;cription and
an offer of reward for the apprehen&longs;ion of my person.
I was &longs;aid to have e&longs;caped from an Iri&longs;h prison,
in which I was confined as an offender convicted
of enormous and complicated crimes.
“This was the work of an enemy, who, by
fal&longs;ehood and &longs;tratagem, had procured my condemnation.
I was, indeed, a pri&longs;oner, but e&longs;caped, by
the exertion of my powers, the fate to which I was
doomed, but which I did not de&longs;erve. I had hoped
that the malice of my foe was exhau&longs;ted; but I
now perceived that my precautions had been wi&longs;e,
for that the intervention of an ocean was insufficient
for my &longs;ecurity.
“Let me not dwell on the &longs;en&longs;ations which this
di&longs;covery produced. I need not tell by what &longs;teps
I was induced to &longs;eek an interview with you, for
the purpo&longs;e of di&longs;clo&longs;ing the truth, and repairing,
as far as po&longs;&longs;ible, the effects of my mi&longs;conduct. It
was unavoidable that this gazette would fall into
your hands, and that it would tend to confirm every
erroneous impre&longs;&longs;ion.
“Having gained this interview, I purpo&longs;ed to
&longs;eek &longs;ome retreat in the wilderne&longs;s, inacce&longs;&longs;ible to
your inquiry and to the malice of my foe, where
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I might henceforth employ my&longs;elf in compo&longs;ing a
faithful narrative of my actions. I de&longs;igned it as
my vindication from the a&longs;per&longs;ions that had re&longs;ted
on my character, and as a le&longs;&longs;on to mankind on
the evils of credulity on the one hand, and of imposture
on the other.
“I wrote you a billet, which was left at the
hou&longs;e of your friend, and which I knew would, by
&longs;ome means, &longs;peedily come to your hands. I entertained
a &longs;aint hope that my invitation would be
complied with. I knew not what u&longs;e you would
make of the opportunity which this propo&longs;al afforded
you of procuring the &longs;eizure of my per&longs;on; but
this fate I was determined to avoid, and I had no
doubt but due circum&longs;pection, and the exerci&longs;e of
the faculty which I po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed, would enable me to
avoid it.
“I lurked, through the day, in the neighbourhood
of Mettingen: I approached your habitation
at the appointed hour: I entered it in &longs;ilence, by a
trap-door which led into the cellar. This had formerly
been bolted on the in&longs;ide, but Judith had, at
an early period in our intercour&longs;e, removed this
impediment. I a&longs;cended to the fir&longs;t floor, but met
with no one, nor any thing that indicated the presence
of an human being.
“I crept &longs;oftly up &longs;tairs, and at length perceived
your chamber door to be opened, and a light to be
within. It was of moment to di&longs;cover by whom
this light was accompanied. I was &longs;en&longs;ible of the
inconveniencies to which my being di&longs;covered at
your chamber door by any one within would subject
me; I therefore called out in my own voice,
but &longs;o modified that it &longs;hould appear to a&longs;cend from
the court below, `Who is in the chamber? Is it
Mi&longs;s Wieland?'
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“No an&longs;wer was returned to this &longs;ummons. I
li&longs;tened, but no motion could be heard. After a
pau&longs;e I repeated my call, but no le&longs;s ineffectually.
“I now approached nearer the door, and adventured
to look in. A light &longs;tood on the table, but
nothing human was di&longs;cernible. I entered cautiously,
but all was &longs;olitude and &longs;tillne&longs;s.
“I knew not what to conclude. If the hou&longs;e
were inhabited, my call would have been noticed;
yet &longs;ome &longs;u&longs;picion in&longs;inuated it&longs;elf that &longs;ilence was
&longs;tudiou&longs;ly kept by per&longs;ons who intended to &longs;urprize
me. My approach had been wary, and the &longs;ilence
that en&longs;ued my call had likewi&longs;e preceded it; a circumstance
that tended to di&longs;&longs;ipate my fears.
“At length it occurred to me that Judith might
po&longs;&longs;ibly be in her own room. I turned my &longs;teps
thither; but &longs;he was not to be found. I pa&longs;&longs;ed into
other rooms, and was &longs;oon convinced that the hou&longs;e
was totally de&longs;erted. I returned to your chamber,
agitated by vain &longs;urmi&longs;es and oppo&longs;ite conjectures.
The appointed hour had pa&longs;&longs;ed, and I di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed the
hope of an interview.
“In this &longs;tate of things I determined to leave a
few lines on your toilet, and pro&longs;ecute my journey
to the mountains. Scarcely had I taken the pen
when I laid it a&longs;ide, uncertain in what manner to
addre&longs;s you. I ro&longs;e from the table and walked acro&longs;s
the floor. A glance thrown upon the bed acquainted
me with a &longs;pectacle to which my conceptions of
horror had not yet reached.
“In the mid&longs;t of &longs;huddering and trepidation, the
&longs;ignal of your pre&longs;ence in the court below recalled
me to my&longs;elf. The deed was newly done: I only
was in the hou&longs;e: what had lately happened justified
any &longs;u&longs;picions, however enormous. It was
plain that this cata&longs;trophe was unknown to you: I
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thought upon the wild commotion which the discovery
would awaken in your brea&longs;t: I found the
confu&longs;ion of my own thoughts unconquerable, and
perceived that the end for which I &longs;ought an interview
was not now to be accompli&longs;hed.
“In this &longs;tate of things it was likewi&longs;e expedient
to conceal my being within. I put out the light
and hurried down &longs;tairs. To my un&longs;peakable surprize,
notwith&longs;tanding every motive to fear, you
lighted a candle and proceeded to your chamber.
“I retired to that room below from which a door
leads into the cellar. This door concealed me from
your view as you pa&longs;&longs;ed. I thought upon the spectacle
which was about to pre&longs;ent it&longs;elf. In an exigence
&longs;o abrupt and &longs;o little fore&longs;een, I was again
&longs;ubjected to the empire of mechanical and habitual
impul&longs;es. I dreaded the effects which this shocking
exhibition, bur&longs;ting on your unprepared &longs;en&longs;es,
might produce.
“Thus actuated, I &longs;tept &longs;wi&longs;tly to the door, and
thru&longs;ting my head forward, once more pronounced
the my&longs;terious interdiction. At that moment, by
&longs;ome untoward fate, your eyes were ca&longs;t back, and
you &longs;aw me in the very act of utterance. I fled
through the dark &longs;ome avenue at which I entered,
covered with the &longs;hame of this detection.
“With diligence, &longs;timulated by a thou&longs;and ineffable
emotions, I pur&longs;ued my intended journey.
I have a brother who&longs;e farm is &longs;ituated in the bosom
of a &longs;ertile de&longs;ert, near the &longs;ources of the Leheigh,
and thither I now repaired.
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CHAPTER XXIV.
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“Deeply did I ruminate on the occurrences
that had ju&longs;t pa&longs;&longs;ed. Nothing excited my wonder
&longs;o much as the means by which you di&longs;covered my
being in the clo&longs;et. This di&longs;covery appeared to be
made at the moment when you attempted to open
it. How could you have otherwi&longs;e remained &longs;o
long in the chamber apparently fearle&longs;s and tranquil?
And yet, having made this di&longs;covery, how
could you per&longs;i&longs;t in dragging me forth: per&longs;i&longs;t in
defiance of an interdiction to emphatical and solemn?
“But your &longs;i&longs;ter's death was an event dete&longs;table
and ominous. She had been the victim of the mo&longs;t
dreadful &longs;pecies of a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;ination. How, in a &longs;tate
like yours, the murderous intention could be generated,
was wholly inconceivable.
“I did not relinqui&longs;h my de&longs;ign of confe&longs;&longs;ing to
you the part which I had &longs;u&longs;tained in your family,
but I was willing to defer it till the ta&longs;k which I
had &longs;et my&longs;elf was fini&longs;hed. That being done, I
re&longs;umed the re&longs;olution. The motives to incite me
to this continually acquired force. The more I revolved
the events happening at Mettingen, the more
in&longs;upportable and ominous my terrors became. My
waking hours and my &longs;leep were vexed by di&longs;mal
pre&longs;ages and frightful intimations.
“Catharine was dead by violence. Surely my
malignant &longs;tars had nor made me the cau&longs;e of her
death; yet had I not ra&longs;hly &longs;et in motion a machine,
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ever who&longs;e progre&longs;s I had no controul, and which
experience had &longs;hewn me was infinite in power?
Every day might add to the catalogue of horrors of
which this was the &longs;ource, and a &longs;ea&longs;onable disclosure
of the truth might prevent numberle&longs;s ills.
“Fraught with this conception, I have turned
my &longs;teps hither. I find your brother's hou&longs;e desolate:
the furniture removed, and the walls &longs;tained
with damps. Your own is in the &longs;ame &longs;ituation.
Your chamber is di&longs;mantled and dark, and you
exhibit an image of incurable grief, and of rapid
decay.
“I have uttered the truth. This is the extent
of my offences. You tell me an horrid tale of
Wieland being led to the de&longs;truction of his wife and
children, by &longs;ome my&longs;terious agent. You charge
me with the guilt of this agency; but I repeat that
the amount of my guilt has been truly &longs;tated. The
perpetrator of Catharine's death was unknown to
me till now; nay, it is &longs;till unknown to me.”
At that moment, the clo&longs;ing of a door in the
kitchen was di&longs;tinctly heard by us. Carwin &longs;tarted
and pau&longs;ed. “There is &longs;ome one coming. I mu&longs;t
not be found here by my enemies, and need not,
&longs;ince my purpo&longs;e is an&longs;wered.”
I had drunk in, with the mo&longs;t vehement attention,
every word that he had uttered. I had no breath
to interrupt his tale by interrogations or comments.
The power that he &longs;poke of was hitherto unknown
to me: its exi&longs;tence was incredible; it was susceptible
of no direct proof.
He owns that his were the voice and face which
I heard and &longs;aw. He attempts to give an human
explanation of the&longs;e phanta&longs;ms; but it is enough
that he owns him&longs;elf to be the agent; his tale is
a lie, and his nature devili&longs;h. As he deceived me,
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he likewi&longs;e deceived my brother, and now do I behold
the author of all our calamities!
Such were my thoughts when his pau&longs;e allowed
me to think. I &longs;hould have bad him begone if the
&longs;ilence had not been interrupted; but now I feared
no more for my&longs;elf; and the milkine&longs;s of my nature
was curdled into hatred and rancour. Some one
was near, and this enemy of God and man might
po&longs;&longs;ibly be brought to ju&longs;tice. I reflected not that
the preternatural power which he had hitherto exerted,
would avail to re&longs;cue him from any toils in
which his feet might be entangled. Meanwhile,
looks, and not words of menace and abhorrence,
were all that I could be&longs;tow.
He did not depart. He &longs;eemed dubious, whether,
by pa&longs;&longs;ing out of the hou&longs;e, or by remaining somewhat
longer where he was, he &longs;hould mo&longs;t endanger
his &longs;afety. His confu&longs;ion increa&longs;ed when &longs;teps
of one barefoot were heard upon the &longs;tairs. He
threw anxious glances &longs;ometimes at the clo&longs;et, sometimes
at the window, and &longs;ometimes at the chamber
door, yet he was detained by &longs;ome inexplicable fascination.
He &longs;tood as if rooted to the &longs;pot.
As to me, my &longs;oul was bur&longs;ting with dete&longs;tation
and revenge. I had no room for &longs;urmi&longs;es and fears
re&longs;pecting him that approached. It was doubtle&longs;s
a human being, and would befriend me &longs;o far as to
aid me in arre&longs;ting this offender.
The &longs;tranger quickly entered the room. My
eyes and the eyes of Carwin were, at the &longs;ame moment,
darted upon him. A &longs;econd glance was not
needed to inform us who he was. His locks were
tangled, and &longs;ell confu&longs;edly over his forehead
and ears. His &longs;hirt was of coar&longs;e &longs;tuff, and open
at the neck and brea&longs;t. His coat was once of
bright and fine texture, but now torn and tarni&longs;ed
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with du&longs;t. His feet, his legs, and his arms were
bare. His features were the &longs;eat of a wild and
tranquil &longs;olemnity, but his eyes be&longs;poke inquietude
and curio&longs;ity.
He advanced with firm &longs;tep, and looking as in
&longs;earch of &longs;ome one. He &longs;aw me and &longs;topped. He
bent his &longs;ight on the floor, and clenching his hands,
appeared &longs;uddenly ab&longs;orbed in meditation. Such
were the figure and deportment of Wieland! Such,
in his fallen &longs;tate, were the a&longs;pect and gui&longs;e of my
brother!
Carwin did not fail to recognize the vi&longs;itant.
Care for his own &longs;afety was apparently &longs;wallowed
up in the amazement which this &longs;pectacle produced.
His &longs;tation was con&longs;picuous, and he could
not have e&longs;caped the roving glances of Wieland;
yet the latter &longs;eemed totally uncon&longs;cious of his presence.
Grief at this &longs;cene of ruin and bla&longs;t was at fir&longs;t
the only &longs;entiment of which I was con&longs;cious. A
fearful &longs;tillne&longs;s en&longs;ued. At length Wieland, lifting
his hands, which were locked in each other, to his
brea&longs;t, exclaimed, “Father! I thank thee. This
is thy guidance. Hither thou ha&longs;t led me, that I
might perform thy will: yet let me not err: let me
hear again thy me&longs;&longs;enger!”
He &longs;tood for a minute as if li&longs;tening; but recovering
from his attitude, he continued—“It is not
needed. Da&longs;tardly wretch! thus eternally questioning
the behe&longs;ts of thy Maker! weak in resolution!
wayward in faith!”
He advanced to me, and, after another pau&longs;e, resumed:
“Poor girl! a di&longs;mal fate has &longs;et its mark
upon thee. Thy life is demanded as a &longs;acrifice.
Prepare thee to die. Make not my office difficult
by fruitle&longs;s oppo&longs;ition. Thy prayers might &longs;ubdue
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&longs;tones; but none but he who enjoined my purpo&longs;e
can &longs;hake it.”
The&longs;e words were a &longs;ufficient explication of the
&longs;cene. The nature of his phrenzy, as de&longs;cribed by
my uncle, was remembered. I who had &longs;ought
death, was now thrilled with horror becau&longs;e it was
near. Death in this form, death from the hand of
a brother, was thought upon with unde&longs;cribable
repugnance.
In a &longs;tate thus verging upon madne&longs;s, my eye
glanced upon Carwin. His a&longs;toni&longs;hment appeared
to have &longs;truck him motionle&longs;s and dumb. My life
was in danger, and my brother's hand was about
to be embrued in my blood. I firmly believed that
Carwin's was the in&longs;tigation. I could re&longs;cue me
from this abhorred fate; I could di&longs;&longs;ipate this tremendous
illu&longs;ion; I could &longs;ave my brother from the
perpetration of new horrors, by pointing out the
devil who &longs;educed him; to he&longs;itate a moment was
to peri&longs;h. The&longs;e thoughts gave &longs;trength to my limbs,
and energy to my accents: I &longs;tarted on my feet.
“O brother! &longs;pare me, &longs;pare thy&longs;elf: There
is thy betrayer. He counterfeited the voice and
face of an angel, for the purpo&longs;e of de&longs;troying thee
and me. He has this moment confe&longs;&longs;ed it. He is
able to &longs;peak where he is not. He is leagued with
hell, but will not avow it; yet he confe&longs;&longs;es that the
agency was his.”
My brother turned &longs;lowly his eyes, and fixed
them upon Carwin. Every joint in the frame of
the latter trembled. His complexion was paler than
a gho&longs;t's. His eye dared not meet that of Wieland,
but wandered with an air of di&longs;traction from one
&longs;pace to another.
“Man,” &longs;aid my brother, in a voice totally unlike
that which he had u&longs;ed to me, “what art
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thou? The charge has been made. An&longs;wer it.
The vi&longs;age—the voice—at the bottom of the&longs;e
&longs;tairs—at the hour of eleven—To whom did they
belong? To thee?”
Twice did Carwin attempt to &longs;peak, but his
words died away upon his lips. My brother resumed
in a tone of greater vehemence—
“Thou faltere&longs;t; faltering is ominous; &longs;ay yes
or no: one word will &longs;uffice; but beware of falsehood.
Was it a &longs;tratagem of hell to overthrow
my family? Wa&longs;t thou the agent?”
I now &longs;aw that the wrath which had been prepared
for me was to be heaped upon another. The
tale that I heard from him, and his pre&longs;ent trepidations,
were abundant te&longs;timonies of his guilt. But
what if Wieland &longs;hould be undeceived! What if
he &longs;hall find his acts to have proceeded not from an
heavenly prompter, but from human treachery!
Will not his rage mount into whirlwind? Will not
he rare limb this devoted wretch?
In&longs;tinctively I recoiled from this image, but it
gave place to another. Carwin may be innocent,
but the impetuo&longs;ity of his judge may mi&longs;con&longs;true
his an&longs;wers into a con&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of guilt. Wieland
knows not that my&longs;terious voices and appearances
were likewi&longs;e witne&longs;&longs;ed by me. Carwin may be
ignorant of tho&longs;e which mi&longs;led my brother. Thus
may his an&longs;wers unwarily betray him&longs;elf to ruin.
Such might be the con&longs;equences of my frantic
precipitation, and the&longs;e, it was nece&longs;&longs;ary, if po&longs;&longs;ible,
to prevent. I attempted to &longs;peak, but Wieland,
turning &longs;uddenly upon me, commanded &longs;ilence, in
a tone furious and terrible. My lips clo&longs;ed, and
my tongue refu&longs;ed its office.
“What art thou?” he re&longs;umed, addre&longs;&longs;ing
him&longs;elf to Carwin. “An&longs;wer me; who&longs;e form—
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who&longs;e voice—was it thy contrivance? An&longs;wer
me.”
The an&longs;wer was now given, but confu&longs;edly and
&longs;carcely articulated. “I meant nothing—I intended
no ill—if I under&longs;tand—if I do not mi&longs;take you—it
is too true—I did appear—in the entry—did &longs;peak.
The contrivance was mine, but—”
The&longs;e words were no &longs;ooner uttered, than my
brother cea&longs;ed to wear the &longs;ame a&longs;pect. His eyes
were downca&longs;t: he was motionle&longs;s: his re&longs;piration
became hoar&longs;e, like that of a man in the agonies of
death. Carwin &longs;eemed unable to &longs;ay more. He
might have ea&longs;ily e&longs;caped, but the thought which
occupied him related to what was horrid and unintelligible
in this &longs;cene, and not to his own danger.
Pre&longs;ently the faculties of Wieland, which, for a
time, were chained up, were &longs;eized with re&longs;tle&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s
and trembling. He broke &longs;ilence. The &longs;toute&longs;t
heart would have been appalled by the tone in
which he &longs;poke. He addre&longs;&longs;ed him&longs;elf to Carwin.
“Why art thou here? Who detains thee? Go
and learn better. I will meet thee, but it mu&longs;t he
at the bar of thy Maker. There &longs;hall I bear witness
again&longs;t thee.”
Perceiving that Carwin did not obey, he continued;
“Do&longs;t thou wi&longs;h me to complete the catalogue
by thy death? Thy life is a worthle&longs;e thing.
Tempt me no more. I am but a man, and thy
pre&longs;ence may awaken a &longs;ury which may &longs;purn my
controul. Begone!”
Carwin, irre&longs;olute, &longs;triving in vain for utterance,
his complexion pallid as death, his knees beating
one again&longs;t another, &longs;lowly obeyed the mandate and
withdrew.
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CHAPTER XXV.
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A Few words more and I lay a&longs;ide the pen for
ever. Yet why &longs;hould I not relinqui&longs;h it now?
All that I have &longs;aid is preparatory to this &longs;cene, and
my fingers, tremulous and cold as my heart, refu&longs;e
any further exertion. This mu&longs;t not be. Let my
la&longs;t energies &longs;upport me in the fini&longs;hing of this
ta&longs;k. Then will I lay down my head in the lap of
death. Hu&longs;hed will be all my murmurs in the &longs;leep
of the grave.
Every &longs;entiment has peri&longs;hed in my bo&longs;om.
Even friend&longs;hip is extinct. Your love for me has
prompted me to this ta&longs;k; but I would not have
complied if it had not been a luxury thus to fea&longs;t
upon my woes. I have ju&longs;tly calculated upon my
remnant of &longs;trength. When I lay down the pen
the taper of life will expire: my exi&longs;tence will terminate
with my tale.
Now that I was left alone with Wieland, the
perils of my &longs;ituation pre&longs;ented them&longs;elves to my
mind. That this paroxy&longs;m &longs;hould terminate in
havock and rage it was rea&longs;onable to predict. The
fir&longs;t &longs;ugge&longs;tion of my fears had been di&longs;proved by
my experience. Carwin had acknowledged his offences,
and yet had e&longs;caped. The vengeance which
I had harboured had not been admitted by Wieland,
and yet the evils which I had endured, compared
with tho&longs;e inflicted on my brother, were as nothing.
I thir&longs;ted for his blood, and was tormented with an
in&longs;atiable appetite for his de&longs;truction; yet my
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brother was unmoved, and had di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed him in &longs;afety.
Surely thou wa&longs;t more than man, while I am &longs;unk
below the bea&longs;ts.
Did I place a right con&longs;truction on the conduct
of Wieland? Was the error that mi&longs;led him &longs;o
ea&longs;ily rectified? Were views &longs;o vivid and faith &longs;o
&longs;trenuous thus liable to fading and to change? Was
there not rea&longs;on to doubt the accuracy of my perceptions?
With images like the&longs;e was my mind
thronged, till the deportment of my brother called
away my attention.
I &longs;aw his lips move and his eyes ca&longs;t up to heaven.
Then would he li&longs;ten and look back, as if in
expectation of &longs;ome one's appearance. Thrice
he repeated the&longs;e ge&longs;ticulations and this inaudible
prayer. Each time the mi&longs;t of confu&longs;ion and doubt
&longs;eemed to grow darker and to &longs;ettle on his understanding.
I gue&longs;&longs;ed at the meaning of the&longs;e tokens.
The words of Carwin had &longs;haken his belief, and
he was employed in &longs;ummoning the me&longs;&longs;enger who
had formerly communed with him, to atte&longs;t the
value of tho&longs;e new doubts. In vain the &longs;ummons
was repeated, for his eye met nothing but vacancy,
and not a &longs;ound &longs;aluted his ear.
He walked to the bed, gazed with eagerne&longs;s at
the pillow which had &longs;u&longs;tained the head of the
breathle&longs;s Catharine, and then returned to the place
where I &longs;at. I had no power to li&longs;t my eyes to his
face: I was dubious of his purpo&longs;e: this purpo&longs;e
might aim at my life.
Alas! nothing but &longs;ubjection to danger, and exposure
to temptation, can &longs;how us what we are.
By this te&longs;t was I now tried, and found to be cowardly
and ra&longs;h. Men can deliberately untie the
thread of life, and of this I had deemed my&longs;elf capable;
yet now that I &longs;tood upon the brink of fate,
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that the knife of the &longs;acrificer was aimed at my
heart, I &longs;huddered and betook my&longs;elf to any means
of e&longs;cape, however mon&longs;trous.
Can I bear to think—can I endure to relate the
outrage which my heart meditated? Where were
my means of &longs;afety? Re&longs;i&longs;tance was vain. Not
even the energy of de&longs;pair could &longs;et me on a level
with that &longs;trength which his terrific prompter had
be&longs;towed upon Wieland. Terror enables us to
perform incredible &longs;eats; but terror was not then
the &longs;tate of my mind; where then were my hopes
of re&longs;cue?
Methinks it is too much. I &longs;tand a&longs;ide, as it
were, from my&longs;elf; I e&longs;timate my own de&longs;ervings;
a hatred, immortal and inexorable, is my due. I
li&longs;ten to my own pleas, and find them empty and
fal&longs;e: yes, I acknowledge that my guilt &longs;urpa&longs;&longs;es
that of all mankind: I confe&longs;s that the cur&longs;es of a
world, and the frowns of a deity, are inadequate
to my demerits. Is there a thing in the world worthy
of infinite abhorrence? It is I.
What &longs;hall I &longs;ay! I was menaced, as I thought,
with death, and, to elude this evil, my hand was
ready to inflict death upon the menacer. In visiting
my hou&longs;e, I had made provi&longs;ion again&longs;t the
machinations of Carwin. In a fold of my dre&longs;s an
open penknife was concealed. This I now &longs;eized
and drew forth. It lurked out of view; but I now
&longs;ee that my &longs;tate of mind would have rendered the
deed inevitable if my brother had lifted his hand.
This in&longs;trument of my pre&longs;ervation would have
been plunged into his heart.
O, in&longs;upportable remembrance! hide thee from
my view for a time; hide it from me that my heart
was black enough to meditate the &longs;tabbing of a
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brother! a brother thus &longs;upreme in mi&longs;ery; thus
towering in virtue!
He was probably uncon&longs;cious of my de&longs;ign, but
pre&longs;ently drew back. This interval was &longs;ufficient
to re&longs;tore me to my&longs;elf. The madne&longs;s, the iniquity
of that act which I had purpo&longs;ed ru&longs;hed upon my
apprehen&longs;ion. For a moment I was breathle&longs;s with
agony. At the next moment I recovered my
&longs;trength, and threw the knife with violence on the
floor.
The &longs;ound awoke my brother from his reverie.
He gazed alternately at me and at the weapon.
With a movement equally &longs;olemn he &longs;tooped and
took it up. He placed the blade in different positions,
&longs;crutinizing it accurately, and maintaining,
at the &longs;ame time, a profound &longs;ilence.
Again he looked at me, but all that vehemence
and loftine&longs;s of &longs;pirit which had &longs;o lately characterized
his features, were flown. Fallen mu&longs;cles,
a forehead contracted into folds, eyes dim with unbidden
drops, and a ruefulne&longs;s of a&longs;pect which no
words can de&longs;cribe, were now vi&longs;ible.
His looks touched into energy the &longs;ame sympathies
in me, and I poured forth a flood of tears.
This pa&longs;&longs;ion was quickly checked by fear, which
had now, no longer, my own, but his &longs;afety for
their object. I watched his deportment in &longs;ilence.
At length he &longs;poke:
“Si&longs;ter,” &longs;aid he, in an accent mournful and
mild, “I have acted poorly my part in this world.
What thinke&longs;t thou? Shall I not do better in the
next?”
I could make no an&longs;wer. The mildne&longs;s of his
tone a&longs;toni&longs;hed and encouraged me. I continued
to regard him with wi&longs;tful and anxious looks.
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“I think,” re&longs;umed he, “I will try. My wife
and my babes have gone before. Happy wretches!
I have &longs;ent you to repo&longs;e, and ought not to linger
behind.”
The&longs;e words had a meaning &longs;ufficiently intelligible.
I looked at the open knife in his hand and
&longs;huddered, but knew not how to prevent the deed
which I dreaded. He quickly noticed my fears,
and comprehended them. Stretching towards me his
hand, with an air of increa&longs;ing mildne&longs;s: “Take
it,” &longs;aid he: “Fear not for thy own &longs;ake, nor
for mine. The cup is gone by, and its tran&longs;ient
inebriation is &longs;ucceeded by the &longs;oberne&longs;s of truth.
“Thou angel whom I was wont to wor&longs;hip!
feare&longs;t thou, my &longs;i&longs;ter, for thy life? Once it was
the &longs;cope of my labours to de&longs;troy thee, but I was
prompted to the deed by heaven; &longs;uch, at lea&longs;t, was
my belief. Thinke&longs;t thou that thy death was &longs;ought
to gratify malevolence? No. I am pure from all
&longs;tain. I believed that my God was my mover!
“Neither thee nor my&longs;elf have I cau&longs;e to injure.
I have done my duty, and &longs;urely there is merit in
having &longs;acrificed to that, all that is dear to the heart
of man. If a devil has deceived me, he came in
the habit of an angel. If I erred, it was not my
judgment that deceived me, but my &longs;en&longs;es. In thy
&longs;ight, being of beings! I am &longs;till pure. Still will
I look for my reward in thy ju&longs;tice!”
Did my ears truly report the&longs;e &longs;ounds? If I did
not err, my brother was re&longs;tored to ju&longs;t perceptions.
He knew him&longs;elf to have been betrayed to the murder
of his wife and children, to have been the victim
of infernal artifice; yet he found con&longs;olation in the
rectitude of his motives. He was not devoid of
&longs;orrow, for this was written on his countenance;
but his &longs;oul was tranquil and &longs;ublime.
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Perhaps this was merely a tran&longs;ition of his former
madne&longs;s into a new &longs;hape. Perhaps he had not
yet awakened to the memory of the horrors which
he had perpetrated. Infatuated wretch that I was!
To &longs;et my&longs;elf up as a model by which to judge of
my heroic brother! My rea&longs;on taught me that his
conclu&longs;ions were right; but con&longs;cious of the impotence
of rea&longs;on over my own conduct; con&longs;cious of
my cowardly ra&longs;hne&longs;s and my criminal de&longs;pair, I
doubted whether any one could be &longs;tedfa&longs;t and wi&longs;e.
Such was my weakne&longs;s, that even in the mid&longs;t
of the&longs;e thoughts, my mind glided into abhorrence
of Carwin, and I uttered in a low voice, O! Carwin!
Carwin! What ha&longs;t thou to an&longs;wer for?
My brother immediately noticed the involuntary
exclamation: “Clara!” &longs;aid he, “be thy&longs;elf.
Equity u&longs;ed to be a theme for thy eloquence. Reduce
its le&longs;&longs;ons to practice, and be ju&longs;t to that unfortunate
man. The in&longs;trument has done its work,
and I am &longs;atisfied.
“I thank thee, my God, for this la&longs;t illumination!
My enemy is thine al&longs;o. I deemed him to
be man, the man with whom I have often communed;
but now thy goodne&longs;s has unveiled to me
his true nature. As the performer of thy behe&longs;ts,
he is my friend.”
My heart began now to mi&longs;give me. His mournful
a&longs;pect had gradually yielded place to a &longs;erene
brow. A new &longs;oul appeared to actuate his frame,
and his eyes to beam with preternatural lu&longs;tre.
The&longs;e &longs;ymptoms did not abate, and he continued:
“Clara! I mu&longs;t not leave thee in doubt. I know
not what brought about thy interview with the
being whom thou calle&longs;t Carwin. For a time, I
was guilty of thy error, and deduced from his incoherent
confe&longs;&longs;ions that I had been made the victim
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of human malice. He left us at my bidding, and I
put up a prayer that my doubts &longs;hould be removed.
Thy eyes were &longs;hut, and thy ears &longs;ealed to the
vi&longs;ion that an&longs;wered my prayer.
“I was indeed deceived. The form thou ha&longs;t
&longs;een was the incarnation of a dæmon. The vi&longs;age
and voice which urged me to the &longs;acrifice of my
family, were his. Now he per&longs;onates a human
form: then he was invironed with the lu&longs;tre of
heaven.—
“Clara,” he continued, advancing clo&longs;er to me,
“thy death mu&longs;t come. This mini&longs;ter is evil, but
he from whom his commi&longs;&longs;ion was received is God.
Submit then with all thy wonted re&longs;ignation to a
decree that cannot be rever&longs;ed or re&longs;i&longs;ted. Mark
the clock. Three minutes are allowed to thee, in
which to call up thy fortitude, and prepare thee for
thy doom.” There he &longs;topped.
Even now, when this &longs;cene exi&longs;ts only in memory,
when life and all its functions have &longs;unk into
torpor, my pul&longs;e throbs, and my hairs upri&longs;e: my
brows are knit, as then; and I gaze around me in
di&longs;traction. I was unconquerably aver&longs;e to death;
but death, imminent and full of agony as that which
was threatened, was nothing. This was not the
only or chief in&longs;pirer of my fears.
For him, not for my&longs;elf, was my &longs;oul tormented.
I might die, and no crime, &longs;urpa&longs;&longs;ing the reach of
mercy, would pur&longs;ue me to the pre&longs;ence of my
Judge; but my a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in would &longs;urvive to contemplate
his deed, and that a&longs;&longs;a&longs;&longs;in was Wieland!
Wings to bear me beyond his reach I had not.
I could not vani&longs;h with a thought. The door was
open, but my murderer was interpo&longs;ed between that
and me. Of &longs;elf-defence I was incapable. The
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phrenzy that lately prompted me to blood was gone;
my &longs;tate was de&longs;perate; my re&longs;cue was impo&longs;&longs;ible.
The weight of the&longs;e accumulated thoughts could
not be borne. My &longs;ight became confu&longs;ed; my
limbs were &longs;eized with convul&longs;ion; I &longs;poke, but my
words were half-formed:—
“Spare me, my brother! Look down, righteous
Judge! &longs;natch me from this fate! take away
this fury from him, or turn it el&longs;ewhere!”
Such was the agony of my thoughts, that I noticed
not &longs;teps entering my apartment. Supplicating
eyes were ca&longs;t upward, but when my prayer was
breathed, I once more wildly gazed at the door. A
form met my &longs;ight: I &longs;huddered as if the God whom
I invoked were pre&longs;ent. It was Carwin that again
intruded, and who &longs;tood before me, erect in attitude,
and &longs;tedfa&longs;t in look!
The &longs;ight of him awakened new and rapid
thoughts. His recent tale was remembered: his
magical tran&longs;itions and my&longs;terious energy of voice:
Whether he were infernal or miraculous, or human,
there was no power and no need to decide.
Whether the contriver or not of this &longs;pell, he was
able to unbind it, and to check the fury of my brother.
He had a&longs;cribed to him&longs;elf intentions not malignant.
Here now was afforded a te&longs;t of his truth.
Let him interpo&longs;e, as from above; revoke the &longs;avage
decree which the madne&longs;s of Wieland has a&longs;&longs;igned
to heaven, and extingui&longs;h for ever this pa&longs;&longs;ion for
blood!
My mind detected at a glance this avenue to
&longs;afety. The recommendations it po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed thronged
as it were together, and made but one impression
on my intellect. Remoter effects and collateral
dangers I &longs;aw not. Perhaps the pau&longs;e of an
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in&longs;tant had &longs;ufficed to call them up. The improbability
that the influence which governed Wieland
was external or human; the tendency of this stratagem
to &longs;anction &longs;o fatal an error, or &longs;ub&longs;titute
a more de&longs;tructive rage in place of this; the sufficiency
of Carwin's mere mu&longs;cular forces to counteract
the efforts, and re&longs;train the fury of Wieland,
might, at a &longs;econd glance, have been di&longs;covered;
but no &longs;econd glance was allowed. My fir&longs;t thought
hurried me to action, and, fixing my eyes upon Carwin
I exclaimed—
“O wretch! once more ha&longs;t thou come? Let
it be to abjure thy malice; to counterwork this
helli&longs;h &longs;tratagem; to turn from me and from my
brother, this de&longs;olating rage!
“Te&longs;tify thy innocence or thy remor&longs;e: exert
the powers which pertain to thee, whatever they
be, to turn a&longs;ide this ruin. Thou art the author
of the&longs;e horrors! What have I done to de&longs;erve thus
to die? How have I merited this unrelenting persecution?
I adjure thee, by that God who&longs;e voice
thou ha&longs;t dared to counterfeit, to &longs;ave my life!
“Wilt thou then go? leave me! Succourle&longs;s!”
Carwin li&longs;tened to my intreaties unmoved, and
turned from me. He &longs;eemed to he&longs;itate a moment:
then glided through the door. Rage and de&longs;pair
&longs;tifled my utterance. The interval of re&longs;pite was
pa&longs;&longs;ed; the pangs re&longs;erved for me by Wieland,
were not to be endured; my thoughts ru&longs;hed again
into anarchy. Having received the knife from his
hand, I held it loo&longs;ely and without regard; but now
it &longs;eized again my attention; and I gra&longs;ped it with
force.
He &longs;eemed to notice not the entrance or exit of
Carwin. My ge&longs;ture and the murderous weapon
appeared to have e&longs;caped his notice. His &longs;ilence
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was unbroken; his eye, fixed upon the clock for
a time, was now withdrawn; fury kindled in every
feature; all that was human in his face gave way
to an expre&longs;&longs;ion &longs;upernatural and tremendous. I
felt my left arm within his gra&longs;p.—
Even now I he&longs;itated to &longs;trike. I &longs;hrunk from
his a&longs;&longs;ault, but in vain.—
Here let me de&longs;i&longs;t. Why &longs;hould I re&longs;cue this
event from oblivion? Why &longs;hould I paint this detestable
conflict? Why not terminate at once this
&longs;eries of horrors?—Hurry to the verge of the precipice,
and ca&longs;t my&longs;elf for ever beyond remembrance
and beyond hope?
Still I live: with this load upon my brea&longs;t; with
this phantom to pur&longs;ue my &longs;teps; with adders
lodged in my bo&longs;om, and &longs;tinging me to madne&longs;s:
&longs;till I con&longs;ent to live!
Yes, I will ri&longs;e above the &longs;phere of mortal passions:
I will &longs;purn at the cowardly remor&longs;e that
bids me &longs;eek impunity in &longs;ilence, or comfort in forgetfulness.
My nerves &longs;hall be new &longs;trung to the
ta&longs;k. Have I not re&longs;olved? I will die. The
gulph before me is inevitable and near. I will die,
but then only when my tale is at an end.
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CHAPTER XXVI.
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My right hand, gra&longs;ping the un&longs;een knife, was
&longs;till di&longs;engaged. It was lifted to &longs;trike. All my
&longs;trength was exhau&longs;ted, but what was &longs;ufficient to
the performance of this deed. Already was the
energy awakened, and the impul&longs;e given, that
&longs;hould bear the fatal &longs;teel to his heart, when—
Wieland &longs;hrunk back: his hand was withdrawn.
Breathle&longs;s with affright and de&longs;peration, I &longs;tood,
freed from his gra&longs;p; una&longs;&longs;ailed; untouched.
Thus long had the power which controuled the
&longs;cene forborne to interfere; but now his might was
irre&longs;i&longs;tible, and Wieland in a moment was disarmed
of all his purpo&longs;es. A voice, louder than human
organs could produce, &longs;hriller than language
can depict, bur&longs;t from the ceilling, and commanded
him—to hold!
Trouble and di&longs;may &longs;ucceeded to the &longs;tedfa&longs;tne&longs;s
that had lately been di&longs;played in the looks of Wieland.
His eyes roved from one quarter to another,
with an expre&longs;&longs;ion of doubt. He &longs;eemed to wait
for a further intimation.
Carwin's agency was here ea&longs;ily recognized. I
had be&longs;ought him to interpo&longs;e in my defence. He
had flown. I had imagined him deaf to my prayer,
and re&longs;olute to &longs;ee me peri&longs;h: yet he di&longs;appeared
merely to devi&longs;e and execute the means of my relief.
Why did he not forbear when this end was accomplished?
Why did his misjudging zeal and
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accursed precipitation overpa&longs;s that limit? Or meant
he thus to crown the &longs;cene, and conduct his inscrutable
plots to this con&longs;ummation?
Such ideas were the fruit of &longs;ub&longs;equent contemplation.
This moment was pregnant with fate. I
had no power to rea&longs;on. In the career of my tempestuous
thoughts, rent into pieces, as my mind
was, by accumulating horrors, Carwin was un&longs;een
and un&longs;u&longs;pected. I partook of Wieland's credulity,
&longs;hook with his amazement, and panted with
his awe.
Silence took place for a moment; &longs;o much as
allowed the attention to recover its po&longs;t. Then
new &longs;ounds were uttered from above.
“Man of errors! cea&longs;e to cheri&longs;h thy delu&longs;ion:
not heaven or hell, but thy &longs;en&longs;es have mi&longs;led thee
to commit the&longs;e acts. Shake off thy phrenzy, and
a&longs;cend into rational and human. Be lunatic no
longer.”
My brother opened his lips to &longs;peak. His tone
was terrific and faint. He muttered an appeal to
heaven. It was difficult to comprehend the theme
of his inquiries. They implied doubt as to the nature
of the impul&longs;e that hitherto had guided him,
and que&longs;tioned whether he had acted in con&longs;equence
of in&longs;ane perceptions.
To the&longs;e interrogatories the voice, which now
&longs;eemed to hover at his &longs;houlder, loudly an&longs;wered in
the affirmative. Then uninterrupted &longs;ilence ensued.
Fallen from his lofty and heroic &longs;tation; now
finally re&longs;tored to the perception of truth; weighed
to earth by the recollection of his own deeds; consoled
no longer by a con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s of rectitude, for
the le&longs;s of offspring and wife—a lo&longs;s for which he
was indebted to his own mi&longs;guided hand;
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Wieland was transformed at once into the man of sorrows!
He reflected not that credit &longs;hould be as reasonably
denied to the la&longs;t, as to any former intimation;
that one might as ju&longs;tly be a&longs;cribed to erring or
di&longs;ea&longs;ed &longs;en&longs;es as the other. He &longs;aw not that this
di&longs;covery in no degree affected the integrity of his
conduct; that his motives had lo&longs;t none of their
claims to the homage of mankind; that the preference
of &longs;upreme good, and the boundle&longs;s energy
of duty, were undimini&longs;hed in his bo&longs;om.
It is not for me to pur&longs;ue him through the
gha&longs;tly changes of his countenance. Words he
had none. Now he &longs;at upon the floor, motionle&longs;s
in all his limbs, with his eyes glazed and fixed; a
monument of woe.
Anon a &longs;pirit of tempe&longs;tuous but unde&longs;igning
activity &longs;eized him. He ro&longs;e from his place and
&longs;trode acro&longs;s the floor, tottering and at random.
His eyes were without moi&longs;ture, and gleamed with
the fire that con&longs;umed his vitals. The mu&longs;cles of
his face were agitated by convul&longs;ion. His lips
moved, but no &longs;ound e&longs;caped him.
That nature &longs;hould long &longs;u&longs;tain this conflict was
not to be believed. My &longs;tate was little different
from that of my brother. I entered, as it were,
into his thought. My heart was vi&longs;ited and rent
by his pangs—Oh that thy phrenzy had never been
cured! that thy madne&longs;s, with its bli&longs;sful vi&longs;ions,
would return! or, if that mu&longs;t not be, that thy
&longs;cene would ha&longs;ten to a
clo&longs;e! that death would
cover thee with his oblivion!
What can I wi&longs;h for thee? Thou who ha&longs;t
vied with the great preacher of thy faith in &longs;anctity
of motives, and in elevation above &longs;en&longs;ual and selfish!
Thou whom thy fate has changed into
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paricide and &longs;avage! Can I wi&longs;h for the continuance
of thy being? No.
For a time his movements &longs;eemed de&longs;titute of
purpo&longs;e. If he walked; if he turned; if his fingers
were entwined with each other; if his hands were
pre&longs;&longs;ed again&longs;t oppo&longs;ite &longs;ides of his head with a
force &longs;ufficient to cru&longs;h it into pieces; it was to
tear his mind from &longs;elf-contemplation; to wa&longs;te his
thoughts on external objects.
Speedily this train was broken. A beam appeared
to be darted into his mind, which gave a
purpo&longs;e to his efforts. An avenue to e&longs;cape presented
it&longs;elf; and now he eagerly gazed about him:
when my thoughts became engaged by his demeanour,
my fingers were &longs;tretched as by a mechanical
force, and the knife, no longer heeded or of u&longs;e,
e&longs;caped from my gra&longs;p, and fell unperceived on the
floor. His eye now lighted upon it; he &longs;eized it
with the quickne&longs;s of thought.
I &longs;hrieked aloud, but it was too late. He plunged
it to the hilt in his neck; and his life in&longs;tantly
e&longs;caped with the &longs;tream that gu&longs;hed from the
wound. He was &longs;tretched at my feet; and my
hands were &longs;prinkled with his blood as he fell.
Such was thy la&longs;t deed, my brother! For a spectacle
like this was it my fate to be re&longs;erved! Thy
eyes were clo&longs;ed—thy face gha&longs;tly with death—
thy arms, and the &longs;pot where thou liede&longs;t, floated
in thy life's blood! The&longs;e images have not, for a
moment, for&longs;aken me. Till I am breathle&longs;s and
cold, they mu&longs;t continue to hover in my &longs;ight.
Carwin, as I &longs;aid, had left the room, but he &longs;till
lingered in the hou&longs;e. My voice &longs;ummoned him
to my aid; but I &longs;carcely noticed his re-entrance,
and now faintly recollect his terrified looks, his
broken exclamations, his vehement avowals of
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innocence, the effu&longs;ions of his pity for me, and his
offers of a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tance.
I did not li&longs;ten—I an&longs;wered him not—I cea&longs;ed
to upbraid or accu&longs;e. His guilt was a point to
which I was indifferent. Ruffian or devil, black
as hell or bright as angels, thenceforth he was nothing
to me. I was incapable of &longs;paring a look or
a thought from the ruin that was &longs;pread at my feet.
When he left me, I was &longs;carcely con&longs;cious of
any variation in the &longs;cene. He informed the inhabitants
of the hut of what had pa&longs;&longs;ed, and they
flew to the &longs;pot. Carele&longs;s of his own &longs;afety, he
ha&longs;ted to the city to inform my friends of my condition.
My uncle &longs;peedily arrived at the hou&longs;e. The
body of Wieland was removed from my pre&longs;ence,
and they &longs;uppo&longs;ed that I would follow it; but no,
my home is a&longs;certained; here I have taken up my
re&longs;t, and never will I go hence, till, like Wieland,
I am borne to my grave.
Importunity was tried in vain: they threatened
to remove me by violence—nay, violence was u&longs;ed;
but my &longs;oul prizes too dearly this little roof to endure
to be bereaved of it. Force &longs;hould not prevail
when the hoary locks and &longs;upplicating tears of
my uncle were ineffectual. My repugnance to
move gave birth to ferociou&longs;ne&longs;s and phrenzy when
force was employed, and they were obliged to consent
to my return.
They be&longs;ought me—they remon&longs;trated—they
appealed to every duty that connected me with him
that made me, and with my fellow-men—in vain.
While I live I will not go hence. Have I not fulfilled
my de&longs;tiny?
Why will ye torment me with your rea&longs;onings
and reproofs? Can ye re&longs;tore to me the hope of
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my better days? Can ye give me back Catharine
and her babes? Can ye recall to life him who died
at my feet?
I will eat—I will drink—I will lie down and ri&longs;e
up at your bidding—all I a&longs;k is the choice of my
abode. What is there unrea&longs;onable in this demand?
Shortly will I be at peace. This is the
&longs;pot which I have cho&longs;en in which to breathe my
la&longs;t &longs;igh. Deny me not, I be&longs;eech you, &longs;o &longs;light
a boon.
Talk not to me, O my revered friend! of Carwin.
He has told thee his tale, and thou exculpatest
him from all direct concern in the fate of
Wieland. This &longs;cene of havock was produced by
an illu&longs;ion of the &longs;en&longs;es. Be it &longs;o: I care not from
what &longs;ource the&longs;e di&longs;a&longs;ters have flowed; it &longs;uffices
that they have &longs;wallowed up our hopes and our
exi&longs;tence.
What his agency began, his agency conducted
to a clo&longs;e. He intended, by the final effort of his
power, to re&longs;cue me and to bani&longs;h his illu&longs;ions from
my brother. Such is his tale, concerning the truth
of which I care not. Henceforth I fo&longs;ter but one
wi&longs;h—I a&longs;k only quick deliverance from life and
all the ills that attend it.—
Go wretch! torment me not with thy pre&longs;ence
and thy prayers.—Forgive thee? Will that avail
thee when thy fateful hour &longs;hall arrive? Be thou
acquitted at thy own tribunal, and thou neede&longs;t not
fear the verdict of others. If thy guilt be capable
of blacker hues, if hitherto thy con&longs;cience be without
&longs;tain, thy crime will be made more flagrant by
thus violating my retreat. Take thy&longs;elf away from
my &longs;ight if thou woulde&longs;t not behold my death!
Thou art gone! murmuring and reluctant! And
now my repo&longs;e is coming—my work is done!
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CHAPTER XXVII. [Written three years after the foregoing, and dated at Montpellier. ]
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I Imagined that I had forever laid a&longs;ide the pen;
and that I &longs;hould take up my abode in this part of
the world, was of all events the lea&longs;t probable.
My de&longs;tiny I believed to be accompli&longs;hed, and I
looked forward to a &longs;peedy termination of my life
with the fulle&longs;t confidence.
Surely I had rea&longs;on to be weary of exi&longs;tence, to
be impatient of every tie which held me from the
grave. I experienced this impatience in its fulle&longs;t
extent. I was not only enamoured of death, but
conceived, from the condition of my frame, that
to &longs;hun it was impo&longs;&longs;ible, even though I had ardently
de&longs;ired it; yet here am I, a thou&longs;and leagues
from my native &longs;oil, in full po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of life and
of health, and not de&longs;titute of happine&longs;s.
Such is man. Time will obliterate the deepe&longs;t
impre&longs;&longs;ions. Grief the mo&longs;t vehement and hopeless,
will gradually decay and wear it&longs;elf out. Arguments
may be employed in vain: every moral
pre&longs;cription may be ineffectually tried: remonstrances,
however cogent or pathetic, &longs;hall have no
power over the attention, or &longs;hall be repelled with
di&longs;dain; yet, as day follows day, the turbulence of
our emotions &longs;hall &longs;ub&longs;ide, and our fluctuations be
finally &longs;ucceeded by a calm.
Perhaps, however, the conque&longs;t of de&longs;pair was
chiefly owing to an accident which rendered my
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continuance in my own hou&longs;e impo&longs;&longs;ible. At the
conclu&longs;ion of my long, and as I then &longs;uppo&longs;ed,
my la&longs;t letter to you, I mentioned my re&longs;olution
to wait for death in the very &longs;pot which had been
the principal &longs;cene of my misfortunes. From this
re&longs;olution my friends exerted them&longs;elves with the
utmo&longs;t zeal and per&longs;everance to make me depart.
They ju&longs;tly imagined that to be thus &longs;urrounded by
memorials of the fate of my family, would tend to
fo&longs;ter my di&longs;ea&longs;e. A &longs;wift &longs;ucce&longs;&longs;ion of new objects,
and the exclu&longs;ion of every thing calculated
to remind me of my lo&longs;s, was the only method of
cure.
I refu&longs;ed to li&longs;ten to their exhortations. Great as
my calamity was, to be torn from this a&longs;ylum was
regarded by me as an aggravation of it. By a perverse
con&longs;titution of mind, he was con&longs;idered as my
greate&longs;t enemy who &longs;ought to withdraw me from a
&longs;cene which &longs;upplied eternal food to my melancholy,
and kept my de&longs;pair from langui&longs;hing.
In relating the hi&longs;tory of the&longs;e di&longs;a&longs;ters I derived
a &longs;imilar &longs;pecies of gratification. My uncle earnestly
di&longs;&longs;uaded me from this ta&longs;k; but his remonstrances
were as fruitle&longs;s on this head as they had
been on others. They would have withheld from
me the implements of writing; but they quickly
perceived that to with&longs;tand would be more injurious
than to comply with my wi&longs;hes. Having fini&longs;hed
my tale, it &longs;eemed as if the &longs;cene were clo&longs;ing. A
fever lurked in my veins, and my &longs;trength was
gone. Any exertion, however &longs;light, was attended
with difficulty, and, at length, I refu&longs;ed to ri&longs;e from
my bed.
I now &longs;ee the infatuation and inju&longs;tice of my
conduct in its true colours. I reflect upon the
&longs;en&longs;ations and rea&longs;onings of that period with
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wonder and humiliation. That I &longs;hould be in&longs;en&longs;ible
to the claims and tears of my friends; that I &longs;hould
overlook the &longs;ugge&longs;tions of duty, and fly from that
po&longs;t in which only I could be in&longs;trumental to the
benefit of others; that the exerci&longs;e of the &longs;ocial
and beneficent affections, the contemplation of nature
and the acqui&longs;ition of wi&longs;dom &longs;hould not be
&longs;een to be means of happine&longs;s &longs;till within my reach,
is, at this time, &longs;carcely credible.
It is true that I am now changed; but I have
not the con&longs;olation to reflect that my change was
owing to my fortitude or to my capacity for instruction.
Better thoughts grew up in my mind
imperceptibly. I cannot but congratulate my&longs;elf
on the change, though, perhaps, it merely argues
a ficklene&longs;s of temper, and a defect of &longs;en&longs;ibility.
After my narrative was ended I betook my &longs;elf to
my bed, in the full belief that my career in this world
was on the point of fini&longs;hing. My uncle took up
his abode with me, and performed for me every
office of nur&longs;e, phy&longs;ician and friend. One night,
after &longs;ome hours of re&longs;tle&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s and pain, I &longs;unk
into deep &longs;leep. Its tranquillity, however, was of
no long duration. My fancy became &longs;uddenly distempered,
and my brain was turned into a theatre
of uproar and confu&longs;ion. It would not be ea&longs;y to
de&longs;cribe the wild and phanta&longs;tical incongruities that
pe&longs;tered me. My uncle, Wieland, Pleyel and
Carwin were &longs;ucce&longs;&longs;ively and momently di&longs;cerned
amid&longs;t the &longs;torm. Sometimes I was &longs;wallowed up
by whirlpools, or caught up in the air by half-&longs;een
and gigantic forms, and thrown upon pointed rocks,
or ca&longs;t among the billows. Sometimes gleams of
light were &longs;hot into a dark aby&longs;s, on the verge of
which I was &longs;tanding, and enabled me to di&longs;cover,
for a moment, its enormous depth and hideous
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precipices. Anon, I was tran&longs;ported to &longs;ome ridge
of Ætna, and made a terrified &longs;pectator of its fiery
torrents and its pillars of &longs;moke.
However &longs;trange it may &longs;eem, I was con&longs;cious,
even during my dream, of my real &longs;ituation. I
knew my&longs;elf to be a&longs;leep, and &longs;truggled to break
the &longs;pell, by mu&longs;cular exertions. The&longs;e did not
avail, and I continued to &longs;uffer the&longs;e abortive creations
till a loud voice, at my bed &longs;ide, and &longs;ome
one &longs;haking me with violence, put an end to my
reverie. My eyes were un&longs;ealed, and I &longs;tarted from
my pillow.
My chamber was filled with &longs;moke, which,
though in &longs;ome degree luminous, would permit me
to &longs;ee nothing, and by which I was nearly suffocated.
The crackling of flames, and the deafening
clamour of voices without, bur&longs;t upon my ears.
Stunned as I was by this hubbub, &longs;corched with
heat, and nearly choaked by the accumulating vapours,
I was unable to think or act for my own
pre&longs;ervation; I was incapable, indeed, of comprehending
my danger.
I was caught up, in an in&longs;tant, by a pair of
&longs;inewy arms, borne to the window, and carried
down a ladder which had been placed there. My
uncle &longs;tood at the bottom and received me. I was
not fully aware of my &longs;ituation till I found my&longs;elf
&longs;heltered in the Hut, and &longs;urrounded by its inhabitants.
By neglect of the &longs;ervant, &longs;ome unextingui&longs;hed
embers had been placed in a barrel in the cellar of
the building. The barrel had caught fire; this was
communicated to the beams of the lower floor, and
thence to the upper part of the &longs;tructure. It was
fir&longs;t di&longs;covered by &longs;ome per&longs;ons at a di&longs;tance, who
ha&longs;tened to the &longs;pot and alarmed my uncle and the
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&longs;ervants. The flames had already made considerable
progre&longs;s, and my condition was overlooked
till my e&longs;cape was rendered nearly impo&longs;&longs;ible.
My danger being known, and a ladder quickly
procured, one of the &longs;pectators a&longs;cended to my
chamber, and effected my deliverance in the manner
before related.
This incident, di&longs;a&longs;trous as it may at fir&longs;t &longs;eem,
had, in reality, a beneficial effect upon my feelings.
I was, in &longs;ome degree, rou&longs;ed from the &longs;tupor
which had &longs;eized my faculties. The monotonous
and gloomy &longs;eries of my thoughts was broken.
My habitation was levelled with the ground, and I
was obliged to &longs;eek a new one. A new train of
images, di&longs;connected with the fate of my family,
forced it&longs;elf on my attention, and a belief insensibly
&longs;prung up, that tranquillity, if not happine&longs;s, was
&longs;till within my reach. Notwith&longs;tanding the &longs;hocks
which my frame had endured, the angui&longs;h of my
thoughts no &longs;ooner abated than I recovered my
health.
I now willingly li&longs;tened to my uncle's solicitations
to be the companion of his voyage. Preparations
were ea&longs;ily made, and after a tedious passage,
we &longs;et our feet on the &longs;hore of the ancient
world. The memory of the pa&longs;t did not for&longs;ake
me; but the melancholy which it generated, and
the tears with which it filled my eyes, were not unprofitable.
My curio&longs;ity was revived, and I contemplated,
with ardour, the &longs;pectacle of living
manners and the monuments of pa&longs;t ages.
In proportion as my heart was rein&longs;tated in the
po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion of its ancient tranquillity, the &longs;entiment
which I had cheri&longs;hed with regard to Pleyel returned.
In a &longs;hort time he was united to the Saxon
woman, and made his re&longs;idence in the
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neighbourhood of Bo&longs;ton. I was glad that circum&longs;tances
would not permit an interview to take place between
us. I could not de&longs;ire their mi&longs;ery; but I
reaped no plea&longs;ure from reflecting on their happiness.
Time, and the exertions of my fortitude,
cured me, in &longs;ome degree, of this folly. I continued
to love him, but my pa&longs;&longs;ion was digui&longs;ed to
my&longs;elf; I con&longs;idered it merely as a more tender
&longs;pecies of friend&longs;hip, and cheri&longs;hed it without compunction.
Through my uncle's exertions a meeting was
brought about between Carwin and Pleyel, and
explanations took place which re&longs;tored me at once
to the good opinion of the latter. Though &longs;eparated
&longs;o widely our corre&longs;pondence was punctual and frequent,
and paved the way for that union which can
only end with the death of one of us.
In my letters to him I made no &longs;ecret of my former
&longs;entiments. This was a theme on which I
could talk without painful, though not without delicate
emotions. That knowledge which I &longs;hould
never have imparted to a lover, I &longs;elt little &longs;cruple
to communicate to a friend.
A year and an half elap&longs;ed when There&longs;a was
&longs;natched from him by death, in the hour in which
&longs;he gave him the fir&longs;t pledge of their mutual affection.
This event was borne by him with his customary
fortitude. It induced him, however, to
make a change in his plans. He di&longs;po&longs;ed of his
property in America, and joined my uncle and me,
who had terminated the wanderings of two years
at Montpellier, which will henceforth, I believe,
be our permanent abode.
If you reflect upon that entire confidence which
had &longs;ub&longs;i&longs;ted from our infancy between Pleyel and
my&longs;elf; on the pa&longs;&longs;ion that I had contracted, and
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which was merely &longs;mothered for a time; and on
the e&longs;teem which was mutual, you will not, perhaps,
be &longs;urprized that the renovation of our intercourse
&longs;hould give birth to that union which at
pre&longs;ent &longs;ub&longs;i&longs;ts. When the period had elap&longs;ed necessary
to weaken the remembrance of There&longs;a,
to whom he had been bound by ties more of honor
than of love, he tendered his affections to me. I
need not add that the tender was eagerly accepted.
Perhaps you are &longs;omewhat intere&longs;ted in the fate
of Carwin. He &longs;aw, when too late, the danger
of impo&longs;ture. So much affected was he by the
cata&longs;trophe to which he was a witne&longs;s, that he laid
a&longs;ide all regard to his own &longs;afety. He fought my
uncle, and confided to him the tale which he had
ju&longs;t related to me. He found a more impartial
and indulgent auditor in Mr. Cambridge, who imputed
to maniacal illu&longs;ion the conduct of Wieland,
though he conceived the previous and un&longs;een agency
of Carwin, to have indirectly but powerfully predisposed
to this deplorable perver&longs;ion of mind.
It was ea&longs;y for Carwin to elude the per&longs;ecutions
of Ludloe. It was merely requi&longs;ite to hide himself
in a remote di&longs;trict of Penn&longs;ylvania. This,
when he parted from us, he determined to do. He
is now probably engaged in the harmle&longs;s pur&longs;uits of
agriculture, and may come to think, without insupportable
remor&longs;e, on the evils to which his fatal
talents have given birth. The innocence and usefulness
of his future life may, in &longs;ome degree, atone
for the mi&longs;eries &longs;o ra&longs;hly or &longs;o thoughtle&longs;&longs;ly inflicted.
More urgent con&longs;iderations hindered me from
mentioning, in the cour&longs;e of my former mournful
recital, any particulars re&longs;pecting the unfortunate
father of Loui&longs;a Conway. That man &longs;urely was
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re&longs;erved to be a monument of capricious fortune.
His &longs;outhern journies being fini&longs;hed, he returned
to Philadelphia. Before he reached the city he left
the highway, and alighted at my brother's door.
Contrary to his expectation, no one came forth to
welcome him, or hail his approach. He attempted
to enter the hou&longs;e, but bolted doors, barred windows,
and a &longs;ilence broken only by unan&longs;wered
calls, &longs;hewed him that the man&longs;ion was de&longs;erted.
He proceeded thence to my habitation, which he
found, in like manner, gloomy and tenantle&longs;s. His
&longs;urprize may be ea&longs;ily conceived. The ru&longs;tics who
occupied the hut told him an imperfect and incredible
tale. He ha&longs;ted to the city, and extorted
from Mrs. Baynton a full di&longs;clo&longs;ure of late disasters.
He was inured to adver&longs;ity, and recovered, after
no long time, from the &longs;hocks produced by this
di&longs;appointment of his darling &longs;cheme. Our intercourse
did not terminate with his departure from
America. We have &longs;ince met with him in France,
and light has at length been thrown upon the mo&longs;
tives which occa&longs;ioned the di&longs;appearance of his wife,
in the manner which I formerly related to you.
I have dwelt upon the ardour of their conjugal
attachment, and mentioned that no &longs;u&longs;picion had
ever glanced upon her purity. This, though the
belief was long cheri&longs;hed, recent di&longs;coveries have
&longs;hewn to be que&longs;tionable. No doubt her integrity
would have &longs;urvived to the pre&longs;ent moment, if an
extraordinary fate had not befallen her.
Major Stuart had been engaged, while in Germany,
in a conte&longs;t of honor with an Aid de Camp
of the Marquis of Granby. His adver&longs;ary had
propagated a rumour injurious to his character. A
challenge was &longs;ent; a meeting en&longs;ued; and Stuart
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wounded and di&longs;armed the calumniator. The offence
was atoned for, and his life &longs;ecured by suitable
conce&longs;&longs;ions.
Maxwell, that was his name, &longs;hortly after, in
con&longs;equence of &longs;ucceeding to a rich inheritance,
&longs;old his commi&longs;&longs;ion and returned to London. His
fortune was &longs;peedily augmented by an opulent marriage.
Intere&longs;t was his &longs;ole inducement to this
marriage, though the lady had been &longs;wayed by a
credulous affection. The true &longs;tate of his heart
was quickly di&longs;covered, and a &longs;eparation, by mutual
con&longs;ent, took place. The lady withdrew to
an e&longs;tate in a di&longs;tant county, and Maxwell continued
to con&longs;ume his time and fortune in the dissipation
of the capital.
Maxwell, though deceitful and &longs;en&longs;ual, po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed
great force of mind and &longs;pecious accompli&longs;hments.
He contrived to mi&longs;lead the generous mind of Stuart,
and to regain the e&longs;teem which his mi&longs;conduct,
for a time, had forfeited. He was recommended
by her hu&longs;band to the confidence of Mrs. Stuart.
Maxwell was &longs;timulated by revenge, and by a lawless
pa&longs;&longs;ion, to convert this confidence into a &longs;ource
of guilt.
The education and capacity of this woman, the
worth of her hu&longs;band, the pledge of their alliance
which time had produced, her maturity in age and
knowledge of the world—all combined to render
this attempt hopele&longs;s. Maxwell, however, was not
ea&longs;ily di&longs;couraged. The mo&longs;t perfect being, he
believed, mu&longs;t owe his exemption from vice to the
ab&longs;ence of temptation. The impul&longs;es of love are
&longs;o &longs;ubtile, and the influence of fal&longs;e rea&longs;oning, when
enforced by eloquence and pa&longs;&longs;ion, &longs;o unbounded,
that no human virtue is &longs;ecure from degeneracy.
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All arts being tried, every temptation being summoned
to his aid, di&longs;&longs;imulation being carried to its
utmo&longs;t bound, Maxwell, at length, nearly accomplished
his purpo&longs;e. The lady's affections were
withdrawn from her hu&longs;band and transferred to him.
She could not, as yet, be reconciled to di&longs;honor.
All efforts to induce her to elope with him were ineffectual.
She permitted her&longs;elf to love, and to
avow her love; but at this limit the &longs;topped, and
was immoveable.
Hence this revolution in her &longs;entiments was productive
only of de&longs;pair. Her rectitude of principle
pre&longs;erved her from actual guilt, but could not restore
to her her ancient affection, or &longs;ave her from
being the prey of remor&longs;eful and impracticable
wi&longs;hes. Her hu&longs;band's ab&longs;ence produced a &longs;tate
of &longs;u&longs;pen&longs;e. This, however, approached to a period,
and &longs;he received tidings of his intended return.
Maxwell, being likewi&longs;e apprized of this event, and
having made a la&longs;t and un&longs;ucce&longs;sful effort to conquer
her reluctance to accompany him in a journey
to Italy, whither he pretended an invincible nece&longs;&longs;ity
of going, left her to pur&longs;ue the mea&longs;ures which
de&longs;pair might &longs;ugge&longs;t. At the &longs;ame time &longs;he received
a letter from the wife of Maxwell, unveiling
the true character of this man, and revealing facts
which the artifices of her &longs;educer had hitherto concealed
from her. Mrs. Maxwell had been prompted
to this di&longs;clo&longs;ure by a knowledge of her hu&longs;band's
practices, with which his own impetuo&longs;ity had made
her acquainted.
This di&longs;covery, joined to the delicacy of her scruples
and the angui&longs;h of remor&longs;e, induced her to
ab&longs;cond. This &longs;cheme was adopted in ha&longs;te, but
effected with con&longs;ummate prudence. She fled, on
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the eve of her hu&longs;band's arrival, in the di&longs;gui&longs;e of a
boy, and embarked at Falmouth in a packet bound
for America.
The hi&longs;tory of her di&longs;a&longs;trous intercour&longs;e with
Maxwell, the motives inducing her to for&longs;ake her
country, and the mea&longs;ures &longs;he had taken to effect
her de&longs;ign, were related to Mrs. Maxwell, in reply
to her communication. Between the&longs;e women an
ancient intimacy and con&longs;iderable &longs;imilitude of character
&longs;ub&longs;i&longs;ted. This di&longs;clo&longs;ure was accompanied
with &longs;olemn injunctions of &longs;ecrecy, and the&longs;e injunctions
were, for a long time, faithfully ob&longs;erved.
Mrs. Maxwell's abode was &longs;ituated on the banks
of the Wey. Stuart was her kin&longs;man; their youth
had been &longs;pent together; and Maxwell was in
&longs;ome degree indebted to the man whom he betrayed,
for his alliance with this unfortunate lady.
Her e&longs;teem for the character of Stuart had never
been dimini&longs;hed. A meeting between them was
occa&longs;ioned by a tour which the latter had undertaken,
in the year after his return from America, to
Wales and the we&longs;tern countries. This interview
produced plea&longs;ure and regret in each. Their own
tran&longs;actions naturally became the topics of their
conver&longs;ation; and the untimely fate of his wife and
daughter were related by the gue&longs;t.
Mrs. Maxwell's regard for her friend, as well as
for the &longs;afety of her hu&longs;band, per&longs;uaded her to concealment;
but the former being dead, and the latter
being out of the kingdom, &longs;he ventured to produce
Mrs. Stuart's letter, and to communicate her own
knowledge of the treachery of Maxwell. She had
previou&longs;ly extorted from her gue&longs;t a promi&longs;e not to
pur&longs;ue any &longs;cheme of vengeance; but this promi&longs;e
was made while ignorant of the full extent of
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Maxwell's depravity, and his pa&longs;&longs;ion refu&longs;ed to adhere
to it.
At this time my uncle and I re&longs;ided at Avignon.
Among the Engli&longs;h re&longs;ident there, and with whom
we maintained a &longs;ocial intercour&longs;e, was Maxwell.
This man's talents and addre&longs;s rendered him a favorite
both with my uncle and my&longs;elf. He had
even tendered me his hand in marriage; but this
being refu&longs;ed, he had &longs;ought and obtained permi&longs;&longs;ion
to continue with us the intercour&longs;e of friend&longs;hip.
Since a legal marriage was impo&longs;&longs;ible, no doubt,
his views were flagitious. Whether he had relinquished
the&longs;e views I was unable to judge.
He was one in a large circle at a villa in the environs,
to which I had likewi&longs;e been invited, when
Stuart abruptly entered the apartment. He was
recognized with genuine &longs;atisfaction by me, and
with &longs;eeming plea&longs;ure by Maxwell. In a &longs;hort
time, &longs;ome affair of moment being pleaded, which
required an immediate and exclu&longs;ive interview,
Maxwell and he withdrew together. Stuart and
my uncle had been known to each other in the
German army; and the purpo&longs;e contemplated by
the former in this long and ha&longs;ty journey, was confided
to his old friend.
A defiance was given and received, and the banks
of a rivulet, about a league from the city, was selected
as the &longs;cene of this conte&longs;t. My uncle, having
exerted him&longs;elf in vain to prevent an ho&longs;tile
meeting, con&longs;ented to attend them as a &longs;urgeon.—
Next morning, at &longs;un-ri&longs;e, was the time cho&longs;en.
I returned early in the evening to my lodgings.
Preliminaries being &longs;ettled between the combatants,
Stuart had con&longs;ented to &longs;pend the evening with us,
and did not retire till late. On the way to his hotel
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he was expo&longs;ed to no mole&longs;tation, but ju&longs;t as he
&longs;tepped within the portico, a &longs;warthy and malignant
figure &longs;tarted from behind a column, and plunged a
&longs;tiletto into his body.
The author of this trea&longs;on could not certainly be
di&longs;covered; but the details communicated by Stuart,
re&longs;pecting the hi&longs;tory of Maxwell, naturally pointed
him out as an object of &longs;u&longs;picion. No one expressed
more concern, on account of this di&longs;a&longs;ter, than
he; and he pretended an ardent zeal to vindicate
his character from the a&longs;per&longs;ions that were ca&longs;t
upon it. Thenceforth, however, I denied my&longs;elf
to his vi&longs;its; and &longs;hortly after he di&longs;appeared from
this &longs;cene.
Few po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ed more e&longs;timable qualities, and a
better title to happine&longs;s and the tranquil honors of
long life; than the mother and father of Loui&longs;a
Conway: yet they were cut off in the bloom of
their days; and their de&longs;tiny was thus accompli&longs;hed
by the &longs;ame hand. Maxwell was the in&longs;trument
of their de&longs;truction, though the in&longs;trument was applied
to this end in &longs;o different a manner.
I leave you to moralize on this tale. That virtue
&longs;hould become the victim of treachery is, no
doubt, a mournful con&longs;ideration; but it will not
e&longs;cape your notice, that the evils of which Carwin
and Maxwell were the authors, owed their
exi&longs;tence to the errors of the
&longs;ufferers. All efforts
would have been ineffectual to &longs;ubvert the
happine&longs;s or &longs;horten the exi&longs;tence of the Stuarts, if
their own frailty had not &longs;econded the&longs;e efforts. If
the lady had cru&longs;hed her di&longs;a&longs;trous pa&longs;&longs;ion in the
bud, and driven the &longs;educer from her pre&longs;ence, when
the tendency of his artifices was &longs;een; if Stuart
had not admitted the &longs;pirit of ab&longs;urd revenge, we
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&longs;hould not have had to deplore this cata&longs;trophe. If
Wieland had framed ju&longs;ter notions of moral duty,
and of the divine attributes; or if I had been gifted
with ordinary equanimity or fore&longs;ight, the double-tongued
deceiver would have been baffled and repelled.
