[figure description] Page 222.[end figure description]

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

[figure description] Page 226.[end figure description]

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

[figure description] Page 227.[end figure description]

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.

[figure description] Page 231.[end figure description]

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

[figure description] Page 232.[end figure description]

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

[figure description] Page 233.[end figure description]

&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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