Chapter XX
Will you wonder that I read no farther? Will you not rather beastonished that I read thus far? What power supported me through such atask I know not. Perhaps the doubt from which I could not disengagemy mind, that the scene here depicted was a dream, contributed to myperseverance. In vain the solemn introduction of my uncle, his appealsto my fortitude, and allusions to something monstrous in the eventshe was about to disclose; in vain the distressful perplexity, themysterious silence and ambiguous answers of my attendants, especiallywhen the condition of my brother was the theme of my inquiries, wereremembered. I recalled the interview with Wieland in my chamber, hispreternatural tranquillity succeeded by bursts of passion and menacingactions. All these coincided with the tenor of this paper.
Catharine and her children, and Louisa were dead. The act that destroyedthem was, in the highest degree, inhuman. It was worthy of savagestrained to murder, and exulting in agonies.
Who was the performer of the deed? Wieland! My brother! The husbandand the father! That man of gentle virtues and invincible benignity!placable and mild--an idolator of peace! Surely, said I, it is a dream.For many days have I been vexed with frenzy. Its dominion is still felt;but new forms are called up to diversify and augment my torments.
The paper dropped from my hand, and my eyes followed it. I shrunk back,as if to avoid some petrifying influence that approached me. My tonguewas mute; all the functions of nature were at a stand, and I sunk uponthe floor lifeless. The noise of my fall, as I afterwards heard, alarmedmy uncle, who was in a lower apartment, and whose apprehensions haddetained him. He hastened to my chamber, and administered the assistancewhich my condition required. When I opened my eyes I beheld him beforeme. His skill as a reasoner as well as a physician, was exerted toobviate the injurious effects of this disclosure; but he had wronglyestimated the strength of my body or of my mind. This new shock broughtme once more to the brink of the grave, and my malady was much moredifficult to subdue than at first.
I will not dwell upon the long train of dreary sensations, and thehideous confusion of my understanding. Time slowly restored itscustomary firmness to my frame, and order to my thoughts. The imagesimpressed upon my mind by this fatal paper were somewhat effaced by mymalady. They were obscure and disjointed like the parts of a dream. Iwas desirous of freeing my imagination from this chaos. For this end Iquestioned my uncle, who was my constant companion. He was intimidatedby the issue of his first experiment, and took pains to elude ordiscourage my inquiry. My impetuosity some times compelled him to haveresort to misrepresentations and untruths.
Time effected that end, perhaps, in a more beneficial manner. In thecourse of my meditations the recollections of the past gradually becamemore distinct. I revolved them, however, in silence, and being no longeraccompanied with surprize, they did not exercise a death-dealingpower. I had discontinued the perusal of the paper in the midst ofthe narrative; but what I read, combined with information elsewhereobtained, threw, perhaps, a sufficient light upon these detestabletransactions; yet my curiosity was not inactive. I desired to peruse theremainder.
My eagerness to know the particulars of this tale was mingled and abatedby my antipathy to the scene which would be disclosed. Hence I employedno means to effect my purpose. I desired knowledge, and, at the sametime, shrunk back from receiving the boon.
One morning, being left alone, I rose from my bed, and went to a drawerwhere my finer clothing used to be kept. I opened it, and this fatalpaper saluted my sight. I snatched it involuntarily, and withdrew to achair. I debated, for a few minutes, whether I should open and read. Nowthat my fortitude was put to trial, it failed. I felt myself incapableof deliberately surveying a scene of so much horror. I was prompted toreturn it to its place, but this resolution gave way, and I determinedto peruse some part of it. I turned over the leaves till I came near theconclusion. The narrative of the criminal was finished. The verdict ofGUILTY reluctantly pronounced by the jury, and the accused interrogatedwhy sentence of death should not pass. The answer was brief, solemn, andemphatical.
"No. I have nothing to say. My tale has been told. My motives havebeen truly stated. If my judges are unable to discern the purity of myintentions, or to credit the statement of them, which I have just made;if they see not that my deed was enjoined by heaven; that obedience wasthe test of perfect virtue, and the extinction of selfishness and error,they must pronounce me a murderer.
"They refuse to credit my tale; they impute my acts to the influence ofdaemons; they account me an example of the highest wickedness of whichhuman nature is capable; they doom me to death and infamy. Have I powerto escape this evil? If I have, be sure I will exert it. I will notaccept evil at their hand, when I am entitled to good; I will sufferonly when I cannot elude suffering.
"You say that I am guilty. Impious and rash! thus to usurp theprerogatives of your Maker! to set up your bounded views and haltingreason, as the measure of truth!
"Thou, Omnipotent and Holy! Thou knowest that my actions wereconformable to thy will. I know not what is crime; what actions areevil in their ultimate and comprehensive tendency or what are good. Thyknowledge, as thy power, is unlimited. I have taken thee for my guide,and cannot err. To the arms of thy protection, I entrust my safety. Inthe awards of thy justice, I confide for my recompense.
"Come death when it will, I am safe. Let calumny and abhorrence pursueme among men; I shall not be defrauded of my dues. The peace of virtue,and the glory of obedience, will be my portion hereafter."
Here ended the speaker. I withdrew my eyes from the page; but before Ihad time to reflect on what I had read, Mr. Cambridge entered theroom. He quickly perceived how I had been employed, and betrayed somesolicitude respecting the condition of my mind.
His fears, however, were superfluous. What I had read, threw me into astate not easily described. Anguish and fury, however, had no part init. My faculties were chained up in wonder and awe. Just then, I wasunable to speak. I looked at my friend with an air of inquisitiveness,and pointed at the roll. He comprehended my inquiry, and answered mewith looks of gloomy acquiescence. After some time, my thoughts foundtheir way to my lips.
Such then were the acts of my brother. Such were his words. For thishe was condemned to die: To die upon the gallows! A fate, cruel andunmerited! And is it so? continued I, struggling for utterance, whichthis new idea made difficult; is he--dead!
"No. He is alive. There could be no doubt as to the cause of theseexcesses. They originated in sudden madness; but that madness continues.and he is condemned to perpetual imprisonment."
"Madness, say you? Are you sure? Were not these sights, and thesesounds, really seen and heard?"
My uncle was surprized at my question. He looked at me with apparentinquietude. "Can you doubt," said he, "that these were illusions? Doesheaven, think you, interfere for such ends?"
"O no; I think it not. Heaven cannot stimulate to such unheard-ofoutrage. The agent was not good, but evil."
"Nay, my dear girl," said my friend, "lay aside these fancies. Neitherangel nor devil had any part in this affair."
"You misunderstand me," I answered; "I believe the agency to be externaland real, but not supernatural."
"Indeed!" said he, in an accent of surprize. "Whom do you then supposeto be the agent?"
"I know not. All is wildering conjecture. I cannot forget Carwin. Icannot banish the suspicion that he was the setter of these snares. Buthow can we suppose it to be madness? Did insanity ever before assumethis form?"
"Frequently. The illusion, in this case, was more dreadful in itsconsequences, than any that has come to my knowledge; but, I repeat thatsimilar illusions are not rare. Did you never hear of an instance whichoccurred in your mother's family?"
"No. I beseech you relate it. My grandfather's death I have understoodto have been extraordinary, but I know not in what respect. A brother,to whom he was much attached, died in his youth, and this, as I haveheard, influenced, in some remarkable way, the fate of my grandfather;but I am u
nacquainted with particulars."
"On the death of that brother," resumed my friend, "my father was seizedwith dejection, which was found to flow from two sources. He not onlygrieved for the loss of a friend, but entertained the belief that hisown death would be inevitably consequent on that of his brother. Hewaited from day to day in expectation of the stroke which he predictedwas speedily to fall upon him. Gradually, however, he recovered hischeerfulness and confidence. He married, and performed his part inthe world with spirit and activity. At the end of twenty-one years ithappened that he spent the summer with his family at an house which hepossessed on the sea coast in Cornwall. It was at no great distancefrom a cliff which overhung the ocean, and rose into the air to a greatheight. The summit was level and secure, and easily ascended on the landside. The company frequently repaired hither in clear weather, invitedby its pure airs and extensive prospects. One evening in June my father,with his wife and some friends, chanced to be on this spot. Every onewas happy, and my father's imagination seemed particularly alive to thegrandeur of the scenery.
"Suddenly, however, his limbs trembled and his features betrayed alarm.He threw himself into the attitude of one listening. He gazed earnestlyin a direction in which nothing was visible to his friends. This lastedfor a minute; then turning to his companions, he told them that hisbrother had just delivered to him a summons, which must be instantlyobeyed. He then took an hasty and solemn leave of each person, and,before their surprize would allow them to understand the scene, herushed to the edge of the cliff, threw himself headlong, and was seen nomore.
"In the course of my practice in the German army, many cases, equallyremarkable, have occurred. Unquestionably the illusions were maniacal,though the vulgar thought otherwise. They are all reducible to oneclass, [*] and are not more difficult of explication and cure than mostaffections of our frame."
This opinion my uncle endeavoured, by various means, to impress upon me.I listened to his reasonings and illustrations with silent respect. Myastonishment was great on finding proofs of an influence of which Ihad supposed there were no examples; but I was far from accounting forappearances in my uncle's manner. Ideas thronged into my mind which Iwas unable to disjoin or to regulate. I reflected that this madness,if madness it were, had affected Pleyel and myself as well as Wieland.Pleyel had heard a mysterious voice. I had seen and heard. A form hadshowed itself to me as well as to Wieland. The disclosure had beenmade in the same spot. The appearance was equally complete and equallyprodigious in both instances. Whatever supposition I should adopt, hadI not equal reason to tremble? What was my security against influencesequally terrific and equally irresistable?
It would be vain to attempt to describe the state of mind which thisidea produced. I wondered at the change which a moment had affectedin my brother's condition. Now was I stupified with tenfold wonder incontemplating myself. Was I not likewise transformed from rational andhuman into a creature of nameless and fearful attributes? Was I nottransported to the brink of the same abyss? Ere a new day should come,my hands might be embrued in blood, and my remaining life be consignedto a dungeon and chains.
With moral sensibility like mine, no wonder that this new dread was moreinsupportable than the anguish I had lately endured. Grief carries itsown antidote along with it. When thought becomes merely a vehicle ofpain, its progress must be stopped. Death is a cure which nature orourselves must administer: To this cure I now looked forward with gloomysatisfaction.
My silence could not conceal from my uncle the state of my thoughts.He made unwearied efforts to divert my attention from views sopregnant with danger. His efforts, aided by time, were in some measuresuccessful. Confidence in the strength of my resolution, and in thehealthful state of my faculties, was once more revived. I was ableto devote my thoughts to my brother's state, and the causes of thisdisasterous proceeding.
My opinions were the sport of eternal change. Some times I conceived theapparition to be more than human. I had no grounds on which to build adisbelief. I could not deny faith to the evidence of my religion;the testimony of men was loud and unanimous: both these concurredto persuade me that evil spirits existed, and that their energy wasfrequently exerted in the system of the world.
These ideas connected themselves with the image of Carwin. Where is theproof, said I, that daemons may not be subjected to the controul of men?This truth may be distorted and debased in the minds of the ignorant.The dogmas of the vulgar, with regard to this subject, are glaringlyabsurd; but though these may justly be neglected by the wise, we arescarcely justified in totally rejecting the possibility that men mayobtain supernatural aid.
The dreams of superstition are worthy of contempt. Witchcraft, itsinstruments and miracles, the compact ratified by a bloody signature,the apparatus of sulpherous smells and thundering explosions, aremonstrous and chimerical. These have no part in the scene over which thegenius of Carwin presides. That conscious beings, dissimilar from human,but moral and voluntary agents as we are, some where exist, can scarcelybe denied. That their aid may be employed to benign or malignantpurposes, cannot be disproved.
Darkness rests upon the designs of this man. The extent of his power isunknown; but is there not evidence that it has been now exerted?
I recurred to my own experience. Here Carwin had actually appeared uponthe stage; but this was in a human character. A voice and a form werediscovered; but one was apparently exerted, and the other disclosed, notto befriend, but to counteract Carwin's designs. There were tokens ofhostility, and not of alliance, between them. Carwin was the miscreantwhose projects were resisted by a minister of heaven. How can this bereconciled to the stratagem which ruined my brother? There the agencywas at once preternatural and malignant.
The recollection of this fact led my thoughts into a new channel. Themalignity of that influence which governed my brother had hitherto beenno subject of doubt. His wife and children were destroyed; they hadexpired in agony and fear; yet was it indisputably certain that theirmurderer was criminal? He was acquitted at the tribunal of his ownconscience; his behaviour at his trial and since, was faithfullyreported to me; appearances were uniform; not for a moment did he layaside the majesty of virtue; he repelled all invectives by appealing tothe deity, and to the tenor of his past life; surely there was truth inthis appeal: none but a command from heaven could have swayed his will;and nothing but unerring proof of divine approbation could sustain hismind in its present elevation.
* Mania Mutabilis. See Darwin's Zoonomia, vol. ii. Class III. 1.2. where similar cases are stated.