Read Wieland; Or, The Transformation: An American Tale Page 25


  Chapter XXV

  A few words more and I lay aside the pen for ever. Yet why should I notrelinquish it now? All that I have said is preparatory to this scene,and my fingers, tremulous and cold as my heart, refuse any furtherexertion. This must not be. Let my last energies support me in thefinishing of this task. Then will I lay down my head in the lap ofdeath. Hushed will be all my murmurs in the sleep of the grave.

  Every sentiment has perished in my bosom. Even friendship is extinct.Your love for me has prompted me to this task; but I would not havecomplied if it had not been a luxury thus to feast upon my woes. I havejustly calculated upon my remnant of strength. When I lay down the penthe taper of life will expire: my existence will terminate with my tale.

  Now that I was left alone with Wieland, the perils of my situationpresented themselves to my mind. That this paroxysm should terminate inhavock and rage it was reasonable to predict. The first suggestion of myfears had been disproved by my experience. Carwin had acknowledged hisoffences, and yet had escaped. The vengeance which I had harboured hadnot been admitted by Wieland, and yet the evils which I had endured,compared with those inflicted on my brother, were as nothing. I thirstedfor his blood, and was tormented with an insatiable appetite for hisdestruction; yet my brother was unmoved, and had dismissed him insafety. Surely thou wast more than man, while I am sunk below thebeasts.

  Did I place a right construction on the conduct of Wieland? Was theerror that misled him so easily rectified? Were views so vivid and faithso strenuous thus liable to fading and to change? Was there not reasonto doubt the accuracy of my perceptions? With images like these wasmy mind thronged, till the deportment of my brother called away myattention.

  I saw his lips move and his eyes cast up to heaven. Then would he listenand look back, as if in expectation of some one's appearance. Thrice herepeated these gesticulations and this inaudible prayer. Each time themist of confusion and doubt seemed to grow darker and to settle on hisunderstanding. I guessed at the meaning of these tokens. The wordsof Carwin had shaken his belief, and he was employed in summoning themessenger who had formerly communed with him, to attest the value ofthose new doubts. In vain the summons was repeated, for his eye metnothing but vacancy, and not a sound saluted his ear.

  He walked to the bed, gazed with eagerness at the pillow which hadsustained the head of the breathless Catharine, and then returned tothe place where I sat. I had no power to lift my eyes to his face: I wasdubious of his purpose: this purpose might aim at my life.

  Alas! nothing but subjection to danger, and exposure to temptation,can show us what we are. By this test was I now tried, and found to becowardly and rash. Men can deliberately untie the thread of life, and ofthis I had deemed myself capable; yet now that I stood upon the brinkof fate, that the knife of the sacrificer was aimed at my heart, Ishuddered and betook myself to any means of escape, however monstrous.

  Can I bear to think--can I endure to relate the outrage which my heartmeditated? Where were my means of safety? Resistance was vain. Not eventhe energy of despair could set me on a level with that strength whichhis terrific prompter had bestowed upon Wieland. Terror enables us toperform incredible feats; but terror was not then the state of my mind:where then were my hopes of rescue?

  Methinks it is too much. I stand aside, as it were, from myself; Iestimate my own deservings; a hatred, immortal and inexorable, is mydue. I listen to my own pleas, and find them empty and false: yes, Iacknowledge that my guilt surpasses that of all mankind: I confess thatthe curses of a world, and the frowns of a deity, are inadequate to mydemerits. Is there a thing in the world worthy of infinite abhorrence?It is I. What shall I say! 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 house, I had made provision against the machinations ofCarwin. In a fold of my dress an open penknife was concealed. This Inow seized and drew forth. It lurked out of view: but I now see that mystate of mind would have rendered the deed inevitable if my brotherhad lifted his hand. This instrument of my preservation would have beenplunged into his heart.

  O, insupportable remembrance! hide thee from my view for a time; hideit from me that my heart was black enough to meditate the stabbing of abrother! a brother thus supreme in misery; thus towering in virtue!

  He was probably unconscious of my design, but presently drew back.This interval was sufficient to restore me to myself. The madness, theiniquity of that act which I had purposed rushed upon my apprehension.For a moment I was breathless with agony. At the next moment I recoveredmy strength, and threw the knife with violence on the floor.

  The sound awoke my brother from his reverie. He gazed alternately at meand at the weapon. With a movement equally solemn he stooped and tookit up. He placed the blade in different positions, scrutinizing itaccurately, and maintaining, at the same time, a profound silence.

  Again he looked at me, but all that vehemence and loftiness of spiritwhich had so lately characterized his features, were flown. Fallenmuscles, a forehead contracted into folds, eyes dim with unbiddendrops, and a ruefulness of aspect which no words can describe, were nowvisible.

  His looks touched into energy the same sympathies in me, and I pouredforth a flood of tears. This passion was quickly checked by fear, whichhad now, no longer, my own, but his safety for their object. I watchedhis deportment in silence. At length he spoke:

  "Sister," said he, in an accent mournful and mild, "I have acted poorlymy part in this world. What thinkest thou? Shall I not do better in thenext?"

  I could make no answer. The mildness of his tone astonished andencouraged me. I continued to regard him with wistful and anxious looks.

  "I think," resumed he, "I will try. My wife and my babes have gonebefore. Happy wretches! I have sent you to repose, and ought not tolinger behind."

  These words had a meaning sufficiently intelligible. I looked at theopen knife in his hand and shuddered, but knew not how to prevent thedeed which I dreaded. He quickly noticed my fears, and comprehendedthem. Stretching towards me his hand, with an air of increasingmildness: "Take it," said he: "Fear not for thy own sake, nor for mine.The cup is gone by, and its transient inebriation is succeeded by thesoberness of truth.

  "Thou angel whom I was wont to worship! fearest thou, my sister, forthy life? Once it was the scope of my labours to destroy thee, but I wasprompted to the deed by heaven; such, at least, was my belief. Thinkestthou that thy death was sought to gratify malevolence? No. I am purefrom all stain. I believed that my God was my mover!

  "Neither thee nor myself have I cause to injure. I have done my duty,and surely there is merit in having sacrificed to that, all that is dearto the heart of man. If a devil has deceived me, he came in the habitof an angel. If I erred, it was not my judgment that deceived me, butmy senses. In thy sight, being of beings! I am still pure. Still will Ilook for my reward in thy justice!"

  Did my ears truly report these sounds? If I did not err, my brother wasrestored to just perceptions. He knew himself to have been betrayed tothe murder of his wife and children, to have been the victim of infernalartifice; yet he found consolation in the rectitude of his motives. Hewas not devoid of sorrow, for this was written on his countenance; buthis soul was tranquil and sublime.

  Perhaps this was merely a transition of his former madness into a newshape. Perhaps he had not yet awakened to the memory of the horrorswhich he had perpetrated. Infatuated wretch that I was! To set myself upas a model by which to judge of my heroic brother! My reason taughtme that his conclusions were right; but conscious of the impotence ofreason over my own conduct; conscious of my cowardly rashness and mycriminal despair, I doubted whether any one could be stedfast and wise.

  Such was my weakness, that even in the midst of these thoughts, mymind glided into abhorrence of Carwin, and I uttered in a low voice, O!Carwin! Carwin! What hast thou to answer for?

  My brother immediately noticed the involuntary exclamation: "Clara!"said he, "be thyself. Equity used to be a theme for
thy eloquence.Reduce its lessons to practice, and be just to that unfortunate man. Theinstrument has done its work, and I am satisfied.

  "I thank thee, my God, for this last illumination! My enemy is thinealso. I deemed him to be man, the man with whom I have often communed;but now thy goodness has unveiled to me his true nature. As theperformer of thy behests, he is my friend."

  My heart began now to misgive me. His mournful aspect had graduallyyielded place to a serene brow. A new soul appeared to actuate hisframe, and his eyes to beam with preternatural lustre. These symptomsdid not abate, and he continued:

  "Clara! I must not leave thee in doubt. I know not what brought aboutthy interview with the being whom thou callest Carwin. For a time, I wasguilty of thy error, and deduced from his incoherent confessions that Ihad been made the victim of human malice. He left us at my bidding, andI put up a prayer that my doubts should be removed. Thy eyes were shut,and thy ears sealed to the vision that answered my prayer.

  "I was indeed deceived. The form thou hast seen was the incarnation ofa daemon. The visage and voice which urged me to the sacrifice of myfamily, were his. Now he personates a human form: then he was invironedwith the lustre of heaven.--

  "Clara," he continued, advancing closer to me, "thy death must come.This minister is evil, but he from whom his commission was received isGod. Submit then with all thy wonted resignation to a decree that cannotbe reversed or resisted. Mark the clock. Three minutes are allowed tothee, in which to call up thy fortitude, and prepare thee for thy doom."There he stopped.

  Even now, when this scene exists only in memory, when life and all itsfunctions have sunk into torpor, my pulse throbs, and my hairs uprise:my brows are knit, as then; and I gaze around me in distraction. I wasunconquerably averse to death; but death, imminent and full of agony asthat which was threatened, was nothing. This was not the only or chiefinspirer of my fears.

  For him, not for myself, was my soul tormented. I might die, and nocrime, surpassing the reach of mercy, would pursue me to the presenceof my Judge; but my assassin would survive to contemplate his deed, andthat assassin was Wieland!

  Wings to bear me beyond his reach I had not. I could not vanish with athought. The door was open, but my murderer was interposed betweenthat and me. Of self-defence I was incapable. The phrenzy that latelyprompted me to blood was gone; my state was desperate; my rescue wasimpossible.

  The weight of these accumulated thoughts could not be borne. My sightbecame confused; my limbs were seized with convulsion; I spoke, but mywords were half-formed:--

  "Spare me, my brother! Look down, righteous Judge! snatch me from thisfate! take away this fury from him, or turn it elsewhere!"

  Such was the agony of my thoughts, that I noticed not steps entering myapartment. Supplicating eyes were cast upward, but when my prayer wasbreathed, I once more wildly gazed at the door. A form met my sight: Ishuddered as if the God whom I invoked were present. It was Carwin thatagain intruded, and who stood before me, erect in attitude, and stedfastin look! The sight of him awakened new and rapid thoughts. His recenttale was remembered: his magical transitions and mysterious energy ofvoice: Whether he were infernal or miraculous, or human, there was nopower and no need to decide. Whether the contriver or not of this spell,he was able to unbind it, and to check the fury of my brother. He hadascribed to himself intentions not malignant. Here now was afforded atest of his truth. Let him interpose, as from above; revoke thesavage decree which the madness of Wieland has assigned to heaven, andextinguish for ever this passion for blood!

  My mind detected at a glance this avenue to safety. The recommendationsit possessed thronged as it were together, and made but one impressionon my intellect. Remoter effects and collateral dangers I saw not.Perhaps the pause of an instant had sufficed to call them up. Theimprobability that the influence which governed Wieland was external orhuman; the tendency of this stratagem to sanction so fatal an error, orsubstitute a more destructive rage in place of this; the sufficiency ofCarwin's mere muscular forces to counteract the efforts, and restrainthe fury of Wieland, might, at a second glance, have been discovered;but no second glance was allowed. My first thought hurried me to action,and, fixing my eyes upon Carwin I exclaimed--

  "O wretch! once more hast thou come? Let it be to abjure thy malice; tocounterwork this hellish stratagem; to turn from me and from my brother,this desolating rage!

  "Testify thy innocence or thy remorse: exert the powers which pertain tothee, whatever they be, to turn aside this ruin. Thou art the authorof these horrors! What have I done to deserve thus to die? How have Imerited this unrelenting persecution? I adjure thee, by that God whosevoice thou hast dared to counterfeit, to save my life!

  "Wilt thou then go? leave me! Succourless!"

  Carwin listened to my intreaties unmoved, and turned from me. He seemedto hesitate a moment: then glided through the door. Rage and despairstifled my utterance. The interval of respite was passed; the pangsreserved for me by Wieland, were not to be endured; my thoughts rushedagain into anarchy. Having received the knife from his hand, I held itloosely and without regard; but now it seized again my attention, and Igrasped it with force.

  He seemed to notice not the entrance or exit of Carwin. My gesture andthe murderous weapon appeared to have escaped his notice. His silencewas unbroken; his eye, fixed upon the clock for a time, was nowwithdrawn; fury kindled in every feature; all that was human in his facegave way to an expression supernatural and tremendous. I felt my leftarm within his grasp.--

  Even now I hesitated to strike. I shrunk from his assault, but invain.--

  Here let me desist. Why should I rescue this event from oblivion? Whyshould I paint this detestable conflict? Why not terminate at once thisseries of horrors?--Hurry to the verge of the precipice, and cast myselffor ever beyond remembrance and beyond hope?

  Still I live: with this load upon my breast; with this phantom to pursuemy steps; with adders lodged in my bosom, and stinging me to madness:still I consent to live!

  Yes, I will rise above the sphere of mortal passions: I will spurn atthe cowardly remorse that bids me seek impunity in silence, or comfortin forgetfulness. My nerves shall be new strung to the task. Have I notresolved? I will die. The gulph before me is inevitable and near. I willdie, but then only when my tale is at an end.