Chapter XXVII
[Written three years after the foregoing, and dated at Montpellier.]
I imagined that I had forever laid aside the pen; and that I shouldtake up my abode in this part of the world, was of all events the leastprobable. My destiny I believed to be accomplished, and I looked forwardto a speedy termination of my life with the fullest confidence.
Surely I had reason to be weary of existence, to be impatient of everytie which held me from the grave. I experienced this impatience in itsfullest extent. I was not only enamoured of death, but conceived, fromthe condition of my frame, that to shun it was impossible, even thoughI had ardently desired it; yet here am I, a thousand leagues from mynative soil, in full possession of life and of health, and not destituteof happiness.
Such is man. Time will obliterate the deepest impressions. Grief themost vehement and hopeless, will gradually decay and wear itself out.Arguments may be employed in vain: every moral prescription may beineffectually tried: remonstrances, however cogent or pathetic, shallhave no power over the attention, or shall be repelled with disdain;yet, as day follows day, the turbulence of our emotions shall subside,and our fluctuations be finally succeeded by a calm.
Perhaps, however, the conquest of despair was chiefly owing to anaccident which rendered my continuance in my own house impossible. Atthe conclusion of my long, and, as I then supposed, my last letter toyou, I mentioned my resolution to wait for death in the very spot whichhad been the principal scene of my misfortunes. From this resolution myfriends exerted themselves with the utmost zeal and perseverance to makeme depart. They justly imagined that to be thus surrounded by memorialsof the fate of my family, would tend to foster my disease. A swiftsuccession of new objects, and the exclusion of every thing calculatedto remind me of my loss, was the only method of cure.
I refused to listen to their exhortations. Great as my calamity was, tobe torn from this asylum was regarded by me as an aggravation of it. Bya perverse constitution of mind, he was considered as my greatest enemywho sought to withdraw me from a scene which supplied eternal food to mymelancholy, and kept my despair from languishing.
In relating the history of these disasters I derived a similar speciesof gratification. My uncle earnestly dissuaded me from this task; buthis remonstrances were as fruitless on this head as they had been onothers. They would have withheld from me the implements of writing; butthey quickly perceived that to withstand would be more injurious thanto comply with my wishes. Having finished my tale, it seemed as if thescene were closing. A fever lurked in my veins, and my strength wasgone. Any exertion, however slight, was attended with difficulty, and,at length, I refused to rise from my bed.
I now see the infatuation and injustice of my conduct in its truecolours. I reflect upon the sensations and reasonings of that periodwith wonder and humiliation. That I should be insensible to the claimsand tears of my friends; that I should overlook the suggestions of duty,and fly from that post in which only I could be instrumental to thebenefit of others; that the exercise of the social and beneficentaffections, the contemplation of nature and the acquisition of wisdomshould not be seen to be means of happiness still within my reach, is,at this time, scarcely credible.
It is true that I am now changed; but I have not the consolation toreflect that my change was owing to my fortitude or to my capacity forinstruction. Better thoughts grew up in my mind imperceptibly. I cannotbut congratulate myself on the change, though, perhaps, it merely arguesa fickleness of temper, and a defect of sensibility.
After my narrative was ended I betook myself to my bed, in the fullbelief that my career in this world was on the point of finishing. Myuncle took up his abode with me, and performed for me every office ofnurse, physician and friend. One night, after some hours of restlessnessand pain, I sunk into deep sleep. Its tranquillity, however, was of nolong duration. My fancy became suddenly distempered, and my brain wasturned into a theatre of uproar and confusion. It would not be easy todescribe the wild and phantastical incongruities that pestered me.My uncle, Wieland, Pleyel and Carwin were successively and momentlydiscerned amidst the storm. Sometimes I was swallowed up by whirlpools,or caught up in the air by half-seen and gigantic forms, and thrown uponpointed rocks, or cast among the billows. Sometimes gleams of lightwere shot into a dark abyss, on the verge of which I was standing, andenabled me to discover, for a moment, its enormous depth and hideousprecipices. Anon, I was transported to some ridge of AEtna, and made aterrified spectator of its fiery torrents and its pillars of smoke.
However strange it may seem, I was conscious, even during my dream, ofmy real situation. I knew myself to be asleep, and struggled to breakthe spell, by muscular exertions. These did not avail, and I continuedto suffer these abortive creations till a loud voice, at my bed side,and some one shaking me with violence, put an end to my reverie. My eyeswere unsealed, and I started from my pillow.
My chamber was filled with smoke, which, though in some degree luminous,would permit me to see nothing, and by which I was nearly suffocated.The crackling of flames, and the deafening clamour of voices without,burst upon my ears. Stunned as I was by this hubbub, scorched with heat,and nearly choaked by the accumulating vapours, I was unable to think oract for my own preservation; I was incapable, indeed, of comprehendingmy danger.
I was caught up, in an instant, by a pair of sinewy arms, borne to thewindow, and carried down a ladder which had been placed there. Myuncle stood at the bottom and received me. I was not fully aware of mysituation till I found myself sheltered in the HUT, and surrounded byits inhabitants.
By neglect of the servant, some unextinguished embers had been placed ina 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 theupper part of the structure. It was first discovered by some personsat a distance, who hastened to the spot and alarmed my uncle and theservants. The flames had already made considerable progress, and mycondition was overlooked till my escape was rendered nearly impossible.
My danger being known, and a ladder quickly procured, one of thespectators ascended to my chamber, and effected my deliverance in themanner before related.
This incident, disastrous as it may at first seem, had, in reality, abeneficial effect upon my feelings. I was, in some degree, roused fromthe stupor which had seized my faculties. The monotonous and gloomyseries of my thoughts was broken. My habitation was levelled with theground, and I was obliged to seek a new one. A new train of images,disconnected with the fate of my family, forced itself on my attention,and a belief insensibly sprung up, that tranquillity, if not happiness,was still within my reach. Notwithstanding the shocks which my frame hadendured, the anguish of my thoughts no sooner abated than I recovered myhealth.
I now willingly listened to my uncle's solicitations to be the companionof his voyage. Preparations were easily made, and after a tediouspassage, we set our feet on the shore of the ancient world. The memoryof the past did not forsake me; but the melancholy which it generated,and the tears with which it filled my eyes, were not unprofitable. Mycuriosity was revived, and I contemplated, with ardour, the spectacle ofliving manners and the monuments of past ages.
In proportion as my heart was reinstated in the possession of itsancient tranquillity, the sentiment which I had cherished with regard toPleyel returned. In a short time he was united to the Saxon woman,and made his residence in the neighbourhood of Boston. I was glad thatcircumstances would not permit an interview to take place between us. Icould not desire their misery; but I reaped no pleasure from reflectingon their happiness. Time, and the exertions of my fortitude, cured me,in some degree, of this folly. I continued to love him, but my passionwas disguised to myself; I considered it merely as a more tender speciesof friendship, and cherished it without compunction.
Through my uncle's exertions a meeting was brought about between Carwinand Pleyel, and explanations took place which restored me at once tothe good opinion of the latter. Though separated so wide
ly ourcorrespondence was punctual and frequent, and paved the way for thatunion which can only end with the death of one of us.
In my letters to him I made no secret of my former sentiments. Thiswas a theme on which I could talk without painful, though not withoutdelicate emotions. That knowledge which I should never have imparted toa lover, I felt little scruple to communicate to a friend.
A year and an half elapsed when Theresa was snatched from him by death,in the hour in which she gave him the first pledge of their mutualaffection. This event was borne by him with his customary fortitude. Itinduced him, however, to make a change in his plans. He disposed of hisproperty in America, and joined my uncle and me, who had terminatedthe wanderings of two years at Montpellier, which will henceforth, Ibelieve, be our permanent abode.
If you reflect upon that entire confidence which had subsisted from ourinfancy between Pleyel and myself; on the passion that I had contracted,and which was merely smothered for a time; and on the esteem which wasmutual, you will not, perhaps, be surprized that the renovation of ourintercourse should give birth to that union which at present subsists.When the period had elapsed necessary to weaken the remembrance ofTheresa, 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 waseagerly accepted.
Perhaps you are somewhat interested in the fate of Carwin. He saw,when too late, the danger of imposture. So much affected was he by thecatastrophe to which he was a witness, that he laid aside all regard tohis own safety. He sought my uncle, and confided to him the tale whichhe had just related to me. He found a more impartial and indulgentauditor in Mr. Cambridge, who imputed to maniacal illusion the conductof Wieland, though he conceived the previous and unseen agency ofCarwin, to have indirectly but powerfully predisposed to this deplorableperversion of mind.
It was easy for Carwin to elude the persecutions of Ludloe. It wasmerely requisite to hide himself in a remote district of Pennsylvania.This, when he parted from us, he determined to do. He is now probablyengaged in the harmless pursuits of agriculture, and may come to think,without insupportable remorse, on the evils to which his fatal talentshave given birth. The innocence and usefulness of his future life may,in some degree, atone for the miseries so rashly or so thoughtlesslyinflicted.
More urgent considerations hindered me from mentioning, in the course ofmy former mournful recital, any particulars respecting the unfortunatefather of Louisa Conway. That man surely was reserved to be a monumentof capricious fortune. His southern journies being finished, he returnedto Philadelphia. Before he reached the city he left the highway, andalighted at my brother's door. Contrary to his expectation, no one cameforth to welcome him, or hail his approach. He attempted to enter thehouse, but bolted doors, barred windows, and a silence broken only byunanswered calls, shewed him that the mansion was deserted.
He proceeded thence to my habitation, which he found, in like manner,gloomy and tenantless. His surprize may be easily conceived. The rusticswho occupied the hut told him an imperfect and incredible tale. Hehasted to the city, and extorted from Mrs. Baynton a full disclosure oflate disasters.
He was inured to adversity, and recovered, after no long time, fromthe shocks produced by this disappointment of his darling scheme. Ourintercourse did not terminate with his departure from America. We havesince met with him in France, and light has at length been thrown uponthe motives which occasioned the disappearance of his wife, in themanner which I formerly related to you.
I have dwelt upon the ardour of their conjugal attachment, and mentionedthat no suspicion had ever glanced upon her purity. This, thoughthe belief was long cherished, recent discoveries have shewn to bequestionable. No doubt her integrity would have survived to the presentmoment, if an extraordinary fate had not befallen her.
Major Stuart had been engaged, while in Germany, in a contest ofhonor with an Aid de Camp of the Marquis of Granby. His adversary hadpropagated a rumour injurious to his character. A challenge was sent;a meeting ensued; and Stuart wounded and disarmed the calumniator. Theoffence was atoned for, and his life secured by suitable concessions.
Maxwell, that was his name, shortly after, in consequence of succeedingto a rich inheritance, sold his commission and returned to London. Hisfortune was speedily augmented by an opulent marriage. Interest was hissole inducement to this marriage, though the lady had been swayed by acredulous affection. The true state of his heart was quickly discovered,and a separation, by mutual consent, took place. The lady withdrew toan estate in a distant county, and Maxwell continued to consume his timeand fortune in the dissipation of the capital.
Maxwell, though deceitful and sensual, possessed great force of mind andspecious accomplishments. He contrived to mislead the generous mind ofStuart, and to regain the esteem which his misconduct, for a time, hadforfeited. He was recommended by her husband to the confidence of Mrs.Stuart. Maxwell was stimulated by revenge, and by a lawless passion, toconvert this confidence into a source of guilt.
The education and capacity of this woman, the worth of her husband, thepledge of their alliance which time had produced, her maturity inage and knowledge of the world--all combined to render this attempthopeless. Maxwell, however, was not easily discouraged. The most perfectbeing, he believed, must owe his exemption from vice to the absence oftemptation. The impulses of love are so subtile, and the influence offalse reasoning, when enforced by eloquence and passion, so unbounded,that no human virtue is secure from degeneracy. All arts being tried,every temptation being summoned to his aid, dissimulation being carriedto its utmost bound, Maxwell, at length, nearly accomplished hispurpose. The lady's affections were withdrawn from her husband andtransferred to him. She could not, as yet, be reconciled to dishonor.All efforts to induce her to elope with him were ineffectual. Shepermitted herself to love, and to avow her love; but at this limit shestopped, and was immoveable.
Hence this revolution in her sentiments was productive only of despair.Her rectitude of principle preserved her from actual guilt, but couldnot restore to her her ancient affection, or save her from being theprey of remorseful and impracticable wishes. Her husband's absenceproduced a state of suspense. This, however, approached to a period,and she received tidings of his intended return. Maxwell, being likewiseapprized of this event, and having made a last and unsuccessful effortto conquer her reluctance to accompany him in a journey to Italy,whither he pretended an invincible necessity of going, left her topursue the measures which despair might suggest. At the same time shereceived a letter from the wife of Maxwell, unveiling the true characterof this man, and revealing facts which the artifices of her seducerhad hitherto concealed from her. Mrs. Maxwell had been prompted to thisdisclosure by a knowledge of her husband's practices, with which his ownimpetuosity had made her acquainted.
This discovery, joined to the delicacy of her scruples and the anguishof remorse, induced her to abscond. This scheme was adopted in haste,but effected with consummate prudence. She fled, on the eve of herhusband's arrival, in the disguise of a boy, and embarked at Falmouth ina packet bound for America.
The history of her disastrous intercourse with Maxwell, the motivesinducing her to forsake her country, and the measures she had takento effect her design, were related to Mrs. Maxwell, in reply to hercommunication. Between these women an ancient intimacy and considerablesimilitude of character subsisted. This disclosure was accompanied withsolemn injunctions of secrecy, and these injunctions were, for a longtime, faithfully observed.
Mrs. Maxwell's abode was situated on the banks of the Wey. Stuart washer kinsman; their youth had been spent together; and Maxwell was insome degree indebted to the man whom he betrayed, for his alliance withthis unfortunate lady. Her esteem for the character of Stuart had neverbeen diminished. A meeting between them was occasioned by a tour whichthe latter had undertaken, in the year after his return from America,to Wales and the western counties. This interview produced pleasure andregret in each. Their own transactions naturally became the top
ics oftheir conversation; and the untimely fate of his wife and daughter wererelated by the guest.
Mrs. Maxwell's regard for her friend, as well as for the safety of herhusband, persuaded her to concealment; but the former being dead,and the latter being out of the kingdom, she ventured to produce Mrs.Stuart's letter, and to communicate her own knowledge of the treacheryof Maxwell. She had previously extorted from her guest a promise not topursue any scheme of vengeance; but this promise was made while ignorantof the full extent of Maxwell's depravity, and his passion refused toadhere to it.
At this time my uncle and I resided at Avignon. Among the Englishresident there, and with whom we maintained a social intercourse, wasMaxwell. This man's talents and address rendered him a favorite bothwith my uncle and myself. He had even tendered me his hand in marriage;but this being refused, he had sought and obtained permission tocontinue with us the intercourse of friendship. Since a legal marriagewas impossible, no doubt, his views were flagitious. Whether he hadrelinquished these views I was unable to judge.
He was one in a large circle at a villa in the environs, to which I hadlikewise been invited, when Stuart abruptly entered the apartment.He was recognized with genuine satisfaction by me, and with seemingpleasure by Maxwell. In a short time, some affair of moment beingpleaded, which required an immediate and exclusive interview, Maxwelland he withdrew together. Stuart and my uncle had been known to eachother in the German army; and the purpose contemplated by the former inthis long and hasty journey, was confided to his old friend.
A defiance was given and received, and the banks of a rivulet, abouta league from the city, was selected as the scene of this contest. Myuncle, having exerted himself in vain to prevent an hostile meeting,consented to attend them as a surgeon.--Next morning, at sun-rise, wasthe time chosen.
I returned early in the evening to my lodgings. Preliminaries beingsettled between the combatants, Stuart had consented to spend theevening with us, and did not retire till late. On the way to his hotelhe was exposed to no molestation, but just as he stepped within theportico, a swarthy and malignant figure started from behind a column.and plunged a stiletto into his body.
The author of this treason could not certainly be discovered; but thedetails communicated by Stuart, respecting the history of Maxwell,naturally pointed him out as an object of suspicion. No one expressedmore concern, on account of this disaster, than he; and he pretendedan ardent zeal to vindicate his character from the aspersions that werecast upon it. Thenceforth, however, I denied myself to his visits; andshortly after he disappeared from this scene.
Few possessed more estimable qualities, and a better title to happinessand the tranquil honors of long life, than the mother and father ofLouisa Conway: yet they were cut off in the bloom of their days; andtheir destiny was thus accomplished by the same hand. Maxwell was theinstrument of their destruction, though the instrument was applied tothis end in so different a manner.
I leave you to moralize on this tale. That virtue should become thevictim of treachery is, no doubt, a mournful consideration; but it willnot escape your notice, that the evils of which Carwin and Maxwell werethe authors, owed their existence to the errors of the sufferers. Allefforts would have been ineffectual to subvert the happiness or shortenthe existence of the Stuarts, if their own frailty had not secondedthese efforts. If the lady had crushed her disastrous passion in thebud, and driven the seducer from her presence, when the tendency ofhis artifices was seen; if Stuart had not admitted the spirit of absurdrevenge, we should not have had to deplore this catastrophe. If Wielandhad framed juster notions of moral duty, and of the divine attributes;or if I had been gifted with ordinary equanimity or foresight, thedouble-tongued deceiver would have been baffled and repelled.
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