Chapter IX
My brother had received a new book from Germany. It was a tragedy, andthe first attempt of a Saxon poet, of whom my brother had been taught toentertain the highest expectations. The exploits of Zisca, the Bohemianhero, were woven into a dramatic series and connection. According toGerman custom, it was minute and diffuse, and dictated by an adventurousand lawless fancy. It was a chain of audacious acts, and unheard-ofdisasters. The moated fortress, and the thicket; the ambush and thebattle; and the conflict of headlong passions, were pourtrayed inwild numbers, and with terrific energy. An afternoon was set apart torehearse this performance. The language was familiar to all of us butCarwin, whose company, therefore, was tacitly dispensed with.
The morning previous to this intended rehearsal, I spent at home. Mymind was occupied with reflections relative to my own situation. Thesentiment which lived with chief energy in my heart, was connectedwith the image of Pleyel. In the midst of my anguish, I had not beendestitute of consolation. His late deportment had given spring to myhopes. Was not the hour at hand, which should render me the happiestof human creatures? He suspected that I looked with favorable eyes uponCarwin. Hence arose disquietudes, which he struggled in vain to conceal.He loved me, but was hopeless that his love would be compensated. Is itnot time, said I, to rectify this error? But by what means is this to beeffected? It can only be done by a change of deportment in me; but howmust I demean myself for this purpose?
I must not speak. Neither eyes, nor lips, must impart the information.He must not be assured that my heart is his, previous to the tender ofhis own; but he must be convinced that it has not been given to another;he must be supplied with space whereon to build a doubt as to the truestate of my affections; he must be prompted to avow himself. The lineof delicate propriety; how hard it is, not to fall short, and not tooverleap it!
This afternoon we shall meet at the temple. We shall not separate tilllate. It will be his province to accompany me home. The airy expanse iswithout a speck. This breeze is usually stedfast, and its promise ofa bland and cloudless evening, may be trusted. The moon will rise ateleven, and at that hour, we shall wind along this bank. Possibly thathour may decide my fate. If suitable encouragement be given, Pleyel willreveal his soul to me; and I, ere I reach this threshold, will be madethe happiest of beings. And is this good to be mine? Add wings to thyspeed, sweet evening; and thou, moon, I charge thee, shroud thy beams atthe moment when my Pleyel whispers love. I would not for the world, thatthe burning blushes, and the mounting raptures of that moment, should bevisible.
But what encouragement is wanting? I must be regardful of insurmountablelimits. Yet when minds are imbued with a genuine sympathy, are not wordsand looks superfluous? Are not motion and touch sufficient to impartfeelings such as mine? Has he not eyed me at moments, when the pressureof his hand has thrown me into tumults, and was it possible that hemistook the impetuosities of love, for the eloquence of indignation?
But the hastening evening will decide. Would it were come! And yet Ishudder at its near approach. An interview that must thus terminate, issurely to be wished 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, whenthese emotions would be hidden with immeasurable solicitude, from everyhuman eye. Alas! these airy and fleeting impulses of shame are gone. Myscruples were preposterous and criminal. They are bred in all hearts, bya perverse and vicious education, and they would still have maintainedtheir place in my heart, had not my portion been set in misery. Myerrors have taught me thus much wisdom; that those sentiments which weought not to disclose, it is criminal to harbour.
It was proposed to begin the rehearsal at four o'clock; I counted theminutes as they passed; their flight was at once too rapid and too slow;my sensations were of an excruciating kind; I could taste no food, norapply to any task, nor enjoy a moment's repose: when the hour arrived, Ihastened to my brother's.
Pleyel was not there. He had not yet come. On ordinary occasions, he waseminent for punctuality. He had testified great eagerness to sharein the pleasures of this rehearsal. He was to divide the task with mybrother, and, in tasks like these, he always engaged with peculiarzeal. His elocution was less sweet than sonorous; and, therefore,better adapted than the mellifluences of his friend, to the outrageousvehemence of this drama.
What could detain him? Perhaps he lingered through forgetfulness. Yetthis was incredible. Never had his memory been known to fail upon evenmore trivial occasions. Not less impossible was it, that the scheme hadlost its attractions, and that he staid, because his coming would affordhim no gratification. But why should we expect him to adhere to theminute?
An half hour elapsed, but Pleyel was still at a distance. Perhaps he hadmisunderstood the hour which had been proposed. Perhaps he had conceivedthat to-morrow, and not to-day, had been selected for this purpose:but no. A review of preceding circumstances demonstrated that suchmisapprehension was impossible; for he had himself proposed this day,and this hour. This day, his attention would not otherwise be occupied;but to-morrow, an indispensible engagement was foreseen, by which allhis time would be engrossed: his detention, therefore, must be owingto some unforeseen and extraordinary event. Our conjectures were vague,tumultuous, and sometimes fearful. His sickness and his death mightpossibly have detained him.
Tortured with suspense, we sat gazing at each other, and at the pathwhich led from the road. Every horseman that passed was, for a moment,imagined to be him. Hour succeeded hour, and the sun, graduallydeclining, at length, disappeared. Every signal of his coming provedfallacious, and our hopes were at length dismissed. His absence affectedmy friends in no insupportable degree. They should be obliged, theysaid, to defer this undertaking till the morrow; and, perhaps, theirimpatient curiosity would compel them to dispense entirely with hispresence. No doubt, some harmless occurrence had diverted him fromhis purpose; and they trusted that they should receive a satisfactoryaccount of him in the morning.
It may be supposed that this disappointment affected me in a verydifferent manner. I turned aside my head to conceal my tears. I fledinto solitude, to give vent to my reproaches, without interruptionor restraint. My heart was ready to burst with indignation and grief.Pleyel was not the only object of my keen but unjust upbraiding. Deeplydid I execrate my own folly. Thus fallen into ruins was the gay fabricwhich I had reared! Thus had my golden vision melted into air!
How fondly did I dream that Pleyel was a lover! If he were, would hehave suffered any obstacle to hinder his coming? Blind and infatuatedman! I exclaimed. Thou sportest with happiness. The good that isoffered thee, thou hast the insolence and folly to refuse. Well, I willhenceforth intrust my felicity to no one's keeping but my own.
The first agonies of this disappointment would not allow me to bereasonable or just. Every ground on which I had built the persuasionthat Pleyel was not unimpressed in my favor, appeared to vanish. Itseemed as if I had been misled into this opinion, by the most palpableillusions.
I made some trifling excuse, and returned, much earlier than I expected,to my own house. I retired early to my chamber, without designing tosleep. I placed myself at a window, and gave the reins to reflection.
The hateful and degrading impulses which had lately controuled me were,in some degree, removed. New dejection succeeded, but was now producedby contemplating my late behaviour. Surely that passion is worthy tobe abhorred which obscures our understanding, and urges us to thecommission of injustice. What right had I to expect his attendance?Had I not demeaned myself like one indifferent to his happiness, and ashaving bestowed my regards upon another? His absence might be promptedby the love which I considered his absence as a proof that he wanted.He came not because the sight of me, the spectacle of my coldness oraversion, contributed to his despair. Why should I prolong, by hypocrisyor silence, his misery as well as my own? Why not deal with himexplicitly, and assure him of the truth?
You will hardly believe that, in o
bedience to this suggestion, I rosefor the purpose of ordering a light, that I might instantly make thisconfession in a letter. A second thought shewed me the rashness of thisscheme, and I wondered by what infirmity of mind I could be betrayedinto a momentary approbation of it. I saw with the utmost clearness thata confession like that would be the most remediless and unpardonableoutrage upon the dignity of my sex, and utterly unworthy of that passionwhich controuled me.
I resumed my seat and my musing. To account for the absence of Pleyelbecame once more the scope of my conjectures. How many incidents mightoccur to raise an insuperable impediment in his way? When I was a child,a scheme of pleasure, in which he and his sister were parties, had been,in like manner, frustrated by his absence; but his absence, in thatinstance, had been occasioned by his falling from a boat into the river,in consequence of which he had run the most imminent hazard of beingdrowned. Here was a second disappointment endured by the same persons,and produced by his failure. Might it not originate in the same cause?Had he not designed to cross the river that morning to make somenecessary purchases in Jersey? He had preconcerted to return to hisown house to dinner; but, perhaps, some disaster had befallen him.Experience had taught me the insecurity of a canoe, and that was theonly kind of boat which Pleyel used: I was, likewise, actuated byan hereditary dread of water. These circumstances combined to bestowconsiderable plausibility on this conjecture; but the consternationwith which I began to be seized was allayed by reflecting, that ifthis disaster had happened my brother would have received the speediestinformation of it. The consolation which this idea imparted was ravishedfrom me by a new thought. This disaster might have happened, and hisfamily not be apprized of it. The first intelligence of his fate maybe communicated by the livid corpse which the tide may cast, many dayshence, upon the shore.
Thus was I distressed by opposite conjectures: thus was I tormented byphantoms of my own creation. It was not always thus. I can ascertain thedate when my mind became the victim of this imbecility; perhaps it wascoeval with the inroad of a fatal passion; a passion that will neverrank me in the number of its eulogists; it was alone sufficient to theextermination of my peace: it was itself a plenteous source ofcalamity, and needed not the concurrence of other evils to take away theattractions of existence, and dig for me an untimely grave.
The state of my mind naturally introduced a train of reflections uponthe dangers and cares which inevitably beset an human being. By noviolent transition was I led to ponder on the turbulent life andmysterious end of my father. I cherished, with the utmost veneration,the memory of this man, and every relique connected with his fate waspreserved with the most scrupulous care. Among these was to be numbereda manuscript, containing memoirs of his own life. The narrative was byno means recommended by its eloquence; but neither did all its valueflow from my relationship to the author. Its stile had an unaffected andpicturesque simplicity. The great variety and circumstantial display ofthe incidents, together with their intrinsic importance, as descriptiveof human manners and passions, made it the most useful book in mycollection. It was late; but being sensible of no inclination to sleep,I resolved to betake myself to the perusal of it.
To do this it was requisite to procure a light. The girl had long sinceretired to her chamber: it was therefore proper to wait upon myself.A lamp, and the means of lighting it, were only to be found in thekitchen. Thither I resolved forthwith to repair; but the light was ofuse merely to enable me to read the book. I knew the shelf and the spotwhere it stood. Whether I took down the book, or prepared the lamp inthe first place, appeared to be a matter of no moment. The latter waspreferred, and, leaving my seat, I approached the closet in which, as Imentioned formerly, my books and papers were deposited.
Suddenly the remembrance of what had lately passed in this closetoccurred. Whether midnight was approaching, or had passed, I knew not. Iwas, as then, alone, and defenceless. The wind was in that directionin which, aided by the deathlike repose of nature, it brought to methe murmur of the water-fall. This was mingled with that solemn andenchanting sound, which a breeze produces among the leaves of pines. Thewords of that mysterious dialogue, their fearful import, and the wildexcess to which I was transported by my terrors, filled my imaginationanew. My steps faultered, and I stood a moment to recover myself.
I prevailed on myself at length to move towards the closet. I touchedthe lock, but my fingers were powerless; I was visited afresh byunconquerable apprehensions. A sort of belief darted into my mind, thatsome being was concealed within, whose purposes were evil. I began tocontend with those fears, when it occurred to me that I might, withoutimpropriety, go for a lamp previously to opening the closet. I recededa few steps; but before I reached my chamber door my thoughts took a newdirection. Motion seemed to produce a mechanical influence upon me. Iwas ashamed of my weakness. Besides, what aid could be afforded me by alamp?
My fears had pictured to themselves no precise object. It would bedifficult to depict, in words, the ingredients and hues of that phantomwhich haunted me. An hand invisible and of preternatural strength,lifted by human passions, and selecting my life for its aim, were partsof this terrific image. All places were alike accessible to this foe, orif his empire were restricted by local bounds, those bounds were utterlyinscrutable by me. But had I not been told by some one in league withthis enemy, that every place but the recess in the bank was exempt fromdanger? I returned to the closet, and once more put my hand upon thelock. O! may my ears lose their sensibility, ere they be again assailedby a shriek so terrible! Not merely my understanding was subdued by thesound: it acted on my nerves like an edge of steel. It appeared to cutasunder the fibres of my brain, and rack every joint with agony.
The cry, loud and piercing as it was, was nevertheless human. Noarticulation was ever more distinct. The breath which accompanied it didnot fan my hair, yet did every circumstance combine to persuade me thatthe lips which uttered it touched my very shoulder.
"Hold! Hold!" were the words of this tremendous prohibition, in whosetone the whole soul seemed to be wrapped up, and every energy convertedinto eagerness and terror.
Shuddering, I dashed myself against the wall, and by the sameinvoluntary impulse, turned my face backward to examine the mysteriousmonitor. The moon-light streamed into each window, and every corner ofthe room was conspicuous, and yet I beheld nothing!
The interval was too brief to be artificially measured, between theutterance of these words, and my scrutiny directed to the quarter whencethey came. Yet if a human being had been there, could he fail to havebeen visible? Which of my senses was the prey of a fatal illusion? Theshock which the sound produced was still felt in every part of my frame.The sound, therefore, could not but be a genuine commotion. But that Ihad heard it, was not more true than that the being who uttered it wasstationed at my right ear; yet my attendant was invisible.
I cannot describe the state of my thoughts at that moment. Surprizehad mastered my faculties. My frame shook, and the vital current wascongealed. I was conscious only to the vehemence of my sensations. Thiscondition could not be lasting. Like a tide, which suddenly mounts toan overwhelming height, and then gradually subsides, my confusion slowlygave place to order, and my tumults to a calm. I was able to deliberateand move. I resumed my feet, and advanced into the midst of the room.Upward, and behind, and on each side, I threw penetrating glances. I wasnot satisfied with one examination. He that hitherto refused to beseen, might change his purpose, and on the next survey be clearlydistinguishable.
Solitude imposes least restraint upon the fancy. Dark is less fertileof images than the feeble lustre of the moon. I was alone, and the wallswere chequered by shadowy forms. As the moon passed behind a cloud andemerged, these shadows seemed to be endowed with life, and to move. Theapartment was open to the breeze, and the curtain was occasionallyblown from its ordinary position. This motion was not unaccompanied withsound. I failed not to snatch a look, and to listen when this motionand this sound occurred. My belief that my monitor was posted near,was
strong, and instantly converted these appearances to tokens of hispresence, and yet I could discern nothing.
When my thoughts were at length permitted to revert to the past, thefirst idea that occurred was the resemblance between the words of thevoice which I had just heard, and those which had terminated my dream inthe summer-house. There are means by which we are able to distinguish asubstance from a shadow, a reality from the phantom of a dream. The pit,my brother beckoning me forward, the seizure of my arm, and the voicebehind, were surely imaginary. That these incidents were fashioned in mysleep, is supported by the same indubitable evidence that compels me tobelieve myself awake at present; yet the words and the voice were thesame. Then, by some inexplicable contrivance, I was aware of the danger,while my actions and sensations were those of one wholly unacquaintedwith it. Now, was it not equally true that my actions and persuasionswere at war? Had not the belief, that evil lurked in the closet, gainedadmittance, and had not my actions betokened an unwarrantable security?To obviate the effects of my infatuation, the same means had been used.
In my dream, he that tempted me to my destruction, was my brother. Deathwas ambushed in my path. From what evil was I now rescued? What ministeror implement of ill was shut up in this recess? Who was it whosesuffocating grasp I was to feel, should I dare to enter it? Whatmonstrous conception is this? my brother!
No; protection, and not injury is his province. Strange and terriblechimera! Yet it would not be suddenly dismissed. It was surely no vulgaragency that gave this form to my fears. He to whom all parts of time areequally present, whom no contingency approaches, was the author of thatspell which now seized upon me. Life was dear to me. No considerationwas present that enjoined me to relinquish it. Sacred duty combinedwith every spontaneous sentiment to endear to me my being. Should I notshudder when my being was endangered? But what emotion should possess mewhen the arm lifted aginst me was Wieland's?
Ideas exist in our minds that can be accounted for by no establishedlaws. Why did I dream that my brother was my foe? Why but because anomen of my fate was ordained to be communicated? Yet what salutary enddid it serve? Did it arm me with caution to elude, or fortitude to bearthe evils to which I was reserved? My present thoughts were, nodoubt, indebted for their hue to the similitude existing between theseincidents and those of my dream. Surely it was phrenzy that dictated mydeed. That a ruffian was hidden in the closet, was an idea, the genuinetendency of which was to urge me to flight. Such had been the effectformerly produced. Had my mind been simply occupied with this thought atpresent, no doubt, the same impulse would have been experienced; butnow it was my brother whom I was irresistably persuaded to regard as thecontriver of that ill of which I had been forewarned. This persuasiondid not extenuate my fears or my danger. Why then did I again approachthe closet and withdraw the bolt? My resolution was instantly conceived,and executed without faultering.
The door was formed of light materials. The lock, of simple structure,easily forewent its hold. It opened into the room, and commonly movedupon its hinges, after being unfastened, without any effort of mine.This effort, however, was bestowed upon the present occasion. It wasmy purpose to open it with quickness, but the exertion which I made wasineffectual. It refused to open.
At another time, this circumstance would not have looked with a face ofmystery. I should have supposed some casual obstruction, and repeated myefforts to surmount it. But now my mind was accessible to no conjecturebut one. The door was hindered from opening by human force. Surely, herewas new cause for affright. This was confirmation proper to decide myconduct. Now was all ground of hesitation taken away. What could besupposed but that I deserted the chamber and the house? that I at leastendeavoured no longer to withdraw the door?
Have I not said that my actions were dictated by phrenzy? My reason hadforborne, for a time, to suggest or to sway my resolves. I reiteratedmy endeavours. I exerted all my force to overcome the obstacle, but invain. The strength that was exerted to keep it shut, was superior tomine.
A casual observer might, perhaps, applaud the audaciousness of thisconduct. Whence, but from an habitual defiance of danger, could myperseverance arise? I have already assigned, as distinctly as I am able,the cause of it. The frantic conception that my brother was within, thatthe resistance made to my design was exerted by him, had rooted itselfin my mind. You will comprehend the height of this infatuation, whenI tell you, that, finding all my exertions vain, I betook myself toexclamations. Surely I was utterly bereft of understanding.
Now had I arrived at the crisis of my fate. "O! hinder not the door toopen," I exclaimed, in a tone that had less of fear than of grief init. "I know you well. Come forth, but harm me not. I beseech you comeforth."
I had taken my hand from the lock, and removed to a small distance fromthe door. I had scarcely uttered these words, when the door swung uponits hinges, and displayed to my view the interior of the closet. Whoeverwas within, was shrouded in darkness. A few seconds passed withoutinterruption of the silence. I knew not what to expect or to fear. Myeyes would not stray from the recess. Presently, a deep sigh was heard.The quarter from which it came heightened the eagerness of my gaze. Someone approached from the farther end. I quickly perceived the outlinesof a human figure. Its steps were irresolute and slow. I recoiled as itadvanced.
By coming at length within the verge of the room, his form was clearlydistinguishable. I had prefigured to myself a very different personage.The face that presented itself was the last that I should desire to meetat an hour, and in a place like this. My wonder was stifled by my fears.Assassins had lurked in this recess. Some divine voice warned me ofdanger, that at this moment awaited me. I had spurned the intimation,and challenged my adversary.
I recalled the mysterious countenance and dubious character of Carwin.What motive but atrocious ones could guide his steps hither? I wasalone. My habit suited the hour, and the place, and the warmth of theseason. All succour was remote. He had placed himself between me and thedoor. My frame shook with the vehemence of my apprehensions.
Yet I was not wholly lost to myself: I vigilantly marked his demeanour.His looks were grave, but not without perturbation. What species ofinquietude it betrayed, the light was not strong enough to enable meto discover. He stood still; but his eyes wandered from one object toanother. When these powerful organs were fixed upon me, I shrunk intomyself. At length, he broke silence. Earnestness, and not embarrassment,was in his tone. He advanced close to me while he spoke.
"What voice was that which lately addressed you?"
He paused for an answer; but observing my trepidation, he resumed, withundiminished solemnity: "Be not terrified. Whoever he was, he hast doneyou an important service. I need not ask you if it were the voice ofa companion. That sound was beyond the compass of human organs. Theknowledge that enabled him to tell you who was in the closet, wasobtained by incomprehensible means.
"You knew that Carwin was there. Were you not apprized of his intents?The same power could impart the one as well as the other. Yet, knowingthese, you persisted. Audacious girl! but, perhaps, you confided in hisguardianship. Your confidence was just. With succour like this at handyou may safely defy me.
"He is my eternal foe; the baffler of my best concerted schemes. Twicehave you been saved by his accursed interposition. But for him I shouldlong ere now have borne away the spoils of your honor."
He looked at me with greater stedfastness than before. I became everymoment more anxious for my safety. It was with difficulty I stammeredout an entreaty that he would instantly depart, or suffer me to do so.He paid no regard to my request, but proceeded in a more impassionedmanner.
"What is it you fear? Have I not told you, you are safe? Has not onein whom you more reasonably place trust assured you of it? Even if Iexecute my purpose, what injury is done? Your prejudices will call itby that name, but it merits it not. I was impelled by a sentiment thatdoes you honor; a sentiment, that would sanctify my deed; but, whateverit be, you are safe. Be this chimera still worshipped; I
will do nothingto pollute it." There he stopped.
The accents and gestures of this man left me drained of all courage.Surely, on no other occasion should I have been thus pusillanimous. Mystate I regarded as a hopeless one. I was wholly at the mercy of thisbeing. Whichever way I turned my eyes, I saw no avenue by which I mightescape. The resources of my personal strength, my ingenuity, and myeloquence, I estimated at nothing. The dignity of virtue, and the forceof truth, I had been accustomed to celebrate; and had frequently vauntedof the conquests which I should make with their assistance.
I used to suppose that certain evils could never befall a being inpossession of a sound mind; that true virtue supplies us with energywhich vice can never resist; that it was always in our power toobstruct, by his own death, the designs of an enemy who aimed at lessthan our life. How was it that a sentiment like despair had now invadedme, and that I trusted to the protection of chance, or to the pity of mypersecutor?
His words imparted some notion of the injury which he had meditated. Hetalked of obstacles that had risen in his way. He had relinquished hisdesign. These sources supplied me with slender consolation. There was nosecurity but in his absence. When I looked at myself, when I reflectedon the hour and the place, I was overpowered by horror and dejection.
He was silent, museful, and inattentive to my situation, yet made nomotion to depart. I was silent in my turn. What could I say? I wasconfident that reason in this contest would be impotent. I must owe mysafety to his own suggestions. Whatever purpose brought him hither, hehad changed it. Why then did he remain? His resolutions might fluctuate,and the pause of a few minutes restore to him his first resolutions.
Yet was not this the man whom we had treated with unwearied kindness?Whose society was endeared to us by his intellectual elevation andaccomplishments? Who had a thousand times expatiated on the usefulnessand beauty of virtue? Why should such a one be dreaded? If I could haveforgotten the circumstances in which our interview had taken place, Imight have treated his words as jests. Presently, he resumed:
"Fear me not: the space that severs us is small, and all visible succouris distant. You believe yourself completely in my power; that you standupon the brink of ruin. Such are your groundless fears. I cannot lifta finger to hurt you. Easier it would be to stop the moon in her coursethan to injure you. The power that protects you would crumble my sinews,and reduce me to a heap of ashes in a moment, if I were to harbour athought hostile to your safety. Thus are appearances at length solved.Little did I expect that they originated hence. What a portion isassigned to you? Scanned by the eyes of this intelligence, your pathwill be without pits to swallow, or snares to entangle you. Environed bythe arms of this protection, all artifices will be frustrated, and allmalice repelled."
Here succeeded a new pause. I was still observant of every gesture andlook. The tranquil solemnity that had lately possessed his countenancegave way to a new expression. All now was trepidation and anxiety.
"I must be gone," said he in a faltering accent. "Why do I linger here?I will not ask your forgiveness. I see that your terrors are invincible.Your pardon will be extorted by fear, and not dictated by compassion. Imust fly from you forever. He that could plot against your honor, mustexpect from you and your friends persecution and death. I must doommyself to endless exile."
Saying this, he hastily left the room. I listened while he descended thestairs, and, unbolting the outer door, went forth. I did not follow himwith my eyes, as the moon-light would have enabled me to do. Relieved byhis absence, and exhausted by the conflict of my fears, I threw myselfon a chair, and resigned myself to those bewildering ideas whichincidents like these could not fail to produce.