As soon as evening arrived, I performed my visit. Carwin made one
of the company into which I was ushered. Appearances were the same
as when I before beheld him. His garb was equally negligent and
rustic. I gazed upon his countenance with new curiosity. My
situation was such as to enable me to bestow upon it a deliberate
examination. Viewed at more leisure, it lost none of its wonderful
properties. I could not deny my homage to the intelligence
expressed in it, but was wholly uncertain whether he were an object
to be dreaded or adored, and whether his powers had been exerted to
evil or to good.
He was sparing in discourse; but whatever he said was pregnant with
meaning, and uttered with rectitude of articulation and force of
emphasis of which I had entertained no conception previously to my
knowledge of him. Notwithstanding the uncouthness of his garb, his
manners were not unpolished. All topics were handled by him with
skill, and without pedantry or affectation. He uttered no
sentiment calculated to produce a disadvantageous impression; on
the contrary, his observations denoted a mind alive to every
generous and heroic feeling. They were introduced without parade,
and accompanied with that degree of earnestness which indicates
sincerity.
He parted from us not till late, refusing an invitation to spend
the night here, but readily consented to repeat his visit. His
visits were frequently repeated. Each day introduced us to a more
intimate acquaintance with his sentiments, but left us wholly in
the dark concerning that about which we were most inquisitive. He
studiously avoided all mention of his past or present situation.
Even the place of his abode in the city he concealed from us.
Our sphere in this respect being somewhat limited, and the
intellectual endowments of this man being indisputably great, his
deportment was more diligently marked and copiously commented on by
us than you, perhaps, will think the circumstances warranted. Not
a gesture, or glance, or accent, that was not, in our private
assemblies, discussed, and inferences deduced from it. It may well
be thought that he modeled his behavior by an uncommon standard,
when, with all our opportunities and accuracy of observation, we
were able for a long time to gather no satisfactory information.
He afforded us no ground on which to build even a plausible
conjecture.
There is a degree of familiarity which takes place between constant
associates, that justifies the negligence of many rules of which,
in an earlier period of their intercourse, politeness requires the
exact observance. Inquiries into our condition are allowable when
they are prompted by a disinterested concern for our welfare; and
this solicitude is not only pardonable, but may justly be demanded
from those who choose us for their companions. This state of
things was more slow to arrive at on this occasion than on most
others, on account of the gravity and loftiness of this man’s
behavior.
Pleyel, however, began at length to employ regular means for this
end. He occasionally alluded to the circumstances in which they
had formerly met, and remarked the incongruousness between the
religion and habits of a Spaniard with those of a native of
Britain. He expressed his astonishment at meeting our guest in
this corner of the globe, especially as, when they parted in Spain,
he was taught to believe that Carwin should never leave that
country. He insinuated that a change so great must have been
prompted by motives of a singular and momentous kind.
No answer, or an answer wide of the purpose, was generally made to
these insinuations. Britons and Spaniards, he said, are votaries
of the same Deity, and square their faith by the same precepts;
their ideas are drawn from the same fountains of literature, and
they speak dialects of the same tongue; their government and laws
have more resemblances than differences; they were formerly
provinces of the same civil, and, till lately, of the same
religious, empire.
As to the motives which induce men to change the place of their
abode, these must unavoidably be fleeting and mutable. If not
bound to one spot by conjugal or parental ties, or by the nature of
that employment to which we are indebted for subsistence, the
inducements to change are far more numerous and powerful than
opposite inducements.
He spoke as if desirous of showing that he was not aware of the
tendency of Pleyel’s remarks; yet certain tokens were apparent that
proved him by no means wanting in penetration. These tokens were
to be read in his countenance, and not in his words. When anything
was said indicating curiosity in us, the gloom of his countenance
was deepened, his eyes sunk to the ground, and his wonted air was
not resumed without visible struggle. Hence, it was obvious to
infer that some incidents of his life were reflected on by him with
regret; and that, since these incidents were carefully concealed,
and even that regret which flowed from them laboriously stifled,
they had not been merely disastrous. The secrecy that was observed
appeared not designed to provoke or baffle the inquisitive, but was
prompted by the shame or by the prudence of guilt.
These ideas, which were adopted by Pleyel and my brother as well as
myself, hindered us from employing more direct means for
accomplishing our wishes. Questions might have been put in such
terms that no room should be left for the pretense of misapprehension;
and, if modesty merely had been the obstacle, such questions would
not have been wanting; but we considered that, if the disclosure
were productive of pain or disgrace, it was inhuman to extort it.
Amidst the various topics that were discussed in his presence,
allusions were, of course, made to the inexplicable events that had
lately happened. At those times the words and looks of this man
were objects of my particular attention. The subject was
extraordinary; and anyone whose experience or reflections could
throw any light upon it was entitled to my gratitude. As this man
was enlightened by reading and travel, I listened with eagerness to
the remarks which he should make.
At first I entertained a kind of apprehension that the tale would
be heard by him with incredulity and secret ridicule. I had
formerly heard stories that resembled this in some of their
mysterious circumstances; but they were commonly heard by me with
contempt. I was doubtful whether the same impression would not now
be made on the mind of our guest; but I was mistaken in my fears.
He heard them with seriousness, and without any marks either of
surprise or incredulity. He pursued with visible pleasure that
kind of disquisition which was naturally suggested by them. His
fancy was eminently vigorous and prolific; and, if he did not
persuade us that human beings are sometimes admitted to a sensible
intercourse with the Author of nature, he at least won over our
inclination to the cause. He merely deduced, from his own
reasonings, that such intercourse was probable, but confessed that,
though he was acquainted with many instances somewhat similar to
those which had been related by us, none of them were perfectly
exempted from the suspicion of human agency.
On being requested to relate these instances, he amused us with
many curious details. His narratives were constructed with so much
skill, and rehearsed with so much energy, that all the effects of a
dramatic exhibition were frequently produced by them. Those that
were most coherent and most minute, and, of consequence, least
entitled to credit, were yet rendered probable by the exquisite art
of this rhetorician. For every difficulty that was suggested a
ready and plausible solution was furnished. Mysterious voices had
always a share in producing the catastrophe; but they were always
to be explained on some known principles, either as reflected into
a focus or communicated through a tube. I could not but remark
that his narratives, however complex or marvelous, contained no
instance sufficiently parallel to those that had befallen
ourselves, and in which the solution was applicable to our own
case.
My brother was a much more sanguine reasoner than our guest. Even
in some of the facts which were related by Carwin, he maintained
the probability of celestial interference, when the latter was
disposed to deny it, and had found, as he imagined, footsteps of a
human agent. Pleyel was by no means equally credulous. He
scrupled not to deny faith to any testimony but that of his senses,
and allowed the facts which had lately been supported by this
testimony not to mold his belief, but merely to give birth to
doubts.
It was soon observed that Carwin adopted, in some degree, a similar
distinction. A tale of this kind, related by others, he would
believe, provided it was explicable upon known principles; but that
such notices were actually communicated by beings of a higher order
he would believe only when his own ears were assailed in a manner
which could not be otherwise accounted for. Civility forbade him
to contradict my brother or myself, but his understanding refused
to acquiesce in our testimony. Besides, he was disposed to
question whether the voices were not really uttered by human
organs. On this supposition he was desired to explain how the
effect was produced.
He answered that the cry for help, heard in the hall on the night
of my adventure, was to be ascribed to a human creature, who
actually stood in the hall when he uttered it. It was of no
moment, he said, that we could not explain by what motives he that
made the signal was led hither. How imperfectly acquainted were we
with the condition and designs of the beings that surrounded us!
The city was near at hand, and thousands might there exist whose
powers and purposes might easily explain whatever was mysterious in
this transaction. As to the closet dialogue, he was obliged to
adopt one of two suppositions, and affirm either that it was
fashioned in my own fancy, or that it actually took place between
two persons in the closet.
Such was Carwin’s mode of explaining these appearances. It is
such, perhaps, as would commend itself as most plausible to the
most sagacious minds; but it was insufficient to impart conviction
to us. As to the treason that was meditated against me, it was
doubtless just to conclude that it was either real or imaginary;
but that it was real was attested by the mysterious warning in the
summer-house, the secret of which I had hitherto locked up in my
own breast.
A month passed away in this kind of intercourse. As to Carwin, our
ignorance was in no degree enlightened respecting his genuine
character and views. Appearances were uniform. No man possessed a
larger store of knowledge, or a greater degree of skill in the
communication of it to others; hence he was regarded as an
inestimable addition to our society. Considering the distance of
my brother’s house from the city, he was frequently prevailed upon
to pass the night where he spent the evening. Two days seldom
elapsed without a visit from him; hence he was regarded as a kind
of inmate of the house. He entered and departed without ceremony.
When he arrived he received an unaffected welcome, and when he
chose to retire no importunities were used to induce him to remain.
Carwin never parted with his gravity. The inscrutableness of his
character, and the uncertainty whether his fellowship tended to
good or to evil, were seldom absent from our minds. This
circumstance powerfully contributed to sadden us.
My heart was the seat of growing disquietudes. This change in one
who had formerly been characterized by all the exuberances of soul
could not fail to be remarked by my friends. My brother was always
a pattern of solemnity. My sister was clay, molded by the
circumstances in which she happened to be placed. There was but
one whose deportment remains to be described as being of importance
to our happiness. Had Pleyel likewise dismissed his vivacity?
He was as whimsical and jestful as ever, but he was not happy. The
truth in this respect was of too much importance to me not to make
me a vigilant observer. His mirth was easily perceived to be the
fruit of exertion. When his thoughts wandered from the company, an
air of dissatisfaction and impatience stole across his features.
Even the punctuality and frequency of his visits were somewhat
lessened. It may be supposed that my own uneasiness was heightened
by these tokens; but, strange as it may seem, I found, in the
present state of my mind, no relief but in the persuasion that
Pleyel was unhappy.
That unhappiness, indeed, depended for its value in my eyes on the
cause that produced it. There was but one source whence it could
flow. A nameless ecstasy thrilled through my frame when any new
proof occurred that the ambiguousness of my behavior was the cause.