I now come to the mention of a person with whose name the most turbulent
sensations are connected. It is with a shuddering reluctance that I
enter on the province of describing him. Now it is that I begin to
perceive the difficulty of the task which I have undertaken; but it
would be weakness to shrink from it. My blood is congealed: and my
fingers are palsied when I call up his image. Shame upon my cowardly and
infirm heart! Hitherto I have proceeded with some degree of composure,
but now I must pause. I mean not that dire remembrance shall subdue my
courage or baffle my design, but this weakness cannot be immediately
conquered. I must desist for a little while.
I have taken a few turns in my chamber, and have gathered strength
enough to proceed. Yet have I not projected a task beyond my power to
execute? If thus, on the very threshold of the scene, my knees faulter
and I sink, how shall I support myself, when I rush into the midst of
horrors such as no heart has hitherto conceived, nor tongue related? I
sicken and recoil at the prospect, and yet my irresolution is momentary.
I have not formed this design upon slight grounds, and though I may at
times pause and hesitate, I will not be finally diverted from it.
And thou, O most fatal and potent of mankind, in what terms shall I
describe thee? What words are adequate to the just delineation of thy
character? How shall I detail the means which rendered the secrecy of
thy purposes unfathomable? But I will not anticipate. Let me recover
if possible, a sober strain. Let me keep down the flood of passion that
would render me precipitate or powerless. Let me stifle the agonies that
are awakened by thy name. Let me, for a time, regard thee as a being
of no terrible attributes. Let me tear myself from contemplation of
the evils of which it is but too certain that thou wast the author, and
limit my view to those harmless appearances which attended thy entrance
on the stage.
One sunny afternoon, I was standing in the door of my house, when I
marked a person passing close to the edge of the bank that was in
front. His pace was a careless and lingering one, and had none of that
gracefulness and ease which distinguish a person with certain advantages
of education from a clown. His gait was rustic and aukward. His form was
ungainly and disproportioned. Shoulders broad and square, breast sunken,
his head drooping, his body of uniform breadth, supported by long and
lank legs, were the ingredients of his frame. His garb was not ill
adapted to such a figure. A slouched hat, tarnished by the weather, a
coat of thick grey cloth, cut and wrought, as it seemed, by a country
tailor, blue worsted stockings, and shoes fastened by thongs, and deeply
discoloured by dust, which brush had never disturbed, constituted his
dress.
There was nothing remarkable in these appearances; they were frequently
to be met with on the road, and in the harvest field. I cannot tell why
I gazed upon them, on this occasion, with more than ordinary attention,
unless it were that such figures were seldom seen by me, except on the
road or field. This lawn was only traversed by men whose views were
directed to the pleasures of the walk, or the grandeur of the scenery.
He passed slowly along, frequently pausing, as if to examine the
prospect more deliberately, but never turning his eye towards the house,
so as to allow me a view of his countenance. Presently, he entered a
copse at a small distance, and disappeared. My eye followed him while
he remained in sight. If his image remained for any duration in my fancy
after his departure, it was because no other object occurred sufficient
to expel it.
I continued in the same spot for half an hour, vaguely, and by fits,
contemplating the image of this wanderer, and drawing, from outward
appearances, those inferences with respect to the intellectual history
of this person, which experience affords us. I reflected on the
alliance which commonly subsists between ignorance and the practice
of agriculture, and indulged myself in airy speculations as to the
influence of progressive knowledge in dissolving this alliance, and
embodying the dreams of the poets. I asked why the plough and the hoe
might not become the trade of every human being, and how this
trade might be made conducive to, or, at least, consistent with the
acquisition of wisdom and eloquence.
Weary with these reflections, I returned to the kitchen to perform some
household office. I had usually but one servant, and she was a girl
about my own age. I was busy near the chimney, and she was employed near
the door of the apartment, when some one knocked. The door was opened by
her, and she was immediately addressed with "Pry'thee, good girl, canst
thou supply a thirsty man with a glass of buttermilk?" She answered
that there was none in the house. "Aye, but there is some in the dairy
yonder. Thou knowest as well as I, though Hermes never taught thee, that
though every dairy be an house, every house is not a dairy." To
this speech, though she understood only a part of it, she replied
by repeating her assurances, that she had none to give. "Well then,"
rejoined the stranger, "for charity's sweet sake, hand me forth a cup
of cold water." The girl said she would go to the spring and fetch it.
"Nay, give me the cup, and suffer me to help myself. Neither manacled
nor lame, I should merit burial in the maw of carrion crows, if I laid
this task upon thee." She gave him the cup, and he turned to go to the
spring.
I listened to this dialogue in silence. The words uttered by the person
without, affected me as somewhat singular, but what chiefly rendered
them remarkable, was the tone that accompanied them. It was wholly new.
My brother's voice and Pleyel's were musical and energetic. I had fondly
imagined, that, in this respect, they were surpassed by none. Now my
mistake was detected. I cannot pretend to communicate the impression
that was made upon me by these accents, or to depict the degree in which
force and sweetness were blended in them. They were articulated with a
distinctness that was unexampled in my experience. But this was not all.
The voice was not only mellifluent and clear, but the emphasis was so
just, and the modulation so impassioned, that it seemed as if an heart
of stone could not fail of being moved by it. It imparted to me an
emotion altogether involuntary and incontroulable. When he uttered the
words "for charity's sweet sake," I dropped the cloth that I held in
my hand, my heart overflowed with sympathy, and my eyes with unbidden
tears.
This description will appear to you trifling or incredible. The
importance of these circumstances will be manifested in the sequel.
The manner in which I was affected on this occasion, was, to my own
apprehension, a subject of astonishment. The tones were indeed such as
I never heard before; but that they should, in an instant, as it were,
dissolve me in tears, will not easily be believed by others, and can
scarcely be comprehended by myself.
It will be readily supposed that I was somewhat inquisitive as to the
person and demeanour of our visitant. After a moment's pause, I stepped
to the door and looked after him. Judge my surprize, when I beheld the
self-same figure that had appeared an half hour before upon the bank. My
fancy had conjured up a very different image. A form, and attitude, and
garb, were instantly created worthy to accompany such elocution; but
this person was, in all visible respects, the reverse of this phantom.
Strange as it may seem, I could not speedily reconcile myself to this
disappointment. Instead of returning to my employment, I threw myself
in a chair that was placed opposite the door, and sunk into a fit of
musing.
My attention was, in a few minutes, recalled by the stranger, who
returned with the empty cup in his hand. I had not thought of the
circumstance, or should certainly have chosen a different seat. He no
sooner shewed himself, than a confused sense of impropriety, added to
the suddenness of the interview, for which, not having foreseen it,
I had made no preparation, threw me into a state of the most painful
embarrassment. He brought with him a placid brow; but no sooner had he
cast his eyes upon me, than his face was as glowingly suffused as
my own. He placed the cup upon the bench, stammered out thanks, and
retired.
It was some time before I could recover my wonted composure. I had
snatched a view of the stranger's countenance. The impression that it
made was vivid and indelible. His cheeks were pallid and lank, his eyes
sunken, his forehead overshadowed by coarse straggling hairs, his teeth
large and irregular, though sound and brilliantly white, and his chin
discoloured by a tetter. His skin was of coarse grain, and sallow hue.
Every feature was wide of beauty, and the outline of his face reminded
you of an inverted cone.
And yet his forehead, so far as shaggy locks would allow it to be seen,
his eyes lustrously black, and possessing, in the midst of haggardness,
a radiance inexpressibly serene and potent, and something in the rest of
his features, which it would be in vain to describe, but which served to
betoken a mind of the highest order, were essential ingredients in the
portrait. This, in the effects which immediately flowed from it, I count
among the most extraordinary incidents of my life. This face, seen for
a moment, continued for hours to occupy my fancy, to the exclusion of
almost every other image. I had purposed to spend the evening with my
brother, but I could not resist the inclination of forming a sketch
upon paper of this memorable visage. Whether my hand was aided by any
peculiar inspiration, or I was deceived by my own fond conceptions, this
portrait, though hastily executed, appeared unexceptionable to my own
taste.
I placed it at all distances, and in all lights; my eyes were rivetted
upon it. Half the night passed away in wakefulness and in contemplation
of this picture. So flexible, and yet so stubborn, is the human mind.
So obedient to impulses the most transient and brief, and yet so
unalterably observant of the direction which is given to it! How little
did I then foresee the termination of that chain, of which this may be
regarded as the first link?
Next day arose in darkness and storm. Torrents of rain fell during
the whole day, attended with incessant thunder, which reverberated in
stunning echoes from the opposite declivity. The inclemency of the air
would not allow me to walk out. I had, indeed, no inclination to leave
my apartment. I betook myself to the contemplation of this portrait,
whose attractions time had rather enhanced than diminished. I laid aside
my usual occupations, and seating myself at a window, consumed the day
in alternately looking out upon the storm, and gazing at the picture
which lay upon a table before me. You will, perhaps, deem this conduct
somewhat singular, and ascribe it to certain peculiarities of temper. I
am not aware of any such peculiarities. I can account for my devotion to
this image no otherwise, than by supposing that its properties were
rare and prodigious. Perhaps you will suspect that such were the
first inroads of a passion incident to every female heart, and
which frequently gains a footing by means even more slight, and more
improbable than these. I shall not controvert the reasonableness of the
suspicion, but leave you at liberty to draw, from my narrative, what
conclusions you please.
Night at length returned, and the storm ceased. The air was once more
clear and calm, and bore an affecting contrast to that uproar of the
elements by which it had been preceded. I spent the darksome hours, as
I spent the day, contemplative and seated at the window. Why was my mind
absorbed in thoughts ominous and dreary? Why did my bosom heave with
sighs, and my eyes overflow with tears? Was the tempest that had just
past a signal of the ruin which impended over me? My soul fondly dwelt
upon the images of my brother and his children, yet they only increased
the mournfulness of my contemplations. The smiles of the charming babes
were as bland as formerly. The same dignity sat on the brow of their
father, and yet I thought of them with anguish. Something whispered
that the happiness we at present enjoyed was set on mutable foundations.
Death must happen to all. Whether our felicity was to be subverted by it
to-morrow, or whether it was ordained that we should lay down our heads
full of years and of honor, was a question that no human being could
solve. At other times, these ideas seldom intruded. I either forbore to
reflect upon the destiny that is reserved for all men, or the reflection
was mixed up with images that disrobed it of terror; but now the
uncertainty of life occurred to me without any of its usual and
alleviating accompaniments. I said to myself, we must die. Sooner or
later, we must disappear for ever from the face of the earth. Whatever
be the links that hold us to life, they must be broken. This scene
of existence is, in all its parts, calamitous. The greater number is
oppressed with immediate evils, and those, the tide of whose fortunes is
full, how small is their portion of enjoyment, since they know that it
will terminate.
For some time I indulged myself, without reluctance, in these gloomy
thoughts; but at length, the dejection which they produced became
insupportably painful. I endeavoured to dissipate it with music. I had
all my grand-father's melody as well as poetry by rote. I now lighted
by chance on a ballad, which commemorated the fate of a German Cavalier,
who fell at the siege of Nice under Godfrey of Bouillon. My choice was
unfortunate, for the scenes of violence and carnage which were here
wildly but forcibly pourtrayed, only suggested to my thoughts a new
topic in the horrors of war.
I sought refuge, but ineffectually, in sleep. My mind was thronged by
vivid, but confused images, and no effort that I made was sufficient to
drive them away. In this situation I heard the clock, which hung in
the room, give the signal for twelve. It was the same instrument which
formerly hung in my father's chamber, and which, on account of its
being his workmanship, was regarded, by every one of our family, with
veneration. It had fallen to me, in the division of his property, and
was placed in this asylum. The sound awakened a series of reflections,
respecting his death. I was not allowed to pursue them; for scarcely
had the vibrations ceased, when my attention was attracted by a whisper,
which, at first, appeared to proceed from lips that were laid close to
my ear.
No wonder that a circumstance like this startled me. In the first
impulse of my terror, I uttered a slight scream, and shrunk to the
opposite side of the bed. In a moment, however, I recovered from my
trepidation. I was habitually indifferent to all the causes of fear,
by which the majority are afflicted. I entertained no apprehension
of either ghosts or robbers. Our security had never been molested by
either, and I made use of no means to prevent or counterwork their
machinations. My tranquillity, on this occasion, was quickly retrieved.
The whisper evidently proceeded from one who was posted at my bed-side.
The first idea that suggested itself was, that it was uttered by the
girl who lived with me as a servant. Perhaps, somewhat had alarmed her,
or she was sick, and had come to request my assistance. By whispering in
my ear, she intended to rouse without alarming me.
Full of this persuasion, I called; "Judith," said I, "is it you? What
do you want? Is there any thing the matter with you?" No answer was
returned. I repeated my inquiry, but equally in vain. Cloudy as was the
atmosphere, and curtained as my bed was, nothing was visible. I withdrew
the curtain, and leaning my head on my elbow, I listened with the
deepest attention to catch some new sound. Meanwhile, I ran over in my
thoughts, every circumstance that could assist my conjectures.
My habitation was a wooden edifice, consisting of two stories. In each
story were two rooms, separated by an entry, or middle passage, with
which they communicated by opposite doors. The passage, on the lower
story, had doors at the two ends, and a stair-case. Windows answered to
the doors on the upper story. Annexed to this, on the eastern side, were
wings, divided, in like manner, into an upper and lower room; one of
them comprized a kitchen, and chamber above it for the servant, and
communicated, on both stories, with the parlour adjoining it below,
and the chamber adjoining it above. The opposite wing is of smaller
dimensions, the rooms not being above eight feet square. The lower of
these was used as a depository of household implements, the upper was a
closet in which I deposited my books and papers. They had but one inlet,
which was from the room adjoining. There was no window in the lower one,
and in the upper, a small aperture which communicated light and air, but
would scarcely admit the body. The door which led into this, was close
to my bed-head, and was always locked, but when I myself was within. The
avenues below were accustomed to be closed and bolted at nights.
The maid was my only companion, and she could not reach my chamber
without previously passing through the opposite chamber, and the middle
passage, of which, however, the doors were usually unfastened. If she
had occasioned this noise, she would have answered my repeated calls.
No other conclusion, therefore, was left me, but that I had mistaken the
sounds, and that my imagination had transformed some casual noise into
the voice of a human creature. Satisfied with this solution, I was
preparing to relinquish my listening attitude, when my ear was again
saluted with a new and yet louder whispering. It appeared, as before,
to issue from lips that touched my pillow. A second effort of attention,
however, clearly shewed me, that the sounds issued from within the
closet, the door of which was not more than eight inches from my pillow.
This second interruption occasioned a shock less vehement than the
former. I started, but gave no audible token of alarm. I was so much
mistress of my feelings, as to continue listening to what should be
said. The whisper was distinct, hoarse, and uttered so as to shew that
the speaker was desirous of being heard by some one near, but, at the
same time, studious to avoid being overheard by any other.
"Stop, stop, I say; madman as you are! there are better means than that.
Curse upon your rashness! There is no need to shoot."
Such were the words uttered in a tone of eagerness and anger, within so
small a distance of my pillow. What construction could I put upon
them? My heart began to palpitate with dread of some unknown danger.
Presently, another voice, but equally near me, was heard whispering in
answer. "Why not? I will draw a trigger in this business, but perdition
be my lot if I do more." To this, the first voice returned, in a tone
which rage had heightened in a small degree above a whisper, "Coward!
stand aside, and see me do it. I will grasp her throat; I will do her
business in an instant; she shall not have time so much as to groan."
What wonder that I was petrified by sounds so dreadful! Murderers
lurked in my closet. They were planning the means of my destruction. One
resolved to shoot, and the other menaced suffocation. Their means being
chosen, they would forthwith break the door. Flight instantly suggested
itself as most eligible in circumstances so perilous. I deliberated not
a moment; but, fear adding wings to my speed, I leaped out of bed, and
scantily robed as I was, rushed out of the chamber, down stairs, and
into the open air. I can hardly recollect the process of turning
keys, and withdrawing bolts. My terrors urged me forward with almost a
mechanical impulse. I stopped not till I reached my brother's door.
I had not gained the threshold, when, exhausted by the violence of my
emotions, and by my speed, I sunk down in a fit.
How long I remained in this situation I know not. When I recovered, I
found myself stretched on a bed, surrounded by my sister and her
female servants. I was astonished at the scene before me, but gradually
recovered the recollection of what had happened. I answered their
importunate inquiries as well as I was able. My brother and Pleyel,
whom the storm of the preceding day chanced to detain here, informing
themselves of every particular, proceeded with lights and weapons to my
deserted habitation. They entered my chamber and my closet, and found
every thing in its proper place and customary order. The door of the
closet was locked, and appeared not to have been opened in my absence.
They went to Judith's apartment. They found her asleep and in safety.
Pleyel's caution induced him to forbear alarming the girl; and finding
her wholly ignorant of what had passed, they directed her to return to
her chamber. They then fastened the doors, and returned.
My friends were disposed to regard this transaction as a dream. That
persons should be actually immured in this closet, to which, in the
circumstances of the time, access from without or within was apparently
impossible, they could not seriously believe. That any human beings
had intended murder, unless it were to cover a scheme of pillage, was
incredible; but that no such design had been formed, was evident
from the security in which the furniture of the house and the closet
remained.
I revolved every incident and expression that had occurred. My
senses assured me of the truth of them, and yet their abruptness and
improbability made me, in my turn, somewhat incredulous. The adventure
had made a deep impression on my fancy, and it was not till after a
week's abode at my brother's, that I resolved to resume the possession
of my own dwelling. There was another circumstance that enhanced the
mysteriousness of this event. After my recovery it was obvious to
inquire by what means the attention of the family had been drawn to my
situation. I had fallen before I had reached the threshold, or was able
to give any signal. My brother related, that while this was transacting
in my chamber, he himself was awake, in consequence of some slight
indisposition, and lay, according to his custom, musing on some favorite
topic. Suddenly the silence, which was remarkably profound, was broken
by a voice of most piercing shrillness, that seemed to be uttered by one
in the hall below his chamber. "Awake! arise!" it exclaimed: "hasten to
succour one that is dying at your door."
This summons was effectual. There was no one in the house who was not
roused by it. Pleyel was the first to obey, and my brother overtook him
before he reached the hall. What was the general astonishment when your
friend was discovered stretched upon the grass before the door, pale,
ghastly, and with every mark of death!
This was the third instance of a voice, exerted for the benefit of this
little community. The agent was no less inscrutable in this, than in the
former case. When I ruminated upon these events, my soul was suspended
in wonder and awe. Was I really deceived in imagining that I heard the
closet conversation? I was no longer at liberty to question the reality
of those accents which had formerly recalled my brother from the hill;
which had imparted tidings of the death of the German lady to Pleyel;
and which had lately summoned them to my assistance.
But how was I to regard this midnight conversation? Hoarse and manlike
voices conferring on the means of death, so near my bed, and at such
an hour! How had my ancient security vanished! That dwelling, which had
hitherto been an inviolate asylum, was now beset with danger to my
life. That solitude, formerly so dear to me, could no longer be endured.
Pleyel, who had consented to reside with us during the months of spring,
lodged in the vacant chamber, in order to quiet my alarms. He treated
my fears with ridicule, and in a short time very slight traces of them
remained: but as it was wholly indifferent to him whether his nights
were passed at my house or at my brother's, this arrangement gave
general satisfaction.