i i wm Iff i'lpS 1A» fl|: ■^iiiilliii f?-f' I COLLECTION OF ANCIENT AND MODERN BRITISH NOVELS AND ROMANCES. VOL. XXXIX. CALEB WILLIAMS, ■IIINTFIJ 1!V J ^MMII, 16, H|!K MOVTMORFVry. THE ADVENTURES OF CALEB WILLIAMS OR, THINGS AS THEY ARE. By WILLIAM GODWIN. REVISED AND COIIRECTED, WITH MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. PARIS, BAUDRY'S EUROPEAN LIBRARY, RUE DV COQ, NEAR THE LOUVH l3. SOLD ALSO BY THEOPUILE EARROIS, JTJN., RUE RICHELIEU : TRUCHY, BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS ; AMYOT, RUE DE LA PAIX ; LIBRAIRIE DES ETRANGERS, 55, KUE NEUVE-SAINT-AUGUSTIN : AND FRENCH AND ENGLISH LIBRARY. RUE VIVIENNE. 1832. V ' ADVERTISEMENT. This Novel was first published in May, 179A, thirty- seven years ago, " in the same month in Tvhich the san- guinary plot broke out against the liberties of Englishmen, which was happily terminated by the acquittal of its first intended victims [Thomas Hardy, John Home Tooke, Thomas Holcroft, etc.], in the close of that year." (See below, page xxii.) Every friend of the true interests of mankind will rejoice with the author, that the prospects of the cause of liberty and sound thinking have so greatly improved since that period. WILLIAM GODWIN. Jpril, 1831. p:JGDV MEMOIRS WILLIAM GODWIN. William Godwin was born at Wisbeacli, i» Cambridge- s.hire, 3d March, 1756. His grandfather had been a dis- senting minister in London. His father was also a clergy- man. In the year 1760, the father removed with his family to a village about sixteen miles north of Norwich, where he presided over a congregation. William was one of many children, neither the eldest nor the youngest among them. Very early, even in childhood, he deve- loped that love of acquirement and knowledge which stamped his future career. In the year 1767, he was placed with a private tutor at Norwich, for the purposes of classical education. Mr. Godwin has very recently published a work ("Thoughts on Man, his Nature, Pro- ductions, and Discoveries"), which contains various in- tcrestuig particulars respecting himself. From this we learn that he had in youth "a prominent vein of docility." He adds, "Whatever it was proposed to teach mc, that x.i, ME.MOIRS OV WILLIAM G(tD\VlN. was in any degree accordant with my constitution and capacity, I was willing to learn." He continues : " I was ambitious to be a leader, and to be regarded by others with fecHngs of complacency." From these circumstances it is evident lliat Mr. Godwin was not one of those youths, who, strenuously active and eager in the pursuit of some peculiar knowledge of their own selection, rebel against authority, and are tortured by the regular application required by the common-place routine of education. Reason and a love of investigation were the characteristic* of Godwin, even in boyhood, added to what he himself describes as "a sort of constitutional equanimity and im- perturbableness of temper." In the year l77o, Mr. Godwin was placed at a college for dissenters at Iloxton, for the purpose of being educated for the Church. Dr. Kippis and Dr. Rccs wore two of the I)rincipal professors at this college ; and the tenets in vogue there inclined to Lnitarianism. Mr. Godwin had been bred a Calvinist, and was the farthest in the world from that temper of mind which is blown about by every new wind of opinion. Opposition made him more tcnaciou.sly cling to his own turn of thinking, and adhere to the per- suasion in Avhich he had been brought up. In the year 1778, he became minister to a congregation not far from the metropolis. lie continued in the exercise of the duties of a clergyman for five years; after which he gave it up, in the year 1783, and came to reside in London ; where he became an author, at once subsisting by the fruits of his pen, and educating himself by ils exercise for lho.se works of genius and immortality whicli he was destined to produce. He soon became distinguished among his contemporaries, and fretpienled the society of many of the political leaders of the day, among whom Fox and She- ridan held the (irst rank. Added to this was a literary circle formed of men of talent and genius. >Vhilc at col- lego, Mr. Godwin deseribes himself as reading " all sorl>< MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM GODWIN. iv of books, on every side of any important question, thai were thrown in his way;" — among these he was pecu- liarly attracted by the Roman historians, and in particular by Livy. These works made him early in life a republican in theory. The French revolution, which broke out in 1789, when he was already engaged in his career as an author, turned his attention still more definitely to poli- tical subjects. Discussion on various points — discussion, heightened by the living drama of change enacted in France, and warmed by the animated hopes and fears of the parties — was, far more than now, the order of the day in society; and Godwin, intimately connected with the Whigs of this country, found himself more than ever roused to investigate the momentous topic of the Uberty of nations. The result of his meditations and his labours was "Political Justice," published early in the year 1793. At once the book and its author rose to a place of emi- nence in the public eye. The daring nature of his tenets, the energetic yet unaffected flow of his eloquence, the heartfelt sincerity and love of truth that accompanied his disquisitions, seemed, as by magic, to throw down a thousand barriers, and to level a thousand fortifications, which had hitherto defended and kept secure the inner fortresses of public prejudices or opinions. Mild and be- nevolent of aspect, gentle and courteous of manner, the author himself presented a singular contrast in appear- ancCj to the boldness of his speculations. But beneath this apparent quiescence there was a latent fire : his in- tellect was all animation ; he never receded from contest, or declined argument ; and he derived extreme pleasure from this exercise of the powers of his mind. Early in the following year Mr. Godwin again appeared as an author : '* Caleb Williams" was published — a novel which, in despite of the brilliant works of the same species which have since adorned our literature, still holds its place, and has been frequently, and we arc apt to believe X MEMOIRS OK WILLIAM GODWIN. irrevocably, pronounced the best in our language. It raised Godwin's reputation to the pinnacle. All that might have oHendcd, as hard and republican in his larger work, was obliterated by the splendour and noble beauty of the cliaracter of Falkland. Towards the end of this year, Mr. Godwin's talents were called forth on a still more conspicuous arena. Several of his friends or associates were arrested by the policy of Mr. Pitt, and accused of high treason. Boldly speculative, and frankly avowing his opinions, Mr. Godwin was never- liicle.ss practically attached to moderate measures, and adhered to the party of the Whigs, in preference to that of the agitators of the day. He believed that amelioration was more facile than reconstruction, and loved reforma- lion better than destruction. It was not so with his fa- miliars. Societies were formed for the purposes of dis- seminating his o|>inions, and holding up the equalising principles of the French revolution. Holcroft was one of the most sturdy among these; a man of singular integrity and talent, but unrefined and self-educated : he had be- sides a violence of temper, which hurt the cause he fan- cied himself energetically advancing. He, together with Home Tookc, Thelwal, Hardy, and others, formed the Constitutional and the London Corresponding Societies ; and these men, with eight more of their associates, were imprisoned in the Tower, and arraigned as traitors. As (•odwin did not belong to their societies, he was exempted ; but if Pitt had succeeded in convicting these men, he would scarcely have escaped. In October, 179/t, .ludge Kyre gave the charge to the grand jury. This excited con- siderable attention, and was followed instantly by God- win's ''Cursory Strictures" upon it. lie sent the firsl half of this to his friend Perry of the Morning Chronicle. for insertion in thai paper. Perry requested to have il entire, and printed the whole in one day's paper. 11 ap- peared aftcrward> as a pami)hlcl. and is a composition ol MEMOIRS OF WILLUM GODWIN. xi the most animated and conclusive nature. It was sup- posed to have greatly influenced the event of the prosecu- tions, and to have contributed mainly to the acquittal of the accused. Hardy, Home Tooke, and Thelwal were put on their trial, and found "Not guilty." Government then aban- doned the rest of the prosecutions. It was on this occa- sion, when Holcroft, being liberated, left the dock, and, crossing the court, took his seat beside Godwin, that Sir Thomas Lawrence made a spirited sketch of them in pro- file (now in the possession of Francis Broderip, Esq.), which is one of his happiest efforts, and is a singularly in- teresting record ; the bending, meditative figure of Godwin contrasting most happily with the upright, stern, and " knock-me-down" attitude and expression of his friend.* After this period Mr. Godwin was chiefly occupied in literature, by preparing the various editions of " PoUtical Justice." He frequenied still more constantly the society of Lord Lauderdale, Fox, and Sheridan. It was not until 1797 that he published " The Enquirer," a work consisting of essays, developing, under various aspects, the tenets of his greater work. In one thing, from his very first outset as an author, Godwin held himself fortunate : this was in his publisher. Robinson has often been mentioned as a man of extreme liberality : towards Mr. Godwin he al- ways acted in a way at once to encourage, facilitate, and recompense his labovirs. In the beginning of the year 1797, Godwin married Mary WoUstonecraft. The writiners of this celebrated woman * Lawrence very much valued this sketch, and \^ ished to repurchase it from its possessor. Besides this he drew; another portrait of Godwin, now in the possession of Dr. Batiy. But the best portrait of the author, and one of the best among modern pictures, is one painted by Northcote in 1800. It is strikingly like and characteristic, with an air of mildness and contemplation yet fervour. This portrait is in the possession of Mr. Godwin himself. xii MEMOIRS OK WILLIAM (iODWIN. are mouuments of her moral ami intellectual superiority. Ilcr lofty spirit, litr eager assertion of the claims of her sex, animate the " Vindication of the Rights of Woman ;" while the sweetness and taste displayed in her " Letters from Norway" depict the softer qualities of her admirable character. Even now, those who have survived her so many years, never speak of her but with uncontrollable enthusiasm. Her unwearied exertions for the benefit of others, lier rectitude, her independence, joined to a warm aflectionate heart, and the most refined softness of man- ners, made her the idol of all who knew her. Mr, Godwin was not allowed long to enjoy the happiness he reaped from this union. Mary WoUstonccraft died the 10th September, 1797, having given birth to a daughter, the present Mrs. Shelley. The next work of Mr. Godwin was the romance of " St. Leon," published in 1799. The domestic happiness he Iiad enjoyed, colours and adorns the scenes of this book; and the high idea of the feminine character which natu> rally resulted from his intercourse with the ornament of her sex, imparted dignity and grandeur to the character of the heroine of this work. In eloquence and interest and deep knoAvledge of human nature, St. Leon takes a first place among imaginativcf productions. In 1800, Mr. Godwin visited Ireland. He resided while there principally with Curran, and associated intimately with (irattan, and all the other illustrious Irisli patriots. In IHOl, Mr. Godwin again married a widow lady of con- siderable personal attractions and accomplishments. The sole offspring of this marriage, was a sim born in 1803. Id the same year he puhlishcd the " Life of Chaucer;'' a work displaying accurate research and refined taste, and pre- senting at once a correct and' animated picture of the Mmes of the poet. This was followed in 180A by a third novel, entitled "Fleetwood," characterised by elegance of hlyle and forte of passion, less striking perluq)s than his MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM GODWIN. xiii former works of imagination, yet not less full of beauty and interest. After this period Mr. Godwin rested for a considerable interval from his literary labours, being chiefly occupied by various exertions and speculations for the maintenance of his family. The "Essay on Sepulchres," published in 1808, stands a solitary record that the fire still burnt, pure and undiminished, though concealed. In 1816, he visited Edinburgh, where he formed an acquaintance with Walter Scott and other celebrated Scotch writers ; and here also he entered into a treaty with Mr. Constable, the bookseller, for the composition of a new novel. " Man- deville," published in 1817, was the result. We here trace the mellowness of ripened years; the reading, the sludy^ the careful poUsh of maturity, adorning, but not di- minishing, the vintamied energy and eloquence of his earlier works. Solemn and tragic as is the groundwork of "Mandeville," it surpasses, we almost venture to say, all Mr, Godwin's productions in grace of diction, and for- cible development of human feeling. About this time Mr. Godwin sustained a great personal loss in the death of Mr. Curran. Their friendship was of many years' stand- ing: and since Curran's retirement from public life, and residence in London, they had been drawn closer together than ever. In 1820, his work in opposition to, and refuting, the opinions of Malthus, appeared. Fervently attached to all that is lofty, independent, and elevating in his specula- tions on human society, Godwin strenuously controverted the degrading, hard, and demoralising tenets of the au- thor of the Essay on Population. His book, exact in logic, and powerful in eloquence, would probably have been considered as a complete answer to his adversary, did not Malthus's notions favour so memorably the vices ot the great, and all that is rotten in our institutions. After this, Mr. Godwin was occupied several years in writing xiv MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM GODWIN. " The Hisloty of llu- Commonwcallh of England." The four volumes of which tins work is composed, were pub- hshed in the years lf<2A, 1826, 1827, and 1828. It is ac- curate, which in an historical work is a quality that de- serves primary consideration. It is besides eloquent, philo50|)hical, and, above all, bounds in new and va- luable research. As a real and true detail of events as they occurred, and a tracing of events to their primary causes, it far excels any other English historical work that we possess. In 1830, Mr. Godwin published " Cloudesley," his last novel, a book whose charm goes to the heart. The spirit of virtue and love is its soul. It breathes peace to all men, and a fervid attachment to all that bears the human form. Nothing can excite greater interest, emanating as it does from one who has spent a long life in this centre of civilisation : and who, amidst all the trials, experiences, and attendant disappointments which must have che- quered his intercourse with his species, still sees in man all that is nol)le. inspiriting, and worthy to bo loved. This too is the spirit that animates the work to which we have before alluded as of recent publication. Huma- nity may cite his " Ihoughts on .Han," and so answer the aspersions of Swift and others of his school, proudly Ibunding upon the .sentiments of that book the tower of their hope. The divine charity of the Sermon on the Mount finds an human echo in its pages ; which breathe such admiration and love for man as must elevate the des- ponding, confound the misanthrope, and add for ever dignity and grace to our species. Perhaps it may Ix- averred, that, since the days of the ancient (ireck philosophers, no man has embodied so cn- lirely the idea we conceive of those heroes of mind as the Mibjec I of this memoir. Like them, he has forgotten the -ran.leur of the wmld in ihe more elevating contempla- tion of the inunalniil universe. flic universe of thought MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM GODWIN. xv has been that in which he had ambition to reign ; and many and various are the conquests he has made in that eternal country. He has bestowed on us a whole creation of imaginary existences, among whom when we name Falkland, we select the being of fancy which is at once the most real and the most grand that has appeared since Shakspeare gave a ''local habitation" to the name of Hamlet, As a speculative writer, he is the mighty parent of all that the reformers of the day advance and uphold. As an historian, he is deeply imbued with the dignity of his subject, and unwearied in his endeavours to ascertain the truth. As an essayist (his latest labour of avithorship), he is unequalled for novelty of thought, closeness of rea- soning, and purity, vigour, and elegance of style. As a moral character, his reputation is unblemished. He stands, in simplicity of wisdom, and consistency of prin- ciple, the monument of the last generation, extending into this the light of a long experience, and ornamenting our young and changeful liteiature with the profounder and loftier views of a more contemplative era. CRITICISM 1'HE NOVELS OF GODWIN Few authors have the faculty of awakening and arrest- ing the attention like 3Ir. Godwin. He never fails to excite in us the emotion lie wishes, and that without resort- ing to marvellous or overstrained incidents or language. He has a might almost magical over our sympathies. He describes a damp and comfortless morning; and we arc out under the cold drizzly dawn. He talks of Switzerland — of the lake of I'ri ; and the mountains and the waters arc before us. He tells a tale of injustice and oppression ; and every feeling of indignant resistance stirs within us. He holds up to our unmitigated hatred and contempt the wanton and brutal tyrant ; and luilocks the sacred foun- tain of our tears for the helpless and the orphan, for the unresisting, the neglected, and the misused. Mr. (lodwin does not deal much in imagination, and is seldom purely descriptive ; though wc repeat, that when he is so. Ins power does not desert him, as may be seen CRITICISM ON THE NOVELS OF GODWIN. xvii (to best advantage, we think) in " Fleetwood." The principal object of his study and contemplation is man the enemy of man. Do we not remember to have seen an edition of " Caleb "Williams" with these lines for a motto ? " Amid the woods the tigeriknowshis kind ; The panther preys not ou the pantlier brood ; Majionly is the common foe of Man. " Life seems to have been but the instrument to burn this truth into the soul of our author. He reads Fox's Book of Martyrs, and the History of the Inquisition ; and ima- gines himself now torturer and now sufferer. He gets up, goes abroad into "the throng miscalled society," sees only its errors and its vices, its knaves and its dupes ; and writes as if little or nothing else was in existence. He has visions of misery, from deserted childhood starving in strange streets, to the head that has become white in the solitude of a dungeon. We always thought a great deal of the brutality even of Mr. Tyrrel gratuitous, in spite of the morbid irritability of spirit under which he suffers ; though certainly the character is embodied with terrible power, and might stand for a real personage. It is an attribute, indeed, of Mr. Godwin, that he tells you his tale like one who remembers, not invents. Thus his story becomes not the relation of a looker-on, however acute and power- ful, but is " compact" of words hot from the burnt and branded heart of the miserable sufferer. It is this quality which makes Gines, the thief and Bow-street runner, a terrific being; Williams himself, not Mr. Godwin, talks to you about him, and, good God ! how awful is his omni- presence to the poor fellow ! Noiseless, swift, invisible, he seems to ride upon the clouds, and blast his victim like the blight which falls upon vegetation from the air. We have said that Mr. Godwin seldom resorts to *' mar- vellous or overstrained incidents or language :" once, how- xviii CRITICISM ON ever, he has imagined and placed a character in *• impos- sible situations." St. Leon becomes the possessor of the philoso|>hcr\s stone, the inheritor of exhaustless wealth, and of the power of renewing his age. lie is, himself, of course, an impossibility; but the want of truth is con- fined purely to the character, for every thing which be- falls him is human, natural, and possible. How minute, how pathetic, how tragical is the detail of the gradual ruin which falls on this weak, devoted man, up to its heart-breaking consummation, in the death of the noble MargHPrite de Damvillc ! how tremendous and perfect is his desolation, after voluntarily leaving his daughters, and cutting the last thread which binds him to his kind! "I saw my dear children set forward on their journey, and I knew not that I should ever behold them more. I was determined never to see theni again to their injury ; and I could not lake to myself the consolation, on such a day, in such a month, or even after such a lapse of years, 1 shall again have the joy to embrace them. In a little while they were out of sight, and I was alone." How complete is the description of his escape from the proces- sion of the Auto-da-F6 ; of his entrance into the Jew's house; his fears; his decaying strength, just serving to make up the life-restoring elixir ; the dying taper; the in- sensibility ; the resurrection to new life, and the day-spring of hiii young manhood ! How shall we speak of the old man, the becjucather of the fatal legacy to St. Leon, and his few fearful words : " Friendless, friendless — alone, alone." Alas! how terrible to imagine a being in pos- session of such endowments, who could bring himself to think of death ! — able to turn back upon his path and meet inunorlal youth, to sec again the morning of his day, and lind, in renewed life and beauty, a disguise impene- trable to his former enemies ; yet, in the sadness of his experience, so dreading the mistakes and persecution of his fcllow-mcn, as to choose rather to lie down with the THE NOVELS OF GODWIN. xix worm, and seek oblivion in the seats of rottenness and cor. ruption. One of the most remarkable ways in which the faculty of Mr. Godwin is evinced, is the " magnitude and wealth" of his detail. No single action of event that could pos- sibly, in such circumstances as he imagines, heighten the effect^ is omitted. In this he resembles Hogarth; but he is always tragical, — producing his end altogether without ludicrous contrasts, or the intervention of any thing bor- dering on the humorous. Mere mental imbecility is not to be found in the pictures of Mr. Godwin : his characters are people who analyse their own minds, and who never act from want of understanding, right or wrong. Indeed, they are too conscious ; like that young rogue, Charles dc St. Leon, for instance, who seems to do every thing with a truly French eye to effect. ■ — If we were asked to name the work of this writer which had pleased us the most, we should say '^Fleetwood." This will appear strange to the majority of readers, no doubt; but, with many beauties, it has fewer defects. In *' Fleetwood" we have no drawbacks. The story o( Ru/- figny is a sort of epitome of our author : it contains all that he can do. And then the Macneils — we mourn for them as for dear friends. Mary Fleetwood is the best feminine delineation to be found in the works of fictitious narration. She is a copy o( Desdemona, with a husband much farther advanced in life than herself, made jealous of a youthful cousin by an elder and designing one. Young, beautiful, loving, confiding, she would be all that the heart of man could desire in a wife ; but then she is a little over-con- scious of her own excellences, and a little too ready not only to think, but to say, how very unreasonable her husband is, when he becomes uneasy and jealous of her "innocent sallies" with younger men. — "Alas! my love, let me assure you that you do not know what you want. I am young. Fleetwood, you might have married an old XT CRITICISM UN THE NOVFLS ol <.i»DWlN woman, if you had pleased." The same objection might be urged, indeed, against all this gentleman's female crea- tions. They have too keen a sense of the "Rights of "Wo- man." They waste away, it is true, and even die, from the irritation brouglit on by the behaviour of their hus- bands ; but tlicy lake care to let him feci that they arc not ignorant of the cause of their disease : they are very dif- ferent, and, in our opinion, very inferior beings, to Helen, or Imogen, or Desdemona. In the general style of his novels, particularly in those parts which are descriptive of mental suffering, Godwin puts on a tone of apathy and unconcern, as though he feared to urge you into a state of feeling that would *' hear no more," — as though he wished not to " cancel the bond" that " keeps you pale" and immoveable, — till the agony of his heart, repressed, but not subdued, was poured out, and the wretched recital finished. ^■^ PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR. The foUowiug narrative is intended to answer a purpose more general and important than immediately appears upon the face of it. The question now afloat in the world respecting things as thet are is the most interesting that can be presented to the human mind. While one parly pleads for i-eformalion and change, the other extols in the warmest terms the existing constitution of society. It seemed as if something would be gained for the decision of this question, if that constitution were faithfully deve- loped in its practical effects. ^What is now presented to the public is no refined and abstract speculation ; it is a study and delineation of things passing in the moral world. It is but of late that the inestimable importance of political principles has been adequately apprehended. It is now known to philosophers, that the spirit and character of the government intrudes itself into every rank of society. But this is a truth highly worthy to be communicated to per- sons whom hooks of philosophy and science are never likely to reach. Accordingly it was proposed, in the in- vention of the following work, to comprehend, as far as \x.i FREJiilsc oliuy own luiml, I should liavn liuusl it in llic fire If you persist, the book will infallibly prove the grave of your literary fame." I doubtless fell no implicit deference for the judgment of my friendly critic. Yet it cost me at least two days of d<;cp anxiity, before I recovered the shock. Let the reader picture to himself my situation. I felt uo implicit deference for the judgment of my friendly critic. But it was all I had for it. This was my first experiment of an unbiased decision. It stood in the place of all the world to me. I could not, and I did not feel disposed to, appeal any further. If I had, how could I tell that the second and third judgment would be more favourable than the first ? Then what would have been the result ? No ; I had nothing for it but to wrap myself in my own integrity. By dint of resolution I became invulnerable. I resolved to go on to the end, trusting as I could to my own antici- pations of the whole, and bidding the world wait its lime, before it should be admitted to the consult. I began my narrative, as is the more usual way, in the third person. But I speedily became dissatisfied. I then assumed the first person, making the hero of my talc his own historian ; and in this mode I have persisted in all my subsequent attempts at works of fiction. It was infinitely the best adapted, at least, to n\y vein of delineation, where the thing in which my imagination revelled the most freely, was the analysis of the private and internal opera- tions of the mind, employing my metaphysical dissecting knife in tracing and laying bare the involutions of motive, and recording the gradually accumulating impidscs, which led the personages I had to describe primarily to adopt llie particular way of proceeding in which they afterwards embarked. N\ hen 1 had d(t(rniine«l on the main purpose of my story, it was ever my method to gel about mc any pro- •luclions of former authors that seemed to bear on ray PREFACE. xxix subject. I never entcrlained the fear, that in this way ol proceeding I should be in danger of servilely copying my predecessors. I imagined that I had a vein of thinkin" that was properly my own, which would always preserve me from plagiarism. I read other authors, that I might see what they had done, or more properly, that I might forcibly hold my mind and occupy my thoughts in a parti- cular train, I and my predecessors travelling in some sense to the same goal, at the same time that I struck out a path of my own, without ultimately heeding the di- rection they pursued, and disdaining to inquire whether by any chance it for a few steps coincided or did not coincide with mine. Thus, in the instance of •' Caleb "Williams," I read over a little old book, entitled ''The Adventures of Made- moiselle de St. Phale," a French Protestant in the times of the fiercest persecution of the Huguenots, who fled through France in the utmost terror, in the midst of eternal alarms and hair-breadth escapes, having her quar- ters perpetually beaten up, and by scarcely any chance ^ finding a moment's interval of security. I turned over the pages of a tremendous compilation, entitled "God's Re- venge against Murder," where the beam of the eye of Omniscience was represented as perpetually pursuing the guilty, and laying open his most hidden retreats to the light of day. I. was extremely conversant with the "Newgate Calendar," and the ''Lives of the Pirates." In the mean time no works of fiction came amiss to me, provided they were written with energy. The authors were still em- ployed upon the same mine as myself, however different was the vein they pursued : \Ke__were all of «s^^nga§ed in exploring the entrails of mind and motive, and in tracing 4he various rencontres and clashes that may occur be-_ tween man and man in the diversified scene of human life. I rather amused myself with tracing a certain similitude i,x PREFACE. between the slory of Caleb \Yilliams and ihe tale of Bkic- bcnrd, than derived any hints from that admirable speci- men of the Icrrifij;. Falkland was my Bluebeard, who had perpetrated atrocious crimes, which, if discovered, he might expect to have all the world roused to revenge against him. Caleb "Williams was the wife, who, in spile of warning, persisted in his attempts to discover the for- bidden secret; and, when he had succeeded, struggled as fruitlessly to escape the consequences, as the wife of Blue- beard in washing the key of the ensanguined chamber, who, as often as she cleared the stain of blood from the one side, found it showing itself with frightful distinctness on the other. When I had proceeded as Tar as the early pages of my third volume, I found myself completely at a stand. I rested on my arms from the 2d of January, 179A, to the 1st of April following, without getting forward in the smallest degree It has ever been thus with me in works of any continuance. The bow will not be for ever bent. " Opcrc in longo fas est ol)rcpero somiiuin." I endeavoured, however, to take my repose to myself in security, and not to inflict a set of crude and incoherent dreams upon my readers. In the mean time, when I revived, I revived in earnest, and in the course of that month carried on my work with unabated speed to the end. Thus I have endeavoured to give a true history of the concoction and mode of writing of this mighty trifle. >Vhcn I had done, I soon became sensible that I had done in a manner nothing. How many flat and insipid parts does the hook contain ! How terribly unequal does it appear to me ! Front time to lime the author plainly reels to and fro like a drunken man. And, when I had done all, what had 1 done ? Wrillen a hook to amuse boys and girls in their vacant hours, a slory to be hastily gob- PREFACE. xxxi bled up by them, swallowed in a pusillanimous and un- animated mood, without chewing and digestion. I was in this respect greatly impressed with the confession of one of the most accomplished readers and excellent critics that any author could have fallen in with (the unfortunate Joseph Gerald). He told me that he had received my book late one evening, and had read through the three volumes before he closed his eyes. Thus, what had cost me twelve months' labour, ceaseless heart-aches and in- dustry, now sinking in despair, and now roused and sustained in unusual energy, he went over in a few hours, shut the book, laid himself on his pillow, slept and was refreshed, and cried, " To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new." ADVENTURES CALEB WILLIAMS CHAPTER I. My life has for several years been a theatre of calamUy. I have been a mark for the vigilance of tyranny, and I could not escape. My fairest prospects have been blasted. My enemy has shown himself inaccessible to entreaties, and untired in persecution. My fame, as well as my hap- piness, has become his victim. Every one, as far as my story has been known, has refused to assist me in my dis- tress, and has execrated my name. I have not deserved this treatment. 1 My own conscience witnesses in behalf of that innocence, my pretensions to which are regarded in the world as incredible. There is now, however, little hope that I shall escape from the toils that universally beset me. I am incited to the penning of these memoirs only by a desire to divert my mind from the deplorableness of 1 my siluation, and a faint idea t\\M posterity may by (heir means be iiuhiced to render mc a justice which my con- temporaries ri'iiise. My story will, at least, appear to have (hat consistency which is seldom attendant but upon truth. I was bora of humble parents, in a remote county of England. Their occupations were such as usually fall to (he lot of peasants, ftiid they had no portion to give me, but an education free from the usual sources of depravity, and the inheritance, long since lost by their unfortunate progeny! of an honest lame. I was taught the rudiments of no science, except reading, writing, and arithmetic. But 1 had an inquisitive nynd, and neglected no means of" in- formation from conversation or books. My improvement was greater than my condition in life afforded room to expect. There are other circumstances deserving to be men- tioned as having influenced the history of my future life. J was somewhat above the middle stature. Without being particularly athletic in appe arance, o r^ large jnjny dimen- sions, I wiis uncommonly vigorous and active. My joints were supple, and I was foimcd to excel in youthful sports. The habif^ of my mind, however, were to a certain degree at war with the dictates" of boyish vanity. 1 had consi- derable aversion to the boisterous gaiety of the village gal- lants, and contrived to satisfy my love of praise with an Mufiiequent apparition at their amusements. My excellence iu these respects, however, gave a turn to my meditations. 1 delighted to icad of feats of activity, and was particularly interested l)y tales in which corporeal ingenuity or strength arc the means resorted to for supplying resources and con- (piuring diniculties. I inured my.self to mechanical pur- suits, and devoted much of my i\n\c to an endeavour after tuechauical invention. CALEB WILLIAMS. 3 The spring of action which, perhaps more than any other, characteiised the whole train of my life, was cu- | riosity. It was thislKaT^^e^me my mechanical turn ; I ( was desirous of tracing the variety of effects which might be produced from given causes. It was this that made me a sort of natural philosopher ; I could not rest till I had i acquainted myself with the solutions that had been invented j for the phenomena of the universe. In fine, this produced / in me an invincible attachment to books of narrative and I romance. I panted for the unravelling of an adventure! with an anxiety, perhaps almost equal to that of the man •whose future happiness or misery depended on its issue. I read, I devoured compositions of this sort. They took possession of my soul ; and the effects they produced were , frequently discernible in my external appearance and my j health. My curiosity, however, was not entirely ignoble : 1 village anecdotes and scandal had no charms for me : my \ imagination must be excited ; and when that was not done, my curiosity was dormant. i The residence of my parents was within the manor of ^ ferdinando Falkland, a country squire of considerable opu- lence. At an early age I attracted the favourable notice of Me^CjolUns, this gentleman's steward, who used to call in occasrdnally'at my father's. He observed the particulars of my progress with approbation, and made a favourable report to his master of my industry and genius. In the summer of the year , Mr. Falkland visited his estate in our county after an absence of several months. This was a period of misfortune to me. I was then eigh- teen years of age. My father lay dead in our cottage. I had lost my mother some years before. In this ibrlorn si- tuation I was surprised with a message from the squire, ordering me to repair to the mansion-house the morning after my father's funeral. 1 * -^ 4 I ALEB WILLIAMS Though I was not a strang<'r to books, I had no practHal arcjiiaiiitanrt' with men. I had never had occasion to ad- dress a person of this elevated rank, and I felt no small uneasiness and awe on the present occasion. , I found Mr. Falklan d a man of a small stature, with an extreme delicacy of form and appearance. In place of the hard-favoured and iiillexihle visages I had been accustomed to observe, every muscle and petty line of his countenance seemed to be in an inconceivable degree pregnant with meaning. His manner was kind, attentive, and humane. His eye was full of animation ; but there w as a grave and sad solemnity in his air, which, for want of experience, I imagined was the inheritance of the great, and the instrument by which the distance between them and their inferiors was main- tained. His look bespoke the unquiefncss of his mind, and frequently wandered w ith an expression of disconsolateness and anxiety. My reception was as gracious and encouraging as I could possibly desire. Mr. Falkland questioned me re- specting my learning, and my conceptions of men and things, and listened to my answers with condescension and approbation. This kindness soon restored to me a consi- derable part of my self-possession, though I still felt re- strained by the graceful, but unaltered dignity of his car- riage. When Mr. Falkland had satisiied his curiosity, he proceeded to inform me that he was in ^nt of ^se cretary, that I appi'ared to him sufliciently (pialiiied for that oflice, and that, if, in my present change of situation, occasioned by the al of the little properly my father had left, in' which I was assisted by Mr. Collins. I had not now a CALEB WILLIAMS 5 relation in the world, upon whose kindness and interposi- tion 1 had any direct claim. But, far from regarding this deserted situation with terror, I foi-med golden visions of the station I was about to occupy. I little suspected that the gaiety and lightness of heart I had hitherto enjoyed were upon the point of leaving me for ever, and that the rest of my days were devoted to misery and alarm. My employment was easy and agreeable. It consisted partly in the transcribing and arranging certain papers, and partly in writing from ray master's dictation letters of busi- ness, as well as sketches of literary composition. Many of these latter consisted of an analytical survey of the plans of different authors and conjectural speculations upon hints they afforded, tending either to tlie detection of their er- rors, or the carrying forward their discoveries. All of them bore powerful marks of a profound and elegant mind, /, well stored with literature, and possessed of an uncommon 1 share of activity and discrimination. ' My station was in that part of the house which was ap- propriated for the reception of books, it being my duty to perform the functions of librarian as well as secretary. Here my hours would have glided in tranquillity and peace, had not my situation included in it circumstances totally different from those which attended me in my father's cot- tage. In early life my mind had been much engrossed by reading and reflection : my intercourse with my fellow mortals was occasional and short. But, in my new resi- dence, I was excited by every motive of intei-est and no- | velty to_stjjd^myjnaster's cb^ai^^ ; and I found in it an ample field for speculation and conjecture. His mode of living was in the utmost degree recluse and [ solitary. He had no inclination to scenes of revelry and mirth. He avoided the busy haunts of men ; nor did he seem desirous to compensate for this privation by the co»- Wt'- li CALED WILLIAMS. lidence of friendship. He appeared a total stranger to every thing which usually bears the appellation of pleasure. His featuies were scarcely ever relaxed into a smile, nor did that air which spoke the unhappiness of his mind at any time forsake them : yet his manners were by no means such as denoted moroseness and misanthropy. He was compassionate and considerate for others, though the state- liness of his carriage and the reserve of his temper were at no time interrupted. His appearance and general be- haviour might have strongly interested all persons in his favour; but the coldness of his address, and the impenetra- bleness of his sentiments, seemed to forbid those demon- strations of kindness to which one might otherwise have been prompted. Such was the general appearance of Mr. Falkland : but his disposition was extremely unequal. The distemper which aillicted him with incessant gloom had its paroxysms. Sometimes he was hasty, peevish, and tyrannical ; but this proceeded rather from the torment of his mind than an unfeeling disposition ; and when reflection recurred, he appeared willing that the weight of his misfortune should fall wholly upon himself. Sometimes he entirely lost his self-possession, and his behaviour was changed into frenzy: he would strike his forehead, his brows became knit, his features distorted, and his teeth ground one against the other. When he felt the approach of these symptoms, he would suddenly rise, and, leaving the occupation, whatever it was, in which he was engaged, hasten into a solitude upon which no person dared to intrude. It nnisi not be supposed that the ^\hole of what I am describing was visible to the persons about him; nor, in- deed, was I ar(iuainted with it in the extent here stated but after a considerable time, and in gi adual succession. With respect (o the donu'slics in general, thev siuv but little ol CALEB WILLIAMS. 7 ^ iheir master. None of them, except myself, from the na- ture of my functions, and Mr. ColHns, from the antiquity ^ f-'W^ J of his service and the respectableness of his cliaracter, ap- proached Mr. Falkland, but at stated seasons and for a ' very short interval. They knew him only by the benevo- lence of his actions, and the principles of inllexible inte- grity by which he was ordinarily guided ; and though they ^ would sometimes indulge their conjectures respecting his i singularities, they regarded him upon the whole with ve- neration, as a being of a superior order. One day, when I had been about three jnonths in the service of my patron, I went to a closet, or small apart- «j ment, which was separated from the library by a narrow ' gallery that was lighted by a small window near the roof. ;- I had conceived that there was no person in the room, and intended only to put any thing in order that I might find ^ out of its place. As I opened the door, I heard at the same instant a deep groan, expressive of intolerable anguish. The sound of the door in opening seemed to alarm the "rfL^ person within ; I heard the lid of a trunk hastily shut, and i the noise as of fastening a lock. I conceived that Mr. Falk- ; land was there, and was going instantly to retire ; but at that moment a voice, that seemed supernaturally tre- ' mendous, exclaimed, Who is there ? The voice was Mr. '■ Falkland's. The sound of it thrilled my very vitals. I endeavoured to answer, but my speech failed, and being ' incapable of any other reply, I instinctively advanced within ; the door into the room. Mr. Falkland was just risen from the floor upon which he had been sitting or kneeling. His face betrayed strong symptoms of confusion. With a violent effort, however, these symptoms vanished, and in- j stantaneously gave place to a countenance sparkling with ' rage. " Villain !" cried he, " what has bi'or.ght you here?" ] I hesitated a confused and irresolute answer. " Wretch!" H CALEB WILLIAMS. iuteiTuptetl Mr. 1 alklaud, \\ith uncontrollable impatience, " you want to ruin me. You set yourself as a spy upon my actions ; but bitterly shall you repent your ^insolence. Do you think you shall watch my privacies with impunity?" I attempted to defend myself. " IJegone, devil !" rejoined he. " Quit the room, or I will trample you into atoms." Saying this, he advanced towards me. But I was already sufliciently terrified, and vanished in a moment. I heard the door shut after me with violence ; and thus ended this extraordinary scene. I saw him again in the evening, and he was then tole- rably composed. His behaviour, which was always kind, was now doubly attentive and soothing. He seemed to have something of which he wished to disburthen his mind, but to want w ords in which to convey it. I looked at him with anxiety and affection. He made two unsuc- cessful eflorts, shook his head, and then putting five guineas into my hand, pressed it in a manner that I could feel pro- ceeded from a mind pregnant with various emotions, though I could not interpret them. Having done this, he seemed immediately to recollect himself, and to take refuge in the usual distance and solemnity of his manner. I easily understood that secrecy was one of the things expected from me; and, indeed, my mind was too much disposed to meditate upon what I had heard and seen, to make it a topic of indiscriminate communication. Mr. (>oHins, however, and myself happened to sup together that evening, which was hut seldom the case, his avocations »)bliging hiiu (o l)e much abroad. He could not help ob- b(!rving an uncommon dejection and anxiety in my coun- tenance, and ailed ionately enquired into the reason. I endeavoured to evade his questions, but my youth and ignoranci^ of the v\orld gave me little advantage for (hiU purpose. Hcside (his, I had been accustomed to view Mr. CALEB WILLIAMS. Collins with considerable attachment, and I conceived from the nature of his situation, that there could be small im- \ propriety in making him my confident in the present in- stance. I repeated t o him minutely every thing that had passed, and concluded with a solemn declaration that, though treated with caprice, I was not anxious for myself ; no inconvenience or danger should ever lead me to a pu- sillanimous behaviour ; and I felt only for my patron, who, with every advantage for happiness, and being in the highest degree worthy of it, seemed destined to undergo unmerited distress. In answer to my communication, Mr. Collins informed me that some incidents, of a nature similar to that which I related, had fallen under his own knowledge, and that from the whole he could not help concluding that our unfor- tunate patron was at times disordered in his intellects. " Alas !" continued he, " it was not always thus ! Ferdi- nando Falkland was once the gayest of the gay. Not in- deed of that frothy sort, who excite contempt instead of admiration, and whose levity argues thoughtlessness rather than felicity. His gaiety was always accompanied with dignity. It was the gaiety of the hero and the scholar. It was chastened with reflection and sensibility, and never lost sight either of good taste or humanity. Such as it was, however, it denoted a genuine hilarity of heart, imparted an inconceivable brilhancy to his company and conversa- tion, and rendered him the perpetual delight of the diver- sified circles he then willingly frequented. You see no- thing of him, my dear Williams, but the ruin of that Falkland who was courted by sages, and adored by the fair. His youth, distingoiished in its outset by the most unusual promise, is tarnished. His sensibility is shrunk up and withered by events the most disgustful to his feelings. His mind was fraught with all the rhapsodies of visionary 10 CALEB WILLIAMS. honour ; and, in liis sense, nothing? but the grosser part, the in«'rc shell ol Falkland, was capable of sui-viving tlie wound tiiat his pride has sustained. These reflections of my friend Collins strongly tended to inflame my curiosity, and I requested him to enter into a more copious explanation. With this request he readily complied ; as conceiving that whatever delicacy it became him to exercise in ordinary cases, it would be out of place in my situation ; and thinking it not improbable that Mr, Falkland, but for the disturbance and inflammation of his mind, would be disposed to a similar communication. 1 shall interweave with Mr, Collins's story various informa- tion which I afterwards received from other quarters, that 1 may give all possible perspicuity to the series of events. To avoid confusion in my narrative, 1 shall drop the person of Collins, and assume to be myself the historian of our patron. To the reader it may appear at first sight as if this detail of the preceding hfe of 31r, Falkland were foreign to my history. Alas ! I know from bitter experience that it is otherwise. My heart bleeds at the recollection of his misfortunes, as if they were my own. How can it "fiiil to do so. To his story the whole fortune of my life was linked ; because he was miserable, my happiness, my name, and my existence have been iiretiievablv blasted. CHAPTKK II. Amonc. the favourite aiilhoi-s ol lii> early years were the heroic poets of Italy. From tin n^ lie imbibed the love of chivalry an. Pi«i;«hi, who had an only daughter. CALEB WILLIAMS. the heir of liis immense fortune, and the admiration of all the young nobihty of that metropolis. Lady Lucretia Pi- sani was tall, of a dignified form, and uncommonly beauti- ful. She was not deficient in amiable qualities, but her soul was haughty, and her carriage not unfrequently con- temptuous. Her pride was nourished by the consciousness of her charms, by her elevated rank, and the universal adoi'ation she was accustomed to receive. Among her numerous lovers, Count Malvesi was the in dividual most favoured by her father, nor did his addresses seem indifferent to her. The Count was a man of con- siderable accomplishments, and of great integrity and be- nevolence of disposition. But he was too ardent a lover, to be able always to preserve the affability of his temper. The admirers whose addresses were a source of gratifica- tion to his mistress, were a perpetual uneasiness to him. Placing his whole happiness in the possession of this im- perious beauty, the most trifling circumstances were ca- pable of alarming him for the security of his pretensions. But most of all he was jealous of the English cavalier. Marquis Pisani, who had spent many years in France, was by no means partial to the suspicious precautions of Italian fathers, and indulged his daughter in considerable freedoms. His house and his daughter, within certain judicious re- straints, were open to the resort of male visitants. But, above all, Mr. Falkland, as a foreigner, and a person little likely to form pretensions to the hand of Lucretia, was re- ceived upon a footing of great familiarity. The lady her- self, conscious of innocence, entertained no scruple about trifles, and acted with the confidence and frankness of one who is superior to suspicion. Mr. Falkland, after a residence of several weeks at Rome, proceeded to Naples. Meanwhile certain incidents oc- curred that delayed the intended nuptials of the heiress of 14 ( ALtB WILLIAMS. Pisani. When lie leliuncd to Home, Count Malvesi was absent. Lady Lunelia, who had been considerably amused before with the conversation of Mr. Falkland, and who had an active and enquiring mind, had conceived, in the in- terval between his first and second residence at Rome, a desire to be a deference and submission; and, lia\ing got over some- CALEB WILLIAMS. 15 thing like terror, that was at first inspired by the imperious manner in which she was now catechised, her next feehng was that of the warmest resentment. She disdained to satisfy so insolent a questioner, and even indulged herself in certain oblique hints calculated to strengthen his sus- picions. For some time she described his folly and per- sumption in terms of the most ludicrous sarcasm, and then, suddenly changing her style, bid him never let her see him more, except upon the footing of the most distant ac- quaintance, as she was determined never again to subject herself to so unworthy a treatment. She was happy that he had at length disclosed to her his true character, and would know how to profit of her present experience to avoid a repetition of the same danger. All this passed in the full career of passion on both sides, and Lady Lu- cretia had no time to reflect upon what might be the con- sequence of thus exasperating her lover. Count Malvesi left her in all the torments of frenzy. He believed that this was a premeditated scene, to find a pretence for breaking off an engagement that was already all but concluded ; or, rather, his mind was racked with a thousand conjectures : he alternately thought that the in- justice might be hers or his own ; and he quarrelled with Lady Lucretia, himself, and the whole world. In this temper he hastened to the hotel of the English cavalier. The season of expostulation was now over, and he found himself irresistibly impelled to justify his precipitation with the lady, by taking for granted that the subject of his sus- picion was beyond the reach of doubt. Mr. Falkland was at home. The first words of the Count were an abrupt accusation of duplicity in the affair of Lady Lucretia, and a challenge. The Englishman had an un- affected esteem for jMalvesi, who was in reality a man of considerable merit, and who had been one of Mv. Falk- IS ( ALEB WILLIAMS. land's earliest Ilalian acquaintance, they having originally met a( Milan, liul more than this, the possible conse- quence of a duel in the present instance burst upon his mind. He had the wannest admiration for Lady Lucretia, though his feelings were not those of a lover; and he knew that, however her haughtiness might endeavour to disguise it, she was impressed with a tender regard for Count Mal- vcsi. He could not bear to think that any misconduct of his should interrupt the prospects of so deserving a pair. Guided bv these sentiments, he endeavoured to expostulate with the Italian. But his attempts were ineffectual. His antagonist was drunk with choler, and would not listen to a word that tended to check the impetuosity of his thoughts. He traversed the room with perturbed steps, and even foamed with anguish and fury. Mr. Falkland, finding that all was to no purpose, told the Count that, if he would re- turn to-morrow at the same hour, he w ould attend him to any scene of action he should think proper to select. From Count Malvesi Mr. Falkland immediately pro- ceeded to the palace of Pisani. Here he found considerable difliculty in appeasing the indignation of Lady Lucretia. His ideas of honour would by no means allow him to win » her to his purpose by disclosing the cartel he had received ; otherwise that disclosure would immediately have ope- rated as the strongest motive that could have been offered to this disdainful beauty. IJut though she dreaded such an event, the vague apprehension was not strong enough to induce her instantly to surrender all the stateliness of her resentment. Mr. Falkland, however, drew so inte- resting a picture of the disturbance of Count Malvesi's mind, and accounted in so flattering a manner for the abruptness of his conduct, that this, together with the ar- guments he adduced, completed the conquest of Lady Lu- cretia's rrscnlinnil. Having thus far accomplished \\\s CALEB WILLIAMS. 17 purpose, he proceeded to disclose to her every thing that had passed. The next day Count Malvesi appeared, punctual to his appointment, at Mr. Falkland's hotel. Mr. Falkland came to the door to receive him, but requested him to enter the house for a moment, as he had still an affair of three mi- nutes to despatch. They proceeded to a parlour. Here Mr. Falkland left him, and presently returned leading in Lady Lucretia herself, adorned in all her charms, and those charms heightened upon the present occasion by a con- sciousness of the spirited and generous condescension she was exerting. Mr. Falkland led her up to the astonished Count ; and she, gently laying her hand upon the arm of her lover, exclaimed with the most attractive grace, " Will you allow me to retract the precipitate haughtiness into which I was betrayed ?" The enraptured Count, scarcely able to believe his senses, threw himself upon his knees before her, and stammered out his reply, signifying that the pre- cipitation had been all his own, that he only had any for- giveness to demand, and, though they might pardon, he could never pardon himself for the sacrilege he had com- mitted against her and this god-like Enghshman. As soon as the first tumults of his joy had subsided, Mr. Falkland addressed him thus : — " Count Malvesi, I feel the utmost pleasure in having thus by peaceful means disarmed your resentment, and ef- fected your happiness. But I must confess, you put me to a severe trial. My temper is not less impetuous and fiery than your own, and it is not at all times that I should have been thus able to subdue it. But I considered that in reality the original blame was mine. Though your sus- picion was groundless, it was not absurd. We have been trifling too much in the face of danger. I ought not, under 2 IS ( \LEH WILLIAMS. the present weakness of our nature and forms of jiociety, to have been so assiduous in my attendance upon this en- chanting woman. It would have been htlle wonder, if, h:jving so many opportunities, and playing the preceptor with her as I have done, I had been entangled before I w as aware, and harboured a wish which I might not after- wards have had courage to subdue. I owed you an atone- ment for this imprudence. '• But the laws of honour are in the utmost degree rigid; and there was reason to fear that, however anxious I were to be your friend, I might be obhged to be your murderer. Fortunately, the reputation of my courage is sulliciently established, not to expose it to any impeachment by my declining your present defiance. It was hicky, however, that in our interview of yesterday you found me alone, and that accident by that means threw the management of the affair into my disposal. If the transaction should be- ^^J^lardinghsiBr. She was also one of the few that had not yet gone over to the enemy, either because she really preferred the gentleman who was her oldest acquaintance, or that she conceived from calculation this conduct best adapted to insure her success in a husband. One day, however, she thought proper, probably only by n\ ay of experiment, to show Mr. Tyrrel that she could engage in hostilities, if he should at any time give her suflicient provocation. She so adjusted her manoeuvres as to be engaged by Mr. Falkland as his partner for the dance of the evening, though without the smallest intention on the part of that gentleman (who was unpardonably delicient in the sciences of anecdote and match-making ) of giving ortence to his country neighbour. Though the manners of Mr. Falkland were condescending and alteutive, his hours of retirement were principally oc- cupied in contemplaticms too dignified for scandal, and too Urge for the altercations of a vestry, or the politics of an election-borough. A short time belore the h\ Falk- land. In all of llu'in Mr. Falkland conducted himself with CALEB WILLIAMS. 2lr. I'^dkland, said with CALEB WILLIAMS. emphasis and animation, " Ha ! this is as it sliould be. It is of the right stamp. I have seen too many hard essays strained from the labour of a pedant, and pastoral ditties distressed in lack of a meaning. They are such as you, sir, that we want. Do not forget, however, that the Muse was not given to add refinements to idleness, but for the highest and most invaluable purposes. Act up to the magnitude of your destiny." A moment after, Mr. Clare quitted his seat, and with Mr. Falkland and two or three more ^withdrew. As soon as they were gone, Mr. Tyrrel edged further into the circle. He had sat silent so long that he seemed ready to burst with gall and indignation. "Mighty pretty verses!" said he, half talking to himself, and not addressing any particular person : " why, ay, the verses are well genough. Damna- tion ! I should like to know what a ship-load of such stuff is good for." 'Why, surely," said the lady who had introduced Mr. Falkland's Ode on the present occasion, "you must allow that poetry is an agreeable and elegant amusement." * " Elegant, quotha ! — Why, look at this Falkland ! A puny bit of a thing! In the devil's name, madam, do you think he would write poetry if he could do any thing better ?" The conversation did not stop here. The lady expos- tulated. Several other persons, fresh from the sensation they had felt, contributed their share. 3Ir. Tyrrel grew more violent in his invectives, and found ease in uttering them. The persons who were able in any degree to check his vehemence were withdrawn. One speaker after ano- ther shrunk back into silence, too timid to oppose, or too indolent to contend with, the fierceness of his passion. He found the appearance of his old ascendancy; but :u CALEB WILLIAMS. he felt Us deooitf illness and nni-eifainfy, and was gloomily dissatisfied. In liis return I'lom this assembly he was accompanied by a young man, whom similitude of manners had ren- dered one of his principal confidents, and whose road home was in part the same as his own. One might have thought that Mr. Tyrrel had sufficiently vented his spleen in the dialogue he had just been holding. But he was unable to dismiss from his recollection the anguish he had endured^ "Damn Falkland!" said he. "What a pitiful scoundrel is here to make all this bustle about ! But women and fools always will be fools ; there is no help for that ! Those that set them on have most to answer for ; and most of all, Mr. Clare. He is a man that ought to know some- thing of the world, .and past being duped by gewgaws and tinsel. He seemed, too, to have some notion of things : I should not have suspected him of hallooing to a cry of mon- grels \\ ilhout honesty or reason. But the world is all alike, those that seem better than their neighbours, are only more artful. They mean the same thing, though they take a different road. He deceived me for a while, but it is all out now. They are the makers of the mischief. Fools might bhiiulor, but fhey would not persist, if people that ought to set them right did not encourage them (o go wrong." A few days after this adventure IMr. Tyirel was surprisoil to receive a visit from Mr. Falkland. .^Ir. Falkland proceeded, without ceremony, \o explain the motive of his coming. "Mr. Tyrrel," said he, " I am come to have an amicabli' explanation with you." " Explanation ! What is my offence ?" "None in (he world, sir; and for that reason I concei\c ihis the littest time to come to a right undei-standing." CALEB WILLIAMS. 35 " You are in a devil of a hurry, sir. Are you clear thai this haste will not mar, instead of make an understand- ing ?" "I think I am, sir. I have great faith in the purity of my intentions, and I will not doubt, when you perceive the view with which I come, that you will willingly co-operate with it." " Mayhap, Mr, Falkland, we may not agree about that. One man thinks one way, and another man thinks another. Mayhap I do not think I have any great reason to be pleased with you already." "It may be so. I cannot, however, charge myself with having given you reason to be displeased." " Well, sir, you have no right to put me out of humour with myself. If you come to play upon me, and try what sort of a fellow you shall have to deal with, damn me if you shall have any reason to hug yourself upon the experi- ment." " Nothing, sir, is more easy for us than to quarrel. If you desire that, there is no fear that you will find oppor- tunities." " Damn me, sir, if I do not believe you are come to buily me." "Mi-. Tyrrel! sir — have a care!" " Of what, sir ! — Do you threaten me ? Damn my soul ! who are you? what do you come here for?" The fieriness of Mr. Tyrrel brougiit Mr. Falkland to his recollection. " I am wrong," said he. " I confess it, I came for pur- poses of peace. With that view I have taken the liberty to visit you. Whatever therefore might be my feelings upon another occasion, I am bound to suppress them now." " Ho! — Well, sir : and what have you further to offer?*' ao CALEB WILLIAMS , '' Mr. Tyrrel," procecdetl Mr. Falkland, " you will readily imagine that llic cause that brought me was not a sHght one. I would not have troubled you with a visit, but for important reasons. My coming is a pledge how deeply I am myself impressed with what I have to communicate. " We are in a critical situation. We are upon the brink of a whirlpool which, if once it get hold of us, will render all further deliberation impotent. An |^pforf,\inafp jpaL»«««;y seems to have insinuated itself between tts, whicb I wottltl willingly remove; and I come to ask your assistance. We are both of us nice of temper ; we are both apt to kindle, and warm of resentment. Precaution in this stage can be dishonourable to neither ; the time may come when we shall wish we had employed it, and find it too late. Why should we be enemies? Our tastes are different ; our pursuits need not interfere. We both of us amply possess the means of happiness ; we may be respected by all, and spend a long life of tranquillity and enjoyment. Will it be wise in us to exchange this prospect for the fruits of strife ? A strife be- tween persons with our peculiarities and our weaknesses, includes consequences that I shudder to think of. I fear, sir, that it is pregnant with death at least to one of us, and with misfortune and remorse to the survivor." " Upon my soul, you are a strange man ! Why trouble me with your prophecies and forebodings ?" "Because it is necessary to your happiness! Becausi' it becomes me to tell you of our danger now, rather than wait till my character will allow this tranquillity no longer ! " By quarrelling we shall but imitate the great mass of mankind, who could easily quarrel in our place. Let us do belter. I^et us show that we have ihe magnanimity to con- temn petty misuudfistandiugs. By thus judging we shall too UHi^lih and too iiicinios lor me; ho will not uivc nic CALEB WILLIAMS. 43 time so much as to breathe. These things are not yet at least in our power : they are parts of a great series that is perpetually flowing. The general welfare, the great busi- ness of the universe, will go on, though I bear no further share in promoting it. That task is reserved for younger strengths, for you, Falkland, and such as you. We should be contemptible indeed if the prospect of human improve- ment did not yield us a pure and perfect delight, indepen- dently of the question of our existing to partake of it. Mankind would have little to envy to future ages, if they had all enjoyed a serenity as perfect as mine has been for the latter half of my existence." Mr. Clare sat up through the whole day, indulging him- self in easy and cheerful exertions, which were perhaps better calculated to refresh and invigorate the frame, than if he had sought repose in its direct form. Now and then he was visited with a sudden pang ; but it was no sooner felt, than he seemed to rise above it, and smiled at the impo- tence of these attacks. They might destroy him, but they could not disturb. Three or four times he was bedewed with profuse sweats ; and these again were succeeded by an extreme dryness and burning heat of the skin. He was next covered with small livid spots : symptoms of shivering followed, but these he drove away with a determined reso- lution. He then became tranquil and composed, and, after some time, decided to go to bed, it being already night. "Falkland," said he, pressing his hand, "the task of dying is not so difficult as some imagine. When one looks back from the brink of it, one wonders that so total a subversion can take place at so easy a price." He had now been some time in bed, and, as every thing was still, Mr. Falkland hoped that he slept ; but in that be was mistaken. Presently 31r. Clare threw back the cui- tain, and looked in (he countenance of his friend. " I f 4 CALEB WILLIAMS. cannot sleep," said he. " No, if I could sleep, it would be the same thing as to recover ; and I am destined to have the worst in this battle. " Falkland, I have been thinking about you. I do not know any one whose future usefulness 1 contemplate with greater hope. Take care of yours^f. Do not let the world be defrauded of your virtues. I am acquainted with your weakness as well as your strength. You have an im- petuosity, and an impatience of imagined dishonour, that, if once set wrong, may make you as eminently mischievous as you will otherwise be useful. Think seriously of exter- minating this error ! " But if I cannot, in the brief expostulation my present situation will allow, produce this desirable change in you, there is at least one thing I can do. I can put you upon your guard against a mischief I foresee to be imminent. Beware of Mv. Tyrrel. Do not commit the mistake of despising him as an unequal opponent. Petty causes may produce great mischiefs. Mr. Tyrrel is boisterous, rugged, and unfeeling ; and you are too passionate, too acutely sen- sible of injury. It would be truly to be lamented, if a man so inferior, so utterly unworthy to be compared with you, should be capable of changing your whole history into misery and guilt. I have a painful presentiment upon my heart, as if something dreadful would reach you from that quarter. Think of (his. I exact no promise from you. I would not shackle you with (he fetters of supeistitiou ; 1 would have you governed by justice and reason." Mr. I'alkland was deeply affected with this expostulation. His sense of the generous a((en(ion of Mr. Clare at such a moment, was so great as almost to deprive him of u((erance. He spoke in short sen(ences, and with visible effort. " I will behave better," replied he. " Never fear me! Your admonitions shall not l>e throw u a\v;«v upon nii." CALEB WILLIAMS. 45 Mr. Clare adverted to another subject. " I have made you my executor ; you will not refuse me this last oilice of friendship. It is but a short time that I have had the hap- piness of knowing you ; but in that short time I have examined you well, and seen you thoroughly. Do not dis- appoint the sanguine hope I have entertained ! " I have left some legacies. My former connections, whilst I lived amidst the busy haunts of men, as many of them as were intimate, are all of them dear to me. I have not had time to summon them about me upon the present occasion, nor did I desire it. The remembrances of me will, I hope, answer a bettef purpose than such as are usually thought of on similar occasions." Mr. Clare, having thus unburthened his mind, spoke no more for several hours. Towards morning Mr. Falkland quietly withdrew the curtain, and looked at the dying man. His eyes were open, and were now gently turned towards his young friend. His countenance was sunk, and of a death-like appearance. " I hope you are better," said Falkland in a half-whisper, as if afraid of disturbing him. Mr. Clare drew his hand from the bed-clothes, and stretched it forward ; Mr. Falkland advanced, and took hold of it. " Much better," said Mr. Clare, in a voice inward and hardly articulate ; " the struggle is now over ; I have finished my part ; farewell ! remember !" These w ere his last words. He lived still a few hours ; his lips were some- times seen to move ; he expired without a groan. Mr. Falkland had witnessed the scene with much anxiety. His hopes of a favourable crisis, and his fear of disturbing the last moments of his friend', had held him dumb. For the last half-hour he had stood up, with his eyes intently fixed upon Mr. Clare. He witnessed the last gasp, the last little convulsive motion of the frame. He continued to look ; he sometimes imagined that he saw life renewed. 16 CALEB WILLIAMS. At length lie could deceive hirnselC no longer, and exclaimed with a distracted accent, " And is this all ?" He would liave thrown himself upon the body of his friend ; the at- tendants withhold, and would have forced him into another apartiucnt. But he struggled from them, and hung fondly over the bed. " Is this the end of genius, virtue, and excellence ? Is the luminary of the world thus for ever gone ? Oh, yesterday ! yesterday ! Clare, why could not I have died in your stead? Dreadful moment! Irre- parable loss ! Lost in the very maturity and vigour of his mind ! Cut off from a usefulness ten thousand times greater than any he had alreaSy exhibited ! Oh, his was a mind to have instructed sages, and guided the moral \\ orld ! This is all we have left of him ! The eloquence of those lips is gone ! The incessant activity of that heart is still ! The best and wisest of men is gone, and the w orld is in- sensible of its loss !" Mr. Tyrrel heard the inteUigence of Mr. Clare's death with emotion, but of a different kind. He avowed that he had not forgiven him his partial attachment to Mr. Falk- land, and therefore could not recall his remembrance Mith kindness. Hut if he could have overlooked his past injus- tice, sufficient care, it seems, was taken to keep alive his resentment. " Falkland, foi-sooth, attended him on his death-bed, as if nobody else were worthy of his confiden- tial communications." But what was worst of all was this executorship, " In every thing this pragmatical rascal .throws me behind. Contemptible wretch, that has nothing of the man about him ! Must he perpetually trample upon his betters ? Is every body incapable of saying what kind of stuff a man is made of? caught with mere outside? choosing the llimsy before the substantial ? And upon his death-bed too ? j Mr. Tyrrel with his uncultivated brutality mixed, as usually happens, certain nide notions of religion. CALEB WILLIAMS. 47 Sure the sense of his situation might have shamed him. Poor wretch ! his soul has a great deal to answer for. He has made my pillow uneasy; and, whatever may be the consequences, it is he we have to thank for them." The death of Mr. Clare removed the person who could most effectually have moderated the animosities of the con- tending parties, and took away the great operative cheeky upon the excesses of Mr. Tyrrel. This rustic tyrant had' been held in involuntary restraint by the intellectual ascen-l dancy of his celebrated neighbour; and, notwithstanding the general ferocity of his temper, he did not appear till lately to have entertained a hatred against him. In the short time that had elapsed from the period in which Mr. Clare had fixed his residence in the neighbourhood, to that i of the arrival of Mr. Falkland from the Continent, the con- ' duct of Mr. Tyrrel had even shown tokens of hnprovement. He would indeed have been better satisfied not to have had even this intruder into a circle where he had been ac- customed to reign. But with Mr. Clare he could have no rivalship ; the venerable character of Mr. Clare disposed him to submission : this great man seemed to have survived all the acrimony of contention, and all the jealous subtleties of a mistaken honour. The effects of Mr. Clare's suavity, however, so far as re- lated to Mr. Tyi rel, had been in a certain degree suspended by considerations of rivalship between this gentleman and Mr. Falkland. And, now that the influence of Mr. Clare^ presence and virtues was entirely removed, Mr. Tyrrel's J temper broke out into more criminal excesses than ever .J The added gloom which Mr. Falkland's neighbourhood in- spired, overflowed upon all his connections ; and the new examples of his sullenness and tyranny which every day afforded, reflected back upon this accumulated and por- tentous feud. CALEB WILLIAMS. CHAPTER VI. The consequences of all this speedily manifested them- selves. The very next incident in the story was in some degree decisive of the catastrophe. Hitherto I have spoken only of preliminary matters, seemingly unconnected witli each other, though leading to that state of mind in both parties which had such fatal effects. But all that remains is rapid and tremendous. The death-dealing mischief advances with an accelerated motion, appearing to defy human w isdom and strength to obstruct its operation. The vices of Mr. Tyrrel, in their present state of augmen- tation, were peculiarly exercised upon his domestics and dependents. Hut the principal sufferer was the young lady mentioned on a former ocqasiyiii, the orphan daughter of his father's siste^',]>tiss_MelyiUe's Mother had married im- prudently, or rather unfortunately, against the consent of her relations, all of whom had agreed to withdraw their countenance from her in consequence of that precipitate step. Her husband had turned out to be no better than an adventurer; had spent her fortune, which in consequence of tlic irreconcilableness of her family was less than he ex- pected, and had broken her heart. Her infant daughter r>vas left without any resource. In this situation the repre- l sentations of the people with whom she happened to be \ placed, prevailed upon Mrs. Tyrrel, the mother of the ^squire, to receive her into her family. In equity, perhasp she was entitled to that portion of fortune which her mother had forfeited l)y her impnulcncc, and which had gone to CALEB WILLIAMS. 4'J swell the property of the male representative. But this idea had never entered into the conceptions of either mother or son. Mrs. Tyrrel conceived that she performed an act of the most exalted benevolence in admitting Wiiss Emily into a sort of equivocal situation, vi'hicli was neither precisely that of a domestic, nor yet marked w ith the treatment that might seem due to one of the family. She had not, however, at first been sensible of all the mortifications that might have been expected from her con- dition. Mrs. Tyrrel, though proud and imperious, was not ill-natured. The female, who lived in the family in the ca- pacity of housekeeper, was a person who had seen better days, and whose disposition was extremely upright and amiable. She early contracted a friendship for the little Emily, who was indeed for the most part committed to her care. Emily, on her side, fully repaid the affection of her instructress, and learned with great docihty the few ac- complishments Mr s. Jakej a^n was able to communicate. But most of all she imbibed her cheerful and artless tem- per, that extracted the agreeable and encouraging from all events, and prompted her to communicate her sentiments, which were never of the cynical cast, without modification or disguise. Besides the advantages Emily derived from Mrs. Jakeman, she was permitted to take lessons from the masters who were employed at Tyrrel Place for the in- struction of her cousin ; and indeed, as the young gentleman was most frequently indisposed to attend to them, they would commonly have had nothing to do, had it not been for the fortunate presence of Miss Melville. Mrs. Tyrrel therefore encouraged the studies of Emily on that score ; in addition to which she imagined that this living exhibition of instruction might operate as an indirect allurement to her darling Barnabas, the only species of motive she would suffer to be presented. Force she absolutely forbade ; and 50 CALEB WILLIAMS. of the inlrinsic allurements ol literature and knowledge she had no conception. --'"^mily, as she grew up, displayed an uncommon degree of sensibility, which under her circumstances would have been a source of perpetual dissatisfaction, had it not been qualified with an extreme sweetness and easiness of temper. She was far from being entitled to the appellation of a beauty. Her person was petite and trivial; her complexion savoured of the brunette ; and her face was marked with the small-pox, sufficiently to destroy its evenness and pohsh, though not enough to destroy its expression. But, though her appearance was not beautiful, it did not fail to be in a high degree engaging. Her complexion was at once healthful and delicate ; her long dark eyebrows adapted themselves with facility to the various conceptions of her mind ; and her looks bore the united impression of an active discern- ment and a good-humoured frankness. The instruction she "^had received, as it was entirely of a casual nature, exempted her from the evils of untutored ignorance, but not from a sort of native wildness, arguing a mind incapable of guile itself, or of suspecting it in othere. She amused, without seeming conscious of the refined sense which her observa- tions contained ; or rather, having never been debauched with applause, she set light by her ow n qualifications, and talked from the pure gaiety of a youthful heart acting upon the stores of a just understanding, and not with any expect- ation of being distinguished and admired. The death of her aunt made very little change in her situation. This prudent lady, who would have thought it little Uss than sacrilege to have considered iMiss .>lelvilleas a branch of the slt)ck of the Tyrrels, took no more notice of hei- in her will than barely putting her down for one hun- dred pounds in a catalogue of legacies to her servants. She had never been admitted info the intimacy and confidence CALEB WILLIAM* 51 of Mrs. Tyrrel ; and the young squire, now that she was left under his sole protection, seemed incHned to treat her with even more liberality than his mother had done. He had seen her grow uoniider his eye, and therefore, though there were h^^^ years difference in their ages, he felt a kind iifj^^t^al interest in her welfare. Habit had ren- dered^ier in a manner necessary to him, and, in every recess from the occupations of the field and the pleasures of the table, he found himself sohtary and forlorn without the society of Miss IVIelville. Nearness of kindred, and Emily's want of personal beauty, prevented him from ever looking on her with the eyes of desire. Her accomplish- ments were chiefly of the customary and superficial kind, dancing and music. Her skill in the first led him some- times to indulge her with a vacant corner in his carriage, when he went to the neighbouring assembly ; and, in what- ever hght he might himself think proper to regard her, he would have imagined his chambermaid, introduced by him, entitled to an undoubted place in the most splendid circle. Her musical talents were frequently employed for his amuse- ment. She had the honour occasionally of playing him to sleep after the fatigues of the chase ; and, as he had some rehsh for harmonious sounds, she was frequently able to soothe him by their means from the perturbations of which his gloomy disposition was so eminently a slave. Upon the whole, she might be considered as in some sort his fa- vourite. She \\ as the mediator to whom his tenants and domestics, when they had incurred his displeasure, were accustomed to apply ; the privileged companion, that could approach this lion with impunity in the midst of his roar- ings. She spoke to him without fear ; her solicitations were always good-natured and disinterested ; and when he re- pulsed her, he disarmed himself of half his terrors, and was contented to smile at her presumption. 4 * ji CALEB WILLIAMS. Siifli had bfeu for soiiio years the situation of Miss ;>Iol- villc. Its jJiecaiioMsiu'ss had been beguileIr. Falkland and herself, she probably cherished a confused feeling as if some event, that w as yet in the womb of fate, might re- concile things apparently the most incompatible. Fraught with these prepossessions, the civilities that had once or twice occurred in the bustle of a public circle, the restoring her fan which she had dropped, or the disembarrassing her of an empty tea-cup, made her heart palpitate, and gave birth to the wildest chimeras in her deluded imagination. About this time an event happened, that helped to give a precise determination to the fluctuations of Miss Melville's mind. One evening, a short time after the death of iMr. 54 CALEB WILLIAMS. Clare, >Ir. Falkland had been at (he lioiise of his deceased friend in his quality of ext tutor, and, by some accidents of little intrinsic importance, had been detained three or four hours later than he expected. He did not set out upon his return till two o'clock in the morning. At this time, in a situation so remote from the metropohs, every thing is as silent as it would be in a region wholly uninhabited. The moon shone bright ; and the objects around being marked with strong variations of light and shade, gave a kind of sacred solemnity to the scene. Mr. Falkland had taken Collins w ith him, the business to be settled at Mr. Clare's being in some respects similar to that to w hich this faithful domestic had been accustomed in the routine of his ordi- nary service. They had entered into some conversation, for Mr. Falkland was not then in the habit of obhging the persons about him by formality and reserve to recollect who he was. The attractive solemnity of the scene made him break off the talk somewhat abruptly, that he might enjoy it without interruption. They had not ridden far, before a hollow w ind seemed to rise at a distance, and they could hear the hoarse roarings of the sea. Presently the sky on one side assumed the appearance of a reddish brown, and a sudden angle in the road placed this phenomenon di- rectly before them. As they proceeded, it became more distinct, and it was at length sufficiently visible that it was occasioned by a lire. 3Ir. Falkland put spurs to his horse; and, as they approached, the object presented every in- stant a more alarming appearance. The flames ascended with fierceness ; they embraced a large portion of the hori- zon : and as they carried up with them numerous little frag- ments of tlu' materials that fed them, impregnated with fire, au\ ith an impulse that did not wait to consult the die- CALEB WILLIAMS. 5T (ates of her understanding. Her emotions were indescrib- 1 able. In a few short moments she had hved an age in love. In two minutes Mr. Falkland was again in the street with his lovely, half-naked burthen in his arms. Having restored her to her aflfectionate protector, snatched from the im- mediate grasp of death, from which, if he had not, none would have deUvered her, he returned to his former task. By his presence of mind, by his indefatigable humanity and incessant exertions, he saved three-fourths of the village from destruction. The conflagration being at length abated, he sought again Mrs. Jakeman and Emily, who by this time had ob- tained a substitute for the garments she had lost in the fire. He displayed the tenderest soUcitude for the young lady's safety, and directed CoUins to go with as much speed as he could, and send his chariot to attend her. More than an hour elapsed in this interval. Miss Melville had never seen so much of Mr. Falkland upon any former occasion ; and the spectacle of such humanity, delicacy, firmness and justice in the form of man, as he crowded into this small space, was altogether new to her, and in the highest degree fascinating. She had a confused feehng as if there had been something indecorous in her behaviour or appearance, when Mr. Falkland had appeared to her relief; and this combined with her other emotions to render the whole critical and intoxicating. Emily no sooner arrived at the family mansion, than Mr. Tyrrel ran out to receive her. He had just heard of the melancholy accident that had taken place at the village, and was terrified for the safety of his good-humoured cousin. He displayed those unpremeditated emotions which are common to almost every individual of the human race. He was greatly shocked at the suspicion that Emily might possibly have become the victim of a catastrophe which 58 CALEB WILLIAMS. had thus broken out in the dead of night." His sensations were of the most pleasing sort when he folded her in his aims, and fearful apprehension was instantaneously con- verted into joyous cerlaintj Emily no sooner entered under the w ell known roof than her spirits were brisk, and her tongue incessant in describing her danger and her deliverance. 3Ir. Tyrrel had formerly been tortured with the innocent eulogiums she pronounced ol Mr. Falk- land. Hut these were tameness itself, compared with the rich and various eloquence that now flowed from her lips. Love had not the same effect upon her, especially at the present moment, which it would have had upon a person instructed to feign a blush, and inured to a consciousness of wrong. She described his activity and resources, the promptitude with which every thing was conceived, and the cautious but daring wisdom with which it was ex- ecuted. All was fairy-land and enchantment in the tenour of her artless tale ; you saw a beneficent genius sur\ eying and controlling the whole, but could have no notion of any human means by which his purposes were effected, Mr. Tyrrel listened for a while to these innocent ef- fusions with patience ; he could even bear to hear the man applauded, by whom he had just obtained so considerable a benefit. But the theme by amplification became nauseous, and he at length w ith some roughness put an end to the tale. Probably, upon recollection, it appeared still more insolent and intolerable than while it was passing ; the sensation of gratitude wore off, but the hyperbolical praise that had been bestowed still haunted his memory, and sounded in his ear; — Emily had entered into the con- federacy that disturbed his repose. For herself, she was wholly unconscious of offence, and upon every occasion quoted Mr. Falkland as the model of elegant manners and true wisdom. She was a total stranger to dissimulation ; CALEB WILLIAMS. 59 and she could not conceive that any one beheld the subject of her admiiation with less partiality than herself. Her artless love became more fervent than ever. She flattered herself that nothing less than a reciprocal passion could have prompted Mr. Falkland to the desperate attempt of saving her from the flames ; and she trusted that this pas- sion would speedily declare itself, as well as induce the object of her adoration to overlook her comparative un- worthiness. Mr. Tyrrel endeavoured at first with some moderation to check Miss Melville in her applauses, and to convince her by various tokens that the subject was disagreeable to him. He was accustomed to treat her with kindness. Emily, on her part, was disposed to yield v.r, anreluctant obedience; and. therefore it was not difficult to restrain her. But upon the very next occasion her favourite topic would force its way to her lips. ( Her obedience was the ac- quiescence of a frank and benevolent heart ; but it was the most difficult thing in the world to inspire her with fear. Conscious herself that she would not hurt a worm, she could not conceive that any one would harbour cruelty and rancour against her. Her temper had preserved her from obstinate contention with the persons under whose pro- tection she was placed ; and, as her compliance was un- hesitating, she had no experience of a severe and rigorous treatment. As Mr. Tyrrel's objection to the very name of Falkland become more palpable and uniform, Miss Melville increased in her precaution. She would stop herself in the half-pronounced sentences that were meant to his praise. This circumstance had necessarily an ungracious eff'ect ; it was a cutting satire upon the imbecility of her kinsman. Upon these occasions she would sometimes venture upon a good-humoured expostulation : — " Dear GO CALEB WILLIAMS. sir ! well, I wonder how you can be so ill-natured ! I am sure ."Mr. Falkland would do you any good office in the world :" — till she was checked by some gesture of im- patience and fierceness. At length she wholly conquered her heedlessness and inattention. But it was too late. Mr. Tyrrcl already sus- pected the existence of that passion which she had thought- lessly imbibed. His imagination, ingenious in torment, suggested to him all the different openings in conversation, in which she would have introduced the praise of Mr. Falk- land, had she not been placed under this unnatural restraint. Her present reserve upon the subject was even more insuf- ferable than her former loquacity. yUniis_kindn(^S for this unhappy orphan gradually subsided. Her partiality for the man who was the object of his unbounded abhorrence, appeared to him as the last persecution of a malicious des- t iny. He figured himself as_abQut to be deserted-hyjevery creature in human fornix all men, under the influence of a fatal enchantment, approving only what was sophisticated and artificial, and holding the rude and genuine offspring of nature in mortal antipathy. Impressed with these gloomy presages, he saw Miss Melville with no sentiments but those of rancoi'ous aversion ; and, accustomed as he was to the uncontrolled indulgence of his propensities, he determined to wreak upon her a signal revenge. CALEB WILLIAMS. CHAPTER VII. Mr. Tyrrel consulted his old confident respecting the plan he should pursue ; who, sympathising as he did in the brutality and insolence of his friend, had no idea that an insignificant girl, without either wealth or beauty, ought to be allowed for a moment to stand in the way of the gra- tifications of a man of Mr. TyrreFs importance. The first idea of her now unrelenting kinsman was to thrust her from his doors, and leave her to seek her bread as she could. But he was conscious that this proceeding would involve him in considerable obloquy ; and he at length fixed upon a scheme which, at the same time that he believed it would sufficiently shelter his reputation, would much more certainly secure her mortification and punishment. For this purpose he fixed upon a young man of twenty, the son of one Grimes, who occupied a small farm, the property of his confident. This fellow he resolved to im- pose as a husband on Miss Melville, who, he shrewdly sus- pected, guided by the tender sentiments she had unfor- tunately conceived for Mr. Falkland, would listen with re- luctance to any matrimonial proposal. Grimes he selected as being in all respects the diametrical reverse of Mr. Falk- land. He was not precisely a lad of vicious propensities, but in an inconceivable degree boorish and uncouth. His complexion was scarcely human ; his features were coarse, and strangely discordant and disjointed from each other. His lips were thick, and the tone of his voice broad and unmodulated. His legs were of equal size from one end to 0-2 CALEB WILLIAMS. the Other, and his feet misshapen and clumsy. He had nothmg spiteful or maUcious in his disposition, butlie-^uias a total stranger to tenderness; he could not feel for those refinements in others, of which he had no experience in himself. He was an expert boxer : his inclination led him to such amusements as were most boisterous ; and he de- lighted in a sort of manual sarcasm, which he could not conceive to be very injurious, as it left no traces behind it. His general manners were noisy and obstreperous ; inat- tentive to others ; and obstinate and unyielding, not from any cruelty and ruggedness of temper, but from an inca- pacity to conceive those finer feelings, that make so large a part of the history of persons v\ ho are cast in a gentler mould. Such was the uncouth and half-civilized animal, which the industrious malice of JMr. Tyrrel fixed upon as most happily adapted to his purpose. Emily had hitherto been in an unusual degree exempted from the oppression of des- potism. Her happy insignilicance had served her as a protection. No one thought it worth his while to fetter her with those numerous petty restrictions with which the daughters of opulence are commonly tormented. She had the w ildness, as well as the delicate frame, of the bird that warbles unmolested in its native groves. When therefore she heard from her kinsman the pro- posal of Mr. Grimes for a husband, she was for a moment silent with astonishment at so unexpected a suggestion. But as soon as she recovered her speech, she replied, " IS'o, sir, I do not want a husband." " You do I Are not you always hankering after the men ? It is high time you should be settled." " .>lr. (irimes! No, indeed! when 1 do have a husband, it shall wi.i l»e such a man as Mr. (irimes neither." " IJe silent! How dare you give yourself such unac- countable liberties?" CALEB WILLIAMS. 63 " Lord, I wonder what I should do with him. You might as well give me your great rough water-dog, and bid me make him a silk cushion to lie in my dressing-room. Besides, sir. Grimes is a common labouring man, and I am sure I have always heard my aunt say that ours is a very great family." " It is a lie! Our family! have you the impudence to think yourself one of our family ?" " Why, sir, was not your grandpapa my grandpapa ? How then can we be of a different family ?" " From the strongest reason in the world. You are the daughter of a rascally Scotchman, who spent every shiUing of my aunt Lucy's fortune, and left you a beggar. You have got an hundred pounds, and Grimes's lather promises to give him as much. How dare you look down upon your equals ?" " Indeed, sir, I am not proud. But, indeed and indeed, I can never love Mr. Grimes. I am very happy as I am : why should I be married ?" " Silence your prating ! Grimes will be here this after- noon. Look that you behave well to him. If you do not, he will remember and repay, when you least like it." " Nay, I am sure, sir — you are not in earnest ?" " Not in earnest ! Damn me, but we will see that. lean tell what you would be at. You had rather be Mr. Falk- land's miss, than the wife of a plain downright yeoman. But I shall take care of you. — Ay, this comes of indulgence. You must be^ taken down, miss. You must be taught the difference between high-flown notions and realities. May- hap you may take it a little in dudgeon or so ; but never mind that. Pride always wants a little smarting. If you should be brought to shame, it is I that shall bear the blame of it." The tone in which Mr. Tyrrel spoke was so different ax CALEB WILLIAMS. from any thing lo which Miss Melville had been accus^- tomed, that she felt herself wholly unable to determine what construction to put upon it. Sometimes she thought he had leally iormed a plan for imposing upon her a con- dition that she could not bear so much as to think of. But presently she rejected this idea as an unworthy imputation upon her kinsman, and concluded that it was only his way, and that all he meant was to try her. To be resolved however, she determined to consult her constant adviser, ^h's, Jakeman, and accordingly repeated to her what had passed. Mrs. Jakeman saw the whole in a very different light from that in which Emily had conceived it, and trembled for the future peace of her beloved ward. " Lord bless me, my dear mamma !" cried Emily, (this was the appellation she delighted to bestow upon the good housekeeper), " you cannot think so? But I do not care. I will never marry Grimes, happen what w ill." " But how will you help yourself? IMy master will oblige you." " Nay, now you think you are talking to a child indeed. It is I am to have the man, not Mr. Tyrrel. Do you think I will let any body else choose a husband for me? I am not such a fool as that neither." " .\h, Emily 1 you little know^ the disadvantages of your situation. Your cousin is a violent man, and perhaps will turn you out of doors, if you oppose him." "Oh, mamma! it is very wicked of you to say so. I am sure Mr. Tyrrel is a very good man, though he be a little cross now and then. He knows very well that 1 am right to have a will of my own in such a thing as this, and nobody is punished for (loing what is right." " Nobody ought, my dear child. But there are very wicked and tyrannical men in the world." "VN'ell, well, I will never boliove my cousin is one of these." CALEB WILLIAMS. a:, *' I hope he is not." " And if he were, what then ? To be sure I should be very sorry to make him angry." " What then ! Why then my poor Emily would be a be^ar. Do you think I could bear to see that ?" "No, no. Mr. Tyrrel has just told me that I have a hun- dred pounds. But if I had no fortune, is not that the case with a thousand other folks ? Why should I grieve, for what they bear and are merry ? Do not make your- self uneasy, mamma. I am determined that I will do any thing rather than marry Grimes ; that is what I will." Mrs. Jakeman could not bear the uneasy state of sus- pense in which this conversation left her mind, and went immediately to the squire to have her doubts resolved. — The manner in which she proposed the question, suffi- ciently indicated the judgment she had formed of the match. " That is true," said Mr. Tyrrel, " I wanted to speak to you about this affair. The girl has got unaccountable notions in her head, that will be the ruin of her. You perhaps can tell where she had them. But be that as it w ill, it is high time something should be done. The short- est way is the best, and to keep things well while they are well. In short, I am determined she shall marry this lad: you do not know any harm of him, do you ? You have a good deal of influence with her, and I desire, do you see, that you will employ it to lead her to her good : you had best, I can tell you ! She is a pert vixen ! By and by she would be a whore, and at last no better than a^ommon trull, and rot upon a dunghill, if I were not at all these pains to save her from destruction. I would make her an honest farmer's wife, and my pretty miss cannot bear the thoughts of it!" m CALEB WILLIAMS. Ill the aflcruoon ( i rimes came according lo appointment, and was left alone with the young lady. " Well, miss," said he, " it seems the squire has a mind to make us man and wife. For my part, I cannot say I should have thought of it. Hut, being as low the squire has broke the ice, if so be as you like of the match, why I am your man. Speak the word; a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse." EmUy was already sufficiently mortified at the unex- pected proposal of Mr. Tyrrel. She was confounded at Ihe novelty of the situation, and still more at the uncul- tivated rudeness of her lover, which even exceeded her expectation. This confusion was interpreted by Grimes into diffidence. " C-ome, come, never be cast down. Put a good face upon it. W hat though ? My first sweetheart was Bet Hutlerfield, but what of that? What must be must be; grief will never iill the belly. She was a fine strapping wench, that is the truth of it ! ii\e foot ten inches, and as stout as a trooper. Oh, she would do a power of work ! Up early and down late ; milked ten cows with her own hands ; on with her cardinal, rode to market between her panniers, fair weather and foul, hail, blow, or snow . It would have done your heart good to have seen her frost- bitten cheeks, as red as a beefen from her ow n orchard ! Ah ! she was a maid of mettle ; w ould romp w ith the har- vestmen,slap one upon the back, wrestle with another, and had a rogue's trick and a joke for all round. Poor girl ! she broke her neck down stairs at a christening. To be sure I shall never niexit with her fellow ! Hut never yon mind that ; I do not doubt that I shall find iMi)re in you upon fiirthcr acquaintance. As coy and basldul as you seem, I dare say you are rogue enough at bottom. \Mien CALEB WILLIAMS. 6T I have touzled and rumpled you a little, we shall see. I am no chicken, miss, whatever you may think, I know what is what, and can see as far into a mill-stone as ano- ther. Ay, ay ; you w ill come to. The fish will snap at the bait, never doubt it. Yes, yes, we shall rub on main well together." Emily by this time had in some degree mustered up her spirits, and began, though with hesitation, to thank Mr. Grimes for his good opinion, but to confess that she could never be brought to favour his addresses. She therefore entreated him to desist from all further application. This remonstrance on her part would have become more in- telligible, had it not been for his boisterous manners and extravagant cheerfulness, which indisposed him to silence, and made him suppose that at half a word he had sufficient intimation of another's meaning. Mr. Tyrrel, in the mean time, was too impatient not to interrupt the scene before they could have time to proceed far in explanation ; and he was studious in the sequel to prevent the young folks from being too intimately acquainted with each other's inclina- tions. Grimes, of consequence, attributed the reluctance of Miss Melville to maiden coyness, and the skittish shyness of an unbroken filly. Indeed, had it been otherwise, it is not probable that it would have made any effectual impres- sion upon him ; as he was always accustomed to consider women as made for the recreation of the men, and to ex- claim against the weakness of people w ho taught them to imagine they were to judge for themselves. As the suit proceeded, and Miss Melville saw more of her new admirer, her antipathy increased. But, though her character w as unspoiled by those false wants, which frequently make people of family miserable while they have every thing that nature requires within their reach, yet she had been little used to opposition, and was terrified OH CALEB WILLIAMS at tlip f^rowing sleinness of her kinsman. Soniclinies she thought oUlvinti; from a house which was now become her dungeon ; but the habits of her youth, and her ignorance of the world, made her shrink from this project, when she contemplated it more nearly. Mrs. Jakeman, indeed, could not think with patience of young Grimes as a husband for her darling Emily ; but her prudence determined her to resist w ith all her might the idea on the part of the young lady of proceeding to extremities. She could not believe that Mr. Tyrrel would persist in such an unaccountable persecution, and she exhorted Miss Melville to forget for a moment the unaffected independence of her character, and pathetically to deprecate her cousin's obstinacy. She had great confidence in the ingenuous eloquence of her ward. .^Irs. Jakeman did not know what was passing in the breast of the tyrant. Miss Melville complied with the suggestion of her mamma. One morning immediately alter breakfast, she went to her harpsichord, and played one after another several of those airs that were most the favourites of Mr. Tyrrel. iMrs. Jakeman had retired; the servants were gone to their respective employments. Mr. Tyrrel would have gone also ; his mind was untuned, and he did not take the pleasure he had been accustomed to take in the musical performances of Emily. But her finger was now more tasteful than common. Her mind was probably wrought up to a firmer and bolder tone, by the recollection of the cause she was going to pif'ad; at the same time that it was exempt froiu those incapacitating tremors which would have been fell by one that dared not look poverty in the face. — Mr. Tyrrel was unable to leave the apartment. Sometimes he traversed it with impatient steps; then he hung over the poor innocen) whose powcis ^^ere exerted to please liim; at length In- tliiew hiuisrlf in a chair opposite, with CALEB WILLIAMS. 6ft his eyes turned towards Emily. It was easy to trace the progress of his emotions. The furrows into whicli liis countenance was contracted were gradually relaxed ; his features were brightened into a smile ; the kindness with which he had upon former occasions contemplated Emily seemed to revive in his heart. Emily watched her opportunity. As soon as she had finished one of the pieces, she rose and went to Mr. Tyrrel. "Now, have not I done it nicely ! and after this will not you give me a reward ?" " A reward ! Ay, come here, and I will give you a kiss." "No, that is not it. And yet you have not kissed me this many a day. Formerly you said you loved me, and called me your Emily. I am sure you did not love me better than I loved you. You have not forgot all the kindness you once had for me ?" added she anxiously. " Forgot? No, no. How can you ask such a question? You shall be my dear Emily still !" "Ah, those were happy times!" she replied, a little mournfully. " Do you know, cousin, I wish I could wake, and find that the last month — only about a month — was a dream ?" " What do you mean by that ?" said Mr. Tyrrel with an altered voice. " Have a care ! Do not put me out of humour. Do not come with your romantic notions now." " No, no : I have no romantic notions in my head. I speak of something upon which the happiness of my life depends." " I see what you would be at. Be silent. You know it is to no purpose to plague me with your stubbornness. You will not let me be in good humour with you for a mo- ment. What my mind is determined upon about Grimes, all the world shall not move me to give up." 70 CALEB VVILLUMS. " Dear, dear cousin ! why, but consider now. Grimes is a rough rustic lout, like Orson in the story-book. He wants a wile like himself. He would be as uneasy and as much at a loss with me, as I w ith him. Why should we both of us be forced to do what neither of us is inclined to ? I cannot think what could ever have put it into your head. But now, for goodness' sake, give it up! Marriage is a serious thing. You should not think of joining two people for a whim, who are neither of them fit for one another in any respect in the world. We should feel mortified and disappointed all our lives. Month would go after month, and year after year, and I could never hope to be my own, but by the death of a person I ought to love. I am sure, sir, you cannot mean me all this harm. What have I done, that 1 should deserve to have you for an enemy ?" " I am not your enemy, I tell you that it is necessaiy to put you out of harm's way. But, if I were your enemy, I could not be a worse torment to you than you are to me. Are not you continually singing the praises of Falkland ? Are not you in love with Falkland ? That man is a legion of devils to me! I might as well have been a beggar! I might as well have been a dwarf or a monster ! Time was when I was thought entitled to respect. But now, de- bauched by this Frenchified rascal, they call me rude, surly, a tyrant 1 It is true that I cannot talk in finical phrases, flatter people with hypocritical pi-aise, or suppress the real feelings of my mind. The scoundrel knows his pitiful ad- vantages, and insults me upon them without ceasing. He is my rival and my persecutor; and, at last, as if all this were not enough, he has found means to spread the pesti- lence in my own family. You, whom we took up out of charity, the chance-boru brat of a stolen marriage! you must turn u\)ou join- benel'aclor, and wound me in the point (hat of all others 1 could least bear, if I were your CALEB W1LLL4MS. 71 enemy, should not I have reason ? Could I ever inflict upon you such injuries as you have made me suffer ? And who are you ? The lives of fifty such cannot atone for an hour of my uneasiness. If you were to linger for twenty years upon the rack, you would never feel what I have felt. But I am your friend. I see which way you are going ; and I am determined to save you from this thief, this hypo- critical destroyer of us all. Every moment that the mis- chief is left to itself, it does but make bad worse ; and I am determined to save you out of hand." The angry expostulations of Mr. Tyrrel suggested new ideas to the tender mind of Miss Melville. He had never confessed the emotions of his soul so explicitly before ; but the tempest of his thoughts suffered him to be no longer master of himself. She saw with astonishment that he was the irreconcilable foe of Mr. Falkland, whom she had fondly imagined it was the same thing to know and ad- mire ; and that he harboured a deep and rooted resent- ment against herself. She recoiled, without well knowing why, before the ferocious passions of her kinsman, and was convinced that she had nothing to hope from his implacable temper. But her alarm was the prelude of firmness, and not of cowardice. " No, sir," replied she, " indeed I will not be driven any way that you happen to hke. I have been used to obey you, and, in all that is reasonable, I will obey you still. But you urge me too far. What do you tell me of Mr. Falkland ? Have I ever done any thing to deserve your unkind suspicions ? I am innocent, and will continue in- nocent. Mr. Grimes is well enough, aud will no doubt find women that like him ; but he is not fit for me, and tor- ture shall not force me to be his wife." Mr. Tyrrel was not a little astonished at the spirit which Emily displayed upon this occasion. He had calculated r ft CALEB WILLIAMS. loo securely upon the general mildness and suavity of her disposition. He now endeavoured to quahfy the harshness of his former sentiments. " God damn my soul ! And so you can scold, can you ? You expect every body lo turn out of his way, and fetch and carry, just as you please ? I could find in my heart — Hut you know my mind. I insist upon it that you let Grimes court you, and that you lay aside your sulks, and give him a fair hearing. Will you do that ? If then you persist in your wilfulness, why there, I suppose, is an end of the matter. Do not think that any body is going to marry you, whether you will or no. You are no such mighty prize, I assure you. If you knew your own interest, you would be glad to take the young fellow while he is wiUing." Miss iVIelville rejoiced in the prospect, which the last words of her kinsman afforded her, of a termination at no great distance to her present persecutions. Mrs. Jake- man, to \\hoin she communicated them, congratulated Emily on the returning moderation and good sense of the squire, and herself on her prudence in having urged the young lady to this happy expostulation. But their mutual felicitations lasted not long. Mr. Tyrrel informed Mrs. Jukcman of the necessity in which he found himself of sending her to a distance, upon a business which would not fail to detain her several weeeks ; and, though the errand by no means w ore an artificial or ambiguous face, the two friends drew a melanclioly presage from this ill- timed separation. Mrs. Jakeman, in the mean time, ex- horted hei- ward to persevere, reminded her of the com- punction which had already been manifested by her kins- man, and encouraged her to hope every thing from her courage and ^ood temper. Kniily, on her part, though grieved at the absence of her protector and counsellor at so interesting a crisis, was unable lo suspect Mr. Tyrrel ot CALEB WILLIAMS. 73 such a degree either of malice or dupUcity as could afford ground for serious alarm. She congratulated herself upon her delivery from so alarming a persecution, and drew a prognostic of future success from this happy termination of the first serious affair of her life. She exchajiged a state of fortitude and alarm for her former pleasing dreams re- specting Mr. Falkland. These she bore without impatience. She was even taught by the uncertainty of the event to de- sire to prolong, rather than abridge, a situation which might be delusive, but which was not without its pleasures. CHAPTER VIll. Nothing could be further from Mr. Tyrrel's intention than to suffer his project to be thus terminated. No sooner was he freed from the fear of his housekeeper's interference, than he changed the whole system of his conduct. He ordered Miss Melville to be closely confined to her apart- ment, and deprived of all means of communicating her situation to any one out of his own house. He placed over her a female servant, in whose discretion he could confide, and who, having formerly been honoured with the amo- rous notices of the squire, considered the distinctions that were paid to Emily at Tyrrel Place as an usurpation upon bar more reasonable claims. The squire himself did every thing in his power to blast the young lady's reputation, and represented to his attendants these precautions as ne- cessary, to prevent her from eloping to his neighbour, and plunging herself in total ruin. As soon as Miss Melville had been twenty-four hours in 74 CALEB W ILLUMS. durance, and there was some reason to suppose that her spirit might be subdued to the emergency of her situation, Mr. Tyirel thouglit proper to go to her, to explain the grounds ol" her present treatment, and acquaint her with the only means by which she could hope for a change. Emily no sooner saw him, than she turned towards him with an air of greater firmness than perhaps she had ever assumed in her life, and accosted him thus : — " Well, sir, is it you ? I w anted to see you. It seems I am shut up here by your orders. What does this mean ? What right have you to make a prisoner of me ? What do I owe you ? Your mother left me a hundred pounds : have you ever offered to make any addition to my fortune? But, if you had, I do not want it. I do not pretend to be better than the children of other poor parents ; I can maintain myself as they do. I preler liberty to wealth. 1 see you are surprised at the resolution I exert. But ought I not to turn again, when 1 am trampled upon ? I should have left you before now, if Mrs Jakeman had not overper- suaded me, and if 1 had not thought better of you than by youi- present behaviour I iind you deserve. But now , sir, I intend to leave your house this moment, and insist upon it, that you do not endeavour to prevent me." Thus saying, she rose, and went towards the door, while Mr. Tyrrel stood thunderstruck at her magnanimity. Seeing, however, that she was upon the point of being out of the reach of his power, he recovered himself, and pulled her back. " What is in (he wind now? Do you think, strumpet, that you shall get the better of me by sheer impudence ? Sit down ! rest you satisfied ! — So you want to know by what right you are here, do you ? By the right of posses- hion. This house is mine, and you are in my power. There is no iMrs. Jakeman now to spirit you away; no, nor CALEB WILLIAMS. 75 no Falkland to bully for you. I have countermined you, damn me ! and blown up your schemes. Do you think I will be contradicted and opposed for nothing ? When did you ever know any body resist my will without being made to repent ? And shall I now be brow-beaten by a chitty- faced girl ? — I have not given you a fortune ! Damn you ! who brought you up ? I will make you a bill for clothing and lodging. Do not you know that every creditor has a right to stop his runaway debtor. You may think as you please ; but here you are till you marry Grimes. Heaven and earth shall not prevent but I will get the better of your obstinacy." " Ungenerous, unmerciful man ! and so it is enough for you that I have nobody to defend me! But I am not so helpless as you may imagine. You may imprison my body, but you cannot conquer my mind. Marry Mr. Grimes! And is this the way to bring me to your purpose ? Every hardship I suffer puts still further distant the end for which I am thus unjustly treated. You are not used to have your will contradicted ! When did I ever contradict it ? And, in a concern that is so completely my own, shall my will go fornothing? Would you lay down this rule for your- self, and suffer no other creature to take the benefit of it? I want nothing of you : how dare you refuse me the pri- vilege of a reasonable being, to live unmolested in poverty and innocence ? What sort of a man do you show your- self, you that lay claim to the respect and applause of every one that knows you ?" The spirited reproaches of Emily had at first the effect to fill Mr. Tyrrel with astonishment, and make him feel abashed and overawed in the presence of this unprotected innocent. But his confusion was the result of surprise. — When the first emotion wore off, he cursed himself for being moved by her expostulations ; and was ten timesi :» CALEB WILLIAMS. more exasperated against lier, lor daring (o defy hts reseiit- uieot al a time when she had every thing to fear. Hi:» despotic and unlorgiving propensities stimulated him to a degree httle short of madness. At the same time his habits, which were pensive and gloomy, led him to meditate a variety of schemes to punish her obstinacy. He began to suspect that there was little liope of succeeding by open force, and therefore determined to have recourse to treachery. He found in Grimes an instrument sufficiently adapted to his purpose. This fellow, w ithout an atom of intentional malice, was fitted, by the mere coarseness of his percep- tions, for the perpetration of the greatest injuries. He re- garded both injury and advantage merely as they related to the gratifications of appetite ; and considered it an essen- tial in true wisdom, to treat with insult the efl'eminacy of those who suffer themselves to be tomientcd w ith ideal misfortunes. He believed that no happier destiny could befal a young woman than to be his wife ; and he conceived (hat that termination would amply compensate for any calamities she might suppose herself to undergo in the in- terval. He was therefore easily prevailed upon, by certain (emptalions which Mr. Tyrrel knew how to employ, to take, part in the plot into which Miss Melville was meant to be betrayed. Matleis being thus prepared, Mr. Tyrrel proceeded, (hrough the means of the gaoler (for the experience he already had of personal discussion did not incline him to re|>eat his visits), to play upon the fears of liis prisoner.— This woman, sometimes under the pretence of friendship, and sometimes with open malicp, informed lilmily, from lime U) time, of the preparations that were making for her marriage. One day, "the s(piire had rode over to look al a neat lillh" larui wlurh wa> de^tlued lor (he habitation CALEB WILLIAMS. 77 of tlie new-married couple ;" and at another, " a quantity of live stock and household furniture was procured, that every thing might be ready for their reception." She then told her " of a licence that was bought, a parson in rea- diness, and a day fixed for the nuptials." When Emily endeavoured, though with increased misgivings, to ridicule these proceedings as absolutely nugatory without her con- sent, her artful gouvernante related several stories of forced marriages, and assured her that neither protestations, nor silence, nor fainting, would be of any avail, either to sus- pend the ceremony, or to set it aside when performed. The situation of Miss Melville was in an eminent degree pitiable. She had no intercourse but with her perse- cutors. She had not a human being with whom to con- sult, who might afford her the smallest degree of consola- tion and encouragement. She had fortitude; but it was neither confirmed nor directed by the dictates of experience. It could not therefore be expected to be so inflexible, as with better information it would, no doubt, have been found. 3 She had a clear and noble spirit; but she had some of her sex's errors. Her mind sunk under the uniform ter- rors with which she was assailed, and her health became visibly impaired. Her firmness being thus far undermined. Grimes, in pursuance of his instructions, took care, in his next inter- view, to throw out an insinuation that, for his own part, he had never cared for the match, and since she was so averse to it, would be better pleased that it should never )lace. Between one and the other, however, he was ito a scrape, and now he supposed he must marry, lie, nill he. The two squires would infallibly ruin upon the least appearance of backwardness on his as they were accustomed to do every inferior that re- their will. Emily was rejoiced to find her admirer 7H ( \LEH WILLIAMS. in SO (avoiirahlo n disposilion; and earnestly pressed him to give eded to this humane declaration. Her represen- tations were full of eloquence and energy. Grimes ap- peared to be moved at the fervency of her manner; but objected the resentment of Mr. Tyrrel and his landlord. At length, however, he suggested a project, in consequence of w hid) he might assist her in her escape, without its ever coming to their knowledge, as, indeed, there was no likeli- hood that their suspicions would fix upon him. " To be sure," said he, " you have refused me in a disdainful sort of a way, as a man may say. Mayiiap you thought I w as no better 'an a brute : but I bear you no malice, and I w ill show you that 1 am more kindhearted 'an you have been willing to think. Ii is a strange sort of a vagary you have taken, to stand in your own light, and disoblige all your friends. But if you are resolute, do you see ? 'I scorn to be the husband of a lass that is not every bit as willing as I ; and so I will even help to put you in a condition to fol- low your own inclinations." Emily listened to these suggestions at first with eager- ness and approbation. But her fervency somewhat abated, when they came to discuss the minute parts of the under- (aking. It was necessary, a«i Grimes informed her, that her escape should be eflCected in the dead of the night. He would conceal himself for that purpose in the garden, and be provided with false keys, by which to deliver her from her prison. These circumstances were by no means adapted to calm hei- perturbed imagination. To throw herself into the arms of the man whose intercourse she was employing every method to avoid, and whom, under the idea of a partner lor life, she could least of all men endure, was, uo doubt, an exlraordiuai y proceeding. The attendant s and solitude aggra- vated (lie picdiiT. The siluation of Tvrrel Place was un- CALEB WILLIAMS. '39 commonly lonely; it was three miles from the nearest village, and not less than seven from that in which Mrs. Jakeman's sister resided, under whose protection Miss Melville was desirous of placing herself. The ingenuous character of Emily did not allow her once to suspect Grimes of intending to make an ungenerous and brutal advantage of these circumstances ; but her mind involuntarily revolted against the idea of committing herself, alone, to the dis- posal of a man, whom she had lately been accustomed to consider as the instrument of her treacherous relation. After having for some time revolved these considera- tions, she thought of the expedient of desiring Grimes to engage Mrs. Jakeman's sister to wait for her at the out- side of the garden. But this Grimes peremptorily refused. He even flew into a passion at the proposal. It sliowed very little gratitude, to desire him to disclose to other people his concern in this dangerous affair. For his part, he was determined, in consideration of his own safety, never to appear in it to any living soul. If miss did not believe him, when he made this proposal out of pure good- nature, and would not trust him a single inch, she might even see to the consequences herself. He was resolved to condescend no further to the whims of a person who, in her treatment of him, had shown herself as proud as Lucifer himself. Emily exerted herself to appease his resentment ; but all the eloquence of her new confederate could not prevail upon her instantly to give up her objection. She desired till the next day to consider of it. The day after was fixed by Mr. Tyrrel for the marriage ceremony. In the mean time she was pestered with intimations, in a thousand forms, of the fate that so nearly awaited her. The pre- parations were so continued, methodical, and regular, as to produce in her the most painful and aching anxiety. If so CALEB WILLIAMS. her lieait attained a moment's intermission upon the sub- ject, her female attendant was sure, by some sly hint or sarcastical remark, to put a speedy termination to her tranquillity. She felt herself, as she afterwards remarked, alone, uninstructed, just broken loose, as it were, from the trammels of infancy, without one single creature to con- cern himself in her fate. She, who till then never knew an enemy, had now, for three weeks, not seen the glimpse of a human countenance, that she had not good reason to consider as wholly estranged to her at least, if not unre- lentingly bent on her destruction. She now, for the first time, experienced the anguish of never having known her parents, and being cast upon the charity of people with whom she had too little equality, to hope to receive from them the offices of friendship. The succeeding night was iilled with the most anxious thoughts. When a momentary oblivion stole upon her senses, her distempered imagination conjured up a thousand images of violence and falsehood; she saw herself in the hands of her determined enemies, who did not hesitate by the most daring treachery to complete her ruin. Her waking thoughts were not more consoling. The struggle was too great for her constitution. As morning .ipproached, she resolved, at all hazards, to put herself into the hands of Grimes. This determination was no sooner made, than she felt her heart sensibly lightened. She could not con- ceive any evil which could result from this proceeding, that deserved to be put in the balance against those which, under the roof of her kinsman, appeared unavoidable, W hen she communicated her determination to Grimes, it was not possible to say whether he received pleasure or pain from the intimation. He smiled indeed; but his smile was accompanied by a certain abrupt ruggcdness of coun- tenance, so that it might e(iually well be the smile of sarcasm CALEB WILLIAMS. 81 or of congratulation. He, however, renewed his assurances of fideUty to his engagements and punctuahty of execution. Meanwhile the day was interspersed with nuptial presents and preparations, all indicating the firmness as well as se- curity of the directors of the scene. Emily had hoped that, as the crisis approached, they might have remitted some- thing of their usual diligence. She was resolved, in that case, if a fair opportunity had offered, to give the slip both to her jailors, and to her new and reluctantly chosen con- federate. But, though extremely vigilant for that purpose, she found the execution of the idea impracticable. At length the night, so critical to her happiness, ap- proached. The mind of Emily could not fail, on this occa- sion, to be extremely agitated. She had first exerted all her perspicacity to elude the vigilance of her attendant. This insolent and unfeehng tyrant, instead of any relentings, had only sought to make sport of her anxiety. Accordingly, in one instance she hid herself, and, suffering Emily to sup- pose that the coast was clear, met her at the end of the gallery, near the top of the staircase. "How do you do, my dear ? " said she, with an insulting tone. " And so the little dear thought itself cunning enough to outwit me, did it ? Oh, it was a sly little gipsy ! Go, go back, love ; troop !" Emily felt deeply the trick that was played upon her. She sighed, but disdained to return any answer to this low vul- garity. Being once more in her chamber, she sat down in a chair, and remained buried in reverie for more than two hours. After this she went to her drawers, and turned over, in a hurrying confused way, her linen and clothes, having in her mind the provision it would be necessary to make for her elopement. Her jailor officiously followed her from place to place, and observed what she did for the present in silence. It was now the hour of rest. "Good night, child," said this saucy girl, in the act of retiring. " It is 6 as CALEB WILLIAMS. lime to lock up. For the few next liours, the lime is your own. Make the hest use of it ! Do'ee think ee can creep out at the key-hole, lovey ? At eight o'clock you see me again. And then, and then," added she, clapping her hands, " it is all over. The sun is not surer to rise, than you and your honest man to be made one." There was something in (he tone with which this slut uttered her farewell, that suggested the question to Emily, " What does she mean? Is it possible that she should know what has been planned for the few next hours?" — This was the first moment that suspicion had offered itself, and its continuance was short. With an aching heart she folded up the few necessaries she intended to take w ith her. She instinctively listened, with an anxiety that would almost have enabled her to hear the stirring of a leaf. From time to time she thought her ear was struck with the sound of feet; but the treading, if treading it were, was so soft, that she could never ascertain whether it were a real sound, or the mere creature o!" the fancy. Then all was still, as if the universal motion had been at rest. By and by she con- ceived she overheard a noise as of buzzing and low-muttered speech. Her heart palpitated; for a second time she began to doubt the honesty of Grimes. The suggestion was now more anxious than before ; but it was too late. Presently she heard the sound of a key in her chamber-door, and, the rustic made his appearance. She started, and cried, " Are we discovered ? did not I hear youy* speak ? " Grimes advanced on tiptoe with his finger to his lip. "IVo, no," replied he, "all is safe!" He took her by the hand, led her in silence out of the house, and tlien across the garden. Emily examined with her eye the doors and passages as they proceeded, and looked on all sides with foarlul suspi- cion; hut every thing was as vacant and still as shejierself could have wished, (irimes optiied a back-door of the CALEB WILLIAMS. S8 garden already unlocked, that led into an unfrequented lane. There stood two horses ready equipped for the journey, and fastened by their bridles to a post not six yards distant from the garden. Grimes pushed the door after them. "By Gemini," said he, " my heart was in my mouth. As I corned along to you, I saw Mun, coachey, pop along from the back-door to the stables. He was within a hop, step, and jump of me. But he had a lanthorn in his hand, and he did not see me, being as I was darkling." Saying this, he assisted Miss Melville to mount. He troubled her little during the route ; on the contrary, he was remarkably silent and contemplative, a circumstance by no means dis- agreable to Emily, to whom his conversation had never been acceptable. After having proceeded about two miles, they turned into a wood, through which the road led to the place of their destination. The night was extremely dark, at the same time that the air was soft and mild, it being now the middle of summer. Under pretence of exploring the way, Grimes contrived, when they had already penetrated into the midst of this gloomy solitude, to get his horse abreast with that of J^Iiss MelviUe, and tlien, suddenly reaching out his hand, seized hold of her bridle. " 1 think we may as well stop here a bit," said he. " Slop ! " exclaimed Emily w ith surprise ; " why should we stop ? Mr. Grimes, w hat do you mean ? " "Come, come," said he, "never trouble yourself to wonder. Did you think I were such a goose, to take all this trouble merely to gratify your whim ? Y faith, nobody shall find me a pack-horse, to go of other folks' errands, Avithout knowing a reason why. I cannot say that I much minded to have you at first ; but your ways are enough to stir the blood of my grand-dad. Far-fetched and dear-bought is always relishing. Your consent was so hard to gain, that 6* S4 CALEB WILLIAMS. squire ihought it was surest asking in the dark. A' said however, a' would have no such doings in his house, and so, do ye see, we are corned here." " For God's sake, 3Ir. Grimes, think what you are about ! You cannot be base enough to ruin a poor creature who has put herself under your protection !" " I{uin ! No, no, I w ill make an honest woman of you, when all is done. Nay, none of your airs ; no tricks upon travellers 1 I have you here as safe as a horse in a pound ; there is not a house nor a shed within a mile of us ; and, if I miss the opportunity, call me spade. Faith, you are a de- licate morsel, and there is no time to be lost ! " Miss Melville had but an instant in w hich to collect her thoughts. She felt that there was little hope of softening the obstinate and insensible brute in whose power she was placed. But the presence of mind and intrepidity annexed to her character did not now desert her. Grimes had scarcely finished his harangue, when, with a strong and unexpected jerk, she disengaged the bridle from his grasp, and at the same time put her horse upon full speed. She had scarcely advanced twice the length of her horse, when Grimes recovered from his surprise, and pursued her, in- expressibly mortified at being so easily overreached. The sound of his horse behind served but to rouse more com- pletely the mettle of that of Emily ; whether by accident or sagacity, the animal pursued without a fault the narrow and winding w ay ; and the chase continued the whole length of the wood. At the extremity of (his wood there was a gate. The recollection of (his softened a little the cutting disappoint- ment of (iiiines, as he thought himself secure of putting an end, by its assistance, to the career of Emily, nor was il very probable (hat any body would appear to interrupt his designs, iu such a place, and in the dead and silence of the CALEB WILUAMS. 85 night. By the most extraordinary accident, however, they found a man on horseback in wait at this gate. " Help, help !" exclaimed the affrighted Emily ; " thieves ! murder I y help!" The man was Mr. Falkland. Grimes knew his voice ; and therefore, though he attempted a sort of sullen resistance, it was feebly made. Two other men, whom, by reason of the darkness, he had not at first seen, and who were Mr. Falkland's servants, hearing the bustle of the rencounter, and alarmed for the safety of their master, rode up ; and then Grimes, disappointed at the loss of his gra- tification, and admonished by conscious guilt, shrunk from farther parley, and rode off in silence. It may seem strange that i^Ir. Falkland should thus a second time have been the saviour of Miss Melville, and that under circumstances the most unexpected and singular. But in this instance it is easily to be accounted for. He had heard of a man who lurked about this wood for robbery or some other bad design, and that it was conjectured this man was Hawkins, another of the victims of Mr. Tyrrel's rural tyranny, whom I shall immediately have occasion to introduce. Mr. Falkland's compassion had already been strongly excited in favour of Hawkins ; he had in vain en- deavoured to find him, and do him good ; and he easily con- ceived that, if the conjecture which had been made in this instance proved true, he might have it in his power not only to do what he had always intended, but further, to save from a perilous offence against the laws and society a man who appeared to have strongly imbibed the principles of justice and virtue. He took with him two servants, because, going with the express design of encountering robbers, if robbers should be found, he believed he should be inex- cusable if he did not go provided against possible accidents. But he had directed them, at the same time that they kept m CALEB WILLIAMS. within call, to be oirt of the reach of being seen; and it was only the eagerness of their zeal that had brought them up thus early in the present encounter. This new adventure promised something extraordinary. JMr. Falkland did not immediately recognise Miss Melville; and the person of Grimes was that of a total stranger, whom he did not recollect to have ever seen. But it was easy to understand the merits of the case, and the propriety of interfering. The resolute manner of >Tr. Falkland, com- bined with the dread which Grimes, oppressed with a sense of wrong, entertained of the opposition of so elevated a personage, speedily put the ravisher to flight. Emily was left alone with her deliverer. He found her much more collected and calm, than could reasonably have been ex- pected from a person who had been, a moment before, in the most alarming situation. She told him of the place to which she desired to be conveyed, and he immediately un- dertook to escort her. As they went along, she recovered that state of mind which inclined her to make a person to whom she had such repeated obligations, and who was so eminently the object of her admiration, acquainted with the events that had recently befallen her. ]>Ir. Falkland listened with eagerness and surprise. Though he had already known various instances of Mr. Tyrrel's mean jea- lousy and unfeeling tyranny, this surpassed them all ; and he could scarcely credit his ears while he heard the tale. His brutal neighbour seemed to realise all that has been told of the passions of fiends. Miss Melville was obliged to repeat, in the course of her tale, her kinsman's rude accu- .salion aj:;ainst her, of entertaining a passion for IMr. Falk- land; and this she did with the most bewitching simplicity and charming confusion. Though this part of the tale'^u as a source of real pain to her deliverer, yet it is not to hv CALEB WILLIAMS. 87 supposed but that the flattering partiaUty of this unhappy girl increased the interest he felt in her welfare, and the indignation he conceived against her infernal kinsman. They arrived without accident at the house of the good lady under whose protection Emily desired to place herself. Here Mr. Falkland willingly left her as in a place of se- curity. Such conspirsicies as that of which she was intended to have been the victim, depend for their success upon the person against whom they are formed being out of the reach of help ; and the moment they are detected, they are an- nihilated. Such reasoning will, no doubt, be generally found sufficiently solid ; and it appeared to Mr. Falkland perfectly applicable to the present case. But he was mistaken. CHAPTER IX. Mr. Falkland had experienced the nullity of all expostu- lation with Mr. Tyrrel, and was therefore content in the pre- sent case with confining his attention to the intended victim. The indignation with which he thought of his neighbour's character was now grown to such a height, as to fill him with reluctance to the idea of a voluntary interview. Tliere was indeed another affair which had been contemporary with this, that Kad once more brought these mortal enemies into a state of contest, and had contributed to raise into a temper little short of madness, the already inflamed and corrosive bitterness of Mr. Tyrrel. There was a tenant of Mr. Tyrrel, one Hawkins ; — I can- not mention his name without recollecting the painful tra- gedies that are annexed to it ! This Hawkins had originally 88 CALEB WILLIAMS. been taken up by Mr. Tyrrel, with a view of protecting him iiorn the arbitrary proceedings of a neighbouring squire, though he had now in his turn become]an object of perse- cution to Mr. Tyrrel himself. The first ground of their con- nexion was this : — Hawkins, beside a farm which he rented under the above-mentioned squire, had a small freehold estate that he inherited from his father. This of course entitled him to a vote in the county elections; and, a warmly contested election having occurred, he was required by his landlord to vote for the candidate in whose favour he had himself engaged. Hawkins refused to obey the mandate, and soon after received notice to quit the farm he at that time rented. It happened that Mr. Tyirel had interested himself strongly in behalf of the opposite candidate ; and, as Mr. Tyrrel's estate bordered upon the seat of Hawkins's pre- sent residence, the ejected countryman could think of no better expedient than that of riding over to this gentleman's mansion, and relating the case to him. 3Ir. Tyrrel heard him through with attention. " Well, friend," said he, " it is very true that I wished Mr. Jackman to carry his elec- tion ; but you know it is usual in these cases for tenants to vote just as their landlords please. I do not think proper to encourage rebellion." — " All that is very right, an please you," replied Hawkins, " and I would have voted at my landlord's bidding for any other man in the kingdom but Squire l>larlow. You must know one day his huntsman rode over my fence, and so through my best field of stand- ing corn. It was not above a dozen yards about if he had kept the cart-road. The fellow had served me the same sauce, an it phase your honour, three or four times before. So I only asked him what he did that for, and whether he had not nu)rc conscience than to spoil people's crops o' ihal fashion ? Presently the squire came up. He is hut a CALEB WILLIAMS. 89 poor, weazen-face chicken of a gentleman, saving your honour's reverence. And so he flew into a woundy passion, and threatened to horsewhip me. I will do as much in reason to pleasure my landlord as arr a tenant he has ; but I will not give my vote to a man that threatens to horsewhip me. And so, your honour, I and my wife and three children are to be turned out of house and home , and what I am to do to maintain them God knows. I have been a hard-working man, and have always lived well, and I do think the case is main hard. Squire Underwood turns me out of my farm ; and if your honour do not take me in, I know none of the neighbouring gentry will, for fear, as they say, of encouraging their own tenants to run rusty too." This representation was not without its effect upon Mr. Tyrrel. " Well, well, man," replied he, " we will see what can be done. Order and subordination are very good things; but people should know how much to require. As you tell the story, I cannot see that you are greatly to blame. Marlow is a coxcombical prig, that is the truth on't ; and if a man will expose himself, why, he must even take what follows. I do hate a Frenchified fop with all my soul ; and I cannot say that I am much pleased with my neighbour Underwood for taking the part of such a rascal. Hawkins, I think, is your name ? You may call on Barnes, my steward, to-morrow, and he shall speak to you.^'" While Mr. Tyrrel was speaking, he recollected that he had a farm vacant, of nearly the same value as that which Hawkins at present rented under Mr. Underwood. He im- mediately consulted his steward, and, finding the thing suitable in every respect, Hawkins was installed out of hand in the catalogue of Mr. Tyrrel's tenants. Mr. Under- wood extremely resented this proceeding, which indeed, as being contrary to the understood conventions of the 90 CALEB WILLIAMS. cound-y gentlemen, few people but Mr. Tjrrel would have ventured upon. There was an end, said Mr. I'nderwood, to all regulation, if tenants were to be encouraged in such disobedience. It was not a question of this or that can- didate, seeing that any gentleman, who was a true friend to his country, would rather lose his election than do a thing which, if once established into a practice, would deprive them for ever of the power of managing any election. The labouring people were sturdy and resolute enough of their own accord ; it became every day more difficult to keep them under any subordination ; and, if the gentlemen were so ill advised as to neglect the pubUc good, and encourage them in their insolence, there was no foreseeing w here it would end. Mr, Tyrrel was not of a stamp to be influenced by these remonstrances. Their general spirit was sufliciently conformable to the sentiments he himself entertained ; but he was of too vehement a temper to maintain the cha- racter of a consistent politician ; and, however wrong his conduct might be, he would by no means admit of its being set right by the suggestions of others. The more his patronage of Hawkins was criticised, the more inflexibly he adhered to it ; and he w as at no loss in clubs and other assemblies to overbear and silence, if not to confute, his censurers. Beside which, Hawkins had certain accom- plishments which qnalilied him to be a favourite with Mr. Tyrrel. The bluntness of his manner and the ruggedness of his temper gave him some resemblance to his landlord; and, as these qualities were likely to be more frequently exercised on such persons as had incurred Mr. TyrrePs displeasure, than upon i>lr. Tyrrel himself, they were not obsei-ved without some degree of complacency. In a word, he every day received new marks of distinction from his patron, and after some lime was appointed coadjutor lo CALEB WILLIAMS. 91 Mr. Barnes under the denomination of bailiff. It was about the same period that he obtained a lease of the farm of which he was tenant. Mr. Tyrrel determined, as occasion offered, to promote every part of the family of this favoured dependent. Haw- kins had a son, a lad of seventeen, of an agreeable person, a ruddy complexion, and of quick and lively parts. This lad was in an uncommon degree the favourite of his father, who seemed to have nothing so much at heart as the future welfare of his son. Mr. Tyrrel had noticed him two or three times with approbation ; and the boy, being fond of the sports of the field, had occasionally followed the hounds, and displayed various instances, both of agility and sa- gacity, in presence of the squire. One day in particular he exhibited himself with uncommon advantage ; and Mr. Tyrrel without further delay proposed to his father, to take him into his family, and make him whipper-in to his hounds, till he could provide him with some more lucrative appointment in his service. This proposal was received by Hawkins with various marks of mortification. He excused himself with hesitation for not accepting the offered favour ; said the lad w as in many ways useful to him; and hoped his honour would not insist upon depriving him of his assistance. This apo- logy might perhaps have been sufficient with any other man than Mr. Tyrrel ; but it was frequently observed of this gentleman that, when he had once formed a deter- mination, however slight, in favour of any measure, he was never afterwards known to give it up, and that (he only effect of opposition was to make him eager and in- flexible, in pursuit of that to which he had before been nearly indifferent. At first he seemed to receive the apo- logy of Hawkins with good humour, and to see nothing in it but what was reasonable ; but afterwards, every time he W CALEB WILLIAMS. saw ihe boy, his desire of retaining him in his senice was increased, and he more than once repeated to his father the good disposition in which he felt himself to- wards him. At length he observed that the lad was no more to be seen mingling in his favourite sports, and he began to suspect that this originated in a determination to thwart him in his projects. Roused by this suspicion, which, to a man of Mr. Tyrrel's character, w as not of a nature to brook delay, he sent for Hawkins to confer with him. " Hawkins," said he, in a tone of displeasure, " I am not satisfied with you. I have spoken to you two or three times about this lad of yours, whom I am desirous of taking into favour. What is the reason, sir, that you seem unthankful and averse to my kindness ? You ought to know that I am not to be trifled \\ ith. I shall not be contented, when I offer my favoui-s, to have them rejected by such fellows as you. I made you what you are ; and, if I please, can make you more help- less and miserable than you were when I found you. Have a care !" " An it please your honour," said Hawkins, " you have been a very good master to me, and I will tell you the whole truth. I hope you will na be angry. This lad is jiiy favourite, my comfort, and the stay of my age." " Well, and what then? Is that a reason you should hinder his preferment?" " Nay, pray your honour, hear me. I may be very weak for aught I know in this case, but 1 cannot help it. My father was a clergyman. We have all ol" us lived in a creditable way; and I cannot bear to think that this poor lad of mine >lioiild go to service. For my part, I do not see any good tliut comes by servants. I do not know, your honour, but, I think, I should not like my Leonard to be such as they, (iod forgive nic, il I w rong niem ! Hul CALEB WILLUMS. 93 this is a very dear case, and I cannot bear to risk my poor boy's welfare, when I can so easily, if you please, keep him out of harm's way. At present he is sober and industrious, and, without being pert or surly, knows what is due to him. I know, your honour, that it is main foohsh of me to talk to you thus ; but your honour has been a good mas- ter to me, and I cannot bear to tell you a lie," Mr. Tyrrel had heard the whole of this harangue in silence, because he was too much astonished to open his mouth. If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, he could not have testified greater surprise. He had thought that Hawkins was so foolishly fond of his son, that he could not bear to trust him out of his presence ; but had never in the slightest degree suspected what he now found to be the truth. " Oh, ho, you are a gentleman, are you ? A pretty gen- tleman truly ! your father was a clergyman ! Your family is too good to enter into my service I Why, you impudent rascal ! was it for this that I took you up, when Mr. Un- derwood dismissed you for your insolence to him ? Have I been nursing a viper in my bosom ? Pretty master's manners will be contaminated truly ! He will not know what is due to him, but will be accustomed to obey orders! You insufferable villain ! Get out of my sight ! Depend upon it, I will have no gentlemen on my estate ! I will off with them, root and branch, bag and baggage! So do you hear, sir ? come to me to-morrow morning, bring your son, and ask my pardon ; or, take my word for it, I will make you so miserable, you shall wish you had never been born." This treatment was too much for Hawkins's patience. " There is no need, your honour, that I should come to you again about this affair. I have taken up my deter- mination, and no time can make any change in it. I am .1 CALEB WILLIAMS. main sorry to displease your worship, and I know that you can do nie a great deal of mischief. But I hope you will not he so hardhearted as to ruin a father only for being fond of iiis child, even if so he that his fondness should make him do a foolish thing. But I cannot help it, your honour : you must do as you please. The poorest neger, as a man may say, has some pomt that he will not part with. I will lose all that I have, and go to day-labour, and my son too, if needs must ; but I will not make a gen- tleman's servant of him." " Very well, friend ; very w ell !" replied Mr. Tyrrel, foaming with rage. " Depend upon it, I will remember you ! Your pride shall have a downfal ! God damn it ! is it come to this ? Shall a rascal that farms his forty acres, |)retend to beard the lord of the manor ? I will tread you into paste! Let me advise you, scoundrel, to shut up your house and fly, as if the devil was behind you ! You may think yourself happy, if I be not too quick for you yet, if you escape in a whole skin ! I would not suffer such a villain to remain upon my land a day longer, if I could gain the Indies by it !" " Not so fast, your honour," answered Hawkins, sturdily. " I hope you w ill think better of it, and see that I have not been to blame. But if you should not, there is some harm that you can do me, and some harm that you cannot. Though I am a plain, working man, your honour, do you see ? yet I am a man still. IS'o ; I have got a lease of my farm, and I shall not quit it o' thaten. I hope there is some law for pooi- folk, as w ell as for rich." !Nh'. Tyrrel, unused to nmtradiction, was provoked be- yond bearing at the courage and independent spirit of his retainer. There was not a tenjmt upon his estate, or at least not one of Hawkins's mediocrity of fortune, w hom the general poli* y of landowueis, and still more the arbitrary CALEB WILLIAMS. 95 and uncontrollable temper of Mr. Tyrrel, did not effec- tually restrain from acts of open defiance. " Excellent, upon my soul ! God damn my blood! but you are a rare fellow. You have a lease, have you ? You will not quit, not you I a pretty pass things are come to, if a lease can protect such fellows as you against the lord of a manor ! But you are for a trial of skill ? Oh, very well, friend, very well ! With all my soul ! Since it is come to that, we will show you some pretty sport before we have done ! But get out of my sight, you rascal ! I have not another word to say to you ! Never darken my doors again." — -\ Hawkins (to borrow the language of the world) was guilty iu this affair of a double imprudence. He talked to his landlord in a more peremptory manner than the con- stitution and practices of this country allow a dependent to assume. But above all, having been thus hurried away by his resentment, he ought to have foreseen the conse- quences. I It was mere madness in him to think of con- testing with a man of Mr. Tyrrel's eminence and fortune. It was a fawn contending with a lion. Nothing could have been more easy to predict, than that it was of no avail for him to have right on his side, when his adversary had in- fluence and wealth, and therefore could so victoriously justify any extravagancies that he might think proper to commit. This maxim was completely illustrated in the sequel. Wealtli and despotism easily know how to engage those laws as the coadjutors of their oppression, which were perhaps at first intended [witless and miserable pre- caution !] for the safeguards of the poorj From this moment Mr. Tyrrel was bent upon Hawkins's destruction ; and he left no means unemployed that could either harass or injure the object of his persecution. He deprived him of his appointment of bailiff, and directed 96 CALEB WUXUMS. Barnes and his other dependents to do him ill offices upon all occasions. Mr. Tyrrel, by the tenure of his manor, was impropriator of the great tithes, and this circumstance afforded him frequent opportunities of petty altercation. The land of one part of Hawkins's farm, though covered with corn, was lower than the rest ; and consequently ex- posed to occasional inundations from a river by which it was bounded. .Mr. Tyrrel had a dam belonging to this river privately cut, about a fortnight before the season of harvest, and laid the whole under water. He ordered his servants" to pull away the fences of the higher ground during the night, and to turn in his cattle, to the utter destruction of the crop. These expedients, however, applied to only one part of the propery of this unfortunate man. But Mr. Tyrrel did not stop here. A sudden mortality took place among Hawkins's live stock, attended witli very suspicious circumstances. Hawkins's vigilance was strongly excited by this event, and he at length succeeded in tracing the matter so accurately, that he conceived he could bring it home to Mr. Tyrrel himself. Hawkins had hitherto carefully avoided, notwithstanding the injuries he had suffered, the attempting to right himself by legal process ; being bf opinion that law was better adapted for a weapon of tyranny in the hands of the rich, than for a shield to protect the humbler part of the com- munity against their usurpations. la this last instance, however, he conceived that the offence was so atrocious, as to make it impossible that any rank could protect the culprit against the severity of justice. In the sequel, he saw reason to applaud himself for his former inactivity in this respect, and to repent that any motive had been strong enough to persuade him into a contrary system. This was the very point to wliicli Mr. Tyrrel wanted to l)ring him, and lie rould scareely credit his good fortune, CALEB WILLIAMS 97 when he was told that Hawkins had entered an action. His congratulation upon this occasion was immoderate, as he now conceived that the ruin of his late favourite was irretrievable. He consulted his attorney, and urged him by every motive he could devise, to employ the whole series of his subterfuges in the present affair. The direct repelling of the charge exhibited against him was the least part of his care ; the business was, by affidavits, motions, pleas, demurrers, flaws, and appeals, to protract the ques- tion from term to term, and from court to court. It would, as Mr. Tyrrel argued, be the disgrace of a civilized coun- try, if a gentleman, when insolently attacked in law by the scum of the earth, could not convert the cause into a ques- tion of the longest purse, and stick in the skirts of his ad- I versary till he had reduced him to beggary. Mr. Tyrrel, however, was by no means so far engrossed by his law-suit, as to neglect other methods of proceeding offensively against his tenant. Among the various expe- dients that suggested themselves, there was one, which, though it tended rather to torment than irrepaiably injure the sufferer, was not rejected. This was derived from the particular situation of Hawkins's house, barns, stacks, and outhouses. They were placed at the extremity of a slip of land connecting them with the rest of the farm, and were surrounded on three sides by fields, in the occupation of one of Mr. Tyrrel's tenants most devoted to the pleasures of his landlord. The road to the market-town ran at the bottom of the largest of these fields, and was directly in view of the front of the house. No inconvenience had yet arisen from that circumstance, as there had always been a broad path, that intersected this field, and led directly from Hawkins's house to the road. This path, or private road, was now, by concert of Mr. Tyrrel and his obliging tenant, shut up, so as to make Hawkins a sort of prisoner in his 08 CALEB WIIXIAMS. (m-n domains, and ohlii!;^ Iiiin to go near a milo ahoiif for (he purposes ol" his trafllic. Young Hawkins, the lad who had heen (he original sub- ject of dispute between his father and the squire, had much of his father's spirit, and felt an uncontrollable indignation against the successive acts of despotism of which he was a witness. His resentment was the greater, because the suf- ferings to which his parent was exposed, all of them flowed from aflection to him, at the same lime that he could not propose removing the ground of dispute, as by so doing he would seem to fly in the face of his father's paternal kind- ness. Upon the present occasion, w ithout asking any coun- sel but of his own impatient resentment, he went in the middle of (he night, and removed all (he obstructions that had been placed in the way of the old path, broke the pad locks that had been fixed, and threw open the gates. In these operations he did not proceed unobserved, and the next day a warrant was issued for apprehending him. He was accordingly carried before a meeting of justices, and by them committed to the county gaol, to take his trial for the felony at (he next assizes. Mr. Tyrrel was determined to prosecute the offence with the greatest severity; and his at- torney, having made the proper enquiries for that purpose, undertook to bring it under that clause of the act 9 Geo. I, conunonly called the IJlack Act, which declares that ''any person, armed \\ ilh a sword, or other offensive w eapon, and having his face blackened, or being otherwise disguised, appearing in any warren or place where hares or conies have been or shall be usually kept, and being thereof duly convicted, shall be adjudged guilty of felony, and shall sufl'er death, as in ciises of felony, without benelit of ^as precisely in this stage of the affair, that Mr. Falk- land and Mr. Tyrrel accidentally met, in a private road near the habitation of the latter. They were on liorsehack, and Mr. Falkland \\as going to the house of the unfortunate tenant, w ho seemed upon the point of perishing under his landlord's malice. He had been just made acquainted with the tale of this persecution. It had indeed been an additional aggravation of Hawkins's calamity, lliat Mr. Falkland, whose interference might otherwise have saved him, had been ab- sent from the neighbourhood for a considerable lime. He had been three months in London, and from thence had gone to visit his estates in another part of the island. The proud and self-confident spirit of this poor fellow always disposed him to depend, as long as possible, upon his own exertions. He had avoided applying to Mr. I'^alkland, or indeed indulging himself in any manner in communicating and bewailing his hard hap, in the beginning of the conten- tion; and, when the extremity grew more urgent, and he would have been willing to recede in some degree from the stubbornness of his measures, he found it no longer in his power. After an absence of considerable duration, Mr. Falkland at length returned somewhat unexpectedly; and having learned, anu)ng the first articles of country intelli- gence, the distresses of this unfortunate yeoman, he resolved to ride over to his house the next morning, and surprise him with all the relief it was in his power to bestow . At sight of Mr. Tyrtel in this unexpected reui'ounter, his face reddened with indignafum. His lirsl feeling, as he afterwards said, was to avoid him ; but linding that he must pass him, he conceived that it woidd be want (jf spirit CALEB Wll5LIAMf5. foi not to acquaint him \vith his feehngs on the present oc- casion. " Mr. Tyrrel," said he, somewhat abruptly, " I am sorry for a piece of news which I have just heard." " And pray, sir, what is your sorrow to me ?" " A great deal, sir : it is caused by the distresses of a poor tenant of yours, Hawkins. If your steward iiave proceeded without your authority, I think it right to inform you what he has done; and, if he have had year authority, I v.ould gladly persuade you to think better of it." " Mr. Falkland, it would be quite as well if you would mind your own business, and leave me to mind mine. I want no monitor, and I will have none." " You mistake, JMr. Tyrrel ; I am minding my own busi- ness. If I see you fall into a pit, it is my business to draw you out and save your life. If I see you pursuing a wrong mode of conduct, it is my business to set you right and save your honour." " Zounds, sir, do not think to put your conundrums upon me ! Is not the man my tenant ? Is not my estate my own ? What signifies calling it mine, if I am not to have the direction of it ? Sir, I pay for what I have : I owe no man a penny ; and I will not put my estate to nurse to you, nor the best he that wears a head." "It is very true," said 3Ir. Falkland, avoiding any direct notice of the last words of Mr. Tyirel, "that there is a dis- tinction of ranks. I believe that distinction is a good thing, and necessary to the peace of mankind. But, however ne- cessary it may be, we must acknowledge that it puts some hardship upon the lower orders of society. It makes one's heart ache to think, that one man is born to the inheritance of every superfluity, while the whole share of another, without any demerit of his, is drudgery and starving ; and 1^ fALEB WILLIAMS. (hat all this is indispensable. Vve that arc lich,' Mr. Tyrref, must do every thing in our power to lighten the yoke of these unfortunate people. We must not use the advantage that accident has given us with an unmerciful hand. Poor wretches ! they arc pressed almost beyond bearing as it is ; and, if wc unfeelingly give another turn to the machine, they will be crushed into atoms." This pictme was not without its effect, even upon the obdurate mind of Mr. Tyrrel. — "Well, sir, I am no tyrant. I know very well that tyranny is a bad thing. — But you do not infer from thence that these people are to do as they please, and never meet with their deserts ?" " Mr. Tyrrel, I see that you are shaken in your ani- mosity. Suffer me to hail the new-born benevolence of your nature. Go w ith me to Hawkins. Do not let us talk of his deserts ! Poor fellow ! he has suffered almost all that human nature can endure. Let your forgiveness upon this occasion be the earnest of good neighbourhood and friend- ship between you and me." " ISo, sir, I will not go. I own there is something in what you say. I always knew you had the wit to make good your own story, and tell a plausible tale. But I w ill not be come over thus. It has been my character, w hen I had once conceived a scheme of vengeance, never to forego it ; and I will not change that character. I look up Hawkins when every body forsook him, and made a man of him ; and the ungrateful rascal has only insulted me for my pains. Curse me, if 1 ever forgive him ! It w ould be a good jest, indeed, if 1 were to forgive the insolence of my own crea- ture al the desire of a num like you that has been my per- petual plagiu'."' " K(»i(iod's sake,!>lr. Tyrrel, have some reason in your resentnu'nt! Lcl us supposi- thai Hawkins has behaved CALEB WILLIAMS. 103 unjustiliably, and insulted you : is that an offence that never can be expiated? Must the father be ruined, and the son hanged, to glut your resentment ?" "Damn me, sir, but you may talk your heart out: you shall get nothing of me. I shall never forgive myself for having listened to you for a moment, I will suffer nobody to stop the stream of my resentment; if I ever were to forgive him, it should be at nobody's entreaty but my own. But, sir, I never will. If he and all his family were at my feet, I would order them all to be hanged the next minute, if my power were as good as my will." "And this is your decision, is it? Mr. Tyrrel, I am ashamed of you ! Almighty God ! to hear you talk gives one a loathing for the institutions and regulations of so- ciety, and would induce one to fly the very face of man ! But, no! society casts you out; man abominates you. No wealth, no rank, can buy out your stain. You will live deserted in the midst of your species; you will go into crowded societies, and no one will deign so much as to salute you. They will fly from your glance as they would from the gaze of a basilisk. Where do you expect to find the hearts of flint that shall sympathise with yours ? You liave the stamp of misery, — incessant, undivided, unpitied misery !" Thus saying, Mr. Falkland gave spurs to his horse, rudely pushed beside Mr. Tyrrel, and was presently out of sight. Flaming indignation annihilated even his favourite sense of honour, and he regarded his neighbour as a wretch, with whom it was impossible .even to enter into contention. For the latter, he remained for the present motionless and petrified. The glowing enthusiasm of Mr. Falkland was such as might well have unnerved the stoutest foe. Mr. Tyrrel, in spite of himself, was blasted with the compunc- tions of guilt, and unable to string himself for the con- y 104 CALEB WILLIAMS. test. The picture Mr. Falkland had drawn was pi-ophefic. It described what Mr. Tyrrcl chielly feared ; and what in its commencements he thought he already felt. It was responsive to the whispering of his own meditations ; it simply gave body and voice to the spectre that haunted him, and to the terrors of which he was an hourly prey. By and by, howevei-, he recovered. The more he had been temporarily confounded, the fiercer was his resent- ment when he came to himself. Such hatred never existed in a human bosom without marking its progress with vio- lence and death. Mr. Tyrrel, however, felt no inclination to have recourse to personal defiance. He wa.s the furthest in the \\ orld from a coward ; but his genius sunk before the genius of Falkland. He left his vengeance to the disposal of circumstances. He was secure that his animosity a\ ould never be forgotten nor diminished by the interposition of any time or events. Vengeance was his nightly dream, and the uppermost of his waking thoughts. Mr. Falkland had departed from this conference \\ ith a confirmed disapprobation of the conduct of his neighbour, and an unalterable resolution to do every thing in his power to relieve the distresses of Hawkins. But he was too late. When he arrived, he found the house already evaoiated by its master. The family was removed nobody knew whither; Hawkins had absconded, and, what was still more extraordinary, the boy Hawkins had escaped on the very same day from the county gaol. The enquiries Mr. !• alkland set on foot after them were fruitless ; no traces could be found of the catastrophe of these unhappy people. That cataslroplio F shall shortly have occasion to relate, and It will be found pregnant with horror beyond what the blackest misanlluopy could readily have suggested. I go on wilh my talc. I g<) on to relate those incidents CALEB WILLIAMS. 105 in which my own l"a(e was so mysteriously involved. 1 Hft the curtain, and bring forward the last act of the tragedy. CHAPTER X. It may easily be supposed, that the ill temper cherished by Mr. Tyrrel in his contention with Hawkins, and the in- creasing animosity between him and Mr. Falkland, added to the impatience with which he thought of the escape of Emily. Mr. Tyrrel heard with astonishment of the miscarriage of an expedient, of the success of which he had not previ- ously entertained the slightest suspicion. He became frantic with vexation. Grimes had not dared to signify the event of his expedition in person, and the footman whom he de- sired to announce to his master that Miss 3Ielville was lost, the moment after fled from his presence with the most dreadful apprehensions. Presently he bellowed for Grimes, and the young man at last appeared before him, more dead than alive. Grimes he compelled to repeat the particulars of the tale ; which he had no sooner done, than he once again slunk away, shocked at the execrations with which Mr. Tyrrel overwhelmed him. Grimes was no coward; but he reverenced the inborn divinity that attends on rank, as Indians worship the devil. Nor was this all. The rage of Mr. Tyrrel was so ungovernable and fierce, that few hearts could have been found so stout, as not to have trembled before it with a sort of unconquerable infe- riority. 106 ( ALEB WILLIAMS. He no sooner oblainnl a moment's pause ihan he began lo recall to his tempestuous mind the various circumstances of the case. His complaints were bitter; and, in a tran- quil ob.server, might have produced the united feeling of |)ity for his suderings, and horror at his depravity. He recollected all the precautions he had used; he could scarcely find a Haw in the process; and he cursed that blind and malicious power which delighted to cross his most deep-laid schemes. " Of this malice he w as beyond all other human beings the object. He was mocked with the shadow of power; and when he lifted his hand to smite, it was struck with sudden palsy. [In the bitterness of his anguish, he forgot his recent triumph over Hawkins, or perhaps he regarded it less as a triumph, than an over- throw, because it had failed of coming up to the extent of his malice.^ To what purpose had Heaven given him a feeling of injury, and an instinct to resent, while he could in no case make his resentment felt ! It \\ as only neces- sary for him to be the enemy of any person, to insure that person's being safe against the reach of misfortune. What insults, the most shocking and repeated, had he received from this paltry girl 1 And by whom was she now torn from his indignation ? By that devil that liaunted him at every moment, that crossed him at every step, (hat fixed at pleasure his arrows in his heart, and made mows and mockery at his insuderable tortures." There was one other rellection that increased anguish, and made hiui careless and desperate as lo his luture con- duct. It was in vain to conceal from himself that his re- putation would be cruelly wounded by (his event. He had imagined lliat, while Kiuily was forced into (his odious marriage, she woiiM be obliged by decorum, as soon as ihc e\en( was (!(•( iiU d, lo Ir. CALEB WILLIAMS. 107 Falkland would take a pride in publishing his dishonour. Though the provocations he had received from Miss Mel- ville would, in his own opinion, have justified him in any treatment he should have thought proper to inflict, he was sensible the world would see the matter in a different light. This reflection augmented the violence of his resolutions, and determined him to refuse no means by which he could transfer the anguish that now preyed upon his own mind to that of another. Meanwhile, the composure and magnanimity of Emily had considerably subsided, the moment she believed her- self in a place of safety. While danger and injustice as- sailed her with their menaces, she found in herself a cou- rage that disdained to yield. The succeeding appearance of calm was more fatal to her. There was nothing now, powerfully to foster her courage or excite her energy. She looked back at the trials she had passed, and her soul sickened at the recollection of that, which, while it was in act, she had had the fortitude to endure. Till the period at w hich Mr. Tyrrel had been inspired with this cruel an- tipathy, she had been in all instances a stranger to anxiety and fear. Uninured to misfortune, she had suddenly and without preparation been made the subject of the most infernal malignity. When a man of robust and vigorous constitution has a lit of sickness, it produces a more power- ful effect, than the same indisposition upon a deUcate va- letudinarian. Such was the case with Miss Melville. She passed the succeeding night sleepless and uneasy, and was found in the morning with a high fever. Her distemper resisted for the present all attempts to assuage it, though there was reason to hope that the goodness of her constitu- tion, assisted by tranquillity and the kindness of those about her, would ultimately surmount it. On the second day she was delirious. On the night of that day she was lOS CALKB ^MLL1AMS. aiTCstod at the suit of Mr. Tyirel, lor a debt contracted for board arid necessaries lor the last fourteen years. The idea of this arrest, as the reader will perhaps re- collect, first occurred, in the conversation between Mr. Tyrrcl and Miss Melville, soon after he had thought proper to conline her to her chamber. But at that time he had probably no serious conception of ever being induced to carry it into execution. It had merely been mentioned by way of threat, and as the suggestion of a mind, whose habits had long been accustomed to contemplate every possible instrument of tyranny and revenge. But now, (hat the unlooked-for rescue and escape of his poor kins- woman had wrought up Isis thouglits to a degree of in- sanity, and that he revolved in the gloomy recesses of his mind, how he might best shake ofl" the load of disappoint- ment which oppressed him, the idea recurred with double force. He was not long in forming his resolution; and, calling for Baines his steward, immediately gave him direc- tions in what manner to proceed. Barnes had been for several years the instiument of .Mr. Tyrrel's injustice. His mind was hardened by use, and he could, without remorse, officiate as the spectator, or even as the author and director, of a scene of vulgar distress. But even he was somewhat startled upon the present oc- casion. The character and conduct of Emily in Mr. Tyr- rel's family had been without a blot. She had not a single enemy; and it was impossible to contemplate her youth, her vivacity, and her guileless innocence, without emotions of sympathy and compassion. " Your worship?— I do not understand you! — Arrest Miss — IMiss Emily!" "Yes, -I (ell you! -What is the matter with you?- CALEB WILLUMS. "Where would you lake licr? What is it you mean to do?" "To the county jail. Hullock, go, order a post-chaise Iroiri the Griffin ! " " Stay, I say ! Give no such orders ! Wait only three hours ; I will send off a messenger express to Squire Falk- land, and I am sure he will satisfy you as to any harm that can come to you, without its being necessary to take the poor child to jail." " We have particular directions against that. We are not at liberty to lose a minute. Why are not you gone? Order the horses to be put to immediately ! " Emily had listened to the course of this conversation, which had sufficiently explained to her w hatever w as enig- matical in the first appearance of the bailiffs. The painful and incredible reality that was thus presented effectually dissi- pated the illusions of frenzy to which she had just been a prey. "My dear madam," said slie to Mrs. Hammond, "do not iiarass yourself with useless efforts. I am very sorry for all the trouble I have given you. But my misfortune is ine- vitable. Sir, if you will step into the next room, I will dress myself, and attend you immediately." Mrs. Hammond began to be equally aware that her struggles were to no purpose ; but she could not be equally patient. At one moment she raved upon the brutality of Mr. Tyrrel, whom she affirmed to be a devil incarnate, and not a man. At anothei- she expostulated, with hitler invec- tive, against the hardheartodness of the bailiff, and exhorted him to mix some humanity and moderation with the dis- charge of his function ; but he was impenetrable to all she could urge. In the mean while Kmily yielded with the swcelrst resignation to an inevitable evil. Mrs. Hammond insisted thai, at least, they shouM permit her to attend her CALEB WILLIAMS. US young lady in the chaise ; and the baihfF, though the orders he had received were so peremptory that he dared not exercise his discretion as to the execution of the writ, began to have some apprehensions of danger, and was wiUing to admit of any precaution that was not in direct hostility to his functions. For the rest he understood, that it was in all cases dangerous to allow sickness, or apparent unfitness for removal, as a sufficient cause to interrupt a direct process ; and that, accordingly, in all doubtful questions and pre- sumptive murders, the practice of the law inchned, with a laudable partiality, to the vindication of its own officers. In addition to these general rules, he was influenced by the positive injunctions and assurances of Swineard, and the. terror which, through a circle of many miles, was aTinexed to the name of Tyrrel. Before they dep arted, M rs. Ham- mond despatched a messenger with a letter of three lines to Mr. Falkland, informing him of this extraordinary event. Mr. Falkland was from home when the messenger arrived, and not- expected to return till the second day ; accident- seemed in this instance to favour the vengeance of Mr. Tyr- rel, for he had himself been too much under the dominion of an uncontrollable fury, to take a circumstance of this sort into his estimate. The forlorn state of these poor women, who were con- ducted, the one by compulsion, the other a volunteer, to a scene so little adapted to their accommodation as that of a common jail, may easily be imagined. Mrs. Hammond, however, was endowed with a masculine courage and im- petuosity of spirit, eminently necessary in the difficulties they had to encounter. She was in some degree fitted by a sanguine temper, and an impassioned sense of injustice, for the discharge of those very offices which sobriety and calm reflection might have prescribed. The health of Miss Melville was materially affected by the surprise and removal Ill CALEB WILLAMS sh« had undergone at the very time that repose was most necessary for her preservation. Her fever became more violent ; her delirium was stronger; and the tortures of her imagination were proportioned to the unfavourableness of the state in which the removal had been effected. It was highly improbable that she could recover. In the moments of suspendetl reason she was perpetually calling on the name of Falkland, Mr. Falkland, she said, was her first and only love, and he should be her husband. A moment after she exclaimed upon him in a disconsolate, yet, reproachful tone, for his unworthy deference to the prejudices of the world. It was very cruel of him to show himself so proud, and tell her that he would never consent to marry a beggar. But, if he were proud, she v\ as de- termined to be proud too. He should see that she would not conduct herself like a slighted maiden, and that, though he could reject her, it was not in his power to break her heart. At another time she imagined she saw 31 r. Tyrrel and his engine Grimes, their hands and garments dropping with blood : and the pathetic reproaches she vented against them might have affected a heart of stone. Then the figure of Falkland presented itself to her distracted fancy, de- formed with wounds, and of a deadly paleness, and she shrieked with agony, while she exclaimed that such was the general hardheartedness, that no one would make the smallest exertion for his rescue. In such vicissitudes of pain, perpetually imagining to herself unkindness, insult, conspiracy, and murder, she passed a considerable part of two days. On the evening of (he second Mr. Falkland arrived, accompanied by Doctor Wilson, the physician by whom she had previously been attended. The scene he was called upon to witness was such a.s to be most exquisitely agonis- ing to a man of his acute sensibility. The news of (he arrest CALEB WILLIAMS. U5 bad given him an inexpressible shock ; he was transported out of himself at the unexampled maUgnity of its author. But, when he saw the figure of Miss Melville, haggard, and a warrant of death written in her countenance, a victim to the diabolical passions of her kinsman, it seemed too much to be endured. When he entered, she was in the midst of one of her fits of delirium, and immediately mistook her visitors for two assassins. She asked, where they had hid her Falkland, her lord, her life, her husband! and demanded that they should restore to her his mangled corpse, that she might embrace him with her dying arms, breathe her last upon his lips, and be buried in the same grave. She re- proached them with the sordidness of their conduct in be- coming the tools of her vile cousin, who had deprived her of her reason, and would never be contented till he had murdered her. Mr. Falkland tore himself away from this painful scene, and, leaving Doctor Wilson with his patient, desired him, when he had given the necessary directions, to follow him to his inn. The perpetual hurry of spirits in which Miss Melville had been kept for several days, by the nature of her indisposition, was extremely exhausting to her; and, in about an hour from the visit of Mr. Falkland, her delirium subsided, and left her in so low a state as to render it difficult to perceive any signs of life. Doctor Wilson, who had withdrawn, to soothe, if possible, the disturbed and impatient thoughts of Mr. Falkland, was summoned afresh upon this change of symptoms, and sat by the bedside during the remainder of the night. The situation of his patient was such, as to keep him in momentary apprehension of her decease. While Miss IVlelville lay in this feeble and exhausted con- dition, Mrs. Hammond betrayed every token of the tenderesl anxiety. Her sensibility was habitually of the acutest sort, and the qualities of Emily were such as powerfully to fiv 116 CALEB WILLUMS. Iier affection. She loved her like a mother. Upon the present occasion, every sound, every motion, made her tremble. Doctor Wilson had introduced another nurse, in consideration of the incessant fatigue Mrs. Hammond had undergone; and he endeavoured, by representations, and even by authority, to compel her to quit the apartment of the patient. But she was uncontrollable; and he at length found that he should probably do her more injury, by the violence that would be necessary to separate her from the suffering innocent, than by allowing her to follow her in- clination. Her eye was a thousand times turned, with the most eager curiosity, upon the countenance of Doctor Wil- son, without her daring to breathe a question respecting his opinion, lest he should answer her by a communication of the most fatal tidings. In the mean time, she listened with the deepest attention to every thing that dropped either from the physician or tlie nurse, hoping to collect, as it were, from some oblique hint, the intelligence which she had not courage expressly to require. Towards morning the state of the patient seemed to take a favourable (urn. She dozed for near two hours, and, when she awoke, appeared perfectly calm and sensible. Understanding that Mr. Falkland had brought (he phy- sician to attend her, and was himself in her neighbour- hood, she requested to see him. Mr. Falkland had gone in the mean time, with one of his tenants, to bail the debt, and now entered the prison to enquire whether (he young lady might be safely removed, from her present miserable resi- dence, to a more airy and commodious apar(men(. When he appeared, the sight of him revived in the mind of Miss Melville an imperfect recollection of the w anderings of her delirium. She covered her Ijice with her (ingors, and be- (rayed (he most expressive confusion, while she thanked him, with her \isual unaffected simj»lici(y, for the (rouble CALEB WILLIAMS. 117 he had taken. She hoped she should not give him much more ; she thought she should get better. It was a shame, she said, if a young and lively girl, as she was, could not contrive to outlive the trifling misfortunes to which she had been subjected. But, while she said this, she was still extremely weak. She tried to assume a cheerful coun- tenance ; but it was a faint effort, which the feeble state of her frame did not seem sufficient to support. Mr. Falkland and the doctor joined to request her to keep herself quiet, and avoid for the present all occasions of exertion. Encouraged by these appearances, Mrs. Hammond ven- tured to follow the two gentlemen out of the room, in order to learn from the physician what hopes he enter- tained. Doctor Wilson acknowledged, that he found his patient at first in a very unfavourable situation, that the symptoms were changed for the better, and that he was not without some expectation of her recovery. He added, however, that he could answer for nothing, that the next twelve hours would be exceedingly critical, but that if she did not grow worse before morning, he would then un- dertake for her life. Mrs. Hammond, who had hitherto seen nothing but despair, now became frantic with joy. She burst into tears of transport, blessed the physician in the most emphatic and impassioned terms, and uttered a thousand extravagancies. Doctor Wilson seized this oppor- tunity to press her to give herself a Uttle repose, to which she consented, a bed being first procured for her in the room next to Miss Melville's, she having charged the nurse to give her notice of any alteration in the state of the patient. Mrs. Hammond enjoyed an uninterrupted sleep of se- veral hours. It was already night, when she was awaked by an unusual bustle in the next room. She hstened for a few moments, and then determined to go and discover / 118 CALEB WILLIAMS. the occasion of it. As she opened her door for tliat pur- pose, she met the nurse coming to her. The countenance of the messenger told lier what it w as she had to com- juunicate, without the use of words. She hurried to the bedside, and found JMiss Melville expiring. The ap- pearances that had at first been so encouraging were of short duration. The calm of the morning proved to be only a sort of hghtening before death. In a few hours the patient grew worse. The bloom of her countenance faded ; she drew her breath with difficulty ; and her eyes became fixed. Doctor Wilson came in at this period, and immediately perceived that all was over. She was for some time in convulsions ; but, these subsiding, she ad- dressed the physician with a composed, though feeble voice. She thanked him for his attention ; and expressed the most Uvely sense of her obligations to 3Ir. Falkland. She sincerely forgave her cousin, and hoped he might never be visited by too acute a recollection of his bar- barity to her. She would have been contented to hve. Few persons had a sincerer relish of the pleasures of life; but she was well pleased to die, rather than have become the wife of Grimes. As Mrs. Hammond entered, she turned her countenance towards her, and with an affec- tionate expression repeated her name. This was her last word ; in less than two hours from that time she breathed her last in the arms of this faithful friend. CHAPTER XI. Such was the fate of Miss Emily .Melville. Perhaps tyranny never exhibited a more painful memorial of thr CALEB WILLIAMS. U9 detestation in which it deserves to be lield. The idea ir- resistibly excited in every spectator of the scene, was that of regarding Mr. Tyrrel as the most diabolical wretch that had ever dishonoured the human form. The very at- tendants upon this house of oppression, for the scene was acted upon too public a stage not to be generally un- derstood, expressed their astonishment and disgust at his. unparalleled cruelty. If such were the feelings of men bred to the commis- f sion of injustice, it is difficult to say what must have been those of Mr. Falkland. He raved, he swore, he beat his head, he rent up his hair. He was unable to continue in one posture, and to remain in one place. He burst away from the spot with vehemence, as if he sought to leave behind him his recollection and his existence. He seemed to tear up the ground with fierceness and rage. He re- turned soon again. He approached the sad remains of what had been Emily, and gazed on them with such in- tentness, that his eyes appeared ready to burst from their sockets. Acute and exquisite as were his notions of virtue and honour, he could not prevent himself from reproaching the system of nature, for having given birth to such a monster as Tyrrel. He was ashamed of himself for wear- ing the same form. He could not think of the human species with patience. He foamed with indignation against the laws of the universe, that did not permit him to crush such reptiles at a blow, as we would ci'ush so many noxious insects. It was necessary to guard him like a madman. The whole office of judging what was proper to be done under the present circumstances devolved upon Doctor Wilson. The doctor was a man of cool and methodical habits of acting. One of the first ideas that suggested itself to him was, that IVIiss Melville was a branch of the family IM CALEB WILLIAMS. of Tyircl. He did not doubt of the willingness of Mr. Falk- land to discbarge every expense that might be further in- cident to the melancholy remains of this unfortunate victim ; but he conceived that the laws of fashion and decorum required some notification of the event to be made to the head of the family. Perhaps, too, he had an eye to his interest in his profession, and was reluctant to expose him- self to the resentment of a person of iMr. TyrrePs consi- deration in the neighbourhood. But, with this weakness, he had nevertheless some feelings in common with the rest of the world, and must have suffered considerable violence, before he could have persuaded himself to be the messenger; beside which, he did not think it right in the present situation to leave Mr. Falkland. Doctor Wilson no sooner mentioned these ideas, than they seemed to make a sudden impression on Mrs. Ham- mond, and she earnestly requested that she might be per- mitted to carry the intelligence. The proposal was unex- pected ; but the doctor did not very obstinately refuse his assent. She was determined, she said, to see what sort of impression the catastrophe would make upon the author of it ; and she promised to comport herself with moderation and civility. The jouiney was soon performed. " I am come, sir," said she to Mr. Tyrrel, " to inform you that your cousin. Miss Melville, died this afternoon." "Died?" " Yes, sir. I saw her die. She died in these arms." " Died? Who killed her? What do you mean?" "Who? Is it for you to ask that question? Your cruelty and malice killed her!" " Mc ? — my ? — Poh ! she is not dead — it cannot be — it is not a'wcek since she left this house." " Do not you believe me? I say she is dead!" CALEB WILLIAMS. 121 " Have a care, woman ! this is no malter for jesting. No : though she used me ill, 1 would not believe her dead for all the world ! " Mrs. Hammond shook her head in a manner expressive at once of grief and indignation. "No, no, no, no! I will never believe that! — No, never ! " " Will you come with me, and convince your eyes ? It is a sight worthy of you ; and will be a feast to such a heart as yours!" — Saying this, Mrs. Hammond offered her hand, as if to conduct him to the spot. Mr. Tyrrel shrunk back. " If she be dead, what is that to me ? Am I to answer for every thing that goes wrong in the world ? — What do you come here for? Why bring your messages to me?" " To whom should I bring them but to her kinsman, — and her murderer." " Murderer ? — Did I employ knives or pistols ? Did I give her poison ? I did nothing but what the law allows. ^ If she be dead, nobody can say that I am to blame ! " " To blame? — All the world will abhor and curse you. Were you such a fool as to think, because men pay respect to wealth and rank, this would extend to such a deed ? They will laugh at so barefaced a cheat. The meanest beggar will spurn and spit at you. Ay, you may well stand confounded at what you have done. I will proclaim you to the whole world, and you will be obliged to fly the very face of a human creature I" " Good woman," said Mr. Tyrrel, extremely humbled, " talk no more in this strain ! — Emmy is not dead ! I am sure — I hope — she is not dead ! — Tell me that you have only been deceiving me, and I will forgive you every thing — I will forgive her — I will take her into favour — I will do any thing you please ! — I never meant her any harm !" // in \v 1«9 CALEB VVILLUMS. " I lell you she i^ dead ! You have inuidered (he sweetest innocent that hvcd ! Can you bring her back to life, as you have driven her out of it? If you could, I would kneel to you twenty times a day ! What is it you have done? — Miserable wretch! did you think you could do and undo, and change things this way and that, as you pleased ?" The reproaches of Mrs. Hammond were the first instance Inch Mr. Tyrrel was made to drink the full cup of re- tribution. This was, however, only a specimen of a long i*ries of contempt, abhorrence, and insult, that was re- >erved for him. The w ords of Mrs. Hanmiond w ere pro- phetic. It evidently appeared, that though wealth and hereditary elevation operate as an apology for many delin- quencies, there are some whicli so irresistibly address them- selves to the indignation of mankind, that, like death, they • level all distinctions, and reduce their perpetrator to an equality with the most indigent and squalid of his species. ; Against Mr. Tyrrel, as the tyrannical and immanly mur- derer of Emily, those who dared not venture the unreserved avowal of their sentiments muttered curses, deep, not loud; w hile the rest joined in an universal cry of abhorrence and execration. He stood astonished at the novelty of his situation. Accustomed as he had been to the obedience and treinbling homage of mankind, he had imagined they would be perpetual, and that no excess on his part would ever be polt'nt enough to break the enchantment. Mow he looked roimd, and saw sullen detestation in every face, which with difliculty restrained itself, and upon the slightest provocation broke forth with an impetuous tide, and swept away the ujomuls of suljordination aiul fear. His large estate c(udd not |)urehase civility from the gentry, the peasantry, scarcely honi his own servants. In (he indig rialion of .ill ai«»uud liiui, lie found a ghost llial liaiinlcd CALEB WILLIAMS. 12:i him with every change of place, and a remorse that slung his conscience, and exterminated his peace. The neighbour- hood appeared more and more every day to be growing too hot for him to endure, and it became evident that he would ultimately be obliged to quit the country. Urged by the flagitiousness of this last example, people learned to recollect every other instance of liis excesses, and it was, no doubt, a fearful catalogue that rose up in judgment against him. It seemed as if the sense of public resent- ment had long been gathering strength unperceived, and now burst forth into insuppressible violence. There was scarcely a human being upon whom this sort of retribution could have sat more painfully than upon Mr. Tyrrel. Though he had not a consciousness of innocence prompting him continually to recoil from the detestation of mankind as a thing totally unallied to his character, yet the imperiousness of his temper, and the constant experience he had had of the pliability of other men, prepared him to feel the general and undisguised condemnation into which he was sunk, with uncommon emotions of anger and im- patience. That he, at the beam of whose eye every coun- tenance fell, and to whom in the fierceness of his wrath no one was daring enough to reply, should now be regarded with avowed dislike, and treated with unceremonious cen- sure, was a thing he could not endure to recollect or believe. Symptoms of the universal disgust smote him at every instant, and at every blow he writhed with intolerable anguish. His rage was unbounded and raving. He re- pelled every attack with the fiercest indignation ; while the more he struggled, the more desperate his situation ap- peared to become. At length he determined to collect his strength for a decisive effort, and to meet the whole tide of public opinion in a single scene. In pursuance of these thoughts, he resolved to repair, 1«4 CALEB WILLIAMS. without delay, to the rural assembly which t have already mentioned in the course of my story. Miss Melville had now been dead one month. Mr. Falkland had been ab- sent the last week in a distant part of the country, and was not expected to return for a week longer. Mr. Tyrrel willingly embraced the opportunity, trusting, if he could now eflect his re-cstablishment, that he should easily pre- serve the ground he had gained, even in the face of his formidable rival. Mr. Tyrrel was not deficient in courage ; but he conceived the present to be too important an epoch in his life to allow him to make any unnecessary risk in his chance for future ease and importance. There w as a sort of hustle that took place at his entrance into the assembly, it having been agreed by the gentlemen of the assembly, that 3Ir. Tyrrel was to be refused ad- mittance, as a person with whom they did not choose to associate. This vote had already been notified to him by letter by the master of the ceremonies, but the intelligence was rather calculated, with a man of Mr. Tyrrel's dis- position, to excite defiance than to overawe. At the door of the assembly he was personally met by the master of the ceremonies, who had perceived the arrival of an equipage, and who now endeavoured to repeat his prohibition : but he was thrust aside by Mr. Tyrrel with an air of native au- thority and ineflable contempt. As he entered, every eye was turned upon him. Presently all the gentlemen in the room assembled round him. Some endeavoured to hustle him, and others began to expostulate. But he found the secret elVectually to silence the one set, and to shake off the other. His muscular form, the well-known eminence of his intellectual powers, the long habits to which every man was formed of acknowledging his ascendancy, were all in his favour. Ili> considered hinisclf as playing a desperate slake, and haIr. what do you call yourself, if you have any thing to say to me, choose a proper time and place. Do not think to put on your bullying airs under shelter of this <-ompany ! I will not endure it." " You are mistaken, sir. This public scene is the only place w here I can have any thing to say to you. If you would not hear the universal indignation of mankind, you V must not come into the society of men. — Miss Melville ! — Shame upon you, inhuman, unrelenting tyrant ! Can you hear her name, and not sink into the earth ? Can you retire into solitude, and not see her pale and patient ghost rising to reproach you ? Can you recollect her virtues, her innocence, her spotless manners, her uuresentful tem- per, and not run distracted w ith remorse ? Have you not killed her in the first bloom of her youth ? Can you bear to think that she now hes mouldering in the grave through your cursed contrivance, that deserved a crown, ten thou- sand times more than you deserve to live ? And do you expect that mankind will ever forget, or forgive such a deed ? Go, miserable wretch ; think yourself too happy that you are permitted to fly the Aice of man ! Why, what a pitiful figure do you make at this monient ! Do you think thai any thing could bring so hardened a wretch as you are (o shrink from reproach, if your conscience were not in con- fe of the company dead in the street, having l>een murdered at the dis.tance of a few yards from the assembly house. CALEB WILLIAMS. CHAPTER XII. I SHALL endeavour to state the remainder of this narrative in the words of Mr. CoUins. The reader has already had occasion to perceive that Mr, CoUins was a man of no vulgar order; and his reflections on the subject were un- commonly judicious. " This day was the crisis of Mr. Falkland's history. From hence took its beginning that gloomy and unsociable me- lancholy, of which he has since been the victim. No two characters can be in certain respects more strongly con- trasted, than the Mr. Falkland of a date prior and sub- sequent to these events. Hitherto he had been attended by a fortune perpetually prosperous. His mind was san- guine ; full of that undoubting confidence in its own powers which prosperity is qualified to produce. Though the habits of his life were those of a serious and sublime visionary, they were nevertheless full of cheerfulness and tranquillity. But from this moment, his pride, and the lofty adventurous- ness of his spirit, were effectually subdued. From an object of envy he was changed into an object of compassion. Life, which hitherto no one had more exquisitely enjoyed, became a burden to him. No more self-complacency, no more rapture, no more self-approving and heart-transporting benevolence ! He who had lived beyond any man upon the grand and animating reveries of the imagination, seemed now to have no visions but of anguish and despair. His case was peculiarly worthy of sympathy, since, no doubt, if rectitude and purity of disposition could give a title to 130 CALEB WILLIAMS. happiness, few men could exhibit a more tonsislenl and powerful claim than Mr. Falkland. " He was too deeply pervaded with the idle and gi-ound-\/ less romances of chivalry, ever to forget the situation, hu- '^ miliating and dishonourable according to his ideas, in which he had been placed uj)on this occasion. There is a mysterious sort of divinity annexed to the person of a true knight, that makes any species of brute violence committed upon it indelible and immortal. To be knocked down, cuffed, kicked, dragged along the floor ! Sacred heaven, the me- mory of such a treatment was not to be endured! No future lustration could ever remove the stain : and, what was perhaps still worse in the present case, the offender having ceased to exist, the lustration which the laws of knight-errantry prescribe was rendered impossible. "In some future period o/ human improvement, it is probable, that that calamity will be in a manner unintel- ligible, which in the present instance contributed to tarnish and wither the excellence of one of the most elevated and amiable of human minds. If Mr. Falkland had reflected with perfect accuracy upon the case, he would probably have been able to* look dow^n with indifference upon a wound, which, as it was, pierced to his very vitals. How much more dignity, than in the modern duellist, do we find in Thcmistocles, the most gallant of the (Greeks ; w ho, when Euryl)iades, his commander in chief, m answer to some of his remonstrances, lifted his cane over him with a me- nacing ail-, accosted him in that noble apostrophe, * Strike, but hear!' "How would a man of true discernment in such a case reply to his brutal assailant? 'I make it my boast that I can endure «aiaini(y and pain : shall 1 not be able to endure the trilling incouvciiiencc (hat your lolly can iullict upiui me? Perhaps a hiiuian being would be more accomplished. CALEB WILLIAMS. 131 j if he understood the science of personal defence ; but how I few would be the occasions upon which he would be called ' to exert it ? How few persons would he encounter so unjust and injurious as you, if his own conduct were direct- , ed by the principles of reason and benevolence? Beside, < how narrow would be the use of this science when ac- quired ? It will scarcely put the man of delicate make and ] petty stature upon a level with the athletic pugilist; and, if ■ it did in some measure secure me against the malice of a 1 single adversary, still my person and my life, so far as mere 1 force is concerned, would always be at the mercy of two. i Further than immediate defence against actual violence, it '^ufJlZj^ could never be of use to me. [ The man who can dehbe- j [ rately meet his adversary for the purpose of exposing the ' person 6f one or both of them to injury, tramples upon every ; principle of reason and equity. Duelhng is the vilest of all egotism, treating the public, who has a claim to all my powers and exertions, as if it were nothing, and myself, or 1 rather an unintelligible chimera I annex to myself, as if it were entitled to my exclusive attention.J I am unable to cope ■ w ith you : what then ? Can that circumstance dishonour me ? No : I can only be dishonoured by perpetrating an ' unjust action. My honour is in. my own keeping, beyond j the reach of all mankind. Strike ! I am passive. iNo injury that you can inflict, shall provoke me to expose you or my- self to unnecessary evil. I refuse that; but I am not there- i fore pusillanimous : when I refuse any danger of suffering ^ by which the general good may be promoted, then brand j me for a coward r| " These reasonings, however simple and irresistible they : must be found by a dispassionate enquirer, are little re- •' fleeted on by the world at large, and were most of all un- j congenial to the prejudices of Mr. Falkland. " But the public disgrace and chastisement that had been . j 9* *! 132 CALEB W1LLL\MS. imposed upon liim, intolerable as they were to be recol- lected wore not the whole of the mischief that redounded to our unfortunate patron from the transactions of that day. It was presently whispered that he was no other than'the murderer of his antagonist. This rumour was of too much importance to the very continuance of his life, to justify i(s being concealed from him. He heard it with inexpressible astonishment and horror ; it formed a dread- ful addition to the load of intellectual anguish that already oppressed him. No man had evier^hcld -bis reputation more dear than Mr. Falkland; and now, in one day, he was fallen under the most exquisite calamities, a compli- cated personal insult, and the imputation of the foulest of crimes. He might have tied ; for no one was forward to proceed against a man so adored as Mr. Falkland, or in revenge of one so universally execrated as Mr. Tyrrel. But flight he disdained. In the mean time the affair was of the most serious magnitude, and the rumour unchecked seemed daily to increase in strength. 3Ir. Falkland ap- peared sometimes inclined to adopt such steps as might have been best calculated to bring the imputation to a speedy trial. But he probably feared, by too direct an appeal to judicature, to render more precise an imputation, the memoi-y of w hich he deprecated ; at t]ie same time that he was suflicieutly willing to meet the severest scru- tiny, and, if he could not hope to have it forgotten that he had ever been accused, to prove in the most satisfactory manner that the accusation was unjust. "The neighbouring magistrates at length conceived it necessary to take some steps upon the subject. Without causing Mr. Falkland to be apprehended, they sent to de- sire he would appear before them at one of their meetings. The proceeding being thus opened, .^Ir. Falkland ex- pressed his hope ihal, if the business were hkely to stop CALEB WILLIAMS. 133 there, their investigation might at least be rendered as so- lemn as possible. The meeting was numerous; every person of a respectable class in society was admitted to be an auditor ; the whole town, one of the most considerable in the county, was apprised of the nature of the business- Few trials, invested with all the forms of judgment, have excited so general an interest. A trial, under the present circumstances, was scarcely attainable; and it seemed to be the wish both of principal and umpires, to give to this transaction all the momentary notoriety and decisiveness of a trial. " The magisti'ates investigated the particulars of the story. Mr. Falkland, it appeared, had left the rooms im- mediately after his assailant ; and though he had been at- tended by one or two of the gentlemen to his inn, it was proved that he had left them upon some slight occasion, as soon as he arrived at it, and that, when they enquired for him of the w aiters, he had already mounted his horse and ridden home. " By the nature of the case, no particular facts could be stated in balance against these. As soon as they had been sufficiently detailed, Mr. Falkland therefore proceeded to his defence. Several copies of his defence were made, and Mr. Falkland seemed, for a short time, to have had the idea of sending it to the press, though, for some reason or other, he afterwards suppressed it. I have one of the co- pies in my possession, and I will read it to you." Saying this, Mr. Collins rose, and took it from a private drawer in his escritoire. During this action he appeared to recollect himself. He did not, in the strict sense of the word, hesitate ; but he was prompted to make some apo- logy for what he was doing. " You seem never to have heard of this memorable transaction ; and, indeed, that is little to be wondered at, 134 CALEB WILLIAMS. since ihe good nature ol (he world is interested in sup- pressing it, and it is deemed a disgrace to a man to have defended liimself from a criminal imputation, though with circumstances the most satisfactory and honourable. It may be supposed that this suppression is particularly ac- ceptable to Mi: Falkland; and I should not have acted iu criman(I I had received, and his terrible looks; and the recoll(rlilr. Falkland, whenever my gesture or his CALEB WILLIAMS. 145 consciousness impressed him with the idea of my knowing more than I expressed, looked at me with wistful eainest- ness, as questioning what \ as the degree of information I possessed, and how it w; s obtained. But again at our next interview thesimp) vivacity of my manner restored his tranquilUty, obhteru.cd the emotion of which I had been the cause, and placed things afresh in their former situation. The longer this humble familiarity on my part had con- tinued, the more effort it would require to suppress it; and Mr. Falkland was neither willing to mortify me by a severe prohibition of speech, nor even perhaps to make me of so much consequence, as that prohibition might seem to imply. Though I was curious, it must not be supposed that I had the object of my enquiry for ever in my mind, or that my questions and innuendoes were per- petually regulated with the cunning of a grey-headed in- quisitor. The secret wound -of Mr. Falkland's mind was much more uniformly present to his recollection than to mine ; and a thousand times he applied the remarks that occurred in conversation, when I had not the remotest idea of such an application, till some singularity in his manner brought it back to my thoughts. The consciousness of this morbid sensibility, and the imagination that its in- fluence might perhaps constitute the whole of the case, served probably to spur Mr. Falkland again to the charge, and connect a sentiment of shame, with every project that suggested itself for interrupting the freedom of our inter- course. I will give a specimen of the conversations to which I allude ; and, as it shall be selected from those which began upon topics the most general and remote, the reader will easily imagine the disturbance that was almost daily en- dured by a mind so tremblingly alive as that of my patron. 10 ,46 CALEB WILLIAMS. i " Pray, sir/' said I, one day as I was assisting Mr. Falk- '' land in arranging some papers, previously to their being transcribed into his collection, "how came Alexander of Macedon (o be surnamed the Great?" "How came it ? Did you never read his history ?" "Yes, sir." " Well, Williams, and could you find no reasons there ?" "Why, I do not know, sir. I could find reasons why he should be so famous ; but every man that is talked of is not admired. Judges differ about the merits of Alexander. Doitor Prideaux says in his ('onnexion, that he deserves onlv ((> be called the Great Cut-throat; and the author of Tom Jones has written a volume, to prove that he and all other conquerors ought to be classed with Jonathan Wild.' >lr. Falkland reddened at these citations. "Accursed blasphemy! Did these authors think that, by the coarseness of their ribaldry, they could destroy his well-earned fame ? .\re learning, sensibility, and taste, no securities to exempt their possessor from this vulgar abuse ? Did you ever read, Williams, of a man more gallant, gene- rous, and free ? Was ever mortal so completely the re- verse of every thing engrossing and seliish ? He formed to himself a sublime image of excellence, and his only ambi- tion was to realise it in his own story. Remember his giving away every thing when he set out upon his grand expedition, professedly reserving for himself nothing but hope. Recollect his heroic confidence in Philip the phy- sician, and hi.s entire and unalterable friendship for Kphes- lion. lie treated the captive family of Darius with the most coidial urbanity, and the venerable Sysigambis with all the tenderness and attention of a son to his mother. — Never lake the judgment, Williams, upon such a subject, of a clerical pedant or a Westminster justice. Examine for Nourself, and you will Diul in Alexander a model of honour. CALEB WILLIAMS. 147 generosity, and disinterestedness, — a man who, for the cul- tivated UberaUty of his mind, and the unparalleled grandeur . of his projects, must stand alone the spectacle and admira- tion of all ages of the world." " Ah, sir ! it is a fine thing for us to sit here and com- pose his panegyric. But shall I forget what a vast expense was bestowed in erecting the monument of his fame ? Was not he the common disturber of mankind ? Did not he overrun nations that would never have heard of him but for his devastations ? How many hundred thousands of lives did he sacrifice in his career ? . What must I think of his cruelties ; a whole tribe massacred for a crime com- mitted by their ancestors one hundred and fifty years before; fifty thousand sold into slavery; two thousand crucified for their gallant defence of theii' country ? Man is surely a strange sort of creature, who never praises any one more heartily than him who has spread destruction and ruin over the face of nations !" "The way of thinking you express, Williams, is natural / enough, and I cannot blame you for it. But let me hope I that you will become more liberal. The death of a hun- dred thousand men is at first sight very shocking ; but what in reality are a hundred thousand such men, more than a hundred thousand sheep ? It is mind, Williams, the gene- ration of knowledge and virtue, that we ought to love. This was the project of Alexander ; he set out in a great under- taking to civilise mankind ; he delivered the vast continent of Asia from the stupidity and degradation of the Persian monarchy ; and, though he was cut off in the midst of his career, we may easily perceive the vast effects of his pro- ject. Grecian literature and cultivation, the Seleucidae, the Anliochuses, and the Ptolemies followed, in nations which before had been sunk to the condition of brutes. Alexander was the builder, as notoriously as the destroyer, of cities." / ! 148 CALEB WILLIAMS. " Ami yet, sir, I am afraid that the pike and the battle- / axe arc not the rii?ht instruments for jnaking men wise. — / Suppose it were admitted that the lives of men w ere to be sacrificed without remorse if a paramount good were to result, it seems to me as if murder and massacre were but a very left-handed way of producing civilisation and love. But piay, do not you think this great hero was a sort of a madman? What now will you say to his firing the palace of Persepolis, his weeping for other worlds to conquer, and his marching his whole army over the burning sands of Libya, merely to visit a temple, and persuade mankind that he was the son of Jupiter Ammon ?" " Alexander, my boy,, has been much misunderstood. — Mankind have revenged themselves upon him by mis- representation, for having so far eclipsed the rest of his species. It was necessary to the realising his project, that he should pass for a god. It was the only way by which he could get a firm hold upon the veneration of the stupid and bigoted Persians. It was this, and not a mad vanity, that was the source of his proceeding. And how much had ho to struggle with in this respect, in the unapprehending ob- stinacy of some of his Macedonians ?" " Why then, sir, at last Alexander did but employ means that all politicians profess to use, as well as he. He dra- gooned men into wisdom, and cheated them into the pur- suit of their own happiness. But what is worse, sir, this Alexander, in the paroxysm of his headlong rage, spared neither friend nor foe. You will not pretend to justify the excesses of his ungovernable passion. It is impossible, f sure, that a word can be said for a man whom a momentary j provocation can hurry into the commission of nnirders " The inslanl I had uttered these words, I felt w hat it was that I had done. There was a magnelical sympathy be- tween me and my patron, so that their elfect was not sooner CALEB WILLIAMS. 149 produced upon him, than my own mind reproached me with the inhumanity of the aUusion. Our confusion was mutual. The blood forsook at once the transparent complexion of Mr. Falkland, and then rushed back again with rapidity and fierceness. I dared not utter a word, lest I should commit a new error, worse than that into which I had just fallen. After a short, but severe, struggle to continue the conversation, Mr. Falkland began with trepidation, but afterwards became calmer : — "You are not candid — Alexander — You must learn more clemency — Alexander, I say, does not deserve this rigour. Do you remember his tears, his remorse, his de- termined abstinence from food, which he could scarcely be persuaded to relinquish ? Did not that prove acute feeling and a rooted principle of equity ? — Well, well, Alexander was a true and judicious lover of mankind, and his real merits have been little comprehended." I know not how to make the state of my mind at that moment accurately understood. When one idea has got possession of the soul, it is scarcely possible to keep it from finding its way to the lips. Error, once committed, has a fascinating power, like that ascribed to the eye of the rattlesnake, to draw us into a second error. It deprives us of that proud confidence in our own strength, to which we are indebted for so much of our virtue. Curiosity is a restless propensity, and often does but hurry us forward the more irresistibly, the greater is the danger that attends its indulgence. "CUtus," said I, "was a man of very coarse and pro- voking manners, was he not ?" Mr. Falkland felt the full force of this appeal. He gave me a penetrating look, as if he would see my very soul. — His eyes were then in an instant withdrawn. I could pei^ IM CALEB WILLL4MS. crivc hiiii .seized with a eunvulsive shuddering, wliicli, though strongly counteracted, and therefore scarcely visible, had I know not what of terrible in it. He left his employ- ment, strode about the room in anger, his visage gradually assumed an expression as of supernatural baiharity, he <|uitted the apartment abiuptly, and Hung the door with a violence that seemed to shake the house, " Is this," said I, "the fruit oi conscious guilt, or of the disgust that a man of honour conceives at guilt undeser- vedly imputed ?" CHAPTER XIV. The reader will feel how rapidly I was advancing to the brink of the precipice. I had a confused apprehension of what [ was doing, but I could not stop myself. " Is it pos- sible," said 1, " that Mr. Falkland, who is thus overwhelmed with a sense of the unmerited dishonour that has been fastened upon him in the face of the world, will long endure the presence of a raw and unfriended youth, who is per- petually bringing back that dishonour to his recollection, and who seems himself the most forward to entertain the accusation?" I fell indeed (hat .Mi-. Falkland would not hastily incline to dismiss me, for the same reascm that restrained him from many other actions, which might seem to savour of a too tender and ambiguous sensibility. But this reflccticm was little adapted to «-oiufort me. That he should cherish in his heart a growiut; hatrem the hopeless misfortune in which I am at present involved. The man must indeed possess an uncommon portion of hardness of heart, w ho can envy me so slight a relief. — To proceed. For some time after the explanation which had thus taken place between me and Mr. Falkland, his melancholy, instead of being in the slightest degree diminished by the lenient hand of time, went on perpetually to increase. "His (its ol insanity — for such I uuist denominate them for want of a distinct appellation-^ though it is possible they CALEB WILLIAMS. 165 might not fall under the definition that either the faculty or the Court of Chancery appropriate to the term — be- came stronger and more durable than ever. It was no longer practicable wholly to conceal them from the family, and even from the neighbourhood. He wouW sometimes, without any previous notice, absent himself from his house for two or three days, unaccompanied by servant or at- tendant. This was the more extraordinary, as it was well known that he paid no visits, nor kept up any sort of intercourse with the gentlemen of the vicinity. But it was impossible that a man of Mr. Falkland's distinction and fortune should long continue in such a practice, without its being discovered what was become of him; though a considerable part of our county was among the wildest and most desolate districts that are to be found in South Britain. Mr. Falkland was sometimes seen chmbing among the rocks, reclining motionless for hours together upon the edge of a precipice, or lulled into a kind of nameless lethargy of despair by the dashing of the torrents. He would remain for whole nights together under the naked cope of heaven, inattentive to the con- sideration either of place or time : insensible to the va- riations of the weather, or rather seeming to be delighted with that uproar of the elements, which partially called off his attention from the discord and dejection that oc- cupied his own mind. At first, when we received intelligence at any time of the place to which Mr. Falkland had withdrawn himself, some person of his household, Mr. Collins or myself, but most generally myself, as I was always at home, and always, in the received sense of the word, at leisure, went to him, to persuade him to return. But, after a few experiments, we thought it advisable to desist, and leave him to prolong his absence, or to terminate it, as might liappen to suit IrtO CALEB WILLUMS. his own inclination. Mr. Collins, whose grey hairs and long sei-vices seemed to give him a sort of right to be importunate, sometimes succeeded ; though even in that case there was nothing that could sit more uneasily upon Mr. Falkland than this insinuation, as if he wanted a guardian to take care of him, or as if he were in, or in danger of falling into, a state in which he would be in- capable of deliberately controlling his own words and actions. At one time he would suddenly yield to his humble, venerable friend, murmuring grievously at the con- straint that was put upon him, but without spirit enough even to complain of it with energy. At another time, even though complying, he would suddenly burst out in a paroxysm of resentment. Upon these occasions there was something inconceivably, savagely terrible in his anger, that gave to the person against whom it was directed the most humiliating and insupportable sensations. Me he always treated, at these times, with fierceness, and di'ove me from him with a vehemence lofty, emphatical, and sustained, beyond any thing of which ^ I should have thought human nature to be capable. These sallies seemed always to constitute a sort of crisis in his indisposition ; and, whenever he was induced to such a premature re- turn, he would fall immediately after into a state of the most melancholy inactivity, in which he usually continued for two or three days. It was by an obstinate fatality that, whenever I saw Mr. Falkland in these deplorable situations, and particularly when 1 lighted upon him after having sought him among the rocks and precipices, pale, emaciated, solitary, and haggard, the suggestion would continually recur to me, in spite of inclination, in spite of persuasion, and in spite of evidence. Surely this m;ui is a murdei er ! CALEB WILLIAMS. 167 CHAPTER XVII. It was in one of the lucid intervals, as I may term 4hem, that occurred during this period, that a peasant was ■ brought before him, in his character of a justice of peace, upon an accusation of having murdered his fellow. As Mr. Falkland had by this time acquired the repute of a melancholy valetudinarian, it is probable he would not have been called upon to act in his official character upon the present occasion, had it not been that two or three of the neighbouring justices were all of them from home at once, so that he was the only one to be found in a circuit of many miles. The reader, how ever, must not imagine, though I have employed the word insanity in describing Mr. Falkland's symptoms, that he was by any means rec- koned for a madman by the generahty of those who had occasion to observe him. It is true that his behaviour, at certain times, was singular and unaccountable ; but then, at other times, there was in it so much dignity, regularity, and economy ; he knew so well how to command and make himself respected; his actions and carriage were so condescending, considerate, and benevolent, that, far from having forfeited the esteem of the unfortunate or the many, they were loud and earnest in his praises. I was present at the examination of this peasant. The moment I heard of the errand which had brought this rabble of visitors, a sudden thought struck me. I con- ceived the possibility of rendering the incident subordinate to the great enquiry which drank up all the currents of my 168 CALEB WILLIAMS. soul. I said, this man is arraigned of murder, and murdei- is the niasler-key thai wakes distemper in the mind of Mr. Falkland. 1 will watch him without remission. I will trace all the mazes of his thought. Surely at such a time his secret anguish must betray itself. Surely, if it be not my own fault, I shall now be able to discover the state of his plea before the tribunal of unerring justice. 1 took my station in a manner most favourable to the object upon which my mind was intent. I could perceive in Mr. Falkland's features, as he entered, a strong reluc- tance to the business in which he was engaged ; but there was no possibility of retreating. His countenance was em- barrassed and anxious ; he scarcely saw any body. The examination had not proceeded far, before he chanced to turn his eye to the part of the room where I w as. It hap- pened in this as in some preceding instances — we ex- changed a silent look, by which we told volumes to each other. 3Ir. Falkland's complexion turned from red to pale, and from pale to red. I perfectly understood his feelings, and would willingly have withdrawn myself. But it was impossible; my passions were too deeply engaged; 1 was rooted to the spot ; though my ow n life, that of my master, or almost of a w hole nation had been at stake, 1 had no power to change my position. The lirst surprise, however, having subsided, .Mr. Falk- land assumed a look of determined constancy, and even seemed to increase in self-possession much beyond what could have been e.xpected from his lii-st entrance. This he could probably have maintained, had it not been that the scene, instead of being permanent, was in some sort perpetually changing. The man who was brought before him, was vcherncnlly accused hy llie brother of the de- ce;iiietur'' << \ which I could m>t account. I was solenm, yd lull o* .•«[.id emotion, burning with indignation CALEB WILLIAMS. 173 and energy. In the very tempest and hurricane of the passions, I seemed to enjoy the most soul-ravishing calm. I cannot better express the then state of my mind than by saying, I 'was never so perfectly alive as at that moment. This state of mental elevation continued for several hours, but at length subsided, and gave place to more de- liberate reflection. One of the first questions that then occurred was, what shall I do with the knowledge I have been so eager to acquire ? I had no inclination to turn in- former, I felt what I had had no previous conception of, that it was possible to love a murderer, and, as I then un- derstood it, the worst of nmrderers. I conceived it to be in the highest degree absurd and iniquitous, to cut ofl' a man qualified for the most essential and extensive utility, merely out of retrospect to an act which, whatever were its merits, could not be retrieved. This thought led me to another, which had at first passed unnoticed. If I had been disposed to turn informer, what had occurred amounted to no evidence that was admis- sible in a court of justice. Well then, added I, if it be such as would not be admitted at a criminal tribunal, am I sure it is such as I ought to admit ? There were twenty persons besides myself present at the scene from which I pretend to derive such entire conviction. Not one of them saw it in the light that I did. It either appeared to them a casual and unimportant circumstance, or they thought it sufficiently accounted for by Mr. Falkland's infirmity and misfortunes. Did it really contain such an extent of argu- ments and apphcation, that nobody but I was discerning enough to see ? But all this reasoning produced no alteration iirmy way of thinking. For this time I could not get It out of my mind for a moment : " Mr. Falkland is the murderer ! He is guilty ! I see it ! 1 feel it ! I am sure of it !" Thus 174 CALEB WILLIAMS. was I hurried along by an uncontrollable destiny. The state of my passions in their progressive career, the in- quisitivencss and impatience of my thoughts, appeared to make this determination unavoidable. An incident occurred while I was in the garden, that seemed to make no impression upon me at the time, but which I recollected when my thoughts were got into some- what of a slower motion. In the midst of one of my paroxysms of exclamation, and when I thought myself most alone, the shadow of a man as avoiding me passed tran- / siently by me at a small distance. Though I had scarcely caught a faint glimpse of his person, there \^as something in the occurrence that persuaded me it was Mr. Falkland. I shuddered at the possibility of his having overheard the • words of my soliloquy. But this idea, alarming as it was, had not power immediately to suspend the career of my reflections. Subsequent circumstances however brought back the apprehension to my mind. I had scarcely a doubt of its reality, when dinner-time came, and IMr. Falkland was not to be found. Supper and bed-time passed in the same manner. The only conclusion made by his servants upon this circumstance was, that he was gone upon one of his accustomed melancholy rambles. CHAPTEU XVIU. Thf, period at which my story is now arrived seemed as if it were the very crisis of the fortune of Mr. Falkland. Incident followed upon incident, in a kind of breathless succession. About nine o'clock the next morning an alarm CALtB WILLIAMS. 175 was given, that one of the chimneys of the house was on fire. No accident could be apparently more trivial ; but presently it blazed with such fury, as to make it clear that some beam of the house, which in the first building had been improperly placed, had been reached by the flames. Some danger was apprehended for the whole edifice. The confusion was the greater, in consequence of the absence of the master, as well as of Mr. Colhns, the steward. While some of the domestics were employed in endeavouring to extinguish the flames, it was thought proper that others should busy themselves in removing the most valuable moveables to a lawn in the garden. I took some command in the affair, to which indeed my station in the family seemed to entitle me, and for which I was judged qualified by my understanding and mental resources. Having given some general directions, I conceived that it was not enough to stand by and superintend, but that I should contribute my personal labour in the public concern. I set out for that purpose ; and my steps, by some mys- terious fatality, were directed to the private apartment at the end of the hbrary. Here, as I looked round, my eye was suddenly caught by the trunk mentioned in the first pages of my narrative. My mind was already raised to its utmost pitch. In a window-seat of the room lay a number of chisels and other carpenter's tools. I know not what infatuation in- stantaneously seized me. The idea was too powerful to be resisted. I forgot the business upon which I came, the employment of the servants, and the urgency of general danger. I should have done the same if the flames that seemed to extend as they proceeded, and already sur- mounted the house, had reached this very apartment. I snatched a tool suitable for the purpose, threw myself upon the ground, and applied with eagerness to a maga- 176 CALEB WILLIAMS. zine which inclosed all (or whicli my heart panted. After two or three efforts, in which the energy of uncontrollable passion was added to my bodily strength, the fastenings gave way, the trunk opened, and all that I sought w as at .^ once within my reach. ry\ I was in the act of lifting up the lid, when Mr. Falkland'^ - entered, w ild, breathless, distracted in his looks ! He had been brought home from a considerable distance by the sight of the flames. At the moment of his appearance the lid dropped down from my hand. He no sooner saw me than his eyes emitted sparks of rage. He ran with eager- ness to a brace of loaded pistols w hich hung in the room, and, seizing one, presented it to my head. I saw his de- sign, and sprang to avoid it ; but, with the same rapidity with which he had formed his resolution, he changed it, and instantly went to the window, and flung the pistol into the court below. He bade me begone w ith his usual irre- sistible energy, and, overcome as I was already by the horror of the detection, 1 eagerly complied. A moment after, a considerable part of the chimney tumbled with noise into the court below, and a voice ex- claimed that the (ire was more violent than ever. These circumstances seemed to produce a mechanical eflfect upon my patron, who, having (list locked the closet, appeared on the outside of the house, ascended the roof, and was in a moment in every place where his presence was required. The flames were at length extinguished. The reader can with difficulty form a conception of the state to which I was now reduced. My act was in some sort an act of insauily; but how indescribable arc (he feel- ings with which I looked back upon it ! It was an instan- lancous impulse, a short-lived and passing alienation of mind; l>ul what must Mr. I'\ilkland think of thai alienation'.' To any man, a person w ho had once shown himself capable CALEB WILLIAMS. 177 of so w ild a flight of the mind, must appear dangerous : how must he appeal' to a man under Mr. Falkland's cir- cumstances ? I had just had a pistol held to my head, by a man resolved to put a period to my existence. That in- deed was past ; but w hat was it that fate had yet in reserve for me ! The insatiable vengeance of a Falkland, of a man whose hands were, to my apprehension, red with blood, and his thoughts familiar with cruelty and murder. How great were the resources of his mind, resources henceforth to be confederated for my destruction ! This was the ter- mination of an ungoverned curiosity, an impulse that I had represented to myseJf as so innocent or so venial. In the high tide of boiling passion, I had overlooked all consequences. It now appeared to me like a dream. Is it in man to leap from the high-raised precipice, or rush unconcerned into the midst of flames ? Was it possible I could have forgotten for a moment the awe-creating man- ners of Falkland, and the inexorable fury I should awake in his soul ? No thought of future security had reached my /f^^mind. I had acted upon no plan. I had conceived no ^^y means of concealing my deed, after it had once been ef- fected. But it was over now. One short minute had ef- fected a reverse in my situation, the suddenness of which the history of man, perhaps, is unable to surpass. I have always been at a loss to account for my having plunged thus headlong into an act so monstrous. There is something in it of unexplained and involuntary sym- pathy. One sentiment flows, by necessity of nature, into another sentiment of the same general character. This was the first instance in which I had witnessed a danger by fire. All was confusion around me, and all changed into hurricane within. The general situation, to my un- practised apprehension, appeared desperate, and I by con- tagion became alike desf ierate. At first I had been in some 178 CALEB WILLIAMS. degree calm and collected, but that too was a desperate effort ; and w hen it gave way, a kind of instant insanity became its successor. 1 had now every thing to fear. And yet what was my fauh ? It proceeded from none of those errors which are justly held up to the aversion of mankind ; my object had been neither wealth, nor the means of indulgence, nor the usurpation of power. No spark of malignity had har- boured in my soul. 1 had always reverenced the sublime mind of Mr. Falkland ; I reverenced it still. My offence had merely been a mistaken thirst of knowledge. Such liowever it w as, cs to admit neither of forgiveness nor re- mission. This epoch was the crisis of my fate, dividing what may be called the offensive part from the defensive, which has been the sole business of my remaining years. Alas ! my offence w as short, not aggravated by any sinister intention : but the reprisals I was to suffer are long, and can terminate only w ith my life ! In the state in which I found myself, when the recol- lection of what I had done flowed back upon my mind, 1 was incapable of any resolution. All was chaos and uncer- tainty w ithin me. My thoughts were too full of horror to be susceptible of activity. I felt deserted of my intellectual ])owers, palsied in mind, and compelled to sit in speechless expectation of the misery to which I was destined. To my own conception I was like a man, w ho, though blasted w ith lightning, and deprived for ever of the power of motion, should yet retain the consciousness of his situation. Deatli- dealinj!; despair was the only idea of which I was sensible. I was still in this situation of mind wlien .^Ir. Falkland sent for me. His message roused me from my trance. In recoveiing, 1 felt those sickening and loathsome sen- sations, which a man may be supposed at first to endure who should return from the sleep of death. (»rad\ially I CALEB WILLIAMS. 179 recovered the power of arranging my ideas and directing my steps. I understood, that the minute the affair of the fire was over, Mr. Falkland had retired to his own room. It was evening before he ordered me to be called. I found in him every token of extreme distress, except ,, that there was an air of solemn and sad composure that crowned the whole. For the present, all appearance of gloom, stateliness, and austerity was gone. As I entered he looked up, and seeing who it was, ordered me to bolt the door. I obeyed. He went round the room, and ex- amined its other avenues. He then returned to where I stood. I trembled in every joint of my frame. I exclaimed within myself, " What scene of death has Roscius now to act ?" " WiUiams ! " said he, in a tone which had more in it of sorrow than resentment, " I have attempted your life ! I am a wretch devoted to the scorn and execration of mankind ! " There he stopped. " If there be one being on the whole earth that feels the scorn and execration due to such a wretch more strongly than another, it is myself. I have been kept in a state of perpetual torture and madness. But I can put an end to it and its consequences ; and, so far at least as relates to you, I am determmed to do it. I know the price, and — I will make the purchase. " You must swear," said he. " You must attest every sacrament divine and human, never to disclose what I am now to tell you." — He dictated the oath, and I repeated it with an aching heart. I had no power to offer a word of remark. " This confidence," said he, " is of yOur seeking, not of mine. It is odious to me, and is dangerous to you." Having thus prefaced the disclosure he had to make, he paused. He seemed to collect himself as for an effort of 12* ISO jxi.iii uii.i.i\>l^ iimgniUuitv Wv \\i|n«l Ins l.uo \\itli lii.s li.iiiilknt liicl The inoi>UiiT dial itin)iniiiinU'ai>i, hut >\M>al. " 1,00k at mr. OliM'rvr me. Is it not sirangf that siuli ^j imo as I sliouM retain liurumrnts of a liitniaii nratuir? I I am tlu' blackest of villains. 1 am the uiui*derer of Tyi - ' rel. I am the assassiij^of the Hawkinses." ' " I startetl with (error, and wjis silent. "What a story is mine! Insiilteil, «hsnra(T«l, polhiteii III the Tare o\' hundreds, I was eapahic til any act of de- >|>eiation. I watched my oppoiliinity, followed >Ir. Tyrrel from the rooms, seized a sharp-pointed knife (hat fell in my way, came behind him, and stabbed him (o (he heart. Ms gigantic oppressor rolled at my feet. " All are but links of one ehain. A Idow I A murdei I My next busine.ss was to tiefend myself, to tell so well- digested a lie iis (hat all mankind should i>elie\e it (riu*. Never was a (ask so harrowing and in(olerable ! " Well, (bus far fortune favoured me ; she favoured nu- beyond my desire. The guilt was irmoved from me, and eiu>( upon anodier; bu( (his I was to endure. Whence came the cireumslantial e>idence against him, the broken knife and the bloo«l, I am unable (o tell. I suppose, by Mtme miiacnlous accident, Hawkins was (tas»ing by, and endeavoured to assist his oppressor in the agonies of death. You have heard his story ; you have read one of his lettei>. Hut you d(t not know (he (housamlth part of the pr»»ols of his simple and unalterable rectitude (hat I have known. His .son siilVcred with him; (ha( son. for (he sake of whose happiness and virtue he ruined himself, an exerlasliuf; ^i'M.VM WII.MAMH. IHI (M'jun of inink back. I charge and a 188 CALEB WILLIAMS. pity. I dciiiie no consolation. Surrounded as I am with horrors, I will at least preserve my fortitude to the last. If I had been reserved to a diflerent destiny, I have qualities in that respect worthy of a better cause. I can be mad, miserable, and frantic ; but even in frenzy I can preserve my presence of mind and discretion." Such was the story I had been so desirous to know. Though my mind had brooded upon the subject for months, there was not a syllable of it that did not come to my ear with the most perfect sense of novelty. " Mr. Falkland is a murderer ! " said I, as I retired from the con- ference. This dreadful appellative, " a murderer," made P^y very blood run cold within me. " He killed Mr. Tyr- rel, for he could not control his resentment and anger : he sacrificed Hawkins the elder and Hawkins the younger, because he could upon no terms endure the public loss of honour : how can I expect that a man thus passionate and unrelenting will not sooner or later make me his victim?"' " But, notwithstanding this terrible application of the story, an application to which perhaps, in some form or other, mankind are indebted for nine tenths of their abhorrence against vice, I could not help occasionally recurring to reflections of an opposite nature. " Mr. Falkland is a murderer! " resumed I, " He might yet be a most excel- lent man, if he did but think so. " It is the thinking our- selves vicious, then, that principally contributes to make us vicious. Amidst the shock I received from finding, what I had never sulTered myself constantly to believe, that my suspi- cions were true, i still discovered new cause of admiration (or my master. His menaces indeed were terrible. Hut, when I recollocto.1 the oll'ence I had given, so contrary to every reccivcvi principle of civilised society, so insolent and rude, so iiil(»lcr;il)lc lo a man of Mr. Falkland's elevation. CALEB WILLIAMS. 1S3 and in Mr, Falkland's peculiarity of circumstances, 1 was astonished at his forbearance. There were indeed suffi- ciently obvious reasons why he might not choose to pro- ceed to extremities w ith me. But how different from the fearful expectations I had conceived were the x;aimness of his behaviour, and the regulated mildness of his language ! In this respect, I for a short time imagined that I was emancipated from the mischiefs which had appalled me ; and that, in having to do with a man of Mr. Falkland's li- berality, I had nothing rigorous to apprehend. '' It is a miserable prospect," said I, " that he holds up to me. He imagines that I am restrained by no principles, and deaf to the claims of personal excellence. But he shall find himself mistaken. I w ill never become an in- former. I will never injure my patron ; and therefore he will not be my enemy. With all his misfortunes and all his errors, I feel that my soul yearns for his welfare. If he have been criminal, that is owmg to circumstances; the same qualities under other circumstances would have been, or rather were, sublimely beneficent." My reasonings were, no doubt, infinitely more favour- able to Mr. Falkland, than those which human beings are accustomed to make in the case of such as they style great criminals. This will not be wondered at, when it is con- sidered that I had myself just been trampling on the established boundaries of obligation, and therefore might well have a fellow-feeling for other offenders. Add to which, I had known Mr. Falkland from the first as a be- neficent divinity. I had observed at leisure, and with a minuteness which could not deceive me, the excellent qualities of his heart ; and I found him possessed of a mind beyond comparison the most fertile and accomplished I had ever known. But though the terrois which had impressed me were 181 CALEB WILLUMS. considerably alleviated, my situation was notwithstanding sufficiently miserable. The ease and light-heartedness of my youth were for ever gone. The voice of an irresistible necessity had commanded me to " sleep no more." 1 was tormented w ith a secret, of w hich I must never disburthen myself; and this consciousness was, at my age, a source of perpetual melancholy. I had made myself a prisoner, in the most intolerable sense of that term, for years — perhaps for the rest of my life. Though my prudence and discretion should be invariable, I must remember that I should have an overseer, vigilant from conscious guilt, full of resentment at the unjustifiable means by w hich I had extorted from him a confession, and whose lightest caprice might at any time decide upon every thing that was dear to me. The vigilance even of a public and systematical despotism is poor, compared with a vigilance which is thus goaded by the most anxious passions of the soul. Against this species of persecution I knew not how to invent a refuge. I dared neither fly from the obser- vation of Mr. Falkland, nor continue exposed to its ope- ration. I was at first indeed lulled in a certain degree to security upon the verge of the precipice. But it was not long before I found a thousand circumstances perpetually reminding me of my true situation. Those 1 am now to lelate are among the most memorable. CHAPTEK XI\. hr In no huijj lime alter the disclosure Air. Talkland had T!»de,5lr. Forestfr, his elder brothei- by the mother's aide, CALEB WILLIAMS. 185 came to reside for a short period in our family. This was a circumstance pecuUarly adverse to my patron's habits and inchnations. He had broken off, as I have already said, all intercourse of visiting with his neighbours. Ke debarred himself every kind of amusement and relaxation. He shrunk from the society of his fellow s, and thought he could never be sufficiently buried in obscurity and solitude. This principle was, in most cases, of no difficult execution to a man of firmness. But Mr. Falkland knew not how to avoid the visit of Mr. Forester. This gentleman was just returned from a residence of several years upon the Continent ; and his demand of an apartment in the house of his half-brother, till his own house at the distance of thirty miles should be prepared for his reception, was made with an air of confidence that scarcely admitted of, a refusal. Mr. Falkland could only allege, that the state of his health and spirits was such, that he feared a resi- dence at his house would be little agreeable to his kinsman ; and Mr. Forester conceived that this was a disqualification w hich w ould alw ays augment in proportion as it was to- lerated, and hoped that his society, by inducing Mr. Falk- land to suspend his habits of seclusion, would be the means of essential benefit. Mr. Falkland opposed him no further. He would have been sorry to be thought unkind to a kinsman for whom he had a particular esteem ; and the consciousness of not daring to assign the true reason, made him cautious of adhering to his objection. The character of Mr. Forester was, in many respects, the reverse of that of my master. His very appearance indicated the singularity of his disposition. His figure was short and angular. His eyes were sunk far into his head, and were overhung with eye-brows, black, thick, and bushy. His complexion was swarthy, and his lineaments hard. He had seen much of the world; but, to judge of him from his 186 CALEB WILLIAMS. apppaiaiico and manners, one would have (liought thai he had never moved from his Ihe-side. His temper was acid, petulant, and harsh. He was easily offended by trilles, respecting which, previously to the offence, the persons with whom he had intercourse could have no suspicion of such a result. When offended, his custojnary beliaviour was exceedingly rugged. He thought only of setting the delinquent right, and humbling him for his error ; and, in his eagerness to do this, overlooked the sensibility of the sufferer, and the pains he inflicted. Re- monstrance in such a case he regarded as the offspring of cowardice, which was to be extirpated with a steady and unshrinking hand, and not soothed with misjudging kind- ness and indulgence. As is usual in human character, he had formed a system of thinking to suit the current of his feelings. He held that the kindness we entertain for a man should be veiled and concealed, exerted in substantial be- nefits, but not disclosed, lest an undue advantage should be taken of it by its object. With this rugged outside, !>ir. Forester had a warm and generous heart. At first sight all men were deterred by his manner, and excited to give him an ill character. But the longer any one knew him, the more they approved him. His harshness was then only considered as habit; and strong sense and active benevolence were uppermost in the recollection of his familiar acquaintance. His conversation, when he condescended to lay aside his snappish, rude, and abrupt half-sentences, became flowing in diction, and un- commonly amusing with regard to its substance. He com- bined, w ilh weightiness of expression, a dryness of charac- teristic humour, that demonstrated at once the vividness ol his observation, and the force of his understanding. The jieculiarities of this gentleman's character were noi undisplaye'ed as a refuge from persecution, or a security from the inv"- CALEB WILLIAMS. 207 lerate hostilities of a barbarous age. I believed no person was acquainted with this hiding-place but myself. I felt unaccountably impelled to remove into it the different ar- ticles of my personal property. I could not at present take them away with me. If I were never to recover them, I felt that it would be a gratification to my sentiment, that no trace of my existence should be found after my departure. Having completed their removal, and waited till the hour I had previously chosen, I stole down quietly from my chamber with a lamp in my hand. I went along a passage that led to a small door opening into the garden, and then crossed the garden, to a gate that intersected an elm-walk and a private horse-path on the outside. I could scarcely beUeve my good fortune in having thus far executed my design without interruption. The terrible images Mr. Falkland's menaces had suggested to my mind, made me expect impediment and detection at every step ; though the impassioned state of my mind impelled me to advance with desperate resolution. He probably, however, counted too securely upon the ascendancy of his sentiments, when imperiously pronounced, to think it necessary to take precautions against a sinister event. For myself, I drew a favourable omen as to the final result of my project, from the smoothness of success that attended it in the outset. CHAPTER XXI. The first plan that had suggested itself to me was, to go to the nearest public road, and take the earliest stage for London. There I beUeved I should be most safe from dis- covery, if the vengeance of Mr. Falkland should prompt •208 CALEB WILLIAMS. hiin to pursue me; and I did not doubt, among the multiplied resources of tlie metropolis, to find something which should suggest to me an eligible mode of disposing of my person and industry, I reserved Mr. Forester in my arrangement, as a last resource, not to be called forth unless for imme- diate protection from the hand of persecution and power. I was destitute of that experience of the w orld, which can alone render us fertile in resources, or enable us to institute a just comparison between the resources that ofTer them- selves. I w as like the fascinated animal, that is seized w ith the most terrible apprehensions, at the same time that he is incapable of adequately considering for his own safety. The mode of my proceeding being digested, I traced, with a cheerful heart, the unfrequented path it was now ne- cessary for me to pursue. The night was gloomy and it drizzled with rain. But these were circumstances I had scarcely the pow er to perceive : all was sunshine and joy w ithin me. I hardly felt the ground ; I repeated to myself a thousand times, " I am free. What concern have I w ith danger and alarm ? I feel that I am free ; I feel that I will continue so. What pow er is able to hold in chains a mind ardent and determined ? What pow er can cause that man to die, whose whole soul commands him to continue to live ?" I looked back w ith abhorrence to the subjection in which I had been held. I did not hate the author of my misfortunes — truth anc- justice acquit me of that ; I rather pitied the hard destiny to which he seemed condemned. — But 1 thought w ith unspeakable loathing of those errors, in consequence of which every man is fated to be, more or less, the tyrant or the slave. I w as astonished at the folly ol my species, that they did not rise up as one man, and shake olf chains so ignominious, and misery so insupport- able. So far as lelated to myself, I resolved — and this resolution has iwver been entirely forgotten by me — to hold CALEB WILLIAMS. 200 myself disengaged from this odious scene, and never fill the part either of the oppressor or the sufferer. My mind continued in this enthusiastical state, full of confidence, and accessible only to such a portion of fear as served rather to keep up a state of pleasurable emotion, than to generate anguish and distress, during the whole of this nocturnal expedition. After a walk of three hours, I arrived, without accident, at the village from which I hoped to have taken my passage for the metropolis. At this early hour every thing was quiet ; no sound of any thing human saluted my ear. It was with difficulty that I gained admit- tance into the yard of the inn, where I found a single ostler taking care of some horses. From him I received the un- welcome tidings, that the coach was not expected till six o'clock in the morning of the day after to-morrow, its route through that town recurring only three times a week. This intelligence gave the first check to the rapturous in- ebriation by which my mind had been possessed from the moment I quitted the habitation of Mr. Falkland. The whole of my fortune in ready cash consisted of about eleven guineas. I had about fifty more, that had fallen to me from the disposal of my property at the death of my father ; but that was so vested as to preclude it from imme- diate use, and I even doubted whether it would not be found better ultimately to resign it, than, by claiming it, to risk the furnishing a clew to what I most of all dreaded, the per- secution of Mr. Falkland. — There was nothing I so ardently desired as the annihilation of all future intercourse between us, that he should not know there was such a person on the earth as myself, and that I should never more hear the repetition of a name which had been so fatal to my peace. Thus circumstanced, I conceived frugality to be an ob- ject by no means unworthy of my attention, unable as I 14 210 CALEB WILLIA was lo proguosticate vvliat discouragements and delays might present themselves to the accomplishment of my wishes, after my arrival in London. For this and other reasons, I determined to adhere to my design of traveUing by the stage ; it only remaining for me to consider in what manner I should prevent the eventful delay of tweuty-foui- hours from becoming, by any untoward event, a source of new calamity. It was by no means advisable to remain in the village where I now was during this interval ; nor did I even think proper to employ it, in proceeding on foot along the great road. I therefore decided upon making a circuit, the direction of which should seem at first extremely wide of my intended route, and then, suddenly taking a dif- ferent inclination, should enable me to arrive by the close of day at a market-town twelve miles nearer to the metropolis. Having fixed the economy of the day, and persuaded myself that it was the best which, under the circumstances, could be adopted, 1 dismissed, for the most part, all further anxieties from my mind, and eagerly yielded myself up to the different amusements that arose. I rested and went forward at the impulse of the moment. At one time I re- clined upon a bank immersed in contemplation, and at another exerted myself to analyse the prospects which succeeded each other. The haziness of the morning was followed by a spirit-stirring and beautiful day. With the ductility so characteristic of a youthful mind, I forgot the anguish which had lately been my continual guesi, and oc- cupied myself entirely in dicams of future novelty and feUcily. I scarcely ever, in the whole course of my exist- ence, spent a day of more various or extjuisite gratification. It furnished a strong, and perhaps not an unsalutary con- trast, to the (errors which had preceded, and the dreadful scenes that awaited me. CALEB WILLIAMS. >ll In the evening I arrived at the place of my destination, and enquired for the inn at which the coach was accus- tomed to call. A circumstance, however, had previously excited my attention, and reproduced in me a state of alarm. Though it was already dark before I reached the town, my observation had been attracted by a man, who passed me on horseback in the opposite direction, about half a mile on the other side of the town. There was an inquisitive- ness in his gesture that I did not like ; and, as far as I could discern his figure, I pronounced him an ill-looking man. He had not passed me more than two minutes before I heard the sound of a horse advancing slowly behind me. These circumstances impressed some degree of uneasy sensation upon my mind. I first mended my pace ; and, this not appearing to answer the purpose, I afterwards loitered, that the horseman might pass me. He did so ; and, as I glanced at him, I thought I saw that it was the same man. He now put his horse into a trot, and entered the town. I followed ; and it was not long before I per- ceived him at the door of an alehouse, drinking a mug of beer. This, however, the darkness prevented me from discovering, till I was in a manner upon him. I pushed forward, and saw him no more, till, as I entered the yard of the inn where I intended to sleep, the same man sud- denly rode up to me, and asked if my name were Wil- liams. This adventure, while it had been passing, expelled the gaiety of my mind, and filled me with anxiety. The ap- prehension, however, that I felt, appeared to me ground- less : if I were pursued, I took it for granted it would be by some of Mr. Falkland's people, and not by a stranger. The darkness took from me some of the simplest expedients of 212 CALEB WILLIAMS. precaution. I >l upon the subject. But he had now nnrtectly recovered hiri self-command, and cahnly and stoul!_) LLiueu ali Kuowiedgc of the matter. I urged him with the enormousness of the offence, but I made no impression. He did not discover either the surprise and indignation one would have ex- pected from a person entirely innocent, or the uneasiness that generally attends upon guilt. He was rather silent and reserved. I then informed him, that I should proceed in a manner different from what he might perhaps expect. I would not, as is too frequent in such cases, make a general search ; for I had rather lose my property for ever without redress, than expose a multitude of innocent persons to anxiety and injustice. My suspicion, for the present, un- avoidably fixed upon him. But, in a matter of so great consequence, I was determined not to act upon suspicion. I would neither incur the possibihty of ruining him, being innocent, nor be the instrument of exposing others to his depredations, if guilty. I should therefore merely insist upon his continuing in my service. He might depend upon it he should be well watched, and I trusted the whole truth would eventually appear. Since he avoided confession now, I advised him to consider how far it was likely he would come off with impunity at last. This I determined on, that the moment he attempted an escape, I would consider that as an indication of guilt, and proceed accord- ingly." " What circumstances have occurred from that time to the present ?" "None upon which I can infer a certainty of guilt; several that agree to favour a suspicion. From that time Williams was perpetually uneasy in his situation, always desirous, as it now appears, to escape, but afraid to adopt such a measure without certain precautions. It was not long after, that you, Mr. Forester, became my visitor. I . \l I B WILLIAMS. ob^c'. ^.... ,^, i I, ilissaJisliiction, the growing intercourse be- tween you, reflecting on the equivocalness of his character, and the attempt he would probably make to render you the dupe of his hypocrisy. I accordingly threatened hiin severely ; and I believe you observed the change that presently after occurred in his behaviour with relation to you." " I did, and it appeared at that time mysterious and ex- traordinary." " Some time after, as you well know , a rencounter took place between you, whether accidental or intentional on his part I am not able to say, when he confessed to you the uneasiness of his mind, w ithout discovering the cause, and openly proposed to you to assist him in his flight, and stand, in case of necessity, between him and my resent- ment. You offered, it seems, to take him into your ser- vice ; but nothing, as he acknowledged, w ould answer Iiis purpose, that did not place his retreat wholly out of my power to discover." " Did it not appear extraordinary to you, that he should hope for any effectual protection from me, while it re- mained perpetually in your power to satisfy me of his iinworthiness ?" " Perhaps he had hopes that I should not proceed to that step, at least so long as the place of his retreat should be unknown to me, and of consequence the event of my proceeding dubious. Perhaps he confided in his own powers, which are far from contemptible, to construct a plausible tale, especially as he had taken care to have the lirst impression in his favour. After all, this protection, on your part, was merely reserved in case all other ex- pedients failed. He does not appear to have had any other sentiment upon (he subject, than that, if he were defeated in his projects lor placing himself beyIr, Falkland, I have nothing to say : I know you, and know that you are impenetrable. At the vei'y moment that you are urging such odious charges against me, you admire my resolution and forbearance. But I have 2-w CALEB WILLIAMS. notliing to \w\n' ln»ni you. Yon can look upon my ruin without })ily or remorse. 1 am most unfortunate indeed in having to do with such an adversary. You oblige me to say ill things of you ; but I appeal to your own heart, whether my language is that of exaggeration or revenge." Every thing that could be alleged on either side being now concluded, 3Ir. Forester undertook to make some re- marks upon the whole. " Williams," said he, " the charge against you is heavy •, the direct evidence strong ; the corroborating circum- stances numerous and striking, I grant that you have shown considerable dexterity in your answers ; but you will learn, young man, to your cost, that dexterity, how- ever powerful it may be in certain cases, will avail little against the stubbornness of truth. It is fortunate for mankind that the empire of talents has its limitations, and that it is not in the power of ingenuity to subvert the dis- tinctions of right and wrong. Take my word for it, that the true merits of the case against you w ill be too strong for sophistry to overturn ; that justice w ill prevail, and im- potent malice be defeated. " To you, Mr. Falkland, society is obliged for having placed this black affair in its true light. Do not suffer the malignant aspersions of the criminal to give you uneasi- ness. Depend upon it that they will be found of no weight. I have no doubt that your character, in the judgment of every person that has heard them, stands higher than ever. We feel lor your misfortune, in being obliged to hear such calumnies from a person who has injured you so grossly. Hut you uuisl be considered in that respect as a martyr in the public cause. The purity of your motives and dispositions is beyond the reach of malice ; and truth and equity will nol fail to award, to your calumniator in iamy, and to ^oll ilio love and approbation of mankind CALEB WILLIAMS. 2»l " I have now told you, Williams, what I think of your case. But I have no right to assume to be your ultimate judge. Desperate as it appears to me, I will give you one piece of advice, as if I were retained as a counsel to assist you. Leave out of it whatever tends to the disadvantage of Mr. Falkland. Defend yourself as well as you can, but do not attack your master. It is your business to create in those who hear you a prepossession in your favour. But the recrimination you have been now practising, will always create indignation. Dishonesty will admit of some palliation. The deliberate malice you have now been showing is a thousand times more atrocious. It proves you to have the mind of a demon, rather than of a felon. Wherever you shall repeat it, those who hear you will pronounce you guilty upon that, even if the proper evi- dence against you were glaringly defective. If therefore you would consult your interest, which seems to be your only consideration, it is incumbent upon you by all means immediately to retract that. If you desire to be believed honest, you must in the first place show that you have a due sense of merit in others. You cannot better serve your cause than by begging pardon of your master, and doing homage to rectitude and worth, even when they are employed in vengeance against you." It is easy to conceive that my mind sustained an extreme shock from the decision of Mr. Forester; but his call upon me to retract and humble myself before my accuser pene- trated my whole soul with indignation. I answered : — " I have already told you I am innocent. I believe that I could not endure the effort of inventing a plausible defence, if it were otherwise. You have just affirmed that it is not in the power of ingenuity to subvert the distinctions of right and wrong, and in that very instant I find them subverted. This is indeed to me a very awful moment. New to the ■i-i-i CALEB WILLIAMS. world, I know nothing of its affairs but what has reaolieil me by riimom-, or is recorded in l)Ooks. I have come into it witli all the ardour and confidence inseparable from my years. In every fellow-being I expected to find a friend. I am unpractised in its wiles, and have even no acquaintance with its injustice. I have done nothing to deserve the ani- mosity of mankind ; but, if I may judge from the present scene, I am henceforth to be deprived of the benefits of integrity and honour. I am to forfeit the friendship of every one 1 have hitherto know n, and to be precluded from the power of acquiring that of others. I must therefore be reduced to derive my satisfaction from myself. Depend upon it, I will not begin that career by dishonourable con- cessions. If I am to despair of the good-w ill of other men, I will at least maintain the independence of my own mind. iVIr. Falkland is my implacable enemy. Whatever may be fils merits in other respects, he is acting towards me w ithout humanity, w ithout remorse, and without principle. Do you think 1 will ever make submissions to a man by whom 1 am thus treated, that I will fall down at the feet of one who is to me a devil, or kiss the hand that is red with my blood?" " In that respect," answered Mr. Forester, " do as you shall think proper. I must confess that your firmness and consistency astonish me. They add something to sshat I had conceived of human pow ers. Perhaps you have chosen the part which, all things considered, may serve your pur- pose best; though 1 think more moderation would 1)0 more conciliating. The exterior of innocence will, I grant, stagger the poisons who may have the Ir. Forester, "is that of romance, and not of reason. Yet I cannot but be struck with the contrast exhibited before me, of the mag- nanimity of virtue, and the obstinate impcneti-able injustice ol guilt. While your mind overflows with goodness, nothing can touch the heart of this thrice-relincd villain. I shall never forgive myself for having once been entrapped by his detestable arts. This is no liinc for us to settle the (piestion between cliivalry and law. 1 shall therefore sim- ply insist as a magistrate, having taken the evidence in this felony, upon my light and duty of following the course t>f justiiro, and ciunmitling the accused to the county jail." Alter .some further contest, !VIr. Falkland, linding !Mr. Fo veslcr ol)stinate ami impracticable, \\ithdre\\ his opposition. i:aleb willums. -235 Accordingly a proper officer was summoned from the neighbouring village, a mittimus made out, and one of IMr, Falkland's carriages prepared to conduct me to the place of custody. It will easily be imagined that this sudden reverse was very painfully felt by me. I looked round on the servants who had been the spectators of my exami- nation, but not one of them, either by word or gesture, expressed compassion for my calamity. The robbery of which I was accused appeared to them atrocious from its magnitude ; and whatever sparks of compassion might otherwise have sprung up in their ingenuous and undis- ciplined minds, were totally obUterated by indignation at ray supposed profligacy in recriminating upon their worthy and excellent master. My fate being already determined, and one of the servants despatched for the officer, Mr. Forester and 3Ir. Falkland withdrew, and left me in the custody of two others. One of these was the son of a farmer at no great dis- tance, who had been in habits of long established intimacy with my late father. I was vxilling accurately to discover the state of mind of those who had been witnesses of this scene, and who had had some previous opportunity of ob- serving my character and manners. I, therefore, endea- voured to open a conversation with him. " Well, my good Thomas," said I, in a querulous tone, and with a hesitating manner, " am I not a most miserable creature ?" " Do not speak to me, j^laster Williams^. You have given me a shock that I shall not get the better of for one while. You were hatched by a hen, as the saying is, but you came of the spawn of a cockatrice. I am glad to my heart that honest farmer Williams is dead ; your viDany would else have made him curse (he day (hat ever he was born," '^3^i CALEB WILLIAMS. " Thomas, I am innocent! I swear by (lie great dod that shall judge me another day, I am innocent!' " Pray, do not swear ! for goodness' sake, do not sw ear I your poor soul is damned enough without that. For your sake, lad, I will never take any body's word, nor trust to appearances, thof it should be an angel. Lord bless us ! how smoothly you palavered it over, for all the world as if you had been as fair as a new-born babe ! But it will not do ; you will never be able to persuade people that black is white. For my own part, I have done with you. 1 loved you yesterday, all one as if you had been my own brother. To-day I love you so well, that I would go ten miles with all the pleasure in hfe to see you hanged." " Good God, Thomas! have you the heart? What a change ! I call God to witness, I have done nothing to deserve it ! What a world do we live in !" " Hold your tongue, boy ! It makes my very heart sick to hear you 1 I would not lie a night under the same roof w ith you for all the world ! 1 should expect the house to fall and crush such wickedness ! I admire that the earth does not open and swallow you alive I It is poison so much as to look at you ! If you go on at (his hardened rate, I believe from my soul that the people you talk to w ill tear you to pieces, and you will never live to come (o (he gallows. Oh yes, you do well (o pi(y yourself; poor ten- der thing! that spit venom all round you like a load, and leave the v^ry ground on which you crawl infected with your slime." Finding the pi>is(m with whom 1 talked thus impene- trable U) all 1 could say, and considering that (he advan(age to be gained was small, even if I could overcome his pre- posses.sion, I look his advice, and was silen(. 1( was not much longer before every thing was prepared for my de- CALEB WILLIAMS. 237 parture, and I was conducted (o the same prison which had so lately enclosed (he wretched and innocent Haw- kinses. They too had been the victims of Mr. Falkland. He exhibited, upon a contracted scale, indeed, but in which the truth of delineation was faithfully sustained, a copy of what monarchs are, who reckon among the instruments of their power prisons of state. CHAPTER XXni. For my own part, I had never seen a prison, and, like the majority of my brethren, had given myself little concern to enquire what was the condition of those who committed ofTence against, or became obnoxious to suspicion from, the community. Oh, how enviable is the most tottering shed under which the labourer retires to rest, compared with the residence of these walls ! To me every thing was new, — the massy doors, the re- sounding locks, the gloomy passages, the grated windows, and the characteristic looks of the keepers, accustomed to reject every petition, and to steel their hearts against feeling and pity. Curiosity, and a sense of my situation, induced me to fix my eyes on the faces of these men ; but in a few- minutes I drew them away with unconquerable loathing. It is impossible to describe the sort of squalidness and lilth with which these mansions are distinguished. I have seen dirty faces in dirty apartments, which have nevertheless ])orne the impression of health, and spoke carelessness and levity rather than distress. But the dirt of a prison speaks 238 CALEB WILLIAMS. sadness to the heart, and appears to be already in a state of putridity and infection. 1 was detained for more than an hour in the apartment of the keeper, one turnkey after another coming in, that they might make themselves famiUar with my person. As I was already considered as guilty of felony to a con- siderable amount, I imderwent a rigorous search, and they took from me a penknife, a pair of scissars, and that part of my money w hich "was in gold. It was debated w hc- ther or not these should be sealed up, to be returned to me, as they said, as soon as I should be acquitted ; and had I not displayed an unexampled firmness of manner and vigour of expostulation, such was probably the con- duct that would have been pursued. Having undergone these ceremonies, I was thrust into a day-room, in which all the persons then under confinement for felony were assembled, to the number of eleven. Each of thera was too nuich engaged in his own reflections, to lake notice of me. Of these, two were imprisoned for horse-stealing, and three for having stolen a sheep, one for shop-lifting, one for coining, two for highway-robbery, and two for burglary. The horse-stealers were engaged in a game at cards, which was presently interrupted by a diflerence of opinion, attended with great vociferation, — they calling upon one and another to decide it, to no purpose ; one paying no attention to their summons, and another leaving them in the midst of their story, being no longer able to endure his own internal anguish, in the midst of their mummery. It is a custom anu)ng thieves to constitute a sort of mock tribunal of llicir own body, from whose decision every one is informed whether he shall be acquitted, respited, or par- doned, a^ well as respecting the supposed most skilful \\a\ CALEB WILLIAMS. -m «f conducting liis defence. One ol the house-breakers, who had ah^eady passed this ordeal, and was stalking up and down the room with a forced bravery, exclaimed to his companion, that he was as rich as the Duke of Bedford himself. He had five guineas and a half, which was as much as he could possibly spend in the course of the en- suing month ; and what happened after that, it was Jack Ketch's business to see to, not his. As he uttered these words, he threw himself abruptly upon a bench that was near him, and seemed to be asleep in a moment. But his sleep was uneasy and disturbed, his breathing was hard, and, at intervals, had rather the nature of a groan. A young fellow from the other side of the room came softly to the place where he lay, with a large knife in his hand ; and pressed the back of it with such violence upon his neck, the head hanging over the side of the bench, that it was not till after several efforts that he was able to rise. " Oh, Jack !" cried this manual jester, " I had almost done your business for you !" The other expressed no marks of re- sentment, but sullenly answered, " Dajnn you, why did not you take the edge ? It w ould have been the best thing you have done this many a day !" * The case of one of the persons committed for highway- robbery was not a little extraordinary. He was a common soldier of a most engaging physiognomy, and two-and- twenty years of age. The prosecutor, who had been robbed one evening, as he returned late from the alehouse, of the sum of three shillings, swore positively to his person. The character of the prisoner was such as has seldom been equalled. He had been ardent in the pursuit of in- tellectual cultivation, and was accustomed to draw his fa- * An incident exactly similar to this was witnessed by a friend of tlu author, a few years since, in a visit to the prison of Newgate. no CALEB WILLIAMS. vomitc amusement from the works of Viipl and Horace. The humbleness of his situation, combined with liisarih)ur lor hterature, only served to give an inexpressible height- ening to the interestingness of his character. He was plain and unaffected ; he assumed nothing; he was capable, when occasion demanded, of firmness, but, in his ordinary deportment, he seemed unarmed and unresisting, unsuspi- cious of guile in others, as he was totally free from guile in himself. His integrity was pi^verbially great. In one instance he had been intrusted by a lady to convey a sum of a thousand pounds to a person at some miles distance ; in another, he was employed by a gentleman, during his absence, in the care of his house and iurnilure, to the value of at least five times that sum. His habits of thinking were strictly his own, full of justice, simphcity, and wisdom. He from time to time earned money of his officers, by his peculiar excellence in furbishing arms ; but he declined offers that had been made him to become a serjeant or a corporal, saying that he did not want money, and that in a new situation he should have less leisure for study. He was equally constant in refusing presents that were offered him by persons who had been struck with his merit; not that he was under the inlluence of false delicacy and pride, but (hat he had no inclination to accept that, the want of whiili ho did not feel to be an evil. This man died while I was in prison. I received his last breath. The whole day I was obliged to spend in (he company of these men, some of them having really committed the actions laid (o (heir charge, others whom (heir ill fortune had rendered (he victims of suspicion. The whole was a scene ol uiisory, such as nothing short of actual observa(iou A sl.irv cxlrcincly similar to tliis is to l>c round in the Newgate (':i- Icmlar, vol. i. |i. aS-2. I CALEB WILLIAMS. 241 can suggest to ihe'mind. Some were noisy and obstre- perous, endeavouring by a false bravery to keep at bay the remembrance of their condition ; while others, incapable even of this effort, had the torment of their thoughts ag- gravated by the perpetual noise and confusion that prevailed around them. In the faces of those who assumed the most courage, you might trace the furrows of anxious care ; and in the midst of their laboured hilarity dreadful ideas would ever and anon intrude, convulsing their features, and working every line into an expression of the keenest agony. To these men the sun brought no return of joy. Day after day rolled on, but their state was immutable. Existence was to them a scene of invariable melancholy ; every moment was a moment of anguish ; yet did they wish to prolong that moment, fearful that the coming period would bring a severer fate. They thought of the past with in- supportable repentance, each man contented to give his right hand to have again the choice of that peace and liberty, which he had unthinkingly bartered away. We talk of instruments of torture ; Enghshmen take credit to them- selves for having banished the use of them from their happy shore I Alas ! he that has observed the secrets of a prison, well knows that there is more torture in the lingering ex- istence of a criminal, in the silent intolerable minutes that he spends, than in the tangible misery of whips and racks! Such were our days. At sunset our jailors appeared, and ordered each man to come away, and be locked into his dungeon. It was a bitter aggravation of our fate, to be under the arbitrary control of these fellows. They felt no man's sorrow ; they were of all men least capable of any sort of feehng. They had a barbarous and sullen pleasure in issuing their detested mandates, and observing the mourn- ftil reluctance with which they were obeyed. Whatever 2n CALEB WILLIAMS ihey directed, it was in vain to expostulate ; fetters, and bread and water, were the sure consequences of resistance. Their tyranny had no other limit than their own caprice. To whom shall the unfortunate felon appeal ? To what purpose complain, when his complaints are sure to be re- ceived w ith incredulity ? A tale of mutiny and necessary precaution is the unfailing refuge of the keeper, and this tale is an everlasting bar against redress. Our dungeons were cells, 7/^ feet by 6/^, below the surface of the ground, damp, without window, light, or air, except from a few holes worked for that purpose in the door. In some of these miserable receptacles three persons were put to sleep together.* 1 was fortunate enough to have one to myself. It was now the approach of winter. — We were not allowed to have candles, and, as I have al- ready said, were thrust in here at sunset, and not liberated till the returning day. This was our situation for fourteen or fifteen hours out of the four-and-twenty. I had never been accustomed to sleep more than six or seven hours, and my inclination to sleep was now less than ever. Thus was I reduced to spend half my day in this dreary abode, and in complete darkness. This was no trifling aggrava- tion of my lot. Among my melancholy reflections I tasked my memory, and counted over the doors, the locks, the bolts, the chains, the massy walls, and grated windows, that were between me and liberty. " These," said I, " are the engines that tyranny sits down in cold and serious nicditation to invent. This is the empire that man exercises over man. Thus is a being, formed (o expatiate, to act, to smile, and enjoy, restricted and benumbed. How great must be his depra-j * See Howard mi Prisons. i CALEB WILLIAMS. 243 vity or heedlessness, who vindicates this scheme for chang- ing health and gaiety and serenity, into the wanness of a durjgeon, and the deep furrows of agony and despair !" t " Thank God," exclaims the Englishman, " we have no Bastile ! Thank God, with us no man can he punished without a crime !" Unthinking wretch ! Is that a country of liberty, where thousands languish in dungeons and fetters ? Go, ^, ignorant fool ! and visit the scenes of our prisons! witness their unwholesomeness, their filth, the tyranny of their governors, the misery of their inmates ! — After that, show me the man shameless enough to triumph, and say, England has no Bastile ! Is there any charge so frivolous, upon which men are not consigned to those detested abodes ? Is there any villany that is not practised by justices and prosecutorg^ But against all this perhaps you have been told there is redress. Yes ; a redress, that it is the consummation of insult so much as to name ! — Where shall the poor wretch reduced to the last despair, and to whom acquittal comes just time enough to save him from perishing, — where shall this man find leisure, and much less money, to fee counsel and officers, and purchase the tedious, dear-bought remedy of the law ? No ; he is too happy to leave his dungeon, and the memory of his dun- geon, behind him; and the same tyranny and wanton oppression become the inheritance of his successor. For myself, I looked round upon my walls, and forward upon the premature death I had too much reason to expect : I consulted my own heart, that whispered nothing but in- nocence ; and I said, " This is society. This is the object, i the distribution of justice, which is the end of human \ reason. For this sages have toiled, and midnight oil has been wasted. This !" The reader will forgive this digression from the imme- diate subject of my story. If it should be said these are 16* ZU CALEB WILLIAMS. general remarks, let it be remembered that they are the dear-bought result of experience. It is from the fulness of a bursting heart that reproach thus flows to my pen. These arc not the declamations of a man desirous to be eloquent. I have felt the iron of slavery grating upon my soul. I believed that misery, more pure than that which I now endured, had never fallen to the lot of a human being. I recollected with astonishment my puerile -eagerness to be brought to the test, and have my innocence examined. I execrated it, as the vilest and most insufferable pedantry. — I exclaimed, in the bitterness of my heart, "Of what value is a fair fame ? It is the jewel of men formed to be amused with baubles. Without it I might have had serenity of heart and cheerfulness of occupation, peace, and liberty ; why should I consign my haj^iness to other men's arbitra- tion ? But if a fair fame were of the most inexpressible value, is this the method which common sense would pre- scribe to retrieve it? The language which these institutions hold out to the unfortunate is, ' Come, and be shut out from the light of day ; be the associate of those whom society has marked out for her abhorrence, be the slave of jailers, be loaded w ith fetters ; thus shall you be cleared from every unworthy aspersion, and restored to reputation and ho- nour r This is the consolation she affords to those whom malignity or folly, private pique or unfounded positivcnoss, have, without the smallest foundation, loaded with ra- lunuiy!" |F or myself, I felt my own innocence; and I soon found, upon enquiry, that three-fourths of those who aie regulaily subjected to a similar treatment, are persons whom, even with all the superciliousness and precipitation of our conrts_()f justice, no evidence can be found sufli- cient to couvu-tj How slender then must be that man's portion ol inlonuulion an rliaracter and welfare to such guardianship ! CALEB WILLIAMS. 245 .S^iit my case was even worse than this, I intimately felt that a trial, such as our institutions have hitherto been able t ' thought proper to disclose it, with interest; he exa- ;< ed it with sincere impartiality ; and if, at first, any doubt remained upon his mind, a frequent obser ation of me in my most unguarded moments taught him in no long time to place an imreserved confidence in my innoceu i He talked of the injustice of which we were mutual vic- tims, without bitterness ; and delighted to believe that the time would come, when the possibility of such intolerable oppression would be extirpated. But this, he said, was a happiness reserved for posterity ; it was too late for us to reap the benefit of it. It was some consolation to him, that he could not tell the period in his past life, which the best judgment, of which he was capable, would teach him to spend better. He could say, with as much reason as most men, he had discharged his duty. But he foresaw that he should not survive his present calamity. This was his prediction, while yet in health. He might be said, in a certain sense, to have a broken heart. But, if that phrase w ere in any way applicable to him, sure never was despair more calm, more full of resignation and serenity. At no time in the whole course of my adventures w as I exposed to a shock more severe, than I received from this man's death. The circumstances of his fate presented themselves to my mind in their full comphcation of ini- quity. From him, and the execrations with which I loaded n •238 CALEB WILLIAMS Im' governmenl tliat could be the instrumeni ui liis tra- Hf«K. I turned to myself. 1 beheld the catastrophe of Bn^bicvel with envy. A thousand times 1 longed that my corsi' li. d lain in death, instead of his. I was only re- < iNfcl, as [persuaded myself, for unutterable woe. In a |\v.!i\slu» would have been acquitted; his liberty, his npiifaiion restored; mankind, perhaps, struck with the injusiicc he had suffered, would have shown themselves eager to balance his misforhmes, and obliterate his dis- grace. But this man died ; and I remained alive ! I, who, though not less wrongfully treated than he, had no hope of reparation, must be marked as long as I lived for a vil- lain, and in my death probably held up to the scorn and detestation of my species ! Such were some of the immediate reflections which the fate of this unfortunate martyr produced in my mind. Yet my intercourse with Brightwel was not, in the review, without its portion of comfort, I said, "This man has seen through the veil of calumny that overshades me : he has understood, and has loved me. Why should I de- spair? i^Iay I not meet hereafter with men ingenuous like him, who shall do me justice, and sympathise with my ca- lamity ? With that consolation I will be satisfied. I w ill rest in the arms of friendship, and forget the malignitv of the world. Henceforth I will be contented with tran- quil obscurity, with the cultivation of sentiment and wi.s- dom, and the exercise of benevolence within a narrow circle. It was thus that my mind became excited to the project I was about to undertake. "^ I had no sooner meditated the idea of an escape, than I determined upon the following method of facilitating the preparations for if. I undertook to ingratiate myself with my keeper. In (hp world I have generally found such persons as had been ac<]|uaintrd with the outline of my CALEB WILLIAMS. 259 story, regarding me with a sort of loathing and abhor- rence, which made them avoid me with as much care as if I had been spotted with the plague. The idea of my having first robbed my patron, and then endeavouring to clear myself by charging him with subornation against me, placed me in a class distinct from, and infinitely more guiky than that of common felons. But this man was too good a master of his profession, to entertain aversion against a fellow-creature upon that score. He considered the persons committed to his custody, merely as so many human bodies, for whom he was responsible that they should be forthcoming in time and place ; and the diffe- rence of innocence and guilt he looked down upon as an affair beneath his attention. I had not therefore the pre- judices to encounter in recommending myself to him, that I have found so peculiarly obstinate in other cases. Add to which, the same motive, whatever it was, that had made him so profuse in his offers a little before, had probably its influence on the present occasion. I informed him of my skill in the profession of a joiner, / and offered to make him half a dozen handsome chairs, if he would facilitate my obtaining the tools necessary for carrying on my profession in my present confinement ; for, without his consent, previously obtained, it would have been in vain for me to expect that I could quietly exert an industry of this kind, even if my existence had depended upon it. He looked at me first, as asking him- self what he was to understand by this novel proposal ; and then, his countenance most graciously relaxing, said, he was glad I was come off a little of my high notions and my buckram, and he would see what he could do. Two days after, he signified his compliance. He said that, as to the matter of the present I had offered him, he thought nothing of that; I might do as I pleased in it; but 1 might 17* 860 CALEB WILLIAMS. depend upon every eivilUy from him ihat lie conld show with safely to himself, if so be as, when he was civil, I did not oiler a second time for to snap and take him up shorl. Having thus gained my preliminary, I gradually accu- mulated tools of various sorts — gimlets, piercers, chisels, ct cetera. I immediately set myself to work. The nights were long, and the sordid eagerness of my keeper, not- withstanding his ostentatious generosity, was great ; I thcjciore petitioned for, and was indulged with, a bit of candle, that I might amuse myself for an hour or tw o w ith my work after I was locked up in my dungeon. I did not however by any means apply constantly to the work I had undertaken, and my jailor betrayed various tokens of im- patience. Perhaps he was afraid I should not have finished , it before 1 was hanged. I however insisted upon working at my leisure as I pleased ; and this he did not venture ^ expressly to dispute. In addition to the advantages thus obtained, T procured secretly from Miss Peggy, who now and then came into the jail to make her observations of the prisoners, and who seemed to have conceived some par- tiality for my person, the implement of an iron crow. y In these proceedings it is easy to trace the vice and du- plicity that must be expected to grow out of injustice. I know not whether my readers will pardon the sinister ad- vantage I extracted from the mysterious concessions of my keeper. Hut I must acknow ledge my weakness in that resped ; I am wanting my adventures, and not njy apology ; and I was not prepared to maintain the unvaried sincerity of my manners, at the expense of a speedy close of my existence. My plan was now digested. 1 believed thai, by means • '■ », of the (^ow , I could easily, and without uuuh noise, force the door of ujy dungeon from its hinges, or if not, that I CALEB WILLIAMS. 261 could, in case of necessity, cut away the lock. This door led into a narrow passage, bounded on one side by the range of dungeons, and on the other by the jailor's and turnkey's apartments, throngh which was the usual en- trance from the street. This outlet I dared not attempt, for fear of disturbing the persons close to whose very door I should in that case have found it necessary to pass. I determined therefore upon another door at the further end of the passage, which was well barricaded, and which led to a sort of garden in the occupation of the keeper. This garden I had never entered, but I had had an opportunity of observing it from the window of the felons' day-room, which looked that way, the room itself being immediately over the range of dungeons. 1 perceived that it was bounded by a wall of considerable height, which I was told by my fellow-prisoners was the extremity of the jail on that side, and beyond which was a back-lane of some length, that terminated in the skirts of the town. Upon an accurate observation, and much reflection upon the subject, I found I should be able, if once I got into the garden, with my gimlets and piercers inserted at proper distances, to make a sort of ladder, by means of which I could clear the wall, and once more take possession of the sweets of liberty. I preferred this wall to that which im- mediately skirted my dungeon, on the other side of which was a populous street. 1 suffered about two days to elapse from the period at which I had thoroughly digested my project, and then in the very middle of the night began to set about its execution. The first door was attended with considerable difficulty; but at length this obstacle was happily removed. The second door was fastened on the inside. I was therefore able with perfect ease to push back the bolts. But the lock, which of course was depended upon for the prin- Se« CALEB WILLIAMS. cipal security, and was therefore strong, was double- shot, and tlie key taken away. I endeavoured with my chisel to force back the boh of the lock, but to no pur- pose. I then unscrewed the box of the lock ; and, that being taken away, the door was no longer opposed to my wishes. Thus far I had proceeded with the happiest success ; but close on the other side of the door there was a kennel with a large mastiff dog, of which I had not the smallest previous knowledge. Though I stepped along in the most careful manner, this animal was disturbed, and began to bark, I was extremely disconcerted, but immediately ap- plied myself to soothe the animal, in which I presenfly succeeded. I then returned along the passage to listen whether any body had been disturbed by the noise of the dog ; resolved, if that had been the case, that I w ould re- turn to my dungeon, and endeavour to replace every thing in its former state. But the whole appeared perfectly quiet, and I was encouraged to proceed in my opera- tion. I now got to the wall and had nearly gained half the ascent, when I heard a voice at the garden-door, crying, "Holloa! who is there? who opened the door?" The man received no answer, and the night was too dark for him to distinguish objects at any distance. He therefoi-e returned, as I judged, into the house for a light. Mean- time the dog, understanding the key in which these inter- rogations were uttered , began barking again more violently than ever. I had now no possibility of re- treat, and I v.as not without hopes that I might yet ac- conij)lish uiy object, and clear the wall. !>I can while a second man came out, while the other was getting his lantern, and by the time I had got to the top of the wall was able to perceive ine. He immediatelv set up a shout, CALEB WILLIAMS. 203 and tlirew a large stone, which grazed me m its flight. Alarmed at my situation, I was obliged to descend on the other side without taking the necessary precautions, and , in my fall nearly dislocated my ankle. There was a door in the wall, of which I was not pre- viously apprised; and, this being opened, the two men, ! with the lantern were on the other side in an instant'. ^^ < They had then nothing to do but to run along the lane to V"^ the place from which I had descended. I endeavoured to ,1 rise after my fall ; but the pain was so intense, that I was p f^A^* scarcely able to stand, and, after having limped a fe\4. ^y^ ^ paces, I twisted my foot under me, and fell down again. I had now no remedy, and quietly sudered myself to be ^ retaken. \ CHAPTEK XX\ I. I WAS conducted to the keeper's room for that night, and the two men sat up with me. I was accosted with many interrogatories, to which I gave little answer, but complained of the hurt in my leg. To this I could obtain no reply, except " Curse you, my lad ! if that be all, we will give you some ointment for that ; we will anoint it with a Uttle cold iron." They were indeed excessively sulky with me, for having broken their night's rest, and given them all this trouble. In the morning they were as good as their word, fixing a pair of fetters upon both my legs, regardless of the ankle which was now swelled to a considerable size, and then fastening me, with a padlock, to a staple in the floor of my dungeon. I expostulated •201 CALEB WILLIAMS. with warintli upon this treatment, and told them, that I was a man upon whom the law as yet had passed no cen- sure, and who therelore, in the eye of the law, was in- nocent. But they hid me keep such fudge for people who knew no better; they knew what they did, and would answer it to any court in England. The pain of the fetter was intolerable. 1 endeavoured in various ways to relieve it, and e\en privily to free my leg; but the more it was swelled, the more was this ren- dered impossible. I then resolved to bear it with patience : still, the longer it continued, the worse it grew. After two days and two nights, I entreated the turnkey to go and ask the surgeon, who usually attended the prison, to look at it, for, if it continued longer as it was, I was convinced it would mortify. But he glared surlily at me, and aid, " Damn my blood ! I should like to see that day. To die of a mortification is too good an end for such a rascal !" At the time that he thus addressed me, the whole mass of my blood was already fevered by the anguish 1 had under- gone, my patience was wholly exhausted, and 1 was silly enough to be irritated beyond bearing, by his impertinence and vulgarity : " Look you, Mr. Turnkey," said I, " thei*e is one thing that such fellows as you ai'e set over us for, and another thing that you are not. You are to take care \vc do not escape ; but it is no part of your office to call us names and abuse us. If I were not chained to the lloor, you dare as well eat your fingers as use such language ; and, take my word for it, you shall yet live to repent of your insolence." W hile I thus spoke, the man s'.ared at me with aslonish- uicnt. lie was so little accustomed to such relorts, that, at first, he could scaicely believe his ears; and such was ihc firmness of my manner, that he seemed to forget for a uiomcnt that I was not at laigc. But, as soon as he had CALEB WILLIAMS. 265 time to recollect himself, he did not deign to be angry. His face relaxed into a smile of contempt ; he snapped his fingers at me, and, turning upon his heel, exclaimed, " Well said, my cock ! crow away ! Have a care you do not burst !" and, as he shut the door upon me, mimicked the voice of the animal he mentioned. This rejoinder brought me to myself in a moment, and showed me the impotence of the resentment I was express- ing. But, though he thus put an end to the violence of my speech, the torture of my body continued as great as ever. I w as determined to change my mode of attack. The same turnkey returned in a few minutes; and, as he ap- proached me, to put down some food he had brought, 1 slipped a shilling into his hand, saying at the same time, " My good fellow, for God's sake, go to the surgeon ; I am sure you do not wish me to perish for want of assistance." The fellow put the shilling into his pocket, looked hard at me, and then with one nod of his head, and without utter- ing a single word, w ent away. The surgeon presently after made his appearance ; and, finding the part in a high state of inflammation, ordered certain apphcations, and gave peremptory directions that the fetter should not be re- placed upon that leg, till a cure had been effected. It was a full month before the leg was perfectly healed, and made equally strong and flexible with the other. The condition in which I was now placed, was totally different from that which had preceded this attempt. I w as chained all day in my dungeon, with no other mitigation, except that the door was regularly opened for a few hours in an afternoon, at which time some of the prisoners oc- casionally came and spoke to me, particularly one, who, though he could ill replace my benevolent Brightwel, was not deficient in excellent qualities. This was no other than 266 CALEB UlLLUMS the iudividiuil vsliom ->Ir. Falkland had, some months be- fore, dismissed upon an accusation of murder. His courage was gone, his garb was squalid, and the comeliness and clearness of his countenance was utterly obliterated. He also was innocent, ^^orthy, brave, and benevolent. He was, I believe, arterv> ards acquitted, and turned loose, to w ander a desolate and perturbed spectre through the world. My manual labours were now at an end ; my dungeon was searched every night, and every kind of tool carefully kept from me. The straw , which had been hitherto allowed me, was removed, under pretence that it was adapted for con- cealment; and the only conveniences with which I was in- dulged, were a chair and a blanket. X prospect of some alleviation in no long time opened upon me ; but this my usual ill fortune rendered abortive. The keeper once more made his appearance, and with his former constitutional and ambiguous humanity. He pre- tended to be surprised at my want of every accommodation. He reprehended in strong terms my attempt to escape, and obseiTcd, that there must be an end of civility fiora people in his situation, if gentlemen, after all, would not know when they were well. It was necessary, in cases the like of this, to let the law take its course ; and it w ould be ridi- culous in me to complain, if, after a regular trial, things should go hard with me. He was desirous of being in every respect my friend, if I would let him. In the midst of this circundocution and preamble, he was called away from me, for something relating to the business of his office. In the mean lime I ruminated upon his overtures; and de- testing, as I did, the sinure from which I conceive*! them to flow, I could not lu'Ip rellec^ting how far it would be possible to extrart from them the means of escape. But my mrdilaiion.s in i|,is 4a.se were \ain. The ki'eper i-e- CALEB WILLIAMS. 267 turned no more during the remainder of that day, and, on the next, an incident occurred which put an end to all expectations from his kindness. An active mind, which has once been forced into any particular train, can scarcely be persuaded to desert it as hopeless. I had studied my chains, during the extreme anguish that I endured from the pressure of the fetter upon the ankle which had been sprained ; and though, from the swelling and acute sensibihty of the part, I had found all attempts at relief in that instance impracticable, I obtained, from the coolness of my investigation, another and apparently superior advantage. During the night, my dungeon was in a complete state of darkness ; but, when the door was open, the case was somewhat different. The passage indeed into which it opened, was so narrow, and the opposite dead wall so near, that it was but a glim- mering and melancholy light that entered my apartment, even at full noon, and when the door was at its widest extent. But my eyes, after a practice of two or three weeks, accommodated themselves to this circumstance, and ' distinguish the minutest object. One day, as t lately meditating and examining the objects aroi.< I chanced to observe a nail trodden jnto the it no great distance from me. I immediately he desire of possessing myself of this imple- ment; but, for fear of surprise, people passing perpetually to and fro, 1 contented myself, for the present, with remarking its situation so accurately, that I might easily find it again in the dark. Accordingly, as soon as my door was shut, 1 soi/p'J upon this new treasure, and, having contrived to t to my purpose, found that I could unlock with it ■ '..-. ock that fastened me to the staple in the floor. Thi- egarded as no inconsiderable advantage separately 'V le use [ might derive from it in relation to my piin- 2G8 CALEB WILLIAMS. cipal object. My chain permitted me to move only about eighteen inches to the right or left ; and, having borne this confinement lor several weeks, my very heart leaped at the pitilul consolation of being able to range, without con- straint, the miserable coop in which I was immured. This incident had occurred several days previously to the last visit of my keeper. From this time it had been my constant practice to hbe- rate myself every night, and not to replace things in their former situation till I awoke in the morning, and expected shortly to perceive the entrance of the turnkey. Security breeds negligence. On the morning succeeding my con- ference with the jailor, it so happened, whether 1 overslept myself, or the turnkey went his round earher than usual, that I was roused from my sleep by the noise he made in opening the cell next to my own ; and though I exerted the utmost diligence, yet having to grope for my materials in the dark, 1 was unable to fasten the chain to the staple, before he^ entered, as usual, with his lantern. He was extremely surprised to iind me disengaged, and imme- diately summoned the principal keeper. I was questioned respecting my method of proceeding ; and, as 1 believed concealment could lead to nothing but a severer search, and a uiore accurate watch, I readily acquainted them with the exact truth. The illustrious personage, whose limctions it was to control the inhabitants of these walls, was, by this last instance, completely exasperated against me. Artifice and fair speaking were at an end. His eyes sparkled with fury ; he exclaimed, that he was now con- \inccd of the lolly of showing kindness to rascals, the scum ol the earth, such as 1 was; and, damn him, if tmy body should catch him at that again towards any one. I had cured him efteclually ! He was astonished llujt the laws had not in ovidcd some terrible retaliation lor thieve> CALEB WILLIAMS. 2G'J that attempted to deceive their jailors. Hanging was a thousand times too good for me ! Having vented his indignation, he proceeded to give such orders as the united instigations of anger and alarm suggested to his mind, J>Iy apartment was changed. I was conducted to a room called the strong room, the door of which opened into the middle cell of the range of dun- geons. It w as under-ground, as they were, and had also the day-room for felons, already described, immediately over it. It was spacious and dreary. The door had not been opened for years ; the air was putrid ; and the walls hung round with damps and mildew. The fetters, the padlock, and the staple, w ere employed, as in the former case ; in addition to which they put on me a pair of hand- cuffs. For my first provision, the keeper sent me nothing but a bit of bread, mouldy and black, and some dirty and stinking water. I know not, indeed, whether this is to be regarded as gratuitous tyranny on the part of the jailor; the law having providently directed, in certain cases, that the water to be administered to the prisoners shall be taken from " the next sink or puddle nearest to the jail." * It was further ordered, that one of the turnkeys should sleep in the cell that formed a sort of antechamber to my apartment. Though every convenience was provided, to render this chamber fit for the reception of a personage of a dignity so superior to the felon he was appointed to guard, he expressed much dissatisfaction at the mandate : but there w as no alternative. Tin situation to which I was thus removed was, appa- rently the most undesirable that could be imagined ; but I was Qot discouraged ; I had for some time learned not * ' le case oi the peine forte et dure. See State Trials, Vol. I. anno S70 CALEB WILLIAMS. to judge by appearances. The apartment was dark and unwholcsoine; but I had acquired the secret of coun- teracting these inHuences. My door was kept continually shut, and the other prisoners were debarred access to me; but if the intercourse of our fello\v-men has its pleasure, solitude, on the other hand, is not without its advantages. In solitude we can pursue our own thoughts undisturbed; and I was able to call up at will the most pleasing avoca- tions. Besides which, to one who meditated such designs as now filled my mind, solitude had peculiar recommen- dations. I was scarcely left to myself, before I tried an experiment, the idea of which I conceived, while they were fixing my handcuffs; and, with my teeth only, disen- gaged myself from this restraint. The hours at w Inch I was visited by the keepers were regular, and I took care to be provided for them. Add to which, I had a narrow- grated window near the ceiling, about nine inches in per- pendicular, and a foot and a half horizontally, which, though small, admitted a much stronger light than that to wbich I had been accustomed for several weeks. Thus circumstanced, I scarcely ever found myself in total dark- ness, and was better provided against surprises than I had been in my preceding situation. Such were the sentiments which this change of abode immediately suggested. I had been a very little time removed, when I received an unexpected visit from Thomas, Mr. Falkland's footman, whom I have already mentioned in the course of my nar- rative. A servant of Mr. Forester happened to come to the town ^^here [ was imprisoned, a few \\eeks before, while I was confined with the hurt in my ankle, and had called in to see me. The account he gave of u hat he ol)ser\ «'<1 had been the source of many an uneasy sensation to Thonias. The former visit was a matter of mere cu- riosity ; but Thomas was of the bettor order of servants. CALEB WILLIAMS. 271 He was considerably struck at the sight of me. Though my mind was now serene, and my health sufficiently good, yet the floridness of my complexion was gone, and there was a rudeness in my physiognomy, the consequence of hardship and fortitude, extremely unlike the sleekness of my better days. Thomas looked alternately in my face, at my hands, and my feet ; and then fetched a deep sigh. After a pause, " Lord bless us !" said he, in a voice in which commi- seration was sufficiently perceptible, " is this you ?" " Why not, Thomas ? You knew 1 was sent to prison, did not you ?" " Prison ! and must people in prison be shackled and bound of that fashion ? — and where do you lay of nights ?" " Here." " Here ? Why there is no bed !" " No, Thomas, I am not allowed a bed. I had straw formerly, but that is taken away." " And do they take off them there things of nights ?" " No ; I am expected to sleep just as you see." " Sleep ! W' hy I thought this was a Christian country ; but this usage is too bad for a dog." " You must not say so, Thomas; it is what the wisdom of government has thought fit to provide." " Zounds, how I have been deceived ! They told me what a line thing it was to be an Englishman, and about /^ liberty and property, and all that there ; and I find it is \ all a flam. Lord, what fools we be ! Things are done > under our very noses, and we know nothing of the matter ; and a parcel of fellows with grave faces swear to us, that such things never happen but in France, and other coun- tries the like of that. Why, you lia'n't been tried, ha' you ?" "No." 27:4 CALEB WILLIAMS. " And what signifies l)eing tried, wlien they do worse than hang a men, and all beforehand ? Well, master Wil- liams, you have been very wicked to be sure, and I thought it Nxoiild have done me good to see you hanged. But, I do not know how it is, one's heart melts, and pity comes over one, if we take time to cool. I know that ought not to be; but, damn it, when I talked of your being hanged, I did not think of your suffering all this into the bargain." Soon after this conversation Thomas left me. The idea of the long connexion of our families rushed upon his me- mory, and he felt more for my sufferings, at the moment, than I did for myself. In the afternoon I was surprised to see him again. He said that he could not get the thought of mc out of his mind, and therefore he hoped I would not be displeased at his coming once more to take leave of me. I could perceive that he had something upon his mind, which he did not know how to discharge. One of the turnkeys had each time come into the room with him, and continued as long as he staid. Upon some avocation, however — a noise, I believe, in the passage — the turnkey went as far as the door to satisfy his curiosity ; and Tho- mas, watching the opportunity, shpped into my hand a chisel, a file, and a saw, exclaiming at the same time w ith a sorrowful tone, " I know I am doing wTong ; but, if they hang me too, I cannot help it ; I cannot do no other. For Christ's sake, get out of this place ; I cannot bear the thoughts of it!" 1 received the implements with great joy, and thrust them into my bosom ; and, as soon as he was gone, concealed them in the rushes of my chair. For him- self, he had accomplished the object for wliich he came, and presently after bade me farewell. The next day, the keepers, I know not for what reason, were more than usually industrious in their search, saying, though without assigning any ground for their suspicion. CALEB WILLIAMS. 273 tliat they were sure I had some tool in my possession that I ought not; but the depository I had chosen escaped them. I waited from this time the greater part of a week, that I might have the benefit of a bright moonhght. It was necessary that I should work in the night ; it was neces- sary that my operations should be performed between the last visit of the keepers at night and their first in the morn- ing, that is, between nine in the evening and seven. In my dungeon, as I have already said, I passed fourteen or sixteen hours of the four-and-twenty undisturbed; but since I had acquired a character for mechanical ingenuity, a particular exception with respect to me was made from the general rules of the prison. It was ten o'clock when I entered on my undertaking. The room in which I was confined was secured with a double door. This was totally superfluous for the pur- pose of my detention, since there was a sentinel planted on the outside. But it was very fortunate for my plan ; because these doors prevented the easy communication of sound, and afforded me tolerable satisfaction that, with a little care in my mode of proceeding, I might be secure against the danger of being overheard. I first took off my hand-cuffs. I then filed through my fetters; and next performed the same service to three of the iron bars that secured my window, to which I cUmbed, partly by the as- sistance of my chair, and partly by means of certain irre- gularities in the wall. All this was the work of more than two hours. When the bars were filed through, I easily forced them a little from the perpendicular, and then drew them, one by one, out of the wall, into which they were sunk about three inches perfectly straight, and without any precaution to prevent their 1 eing removed. But the space thus obtained was by no means wide enough to admit the 18 i7.| CALEB WILLIAMS. passing of my body. I tliercCore applied myself, partly Avith my tliisel, and paitly with one of the iron bars, to the loosening the brick-work ; and when I had thus disengaged four or five bricks, I got down and piled them upon the floor. This operation I repeated three or four times. The space was now sufficient for my purpose ; and, having / crept through the opening, I stept upon a shed on the out- side. I was now in a kind of rude area between two dead walls, that south of the felons' day-room (the w indows of which were at the east end) and the wall of the prison. But I had not, as formerly, any instruments to assist me in scaling the wall, which was of considerable height. There was, of consequence, no resource for me but that of effect- ing a practicable breach in the lower part of the wall, which was of no contemptible strength, being of stone on (he outside, with a facing of brick within, "^^he rooms for the debtors were at right angles with the building from which i "had just escaped ; and, as the night w as extremely bright, I was in momentary danger, particularly in case of the least noise, of being discovered by them, several of their windows commanding this area. Thus circumstanced, 1 determined to make the shed answer the purpose of con- cealment. It was locked ; but, with the broken link of my fetters, which I had had the precaution to bring with me, I found no great dilficulty in opening the lock. I had now got a sulUcient means of hiding my person while I pro- ceeded ill my work, attended with no other disadvantage than (hat of being obliged to leave the door, through which 1 had thus broken, a little open for tlie sake of light. After some (imc, 1 had removed a considerable part of (he brick-work of (ho oii(er wall ; l)u(, when I came (o (he s(one, I found tlu' under(aking iurmi(ely more diflicuh. The nu)r(ar wliirli bound togedier the building was, by CALEB WILLIAMS. 275 length of time, nearly petrified, and appeared to my first efforts one solid rock of the hardest adamant. I had now been six hours incessantly engaged in incredible labour : my chisel broke in the first attempt upon this new obstacle ; and between fatigue already endured, and the seemingly mvincible difficulty before me, I concluded that I must re- main where I was, and gave up the idea of further effort as useless. At the same time the moon, whose light had till now been of the greatest use to me, set, and I was left in total darkness. After a respite of ten minutes, however, I returned to the attack with new vigour. It could not be less than two hours before the first stone was loosened from the edifice. In one hour more, the space was sufficient to admit of my escape. The pile of bricks I had left in the strong room was considerable. But it was a mole-hill compared with the ruins I had forced from the outer wall. I am fully assured that the work I had thus performed would have been to a common labourer, with every advantage of tools, the business of two or three days. But my difficulties, instead of being ended, seemed to be only begun. The day broke, before I had completed the opening, and in ten minutes more the keepers would pro- bably enter my apartment, and perceive the devastation I had left. The lane, which connected the side of the prison through which I had escaped, with the adjacent country, was formed chiefly by two dead walls, with here and there a stable, a few warehouses, and some mean habitations, tenanted by the lower order of people. My best security lay in clearing the town as soon as possible, and depending upon the open country for protection. My arms were in- tolerably swelled and bruised with my labour, and my strength seemed wholly exhausted with fatigue. Speed I was nearly unable to exert for any continuance ; and, if I 18* 276 CALEB WILLUMS could, with the enemy so close at my heels, speed would too probably have been useless. It appeared as if I were now in almost the same situation as that in which I had been placed five or six weeks before, in which, after having completed ray escape, I was obliged to yield myself up, without resistance, to my pursuers. I was not, however, disabled as then ; I was capable of exertion, to what pre- cise extent 1 could not ascertain ; and I was w ell aware, that evei7 instance in which I should fail of my purpose would contribute to enhance the difficulty of any future attempt. Such were the considerations that presented themselves in relation to my escape ; and, even if that w ere effected, I had to reckon among my difficulties, that, at the time I quitted my prison, I was destitute of every resource, and had not a shilling remaining in the world. CHAPTER XXVn. I PASSED along the lane I have described, without per- ceiving or being observed by a human being. The doors were shut, the window-shutters closed, and all was still as night. I reached the extremity of the lane unmolested. My pursuers, if they immediately followed, would know- that the likelihood was small, of my having in the interval found shelter in this place ; and would proceed without hesitation, as I on my part was obliged to do, from the end nearest to the prison to its furthest termination. The lace of the country, in the spot to which 1 had lluis opened myself a passage, was rude and uncultivated. It was overgrown with brushwood and furze ; the soil was CALEB VVILLUMS. 277 for the most part of a loose sand ; and the surface ex- tremely irregular. I climbed a small eminence, and could perceive, not very remote in the distance, a few cottages thinly scattered. This prospect did not altogether please me ; I conceived that my safety would, for the present, be extremely assisted, by keeping myself from the view of any human being. I therefore came down again into the valley, and upon a careful examination perceived that it was interspersed with cavities, some deeper than others, but all of them so shallow, as neither to be capable of hiding a man, nor of exciting suspicion as places of possible concealment. Mean- while the day had but just began to dawn ; the morning was lowering and drizzly ; and, though the depth of these caverns was of course well known to the neighbouring in- habitants, the shadows they cast were so black and im- penetrable, as might well have produced wider expectations in the mind of a stranger. Poor, therefore, as was the protection they were able to afford, I thought it right to have recourse to it for the moment, as the best the emer- gency would supply. It was for my life ; and, the greater was the jeopardy to which it was exposed, the more dear did that life seem to become to my affections. The recess I chose, as most secure, was within little more than a hun- di-ed yards of the end of the lane, and the extreme build- ings of the town. I had not stood up in this manner two minutes, before I heard the sound of feet, and presently saw the ordinary turnkey and another pass the place of my retreat. They were so close to me, that, if I had stretched out my hand, I believe I could have caught hold of their clothes, without so much as changing my posture. As no part of the over- hanging earth intervened between me and them, I could see them entire, though the deepness of the shade rendered «78 CALEB WILLIAMS. me almost completely invisible. I heard them say to each other, in tones of vehement asperity, " Curse the rascal ! which way can he be gone ?" The reply was, " Damn him ! I w ish we had him but safe once again !" — " Never fear !"' rejoined the first ; " he cannot have above half a mile the start of us." They were presently out of hearing ; for, as to sight, I dared not advance my body, so much as an inch, to look after them, lest I should be discovered by my pursuers in some other direction. From the very short time that elapsed, between my escape and the appearance of these men, I concluded that they had made their way through the same outlet as I had done, it being impossible that they could have had time to come, from the gate of the prison, and so round a considerable part of the tow n, as they must otherwise have done. I was so alarmed at this instance of diligence on the part of the enemy, that, for some time, I scarcely ventured to proceed an inch from my place of concealment, or almost to change my posture. The morning, which had been bleak and drizzly, was succeeded by a day of heavy and inces- sant rain ; and the gloomy state of the air and surrounding objects, together with the extreme nearness of my prison, and a total want of food, caused me to pass the hours in no very agreeable sensations. This inclemency of the weather, however, which generated a feeling of stillness and solitude, encouraged me by degrees to change my retreat, for another of the same nature, but of somewhat greater security. I hovered with little variation about a single spot, as long as the sun continued above the horizon. Towards evening, the clouds began to disperse, and the in(»(»n shone, as on (he preceding night, in full brightness. I had perceived no human creature during the whole day, except in the instance already mentioned. This had pei^ haps been owing (o the nature of the dav, at all events I CALEB WILLIAMS. cCED considered it as too hazardous an experiment, to venture from my hiding-place in so clear and fine a night. 1 was therefore obhged to wait for the setting of this luminary, which was not till near five o'clock in the morning. My only relief during this interval was to allow myself to sink to the bottom of my cavern, it being scarcely possible for me to continue any longer on my feet. Here I fell into an interrupted and unrefreshing doze, the consequence of a laborious night, and a tedious, melancholy day; though I rather sought to avoid sleep, which, co-operating with the coldness of the season, would tend more to injury than advantage. The period of darkness, which I had determined to use for the purpose of removing to a greater distance from my prison, was, in its whole duration, something less than three hours. When I rose from my seat, I was weak with hunger and fatigue, and, which was worse, I seemed, between the dampness of the preceding day, and the sharp clear frost of the night, to have lost the command of my limbs. I stood up and shook myself; I leaned against the side of the hill, impeUing in different directions the muscles of the extremities ; and at length recovered in some degree the sense of feeling. This operation was attended with an in- credible aching pain, and required no common share of resolution to encounter and prosecute it. Having quitted my retreat, I at first advanced with weak and tottering steps ; but, as I proceeded, increased ray pace. The barren heath, which reached to the edge of the town, was, at least on this side, without a path ; but the stars shone, and, guiding myself by them, I determined to steer as far as possible from the hateful scene where I had been so long confined. The line I pursued was of irregular surface, sometimes obliging me to climb a steep ascent, and at others to go down into a dark and impenetrable dell, 1 iSO CALEB WILLIAMS. was often compelled, by the dangerousness of the way, to deviate considerably from the direction I wished to pursue. In the mean time I advanced with as much rapidity as these and similar obstacles would permit nae to do. The swift- ness of the motion, and the thinness of the air, restored to me my alacrity. I forgot the inconveniences under which I laboured, and my mind became lively, spirited, and en- thusiastic. \ had now reached the border of the heath, and entered upon what is usually termed the forest. Strange as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, that, in this conjuncture, ex- hausted with hunger, destitute of all provision for the future, and surrounded with the most alarming dangers, my mind suddenly became glowing, animated, and cheerful. I thought that, by this time, the most formidable difficulties of my undertaking were surmounted ; and I could not be- lieve that, after having effected so much, I should find any thing invincible in what remained to be done. I recollected the confinement 1 had undergone, and the fate that had impended over me, with horror. Never did man feel more vividly, than I felt at that moment, the sweets of liberty. — iNever did man more stremiously prefer poverty with inde- pendence, to the artificial allurements of a life of slavery. \ stretched forth my arms with rapture; I clapped my hands one upon the other, and exclaimed, " Ah, this is indeed to be a man ! These wrists were lately galled with fetters ; all my motions, whether 1 rose up or sat down, were echoed to with the clanking of chains; 1 was tied down like a wild beast, and could not move but in a circle of a few feet in cinuunference. Now I can run fleet as a grey- hound, and Icaj) lii<«. a young roc upon the mountains. Oh, God ! (if (iod tluMc be that condescends to record the lonely beatings of an anxious heart) thou onlyoaust tell with what d<'light a prisonoi, just bntkc forth from his dungeon, hugs CALEB WILLIAMS. 281 the blessings of new-found liberty! Sacred and inde- t scribable moment, when man regains his rights ! But lately I held my hfe in jeopardy, because one man was unprin- cipled enough to assert what he knew to be false ; I was destined to suffer an early and inexorable death from the hands of others, because none of them had penetration enough to distinguish from falsehood, what I uttered with the entire conviction of a full-fraught heart ! Strange, that men, from age to age, should consent to hold their lives at the breath of another, merely that each in his turn may have a pow^r of acting the tyrant according to law! Oh God ! give me poverty ! shower upon me all the imaginary hardships of human hfe ! I w ill receive them all with thank- fulness. Turn me a prey to the wild beasts of the desert, so I be never again the victim of man, dressed in the gore- dripping robes of authority ! Suffer me at least to call life, and the pursuits of life, my own ! Let me hold it at the mercy of the elements, of the hunger of beasts, or the re- venge of barbarians, but not of the cold-blooded prudence of monopohsts and kings !" How enviable was the enthu- siasm which could thus furnish me with energy, in the midst of hunger, poverty, and universal desertion ! I had now walked at least six miles. At first I carefully avoided the habitations that lay in my way, and feared to be seen by any of the persons to whom they belonged, lest it should in any degree furnish a clue to the researches of my pursuers. As I went forward, I conceived it might be proper to relax a part of my precaution. At this time I perceived several persons coming out of a thicket close to me. I immediately considered this circumstance as rather favourable than the contrary. It was necessary for me to ^void entering any of the towns and villages in the vicinity. It was, howfever, full time that I should pfooure for myself some species of refreshment, and by no means improbable 2y2 CM.EP WILLIAMS. (hat these men might be in some way assisting to me in that respect. In my situation it appeared to me indifferent what might be their employment or profession. I had Uttle to apprehend from thieves, and 1 beheved that they, as well as honest men, could not fail to have some compassion for a person under my circumstances. 1 therefore rather threw myself in their way than avoided them. They were thieves. One of the company cried out, "Who goes there? stand!" I accosted them; "Gentle- men," said I, "I am a poor traveller, almost" Wliile I spoke, they came round me ; and he that had first hailed me, said, "Damn me, tip us none of your palaver; we have heard that story of a poor traveller any time these five years. Come, down with your dust ! let us see what you have got!" — " Sir," I replied, " I have not a shilling in the world, and am more than half starved beside." — "Not a shilling!" answered my assailant, "what, I sup- pose you are as poor as a thief? But, if you have not money, you have clothes, and those you must resign." "My clothes!" rejoined I with indignation, " you cannot desire such a thing. Is it not enough that 1 am pennyless ? 1 have been all night upon the open heath. It is now the second day that I have not eaten a morsel of bread. Would you strip me naked to the weather in the midst of this depopulated forest ? No, no, you are men ! The same hatred of oppression, that arms you against the insolence of wealth, will teach you to reheve those who are perishing | like me. For God's sake, give me food ! do not strip me of the comforts j still possess!" \N hile 1 uttered this apostrophe, the unpremeditated elcKinence of sentiment, I could perceive by their gestures, though the day had not yet begun to dawn, that the feel- ings ol one or two of the company appeared to take my part. TIm' man, wIh> had already undertaken to be their CALEB VVILUAMS. 283 spokesman, perceived the same thing ; and, excited either by the brutaUty of his temper or the love of command, hastened to anticipate the disgrace of a defeat. He brushed suddenly up to me, and by main force pushed me several feet from the place where I stood. The shock I received drove me upon a second of the gang, not one of those who had hstened to my expostulation ; and he repeated the brutality. My indignation was strongly excited by this treatment ; and, after being thrust backward and forward two or three times in this manner, I broke through my as- sailants, and turned round to defend myself. The first that advanced within my reach, was my original enemy. In the present moment I hstened to nothing but the dic- tates of passion, and I laid him at his length on the earth. I was immediately assailed with sticks and bludgeons on all sides, and presently received a blow that almost de- prived me of ray senses. The man I had knocked down was now upon his feet again, and aimed a stroke at me with a cutlass as I fell, which took place in a deep wound J upon my neck and shoulder. He was going to repeat his blow. The two who had seemed to waver at first in their animosity, afterwards appeared to me to join in the attack, urged either by animal sympathy or the spirit of imitation. One of them however, as I afterwards understood, seized the arm of the man who was going to strike me a second time with his cutlass, and who would otherwise probably have put an end to my existence. I could hear the words, "Damn it, enough, enough! that is too bad, Gines!" — "How so?" replied a second voice; "he will but pine here upon the forest, and die by inches : it will be an act of charity to put him out of his pain." — It will be imagined that I was not uninterested in this sort of debate. I made an effort to speak; my voice failed me. I stretched out one hand with a gesture of entreaty. " You shall not ,W4 CALEB WILLUMS. sti'ike, by God ! " said one of the voices ; " why should we be murderers ? " — The side of forbearance at length pre- vailed. They therefore contented themselves with strip- ping me of my coat and waistcoat, and rolling me into a dry ditch. They then left me totally regardless of my dis- tressed condition, and the plentiful effusion of blood which sti-eamed from ray wound. CHAPTER XXVIII. In this woful situation, though extremely weak, I was not deprived of sense. I tore my shirt from my naked body, and endeavoured, with some success, to make of it a bandage to staunch the How ing of the blood. I then exerted myself to crawl up the side of the ditch. I had scarcely effected the latter, w hen, w ith equal surprise and joy, I perceived a man advancing at no great distance. I called for help as well as I could. The man came tow ards me with evident signs of compassion, and the appearance I exhibited was indeed sufficiently calculated to excite |^it. 1 had no hat. My hair was dishevelled, and the ends of the locks clotted with blood. My shirt was wrapped about my neck and shoulders, and was plentifully stained with red. My body,, which was naked to my middle, w as varie- gated with sticams of blood ; nor had my low er garments, which were white, by any means escaped. " For God's sake, my good fellow ! " said he, with a tone of the greatest imaginable kindness, " how came you Ihusi'" and, saying (his, he lifted me up, and set me on my fecJ. " Tan you shiml '.''' added he, doubllully. '' Oh, yes, CALEB WILLIAMS. 285 very well," I replied. Having received this answer, he quitted me, and began to take ofF his own coat, that he might cover me from the cold. I had however overrated my strength, and was no sooner left to myself than I reeled, and fell almost at my length upon the ground. But I broke my fall by stretching out my sound arm, and again raised myself upon my knees. My benefactor now covered me, raised me, and, bidding me lean upon him, told me he would presently conduct me to a place where I should be taken care of. Courage is a capricious property, and, though while I had no one to depend upon but myself, I possessed a mine of seemingly inexhaustible fortitude, yet no sooner did I find this unexpected sympathy on the part of another, than my resolution appeared to give way, and I felt ready to faint. My charitable conductor perceived this, and every now and then encouraged me, in a manner » so cheerful, so good humoiu-ed and benevolent, equally / free from the torture of droning expostulation, and the weakness of indulgence, that I thought myself under the conduct of an angel rather than a man. I could perceive that his behaviour had in it nothing of boorishness, and that he was thoroughly imbued with the principles of affec- tionate civility. We walked about three quarters of a mile, and that not towards the open, but the most uncouth and unfrequented part of the forest. We crossed a place which had once been a moat, but which was now in some parts dry, and in others contained a little muddy and stagnated water. Within the enclosure of this moat, I could only discover a pile of ruins, and several walls, the upper part of which seemed to overhang their foundations, and to totter to their ruin. After having entered, however, with my con- ductor through an archway, and passed along a winding passage that was perfectly dark, we came to a stand. 286 CALEB WILLIAMS. Al (he upper end of this passage was a doon, which I was unable to perceive. >Iy conductor knocked at the door, and was answered by a voice from within, which, for body and force, might have been the voice of a man, but with a sort of female sharpness and acidity, enquiring, " Who is there ?" Satisfaction was no sooner given on this point, than I heard two bolts pushed back, and the door unlocked. The apartment opened, and we entered. The interior of this habitation by no means corresponded with the appearance of my protector, but, on the contrary, wore the face of discomfort, carelessness, and dirt. The only person I saw within was a^oman, rather advanced in hfe, and whose person had I know not what of extra- ordinary and loathsome. Her eyes were red and blood- shot ; her hair was pendent in matted and shaggy tresses about her shoulders ; her complexion swarthy, and of the consistency of parchment ; her form spare, and her \s hole body, her arms in particular, uncommonly vigorous and muscular. Not the milk of human kindness, but the fe- verous blood of savage ferocity, seemed to flow from her heart; and her whole figure suggested an idea of unmi- tigable energy, and an appetite gorged in malevolence. This infernal Thalestris had no sooner cast her eyes upon us as we entered, than she exclaimed in a discordant and discontented voice, " What have we got here ? this is not one of our people !" My conductor, without answering this apostrophe, bade her push an easy chair which stood in one corner, and set it directly before the lire. This she did with apparent reluctance, nnirnuiring, "Ah! you are at your old (ricks ; I wonder what such folks as we have to do with charity! It will be the ruin of us al last, I can see that!" — "Hold your tongue, beldam!" said he, with a stern significance of manner, " and fetch one of my best shiHs, a waistcoat, and some dressings." Saying this, he CALEB WILLIAMS 287 at the same time put into her hand a small bunch of keys. In a word, he treated me with as much kindness as if he had been my father. He examined my wound, washed and dressed it ; at the same time that the old woman, by his express order, prepared for me such nourishment as he thought most suitable to my weak and languid condition. These operations were no sooner completed than my benefactor recommended to me to retire to rest, and pre- parations were making for that purpose, when suddenly a trampling of feet was heard, succeeded by a knock at the door. The old woman opened the door with the same precautions as had been employed upon our arrival, and immediately six or seven persons tumultuously entered the apartment. Their appearance was different, some having the air of mere rustics, and others that of a tarnished sort of gentry. All had a feature of boldness, inquietude, and disorder, extremely unlike any thing I had before observed in such a group. But my astonishment was still increased, when upon a second glance I perceived something in the general air of several of them, and of one in particular, that persuaded me they were the gang from which I had just escaped, and this one the antagonist by whose animo- sity I was so near having been finally destroyed. I ima- gined they had entered the hovel with a hostile intention, that my benefactor was upon the point of being robbed, and I probably murdered. This suspicion, however, was soon removed. They ad- dressed my conductor with respect, under the appellation,' of captain. They were boisterous and noisy in their re-i marks and exclamations, but their turbulence was tem- pered by a certain deference to his opinion and authority. I could observe in the person who had been my active opponent some awkwardness and irresolution as he first perceived me, which he dismissed with a sort of effort, 288 CALEB WILLIAMS. exclaiming, " W ho the devil is here ?" There was some- thing in the tone of this apostrophe that roused the attrn- tion of my protector. He looked at the speaker with a fixed and penetrating glance, and then said, " IS'ay, Gines, do you know ? Did you ever see the person before ?" — "Curse it, Gines!" interrupted a third, "you are damn- ably out of luck. They say dead men walk, and you see there is some truth in it." — " Truce with your imper- tinence, Jeckols ! " replied my protector : " this is no proper occasion for a joke. Answer me, Gines, were you the cause of this young man being left naked and wounded this bitter moruing upon the forest?" " Mayhap I was. What then ?" " 'yMiat provocation could induce you to so cruel a treat- ment?" " Provocation enough. He had no money." "What, did you use him thus, without so much as being irritated by any resistance on his part ?" " Yes, he did resist. I only hustled him, and he had the impudence to strike me." " Gines ! you are an incorrigible fellow." " Pooh, what signifies what I am ? You, with your com- passion, and your fine feelings, will bring us all to the gallows." " 1 have nothing to say to you ; I have no hopes of you ! Comrades, it is for you to decide upon the conduct of this man as you think proper. You know how repeated his offences have been ; you know what pains I have taken to mend him. Our profession is the profession of justice." I [\i is thus that the prejudices of men universally teach I them to colour the most desperate cause to which they ' have determined to adhere.] "We, who are thieves with- | out a licence, are at open war with another set of men ' \\ho are thieves according to law. With such a cause | CALEB WILLIAMS. 289 then to bear us out, shall we stain it with cruelty, malice, and revenge ? A thief is, of course, a man living among his equals ; I do not pretend therefore to assume any au- thority among you ; act as you think proper; but, so far as relates to myself, I vote that Gines be expelled from among us as a disgrace to our society." This proposition seemed to meet the general sense. It was easy to perceive that the opinion of the rest coincided with that of their leader ; notwithstanding which a few of them hesitated as to the conduct to be pursued. In the mean time Gines muttered something in a surly and irre- solute way about taking care how they provoked him. This insinuation instantly roused the courage of my protector, and his eyes flashed with contempt. " Rascal! "said he, " do you menace us ? Do you think we will be your slaves ? No, no, do your worst ! Go to the next justice of the peace, and impeach us ; I can easily be- lieve you are capable of it. Sir, when we entered into this gang, we were not such fools as not to know that we entered upon a service of danger. One of its dangers con- sists in the treachery of fellows like you. But we did not enter at first to flinch now. Did you beUeve that we would live in hourly fear of you, tremble at your threats, and compromise, whenever you should so please, with your in- solence? That would be a blessed life indeed! I would rather see my flesh torn piecemeal from my bones ! Go, sir ! I defy you! You dare not do it! You dare not sa- crifice these gallant fellows to your rage, and publish your- self to all the world a traitor and a scoundrel! If you do, you will punish yourself, not us ! Begone ! " The intrepidity of the leader communicated itself to the rest of the company. Gines easily saw that there was no hope of bringing them over to a contrary sentiment. After a short pause, he answered, " 1 did not mean — No, damn 19 ■m CALEB WILLIAMS. it ! I will not snivel neither. I was always true to my prin- ciples, and a friend to you all. But since you are resolved to turn me out, why — good hy to you !" The expulsion of this man produced a remarkable im- piovement in the whole gang. Those who were before inchned to humanity, assumed new energy in proportion as they saw such sentiments likely to prevail. They had be- fore suffered themself to be overborne by the boisterous insolence of their antagonist ; but now they adopted, and with success, a different conduct. Those who envied the ascendancy of the:r comrade, and therefore imitated his conduct, began to hesitate in their career. Stories were brought forward of the cruelty and brutality of Gines both to men and animals, which had never before reached the ear of the leader. The stories I shall not repeat. They could excite only emotions of abhorrence and disgust ; and some of them argued a mind of such a stretch of depravity, as to many readers would appear utterly incredible ; and yet this man had his virtues. He was enterprising, per- severing, and faithful. His removal was a considerable benefit to me. It would have been no small hardship to have been turned adrift immediately under my unfavourable circumstances, witl> the additional disadvantage of the wound I had received ; and yet I could scarcely have ventured to remain under the same roof with a man, to whom my appearance was as a guilty conscience, perpetually reminding him of his own offence, and the displeasure of his leader. His pro- fession accustomed him to a certain degree of indiflerence to consequences, and indulgence to the salUes of passion ; and he might easily have found his opportunity to insult or injure me, when I should have had nothing but my own debilitaled excitions to protect me. I' reed Iroui this danger, 1 found my situation sufficiently CALEB WILLIAMS. 291 Jbrtunate for a man under my circumstances. It was at- tended with all the advantages for concealment my fondest imagination could have hoped ; and it was by no means destitute of the benefits which arise from kindness and hu- manity. Nothing could be more unlike than the thieves I had seen in jail, and the thieves of my new residence. - The latter were generally full of cheerfulness and merri-, ment. They could expatiate fi^eely wherever they thoughjf ^ ^ proper. They could form plans and execute theiii. They "^ consulted their inclinations. They did not impose upon themselves the task, as is too often the case in human so- ciety, of seeming tacitly to approve that from which they suffered most; or, which is worst, of persuading them- ^ selves that all the wrongs they suffered were right ; but were at open war with their oppressors. On the contrary, the o imprisoned felons I had lately seen were shut up like wild f beasts in a cage, deprived of activity, and palsied with in- dolence. The occasional demonstrations that still remained of their former enterprising life were the starts and con- vulsions of disease, not the meditated and consistent exer- tions of a mind in health. They had no more of hope, of project, of golden and animated dreams, but were reserved to the most dismal prospects, and forbidden to think upon any other topic. It is true, that these two scenes were parts of one whole, the one the consummation, the hourly to be expected successor of the other. But the men I now saw were wholly inattentive to this, and in that respect appeared to hold no commerce with reflection or reason. I might in one view, as I have said, congratulate myself upon my present residence ; it answered completely the purposes of concealment. It was the seat of merriment and hilarity ; but the hilarity that characterised it pro- duced no correspondent feelings in my bosom. The per- sons who composed this society had each of tliem cast off 19* r I 29-> ( ALEB WILLIAMS. all control from established principle; tlieir trade was terror, and tlieir constant object to ehule the vigilance ol the community. The inlliience of these circumstances was visible in their cliaracter. I found among them benevo- lence and kindness : they were strongly susceptible of emotions of generosity. But, as their situation was pre- carious, their dispositions were proportionably iluctuating. Inured to the animosity of their species, they were irritable and passionate. Accustomed to exercise harshness towards the subject of their depredations, they did not always confine their brutality within that scope. They were ha- bituated to consider wounds and bludgeons and stabbing as the obvious mode of surmounting every difiiculty. l^ninvolved in the debilitating routine of human aft'airs, tliey fi'equently displayed an energy which, from every impartial observer, would have extorted veneration. Energy is perhaps of all quaUties the most valuable; and a just political system would possess the means of extracting from it, thus circujnstanced, its benelicial qualities, instead of consigning it, as now, to indiscriminate destruction. We act like the chemist, who should reject the finest ore, and employ none but what was sufficiently debased to fit it immediately for the vilest uses. But the energy of these men, such as I beheld it, was in the highest degree misa[>- plied, unassisted by liberal and enlightened views, and directed only to the most narrow and contemptible pur- poses. The residence I have been describing might to many persons have appeared attended with intolerable incon- veniences, lint, exclusively of its advantages as a field for speculation, it was Elysium, compared with that from which I had just escaped. Displeasing compaiu. incouimodioiis apartments, filthiness, and riot, lost the rininiisiaiicr l.\ wjijch they could most eneclually disgust, CALEB WILLIAMS. 293 when I was not compelled to remain with (hem. All hardships 1 could patiently endure, in comparison with the menace of a violent and untimely death. There was no suffering that I could not persuade myself to consider as trivial, except that which flowed from the tyranny, j the frigid precaution, or the inhuman revenge of my own f species. My recovery advanced in the most favourable manner. The attention and kindness of my protector were incessant, and the rest caught the spirit from his example. The old woman who superintended the household still retained her animosity. She considered me as the cause of the expulsion of Gines from the fraternity. Gines had been the object of her particular partiality ; and, zealous as she was for the public concern, she thought an old and ex- perienced sinner for a raw probationer but. an ill exchange. . Add to which, that her habits inclined her to moroseness 4 and discontent, and that persons of her complexion seem unable to exist without some object upon which to pour out the superfluity of their gall. She lost no opportunity, upon the most trifling occasion, of displaying her animosity; and ever and anon eyed me with a furious glance of ca- nine hunger for my destruction. Nothing was more evi- dently mortifying to her, than the procrastination of her malice; nor could she bear to think that a fierceness so gigantic and uncontrollable should show itself in nothing more terrific than the pigmy spite of a chambermaid. Foi' myself, 1 had been accustomed to the warfare of formidable adversaries, and the encounter of alarming dangers ; and what I saw of her spleen had not power sufficient to disturb my tranquillity. As I recovered, I told my story, except so far as related to the detection of Mr. Falkland's eventful secret, lo my protector. That particular I could not, as yet, prevail 2,is(ibU' reasons; and he hoped, as cxpe- CALEB VVILLUMS. 295 rience had so forcibly brought a conviction of this sort to my mind, that he should for the future have the happiness tto associate me to his pursuits. — It will presently be seen with what event these hopes were attended. Numerous were the precautions exercised by the gang of thieves with whom I now resided, to elude the vigilance ' of the satellites of justice. It was one of their rules to commit no depredations but at a considerable distance from the place of their residence ; and Gines had trans- gressed this regulation in the attack to which I was indebted for my present asylum. After having possessed themselves ^f any booty, they took care, in the sight of the persons who they had robbed, to pursue a route as nearly as pos- sible opposite to that which led to their true haunts. The appearance of their place of residence, together with its environs, was peculiarly desolate and forlorn, and it had the reputation of being haunted. The old woman I have described had long been its inhabitant, and was com- monly supposed to be its only inhabitant ; and her person well accorded with the rural ideas of a witch. Her lodgers never went out or came in but with the utmost circum- spection, and generally by night. The lights which were occasionally seen from various parts of her habitation, were, by the country people, regarded with horror as supernatural ; and if the noise of revelry at any time saluted their ears, it was imagined to proceed from a car- Jiival of devils. With all these advantages, the thieves did not venture to reside here but by intervals : frequently absented themselves for months, and removed to a different part of the country. The old woman sometimes attended them in these transportations, and sometimes remained; but in all cases her decampment took place either sooner or later than theirs, so that the nicest observer could scarcely have traced any connexion between her reap- 296 CALEB VVILLUMS. pearanee, aiui the alarms of depredation that were fre- quently given ; and the festival of demons seemed, to tlie terrified rustics, indifferently to lake place whether she were present or absent. CHAPTER XXIX. One day, while I continued in this situation, a circum- stance occurred which involuntarily attracted my attention. Two of our people had been sent to a town at some distance, for the purpose of procuring us the things of which we were in want. After having delivered these to our land- lady, they retired to one corner of the room ; and, one of them puUing a printed paper from his pocket, they nuilually occupied themselves in examining its contents. I w as sit- ting in an easy chair by the fire, being^considerably better than I had been, though still in a weak and languid state. Having read for a considerable time, they looked at me, and then at the paper, and then at me agam. They then went out of the room together, as if to consult without interruption upon something which that paper suggested to thcui. Some time after they returned ; and my pro- tector, who had been absent upon tlie former occasion, enteied the room at the same instant. " Captain!" said one of them with an air of pleasure, " look here! we have found a prise! I believe it is as good as a bank-note of a hundred guineas." Mr. I(aym(ui(i iliat was his name; took the paper, and read. He paused lor a moment. He then crushed the paper in his hand; ami, turning to the persou from whom CALEB WILLIAMS. 297 he had received it, said, with the tone ol" a man confident in the success of his reasons, — " What use have you for these hundred guineas? Are you in want ? Are you in distress ? Can you be con- tented to purchase them at the price of treachery — of vio- lating the laws of hospitahty ? " " Faith, captain, I do not very well know. After hav- ing violated other laws, I do not see why we should be frightened at an old saw. We pretended to judge for our- selves, and ought to be above shrinking from a bugbear of a proverb. Beside, this is a good deed, and I should think no more harm of being the ruin of such a thief than of getting my dinner. " " A thief! You talk of thieves!" " Not so fast, captain. God defend that I should say a word against thieving as a general occupation ! But one man steals in one way, and another in another. For my part, I go upon the highway, and take from any stranger I meet what, it is a hundred to one, he can very well spare. I see nothing to be found fault with in that. But I have as much conscience as another man. Because I laugh at assizes, and great wigs, and the gallows, and be- cause I will not be frightened from an innocent action when the lawyers say me nay, does it follow that I am to have a fellow-feeling for pilferers, and rascally servants, and people that have neither justice nor principle? No; I have too much respect for the trade not to be a foe to in- terlopers, and people that so much the more deserve my hatred, because the world calls them by my name." " You are wrong, Larkins ! You certainly ought not to employ against people that you hate, supposing your hatred to be reasonable, the instrumentality of that law which in your practice you defy. Be consistent. Either be the friend of the law, or its adversary. Depend upon •298 CALEB WILLIAMS. it, that, wherever there are laws at all," there will be laws against such people as you and me. Either, therefore, we all of us deserve the vengeance of the law, or law is not the proper instrument for correcting the misdeeds of man- kind. I tell you this, because I would fain have you aware, that an informer or a king's evidence, a man who takes advantage of the confidence of another in order to betray him, who sells the Ufe of his neighbour for money, or, coward-like, upon any pretence calls in the law to do that for him which he cannot or dares not do for him- self, is the vilest of rascals. But in the present case, if your reasons were the best in the world, they do not apply. " While Mr. Raymond was speaking, the rest of the gang came into the room. He immediately turned to them, and said, — " 3Iy friends, here is a piece of intelligence that Larkins has just brought in which, with his leave, I will lay be- fore you. " Then unfolding the paper he had received, he continued : " This is the description of a felon, with the offer of a hundred guineas for his apprehension. Larkins picked it up at . By the time and other circumstances, but particularly by the minute description of his person, there can be no doubt but the object of it is our young friend, whose life I was a while ago the instrument of saving. He is charged here with having taken advantage of the confidence of his patron and benefactor to rob him of pro- perty to a large amount. I'pon this charge he was commit- ted to the comity jail, from whence he made his escape about a forltiigjit ago, without venturing to stand his trial; a circumstance which is stated by the advertiser as tanta- mount to a confession of his guilt. "My friends, I was acquainted with the particulars of CALEB WILLIAMS. 209 this story some time before. This lad let me into his his- tory, at a time that he could not possibly foresee that he should stand in need of that precaution as an antidote against danger. He is not guilty of what is laid to his charge. Which of you is so ignorant as to suppose, that his escape is any confirmation of his guilt ? Wlio ever thinks, when he is apprehended for trial, of his innocence or guilt as being at all material to the issue ? Who ever was fool enough to volunteer a trial, where those who are to decide think more of the horror of the thing of which he is accused, than whether he were the person that did it ; and where the nature of our motives is to be collected from a set of ignorant witnesses, that no wise man would trust for a fair representation of the most indifferent action of his life ? " The poor lad's story is a long one, and I will not trouble you with it now. But from that story it is as clear as the day, that, because he wished to leave the service of his master, because he had been perhaps a little too in- quisitive in his master's concerns, and because, as I sus- pect, he had been trusted with some important secrets, his master conceived an antipathy against him. The an- tipathy gradually proceeded to such a length, as to induce the master to forge this vile accusation. He seemed will- ing to hang the lad out of the way, rather than suffer him to go where he pleased, or get beyond the reach of his power. Williams has told me the story with such inge- nuousness, that I am as sure that he is guiltless of what they lay to his charge, as that I am so myself. Neverthe- less, the man's servants who were called in to hear the ac- cusation, and his relation, who as justice of the peace made out the mittimus, and who had the folly to think he could be impartial, gave it on his side with one voice, and thus ■,5(ii( (AF.KB WILLIAMS afrordetl VVilliaiiis a sample of what he had to expect in the sequel. " Larkins, who wlieii he received this papei- had no previous knowledge of particulars, was for taking advantage of it for the purpose of earning the hundred guineas. Are you of that mind now you have heard them ? Will you f«)r- so paltry a consideration deliver up the lamb into the jaws of the wolf? Will you abet the purposes of this sanguinary rascal, who, not contented with driving his late dependent from house and home, depriving him of character and all the ordinary means of subsistence, and leaving him almost without a refuge, still thirsts for his blood ? If no other person have the courage to set limits to the tyranny of courts of justice, shall not we ? Shall we, who earn our livelihood by generous daring, be indebted for a penny to the vile artiHces of the informer? Shall we, against whom the whole species is in arms, refuse our protection to an individual, more exposed to, but still less deserving of, their peisecution than ourselves ?" The representation of the captain produced an instant effect upon the whole company. They all exclaimed,^ "Betray him! No, not for worlds! He is safe. We will protect him at the hazard of our lives. If fidelity and honour be banished from thieves, \\ here shall they find refuge upon the face of the earth?" * Larkins in particular thanked the captain for his interference, and swore that he would rather part with his right hand than injure so worthy a lad or assist such an unheard-of \illany. Saying this, he took me by the hand and bade me fear nothing. \ nder their roof no harm should ever befal me ; and, even if (he • This M'cnis (.. I)., the |);irodj ol a lelthiiil.d sa\iiij; oi .loliii Kiiif; »r Franco, who wis taken |.iisoiKT hy thr Ulmk I'liinc at the baUlc ol I'nitierN. CALEB WILLIAMS. 301 understrappers of the law should discover my retreat, they would to a man die in my defence, sooner than a hair of my head should be hurt. I thanked him most sincerely for his good-will; but I was principally struck with the fervent benevolence of my benefactor. I told them, I found that my enemies were inexorable, and would never be ap- peased but with my blood ; and I assured them with the most solemn and earnest veracity, that I had done nothing to deserve the persecution which was exercised against me. The spirit and energy of Mr. Raymond had been such as to leave no part for me to perform in repelling this unlooked- for danger. Nevertheless, it left a very serious impression upon my mind. I had always placed some confidence in the returning equity of Mr. Falkland. Though he persecuted i me with bitterness, I could not help believing that he did it unwillingly, and 1 was persuaded it would not be for ever. A man, whose original principles had been so full' of rectitude and honour, could not fail at some time to re- collect the injustice of his conduct, and to remit his asperity. This idea had been always present to me, and had in no small degree conspired to instigate my exertions. I said, "I will convince my persecutor that I am of more value than that I should be sacrificed purely by way of precaution." These expectations on my part had been encouraged by Mr. Falkland's behaviour upon the question of my imprison- ment, and by various particulars which had occurred since. But this new incident gave the subject a totally different appearance. I saw him, not contented with blasting my reputation, confining me for a period in jail, and reducing me to the situation of a houseless vagabond, still continuing his pursuit under these forlorn cirsumstances with unmiti- gable cruelty. Indignation and resentment seemed now, for the first time, to penetrate my mind. I knew his mi- ; •jO'i CALEB WILLIAMS. sery so well, I was so fully acquainted with its cause, and strongly impressed with (lie idea of its being unmerited, that, while I suffered deeply, I still continued to pity, rather than hate my persecutor. But this incident introduced - some change into my feelings. I said, " Surely he might now believe that he had sufficiently disarmed me, and might at length suffer me to be at peace. At least, ought lie not to be contented to leave me to my fate, the perilous and uncertain condition of an escaped felon, instead of thus whetting the animosity and vigilance of my countrymen against me ? Were his interference on my behalf in op- position to the stern severity of Mr, Forester, and his va- rious acts of kindness since, a mere part that he played in order to lull me into patience ? Was he perpetually haunted with the fear of an ample retaliation, and for that purpose did he personate remorse, at the very moment that he was secretly keeping every engine at play that could secure my destruction?" The very suspicion of such a fact filled me with inexpressible horror, and struck a sudden chill through every fibre of my frame. My wound was by this time completely healed, and it became absolutely necessary that I should form some de- termination respecting the future. My habits of thinking were such as gave me an uncontrollable repugnance to the vocation of my hosts. I did not indeed feel that aver- sion and abhoiTcnce to the men A\hich are commonly en- tertained. 1 saw and respected their good qualities and (heir virtues. I was by no means inclined to beiime them worse men, or more hostile in their dispositions to the welfare of their species, than the generality of those that look do\Mi upon them with most censure. But, though 1 did not cease to love them as individuals, my eyes were perfectly (»pcn to their mistakes. If I should otherwise have been in danger of being nusled, it was my fortune to CALEB WILLIAMS. 303 have studied felons in a jail before I studied them in their state of comparative prosperity ; and this was an infallible antidote to the poison. I saw that in this profession were exerted uncommon energy, ingenuity, and fortitude, and 1 i could not help recollecting how admirably beneficial such I qualities might be made in the great theatre of human J affairs; while, in their present direction, they were thrown / / away upon purposes diametrically at war with the first in- terests of human society. Nor were their proceedings less injurious to their own interests than incompatible with the general welfare. The man who risks or sacrifices his hfe for the public cause, is rewarded with the testimony of an approving conscience ; but persons who wantonly defy the necessary, though atrociously exaggerated precautions of government in the matter of property, at the same time that they commit an alarming hostility against the whole, are, as to their own concerns, scarcely less absurd andi self-neglectful than the man who should set himself up as ' a mark for a file of musqueteers to shoot at. Viewing the subject in this hght, I not only determined that I would have no share in their occupation myself, but thought I could not do less, in return for the benefits I had received from them, than endeavour to dissuade them fromj an employment in which they must themselves be thel greatest sufferers. My expostulation met with a various^ reception. All the persons to whom it was addressed had been tolerably successful in persuading themselves of the innocence of their calling ; and what remained of doubt in their mind was smothered, and, so to speak, laboriously forgotten. Some of them laughed at my arguments, as a ridiculous piece of missionary quixotism. Others, and particularly our captain, repelled them with the boldness of a man that knows he has got the strongest side. But 304 CALEB WILLIAMS. this sentiment of ease and self-satisfaction did not long re- main. They liad been used to arguments derived from religion and the sacredness of law. They had long ago shaken these from them as so many prejudices. But my ! view o( the subject appealed to principles which they could 1^ not content, and had by no means the air of that customary reproof which is for ever dimied in our ears without llnd- jng one responsive chord in our hearts. I rged, as they now were, with objections unexpected and cogent, some of those to whom I addressed them began to grow peevish and impatient of the intrusive remonstrance. But this was by no means the case with Mr. Raymond. He was possessed of a candour that I have seldom seen equalled. He was surprised to hear objections so powerful to that which, as a matter of speculation, he beheved he had ex- amined on all sides. He revolved them \\ith impartiality and care. He admitted them slowly, but he at length fully admitted them. He had now but one rejoinder in reserve. " Alas ! Williams," said he, " it would have been fortu- nate for me if these views had been presented to me, pre- viously to my embracing my present profession. It is now too late. Those very laws which, by a perception of their iniquity, drove me to what I am, preclude my return. God, we are told, judges of men by what they are at the period of arraignment, and whatever be their crimes, if they have seen and abjured the folly of those crimes, re- ceives them to favour. But the institutions of countries that profess to worship this God admit no such distinctions. They leave no room for amendment, and seem to have a brutal delight in confounding the demerits of olleuders. It signifies not what is the character of the individual at the hour of trial. How changed, how spoth'hs, and how CALEB WILLIAMS. 305 usefiil, avails him nothing. If they discover at the distance of fourteen* or of forty yearsf an action for \\hich the \ law ordains that his life shall be the forfeit, though the in- \ terval should have been spent with the purity of a saint / and the devotedness of a patriot, they disdain to enquire ' into it. What then can I do ? Am I not compelled to go on in folly, having once begun ?" CHAPTER XXX. I WAS extremely affected by this plea. I could only an- swer, that JMr. Raymond must himself be the best judge of the course it became him to hold ; I trusted the case was not so desperate as he imagined. This subject was pursued no further, and was in some degree driven from my thoughts by an incident of a very extraordinary nature. I have already mentioned the animosity that was enter- tained against me by the infernal portress of this solitary mansion. Gines, the expelled member of the gang, had been her particular favourite. She submitted to his exile indeed, because her genius felt subdued by the energy and inherent superiority of 31r. Raymond; but she submitted with murmuring and discontent. Not daring to resent the conduct of the principal in this affair, she collected all the bitterness of her spirit against me. To the unpardonable offence I had thus committed in the first instance, were added the reasonmgs I had lately offered * Eugene Aram. See Annual Register for 1759. t William Andrew Home. Ibid. 20 30C CALEB WILLIAMS. against the profession of robbery. Robbery was a funda- i mental article in the creed of this hoary veteran, and she f hstened to my objections \s ith the same unaffected astonish- ment and horror that an old woman of other habits would listen to one who objected to the agonies and dissolution of the Creator of the world, or to the garment of imputed righteousness prepared to envelope the souls of the elect. Like the religious bigot, she was sufficiently disposed to avenge a hostility against her opinions with the weapons of sublunary warfare. Meanwhile I had smiled at the impotence of her malice, as an object of contempt rather than alarm. She per- ceived, as I imagine, the slight estimation in which I held her, and this did not a little increase the perturbation of her thoughts. One day I was left alone, with no other person in the house than this swarthy sybil. The thieves had set out upon an expedition about two hours after sunset on the preced- ing evening, and had not returned, as they were accus- tomed to do, before day-break the next morning. This was a circumstance that sometimes occurred, and therefore did not produce any extraordinary alarm. At one time the scent of prey would lead them beyond the bounds they had prescribed themselves, and at another the fear of pur- suit : the life of a thief is always uncertain. The old woman had been preparing during the night for the meal to which they would expect to sit down as soon as might be after their return. For myself, I had learned from their habits to be indif- ferent to tlie regular return of the did'orcnt parts of the day, and in some degree to turn day into night, and night int«) day. I luul been now several weeks in this residence, and the sea.s<)n was considerably advanced. I had passed some hoius during ihe night in ruminating on my situation. CALEB WILLIAMS. 307 The character and manners of the men among whom I lived were disgusting to me. Their brutal ignorance, their ferocious habits, and their coarse behaviour, instead of be- coming more tolerable by custom, hourly added force to my original aversion. The uncommon vigour of their minds, and acuteness of their invention in the business they pursued, compared with the odiousness of that business and their habitual depravity, awakened in me sensations too painful to be endured. Moral disapprobation, at least in a mind unsubdued by philosophy, I found to be one of the most fertile sources of disquiet and uneasiness. From this pain the society of Mr. Raymond by no means relieved me. He was indeed eminently superior to the vices of the rest ; but I did not less exquisitely feel how much he was out of his place, how disproportionably associated, or how contemp- tibly employed. I had attempted to counteract the errors under which he and his companions laboured ; but I had found the obstacles that presented themselves greater than I had imagined. What was I to do ? Was I to wait the issue of this my missionary undertaking, or was T to withdraw myself imme- diately ? When I withdrew, ought that to be done pri- vately, or with an open avowal of my design, and an en- deavour to supply by the force of example what was deficient in my arguments ? It was certainly improper, as I declined all participation in the pursuits of these men, did not pay my contribution of hazard to the means by which they sub- sisted, and had no congeniality with their habits, that I should continue to reside with them longer than was abso- lutely necessary. There was one circumstance that rendered this deliberation particularly pressing. They intended in a few days removing from their present habitation, to a haunt to which they were accustomed, in a distant county. If I did not propose to continue with them, it would perhaps SOS CALEB WILLIAMS. be wrong to accompany ihem in this removal. The state of calamity to which my inexorable prosecutor had reduced me, had made the encounter even of a den of robbers a fortunate adventure. But the time that had since elapsed, had probably been sufficient to relax the keenness of the quest that was made after me. 1 sighed for that solitude and obscurity, that retreat from the vexations of the world and the voice even of common fame, which I had proposed to myself when I broke my prison. Such were the meditations which now occupied my mind. At length 1 grew fatigued w ith continual contemplation, and to relieve myself pulled out a pocket Horace, the legacy of my beloved Brightwel ! I read with avidity the epistle in which he so beautifully describes to Fuscus, the gram- marian, the pleasures of rural tranquillity and independence. By this time the sun rose from behind the eastern hills, and I opened my casement to contemplate it. The day com- menced with peculiar brilliancy, and was accompanied w ith all those charms which the poets of nature, as they have been styled, have so much delighted to describe. There w as something in this scene, particularly as succeeding to the active exertions of intellect, that soothed the mind to com- posure. Insensibly a confused reverie invaded my faoilties; I withdrew from the window, threw myself upon the bed. and fell asleep. I do not recollect the precise images which in this situa- tion passed through my thoughts, but I know that they con- cluded with the idea of some person, the agent of Mr. Falk- land, appioarhing to assassinate me. This thought haly thoughts wandered in hieulhless horror and confusion, and all within was uproar. I (luioavoured to break the door, but in vain. CALEB WILLIAMS. 311 1 went round the room in search of some tool to assist me. At length I rushed against it with a desperate effort, to which it yielded, and had nearly thrown me from the top of the stairs to the bottom. r descended with all possible caution and vigilance, I entered the room which served us for a kitchen, but it was deserted. I searched every other apartment in vain. I went out among the ruins ; still I discovered nothing of my late assailant. It was extraordinary : what could be become of her ? what was I to conclude from her disappearance ! I reflected on her parting menace, — " I should not be my own man twenty-four hours longer." It was mysterious! . it did not seem to be the menace of assassination. 'L Suddenly the recollection of the hand-bill brought to us by Larkins rushed upon my memory. Was it possible that she alluded to that in her parting words ? Would she set out upon such an expedition by herself ? Was it not dan- gerous to the whole fraternity, if, without the smallest pre- caution, she should bring the officers of justice in the midst of them ? It was perhaps improbable she would engage in an undertaking thus desperate. It was not, however, easy to answer for the conduct of a person in her state of mind. Should I wait, and risk the preservation of my liberty upon the issue ? To this question I returned an immediate negative. I had resolved in a short time to quit my present situation, and the difference of a little sooner or a little later could not be very material. It promised to be neither agreeable nor prudent for me to remain under the same roof with a person who had manifested such a fierce and inexpiable hostility. But the consideration which had inexpressibly the most weight with me, belonged to the ideas of impri- sonment, trial, and death. The longer they had formed the subject of my contemplation, the more forcibly was I 312 CALEB WUXIA^IS. impelled to avoid them. I liad entered upon u system of action for that purpose ; I had already made many sacri- lices ; and I believed that I would never miscarry in this project through any neglect of mine. The thought of what was reserved for me by my persecutors sickened my very soul ; and the more intimately I was acquainted with oppression and injustice, the more deeply was I penetrated with the abhorrence to which they are entitled. Such were the reasons that determined me instantly, abruptly, without leave-taking, or acknowledgment for the peculiar and repeated favours I had received, to quit a habitation to which, for six weeks, I had apparently been indebted for protection from trial, conviction, and an ig- nominious death. I had come hither pennyless ; I quitted my abode with the sum of a few guineas in my possession, Mr. Raymond having insisted upon my taking a share at the time that each man received his dividend from the com- mon stock. Though I had reason to suppose that the heat of the pursuit against me would be somewhat renodtted by the time that had elapsed, the magnitude of the mischief that, in an unfavourable event, might fall on me, determined me to neglect no imaginable precaution. I recollected the hand-bill which was the source of my present alarm, and conceived that one of the principal dangers which threat- ened me was the recognition of my person, either by such as had previously known me, oi- even by strangers. It seemed prudent, therefore, to disguise it as efl'ectually as I could. For this purpose I had recourse to a parcel of (attered garments, that lay in a neglected corner of our habitation. The disguise I chose was that of a beggar. — I poH this plan, I threw off my shirt; I tied a handkerchief about my head, with which I look care to cover one of my eyes ; over this I drew a piece of an old woollen nightcap. I selected the worst apparel I could find ; and I his I re- CALEB WILLIAMS. 313 duced to a still more deplorable condition, by rents that I purposely made in various places. Thus equipped, I sur- veyed myself in a looking-glass. I had rendered my ap- pearance complete; nor would any one have suspected that I was not one of the fraternity to which I assumed to belong. I said, " This is the form in which tyranny and injustice oblige me to seek for refuge: but better, a thousand times better is it, thus to incur contempt with the dregs of mankind, than trust to the tender mercies of our superiors !" CHAPTER XXXI. The only rule that I laid down to myself in traversing the forest, was to take a direction as opposite as possible to that which led to the scene of my late imprisonment. After about two hours walking, I arrived at the termination of this ruder scene, and reached that part of the country which is enclosed and cultivated. Here I sat down by the side of a brook, and, puUing out a crust of bread which L had brought away with me, rested and refreshed myself. While I continued in this place, J began to ruminate upon the plan I should lay down for my future proceedings ; and my propensity now led me, as it had done in a former instance, to fix upon the capital, which I believed, besides its other recommendations, would prove the safest place for concealment. During these thoughts I saw a couple o( peasants passing at a small distance, and enquired of them respecting the London road. By their description I under- stood that the most immediate way would be to repass a ai I CALEB VVILLIAMH. part oi' the forest, and that it would be necessary to ap- proach considerably nearer to the county-town than J *. was at the spot which 1 had at present reached. I did not imagine that this could be a circumstance ol" considerable importance. My disguise appeared to be a sufficient se- curity against momentary danger ; and I therefore took a path, though not the most direct one, which led towards the point they suggested. Some of the occurrences of the day are deserving to be - mentioned. As I passed along a road which lay in my way for a few miles, I saw a carriage advancing in the opposite direction. I debated with myself for a moment, whether I should pass it without notice, or should take this occasion, by voice or gesture, of making an essay of my trade. This idle disquisition was however speedily driven from my mind when I perceived that the carriage was Mr. Falkland's. The suddenness of the encounter struck me \\ itli terror, though perhaps it would have been difficult for calm re- ilection to have discovered any considerable danger, i withdrew from the road, and skulked behind the hedge till it should have completely gone by. I was too much occu- pied with my own feelings, to venture to examine whether or no the terrible adversary of my peace \\ ere in the car- riage. I persuaded myself that he was. I looked after the equipage, and exclaimed, " There you may see the luxu- rious accommodations and appendages of guilt, and hei-e the forlornncss that awaits upon innocence !" — I was to blame to imagine that my case was singular in that respect. I only mention it to show how the most trivial circumstance contributes to embitter the cup to the man of adversity. Tlu' thought, however, was a transient one. I had learned <»nrtrnlinf(, »hniiUI n<»w |»r dragK''"' '<• 'hr vrry renlrc of ihr kingdom, Diillioiif nowrrot {irroiiiiniMhiting niyKclfto rirriiin^tiinmi, ami undcr thp iiiinipduil© cufitody of I he offirem of jwrtk-e, »eefii«on inr n iM'nl(inr!4) of di>oth ! I )ilrpniJoiioH»ihlr lo deviHe a greater injury lo l»e inHinlpd on nw, ihan ihr proposal ihat, inMead of iM'ing pprnnllrd lo pr«N'r«'d upon my voyage, I should he MMil iiiidi-r arrest, mio ihr lirarl of ihe kingdom. ^ly rriiHin««tranrefi were vain. Tin* jmhIhm' ««• hy no mt'aiiH iiH-lintHl lo digenl (he heing rxptmliiialed wilh m thin iiuinner liy a peivon in the hnhilinienli* of a heggar. la Ihe mld^l gol off, the moiv rnnson ihnrp was he jshmi)*) kocj> mr fast. Prrhaps. ;if(cr all. 1 shonM turn mil to ho (ho foktn in qiiosli<>n Uuf, if 1 y\-n» nol ihfll. ho had no «h>MK| 1 ^na." worsio; a ptv-irhor. or. for \»haf ho know, a murdoror. Ho hm\ a kintl of a notion that ho h»mo snoh affair ; ont of all «louht I a^ as an oKl of (on«lor. Ho ha«l it in his rhoioo io sonil mo to har«l lahoiu as a >afiCrant. upon tho stroMfi:th of un appoaianc<> ami ihp ron(ra«liotions in m\ story, or to orilor mo to Warwick i and. oui of tho spontanotHis pfoodnoss of his dispositioni, h«? rlioso tho mildor sido of tho altoinativo Ho «H>iild assuri* mo I should not slip tlmMigh his lin»irrs ll was of moi^o honofit io his l>tajosty"s g-ovornmont to han^ ono s»ch follow as ho suspoctod mo io ho, tJian^ onl of mistaken t<^n dcm^w, to oonoprti oiipV M»lf for ihc g^toA of all the 1>(>,k.us in tho nation. 1'^indinit '< >*>*!* luipossihlo io work, in tho wav I do sirod. on a man so fully improssod wnth his own di}^nity an (;iKrii liom my porson should ho rp=^ ston">d to mo. This was fir;iutod. His worship }»«>r)va|M suspoctod that ho had strotchnd a poiwi m wlwt he Ua4 already dono, and was thorofi>ro tho loss nnw illin>c in(pnoy in (hi* pmoooilittfc. Ho di! know w bolfcoT ho Mfi»,s n(>t o\ooodiiiift tho spirit of his oommisMon in oowr* plymfc with my doinand. So ttinrh monoy in my |»osiiCH- sion wnld i>«>t ho honrstly oomo hy. Hut it was his tompoi to softon. as far as could ho done w ilh propncly. tho sine) letter of tho law Thoro w t>re co|(cnl roaisons w hy tho gontJemen who Uad :i-2S CALEB WILLIAMS. originally taken nic into custody, chose that 1 should con- tinue in their custody when my examination was over. Every man is, in his different mode, susceptible to a sense of honour; and they did not choose to encounter the dis- grace that would accrue to them, if justice had been done. Every man is in some degree influenced by the love of power ; and they were willing I should owe any benefit I received, to their sovereign grace and benignity, and not to the mere reason of the case. It was not, how- ever, an unsubstantial honour and barren power that formed the objects of their pursuit : no, their views were deeper than that. In a word, though they chose that I should retire from the seat of justice, as I had come be- fore it, a prisoner, yet the tenor of my examination had obliged them, in spite of themselves, to suspect that I was innocent of the charge alleged against me. Apprehensive therefore that the hundred guineas which had been offered as a reward for taking the robber was completely out of the question in the present business, they were contented to strike at smaller game. Having conducted me to an inn, and given directions respecting a vehicle for the journey, they took me aside, while one of them addressed me in the following manner : — " You see, my lad, how the case stands : hey for War- wick is the \\ ord ! and when we are got thcie, what may happen then I will not pretend for to say. Whether you are innocent or no is no business of mine , but you are not such a chicken as to suppose, if so be as you are innocent, that that will make your game altogether sure. You say your l)usin('ss calls you another way, and as how you are in haste : I scorns to cross any man in his concerns, if I ran helj) it. If therefore yo»i will give us them there fifteen shiners, why snug is the word. They are of no use to you ; a hcf^gar, yoti know, is always at hoiuc. Kor the matter CALEB WILLIAMS. 329 of that, we could have had them in the way of business, as you saw-, at the justice's. But I am a man of principle ; I loves to do things above board, and scorns to extort a shiUing from any man." He who is .tinctured with principles of moral discrimi-j^ nation is apt upon occasion to be run away with by his feel- ings in that respect, and to forget the immediate tnterest of the moment. I confess, that the first sentiment excited in my mind by this overture was that of indignation. I was irresistibly impelled to give utterance to this feeling, and postpone for a moment the consideration of the future. I replied with the severity which so base a proceeding ap- peared to deserve. My bear-leaders were considerably surprised w ith my firmness, but seemed to think it beneath them to contest with me the principles I delivered. He who had made the overture contented himself with reply- ing, " Well, well, my lad, do as you will ; you are not the first man that has been hanged rather than part with a few guineas." His words did not pass unheeded by me. They were strikingly apphcable to my situation, aud I was de- termined not to suffer the occasion to escape me unim- proved. The pride of these gentlemen, however, was too great to admit of fin-ther parley for the present. They left me abruptly ; having first ordered an old man, the father of the landlady, to stay in the room with me while they were absent. The old man they ordered, for security, to lock the door, and put the key in his pocket; at the same time mentioning below stairs the station in which they had left me, that the people of the house might have an eye upon what went forward, and not suffer me to escape. What was the intention of this manoeuvre I am unable certainly to pronounce. Probably it w as a sort of com- promise between their pride and their avarice -, being de- 33t) CALEB WILLIAMS. f>irous, for some reason or other, to drop me as soou as convenient, and therefore determining to wait the re- snlt of my private meditations on the proposal they had made. CHAPTER XXXIII. They were no sooner withdrawn than I cast my eye upon the old man, and found something extremely vene- lahle and interesting in his appearance. His form was above the middle size. It indicated that his strength had been once considerable ; nor was it at this time by any means annihilated. His hair was in considerable quantity, and A\as as white as the drifted snow. His complexion was healthful and ruddy, at the same time that his face was furrowed with wrinkles. In his eye there was remarkable vivacity, and his whole countenance was strongly expres- sive of good-nature. The boorishness of his rank in so- ciety was lost in the cultivation his mind had derived from habits of sensibility and benevolence. The view of his figure immediately introduced a train of ideas into my mind, respecting the advantage to be drawn from the presence of such a person. The attempt to take any step without his consent was hopeless ; for, though I should succeed M^ith regard to him, he could easily give the alarm to other persons, who would, no doubt, be williiii call. Add to which, I could scjircely have prevailed on myself to offer any ollence l<> a pei-son whose lin»l appeaiance so stiongly engaged my afleclion and esteem. In reahty inv thoughts were turned into a CALEB WILLIAMS. 331 different channel. I was impressed with an ardent wish to be able to call this man my benefactor. Pursued by a train of ill fortune, 1 could no longer consider myself as a member of society, I was a solitary being, cut off from the expectation of sympathy, kindness, and the good-will of mankind. I was strongly impelled, by the situation in which the present moment placed me, to indulge in a luxury which my destiny seemed to have denied. I could not conceive the smallest comparison between the idea of deriving my liberty 'from the spontaneous kindness of a worthy and excellent mind, and that of being indebted for it to the selfishness and baseness of the w orst members of society. It was thus that I allowed myself in the wanton- ness of refinement, even in the midst of destruction. Guided by these sentiments, I requested his attention to the circumstances by which I had been brought into my present situation. He immediately signified his assent, and said he would cheerfully listen to any thing I thought proper to communicate. I told him, the persons who had just left me in charge with him had come to this town for the purpose of apprehending some person who had been guilty of robbing the mail ; that they had chosen to take me up under this warrant, and had conducted me before a justice of the peace ; that they had soon detected their mistake, the person in question being an Irishman, and differing from me both in country and stature ; but that, by collusion between them and the justice, they were per- mitted to retain me in custody, and pretended to undertake to conduct me to Wai'wick to confront me with my ac- comphce ; that, in searching me at the justice's, they had found a sum of money in my possession which excited their cupidity, and that they had just been proposing to me to give me my liberty upon condition of ray surrendering this sum into their hands. Under these circumstances, I re - 332 CALEU WILLIAMS. quested him to consider, whether he would wish to render himself the instrument of their extortion. I put myself into his hands, and solemnly averred the truth of the facts I had just stated. If he would assist me in my escape, it could have no other effect than to disappoint the base pas- sions of my conductors. I would upon no account ex- pose him to any real inconvenience ; hut 1 was well assured that the same generosity that should prompt him to a good deed, would enable him effectually to vindicate it when done ; and that those who detained me, when they had lost sight of their prey, would feel covered with confusion, and not dare to take another step in the affair. Tiie old man listened to what I related w ith curiosity and interest. He said that he had always felt an abhor- rence to the sort of people who had me in their hands ; that he had an aversion to the task they had just imposed upon him, but that he could not refuse some little dis- agreeable offices to oblige his daughter and son-in-law. He had no doubt, from my countenance and manner, ol the truth of v/hat 1 had asserted to him. It was an ex- traordinary request I had made, and he did not kno>\ what had induced me to think him the sort of person to whom, with any prospect of success, it might be made. In reality however his habits of thinking were uncommon and he felt more than half inclined to act as I desired One thing at least he would ask of me in return, which was to be faithfully informed in some degree respecting the person ho was desired to oblige. What was my name ? The question came iqion me unprepared. But, what- ever might be (lie consequence, 1 could not bear to deceive the person by whom it was put, and in the circumstances under w hich it was put. The practice of perpetual fal.se- \ CALEB WILLIAMS. 333 hood is too painful a task. I replied, that my name was WiUiams. He paused. His eye was fixed upon me. I saw his complexion altei' at the repetition of that word. He pro- ceeded with visible anxiety. My Christian name ? Caleb. Good God ! it could not be ? He conjured me by every thing that was sacred to answer him faithfully to one question more. I was not — no, it was impossible — the person who had formerly lived servant with Mr. Falk- land, of ? I told him that, whatever might be the meaning of his question, I would answer him truly. I was the individual he mentioned . As I uttered these words the old man rose from his seat. He was sorry that fortune had been so unpropitious to him, as for him ever to have set eyes upon me ! I was a monster with whom the very earth groaned ! I entreated that he would suffer me to explain this new misapprehension, as he had done in the former instance. I had no doubt that I should do it equally to his satis- faction. No! no! no! he would upon no consideration admit, that his ears should suffer such contamination. This case and the other were very different. There was no criminal upon the face of earth, no murderer, half so detestable as the person who could prevail upon himself to utter the charges I had done, by way of recrimination, against so generous a master, — The old man was in a perfect agony with the recollection. At length he calmed himself enough to say, he should never cease to grieve that he had held a moment's parley with me. He did not know what was the conduct severe S34 CALEB WILLIAMS. justice required of him; but, since he had come into the kno\\ledgc of \sho 1 was only by my o\^ti confession, it was irreconcilably repugnant to his feelings to make use of that knowledge to my injury. Here, therefore, all relation between us ceased; as indeed it would be an abuse of words io consider me in the light of a human creature. He would do me no mischief; but, on the other hand, he would not, for the world, be in any way assisting and abetting me. I was inexpressibly affected at the abhorrence this good and benevolent creature expressed against me. I could not be silent; I endeavoured once and again to prevail upon him to hear me. But his determination was unal- terable. Our contest lasted for some time, and he at length terminated it by ringing the bell, and calling up the waiter. A very little while after, my conductors entered, and the other persons withdrew. It ,was a part of the singularity of my fate that it hurried me from one species of anxiety and distress to another, too rapidly to sufier any one of them to sink deeply into my mind. I am apt to believe, in (he retrospect, that half tlie calamities I was destined to endure would infaUibly have overwhelmed and destroyed me. But, as it was, 1 had no leisure to chew the cud upon misfortunes as they befel me, hut was under the necessity of forgetting them, to guard against peril that the next moment seemed ready to crubli iiu>. The behaviour of this incomparable and amiable old man cut me lo the heart. It was a dreadfid prognostic for all my futui-e life. But, as 1 have just observed, my con- ductors entered, and another- subject called imperiously upon my attention. I could have been content, mortified as I w.is at this instant, lo have been shut up in some im- prnetrablf solitude, and to have wrapped mysell" in incon- CALEB WILLIAMS. 335 solable misery. But the grief I endured had not such power over rae as that I could be content to risk the being led to the gallows. The love of life, and still more a hatred against oppression, steeled my heart against that species of inertness. In the scene that had just passed, J had indulged, as I have said, in a wantonness and luxury of refinement. It was time that indulgence should be brought to a period. It was dangerous to trifle any more upon the brink of fate ; and, penetrated as I was with sad- ness by the result of my last attempt, I was little disposed to unnecessary circumambulation. I was exactly in the temper in which the gentlemen who had me in their power would have desired to find me. Accordingly, we entered immediately upon business ; and, after some chaffering, they agreed to accept eleven . guineas as the price of my freedom., 'To preseive, how- ever, the chariness of their reputation, tliey insisted upon conducting me with them for a few miles on the outside of a stage-coach. They then pretended that the road they had to travel lay in a cross country direction; and, having quitted the vehicle, they suffered me, almost as soon as it was out of sight, to shake off this troublesome association, and follow my own inclinations. It may be worth remarking by the way, that these fellows outwitted themselves at their own trade. They had laid hold of me at first under the idea of a prize of a hundred guineas ; they had since been glad to accept a composition of eleven : but if they had retained me a little longer in their posses- sion, they would have found the possibility of acquiring the sum that had originally excited their pursuit, upon a dif- ferent score. The mischances that had befallen me, in my late attempt to escape from my pursuers by sea, deterred me from the thought of repeating that experiment. I therefore once 330 CALEB \MLLLVMS. more returned to the suggestion ol hiding myself, at least for the present, amongst the crowds of the metropolis. Meanwljile, 1 by no means thought proper to venture by the direct route, and the less so, as that was the course which would be steered by my late conductors ; but took my road along the borders of Wales. The only incident worth relating in this place occurred in an attempt to cross the Severn in a particular point. The mode was by a ferry; but, by some strange inadvertence, I lost my way so completely as to be wholly unable that night to reach the ferry, and arrive at the town which I had destined for my repose. This may seem a petty disappointment, in the midst of the overwhelming considerations that might have been ex- pected to engross every thought of my mind. Yet it was borne by me with singulai- impatience. 1 was that day uncommonly fatigued. Previously to the time that 1 mis- took, or at least was aware of the mistake of the road, the sky had become black and lowering, and soon after the clouds burst down in sheets of rain. I was in the midst of a heath, without a tree or covering of any sort to shelter me. 1 was thoroughly drenched in a moment. I pushed on with a sort of sullen determination. By and by the rain gave place to a storm of hail. The hail-stones were large and frequent. 1 was ill defended by the miserable covering I wore, and they seemed to cut me in a thousand directiims. The hail-storm subsided, and was again suc- ceeded by a heavy raiu. Hy this time it was that I had perceived I was wholly out of my road. I could discover neither man nor beast, nor habitation of any kind. I walked on, measuring at every turn the path it would be proper to pursue, but in no instance finding a sutiicient reason to reject one or prefer another. IMy mind was bursting with huney asking respecting the price, he replied, it was llieii- constant rule to y.\\v n(»thing Ini pocliral compositions. CALEB WILLIAMS. 347 the letter-box being always full of writings of that sort ; but if the gentleman would tiy his hand in prose, a short essay or a tale, he would see what he could do for him. With the requisition of my literary dictator I immediately complied. I attempted a paper in the style of Addison's Spectators, which was accepted. In a short time I was upon an established footing in this quarter. I however distrusted my resources in the way of moral disquisition, and soon turned my thoughts to his other suggestion, a tale. His demands upon me were now frequent, and, to facilitate my labours, I bethought myself of the resource of translation. I had scarcely any convenience with respect to the procuring of books; but, as my memory was retentive, 1 frequently translated or modelled my narrative upon a reading of some years before. By a fatality, for which I did not exactly know how to account, my thoughts fre- quently led me to the histories of celebrated robbers ; and I related, from time to time, incidents and anecdotes of Cartouche, Gusman d'Alfarache, and other memorable worthies, whose career was terminated upon the gallows or the scaffold. In the mean time a retrospect to my own situation ren- dered a perseverance even in this industry difficult to be maintained. I often threw down my pen in an ecstasy of despair. Sometimes for whole days together I was in- capable of action, and sunk into a sort of partial stupor, too wretched to be described. Youth and health, how- ever, enabled me, from time to time, to get the better of my dejection, and to rouse myself to something like a gaiety, which, if it had been permanent, might have made this interval of my story tolerable to my reflections. 318 « CALEB WILLIAMS. CHAPTER XXXV. While I was thus endeavouring to occupy and provide (or the intermediate period, till the violence of the pursuit after me might be abated, a new source of danger opened upon me of which I had no previous suspicion. Gincs, the thief who had been expelled from Captain Raymond's gang, had fluctuated, during the last years of his life, between the two professions of a violator of the laws and a retainer to their administration. He had ori- ginally devoted himself to the first ; and probably his initia- tion in the mysteries of thieving qualified him to be pecu- liarly expert in the profession of a thief-taker — a profession he had adopted, not from choice, but necessity. In this employment his reputation was gi'eat, though perhaps not equal to his merits ; for it happens here as in other depart- ments of human society, that however the subalterns may furnish wisdom and skill, the principals exclusively possess (he iclat. He was exercising this art in a very prosperous manner, wlion it happened, by some accident, that one or two of his achievements previous to his having shaken off the dregs of unlicensed depredation were in danger of be- coming suhjecls of public attention. Having had rq^eated intimations of (his, he tlionglit it prudent (o decamp; and it was during this period of his retreat that he entered into the gang. Such was the history of this man antecedently to his being placed in (he situation in which I had Hrst encoun- tered him. At the time of that encounter he was a veteran oPfaptain Raymond's gang; for thieves being a short-live/,i4> banks of the Severn, and from the banks of the Severn td ' , - London. It is scarcely necessary to observe that this il ^: always practicable, provided the pursuer have motives strong enough to excite him to perseverance, unless the precau- ' tions of the fugitive be, in the highest degree, both judicious i in the conception, and fortunate in the execution. Gines, i indeed, in the course of his pursuit, was often obhged •' to double his steps ; and, like the harrier, whenever he was \ at a fault, return to the place where he had last perceived < the scent of the animal whose death he had decreed. He ; spared neither pains nor time in the gratification of the v passion, which choice had made his ruling one. Upon my arrival in town, he for a moment lost all trace of me, London being a place in which, on account of the \ magnitude of its dimensions, it might well be supposed that < an individual could remain hidden and unknown. But no ' difficulty could discourage this new adversary. He went from inn to inn (reasonably supposing that there was no \ private house to which I could immediately repair), till he \ found, by the description he gave, and the recollections he excited, that I had slept for one night in the borough of Southwark. But he could get no further information. The > people of the inn had no knowledge what had become of me the next morning. , This, however, did but render him more eager in the j pursuit. The describing me was now more difficult on j account of the partial change of dress I had made the se- : .ib-i CALEB WILLIAMS. cond day of my being in (own. IJiit Gines at length over- came tlie obstacle from that quarter. Having traced me to my second inn, he was here fur- nished with a more copious information. I had been a subject of speculation for the leisure hours of some of the persons belonging to this inn. An old woman, of a. most curious and loquacious disposition, who lived opposite to it, and who that morning rose early to her washing, had espied me from her w indow, by the light of a large lamp which hung over the inn, as I issued from the gate. She had hut a very imperfect view of me, but she thought there was something Jewish in my appearance. She w as accustomed to hold a conference every morning with the landlady of the inn, some of the waiters and chambermaids occasionally assisting at it. In the course of the dialogue of this morning, she asked some questions about the Jew who had slept there the night before. No Jew had slept there. The curiosity of the landlady was excited in her turn. By the time of the morning it could be no other but me. It was very strange ! They compared notes re- specting my appearance and dress. No two things could be more dissimilar. The Jew Christian, upon any dearth of subjects of intelhgence, repeatedly furnished matter for their discourse. The information thus afforded to Gines appeared ex- ceedingly material. But the performance did not for some time keep pace with the promise. He could not enter every private house into which lodgers were ever ad- mitted, in (he same manner that ho had treated the inns. He walked (he streets, and examined with a curious and inqiiisi(ivc eye the countenance of every Jew about my stature; but in vain. He repaired to Duke's Place and the .synagogues. 1( was not here (hat in roalKy he could cal- culate upon finding me ; bii( he resorted (o (hose means CALEB WILLIAMS. 333 in despair, and as a last hope, He was more than once upon the point of giving up the pursuit ; but he was recalled to it by an insatiable and restless appetite for revenge. It was during this perturbed and fluctuating state of his mind, that he chanced to pay a visit to a brother of his, who was the head -workman of a printing-office. There was httle intercourse between these two persons, their dispositions and habits of life being extremely dissimilar. The printer was industrious, sober, inclined to methodism, and of a propensity to accumulation. He was extremely dissatisfied with the character and pursuits of his brother, and had made some ineffectual attempts to reclaim him. But, though they by no means agreed in their habits of thinking, they sometimes saw each other. Gines loved to boast of as many of his achievements as he dared venture to mention ; and his brother was one more hearer, in ad- dition to the set of his usual associates. The printer was amused with the blunt sagacity of remark and novelty of incident that characterised Gines' s conversation. He was secretly pleased, in spite of all his sober and church-going prejudices, that he was brother to a man of so much in- genuity and fortitude. After having listened for some time upon this occasion to the wonderful stories which Gines, in his rugged way, condescended to tell, the printer felt an ambition to enter- tain his brother in his turn. He began to retail some of my stories of Cartouche and Gusman d'Alfarache. The attention of Gines was excited. His first emotion was wonder; his second was envy and aversion. Wliere did the printer get these stories ? This question was answered. " I will tell you what," said the printer, " we none of us know what to make of the writer of these articles. He writes poetry, and morality-, and history : I am a printer, 23 354 CALEB WILLIAMS. and corrector of the press, and may pretend without va- nity to he a lolerahly good judge of these matters : he writes them all to my mind extremely fine ; and yet he is no more than a Jew." [To my honest printer this seemed as strange, as if they had been written by a Cherokee chieftain at the falls of the Mississippi.] " A Jew ! How do you know ? Did you ever see him ?" " No ; the matter is always brought to us by a woman. But my master hates mysteries ; he likes to see his authors himself. So he plagues and plagues the old woman ; but he can never get any thing out of her, except that one day she happened to drop that the young gentleman was a Jew." A Jew ! a young gentleman ! a person who did every thing by proxy, and made a secret of all his motions! Here was abundant matter for the speculations and sus- picions of Gincs. He was confirmed in them, without ad- verting to the process of his own mind, by the subject of my lucubrations, — men who died by the hand of the exe- cutioner. He said little more to his brother, except asking, as if casually, what sort of an old woman this was ? of what age she might be? and whether she often brought him materials of this kind ? and soon after took occasion to leave him. It was with vast pleasure that Gines had listened to this unhoped-for information. Having collected from his bro- ther sufficient hints relative to the person and appearance of Mrs. Marney, and understanding that he expected to re- ceive something from me the next day, Gines took his stand in the street early, that he might not risk miscar- riage by negligence. He waited several hours, but not without .success. Mrs. Marney came; he watched her into the house; and, after about twenty minutes delay, saw her return. Me dogi-cd her liouj street to street ; observed her CALEB WILLIAMS. 355 finally enter the door of a private house ; and congratulated himself upon having at length arrived at the consummation of his labours. The house she entered was not her own habitation. By a sort of miraculous accident she had observed Gines fol- lowing her in the street. As she went home she saw a woman who had fallen down in a fainting fit. Moved by the compassion that was ever alive in her, she approached her, in order to render her assistance. Presently a crowd collected round them. Mrs. Marney, having done what she was able, once more proceeded homewards. Observ- ing the crowd round her, the idea of pickpockets occurred to her mind ; she put her hands to her sides, and at the same time looked round upon the populace. She had left the circle somewhat abruptly; and Gines, who had been obliged to come nearer, lest he should lose her in the con- fusion, was at that moment standing exactly opposite to her. His visage was of the most extraordinary kind ; habit had written the characters of malignant cunning and dauntless effrontery in every line of his face; and 3Irs. Marney, who was neither philosopher nor physiognomist, was nevertheless struck. This good woman, hke most persons of her notable character, had a peculiar way of going home, not through the open streets, but by narrow lanes and alleys, with intricate insertions and sudden turn- ings. In one of these, by some accident, she once again caught a glance of her pursuer. This circumstance, toge- ther with the singularity of his appearance, awakened her conjectures. Could he be following her? It was the middle of the day, and she could have no fears for herself. But could this circumstance have any reference to me ? She recollected the precautions and secrecy I practised, and had no doubt that I had reasons for what I did. She recol- lected that she had always been upon her guard respect- Ztl 356 CALEB WILLIAMS ing me ; but had she been sufficiently so ? She thought that, if she should be the means of any mischief to me, she should be miserable for ever. She determined therefore, by way of precaution in case of the worst, to call at a friend's house, and send me word of what had occurred. Having instructed her friend, she went out immediately upon a visit to a person in the exactly opposite direction, and desired her friend to proceed upon the errand to me, five minutes after she left the house. By this pru- dence she completely extricated me from the present danger. ^Meantime the inteUigence that was brought me by no means ascertained the greatness of the peril. For any thing I could discover in it the circumstance might be per- fectly innocent, and the fear solely proceed from the over- caution and kindness of this benevolent and excellent woman. Yet, such was the misery of my situation, I had no choice. For this menace or no menace, I was obliged to desert my habitation at a minute's warning, taking w ith me nothing but what I could carry in my hand ; to see my generous benefactress no more; to quit my httle arrange- ments and provision ; and to seek once again, in some for- lorn retreat, new projects, and, if of that I could have any rational hope, a new friend. I descended into the street with a heavy, not an irresolute heart. It was broad day. I said, persons are at this moment supposed to be roaming the street in search of me : I must not trust to the chance of their pursuing one direction, and 1 another. I traversed half a dozen streets, and then dropped into an obscure house of entertainment for persons of small expense. In this house 1 took some refreshment, passed several hours of active but melancholy thinking, and at last procured a bed. As soon however as it was dark I ^\en( out (for this was indispensable) tIr. Spurrel ! " He gave a violent start. The instant I declared myself his transport had been at the highest, and was, to any power he was able to exert, absolutely uncontrollable. But the unexpectedness of my address, and the tone in which I spoke, electrified 360 CALEB WILLIAMS. liini. " Is it possible, ' continued I, " that you should have been the wretch to betray me ? What have I done to deserve this treatment ? Is this the kindness you pro- fessed ? the afleclion that was perpetually in your mouth ? to be the death of me ! " " My poor boy ! my dear creature ! " cried Spurrel, whimpering, and in a tone of the humblest expostulation, " indeed I could not help it I I would have helped it, if I could ! I hope they will not hurt my darling ! I am sure I shall die if they do ! " "-Miserable driveller!" interrupted I, with a stem voice, " do you betray me into the remorseless fangs of the law, and then talk of my not being hurt ? I know my sentence, and am prepared to meet it! You have fixed the halter upon my neck, and at the same price would have done so to your only son ! Go, count your accursed guineas ! My life would have been safer in the hands of one I had never seen than in yours, whose mouth and whose eyes for ever ran over with crocodile affection!" I have always beheved that my sickness, and, as he ap- prehended, approaching death, contributed its part to the treachery of Mr. Spurrel. He predicted to his own mind the lime when I should no longer be able to work. He recollected with agony the expense that attended his son's illness and death. He determined to afford me no assistance of a similar kind. He feared, however, the re- proach of deserting me. He feared the tenderness of his nature. He IVlt that I was growing upon his affections, and that in a short time he could not have deserted me. He v\as driven by a sort of implicit impulse, for (he sake of avoiding one luigcucrous action, to take refuge in another, th«' basest and most diabolical. This motive, conjoining with (he prospect of the proffered reward, was an incite- ment too P(»\\«mTiiI for him (o resist. CALEB WILLIAMS. 367 CHAPTER XXXVII. Having given vent to my resentment, I left Mr. Spurrel motionless, and unable to utter a word. Gines and his companion attended me. It is unnecessary to repeat all the insolence of this man. He alternately triumphed in the completion of his revenge, and regretted the loss of the reward to the shrivelled old curmudgeon we had just quit- ted, whom, however, he swore he would cheat of it by one means or another. He claimed to himself the ingenuity of having devised the halfpenny legend, the thought of which was all his own, and was an expedient that was impossible to fail. There was neither law nor justice, he said, to be had, if Hunks who had done nothing were permitted to pocket the cash, and his merit were left undistinguished and pennyless. I paid but little attention to his story. It struck upon my sense, and I was able to recollect it at my nearest leisure, though I thought not of it at the time. For the present I was busily employed, reflecting on my new situation, and the conduct to be observed in it. The thought of suicide had twice, in moments of uncommon despair, suggested itself to my mind ; but it was far from my habitual meditations. At present, and in all cases where death was immediately threatened me from the in- justice of others, I felt myself disposed to contend to the last. My prospects were indeed sufficiently gloomy and dis- couraging. How much labour had I exerted, first to ex- 36R CALEB WILLIAMS. Iricatc myself from prison, and nexl to evade the diligence of my pursuers; and the result of all, to be brought back to the point from Avhich I began! I had gained fame, indeed, the miserable fame to have my story bawled forth by hawkers and ballad-mongers, to have my praises as an active and enterprising villain celebrated among footmen and chambermaids ; but I was neither an Erostratus nor an Alexander, to die contented with that species of eulo- gium. With respect to all that was solid, what chance could I find in new exertions of a similar nature ? Never was a human creature pursued by enemies more inventive or envenomed. I could have small hope that they would ever cease their persecution, or that my future attempts would be crowned w ith a more desirable issue. They were considerations like these that dictated my resolution. My mind had been gradually weaning from Mr. Falkland, till its feeling rose to something like abhor- rence. I had long cherished a reverence for him, which not even animosity and subornation on his part could utterly destroy. But I now ascribed a character so inhumanly sanguinary to his mind ; I saw something so fiend-like in the thus hunting me round the world, and determining to be satisfied with nothing less than my blood, while at the same time he knew my innocence, my indisposition to mischief, nay, I might add, my virtues ; that henceforth I trampled reverence and the recollection of former esteem under my feet. I lost all regard to his intellectual great- ness, and all pity for the agonies of his soul. I also would abjure forbearance. 1 would show myself bitter and in- flexible as he had done. Was it wise in him to di-ive me into extremity and madness? Had he no fours for his own secret and all ocioiis oU'ences ? I had b«'cn obliged to sjX'ud the remaintlor of (he night CALEB WILLIAMS. upon which I had been apprehended, in prison. During the interval J had thrown off every vestige of disguise, and appeared tlie next morning in my own person. I was of course easily identified ; and, this being the whole with which the magistrates before whom I now stood thought themselves concerned, they were proceeding to make out an order for my being conducted back to my own county. I suspended the despatch of this measure by observing that I had something to disclose. This is an overture to which men appointed for the administration of criminal justice never fail to attend. I went before the magistrates, to whose office Gines and his comrade conducted me, fully determined to publish those astonishing secrets of w'hich I had hitherto been the faithful depository ; and, once for all, to turn the tables upon my accuser. It was time that the real criminal should be the sufferer, and not that innocence should for ever labour under the oppression of guilt. I said that " I had always protested my innocence, and must now repeat the protest." " In that case," retorted the senior magistrate abruptly, " what can you have to disclose ? If you are innocent, that is no business of ours ! We act officially." " I always declared," continued I, " that I was the per- petrator of no guih, but that the guilt wholly belonged U my accuser. He privately conveyed these effects among my property, and then charged me with the robbery. I now declare more than that, that this man is a murderer, that I detected his criminality, and that, for that reason, he is determined to deprive me of life. I presume, gentlemen, that you do consider it as your business to take this decla- ration. I am persuaded you will be by no means disposed, | actively or passively, to contribute to the atrocious injustice; under which I suffer, to the imprisonment and condem-/ / 370 C.U.EB WILLIAMS. nation of an iun<)rpnl man, in order that a murderer may go free. I suppressed this story as long as I could. I was extremely averse io be the author of the unhappiness or the death of a human being. But all patience and sub- mission have their limits." " Give me leave, sir," rejoined the magistrate, with an air of affected moderation, "to ask you two questions. Were you any way aiding, abetting, or contributing to this murder?" " No." " And pray, sir, who is this Mr. Falkland ? and what may have been the nature of your connexion with him ?" " Mr. Falkland is a gentleman of six thousand per an- num. I lived w ith him as his secretary." " In other words, you were his servant?" " As you please." " Very well, sir; that is quite enough for me. First, I have to tell you, as a magistrate, that I can have nothing to do with your declaration. If you had been concerned in the murder you talk of, that would alter the case. But it is out of all reasonable rule for a magistrate to take an information from a felon, except against his accomplices. N'ext, I think it right to observe to you, in my own proper person, that you appear to me to be the most impudent rascal I ever saw. Why, are you such an ass as to sup- pose, that the sort of story you have boon telling, can be of any service to you, either here or at the assizes, or any where else ? A fine time of it indeed it w ould be, if, when gentlemen of six thousand a year take up their servants for robbing them, those servants could trump up such accusa- tions as these, and could get any magistrate or court of jus- tice to listen to them! Whether or no the felony with which yon stand charged would have brought you to the gallows, I will not pretend to say : but I am sure this story CALEB WILLIAMS. 371 will. There would be a speedy end to all order and good | government, if fellows that trample upon ranks and dis- I tinctions in this atrocious sort were upon any consideration suffered to get off." " And do you refuse, sir, to attend to the particulars of the charge I allege ?" " Yes, sir, I do. — But, if I did not, pray what witnesses have you of the murder ? " This question staggered me. " None. But I believe I can make out a circumstantial proof, of a nature to force attention from the most indif- ferent hearer." " So I thought. — Officers, take him from the bar!" Such was the success of this uhimate resort on my part, upon which I had built with such undoubting confidence. Till now, I had conceived that the unfavourable situation in which I was placed was prolonged by my own for- bearance ; and I had determined to endure all that human nature could support, rather than have recourse to this extreme recrimination. That idea secretly consoled me under all my calamities : it was a voluntary sacrifice, and was cheerfully made. 1 thought myself allied to the army of martyi^s and confessors ; 1 applauded my fortitude and self-denial ; and I pleased myself with the idea, that I had the power, though I hoped never to employ it, by an unre- lenting display of my resources, to put an end at once to my sufferings and persecutions. i And this at last was the justice of mankind ! lA man, under certain circumstances, shall not be heard in the de- tection of a crime, because he has not been a participator of it ! The story of a fiagitious murder shall be hstened to with indifference, while an innocent man is hunted, like a wild beast, to the furthest corners of the earth ! Six thou- sand a year shall protect a man from accusation ; and the 24 * 372 CALEB WILLIAMS. vaiiilily of an ifiipcaclimeiit .shall be supeiseded, because the author of it is a servantjj I was conducted back to tlie very prison from which a few months before I had made my escape. With a r bursting heart I entered those walls, compelled to feel that all my more than Herculean labours served for my own torture, and for no other end. Since my escape from prison I had acquired some knowledge of the world; I had learned by bitter experience, by how many links society had a hold upon me, and how closely the snares of despo- tism beset me. I no longer beheld the world, as my youthful fancy had once induced me to do, as a scene in which to hide or to appear, and to exhibit' the freaks of a wanton vivacity. I saw my whole species as ready, in one mode or other, to be made the instruments of the tyrant. Hope died away in the bottom of my heart. Shut up for the first night in my dungeon, I was seized at intervals with temporary frenzy. From time to time, I rent the universal silence with the roarings of unsupportable despair. But this was a transient distraction. I soon returned to the sober recollection of myself and my miseries. My prospects were more gloomy, and my situation apparently more irremediable, than ever. I was exposed again, if that were of any account, to the insolence and tyranny that are uniformly exercised within those walls. Why should 1 repeat the loalhsome tale of all that was endured by me, and is endured by every man who is un- happy enough to fall under the government of these consecrated ministers of national jurisprudence? The suderings I had alieady experienced, my anxieties, my llighl, t\w. perpetual expectation of being discovered, worse than llie discovery ilsclf, would perhaps have been enough to satisfy the uu)sl insensible iii(li\i(lual, in llie iourt of his own conscience, if I had even been I lie Irion I was pre- CALEB WILLIAMS. 878 tended to be. But the law has neither eyes, nor ears, nor bowels of humanity ; and it turns into marble the hearts of all those that are nursed in its principles. I however once more recovered my spirit of deter- mination. I resolved that, while I had life, I would never be deserted by this spirit. Oppressed, annihilated I might be ; but, if I died, I would die resisting. What use, what advantage, what pleasurable sentiment, could arise from a tame surrender ? There is no man that is ignorant, that to humble yourself at the feet of the law is a bootless task ; in her courts there is no room for amendment and refor- mation. My fortitude may to some persons appear above the standard of human nature. But if I draw back the veil from my heart they will readily confess their mistake. My heart bled at every pore. My resolution was not the calm sentiment of philosophy and reason. It was a gloomy and desperate purpose ; the creature, not of hope, but of a mind austei-ely held to its design, that felt, as it were, satis- lied with the naked effort, and prepared to give success or miscarriage to the winds. It was to this miserable con- dition, wliich might awaken sympathy in the most hardened bosom, that Mr. Falkland had reduced me. In the mean time, strange as it may seem, here, in prison, subject to innumerable hardships, and in the assured ex- pectation of a sentence of death, I recovered my health. I ascribe this to the state of my mind, which was now changed, from pei'petual anxiety, terror, and alarm, the too frequent inmates of a prison, but which I upon this occasion did not seem to bring along with me, to a des- perate firmness. L anticipated the event of my trial. I determined once more to escape from my prison ; nor did I doubt of my ability to effeft at least this first step towards my future 374 CALEB WILLIAMS. preservation. The assizes, liowever, were near, and there were certain considerations, unnecessary to be detailed, that persuaded me there might he benefit in waiting till my trial should actually be terminated, before I made my attempt. It stood upon the list as one of the latest to be brought forward. I was therefore extremely surprised to find it called out of its order, early on the morning of the second day. But, if this w ere unexpected, how much greater w as my astonishment, when my prosecutor was called, to iind neither Mr. Falkland, nor Mr. Forester, nor a single indi- vidual of any description, appear against me ! The re- cognizances into which my prosecutors had entered were declared to be forfeited; and I was dismissed without further impediment from the bar. The effect which this incredible reverse produced upon my mind it is impossible to express. I, who had come to that bar with the sentence of death already in idea ringing in my ears, to be told that I was free to transport myself whithersoever I pleased! Was it for this that I had broken through so many locks and bolts, and the ada- mantine walls of my prison ; that I had passed so many anxious days, and sleepless, spectre-haunted nights ; that I had racked my invention for expedients of evasion and concealment ; that my mind had been roused to an energy of which I could scarcely have believed it capable; that my existence had been enthralled to an ever-living tor- ment, such as I could scarcely have supposed it in man to endure? Great (iod! what is man? Is he thus blind to the future, thus totally unsuspecting of what is to occur in the next moment of his existence ? I have somewhere read, that heaven in mercy hides from us the future in- cidents of our life. 31y o>^'n experience does not well accord with lliis asscrfion. In (his instaiMc at least, F CALEB WILLIAMS. should have been saved from insupportable labour and undescribable anguish, could I have foreseen the cata- strophe of this most interesting transaction. CHAPTER XXXVIII. It was not long before I took my everlasting leave of this detested and miserable scene. My heart was for the pre- sent too full of astonishment and exultation in my unex- pected deliverance, to admit of anxiety about the future. I withdrew from the town ; I rambled with a slow and thought- ful pace, now bursting with exclamation, and now buried in profound and undefinable reverie. Accident led me towards the very heath which had first sheltered me, when, upon a former occasion, I broke out of my prison. I wan- dered among its cavities and its valleys. It was a forlorn and desolate solitude. I continued here I know not how long. INight at length overtook me unperceived, and I pre- pared to return for the present to the town I had quitted. It was now perfectly dark, when two men, whom I had not previously observed, sprung upon me from behind. They seized me by the arms, and threw me upon the ground. I had no time for resistance or recollection. I could, however, perceive that one of them was the diabolical — Gimrs.' They blindfolded, gagged me, and hurried me I knew not whither. As we passed along in silence, I en- deavoured to conjecture what could be the meaning of this extraordinary violence. I w as strongly impressed w ith the idea, that, after the event of this morning, the most severe and painful part of my history was past ; and, strange as it --r 376 CALEB WDXUMS may seem, I could nut persuade myself to regard with alarm this unexpected attack. It might, however, be some new project, suggested by the brutal temper and unrelenting animosity of Gines. I presently found that we were returned into the town I had just quitted. They led me into a house, and, as soon as they had taken possession of a room, freed me from the restraints they had before imposed. Here Gines informed me with a mahcious grin that no harm was intended me, and therefore I should show most sense in keeping myself quiet. I perceived that we were in an inn ; I overheard company in a room at no great distance from us, and there- fore was now as thoroughly aware as he could be, that there was at present little reason to stand in fear of any species of violence, and that it w ould be time enough to resist, when they attempted to conduct me from the inn in the same manner that they had brought me into it. I was not without some curiosity to see the conclusion that was to follow upon so extraordinary a commencement. The preliminaries I have described were scarcely com- pleted, before Mv. Falkland entered the room. I remember Collins, when he first communicated to me the particulars of our patron's history, obsei'\ ed that he was totally unlike the man he had once been. I had no means of ascertain- ing the truth of that observation. But it was strikingly ap- plicable to the spectacle which now presented itself to my eyes, though, when I last beheld this unhappy man, he had been a victim to the same passions, a prey to the same undy- ing remorse, as now. Misery wa s at that time inscribed in legible characters upon his countenance. I^it now he appeared like notliing that had ever been visible in human shape. His\isagc was haggard, emaciated, au