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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 FREJ<ACE. 
 
 llic progressive nature of a single story would allow, a 
 I general review of the modes of domestic and unrecorded 
 (Icspotism by which man becomes the destroyer of man. 
 If tiic author shall have taught a valuable lesson, without 
 subtracting from the interest and passion by which a per- 
 formance of this sort ought to be characterised, lie will 
 have reason to congratulate himself upon the vehicle he 
 has chosen. 
 
 Matj 12, 1791. 
 
 This Preface was withdrawn in the original edition, in 
 compliance with the alarms of booksellers. *' Caleb Wil- 
 liams" made his first appearance in the world, in the 
 same month in which the sanguinary plot broke out 
 against the liberties of Englishmen, which was happily 
 terminated by the acquittal of its first intended victims, in 
 the dose of that year. Terror was the order of the day ; 
 and it was feared that even the humble novelist might be 
 Hhown to be constructively a traitor. 
 
 Octubei 2D, 179.") 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 \ 
 
 A new Preface to "Fleetwood," by Godwin, has just ap- 
 peared- The following extract from it, respecting the 
 concoction of Caleb Williams, is so interesting to its 
 readers, that the Editor has been induced to print it 
 after the original Preface. 
 
 London, November 20, 1832. 
 
 ••Caleb Williams" has always been regarded by the pu- 
 blic with an unusual degree of favour. It has, therefore, 
 been imagined, that even an account of the concoction and 
 mode of writing of the work would be viewed with some 
 interest. 
 
 I finished the "Enquiry concerning Political Justice," 
 the first work which may be considered as viritten by 
 me in a certain degree in the maturity of my intellectual 
 powers, and bearing my name, early in January, 1793; 
 and about the middle of the following month the book 
 was published. It was my fortune at that time to be 
 obliged to consider my pen as the sole instrument for sup- 
 plying my current expenses. By the liberality of my book- 
 seller, 31r. George Robinson of Paternoster PiOW, I was 
 enabled then, and for nearly ten years before, to meet 
 these expenses, while writing ditferent things of obscure 
 note, the names of which, though innocent, and in some 
 degree useful, I am rather inclined to suppress. In May 1, 
 1791, I projected this, my favourite work, and from that 
 
x.iv PREFACE. 
 
 lime gave up every oilier oct upation lliat might interfere 
 with it. My agreement with Uobinson was, that he was 
 to supply my wants at a specified rale, while the book 
 was in the train of composition. Finally, I was very 
 little beforehand with the world on the days of its publi- 
 cation, and was therefore obliged to look round and con- 
 sider to what species of industry I should next devote 
 myself. 
 
 I had always felt in myself some vocation towards the 
 composition of a narrative of fictitious adventure ; and 
 among the things of obscure note, which I have above re- 
 ferred tc, were two or three pieces of this nature. It is 
 not therefore extraordinary that some project of the sort 
 should have suggested itself on the present occasion. 
 
 But I stood now in a very different situation from that 
 in which I had been placed at a former period. In past 
 years, and even almost from boyhood, I was perpetually 
 prone to exclaim with Cowley, — 
 
 •' VNTiat shall 1 do to be for ever kiio\%7i, 
 And make the age to come my^owu? " 
 
 Hut I had endeavoured for ten years, and was as far from 
 approaching my object as ever. Every thing I wrote fell 
 dead-born from the press. Very often I was disposed to 
 quit the enterprise in despair. But still I felt ever and 
 anon impelled to repeat my effort. 
 
 At length I conceived the plan of Political Justice. I was 
 convinced that my object of building to myself a name 
 would never be attained, by merely repeating and refin- 
 ing a little upon what other men had said, even though I 
 should imagine that I delivered things of this .sort with a 
 more than iisual point and elegance. The world, I be- 
 lieved, would accept nothing from me with distinguishing 
 favour, Ihat <lii| not bear upon tin-, face of it the luuloubled 
 stamp of originality. Having long i luninaled upiui the prin- 
 
PREFACE. XXV 
 
 i 
 ciples of Political Justice, I persuaded myself that I could 
 
 offer to the public, in a treatise on this subject, things at | 
 
 once new, true and important. In the progress of the i 
 
 work I became more sanguine and confident. I talked 
 over my ideas with a few familiar friends during its pro- 
 gress, and they gave me every generous encouragement. 
 It happened that the fame of my book, in some consider- 
 able degree, got before its publication, and a certain 
 number of persons were prepared to receive it with fa- 
 vour. It would be false modesty in me to say, that its 
 acceptance, when published, did not early come up to i 
 
 every thing that could soberly have been expected by me. 
 In consequence of this, the tone of my mind, both during i 
 
 the period in which I was engaged in the work, and after- J 
 
 wards, acquired a certain elevation, and made me now 
 unwilling to stoop to what was insignificant. / ; 
 
 I formed a conception of a book of fictitious adventure, \ 
 
 that should in some way be distinguished by a very power- ] 
 
 ful interest. Pursuing this idea, I invented first the third ^ 
 
 volume of my tale, then the second, and last of all the 
 first. I bent niyself to the conception of a series.of -ad- i 
 ventures of flight and pursuit ; the fugitive in perpetual ! 
 
 apprehension of being overwhelmed with the worst cala- 
 niities, and the pursuer, by his ingenuity and resources, 
 keeping his victim in a state of the most fearful alarm. 
 This was the project of my third volume. 
 
 I was next called upon to conceive a dramatic and im- 
 pressive situation adequate to account for the impulse that 
 the pursuer should feel, incessantly to alarm and harass 
 his victim, with an inextinguishable resolution never to 
 allow him the least interval of peace and 'Security. This 
 I apprehended could best be effected by a secret murder, 
 to the investigation of which the innocent victim should £''^' 
 be impelled by an unconquerable spirit of curiosity. ^ The 
 murderer would thus have a sufficient motive to persecute 
 the unhappy discoverer, that he might deprive him of 
 
xx», PREFACE. 
 
 peace, cliaracter, and credit, and have him for ever in 
 liis power. This constituted the outline of my second 
 volume. 
 
 The subject of the first volume was still to he invented. 
 To account for the fearful events of the third, it was ne- 
 ces.sary that the pursuer should be invested with every 
 advantage of fortune, with a resolution that nothing could 
 defeat or baflle, and with e.vtraordinary resources of intel- 
 lect. Nor could my purpose of giving an overpowering 
 interest to my tale be answered, without(his appearing to 
 have been originally endowed with a mighty store of 
 amiable dispositions and virtues, so that his being driven 
 to the first act of murder should be judged worthy of the 
 deepest regret, and should be seen in sonip measure to 
 have arisen out of his virtues themselves. (It was neces- 
 sary to make him, so to speak, the tenant of an atmosphere 
 of romance, so that every reader should feel nrompted al- 
 most to worship him for his high qualitiesy Here were 
 ample materials for a first volume. 
 \^ I felt that I had a great advantage in thus carrying back 
 my invention from the ultimate conclusion to the first 
 commencement of the train of adventures upon which I 
 purposed to employ my pen. An entire unity of plot 
 would be the infallible result; and the unity of spirit and 
 interest in a talc truly considered, gives it a powerful hold 
 on the reader, which can scarcely be generated with equal 
 success in any other way. 
 
 I devoted about two or three weeks to the imagining 
 and putting down hints for my story, before I engaged se- 
 riously and methodically in its composition. In these 
 hints 1 began with my third voliunc, tiicn proceeded lo 
 my second, and last of all grappled wilh the first. I filled 
 two or three sheets of tlcmy writing-paper, folded in oc- 
 tavo, wilh these memorandums. They were put down 
 wilh gnat brevity, yet explicitly enough lo secure a perfect 
 lecoUeelioii of their meaning, within Ihc time necessary 
 
PREFACE. xxvii - . 
 
 for drawing out the story at Ml, in short paragraphs of 
 two, three, four, five, or six lines each. 
 
 I then sat down to write my story from the beginning. 
 I wrote for the most part but a short portion in any .single 
 day. I wrote only when the afilatus was upon me. I 
 held it for a maxim, that any portion that was written 
 when I was not fully in the vein, told for considerably 
 worse than nothing. Idleness was a thousand times better 
 in this case, than industry against the grain. Idleness 
 was only lime lost ; and the next day, it may be, was as 
 promising as ever. It was merely a day perished from 
 the calendar. But a passage written feebly, flatly, and 
 in a wrong spirit, constituted an obstacle that it was next 
 to impossible to correct and set right again. I wrote, there- 
 fore, by starts : sometimes for a week or ten days not a 
 line. Yet all came to the same thing in the sequel. On 
 an average, a volume of " Caleb Williams" cost me four 
 months, neither less, nor more. 
 
 It must be admitted however, that, during the whole 
 period^ bating a few intervals, my mind was in a high state 
 of excitement. I said to myself a thousand ti mes^ ^^I wil l — . 
 write a tale, that sliall constitute an epoch in the mind of. 
 the reader, that no one, after he has reajllt,-^all evee-be 
 exactly the same man that he was before." — I p ut these 
 
 entire frankness. I know that it will sound like the most 
 pitiable degree of self-conceit. But such perhaps ought 
 to be the state of mind of an author, when he does his 
 best. At any rate, I have said nothing of my vain-glorious 
 impulse for nearly forty years. 
 
 When I had written about seven-tenths of the first vo- 
 lume, I was prevailed upon by the extreme importunity 
 of an old and intimate friend to allow him the perusal of 
 my manuscript. On the second day he returned it with 
 a note to this purpose : '*I return you your manuscript, 
 because I promised to do so. If I had obeyed the im- 
 
wviii PREFACE. 
 
 |>iilsc 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 <l<'ath of my father, 1 a|)|)rovcd (»f tl:e eiuplovment, 
 he would take -me into his family. 
 
 I felt highly flattered by the proposal, and was warm 
 in the expression of my acknowledgments. I set eagerly 
 about the dispo>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<l romance. Mc had loo nmch good sense to 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 11 
 
 regret the times of Charlemagne and Arthur, But, while 
 his imagination was purged by a certain infusion of philo- 
 sophy, he conceived that there was in the manners de- 
 picted by these celebrated poets something to imitate, as 
 well as something to avoid. He believed that nothing was 
 so well calculated to make men delicate, gallant, and hu- 
 mane, as a temper perpetually alive to the sentiments of 
 birth and honour. The opinions he entertained upon 
 these topics w ere illustrated in his conduct, which was as- 
 siduously conformed to the model of heroism that his fancy 
 suggested. 
 
 With these sentiments he set out upon his travels, at 
 the age at which the grand tour is usually made ; and they 
 were rather confirmed than shaken by the adventures that 
 befel him. By inclination he was led to make his longest 
 stay in Italy ; and here he fell into company w ith several 
 young noblemen whose studies and principles were con- 
 genial to his own. By them he was assiduously courted, 
 and treated with the most distinguished applause. They 
 were delighted to meet with a foreigner, who had imbibed 
 all the peculiarities of the most liberal and honourable 
 among themselves. Nor was he less favoured and ad- 
 mired by the softer sex. Though his stature was small, 
 his person had an air of uncommon dignity. His dignity 
 was then heightened by certain additions which were after- 
 wards obliterated, — an expression of frankness, ingenuity, 
 and unreserve, and a spirit of the most ardent enthusiasm. 
 Perhaps no Englishman was ever in an equal degree 
 idolised by the inhabitants of Italy. 
 
 It was not possible for him to have drunk so deeply of 
 the fountain of chivalry without being engaged occasionally 
 in affairs of honour, all of which were terminated in a 
 manner tliat would not have disgraced the chevalier Bayard 
 himself. In Italy, the young men of rank divide them- 
 
IS CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 selves into (wo classes, — those who adhere to the pure 
 principles of ancient gallantry, and those who, heing ac- 
 tuated hy the same acute sense of injury and insult, ac- 
 custom themselves to the employment of hired bravoes as 
 their instruments of vengeance. The whole difference, 
 indeed, consists in the precarious application of a generally 
 received distinction. The most generous Italian conceives 
 that there are certain persons whom it would he contami- 
 nation for him to call into the open field. He neverthe- 
 less believes that an indignity cannot be expiated but with 
 blood, and is persuaded that the life of a man is a trifling 
 consideration, in comparison of the indemnification to be 
 made to his injured honour. There is, therefore, scarcely 
 any Italian that would upon some occasions scruple assas- 
 sination. 3Ien of spirit among them, notwithstanding the 
 pfejudices of their education, cannot fail to have a secret 
 conviction of its baseness, and w ill be desirous of extending 
 as far as possible the cartel of honour. Ileal or affected 
 arrogance teaches others to regard almost the whole 
 species as their inferiors, and of consequence incites them 
 to gratify their vengeance w ithout danger to their persons. 
 Mr. Falkland met w ith some of these. But his undaunted 
 spirit and resolute temper gave him a decisive advantage 
 even in such perilous rcncoimters. One instance, among 
 many, of his manner of conducting himself among this 
 proud and high-spirited people, it may be proper to relate. 
 Mr. Falkland is the principal agent in my history; and 
 Mr. Falkland in the autumn and decay of his vigour, such 
 as I found him, cannot be completely understood without 
 a knowledge of his previous character, as it was in all the 
 gloss of youth, yet unassailed by adversity, and unbroken 
 in upon by anguish or remorse. 
 
 A( \{ouw he was re«teived with particular distinction at 
 (lie house <»! M;u(nii>. 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<quainted with the English language, inspired 
 by the lively and ardent encomiums of our best authors 
 that she had heard from their countryman. She had pro- 
 vided herself wilh the usual materials for that purpose, 
 and had made some progress during his absence. But 
 upon his return she was forward to make use of the op- 
 portunity, which, if missed, might never occur again with 
 equal advantage, of reading select passages of our poets 
 with an Englishman of uncommon taste and capacity. 
 
 This proposal necessarily led to a more frequent inter- 
 course. When Count Malvesi returned, he found Mr. 
 Falkland established almost as an inmate of the Pisani pa- 
 lace. His mind could not fail to be struck with the critical- 
 ness of the silij*rtion. He was perhaps secretly conscious 
 that the qualilications of the EngUshman were superior to 
 his own ; and he trembled for the progress that each party 
 might have made in the affection of the other, even be- 
 fore they were aware of the danger. He believed that the 
 match was in every respect such as to flatter the ambition 
 of Mr. Falkland; and he was stung even to madness by 
 the idea of being deprived of (he object dearest to his heart 
 by this tramontane upstart. 
 
 He had, however, suflicient discretion lirst to demand 
 an explanation of I^dy Lucrctia. She, in the gaiety of 
 her heart, trifled with his anxiety. His patience was al- 
 ready exhausted, and he proceeded in his expostulation, in 
 language that she was by no means prepared to tndure 
 with apathy. Lady Lueretia had always been accustomed 
 ((> 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- 
 <oiue know n, the conclusion will now become known along 
 with the provocation, and I am satisfied. But if the chal- 
 lenge had been public, the proofs I had formerly given of 
 courage would not have excused my present moderation; 
 and, though desirous to have avoided the combat, it would 
 not have been iu my power. Let us hence each of us learu 
 to avoid basic and indiscretion, the consequences of which 
 may be inexpiable l)ut with blood ; and may Heaven bless 
 you in a consort of w hom I deem you every way w orthy !" 
 j I liave already said that this was by no means the only 
 1 instance, in the course of his travels, in which Mr. Falk- 
 jland acrjuiltcd himself in the most brilliant manner as a 
 man of gailanfry and virtue. He continued abroad during 
 several years, every one of which !)ronght some fresh ac- 
 cession to the estimation in which he was held, as well as 
 to his own inij)ati(Mice of slain or dishonour. At length he 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 19 
 
 thought proper to return to England, with the intention 
 of spending the rest of his days at the residence of liis 
 ancestors. 
 
 CHAPTER UI. 
 
 From the moment he entered upon the execution of this 
 purpose, dictated as it probably was by an unaffected prin- 
 ciple of duty, his misfortunes took their commencement. 
 All I have further to state of his history is the uninter- 
 rupted persecution of a mahgnant destiny, a series of ad- 
 ventures that seemed to take their rise in various accidents, 
 but pointing to one termination. Him they overwhelmed 
 with an anguish he was of all others least qualified to bear ; 
 and these waters of bitterness, extending beyond him, 
 poured their deadly venom upon others, I being myself the 
 most unfortunate of their victims. 
 
 The person in whom these calamities originated was 
 Mr. Falkland's nearest neighbour, a man of estate equal to 
 his owTi, by name Barnabas Tyrrel. This man one mighi 
 at first have supposed of all others least qualified from in- 
 struction, or inclined by the habits of his hfe, to disturb 
 the enjoyments of a mind so richly endowed as that of 
 Mr. Falkland. Mr. Tyrrel might have passed for a true 
 model of the English squire. He was early left under the 
 tuition of his mother, a woman of narrow capacity, and 
 who had no other child. The only remaining member of 
 the family it may be necessary to notice was Miss Emily 
 Melville, the orphan daughter of Mr. Tyrrel's palernal 
 aunt ; who now resided in the family mansion, and was 
 wholly dependent on the benevolence of its proprietors. 
 
•iO CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 ."Mrs. Tyrrel appeared to think (hat (here was nothing in 
 the world so precious as her hopeful Barnabas. Every 
 liiinj? must give way to his accommoda(ion and advantage; 
 every one mus( yield (he mos( servile obedience to bis com- 
 mands. He nuis( no( be (eased or restric(ed by any forms 
 of ins(ruc(ion ; and of consequence his proficiency, even in 
 (he ar(s of writing and reading, was extremely slender. 
 From his birth he was muscular and sturdy; and, confined 
 lo (he rueUe of his mother, he made much such a figure 
 ns the whelp-lion (hat a barbarian might have given for a 
 lap-dog to his mis(re.ss. 
 
 But he soon broke loose from these trammels, and formed 
 an acquaintance with (he groom and the game-keeper. 
 { uder their instruction he proved as ready a scholar, as 
 lie had been indocile and restive to the pedant who held 
 the oflke of his (u(or. I( was now evident that his small 
 1 i^roficioncy in litera(ure was by no means to be ascribed (o 
 1 «vant of capaci(y. He discovered no contemptible sagaci(y 
 ind quick'Vitteduess in the science of horse-flesh, and was 
 emineiitly expert in the arts of shooting, fishing, and hunt- 
 ig. Nor did he confme himself to these, but added the 
 (heory and prac(ice of boxing, cudgel play, and quarter- 
 staff. These exercises added (enfold robus(ness and vigour 
 to his fonucr qua!ifioa(ions. 
 
 His s(a(ure, when grown, was somewhat more than five 
 feet ten inches in height, and his form might have been 
 selected by a painter as a model for (hat hero of an(iqui(v, 
 wliose prowess t;onsis(ed in felling an ox with his fist, and 
 devouring him at a meal. Conscious of his a<lvantage in 
 (his respect, he wa s insupp ortahly Jinyganl-aAJiannical to 
 his inferiius, and insolent to his equals. The activity of 
 bis mind l»eing diver(cd from the genuine field of utility 
 and dis(inc(ion, showed itself in (he rude tricks of an over- 
 giown lubber. Here, as in all his other qualifications, he 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 21 
 
 rose above his competitors ; and if it had been possible to 
 overlook the callous and unrelenting disposition which they 
 manifested, one could scarcely have denied his applause to 
 the invention these freaks displayed, and the rough, sar- 
 castic wit with which they were accompanied. 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel was by no means inclined to permit these 
 extraordinary merits to rust in oblivion. There was a 
 weekly assembly at the nearest market-town, the resort of , 
 all the rural gentry. Here he had hitherto figured to the / 
 greatest advantage as grand master of the coterie, no one Ir 
 having an equal share of opulence, and the majority, though 
 still pretending to the rank of gentry, greatly his inferior 
 in this essential article. The young men in this circle 
 looked up to this insolent bashaw with timid respect, con- 
 scious of the comparative eminence that unquestionably 
 belonged to the powers of his mind ; and he well knew 
 how to maintain his rank with an inflexible hand. Fre- 
 quently indeed he relaxed his features, and assumed a tem- 
 porary appearance of aflfableness and familiarity ; but they 
 found by experience, that if any one, encouraged by his 
 condescension, forgot the deference which Mr. Tyrrel con- 
 sidered as his due, he was soon taught to repent his pre- 
 sumption. It was a tiger that thought proper to toy witn 
 a mouse, the little animal every moment in danger of being 
 crushed by the fangs of his ferocious associate. As Mr. 
 Tyrrel had considerable copiousness of speech, and a rich, 
 but undisciplined imagination, he was always sure of an 
 audience. His neighbours crowded round, and joined in 
 the ready laugh, partly from obsequiousness, and partly 
 from unfeigned admiration. It frequently happened, how- 
 ever, that, in the midst of his good humour, a cha- 
 racteristic refinement of tyranny would suggest itself to his 
 mind. When his subjects, encouraged by his famiharity, 
 had discarded their precaution, the wayward fit would seize 
 
\i 
 
 22 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 him, a sudden cloud overspread his brow, his voice trans- 
 form from the ploasaut to the terrible, and a qua rrel of a 
 straw immediately ensue with the first man whose face he 
 did not like. The pleasure that resulted to others from 
 (he exuberant salhes of his imagination was, therefore, not 
 unalloyed with sudden qualms of apprehension and terror. 
 It may be believed that this despotism did not gain its final 
 ascendancy without being contested in the outset. Hut all 
 opposition was quelled with a high hand by this rural 
 Antaeus. By the ascendancy of his fortune, and his cha- 
 racter among his neighboms, he always reduced his ad- 
 versary to the necessity of encountering him at his own 
 weapons, and did not dismiss him without making him 
 feel his presumption through every joint in his frame. The 
 tyranny of Mr. Tyrrel would not have been so patiently 
 endured, had not his colloquial accomplishments perpe- 
 tually come in aid of that authority which his rank and 
 prowess originally obtained. 
 
 The situation of our squire with the fair was still more 
 \ enviable than that which he maintained among persons 
 of his own sex. Every mother taught her daughter to 
 consider the hand of M ivJ Tvnel as the highes t object of her 
 ambition. Eveiy daughter regarded his athletic form and 
 his acknowledged prowess with a favom-able eye. .\ form 
 eminently athletic is, perhaps, always well proportioned; 
 and one of the qualifications that women are early taught 
 to look for in llic male sex, is that of a protector. As no 
 man was adventurous eiKuigh to contest his superiority, so 
 scarcely any wonuiu in this provincial circle would have 
 scrupled to prefer his addresses to those of any other ad- 
 miicr. His boisterous wit had peculiar charms for them ; 
 and there was no spectacle moie llatteriug to their vanity, 
 than seeing this Hercules exchange his club lor a distaff. 
 It was pleasing to tin m to consider, )li;U the fangs of this 
 
% 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 wild beast, the very idea of which inspired trepidation into 
 the boldest hearts, might be played with by them with the 
 utmost security. 
 
 Such was the rival that Fortune, in her capricet _had 
 rese rved for the accomplished F alkland. This untamed, 
 though not undiscerning brute, was found capable of de- 
 stroying the prospects of a man the utmost eminently qua- 
 lified to enjoy and to communicate happiness. The feud 
 that sprung up between them was nourished by concurring 
 circumstances, till it attained a magnitude difficult to be 
 paralleled ; and, because they regarded each other with a 
 deadly hatred, I have become an object of misery and 
 abhorrence. 
 
 The arrival of Mr. Falkland gave an alarming shock to 
 the authority of Mr. Tyrrel in the village assembly, and in 
 all scenes of indiscriminate resort. His disposition by no 
 means inclined him to withhold himself from scenes of 
 fashionable amusement ; and he and his competitor were 
 like two stars fated never to appear at once above the ho- 
 rizon. The advantages Mr. Falkland possessed in the 
 comparison are palpable ; and had it been otherwise, the 
 subjects of his rural neighbour were sufficiently disposed to 
 revolt against his merciless dominion. They had hitherto 
 submitted from fear, and not from love ; and, i^lhey had 
 not rebelled, it was only for want of a leader. Even the 
 ladies regarded Mr. Falkland with particular complacence. 
 His polished manners were peculiarly in harmony with fe- 
 minine deUcacy. The saUies of his wit were far beyond 
 those of Mr. Tyrrel in variety and vigour ; in addition to 
 which they had the advantage of having their sponlai|epus 
 exuberaace guided and restrained by the sagacity of a cul- 
 tivated miiid. The graces of his person were enhanced 
 by the elegance of his deportment ; and the benevolence 
 
24 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 and liberality of liis temper were upon all occasions con- 
 spicuous. It was common indeed to Mr. Tyrrel, together 
 with Mr. Falkland, to be little accessible to sentiments oC 
 awkwardness and confusion. But for this Mr. Tyrrel was 
 indebted to a self-satisfied effrontery, and a boisterous and 
 overbearing elocution, by whicii he was accustomed to dis- 
 comfit his assailants; while Mr. Falkland, with great in- 
 genuity and candour of mind, was enabled by his extensive 
 knowledge of the world, and acquaintance with his own 
 resources, to perceive almost instantaneously the proceed- 
 ing it most became him to adopt. 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel contemplated the progress of his rival with 
 uneasiness and aversion. He often commented upon it to 
 his particular confidents as a thing altogether inconceivable. 
 IMr. Falkland he described as an animal that was beneath 
 contempt. Diminutive and dwarfish in his form, he wanted 
 to set up a new standard of human nature, adapted to his 
 miserable condition. He wished to persuade people iha,t 
 the human species were made to be nailed to a chair, and 
 to pore over books. He would have them exchange those 
 robust exercises which make us joyous in the performance, 
 and vigorous in the consequences, for the wise labour of 
 scratching our heads for a rhyme and counting our fingers 
 for a verse. Monkeys w ere as good men as these. A na- 
 tion of such animals would have no chance with a single 
 Foment of the old English votaries of beef and pudding. 
 He never saw any thing come of learning but to make 
 people foppish and impertinent; and a sensible man would 
 not wish a worse calamity to the enemies of his nation, 
 than (o see them run mad after such pernicious absurdities. 
 It was impossible that people could seriously feel any liking 
 for such a ridiculous piece of goods as (his outlandish fo- 
 reign-made Englishman. |{ut he knew verv well how it 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 25 
 
 was : it was a miserable piece of mummery that was played 
 only in spite of liim. But God for ever blast his soul, if he 
 were not bitterly revenged upon them all ! 
 
 If such were the sentiments of 31r. Tyrrel, his patience 
 found ample exercise in the language which was held by 
 the rest of his neighbours on the same subject. While he 
 saw nothing in Mr. Falkland but matter of contempt, they 
 appeared to be never weary of recounting his praises. 
 Such dignity, such affabihty, so perpetual an attention to 
 the happiness of others, such delicacy of sentiment and ex- 
 pression! Learned without ostentation, refined without 
 .foppery, elegant without effeminacy! Perpetually anxious 
 to prevent his superiority from being painfully felt, it was 
 so much the more certainly felt to be real, and excited con- 
 gratulation instead of envy in the spectator. It is scarcely 
 necessary to remark, that the revolution of sentiment in this 
 rural vicinity belongs to one of the most obvious features 
 of the human mind. The rudest exhibition of art is at first 
 admired, till a nobler is presented, and we are taught to 
 wonder at the facility with which before we had been sa- 
 tisfied. Mr. Tyrrel thought there would be no end to the 
 commendation ; and expected when their common ac- 
 quaintance would fall down and adore the intruder. The 
 most inadvertent expression of applause inflicted upon him 
 the torment of demons. He writhed with agony, his fea- 
 tures became • distorted, and his looks inspired terror. 
 Such suffering would probably have soured the kindest' 
 temper ; what must have been its effect upon Mr. Tyrrel's, 
 always fierce, unrelenting, and abrupt? 
 
 The advantages of Mr. Falkland seemed by no means to 
 diminish with their novelty. Every new sufferer from Mr. 
 Tyrrel's tyranny immediately went over to the standard of 
 his adversary. The ladies, though treated by their rustic 
 swain with more gentleness than the men, were occa- 
 
•26 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 hiunally exposed to his capriciousness and insolence. They 
 could not help remarkintf the contrast between these two 
 leaders in the fields of chivalry, the one of whom paid no 
 attention to any one's pleasure but his own, while the other 
 seemed all good-humour and benevolence. It was in vain 
 that 3Ir. Tyrrel endeavoured to restrain the ruggedness of 
 his character. His motive was impatience, his thoughts 
 were gloomy, and his courtship was like the pawings of an 
 elephant. It appeared as if his temper had been more hu- 
 man while he indulged in its free bent, than now that he 
 sullenly endeavoured to put fetters upon its excesses. 
 
 Among the ladies of the village-assembly already men- 
 tioned, there was none that se»mCtno" engagfe. more of the 
 
 kindness of Mr. Tyrrel than l>^^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 <lauces began, Mr. Tyrrel went 
 up to his fair inamorata, and entered into souu* trilling con- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 27 
 
 versation with her to fill up the time, as intending in a few 
 minutes to lead her forward to the field. He had ac- 
 customed himself to neglect the ceremony of soliciting be- 
 forehand a promise in his favour, as not supposing it 
 possible that any one would dare dispute his behests ; and, 
 had it been otherwise, he would have thought the for- 
 mality unnecessary in this case, his general preference to 
 Miss Hardingham being notorious. 
 
 While he was thus engaged, Mr. Falkland came up. 
 Mr. Tyrrel always regarded him with aversion and loathing. 
 Mr. Falkland, however, slided in a graceful and unaffected 
 manner into the conversation already begun; and the 
 animated ingenuousness of his manner was such, as might 
 for the time have disarmed the devil of his malice. Mr. 
 Tyrrel probably conceived that his accosting Miss Har- 
 dingham was an accidental piece of general ceremony, and 
 expected every moment when he would withdraw to an- 
 other part of the room. 
 
 The company now began to be in motion for the dance, 
 and Mr. Falkland signified as much to Miss Hardingham. 
 " Sir," interrupted Mr. Tyrrel abruptly, " that lady is my 
 partner." — " I believe not, sir : that lady has been so obhg- 
 ing as to accept my invitation." — " I tell you, sir, no. Sir, 
 I have an interest in that lady's affections; and I will 
 suffer no man to intrude upon my claims." — " The lady's 
 affections are not the subject of the present question." — 
 " Sir, it is to no purpose to parley. Make room, sir !" 
 —Mr. Falkland gently repelled his antagonist. "Mr. 
 Tyrrel !" returned he, with some firmness, " let us have 
 no altercation in this business : the master of the ce- 
 remonies is the proper person to decide in a difference of 
 this sort, if we cannot adjust it : we can neither of us in- 
 tend to exhibit our valour before the ladies, and shall 
 therefore cheerfully submit to his verdict." — " Damn me, 
 
S8 CALEB WILUAMS. 
 
 sir, if I understand—" "Softly, 3Ir. Tyrrel; I intended 
 you no offence. But, sir, no man shall prevent ray assert- 
 ing that to wliich 1 have once acquired a claim !" 
 
 Mr. Falkland uttered these words with the most un- 
 ruffled temper in the world. The tone in w hich he spoke 
 had acquired elevation, but neither roughness nor impa- 
 tience. There was a fascination in his manner that made 
 the ferociousness of his antagonist subside into impotence. 
 Miss Hardingham had begun to repent of her experiment, 
 but her alarm was speedily quieted by the dignified com- 
 posure of her new partner. Mr. Tyrrel walked away 
 wtibout answering a word. He muttered curses as he 
 went, which the laws of honour did not oblige Mr. Falk- 
 land to overhear, and which indeed it would have been no 
 easy task to have overheard with accuracy. Mr. Tyrrel 
 would not, perhaps, have so easily given up his point, had 
 not his own good sense presently taught him, that, how- 
 ever eager he might be for revenge, this was not the 
 ground he should desire to occupy. But, though he could 
 not openly resent this rebellion against his authority, he 
 brooded over it in the recesses of a mahgnant mind ; and 
 it was evident enough that he was accumulating materials 
 for a bitter account, to which he trusted his adversary should 
 one day be brought. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 This was only one out of innumerable instances, that 
 every day sccuietUto nuiltiply, of petty mortifications which 
 Mr. Tyrrel was destiiuHl (o endure on the part of >h\ Falk- 
 land. In all of llu'in Mr. Falkland conducted himself with 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 2<j 
 
 such unaffected propriety, as perpetually to add to the 
 stock of his reputation. The more Mr. Tyrrel struggled 
 with his misfortune, the more conspicuous and inveterate it 
 became. A thousand times he cursed his stars, which 
 took, as he apprehended, a malicious pleasure in making 
 Mr. Falkland, at every turn, the instrument of his humilia- 
 tion. Smarting under a succession of untoward events, he 
 appeared to feel, in the most exquisite manner, the distinc- 
 tions paid to his adversary, even in those points in which 
 he had not the slightest pretensions. An instance of this 
 now occurred. - ^, , 
 
 : Mr. Clar^' a poet whose works have done immortal ho- ^f^~^ 
 nour to the country that produced him, had lately retired,-r^ ^A 
 after a life spent in the sublimest efforts of genius, to enjoy ^"X,^^ ■ 
 the produce of his economy, and the reputation he had ' 
 
 acquired, in this very neighbourhood. Such an inmate 
 was looked up to by the country gentlemen with a degree \ 
 
 of adoration. They felt a conscious pride in recollecting ' ■ 
 
 that the boast of England was a native of their vicinity ; \ 
 
 and they were by no means deficient in gratitude when 
 they saw him, who had left them an adventurer, return ' 
 
 into the midst of them, in the close of his days, crowned 
 with honours and opulence. The reader is acquainted with ' 
 
 his works : he has, probably, dwelt upon them with trans- 
 port ; and I need not remind hun of their excellence : but j 
 
 he is, perhaps, a stranger to his personal qualifications ; he ■ 
 
 does not know that his productions were scarcely more ad- 
 mirable than his conversation. In company he seemed 
 to be the only person ignorant of the greatness of his fame. ] 
 
 To the world his writings will long remain a kind of j 
 
 specimen of what the human mind is capable of perform- ^ 
 
 ing; but no man perceived their defects»so acutely as he, ; 
 
 or saw so distinctly how much yet remained to be efTected : j 
 
 he alone appeared to look upon his works with superiority ] 
 
30 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 and indiflrcreno*'. One of the features that most eminently 
 distinguished him, was a perpetual suavity of manners, a 
 comprehensiveness of mind, that regarded the errors of 
 other-s without a particle of resentment, and made it impos- 
 sible for any one to be his enemy. He pointed out to men 
 their mistakes with frankness and unreserve : his remon- 
 strances produced astonishment and conviction, but w ithoul 
 uneasiness, in the party to whom they were addressed : 
 they felt the instrument that was employed to correct their 
 irregularities, but it never mangled what it was intended to 
 heal. Such were the moral qualities that distinguished 
 liim among his acquaintance. The intellectual accom- 
 plishments he exhibited were, principally, a tranquil and 
 mild enthusiasm, and a richness of conception which dic- 
 tated spontaneously to his tongue, and flowed with so 
 much ease, that it was only by retrospect you could be 
 made aware of the amazing variety of ideas that had been 
 presented. 
 
 Mr. Clare certainly found few men in this remote situa- 
 tion that were capable of participating in his ideas and 
 amusements. It has been among the weaknesses of great 
 men to fly to solitude, and converse with w oods and groves, 
 rather than with a circle of strong and comprehensive 
 minds like their own. From the moment of Mr. Falk- 
 land's arrival in the neighbourhood, ^Ir. Clare distinguished 
 him in the most flattering manner. To so penetrating a 
 genius there was no need of long experience and patient 
 observation to discover the merits and defects of any cha- 
 racter that presented itself. The materials of his judgment 
 had long since been accunuilated ; and, at the close of so 
 illustrious a life, he might almost be said to see through 
 nature at a glance. What wonder that he took some in- 
 terest in a uiiiid in a certain degree congenial with his 
 own? liiit to "\lr, Tyrrel^diseased imagination, everN 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 31 
 
 distincfion bestowed on his neighbour seemed to be ex- 
 pressly intended as an insult tjj him. On the other hand, 
 Mr. Clare, though gentle and benevolent in his remon- 
 strances to a degree that made the taking offence impos- 
 sible, was by no means parsimonious of praise, or slow to 
 make use of the deference that was paid him, for the pur- 
 pose of procuring justice to merit. 
 
 It happened at one of those public meetings at which 
 Mr. Falkland and Mr, Tyrrel were present, that the con- 
 versation, in one of the most numerous sets into which 
 the company was broken, turned upon the poetical talents 
 of the former. A lady, who was present, and was distin- 
 guished for the acuteness of her understanding, said, she 
 had been favoured with a sight of a poem he had just 
 written, entitled An Ode to the Genius of Chivalry, 
 which appeared to her of exquisite merit. The curiosity 
 of the company was immediately excited, and the lady 
 added, she had a copy in her pocket, which was much at 
 their service, provided its being thus produced would not 
 be disagreeable to the author. The whole circle imme- 
 diately entreated Mr. Falkland to comply w ith their w ishes, 
 and Mr. Clare, who was one of the company, enforced 
 their petition. Nothing gave this gentleman so much plea- 
 sure as to have an opportunity of witnessing and doing 
 justice to the exhibition of intellectual excellence. Mr. 
 Falkland had no false modesty or affectation, and there- 
 fore readily yielded his consent. 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel accidentally sat at the extremity of this circle. 
 It cannot be supposed that the turn the conversation had 
 taken was by any means agreeable to him. He appeared 
 to wish to withdraw himself, but there seemed to be some 
 unknown power that, as it were by enchantment, retained 
 him in his place, and made him consent to drink to the 
 dregs the bitter potion which envy had prepared for him. 
 
32 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 The poem w as read to the rest of the company by Mr, 
 ^ Clare, \^lu)se elocution was scarcely inferior to his other 
 accomplishments. Simplicity, discrimination, and energy 
 constantly attended him in the act of reading, and it is not 
 easy to conceive a more refined delight than fell to the lot 
 of those who had the good fortune to be his auditors. The 
 beauties of Mr. Falkland's poem were accordingly exhi- 
 bited with every advantage. The successive passions of 
 the author were communicated to the hearer. What was 
 impetuous, and what was solemn, were delivered with a 
 responsive feeling, and a flowing and unlaboured tone. 
 The pictures conjured up by the creative fancy of the poet 
 w ere placed full to view, at one time overwhelming the soul 
 with superstitious awe, and at another transporting it with 
 luxuriant beauty. 
 
 The character of the hearers upon this occasion has 
 already been described. They were, for the most part, 
 plain, unlettered, and of little refinement. Poetry in ge- 
 neral they read, when read at all, from the mere force of 
 imitation, and with few sensations of pleasure; but this 
 poem had a peculiar vein of glowing inspiration. This 
 very poem would probably have been seen by many of 
 them with little effect; but the accents of Mr. Clare carried 
 it home to the heart. He ended : and, as the countenances 
 of his auditors had before sympathised with the passions of 
 the composiii(m, so now they emulated each other in 
 declaring their approbation. Their sensations were of a 
 sort to which they were little accustomed. One spoke, and 
 another followed by a sort of uncontrollable impulse; and 
 the rude and broken manner of their commendalions ren- 
 dered ihoin the more singular ;nid remarkable. Hut what 
 wa.s least to be endured was the behaviour of Mr, Clare, 
 He returned (he manuscript to the lady from whom he had 
 received it, and then, luidressini? >lr. 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 
 <lo ourselves most substantial honour. By a contrary con- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 37 
 
 duct we shall merely present a comedy for the amusement 
 of our acquaintance." 
 
 " Do you think so ? there may he something in that, — 
 Damn me, if I consent to be the jest of any man living." 
 
 " You are right, Mr. Tyrrel. Let us each act in the 
 manner best calculated to excite respect. We neither of 
 us wish to change roads ; let us each suffer the other to 
 pursue his own track unmolested. Be this our compact ; 
 and by mutual forbearance let us preserve mutual peace." 
 
 Saying this, Mr. Falkland offered his hand to 3Ir. Tyrrel 
 in token of fellowship. But the gesture was too significant. 
 The wayward rustic, who seemed to have been somewhat 
 impressed by what had preceded, taken as he now was by 
 surprise, shrunk back. Mr. Falkland was again ready to 
 take fire upon this new slight, but he checked himself. 
 
 "All this is very unaccountable," cried Mr. Tyrrel. — 
 "What the devil can have made you so forward, if you had 
 not some sly purpose to answer, by which I am to be over- 
 reached ?" 
 
 " My purpose," replied Mr. Falkland, " is a manly and 
 an honest purpose. W^hy should you refuse a proposition 
 dictated by reason, and an equal regard to the interest of 
 each ?" 
 
 " Mr. Tyrrel had had an opportunity for pause, and fell 
 back into his habitual character. 
 
 " Well, sir, in all this I must own there is some frank- 
 ness. Now I will return you like for like. It is no matter 
 how I came by it, my temper is rough, and will not be con- 
 trolled. Mayhap you may think it is a weakness, but I do 
 not desire to see it altered. Till you came, I found myself 
 very well: I liked my neighbours, and my neighbours 
 humoured me. But now the case is entirely altered ; and, 
 as long as I cannot stir abroad without meeting with souie 
 mortification in which you are directly or remotely con 
 
\ 
 
 38 CALEB WUXIAMS. 
 
 cerned, I am determined to hate. you. Now, sir, if you 
 will only only go out of the county or the kingdom, to the 
 devil if you please, so as I may never hear of you any more, 
 1 will promise never to quarrel w ith you as long as I live. 
 Your rhymes and your rebusses, your quirks and your 
 conundrums, may then be every thing that is grand for 
 what I care.'^ 
 
 "Mr. Tyrrel, be reasonable! Might not I as well desire 
 you to leave the county, as you desire me ? I come to you, 
 not as to a master, but an equal. In the society of men 
 we must have something to endure, as w ell as to enjoy. — 
 No man must think that the world was made for him. Let 
 us take things as we find them ; and accommodate our- 
 selves as we can to unavoidable circumstances." 
 
 "True, sir; all this is fine talking. But I return to my 
 text ; we are as God made us. I am neither a philosopher 
 nor a poet, to set out upon a wild-goose chase of making 
 myself a dillerent man from what you find me. As for 
 consequences, what must be, must be. As we brew we must 
 bake. And so, do you see ? 1 shall not trouble myself about 
 what is to be, but stand up to it with a stout heart \\lien 
 it comes. Only this I can tell you, that as long as I find 
 you thrust into my dish every day, 1 shall hate you as bad 
 as senna and valerian. And damn me, if I do not think 1 
 hate you the more for coming to-day in this pragmatical 
 w ay, when nobody sent for you, on purpose to show how 
 umch wiser you are than all the world besides^ 
 
 " Mr. Tyrrel, 1 have done. I foresaw consequences, and 
 came as a friend. I had hoped that, by mutual explana- 
 tion, we should have come to a better imderstanding. I 
 am disappointed ; but, perhaps, when you coolly reflect on 
 what has passed, you will give nie ci-odit for my intentions, 
 and think that my proposal was not an unreasonable one." 
 Having said this, Mr. Falkland departed. Through the 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 39 
 
 interview he, no doubt, conducted liiuiself in a way that 
 did him peculiar credit. Yet the warmth of his temper 
 could not be entirely suppressed : and even when he was 
 most exemplary, there was an apparent loftiness in his 
 manner that was calculated to irritate ; and the very gran- 
 deur with which he suppressed his passions, operated in- 
 directly as a taunt to his opponent. The interview was 
 prompted by the noblest sentiments; but it unquestionably 
 served to widen the breach it was intended to heal. 
 
 For Mr. Tyrrel, he had recourse lO his old expedient, 
 and unburthened the tumult of his thoughts to his con- 
 fidential friend. '' '^h^," cr|ed he^^J^s a of 
 the fellow, to. prove his, ujftagin.edl§upei'iority. We knew 
 well enough that he had the gift of the gab. To be sure, 
 if the world were to be governed by words, he would be 
 in the right box. Oh, yes, he had it all hollow! But what 
 signifies prating ? Business must be done in another guess 
 way than that.^I wonder what possessed me that I did not 
 kick him ! But that is all to come. This is only a new debt 
 added to the score, which he shall one day richly pay. — 
 This_Falkland haunts me like a demon. I cannot wake 
 but I think of him. I cannot sleep but 1 see him. He 
 poisons all my pleasures. I should be glad to see him torn 
 with tenter-hooks, and to grind his heart-strings with my 
 teeth. I shall know no joy till I see him ruined. There 
 may be some things right about him ; but he is my per- 
 petual torment. The thought of him hangs like a dead 
 weight upon my heart, and 1 have a right to shake it off'. 
 Does he think I will feel all that I endure for nothing?" 
 
 In spite of the acerbity of Mr. Tyrrel's ieelings, it is 
 probable, however, lie did some justice to his rival. He 
 regarded him, indeed, with added dislike; but he no longer 
 regarded him as a despicable foe. He avoided his en- 
 
40 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 countci- ; he forcborc to treat him v ith random hostility ; 
 he seemed to lie in wait for his victim, and to collect his 
 venom for a moital assault. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 It was not long after that a malignant distemper broke out 
 in the neighbourhood, which proved fatal to many of the in- 
 habitants, and was of unexampled rapidity in its effects. One 
 of the first persons that was seized with it was Mr. Clare. 
 It may be conceived, what grief and alarm this incident 
 spread through the vicinity. Mr. Clare was considered by 
 them as something more than mortal. The equanimity of 
 his behaviour, his unassuming carriage, his exuberant be- 
 nevolence and goodness of heart, joined with his talents, 
 his inoffensive wit, and the comprehensiveness of his in- 
 telligence, made him the idol of all who knew him. In 
 the scene of his rural retreat, at least, he had no enemy. 
 All mourned the danger that now threatened him. He 
 appeared to have had the prospect of long life, and of going 
 down to his grave full of years and of honour. Perhaps 
 these appearances w ere deceitful. Perhaps the intellectual 
 eflorls he had made, which were occasionally more sudden, 
 violent, and unintcrmilted, than a strict regard to heahh 
 wcndd have dictated, had laid the seed of future disease. 
 But u sanguiue observer would infallibly have predicted, 
 that his temperate habits, activity of mind, and unabated 
 cheerfulness, w ould be able even to keep death at bay for a 
 lime, and baflle the attacks of distemper, proNided {\\Qir 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 41 
 
 approach were not uncommonly rapid and violent. The 
 general affliction, therefore, was doubly pungent upon the 
 present occasion. 
 
 But no one was so much affected as Mr. Falkland. Per- 
 haps no man so well understood the value of the life that 
 was now at stake. He immediately hastened to the spot; 
 but he found some difticulty in gaining admission. Mr. 
 Clare, aware of the infectious nature of his disease, had 
 given directions that as few persons as possible should 
 approach him. Mr. Falkland sent up his name. He was 
 told that he was included in the general orders. He was 
 not, however, of a temper to be easily repulsed ; he per- 
 sisted with obstinacy, and at length canned his point, being 
 only reminded in the first instance to employ those pre- 
 cautions which experience has proved most effectual for 
 counteracting infection. 
 
 He found Mr. Clare in his bed-chamber, but not in bed. 
 He was sitting in his night-gown at a bureau near the win- 
 dow. His appearance was composed and cheerful, but 
 death was in his countenance. " I had a great inclination, 
 Falkland," said he, "not to have suffered you to come in; 
 and yet there is not a person in the world it could give me 
 more pleasure to see. But, upon second thoughts, I be- 
 lieve there are few people that could run into a danger of 
 this kind with a better prospect of escaping. In your case, 
 at least, the garrison will not, I trust, be taken through the 
 treachery of the commander. I cannot tell how it is that 
 I, who can preach wisdom to you, have myself been caught. 
 But do not be discouraged by my example. I had no 
 notice of my danger, or I would have acquitted myself 
 better." 
 
 Mr. Falkland having once established himself in the 
 apartment of his friend, would upon no terms consent to 
 retire. Mr. Clare considered that there w as perhaps less 
 
42 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 danger in this choice, than in the frequent change from the 
 extremes of a pure t«) a tainted air, and desisted from 
 expostulation. " Falkl.ind," said he, " when you came in, 
 I had just finished making my will. I was not pleased with 
 what I had formerly drawn up upon that subject, and I did 
 not choose in my present situation to call in an attorney. 
 In fact, it would be strange if a man of sense, w ith pure 
 and direct intentions, should not be able to perform such 
 a function for himself." 
 
 Mr. Clare continued to act in the same easy and disen- 
 gaged manner as in poifcct health. To judge from the 
 cheerfulness of his tone and the firmness of his manner, 
 the thought would never once have occurred that he was 
 dying. He walked, he reasoned, he jested, in a way that 
 argued the most perfect self-possession. But his appea- 
 lance changed perceptibly for the worse every quarter 
 of an hour. Mr. Falkland kept his eye perpetually fixed 
 upon him, with mingled sentiments of anxiety and admi- 
 ration. 
 
 " Falkland," said he, after having appeared for a shori 
 period absorbed in thought, "I feel that 1 am dying. Tiiis 
 is a strange distemper of mine. Yesterday I seemed in 
 perfect health, and to-raoirow I shall be an insensible 
 corpse. How curious is the line that separates Ufe and 
 death to mortal men ! To be at one moment active, gay, 
 penetrating, with sloies of knowledge at one's command, 
 capabU^ of ddighliiig, instructing, and animating mankind, 
 and the nexl, lileless and loathsome, an incumbrance upon 
 the face of the earth ! Such is the history of many men, 
 and such will be mine. 
 
 " I feel as if I had yet much lo do in the world ; bu( il 
 will not be. I must be rondntod wilh what is past. It i.s 
 in \ain that I nuistcr all mj spirits to my heart. The enemy 
 i> 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 beguile<l by, tlic uncom- 
 mon loilKaiantc witli which she was treated by her savage 
 protectoi-. Hut his disposition, always brutal, had acquired 
 a gradual accession of ferocity since the settlement of .Mr. 
 Falkland in his neighbourhood. He now frequently forgot 
 the gentleness with which he had been accustomed to treat 
 his good-natured cousin. Her little playful arts were not 
 always successful in softening his rage ; and he would some- 
 times turn upon her blandishments with an impatient stern- 
 ness that made her tremble. The careless ease of her dis- 
 position, however, soon effaced these impressions, and she 
 fell without variation into her old habits. 
 
 A circumstance occurred about this time which gave pe- 
 culiar strength to the acrimony of iMr. Tyrrel, and ulti- 
 mately brought to its close the felicity that Miss Melville, in 
 spite of the frowns of fortune, had hitherto enjoyed. Emily 
 was exactly seventeen when Mr. Falkland returned from 
 the continent. At this age she was peculiarly susceptible 
 of the charms of beauty, gi'ace, and moral excellence, when 
 united in a person of the other sex. She was imprudent, 
 precisely because her own heart was incapable of guile. 
 She had never yet felt the sting of the poverty to w hich she 
 was condemned, and had not reflected on the insuperable 
 distance that custom has placed betwewi the opulent and 
 the poorer classes of the community. She beheld .Mr. Falk- 
 land, whenever he was thrown in her way at any of the 
 public uuTlings, with admiration; and, without having pre- 
 cisely explained to herself (he sentimenis ^he indulged, her 
 eyes followed him through all the changes of the scene, 
 with eagerness and impatience. She did not see him, as 
 the rest «»f the assembly did, born to one of the amplest 
 estates in the coimtv t-nd qualified to assert his title to (he 
 richest heiress. Sh< J.;^ugh( only of Falkland, wi(h (hose 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 53 
 
 advantages which were most intimately his own, and of 
 w hich no persecution of adverse fortune had the ability to 
 deprive him. In a word, she was transported when he 
 was present ; he was the perpetual subject of her reveries 
 and her dreams ; but his image excited no sentiment in her 
 mind beyond that of the immediate pleasure she took in his 
 idea. 
 
 The notice Mr. Falkland bestowed on her in return, ap- 
 peared sufficiently encouraging to a mind so full of prepos- 
 session as that of Emily. There was a particular compla- 
 cency in his looks when directed towards her. He had 
 said in a company, of which one of the persons present 
 repeated his remarks to Miss Melville, that she appeared 
 to him amiable and interesting ; that he felt for her unpro- 
 vided and destitute situation ; and that he should have been 
 glad to be more particular in his attention to her, had he 
 not been apprehensive of doing her a prejudice in the sus- 
 picious mind of Mr. Tyrrel. All this she considered as 
 the ravishing condescension of a superior nature ; for, if 
 she did not recollect with sufficient assiduity his gifts of 
 fortune, she was, on the other hand, filled with reverence 
 for his unrivalled accomplishments. But, uhile she thus 
 seemingly disclaimed all comparison between ]>Ir. 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<i of an extrenu^ly bright and luminous colour, they pre- 
 sented some feeble image of the tremendous eruption of a 
 volcano. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 55 
 
 The flames proceeded from a village directly in their 
 road. There were eight or ten houses already on fire, and 
 the whole seemed to be threatened with immediate destruc- 
 tion. The inhabitants were in the utmost consternation, 
 having had no previous experience of a similar calamity. 
 They conveyed with haste their moveables and furniture 
 into the adjoining fields. When any of them had effected 
 this as far as it could be attempted with safety, they were 
 unable to conceive any further remedy, but stood wringing 
 their hands, and contemplating the ravages of the fire in 
 an agony of powerless despair. The water that could be 
 procured, iu any mode practised in that place, was but as a 
 drop contending with an element in arms. The wind in the 
 mean time w as rising, and the flames spread with more and 
 more rapidity. 
 
 Mr. Falkland contemplated this scene for a few mo- 
 ments, as if ruminating with himself as to what could be 
 done. He then directed some of the country people about 
 him to puU down a house, next to one that was wholly on 
 fire, but which itself was yet untouched. They seemed 
 astonished at a direction which impUed a voluntary de- 
 struction of property, and considered the task as too much 
 in the heart of the danger to be undertaken. Observing 
 that they were motionless, he dismounted from his horse, 
 and called upon them in an authoritative voice to follow 
 him. He ascended the house in an instant, and presently 
 appeared upon the top of it, as if in the midst of the flames. 
 Having, with the assistance of two or three of the persons 
 that followed him most closely, and who by this time had 
 supphed themselves with whatever tools came next to hand, 
 loosened the support of a stack of chimneys, he pushed 
 them headlong into the midst of the fire. He passed and 
 repassed along the roof ; and, having set people to work in 
 
56 CALEB WILLUMS. 
 
 alfparts, descended in order to see what could be done in 
 any other quarter. 
 
 At this moment an elderly woman burst from the midst 
 of a house in flames : the utmost consternation was painted 
 in her looks ; and, as soon as she could recollect herself 
 enough to have a proper idea of her situation, the subject 
 of her anxiety seemed, in an instant, to be totally changed. 
 '* Where is my child ? " cried she, and cast an anxious and 
 piercing look among the surrounding crowd. " Oh, she is 
 lost ! she is in the midst of flames ! Save her ! save her ! my 
 child ! " She filled the air with heait-rending shrieks. She 
 turned towards the house. The people that were neai* 
 endeavoured to prevent her, but she shook them off in a 
 moment. She entered the passage; viewed the hideous 
 ruin; and was then going to plunge into the blazing stair- 
 case. Mr. Falkland saw, pursued, and seized her by the 
 arm : it was Mrs. Jakeman. " Stop!" fie cried, witli a voire 
 of grand, yet benevolent authority. " Remain you in the 
 street 1 I will seek, and will save her!" Mrs. Jakeman 
 obeyed. He charged tlie persons wfio were near to detain 
 her; he enquired which was the apartment of Emily. Mrs. 
 Jakeman was upon a visit to a sister who lived in the vil- 
 lage, and had brought Emily along w ith fier. Mr. Falkland 
 ascended a neighbouring house, and entered that in which 
 Emily was, by a window in the roof. 
 
 He foimd her already awaked from lier sleep ; and, be- 
 coming sensible of her danger, she had that instant wrap- 
 ped a lo(»se gown round her. Such is the almost irresistible 
 result of feminine habits; but, having done this, she ex- 
 amined the siuTounding objects with the wildness of despair. 
 Mr. Falkland entered the chamber. She flew into his arms 
 with the ra|)i«lily of lightning. She embraced and clung to 
 him, >\ 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 <ircumslances of dark»e>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 <lergy." 
 Young Hawkins, it seemed, had buttoned the cape of his 
 great coat over his face, as soon as he perceivetl himself to 
 be observe<l, and lie was lurnislicd with a wrenching -iron 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 99 
 
 for the purpose of breaking the padlocks. The attorney 
 further undertook to prove, by sufficient witnesses, that the 
 field in question was a warren in which hares were regularly 
 fed, Mr. Tyrrel seized upon these pretences with inex- 
 pressible satisfaction. He prevailed upon the justices, by 
 the picture he drew of the obstinacy and insolence of the 
 Hawkinses, fully to commit the lad upon this miserable 
 charge ; and it was by no means so certain as paternal af- 
 fection would have desired, that the same overpowering in- 
 fluence would not cause in the sequel the penal clause t o be 
 executed in all its strictness. , I 
 
 This was the finishing stroke to Hawkins's miseries : as \ 
 he was not deficient in courage, he had stood up against 
 his other persecutions without flinching. He was not un- 
 aware of the advantages which our laws and customs give | 
 to the rich over the poor, in contentions of this kind. But, 
 being once involved, there was a stubbornness in his nature 
 that would not allow him to retract, and he suffiered himself 
 to hope, rather than expect, a favourable issue. But in 
 this last event he was wounded in the point that was nearest 
 his heart. He had feared to have his son contaminated and 
 debased by a servile station, and he now saw him trans- 
 ferred to the seminary of a gaol. He was even uncertain 
 as to the issue of his imprisonment, and trembled to think 
 what the tyranny of wealth might effect to blast his hopes 
 for ever. 
 
 From this moment his heart died within him. He 
 had trusted to persevering industry and skill, to save the 
 wreck of his little property from the vulgar spite of his 
 landlord. But he had now no longer any spirit to exert 
 those efforts which his situation more than ever required. 
 Mr. Tyrrel proceeded without remission in his machina- 
 tions ; Jlawkins's affairs every day grew more desperate, 
 
 7 * 
 
100 CAI.ER WILLIAMS. 
 
 and the squire, walchinK llie (UTasion, look llic earliest op- 
 portunity of seizing upon his leinaining properly in the 
 mode of a distress (or rent. 
 
 It >^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 <lra\v a veil o\er (he compulsion 
 ^lie had sunnnl. lint (his secunly was now lost, and >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?- 
 <M) instantly to Swiiward, the lawyer, and bid him finish 
 I lie business oii( (^1 hand!" 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. JO'J 
 
 " Lord love your honour ! Arrest her ! Why she does 
 not owe you a brass farthing : she always lived upon your 
 charity!" 
 
 " Ass ! Scoundrel ! I tell you she does owe me, — owes 
 me eleven hundred pounds. — The law justifies it. — What 
 do you think laws were made for? I do nothing but right, 
 and right I will have." 
 
 "Your honour, I never questioned your orders in my 
 life ; but I must now. I cannot see you ruin Miss Emily, 
 poor girl ! nay, and yourself too, for the matter of that, and 
 not say which way you are going. I hope you will bear 
 with me. Why, if she owed you ever so much, she cannot 
 be arrested. She is not of age," 
 
 "Will you have done? — Do not tell me of — It cannot, 
 and It can. It has been done before, — and It shall be done 
 again. Let him dispute it that dares! I will do it now 
 and stand to it afterwards. Tell Swineard, — if he make 
 the least boggling, it is as much as his life is worth ; — he 
 shall starve by inches." 
 
 " Pray, your honour, think better of it. Upon my life, 
 the whole country will cry shame of it." 
 
 " Barnes ! W^hat do you mean ? I am not used to 
 
 be talked to, and I cannot bear it ! You have been a good 
 fellow to me upon many occasions. — But, if 1 find you out 
 for making one with them that dispute my authority, damn 
 my soul, if I do not make you sick of your life !" 
 
 " I have done, your honour. I w ill not say another word 
 except this, — I have heard as how that Miss Emily is sick 
 a-bed. You are determined, you say, to put her in jail. 
 You do not mean to kill her, I take it." 
 
 " Let her die ! I will not spare her for an hour. — I will 
 not always be insulted. She had no consideration for me, 
 and I have no mercy for her. — I am in for ii ! They have 
 provoked me past bearing, — and they shall feel me ! Tell 
 
no CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 Swineard, in bed or up, day or night, I will not hear of 
 an instant's delay." 
 
 Such were the directions of Mr, Tyrrel, and in strict 
 romformity to his directions were the proceedings of that 
 respectable limb of the law he employed upon the present 
 occasion. 3Iiss Melville had been delirious, through a 
 considerable part of the day on the evening of which the 
 bailifV and his follower arrived. By the direction of the 
 physician whom Mr. Falkland had ordered to attend her, 
 a composing draught was administered ; and, exhausted as 
 she was by the wild and distracted images that for several 
 hours had haunted her fancy, she was now sunk into a 
 refreshing slumber. 3Irs. Hammond, the sister of Mrs. 
 Jakeman, was sitting by her bedside, full of compassion 
 for the lovely suflTerer, and rejoicing in the calm tranquil- 
 lity that had just taken possession of her, when a little girl, 
 the only child of Mrs. Hammond, opened the street-door 
 to the rap of the liailifl'. He said he wanted to speak with 
 Miss Melville, and the child answered that she would go 
 tell her mother. So saying, she advanced to the door of 
 the back-room upon the ground-ttoor, in which Emily lay ; 
 but the moment it was opened, instead of waiting for the 
 appearance of the mother, the bailiff entered along with 
 the girl. 
 
 .^Irs. Hammond looked up. " Who are you ?" said she, 
 " Why do you come in here? Hush ! be quiet!" 
 
 " I uuist speak with Miss Melville." 
 
 " Indeed, but you must not. Tell me your business. 
 The poor child has been light-headed all day. She has 
 just fallen asleep, and must not be disturbed." 
 
 " Tliat is no business of mine. I must obey orders." 
 
 "Orders'.' Whose orders? What is it you mean? 
 
 Af this nioiiicnt Kmily opened Ium- eves. " What noise 
 is thai ? I*ray let me be <|uiet." 
 
€ALEB WILLIAMS. Ill 
 
 " Miss, I want to speak with you. I have got a writ 
 against you for eleven liundred pounds at the suit of squire 
 Tyrrel." 
 
 At these words both JVlrs. Hammond and Emily were 
 dumb. The latter was scarcely able to annex any meaning 
 to the intelligence ; and, though Mrs. Hammond was some- 
 what better acquainted with the sort of language that was 
 employed, yet in this strange and unexpected connexion 
 it was almost as mysterious to her as to poor Emily 
 herself. 
 
 "A writ? How can she be in Mr. Tyrrel's debt? A 
 writ against a child ! " 
 
 " It is no signification putting your questions to us. We 
 only do as we are directed. There is our authority. Look 
 at it." 
 
 " Lord Almighty ! " exclaimed Mrs. Hammond, " what 
 does this mean ? It is impossible Mr. Tyrrel should have 
 sent you." 
 
 " Good woman, none of your jabber to us ! Cannot you 
 read?" 
 
 " This is all a trick ! The paper is forged ! It is a vile 
 contrivance to get the poor orphan out of the hands of 
 those with whom only she can be safe. Proceed upon it at 
 your peril ! " 
 
 " Rest you content ; that is exactly what we mean to do. 
 Take my word, we know very well what we are about." 
 
 " Why, you would not tear her from her bed ? I tell 
 you, she is in a high fever ; she is light-headed ; it would 
 be death to remove her ! You are bailiffs, are not you ? 
 You are not murderers ? " 
 
 " The law says nothing about that. We have orders to 
 lake her sick or well. We will do her no harm : except so 
 fiir as we must perform our office, be it how it will." 
 
II > 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 ha<l roused all ihc energies he possessed, to en- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 125 
 
 able him to do justice to so interesting a transaction. Dis- 
 engaged from the insects that at first pestered him, he 
 paced up and down the room with a magisterial stride, and 
 flashed an angry glance on every side. He then broke 
 silence : " If any one had any thing to say to him, he 
 should know where and how to answer him. He would 
 advise any such person, however, to consider well what 
 he was about. If any man imagined he had any thing per- 
 sonally to complain of, it was very well. But he did expect 
 that nobody there would be ignorant and raw enough to 
 meddle with what was no business of theirs, and intrude 
 into the concerns of any man's private family." 
 
 This being a sort of defiance, one and another gentleman 
 advanced to answer it. He that was first began to speak ; 
 but Mr, Tyrrel, by the expression of his countenance and 
 a peremptory tone, by well-timed interruptions and per- 
 tinent insinuations, caused him first to hesitate, and then 
 to be silent. He seemed to be fast advancing to the triumph 
 he had promised himself. The whole company were as- 
 tonished. They felt the same abhorrence and condem- 
 nation of his character; but they could not help admiring 
 the courage and resources he displayed upon the present 
 occasion. They could without difficulty have concentred 
 afresh their indignant feelings, but they seemed to want a 
 leader. 
 
 At this critical moment Mr, Falkland entered the room. 
 Mere accident had enabled him to return sooner than he 
 expected. 
 
 Both he and Mr. Tyrrel reddened at sight of each other. 
 He advanced towards Mr. Tyrrel without a moment's pause, 
 and in a peremptory voice asked him what he did there? 
 
 " Here? What do you mean by that? This place is 
 as free to me as you, and you are the last person to whom 
 I shall deign to give an account of myself." 
 
196 CALEB UTLLIAMS. 
 
 " Sir, the place is not free to you. Do not you know, 
 you have been voted out ? Whatever were your rights, 
 your infamous conduct has forfeited thena." 
 
 " I>Ir. 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<lcracy with them that reproached you ? And ^^ eie you 
 fool enough to believe that any obstinacy, however deter- 
 mined, could enable you to despise the keen rebuke of jus- \ 
 (ice? Co, sjirink into your miserable self ! Begone, and 
 let me ne\«'r hv blasted with your sight again!" 
 
 And here, incredible as it may appear, Mr. Tyrrel began 
 lo obi'v his imperious eensurer. His looks were full ol 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 127 
 
 wildness and horror; his Hmbs trembled; and his tongue 
 refused its office. He felt no power of resisting the im- 
 petuous torrent of reproach that was poured upon him. 
 He hesitated ; he was ashamed of his own defeat ; he seemed 
 to wish to deny it. But his struggles were ineffectual ; 
 every attempt perished in the moment it was made. The 
 general voice was eager to abash him. As his confusion 
 became more visible, the outcry increased. It swelled 
 gradually to hootings, tumult, and a deafening noise of in- 
 dignation. At length he willingly retired from the pubhc 
 scene, unable any longer to endure the sensations it in- 
 flicted. 
 
 In about an hour and a half he returned. No precaution 
 had been taken against this incident, for nothing could be 
 more unexpected. In the interval he had intoxicated him- 
 self with large draughts of brandy. In a moment he was 
 in a part of the room where Mr. Falkland was standing, 
 and w ith one blow of his muscular arm levelled him with 
 the earth. The blow however was not stunning, and Mr. 
 Falkland rose again immediately. It is obvious to perceive 
 how unequal he must have been in this species of contest. 
 He was scarcely risen before Mr. Tyrrel repeated his blow . 
 Mr. Falkland was now upon his guard, and did not fall. 
 But the blows of his adversary were redoubled with a ra- 
 pidity difficult to conceive, and Mr. Falkland was once 
 agam brought to the earth. In this situation Mr. Tyrrel 
 kicked his prostrate enemy, and stooped apparently with 
 the intention of dragging him along the floor. All this 
 passed in a moment, and the gentlemen present had not 
 time to recover their surprise. They now interfered, and 
 Mr. Tyrrel once more quitted the apartment. 
 
 It is difficult to conceive any event more terrible to the 
 individual upon whom it fell, than the treatment which Mr. 
 Falkland in this instance experienced. Every passion of 
 
Its CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 his life was calculated to make him feel it more acutely. 
 He had repeatedly exerted an uncommon energy and pru- 
 dence, to prevent the misunderstanding between Mr. Tyrrel 
 and him.self from proceeding to extremities ; but in vain ! 
 It was closed with a catastrophe, exceeding all that he had 
 feared, or that the most penetrating foresight could have 
 suggested. To -Mr. Falkland disgrace was woise than 
 death. The slightest breath of dishonour would have stung 
 him to the very soul. What must it have been with this 
 complication of ignominy, base, humlhating, and public? 
 Could Mr. Tyrrel have understood the evil he inflicted, 
 even he, under all his circumstances of provocation, could 
 scarcely have perpetrated it. Mr. Falkland's mind w as full 
 of uproar like the w ar of contending elements, and of such 
 suffering as casts contempt on the refinements of inventive 
 cruelty. He wished for annihilation, to lie down in eternal 
 obUvion, in an insensibility, which, compared w ith what he 
 experienced, was scarcely less enviable than beatitude itself. 
 Horror, detestation, revenge, inexpressible longings to shake 
 off the evil, and a persuasion that in this case all effort was 
 powerless, filled his soul even to bursting. 
 
 One other event closed the transactions of this me- 
 morable evening, Mr. Falkland was baffled of the ven- 
 geance that yet remained to him. \ 5lr. Tyrrel was found 
 by sonu> 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 
 c<mtradiction to his modes of thinking in communicating 
 the story to you, had there not been circumstances of pe- 
 culiar urgency, that seemed to render the communication 
 desirable." Saying this, he proceeded to read from the 
 paper in his hand. 
 " Gentlemen, 
 " I stand here accused of a crime, the most black that 
 any human creature is capable of perpetrating. 1 am in- 
 nocent. I have no fear that I shall fail to make every 
 person in this company acknowledge my innocence. la 
 the mean time, what must be my feelings ? Conscious as 
 I am of deserving approbation and not censure, of having 
 passed my life in acts of justice and philanthropy, can any 
 thing be more deplorable than for me to answer to a charge 
 of murder? So wretched is my situation, that I cannot 
 accept your gratuitous acquittal, if you should be disposed 
 to bestow it. I must answer to an imputation, the very 
 thought of which is ten thousand times worse to me than 
 death. I must exert the whole energy of my mind, to pre- 
 vent my being ranked with the vilest of men. 
 
 "Gentlemen, this is a situation in which a man may be 
 allowed to boast. Accursed situation ! No man need envy 
 me the vile and polluted triumph I anj now to gain ! I 
 have called no witnesses to my character. Great (Jod! 
 what sort of character is that which uaist be supported by 
 witnesses? Hut, if | must speak, look round the company, 
 ask ol every one |»rcsen(, en(|uire of your own hearts! Not 
 one word of n-prout h was e\er whispered again.st me. I 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 135 
 
 do not hesitate to call upon those who have known me 
 most, to atTord me the most honourable testimony, 
 
 " My life has been spent in the keenest and most unin- 
 termitted sensibility to reputation. I am almost indifferent 
 as to what shall be the event of this day. I would not 
 open my mouth upon the occasion, if my life were the 
 only thing that was at stake. It is not in the power of 
 your decision to restore to me my unblemished reputation, 
 to obliterate the disgrace I have suffered, or to prevent it 
 from being remembered that I have been brought to ex- 
 amination upon a charge of murder. Your decision can 
 never have the efficacy to prevent the miserable remains 
 of my existence from being the most intolerable of all 
 burthens. 
 
 " I am accused of having committed murder upon the 
 body of Barnabas Tyrrel. I would most joyfully have given 
 every farthing I possess, and devoted myself to perpetual 
 beggary, to have preserved his life. His life was precious 
 to me, beyond that of all mankind. In my opinion, the 
 greatest injustice committed by his unknown assassin, was 
 that of defrauding me of my just revenge. I confess that 
 I would have called him out to the field, and that our en- 
 counter should not have been terminated but by the death 
 of one or both of us. This would have been a pitiful and 
 inadequate compensation for his unparalleled insult, but it 
 was all that remained. 
 
 " I ask for no pity, but I must openly declare that never 
 was any misfortune so horrible as mine. I would willingly 
 have taken refuge from the recollection of that night in a 
 voluntary death. Life was now stripped of all those re- 
 commendations, for the sake of which it was dear to me. 
 But even this consolation is denied me. I am compelled 
 to drag for ever the intolerable load of existence, upon 
 penalty, if at any period, however remote, I shake it off, of 
 
136 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 having that impationce regarded as confirming a charge 
 of murder. Gentlemen, if by your decision you could take 
 away ray life, without that act being connected with my dis- 
 grace, 1 would bless the cord that stopped the breath of 
 my existence for ever. 
 
 " You all know how easily I might have fled from this 
 purgation. If I had been guilty, should I not have em- 
 braced the opportunity ? But, as it was, I could not. Ue-\ 
 putation has been the idol, the jewel of my life. I could 
 never have borne to think that a human creature, in the 
 remotest part of the globe, should believe that I was a cri- 
 minal. Alas! what a deit_y it is that I have chosen for my 
 VN orship ! I have entailed jupoji myself everlasting agony 
 and despair ! 
 
 " I have but one word to add. Gentlemen, I charge you 
 to do me the imperfect justice that is in your power ! My 
 life is a worthless thing. But my honour, the empty re- 
 mains of honour I have now to boast, is in your judgment, 
 and you will each of you, from this day, have unposed upon 
 yourselves the task of its vindicators. It is little that you 
 can do for me ; but it is not less your duty to do that little. 
 May that God who is the fountain of honour and good 
 prosper and protect you ! The man who now stands be- 
 fore you is devoted to perpetual barrenness and blast ! He 
 has notliing to hope for beyond the feeble consolation of 
 this day 1" 
 
 " You will easily imagine that Mr. Falkland was dis- 
 charged with every circumstance of credit. Nothing is 
 more to be deplored in human institutions, than that the 
 ideas of mankind should have annexed a sentiment of dis- 
 grace to a purgation thus satisfactory and decisive. No 
 one entertained the shadow of a doubt upon the subject, 
 and yet a mvvv. concurrence of circumstances made it ne- 
 cessary dial IJM' best of nu«n should be publicly put on his 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 137 
 
 defence, as if really under suspicion of an atrocious crime. 
 It may be granted indeed that Mr. Falkland had his faults, 
 but those very faults placed him at a still further distance 
 from the criminality in question. He was the fool of ho- 
 nour and fame : a man whom, in the pursuit of reputation, 
 nothing could divert ; who would have purchased the cha- 
 racter of a true, gallant, and undaunted hero, at the ex- 
 pense of worlds, and who thought every calamity nominal 
 but a stain upon his honour. How atrociously absurd to 
 suppose any motive capable of inducing such a man to 
 play the part of a lurking assassin? How unfeeUng to 
 oblige him to defend himself from such an imputation? 
 Did any man, and, least of all, a man of the purest ho- 
 nour, ever pass in a moment, from a life unstained by a 
 single act of injury, to the consummation of human de- 
 pravity ? 
 
 " When the decision of the magistrates was declared, a 
 general murmur of applause and involuntary transport burst 
 forth from every one present. It was at first low, and gra- 
 dually became louder. As it was the expression of rap- 
 turous delight, and an emotion disinterested and divine, so 
 there was an indescridable something in the very sound, 
 that carried it home to the heart, and convinced every spec- 
 tator that there was no merely personal pleasure which ever 
 existed, tiiat would not be foolish and feeble in the com- 
 parison. Every one strove who should most express his 
 esteem of the amiable accused. Mr. Falkland was no sooner 
 withdrawn than the gentlemen present determined to give 
 a still further sanction to the business, by their congratula- 
 tions. They immediately named a deputation to wait upon 
 him for that purpose. Every one concurred to assist the 
 general sentiment. It was a sort of sympathetic feeling that 
 took hold upon all ranks and degrees. The multitude re- 
 reived him with huzzas, they took his horses from his car- 
 
138 CALEB WILLIAMS, 
 
 riage, dragged him along in Iriiunph, and attended him 
 many miles on his return to his own habitation. It seemed 
 as if a pubhc examination upon a criminal charge, which 
 had hillierto been considered in every event as a brand of 
 disgrace, w as converted, in the present instance, into an oc- 
 casion of enthusiastic adoration and unexampled honour. 
 
 " Nothing could reach the heart of Mv. Falkland. He 
 was not insensible to the general kindness and exertions ; 
 but it was too evident that the melancholy that had taken 
 hold of his mind was invincible. 
 
 " It was only a few weeks after this memorable scene 
 that the real murderer was discovered. Every part of this 
 story was extraordinary. The real murderer was Hawkins. 
 He was found with his son, under a feigned name, at a vil- 
 lage about thirty miles distant, in want of all the necessaries 
 of life. He had lived there, from the period of his flight, 
 in so private a manner, that all the enquiries that had been 
 set on foot, by the benevolence of Mr. Falkland, or the in- 
 satiable malice of Mr. Tyrrel, had been insufficient to dis- 
 cover him. The first thing that had led to the detection 
 was a parcel of clothes covered with blood, that were found 
 in a ditch, and that, when drawn out, were known by the 
 people of the village to belong to this man. The murder 
 of xMr. Tyrrel was not a circumstance that cotdd be un- 
 known, and suspicion was immediately roused. A diligent 
 search being made, the rusty handle, with part of the blade 
 ol a knile, was found thrown in a corner of his lodging, 
 which, being applied to a piece of the point of a knife that 
 had been broken in the wound, appeared exactly to cor- 
 resp<md. I pon further enquiry two rustics, who had been 
 accidentally on the spot, remembered to have seen Hawkins 
 ;uid his son in the town that very evening, and to have 
 called alter them, and received no answer, though the\ 
 were sure of their pnsttus. I'pou this accuuuilated evi- 
 
CALEB WILLUMS. 13» 
 
 dence both Hawkins and his son were tried, condemned, 
 and afterwards executed. In the intei-val between the sen- 
 tence and execution, Hawkins confessed his guilt with many 
 marks of compunction ; though there are persons by w hom 
 this is denied ; but I have taken some pains to enquire into 
 the fact, and am persuaded that their disbehef is precipitate 
 and groundless. 
 
 " The cruel injustice that this man had suffered from hi& 
 village-tyrant was not forgotten upon the present occasion. 
 It was by a strange fatality that the barbarous proceedings 
 of Mr. Tyrrel seemed never to fall short of their com- 
 pletion; and even his death served eventually to consum- 
 mate the ruin of a man he hated ; a circumstance which, if 
 it could have come to his knowledge, would perhaps have 
 in some measure consoled him for his untimely end. This 
 poor Hawkins was surely entitled to some pity, since his 
 being finally urged to despeimtion, and brought, together 
 with his son, to an ignominious fate, was originally owing 
 to the sturdiness of his virtue and independence. But the 
 compassion of the public was in a great measure shut against 
 him, as they thought it a piece of barbarous and unpardon- 
 able selfishness, that he had not rather come boldly forward 
 to meet the consequences of his own conduct, than suffer a 
 man of so much public worth as Mr. Falkland, and who 
 had been so desirous of doing him good, to be exposed to 
 the risk of being tried for a murder that he had committed. 
 
 " From this time to the present Mr. Falkland has been 
 nearly such as you at present see him. Though it be several 
 years since these transactions, the impression they made is 
 for ever fresh in the mind of our unfortunate patron. From 
 thenceforward his habits became totally different. He had 
 before been fond of public scenes, and acting a part in the 
 midst of the people among whom he immediately resided. 
 He now made himself a rigid recluse. He had no associates, 
 
140 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 BO friends. Inconsolable himself, he yet wished to treat 
 others with kindness. There was a solemn sadness in his 
 manner, attended with the most perfect gentleness and hu- 
 manity. Every body respects him, for his benevolence is 
 unalterable; but there is a stately coldness and reserve in 
 his behaviour, which makes it diflficult for those about him 
 to regard him with the familiarity of affection. These 
 symptoms are uninterrupted, except at certain times when 
 his sufferings become intolerable, and he displays the marks 
 of a furious insanity. At those times his language is fearful 
 and mysterious, and he seems to figure to himself by turns 
 every sort of persecution, and alarm, which may be sup- 
 posed to attend upon an accusation of murder. But, sen- 
 sible of his own weakness, he is anxious at such times to 
 withdraw into solitude : and his domestics in general know- 
 nothing of him, but the uncommunicative and haughty, but 
 mild, dejection that accompanies every thing he does." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 I HAVE stated the narrative of Mr. Collins, intci-spersed 
 with such other information as I was able to collect, with 
 all the exactness that my memory, assisted by certain me- 
 morandjiins I made at (he time, will aff'ord. 1 do not pretend 
 to wanaiil the aulhenlirity of any part of these memoirs, 
 except so much as fell under my own knowledge, and that 
 part shall be given with the same simplicity and accuracy, 
 that I would observe towards a court which was to decide in 
 the last resort upon every thing dear to me. The same 
 scrupulous fidelity restrains m<; from altering the manner 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 141 
 
 of Mr. CoUins's narrative, to adapt it to the precepts of my 
 own taste ; and it will soon be perceived how essential that 
 narrative is to the elucidation of my history. 
 
 The intention of my friend in this communication was to 
 give me ease; but he in reality added to my embarrass- 
 ment. Hitherto I had had no intercourse with the world 
 and its passions ; and, though I was not totally unacquainted 
 with them as they appear in books, this proved of little ser- 
 vice to me when I came to witness them myself. The case 
 seemed entirely altered, when the subject of those passions 
 was continually before my eyes, and the events had hap- 
 pened but the other day, as it were, in the very neighbour- 
 hood where I lived. There was a connexion and progress 
 in this narrative, which made it altogether unlike the little 
 village incidents I had hitherto known. My feehngs were 
 successively interested for the different persons that were 
 brought upon the scene. My veneration was excited for 
 Mr. Clare, and my applause for the intrepidity of Mrs. 
 Hammond. I was astonished that any human creature 
 should be so shockingly perverted as Mr. Tyrrel. I paid 
 the tribute of my tears to the memory of the artless Miss 
 Melville. I found a thousand fresh reasons to admire and 
 love Mr. Falkland. 
 
 At present I was satisfied with thus considering every in- 
 cident in its obvious sense. But the story I had heard was 
 for ever in my thoughts, and I was peculiarly interested to 
 comprehend its full import. I turned it a thousand ways, 
 and examined it in every point of view. In the original com- 
 munication it appeared sufficiently distinct and satisfactory; 
 but as I brooded over it, it gradually became mysterious. 
 There was something strange in the character of Hawkins. 
 So firm, so sturdily honest and just, as he appeared at first ; 
 all at once to become a murderer ! His fust behaviour 
 under the prosecution, how accurately was it calculated to 
 
Hi CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 prepossess one in his favour! To be sure, if he were guilty, 
 it was unpardonable in him to permit a man of so mucli 
 dignity and worth as Mr. Falkland to suffer under the im- 
 putation of his crime! And yet I could not help bitterly 
 compassionating the honest fellow, brought to the gallows, 
 as he was, strictly speaking, by the machinations of that 
 devil incarnate, Mv. Tyrrel. His son, too, that son for 
 w^iom he voluntarily sacrificed his all, to die with him at 
 the same tree; surely never was a story more affecting! 
 
 Was it possible, after all, that Mr. Falkland should be 
 the murderer? The reader will scarcely believe, that the 
 idea suggested itself to my mind that I would ask him. It 
 was but a passing thought; but it serves to mark the sim- 
 plicity of my character. Then I recollected the virtues of 
 my master, almost too. sublime for human nature; I thought 
 of his suflerings so unexampled, so unmerited; and chid 
 myself for the suspicion. The dying confession of Hawkins 
 recurred to my mind; and I felt that there was no longer 
 a possibility of doubting. And yet what was the meaning 
 of all Mr. Falkland's agonies and terrors ? In line, the idea 
 having once occurred to my mind, it was fixed there for 
 ever. My thoughts fluctuated from conjecture to conjec- 
 ture, but this was the centre about which they revolved. I 
 delenninod to place myself as a watch upon my patron. 
 
 The instant I had chosen this employment for myself, 
 I found a strange sort of pleasure in it. To do what is 
 forbidden always has its charms, because we have an in- 
 distinct apprehension of something arbitrary and tyran- 
 nical in the prohibition. To be a spy upon Mr. Falkland! 
 That there was danger in the employment, served to give 
 an alluring pungency to the choice. I remembered the 
 stern re)>riman(I I had received, and his terrible looks; and 
 the recoll(rli<m gave a kind of tingling sensation, not alto- 
 gether unallied to cujoymenl. The further I advanced, 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 143 
 
 the more the sensation was irresistible. 1 seemed to my- 
 self perpetually upon the brink of being countermined, and 
 perpetually roused to guard my designs. The more impe- 
 netrable Mr. Falkland was determined to be, the more 
 uncontrollable was my curiosity. Through the whole, 
 my alarai and apprehension of personal danger had a 
 large mixture of frankness and simplicity, conscious of 
 meaning no ill, that made me continually ready to say 
 every thing that was upon my mind, and would not suf- 
 fer me to believe that, when things were brought to the 
 test, any one could be seriously angry w ith me. 
 
 These reflections led gradually to a new state of my 
 mind. When I had first removed into Mr. Falkland's 
 family, the novelty of the scene rendeied me cautious and 
 reserved. The distant and solemn manners of my master 
 seemed to have annihilated my constitutional gaiety. But 
 the novelty by degrees wore off", and my constraint in the 
 same degree diminished. The story I had now heard, and 
 the curiosity it excited, restored to me activity, eagerness, 
 and courage. I had always had a propensity to commu- 
 nicate ray thoughts ; my age was, of course, inclined to 
 talkativeness ; and 1 ventured occasionally in a sort of hesi- 
 tating way, as if questioning whether such a conduct might 
 be allowed, to express my sentiments as they arose, in the 
 presence of Mr. Falkland. 
 
 The first time I did so, he looked at me with an air of 
 surprise, made me no answer, and presently took occasion 
 to leave me. The experiment was soon after repeated. 
 My master seemed half-inclined to encourage me, and yet 
 doubtful whether he might venture. He had long been a 
 stranger to pleasure of every sort, and my artless and un- 
 taught remarks appeared to promise him some amusement. 
 Could an amusement of this sort be dangerous ? 
 
 In this uncertainty he could not probably find it in his 
 
144 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 heart to treat with severity my innocent effusions. I need- 
 ed but little encouragement ; for the perturbation of my 
 mind stood in want of this rehe<". My simpUcity, arising 
 from my being a total stranger ttt the intercourse of the 
 world, was accompanied with a m. id in some degree cul- 
 tivated with reading, and perhaps ^bot altogether destitute 
 of observation and talent. 31y remarks were therefore 
 perpetually unexpected, at one time implying extreme igno- 
 rance, and at another some portion of acuteness, but at all 
 times having an air of innocence, frankness, and courage. 
 There was still an apparent want of design in the manner, 
 even after I was excited accurately to compare my obser- 
 vations, and study the inferences to which they led ; for 
 the effect of old habit was more visible than that of a re- 
 cently conceived purpose which was yet scarcely mature. 
 Mr. Falkland's situation was like that of a fish that plays 
 with the bait employed to entrap him. By my manner he 
 was in a certain degree encouraged to lay aside his usual 
 reserve, and relax his stateliness ; till some abrupt obser- 
 vation or interrogatory stung him into recollection, and 
 brought back his alarm. Still it was evident that he bore 
 about him a secret wound. Whenever the cause of his 
 sorrows was touched, though in a manner the most indirect 
 and remote, his countenance altered, his distemper re- 
 turned, and it was with difficulty that he could suppress 
 liis emotions, sometimes conquering himself with painful 
 effort, and sometimes bursting into a sort of paroxysm of 
 insanity, and hastening to bury himself in solitude. 
 
 These appearances I too frequently interpreted into 
 grounds of suspicion, though I might with equal probabi- 
 lity and more liberality have ascribed them to the cruel 
 morlilicutions he had encountered in the objects of his 
 darling aiiibition. Mr. ("oUins had strongly urged me to 
 secrecy; and >lr. 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; hatre<l against nu', and thai he should 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 131 
 
 think himself obHged to retain me a continual thorn in his 
 side, was an idea by no means of favourable augury to my 
 future peace. 
 
 It was some time after this that, in clearing out a case 
 of drawers, I found a paper that, by some accident, had 
 slipped behind one of the drawers, and been overlooked. — 
 At another time perhaps my curiosity might have given 
 way to the laws of decorum, and I should have restored 
 it unopened to my master, its owner. But my eagerness 
 for information had been too much stimulated by the pre- 
 ceding incidents, to allow me at present to neglect any 
 occasion of obtaining it. The paper proved to be a letter 
 written by the elder Hawkins, and from its contents seemed 
 to have been penned when he had first been upon the point 
 of absconding from the persecutions of Mr. Tyrrel. It was 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Honourable Sir, 
 
 " I have waited some time in daily hope of your honour's 
 return into these parts. Old Warnes and his dame, who 
 are left to take care of your house, tell me they cannot say 
 when that will be, nor justly in what part of England you 
 are at present. For my share, misfortune comes so thick 
 upon me, that I must determine upon something (that is 
 for certain), and out of hand. Our squire, who I must 
 own at first used me kindly enough, though I am afraid 
 that was partly out of spite to Squire Underwood, has 
 since determined to be the ruin of me. Sir, I have been 
 no craven ; I fought it up stoutly ; for after all, you know, 
 God bless your honour ! it is but a man (o a man ; but he 
 has been too much for me. 
 
 " Perhaps if I were to ride over to the market-town and 
 enquire of Munsle, your lawyer, he could tell me how to 
 
152 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 direct to you. Hut having liopcd and waited o' this fashion, 
 and aU in vain, has put me upon other thouglits. I was in 
 no hurry, sir, to apply to you ; for I do not love to be a 
 trouble to any body. I kept that for my last stake. Well, 
 sir, and now that has failed me like, 1 am ashamed, as it 
 were, to have thought of it. Have not I, thinks I, arms and 
 legs as well as other people ? I am driven out of house 
 and home. Well, and what then ? Sure I arn't a cab- 
 bage, that if you pull it out of the ground it must die. I 
 am pennyless. True ; and how many hundreds are there 
 that live from hand to mouth all the days of their life ? 
 (Begging your honour's pardon) thinks I, if we httle folks 
 had but the wit to do for ourselves, the great folks would 
 not be such maggotty changelings as they are. They would 
 begin to look about them. 
 
 " But there is another thing that has swayed with me 
 more than all the rest. I do not know how to tell you, sir, — 
 My poor boy, my Leonard, the pride of my life, has been 
 three weeks in the county jail. It is true indeed, sir. 
 Squire Tyrrel put him there. Now, sir, every time that 
 1 lay ray head upon my pillow under my own little roof, 
 my heart smites me w ith the situation of my Leonard. 1 
 do not mean so much for the hardship : I do not so much 
 matter that. I do not expect him to go through the world 
 upon velvet! I am not such a fool. But who can tell 
 what may hap in a jail! I have been three times to sec 
 him ; and there is one man in the same quarter of the prison 
 that looks so wicked ! I do not much fancy the looks 
 ol the rest. To be sure, Leonard is as good a lad as ever 
 lived. 1 think he will not give his mind to such. But 
 voiiie what will, I am determined he shall not slay among 
 ihein twelve hours longer. I am an obstinate old fool, 
 perhaps; but 1 have taken it into my head, and I will do 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 1&3 
 
 it. Do not ask rae what. But, if I w ere to write to your 
 honour, and wait for your answer, it might take a week or 
 ten days more. I must not think of it ! 
 
 " Squire Tyrrel is very headstrong, and you, your ho- 
 nour, might be a httle hottish, or so. No, I would not 
 have any body quarrel for me. There has been mischief 
 enough done already ; and I will get myself Out of the way. 
 So I write this, your honour, merely to unload my mind. 
 I feel myself equally as much bound to respect and love 
 you, as if you had done every thing for me, that I believe 
 you would have done if things had chanced differently. It 
 is most likely you will never hear of me any more. If it 
 should be so, set your worthy heart at rest. I know my- 
 self too w ell, ever to be tempted to do any thing that is 
 really bad. I have now my fortune to seek in the world. 
 I have been used ill enough, God knows. But I bear no 
 malice ; my heart is at peace w ith all mankind ; and I for- 
 give every body. It is like enough that poor Leonard and 
 I may have hardship enough to undergo, among strangers, 
 and being obhged to hide ourselves hke housebreakers or 
 highwaymen. But I defy all the malice of fortune to make 
 us do an ill thing. That consolation we will always keep 
 against all the crosses of a heart-breaking world. 
 " God bless you ! 
 " So prays, 
 " Your honour's humble servant to command, 
 " Benjamin Hawkins." 
 
 I read this letter with considerable attention, and it 
 occasioned me many reflections. To my way of thinking 
 it contained a very interesting picture of a blunt, do\Mi- 
 right, honest mind. " It is a melancholy consideration," 
 said I to myself; "but such is man! To have judged from 
 appearances one would have said, this is a fellow to have 
 
15 J <ALEB WILLUMS. 
 
 taken ftntunes huHets ami rewards with an incorniptihic 
 mind. And yet sec where it all ends! This man was 
 capable of afterwards becoming a murderer, and finished 
 his life at the ^aH*^^^ s. O poverty ! thou art indeed omni- 
 potent! Thou grindest us into desperation; thou con- 
 foundest all our boasted and most deep-rooted principles ; 
 thou (illcst us to the very brim with malice and revenge, 
 and renderest us capable of acts of unknown horror ! May 
 I never be visited by thee in the fulness of thy power !" 
 
 Having satisfied my curiosity w ith respect to this paper, 
 I took care to dispose of it in such a manner as that it 
 should be found by 31r. Falkland ; at the same time that, in 
 obedience to the principle which at present governed me 
 with absolute dominion, I was willing that the way in 
 which it offered itself to his attention should suggest to him 
 the idea that it had possibly passed through my hands. 
 The next morning 1 saw him, and I exerted myself to lead 
 the conversation, which by this time I well knew how to 
 introduce, by insensible degrees to the point I desired. 
 After several previous questions, remarks, and rejoinders, I 
 continued : — 
 
 " Well, sir, after all, I cannot help feeling very uncom- 
 fortably as to my ideas of human nature, when I find that 
 there is no dependence to be placed upon its perseverance, 
 and that, at least among the illiterate, the most promising 
 appearances may end in the foulest disgrace." 
 
 " You think, then, that hterature and a cultivated mind 
 are the only assurance for the constancy of our piinciples!" 
 
 " Humph ! — why do you suppose, sir, that learning and 
 ingenuity do not often serve people rather to hide their 
 crimes than (o restrain thru from counnitting them ? His- 
 tory Iclls us strange things in that respect." 
 
 " Williams," said Mr. Falkland, a little disturbed, '' you 
 are extiemely given to censure and severity." 
 
PF 
 
 CALEB WILLUMS. 135 
 
 " I hope not. 1 am sure I am most fond of looking on 
 the other side of the picture, and considering how many 
 men have been aspersed, and even at some time or other 
 ahnost torn to pieces by their fellow-creatures, whom, 
 when properly understood, we find wortliy of our reve- 
 rence and love." 
 
 " Indeed," rephed Mr. Falkland, with a sigh, " when I 
 consider these things I do not wonder at the dying excla- 
 mation of Brutus, ' O Virtue, I sought thee as a substance 
 but I find thee an empty name !' I am too much inclined 
 to be of his opinion." 
 
 "Why, to be sure, sir, innocence and guilt are too 
 much confounded in human life. I remember an affecting 
 story of a poor man in the reign of Queen Ehsabeth, who 
 would have infallibly been hanged for murder upon the 
 strength of circumstantial evidence, if the person really 
 concerned had not been hin^elf upon the jury and pre- 
 vented it." 
 
 In saying this, I touched the spring that w akened madness 
 in his mind. He came up to me with a ferocious coun- 
 tenance, as if determined to force me into a confession o) 
 my thoughts. A sudden pang, however, seemed to change 
 his design! he drew back with trepidation, and exclaimed, 
 " Detested be the universe, and the laws that govern it ! 
 Honour, justice, virtue, are all the juggle of knaves! If it 
 w ere in my pow er I \\ ould instantly crush the whole system 
 into nothing !" 
 
 I repUed : " Oh, sir! things are not so bad as you imagine. 
 The world w as made for men of sense to do what they w ill 
 with. Its affairs cannot be better than in the direction of 
 the genuine heroes ; and as in the end they w ill be found 
 the truest friends of the whole, so the multitude have no- 
 thing to do but to look on, be fashioned, and admire." 
 
 Mr. Falkland made a powerful effort to recovei- his 
 
156 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 tranquillity. " Williams," said he, " you instruct me well. 
 You have a right notion of things, and I have great hopes 
 of you. I will be more of a man ; 1 w ill forget the past, 
 and do better for the time to come. The future, the future 
 is always our own." 
 
 " I am sorry, sir, that I have given you pain. I am afraid 
 to say all that I think. But it is my opinion that mistakes 
 will ultimately be cleared up, justice done, and the true state 
 of things come to light, in spite of the false colours that 
 may for a time obscure it." 
 
 The idea 1 suggested did not give Mr. Falkland the proper 
 degree of delight. He sutfered a temporary relapse. "Jus- 
 tice !" — he muttered. " I do not know what is justice. My 
 case is not within the reach of common remedies ; perhaps 
 of none. I only know that I am miserable. I began life 
 w ith the best intentions and the most fervid philanthropy ; 
 an(l here I am — miserable — miserable beyond expression 
 or endurance." 
 
 Having said this, he seemed suddenly to recollect himself, 
 and reassumed his accustomed dignity and command. 
 " How came this conversation ?" cried he. " Who gave 
 you a right to be my coniidant ? Base, artful wretch that 
 you are! learn to be more respectful! Are my passions to 
 be wound and unwound by an insolent domestic? Do you 
 think I will be an instrument to be played on at your plea- 
 sure, till you have extorted all the treasures of my soul ? 
 Begone, and fear lest you be made to pay for the temerity 
 you have already couunittcd !" 
 
 TluTc was an energy and determination in the ge?s(ures 
 with wliicli ilu'se \\()ids were aorompanied, that did not 
 a«luiit of (heir being disputed. My mouth was closed; ! felt 
 as if deprived of all share of activity, and was (uily able 
 silently and passively lo (piit (he apartnuMit. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 157 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Two days subsequent to this conversation, Mr. Falkland 
 ordered me to be called to him. [I shall continue to speak 
 in my narrative of the silent, as well as the articulate part 
 of the intercourse between us. His countenance was ha- 
 bitually animated and expressive, much beyond (hat of any 
 other man I have seen. The curiosity which, as I have 
 said, constituted my ruhng passion, stimulated me to make 
 it my perpetual study. It will also most probably happen, 
 while I am thus employed in collecting the scattered inci- 
 dents of my history, that I shall upon some occasions annex 
 to appearances an explanation which I was far from pos- 
 sessing at the time, and was only suggested to me through 
 the medium of subsequent events.] 
 
 When I entered the apartment, I remarked in Mr. Falk- 
 land's countenance an unwonted composure. This com- 
 posure, however, did not seem to result from internal ease, 
 but from an effort which, while he prepared himself for an 
 interesting scene, was exerted to prevent his presence of 
 mind, and power of voluntary action, from suffering any 
 diminution. 
 
 " WiUiams," said he, " I am determined, whatever it may 
 cost me, to have an explanation with you. You are a rash 
 and inconsiderate boy, and have given me much distur- 
 bance. You ought to have known that, though I allow you 
 to talk with me upon indifferent subjects, it is very improper 
 in you to lead the conversation to any thing that relates to 
 my personal concerns. You have said many tilings lately in 
 
158 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 a very mysterious way, and appear to know something more 
 than I am aware of. I am equally at a loss to guess how 
 vou eame by your know ledge, as of what it consists. But I 
 think I perceive too much inclination on your part to trifle 
 w ith my peace of mind. That ought not to be, nor have I 
 deserved any such treatment from you. But, be that as it 
 will, the guesses in which you oblige me to employ myself 
 are too painful. Ft is a sort of sporting w ith my feelings, 
 which, as a man of resolution, I am determined to bring to 
 an end. I expect you therefore to lay aside all mystery and 
 equivocation, and inform me explicitly what it is upon which 
 your allusions are built. Wliat is it you know ? What is 
 it you want? I have been too nuich exposed already to 
 uuparalleled mortification and hardship, and my wounds 
 w ill not bear this perpetual tampering." 
 
 " I feel, sir," answered I, "how wrong I have been, and 
 am ashamed that such a one as I should have given you all 
 this trouble and displeasure. I felt it at the time ; but I 
 have been hurried along, I do not know how. 1 have 
 always tried to stop myself, but the demon that possessed 
 me was too strong for me. 1 know nothing, sir, but what 
 Mr. Collins told me. He told me the story of Mr. Tyrrel 
 and Miss Melville and Hawkins. I am sure, sir, he said 
 nothing but what was to your honour, and proved you to 
 be more an angel than a man." 
 
 ," W ell, sir : I found a letter WTitten by that Haw kins the 
 other day ; did not (liat letter fall into your hands ? Did not 
 you read it ?" 
 
 " For (iod's sake, sir, turn me out of your house. Pu- 
 nish me in some way or other, that I may forgive myself. 
 1 am a foolish, wicked, despicable wretch. I confess, sir, 
 1 did read the letter." 
 
 " And how dared you read it ? Il was indet'il very w roug 
 of you. iliil uf will laik of that b\ and by. Well, aiul 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 159 
 
 what did you say to the letter ? You know, it seems, that 
 Hawkins was hanged." 
 
 " I say, sir ? why it went to my lieart to read it. 1 say, 
 as I said the day before yesterday, that when I see a man 
 of so much principle afterwards deUberately proceeding to 
 the very worst of crimes, I can scarcely bear to think of it." 
 
 "That is what you say? It seems too you know — ac- 
 cursed remembrance ! — that I was accused of this crime ?" 
 
 I was silent. 
 
 " Well, sir. You know too, perhaps, that from the 
 hour the crime was committed — yes, sir, that was the 
 date [and as he said this, there was somewhat frightful, 
 I had almost said diabohcal, in his countenance] — I have 
 not had an hour's peace; I became changed from the 
 happiest to the most miserable thing that lives ; sleep has 
 fled from my eyes: joy has been a stranger to my 
 thoughts; and annihilation I should prefer a thousand 
 times to the being that 1 am. As soon as I was capable 
 of a choice, I chose honour and the esteem of mankind 
 as a good I preferred to all others. You know, it seems, 
 in how many ways m.y ambition has been disappointed, — 
 I do not thank Collins for having been the historian of my 
 disgrace, — would to God that night could be blotted from 
 the memory of man ! — But the scene of that night, instead 
 of perishing, has been a source of ever new calamity to 
 me which must flow for ever ! Am I then, thus iniserable 
 and ruined, a proper subject upon which for you to 
 exercise your ingenuity, and improve your power of tor- 
 menting? Was it not enough that I was publicly disho- 
 noured? that I was deprived, by the pestilential influence 
 of some demon, of the opportunity of avenging my disho- 
 nour ? No : in addition to this, I have been charged with 
 having in this critical moment intercepted my own ven- 
 geance by the foulest of crimes. That trial is past. Misery 
 
160 CALEh VVILLUMS. 
 
 iLself has nolhinf? woi-sc in slorc for me, except what you 
 have irillirled : (he seeming lo doubt of my innocenee, 
 whieh, after (he fullest and most solemn examination, has 
 been completely established. You have forced me to this 
 explanation. Vou have extorted from me 'a confidence 
 which 1 had no inclination to make. But it is a part of the 
 misery of my situation, that I am at the mercy of every 
 creature, however little, who feels himself inclined to sport 
 with my distress. Be content. You have brought me low- 
 enough." 
 
 "Oh, sir, I am not content; I cannot be content! I 
 cannot bear to think ^^ hat I have done. I shall never 
 again be able to look in the face of the best of masters and 
 the best of men. I beg of you, sir, to turn me out of your 
 service. Let me go and hide myself where I may never 
 see you more." 
 
 Mr. Falkland's countenance had indicated great severity 
 through the whole of this conversation ; but now it became 
 more harsh and tempestuous than ever. " How now, 
 rascal !" cried he. " You want to leave me, do you ? Who 
 told you that I wished to part w ith you ? But you cannot 
 bear to live with such a miserable wretch as I am ! You 
 are not disposed to put up vi ith caprices of a man dissa- 
 tisfied and unjust 1" 
 
 " Oh, sir ! do not talk to me thus ! Do with me any 
 thing you will. Kill me if you please." 
 
 " Kill you !" [Volumes could not describe the emotions 
 with \\liich this echo of my words was given and re- 
 ceived, i 
 
 " Sir, I could die to serve you! 1 love you more than 
 [ can express. I worship you as a being of a superior 
 nature. I am foolish, raw, inexperienced, — worse than 
 any of these •,— but never did a thought of disloyalty to your 
 service enter into my heart." 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 161 
 
 Here our conversation ended; and the impression it 
 made upon my youthful mmd it is impossible to describe. 
 1 thought with astonishment, even with rapture, of the at- 
 tention and kindness towards me I discovered in Mr. Falk- 
 land, through all the roughness of his manner. I could 
 never enough wonder at finding myself, humble as I was 
 by my birth, obscure as I had hitherto been, thus suddenly 
 become of so much importance to the happiness'of one of 
 the most enlightened and accomplished men in England. 
 But this consciousness attached me to my patron more 
 eagerly than ever, and made me swear a thousand times, 
 as I meditated upon my situation, that I would never prove 
 unworthy of so generous a protector. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Is it not unaccountable that, in the midst of all my in- 
 creased veneration for my patron, the first tumult of my 
 emotion was scarcely subsided, before the old question that 
 had excited my conjectures recurred to my mind, Was he 
 the murderer? It was a kind of fatal impulse, that seemed 
 destined to hurry me to my destruction. I did not wonder 
 at the disturbance that was given to Mr. Falkland by any 
 allusion, however distant, to this fatal affair. That was 
 as completely accounted for from the consideration of his 
 excessive sensibiUty in matters of honour, as it would 
 have been upon the supposition of the most atrocious guilt. 
 Knowing, as he did, that such a charge had once been con- 
 nected with his name, he would of course be perpetually 
 uneasy, and suspect some latent insinuation at every possible 
 
 11 
 
CALEB ^^'1LLUMS. 
 
 opporliinily. He would doubt and fear, lest every man witli 
 w hoin he conversed harboured the foulest suspicion against 
 him. In my case he found that I was in possession of 
 some information, more than he was aware of, without 
 i(s being possible for him to decide to what it amounted, 
 whether I had heard a just or unjust, a candid or calum- 
 niatory talc. He had also reason to suppose that I gave en- 
 tertainment to thoughts derogatory to his honour, and that 
 I did not form that favourable judgment, which the ex- 
 quisite refinement of his ruling passion made indispensable 
 to his peace. All these considerations would of course 
 maintain in him a state of perpetual uneasiness. But, though 
 1 could find nothing that I could consider as justifying me 
 in persisting in the shadow of a doubt, yet, as I have said, 
 the uncertainty and restlessness of my contemplations w ould 
 by no means depart from me. 
 
 The fluctuating state of my mind produced a contention 
 of opposite principles, that by turns usurped dominion over 
 my conduct. Sometimes I was influenced by the most 
 complete veneration for my master ; I placed an unreserved 
 confidence in his integrity and his virtue, and implicitly 
 surrendered my understanding for him to set it to what 
 point he pleased. At other times the confidence, which 
 had before flowed with the most plenteous tide, began to 
 ebb , I was, as 1 had already been, watchful, inquisitive, 
 suspicious, full of a thousand conjectures as to the meaning 
 of the most indifferent actions. Mr. Falkland, who was 
 most painfully alive to every thing that related to his ho- 
 nour, saw these variations, and betrayed his consciousness 
 of them now in one manner, and now in another, fre- 
 «juently Ijcfore I was myself aware, sometimes almost be- 
 fore they existed. The situation of both was distressing; 
 we w ere each of us a plague to the other ; and I often 
 wondered, liial tlic forbearance and benignity of my master 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 163 
 
 was not at length exhausted, and that he did not deter- 
 mine to thrust from him for ever so incessant an observer. 
 There was indeed one eminent difference between his 
 share in the transaction and mine. I had some consola- 
 tion in the midst of my restlessness. Curiosity is a prin- 
 ciple that carries its pleasures, as well as its pains, along 
 with it. The mind is urged by a perpetual stimulus ; it 
 seems as if it were continually approaching to the end of 
 its race ; and as the insatiable desire of satisfaction is its 
 principle of conduct, so it promises itself in that satisfac- 
 tion an unknown gratification, which seems as if it were 
 capable of fully compensating any injuries that may be 
 suffered in the career. But to Mr. Falkland there was no 
 consolation. What he endured in the intercourse between 
 us appeared to be gratuitous evil. He had only to wish 
 that there was no such person as myself in the world, and 
 to curse the hour when his humanity led him to rescue me 
 from ray obscurity, and place me in his service. 
 
 A consequence produced upon me by the extraordinary 
 nature of my situation, it is necessary to mention. The 
 constant state of vigilance and suspicion in which my mind 
 was retained, worked a very rapid change in my character. 
 It seemed to have all the effect that might have been ex- 
 pected from years of observation and experience. The 
 strictness with which I endeavoured to remark what passed 
 in the mind of one man, and the variety of conjectures into 
 which I was led, appeared, as it were, to render me a com- 
 petent adept in the different modes in which the human 
 intellect displays its secret workings. I no longer said to 
 myself, as I had done in the beginning, " I will ask Mr. 
 Falkland whether he were the murderer." On the con- 
 trary, after having carefully examined the different kinds 
 of evidence of which the subject was susceptible, and re- 
 collecting all that had already passed upon the subject, it 
 
164 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 w as not without considerable pain, that I felt myself unable 
 l(» discover anv way in which I could be perfectly and un- 
 alterably satisfied of my patron's innocence. As to his 
 guilt, I could scarcely bring myself to doubt that in some 
 way or other, sooner or later, I should arrive at the know- 
 ledge of that, if it really existed. But I could not endure 
 to think, almost for a moment, of that side of the alterna- 
 tive as true; and with all my ungovernable suspicion arising 
 from the mysteriousness of ihe circumstances, and all the 
 delight which a young and unfledged mind receives from 
 ideas that give scope to all thai imagination can picture of 
 terrible or sublime, I could not yet bring myself to con- 
 sider Mr. Falkland's guilt as a supposition attended with 
 the remotest probability. 
 
 I hope the reader will forgive me for dwelling thus 
 long on preliminary circumstances. 1 shall come soon 
 enough to the story of my own misery. I have already 
 said, that one of the motives which induced me to the 
 penning of this narrative, w as to console myself in my 
 insupportable distress. I derive a melancholy pleasure 
 from dwelling upon the circumstances w hich imperceptibly 
 paved the way to my ruin. While I recollect or describe 
 past scenes, which occurred in a more favourable period 
 of my life, my attention is called ofl for a short interval 
 fn>m 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;iiie<l as havuig acltd honi (he most rooled malice. Hi- 
 swore that Ihere had l.ccn an old grudge between (he 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 169 
 
 parties, and related several instances of it. He affirmed 
 that the murderer had sought the earliest opportunity of 
 wreaking his revenge; had struck the first blow; and, 
 though the contest was in appearance only a common 
 boxing match, had watched the occasion of giving a fatal 
 stroke, which was followed by the instant death of his an- 
 tagonist. 
 
 While the accuser was giving in his evidence, the ac- 
 cused discovered every token of the jnost poignant sensi- 
 bility. At one time his features were convulsed with 
 anguish ; tears unbidden trickled down his manly cheeks ; 
 and at another he started with apparent astonishment at 
 the unfavourable turn that was given to the narrative, 
 though without betraying any impatience to interrupt. I 
 never saw a man less ferocious in his appearance. He was 
 tall, well made, and comely. His countenance was in- 
 genuous and benevolent, without folly. By his side stood 
 a young woman, his sweetheart, extremely agreeable in her 
 person, and her looks testifying how deeply she interested 
 herself in the fate of her lover. The accidental spectators 
 were divided, between indignation against the enormity 
 of the supposed criminal, and compassion for the poor girl 
 that accompanied him. They seemed to take little notice 
 of the favourable appearances visible in the person of the 
 accused, till, in the sequel, those appearances were more 
 forcibly suggested to their attention. For Mr, Falkland, 
 he was at one moment engrossed by curiosity and earnest- 
 ness to investigate the tale, while at another he betrayed a 
 sort of revulsion of sentiment, which made the investigation 
 too painful for him to support. 
 
 When the accused was called upon for his defence, he 
 readily owned the misunderstanding that had existed, and 
 that the deceased was the worst enemy he had in the 
 world. JndeedNhiejWiaaJbigjin^ he could not tell 
 
170 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 the reason liuit liatl made liim so. He had employed every 
 eflort to overcome his aiiiiiiosity, but in vain. The de- 
 ceased had upon all occasions souglit to mortify him, and 
 do him an ill tiun ; but he had resolved never to be en- 
 gaged in a broil with him, and till this day he had suc- 
 ceeded. If he had met with a misfortune with any other 
 man, people at least might have thought it accident; but 
 now it would always be believed that he had acted from 
 secret malice and a bad heart. 
 
 The fact was, that he and his sweetheart had gone to a 
 neighbouring fair, where this man had met them. The 
 man had often tried to affront him ; and his passiveness, 
 interpreted into cowardice, had perhaps encouraged the 
 other to additional rudeness. Finding that he had endured 
 trivial insults to himself with an even temper, the deceased 
 now thought proper to turn his brutality upon the young 
 woman that accompanied him. He pursued them ; he en- 
 deavoured in various manners to harass and vex them ; 
 they had sought in vain to shake him off. The young 
 woman was considerably terrified. The accused expos- 
 tulated with their persecutor, and asked him how he could 
 be so barbarous as to persist in frightening a woman ? He 
 repUcd with an insulting tone, " Then the woman should 
 lind some one able to protect her ; people that encouraged 
 and trusted to such a thief as that, deserved no better!" 
 The accused tiied every expedient he could invent; at 
 length he could endure it no longer; he became exas- 
 perated, and challenged the assailant. The challenge was 
 accepted ; a ring was formed ; he conlided the care of his 
 sweetheart to a bystander; and unfortunately the first blow 
 he struck proved fatal. 
 
 The accused added, that he did not care what became 
 ol him. He had been anxious to go (lirough the world in 
 an inoffensive manner, and now he had the guilt of bloo<S 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 171 
 
 upon him. He did not know but it would be kindness in 
 them to hang him out of the way; for his conscience would 
 reproach him as long as be lived, and the figure of the 
 deceased, as he had lain senseless and without motion at 
 his feet, would perpetually haunt him. The thought of 
 this man, at one moment full of hfe and vigour, and the 
 next hfted a helpless corpse from the ground, and all owing 
 to him, was a thought too dreadful to be endured. He 
 had loved the poor maiden, who had been the innocent 
 occasion of this, with all his heart ; but from this time he 
 should never support the sight of her. The sight would 
 bring a tribe of fiends in its rear. One unlucky minute 
 had poisoned all his hopes, and made life a burden to him. 
 Saying this, his countenance fell, the muscles of his 
 face trembled w ith agony, and he looked the statue of 
 despair. 
 
 This was the story of which Mr. Falkland was called 
 upon to be the auditor. Though the incidents were, for 
 the most part, wide of those which belonged to the 
 preceding adventures, and there had been much less 
 policy and skill displayed on either part in this rustic 
 encounter, yet there were many points which, to a 
 man who bore the former strongly in his recollection, sug- 
 gested a sufficient resemblance. In each case it was a 
 human brute persisting in a course of hostihty to a man of 
 benevolent character, and suddenly and terribly cut off in 
 the midst of his career. These points perpetually smote 
 upon the heart of Mr, Falkland. He at one time started 
 with astonishment, and at another shifted his posture, like 
 a man w^ho is unable longer to endure the sensations that 
 press upon him. Then he new strung his nerves to stub- 
 born patience. I could see, while his muscles preserved 
 an inflexible steadiness, tears of anguish roll down his 
 cheeks. He dared not trust his eyes to glance towards the 
 
174 CALEB WILLUM8. 
 
 side ol fhe room where I stood; and this gave an air of 
 embarrassment to his whole figure. But when the accused 
 came to speak of his fcehngs, to describe the depth of his 
 compunction for an involuntary fault, he could endure it no 
 longer. He suddenly rose, and with every mark of horror 
 and despair rushed out of the room. 
 
 This circumstance made no material difference in the 
 affair of the accused. The parties were detained about 
 half an hour. Mr. Falkland had already heard the material 
 parts of the evidence in person. At the expiration of that 
 interval, he sent for Mr. Collins out of the room. The 
 story of the culprit was confirmed by many witnesses who 
 had seen the transaction. Word was brought that my 
 uiaster was indisposed ; and, at the same time, the accused 
 was ordered to be discharged. The vengeance of the 
 brother, however, as I afterwards found, did not rest here, 
 and he met with a magistrate, more scrupulous or more 
 despotic, by whom the culprit was committed for trial. 
 
 This afl'air was no sooner concluded, than I hastened 
 into the garden, and plunged into the deepest of its thickets. 
 My mind was full, almost to bursting. I no sooner con- 
 ceived myself sufficiently removed from all observation, 
 than my thoughts forced their way spontaneously to my 
 tongue, and I exclaimed, in a fit of uncontrollable enthu- 
 ' siasm, " This is the murderer ; the Hawkinses were inno- 
 cent! I am sure of it! 1 will pledge my life for it! It is 
 out ! It is discovered ! Guilty, upon my soul !" 
 
 While I thus proceeded with hasty steps along the most 
 secret paths of the garden, and from time to time gave 
 vent to the tumult of my thoughts in involuntary exclama- 
 tions, I felt as if my animal system had undergone a total 
 revolution. My blood boiled within mo. I was conscious 
 to a kind of ia|>tur'' << \ 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'<l liiiii ii|)|)rarnl not to iu< 
 t«>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<l woiiM lia\e 
 died a hundred times. -I have had feelings, but I cannot 
 deseriU' them. 
 
 " This it is to be a geudcman ! a man o\ honour! I wa^ 
 (he fmd of fame. \]\ virtue, iiin honest\, ui> exerlasliuf; 
 
^i'M.VM WII.MAMH. IHI 
 
 (M'jun of inin<l, wvvf rlii-afi nwrWuff* Ut hv iria<l« a( iUc 
 nUriiw <ir fliiH «liviiil(y, Hiil, what in woiHf, ihcrt) in nofljing 
 (liaf han liapppncd ifiat ha» in any ih'grpi' ronCribulcfJ lo 
 iriy nirr. I am a« rniu li ilii« fool of lame aH rvcr. I rliiiff, 
 In it (o my lMh» Im'«'!i(Ii. TImmi^Ii I l»«; l!ic hIar.kpM «»f villain'', 
 I will leave behiii'l me a MputtcHH and illnstrioui^ name. 
 There in no erime ho malignaul, no seene ol' Idoo*! mo lior- 
 r il»le, in wliich that object crannot engage me. It it4 no 
 matter llia( I regaril Ihemi thing?* at a dintanee with aver- 
 
 nion ; 1 am nnre of it ; hring me to the te»t, and I Hhall 
 
 yield. I rlenpise myneH', hut (hii-^ I am ; (hinKS .ire grine too 
 far Jo he reralled. 
 
 " Why in it that 1 am couipcllud to thiA ronliden'e? 
 I'rom ilui Utvn pf I'nmn | sliould Ircmhie at the .sight ol 
 • very j»i»tol or instrnment of death that offered itself to 
 my hands; and perhaps my next mnrder may not He no 
 lorfnnafe as those I have already committed, ^j^ "" 
 ;il»ernative hut to make yon my ropfirlant^of my victim. 
 It was better to trust you with \hv whole (ruth under 
 every seal of secrecy, than to live in perpetual fear of 
 y«nir penetration or your rashness. 
 
 " Do you know w hat it is you have done ?_ To K^'a^'^^y 
 .1 foolishly intjnisiti ye Jiu mour, you have sold yourself. 
 ^ (Ml shall continue iu my service, but can never share my 
 illection. I will bunclil you in respect of fortune*,. but I 
 hall alwayshatL.you. If ever on unguarded word escape 
 from your lips, if over you excite my jealousy or suspicion, 
 expect to pay for it by your death or worse. It is a dear 
 liargain you have made. But it is too late to lof>k back. 
 I charge and a<ljurc you by every thing that is sacred, and 
 that IS tremendous, preserve your faith ! 
 
 " My tongue has now for (he lirsl tune for several 
 vears spoken the language of my heart; and (he inter - 
 coni'.sr from this hour shall he shut for trver. I w.»nt w> 
 
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<l in the ^cene to which he was now inlrtniuced. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 187 
 
 Having much kindness in his disposition, he soon became 
 deeply interested in the unhappiness of his relation, lie 
 did every thing in his power to remove it; but his attempts 
 were rude and unskilful. With a mind so accomplished 
 and a spirit so susceptible as that of Mr. Falkland, Mr. 
 Forester did not venture to let loose his usual violence of 
 manner ; but, if he carefully abstained from harshness, he 
 was, however, wholly incapable of that sweet and liquid 
 eloquence of the soul, which would perhaps have stood the 
 fairest chance of seducing Mr. Falkland for a moment to 
 forget his anguish. He exhorted his host to rouse up his 
 spirit, and defy the foul fiend ; but the tone of his exhorta- 
 tions found no sympathetic chord in the mind of my patron. 
 He had not the skill to carry conviction to an understand- 
 ing so well fortified in error. In a word, after a thousand 
 efforts of kindness to his entertainer, he drew off his forces, 
 growling and dissatisfied with his own impotence, rather 
 than angry at the obstinacy of Mr. Falkland, He felt 
 no diminution of his affection for him, and was sincerely 
 grieved to find that he v/as so little capable of serving him. 
 Both parties in this case did justice to the merits of the 
 other ; at the same time that the disparity of their humours 
 was such, as to prevent the stranger from being in any 
 degree a dangerous companion to the master of the house. 
 They had scarcely one point of contact in their characters. 
 Mr. Forester was incapable of giving Mr. Falkland that 
 degree either of pain or pleasure, which can raise the soul 
 into a tumult, and deprive it for a while of tranquillity and 
 self-command. 
 
 Our visitor was a man, notwithstanding appearances, of 
 a peculiarly sociable disposition, and, where he was neither 
 interrupted nor contradicted, considerably loquacious. He 
 began to feel himself painfully out of his element upon the 
 present occasion. Mr. Falkland was devoted to contem- 
 
IS8 <ALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 plation and solitude. He put upon liiinsell" some degree of 
 restraint upon the airi\al of his kinsman, though even then 
 his dai ling habits would break out. But when they had 
 seen each other a certain number of times, and it was suf- 
 licienlly evident that the society of either would be a bur- 
 then rather than a pleasure to the other, they consented, 
 by a sort of silent compact, that each should be at liberty 
 to follow his own inchnation. Mr. Falkland was, in a 
 sense, the greatest gainer by this. He returned to the 
 habits of his choice, and acted, as nearly as possible, just 
 as he would have done if Mr. Forester had not been in 
 existence. But the latter was wholly ai a loss. He had all 
 the disadvantages of retirement, \\ ithout being able, as he 
 might have done at his house, to bring his o\\ n associates 
 or his own amusements about him. 
 
 In this situation he cast his eyes upon me. h \\as his 
 principle to do every thing that his thoughts suggested, 
 without caring for the foiins of the world. He saw no 
 reason why a peasant, with certain advantages of education 
 and opportunity, might not be as eligible a companion as 
 a lord ; at the same time that he w as deeply impressed 
 with the venerableness of old institutions. Beduccd as he 
 was to a kind of last resort, he found me better qualified 
 for his purpose than any other of Mr. Falkland's house- 
 hold. 
 
 The manner in which he began this sort of corrrespon- 
 dence was sufficiently characteristical. It was abrupt ; 
 but it was strongly stamped with essential benevolence. 
 It was blunt and humoious ; but there was attractiveness, 
 especially in a case of unequal intercourse, in that ver\ 
 rusticity by which he levelled hiin.self with the inass of his 
 species. He had to reconcile himself as well as to invite 
 me; not to reconcile himself to the postponing an aristo- 
 cratical Nanily, lor of (hat he had a very slender portion, 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. ISO 
 
 but to the trouble of invitation, for he loved his ease. All 
 this produced some irregularity and indecision in his own 
 mind, and gave a whimsical impression to his behaviour. 
 
 On my part, I was by no means ungrateful for the dis- 
 tinction that was paid me. My mind had been relaxed 
 into temporary dejection, but my reserve had no alloy of 
 moroseness or insensibility. It did not long hold out against 
 the condescending attentions of Mr. Forester. I became 
 gradually heedful, encouraged, confiding. I had a most 
 eager thirst for the knowledge of mankind ; and though no 
 person perhaps ever purchased so dearly the instructions 
 he received in that school, the inclination was in no degree 
 diminished. Mr. Forester was the second man I had seen 
 uncommonly worthy of my analysis, and who seemed to 
 my thoughts, arrived as I was at the end of my first essay, 
 almost as much deserving to be studied as Mr. Falkland 
 himself. I was glad to escape from the uneasiness of my 
 reflections ; and, while engaged with this new friend, I 
 forgot the criticalness of the evils with which I was hourly 
 menaced. 
 
 Stimulated by these feelings, I was what MjcJ^orester 
 wanted, a diligent and zealous hearer. I was strongly 
 susceptible of impression ; and the alternate impressions 
 my mind received, visibly displayed themselves in iny coun- 
 tenance and gestures. The observations Mr. Forester had 
 made in his travels, the set of opinions he had formed, all 
 amused and interested me. His manner of telling a story, 
 or explaining his thoughts, was forcible, perspicuous, and 
 original : his style in conversation had an uncommon zest. 
 Every thing he had to relate delighted me ; while, in re- 
 turn, my sympathy, my eager curiosity, and my unsophis- 
 ticated passions, rendered me to Mr. Forester a most de- 
 sirable hearer. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that 
 
190 CALEB W ILLIAMS. 
 
 everv dav ronderpd our intercourse more intimate and 
 cordial. 
 
 Mr. F'alkland was destined to be for ever unhappy ; and 
 it seemed as if no new incident could occur, from which he 
 was not able to extract food for this imperious propensity. 
 He was wearied w ith a perpetual repetition of similar im- 
 pressions ; and entertained an invincible disgust against all 
 that was new. The visit of Mr. Forester he regarded with 
 antipathy. He was scarcely able to look at him without 
 shuddering ; an emotion which his guest perceived, and 
 pitied as the result of habit and disease, rather than of judg- 
 ment. None of his actions passed unremarked ; the most 
 indifferent excited uneasiness and apprehension. The first 
 overtures of intimacy between me and IMr. Forester pro- 
 bably gave birth to sentiments of jealousy in the mind of 
 my master. The irregular, variable character of his visitor 
 tended to heighten them, by producing an appearance of 
 inexplicableness and mystery. At this time he intimated 
 to me that it was not agreeable to him, that there should 
 be much intercourse between me and this gentleman. 
 
 What could I do? Young as I was, could it be expecteu 
 that 1 should play the philosopher, and put a perpetual 
 curb upon my inclinations ? Imprudent though I had 
 been, could I voluntarily subject myself to an eternal pe- 
 nance, and estrangement from human society ? Could I 
 discourage a frankness so perfectly in consonance with my 
 wishes, and receive in an ungracious way a kindness that 
 stole away my heart? 
 
 Besides this, I was but ill prepared for the servile sub- 
 mission IVIr. Falkland demanded. In early life 1 had been 
 accustomed to be much my own master. When I first 
 entered into Mv. Falkland's service, my personal habits 
 were cherke<l i)y t!ic novelty of my situatiim, and my afl'ec- 
 lions were gained by the high acconiplishnients of my pa- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 101 
 
 Iron. To novelty and its influence, curiosity had succeeded : 
 curiosity, so long as it lasted, was a principle stronger in 
 iny bosom than even the love of independence. To that I 
 would have sacrificed my liberty or my life ; to gratify it, 1 
 would have submitted to the condition of a West Indian 
 negro, or to the tortures inflicted by North American sa- 
 vages. But the turbulence of curiosity had now subsided. 
 
 As long as the threats of Mr. Falkland had been con- 
 fined to generals, I endured it. I was conscious of the un- 
 becoming action I had committed, and this rendered me 
 humble. But, when he went further, and undertook (o~ 
 prescribe to every article of my conduct, my patience was 
 at an end. My mind, before sufficiently sensible to the un- 
 fortunate situation to which my imprudence had reduced 
 me, now took a nearer and a more alarming view of the 
 circumstances of the case. Mr. Falkland was not an old 
 man ; he had in him the principles of vigour, however they 
 might seem to be shaken ; he might live as long as I 
 should. I was his prisoner ; and what a prisoner ! All my 
 actions observed; all my gestures marked. I could move 
 neither to the right nor the left, but the eye of my keeper 
 was upon me. He watched me ; and his vigilance was a 
 sickness to my heart. For me there was no more freedom, 
 no more of hilarity, of thoughtlessness, or of youth. Was 
 this the life upon which I had entered with such warm and 
 sanguine expectation ? W^ere my days to be wasted in this 
 cheerless gloom ; a galley-slave in the hands of the system 
 of nature, whom death only, the death of myself or my in- 
 exorable superior, could free ? 
 
 I had been adventurous in the gratification of an in- 
 fantine and unreasonable curiosity; and I resolved not to 
 be less adventurous, if need were, in the defence of every 
 thing that can make life a blessing. I was prepared for an 
 amicable adjustment of interests : I would undertake (hat 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
]i)i CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 .Mr. Falkland .sliould never sustain injury through my 
 means ; but I e.xpected in return that I should suffer no 
 encroachment, but be left to the direction of my own un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 I went on, then, to seek Mr. Forester's society with 
 eagerness ; and it is the nature of an intimacy that does 
 not decline, progressively to increase. 3Ir. Falkland ob- 
 served these symptoms with visible perturbation. When- 
 ever I was conscious of then- being perceived by him, I 
 betrayed tokens of confusion : this did not tend to allay his 
 uneasiness. One day he spoke to me alone ; and, w ith a 
 look of mysterious but terrible import, expressed himself 
 thus: — 
 
 " Young man, take warning ! Perhaps this is the last 
 time you shall have an opportunity to take it ! I will not 
 always be the butt of youi- simplicity and inexperience, nor 
 suft'er your weakness to triumph over my strength ! Why 
 do you trifle with me ? You little suspect the extent of my 
 power. At this moment you are enclosed with the snares 
 of my vengeance unseen by you, and, at the instant that 
 you flatter yourself you are already beyond their reach, 
 they will close upon you. You might as well think of es- 
 caping from the power of the omnipresent God, as from 
 mine! If you could touch so much as my finger, you 
 should expiate it in hours and months and years of a tor- 
 ment, of which as yet you have not the remotest idea. Ke- 
 mernber! 1 am not talking at random ! I do not utter a 
 word, that, if you provoke me, shall not be executed to the 
 severest letter!" 
 
 It may be supposed that these menaces were not without 
 their eflect. I withdrew in silence. My whole soul re- 
 vollcd against the Irealmcnt I endured, and yet I could no( 
 utter a word. Why <;(nild not I speak the expostulations 
 of ujy heail, oi propose the compromise I meditated'.' It 
 
CALEB WILLUMS. 193 
 
 was inexperience, and not want of strength, that awed me. 
 Every act of Mr. Falkland contained something new, and I 
 was unprepared to meet it. Perhaps it will be found that 
 the greatest hero owes the propriety of his conduct to the 
 habit of encountering difficulties, and calling out with 
 promptness the energies of his mind. 
 
 I contemplated the proceedings of my patron with the 
 deepest astonishment. Humanity and general kindness 
 were fundamental parts of his character; but in relation 
 to me they were sterile and inactive. His own interest re- 
 quired that he should purchase my kindness ; but he pre- 
 ferred to govern me by terror, and watch me with un- 
 ceasing anxiety. I ruminated with the most mournful sen- 
 sations upon the nature of my calamity. I believed that 
 no human being was ever placed in a situation so pitiable 
 as mine. Every atom of my frame seemed to have a se- 
 veral existence, and to crawl within me. I had but too 
 much reason to believe that Mr. Falkland's threats were 
 not empty words. I knew his ability; I felt his ascen- 
 dancy. If I encountered him, what chance had I of vic- 
 tory ? If I were defeated, what was the penalty I had to 
 suffer ? Well, then, the rest of my life must be devoted to 
 slavish subjection. Miserable sentence ! And, if it were, 
 what security had I against the injustice of a man, vigilant, 
 capricious, and criminal ? I envied the condemned wretch 
 upon the scaffold ; I envied the victim of the inquisition in 
 the midst of his torture. They know what they have to 
 suffer. I had only to imagine every thing terrible, and 
 then say, " The fate reserved for me is worse than this !" 
 
 It was well for me that these sensations were transient : 
 human nature could not long support itself under what I 
 then felt. By degrees my mind shook off its burthen. In- 
 dignation succeeded to emotions of terror. The hostility 
 of Mr. Falkland excited hostility in me. I determined I 
 
IIM TALER \MLL1AMS. 
 
 would never raliiinniale liim in mailers of ihc most trivial 
 import, mucli less betray the grand secret upon which 
 every thing dear to him depended. But, totally abjuring 
 the offensive, I resolved to stand firmly upon the defensive. 
 The liberty of acting as I pleased I would preserve, what- 
 ever might be the risk. If I were worsted in the contest, 
 ! would at least have the consolation of reflecting that 1 
 had exerted myself w ith energy. In proportion as I thus 
 determined, I drew off my forces from petty incursions, 
 and felt the propriety of acting with premeditation and 
 system. I ruminated incessantly upon plans of deliverance, 
 but I was ajixious that my choice should not be precipitately 
 made. 
 
 It was during this period of my deliberation and uncer- 
 lainty that Mr. Forester terminated his visit. He observed 
 a strange distance in my behaviour, and, in his good-na- 
 lured, rough way, reproached me for it. I could only 
 answer with a gloomy look of mysterious import, and a 
 mournful and expressive silence. He sought me for an ex- 
 planation, but I was now as ingenious in avoiding as 1 had 
 before been ardent to seek him ; and he quitted our house, 
 as he afterwards told me, with an impression, that there 
 was some ill destiny that hung over it, which seemed fated 
 to make all its inhabitants miserable, without ils being pos- 
 sible for a by-slander to penetrate the reason. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Mr. Fouestfr had left us about three weeks, when Mr. 
 Falkland sent me upon some business to an estate he pos- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 195 
 
 sessed in a neighbouring county, about fifty miles from 
 his principal residence. The road led in a direction wholly 
 wide of the habitation of our late visitor. I was upon my 
 return from the place to which I had been sent, when I 
 began in fancy to take a survey of the various circumstances 
 of my condition, and by degrees lost, in the profoundness 
 of my contemplation, all attention to the surrounding ob- 
 jects. The first determination of my mind was to escape 
 from the lynx-eyed jealousy and despotism of Mr. Falk- 
 land ; the second to provide, by every effort of prudence 
 and deliberation I could devise, against the danger with 
 which I well knew my attempt must be accompanied. 
 
 Occupied with these meditations, I rode many miles be- 
 fore I perceived that I had totally deviated from the right 
 path. At length I roused myself, and surveyed the horizon 
 round me; but I could observe nothing with which my 
 organ was previously acquainted. On three sides, the 
 heath stretched as far as the eye could reach ; on the fourth, 
 I discovered at some distance a wood of ordinary dimen- 
 sions. Before me, scarcely a single track could be found, 
 to mark that any human being had ever visited the spot. 
 As the best expedient I could devise, I bent my course 
 towards the wood I have mentioned, and then pursued, as 
 well as I was able, the windings of the inclosure. This 
 led me, after some time, to the end of the heath; but I 
 was still as much at a loss as ever respecting the road I 
 should pursue. The sun was hid from me by a grey and 
 cloudy atmosphere ; I was induced to continue along the 
 skirts of the wood, and surmounted with some difficulty the 
 hedges and other obstacles that from time to time pre- 
 sented themselves. My thoughts were gloomy and discon- 
 solate ; 'the dreariness of the day, and the solitude which 
 surrounded me, seemed to communicate a sadness to ray 
 soul. I had proceeded a considerable way, and was over- 
 
 13 * 
 
llKi CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 come witli hunger and fatigue, when I discovered a road 
 and a HUle inn at no great distance. J made up to them, 
 and upon enquiry found that, instead of pursuing the proper 
 direction, I had taken one that led to Mr. Forester's rather 
 than to my own habitation. 1 ahghted, and was entering 
 the house, when the appearance of that gentleman struck 
 my eyes. 
 
 Mr. Forester accosted me with kindness, invited me into 
 the room where he had been sitting, and enquired what 
 accident had brolight me to that place. 
 
 While he was speaking, I could not help recollecting 
 the extraordinary manner in which we were thus once 
 more brought together, and a train of ideas was by this 
 means suggested to my mind. Some refreshment w as, by 
 Mr. Forester's order, prepared for me ; I sat down, and 
 partook of it. Still this thought dwelt upon my recollec- 
 tion : — " Mr. Falkland w ill never be made acquainted with 
 our meeting ; 1 have an opportunity thrown in my w ay, 
 which if I do not improve, I shall deserve all the conse- 
 quences that may result. I can now converse with a friend, 
 and a powerful friend, without fear of being watched and 
 overlooked." What w onder that I was tempted to disclose, 
 not Mr. Falkland's secret, but my own situation, and re- 
 ceive the advice of a man of worth and experience, w hich 
 might perhaps be adequately done without entering into 
 any detail injurious to my patron ? 
 
 Mr. forester, on his part, expressed a desire to learn 
 why it was I thought myself unhappy, and why I had 
 avoided him during the latter part of his residence under 
 the same roof, as evidently as 1 had before, taken pleasure 
 in his connnunications. I replied, that I could give him 
 but an imperfect satisfaction upon these points ; but w hat I 
 could, i would willingly explain. The fact, I proceeded, 
 was, that there were reasons whicii rendered it impossible 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 197 
 
 for nie to have a (ranquil moment under the roof of Mr. 
 Falkland. I had revolved the matter again and again in 
 my mind, and was fmally*€onvinced that I owed it to my- 
 self to withdraw from his service. I added, that I was 
 sensible, by this half-confidence, I might rather seem to 
 merit the disapprobation of 3Ir. Forester than his counte- 
 nance ; but I declared my persuasion that, if he could be 
 acquainted with the whole affair, however strange my be- 
 haviour might at present appear, he would applaud my 
 reserve. , 
 
 He appeared to muse for a moment upon what I had 
 said, and then asked what reason I could have to complain 
 of Mv. Falkland ? I replied, that I entertained the deepest 
 reverence for my patron ; I admired his abilities, and con- 
 sidered him as formed for the benefit of his species. I 
 should in my own opinion be the vilest of miscreants, if 1 
 uttered a whisper to his disadvantage. But this did not 
 avail : I was not fit for him ; perhaps I was not good 
 enough for him ; at all events, I must be perpetually 
 miserable so long as I continued to live with him. 
 
 I observed Mr. Forester gaze upon me eagerly with 
 curiosity and surprise ; but this circumstance I did not 
 think proper to notice. Having recovered himself, he en- 
 quired, why then, that being the case, I did not quit his 
 service ? I answered, what he now touched upon was 
 that which most of all contributed to my misfortune. Mr. 
 Falkland was not ignorant of my dislike to my present 
 situation ; perhaps he thought it unreasonable, unjust ; but 
 I knew that he would never be brought to consent to my 
 giving way to it. 
 
 Here Mr. Forester interrupted me, and, smiling, said, I 
 magnified obstacles, and overrated my own importance ; 
 adding, that he would undertake to remove that difficulty, 
 as well as to provide me with a more agreeable appoint- 
 
198 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 ment. This suggestion produced in me a serious alarm. 
 I replied, that I must entreat him upon no account to think 
 of applying to Mr. Falkland upon the suhject. I added, 
 that perhaps I was only betraying my imbecihty; but in 
 reality, unacquainted as I was with experience and the 
 world, I was afraid, though disgusted with my present re- 
 sidence, to expose myself upon a mere project of my own, 
 to the resentment of so considerable a man as 3Ir. Falkland. 
 If he would favour me w ith his advice upon the subject, or 
 if he would only give me leave to hope for his protection 
 in case of any unforeseen accident, this was all I presumed 
 to request ; and, thus encouraged, I would venture to obey 
 the dictates of my inclination, and fly in pursuit of ray lost 
 tranquillity. 
 
 Having thus opened myself to this generous friend, as 
 far as I could do it with propriety and safety, he sat for 
 some time silent, with an air of deep reflection. At length, 
 with a countenance of unusual severity, and a characteristic 
 fierceness of manner and voice, he thus addressed me : 
 " Young man, perhaps you are ignorant of the nature of 
 the conduct you at present hold. May be, you do not 
 know that where there is mystery, there is always some- 
 thing at bottom that will not bear the teUing. Is this the 
 way to obtain the favour of a man of consequence and 
 respectability? To pretend to make a confidence, and 
 then tell him a disjointed story that has not tonniion sense 
 in it !" 
 
 I answered, that, whatever were the amount of that 
 prejudice, I must submit. I placed my hope of a candid 
 construction, in the present instance, in the rectitude of 
 nature. 
 
 He went <tn : " You do so ; do you 1' I tell you, sir, 
 the rectitude of my nature is an enemy to disguise. Come, 
 hoy, you nui^t know that I undeistand these things better 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 19U 
 
 tUan you. Tell all, or expect nothing from me but censure 
 and contempt." 
 
 " Sir," replied I, " I have spoken from deliberation ; 1 
 have told you my choice, and, whatever be the result, I 
 must abide by it. If in this misfortune you refuse me yoiir 
 assistance, here I must end, having gained by the com- 
 munication only your ill opinion and displeasure." 
 
 He looked hard at me, as if he would see me through. 
 At length he relaxed his features, and softened his manner. 
 " You are a foohsh, headstrong boy," said he, " and I 
 shall have an eye upon you. I shall never place in you 
 the confidence I have done. But — I will not desert you. 
 At present, the balance between approbation and dishke is 
 in your favour. How long it will last, I cannot tell ; I en- 
 gage for nothing. But it is my rule to act as I feel. I will 
 for this time do as you require ; — and, pray God, it may 
 answer. I will receive you, either now or hereafter, under 
 my roof, trusting that I shall have no reason to repent, 
 and that appearances will terminate as favourably as I wish, 
 though I scarcely know how to hope it." 
 
 We were engaged in the earnest discussion of subjects 
 thus interesting to my peace, when we were interrupted by 
 an event the most earnestly to have been deprecated- 
 Without the smallest notice, and as if he had dropped upon 
 us from the clouds, Mr. Falkland burst, into. tlia.KOom. 1 
 found afterwards that Mr. Forester had come thus far upon 
 an appointment to meet Mr. Falkland, and that the place 
 of their intended rendezvous was at the next stage. Mr. 
 Forester was detained at the inn where we now were by 
 our accidental rencounter, and in reality had for the 
 moment forgotten his appointment; while Mr. Falkland, 
 not finding him where he expected, proceeded thus far 
 towards the house of his kinsman. To me the meeting was 
 the most unaccountable in the world. 
 
toe CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 I instantly foresaw the dreadful complication of misfor^ 
 tune that was included in this event. To .Air. Falkland, the 
 meeting between me and his relation must appear not 
 accidental, but, on my part at least, the result of design. 
 I was totally out of the road I had been travelling by his 
 direction ; I was in a road that led directly to the house of 
 Mr. Forester. What must he think of this ? How must 
 he siippose I came to that place ? The truth, if told, that I 
 came there without design, and purely in consequence of 
 having lost my way, must appear to be the most palpable 
 lie that ever was devised. 
 
 Here then I stood detected in the fact of that intercourse 
 which had been so severely forbidden. But in this instance 
 it was infinitely worse than in those which had already 
 given so much disturbance to Mr. Falkland. It was then 
 frank and unconcealed ; and therefore the presumption 
 was, that it was for purposes that required no concealment. 
 But the present interview, if concerted, was in the most 
 emphatical degree clandestine. Nor was it less perilous 
 than it was clandestine: it had been forbidden with the 
 most dreadful menaces ; and IMr. Falkland was not ig- 
 norant how deep an impression those menaces had made 
 upon my imagination." Such a meeting, therefore, could 
 not liave been concerted under such circumstances, for a 
 trivial purpose, or for any purpose that his heart did not 
 ache to think of. Such was the amount of my crimp, such 
 was the agony my appearance was calculated to inspire ; 
 and it was reasonable to suppose that the penalty I had to 
 expect would be proportionable. The threats of Mr. 
 Falkland still sounded in my ears, and I was in a transport 
 of terror. 
 
 The conduct of the same man in difTerent circumstances, 
 is often .so various as to render it very difficult to be ac- 
 counted for. Ml. I'alkland, in this, to him, terrible crisis. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 201 
 
 did not seem to be in any degree hurried away by passion. 
 For a moment he was dumb ; his eyes glared with astonish- 
 ment ; and the next moment, as it were, he had the most 
 perfect calmness and self-command. Had it been other- 
 wise, I have no doubt that I should instantly have entered 
 into an explanation of the manner in which I came there, 
 the ingenuousness and consistency of which could not but 
 have been in some degree attended with a favourable event. 
 But, as it was, I suffered myself to be overco)ne ; I yielded, 
 as in a former instance, to the discomfiting influence of 
 surprise. I dared scarcely breathe ; I observed the ap- 
 pearances with equal anxiety and surprise. Mr. Falkland 
 quietly ordered me to return home, and take along with 
 me the groom he had brought with him. I obeyed in 
 silence. 
 
 I afterwards understood, that he inquired minutely of 
 Mr. Forester the circumstances of our meeting ; and that 
 that gentleman, perceiving that the meeting itself was dis- 
 covered, and guided by habits of frankness, which, when 
 once rooted in a character, it is difficult to counteract, told 
 Mr. Falkland every thing that had passed, together with 
 the remarks it had suggested to his own mind. Mr. Falk- 
 land received the communication with an ambiguous and 
 studied silence, which by no means operated to my advan- 
 tage in the already poisoned mind of Mr. Forester. His 
 silence was partly the direct consequence of a mind watch- 
 fiil, inquisitive, and doubting ; and partly "perhaps was 
 adopted for the sake of the effect it was calculated to pro - 
 duce, Mr. Falkland not being unwilling to encourage pre- 
 judices against a character which might one day come in 
 competition with his own. 
 
 As to me, I went home indeed, for this was not a moment 
 to resist. Mr. Falkland, with a premeditation to which he 
 had given the appearance of accident, had taken care to 
 
2W CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 send with me a guard (o attend upon his prisoner. I 
 seemed as if conducting to one ol" those fortresses, famed 
 in the history of despotism, from which the wretched vic- 
 tim is never know n to come forth ahve ; and when 1 en- 
 tered my chainbei-, I felt as if I were entering a dungeon. 
 1 reflected that I was at the mercy of a man, exasperated at 
 my disobedience, and who was already formed to cruelty 
 by successive murders. My prospects were now closed ; 
 I was cut off for ever from pursuits that I had meditated 
 with ineffable delight ; my death might be the event of a 
 few hours. I was a victim at the shrine of conscious guilt, 
 that knew neither rest nor satiety ; I should be blotted 
 from the catalogue of the living, and my fate remain eter- 
 nally a secret ; the man who added my murder to his 
 former crimes, would shovi' himself the next morning, and 
 be hailed with the admiration and applause of his species. 
 
 In the midst of these terrible imaginations, one idea pre- 
 sented itself that alleviated my feehngs. This was the 
 recollection of the strange and unaccountable tranquillity 
 which Mr. Falkland had manifested, when he discovered 
 me in company w ith Mr. Forester. I was not deceived by 
 this. I knew that the calm was temporary, and would be 
 succeeded by a tumult and whirlw ind of the most dreadful 
 sort. But a man under the pow er of such terroi's as now 
 occupied me catches at every reed. I said to myself, 
 " This tranquillity is a period it is incumbent upon me to 
 improve ; the shorter its duration may be found, the more 
 speedy am I obliged to be in the use of it." In a word, I 
 took the resolution, because I already stood in fear of the 
 vengeance of Mr. Falkland, to risk the possibility of pro- 
 voking it in a degree still more inexpiable, and terminate 
 at once my present slate of uncertainty. I had now opened 
 my case to Mr. Forester, and he had given me positive 
 assurances of his protection. I determined immediately 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 203 
 
 to address the following letter to Mr. Falkland. The con- 
 sideration that, if he meditated any thing tragical, such a 
 letter would only tend to confirm him, did not enter into 
 the present feelings of my mind. 
 
 " Sir, 
 " I have conceived the intention of quitting your service. 
 This is a measure we ought both of us to desire. I shall 
 then be, what it is my duty to be, master of my own actions. 
 You will be delivered from the presence of a person, whom 
 you cannot prevail upon yourself to behold without un- 
 pleasing emotions. 
 
 " Why should you subject me to an eternal penance ? 
 Why should you consign my youthful hopes to suffering 
 and despair ? Consult the principles of humanity that have 
 marked the general course of your proceedings, and do not 
 let me, I entreat you, be made the subject of a useless se- 
 verity. My heart is impressed with gratitude for your fa- 
 vours. I sincerely ask your forgiveness for the many errors 
 of my conduct. I consider the treatment I have received 
 under your roof, as one almost uninterrupted scene of 
 kindness and generosity. I shall never forget my obliga- 
 tions to you, and will never betray them. 
 " I remain, sir, 
 
 " Your most grateful, respectful, 
 '* and dutiful servant, 
 
 " Caleb Williams." 
 
 Such was my employment of the evening of a day which 
 will be ever memorable in the history of my hfe. Mr. 
 Falkland not being yet returned, though expected every 
 hour, I was induced to make use of the pretence of fatigue 
 to avoid an interview. I went to bed. It may be imagined 
 that my slumbers were neither deep nor refreshing. 
 
204 TALF-R WILLIAMS. 
 
 The nr\t morning I was informed that my patron d\d 
 not come homo till late ; that he had enquired for me, and, 
 being tokl (hat ! was in bed, had said nothing further upon 
 the subject. Salislied in lliis respect, I went to the break- 
 fasting parlour, and, tliough full of anxiety and trepidation, 
 endeavoured to busy myself in arranging the books, and a 
 few other httle occupations, till Mr. Falkland should 'come 
 down. After a short time I heard his step, which 1 per- 
 fectly well knew how to distinguish, m the passage. Pre- 
 sently he stopped, and, speaking to some one in a sort of 
 deliberate, but smothered voice, I overheard him repeat 
 my name as enquiring for me. In conformity to the plan I 
 had persuaded myself to adopt, I now laid the letter 1 had 
 written upon the table at which he usually sat, and made 
 my exit at one door as Mr. Falkland entered at the other. 
 This done, I withdrew, with llutterings and palpitation, to 
 a private apartment, a sort of light closet at the end of the 
 library, where I was accustomed not unfrequenlly to sif. 
 
 I had not been here three minutes, when I heard the 
 voice of Mr. Falkland calling me. I went to him in the li- 
 brary. His manner was that of a man labouring with some 
 dreadful thought, and endeavouring to give an air of care- 
 lessness and insensibility to his behaviour. Perhaps no 
 carriage of any other sort could have produced a sensation 
 of such inexplicable horror, or have excited, in the person 
 who was its object, such anxious uncertainty about the 
 event. — " That is your letter," said he, throwing it. 
 
 " My lad," continued he, " 1 believe now you have plajed 
 all your (ricks, and the Hirce is nearly at an end! Willi 
 your apishncss and absurdity,how ever, you have Uiw^hl me 
 one thing; and, whereas before I have winced at them 
 with foiliue, I am now as tough as an elephant. I shall 
 crush you in (he end with the same ihdiflerenre, thai ( 
 uoidd any odier liKle inscc( (ha( disturbed my serenity. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. . 205 j 
 
 "I am unable to tell what brought about your meethig J 
 
 with Mr. Forester yesterday. It might be design ; it might • 
 
 be accident. But, I shall not forget it. You write me i 
 
 here, that you are desirous to quit my service. To that 
 I have a short answer : You never shall quit it with life. 
 If you attempt it, you shall never cease to rue your folly a$ " 
 
 long as you exist. That is my will ; and I will not hav4 y^^"^' 
 it resisted. The very next time you disobey me in that 
 or any other article, there is an end of your vagaries for 
 ever. Perhaps your situation may be a pitiable one ; it j : 
 
 is for you to look to that, I only know that it is in your \ 
 
 power to prevent its growing worse ; no time nor chance ; 
 
 shall ever make it better. i 
 
 " Do not imagine I am afraid of you ! I wear an armour, 
 against which all your weapons are impotent. I have dug | 
 
 a pit for you ; and whichever way you move, backward or ] 
 
 forward, to the right or the left, it is ready to swallow you. ] 
 
 Be still! If once you fall, call as loud as you will, no man ^ 
 
 on earth shall hear your cries ; prepare a tale however : 
 
 plausible, or how ever true, the whole world shall execrate j 
 
 you for an impostor. Your innocence shall be of no service 
 to you ; I l^ugh at so feeble a defence. It is I that say it ; ' • 
 
 you may believe what I tell you. — Do you not know, mise- 
 rable wretch I" added he, suddenly altering his tone, and 
 stamping upon the ground with fury, "that I have sworn tOj 
 preserve my reputation, whatever be the expense ; that I 
 love it more than the whole world and its inhabitants taken ^f^Sf^ 
 together? And do you think that you shall wound it? V 
 Begone, miscreant ! reptile ! and cease to contend with in- 
 surmountable power !" 
 
 The part of my history which I am now relating is that 
 which I reflect upon with the least complacency. Why was 
 it, that I was once more totally overcome by the i)nperious 
 carriage of Mr. Falkland, and imable to utter a word ? The 
 
«M CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 reader will be presented ^\ ith many occasions in the sequel 
 in which I wanted neither facility in the invention of expe- 
 dients, nor fortitude in entering upon my justification. Per- 
 secution at length gave firmness to my character, and taught 
 me the better part of manhood. But in the present in- 
 stance I was irresolute, overawed, and abashed. 
 
 The speech I had heard was the dictate of frenzy, and it 
 created in me a similar frenzy. It determined me to do 
 the very thing against which I was thus solemnly warned, 
 and fly from my patron's house. I could not enter into 
 parley with him ; I could no longer endure the vile subju- 
 gation he imposed on me. It was in vain that my reason 
 warned me of the rashness of a measure, to be taken without 
 concert or preparation. I seemed to be in a state in which 
 reason had no power. I felt as if I could coolly survey 
 the several arguments of the case, perceive that they had 
 prudence, truth, and common sense on their side; and then 
 answer, I am under the guidance of a director more ener- 
 getic than you. 
 
 I was not long in executing what I had thus rapidly de- 
 termined. 1 fixed on the evening of that very day as the 
 period of my evasion. Even in this short interval I had 
 perhaps sufficient time for deliberation. But all oppor- 
 tunity was useless to me; my mind was fixed, and each 
 succeeding moment only increased the unspeakable eager- 
 ness with which I meditated my escape. The hours usually 
 observed by our family in this country residence were re- 
 gular ; and one in the morning \\ as the time I selected for 
 my undertaking. 
 
 In searching llic apartment v here I slept, I had formerly 
 discovered a contiealed door, '^hich led to a small apart- 
 ment of the most secret nature, not uncommon in houses so 
 old as that of Mr. Falkland, and which had perhaps ser>'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 <lelcrmined at least to proceed to tlie imi, 
 and make the necessary enquiries. 
 
 I no sooner heard the sound of the horse as I entered 
 the yard, and the question proposed to me hy the rider, 
 than tlic dreadful certainty of what I feared instantly took 
 possession of my mind. Every incident connected with my 
 late abhorred situation was calculated to impress me with 
 the deepest alarm. My first thought was, to betake myseU 
 to the fields, and trust to the swiftness of my flight for 
 safety. But this was scarcely practicable : I remarked that 
 my enemy was alone ; and I believed that, man to man, 1 
 might reasonably hope to get the better of him, either by 
 the firmness of my determination, or the subth^ty of my 
 invention. 
 
 Thus resolved, I replied in an impetuous and peremptory 
 tone, that I was the man he took me for; adding, " I guess 
 your errand ; but it is to no purpose. You come to con- 
 duct mc back to Falkland House ; but no force shall ever 
 drag me to that place alive. I have not taken my resolution 
 without strong reasons ; and all the w orld shall not per- 
 suade me to alter it. I am an Englishman, and it is the 
 privilege of an Enghshman to be sole judge and master of 
 his own actions." 
 
 " You are in the devil of a hurry," replied the man, " to 
 guess my intentions, and tell your own. But your guess is 
 right; and mayhap you may have reason to be thankful 
 that my errand is not something worse. Sure enough the 
 Squire expects you ; — but I have a letter, and when you 
 have read that, I suppose you will come ofla little of your 
 stoutness. Ifthat does not answer, it will then be time to 
 think what is to l)e done next." 
 
 Thus saying, ho gave mc his letter, which was from i\Ir. 
 Forester, whom, as he told me, he had left at Mr. Falk- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. iVi 
 
 iand's house. I went into a room of the inn for the purpose 
 of reading it, and was followed by the bearer. The letter 
 w as as follows : — 
 
 " Williams, 
 " My brother Falkland has sent the bearer in pursuit of 
 you. He expects that, if found, you will return with him : 
 I expect it too. It is of the utmost consequence to your 
 future honour and character. After reading these lines, if 
 you are a villain and a rascal, you will perhaps endeavour to 
 lly ; if your conscience tells you you are innocent, you will, 
 out of all doubt, come back. Show me then whether I 
 have been your dupe; and, while I was won over by your 
 seeming ingenuousness, have suffered myself to be made 
 the tool of a designing knave. If you come, Tpledge my- 
 self that, if you clear your reputation, you shall not only be 
 free to go wherever you please, but shall receive every 
 assistance in my power to give. Remember I engage for 
 nothing further than that. 
 
 " Valentine Forester." 
 
 What a letter was this ! To a mind like mine, glowing 
 with the love of virtue, such an address was strong enough 
 to draw the person to whom it was addressed from one end 
 of the earth to the other. My mind was full of confidence 
 and energy. I felt my own innocence, and was determined 
 to assert it. I was willing to be driven out a fugitive ; I 
 even rejoiced in my escape, and cheerfully went out into 
 the world destitute of every provision, and depending for 
 my future prospects upon my own ingenuity. 
 
 Thus much, said I, Falkland ! you may do. Dispose ot 
 me as you please with respect to the goods of fortune ; but 
 you shall neither make prize of my liberty, nor sully the 
 whiteness of my name. I repassed in my thoughts every 
 
214 CALEB WILLUMS. 
 
 memorable incident that had happened to me under his 
 roof. I could recollect nothing, except the affair of the 
 mysterious trunk, out of which the shadow of a criminal 
 accusation could be extorted. In that instance my conduct 
 had been highly reprehensible, and I had never looked 
 back upon it without remorse and self-condenmation. But 
 1 did not believe that it was of the nature of those actions 
 which can be brought under legal censure. 1 could still 
 less persuade. myself that Mr. Falkland, who shuddered at 
 the very possibility of detection, and who considered him- 
 self as completely in my pow er, would dare to bring for- 
 ward a subject so closely connected with the internal agony 
 of his soul. In a word, the more I reflected on the phrases 
 of Mr. Forester's billet, the less could 1 imagine the nature 
 of those scenes to which they were to serve as a prelude. 
 The inscrutableness, however, of the mystery they con- 
 tained, did not sufBce to overwhelm my courage. My 
 mind seemed to undergo an entire revolution. Timid 
 and embarrassed as I had felt myself, when I regarded 
 Mr. Falkland as my clandestine and domestic foe, I now 
 conceived that the case was entirely altered. " Meet me," 
 said I, " as an open accuser : if we must contend, let us 
 contend in the face of day ; and then, unparalleled as your 
 resources may be, I will not fear you." Innocence and 
 guilt were, in my apprehension, the things in the whole 
 world the most opposite to each othei-. I would not 
 sufler myself to believe, that the former could be con- 
 lounded with the latter, unless the innocent man first al- 
 lowed himself to be subdued in mind, before he was de- 
 Irauded of the good opinion of mankind. Virtue rising 
 superior to every calamity, defeating by a plain unvarnished 
 tale all the stratagems of vice, and (hrowiui; ba(^k u|)on 
 her adversary llic confusion with which he had hoped to 
 ov«'ruhclm her, was cuic of llic favotnilc subjects of my 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 215 
 
 youthful reveries. I determined never to prove an in- 
 strument of destruction to Mr. Falkland ; but I was not less 
 resolute to obtain justice to myself. 
 
 The issue of all these confident hopes I shall imme- 
 diately have occasion to relate. It was thus, with the most 
 generous and undoubting spirit, that I rushed upon irre- 
 trievable ruin. 
 
 " Friend," said I to the bearer, after a considerable in- 
 terval of silence, "you are right. This is, indeed, an 
 extraordinary letter you have brought me ; but it answers 
 its purpose. I will certainly go with you now, whatever be 
 the consequence. No person shall ever impute blame to 
 me, so long as I have it in my power to clear myself." 
 
 I felt, in the circumstances in which I was placed by 
 Mr. Forester's letter, not merely a willingness, but an 
 alacrity and impatience, to return. We procured a second 
 horse. We proceeded on our journey in silence. My mind 
 was occupied again in endeavouring to account for Mr. 
 Forester's letter. I knew the inflexibility and sternness of 
 Mr. Falkland's mind in accomplishing the purposes he had 
 at heart ; but I also knew that every virtuous and magna- 
 nimous principle was congenial to his character. 
 
 When we arrived, midnight was already past, and we 
 were obliged to waken one of the servants to give us ad- 
 mittance. I found that Mr. Forester had left a message 
 for me, in consideration of the possibility of my arrival 
 during the night, directing me immediately to go to bed, 
 and to take care that I did not come weary and exhausted 
 to the business of the following day. I endeavoured to 
 take his advice; but my slumbers were unrefreshing and 
 disturbed. I suffered, however, no reduction of courage : 
 the singularity of my situation, my conjectures with respect 
 to the present, my eagerness for the future, did not allow 
 me to sink into a languid and inactive state. 
 
216 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 Next niorniug the lirst person 1 saw was Mv. Forester- 
 He told me that he did not yet know what Mr. Falkland 
 had to allege against me, for that he had refused to know . 
 lie had airived at the house of his brother hy appoint- 
 ment on the preceding day to settle some indispensable 
 business, his intention having been to depart the moment 
 the business was finished, as he knew that conduct on his 
 part would be most agreeable to JMr. Falkland. But he w as 
 no sooner come, than he found the whole house in con- 
 fusion, the alarm of my elopement having been given a few 
 hours before. Mr. Falkland had despatched servants in 
 all directions in pursuit of me ; and the servant from the 
 market-town arrived at the same moment with 3Ir. Forester, 
 with intelligence that a person answering the description 
 he gave, had been there very early in the morning enquir- 
 ing respecting the stage to London. 
 
 Mr. Falkland seemed extremely disturbed at this infor- 
 mation, and exclaimed on me w ith acrimony, as an unthank- 
 ful and unnatural villain. 
 
 Mr. Forester replied, " Have more command of your- 
 self, sir! Villain is a serious appellation, and must not be 
 trifled with. Englishmen are free ; and no man is to be 
 charged with villainy, because he changes one source of 
 subsistence for another." 
 
 Mr. Falkland shook his head, and w ith a smile, expressive 
 of acute sensibiUty, said, "Brother, brother, you are the 
 dupe of his art. I always considered him with an eye of 
 suspicion, and was aware of his depravity. But I have 
 
 just discovered " 
 
 "Stop,sir!" interrupted Mr. Forester. "1 own I thought 
 that, in a nu)mcnt of acrimony, you might be employing 
 harsh epithets in a soit of random style. But if you luivo 
 a serious accusation to state, we must not be told of that, 
 till it is known wholhcr the lad is within reach of a hearing. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 217 
 
 I am indifferent myself about the good opinion of others. 
 It is what the world bestows and retracts with so httle 
 thought, that I can make no account of its decision. But 
 that does not authorise me lightly to entertain an ill opinion 
 of another. The slenderest allowance I think I can niake 
 to such as I consign to be the example and terror of their 
 species, is that of being heard in their own defence. It is 
 a wise principle that requires the judge to come into court 
 uninformed of the merits of the cause he is to try; and to 
 that principle I am determined to conform as an individual. 
 I shall always think it right to be severe and inflexible in 
 my treatment of offenders ; but the severity 1 exercise in 
 the sequel, must be accompanied with impartiality and cau- 
 tion in what is preliminary." 
 
 While Mr. Forester related to me these particulars, he 
 observed me ready to breakout into some of the expressions 
 which the narrative suggested; but he would not suffer 
 me to speak. "No," said he; "I would not hear Mr. 
 Falkland against you ; and I cannot hear you in your 
 defence. I come to you at present to speak, and not to 
 hear. I thought it right to warn you of your danger, but 
 I have nothing more to do now. Reserve what you have 
 to say to the proper time. Make the best story ^you can 
 for yourself — true, if truth, as I hope, will serve your pur- 
 pose: but if not, the most plausible and ingenious you can 
 invent. That is what self-defence requires from every 
 man, where, as it always happens to a man upon his trial, 
 he has the whole world against him, and has his own battle 
 to fight against the world. Farewell; and God send you 
 a good deliverance ! If Mr. Falkland's accusation, whatever 
 it be, shall appear premature, depend upon having me 
 more zealously your friend than ever. If not, this is the 
 last act of friendship you will ever receive from me !" 
 
 It may be believed that this address, so singular, so so- 
 
218 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 lemn, so big with conditional menace, did not greatly lend 
 to encourage nie. I was totally ignorant of the charge to 
 be advanced against nie; and not a little astonished, when 
 it was in my power to be in the most formidable degree 
 the accuser of Mr, Falkland, to find the principles of equity 
 so completely reversed, as for the innocent but instructed 
 individual to be the party accused and suffering, instead of 
 having, as was natural, the real criminal at his mercy, i 
 was still more astonisned at the superhuman power Mr. 
 Falkland seemed to possess, of bringing the object of his 
 persecution within the sphere of his authority ; a reilection 
 attended with some check to that eagerness and boldness 
 of spirit, which now constituted the ruling passion of my 
 mind. 
 
 IJut this was no time for lAeditation. To the sufferer 
 the course of events is taken out of his direction, and he is 
 hurried along with, an irresistible force, without finding it 
 within the compass of his efforts to check their rapidity. I 
 was allowed only a short time to recollect myself, when 
 my trial commenced. 1 was conducted to the library, 
 where 1 had passed so many happy and so many contem- 
 plative hours, and found there Mr. Forester and three or 
 four of the servants already assembled, in expectation of 
 me and my accuser. Every thing was calculated to suggest 
 to me that I must trust only in the justice of the parties con- 
 cerned, and had nothing to hope from their indulgence, 
 Mr. I'^alkiaiui entered at one door, ahnost as soon as I 
 entered at (he other. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 219 
 
 77 
 
 i/o-L 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 He began : " It has been the principle of my hfe, never 
 to inflict a wilful injury upon any thing that lives ; I need 
 not express my regret, when I find myself obliged to be 
 the promulgator of a criminal charge. How gladly would 
 I pass unnoticed the evil I have sustained ; but I owe it to 
 society to detect an offender, and prevent other men from 
 being imposed upon, as I have been, by an appearance of 
 integrity." 
 
 " It would be better," interrupted Mr. Forester, " to speak 
 directly to the point. We ought not, though unwarily, by 
 apologising for ourselves, to create at such a time a pre- 
 judice against an individual, against whom a criminal accu- 
 sation will always be prejudice enough." 
 
 "I strongly suspect," continued Mr. Falkland, "this young 
 man, who has been peculiarly the object of my kindness, of 
 having robbed me to a considerable amount." 
 
 " What," rephed Mr. Forester, "are the grounds of your 
 suspicion ?" 
 
 " The first of them is the actual loss I have sustained, in i/^ 
 notes, jewels, and plate. I have missed bank-notes to the ^"^ 
 amount of nine hundred pounds, three gold repeaters of 
 considerable value, a complete set of diamonds, the pro- 
 perty of my late mother, and several other articles." 
 
 " And why," continued my arbitrator, astonishment, 
 grief, and a desire to retain his self-possession, strongly 
 contending in his countenance and voice, " do you fix on 
 this young man as the instrument of (he depredation ?" 
 
2S0 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 " 1 found him, on uiy coming home, upon the day when 
 every thing was in disorder from the alarm of fire, in the 
 very act of quitting the private apartment where these 
 articles were deposited. He was confounded at seeing me, 
 and hastened to witlidraw as soon as he possibly could." 
 
 " Did you say nothing to him — take no notice of the con- 
 fusion your sudden appearance produced?" 
 
 "I asked what \\as his errand in that place. He was at 
 lirst so terrified and overcome that he could not answer 
 me. Afterwards, with a good deal of faltering, he said 
 that, when all the servants were engaged in endeavouring 
 to save the most valuable part of my property, he had come 
 hither with the same view ; but that he had as yet rcniON ed 
 nothing." 
 
 " Did you immediately examine to see that every thing 
 was safe ?" 
 
 "No. I was accustomed to confide in his honesty; and 
 I was suddenly called away, in the present instance, to 
 attend to the increasing progress of the flames. I there- 
 fore only took out the key from the door of the apartment, 
 having first locked it, and, putting it in my pocket, hast- 
 ened to go where my presence seemed indispensably ne- 
 cessary." 
 
 " How long was it before you missed your property ?" 
 
 " The same evening. The hurry ol the scene had driven 
 the circumstance entirely out of my mind, till, going by 
 accident near the apartment, the whole affair, together with 
 the singular and equivocal behaviour of \\illiams, rushed 
 at once upon my recollection. I inunediately entered, ex- 
 amined the trunk in which these things were contained, 
 and, to my astonihlunent, found the locks broken, and the 
 pr()|)erty gone." 
 
 "What sUj)?, <lul ym take upon (his <liscovery?" 
 
 " I sent fill- Williams and (alkrd to him verv seriousK 
 
CALEB WILLI A •>>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 bey<md the reach of 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 223 
 
 justice, it was better to have bespoken a place in your pa- 
 tronage than to be destitute of every resource." 
 
 Mr. Falkland having thus finished his evidence, called 
 upon Robert, the valet, to confirm the part of it which 
 related to the day of the fire. 
 
 Robert stated, that he happened to be coming through 
 the library that day, a few minutes after Mr. Falkland's 
 being brought home by the sight of the fire ; that he had 
 found me standing there with every mark of perturbation 
 and fright ; that he could not help stopping to notice it ; 
 that he had spoken to me two or three times before he 
 could obtain an answer : and that all he could get from 
 me at last was, that I was the most miserable creature 
 alive. 
 
 He further said, that in the evening of the same day 
 M. Falkland called him into the private apartment adjoin- 
 ing to the library, and bid him bring a hammer and some 
 nails. He then showed him a trunk standing in the apart- 
 ment with its locks and fastenings broken, and ordered him 
 to observe and remember what he saw, but not to men- 
 tion it to any one. Robert did not at that time know what 
 Mr. Falkland intended by these directions, which were given 
 in a manner uncommonly solemn and significant ; but he 
 entertained no doubt, that the fastenings were broken and 
 wrenched by the application of a chisel or such-like in- 
 strument, with the intention of forcibly opening the trunk. 
 
 Mr. Forester observed upon this evidence, that as much 
 of it as related to the day of the fire seemed indeed to 
 afford powerful reasons for suspicion ; and that the cir- 
 cumstances that had occurred since strangely concurred to 
 fortify that suspicion. Meantime, that nothing proper to 
 be done might be omitted, he asked whether in my flight I 
 had removed my boxes, to see wliether by that means any 
 trace could be discovered to confirm the imputation. Mr, 
 
2-24 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 Falkland treated this suggestion slightly, saying, that if I 
 were the ihief, I had no doubt taken the precaution to 
 obviate so palpable a means of detection. To tWs Mi: 
 Forester only replied, that conjecture, however skilfully 
 formed, was not ah^ays realised in the actions and be- 
 haviour of mankind ; and ordered that my boxes and 
 trunks, if found, should be brought into the library. I 
 listened to this suggestion with pleasure, and, uneasy and 
 confounded as I was at the appearances combined against 
 me, I trusted in this appeal to give a new face to my cause. 
 I was eager to declare the place where my property was 
 deposited; and the servants, guided by my direction, pre- 
 sently produced what was enquired for. 
 
 The two boxes that were first opened, contained nothing 
 to confirm the accusation against me ; in the third were 
 found a watch and several jewels, that were immediately 
 known to be the property of Mr. Falkland. The produc- 
 tion of this seemingly decisive evidence excited emotions 
 of astonishment and concern; but no person's astonish- 
 ment appeared to be greater than that of Mr. Falkland. 
 That 1 should have left the stolen goods behind me, would 
 of itself have appeared incredible ; but when it was con- 
 sidered what a secure place of concealment I had found 
 for them, the wonder diminished ; and Mr. Forester ob- 
 served, that it was by no means impossible 1 might con- 
 ceive it easier to obtain possession of them afterwai-ds, 
 than to remove them at the period of my precipitate 
 flight. 
 
 Here, however, I thought it necessary to interfere. I 
 fervently ingcd my right to a fair and impartial con- 
 struction. I asked IMr. Forester, whether it were pro- 
 bable, if I had stolen these thiugs, (hat I should not have 
 contrived, at least, to remove them along with u\c? And 
 again, whether, if I had hvcu n)iis(i«)us thev wouM br 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. iij 
 
 found among my property, I should myself have indicated 
 the place where I had concealed it ? 
 
 The insinuation I conveyed against Mr. Forester's im- 
 partiality overspread his whole countenance, for an in- 
 stant, with the flush of anger. 
 
 " Impartiality, young man ! Yes, be sure, from me you 
 shall experience an impartial treatment ! God send that 
 may answ er your purpose ! Presently you shall be heard 
 at full in your ow n defence. 
 
 " You expect us to believe you innocent, because you 
 did not remove these things along with you. The money 
 is removed. Where, sir, is that? We cannot answer 
 for the inconsistences and oversights of any human mind, 
 and, least of all, if that mind should appear to be dis- 
 turbed w ith the consciousness of guilt. 
 
 " You observe that it was by your ow n direction these 
 boxes and trunks have been found : that is indeed ex- 
 traordinary. It appears little less than infatuation. But 
 to what purpose appeal to probabilities and conjecture, in 
 the face of incontestable facts ? There, sir, are the boxes : 
 you alone knew where they were to be found ; you alone 
 had the keys : tell us then how this watch and these jewels 
 came to be contained in them ?" 
 
 I w as silent. 
 
 To the rest of the persons present 1 seemed to be 
 merely the subject of detection ; but in reality I was, of all 
 the spectators, that individual who was most at a loss to 
 conceive, through every stage of the scene, what whould 
 come next, and who listened to every word that was ut- 
 tered w ith the most uncontrollable amazement. Amaze- 
 ment, however, alternately yielded to indignation and 
 horror. At first I could not refrain from repeatedly at 
 tempting to interrupt ; but I was checked in these attempts 
 by Mr. Forester ; and I presently felt how necessary it was 
 
V2ii CALEIJ WILLIAMS 
 
 to my liituir peace, thai I should collect tlie whole energy 
 of my iniutl to repel the charge, and assert my innocence. 
 
 Every thing being now produced that could be produced 
 against me, Mr. Forester turned to me with a look of con- 
 cern and pity, and told me that now was the time, if I 
 chose to allege any thing in my defence. In reply to this 
 invitation, 1 spoke nearly as follows : — 
 
 " I am innocent. It is in vain that circumstances are ac- 
 cumulated against me; there is not a person upon earth 
 less capable than I of the things of which I am accused. I 
 appeal to my heart — I appeal to my looks — I appeal to 
 every sentiment my tongue ever uttered." 
 
 I could perceive that the fervour with which I spoke 
 made some impression upon every one that heard me. 
 But in a moment their eyes were turned upon the property 
 that lay before them, and their countenances changed. I 
 proceeded : — 
 
 "One thing more I must aver; — Mr. Falkland is not de 
 ceivcd; he perfectly knows that I am innocent." 
 
 I had no sooner uttered these words, than an involun- 
 tary cry of indignation burst from every person in the room. 
 Mr. Forestci- turned to me with a look of extreme severity, 
 and said — 
 
 "Young man, consider well what you arc doing! It is 
 the privilege of the parly accused to say whatever he thinks 
 |)roper ; and I will take care that you shall enjoy that pri- 
 vilege in its utmost extent. Hut do you think it will con- 
 duce in any respect to your bcnelit, to throw out such in- 
 solent and intolerable insinuations?"'^ 
 
 " I thank yon most sincerely," replied I, " for your cau- 
 tion ; but I wt'il know what it is I am doing. I make this 
 dtularation, not merely because it is solemnly true, but be- 
 cause it is insrpaiably ronnected with my vindication. I 
 ;un the party accused, au«l I shall be (old (hat I am not (<» 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 227 
 
 be believed in my own defence. I can produce no other 
 witnesses of my innocence ; I therefore call upon Mr, Falk- 
 land to be my evidence. I ask him — 
 
 " Did you never boast to me in private of your power to 
 ruin me ? Did you never say that, if once I brought on 
 myself the weight of your displeasure, my fall should be 
 irreparable ? Did you not tell me that, though I should 
 prepare iu that case a tale however plausible or however 
 true, you would take care that the whole world should 
 execrate me as an impostor ? Were not those your very 
 words ? Did you not add, that my innocence should be 
 of no service to me, and that you laughed at so feeble a 
 defence ? I ask you further, — Did you not receive a letter 
 from me the morning of the day on which I departed, 
 requesting your consent to my departure ? Should I have 
 done that if my flight had been that of a thief? I chal- 
 lenge any man to reconcile the expressions of that letter 
 with this accusation. Should I have begun with stating 
 that I had conceived a desire to quit your service, if my 
 desire and the reasons for it, had been of the nature that is 
 now alleged ? Should I have dared to ask for what reason 
 I was thus subjected to an eternal penance ? " 
 
 Saying this, I took out a copy of my letter, and laid it 
 open upon the table. 
 
 Mr. Falldand returned no immediate answer to my inter- 
 rogations. Mr. Forester turned to him, and said, " Well, 
 sir, what is your reply to this challenge of your servant?" 
 
 Mr. Falkland answered, " Such a mode of defence 
 scarcely calls for a reply. But I answer, I held no such 
 conversation ; I never used such words ; I received no such 
 letter. Surely it is no sufficient refutation of a criminal 
 charge, that the criminal repels what is alleged against him 
 with volubility of speech, and intrepidity of manner." 
 
 Mr, Forester then turned to me : " If," said he, " you 
 
 15* 
 
228 CALEB WILLLVMS. 
 
 trust your vindication to the plausibility of your tale, you 
 must take care to render it consistent and complete. You 
 liavc not told us what was the cause of the confusion and 
 anxiety in which Kobcrt professes to have found you, 
 why you were so impatient to quit the service of Mr. Falk- 
 land, or how you account for certain articles of his pro- 
 perty being found in your possession.'' 
 
 "All that, sir," answered I, " is true. There are certain 
 parts of my story that I have not told. If they were told, 
 ihcy would not conduce to my disadvantage, and they would 
 make the present accusation appear still more astonishing. 
 lUit I cannot, as yet at least, prevail upon myself to tell 
 (hem. Is it necessary to give any particular and precise 
 reasons why I should wish to change the place of my re- 
 sidence ? You all of you know the unfortunate state of 
 Mr. Falkland's mind. You know the sternness, reserved- 
 ncss, and distance of his manners. If I had no other 
 reasons, surely it would alforcl small presumption of cri- 
 minality that I should wish to change his service for 
 another. 
 
 " The question of how these articles of Mr. Falkland's 
 property came to be found in my possession, is more ma- 
 terial. It is a question I am wholly unable to answer. 
 Their being found there, was at least as unexpected to me 
 as to any one of the persons now present. 1 only know 
 that, as I have the most perfect assurance of Mr. Falkland's 
 being conscious of my innocence — for, observe ! 1 do not 
 sihrink from that assertion ; I reiterate it with new con- 
 fidence — 1 therefore iirmly and from my soul believe, that 
 their being there is of Mr. Falkland's contrivance." 
 
 I no sooner said this, than I was again interrupted by 
 an involuntary exclamation from every one present. They 
 looked at me with furious glances, as if they could have 
 torn me to pieces. I proceeded : — 
 
CALEB WILLUMS. 229 
 
 " I have now answered every thing that is alleged against 
 me. 
 
 " 3Ir. Forester, you are a lover of justice ; I conjure 
 you not to violate it in my person. You are a man of pe- 
 netration ; look at me ! do you see any of the marks of 
 guilt ? Recollect all that has ever passed imder your ob- 
 servation ; is it compatible with a mind capable of what is 
 now alleged against me ? Could a real criminal have shown 
 himself so unabashed, composed, and firm as I have now 
 done? 
 
 " Fellow-servants ! Mr. Falkland is a man of rank and 
 fortune; he is your master. I am a poor country lad, 
 without a friend in the world. That is a ground of real 
 difference to a certain extent; but it is not a sufficient 
 ground for the subversion of justice. Remember, that I 
 am in a situation that is not to be trifled with ; that a de- 
 cision given against me now, in a case in which I solemnly 
 assure you I am innocent, will for ever deprive me of re- 
 putation and peace of mind, combine the whole world in 
 a league against me, and determine perhaps upon my 
 liberty and my life. If you believe — if you see — if you 
 know, that I am innocent, speak for me. Do not suffier a 
 pusillanimous timidity to prevent you from saving a fel- 
 low-creature from destruction, who does not deserve to 
 have a human being for his enemy. Why have we the 
 power of speech, but to communicate our thoughts ? I 
 will never believe that a man, conscious of innocence, can- 
 not make other men perceive that he has that thought. 
 Do not you feel that my whole heart tells me, I am not 
 guilty of w hat is imputed to me ? 
 
 " To you, ]>Ir, 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 <lirection of your 
 fate, but it \\i!l m-ver be able to prevail against plain and 
 incontroverliiiU- lads. |{,it I have done with you. I see 
 in you a new iu.slauct- of that abuse which is so generally 
 made of talents, the admiration of an undiscerning public. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. '23$ 
 
 I regard you with horror. All that remains is, that I 
 should discharge my duty, in consigning you, as a monster 
 of depravity, to the justice of your country." 
 
 "No," rejoined Mr. Falkland, "to that I can never con- 
 sent. I have put a restraint upon myself thus far, because 
 it was right that evidence and enquiry should take their 
 course. I have suppressed all my habits and sentiments, 
 because it seemed due to the public that hypocrisy should 
 be unmasked. But I can suffer this violence no longer. 
 I have through my whole life interfered to protect, not 
 overbear, the sufferer; and I must do so now. I feel not 
 the smallest resentment of his impotent attacks upon my 
 character; I smile at their malice; and they make no di- 
 minution in ray benevolence to their author. Let him say 
 what he pleases ; he cannot hurt me. It was proper that 
 he should be brought to pubUc shame, that other people 
 might not be deceived by him as we have been. But there 
 is no necessity for proceeding further; and I must insist 
 upon it that he be permitted to depart wherever he pleases. 
 I am sorry that public interest affords so gloomy a prospect 
 for his future happiness." 
 
 " Mr, Falkland," answered Mr. Forester, " these sen- 
 timents do honour to your humanity ; but I must not give 
 way to them. They only serve to set in a stronger light 
 the venom of this serpent, this monster of ingratitude, who 
 first robs his benefactor, and then reviles him. Wretch 
 that you are, will nothing move you ? Are you inaccessible 
 to remorse ? Are you not struck to the heart with the 
 unmerited goodness of your master ? Vile calumniator ! 
 you are the abhorrence oX nature, the opprobrium of the 
 human species, and the earth can only be freed from an 
 insupportable burthen by your being exterminated ! Re- 
 collect, sir, that tliis monster, at the very moment that you 
 are exercising such unexampled forbearance in his behalf. 
 
 X 
 
m CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 has the presumption (o charge you witli prosecuting a 
 crime of which y(ni know hiin to be innocent, nay, with 
 having conveyed the pretended stolen goods among his 
 property, for the express purpose of ruining him. By this 
 unexampled villany, he makes it your duty to free the 
 world from such a pest, and your interest to admit no re- 
 laxing in your pursuit of him, lest the world should be 
 persuaded by your clemency to credit his vile insinuations." 
 " I care not for the consequences," replied Mr. Falk- 
 land ; " I will obey the dictates of my own mind. I will 
 never lend my assistance to the reforming mankind by axes 
 and gibbets. I am sure things will never he as they ought, 
 till honour, and not law, be the dictator of mankind ; till 
 vice be taught to shrink before the resistless might of inborn 
 dignity, and not before the cold formality of statutes. If 
 my calumniator were worthy of my resentment, I would 
 chastise him w ith my own sword, and not that of the ma- 
 ^^istiate ; but in the present case 1 smile at his malice, and 
 resolve to spare him, as the generous lord of the forest 
 si)arcs the insect that would disturb his repose." 
 
 " The language you now hold," said i>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<l discernment, who is willing to 
 comiiiii bi> 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<i make it, is only the worthy sequel of such a beginning. 
 What chance was there after the purgation I was now 
 suffering, that I should come out acquitted at last ? What 
 probabihty was there that the trial I had endured in the 
 house of Mr. Falkland was not just as fair as any that might 
 be expected to follow? No; I anticipated my own con- 
 demnation. 
 
 Thus was I cut off, for ever, from all that existence has 
 to bestow — from all the high hopes I had so often conceived 
 — from all the future excellence my soul so much dehghted 
 to imagine, — to spend a few weeks in a miserable prison, 
 and then to perish by the hand of the public executioner. — 
 No language can do justice to. the indignant and soul-sick- 
 ening loathing that these ideas excited. My resentment 
 was not restricted to my prosecutor, but extended itself 
 to the whole machine of society. I could never believe 
 that all this was the fair result of institutions inseparable 
 from the general good. I regarded the whole human spe- 
 cies as so many hangmen and torturers ; I considered them 
 as confederated to tear me to pieces ; and this wide scene 
 of inexorable persecution inflicted upon me inexpressible 
 agony. I looked on this side and on that : I was innocent ; 
 I had a right to expect assistance ; but every heart was 
 steeled against me ; every hand was ready to lend its force 
 to make my ruin secure. No man that has not felt, in his 
 own most momentous concerns, justice, eternal truth, un- 
 alterable equity engaged in his behalf, and on the other 
 side brute force, impenetrable obstinacy, and unfeeling 
 insolence, can imagine the sensations that then passed 
 through my mind. I saw treachery triumphant and en- 
 throned ; I saw the sinews of innocence crumbled info 
 dust by the gripe of almighty guilt. 
 
t46 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 What reliel had 1 from these sensations? Was it reHef, 
 that I spent the day in the midst of profligacy and execra- 
 tions — that I saw reflected from every countenance agonies 
 only inferior to my own? He that would form a Uvely idea 
 of the regions of the damned, need only to witness, for 
 six hours, a scene to which I was confined for many months. 
 Not for one hour could I withdraw myself from this com- 
 plexity of horrors, or take refuge in the calmness of medi- 
 tation. Air, exercise, series, contrast, those grand enliveners 
 of the human frame, I was for ever debarred from, by the 
 inexorable tyranny under which I was fallen. ISor did I 
 find the solitude of my nightly dungeon less insupportable. 
 Its only furniture was the straw that served me for my 
 repose. It was narrow, damp, and unwholesome. The 
 slumbers of a mind, wearied, like mine, w ith the most de- 
 testable uniformity, to whom neither amusement nor occu- 
 pation ever offered themselves to beguile the painful hours, 
 were short, disturbed, and unrefreshing. My sleeping, still 
 more than my waking thoughts, were full of perplexity, 
 deformity, and disorder. To these slumbers succeeded the 
 hours which, by the regulations of our prison, I was obhged, 
 though awake, to spend in solitary and cheerless darkness. 
 Here I had neither books nor pens, nor any thing upon 
 which to engage my attention; all was a sightless blank. — 
 How was a mind, active and indefatigable like mine, to 
 endure this misery? I could not sink it in lethargy ; I 
 could not forget my woes: they haunted me with uninter- 
 mitled and demoniac malice. Cruel, inexorable policy of 
 human affairs, (hat condemns a man to torture like this ; 
 lliat sanctii)ns i(, and knows not what is done under its 
 sanction; that is loo supine and unfeeling to enquire into 
 these petty details ; that calls this the ordeal of innocence, 
 and the protector of freedom ! A thousand timt^ I could 
 have dashed my brains against (he walls of my dungeon; 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 247 
 
 a thousand times I longed for death, and wished, with in- 
 expressible ardour, for an end to what I suffered ; a thou- 
 sand times I meditated suicide, and ruminated, in the bit- 
 terness of my soul, upon the different means of escaping 
 from the load of existence. What had I to do with life ? 
 I had seen enough to make me regard it with detestation. 
 Why should I wait the lingering process of legal despotism, 
 and not dare so much as to die, but when and how its in- 
 struments decreed ? Still some inexplicable suggestion 
 withheld my hand. I clung with desperate fondness to this 
 shadow of existence, its mysterious attractions, and its 
 hopeless prospects. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Such were the reflections that haunted the first days of 
 my imprisonment, in consequence of which they were 
 spent in perpetual anguish. But, after a time, nature, 
 wearied with distress, would no longer stoop to the bur- 
 then ; thought, which is incessantly varying, introduced a 
 series of reflections totally different. 
 
 My fortitude revived. I had always been accustomed 
 to cheerfulness, good humour, and serenity ; and this habit 
 now returned to visit me at the bottom of my dungeon. 
 No sooner did my contemplations take this turn, than I 
 saw the reasonableness and possibility of tranquillity and 
 peace ; and my mind whispered to me the propriety of 
 showing, in this forlorn condition, that I was superior to 
 all my persecutors. Blessed state of innocence and self- 
 approbation ! The sunshine of conscious integrity pierced 
 
248 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 tlj rough all the barriers of my cell, and spoke ten thousand 
 times more joy to my heart, than the accumulated splen- 
 dours of nature and art can communicate to the slaves of 
 vice. 
 
 I found out the secret of employing my mind. I said, 
 " I am shut up for half the day in total darkness, w ithout 
 any external source of amusement ; the other half I spend 
 in the midst of noise, turbulence, and confusion. What 
 then ? Can I not draw amusement from the stores of my 
 own mind ? Is it not freighted with various knowledge ? 
 Have I not been employed from my infancy in gratifying 
 an insatiable curiosity ? When should I derive benefit from 
 these superior advantages, if not at present ? " Accordingly 
 I tasked the stores of my memory, and powers of invention. 
 I amused myself with recollecting the history of my life. 
 By degrees I called to mind a number of minute circum- 
 stances, which, but for this exercise, would have been for 
 ever forgotten. I repassed in my thoughts whole con- 
 versations, I recollected their subjects, their arrangement, 
 their incidents, frequently their very words. I mused upon 
 these ideas, till I was totally absorbed in thought. I re- 
 peated them, till my mind glowed with enthusiasm. I had 
 my dillerent employments, fitted for the solitude of the 
 night, in which I could give full scope to the impulses of 
 my mind ; and for the uproar of the day, in which my 
 / chief object was, to be insensible to the disorder with which 
 / I was surrounded. 
 j By degrees 1 quitted my o\\ n story, and employed niy- 
 ksell in imaginary adventures. 1 ligured to myself every 
 /situation in which I could be placed, and conceived the 
 1 conduct to be observed in each. Thus scenes of insult 
 and danger, of tendeiness and oppression, became familiar 
 to inr. In lanry 1 often passed the awful hour of dissolving 
 naluic. In some ol' my reveri«'s I boiled with inipetuous 
 
 \ 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 240 
 
 indignation, and in others patiently collected the whole 
 force of my mind for some fearful encounter. I cultivated 
 the powers of oratory suited to these different states, and 
 improved more in eloquence in the solitude of my dun- 
 geon, than perhaps I should have done in the busiest and 
 most crowded scenes. 
 
 At length I proceeded to as regular a disposition of my j 
 time, as the man in his study, who passes from mathema- 
 tics to poetry, and from poetry to the law of nations, in the 
 different parts of each single day ; and I as seldom infringed 
 upon my plan. Nor were my subjects of disquisition less 
 numerous than his. I went over, by the assistance of 
 memory only, a considerable part of Euchd during my con- 
 finement, and revived, day after day, the series of facts 
 and incidents in some of the most celebrated historians. 
 I became myself a poet ; and, while I described the senti- 
 ments cherished by the view of natural objects, recorded 
 the characters and passions of men, and partook with a 
 burning zeal in the generosity of their determinations, I 
 eluded the squahd soUtude of my dungeon, and wandered 
 in idea through all the varieties of human society. I easily 
 found expedients, such as the mind seems always to re- 
 quire, and which books and pens supply to the man at 
 large, to record from time to time the progress that had 
 been made. 
 
 While I was thus employed, I reflected with exultation 
 upon the degree in which man is independent of the smiles 
 and frowns of fortune. I was beyond her reach, for I 
 could fall no lower. To an ordinary eye I might seem 
 destitute and miserable, but in reality I wanted for nothing. 
 My fare was coarse ; but I was in health. My dungeon was 
 noisome ; but I felt no inconvenience. I was shut up from 
 the usual means of exercise and air ; but I found the method 
 of exercising myself even to perspu-ation in my dungeon. 
 
•^50 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 I had no power of withdraw ing my person from a disgust- 
 ful society, in the most cheerful and valuable part of the 
 day ; but I soon brought to perfection the art of withdraw- 
 ing my thoughts, and saw and heard the people about me, 
 for just as short a time, and as seldom, as I pleased. 
 
 Such is man in himself considered ; so simple his nature ; 
 so few his wants. How different from the man of artificial 
 society! Palaces are built for his reception, a thousand 
 vehicles provided for his exercise, provinces are ransacked 
 for the gratification of his appetite, and the whole world 
 traversed to supply him with apparel and furniture. Thus 
 vast is his expenditure, and the purchase slavery. He is 
 dependent on a thousand accidents for tranquilhty and 
 health, and his body and soul are at the devotion of who- 
 ever will satisfy his imperious cravings. 
 
 In addition to the disadvantages of my present situation, 
 1 was reserved for an ignominious death. What then ? 
 every man must die. No man knows how soon. It surely 
 is not worse to encounter the king of terroi-s, in health, 
 and with every advantage for the collection of fortitude, 
 than to encounter him, already half subdued by sickness 
 and suffering. I w as resolved at least fully to possess the 
 days I had to five ; and this is peculiarly in the pow er of 
 the man who preserves his health to the last moment of his 
 existence. Why should I suffer my mind to be invaded by 
 unavailing regrets ? Every sentiment of vanity, or rather 
 of independence and justice within me, instigated me to say 
 to my porserutor, "You may cut off iny existence, but you 
 cannot disturb my serenity." 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 In the midst of these reflections, another thought, which 
 had not before struck me, occurred to my mind. " I exult," 
 said I, " and reasonably, over the impotence of my perse- 
 cutor. Is not that impotence greater than I have yet 
 imagined ? I say, he may cut off my existence, but cannot 
 disturb my serenity. It is true : my mind, the clearness of 
 my spirit, the firmness of my temper, are beyond his reach ; 
 is not my life equally so, if I please ? What are the ma- 
 terial obstacles, that man never subdued? What is the 
 undertaking so arduous, that by some has not been accom- 
 plished ? And if by others, why not by me ? Had they 
 stronger motives than I ? W^as existence more variously 
 endeared to them ? or had they more numerous methods by 
 which to animate and adorn it ? Many of those who have 
 exerted most perseverance and intrepidity, were obviously 
 my inferiors in that respect. Why should not I be as daring 
 as they ? Adamant and steel have ductility like water, to 
 a mind sufficiently bold and contemplative. The mind is 
 master of itself; and is endowed with powers that might 
 enable it to laugh at the tyrant's vigilance." I passed and 
 repassed these ideas in my mind ; and, heated with the 
 oontf nplation, I said, "No, I will not die!" 
 
 M^ reading, in early youth, had been extremely miscel- 
 laneous. I had read of housebreakers, to whom locks and 
 bolKi ivere a jest, and who, vain of their art, exhibited the 
 expes iment of entering a house the most strongly barri- 
 «;udet!, with as little noise, and almost as little trouble, as 
 
25-2 CALEB WILLLVMS. 
 
 other iiK'ii would lift up a latch. There is nothing so in- 
 teresting to the juvenile mind, as the wonderful; there is 
 no power that it so eagerly covets, as that of astonishing 
 spectators by its miraculous exertions. Mind appeared, to 
 my untutored reflections, vague, airy and unfettered, the 
 susceptible perceiver of reasons, but never intended by 
 nature to be the slave of force. Why should it be in the 
 power of man to overtake and hold me by violence? Why, 
 when I choose to withdraw myself, should 1 not be capable 
 of eluding the most vigilant search ? These limbs, and this 
 trunk, are a cumbrous and unfortunate load for the power 
 of thinking to drag along with it ; but why should not the 
 power of thinking be able to lighten the load, till it shall be 
 no longer felt ? — These early modes of rettection were by 
 no means indifferent to my present enquiries. 
 
 Our next-door neighbour at my father's house had been 
 a carpenter. Fresh from the sort of reading I have men- 
 tioned, I was eager to examine his tools, their pow ers, and 
 their uses. This carpenter was a man of strong and vi- 
 gorous mind; and, his faculties having been chiefly confined 
 to the range of his profession, he was fertile in experiments, 
 and ingenious in^rcasoning upon these particular topics. 
 I therefore obtained from him considerable satisfaction; 
 and, my mind being set in action, I sometimes even improved 
 upon the hints he furnished. His conversation was parti- 
 cularly agreeable to me; I at first worked with him some- 
 times for my amusement, and afterwards occasionally for 
 a short time as his journeyman. I was constitutionally 
 vigorous; and, by the experience thus attained, I added to 
 the abstract possession of power, the skill of applying il, 
 when 1 pleased, in such a manner as that no part should 
 he ineflicient. 
 
 It is a strange, ImiI no uncommon lealiiie in the human 
 niiiid, that the \ery resource of which we stand in greatest 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 253 
 
 need in a critical situation, though ah'eady accumulated, it 
 may be, by preceding industry, fails to present itself at the 
 time when it should be called into action. Thus my mind 
 had passed through two very different stages since my im- 
 prisonment, before this means of hberation suggested itself. 
 My faculties were overwhelmed in the first intance, and 
 raised to a pitch of enthusiasm in the second ; while in both 
 I took it for granted in a manner, that I must passively 
 submit to the good pleasure of my persecutors. 
 
 During the period in which my mind had been thus un- 
 decided, and when I had been little more than a month in 
 durance, the assizes, which were held twice a year in the 
 town in which I was a prisoner, came on. Upon this 
 occasion my case was not brought forward, but was suf- 
 fered to stand over six months longer. It would have been 
 just the same, if I had had as strong reason to expect ac- 
 quittal as I had conviction. If I had been apprehended 
 upon the most frivolous reasons upon which any justice of 
 the peace ever thought proper to commit a naked beggar 
 for trial, I must still have waited about two hundred and 
 seventeen days before my innocence could be cleared. So 
 imperfect are the effects of the boasted laws of a country, 
 whose legislators hold their assembly from four to six 
 months in every year ! I could never discover with certainty, 
 whether this delay were owing to any interference on the 
 part of my prosecutor, or whether it fell out in the regular 
 administration of justice, which is too solemn and dignified 
 to accommodate itself to the rights or benefit of an insigni- 
 ficant individual. 
 
 But this was not the only incident that occurred to me 
 during my confinement, for which I could find no satisfactory 
 solution. It was nearly at the same time, that the keeper 
 began to alter his behaviour to me. He sent for me one 
 morning into the part of the building which was appro- 
 
 J 
 
254 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 priatcd fur liis own use, and, after some hesitation, told me 
 he was sorry my accommodations had been so indifferent, 
 and asked whether I should like to have a chamber in his 
 family ? I was struck w ith the unexpectedness of this question, 
 and desired to know w hcther any body had employed him 
 (o ask il. IVo, he replied ; but, now the assizes were over, 
 he had fewer felons on his hands, and more time to look 
 about him. He believed I was a good kind of a young 
 man, and he had taken a sort of a liking to me. I fixed 
 my eye upon his countenance as he said this. I could 
 discover none of the usual symptoms of kindness ; he ap- 
 peared to me to be acting a part, unnatural, and that sat 
 with awk\\ardness upon him. He went on, however, to 
 offer me the liberty of eating at his table ; w hich, if I chose 
 it, he said would make no difference to him, and he should 
 not think of charging me any thing for it. He had always 
 indeed as much upon his hands as one person could see to; 
 but his wife and liis daughter Peggy would be woundily 
 pleased to hear a person of learning talk, as he understood 
 I was; and perhaps 1 might not feel myself unpleasantly 
 circumstanced in their company, 
 
 I reflected on this proposal, and had little doubt, not- 
 withstanding what the keeper had affirmed to the contrary, 
 that it did not proceed from any spontaneous humanity in 
 him, but (hat he had, to speak the language of persons of 
 his cast, good reasons for what he did, I busied myself in 
 conjectures as to who could be the author of this sort of 
 indulgence and attention. The two most Ukely persons 
 I were !Mr. Falkland and Mr. Forester. The latter I knew to 
 he a man austere and inexorable towards those whom he 
 deemed vicious. He picpied himself uj)on being insensible 
 to those softer emotions, \\liich,he believed, answered no 
 other purpose than to seduce us from our duty. Mr. Falk- 
 land, on the contrary, was a man of the aeutest sensibility ; 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 255 
 
 lice arose his pleasures and his pains, his virtues and his 
 Ml es. T]i. I gh he were the bitterest enemy to whom 1 
 could possibly be exposed, and though no sentiments of 
 humanity could divert or control the bent of his mind, 1 yet 
 persuaded myself, that he was more likely than his kins- 
 man, to visit in idea the scene of my dungeon, and to feel 
 impelled to alleviate my sufferings. 
 
 This conjecture was by no means calculated to serve as 
 balm to my mind. My thoughts were full of irritation 
 against my persecutor. How could I think kindly of a man, 
 in competition with the gratification of whose ruling passion 
 my good name or my hfe was deemed of no consideration ? 
 I saw him crushing the one, and bringing the other into 
 jeopardy, with a quietness and composure on his part that 
 I could not recollect without horror. I knew not what 
 were his plans respecting me. I knew not whether he 
 troubled himself so much as to form a barren wish for the 
 preservation of one whose future prospects he had so ini- 
 quitously tarnished. I had hitherto been silent as to my 
 principal topic of recrimination. But I was by no means 
 certain, that I should consent to go out of the world in 
 silence, the victim of this man's obduracy and art. In every 
 view I felt my heart ulcerated with a sense of his injustice ; 
 and my very soul spurned these pitiful indulgences, at a 
 time that he was grinding me into dust with the inex- 
 orableness of his vengeance. 
 
 I was influenced by these sentiments in my reply to the 
 jailor ; and I found a secret pleasure in pronouncing them 
 in all their bitterness. I viewed him with a sarcastic smile, 
 and said, I was glad to find him of a sudden become so 
 humane : I was not, however, without some penetration as 
 to the humanity of a jailor, and could guess at the circum- 
 stances by which it was produced. But he might tell his 
 employer, that his cares were fruitless : I would accept no 
 
256 CALEB WILLIAMS. f 
 
 favours from a man that held a halter about m\ ncik; atitl 
 had courage enough to endure the worst both in time to 
 come and now. — The jailor looked at me with astonish- 
 ment, and turning upon his heel, exclaimed, "Well done, 
 my cock ! Yon have not had your learning for nothing, I 
 see. You are set upon not dying dunghill. But that is to 
 come, lad ; you had better by half keep your courage till you 
 shall find it wanted." 
 
 The assizes, which passed over without influence to me, 
 produced a great revolution among my fellow-prisoners. I 
 lived long enough in the jail to witness a general mutation 
 of its inhabitants. One of the house-breakers (the rival of 
 the Duke of Bedford), and the coiner, were hanged. Two 
 more were cast for transportation, and the rest acquitted. 
 The transports remained with us ; and, though the prison 
 was thus lightened of nine of its inhabitants, there were, at 
 the next half-yearly period of assizes, as many persons on 
 the felons' side, within three, as I had found on my first 
 arrival. 
 
 The soldier, whose story I have already recorded, died on 
 the evening of the very day on which the judges arrived, of a 
 disease the consequence of his confinement. Such was the 
 justice, that resulted from the laws of his country to an indi- 
 vidual who would have been the ornament of any age ; one 
 who, of all the men I ever knew, was perhaps (he kindest, of 
 the most feeling heart, of the most engaging and unafl'ectcd 
 manners, and the most unblemished Ufe. The name of (his 
 man was Brightwel. Were it possible for my pen to con- 
 secrate him to never-dying fame, I could undertake no task 
 more grateful to my heart. His judgment waspenetratingand 
 manly, totally unmixed with imbecility and confusion, while 
 at (he same (iuie there was such an uncontending frankness 
 in his countenance, that a superficial observer would have 
 supposed he must have been the prey of the first plausible 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 257 
 
 ivery that was practised against him. Great reason ha- 
 o remember him with affection ! Ke was the rr 
 
 lent, I had almost said the last, of my friends. Nor 
 IT aain in this respect in his debt. There was ind - n 
 g! at congeniality, if I may presume to say so, in or nu 
 rr.' lers, except that I cannot pretend to rival the or uiMialitv 
 and self-created vigour of his mind, or to compu -; witb, 
 VI hat the world has scarcely surpassed, the correctness and 
 m><ainted purity of his conduct. He heard my story, asYar 
 ;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 
 
 • '■ »<i>, 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<J4 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 upon myself to disclose, even in a situation like this, which 
 seemed (o preclude the possibility of its being made use 
 of to the disadvantage of my persecutor. My present 
 auditor, however, whose habits of thinking w ere extremely 
 . opposite to those of Mr. Forester, did not, from the ob- 
 » scurity which flowed from this reserve, deduce any un- 
 favourable conclusion. His penetration was such, as to 
 afford little room for an impostor to hope to mislead him 
 by a fictitious statement, and he confided in that penetra- 
 tion. So confiding, the simplicity and integrity of my man- 
 ner carried conviction to his mind, and insured his good 
 opinion and friendship. 
 
 He hstened to my story w ith eagerness, and commented 
 on the several parts as I related them. He said, that this 
 was only one fresh instance of the tyranny and perfidious - 
 ness exercised by the pow erful members of the community, 
 against those who were less privileged than themselves. 
 Nothing could be more clear, than their readiness to sa- i 
 crifice the human species at large to their meanest interest / 
 or wildest caprice. Who that saw the situation in its 
 true light would wait till their oppressors thought lit to 
 decree their destruction, and not take arms in their defence 
 while it was yet in their power ? Which was most me- 
 ritorious, the unresisting and dastardly submission of a 
 slave, or the enterprise and gallantry of the man w ho dared 
 to assert his claims ? Since, by the partial administration 
 ol our laws, innocence, when power was armed against it, 
 had nothing better to hope for than guilt, what man of 
 true courage would fail to set these laws at defiance, and, 
 if he must suffer by their injustice, at least take care that 
 he had first shown his contempt of their yoke ? For 
 him.sell, he should certainly never have embiaced his pre- 
 sent (-ailing, bad he not been stimulated (o it by these 
 cogent and iiic>,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 ha<l 
 probably boon suggested by the pioject I meditated of en- 
 tering once again into the world, and throwing myself 
 within ihe sphere of his possible vengeance. 1 imagined 
 that the design of the murderer was to come upon me by 
 Miirpiise, that I was aware of his design, and vet, by some 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 809 
 
 fascination, had no thought of evading it. I heard the steps 
 of the murderer as he cautiously approached. I seemed to 
 hsten to his constrained yet audible breathings. He came 
 up to the corner where I was placed, and then stopped. 
 
 The idea became too terrible ; I started, opened my eyes, 
 and beheld the execrable hag before mentioned standing 
 over me with a butcher's cleaver. I shifted my situation 
 with a speed that seemed too swift for volition, and the blow 
 already aimed at my skull sunk impotent upon the bed. 
 Before she could wholly recover her posture, I sprung upon 
 her, seized hold of the weapon, and had nearly wrested it 
 from her. But in a moment she resumed her strength and 
 her desperate purpose, and we had a furious]struggle — she 
 impelled by inveterate malice, and I resisting for my hfe. 
 Her vigour was truly Amazonian, and at no time had I 
 ever occasion to contend with a more formidable opponent. 
 Her glance was rapid and exact, and the shock with which 
 from time to time she impelled her whole frame incon- 
 ceivably vehement. At length I was victorious, took from 
 her the instrument of death, and threw her upon the ground. 
 Till now the earnestness of her exertions had curbed her 
 rage ; but now she gnashed with her teeth, her eyes seemed 
 as if starting from their sockets, and her body heaved with 
 uncontrollable insanity. 
 
 " Rascal! devil!" she exclaimed, " what do you mean 
 to do to me?" 
 
 Till now the scene had passed uninterrupted by a single 
 
 word. 
 
 " Nothing," I repUed : " begone, infernal witch ! and 
 
 leave me to myself." 
 
 " Leave you ! No : I will thrust my fingers through 
 
 your ribs, and drink your blood ! — You conquer me ? — 
 
 Ha, ha! — Yes, yes; you shall! — I will sit upon you, and 
 
 ■J 
 
310 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 press you to hell ! I will roast you with brimstone, and 
 dash your entrails into your eyes ! Ha, ha ! — ha ! " 
 
 Saying this, she sprung up, and prepared to attack me 
 with redoubled fury. I seized her hands, and compelled 
 her to sit upon the bed. Thus restrained, she continued 
 to express the tumult of her thoughts by grinning, by cer- 
 tain furious motions of her head, and by occasional vehe- 
 ment efforts to disengage herself from my grasp. These 
 contortions and starts were of the nature of those fits in 
 which the patients are commonly supposed to need three 
 or four persons to hold them. But I found by experience 
 that, under the circumstances in which I was placed, my 
 single strength was sufficient. The spectacle of her emo- 
 tions was inconceivably frightful. Her violence at length 
 however began to abate, and she became convinced of the 
 hopelessness of the contest. 
 
 " Let me go !" said she. " Why do you hold me ? 1 
 will not be held." 
 
 " I wanted you gone from the first," replied I. " Are 
 you contented to go now ? " 
 
 " Yes, I tell you, misbegotten villain! Yes, rascal!" 
 
 I immediately loosed my hold. She flew to the door, 
 and, holding it in her hand, said, " 1 will be the death of 
 you yet : you shall not be your own man twenty-four hours 
 longer!" With these words she shut the door, and locked 
 it upon me. An action so totally unexpected startled me. 
 Wliither was she gone ? W' hat w as it she intended ? To 
 perish by the machinations of such a hag as this was a 
 1 bought not to be endured. Death in any form brought 
 upon us by surprise, and for which the mind has had no 
 linu' to prcpaio, is inexpressibly (crrihlo. i>ly 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 
 <his lesson from my sufferings, not to indulge in the luxury 
 of discontent. As my mind recovered its tranquillity, i 
 began lo enquire wlulher (he pheuomentMi I had just seen 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 315 
 
 could have any relation to myself. But though my mind 
 was extremely inquisitive and versatile in this respect, I 
 could discover no sufficient ground upon which to build a 
 judgment. 
 
 At night I entered a little public-house at the extremity 
 of a village, and, seating myself in a corner of the kitchen, 
 asked for some bread and cheese. "While I was sitting at 
 my repast, three or four labourers came in for a little re- 
 freshment after their work. Ideas respecting the in- 
 equality of rank pervade every order in society ; and, as 
 my appearance was meaner and more contemptible than 
 theirs, I found it expedient to give way to these gentry of 
 a village alehouse, and remove to an obscurer station. I 
 was surprised, and not a little startled, to find them fall 
 almost immediately into conversation about my history, 
 whom, with a slight variation of circumstances, they styled 
 the notorious housebreaker. Kit Williams. 
 
 " Damn th^ fellow," said one of them, " one never 
 hears of any thing else. O' my life, I think he makes talk 
 for the whole country." 
 
 " That is very true," replied another. " I was at the 
 market-town to-day to sell some oats for my master, and 
 there was a hue and cry, some of them thought they had 
 got him, but it was a false alarm." 
 
 " That hundred guineas is a fine thing," rejoined the 
 first. " I should be glad if so be as how it fell in my 
 way." 
 
 " For the matter of that," said his companion, " 1 
 should like a hundred guineas as well as another. But I 
 cannot be of your mind for all that. I should never think 
 money would do me any good that had been the means of 
 bringing a Christian creature to the gallows." 
 
 " Poh, that is all my granny ! Some folks must be 
 hanged, to keep the wheels of our state-folks a-going. Be- 
 
310 CALEB WIIXIAMS. 
 
 sides, I could forgive the fellow all his other robberies, but 
 that he should have been so hardened as to break the house 
 of his o\wi master at last, that is too bad." 
 
 "Lord I lord!" replied the other, " I see you know 
 nothing of the matter ! I will tell you how it was, as 1 
 learned it at the town. I question whether he ever robbed 
 his master at all. But hark you ! you must know as how 
 that Squire Falkland was once tried for murder" 
 
 " Yes, yes, we know that." 
 
 " Well, he was as innocent as the child unborn. But I 
 supposes as how he is a little soft or so. And so Kit Wil- 
 liams — Kit is a devilish cunning fellow, you may judge that 
 
 from his breaking prison no less than five times, so, I 
 
 say, he threatened to bring his master to trial, at 'size all 
 over again, and so frightened him, and got money from 
 him at divers times. Till at last one Squire Forester, a 
 lelation of t' other, found it all out. And he made the 
 hell of a rumpus, and sent away Kit to prison in a twinky; 
 and 1 believe he would have been hanged \Tor when two 
 squires lay their heads together, they do not much matter 
 law, you know; or else they twist the law to their own 
 ends, I cannot exactly say whichjj^but it is much at one 
 w hen the poor fellow's breath is out of his body. " 
 
 Though this story was very circumstantially told, and 
 with a sufiicient detail of particulars, it did not pass un- 
 questioned. Each man maintained the justness of his ow n 
 statement, and the dispute was long and obstinately pur- 
 sued. Historians and commentatoi's at length withdrew 
 together. The terrors with which I was seized when this 
 conversation began, were extreme. I stole a sidelong 
 glance to one (jiiarter and another, to observe if any man's 
 attention was imncd upon me. I trembled as if in an 
 a^ue-fil ; and, at first, felt continual im|)ulses to quit the 
 house, and take (o mv heels. I drew closer to mv corner. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 317 
 
 held aside my head, and seemed from time to time to un- 
 dergo a total revolution of the animal economy. 
 
 At length the tide of ideas turned. Perceiving they paid 
 no attention to me, the recollection of the full security my 
 disguise afforded recurred strongly to my thoughts ; and I 
 began inwardly to exult, though I did not venture to ob- 
 trude myself to examination. By degrees I began to be 
 amused at the absurdity of their tales, and the variety of the 
 falsehoods I heard asserted around me. IMy soul seemed 
 to expand ; I felt a pride in the self- possession and 
 lightness of heart with which I could listen to the scene ; 
 and I determined to prolong and heighten the enjoyment. 
 Accordingly, when they were withdrawn, I addressed my- 
 self to our hostess, a buxom, bluff, good-humoured wi- 
 dow, and asked what sort of a man this Kit Williams might 
 be ? She replied that, as she was informed, he was as 
 handsome, likely a lad, as any in four counties round; 
 and that she loved him for his cleverness, by which he 
 outwitted all the keepers they could set over him, and 
 made his way through stone walls as if they were so many 
 cobwebs. I obsei'ved, that the country was so thoroughly 
 alarmed, that I did not think it possible he should escape 
 the pursuit that was set up after him. This idea excited 
 her immediate indignation : she said, she hoped he was 
 far enough away by this time ; but if not, she wished the 
 curse of God might light on them that betrayed so noble 
 a fellow to an ignominious end ! — Though she little thought 
 that the person of whom she spoke was so near her, yet 
 the sincere and generous warmth with which she inte 
 rested herself in my behalf gave me considerable pleasure. 
 With this sensation to sweeten the fatigues of the day and 
 the calamities of my situation, I retired from the kitchen 
 to a neighbouring barn, laid myself down upon some 
 straw, and fell into a profound sleep. 
 
318 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 The next day about noon, as I was pursuing my journey, 
 I was overtaken by two men on horseback, who stopped 
 me, to enquire respecting a person that they supposed 
 might have passed along that road. As they proceeded in 
 their description, I perceived, w ith astonishment and terror, 
 that I was myself the person to whom their questions re- 
 lated. They entered into a tolerably accurate detail of the 
 various characteristics by which my person might best be 
 distinifuished. They said, they had good reason to believe 
 that I had been seen at a place in that county the very day 
 before. While they were speaking, a third person, who had 
 fallen behind, came up; and my alarm was greatly in- 
 creased upon seeing that this person was the servant of 
 Mr. Forester, who had visited me in prison about a fort- 
 night before my escape. My best resource in this crisis 
 was composure and apparent indifference. It was fortunate 
 for me that my disguise was so complete, that the eye of 
 Mr. Falkland itself could scarcely have penetrated it. I had 
 been aware for some time before that this was a refuge 
 which events might make necessary, and had endeavoured 
 to arrange and methodise my ideas upon the subject. From 
 my youth I had possessed a considerable facility in tlie art 
 of imitation ; and when I quitted my retreat in the habita- 
 tion of Mr. Raymond, I adopted, along with my beggar's 
 attire, a peculiar slouching and clownish gait, to be used 
 whenever there should appear the least chance of my being 
 observed, together with an Iiish brogue which 1 had had 
 an opporliinily of studying in my prison. Such are the mi- 
 serable expedients, and so great the studied artifice, which 
 man, who never deserves the name of manhood but in 
 proportion as he is erect and independent, may find it ne- 
 cessary to eni|)loy, for (he purpose of chiding the inexorable 
 animosity and unreeling lyranny of his fellow num! I had 
 made use of (his brogue, (hough I have not though( i( ne- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 319 
 
 cessary to write it down in my narrative, in the conversa- 
 tion of the village alehouse. Mr. Forester's servant, as he 
 came up, observed that his companions were engaged in 
 conversation with me ; and, guessing at the subject, asked 
 whether they had gained any intelligence. He added to the 
 information at which they had already hinted, that a reso- 
 lution was taken to spare neither diligence nor expense for 
 my discovery and apprehension, and that they were satisfied, 
 if I were above ground and in the kingdom, it would be im- 
 possible for me to escape them. 
 
 Every new incident that had occurred to me tended to 
 impress upon my mind the extreme danger to which I was 
 exposed. I could almost have imagined that I was the solef^ 
 subject of general attention, and that the whole world was 
 in arms to exterminate me. The very idea tingled through 
 every' fibre of my frame. But, terrible as it appeared to my 
 imagination, it did but give new energy to my purpose ; 
 and I determined that I would not voluntarily resign the 
 field, that is, literally speaking, my neck to the cord of the 
 executioner, notwithstanding the greatest superiority in my 
 assailants. But the incidents which had befallen me, though 
 they did not change my purpose, induced me to examine 
 over again the means by which it might be effected. The 
 consequence of this revisal was, to determine me to bend 
 my course to the nearest sea-port on the west side of the 
 island, and transport myself to Ireland. I cannot now tell 
 what it was that inclined me to prefer this scheme to that 
 which I had originally formed. Perhaps the latter, which 
 had been for some time present to my imagination, for that 
 reason appeared the more obvious of the two ; and I found 
 an appearance of complexity, which the mind did not stay 
 to explain, in substituting the other in its stead. 
 
 I arrived without further impediment at the place from 
 which I intended to sail, enquired for a vessel, which I 
 
320 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 found ready to put to sea in a few hours, and agreed with 
 the captain for my passaj^e. Ireland had to me the disad- 
 vantage of being a dependency of the British government, 
 and therefore a place of less security than most other coun- 
 tries which are divided from it by the ocean. To judge 
 from the diligence with which I seemed to be pursued in 
 England, it was not improbable that the zeal of my perse- 
 cutors might follow me to the other side of the channel. It 
 was however sufficiently agreeable to my mind, that I was 
 upon the point of being removed one step further from the 
 danger which was so grievous to my imagination. 
 
 Could there be any peril in the short interval that was 
 to elapse, before the vessel was to weigh anchor and quit 
 the English shore ? Probably not. A very short time had 
 intervened between my determination for the sea and my ar- 
 rival at this place; and if any new alarm had been given to 
 my prosecutors, it proceeded from the old woman a very 
 few days before. I hoped I had anticipated their diligence. 
 Meanwhile, that I might neglect no reasonable precaution, 
 I went instantly on board, resolved that I would not unne- 
 cessarily, by walking the streets of the town, expose myself 
 to any untoward accident. This was the first time I had, 
 upon any occasion, taken leave of my native country. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The time was now nearly elapsed that was prescribed for 
 our slay, and orders for weighing anchor were every mo- 
 ment expected, when we were hailed by a ])()at from the 
 shore, with two oilier men in it Wsides those that rowed. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 321 
 
 They entered our vessel in an instant. They were officers 
 of justice. The passengers, five persons besides myself, 
 were ordered upon desk for examination. I was inex- 
 pressibly disturbed at the occurrence of such a circumstance 
 in so unseasonable a moment. I took it for granted that it 
 was of me they were in search. Was it possible that, by 
 any unaccountable accident, they should have got an inti- 
 mation of my disguise ? It was infinitely more distressing 
 to encounter them upon this narrow stage, and under these 
 pointed circumstances, than, as I had before encountered 
 my pursuers, under the appearance of an indifferent person. 
 My recollection, however, did not forsake me. I confided 
 in my conscious disguise and my Irish brogue, as a rock of 
 dependence against all accidents. 
 
 No sooner did we appear upon deck than, to my great 
 consternation, I could observe the attention of our guests 
 principally turned upon me. They asked a few frivolous 
 questions of such of my fellow passengers as happened to 
 be nearest to them ; and then, turning to me, enquired my 
 name, who I was, whence I came, and what had brought ' 
 me there ? I had scarcely opened my mouth to reply, 
 when, with one consent, they laid hold of me, said I was 
 their prisoner, and declared that my accent, together with 
 the correspondence of my person, would be sufficient to 
 convict me before any court in England. I was hurried 
 out of the vessel into the boat in which they came, and 
 seated between them, as if by way of precaution, lest I 
 should spring overboard, and by any means escape them. 
 
 I now took it for granted that I was once more in the 
 power of Mr. Falkland ; and the idea was insupportably 
 mortifying and oppressive to my imagination. Escape 
 from his pursuit, freedom from his tyranny, were objects 
 upon which my whole soul was bent. « Could no human 
 ingenuity and exertion effect them ? Did his power reach 
 
 •21 
 
322 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 through all space, and his eye penetrate every conceal- 
 ment ? Was he hke that mysterious being, to protect us 
 from whose fierce revenge mountains and hills, we are 
 told, might fall on us in vain ? ISo idea is more heart- 
 sickening and tremendous than this. But, in my case, it 
 was not a subject of reasoning or of faith ; I could derive 
 no comfort, either directly from the unbelief which, upon 
 religious subjects, some men avow to their own minds ; 
 or secretly from the remoteness and incomprehensibility of 
 the conception : it was an affair of sense ; I felt the fangs 
 of the tiger striking deep into ray heart. 
 
 But though this impression was at first exceedingly 
 strong, and accompanied wifh its usual attendants of de- 
 jection and pusillanimity, my mind soon began, as it were 
 mechanically, to turn upon the consideration of the dis- 
 tance between this sea-port and my county prison, and 
 the various opportunities of escape that might ofl'er them- 
 selves in the interval. My first duty was to avoid betraying 
 myself, more than it might afterwards appear I was be- 
 trayed already. It was possible that though apprehended, 
 my apprehension might have been determined on upon 
 some slight score, and that, by my dexterity, i might 
 render my dismission as sudden as my arrest had been. 
 It was even possible that I had been seized through a 
 mistake, and that the present measure might have no con- 
 nexion with Mr. Falkland's aflair. I'pon every supposi- 
 tion, it was my business to gain infonnation. In my pas- 
 sage from the ship to the town 1 did not utter a word. 
 My conductors commented on my sulkine»s; but remarked 
 that it would avail me nothing — I should infallibly swing, 
 as it was never known that any body got off who w*&s tried 
 for robbing his majesty's mail. It is dilliculf to conceive the 
 lightness ol heart which was conununicatcd to me by these 
 words: I persisted, however, in the silence I had meditated. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 323 
 
 From the rest of their conversation, which was sufficiently 
 voluhle, I learned that the mail from Edinburgh to London 
 had been robbed about ten days before by two Ii'ishmen, 
 that one of them was already secured, and that I was 
 taken up upon suspicion of being the other. They had a 
 description of his person, which, though, as I afterwards 
 found, it disagreed from mine in several material articles, 
 appeared to them to tally to the minutest tittle. The in- 
 telligence that the whole proceeding against me was found- 
 ed in a mistake, took an oppressive load from my mind. 
 I believed that I should immediately be able to establish 
 my innocence, to the satisfaction of any magistrate in the 
 kingdom ; and though crossed in my plans, and thwarted in 
 my design of quitting the island, even after I was already 
 at sea, this was but a (rifling inconvenience compared with 
 what I had had but too much reason to fear. 
 
 As soon as we came ashore, I was conducted to the 
 house of a justice of peace, a man who had formerly been 
 the captain of a coUier, but who, having been successful 
 in the world, had quitted this wandering life, and for some 
 years had had the honour to represent his Majesty's person. 
 We were detained for some time in a sort of anteroom, 
 waiting his reverence's leisure. The persons by whom I 
 had been taken up were experienced in their trade, and 
 insisted upon employing this interval in searching me, in 
 presence of two of liis worship's servants. They found upon 
 me fifteen guineas and some silver. They required me 
 to strip myself perfectly naked, that they might examine 
 whether I had bank-notes concealed any where about my 
 person. Tliey took up the detached parcels of my mise- 
 rable afling a»I thc«w it from me, and felt them one by 
 one, to distaovyr ^iwi hi a ifi<b».'articles of which they were in 
 search might by aifaf litoauAl He sewn up in them. To all 
 this I ^ubmittedJ liilfaout murmuring. It might probably 
 
 21* 
 
324 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 come to the same thing at last; and summary justice was 
 suiriciently coincident with my views, my principal object 
 being to get as soon as possible out of the clutches of the 
 respectable persons who now had me in custody. 
 
 This operation was scarcely completed, before we were 
 directed lo be ushered into his worship's apartment. My 
 accusers opened ihe charge, and told him they had been 
 ordered to this town, upon an intimation that one of the 
 persons who robbed the Edinburgh mail was to be found 
 here; and that they had taken me on board a vessel which 
 was by his time under sail for Ireland. " Well," says 
 his worship, " that is your story ; now let us hear what 
 account the gentleman gives of himself. What is your 
 name — ha, sirrah ? and from what part of Tipperary arc 
 you pleased to come ?" I had already taken my deter- 
 mination upon this article ; and the moment I learned the 
 particulars of the charge against me, resolved, for the 
 present at least, to lay aside my Irish accent, and speak my 
 native tongue. This I had done in the very few words I 
 had spoken to my conductoi-s in the anteroom : they started 
 at the metamorphosis; but they had gone too far for it to 
 be possible they should retract, in consistence with their 
 honour. I now told the justice that I was no Irishman, nor 
 had ever been in that contrary: I was a native of England. 
 This occasioned a consulting of (he deposition in which 
 my person was suppo.sed to be described, and which my 
 conductors had brought with them lor their direction. 
 To be sure, that required that the offender should be an 
 Irishman. 
 
 Observing his worship hesitate, I thought this was the 
 time to push Ihe matter a liltle fu|l|ug|( I < i- .'".i („ f|,o 
 paper, and showed (hat the (^^|^^^Hbitiirr i nih <| lo 
 height complexion. Hi^^^^^Bd lUi (o years and 
 
 (he colour of the hair; and ^H^^^Hk» gentleman s 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 825 
 
 habit, as he informed me, to squabble about trifles, or to let 
 a man's neck out of the haUer for a pretended flaw of a few- 
 inches in his stature. "If a man were too short," he said, 
 " there was no remedy Uke a httle stretching." The mis- 
 calculation in my case happened to be the opposite way, 
 but his reverence did not think proper to lose his jest. Upon 
 the whole, he was somewhat at a loss hpw to proceed. 
 
 My conductors observed this, and began to tremble for 
 the reward, which, two hours ago, they thought as good 
 as in their own pocket. To retain me in ciistody they 
 judged to be a safe speculation ; if it turned out a mistake 
 at last, they felt little apprehension of a suit for false im- 
 prisonment from a poor man, accoutred, as I was, in rags. 
 They therefore urged his worship to comply with their 
 views. They told him that to be sure the evidence against 
 me did not prove so strong as for their part they heartily 
 wished it had, but that there were a number of suspicious 
 circumstances respecting me. When I was brought up to 
 them upon the deck of the vessel, I spoke as fine an Irish 
 brogue as one shall hear in a summer's. day ; and now, all 
 at once, there was not the least particle of it left. In 
 searching me they had found upon me fifteen guineas, 
 how should a poor beggar lad, such as I appeared, come 
 honestly by fifteen guineas? Besides, when they | had 
 stripped me naked, though my dress was so shabby ; my 
 skin had all the sleekness of a gentleman. In fine, for what 
 purpose coidd a poor beggar, who had never been in Ire- 
 land in his life, want to transport himS^f to that country ? 
 It was as clear as the sun that I was no better than I should 
 be. This reasoning, together with some significant winks 
 and gestures between the justice and the plaintiffs, brought 
 him over to their way of thinking. He said, I must go to 
 Warwick, where it seems the other robber was at present in 
 custody, and be confronted with him ; and if then every 
 
Mi CALPX WIM.IAMH 
 
 thioK «pf»r«r0(l Cuir nti'i vfitinfictoi-y, I Mhuuld hv di»- 
 
 No inlolliKi'niv kiiiM bf? more (rrnhlff tlinn (liat wIimIi 
 wan rnnlairifMl in Jlirnr wordn. That I, mlio h,uj foiin«l llir 
 «^|iolr roiinJn in anun »fimn*t mv, who u.i* rxpo^fil lo « 
 IHir-iiii »o piNulinrly vigilunt nn<l |><»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«<l l« 
 my van nlmoHt thnwim« thinK an ifhehnd pronoiinr«) iij>on 
 inr n iM'nl(inr!4) of di>oth ! I )ilrpniJoii<ilv nrgrd the lnJll^l^^ 
 of ihin prori'o«lini?. I oltHrrvrd lu iIh- mnKislralp, that il v,ns 
 iiiipowmhlc i hImmiUI he ihr prr«on nt wlioin llir (h*fM'riplion 
 p4Miit«*fl. Il riMpiiiiMl nn IriAhinnn ; I uiih no Irinhnian. Il 
 ilfitrnhcd a p«n»on nhorter than I ; a (irruiOHtanrr of all 
 other* thp leant capuhlo of lH»ing rouiil«-f»iti*d. Thpre wan 
 noi llir ftliglitr^l r»'«»on for detaining nir in rn^liHly. I had 
 brrn already diHapjHunlrd of mv voyage, and I<m»I ihe mo- 
 ney I had paid down, llirongli ijip oftirMMiKncnH of lh<**tr 
 grnilemen in appr»'|iendmg me. I aHjAurr*! his worship, 
 tliat 4tvi*ry delaVt lifidrr my rtmimntanrnt, wait (»f Iheui- 
 moM impoHanee lo me. It w a* im|>oH»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 <d my addri'«H he tKould have nilrnre*! mv for 
 my miprrlmiMirc, hiil ihjil I npoke wilh iui rarne«»liM^« 
 wiMi wliH 11 lie wan whollv niuUde lo eoiilcnd. Whrn I 
 hud tiiii<dird, Iii< inld inc il wid all (O Do purpose, an«i thiti 
 if mighl ha\( Imiii »M.|irr for iDC, if I had ••h^iwn niy^l 
 \r*n m««drnf It w.is . Ir.o flial I ^aj» a \agaH«»iid and .1 
 
»uspirHni!i prrson The inoir r.u nf»sl I sho^^Vtl iwysoll t«> 
 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»<l soon my fan'' hoforo 
 abont .s»>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<l im]»ortanoo and mv iittor insignilioanoo. 1 olannod that, 
 at loast. tho mono> (;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 <o rolax 
 in this mndontal rurnnistanoo, IVly oondiirtors did not 
 opposo thomsolvos to this indiilg-onro. for a rra.son ihs*i w ill 
 appoar in tho soqnol. Tho pislioo. howovc^r^ onlar^od upmi 
 his d(>in(pnoy in (hi* pmoooilittfc. Ho di<J «*>! 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 <lepression and anguish. I muttered impre- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 3ST 
 
 cations and murmuring as I passed along. I was full of 
 loathing and abhorrence of life, and all that life carries in 
 its train. After wandering without any certain direction 
 for two hours, I was overtaken by the night. The scene 
 was nearly pathless, and it was vain to think of proceeding 
 any farther. 
 
 Here I was, without comfort, without shelter, and without 
 food. There was not a particle of my covering that was 
 not as wet as if it had been fished from the bottom of the 
 ocean. My teeth chattered. I trembled in every limb. My 
 heart burned with universal fury. At one moment I stum- 
 bled and fell over some unseen obstacle ; at another I was 
 turned back by an impediment I could not overcome. 
 
 There was no strict connexion between these casual 
 inconveniences and the persecution under w hich I laboured. 
 But my distempered thoughts confounded them together. 
 I cursed the whole system of human existence. I said, 
 " Here I am, an outcast, destined to perish with hunger and 
 cold. All men desert me. All men hate me. I am driven 
 with mortal threats from the sources of comfort and ex- 
 istence. Accursed world ! that hates without a cause, that 
 overwhelms innocence with calamities which ought to be 
 spared even to guilt ! Accursed world ! dead to every manly 
 sympathy ; with eyes of horn, and hearts of steel ! Why 
 do I consent to live any longer ? Why do I seek to drag 
 on an existence, which, if protracted, must be protracted 
 amidst the lairs of these human tigers ?" 
 
 This paroxysm at length exhausted itself. Presently 
 after, I discovered a solitary shed, which I was contented 
 to resort to for shelter. In a corner of the shed I found 
 some clean straws I threw off my rags, placed them in a 
 situation where they would best be dried, and buried my- 
 self amidst this friendly warmth. Here I forgot by degrees 
 the anguish that had racked me. A wholesome shed and 
 
:{38 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 fresh straw may seem but scanty benefits ; but they offered 
 themselves when least expected, and my whole heart was 
 lightened by the encounter. Through fatigue of mind and 
 body, it happened in this instance, though in general my 
 repose was remarkably short, that I slept till almost noon 
 of the next day. When I rose, I found that I was at no 
 great distance from the ferry, which I crossed, and entered 
 the town where I intended to have rested the preceding 
 night. 
 
 It was market-day. As I passed near the cross, I ob- 
 served two people look at me with great earnestness : after 
 whicrt one of them exclaimed, "I will be damned if I do 
 not think that this is the very fellow those men were en- 
 quiring for who set off an hour ago by the coach for ." 
 
 I was extremely alarmed at this information ; and, quicken- 
 ing my pace, turned sharp down a narrow lane. The 
 moment I was out of sight I ran with all the speed I could 
 exert, and did not think myself safe till I was several miles 
 distant from the place where this information had reached 
 my ears. I have always believed that the men to whom 
 it related w ere the very persons who had apprehended me 
 on board the ship in w hich I had embarked for Ireland ; 
 that, by some accident, they had met with the description 
 of my person as published on the part of 3Ir. Falkland ; 
 and that, from putting together the circumstances, they had 
 been led to believe that this was the very individual who 
 had lately been in their custody. Indeed it was a piece of 
 infatuation in me, for which I am now unable to account, 
 that, alter the various indications which had occurred in 
 that affair, proving to them that I was a man in critical and 
 peculiar circumstances, I should have persisted in wearing 
 the same disguise without the smallest alteration. My 
 escape in the present case was eminently fortunate. If I 
 ha<l not lost my way in consequence of the hail-storm on 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 33i) 
 
 tlie preceding night, or if I had not so greatly overslept 
 myself this very morning, I must almost infallibly have 
 fallen into the hands of these infernal blood-hunters. 
 
 The town they had chosen for their next stage, the name 
 of which I had thus caught in the market-place, was the 
 town to which, but for this intimation, I should have im- 
 mediately proceeded. As it was, I determined to take a 
 road as wide of it as possible. In the first place to which 
 I came, in which it was practicable to do so, I bought a 
 great coat, which I drew over my beggar's weeds, and a 
 better hat. The hat I slouched over my face, and covered 
 one of my eyes with a green silk shade. The handkerchief, 
 which I had hitherto worn about my head, I now tied 
 about the lower part of my visage, so as to cover my mouth. 
 By degrees I discarded every part of my former dress, and 
 wore for my upper garment a kind of carman's frock, which, 
 being of the better sort, made me look hke the son of a 
 reputable farmer of the lower class. Thus equipped, I pro- 
 ceeded on my journey, and, after a thousand alarms, pre- 
 cautions, and circuitous deviations from the direct path, ar- 
 rived safely in London. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Here then was the termination of an immense series of 
 labours, upon which no man could have looked back without 
 astonishment, or forward without a sentiment bordering on 
 despair. It was at a price which defies estimation that I 
 purchased this resting-place ; whether we consider the ef- 
 forts it had cost me to escape fiom the walls of my prison, 
 
 V 
 
310 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 or (he dangers and anxieties to which I had heen a prey, 
 from that hour to the present. 
 
 Hut why do I call the point at which I was now arrived 
 at, a resting-place ? Alas, it was diametrically the reverse ! 
 It was my first and immediate business to review all the 
 projects of disguise I had hitherto conceived, to derive every 
 improvement I could invent from the practice to which I 
 had been subjected, and to manufacture a veil of conceal- 
 ment more impenetrable than ever. This was an effort to 
 which I could see no end. In ordinary cases the hue and 
 cry after a supposed offender is a matter of temporary ope- 
 ration; but ordinary cases formed no standard for the co- 
 lossal intelligence of Mr. Falkland. For the same reason^ 
 London, which appears an inexhaustible reservoir of con- 
 cealment to the majority of mankind, brought no such con- 
 solatory sentiment to my mind, W hether life were worth 
 accepting on such terms I cannot pronounce. I only know 
 that I persisted in this exertion of my faculties, through a 
 sort of parental love that men are accustomed to entertain 
 for their intellectual offspring ; the more thought I had ex- 
 pended in rearing it to its present perfection, the less did I 
 find myself disposed to abandon it. Another motive, not 
 less strenuously exciting me to perseverance, was the cver- 
 n/ growing repugnance I felt to injustice and arbitrary power.'V^ 
 The first evening of my arrival in town 1 slept at an 
 obscure inn in the borough of Southwark, choosing that side 
 of the metropolis, [on account of its lying entirely wide of 
 the part of England from which 1 came. I entered the inn 
 in the evening in my countryman's frock; and, having paid 
 lor my lodging before I went to bed, equipped myself next 
 morning as dillerently as my wardrobe would allow, and 
 left the house before day. The frock I made up into a small 
 packet, and, having carried it to a distance as great as I 
 thought necessary, I dropped i( in the corner of an allev 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 311 
 
 through which I passed. My next care was to furnish my- 
 self with another suit of apparel, totally different from any 
 to which I had hitherto had recourse. The exterior which [ 
 I was now induced to assume was that of a Jew. One of 
 
 the gang of thieves upon forest, had been of that race ;/ 
 
 and by the talent of mimicry, which I have already stated 
 myself to possess, I could copy their pronunciation of the 
 English language, sufficiently to answer such occasions as 
 were hkely to present themselves. One of the prehminaries 
 I adopted, was to repair to a quarter of the town in which 
 great numbers of this people reside, and study their com- 
 plexion and countenance. Having made such provision as 
 my prudence suggested to me, I retired for that night to an 
 inn in the midway between Mile-end and Wapping. Here 
 I accoutred myself in my new habiliments ; and, having em- 
 ployed the same precautions as before, retired from my 
 lodging at a time least exposed to observation. It is un- 
 i necessary to describe the particulars of my new equipage ; 
 suffice it to say, that one of my cares was to discolour my 
 complexion, and give it the dun and sallow hue which is in 
 most instances characteristic of the tribe to which I assumed 
 to belong ; and that w hen my metamorphosis was finished, 
 I could not, upon the strictest examination, conceive that 
 any one could have traced out the person of Caleb Wil- 
 liams in this new disguise. 
 
 Thus far advanced in the execution of my project, I 
 deemed it advisable to procure a lodging, and change my 
 late wandering life for a stationary one. In this lodging I 
 constantly secluded myself from the rising to the setting 
 of the sun ; the periods I allowed for exercise and air were 
 few, and those few by night. I was even cautious of so 
 much as approaching the w indow of my apartment, though 
 upon the attic story : a principle I laid dow n to myself was, 
 
342 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 uot \van(ouly and unnecessarily to expose myself to risk, 
 however slight that risk might appear. 
 
 Here let me pause for a moment, to bring before the 
 reader, in the way in which it was impressed upon my 
 mind, the nature of my situation. I was born free : I was 
 born healthy, vigorous, and active, complete in all the li- 
 neaments and members of a human body. I was not born 
 indeed to the possession of hereditary w ealth ; but I had a 
 better inheritance, an enterprising mind, an inquisitive 
 spirit, a hberal ambition. In a word, I accepted my lot 
 with wiUingness and content ; I did not fear but I should 
 make my cause good in the lists of existence. I was sa- 
 tisfied to aim at small things ; I was pleased to play at first 
 for a slender stake ; I w as more willing to grow than to 
 descend in my individual significance. 
 
 The free spirit and the linn heart with which 1 com- 
 menced, one circumstance was sufficient to blast. I waso 
 ignorant of the power which the institutions of society give J 
 to one man over others ; I had fallen unwarily into the 
 hands of a person who held it as his fondest wish to op- 
 press and destroy me. 
 
 I found myself subjected, undeservedly on my part, to 
 all the disadvantages which mankind, if they reflected upon 
 them, would hesitate to impose on acknowledged guilt In 
 every human countenance I feared to find the countenance 
 of an enemy. I shrunk from the vigilance of every human 
 eye. 1 dared not open my heart to the best affections of 
 our nature. I was shut up, a deserted, sohtary wretch, in 
 the midst of my species. I dared not look for the conso- 
 lations of friendship ; but, instead of seeking to identify 
 myself with tin- joys and sorrows of others, and exchanging 
 the delicious gills of confidence and sympathy, was com- 
 pelled Id crnirr my thoughts and my vigilance in myself. 
 
CALEB \\ ILLIAMS. 343 
 
 My life was all a lie. I had a counterfeit character to sup- 
 port. I had counterfeit manners to assume. My gait, my 
 gestures, my accents, were all of them to be studied. I 
 was not free to indulge, no not one, honest sally of the 
 soul. Attended with these disadvantages, I was to pro- 
 cure myself a subsistence, a subsistence to be acquired with 
 infinite precautions, and to be consumed without the hope 
 of enjoyment. 
 
 This, even this, I was determined to endure ; to put my 
 shoulder to the burthen, and support it with unshrinking 
 firmness. Let it not, however, be supposed that I endured 
 it without repining and abhorrence. 3Iy time was divided 
 between the terrors of an animal that skvdks from its pur- 
 suers, the obstinacy of unshrinking firmness, and that elastic 
 revulsion that from time to time seems to shrivel the very 
 hearts of the miserable. If at some moments I fiercely 
 defied all the rigours of my fate, at other, and those of fre- 
 quent recurrence, I sunk into helpless despondence. I 
 looked forward without hope through the series of my ex- 
 istence, tears of anguish rushed from my eyes, my courage 
 became extinct, and I cursed the conscious life that was re- 
 produced with every returning day. 
 
 "Why," upon such occasions I was accustomed to ex- 
 claim, " why am I overwhelmed with the load of exis- 
 tence ? Why are all these engines at work to torment me ? 
 I am no murderer ; yet, if I were, what worse could I be 
 fated to suffer ? How vile, squalid, and disgraceful is the 
 state to which I am condemned ! This is not my place in 
 the roll of existence, the place for which either my temper 
 or my understanding has prepared me ! To what purpose 
 serve the restless aspirations of my soul, but to make me, 
 like a frighted bird, beat myself in vain against the enclosure 
 of my cage? Nature, barbarous nature ! to me thou hast 
 
341 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 proved indeedthe worst of step-mothers; endowed me with 
 wishes insatiate, and sunk me in never-ending degradation !" 
 I might have thought myself more secure if I had been 
 in possession of money upon which to subsist. The neces- 
 sity of earning for myself the means of existence, evidently 
 tended to thv\ art the plan of secrecy to which I was con- 
 demned. Whatever labour I adopted, or deemed myself 
 qualified to discharge, it was first to be considered how I 
 was to be provided with employment, and where I was to 
 find an employer or purchaser for my commodities. In 
 the mean time I had no alternative. The httle money with 
 which I had escaped from the blood-hunters was almost 
 expended. 
 
 After the minutest consideration I was able to bestow 
 upon this question, I determined that literature should be 
 the field of my first experiment. I had read of money 
 being acquired in this way, and of prices given by the spe- 
 culators in this sort of ware to its proper manufacturers. 
 My quaUfications I esteemed at a slender valuation. I was 
 not without a conviction that experience and practice must 
 pave the way to excellent production. But, though of these 
 1 was utterly destitute, my propensities had always led me 
 in this direction; and my early thirst of knowledge had 
 conducted me to a more intimate acquaintance with books, 
 than could perhaps have been expected under my circum- 
 stances. If my literary pretensions were slight, the demand 
 1 intended to make upon them was not great. All I asked 
 was a subsistence ; and I was persuaded few persons could 
 subsist upon slenderer means llum myself. I also consi- 
 dered this as a temporary expedient, and hoped that accident 
 or time might hereafter place me in a less precarious 
 situation. The reasons that principally determined my 
 choice were, that this employment called upon mc for 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 345 
 
 the least preparation, and could, as I thought, be exercised 
 with least observation. 
 
 There was a soUtary woman, of middle age, who tenanted 
 a chamber in this house, upon the same floor with my own. 
 I^had no sooner determined upon the destination of my in- 
 dustry, than I cast my eye upon her as the possible instru- 
 ment for disposing of my productions. Excluded as I was 
 from all intercourse with my species in general, 1 found plea- 
 sure in the occasional exchange of a few words with this in- 
 offensive and good-humoured creature, who was already of 
 an age to preclude scandal. She lived upon a very small an- 
 nuity, allowed her by a distant relation, a woman of quahty, 
 who, possessed of thousands herself, had no other anxiety 
 with respect to this person than that she should not con- 
 taminatejier alliance by the exertion of honest industry. 
 ~^is humble^^realufe vras'of a uniformly cheerful and 
 active disposition, unacquainted alike with the cares of 
 wealth and the pressure of misfortune. Though her pre- 
 tensions were small, and her information slender, she was 
 by no means deficient in penetration. She remarked the 
 faults and follies of mankind with no contemptible discern- 
 ment ; but her temper was of so mild and forgiving a cast, 
 as would have induced most persons to beheve that she 
 perceived nothing of the matter. Her heart overflowed 
 with the milk of kindness. She was sincere and ardent in 
 her attachments, and never did she omit a service which 
 she perceived herself able to render to a human being. 
 
 Had it not been for these qualifications of temper^ I 
 should probably have found that my appearance, that of a 
 deserted, solitary lad, of Jewish extraction, effectually pre- 
 cluded my demands upon her kindness. But I speedily 
 perceived, from her manner of receiving and returning ci- 
 vihties of an indifferent sort, that her heart was too noble 
 to have its effusions checked by any base and unworthy 
 
34G CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 considerations. Encouraged by these preliminaries, 1 de- 
 termined to select her as my agent. I found her wilUng 
 and alert in the business I proposed to her. That I miglif 
 anticipate occasions of suspicion, I frankly told her that, for 
 i-easons which I wished to be excused from relating, but 
 which, if related, I w as sure w ould not deprive me of her 
 good opinion, I found it necessary, for the present, to keep 
 myself private. With this statement she readily acquiesced, 
 and told me that she had no desire for any further infor- 
 mation than I found it expedient to give. 
 
 My first productions were of the poetical kind. After 
 having finished two or three, I directed this generous 
 creature to take them to the office of a ne\\ spaper ; but 
 they were rejected with contempt by the Aristarchus of 
 that place, who, having bestowed on them a superficial 
 glance, told her that such matters were not in his way. 
 I cannojjieljirnentioning in this place, that the countenance 
 of Mrs. Mariie^ (this was the name of my ambassadress) 
 w as iTT^aTTcases a perfect indication of her success, and 
 lendered explanation by words wholly unnecessary. She 
 interested herself so imreservedly in what she imdertook, 
 that she felt cither miscarriage or good fortune much more 
 exquisitely than I did. I had an unhesitating confidence 
 in my own resources, and, occupied as I was in medita- 
 tions more interesting and more painful, I regarded these 
 matters as altogether trivial. 
 
 I quietly took the pieces back, and laid them u|)on my 
 table. I pon rcvisal, 1 altered and transcribed one of them, 
 and, joining it with two others, despatched them together 
 to the editor (»f a magazine. He desired they might be 
 left Willi him (ill the day after to-morrow. When that 
 day canu', he told my friend they should be inserted; hut, 
 Mrs. ]>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<l 
 
C.\LEB WILLL^IklS. 349 
 
 race, the character of veteran costs the less time iu acquir- 
 ing. Upon his expulsion from this comnuinity, he returned 
 once more to his law ful profession, and by his old conu-ades 
 was received with congratulation as a lost sheep. In the 
 vulgar classes of society no length of time is sufficient to 
 expiate a crime ; but among the honourable fraternity of 
 thief-takei"s it is a rule never to bring one of their own 
 brethren to a I'eckoning w hen it can w ith any decencv be 
 avoided. They are probably reluct;mt to fix an unnecessai'v 
 stain upon the ermine of their profession. Another rule ob- 
 served by those who have passed tlu-ough the same gra- 
 dation as Gines had done, and w hich was adopted by Gines 
 himself, is always to reserve such as have been the accom- 
 plices of their depredations to the hist, and on no account 
 to assail them without great necessity or powerful tempt - 
 atiou. For this reason, according to Gines's system oi tactics. 
 Captain Raymond and his confederates were, as he w ould 
 have termed it, safe from his retaliation. 
 
 But, though Gines was, iu this sense of the term, a man 
 of strict honour, my case unfortunately did uol fall within 
 the laws of honour he acknow ledgcd. .Misfortune had ovei^ 
 taken me, and I was on all sides without protection or 
 shelter. The persecution to which I was exposed was 
 founded upon the supposition of my having committed 
 felony to an immense amount. But in this Gines h.ad had 
 no participation; he w;is careless whether the supposition 
 were true or fabe, aud hated me as much as if my inno- 
 cence had been established beyond the reach of suspicion. 
 
 The blood-hunters w ho had taken me into custody at 
 
 , related, as usual among their fraternity, a part of 
 
 of (heir adventuR\ and told of the reason w hich incliued 
 them to suppose, that the individual who had passed 
 through their custody, was the very Caleb Williams for 
 w hose apprehension a reward had been offered oi a hun- 
 
^ 
 
 330 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 dred guineas. Gines, whose acuteness was eminent in (he 
 way of his profession, by comparing facts and dates, was 
 induced to suspect in his own mind, that Caleb WilUams 
 
 was the person he had hustled and wounded upon 
 
 forest. Against (hat person he entertained the bitterest 
 aversion. I had been the innocent occasion of his being 
 expelled with disgrace from Captain Raymond's gang ; and 
 Gines, as I afterwards understood, was intimately persuaded 
 that there was no comparison between the liberal and manly 
 profession of a robber from which I had driven him, and 
 , the sordid and mechanical occupation of a blood-hunter, to 
 which he was obliged to return. He no sooner received 
 the information I have mentioned than he vowed revenge. 
 He determined to leave all other objects, and conse- 
 crate every faculty of his mind to the unkennelling me 
 from my hiding-place. The offered reward, which his 
 vanity made him consider as assuredly his own, appeared 
 as the complete indenmification of his labour and expense. 
 Thus I had to encounter the sagacity he possessed in the 
 way of his profession, w betted and stimulated by a senti- 
 ment of vengeance, in a mind that knew no restraint from 
 conscience or humanity. 
 
 When 1 drew to myself a picture of my situation soon 
 after having fixed on my present abode, I foolishly thought, 
 as tiie unhappy are accustomed to do, that my calamity 
 would admit of no aggravation. The aggravation which, 
 unknow n (o ine, at this time occurred, w as the most fearful 
 that any imagination could have devised. Nothing could 
 have happened more critically hostile to my future peace, 
 
 than my fatal ciHounter with (»ines upon forest. Hy 
 
 1 this means, as it now appears, 1 had fastened upon myself 
 a second enemy, of tlia( singular and dreadful sort that is 
 determined never to dismiss its animosity as long as life 
 siiall endure. While Falkland was the hungry lion whose 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 351 
 
 roarings astonished and appalled ine, Gines was a noxious 
 insect, scarcely less formidable and tremendous, that ho- 
 vered about my goings, and perpetually menaced me with ; 
 the poison of his sting. \ 
 
 The first step pursued by him in execution of his project, , 
 was to set out for the sea-port town where I had formerly nylMi^ 
 been apprehended. From thence he traced me to tha >/,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) t<t purchase the materials of a new dis- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 357 
 
 guise. Having adjusted it as well as I could during the 
 night, I left this asylum, with the same precautions that I 
 had employed in former instances. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 I PROCURED a new lodging. By some bias of the mind, 
 it may be, gratifying itself with images of peril, I inclined 
 to believe that Mrs. Marney's alarm had not been without 
 foundation. I was, however, unable to conjecture through 
 what means danger had approached me ; and had there- 
 fore only the unsatisfactory remedy of redoubling my 
 watch upon all my actions. Still I had the joint conside- 
 rations pressing upon me of security and subsistence. I 
 had some small remains of the produce of my former in- 
 dustry ; but this was but small, for my employer was in 
 arrear with me, and I did not choose in any method to ap- 
 ply to him for payment. The anxieties of my mind, in 
 spite of all my struggles, preyed upon my health. I did 
 not consider myself as in safety for an instant. My ap- 
 pearance was wasted to a shadow ; and I started at every 
 sound that was unexpected. Sometimes I was half tempted 
 to resign myself into the hands of the law, and brave its 
 worst ; but resentment and indignation at Hhose times 
 speedily flowed back upon my mind, and re-animated my 
 perseverance. 
 
 I knew no better resource with respect to subsistence 
 than that I had employed in the former instance, of seeking 
 some third person to stand between me and the disposal 
 of my industry. I might find an individual ready to un- 
 dertake this office in my behalf; but where should I find 
 
358 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 the benevolent soul of Mrs. Marney? The person 1 fixed 
 upon was a Mr. Spurrel, a man who took in work from 
 the watchmakers, and had an apartment upon our second 
 floor, I examined him two or three times w ith irresolute 
 glances, as we passed upon the stairs, before I would ven- 
 ture to accost him. He observed this, and at length kindly 
 invited me into his apartment. 
 
 Being seated, he condoled w ith me upon my seeming bad 
 health, and the solitary mode of my living, and wished to 
 to know w hether he could be of any service to me. " From 
 the first moment he saw me, he had conceived an affection 
 for me." In my present disguise I appeared twisted and 
 deformed, and in other respects by no means an object 
 of attraction. But it seemed Mr. Spurrel had lost an only 
 son about six months before, and I was " the very picture 
 of him." If I had put off my counterfeited ugliness, I should 
 probably have lost all hold upon his affections. " He was 
 now an old man," as he observed, " just dropping into the 
 grave, and his son had been his only consolation. The 
 poor lad was always ailing, but he had been a nurse to 
 him ; and the more tending he required while he was alive, 
 the more he missed him now he was dead. Now he had 
 not a friend, nor any body that cared for him, in the w hole 
 world. If I pleased, I should be instead of that son to him, 
 and he would treat me in all respects w ith the same atten- 
 tion and kindness." 
 
 I expressed my sense of these benevolent ofliers, but told 
 him that I should be sorry to be in any way burthensorae 
 to him. " My ideas at present led me to a private and so- 
 litary life, and my chief difliculty was to reconcile this 
 with some mode of earning necessary subsistence. If he 
 would condescend to lend me his assistance in smoothing 
 this difficulty, it would be the greatest benefit he could 
 confer on uie." I added, thai " my mind had alwavs had 
 
 JbAi 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 359 
 
 a mechanical and industrious turn, and that 1 did not doubt 
 of soon mastering any craft to which I seriously applied 
 myself. I had not been brought up to any trade ; but, if 
 he would favour me with his instructions, I would work 
 with him as long as he pleased for a bare subsistence. I 
 knew that I was asking of him an extraordinary kindness ; 
 but I was urged on the one hand by the most extreme ne- 
 cessity, and encouraged on the other by the persuasiveness 
 of his friendly professions." 
 
 The old man dropped some tears over my apparent 
 distress, and readily consented to every thing I proposed 
 Our agreement was soon made, and I entered upon my 
 functions accordingly. My new friend was a man of a sin- 
 gular turn of mind. Love of money , and a charitable 
 officiousness of demeanour, were his leading characteristics. 
 He lived in the most penurious manner, and denied himself 
 every indulgence. I entitled myself almost immediately, as 
 he frankly acknowledged, to some remuneration for my 
 labours, and accordingly he insisted upon my being paid. 
 He did not, however, as some persons would have done 
 under the circumstance, pay me the whole amount of my 
 earnings, but professed to subtract from them twenty per 
 cent, as an equitable consideration for instruction, and 
 commission-money in procuring me a channel for my in- 
 dustry. Yet he frequently shed tears over me, was uneasy 
 in every moment of our indispensable separation, and 
 exhibited perpetual tokens of attachment and fondness. I 
 found him a man of excellent mechanical contrivance, and 
 received considerable pleasure from his communications. 
 My own sources of information were various ; and he fre- 
 quently expressed his wonder and delight in the contempla- 
 tion of my powers, as well of amusement as exertion. 
 
 Thus I appeared to have attained a situation not less 
 eligible than in my connexion with Mrs. Marney. I was. 
 
360 CALiu; \. il.LlAMS. 
 
 however, still luore unliappy. My lits of despondence wei-e 
 deeper, and of more frequent recurrence. My health every 
 day grew worse ; and .Mr. Spurrel was not without ap- 
 prehensions that he should lose me, as he before lost his 
 only son. 
 
 I had not been long, liowever, in this new situation, 
 before an incident occurred which filled me with greater 
 alarm and apprehension than ever. I was walking out 
 one evening, after a long visitation of languor, for an 
 hour's exercise and air, when my ears were struck w ith 
 two or three casual sounds from the mouth of a hawker 
 who was bawhng his wares. 1 stood still to inform myself 
 more exactly, when, to my utter astonishment and confusion, 
 I heard him deliver himself nearly in these words : " Uert 
 you have the yiosT wonderful and surprising history asd 
 MIRACULOUS ADVENTURES OF Caleb Willl\ms : jou uvc in- 
 formed how he first robbed, and then brought false accu- 
 sations against his master ; as also of his attempting 
 divers times to break out of prison, till at last he effected 
 his escape in the most wonderful and uncredible 'man- 
 ner ; as also of his travelling tfie kingdom in various 
 disguises and the robberies he com,mitted with a most 
 desperate and daring gang of thieves; and of his com- 
 ing up to London, where it is supposed he now lies 
 concealed; ivith a true and faithful copy of the hut 
 and cry printed and published by one of his Majesty^ s 
 most pri/icipal Secretaricsof State, offering a reivard of 
 one hundred guineas far apprehending him. All for 
 the price of one halfpenny." 
 
 Fetrilied as 1 was at these anuizing aiul tlroadliil sounds, 
 I had tlic (fiHciity to go up to the man ami purchase one 
 ol his papers. 1 was desperately icsolvcil to know the 
 exact state of (he fact, and what I hud to depend upou. f 
 carried it with me u little way, till, no longer able to endure 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 361 
 
 the tumult of my impatience, I contrived to make out the 
 chief part of its contents, by the help of a lamp, at the 
 upper end of a narrow passage. I found it contain a 
 greater number of circumstances than could have been 
 expected in this species of publication. I was equalled to 
 the most notorious housebreaker in the art of penetrating 
 through walls and doors, and to the most accompUshed 
 swindler in plausibleness, duplicity, and disguise. The 
 hand-bill which Larkins had first brought to us upon the 
 forest was printed at length. All my disguises, previously 
 to the last alarm that had been given me by the providence 
 of Mrs. Marney, were faithfully enumerated; and the pub- 
 lic were warned to be upon their watch against a person 
 of an uncouth and extraordinary appearance, and who 
 lived in a [recluse and solitary manner. I also learned 
 from this paper that my former lodgings had been searched 
 on the very evening of my escape, and that Mrs. Marney \ 
 had been sent to Newgate, upon a charge of misprision of j 
 felony. — This last circumstance affected me deeply. In/ 
 the midst of my own sufferings my sympathies flowed 
 undiminished. It was a most cruel and intolerable idea, if 
 I were not only myself to be an object of unrelenting 
 persecution, but my very touch were to be infectious, and 
 every one that succoured me was to be involved in the 
 common ruin. My instant feeling was that of a willingness 
 to undergo the utmost mahce of my enemies, could I by 
 that means have saved this excellent woman from alarm 
 and peril. — I afterwards learned that 3Irs. Marney was 
 delivered from confinement, by the interposition of her 
 noble relation. 
 
 My sympathy for Mrs. Marney, however, was at this mo- 
 ment a transient one. A more imperious and irresistible 
 consideration demanded to be heard. 
 
 With what sensations did I ruminate upon this paper ? 
 
3&i CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 Every word of it carried despair to my heart. The actual 
 apprehension that I dreaded would perhaps have been less 
 horrible. It would have put an end to that lingering terroi- 
 to which I was a prey. Disguise was no longer of use. 
 A numerous class of individuals, through every department, 
 almost every house of the metropolis, would be induced 
 to look with a suspicious eye upon every stranger, espe- 
 cially every solitary stranger, that fell under their obser- 
 vation. The prize of one hundred guineas was held out 
 to excite their avarice and sharpen their penetration. It 
 was no longer Bow-street, it was a milhon of men in arms 
 against me. Neither had I the refuge, which few men 
 have been so miserable as to want, of one single individual 
 with whom to repose my alarms, and who might shelter 
 me from the gaze of indiscriminate curiosity. 
 
 What could exceed the horrors of this situation? My 
 heart knocked against my ribs, my bosom heaved, I gasped 
 and panted for breath. " There is no end then," said I, 
 " to my persecutors ! My unwearied and long-continued 
 labours lead to no. termination ! Termination ! No ; the 
 lapse of time, that cures all other things, makes my case 
 more desperate ! Why then," exclaimed I, a new train of 
 thought suddenly rushing into my mind, " why should I 
 sustain the contest any longer ? 1 can at least elude my 
 persecutors in death. I can bury myself and the traces of 
 my existence together in friendly oblivion ; and thus be- 
 queath eternal doubt, and ever new alarm, to those who 
 have no peace but in pursuing me !" 
 
 In (he midst of the horrors with which I was now im- 
 pressed, this idea gave me pleasure; and I hastened to the 
 / Thames to put it in instant execution. Such was the parox- 
 ysm of my mind that uiy powers of vision became partially 
 suspended. I was no longer conscious to the feebleness 
 o( disea.sc, but rn^hed along with fervent impetuosity. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 363 
 
 I passed from street to street without observing what di- 
 rection I pursued. After wandering I know not how long, 
 I arrived at London Bridge. I hastened to the stairs, and 
 saw the river covered with vessels. 
 
 " No human being must see me," said I, " at the instant 
 that I vanish for ever." This thought required some con- 
 sideration. A portion of time had elapsed since my first 
 desperate purpose. My understanding began to return. 
 The sight of the vessels suggested to me the idea of once 
 more attempting to leave my native country. 
 
 I enquired, and speedily found that the cheapest passage 
 I could procure was in a vessel moored near the Tower, 
 and which was to sail in a few days for Middleburgh in 
 Holland. I would have gone instantly on board, and have 
 endeavoured to prevail with the captain to let mc remain 
 there till he sailed; but unfortunately I had not money 
 enough in my pocket to defray my passage. 
 
 It was worse than this. I had not money enough in the 
 world. I however paid the captain half his demand, and 
 promised to return with the rest. I knew not in what 
 manner it was to be procured, but I believed that I should 
 not fail in it. I had some idea of applying to Mr. Spurrel. 
 Surely he would not refuse me ? He appeared to love me 
 with parental affection, and I thought I might trust myself 
 for a moment in his hands. 
 
 I approached my place of residence with a heavy and 
 foreboding heart. Mr. Spurrel was not at home ; and I 
 was obliged to wait for his return. Worn out with fa- 
 tigue, disappointment, and the ill state of my health, I sunk 
 upon a chair. Speedily, however, I recollected myself. 
 I had work of Mr. Spurrel's in my trunk, which had been 
 delivered out to me that very morning, to five times the 
 amount I wanted. I canvassed for a moment whether I 
 I should make use of this property as if it were my own ; 
 
36 J CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 (/ but I rejected the idea with disdain. I had never in the 
 smallest degree merited the reproaches that were cast 
 upunme; and I determined 1 never would merit them. 
 I sat gasping, anxious, full of the blackest forebodings. 
 My tenors appeared, even to my own mind, greater and 
 more importunate than the circumstances authorised. 
 
 It was extraoi dinary that 3Ir, Spurrel should be abroad 
 at this hour ; I had never known it happen before. His 
 bed-time was between nine and ten. Ten o'clock came, 
 eleven o'clock, but not Mr. Spurrel. At midnight I heard 
 his knock at the door. Every soul in the house was in 
 bed. 3ir. Spurrel, on account of his regular hours, was 
 unpro\ ided w ith a key to open for himself. A gleam, a 
 sickly gleam, of the social spirit came over my heart. I 
 Hew nimbly down stairs, and opened the door. 
 
 1 could perceive, by the little taper in my hand, some- 
 thing extraordinary in his countenance. I had not time to 
 speak, before I saw two other men follow him. At the 
 ih'st glance I was sufficiently assured what sort of persons 
 they were. At the second, I perceived that one of them 
 J was no other than Gines himself. I had understood for- 
 merly that he had been of this profession, and I was not 
 surprised to find him in it again. Though I had for three 
 hours endeavoured, as it w ere, to prepare myself for the 
 unavoidable necessity of falling once again into the hands 
 oi the officers of law, the sensation I felt at their en- 
 trance was indescribably agonising. I was besides not 
 a lilllc a.stonished at the time and manner of their en- 
 trance ; and 1 felt anxious to know whether Mr. Spurrel 
 could be base enough to have been their introducer. 
 
 I was not long held in perplexity. He no sooner saw 
 his followers within the door, than he exclaimed, with 
 ctmvulsive eagerness, " There, there, (hat is your man! 
 (hank (mmI! (hank (iod !" Gines looked eagerly in my 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 365 
 
 face, with a countenance expressive alternately of hope 
 and doubt, and answered, "By God, and I do not know 
 whether it be or no ! I am afraid ^^e are in the wrong 
 box ! " Then recollecting himself, " We will go into the 
 house, and examine further, however." We all went up 
 stairs into Mr. Spurrel's room ; I set down the candle 
 upon the table. I had hitherto been silent ; but I deter- 
 mmed not to desert myself, and was a little encouraged 
 to exertion by the scepticism of Gines. With a calm and 
 deliberate manner therefore, in my feigned voice, one of 
 the characteristics of which was hsping, I asked, "Pray, 
 gentlemen, what may be your pleasure with me?" — 
 " Why," said Gines, " our errand is with one Caleb Wil- 
 liams, and a precious rascal he is! I ought to know 
 the chap well enough ; but they say he has as many faces 
 as there are days in the year. So you please to pull oflf 
 your £ace ; or, if you cannot do that, at least you can 
 pull ofiF your clothes, and let us see what your hump is 
 made of." 
 
 I remonstrated, but in vain. I stood detected in part of my 
 artifice ; and Gines, though still uncertain, was every moment 
 more and more confirmed in his suspicions. JMr. Spurrel 
 perfectly gloated, with eyes that seemed ready to devour 
 every thing that passed. As my imposture gradually ap- 
 peared more palpable, he repeated his exclamation, " Thank 
 God! thank God!" At last, tired with this scene of 
 mummery, and disgusted beyond measure with the base 
 and hypocritical figure I seemed to exhibit, I exclaimed, 
 " Well, I am Caleb Williams ; conduct me wherever you 
 
 please ! And now, j>Ir. 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<l lleshless. 
 His complexion was ij dun and tarnished red, the colour 
 iinil'(»rin (lirough every region of ihc face, and suggested 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 377 
 
 the idea of its being burnt and pai ched by the eternal fire that 
 burned within him. His eyes were red, quick,wandering, full 
 of suspicion and rage. His hair was neglected, ragged, and 
 floating. His whole figure was thin, to a degree that sug- 
 gested the idea rather of a skeleton than a person actually 
 alive. Life seemed hardly to be the capable inhabitant of 
 so wobegone and ghost-like a figure. The taper of whole- 
 some life was expired ; but passion, and fierceness, and 
 frenzy, were able for the present to supply its place. 
 
 I was to the utmost degree astonished and shocked at 
 the sight of him. — He sternly commanded my conductors 
 to leave the room. 
 
 " Well, sir, I have this day successfully exerted myself 
 to save your life from the gallows. A fortnight ago you 
 did what you were able to bring my life to that ignomi- 
 nious close. 
 
 " Were you so stupid and undistinguishing as not to 
 know that the preservation of your life was the uniform 
 object of my exertions ? Did not I mpintain you in prison ? 
 Did not I endeavour to prevent your being sent thither? 
 Could you mistake the bigoted and obstinate conduct of Fo- 
 rester, in offering a hundred guineas for your apprehen- 
 sion, for mine ? 
 
 " I had my eye upon you in all your wanderings. You v 
 have taken no material step through their whole course ■. 
 with which I have not been acquainted. I meditated to do "* 
 you good, I have spilt no blood but that of Tyrrel ; that ; 
 was in the moment of passion ; and it has been the subject i 
 of my uninterrupted and hourly remorse. I have connived j 
 at no man's fate but that of the Hawkinses : they could no 
 otherwise have been saved, than by my acknowledging -■ 
 myself a murderer. The rest of my life has been spent in j 
 acts of benevolence. - 
 
 " I meditated to do you ^ood. For that reason I was 
 
37H CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 willing to prove you. You pretended to act towards me 
 with consideration and forbearance. If you had persisted 
 in that to the end, I would yet have found a way to reward 
 you. I left you to your own discretion. You might show 
 the impotent malignity of your own heart ; but, in the cir- 
 cumstances in which you were then placed, I knew you 
 could not hurt me Your forbearance has proved, as I all 
 along suspected, empty and treacherous. You have at- 
 tempted to blast my reputation. You have sought to dis- 
 close the select and eternal secret of my soul. Because 
 you have done that, I will never forgive you. I will re- 
 member it to my latest breath. The memory shall survive 
 me, when my existence is no more. Do you think yo|i are 
 out of the reach of my- power, because a court of justice 
 has acquitted you ?' 
 
 While Mr. Falkland was speaking, a sudden distemper 
 came over his countenance, his w hole frame was shaken 
 by an instantaneous convulsion, and he staggered to a chair. 
 In about three minutes he recovered. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " I am still alive. I shall live for days, 
 and months, and years ; the power that made me, of what- 
 ever kind it be, can only determine how long. I live tlie 
 
 lardian^ fjnyjreputation. That, and to endure a misery 
 such UB inan never endured, are the only ends to which I 
 live. But, when I am no more, my fame shall still survive. 
 .^My character shall be revered as spotless and unimpeach- 
 able by all posterity, as long as the name of Falkland shall 
 be repeated in the most distant regions of the nianypeoplcd 
 globe." 
 
 Having said this, he returned to the discourse which more 
 
 immnliately related to my future condition and happiness. 
 
 "There is one condition," said he, "upon which you may 
 
 obtain some mitigation of your future calamity. It is for 
 
 that purpose (iiat I have sent for you. Listen to my pro- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 379 j 
 
 posal with deliberation and sobriety. Remember, that the 
 insanity is not less to trifle with the resolved determination 
 of my soul, than it would be to pull a mountain upon your 
 head that hung trembling upon the edge of the mighty 
 Apennine! ; 
 
 " I insist then upon your signing a paper, declaring, in -j 
 
 the most solemn manner, that I am innocent of murder, and 
 that the charge you alleged at the office in Bow-street is 
 false, mahcious, and groundless. Perhaps you may scruple 
 out of a regard to truth. Is truth then entitled to adoration ^^^y\ 
 for its own sake, and not for the sake of the happiness it is ^ \ 
 calculated to produce ? Will a reasonable man sacrifice ' 
 to barren truth, when benevolence, humanity, and every j 
 
 consideration that is dear to the human heart, require that ; 
 
 it should be superseded ? It is probable that I may never 1 
 
 make use of this paper, but I require it, as the only practi- | 
 
 cable reparation to the honour you have assailed. This is ; 
 
 what I had to propose. I expect your answer." «_ 
 
 " Sir," answered I, " I have heai^d you to an end, and I ( i 
 stand in need of no deliberation to enable me to answer you j 
 
 in the negative. You took me up a raw and inexperienced j 
 
 boy, capable of being moulded to any form you pleased. 
 But you have communicated to me volumes of experience 
 in a very short period, I am no longer irresolute and i 
 
 pliable. What is the power you retain over my fate I am 
 unable to discover. You may destroy me ; but you cannot 
 make me tremble. I am not concerned to enquire, whether 
 what I have suffered flowed from you by design or other- 
 wise ; whether you were the author of my miseries, or only 
 connived at them. This I know, that I have suffered too '•, 
 
 exquisitely on your account, for me to feel the least re- ! 
 
 maining claim on your part to my making any voluntaryj^ ' 
 sacrifice. i 
 
 " You say that benevolence and humanity require this , 
 
380 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 sacrilicc ol iiu'. No ; it w oultl only be a sacrifice to your 
 luad anil inisguiiledloye of fame, — to that passion which has 
 been the source of all your miseries, of the most tragical ca- 
 lamities to others, and of every misfortune that has happened 
 to me. I have no forbearance to exercise towards that 
 passion. If you be not yet cured of this tremendous and 
 sanguinary folly, at least I will do nothing to cherish it. 
 I know not whether from my youth I was destined for a 
 hero; but I may thank you for having taught me a lesson of 
 insurmountable fortitude. 
 
 " What is it that you require of me ? that I should sign 
 away my own reputation for the better maintaining of 
 yours. Where is the equality of that ? What is jt that casts 
 me at such an immense distance below you, as to make 
 every thing that relates to me wholly unworthy of consi- 
 deration ? You have been educated in the prejudice of birth. /' 
 I abhor that prejudice. You have made me desperate, and 
 1 utter what that desperation suggests. 
 
 " You will tell me, perhaps, that I have no reputation to 
 lose; that, while you are esteemed faultless and unblemished, 
 I am universally reputed a thief, a suborner, and a calum- 
 niator. He it so. I will never do any thing to countenance 
 those imputations. The more I am destitute of the esteem 
 of mankind, the more careful I will be to preserve my owii. 
 I will never from fear, or any other mistaken motive, do 
 any thing of which 1 ought to be ashamed. 
 
 " You are determined to be for ever my enemy. I ha\e 
 in no degree deserved this etcj-nal abhorrence. I have 
 always esteemed and pitied you. For a considerable time 
 I latlicr chose to expose myself to every kind of mislortunc, 
 than disclose the secret that was so dear to you. I was not 
 ^ deterred by your menaces — ( what could you make nu' 
 suffer more than I actually sullered ? ) — but by (he huma- 
 nifv of inv dwn IkmiI ; in winch, and not in means of 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 381 
 
 violence, you ought to have reposed your confidence, WTiat 
 is the mysterious vengeance that you can yet execute against 
 me ? You menaced me before ; you can menace no worse 
 now. You are wearing out the springs of terror. Do with 
 me as you please ; you teach me to hear you with an 
 unshrinking and desperate firmness. Recollect yourself! 
 I did not proceed to the step with which you reproach me, 
 till I was apparently urged to the very last extremity. I 
 had suffered as much as human nature can suffer; I had 
 lived in the midst of eternal alarm and unintermitted 
 watchfulness ; I had twice been driven to purposes of sui- 
 cide. I am now^ sorry, however, that the step of which you 
 complain was ever adopted. But, urged to exasperation 
 by an unintermitted rigour, I had no time to cool or to de- 
 liberate. Even at present I cherish no vengeance against 
 you. All that is reasonable, all that can really contribute 
 to your security, I will readily concede ; but I will not be 
 driven to an act repugnant to all reason, integrity, and 
 justice." 
 
 Mr. Falkland Ustened to me with astonishment and im- 
 patience. He had entertained no previous conception of 
 the firmness I displayed. Several times he was convulsed 
 with the fury that laboured in his breast. Once and again 
 he betrayed an intention to interrupt ; but he was re- 
 strained by the collectedness of my manner, and perhaps 
 by a desire to be acquainted with the entire state of my 
 mind. Finding that I had concluded, he paused for a mo- 
 ment ; his passion seemed gradually to enlarge, till it was 
 no longer capable of control. 
 
 " It is well !" said he, gnashing his teeth, and stamping 
 upon the ground. " You refuse the composition I offer ! 
 I have no power to persuade you to compliance! You 
 defy me ! At least I have a power respecting you, and 
 that power I will exercise; a power that shall grind you 
 
38* CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 into atoms. I condescend to no more expostulation. I 
 know what 1 am, and what I can be. I know what you 
 are, and what fate is reserved for you !" 
 Saying this, he quitted the room. 
 
 Sucli were the particulars of this memorable scene. 
 The impression it has left upon my understanding is in- 
 delible. The figure and appearance of Mr. Falkland, his 
 death-like weakness and decay, his more than mortal 
 energy and rage, the words that he spoke, the motives 
 that animated him, produced one compounded effect upon 
 my mind that nothing of the same nature could ever 
 parallel. The idea of his misery thrilled through my 
 frame. How weak in comparison of it is the imaginary 
 hell, which the great enemy of mankind is represented as 
 carrying every where al)out with him ! 
 
 From this consideration, my mind presently turned to 
 the menaces he had vented against myself. They were all 
 mysterious and undefined. He had talked of power, but 
 had given no hint from which I could collect in what he 
 imagined it to consist. He had talked of misery, but had 
 not dropped a syllable respecting the nature of the misery 
 to be inilicted. 
 
 I sat still for some time, ruminating on these thoughts. 
 Neither Mv. Falkland nor any other person appeared to dis- 
 turb my meditations. I rose, went out of the room, and 
 from the inn into the street. IVo one offered to molest 
 me. It was strange ! What was the nature of this 
 power, from which I was to apprehend so nmch, yet which 
 seemed to leave me at perfo't liberty ? i began to ima- 
 gine that all I had heard from this dreadful adversary was 
 mere madness and extravagance, and that he was at length 
 deprived of the use of reason, which had long served him 
 only as a medium of torment. Yet was it likely in that 
 case that he should he alile to employ (liiu's and his asso- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 383 
 
 ciate, who had just been his instruments of violence upon 
 my person ? 
 
 I proceeded along the streets with considerable caution. 
 I looked before me and behind me, as well as the darkness 
 would allow me to do, that I might not again be hunted in 
 sight by some men of stratagem and violence without my 
 perceiving it. I went not, as before, beyond the limits of 
 the town, but considered the streets, the houses, and the in- 
 habitants, as affording some degree of security. I was still 
 walking with my mind thus full of suspicion and forecast, 
 when I discovered Thomas, that servant of Mr. Falkland 
 whom I have already more than once had occasion to men- 
 tion. He advanced towards me with an air so blunt and 
 direct, as instantly to remove from me the idea of any 
 thing insidious in his purpose ; besides that I had always 
 felt the character of Thomas, rustic and uncultivated as it 
 was, to be entitled to a more than common portion of 
 esteem. 
 
 " Thomas," said I, as he advanced, " I hope you are 
 willing to give me joy, that I am at length delivered from 
 the dreadftil danger which for many months haunted me 
 so unmercifully." 
 
 " No," rejoined Thomas, roughly ; " I be not at all 
 willing. I do not know what to make of myself in this 
 affair. While you w ere in prison in that miserable fashion, 
 I felt all at once almost as if I loved you : and now that 
 that is over, and you are turned out loose in the world to 
 do your worst, my blood rises at the very sight of you. 
 To look at you, you are almost that very lad Williams for 
 whom I could with pleasure, as it were, have laid down my 
 life ; and yet, behind that smiling face there lie robbery, 
 and lying, and every thing that is ungrateful and mur- 
 derous. Your last action was worse than all the rest. 
 How could you find in your heart to revive that cruel story 
 
tlSJ CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 about Mr. Tynel, which every body had agreed, out of 
 regard to the squire, never to mention again, and of which 
 I know, and you know, he is as innocent as the child un- 
 born ? There are causes and reasons, or else I could have 
 wished from the bottom of my soul never to have set eyes 
 on you again." 
 
 " And you still persist in your hard thoughts of me ?" 
 » W orse ! I think worse of you than ever ! Before, 1 
 thought you as bad as man could be. I wonder from my 
 soul what you are to do next. But you make good the old 
 saying, ' Needs must go, that the devil drives." 
 
 " And so there is never to be an end of my misfortunes! 
 What can Mr. Falkland contrive for me worse than the ill 
 opinion and enmity of all mankind ?" 
 
 - " 31r, Falkland contrive ! He is the best friend you have 
 in the world, though you are the basest traitor to him. 
 Poor man ! it makes one's heart ache to look at him ; he 
 is the very image of grief. And it is not clear to ine that 
 it is not all owing to you. At least you have given the 
 finishing lift to the misfortune that was ah-eady destroying 
 him. There have been the devil and all to pay between 
 him and Squire Forester. The squire is right raving mad 
 with my master, for having outwitted him in the matter of 
 the trial, and saved your life. He swears that you shall be 
 taken up and tried all over again at the next assizes ; but 
 my master is resolute, and I believe will carry it his own 
 way. He says, indeed, that the law will not allow Squire 
 Forester to have his will in this. To see him ordering 
 every thing for your benefit, and taking all your malioicuis- 
 ness as mild and innocent as a lamb, and to think of your 
 vile proceedings against him, is a sight one shall not see 
 again, go all the world over. For (iod's .sake, repent of 
 your reprobate doings, and make whal little reparation is 
 Think of your poor soul, before you 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 385 
 
 awake, as to be sure one of these days you will, in fire 
 and brimstone everlasting !" 
 
 Saying this, he held out his hand and took hold of 
 mine. The action seemed strange ; but I at first thought it 
 the unpremeditated result of his solemn and well-intended 
 adjuration. I felt, however, that he put something into 
 my hand. The next moment he quitted his hold, and 
 hastened from me with the swiftness of an arrow. What 
 he had thus given me was a bank-note of twenty pounds. 
 I had no doubt that he had been charged to deliver it to 
 me from Mr. Falkland. 
 
 What was I to infer? what light did it throw upon the 
 intentions of my inexorable persecutor? his animosity 
 against me w as as great as ever ; that I had just had con- 
 firmed to me from his own mouth. Yet his animosity 
 appeared to be still tempered with the remains of huma- 
 nity. He prescribed to it a line, wide enough to embrace 
 the gratification of his views, and within the boundaries of 
 that line it stopped. But this discovery carried no con- 
 solation to my mind. I knew not what portion of calamity I 
 was fated to endure, before his jealousy of dishonour, and 
 inordinate thirst of fame would deem themselves satisfied. 
 
 Another question offered itself. Was I to receive the 
 money which had just been piit into my hands ? the money 
 of a man who had inflicted upon me injuries, less than 
 those which he had entailed upon himself, but the greatest 
 that one man can inflict upon another ? who had blasted 
 my youth, who had destroyed my peace, who had held 
 me up to the abhorrence of mankind, and rendered me 
 an outcast upon the face of the earth ? who had forged 
 the basest aiil most atrocious falsehoods, and urged them 
 with a seriousness and perseverance which produced uni- 
 versal belief ? w ho, an hour before, had vowed against 
 me inexorable enmity, and sworn to entail up6li me misery 
 
 2.5 
 
386 CALEB WILUAMS- 
 
 uilhout end? Would not ihis conduct on my part betray 
 a base and abject spirit, that crouched under tyranny, and 
 kissed tlie hands that were imbrued in my blood ? 
 
 If these reasons appeared strong, neither was the other 
 side without reasons in reply. I wanted the money : not 
 for any purpose of vice or superfluity, but for those pur- 
 poses without which life cannot subsist. Man ought to be 
 able, wherever placed, to find for himself the means of 
 existence ; but I was to open a new scene of life, to re- 
 move to some distant spot, to be prepared against all the 
 ill-will of mankind, and the unexplored projects of hosti- 
 lity of a most accomplished foe. The actual means of / 
 existence are the property of all. What should hinder 
 me from taking that of which I was really in want, when, 
 in taking it, I risked no vengeance, and perpetrated no 
 violence ? The property in question w ill be beneficial to 
 me, and the voluntary surrender of it is accompanied with 
 no injury to its late proprietor ; what other condition can 
 be necessary to render the use of it on my part a duty? 
 He that lately possessed it has injured me; does that alter 
 its value as a medium of exchange ? He w ill boast perhaps 
 of the imaginary obligation he has conferred on me: surely 
 to shrink from a thing in itself right from any such ap- 
 prehension, can be the result only of pusillanimity and 
 cowardice ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Infufntfi) by these reasonings, 1 determined to retain 
 what had thus brrn put into my hands. M\ next care 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 3B7 
 
 was in regard to the scene I should choose, as the retreat 
 of that life which I had just saved from the grasp of the 
 executioner. The danger to which I was exposed of for- 
 cible interruption in my pursuits, was probably, in some 
 respects, less now than it had been previously to this crisis. 
 Besides, that I was considerably influenced in this delibe- 
 ration by the strong loathing I conceived for the situations 
 in which I had lately been engaged. I knew not in what 
 mode Mr. Falkland intended to exercise his vengeance 
 against me ; but I was seized with so unconquerable an 
 aversion to disguise, and the idea of spending my life in 
 personating a fictitious character, that I could not, for the 
 present at least, reconcile my mind to any thing of that 
 nature. The same kind of disgust I had conceived for the 
 metropolis, where I had spent so many hours of artifice, 
 sadness, and terror. I therefore decided in favour of the 
 project which had formerly proved amusing to my imagi- 
 nation, of withdrawing to some distant, rural scene, a 
 scene of calmness and obscurity, where for a few years at 
 least, perhaps during the life of Mr. Falkland, I might be 
 hidden from the world, recover the wounds my mind had 
 received in this fatal connexion, methodise and improve 
 the experience which had been accumulated, cultivate the 
 faculties I in any degree possessed, and employ the in- 
 tervals of these occupations in simple industry, and the 
 intercourse of guileless, uneducated, kind-intentioned minds. 
 The menaces of my persecutor seemed to forebode the 
 inevitable interruption of this system. But I deemed it 
 wise to put these menaces out of my consideration. I 
 compared them to death, which must infallibly overtake us 
 we know not when ; but the possibility of whose arrival 
 next year, next week, to-morrow, must be left out of the 
 calculation of him who would enter upon any important or 
 well-concerted undertaking. 
 
 25 * 
 
•jhh CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 Such were the ideas tliat determined my choice. Thus 
 did my youtliliil mind dehneate the system of distant 
 years, even \shen the threats of instant calamity still 
 sounded in my cars. I was inured to the apprehension of 
 mischief, till at last the hoarse roarings of the heginning 
 tempest had lost their power of annihilating my peace. 
 I however thought it necessary, while I was most pal- 
 pably within the sphere of the enemy, to exert every 
 practicable degree of vigilance. I was careful not to 
 incur the hazards of darkness and solitude. When I left 
 the town it was with the stage-coach, an obvious source 
 of protection against glaring and enormous violence. — 
 !>Iean while I found myself no more exposed to molesta- 
 tion in my progress, than the man in the w orld w ho should 
 have had the least reason for apprehensions of this na- 
 ture. As the distance increased, I relaxed something in 
 my precaution, though still awake to a sense of danger, 
 and constantly pursued w ith the image of my foe. I fixed 
 upon an obscure market-town in Wales as the chosen 
 seat of my operations. This place recommended itself to 
 my observation as I was wandering in quest of an abode. 
 It was clean, cheerful, and of great simplicity of appea- 
 rance. It was at a distance from any public and frequented 
 road, and had nothing which could desei-ve the name of 
 trade. The face of nature around it was agreeably di- 
 versified, being partly wild and romantic, and partly rich 
 and abundant in production. 
 
 Here 1 solicited employment in two professions; tho 
 lirst, that of a watclunaker, in which though the instruc- 
 tions I had received were few, they were eked out an<) 
 assisted by a mind fruitful in mechanical invention; fh<» 
 other, that of an instructor in mathematics and its pra<^ 
 tical application, geography, astionomy, land-surveying, 
 and na\igali<)ii. Neither of these was a very <M>piou.«i 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 389 
 
 source of emolument in the obscure retreat I had chosen 
 for myself; but, if my receipts were slender, my disburse- 
 ments were still fewer. In this little town I became ac- 
 quainted with the vicar, the apothecary, the lawyer, and 
 the rest of the persons who, time out of mind, had been 
 regarded as the top gentry of the place. Each of these 
 centred in himself a variety of occupations. There was 
 little in the appearance of the vicar that reminded you of 
 his profession, except on the recurring Sunday. At other 
 times he condescended, with his evangelical hand to guide 
 the plough, or to drive the cows from the field to the 
 farm-yard for the milking. The apothecary occasionally 
 officiated as a barber, and the lawyer was the village school- 
 master. 
 
 By all these persons I was received with kindness and 
 hospitality. Among people thus remote from the bustle of 
 human life, there is an open spirit of confidence, by means 
 of which a stranger easily finds access to their benevolence 
 and good-will. My manners had never been greatly de- 
 bauched from the simplicity of rural life by the scenes 
 through which I had passed ; and the hardships I had en- 
 dured had given additional mildness to my character. In 
 the theatre upon which I was now placed I had no rival. 
 My mechanical occupation had hitherto been a non-re- 
 sident ; and the schoolmaster, who did not aspire to the 
 subUme heights of science I professed to communicate, was 
 willing to admit me as a partner in the task of civilising 
 the unpolished manners of the inhabitants. For the par- 
 son, civilisation was no part of his trade ; his business was 
 with the things of a better life, not with the carnal concerns 
 of this material scene ; in truth, his thoughts were prin- 
 cipally occupied with his oatmeal and his cows. 
 
 These, however, were not the only companions which this 
 remote retirement afforded me. There was a family of 
 
390 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 a very did'eient description, of which I gradually became 
 the chosen intimate. Tlie latlier was a shrewd, sensible, 
 rational man, but who had turned his principal attention 
 to subjects of agriculture. His wife was a truly admirable 
 and extraordinary woman. She was the daughter of a 
 Neapolitan nobleman, who, after having visited, and made 
 a considerable figure, in every country in Europe, had at 
 length received the blow of fate in this village. He had 
 been banished his country upon suspicion of religious and 
 political heresy, and his estates confiscated. With this 
 only child, like Prospero in the Tempest, he had with- 
 drawn himself to one of the most obscure and uncultivated 
 regions of the v^orld. Very soon, however, after his ar- 
 rival in Wales he had been seized ^ith a malignant fever, 
 which carried him off in three days. He died possessed 
 of no other property than a few jewels, and a bill of credit, 
 of no considerable amount, upon an EngUsh banker. 
 
 ' Here then was the infant Laura left in a foreign coun- 
 try, and without a single friend. The father of her pre- 
 sent husband was led by motives of pure humanity to seek 
 to mitigate the misfortunes of the dying Italian. Though 
 a plain uninstructed man, with no extraordinary refine- 
 ment of intellect, there was something in his countenance 
 tliat determined the stranger in his present forlorn and 
 melancholy situation, to make him his executor, and the 
 guardian of his daughter. The iVcapolitan understood 
 enough of English to explain his wishes to this friendly 
 attendant of his death-bed. As his oiiTumst;inces were nar- 
 row, the servants of the stranger, two Itahans, a male and 
 a female, were sent back to their own country soon after 
 the death of their master. 
 
 Laura was at this time eight years of age. At these 
 tender years she had been susceptible of little direct in- 
 struction-, and, as she grew up, even the memory of her 
 
CiVLEB WILLIAMS. 391 
 
 father became, from year to year, more vague and indis- 
 tinct in her mind. But there was something she derived 
 from her father, whether along with the hfe he bestowed, 
 or as the consequence of his instruction and manners, 
 which no time could efface. Every added year of her life 
 contributed to develop the fund of her accomplishments. 
 She read, she observed, she reflected. Without instruc- 
 tors, she taught herself to draw, to sing, and to understand 
 the more polite European languages. As she had no so- 
 ciety in this remote situation but that of peasants, she had 
 no idea of honour or superiority to be derived from her 
 acquisitions ; but pursued them from a secret taste, and 
 as the sources of personal enjoyment. 
 
 A mutual attachment gradually arose between her and 
 the only son of her guardian. His father led him, from 
 early youth, to the labours and the sports of the field, and 
 there was little congeniality between his pursuits and those 
 of Laura. But this was a defect that she was slow to dis- 
 cover. She had never been accustomed to society in her 
 chosen amusements, and habit at that time even made her 
 conceive, that they were indebted to solitude for an addi- 
 tional relish. The youthful rustic had great integrity, great 
 kindness of heart, and was a lad of excellent sense. He 
 was florid, well-proportioned, and the goodness of his dis- 
 position made his manners amiable. Accomplishments 
 greater than these she had never seen in human form, 
 since the death of her father. In fact, she is scarcely to be 
 considered as a sufferer in this instance ; since, in her for- 
 lorn and destitute condition, it is little probable, when we 
 consider the habits and notions that now prevail, that her 
 accomphshments, unassisted by fortune, would have pro- 
 cured her an equal alliance in marriage. 
 
 When she became a mother her heart opened to a new 
 affection. The idea now presented itself, which had never 
 
Mi CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 occurred before, fliat in her children at least she might 
 find the |)ar(ners and companions of her favourite employ- 
 ments. She was, at ihe time of my arrival, mother of 
 four, tlie eldest of which was a son. To all of them she 
 had been a most assiduous instructor. It was well for her, 
 perhaps, that she obtained this sphere for the exercise of 
 her mind. It came just at the period when the charm 
 which human life derives from novelty is beginning to wear 
 off. It gave her new activity and animation. It is per- 
 haps impossible that the relinements of which human na- 
 ture is capable should not, after a time, subside into slug- 
 gishness, if t^iey be not aided by the influence of society 
 and affection. 
 
 The son of the Welch farmer by this admirable woman 
 was about seventeen years of age at the time of my settle- 
 ment in their neighbourhood. His eldest sister was one 
 year younger than himself. The whole family composed 
 a group, with which a lover of tranquillity and virtue 
 would have deUghted to associate in any situation. It is 
 easy, therefore, to conceive how much I rejoiced in their 
 friendship, in this distant retirement, and suffering, as I 
 felt myself, from the maltreatment and desertion of my 
 species. The amiable Laura had a wonderful quickness of 
 eye, and rapidity of apprehension ; but this feature in her 
 countenance was subdued by a sweetness of disposition, 
 such as I never in any other instance saw expres.sed in the 
 looks of a human being. She soon distinguished nu' by 
 her kindness and friendship ; for, living ius she had done, 
 f hough I'aruiliar with the written productions of a cultivated 
 iulellect, she liad never seen the thing itself realised in a 
 living being, except in the person of her father. She do- 
 lighled (o converse with me upim subjei-jUs of lilei'alure and 
 liuste, and she eagerly invited my assistance in the educa- 
 tion ol liei- cliiUlreii. The son, ihougli N»>uug, ha«l been so 
 
lALEB WILLIAMS. 393 
 
 happily iiuprovod aiul instructed l»y his molhor, tluit I 
 found in him nearly uU the most essential quahties >ve re- 
 quire in a Iriend. Kngai^ement and inclination equally 
 led me to pass a considerable part ol" every day in this 
 agreeable society, l^aura treated hie as if 1 liad been one 
 of the family; and I sometimes flattered myself that I 
 might one day become such in reality. What an enviable 
 resting-place for me, who iiad known nothing but calamity, 
 and had scarcely dared to look for svnqiathy and kindness 
 in the countenance of a human being ! 
 
 The sentiments of friendship which early disclosed them- 
 selves between nu^ and the members of this amiable family 
 daily became stronger. At every interview, the eonfidence 
 reposed in nu' by the mother increased. While our fa- 
 miliarity gained in duration, it equally gained in that sub- 
 tlety of conununication by w hich it seemed to shoot forth 
 its roots in every direction. There are a thousaml little 
 evanescent touches in the development of a growing 
 friendship, that iuv neither thought of, nor w oidd be un- 
 dei*stood, between conunon acquaintances. I honoured 
 and esteenuul the respectable Laura like a mother ; for, 
 though the dilVerence of oiw ages was by no nunuis sufii- 
 cient to authorise the sentinuMit, it was irresistibly sug- 
 gested to me by the fact of her alw ays being presented to 
 my observation under the maternal chanicter. Her son 
 was a lad of great understanding, generosity, and feeling, 
 and of no contemptible acquireuuMits; while his tender 
 years, and the unconunon excellence oi his uuUher, sub- 
 tracted something from the indepemleme of his judgment, 
 and impressed him w ith a sort of religious deference lor 
 her will. In the eldest daughter 1 beheld the image of 
 Laura ; foi- that I felt attached to her for the present ; and 
 1 souu'times conceived it probable tliat hereafter 1 ujight 
 learn to love her for her own sake. — .Mas, it Wiis thus that 
 
394 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 I amused myself witli the visions of distant years, while I 
 stood in reality on the brink of the precipice! 
 
 It will, perhaps, be thought strange that I never once 
 communicated the particulars of my story to this amiable 
 matron, or to my young friend, for such I may also venture 
 to call him, her son. Hut in truth I abhorred the memory 
 of this story ;. I placed all my hopes of happiness in the 
 prospect of its being consigned to oblivion. 1 fondly flat- 
 tered myself that such would be the event : in the midst of 
 my unlooked-for happiness, I scarcely recollected, or, re- 
 collecting, was disposed to yield but a small degree of credit 
 to, the menaces of Mr. Falkland. 
 
 One day, that I was sitting alone w ith the accomplished 
 Laura, she repeated his all-dreadful name. I started with 
 astonishment, amazed that a woman like this, who knew 
 nobody, who lived as it were alone in a corner of the uni- 
 verse, who had never in a single instance entered into any 
 fashionable circle, this admirable and fascinating hermit, 
 should, by some unaccountable accident, have become 
 acquainted with this fatal and tremendous name. Astonish- 
 ment, however, was not my only sensation. I became pale 
 with terror ; I rose from my seat ; I attempted to sit dow u 
 again ; I reeled out of the room, and hastened to bury my- 
 self in solitude. The unexpectedness of the incident took 
 from me all precaution, and overwhelmed my faculties. 
 The penetrating Laura observed my behaviour; but no- 
 thing further occurred to excite her attention to it at that 
 time ; and, concluding from my manner that enquiry 
 would be painful to me, she humanely suppressed her 
 curiosity. 
 
 1 afterwaids found that Mv. Falkland had been known 
 (o the father of Laura; that he had been ac(|uainled with 
 the story of (\»uut .Malvesi, and with a uunihor of other 
 lrant>actions redounding in the highest degree to the credit 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 395 
 
 of the gallant Englishman. The Neapolitan had left letters 
 in which these transactions were recorded, and which 
 spoke of Mr. Falkland in the highest terms of panegyric. 
 Laura had been used to regard every little relick of her 
 father with a sort of rehgious veneration; and, by this 
 accident, the name of Mr. Falkland was connected in her 
 mind with the sentiments of unbounded esteem. 
 
 The scene by which I was surrounded was perhaps 
 more grateful to me, than it would have been to most 
 other persons -with my degree of intellectual cultivation. 
 Sore with persecution and distress, and bleeding at almost 
 every vein, there was nothing I so much coveted as rest 
 and tranquiihty. It seemed as if my faculties were, at least 
 for the time, exhausted by the late preternatural intensity 
 of their exertions, and that they stood indispensably in 
 need of a period of comparative suspension. 
 
 This was, however, but a temporary feeling. 3Iy mind 
 had always been active, and I was probably indebted to 
 the sufferings I had endured, and the exquisite and in- 
 creased susceptibihty they produced, for new energies. I 
 soon felt the desire of some additional and vigorous pursuit. 
 In this state of mind, I met by accident, in a neglected 
 corner of the house of one of my neighbours, with a ge- 
 neral dictionary of four of the northern languages. This 
 incident gave a direction to ray thoughts. In my youth I 
 had not been inattentive to languages. I determined to 
 attempt, at least for my own use, an etymological analysis 
 of the English language. I easily perceived, that this pur- 
 suit had one advantage to a person in my situation, and 
 that a small number of books, consuUed with this view, 
 would afford employment for a considerable time. I pro- 
 cured other dictionaries. In my incidental reading, I 
 noted the manner in which words were used, and apphed 
 these remarks to the illustration of my general enquiry. I 
 
aao CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 was uninteriuilled in my assiduity, and my collections pro- 
 mised to actumulate. Thus I was provided witli sources 
 both of industry and recreation, the more completely to 
 divert my thoughts from the recollection of my past mis- 
 fortunes. 
 
 In this state, so grateful to my feelings, week after w eek 
 glided away without interruption and alarm. The situa- 
 tion in which I was now placed had some resemblance to 
 that in which I had spent my earlier years, with the ad- 
 vantage of a more attractive society, and a riper judgment. 
 I began to look back upon the intervening period as upon 
 a distempered and tormenting dream ; or rather, perhaps, 
 my feelings were like those of a man recovered from an 
 interval of raging delirium, from ideas of horror, confusion, 
 llight, persecution, agony, and despair! When 1 recol- 
 lected what I had undergone, it was not without satisfac- 
 tion, as the recollection of a thing that was past ; every 
 day augmented my hope that it was never to return. 
 Surely the dark and terrific menaces of Mr. Falkland were 
 rather the perturbed suggestions of his angry mind, than the 
 (inal result of a deliberate and digested system! How 
 happy should I feel, beyond the ordinary lot of man, if, 
 idler the terrors 1 had undergone, I should now find myself 
 unexpectedly restored to the immunities of a human being ! 
 
 While 1 was thus soothing my mind with fond imagina- 
 tions, it happened thata few bricklayers and their labourers 
 came over fi-oui a distance of live or six miles, to work upon 
 some additions to one of the better sort of houses iu the 
 town, which had changed its tenant. No incident coidd 
 be more trivial than this, had it not been for a strange coin- 
 cidence of time between this circumstance, and a change 
 wliich introduced itself into my situation. This first ma- 
 nifested itself in a sort of shyness with which I \\ as treated, 
 first by one person, and then another, of my new-f<MM>u'<l 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 397 
 
 acquaintance. They were backward to enter into conver- 
 sation w ith me, and answered my enquiries with an awk- 
 ward and embarrassed air. When they met me in the 
 street or the field, their countenances contracted a cloud, 
 and they endeavoured to shun me. My scholars quitted 
 me one after another ; and I had no longer any employment 
 in my mechanical profession. It is impossible to describe 
 the sensations, which the gradual but uninterrupted pro- 
 gress of this revolution produced in my mind. It seemed 
 as if I had some contagious disease, from which every man 
 shrunk with alarm, and left me to perish unassisted and 
 alone. I asked one man and another to explain to me the 
 meaning of these appearances ; but every one avoided the 
 task, and answered in an evasive and ambiguous manner. 
 I sometimes supposed that it was all a delusion of the ima- 
 gination ; till the repetition of the sensation brought the 
 leality too painfully home to my apprehension. There are 
 few things that give a greater shock to the mind, than a 
 phenomenon in the conduct of our fellow men, of great 
 importance to our concerns, and for which we are unable 
 to assign any plausible reason. At times T was half in- 
 clined to believe that the change was not in other men, but 
 that some alienation of my own understanding generated 
 the horrid vision. I endeavoured to awaken from my 
 dream, and return to my former state of enjoyment and 
 happiness; but in vain. To the same consideration it may 
 be ascribed, that, unacquainted with the source of the evil, 
 observing its perpetual increase, and finding it, so far as I 
 could perceive, entirely arbitrary in its nature, I was unable 
 to ascertain its limits, or the degree in which it would finally 
 overwhelm me. 
 
 In the midst, however, of the wonderful and seemingly 
 inexplicable nature of this scene, there xsas one idea that 
 instantly obtruded itself, and that ? could never after banish 
 
398 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 from my mind. It is Falkland! In vain I struggled against 
 the seeming improbability of the supposition. In vain 1 
 said, "Mr. Falkland, wise as he is, and pregnant in re- 
 .sources, acts by human, not by supernatural means. He 
 may overtake me by surprise, and in a manner of which I 
 had no previous expectation ; but he cannot produce a 
 great and notorious effect without some visible agency, 
 however difficult it may be to trace that agency to its ab- 
 solute author. He cannot, like those invisible personages 
 who are supposed from time to time to interfere in human 
 affairs, ride in the whirlwind, shroud himself in clouds and 
 impenetrable darkness, and scatter destruction upon the 
 earth from his secret habitation." Thus it w as that I bribed 
 ray imagination, and endeavoured to persuade myself that 
 my present unhappiness originated in a different source 
 from ray former. All evils appeared trivial to me, in com- 
 parison with the recollection and perpetuation of my parent 
 misfortune. I felt like a man distracted, by the incoherence 
 of my ideas to my present situation, excluding from it the 
 machinations of Mr. Falkland, on the one hand ; and on 
 the other, by the horror I conceived at the bare possibility 
 of again encountering his animosity, after a suspension of 
 many weeks, a suspension as I had hoped for ever. An 
 interval like this was an age to a person in the calamitous 
 situation I had so long experienced. But, in spite of my 
 efforts, I could not banish from my mind the dreadful idea. 
 My original conceptions of the genius and perseverance of 
 Mr. Falkland had been such, that 1 could with difficulty 
 think any thing impossible to him. 1 knew not how to set 
 up my own opinions of material causes and the powers of 
 the human mind, as the limits of existence. Mr. Falkland 
 had always been to my imagination an object of wonder, 
 and that which excites our wonder we scarcely suppose 
 ourselves competent to analyse. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 399 
 
 It may well be conceived, that one of the first persons to 
 whom 1 thought of applying for an explanation of this 
 dreadful mystery was the accomplished Laura. My disap- 
 pointment here cut me to the heart, I was not prepared 
 for it. I recollected the ingenuousness of her nature, the 
 frankness of her manners, the partiality with which she had 
 honoured me. If I were mortified with the coldness, the 
 ruggedness, and the cruel mistake of principles with which 
 the village inhabitants repelled my enquiries, the mortifica- 
 tion I suffered only drove me more impetuously to seek 
 the cure of my griefs from this object of my admiration. 
 " In Laura," said I, " I am secure from these vulgar pre- 
 judices. I confide in her justice. I am sure she will not 
 cast me off unheard, nor without strictly examining a ques- 
 tion on all sides, in which every thing that is valuable to a 
 person she once esteemed, may be involved." 
 
 Thus encouraging myself, I turned my steps to the place 
 of her residence. As I passed along, I called up all my re- 
 collection, I summoned my faculties. "I may be made 
 miserable," said I, " but it shall not be for want of any 
 exertion of mine, that promises to lead to happiness. I will 
 be clear, collected, simple in narrative, ingenuous in com- 
 munication. I will leave nothing unsaid that the case may 
 require. I will not volunteer any thing that relates to my 
 former transactions with Mr. Falkland ; but, if I find that 
 my present calamity is connected with those transactions, 
 I will not fear but that by an honest explanation I shall 
 remove it." 
 
 I knocked at the door. A servant appeared, and told 
 me that her mistress hoped I would excuse her ; she must 
 really beg to dispense with my visit. 
 
 I was thunderstruck. I was rooted to the spot. I had 
 been carefully preparing my mind for every thing that I 
 supposed likely to happen, but this event had not entered 
 
100 ' CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 into my calculations. I roused myself in a partial degree, 
 and walked away without uttering a word. 
 
 I had not gone far before I perceived one of the workmen 
 following me, who put into my hands a billet. The con- 
 tents were these : — 
 
 "Mr. Williams, 
 " Let me see you no more. I have right at least to ex- 
 pect your compliance with this requisition ; and, upon that 
 condition, I pardon the enormous impropriety and guilt 
 with which you have conducted yourself to me and my 
 family. 
 
 " Laura Denison." 
 
 The sensations with which I read these few lines are in- 
 describable. I found in them a dreadful confirmation of 
 the calamity that on all sides invaded me. Hut what I felt 
 most was the unmoved coldness with which they appeared 
 to be written. This coldness from Laura, my comforter, 
 my friend, my mother ! To dismiss, to cast me off for ever, 
 without one thought of compunction ! 
 
 I determined however, in spite of her requisition, and in 
 spite of her coldness, to have an explanation with her. I 
 did not despair of conquering the antipathy she harboured. 
 I did not fear that I should rouse her from the vulgar and 
 unworthy conception, of condemning a man, in points the 
 most material to his happiness, without stating the accusa- 
 tions that are urged against him, and without hearing him 
 in reply. 
 
 Though I had no doubt, by means of resolution, of gain- 
 ing access to her in her house, yet I preferred taking her 
 unprepared, and not warmed against me by any previous 
 rontention. Accordingly, the next morning, a( the time she 
 usually devoted to half an hour's air and exercise, [ hastened 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 401 
 
 to her garden, leaped the paHng, dnd concealed myself in 
 an arbour. Presently I saw, from my retreat, the younger 
 part of the family strolling through the garden, and from 
 thence into the fields; but it was not my business to be seen 
 by them. I looked after them, however, with earnestness, 
 unobserved ; and I could not help asking myself, with a deep 
 and heartfelt sigh, whether it were possible that I saw them 
 now for the last time ? 
 
 They had not advanced far into the fields before their 
 mother made her appearance. I observed in her her usual 
 serenity and sweetness of countenance. I could feel my 
 heart knocking against my ribs. My whole frame was in 
 a tumult. I stole out of the arbour ; and, as I advanced 
 nearer, my pace became quickened. 
 
 " For God's sake, madam," exclaimed I, " give me a hear- 
 ing! Do not avoid me !" 
 
 She stood still. "No, sir," she replied, "I shall not avoid 
 you. I wished you to dispense with this meeting ; but since 
 I cannot obtain that — I am conscious of no wrong; and 
 therefore, though the meeting gives me pain, it inspires me 
 with no fear." 
 
 " Oh, madam," answered I, " my friend ! the object of all 
 my reverence ! whom I once ventured to call my mother I 
 can you wish not to hear me ? Can you have no anxiety 
 for my justification, whatever may be the unfavourable im- 
 pression you may have received against me ?" 
 
 " Not an atom. I have neither wish nor inclination to 
 hear you. That tale which, in its plain and unadorned state, 
 is destructive of the character of him to whom it relates, no 
 colouring can make an honest one." 
 
 " Good God ! Can you think of condemning a man when 
 you have heard only one side of his story ?" 
 
 " Indeed I can," rephed she with dignity. " The maxim 
 of hearing both sides may be very well in some cases ; but it 
 
 26 
 
jOi CALEB VVnXIAMft. 
 
 would be ri<lioiilous to Suppose that there are not cases, 
 that, at the llrsl mention, are too clear to admit the shadow 
 of a doubt. By a well-concerted defence you may give me 
 new reasons to admire your abilities ; but I am acquainted 
 with them already. I can admire your abilities, without 
 tolerating your character." 
 
 " .>Iadam I Amiable, exemplary Laura ! whom, in the 
 midst of all your harshness and inflexibility, I honour! I 
 conjure you, by every thing that is sacred, to tell me what 
 it is that has filled you w ith this sudden aversion to me." 
 
 "Xo, sir; that you shall never'obtain from me. I have 
 nothing to say to you. I stand still and hear you ; because 
 virtue disdains to appear abashed and confounded in the 
 presence of vice. Your conduct even at this moment, in my 
 opinion, condemns you. True virtue refuses the drudgery 
 of explanation and apology. True virtue shines by its own 
 light, and needs no art to set it off. You have the first 
 principles of morality as yet to learn." 
 
 "And can you imagine, that the most upright conduct is 
 always superior to the danger of ambiguity ? " 
 
 "Exactly so. Virtue, sir, consists in actions, and not 
 in words. The good man and the bad are characters 
 precisely opposite, not characters distinguished from each 
 other by imperceptible shades. The Providence that rules 
 us all, has not permitted us to be left w ithout a clew in the 
 most important of all questions. Eloquence may seek to 
 confound it ; but it shall be my care to avoid its deceptive 
 influence. I do not wish to have my understanding per- 
 verted, and all the differences of things concealed from my 
 apprehension." , 
 
 "Madam, madam! it would be impossible for you to 
 hold this language, if you had not always lived in this ob- 
 scure retreat, if you ha<l ever been conversant with the 
 passions and inslitulions of men."' 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 40^ 
 
 " It may be so. And, if that bfe the case, I have great 
 l-eason to be thankful to my God, who has thus enabled me 
 to preserve the innocence of my heart, and the integrity of 
 my understanding." 
 
 " Can you believe then that ignorance is the only, or the 
 safest, preservative of integrity ? " 
 
 " Sir, I told you at first, and I repeat to you again, that 
 all your declamation is in vain. I wish you would have 
 saved me and yourself that pain which is the only thing 
 that can possibly result from it. But let us suppose that 
 virtue could ever be the equivocal thing you would have me 
 believe. Is it possible, if you had been honest, that you 
 would not have acquainted me with your story ? Is it 
 possible, that you would have left me to have been informed 
 of it by a mere accident, and with all the shocking aggra- 
 vations you well knew that accident would give it ? Is it 
 possible you should have violated the most sacred of all 
 trusts, and have led me unknowingly to admit to the inter- 
 course of my children a character, which if, as you pretend, 
 it is substantially honest, you cannot deny to be blasted 
 and branded in the face of the whole world ? Go, sir ; I 
 despise you. You are a monster and not a man. I cannot 
 tell whether my personal situation misleads me ; but, to my 
 thinking, this last action of yours is worse than all the rest. 
 Nature has constituted me the protector of my children. I 
 shall always remember and resent the indelible injury you 
 have done them. You have wounded me to the very 
 heart, and have taught me to what a pitch the villany of 
 man can extend." 
 
 " Madam, I can be silent no longer. I see that you have 
 by some means come to a hearing of the story of Mr. 
 Falkland." 
 
 " I have. I am astonished you have the effrontery to 
 pronounce his name. That name has been a denomination ♦ 
 
 86* 
 
404 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 as far back as my memory can reach, for the most cxahed 
 o( mortals, the wisest and most generous of men." 
 
 " Madam, I owe it to myself to set you right on this 
 subject. Mr. Falkland " 
 
 " Mr, WiUiams, I see my children returning from the 
 fields, and coming this way. The basest action you ever 
 did was the obtruding yourself upon them as an instructor. 
 I insist that you see them no more. I command you to 
 be silent. I command you to withdraw. If you persist in 
 your absurd resolution of expostulating with me, you must 
 take some other time." 
 
 I could continue no longer, I was in a manner heart- 
 broken through the whole of this dialogue. I could not 
 think of protracting the pain of this admirable woman, 
 upon whom, though I was innocent of the crimes she 
 imputed to me, I had inflicted so much pain already. I 
 yielded to the imperiousnessofher commands, and withdrew. 
 
 I hastened, without knowing why, from the presence of 
 Laura to my own habitation. Upon entering the house, 
 an apartment of which I occupied, I found it totally 
 deserted of its usual inhabitants. The woman and her 
 children were gone to enjoy the freshness of the breeze. 
 The husband was engaged in his usual out-door oc- 
 cupations. The doors of persons of the lower order in 
 this part of the country are secured, in the day-time, only 
 with a latch. I entered, and went into the kitchen of the 
 family. Here, as I looked round, my eyes accidentally 
 glanced upon a paper lying in one corner, which, by some 
 association I was unable to explain, roused in nic a strong 
 sensation of suspicion and curiosity. I eagerly went 
 towanls it, caught it up, and found it to be the very paper 
 
 of the WONDERFUL. AND SURPRISING HISTORY OF CaLKB WiLLIA.MS, 
 
 the discovery of which, towards the close of my residence 
 in London, had produced in me such inexpressible anguish. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 40S 
 
 This encounter at once cleared up all the mystery that 
 hung upon my late transactions. Abhorred and intolerable 
 certainty succeeded to the doubts which had haunted my 
 mind. It struck me with the rapidity of lightning. I felt a 
 sudden torpor and sickness that pervaded every fibre of my 
 frame. 
 
 Was there no hope that remained for me ? Was ac- 
 quittal useless ? Was there no period, past or in pros- 
 pect, that could give relief to my sufferings? Was the 
 odious and atrocious falsehood that had been invented 
 against me, to follow me wherever I went, to strip me of 
 character, to deprive me of the sympathy and good- will of 
 mankind, to wrest from me the very bread by which hfe 
 must be sustained ? 
 
 For the space perhaps of half an hour, the agony I felt 
 from this termination to my tranquiUity, and the expectation 
 it excited of the enmity which would follow me through 
 every retreat, was such as to bereave me of all consistent 
 thinking, much more of the power of coming to any reso- 
 lution. As soon as this giddiness and horror of the mind 
 subsided, and the deadly calm that invaded my faculties 
 was no more, one stiff and master gale gained the as- 
 cendancy, and drove me to an instant desertion of this late 
 cherished retreat. I had no patience to enter into further 
 remonstrance and explanation with the inhabitants of my 
 present residence. I believed that it was in vain to hope 
 to recover the favourable prepossession and tranquillity I 
 had lately enjoyed. In encountering the prejudices that 
 were thus armed against me, I should have to deal with 
 a variety of dispositions, and, though I might succeed with 
 some, I could not expect to succeed with all. I ha^ seen 
 too much of the reign of triumphant falsehood, to have 
 that sanguine confidence in the effects of my innocence, 
 which would have suggested itself to the mind of any other 
 
406 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 person of my propensities and my age. The recent in- 
 stance which had occurred in my conversation witli Laura 
 might well contribute to discourage me. I could not en- 
 dure the thouglit of opposing the venom that was thus 
 scattered against me, in detail and through its minuter 
 particles. If ever it should be necessary to encounter it, 
 if I were pursued Uke a wild beast, till I could no longer 
 avoid turning upon my hunters, I would then turn upon 
 the true author of this unprincipled attack ; I w ould en- 
 counter the calumny in its strong hold ; I would rouse 
 myself to an exertion hitherto unessayed ; and, by the 
 firmness, intrepidity, and unalterable constancy I should 
 display, would yet compel mankind to beheve Mr. Falkland 
 a suborner and a murderer! 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 I HASTEN to the conclusion of my melancholy story. I 
 began to write soon after the period to which I have now 
 conducted it. This was another resource that my mind, 
 ever eager in inventing means to escape from my misery, 
 suggested. In my haste to withdraw myself from the re- 
 treat in Wales, where first the certainty of .Mr. Falkland's 
 menaces was confirmed to me, I left behind mo the appa- 
 ratus of my etymological enquiries, and the papers I had 
 written upon the subject. I have never been able to per- 
 suade myself to resume this pursuit. It is always discou- 
 raging, to begin over again a laborious ta.sk, and exert 
 one's self to recover a position we had already occupied. 
 I knew not how soon or how abruptly I might be driven 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 407 
 
 from any new situation ; the appendages of the study in 
 which I had engaged were too cumbrous for this state of 
 dependence and uncertainty ; they only served to give new 
 sharpness to the enmity of my foe, and new poignancy to 
 to my hourly-renewing distress. 
 
 But w hat was of great importance, and' made the deepest 
 impression upon my mind, was my separation from the 
 family of Laura. Fool that I was, to imagine that there 
 w as any room for me in the abodes of friendship and tran- 
 quillity ! It was now first, that I felt, with the most into- 
 lerable acuteness, how completely I w as cut off from the 
 whole human species. Other connexions I had gained, 
 comparatively without interest; and I saw them dis- 
 solved without the consummation of agony. I had never 
 experienced the purest refinements of friendship, but in 
 two instances ; that of Collins, and this of the family of 
 Laura. Solitude, separation, banishment! These are 
 w ords often in the mouths of human beings ; but few men 
 except myself have felt the full latitude of their meaning. 
 The pride of philosophy has taught us to treat man as an 
 individual. He is no such thing. He holds necessarily, 
 indispensably, to his species. He is like those twin-births, 
 that have two heads indeed, and four hands ; but if you 
 attempt to detach them from each other, they are inevi- 
 tably subjected to miserable and lingering destruction , 
 
 It was this circumstance, more than all the rest, that 
 gradually gorged my heart with abhorrence of Mr. Falk- 
 land. I could not think of his name but with a sickness 
 and a loathing that seemed more than human. It was by 
 his means that I suffered the loss of one consolation after 
 another, of every thing that was happiness, or that had 
 the resemblance of happiness. 
 
 The writing of these memoirs served me as a source of 
 avocation for several years. For some time I had a me- 
 
40» CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 lanclioly salisfaction in it. I was better pleased to retrace 
 the particulars of calamities that had formerly afflicted me, 
 than to look forward, as at other times I was too apt to 
 do, to those by which I might hereafter be overtaken. I 
 conceived that my story, faithfully digested, would carry in 
 it an impression of truth that few men would be able to 
 resist ; or, at worst, that, by leaving it behind me when I 
 should no longer continue to exist, posterity might be in- 
 duced to do me justice, and, seeing in my example what 
 sort of evils are entailed upon mankind by society as it is 
 at present constituted, might be inchned to turn their at- 
 tention upon the fountain from which such bitter waters 
 have been accustomed to flow. But these motives have 
 diminished in their influence. I have contracted a disgust 
 for hfe and all its appendages. Writing, which was at 
 first a pleasure, is changed into a burthen. I shall com- 
 press into a small compass what remains to be told. 
 
 I discovered, not long after the period of which 1 am 
 speaking, the precise cause of the reverse I had expe- 
 rienced in my residence in Wales, and, included in that 
 I cause, what it was I had to look for in my future adven- 
 
 rfuTes. Mr. Falkland had taken the infernal Gines into his 
 pay, a man critically qualified for the service in which he 
 was now engaged, by the unfeeling brutality of his temper, 
 by his habits of mind at once audacious and artful, and by 
 the peculiar animosity and vengeance he had conceived 
 against me. The eniployuienl io wliich this man was 
 hired, was that of following me Ikuu i>l.i(C to place, blast- 
 ing myTeputation, and preventing me from the chance, by 
 t continuing long jn one residence, of aecjuiring a character 
 \ for integrity, that should gi\e iicu \\»ii;!ii to any accusation 
 LLmight at a future time bo induced to prefer. He had 
 come to the seat of my residence with (he bricklayers and 
 labourers I have mentioned ; and, while he took care to 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 409 
 
 keep out of sight so far as related to me, was industrious 
 in disseminating that which, in the eye of the world, seemed 
 to amount to a demonstration of the profligacy and detest- 
 ableness of my character. It was no doubt from him that 
 the detested scroll had been procured, which I had found 
 in my habitation immediately prior to my quitting it. In 
 all this Mr. Falkland, reasoning upon his principles, was 
 only employing a necessary precaution. There was some- 
 thing in the temper of his mind, that impressed him with 
 aversion to the idea of violently putting an end to my ex- 
 istence ; at the same time that unfortunately he could never 
 deem himself sulSiciently secured against my recrimination, 
 so long as ly^emained alive. As to the fact of Gines being 
 retained by him for this tremendous purpose, he by no 
 means desired that it should become generally known ; but 
 neither did he look upon the possibility of its being known 
 with terror. It was already too notorious for his wishes, 
 that I had advanced the most odious charges against him. 
 If he regarded me with abhorrence as the adversary of his 
 fame, those persons who had had occasion to be in any 
 degree acquainted with our history, did not entertain less 
 abhorrence against me for my own sake. If they should 
 at any time know the pains he exerted in causing my evil 
 reputation to follow me, they would consider it as an act 
 of impartial justice, perhaps as a generous anxiety to pre- 
 vent other men from being imposed upon and injured, as 
 he had been. 
 
 AIMiat expedient was I to employ for the purpose of 
 counteracting the meditated and barbarous prudence, which 
 was thus destined, in aU changes of scene, to deprive me 
 of the benefits and consolations of human society ? There 
 was one expedient against which I was absolutely deter- 
 mined — disguise. I had experienced so many mortifica- 
 tions, and such intolerable restraint, when I formerly had 
 
4i0 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 recourse to it ; it was associated in my memory with sen- 
 sations of such acute anguish, that my mind was thus lar 
 cntii-ely convinced : hfe was not worth purchasing at so 
 high a price ! But, tliough in this respect I was wholly 
 resolved, there was another point that did not appear so 
 material, and in which, therefore, I was willing to accom- 
 modate myself to circumstances. I was contented, if that 
 would insure my peace, to submit to the otherwise unmanly 
 expedient of passing by a different name. 
 
 But the change of my name, the abruptness w ith which 
 I removed from place to place, the remoteness and the 
 obscurity which I proposed to myself in the choice of 
 my abode, were all insuflicient to elude the sagacity of 
 Gines, or the unrelenting constancy with which Mr. Falk- 
 land incited ray tormentor to pursue me. Whithersoever 
 I removed myself, it was not long before I had occasion to 
 perceive this detested adversary in my rear. No words 
 can enable me to do justice to the sensations which this 
 circumstance produced in me. It was like what has been 
 described of the eye of Omniscience, pursuing the guilty 
 sinner, and darting a ray that aw akens him to new sensi- 
 bility, at the very moment that, otherwise, exhausted na- 
 ture would lull him into a temporary oblivion of the 
 reproaches of his conscience. Sleep fled from my eyes. 
 No walls could hide me from the discernment of this hated 
 foe. Every where his industry was unwearied to ci^ate 
 for me new distress. Best 1 had none ; relief I had none: 
 never could I count upon an instant's security ; never could 
 I wrap myself in the shroud of oblivion. The minutes in 
 which 1 did not actually perceive him, were contaminated 
 and blasted with the certain expectation of his speedy inter- 
 ference. In my lust retreat I had passed a few weeks of 
 delusive tranquillity, but never after was 1 happy enough 
 lo attain to so much as that shadowy gratilicalion. I spent 
 
CALEB WILLUMS. 411 
 
 some years in this dreadful vicissitude of pain. My sen- 
 sations at certain periods amounted to insanity. 
 
 I pursued in every succeeding instance the conduct I had 
 adopted at first. I determined never to enter into a con- 
 test of accusation and defence with the execrable Gines. 
 If I could have submitted to it in other respects, what pur- 
 pose would it answer ? I should have but an imperfect 
 and mutilated story to tell. This story had succeeded with 
 persons already prepossessed in my favour by personal in- 
 tercourse ; but could it succeed with strangers ? It had 
 succeeded so long as I was able to hide myself from my 
 pursuers ; but could it succeed now, that this appeared 
 impracticable, and that they proceeded by arming against 
 me a whole vicinity at once ? 
 
 It is inconceivable the mischiefs that this kind of existence 
 included. Why should I insist upon such aggravations as 
 hunger, beggary, and external wretchedness ? These were 
 an inevitable consequence. It was by the desertion of 
 mankind that, in each successive instance, I was made 
 acquainted with my fate. Delay in such a moment served 
 but to increase the evil ; and when I fled, meagreness and 
 penury were the ordinary attendants of ray course. But 
 this was a small consideration. Indignation at one time, 
 and unconquerable perseverance at another, sustained 
 me, where humanity, left to itself, would probably have 
 sunk. 
 
 It has already appeared that I was not of a temper to 
 endure calamity, without endeavouring, by every means I 
 could devise, to elude and disarm it. Recollecting, as I was 
 habituated to do, the various projects by which my situation 
 could be meliorated, the question occurred to me, " Why 
 should I be harassed by the pursuits of this Gines? Why, 
 man to man, may I not, by the powers of my mind, attain 
 the ascendancy over him ? At present he appears to be 
 
4 It CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 the persecutor, and I the persecuted : is not this difference 
 the mere creature ol" the imagination? May I not employ 
 my ingenuity io vex him with difficulties, and laugh at 
 the endless labour to which he will be condemned ?" 
 
 Alas, this is a speculation for a mind at ease ! It is not 
 the persecution, but the catastrophe which is annexed to 
 it, that makes the difference between the tyrant and the 
 sufferer ! In mere corporal exertion the hunter, perhaps, is 
 upon a level with the miserable animal he pursues ! But 
 could it be forgotten by either of us, that at every stage 
 Gines was to gratify his malignant passions, by disseminat- 
 ing charges of the most infamous nature, and exciting 
 against me the abhorrence of every honest bosom, while I 
 was to sustain the still-repeated annihilation of my peace^ 
 my character, and my bread ? Could I, by any refinement 
 of reason, convert this dreadful series into sport ? I had 
 no philosophy that qualified me for so extraordinary an 
 effort. If, under other circumstances, I could even have 
 entertained so strange an imagination, I was restrained in 
 the present instance by the necessity of providing for my- 
 self the means of subsistence, and the fetters which, through 
 that necessity, the forms of human society imposed upon 
 my exertions. 
 
 In one of those changes of residence, to which my mi- 
 serable fate repeatedly compelled me, I met, upon a road 
 which I was obliged to traverse, the friend of my youth, 
 my earliest and best beloved friend, the venerable Collins. 
 It was one of those misfortunes which served to accumulate 
 my distress, that this man had quitted the island of Great 
 Britain only a very few weeks before that fatal reverse of 
 fortune w liich had ever since pursued ine with unrolenting 
 eagerness. j\Ir. Falkland, in addition to the large estate he 
 possessed in iCngland, had a very valuable plantation in the 
 West Indies. This property had been greatly mismanaged 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 413 
 
 by the person who had the direction of it on the spot ; and, 
 after various promises and evasions on his part, which, 
 however they might serve to beguile the patience of 31r, 
 Falkland, had been attended with no salutary fruits, it was 
 resolved that 3lr. CoUins should go over in person, to rec- 
 tify the abuses which had so long prevailed. There had 
 even been some idea of his residing several years, if not 
 settling finally, upon the plantation. From that hour to 
 the present I had never received the smallest intelhgence 
 respecting him. 
 
 I had always considered the circumstance of his critical 
 absence as one of my severest misfortunes, Mr. Collins 
 had been one of the first persons, even in the period of my 
 infancy, to conceive hopes of me, as of something above 
 the common standard ; and had contributed more than any 
 other to encourage and assist my juvenile studies. He had 
 been the executor of the Uttle property of my father, who 
 had fixed upon him for that purpose in consideration of the 
 mutual affection that existed between us ; and I seemed, on 
 every account, to have more claim upon his protection than 
 upon that of any other human being. I had always be- 
 lieved that, had he been present in the crisis of my fortune, 
 he would have felt a conviction of my innocence ; and, con- 
 vinced himself, would, by means of the venerableness and 
 energy of his character, have interposed so effectually, 
 as to have saved me the greater part of my subsequent 
 misfortunes. 
 
 There was yet another idea in my mind relative to this 
 subject, which had more weight with me, than even the 
 substantial exertions of friendship I should have expected 
 from him. The greatest aggravation of my present lot 
 was, that I was cut off from the friendship of mankind. I 
 can safely affirm, that poverty and hunger, that endless 
 wanderings, that a blasted character and the curses that 
 
414 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 clung to my name, were all of them slight misfortunes com- 
 pared to this, 1 endeavoured to sustain myself by the 
 sense of mv integrity, but the voice of no man upon earth 
 echoed to the voice of my conscience. " I called aloud ; 
 but there was none to answer ; there was none that re- 
 garded." To me the whole world was unhearing as the 
 tempest, and as cold as the torpedo. Sympathy, the mag- 
 netic virtue, the hidden essence of our life, was extinct. 
 IVor was this the sum of my misery. This food, so essen- 
 tial to an intelligent existence, seemed perpetually renewing 
 before me in its fairest colours, only the more effectually 
 to elude my grasp, and to mock my hunger. From time 
 to time I was prompted to unfold the affections of my soul, 
 only to be repelled with the greater anguish, and to be 
 baffled in a way the most intolerably mortifying. 
 
 No sight, therefore, could give me a purer delight than 
 that which now presented itself to my eyes. It was some 
 time, however, before either of us recognised the person of 
 the other. Ten years had elapsed since our last interview. 
 Mr. Collins looked much older than he had done at that 
 period ; in addition to which, he was, in his present ap- 
 pearance, pale, sickly, and thin. These unfavourable 
 effects had been produced by the change of chmate, parti- 
 cularly trying to persons in an advanced period of life. 
 Add to which, I supposed him to be at that moment in the 
 West Indies. I was probably as much altered in (he pe- 
 riod that had elapsed as he had been. I was the first to 
 recollect him. He was on horseback ; I on foot. I had 
 Buffered him to pass me. In a moment the full idea of 
 who he was rushed upon my mind ; I ran ; I called with an 
 impetuous voice ; I was unable to restrain the vehemence 
 of my emotions. 
 
 The ardour of my feelings disguised my usual (one of 
 speaking, which otherwise Mr. Collins would inllillibly have 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 415 
 
 recognised. His siglit was already dim; he pulled up his 
 horse till I should overtake him ; and then said, " Who are 
 you ? I do not know you." 
 
 " My father!" exclaimed I, embracing one of his knees 
 with fervour and delight, " I am your son; once your 
 httle Caleb, whom you a thousand times loaded with your 
 kindness I " 
 
 The unexpected repetition of my name gave a kind of 
 shuddering emotion to my friend, which was, however, 
 checked by his age, and the calm and benevolent philosophy 
 that formed one of his most conspicuous habits. 
 
 " I did not expect to see you !" replied he : "I did not 
 wish it!" 
 
 " My best, my oldest friend!" answered I, respect 
 blending itself with my impatience, " do not say so ! I 
 have not a friend any where in the whole world but you ! 
 In you at least let me find sympathy and reciprocal affec- 
 tion ! If you knew how anxiously I have thought of you 
 during the whole period of your absence, you would not 
 thus grievously disappoint me in your return ! " 
 
 " How is it," said Mr. Collins, gravely, " that you have 
 been reduced to this forlorn condition ? Was it not the 
 inevitable consequence of your own actions ?" 
 
 " The actions of others, not mine ! Does not your heart 
 tell you that I am innocent ? " 
 
 " No. My observation of your early character taught 
 me that you would be extraordinary; but, unhappily, all 
 extraordinary men are not good men : that seems to be a 
 lottery, dependent on circumstances apparently the most 
 trivial." 
 
 " Will you hear my justification ? I am as sure as I 
 am of my existence, that I can convince you of my 
 purity." 
 
 *' Certainly, if you require it, I will hear you. But that 
 
416 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 must not be just now. I could have been glad to decline 
 it wholly. At my age I am not fit for the storm; and I 
 am not so sanguine as you in my expectation of the result. 
 Of what would you convince me ? That Mr. Falkland is 
 a suborner and murderer ?" 
 
 I made no answer. JMy silence was an affirmative to 
 the question. 
 
 " And what benefit will result from this conviction ? I 
 have known you a promising boy, whose character might 
 turn to one side or the other as events should decide. I 
 have known Mr. Falkland in his maturer years> and have 
 always admired him, as the living model of liberality and 
 goodness. If you could change all my ideas, and show 
 me that there was no criterion by which vice might be 
 prevented from being mistaken for virtue, what benefit 
 would arise from that ? I must part w ith all my interior 
 consolation, and [all my external connexions. And for 
 what ? What is it you propose ? The death of Mr. Falk- 
 land by the hands of the hangman." 
 
 " No; I will not hurt a hair of his head, unless compelled 
 to it by a principle of defence. But surely you owe me 
 justice?" 
 
 " What justice ? The justice of proclaiming your inno- 
 cence ? You know what consequences are annexed to that. 
 But I do not believe I shall find you innocent. If you even 
 succeed in perplexing my understanding, you w ill not suc- 
 ceed in enlighlcning it. Such is the state of mankind, that 
 innocence, when involved in circumstance^ of suspicion, 
 can scarcely ever make out a denu)nslra(ion of its purity; 
 and guilt can often make us feel an insurmountable reluct- 
 ance to the pronouncing it guilt. Meanwhile, for the pur- 
 chase of this uncertainty, I must sacrifice all the remaining 
 comforts of my life. I believe Mr. Falkland to be virtuous; 
 but I know him to be prejudiced. He w ould never forgive 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 417 
 
 me even this accidental parley, if by any means lie should 
 come to be acquainted with it." 
 
 "Oh, argue not the consequences that are possible to 
 result!" answered I, impatiently, "I have a right to your 
 kindness ; I have a right to your assistance !" 
 
 " You have them. You have them to a certain degree ; 
 and it is not likely that, by any process of examination, you 
 can have them entire. You know my habits of thinking. 
 I regard you as vicious ; but I do not consider the vicious 
 as proper objects of indignation and scorn. I consider 
 you as a machine ; you are not constituted, I am afraid, to 
 be greatly useful to your fellow men : but you did not make 
 yourself; you are just what circumstances irresistibly com- 
 pelled you to be. I am sorry for your ill properties ; but 
 I entertain no enmity against you, nothing but benevolence. 
 Considering you in the light in which I at present consider I 
 you, I am ready to contribute every thing in my power to I 
 your real advantage, and would gladly assist you, if I knew ' 
 how, in detecting and extirpating the errors that have 
 misled you. You have disappointed me, but I have no re- 
 proaches to utter: it is more necessary for me to feel 
 compassion for you, than that I should accumulate your 
 misfortune by my censures." 
 
 What could I say to such a man as this ? Amiable, 
 incomparable man ! Never was my mind more painfully 
 divided than at that moment. The more he excited my 
 admiration, the more imperiously did my heart command 
 me, whatever were the price it should cost, to extort his 
 friendship- I was persuaded that severe duty required of 
 him, that he should reject all personal considerations, that 
 he should proceed resolutely to the investigation of the 
 truth, and that, if he found the result terminating in my 
 favour, he should resign all his advantages, and, deserted as 
 I was by the world, make a common cause, and endeavour 
 
418 ( ALi;i< WILLIAMS. 
 
 to compensate the general injustice. But was it for me to 
 force this conduct upon him, if, now in his dechning years, 
 his own fortitude shrank from it ? Alas, neither he nor 
 I foresaw the dreadful catastrophe that was so closely 
 impending ! Otherw ise, I am w ell assured that no tender- 
 ness for his remaining tranquiUity would have withheld 
 him from a compliance w ith my w ishes ! On the other 
 hand, could I pretend to know w hat evils might result to 
 him from his declaring himself my advocate ? Might not 
 his integrity he browbeaten and defeated, as mine had 
 been ? Did the imbecility of his grey hairs aHbrd no ad- 
 vantage to my terrible adversary in the contest? Might 
 not Mr. Falkland reduce him to a condition as wretched 
 and low as mine ? After all, was it not vice in me to 
 desire to involve another man in my sufferings ? If I re- 
 garded them as intolerable, this was still an additional 
 reason why I should bear them alone. 
 
 Influenced by these considerations, I assented to his 
 views. I assented to be thought hardly of by the man 
 in the world whose esteem I most ardently desired, rather 
 than involve him in possible calamity. I assented to the 
 resigning what appeared to me at that moment as the 
 last practicable comfort of my life ; a comfort, upon the 
 thought of which, while I surrendered it, my mind dwelt 
 with undescribable longings. Mr. Collins was deeply af- 
 fected with the apparent ingenuousness with vshich I ex- 
 pressed my feelings. The secret struggle of his mind 
 was, " Can this be hypocrisy? The individual with whom 
 I am conferring, if virtuous, is one of the most disinte- 
 restedly virtuous persons in the world." We tore our- 
 selves from each other. Mr. Collins promised, jus far as 
 he was al)le, to have an eye upon my vicissitudes, and to 
 assist mc, in every respect that was consistent with a just 
 recollection of consoiiuences. Thus I parted, as it were. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 419 
 
 with the last expiring hope of my mind; and vohmtarily 
 consented, thus maimed and forlorn, to encounter all the 
 evils that were yet in store for me. 
 
 This is the latest event which at present I think it ne- 
 cessary to record. I shall doubtless hereafter have further 
 occasion to take up the pen. Great and unprecedented 
 as my sufferings have been, I feel intimately persuaded that 
 there are worse suflerings that await me. What myste- 
 rious cause is it that enables me to write this, and not to 
 perish under the horrible apprehension ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 It is as I foreboded. The presage with which I was 
 visited was prophetic. I am now to record a new and 
 terrible revolution of my fortune and my mind. 
 
 Having made experiment of various situations with one 
 uniform result, I at length determined to remove myself, 
 if possible, from the reach of my persecutor, by going into 
 voluntary banishment from my native soil. This was my 
 last resource for tranquiUity, for honest fame, for those 
 privileges to which human life is indebted for the whole of 
 its value. " In some distant climate," said I, " surely I 
 may find that security which is necessary to persevering 
 pursuit; surely I may lift my head erect, associate with 
 men upon the footing of a man, acquire connexions, and 
 preserve them!" It is inconceivable with what ardent 
 Teachings of the soul I aspired to this termination. 
 
 This last consolation was denied me by the inexorable 
 Falkland. 
 
4«i) CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 At the time the project was formed, I was at no great 
 distance from the east coast of the island, and I resolved to 
 take ship at Harwich, and pass immediately into Holland. 
 I accordingly repaired to that place, and went, almost as 
 soon as I arrived, to the port. But there was no vessel 
 perfectly ready to sail. I left the port, and withdrew to 
 an inn, where, after some time, I retired to a chamber. I 
 was scarcely there before the door of the room was opened, 
 and the man whose countenance was the most hateful to 
 my eyes, Gines, entered the apartment. He shut the door 
 as soon as he entered. 
 
 " Youngster," said he, " I have a little private intel- 
 ligence to communicate to you. 1 come as a friend, and 
 that I may save you a labour-in-vain trouble. If you con- 
 sider what I have to say in that light, it will be the better 
 for you. It is my business now, do you see, for want of a 
 better, to see that you do not break out of bounds. Not 
 that I much matter having one man for my employer, or 
 dancing attendance after another's heels ; but I have 
 special kindness for you, for some good turns that you wot 
 of, and therefore I do not stand upon ceremonies ! You 
 have led me a very pretty round already; and, out of the 
 love I bear you, you shall lead me as much further, if you 
 will. But beware the salt seas ! They are out of my 
 orders. You are a prisoner at present, and I believe all 
 your life will remain so. Thanks to the milk-and-water 
 softness of your former master! If I had the ordering of 
 these things, it should go with you in another fashion. As 
 long as you thijik proper, you are a prisoner within the 
 rules; and the rules with which the soft-hearted squire 
 indulges you, are all England, Scotland, and Wales. But 
 you are not to go out of these climates. The squire is de- 
 termined you shall never pass (he rciich of his disposal. 
 He has therefore given orders that, whenever vou attempt 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 421 
 
 SO to do, you shall ^be converted from a prisoner at large 
 to a prisoner in good earnest. A friend of mine followed 
 you just now to the harbour ; I was within call ; and, if 
 there had been any appearance of your setting your foot 
 from land, we should have been with you in a trice, and 
 laid you fast by the heels. I would advise you, for the fu- 
 ture, to keep at a proper distance from the sea^ for fear of 
 the worst. You see I tell you all this for your good. For 
 my part, I should be better satisfied if you were in hmbo, 
 with a rope about your neck, and a comfortable bird's eye 
 prospect to the gallows : but I do as I am directed ; and so 
 good-night to you!" 
 
 The intelligence thus conveyed to me occasioned an in- 
 stantaneous revolution in both my intellectual and animal 
 system. I disdained to answer, or take the smallest notice 
 of the fiend by whom it was delivered. It is now three 
 days since I received it, and from that moment to the pre- 
 sent my blood has been in a perpetual ferment. My 
 thoughts wander from one idea of horror to another, with 
 incredible rapidity. I have had no sleep. I have scarcely 
 remained in one posture for a minute together. It has 
 been with the utmost difficulty that I have been able to 
 command myself far enough to add a few pages to my 
 story. But, uncertain as I am of the events of each suc- 
 ceeding hour, I determined to force myself to the per- 
 formance of this task. All is not right within me. How it 
 will terminate, God knows. I sometimes fear that I shall 
 be wholly deserted of my reason. 
 
 What — dark, mysterious, unfeeUng, unrelenting tyrant ! 
 — is it come to this ? When Nero and Cahgula swayed 
 the Roman sceptre, it was a fearful thing to offend these 
 bloody rulers. The empire had already spread itself from 
 climate to climate, and from sea to sea. If their unhappy 
 victim fled to the rising of the sun, where the luminary of 
 
4«2 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 day seems to us lirst (o ascend from the waves of the ocean, 
 the powgr of the tyrant was still hehind him. If he with- 
 drew to the west, to Hesperian darkness, and the shores 
 of harbarian Tliule, still he was not safe from his gore- 
 drenched foe. — Falkland ! art thou the offspring, in whom 
 the lineaments of these tyrants are faithfully preserved ? 
 Was the world, with all its climates, made in vain for thy 
 helpless unoffending victim ? 
 
 Tremble ! 
 
 Tyiants have trembled, surrounded with whole armies 
 of their Janissaries ! What should make thee inaccessible 
 to my fury ? No, I will use no daggers ! I w ill unfold a 
 tale ! — I will show thee to the world for what thou art ; 
 and all the men that live, shall confess my truth ! — Didst 
 thou imagine that I was altogether passive, a inere worm- 
 organised to feel sensations of pain, but no emotion of re- 
 sentment ? Didst thou imagine that lliere was no danger 
 in inflicting on me pains however great, miseries however 
 dreadful? Didst thou believe me impotent, imbecile, and 
 idiot-like, with no understanding to contrive thy ruin, and 
 no energy to perpetrate it ? 
 
 I will tell a tale — ! The justice of the couuti-y shall 
 hear me! The elements of nature in universal uproar 
 shall not interrupt me ! I w ill speak with a voice more 
 fearful than thunder ! — Why should I be supposed to 
 speak from any dishonourable motive? I am under no 
 prosecution now ! I hhall not now appear to be endea- 
 vouring to remove a criminal indictment from mvself, by 
 throwing it back on its author ! — Shall 1 regret the ruin 
 that will overwhelm thee? Too long have I been tender- 
 hearted and forbeaiing ! What benelit has ever resulted 
 from my juistaken clemency ? There is no evil thou hast 
 scrupled to accinmiiatc upon me! !\ei(lirr will I be more 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 423 
 
 scrupulous! Thou hast shown no mercy; and Uiou shalt 
 receive none! — I must be cahn ! hold as a lioi», yet col- 
 lected ! 
 
 This is a moment pregnant with fate. I know — I think 
 I know- — that I will be triumphant, and crush my seem- 
 ingly omnipotent foe. But, should it be otherwise, at least 
 he shall not be every way successful. His fame shall not 
 be immortal as he thinks. These papers shall preserv e the] 
 truth ; they shall one day be published, and then the world 
 shall do justice on us both. Recollecting that, I shall not 
 die wholly without consolation. It is not to be endured 
 that falsehood and tyranny should reign for ever. 
 
 How impotent are the precautions of man against the 
 eternally existing laws of the intellectual world! This i 
 Falkland has invented against me every species of foul ac- 
 cusation. He has hunted me from city to city. He has 
 drawn his lines of circumvaliation round me that I may not 
 escape. He has kept his scenters of human prey for ever 
 at my heels. He may hunt me out of the world. — In vain ! 
 With this engine, this little pen, I defeat all his machina- 
 tions ; I stab him in the very point he w as most solicitous 
 to defend ! 
 
 Collins ! I now address myself to you. I have consented 
 that you should yield me no assistance in my present ter- 
 rible situation. I am content to die rather than do any 
 thing injurious to your tranquillity. But remember, you 
 are my father still! I conjure you, by all the love you 
 ever bore me, by the benefits you have conferred on me, 
 by the forbearance and kindness towards you that now 
 penetrates my soul, by my innocence — for, if these be the 
 last words I shall ever write, I die protesting my inno- 
 cence ! — by all these, or whatever tie more sacred has 
 influence on your soul, I conjure you, hsten to my last 
 request! Preserve these papers from destruction, and 
 
4i4 CALEB VVILLUMS. 
 
 preserve them from Falkland ! It is all 1 ask ! I have 
 taken care to provide a safe mode of conveying them into 
 your possession : and I have a firm confidence, which I 
 will not suffer to depart from me, that they will one day 
 find their way to the pubUc ! 
 
 The pen lingers in my trembhng fingers ! Is there any 
 thing I have left unsaid ? — The contents of the fatal trunk, 
 from which all my misfortunes originated, I have never 
 been able to ascertain. I once thought it contained some 
 murderous instrument or rehck connected with the fate of 
 the unhappy Tyrrel. I am now persuaded that the secret 
 it encloses, is a faithful narrative of that and its concomi- 
 tant transactions, written by Mr, Falkland, and reserved 
 in case of the worst, that, if by any unforeseen event his 
 guilt should come to be fully disclosed, it might contribute 
 to redeem the wreck of his reputation. But the truth or 
 the falsehood of this conjecture is of little moment. If 
 Falkland shall never be detected to the satisfaction of the 
 world, such a narrative will probably never see the light. 
 In that case this story of mine may amply, severely per- 
 haps, supply its place. 
 
 I know not what it is that renders me thus solemn. I 
 have a secret foreboding, as if I should never again be 
 master of myself. If I succeed in what I now meditate 
 respecting Falkland, ray precaution in the disposal of these 
 papers will have been unnecessary ; I shall no longer be 
 reduced to artifice and evasion. If I fail, the precaution will 
 appear to have been wisely chosen. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 All is over. I have carried into execution my medi- 
 tated attempt. My situation is totally changed; I now sit 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 425 
 
 down to give an account of it. For several weeks after the 
 completion of this dreadful business, my mind was in too 
 tumultuous a state to permit me to write. I think I shall 
 now be able to arrange my thoughts sufficiently for that 
 purpose. Great God ! how wondrous, how terrible are the 
 events that have intervened since I was last employed in a 
 similar manner ! It is no wonder that my thoughts were 
 solemn, and my mind filled with horrible forebodings ! 
 
 Having formed my resolution, I set out from Harwich, 
 for the metropolitan town of the county in which Mr. Falk- 
 land resided. Gines, I well knew, was in my rear. That 
 was of no consequence to me. He might wonder at the 
 direction I pursued, but he could not tell with what pur- 
 pose I pursued it. My design was a secret, carefully locked 
 up in my own breast. It was not without a sentiment of 
 terror that I entered a town which had been the scene of 
 my long imprisonment. I proceeded to the house of the 
 chief magistrate the instant I arrived, that I might give no 
 time to my adversary to counterwork my proceeding. 
 
 I told him who I was, and that I was come from a distant 
 part of the kingdom, for the purpose of rendering him the 
 medium of a charge of murder against my former patron. 
 My name was already familiar to hirp. He answered, that 
 he could not take cognizance of my deposition ; that I was 
 an object of universal execration in that part of the world ; 
 and he was determined upon no account to be the vehicle 
 of my depravity. 
 
 I warned him to consider well what he was doing. I 
 called upon him for no favour ; I only applied to him in the 
 regular exercise of his function. Would he take upon him 
 to say that he had a right, at his pleasure, to suppress a 
 charge of this complicated nature ? I had to accuse Mr. 
 Falkland of repeated murders. The perpetrator knew that 
 I was in possession of the truth upon the subject; and 
 
4V6 CALEB WILLUMS. 
 
 knowing that, I went perprtiially in danger of my life fioni 
 his malice and revenge. I w as resolved to go through w ith 
 the business, if justice were to he obtained from any court 
 in England. Upon what pretence did he refuse my deposi- 
 tion ? I was in eveiy respect a competent witness. I was 
 of age to understand the nature of an oath ; I was in my 
 perfect senses ; I was untarnished by the verdict of any jury, 
 or the sentence of any judge. His private opinion of my 
 character could not alter the law of the land. I demanded 
 to be confronted with Mr. Falkland, and I was well assured 
 I should substantiate the charge to the satisfaction of the 
 whole world. If he did not think proper to apprehend him 
 upon my single testimony, I should be satisfied if he only 
 sent him notice of the charge, and summoned him to ap- 
 pear. 
 
 The magistrate, finding me thus resolute, thought proper 
 a little to lower his tone. He no longer absolutely refused 
 to comply with my requisition, but condescended to ex- 
 postulate with me. He represented to me Mr. Falkland's 
 health, which had for some years been exceedingly indif- 
 ferent; his having been once already brought to the most 
 solemn examination upon this charge ; the diabolical malice 
 in which alone my projceeding must have originated ; and 
 the ten-fold ruin it would bring down upon my head. To 
 all these representations my answer was short. " I was de- 
 termined to go on, and would abide the consequences." 
 A summons was at length granted, and notice sent to Mr. 
 Falkland of the charge preferred against him. 
 
 Three days elapsed before any further step could he 
 taken in this business. This interval in no degree con- 
 tributed to tranquillise my mind. The thought of prefei- 
 ring a capital accusation against, and hastening the death 
 of, such a man as Mr. I'^alkland, was bN no meau> an opiate 
 lo rrflectiori. .Vt one time I connncnded the action, 
 
 ction,!!^^ 
 
 M 
 
^ CALEB WILLIAMS. 427 
 
 as just revenge (for the benevolence of my nature was in 
 a great degree turned to gall), or as necessary self-defence, 
 or as that which, in an impartial and philanthropical es- 
 timate, included the smallest evil. At another time I w^as 
 haunted with doubts. But, in spite of these variations of 
 sentiment, I uniformly determined to persist! I felt as if 
 impelled by a tide of unconquerable impulse. The con- 
 sequences were such as might well appal the stoutest heart. 
 Either the ignominious execution of a man whom I had 
 once so deeply venerated, and whom now I sometimes 
 suspected not to be without his claims to veneration ; or a 
 confirmation, perhaps an increase, of the calamities I had 
 so long endured. Yet these I preferred to a state of un- 
 certainty. I desired to know the worst; to put an end to 
 the hope, however faint, which had been so long my tor- 
 ment ; and, above all, to exhaust and finish the catalogue 
 of expedients that were at my disposition. My mind was 
 worked up to a state little short of frenzy. My body was 
 in a burning fe\er with the agitation of my thoughts. When 
 I laid my hand upon my bosom or my head, it seemed to 
 scorch them with the fervency of its heat. I could not sit 
 still for a moment. I panted with incessant desire that the 
 dreadful crisis I had so eagerly invoked, were come, and 
 were over. 
 
 After an interval of three days, I met Mr. Falkland in 
 the presence of the magistrate to whom I had apphed upon 
 the subject. I had only two hours' notice to prepare my- 
 self; Mr. Falkland seeming as eager as I to have the 
 question brought to a crisis, and laid at rest for ever. I 
 had an opportunity, before the examination, to learn that 
 Mr. Forester was drawn by some business on an excursion 
 on the Continent ; and that Collins, whose health when I 
 saw him was in a very precarious state, was at this time 
 confined with an alarming illness. His constitution hacl 
 
428 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 been wholly broken by his West Indian expedition. The 
 audience I met at the house of the magistrate consisted of 
 several gentlemen and others selected for the purpose; 
 the plan being, in some respects, as in the former instance, 
 to find a medium between the suspicious air of a private 
 examination, and the indelicacy, as it was styled, of an 
 examination exposed to the remark of every casual spec- 
 tator. 
 
 I can conceive of no shock greater than that I received 
 from the sight of Mr. Falkland. His appearance on the 
 last occasion on which we met had been haggard, ghost- 
 hke, and wild, energy in his gestures, and frenzy in his 
 aspect. It was now the appearance of a corpse. He w as 
 brought in in a chair, unable to stand, fatigued and almost 
 destroyed by the journey he had just taken. His visage 
 was colourless ; his limbs destitute of motion, almost ol 
 life. His head reclined upon his bosom, except that now 
 and then he hfted it up, and opened his eyes with a languid 
 glance ; immediately after which he sunk back into his 
 former apparent insensibility. He seemed not to have 
 three hours to live. He had kept his chamber for several 
 weeks ; but the summons of the magistrate had been deli- 
 vered to him at his bed-side, his orders respecting letters 
 and written papers being so peremptory that no one dared 
 to disobey them. Upon reading the paper he was seized 
 with a very dangerous fit; but, as soon as he recovered, 
 he insisted upon being conveyed, with all practicable ex- 
 pedition, to the place of appointment. Falkland, in the 
 most helpless state, was still Falkland, firm in command, 
 and capable to extort obedience from every one that ap- 
 proached him. 
 
 What a sight was this to me ! Till the moment that 
 Falkland was presented to my view, my breast was steeled 
 fo pity. I thought that I had coolly entered into (he 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 429 
 
 reason of the case (passion, in a state of solemn and 
 omnipotent vehemence, always appears to be coolness to 
 him in whom it domineers), and that I had determined 
 impartially and justly. I believed that, if Mr. Falkland 
 were permitted to persist in his schemes, we must both of 
 us be completely wretched, I believed that it was in my 
 power, by the resolution I had formed, to throw my share 
 of this wretchedness from me, and that his could scarcely 
 be increased. It appeared, therefore, to my mind, to be 
 a mere piece of equity and justice, such as an impartial 
 spectator would desire, that one person should be mise- 
 rable in preference to two ; that one person rather than 
 two should be incapacitated from acting his part, and con- 
 tributing his share to the general welfare. I thought that 
 in this business I had risen superior to personal consi- 
 derations, and judged with a total neglect of the sug- 
 gestions of self-regard. It is true, Mr. Falkland was 
 mortal ; but, notwithstanding his apparent decay, he might 
 live long. Ought I to submit to waste the best years of 
 my life in my present wretched situation ? He had de- 
 clared that his reputation should be for ever inviolate; 
 this was his ruhng passion, the thought that worked his 
 soul to madness. He would probably therefore leave a 
 legacy of persecution to be received by me from the hands 
 of Gines, or some other villain equally atrocious, when he 
 should himself be no more. Now or never was the time 
 for me to redeem my future hfe from endless woe. 
 
 But all these fine-spun reasonings vanished before the 
 object that was now presented to me. " Shall I trample 
 upon a man thus dreadfully reduced ? Shall I point my 
 animosity against one, whom the system of nature has 
 brought down to the grave ? Shall I poison, with sounds 
 the most intolerable to his ears, the last moments of a man 
 like Falkland? It is impossible. There must have been 
 
.J30 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 some dreadful mistake in the train of argument that per- 
 suaded me to be the author of this hateful scene. There 
 must have been a better and more magnanimous remedy 
 to the evils under which I groaned." 
 
 It was too late : the mistake I had committed was now 
 gone past all power of recall. Here was Falkland, so- 
 lemnly brought before a magistrate to answer to a charge 
 of murder. Here I stood, having already declared myself 
 the author of the charge, gravely and sacredly pledged 
 to support it. This was my situation; and, thus situated, 
 I was called upon immediately to act. My whole frame 
 shook. I w ould eagerly have consented that that moment 
 should have been the last of my existence. I however 
 believed, that the conduct how most indispensably incum- 
 bent on me was to lay the emotions of my soul naked before 
 my hearers. 1 looked first at Mr. Falkland, and then at 
 the magistrate and attendants, and then at Mr. Falkland 
 again. My voice Mas suffocated with agony. I began : — 
 
 " Why cannot I recall the last four days of my life ? 
 How was it possible for me to be so eager, so obstinate, 
 in a purpose so diabolical ? Oh, that I had listened to the 
 expostulations of the magistrate that hears me, or submit- 
 ted to the well-meant despotism of his authority ! Hitherto 
 I have been only miserable; henceforth I shall account 
 myself base ! Hitherto, though hardly treated by man- 
 kind, I stood acquitted at the bar of my own conscience. 
 I had not filled up the measure of my wretchedness ! 
 
 "Would to (iod it were possible for me to retire from 
 this scene without uttering another word ! I would brave 
 the consequences — I would submit to any imputation of 
 cowardice, falsehood, and profligacy, rather than add to 
 the weight of misfortune with which Mr. Falkland is over- 
 whelmed. Hut the situation, and the demaiuls of Mr. 
 Falkland liinisi'lf, loi-hid ine. He, in (-()in|)assii)n for 
 
€ALEB WILLIAMS. 431 
 
 whose fallen state I would willingly forget every interest 
 of ray own, would compel me to accuse, that he might 
 enter upon his justification. I will confess every sentiment 
 of my heart. 
 
 " No penitence, no anguish, can expiate the folly and 
 the cruelty of this last act I have perpetrated. But Mr. 
 Falkland well knows — I affirm it in his presence — how 
 unwillingly I have proceeded to this extremity. I have 
 reverenced him ; he was w orthy of reverence : I have 
 loved him ; he was endowed w ith qualities that partook of 
 divine. 
 
 "From the first moment I saw him, I»conceived the 
 most ardent admiration. He condescended to encourage 
 me ; I attached myself to him w ith the fulness of my af- 
 fection. He w as unhappy ; I exerted myself with youth- 
 ful curiosity to discover the secret of his woe. This was 
 the beginning of misfortune. 
 
 " What shall 1 say ? — He was indeed the murderer of 
 Tyrrel ; he suffered the Hawkinses to be executed, knowing 
 that they were innocent, and that he alone was guilty. 
 After successive surmises, after various indiscretions on my 
 part, and indications on his, he at length confided to me at 
 full the fatal tale ! 
 
 "Mr. Falkland! I most solemnly conjure you to recollect 
 yourself! Did I ever prove myself unworthy of your con- 
 fidence ? The secret was a most painful burthen to me ; 
 it was the extremest folly that led me unthinkingly to gain 
 possession of it ; but I w ould have died a thousand deaths 
 rather than betray it. It was the jealousy of your own 
 thoughts, and the.weight that hung upon your mind, that 
 led you to watch my motions, and to conceive alarm from 
 every particle of my conduct. 
 
 " You began in confidence ; why did you not continue 
 in confidence? The evil that resulted from my original 
 
43-2 CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 imprudence would then have been comparatively little. 
 You threatened me : did I then helray you ? A word from 
 my lips at that time would have freed me from your 
 threats for ever. I bore them for a considerable period, 
 and at last quitted your service, and threw myself a fu- 
 gitive upon the world, in silence. Why did you not suffer 
 me to depart ? You brought me back by stratagem and 
 violence, and wantonly accused me of an enormous felony! 
 Did I then mention a syllable of the murder, the secret of 
 which was in my possession ? 
 
 " Where is the man that has suffered niore from the 
 injustice of society than I have done? I was accused of a 
 villany that my heart abhorred. I was sent to jail. I will 
 not enumerate the horrors of my prison, the lightest of 
 which would make the heart of humanity shudder. I 
 looked forward to the gallows ! Y'oung, ambitious, fond 
 of life, innocent as the child unborn, I looked forward to 
 the gallows! I believed that one word of resolute ac- 
 cusation against my patron would deliver me; yet I was 
 silent, I armed myself with patience, uncertain whether it 
 were better to accuse or to die. Did this show me a man 
 unworthy to be trusted ? 
 
 " I determined to break out of prison. With infinite 
 difficulty, and repeated miscarriages, I at length effected 
 my purpose. Instantly a proclamation, with a hundred 
 guineas reward, was issued for apprehending me. I was 
 obliged to take shelter among the refuse of mankind, in 
 the midst of a gang of thieves. I encountered the most 
 im minent p eril of my life when I entered this retreat, and 
 when T quitted it. Immediately after,, I travelled almost 
 the whole length of the kingdom, in poverty and distress, 
 in hourly danger of being retaken and nianaclod like a 
 felon. 1 would have tied niy country, I was prevented, 
 I had recourse to various disguises ; I was innocent, and 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 433 
 
 yet was compelled to as many arts and subterfuges as could 
 have been entailed on the worst of villains. In London I 
 was as much harassed and as repeatedly alarmed as I had 
 been in my flight through the country. Did all these perse- 
 cutions persuade me to put an end to my silence? No : I 
 suffered them with patience and submission ; I did not 
 make one attempt to retort them upon their author. 
 
 " I fell at last into the hands of the miscreants that are 
 nourished with human blood. In this terrible situation I, 
 for the first time, attempted, by turning informer, to throw 
 the weight from myself. Happily for me, the London ma- 
 gistrate listened to my tale with insolent contempt. 
 
 " I soon, and long, repented of my rashness, and rejoiced 
 in my miscarriage. 
 
 " I acknowledge that, in various ways, Mr. Falkland 
 showed humanity towards me during this period. He would 
 have prevented my going to prison at first ; he contributed 
 towards my subsistence during my detention; he had no 
 share in the pursuit that had been set on foot against me ; 
 he at length procured my discharge, when brought forward 
 for trial. But a great part of his forbearance was unknoAS n 
 to me ; I supposed him to be my unrelenting pursuer. I 
 could not forget that, whoever heaped calamities on me in 
 the sequel, they all originated in his forged accusation. 
 
 " The prosecution against me for felony was now at an 
 end. Why were not my sufferings permitted to terminate 
 then, and I allowed to hide my weary head in some obscure 
 yet tranquil retreat? Had I not sufficiently proved my 
 constancy and fidelity ? Would not a compromise in this 
 situation have been most wise and most secure ? But the 
 restless and jealous anxiety of Mr. Falkland would not 
 permit him to repose the least atom of confidence. The 
 only compromise that he proposed was that, with my own 
 hand, I should sign myself a villain. I refused this proposal, 
 
434 ( ALF.B WILLIAMS. 
 
 and have ever since been driven from place lo place, deprived 
 (if peace, of honest fame, even of bread. For a long timo 
 1 persisted in the resolution that no emergency should con- 
 vert me into the assailant. In an evil hour I at last lis- 
 tened to my resentment and impatience, and the hateful 
 mistake into which 1 fell has produced the present scene. 
 
 " I now see that mistake in all its enormity. I am sure 
 that if 1 had opened my heart (o Mr. Falkland, if I had lold 
 (o him privately the tale that I have now been telling, he 
 could not have resisted my reasonable demand. After all 
 his precautions, he must ultimately have depended upon 
 my forbearance. Could he be sure that, if I were at last 
 w orked up to disclose every thing I knew, and to enforce it 
 with all the energy I could exert, I should obtain no credit ? 
 If he must in every case be at my mercy, in which mode 
 ought he to have souuht his safety, in conciliation, or in 
 inexorable cruelty ? 
 
 i/" " Mr. Falkland is of a noble nature. Yes ; in spile of 
 the catastrophe of Tyrrel, of the miserable end of the Haw- 
 kinses, and of all that I have myself suffered, I aflkm that 
 he has qualities of the most admirable kind. It is therefore 
 impossible that he could have resisted a frank and fervent 
 expostulation, the frankness and the fervour in which the 
 whole soul is poured out. I despaired, while it was yet 
 time to have made the just experiment; but my despair 
 was criminal, was treason against the sovereignty of truth. 
 " I have told a plain and unadulterated tale. I came 
 
 Vhither to curse, but I remain to bless. I came to accuse, 
 but am compelled to applaud. I proclaim (o all the world, 
 that Mr. Falkland is a man worthy of affection and kindness, 
 and that I am myself the basest and most odious of mankind! 
 Never will I forgive myself the iniquity of this day. The 
 memory will always haunt me, and embitter every hour of 
 my existence. In thus acting I have been a murderer — a 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 435 
 
 «ool, deliberalc, unfeeling murderer. — I have said what 
 my accursed precipitation has obhged me to say. Do with 
 me as you please! I ask no favour. Death would be a 
 kindness, compared to what I feel !" 
 
 Suqli were the accents dictated by my remorse. I poured 
 thena'^out with uncontrollable impetuosity; for my heart 
 was- pierced, and I was compelled to give vent to its an- 
 guish. Every one that heard me, was petrified with as- 
 tonishment. Every one that heard me, was melted into 
 tears. They could not resist the ardour with which I 
 praised the great qualities of Falkland ; they manifested 
 their sympathy in the tokens of my penitence. 
 
 How shall I describe the feelings of this unfortunate 
 man ? Before I began, he seemed sunk and debilitated, 
 incapable of any strenuous impression. When I men- 
 tioned the murder, I could perceive in him an involuntary 
 shuddering, though it was counteracted partly by the 
 feebleness of his frame, and partly by the energy of his 
 mind. This was an allegation he expected, and he had 
 endeavoured to prepare himself for it. But there was 
 much of what I said, of which he had had no previous 
 conception. When I expressed the anguish of my mind, 
 he seemed at first startled and alarmed, lest this should 
 be a new expedient to gain credit to my tale. His indig- 
 nation against me was great for having retained all my re- 
 sentment towards him, thus, as it might be, to the last 
 hour of his existence. It was increased when he dis- 
 covered me, as he supposed, using a pretence of Hberality 
 and sentiment to give new edge to my hostility. But as I 
 went on he could no longer resist. He saw my sincerity ; 
 he was penetrated with my grief and compunction. He 
 rose from his seat, supported by the attendants, and — to 
 my infinite astonishment — threw himself into my arms ! 
 
 " Williams," said he, " you have conquered ! I see 
 
4 
 
 436 CALEB W IIXIAMS. 
 
 too late the greatness and elevation of your mind. J con- 
 fess that it is to my fault and not yours, that it is to the 
 j^xcess of jealousy that was ever burning in my bosom, 
 that I owe my ruin. I could have resisted any plan of 
 malicious accusation you might have brought against me. 
 But I see that the artless and manly story you have told, 
 has carried conviction to every hearer. All my prospects 
 are concluded. All that I most ardently desired, is for 
 ever frustrated. I have spent a life of the basest cruelty, 
 to cover one act of momentary vice, and to protecVinysglf 
 against the prejudices of my species. I stand now com- 
 pletely detected. IMy name will be consecrated to infamy, 
 '^ — while your heroism, your patience, and your virtues will 
 be for ever admired. You have inflicted on me the most 
 fatal of all mischiefs ; but I bless theTiahdrtiat wounds^ me. 
 And now," — turning to the magistrate — " and now, do 
 with me as you please. I am prepared to suffer all the 
 vengeance of the law. You cannot inflict on me more 
 than I deserve. You cannot hate me, more than I hate 
 myself. I am the most execrable of all villains. I have 
 for many years (I know not how long) dragged on a 
 miserable existence in insupportable pain. I am at last, in 
 recompense for all my labours and my crimes, dismissed 
 from it with the disappointment of my only remaining hope, 
 the destruction of that for the sake of which alone I con- 
 sented to exist. It was worthy of such a life, that it should 
 continue just long enough to witness this final oveithrow. 
 If, however, you wish to punish me, you must ho speedy 
 in your justice; for, as reputation was the blood that 
 warmed my heart, so I feel that death and infamy must 
 seize me together." 
 
 I record the praises bestowed on me by Falkland, not 
 because I deserved them, but because they serve to ag- 
 gravate the baseness of my cruelty. He sur>ived this 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS. 437 
 
 ^dreadful scene but three days. I have been his murderer. 
 ill was lit that he should praise my patience, who has fallen 
 a victim, life and fame, to my precipitation ! It would 
 havef been merciful in comparison, if I had planted a dag- 
 ger^iu his heart. He would have thanked me for my kind- 
 ness. But, atrocious, execrable wretch that I have been ! 
 I wantonly inflicted on him an anguish a thousand times 
 worse than death. Meanwhile I endure the penalty of my 
 crime. His figure is ever in imagination before me. 
 Waking or sleeping, I still behold him. He seems mildly 
 to expostulate with me for my unfeeling behaviour. I live 
 the devoted victim of conscious reproach. Alas! I am 
 the same Caleb Williams that, so short a time ago, boasted 
 that, however great were the calamities I endured, 1 was 
 still inuocentt 
 
 Such has been the result of a project I formed, for de- 
 livering myself from the evil that had so long attended me. 
 I thought that, if Falkland were dead, I should return once 
 again to all that makes hfe worth possessing. I thought 
 that, if the guilt of Falkland were established, fortune and 
 the world would smile upon my efforts. Both these events 
 are accomplished ; and it is now only that I am truly 
 miserable. 
 
 Why should my reflections perpetually centre upon my- 
 self? — self, an overweening regard to which has been the 
 source of my errors ! Falkland, I will think only of thee, 
 and from that thought will draw ever-fresh nourishment 
 for my sorrows ! One generous, one disinterested tear I 
 will consecrate to thy ashes ! A nobler spirit lived not 
 among the sons of men. Thy intellectual powers were 
 truly sublime, and thy bosom burned with a godUkft am- 
 bition. But of \\ hat use are talents and sentiments in the 
 I i : m society ? It is a rank and 
 
 < . < y finer shrub draws poison as 
 
^•^^ 
 
 -i,.S CALEB WILLIAMS. 
 
 it grows. All that, in a happier Held and a pn 
 would expand into virtue and germinate into useful j 
 thus converted into henbane and deadly nightshad 
 
 Falkland ! thou enteredst upon thy career with 
 purest and most laudable intentions. But thou imbibfldst 
 the poison of chivalry with thy earliest youth ; and tlu' 
 base and low-minded envy that met thee on thy return to 
 thy native seats, operated with this poison to hurry tliec 
 into madness. Soon, too soon, by this fatal coincidence, 
 w:ere the blooming hopes of thy youth blasted for ever, 
 from that moment thou only continuedst to live to the 
 phantom of departed honour. From that moment thy 
 benevolence was, in a great part, turned into rankling 
 jealousy and inexorable precaution. Year after year didst 
 thou spend in this miserable project of imposture ; and 
 only at last continuedst to Uve, long enough to see, by my 
 misjudging and abhorred intervention, thy closing hope dis- 
 appointed, and thy death accompanied with the foulcsl 
 disgrace ! 
 
 I began these memoirs W'Wi tUt iUw of vindicating my 
 character. I have now no character lii«t 1 wish to vindi- 
 cate : but I will finish them that thy story may be fully un- 
 derstood ; and that, if those erroi-s of thy life l>e known 
 which thou so ardently • < ,.ri< cal, th< .\ 
 
 at least not hear and <>I<1 and in.;. 
 
 THK END. 
 
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