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CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
THE ROGUES' BOOKSHELF 
 
 ERNEST BRENNECKE, Jr., Editor 
 
 THE PLEASANT HISTORY OF LAZARILLO DE TORMES, 
 
 with Introduction to The Rogues' Bookshelf 
 by Carl Van Doren. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND, COUNT FATHOM, 
 
 by Tobias Smollett, M.D. Introduction by Ernest 
 Boyd. 
 
 MODERN CHIVALRY, CONTAINING THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 captain john farrago, by Hugh Henry Brack- 
 enridge. Introduction by Ernest Brennecke, Jr. 
 
 THE UNFORTUNATE TRAVELER, OR THE LIFE OF 
 
 jack wilton, by Thomas Nashe. Introduction 
 by Samuel C. Chew. 
 
 THINGS AS THEY ARE, OR THE ADVENTURES OF CALEB 
 
 Williams, by William Godwin. Introduction by 
 Van Wyck Brooks. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF THE LATE MR. 
 
 Jonathan wild the great, by Henry Fielding. 
 Introduction by John Macy. 
 
 Other titles in preparation. 
 
THE ROGUES' BOOKSHELF 
 The Adventures of 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM GODWIN 
 
 With an Introduction 
 
 By VAN WYCK BROOKS 
 
 JjE. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GREENBERG, PUBLISHER 
 
 1926 
 
A / f 
 
 J 
 
 
 Copyright, 1926, 
 GREENBERG, PUBLISHER, Inc. 
 
>ft 
 
 c 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The author of Caleb Williams was one of those men, re- 
 markable in themselves, who are yet remembered more be- 
 cause of the circle about them than for anything they do 
 or say themselves. He was Mary Wollstonecraft's husband^ 
 he was Shelley's father-in-law, and between these two flames / 
 his own candle has grown dim indeed. And yet this candle 
 lighted the flame of Shelley. It was at Godwin's feet that 
 the young poet from Oxford drank in those ideas of re- 
 form and political justice, of philosophical anarchy, that 
 burned in his own poems to the very last. Godwin was 
 calm and cold beside the stormy souls whom he attracted. 
 But some fire there was in that life of reason. Caleb 
 Williams alone is enough to prove it. 
 
 The novel was published in 1794, at the height of the 
 French Revolution. Godwin was thirty-eight. Years be- 
 fore, as a Nonconformist minister, already alien to the 
 traditions of English society, he had fallen in with the 
 writings of the French Encyclopaedists. He dreamed of the/ 
 birth of a new social order, to be introduced by discussion, 
 in which life would be ruled by principle instead of cus- 
 4 torn, a kingless, priestless world where no man would have 
 the control of another, where punishment was abolished, s 
 where property was owned in common, where marriage and 
 family ties no longer restricted the freedom of the indi- 
 vi vidual. He summed these views up in the great work of 
 his life, the Inquiry Concerning Political Justice, published 
 just one year before Caleb Williams. And the latter, which 
 bears, significantly, the sub-title, Things as They Are, re- 
 flects many of the preoccupations of the treatise. 
 
 "Every fable," says Thoreau, "contains a moral. But 
 the innocent enjoy the story." The story of Caleb Williams 
 
 LISRARf 
 
vi INTRODUCTION 
 
 is very engrossing, but we cannot miss those other aspects 
 that make it also a very impressive document of the Age of 
 / Revolution. The story is, in brief, that of the despotic 
 ^ power exercised by a master over his servant. Mr. Falk- 
 land is a country gentleman of the greatest apparent nobil- 
 ity of character. His pride, however, his sentiment of 
 /honor, or, one might better say, the sentiment of his repu- 
 tation, is his ruling passion. An enemy, Mr. Tyrrel, humili- 
 ates him in public ; and Mr. Falkland murders Mr. Tyrrel. 
 Terrified by the fear of exposure, of the loss of his "reputa- 
 tion," he causes the blame to be cast upon two innocent 
 laborers. His servant, Caleb Williams, who has learned 
 the truth, he binds by terrible threats; and when at last 
 Caleb runs away he has him apprehended on a trumped-up 
 charge of stealing. Caleb is thrown into prison but escapes 
 before the trial, only to find that all England is his prison; 
 for Mr. Falkland has hired a bully named Gines who fol- 
 lows on his heels and represents him as a criminal in every 
 company he enters. Down to the final chapter he cannot 
 escape from this vengeance, for who will take the word of 
 an ignorant servant, on the question which is guilty, against 
 a gentleman of rank and distinction? At last, however, 
 though only by a miracle, Caleb finds a magistrate who 
 trusts him. Mr. Falkland, confronted, confesses, and Caleb 
 is released from the power of the tyrant. 
 
 The revolutionary note in the plot is sufficiently plain. 
 "The law," says Caleb, "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." Of the power 
 of property the book speaks with passion: "The story of a 
 flagitious murder shall be listened to with indifference, 
 while an innocent man is hunted, like a wild beast, to the 
 farthest corners of the earth! Six thousand a year shall 
 protect a man from accusation; and the validity of an im- 
 peachment shall be superseded because the author of it 
 is a servant!" And there is not less passion in the de- 
 scription of Caleb's prison. " 'Thank God,' exclaims the 
 Englishman, 'we have no Bastille! Thank God, with us no 
 
INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 man can be punished without a crime! ' Unthinking wretch! 
 Is that a country of liberty where thousands languish in 
 dungeons and fetters? Go, 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 Bastille!" There is the 
 feeling that makes revolutions; and shocking indeed is God- 
 win's picture of this prison, based as it is on careful ob- 
 servation. 
 
 But to turn to the story itself, the character of Falkland 
 lives in our minds as one of the great creations of fiction. 
 In the end Caleb says of him: "A nobler spirit lived not 
 among the sons of men." And nothing could be more re- 
 markable than the way in which the author justifies this 
 statement. We see Falkland at first chivalrous, benevolent, 
 the very pattern of Aristotle's magnanimous man, with only 
 one weakness, that pride of reputation which turns him into v ; 
 a murderer and a madman. "I live/' he says, "the guard- 7 
 ian of my reputation. That, and to endure a misery such 
 as man never endured, are the only ends to which I live. 
 But when I am no more, my fame shall survive. My char- 
 acter shall be revered as spotless and unimpeachable by all 
 posterity, as long as the name of Falkland shall be re- 
 peated in the most distant regions of the many-peopled 
 globe." This pride is the rock on which he goes to pieces. 
 One would have to seek far in literature to find a more 
 powerful study of an obsession than that which transforms 
 the gay, humane Falkland into a fiend of vengeance and 
 remorse. 
 
 Gines too, Falkland's tool, is a memorable character. A 
 villain after Dickens's heart, he appears like fate when- 
 ever Caleb is on the point of escaping: appears in the 
 thieves' den where Caleb falls by chance, appears in the 
 humble lodging he has found in London, appears at the 
 ship when Caleb is about to escape to Holland, pursues him 
 into Wales where he thinks he has discovered a safe refuge 
 at last. And Caleb, who tells his own story, draws in 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 himself a character we cannot easily forget. If Godwin 
 
 V intended here to show the worth of the lower orders of 
 
 society, for the sake of whom he professed his revolutionary 
 
 ideas, he could not have succeeded better. Self-taught, 
 
 courageous, an eager student, able to pull himself out of 
 
 \ the direst situations, forgiving, admiring, cheerful, he wins 
 
 \our affection and keeps it to the last. 
 
 In the intervals of the story, the adventures of Caleb 
 in his flight across England, there is much that suggests 
 ^ Smollett and Dickens and Borrow. The incident of Caleb's 
 imprisonment, the scenes in the thieves' refuge, the episode 
 of Mr. Spurrel, the watchmaker's assistant with whom Caleb 
 stays in London, the idyllic picture of Wales and the family 
 of Laura are drawn with a hand that might have written 
 another "Lavengro." But vivid and entertaining as these 
 incidents are, the main theme overshadows them com- 
 pletely. The relation between Falkland and Caleb has all 
 the intensity and terror of a great drama. "Man is a wolf 
 to man," said a certain philosopher. No one has presented 
 that view of human nature more forcibly than the author 
 of Caleb Williams, 
 
 Van Wyck Brooks. 
 
 New Canaan, Conn., March, 1926. 
 
Adventures of Caleb JVilliams 
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 MY life has for several years been a theatre of calam- 
 ity. 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 him- 
 self inaccessible to entreaties, and untired in persecution. 
 My fame, as well as my happiness, has become its vic- 
 tim. Every one, as far as my story has been known, has 
 refused to assist me in my distress, and has execrated my 
 name. I have not deserved this treatment. My own con- 
 science witnesses in behalf of that innocence, my pre- 
 tensions 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 my situation, and a faint 
 idea that posterity may by their means be induced to 
 render me a justice which my contemporaries refuse. My 
 story will, at least, appear to have that consistency which is 
 seldom attendant but upon truth. 
 
 I was born of humble parents, in a remote county of 
 England. Their occupations were such as usually fall to the 
 lot of peasants, and 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 pro- 
 geny! of an honest Jame t I was taught the rudiments of 
 no science, except reading, writing, and arithmetic. But I 
 had an inquisitive mind, and neglected no means of infor- 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
J 
 
 2 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 mation from conversation or books. My improvement was 
 greater than my condition in life afforded room to expect. 
 
 There are other circumstances deserving to be mentioned 
 as having influenced the history of my future life. I was 
 somewhat above the middle stature. Without being par- 
 ticularly athletic in appearance, or large in my dimen- 
 sions, I was uncommonly vigorous and active. My joints 
 were supple, and I was formed to excel in youthful sports. 
 The habits of my mind, however, were to a certain degree 
 at war with the dictates of boyish vanity. I had consider- 
 able aversion to the boisterous gayety of the village gallants, 
 and contrived to satisfy my love of praise with an unfre- 
 quent apparition at their amusements. My excellence in 
 these respects, however, gave a turn to my meditations. I 
 delighted to read of feats of activity, and was particularly 
 interested by tales in which corporeal ingenuity or strength 
 are the means resorted to for supplying resources and con- 
 quering difficulties. I inured myself to mechanical pursuits, 
 and devoted much of~my time to an endeavour after 
 mechanical invention. 
 
 The spring of action which, perhaps more than any other, 
 characterized the whole train of my life, was cj^rjojaity. It 
 was this that gave 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 acquainted 
 myself with the solutions that had been invented for the 
 phenomena of the universe. In fine, this produced in me an 
 invincible attachment to books of narrative and 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 health. My 
 curiosity, however, was not entirely ignoble: village anec- 
 dotes and scandal had no charms for me: my imagination 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 3 
 
 must be excited ; and when that was not done, my curiosity 
 was dormant. 
 
 The residence of my parents was within the manor of 
 Ferdinando Falkland, a country squire of considerable 
 opulence. At an early age I attracted the favourable notice 
 of Mr. Collins, this gentleman's steward, who used to call 
 in occasionally at my father's. He observed the particulars 
 of my progress with approbation, and made a favourable re- 
 port 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 eighteen 
 years of age. My father lay dead in our cottage. I had lost 
 my mother some years before. In this forlorn situation I 
 was surprised with a message from the squire, ordering me 
 to repair to the mansion-house the morning after my father's 
 funeral. 
 
 Though I was not a stranger to books, I had no practical 
 acquaintance 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. fYlound Mr. 
 Falkland a man of small stature, with an extreme delicacy 
 of form and appearance. \ In place of the hard-favoured 
 and inflexible visages I Ead 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 was a grave and sad solemnity^ 
 in his air, which, for want of experience, I imagined was s 
 the inheritance of the great, and the instrument by which ^> 
 the distance between them and their inferiors was main- ^> 
 tained. His look bespoke the unquietness of his mind, f 
 and frequently wandered with an expression of discon- 
 solateness 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 
 
4 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 things, and listened to my answers with condescension, and 
 approbation. This kindness soon restored to me a consid- 
 erable 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 satisfied his curiosity, he 
 proceeded to inform me that he was in want of a secretary, 
 that I appeared to him sufficiently qualified for that office, 
 and that, if, in my present change of situation, occasioned 
 by the death of my father, I approved of the employment, 
 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 disposal of the little property my father had 
 left, in which I was assisted by Mr. Collins. I had not now 
 a relation in the world upon whose kindness and interposi- 
 tion I had any direct claim. But, far from regarding this 
 deserted situation with terror, I formed golden visions of 
 the station I was about to occupy. I little suspected that 
 the gayety 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 my master's dictation letters of 
 business, 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 the detection of their 
 errors, 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 
 \ 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 5 
 
 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 residence, 
 I was excited by every motive of interest and novelty to 
 study my master's character; 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 his privation by the con- 
 fidence of friendship. He appeared a total stranger to 
 everything which usually bears the appellation of pleasure. 
 His features 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 com- 
 passionate and considerate for others, though the stateliness 
 of his carriage and the reserve of his temper were at no 
 time interrupted. His appearance and general behaviour 
 might have strongly interested all persons in his favour: 
 but the coldness of his address, and the impenetrableness 
 of his sentiments, seemed to forbid those demonstrations 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 afflicted 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 un- 
 feeling disposition; and when reflection recurred he ap- 
 peared willing that the weight of his misfortune should fall 
 wholly upon himself. Sometimes he entirely lost his self- j 
 possession, and his behaviour was changed into phrensy: 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 
 
6 ADVENTURES OF \j 
 
 was, in which he was engaged, hasten into a solitude upon 
 which no person dared to intrude. 
 
 It must not be supposed that the whole of what I am 
 describing was visible to the persons about him; nor, in- 
 deed, was I acquainted with it in the extent here stated 
 but after a considerable time, and in gradual succession. 
 With respect to the domestics in general, they saw but 
 little of their master. None of them, except myself, from 
 the nature of my functions, and Mr. Collins, from the an- 
 tiquity of his service and the respectableness of his char- 
 acter, approached Mr. Falkland but at stated seasons and 
 for a very short interval. They knew him only by the 
 benevolence of his actions, and the principles of inflexible 
 integrity by which he was ordinarily guided; and though 
 they would sometimes indulge their conjectures respecting 
 his singularities, they regarded him upon the whole with 
 veneration, as a being of a superior order. 
 
 One day, when I had been about three months in the 
 service of my patron, I went to a closet, or small apart- 
 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 anything 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 
 person within; I heard the lid of a trunk hastily shut, and 
 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 tremen- 
 dous, exclaimed, "Who is there?" The voice was Mr. Falk- 
 land's. The sound of it thrilled my very vitals. I endeav- 
 oured 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 7 
 
 effort, however, these symptoms vanished, and instantane- 
 ously gave place to a countenance sparkling with rage. 
 "Villain!" cried he, "what has brought you here?" I hesi- 
 tated a confused and irresolute answer. "Wretch!" inter- 
 rupted Mr. Falkland, with uncontrollable impatience, "you 
 want to ruin me. You set yourself as a spy upon my ac- 
 tions; but bitterly shall you repent your insolence. Do 
 you think you shall watch my privacies with impunity?" 
 I attempted to defend myself. "Begone, devil!" rejoined 
 he. "Quit the room, or I will trample you into atoms."' 
 Saying this, he advanced towards me. But I was already 
 sufficiently 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 tolerably 
 composed. His behaviour, which was always kind, was now 
 doubly attentive and soothing. He seemed to have some- 
 thing of which he wished to disburthen his mind, but to 
 want words in which to convey it. I looked at him with 
 anxiety and affection. He made two unsuccessful efforts, 
 shook his head, and then putting five guineas into my 
 hand, pressed it in a manner that I could feel proceeded 
 from a mind pregnant with various emotions, though I could 
 not interpret them. Having done this, he seemed imme- 
 diately 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. 
 Collins, however, and myself happened to sup together 
 that evening, which was but seldom the case, his avoca- 
 tions obliging him to be much abroad. He could not help 
 observing an uncommon dejection and anxiety in my counte- 
 nance, and affectionately inquired into the reason. I en- 
 deavoured to evade his questions, but my youth and igno- 
 rance of the world gave me little advantage for that purpose. 
 
8 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Besides this, I had been accustomed to view Mr. Collins 
 with considerable attachment, and I conceived from the 
 nature of his situation that there could be small impropriety 
 in making him my confidant in the present instance. I re- 
 peated to him minutely everything that had passed, and 
 concluded with a solemn declaration, that, though treated 
 with caprice, I was not anxious for mysdfjnp inconvenience 
 or danger should ever lead me to a puslflaiurnoBs 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 unfortunate 
 \ patron was at times disordered in his intellects. "Alas!" 
 continued he, "it was not always thus! Ferdinando Falk- 
 land was once the gayest of the gay. Not indeed of that 
 frothy sort who excite contempt instead of admiration, and 
 whose levity argues thoughtlessness rather than felicity. 
 His gayety was always accompanied with dignity. It was 
 the gayety 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 inconceiv- 
 able brilliancy to his company and conversation, and ren- 
 dered him the perpetual delight of the diversified circles he 
 then willingly frequented. You see nothing of him, my 
 ^ dear Williams, but the ruin of that Falkland who was 
 courted by sages and adored by the fair. His youth, dis- 
 tinguished 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 honour ; and, in 
 his sense, nothing but the grosser part, the mere shell of 
 Falkland, was capable of surviving the wound that his 
 pride has sustained." 
 

 CALEB WILLIAMS 9 
 
 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 
 I shall interweave with Mr. Collins's story various informa- 
 tion which I afterward received from other quarters, that 
 I may give all possible perspicuity to the series of events. 
 To avoid confusion in my narrative, I 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 life of Mr. Falkland were 
 foreign to my history. Alas! I know from bitter expe- 
 rience that it is otherwise. My heart bleeds at the recollec- 
 tion of his misfortunes, as if they were my own. How can 
 it fail 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 irretrievably blasted. 
 

 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 AMONG the favourite authors of his early years were 
 the heroic poets of Italy. From them he imbibed 
 - the love of chivalry and romance. He had too 
 much good sense to regret the times of Charlemagne and 
 Arthur. But while his imagination was purged by a 
 certain infusion of philosophy, he conceived that there 
 was in the manners depicted 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 humane, as a temper perpetually 
 alive to the sentiments of birth and honour. The opinions 
 he entertained upon these topics were illustrated in his 
 conduct, which was assiduously 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 
 befell him. By inclination he was led to make his longest 
 stay in Italy; and here he fell into company with 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 admired 
 by the softer sex. Though his stature was small, his per- 
 son had an air of uncommon dignity. His dignity was then 
 heightened by certain additions which were afterward 
 obliterated, — an expression of frankness, ingenuity, and 
 unreserve, and a spirit of the most ardent enthusiasm. 
 
 10 
 
 \ 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS n 
 
 Perhaps no Englishman was ever in an equal degree idolized 
 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 that would not have disgraced the Chevalier Bayard 
 himself. In Italy, the young men of rank divide them- 
 selves into two classes, — those who adhere to the pure 
 principles of ancient gallantry, and those who, being actu- 
 ated by the same acute sense of injury and insult, accustom 
 themselves to the employment of hired bravoes as their in- 
 struments of vengeance. The whole difference, indeed, con- 
 sists in the precarious application of a generally received 
 distinction. The most generous Italian conceives that there 
 are certain persons whom it would be contamination for him 
 to call into the open field. He nevertheless believes that 
 an indignity cannot be expiated but with blood, and is 
 persuaded that the life of a man is a trifling considera- 
 tion, in comparison of the indemnification to be made to 
 his injured honour. There is, therefore, scarcely any Italian 
 that would upon some occasions scruple assassination. Men 
 of spirit among them, notwithstanding the prejudices of. 
 their education, cannot fail to have a secret conviction of its 
 baseness, and will be desirous of extending as far as possi-, 
 ble the cartel of honour. Real or affected arrogance teaches v 
 others to regard almost the whole species as their inferiors, 
 , and of consequence incites them to gratify their vengeance 
 without danger to their persons. Mr. Falkland met wit! 
 some of these. But his undaunted spirit and resolute temper 
 gave him a decisive advantage even in such perilous ren- 
 counters. One instance, among many, of his manner of con- 
 ducting 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 com- 
 pletely understood without a knowledge of his previous 
 character, as it was in all the gloss of youth, yet unassailed 
 
 V C) 
 
I2 v* ^— > ADVENTURES OF 
 
 by adversity^andjHib^^ 
 
 ^— -Ai RunTe he wasreceived with particular distinction^ at 
 the house of Marquis Pisani, who had an only daughter, 
 the heiress of his immense fortune, and the admiration of 
 all the young nobility of that metropolis. Lady Lucretia 
 Pisani was tall, of a dignified form, and uncommonly 
 beautiful. She was not deficient in amiable qualities, but 
 her soul was haughty, and her carriage not unfrequently 
 contemptuous. Her pride was nourished by the conscious- 
 ness of her charms, by her elevated rank, and the universal 
 adoration 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 consid- 
 erable accomplishments, and of great integrity and benevo- 
 lence 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 gratification to 
 his mistress, were a perpetual uneasiness to him. Placing his 
 whole happiness in the possession of this imperious beauty, 
 the most trifling circumstances were capable 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 restraints, were open 
 to the resort of male visitants. But, above all, Mr. Falk- 
 land, as a foreigner, and a person little likely to form 
 pretensions to the hand of Lucretia, was received upon a 
 footing of great familiarity. The lady herself, 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 occurred 
 that delayed the intended nuptials of the heiress of Pisani. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 13 
 
 When he returned to Rome, Count Malvesi was absent. 
 Lady Lucretia, who had been considerably amused before 
 with the conversation of Mr. Falkland, and who had an ac- 
 tive and inquiring mind, had conceived, in the interval 
 between his first and second residence at Rome, a desire 
 to be acquainted with the English language, inspired by the 
 lively and ardent encomiums of our best authors that she 
 had heard from their countryman. She had provided herself 
 with 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 opportunity, 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 
 palace. His mind could not fail to be struck with the 
 criticalness of the situation. He was perhaps secretly con- 
 scious that the qualifications of the Englishman were supe- 
 rior to his own; and he trembled for the progress that each 
 party might have made in the affection of the other, even 
 before they were aware of the danger. He believed that 
 the match was in every respect such as to flatter the ambi- 
 tion of Mr. Falkland ; and he was stung even to madness by 
 the idea of being deprived of the object dearest to his heart 
 by this tramontane upstart. 
 
 He had, however, sufficient discretion first to demand an 
 explanation of Lady Lucretia. She, in the gayety of her 
 heart, trifled with his anxiety. His patience was already 
 exhausted, and he proceeded in his expostulation, in language 
 that she was by no means prepared to endure with apathy. 
 Lady Lucretia had always been accustomed to deference 
 and submission; and, having got over something like terror, 
 that was at first inspired by the imperious manner in which 
 she was now catechised, her next feeling was that of the 
 warmest resentment. She disdained to satisfy so insolent a 
 
14 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 questioner, and even indulged herself in certain oblique hints 
 calculated to strengthen his suspicions. For some time she 
 described his folly and presumption in terms of the most 
 ludicrous sarcasm, and then, suddenly changing her style, 
 bade him never let her see him more except upon the footing 
 of the most distant acquaintance, 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 ex- 
 perience to avoid a repetition of the same danger. All this 
 passed in the full career of passion on both sides, and Lady 
 Lucretia 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 phrensy. 
 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 EnglishLcayaHer* The sea- 
 son 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 suspi- 
 cion 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 
 unaffected esteem for Malvesi, who was in reality a man of 
 considerable merit, and who had been one of Mr. Falkland's 
 earliest Italian acquaintance, they having orginally met at 
 Milan. But, more than this, the possible consequence of 
 a duel in the present instance burst upon his mind. He 
 had the warmest admiration for Lady Lucretia, though his 
 feelings were not those of a lover; and he knew that, how- 
 ever her haughtiness might endeavour to disguise it, she was 
 impressed with a tender regard for Count Malvesi. He 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 15 
 
 could not bear to think that any misconduct of his should 
 interrupt the prospects of so deserving a pair. Guided by 1 
 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 return 
 to-morrow at the same hour, he would attend him to any \ 
 scene of action he should think proper to select. 
 
 From Count Malvesi Mr. Falkland immediately proceeded 
 to the palace of Pisani. Here he found considerable diffi- 
 culty 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; other- 
 wise that disclosure would immediately have operated as 
 the strongest motive that could have been offered to this 
 disdainful beauty. But, though she dreaded such an event, 
 the vague apprehension was not strong enough to induce 
 her instantly to surrender all the stateliness of her resent- 
 ment. Mr. Falkland, however, drew so interesting a pic- 
 ture of the disturbance of Count Malvesi's mind, and ac- 
 counted in so flattering a manner for the abruptness of his 
 conduct, that this, together with the arguments he adduced, 
 completed the conquest of Lady Lucretia's resentment. 
 Having thus far accomplished his purpose, he proceeded to 
 disclose to her everything 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 minutes 
 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 consciousness of 
 the spirited and generous condescension she was exerting. 
 
1 6 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 precipitation had been all 
 his own, that he only had any forgiveness to demand, and, 
 though they might pardon, he could never pardon himself 
 for the sacrilege he had committed against her and this 
 godlike Englishman. 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 effected 
 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 suspi- 
 cion was groundless, it was not absurd. We have been 
 trifling too much in the face of danger. I ought not, under 
 the present weakness of our nature and forms of society, to 
 have been so assiduous in my attendance upon this en- 
 chanting woman. It would have been little wonder, if, 
 having so many opportunities, and playing the preceptor 
 with her as I have done, I had been entangled before I was 
 aware, and harboured a wish which I might not afterward 
 have had courage to subdue. I owed you an atonement 
 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 obliged to be your 
 murderer. Fortunately, the reputation of my courage is 
 sufficiently established, not to expose it to any impeachment 
 by my declining your present defiance. It was lucky, how- 
 ever, that in our interview of yesterday you found me 
 alone, and that accident by that means threw the manage- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 17 
 
 ment of the affair into my disposal. If the transaction 
 should become known, the conclusion will now become 
 known along with the provocation, and I am satisfied. But 
 if the challenge had been public, the proofs I had formerly 
 given of courage would not have excused my present modera- 
 tion; and, though desirous to have avoided the combat, it 
 would not have been in my power. Let us hence, each ot 
 us, learn to avoid haste and indiscretion, the consequences 
 of which may be ^inexpiable but with blood; and may 
 Heaven bless you in a consort of whom I deem you every 
 way worthy!" 
 
 I have already said that this was by no means the only 
 instance, in the course of his travels, in which Mr. Falk- 
 land acquitted himself in the most brilliant manner as a 
 man of gallantry and virtue. He continued abroad dur- 
 ing several years, every one of which brought some fresh 
 accession to the estimation in which he was held, as well 
 as to his own impatience of stain or dishonour. At length 
 he thought proper to return to England, with the intention 
 of spending the rest of his days at the residence of his 
 ancestors. 
 
CHAPTER THREE 
 
 FROM the moment he entered upon the execution of 
 this purpose, dictated, as it probably was, by an un- 
 affected principle of duty, his misfortunes took their 
 commencement. All I have further to state of his history 
 is the uninterrupted persecution of a malignant destiny, a 
 series of adventures 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 
 own, by name Barnabas_Xyrrel. This man one might at 
 first have supposed of all others least qualified from in- 
 struction, or inclined by the habits of his life, 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 paternal aunt; who now 
 resided in the family mansion, and was wholly dependent 
 on the benevolence of its proprietors. 
 
 Mrs. Tyrrel appeared to think that there was nothing in 
 the world so precious as her hopeful Barnabas. Every- 
 thing must give way to his accommodation and advantage; 
 every one must yield the most servile obedience to his 
 commands. He must not be teased or restricted by any 
 forms of instruction; and of consequence his proficiency, 
 
 18 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 19 
 
 even in the arts of writing and reading, was extremely 
 slender. From his birth he was muscular and sturdy; and, 
 confined to the ruelle of his mother, he made much such a 
 figure as the whelp-lion that a barbarian might have given 
 for a lapdog to his mistress. 
 
 But he soon broke loose from these trammels, and formed 
 an acquaintance with the groom and the gamekeeper. 
 Under their instruction he proved as ready a scholar, as 
 he had been indocile and restive to the pedant who held the 
 office of his tutor. It was now evident that his small pro- 
 ficiency in literature was by no means to be ascribed to 
 want of capacity. He discovered no contemptible sagacity 
 and quick-wittedness in the science of horseflesh, and was 
 eminently expert in the arts of shooting, fishing, and hunt- 
 ing. Nor did he confine himself to these, but added the 
 theory and practice of boxing, cudgel play, and quarter- 
 staff. These exercises added tenfold robustness and vigour 
 to his former qualifications. 
 
 His stature, 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 that hero of antiquity 
 whose prowess consisted in felling an ox with his fist, and 
 devouring him at a meal. Conscious of his advantage in this 
 respect, he was insuppo rtably arrogant, tyrannical to h is 
 inferior^, 1 an4 HISOfSnT Lo his equals. The activity of his 
 mind being diverted from the genuine field of utility and 
 distinction, showed itself in the rude tricks of an overgrown 
 lubber. Here, as in all his other qualifications, he rose 
 above his competitors; and if it had been possible to over- 
 look the callous and unrelenting disposition which they 
 manifested, one could scarcely have denied his applause to 
 the invention these freaks displayed, and the rough, sarcastic 
 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 
 
20 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 greatest advantage as grand-master of the coterie, no one 
 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 be- 
 longed to the powers of his mind; and he well knew how 
 to maintain his rank with an inflexible hand. Frequently 
 indeed he relaxed his features, and assumed a temporary 
 appearance of affableness and familiarity; but they found 
 by experience that if any one, encouraged by his condescen- 
 sion, forgot the deference which Mr. Tyrrel considered as 
 his due, he was soon taught to repent his presumption. It 
 was a tiger that, thought proper to toy with 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 undisci- 
 plined imagination, he was always sure of an audience. 
 His neighbours crowded round, and joined in the ready 
 laugh, partly from obsequiousness, and partly from un- 
 feigned admiration. It frequently happened, however, that 
 in the midst of his good-humour, a characteristic refine- 
 ment of tyranny would suggest itself to his mind. When 
 his subjects, encouraged by his familiarity, had discarded 
 their precaution, the wayward fit would seize him, a sudden 
 cloud overspread his brow, his voice transform from the 
 pleasant to the terrible, and a quarrel of a straw immedi- 
 ately ensue with the first man whose face he did not like. 
 The pleasure that resulted to others from the exuberant sal- 
 lies of his imagination was, therefore, not unalloyed with 
 sudden qualms of apprehension and terror. It may be be- 
 lieved that this despotism did not gain its final ascendency 
 without being contested in the outset. But all opposition 
 was quelled with a high hand by this rural Antaeus. By 
 the ascendency of his fortune and his character among his 
 neighbours, he always reduced his adversary to the necessity 
 of encountering him at his own weapons, and did not dis- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 21 
 
 miss 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 hin rollQqirJa] 
 accomgiislurients perpetually come jnjiid of that authority 
 SSdaich ^ ic; rar| k ar> " pr^^ nr,, g 1na1] y 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 con- 
 sider the hand of Mr. Tyrrel as the highest object of her 
 ambition. Every daughter regarded his athletic form and 
 his acknowledged prowess with a favourable eye. A form 
 eminently athletic is, perhaps, always well-proportioned ; and 
 one of the qualifications that women are early taught to 
 look for in the male sex is that of a protector. As no man 
 was adventurous enough to contest his superiority, so 
 scarcely any woman in this provincial circle would have 
 scrupled to prefer his addresses to those of any other ad- 
 mirer. His boisterous wit had peculiar charms for them; 
 and there was no spectacle more flattering to their vanity, 
 than seeing this Hercules exchange his club for a distaff. 
 It was pleasing to them to consider, that the fangs of this 
 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 caprice, had re- 
 served for the accomplished Falkland. This untamed, 
 though not undiscerning brute, was found capable of 
 destroying the prospects of a man the most eminently quali- 
 fied to enjoy and to communicate happiness. The feud that 
 sprung up between them was nourished by concurring cir- 
 cumstances, 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 
 
22 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 horizon. 
 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 sub- 
 mitted from fear, and not from love; and if they had not 
 rebelled, it was only for want of a leader. Even the ladies 
 regarded Mr. Falkland with particular complacency. His 
 polished manners were peculiarly in harmony with feminine 
 delicacy. The sallies 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 spontaneous exuber- 
 ance guided and restrained by the sagacity of a cultivated 
 mind. The graces of his person were enhanced by the ele- 
 gance of his deportment; and the benevolence and liberality 
 of his temper were upon all occasions conspicuous. It 
 was common indeed to Mr. Tyrrel, together with Mr. 
 Falkland, to be little accessible to sentiments of awkward- 
 ness and confusion. But for this Mr. Tyrrel was indebted 
 to a self-satisfied effrontery, and a boisterous and over- 
 bearing elocution, by which he was accustomed to dis- 
 comfit his assailants; while Mr. Falkland, with great 
 ingenuity and candour of mind, was enabled by his extensive 
 knowledge of the world, and acquaintance with his own re- 
 sources, to perceive almost instantaneously the proceeding 
 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 confidants as a thing altogether inconceivable. 
 Mr. 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 that the 
 human species were made to be nailed to a chair, and to pore 
 over books. He would have them exchange those robust 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 23 
 
 exercises which make us joyous in the performance, and x 
 vigorous in the consequences, for the wise labour of scratch- 
 ing our heads for a rhyme and counting our fingers for a 
 verse. Monkeys were as good men as these. A nation of 
 such animals would have no chance with a single regiment 
 of the old English votaries of beef and pudding. He never 
 saw anything 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 to see them 
 run mad after such pernicious absurdities. It was impossible 
 that people could seriously feel any liking for such a ridicu- 
 lous piece of goods as this outlandish foreign-made English- 
 man. But he knew very well how it was: it was a miserable 
 piece of mummery that was played only in spite of him. 
 But might his soul be for ever blasted if he were not bitterly 
 revenged upon them all! 
 
 If such were the sentiments of Mr. 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 affability, so perpetual an attention to the 
 happiness of others, such delicacy of sentiment and expres- 
 sion! Learned without ostentation, refined without foppery, 
 elegant withouf~effeminacy ! Perpetually anxious to pre- 
 vent 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 satis- 
 fied. Mr. Tyrrel thought there would be no end to the 
 commendation; and expected when their common acquain- 
 tance would fall down and adore the intruder. The most 
 inadvertent expression of applause inflicted upon him the 
 
 I 
 
24 ADVENTURES OF * 
 
 torment of demons. He writhed with agony, his features 
 became distorted, and his looks inspired terror. Such suffer- 
 ing 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 rus- 
 tic swain with more gentleness than the men, were occa- 
 sionally exposed to his capriciousness and insolence. They 
 could not help remarking 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 Mr. Tyrrel endeavoured to restrain the rugged- 
 ness 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 human 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 seemed to engage more of the 
 kindness of Mr. Tyrrel than Miss Hardingham. 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 ensure her suc- 
 cess in a husband. One day, however, she thought proper, 
 probably only by way of experiment, to show Mr. Tyrrel 
 that she could engage in hostilities, if he should at any time 
 give her sufficient provocation. She so adjusted her ma- 
 noeuvres as to be engaged by Mr. Falkland as his partner for 
 the dance of the evening, though without the smallest inten- 
 tion on the part of that gentleman (who was unpardonably 
 deficient in the sciences of anecdote and match-making) of 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 25 
 
 giving offence to his country neighbour. Though the man- 
 ners of Mr. Falkland were condescending and attentive, his 
 hours of retirement were principally occupied in contempla- 
 tions too dignified for scandal, and too large for the alterca- 
 tions of a vestry, or the politics of an election-borough. 
 
 A short time before the dances began, Mr. Tyrrel went up 
 to his fair inamorata, and entered into some trifling conversa- 
 tion with her to fill up the time, as intending in a few 
 minutes to lead her forward to the field. He had accustomed 
 himself to neglect the ceremony of soliciting beforehand a 
 promise in his favour, as not supposing it possible that any 
 one would dare dispute his behests ; and, had it been other- 
 wise, he would have thought the formality unnecessary in 
 this case, his general preference to Miss Hardingham being 
 notorious. 
 
 While he was thus engaged Mr. Falkland came up. Mr. 
 j Tyrml always^egarded him with_aversion and loathing. 
 Mr. Falkland, however, slided in a graceful and unaffected 
 manner into the conversation already begun; and the ani- 
 mated 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 Hardingham was 
 an accidental piece of general ceremony, and expected every 
 moment when he would withdraw to another 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 
 obliging 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 ceremonies is the proper 
 
26 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 person to decide in a difference of this sort, if we cannot 
 adjust it: we can neither of us intend to exhibit our valour 
 before the ladies, and shall therefore cheerfully submit to 
 his verdict." — "Damn me, sir, if I understand — " "Softly, 
 Mr. Tyrrel; I intended you no offence. But, sir, no man 
 shall prevent my asserting that to which I have once ac- 
 quired a claim!" 
 
 Mr. Falkland uttered these words with the most un- 
 ruffled temper in the world. The tone in which 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 compo- 
 sure of her new partner. Mr. Tyrrel walked away without 
 answering a word. He muttered curses as he went, which 
 the laws of honour did not oblige Mr. Falkland to over- 
 hear, and which indeed it would have been no easy task to 
 have overheard with accuracy. Mr. Tyrrel would not, per- 
 haps, have so easily given up his point, had not his own 
 good sense presently taught him, that, however 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 malignant 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 FOUR 
 
 THIS was only one out of innumerable instances, 
 that every day seemed to multiply, of petty morti- 
 fications which Mr. Tyrrel was destined to endure 
 on the part of Mr. Falkland. In all of them Mr. Fa lkland 
 con ducted himself w ith such unaffected propriety, as pe r- 
 petually to add totEe stock of his reputation . The more 
 Ir. Tyrrel struggled with his misfortune, the more con- 
 spicuous 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 instru- 
 ment of his humiliation. Smarting under a succession of 
 untoward events, he appeared to feel, in the most exquisite 
 manner, the distinctions paid to his adversary, even in 
 those points in which he had not the lightest pretensions. 
 An instance of this now occurred. 
 
 Mr. Clare, a poet whose works have done immortal 
 honour to the country that produced him, had lately retired, 
 after a life spent in the sublimest efforts of genius, to 
 enjoy 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 transport; and I need not 
 remind him of their excellence: but he is, perhaps, a stranger 
 to his personal qualifications; he does not know that his 
 productions were scarcely more admirable than his conversa- 
 
 27 
 
2 3 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tion. 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 specimen of what the human mind is 
 capable of performing; but no man perceived their defects 
 so acutely as he, or saw so distinctly how much yet re- 
 mained to be effected: he alone appeared to look upon his 
 works with superiority and indifference. One of the features 
 that most eminently distinguished him was a perpetual 
 suavity of manners, a comprehensiveness of mind, that re- 
 garded the errors of others without a particle of resentment, 
 and made it impossible for any one to be his enemy. He 
 pointed out to men their mistakes with frankness and unre- 
 serve: his remonstrances produced astonishment and con- 
 viction, but without 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 him among his acquaintance. The intellectual 
 accomplishments he exhibited were, principally, a tranquil 
 and mild enthusiasm, and a richness of conception which 
 dictated 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 pre- 
 sented. 
 
 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 woods and 
 groves, rather than with a circle of strong and compre- 
 hensive minds like their own. From the moment of Mr. 
 Falkland's arrival in the neighbourhood, Mr. Clare dis- r 
 tinpriii fthed him in the most flattering manner. To so pene- 
 trating a genius* Uieie Was 11U iietJ'd'TJT'lOng experience and 
 fpatient observation to discover the merits and defects of any 
 character that presented itself. The materials of his judg- 
 ment had long since been accumulated; and, at the close of 
 so illustrious a life, he might almost be said to see through 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 29 
 
 nature at a glance. What wonder that he took some interest 
 in a mind in a certain degree congenial with his own? But 
 to Mr. Tyrrel's diseased imagination, every distinction be- 
 stowed on his neighbour seemed~Td"T)e expressly intended 
 as an insult to him. On the other hand, Mr. Clare, 
 though gentle and benevolent in his remonstrances to a 
 degree that made the taking offence impossible, was by no 
 means parsimonious of praise, or slow to make use of the 
 deference that was paid him for the purpose 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 distinguished 
 for the acuteness of her understanding, said she had been 
 favoured with a sight of a poem he had just written, en- 
 titled An Ode to the Genius of Chivalr y, 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 immediately entreated Mr. Falk- 
 land to comply with their wishes, and Mr. Clare, who was 
 one of the company, enforced their petition. Nothing gave 
 this gentleman so much pleasure as to have an opportunity 
 of witnessing and doing justice to the exhibition of intellec- 
 tual excellence. Mr. Falkland had no false modesty or 
 affectation, and therefore 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, re- 
 tained him in his place, and made him consent to drink 
 to the dregs the bitter potion which envy had prepared for 
 him. 
 
30 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The poem was read to the rest of the company by Mr. 
 Clare, whose 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 audi- 
 tors. The beauties of Mr. Falkland's poem were accordingly 
 exhibited 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 were 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 al- 
 ready been described. They were, for the most part, plain, 
 unlettered, and of little refinement. Poetry in general they 
 read, when read at all, from the mere force of imitation, and 
 with few sensations of pleasure; but this poem had a pecu- 
 liar 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 sympathized with the passions of the composition, 
 so now they emulated each other in declaring their approba- 
 tion. 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 commendations rendered them the more 
 singular and remarkable. But what was least to be en- 
 dured was the behaviour of Mr. Clare. He returned the 
 manuscript to the lady from whom he had received it, and 
 then, addressing Mr. Falkland, said, with emphasis and 
 animation, a Ha! this is as it should 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 31 
 
 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 farther 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 per- \ 
 son: "why, ay, the verses are well enough. Damnation! I 
 should like to know what a ship-load of such stuff is good 
 for." U— — 
 
 "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 anything better?" w-~ 
 
 The conversation did not stop here. The lady expostu- 
 lated. Several other persons, fresh from the sensation they 
 had felt, contributed their share. Mr. 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 another 
 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 ascendency; but he felt its deceitful- 
 ness and uncertainty, and was gloomily dissatisfied. 
 
 In his return from this assembly he was accompanied by a 
 young man, whom similitude of manners had rendered one of 
 his principal confidants, 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 Falk- 
 
32 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 land!" 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 something 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 mongrels without honesty or 
 reason. But the world is all alike. Thos e - that occm - be tter 
 than their nei ghbours are only more artful. Th ey mean the 
 aa me^THing, though they take a drrWent road. H e deceived 
 ;, but it is all out now. They are the makers 
 of the mischief. Fools might blunder, but they would not 
 persist, if people that ought to set them right did not encour- 
 age them to go wrong." 
 
 A few days after this adventure Mr. Tyrrel was surprised 
 to receive a visit from Mr. Falkland. Mr. Falkland pro- 
 ceeded, without ceremony, to explain the motive of his 
 coming. 
 
 "Mr. Tyrrel," said he, "I am come to have an amicable 
 explanation with you." 
 
 "Explanation! What is my offence?" 
 
 "None in the world, sir; and for that reason I conceive 
 this the fittest time to come to a right understanding." 
 
 "You are in a devil of a hurry, sir. Are you clear that 
 this haste will not mar, instead of make an understanding?" 
 
 "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." 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 33 
 
 "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 experiment." 
 
 "Nothing, sir, is more easy for us than to quarrel. If you 
 desire that, there is no fear that you will find opportuni- 
 ties." 
 
 "Damn me, sir, if I do not believe you are come to bully 
 me." 
 
 "Mr. 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 brought 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?" 
 
 "Mr. Tyrrel," proceeded Mr. Falkland, "you will readily 
 imagine that the cause that brought me was not a slight 
 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 unfortunate jealousy 
 seems to have insinuated itself between us, which I would 
 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 pur- 
 suits need not interfere. We both of us amply possess the 
 means of happiness; we may be respected by all, and spend 
 
 \ 
 

 34 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 a long life of tranquillity and enjoyment. Will it be wise 
 in us to exchange this prospect for the fruits of strife? A 
 strife between persons with our peculiarities and our weak- 
 nesses 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! Because 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 better. Let us show that we have the magnanimity to 
 contemn petty misunderstandings. By thus judging we 
 shall do ourselves most substantial honour. By a contrary 
 conduct we shall merely present a comedy for the amuse- 
 ment of our acquaintance." 
 
 "Do you think so? there may be 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 a 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 Mr. 
 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 overreached?" 
 
 "My purpose," replied Mr. Falkland, "is a manly and 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 35 
 
 an honest ju irpnsfc. __JVhy 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 
 controlled. 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 neigh- 
 bours humoured me. But now the case is entirely altered; 
 and, as long as I cannot stir abroad without meeting with 
 some mortification in which you are directly or remotely 
 concerned, I am determined to hate you. Now, sir, if you 
 will 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, I will 
 promise never to quarrel with you as long as I live. Your 
 rhymes and your rebusses, your quirks and your conun- 
 drums, may then be everything that is grand for what I 
 
 care." 
 
 c 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 well as to enjoy. No 
 man must think that the world was made for him. Let us 
 take things as we find them; and accommodate ourselves 
 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 different man from what you find me. As for con- 
 sequences, what must be must be. As we brew we must 
 bake. And so, do you see? I shall not trouble myself 
 about what is to be, but stand up to it with a stout heart 
 when it comes. Only this I can tell you, that as long as 
 I find you thrust into my dish every day, I shall hate you as 
 

 36 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 bad as senna and valerian. And damn me if I do not 
 think I hate you the more for coming to-day in this prag- 
 matical way, when nobody sent for you, on purpose to show 
 how much wiser you are than all the world besides." 
 ** "Mr. Tyrrel, I have done. I foresaw consequences, and 
 came as a friend. I had hoped that, by mutual explanation, 
 we should have come to a better understanding. I am dis- 
 appointed ; but, perhaps, when you coolly reflect on what has 
 passed, you will give me credit for my intentions, and think 
 that my proposal was not an unreasonable one." 
 
 Having said this Mr. Falkland departed. Through the 
 
 interview he, no doubt, conducted himself 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 
 
 <J exemplary, there was an apparent l oftiness in his manner 
 
 * \ that wa s calculated to irritate. : and the^very grandeur wftH 
 
 ^Tfiicn hesuppressed his passions operated indirectly 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 to his old expedient, and 
 unburthened the tumult of his thoughts to his confidential 
 friend. "This," cried he, "is a new artifice of the fellow 
 to prove his imagined superiority. ^ 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 Falk- 
 land haunts me like a demon. I cannot wake but I think 
 of him. I cannot sleep but I see him. He poisons all my 
 pleasures. I should be glad to see him torn with tenter- 
 hooks, and to grind his heartstrings 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 perpetual torment. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 37 
 
 The thought of him hangs like a dead weight upon my heart, 
 and I 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 feelings, it is 
 probable, however, he did some justice to his rival. He re- 
 garded him, indeed, with added dislike; but he no longer 
 regarded him as a despicable foe. He avoided his encounter ; 
 he forebore to treat him with random hostility; he seemed 
 to lie in wait for his victim, and to collect his venom for a 
 mortal assault. 
 
CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 IT was not long after that a malignant distemper broke 
 out in the neighbourhood, which proved fatal to many 
 of the inhabitants, 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 benevolence and goodness of heart, joined 
 with his talents, his inoffensive wit, and the comprehensive- 
 ness of his intelligence, made him the idol of all that 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. Per- 
 haps these appearances were deceitful. Perhaps the intellec- 
 tual efforts he had made, which were occasionally more 
 sudden, violent, and unintermitted than a strict regard to 
 health would have dictated, had laid the seed of future 
 disease. But a v sanguine observer would infallibly have 
 predicted, that his temperate habits, activity of mind, and 
 unabated cheerfulness, would be able even to keep death at 
 bay for a time, and baffle the attacks of distemper, provided 
 their 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 difficulty in gaining admission. Mr. 
 Clare, aware of the infectious nature of his disease, had 
 
 38 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 39 
 
 given directions that as few persons as possible should ap- 
 proach 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 persisted with 
 obstinacy, and at length carried his point, being only re- 
 minded, in the first instance, to employ those precautions 
 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 
 window. 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 would 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 was perhaps less 
 danger in this choice than in the frequent change from the 
 extremes of a pure to a tainted air, and desisted from ex- 
 postulation. "Falkland," 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, with 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 perfect health. To judge from the 
 cheerfulness of his tone and the firmness of his manner, the 
 
40 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 appearance 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 admiration. 
 
 " Falkland," said he, after having appeared for a short 
 period absorbed in thought, "I feel that I am dying. This 
 is a strange distemper of mine. Yesterday I seemed in 
 perfect health, and to-morrow I shall be an insensible 
 corpse. How curious is the line that separates life and 
 death to mortal men! To be at one moment active, gay, 
 penetrating, with stores of knowledge at one's command, 
 capable of delighting, instructing, and animating mankind, 
 and the next, lifeless and loathsome, an encumbrance 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 to do in the world; but it 
 will not be. I must be contented with what is past. It is 
 in vain that I muster all my spirits to my heart. The 
 enemy is too mighty and too merciless for me; he will not 
 give me 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 business 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 im- 
 provement did not yield us a pure and perfect delight, inde- 
 pendently 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 41 
 
 he was visited with a sudden pang; but it was no sooner 
 felt, than he seemed to rise above it, and smiled at the 
 impotence 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 suc- 
 ceeded 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 deter- 
 mined resolution. 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 everything 
 was still, Mr. Falkland hoped that he slept; but in that he 
 was mistaken. Presently Mr. Clare threw back the curtain, 
 and looked in the countenance of his friend. "I 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 i njure use fulness I corrjfiiwpl trie" " w"i 
 greater hope. Take care 01 youfiJGlTl Do not let the world 
 be defrauded of your virtues. I am acquainted with your 
 weaklier a!» well as your strength. You have an impetuos- 
 ity, 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 exterminat- 
 ing 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 Mr. Tyrrel. Do not commit the mistake of de- 
 c £llil£jliBi ^ ™ unequal ppprm^nt Petty causes may 
 produce great mischiefs. Mr. Tyrrel is boisterous, rugged, 
 
 ^j 
 
42 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and unfeeling; ano^ you are too passionate, too acut ely sensi- 
 ble of injury. It would be truly to be lamented, IF'a-Haafi 
 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, 
 s if something dreadful would reach you from that quarter, 
 trhink of this. I exact no promise from you. I would not 
 Shackle you with the fetters of superstition; I would have 
 vou governed by justice and reason." 
 
 Mr. Falkland was deeply affected with this expostulation. 
 His sense of the generous attention of Mr. Clare, at such a 
 moment, was so great as almost to deprive him of utterance. 
 He spoke in short sentences, and with visible effort. "I 
 will behave better," replied he. "Never fear me! Your 
 admonitions shall not be thrown away upon me." 
 
 Mr. Clare adverted to another subject. "I have made 
 you my executor; you will not refuse me this last office of 
 friendship. It is but a short time that I have had the happi- 
 ness of knowing you ; but in that short time I have examined 
 you well, and seen you thoroughly. Do not disappoint the 
 sanguine hope I have entertained! 
 
 "I have left some legacies. My former connexions, while 
 I lived amid 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 occa- 
 sion, nor did I desire it. The remembrance of me will, 
 I hope, answer a better 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 
 deathlike appearance. "I hope you are better," said Falk- 
 land in a half-whisper, as if afraid of disturbing him. Mr. 
 Clare drew his hand from the bedclothes, and stretched it 
 forward; Mr. Falkland advanced, and took hold of it. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 43 
 
 "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 were his last words. 
 He lived still a few hours; his lips were sometimes 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. At length 
 he could deceive himself no longer, and exclaimed, with a 
 distracted accent, "And is this all?" He would have thrown 
 himself upon the body of his friend; the attendants with- 
 held, and would have forced him into another apartment. 
 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! Irreparable loss! Lost in the 
 very maturity and vigour of his mind! Cut off from a use- 
 fulness ten thousand times greater than any he had already 
 exhibited! Oh, his was a mind to have instructed sages, 
 and guided the moral world! 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 world is insensible of its loss!" 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel heard the intelligence of Mr. Clare's death 
 with emotion, but of a different kind. He avowed that 
 heJhaxi-*re4i^forgiven him his partial attacl 
 Falkland, ana therefore" could not recall his remembrance 
 wjth kindnes s. But if he could have overlooked his past 
 injustice, sufficient care, it seems, was taken to keep alive 
 his resentment. "Falkland, forsooth, attended him on his 
 deathbed, as if nobody else were worthy of his confidential 
 communications." But what was worst of all was this 
 
44 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 executorship. "In everything this pragmatical rascal 
 throws me behind. Contemptible wretch, that has nothing 
 of the man about him! Must he perpetually trample upon 
 his betters? Is everybody incapable of saying what kind 
 of stuff a man is made of? caught with mere outside? 
 choosing the flimsy before the substantial? And upon his 
 deathbed too! — [Mr. Tyrrel, with his uncultivated brutal- 
 ity, mixed, as usually happens, certain rude notions of 
 religion.] — 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, what- 
 ever may be the consequences, we have to thank him for 
 them." 
 
 The death of Mr. Clare removed the person who could 
 i most effectually have moderated the animosities of the con- 
 [ [tending parties, and took away the great operative check 
 jupon the excesses of Mr. Tyrrel. This rustic tyrant had 
 been held in involuntary restraint by the intellectual as- 
 cendency 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 of the arrival of Mr. Falkland from the Continent, 
 the conduct of Mr. Tyrrel had even shown tokens of im- 
 provement. He would indeed have been better satisfied 
 not to have had even this intruder into a circle where he 
 had been accustomed 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. 
 i The effects of Mr. Clare's suavity, however, so far as 
 ^ 1 1 related to Mr. Tyrrel, had been in a certain degree sus- 
 pended by considerations of rivalship between this gentleman 
 and Mr. Falkland. And, now that the influence of Mr. 
 Clare's presence and virtues was entirely removed, Mr. 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 45 
 
 Tyrrel's temper broke out into more criminal excesses than 
 ever. The added gloom which Mr. Falkland's neighbour- 
 hood inspired overflowed upon all his connexions; and the 
 new examples of his sullenness and tyranny which every day 
 afforded reflected back upon this accumulated and porten- 
 tous feud. 
 
CHAPTER SIX 
 
 THE consequences of all this speedily manifested 
 themselves. The very next incident in the story 
 was in some degree decisive of the catastrophe. 
 Hitherto I have spoken only of preliminary matters, seem- 
 ingly unconnected with 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, ap- 
 pearing to defy human wisdom and strength to obstruct 
 its operation. 
 
 The vices of Mr. Tyrrell, in their present state of aug- 
 mentation, were peculiarly exercised upon his domestics and 
 dependants. But the principal sufferer was the young lady 
 mentioned on a former occasion, the orphan daughter of 
 his father's sister. Miss Melville's mother had married 
 imprudently, 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 the irreconcilableness of her family, was less than he ex- 
 pected, and had broken her heart. Her infant daughter 
 was left without any resource. In this situation the repre- 
 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, perhaps, she 
 was entitled to that portion of fortune which her mother 
 had forfeited by her imprudence, and which had gone to 
 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 
 
 46 
 
/ 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS 47 
 
 the most exalted benevolence in admitting Miss Emily 
 into a sort of equivocal situation, which was neither pre- 
 cisely that of a domestic, nor yet marked with 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 
 capacity 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 docility the few 
 accomplishments Mrs. Jakeman 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 instruc- 
 tion 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 there- 
 fore encouraged the studies of Emily on that score; in addi- 
 tion 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 
 of the intrinsic allurements of literature and knowledge 
 she had no conception. 
 
 Emily, 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 tern- 
 

 48 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 per. She was far from being entitled to the appellation 
 of a beauty. Her person was petite and trivial; her com- 
 plexion savoured of the brunette; and her face was marked 
 with the small-pox, sufficiently to destroy its evenness 
 and polish, 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 discernment 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 in- 
 capable of guile itself, or of suspecting it in others. She 
 amused, without seeming conscious of the refined sense 
 which her observations contained; or rather, having never 
 been debauched with applause, she set light by her own 
 qualifications, and talked from the pure gayety of a youthful 
 heart acting upon the stores of a just understanding, and 
 not with any expectation of being distinguished and ad- 
 mired. 
 
 The death of her aunt made very little change in her 
 situation. This prudent lady, who would have thought it 
 little less than sacrilege to have considered Miss Melville 
 as a branch of the stock of the Tyrrels, took no more no- 
 tice of her in her will than barely putting her down for 
 one hundred pounds in a catalogue of legacies to her serv- 
 ants. She had never been admitted into the intimacy and 
 confidence of Mrs. Tyrrel; and the young squire, now that 
 she was left under his sole protection, seemed inclined to 
 treat her with even more liberality than his mother had 
 done. He had seen her grow up under his eye, and there- 
 fore, though there were but six years' difference in their ages, 
 he felt a kind of paternal interest in her welfare. Habit 
 had rendered her in a manner necessary to him, and in every 
 recess from the occupations of the field and the pleasures 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 49 
 
 of the table, he found himself solitary and forlorn without 
 the society of Miss Melville. 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 sometimes 
 to indulge her with a vacant corner in his carriage, when 
 he went to the neighbouring assembly; and, in whatever 
 light 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 
 relish for harmonious sounds, she was frequently able to 
 sooth 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 favourite. 
 She was 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 roarings. She 
 spoke to him without fear; her solicitations were always 
 good-natured and disinterested; and when he repulsed her, 
 he disarmed himself of half his terrors, and was contented 
 to smile at her presumption. 
 
 Such had been for some years the situation of Miss Mel- 
 ville. Its precariousness had been beguiled by the uncom- 
 mon forbearance with which she was treated by her savage 
 protector. But 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- 
 
50 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 position, however, soon effaced these impressions, and she 
 fell without variation into her old habits. A circumstance 
 occurred about this time which gave peculiar strength to the 
 acrimony of Mr. Tyrrel, and ultimately 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, 
 grace, 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 which she was condemned, and had 
 not reflected on the insuperable distance that custom has 
 placed between the opulent and the poorer classes of the 
 community. She beheld Mr. Falkland, whenever he was 
 thrown in her way at any of the public meetings, with 
 admiration; and, without having precisely explained to her- 
 self the sentiments she indulged, her eyes followed him 
 through all the changes of the scene with eagerness and 
 impatience. She did not see him, as the rest of the assem- 
 bly did, born to one of the amplest estates in the county, 
 and qualified to assert his title to the richest heiress. She 
 thought only of Falkland, with those advantages which were 
 most intimately his own, and of which 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 
 appeared sufficiently encouraging to a mind so full of pre- 
 possession as that of Emily. There was a particular com- 
 placency 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 un- 
 provided and destitute situation; and that he should have 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 51 
 
 been glad to be more particular in his attention to her, had 
 he not been apprehensive of doing her a prejudice in the 
 suspicious 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 for- 
 tune, she was, on the other hand, filled with reverence for 
 his unrivalled accomplishments. But, while she thus seem- 
 ingly disclaimed all comparison between Mr. Falkland and 
 herself, she probably cherished a confused feeling as if 
 some event, that was yet in the womb of fate, might recon- 
 cile 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 teacup, 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 Mel- 
 ville's mind. One evening, a short time after the death 
 of Mr. Clare, Mr. Falkland had been at the house of his 
 deceased friend in his quality of executor, 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 metropolis, every- 
 thing is as silent as it would be in a region wholly unin- 
 habited. 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. Falk- 
 land had taken Collins with him, the business to be settled 
 at Mr. Clare's being in some respects similar to that to 
 which this faithful domestic had been accustomed in the 
 routine of his ordinary service. They had entered into 
 some conversation, for Mr. Falkland was not then in the 
 habit of obliging 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 ab- 
 
52 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ruptly, that he might enjoy it without interruption. They 
 had not ridden far before a hollow wind seemed to rise 
 at a distance, and they could hear the hoarse roarings of 
 the sea. Presently the sky on one side assumed the appear- 
 ance of a reddish brown, and a sudden angle in the road 
 placed this phenomenon directly before them. As they pro- 
 ceeded it became more distinct, and it was at length suffi- 
 ciently visible that it was occasioned by a fire. Mr. Falk- 
 land put spurs to his horse; and, as they approached, the 
 object presented every instant a more alarming appearance. 
 The flames ascended with fierceness; they embraced a large 
 portion of the horizon; and, as they carried up with them 
 numerous little fragments of the materials that fed them, 
 impregnated with fire, and of an extremely bright and 
 luminous colour, they presented some feeble image of the 
 tremendous eruption of a volcano. 
 
 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, in any mode practised in that place, was but as a 
 drop contending with an element in arms. The wind in 
 the meantime was rising, and the flames spread with more 
 and more rapidity. 
 
 Mr. Falkland contemplated this scene for a few moments, 
 as if ruminating with himself as to what could be done. 
 He then directed some of the country people about him 
 to pull down a house, next to one that was wholly on fire, 
 but which itself was yet untouched. They seemed aston- 
 ished at a direction which implied a voluntary destruction 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 53 
 
 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 fol- 
 lowed him most closely, and who by this time had supplied 
 themselves with whatever tools came next to hand, loosened 
 the support of a stack of chimneys, he pushed them head- 
 long into the midst of the fire. He passed and repassed 
 along the roof; and, having set people to work in all parts, 
 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 heartrending shrieks. 
 She turned towards the house. The people that were near 
 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!" he cried, with a voice 
 of grand yet benevolent authority. "Remain you in the 
 street! I will seek, and will save her!" Mrs. Jakeman 
 obeyed. He charged the persons who were near to detain 
 her; he inquired 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 with her. Mr. Falkland 
 ascended a neighbouring house, and entered that in which 
 Emily was by a window in the roof. 
 
54 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 He founa her already awaked from her sleep; and, be- 
 coming sensible of her danger, she had that instant wrapped 
 a loose gown round her. Such is the almost irresistible 
 result of feminine habits; but, having done this, she exam- 
 ined the surrounding objects with the wildness of despair. 
 Mr. Falkland entered the chamber. She flew into his arms 
 with the rapidity of lightning. She embraced and clung to 
 him, with an impulse that did not wait to consult the dic- 
 tates of her understanding. Her emotions were indescriba- 
 ble. In a few short moments she had lived 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 affectionate protector, snatched from the imme- 
 diate grasp of death, from which, if he had not, none would 
 have delivered 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 obtained 
 a substitute for the garments she had lost in the fire. He 
 displayed the tenderest solicitude for the young lady's 
 safety, and directed Collins 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^ a nd 
 justice in the form ol m an, a&"hc ■ tuuWdlid mT b this small 
 space, was altogether new to her, and in the highest degree 
 fascinating. She had a confused feeling as if there had been 
 something indecorous in her behaviour or appearance when 
 Mr. Falkland had appeared to her relief; and this com- 
 bined 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, 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 55 
 
 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 u~oA 
 possibly have become the victim of a catastrophe which Jr ^ 
 had thus broken out in the dead of night. His sensations 
 were of the most pleasing sort when he folded her in his 
 arms, and fearful apprehension was instantaneously con- 
 verted into joyous certainty. Emily no sooner entered 
 under the well-known roof than her spirits were brisk, and 
 her tongue incessant in describing her danger and her de- 
 liverance. Mr. Tyrrel had formerly been tortured with 
 the innocent eulogiums she pronounced of Mr. Falkland. 
 But 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 mo- 
 ment, 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 everything was conceived, and the cautious but 
 daring wisdom with which it was executed. All was fairy- 
 land and enchantment in the tenor of her artless tale; you 
 saw a beneficent genius surveying and controlling the whole, 
 but could have no notion of any human means by which 
 his purposes were effected. 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel listened for awhile to these innocent effusions 
 with patience; he could even bear to hear the man ap- 
 plauded by whom he had just obtained so considerable a 
 benefit. But the theme by amplification became nauseous, 
 and he at length with some roughness put an end to the 
 tale. Probably, upon recollection, it appeared still more 
 insolent and intolerable than while it was passing; the sen- 
 sation 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 confeder- 
 acy that disturbed his repose. For herself, she was wholly 
 unconscious of offence, and upon every occasion quoted 
 
56 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Mr. Falkland as the model of elegant manners and true 
 wisdom. She was a total stranger to dissimulation; and 
 she could not conceive that any one beheld the subject of 
 her admiration with less partiality than herself. Her art- 
 less 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 applause, and to convince 
 her by various tokens that the subject was disagreeable to 
 him. He was accustomed to treat her with kindness. Em- 
 ily, on her part, was disposed to yield an unreluctant obe- 
 dience, 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 acqui- 
 escence 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 protec- 
 tion she was placed; and, as her compliance was unhesi- 
 tating, she had no experience of a severe and rigorous treat- 
 ment. As Mr. Tyrrel's objection to the very name of Falk- 
 land became 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 effect; 
 it was a cutting satire upon the imbecility of her kinsman. 
 Upon these occasions she would sometimes venture upon 
 a good-humoured expostulation: — "Dear sir! well, I wonder 
 how you can be so ill-natured! I am sure Mr. Falkland 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 57 
 
 would do you any good office in the world:" — till she was 
 checked by some gesture of impatience and fierceness. 
 
 At length she wholly conquered her heedlessness and in- 
 attention. But it was too late. Mr. Tyrrel already sus- 
 pected the existence of that passion which she had thought- 
 lessly imbibed. His imagination, ingenious in torment, sug- 
 gested 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 re- 
 straint. Her present reserve upon the subject was even 
 more insufferable than her former loquacity. All his kind- 
 ness 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 destiny. He figured himself as about to be de- 
 serted by every creature in human form; 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 rancorous aversion ; and, accustomed 
 as he was to the uncontrolled indulgence of his propensities, 
 he determined to wreak upon her a signal revenge. 
 
M : 
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 R. TYRREL consulted his old confidant respect- 
 ing the plan he should pursue; who, sympathizing 
 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 gratifications of a man of Mr. 
 Tyrrel's 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 
 tatiorj^wi)uld much more certainly secure""Eer mortification 
 •" and punishment. 
 
 For this purposj^^rtTftxed upon a young man of twenty 
 the son of one urimes^Vho occupied a small farm, th 
 property of his cormrMf: This fellow he resolved to impose 
 as a husband on Miss Melville, who, he shrewdly suspected, 
 guided by the tender sentiments she had unfortunately con- 
 ceived for Mr. Falkland, would listen with reluctance to 
 any matrimonial proposal. Grimes he selected as being in 
 all respects the diametrical reverse of Mr. Falkland. 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 the other, 
 and his feet misshapen and clumsy. He had nothing spite- 
 ful or malicious in his disposition, but he was a total stranger 
 to tenderness; he could not feel for those refinements in 
 
 58 
 
 n 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 59 
 
 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 delighted in a sort of 
 manual sarcasm, which he could not conceive to be very 
 injurious, as it left no traces behind it. His general man- 
 ners were noisy and obstreperous; inattentive to others; 
 and obstinate and unyielding, not from any cruelty and 
 ruggedness of temper, but from an incapacity to conceive 
 those finer feelings that make so large a part of the history 
 of persons who are cast in a gentler mould. 
 
 Such was the uncouth and half-civilized animal which 
 the industrious malice of Mr. 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 insignificance 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 wildness, 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, "No, 
 sir, I do not want a husband." 
 
 "You do! Are not you always hankering after the men? 
 It is high time you should be settled." 
 
 "Mr. Grimes! No, indeed! when I do have a husband, 
 it shall not be such a man as Mr. Grimes neither." 
 
 "Be silent! How dare you give yourself such unac- 
 countable liberties?" 
 
 "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. Be- 
 sides, 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." 
 
60 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "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 shilling 
 of my aunt Lucy's fortune, and left you a beggar. You 
 have got a hundred pounds, and Grimes's father 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. I 
 can tell what you would be at. You had rather be Mr. 
 Falkland's miss, than the wife of a plain downright yeoman. 
 But I shall take care of you. — Ay, this comes of indul- 
 gence. You must be taken down, miss. You must be taught 
 the difference between high-flown notions and realities. 
 Mayhap 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 
 from anything to which Miss Melville had been accus- 
 tomed, that she felt herself wholly unable to determine what 
 construction to put upon it. Sometimes he thoughtTshe had 
 really formed a plan for imposing upon her a condition 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, Mrs. Jake- 
 
 
 

 CALEB WILLIAMS 61 
 
 man, 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 will." 
 
 "But how will you help yourself? My 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 anybody else choose a husband for me? I am 
 not such a fool as that neither." 
 
 "Ah, Emily! 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 I am right 
 to have a will of my own in such a thing as this, and no- 
 body is punished for doing what is right." 
 
 "Nobody ought, my dear child. But there are very 
 wicked and tyrannical men in the world." 
 
 "Well, well, I will never believe my cousin is one of 
 these." 
 
 "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 
 beggar! Do you think I could bear to see that?" 
 
 "No, no. Mr. Tyrrel has just told me that I have a 
 hundred 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." 
 
62 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 sufficiently in- 
 dicated 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 no- 
 tions in her head, that will be the ruin of her. You per- 
 haps can tell where she had them. But, be that as it will, 
 it is high time something should be done. The shortest 
 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 become a whore, and at last no better than a 
 common 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!" 
 
 In the afternoon Grimes came according to 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. But, being as how 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." 
 
 Emily was already sufficiently mortified at the unex- 
 pected proposal of Mr. Tyrrel. She was confounded at 
 the 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. 
 
 "Come, come, never be cast down. Put a good face 
 upon it. What though? My first sweetheart was Bet 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 63 
 
 Butterfield ; but what of that? What must be must be; 
 grief will never fill the belly. She was a fine strapping 
 wench, that is the truth of it! five 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 beef en from her own orchard! 
 Ah ! she was a maid of mettle ; would romp with the harvest- 
 men, 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 meet her fellow! But never you mind 
 that; I do not doubt that I shall find more in you upon 
 further acquaintance. As coy and bashful as you seem, I 
 dare say you are rogue enough at bottom. When 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 millstone as another. Ay, 
 ay; you will 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 intel- 
 ligible, 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 suffi- 
 cient intimation of another's meaning. Mr. Tyrrel, in the 
 meantime, 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 inclinations. Grimes, of consequence, attributed the 
 
64 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 reluctance of Miss Melville to maiden coyness and the skit- 
 tish shyness of an unbroken filly. Indeed, had it been 
 otherwise, it is not probable that it would have nude any 
 effectual impression upon him; as he was always accus- 
 tomed to consider women as made for the recreation of 
 the men, and to exclaim against the weakness oi people 
 who taught them to imagine they were to judge lor them- 
 selves. 
 
 As the suit proceeded, and Miss Melville saw more of 
 her new admirer, her antipathy increased. But, though 
 her character was unspoiled by those false wants, which 
 frequently made people of family miserable while they 
 have everything that nature requires within their reach, 
 yet she had been little used to opposition, and was terri- 
 fied at the growing sternness of her kinsman. Sometimes 
 she thought of flying from a house which was now become 
 her dungeon; but the habits of her youth, and her igno- 
 rance of the world, made her shrink from this project, 
 when she contemplated it more nearly. Mrs. Jakeman, in- 
 deed, could not think with patience of young Grimes as a 
 husband for her darling Emily; but her prudence deter- 
 mined her to resist with 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 un- 
 accountable persecution, and she exhorted Miss Melville 
 to forget for a moment the unaffected independence of her 
 character, and pathetically to deprecate her cousin's ob- 
 stinacy. She had great confidence in the ingenuous elo- 
 quence of her ward. Mrs. 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 after breakfast, she 
 went to her harpsichord, and played one after another 
 several of those airs that were most the favourites of Mr. 
 Tyrrel. Mrs. 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 65 
 
 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 plead; at the same time that it was 
 exempt from those incapacitating tremors which would have 
 been felt 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 innocent whose powers were exerted to please 
 him; at length he threw himself in a chair opposite, with 
 his eyes turned towards Emily. It was easy to trace the 
 progress of his emotions. The furrows into which his 
 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 forgotten 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 
 
v \tc 
 h( 
 
 -4 
 
 66 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 a good humour with you for a 
 moment. What my mind is determined upon about Grimes 
 all the world shall not move me to give up." 
 
 "Dear, dear cousin! why, but consider now. Grimes is 
 a rough, rustic lout, like Orson in the story-book. He 
 wants a wife like himself. He would be as uneasy and as 
 much at a loss with me, as I with him. Why should we 
 both of us be forced to do what neither of us is inclined 
 v to? I cannot think what could ever have put it into your 
 lead. 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 mor- 
 tified 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 I should deserve to have you for 
 an enemy?" 
 
 "I am not your enemy. I tell you that it is necessary 
 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 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, 
 4 surly, a tyrant! £lt is true that I cannot talk in finical 
 phrases, flatter people with hypocritical praise, or suppress 
 the real feelings of my mind. Th^-scoundrel knows his 
 pitiful advantages, and insults/me upon trtari without ceas- 
 ing. He is my rival and my persecutor ;^nd, at last, as 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 67 
 
 if all this were not enough, he has found means to spread 
 the pestilence in my own family. You, whom we took up 
 out of charity, the chance-born brat of a stolen marriage! 
 you must turn upon your benefactor, and wound me in 
 the point that of all others I could least bear. If I were 
 your 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 
 hypocritical destroyer of us all. Every moment that the 
 mischief 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 resentment 
 against herself. She recoiled, without well knowing why, 
 before the ferocious passions of her kinsman, and was con- 
 vinced 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 like. 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 anything to deserve your 
 unkind suspicions? I am innocent, and will continue inno- 
 cent. Mr. Grimes is well enough, and will no doubt find 
 women that like him; but he is not fit for me. and torture 
 shall not force me to be his wife." 
 
68 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel was not a little astonished at the spirit 
 which Emily displayed upon this occasion. He had cal- 
 culated too securely upon the general mildness and suavity 
 of her disposition. He now endeavoured to qualify the 
 harshness of her former sentiments. 
 
 "God damn my soul! And so you can scold, can you? 
 You expect everybody to turn out of his way, and fetch 
 and carry, just as you please? I could find in my heart — 
 but 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 anybody is going to 
 marry you, whether you will or not. 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 
 willing." 
 
 Miss Melville 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. Jakeman, 
 to whom 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. Jakeman 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 weeks; and, though the errand by no means 
 wore an artificial or ambiguous face, the two friends drew 
 a melancholy presage from this ill-timed separation. Mrs. 
 Jakeman, in the meantime, exhorted her ward to persevere, 
 reminded her of the compunction which had already been 
 manifested by her kinsman, and encouraged her to hope 
 everything from her courage and good temper. Emily, on 
 her part, though grieved at the absence of her protector 
 and counsellor at so interesting a crisis, was unable to sus- 
 pect Mr. Tyrrel of such a degree either of malice or du- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 69 
 
 plicity as could afford ground for serious alarm. She con- 
 gratulated 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 exchanged a state of fortitude and alarm for her for- 
 mer pleasing dreams respecting Mr. Falkland. These she 
 bore without impatience. She was even taught by the un- 
 certainty of the event to desire to prolong, rather than 
 abridge, a situation which might be delusive, but which 
 was not without its pleasures. 
 
CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 NOTHING could be further from Mr. Tyrrel's in- 
 tention than to suffer his project to be thus ter- 
 minated. 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 apartment, 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 for- 
 merly been honoured with the amorous notices of the 
 squire, considered the distinctions that were paid to Emily 
 at Tyrrel Place as a usurpation upon her more reasonable 
 claims. The squire himself did everything in his power 
 to blast the young lady's reputation, and represented to his 
 attendants these precautions as necessary, 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 
 durance, and there was some reason to suppose that her 
 spirit might be subdued to the emergency of her situation, 
 Mr. Tyrrel thought proper to go to her, to explain the 
 grounds of 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 as- 
 sumed in her life, and accosted him thus: — 
 
 "Well, sir, is it you? I wanted 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, 
 
 70 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 71 
 
 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 prefer liberty to wealth. I see you 
 are surprised at the resolution I exert. But ought I not 
 to turn again when I am trampled upon? I should have 
 left you before now, if Mrs. Jakeman had not over-per- 
 suaded me, and if I had not thought better of you than 
 by your present behaviour I find 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. See- 
 ing, 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 the 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 pos- 
 session. This house is mine, and you are in my power. 
 There is no Mrs. Jakeman now to spirit you away; no, 
 nor 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 anybody resist my will without being made 
 to repent? And shall I now be browbeaten 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 imagine. You may imprison my body, but 
 you cannot conquer my mind. Marry Mr. Grimes! And 
 
72 
 
 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 > 
 
 J\? 
 
 
 <f$ 
 
 7 
 
 f l 
 
 i«Y 
 
 is this the way to bring me to your purpose? Every hard- 
 ship I suffer puts still farther 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 for nothing? 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 
 privilege of a reasonable being, to live unmolested in pov- 
 erty and innocence? What sort of a man do you show 
 yourself; 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 times more exas- 
 perated against her, for daring to defy his resentment at a 
 time when she had everything to fear. His despotic and 
 unforgiving propensities stimulated him to a degree little 
 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 hope 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, without an atom of inten- 
 tional malice, was fitted, by the mere coarseness of his per- 
 ceptions, for the perpetration of the greatest injuries. He 
 regarded 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 effeminacy of 
 those who suffer themselves to be tormented with ideal mis- 
 fortunes. He believed that no happier destiny could befall 
 a young woman than to be his wife; and he conceived that 
 that termination would amply compensate for any calami- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 73 
 
 ties she might suppose herself to undergo in the interval. 
 He was therefore easily prevailed upon, by certain tempta- 
 tions which Mr. Tyrrel knew how to employ, to take part 
 in the plot into which Miss Melville was meant to be 
 betrayed. 
 
 Matters being thus prepared, Mr. Tyrrel proceeded, 
 through the means of the jailer (for the experience he al- 
 ready had of personal discussion did not incline him to re- 
 peat his visits), to play upon the fears of his prisoner. 
 This woman, sometimes under the pretence of friendship, 
 and sometimes with open malice, informed Emily, from 
 time to time, of the preparations that were making for her 
 marriage. One day, "the squire had rode over to look at 
 a neat little farm which was destined for the habitation 
 of the new-married couple;" and at another, "a quantity 
 of live-stock and household furniture was procured, that 
 everything might be ready for their reception." She then 
 told her "of a license that was bought, a parson in readi- 
 ness, and a day fixed for the nuptials." When Emily en- 
 deavoured, 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 protesta- 
 tions, nor silence, nor fainting would be of any avail, either 
 to suspend 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 persecutors. 
 She had not a human being with whom to consult, who 
 might afford her the smallest degree of consolation and en- 
 couragement. She had fortitude; but it was neither con- 
 firmed 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. She had 
 a clear and noble spirit; but she had some of her sex's 
 errors. Her mind sunk under the uniform terrors with 
 which she was assailed, and her health became visibly im- 
 paired. 
 
74 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Her firmness being thus far undermined, Grimes, in pur- 
 suance of his instructions, took care in his next interview 
 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 take place. 
 Between one and the other, however, he was got into a 
 scrape, and now he supposed he must marry, will he, nill 
 he. The two squires would infallibly ruin him upon the 
 least appearance of backwardness on his part, as they were 
 accustomed to do every inferior that resisted their will. 
 Emily was rejoiced to find her admirer in so favourable a 
 disposition; and earnestly pressed him to give effect to this 
 humane declaration. Her representations were full of elo- 
 quence and energy. Grimes appeared to be moved at the 
 fervency of her manner; but objected the resentment of 
 Mr. Tyrrel and his landlord. At length, however, he sug- 
 gested a project, in consequence of which he might assist 
 her in her escape, without its ever coming to their knowl- 
 edge, as, indeed, there was no likelihood that their suspi- 
 cions 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. Mayhap you thought I was no better 'an a 
 brute: but I bear you no malice, and I will show you that 
 I am more kind-hearted 'an you have been willing to think. 
 It 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 follow 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- 
 taking. It was necessary, as Grimes informed her, that her 
 escape should be effected 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 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 75 
 
 from her prison. These circumstances were by no means 
 adapted to calm her perturbed imagination. To throw her- 
 self into the arms of the man whose intercourse she was 
 employing every method to avoid, and whom, under the 
 idea of a partner for life, she could least of all men endure, 
 was, no doubt, an extraordinary proceeding. The attendant 
 circumstances of darkness and solitude aggravated the pic- 
 ture. The situation of Tyrrel Place was uncommonly 
 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 take 
 an ungenerous and brutal advantage of these circumstances ; 
 but her mind involuntarily revolted against the idea of 
 committing herself, alone, to the disposal of a man whom 
 she had lately been accustomed to consider as the instru- 
 ment 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 showed 
 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 conde- 
 scend 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 
 
76 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel for the marriage ceremony. In the meantime 
 she was pestered with intimations, in a thousand forms, 
 of the fate that so nearly awaited her. The preparations 
 were so continued, methodical, and regular, as to produce 
 in her the most painful and aching anxiety. If her heart 
 attained a moment's intermission upon the subject, her fe- 
 male attendant was sure, by some sly hint or sarcastical 
 remark, to put a speedy termination to her tranquillity. 
 She felt herself, as she afterward remarked, alone, unin- 
 structed, just broken loose, as it were, from the trammels 
 of infancy, without one single creature to concern 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 unrelentingly 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 filled 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 wak- 
 ing thoughts were not more consoling. The struggle was 
 too great for her constitution. As morning approached, 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 conceive 
 any evil which could result from this proceeding, that de- 
 served to be put in the balance against those which, under 
 the roof of her kinsman, appeared unavoidable. 
 
 When 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 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 77 
 
 was accompanied by a certain abrupt ruggedness of counte- 
 nance, so that it might equally well be the smile of sar- 
 casm or of congratulation. He, however, renewed his as- 
 surances of fidelity to his engagements and punctuality of 
 execution. Meanwhile the day was interspersed with nup- 
 tial presents and preparations, all indicating the firmness as 
 well as security of the directors of the scene. Emily had 
 hoped that, as the crisis approached, they might have re- 
 mitted something of their usual diligence. She was re- 
 solved, in that case, if a fair opportunity had offered, to 
 give the slip both to her jailers and to her new and reluc- 
 tantly chosen confederate. But, though extremely vigilant 
 for that purpose, she found the execution of the idea im- 
 practicable. 
 
 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 unfeeling tyrant, instead of any relent- 
 ings, had only sought to make sport of her anxiety. Ac- 
 cordingly, in one instance she hid herself, and, suffering 
 Emily to suppose 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 vulgarity. Being once more in her chamber, 
 she sat down in a chair, and remained buried in revery 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 jailer 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 
 
78 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 retiring. "It is time to lock up. For the few next hours, 
 the time is your own. Make the best use of it! Do'ee 
 think ee can creep out at the keyhole, 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 the 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 itsel f , and its 
 continuance was short. With an aching heart she folded 
 up the few necessaries she intended to take with 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 of 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 you speak?" Grimes 
 advanced on tiptoe with his finger to his lip. "No, no," 
 replied he, "all is safe!" He took her by the hand, led 
 her in silence out of the house, and then across the garden. 
 Emily examined with her eye the doors and passages as 
 they proceeded, and looked on all sides with fearful sus- 
 picion; but everything was as vacant and still as she her- 
 self could have wished. Grimes opened a back-door of 
 the garden already unlocked, that led into an unfrequented 
 lane. There stood two horses ready equipped for the jour- 
 ney, and fastened by their bridles to a post not six yards 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 79 
 
 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 Mum, coachey, pop along 
 from the back-door to the stables. He was within a hop, 
 step, and jump of me. But he had a lantern 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- 
 agreeable 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 Miss Melville, and then, suddenly 
 reaching out his hand, seized hold of her bridle. "I think 
 we may as well stop here a bit," said he. 
 
 "Stop!" exclaimed Emily with surprise; "why should 
 we stop? Mr. Grimes, what do you mean?" 
 
 "Come, come," said he, "never trouble yourself to won- 
 der. Did you think I were such a goose, to take all this 
 trouble merely to gratify your whim? I'faith, nobody shall 
 find me a pack-horse, to go of other folks' errands, with- 
 out 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 granddad. Far-fetched and dear- 
 bought is always relishing. Your consent was so hard to 
 gain, that squire thought 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, Mr. Grimes, think what you are about! 
 You cannot be base enough to ruin a poor creature who 
 has put herself under your protection!" 
 
8o ADVENTURES OF 
 
 
 "Ruin! No, no, I will make an honest woman of you, 
 when all is done. Nay, none of your airs; no tricks upon 
 travellers! 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 delicate morsel, and there is no time to be lost!" 
 
 Miss Melville had but an instant in which 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 way ; and the chase continued the whole length 
 of the wood. 
 
 At the extremity of this wood there was a gate. The 
 recollection of this softened a little the cutting disappoint- 
 ment of Grimes, as he thought himself secure of putting 
 | an end, by its assistance, to the career of Emily; nor was 
 it very probable that anybody would appear to interrupt 
 his designs, in such a place, and in the dead and silence of 
 the night. By the most extraordinary accident, however, 
 they found a man on horseback in wait at this gate. "Help, 
 fielp!" exclaimed the affrighted Emily; "thieves! murder! 
 jhelp!" 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 
 
 
f 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS 81 
 
 up; and then Grimes, disappointed at the loss of his grati- 
 fication, and admonished by conscious guilt, shrunk from 
 further parley, and rode off in silence. 
 
 It may seem strange that Mr. Falkland should thus a 
 second time have been the saviour of Miss Melville, and 
 that under circumstances the most unexpected and sin- 
 gular. 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 conjec- 
 tured this man was Hawkins, another of the victims of Mr. 
 Tyrrel's rural tyranny, whom I shall immediately have oc- 
 casion to introduce. Mr. Falkland's compassion had al- 
 ready been strongly excited in favour of Hawkins; he had 
 in vain endeavoured to find him, and do him good; and 
 he easily conceived, 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 encoun- 
 tering robbers, if robbers should be found, he believed he 
 should be inexcusable if he did not go provided against 
 possible accidents. But he had directed them, at the same 
 time that they kept within call, to be out 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. 
 Mr. 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 Mr. 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 
 
82 CALEB WILLIAMS I 
 
 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 
 undertook to escort her. As they went along, she recov- 
 ered that state of mind which inclined her to make a per- 
 son 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. Mr. Falk- 
 land listened with eagerness and surprise. Though he had 
 already known various instances of Mr. Tyrrel's mean jeal- 
 ousy and unfeeling tyranny, this surpassed them all; and 
 he could scarcely credit his ears while he heard the tale. 
 His brutal neighbour seemed to realize 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 ac- 
 cusation against her, of entertaining a passion for Mr. 
 Falkland; and this she did with the most bewitching sim- 
 plicity and charming confusion. Though this part of the 
 tale was a source of real pain to her deliverer, yet it is not 
 to be supposed but that the flattering partiality of this un- 
 happy 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 her- 
 self. Here Mr. Falkland willingly left her as in a place of 
 security. Such conspiracies as that of which she was in- 
 tended 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 annihilated. 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 NINE 
 
 MR. FALKLAND had experienced the nullity of all 
 expostulation with Mr. Tyrrel, and was therefore 
 content in the present 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. There was indeed an- 
 other affair which had been contemporary with this, that 
 had 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 bit- 
 terness of Mr. Tyrrel. 
 
 There was a tenant of Mr. Tyrrel, one Hawkins; — I 
 cannot mention his name without recollecting the painful 
 tragedies that are annexed to it! This Hawkins had origi- 
 nally been taken up by Mr. Tyrrel, with a view of protect- 
 ing him from the arbitrary proceedings of a neighbouring 
 squire, though he had now in his turn become an object of 
 persecution to Mr. Tyrrel himself. The first ground of 
 their connexion was this: — Hawkins, besides 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 re- 
 quired 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. Tyrrel had interested himself 
 strongly in behalf of the opposite candidate; and, as Mr. 
 Tyrrel's estate bordered upon the seat of Hawkins's present 
 
 83 
 
v 
 
 84 \ ADVENTURES OF 
 
 residence, the ejected countryman could think of no better 
 expedient than that of riding over to this gentleman's man- 
 sion, and relating the case to him. Mr. Tyrrel heard him 
 through with attention. "Well, friend," said he, "it is very 
 true that I wished Mr. Jakeman to carry his election; but 
 you know it is usual in these cases for tenants to vote just 
 as their landlords please. I do not think proper to encour- 
 age rebellion." — "All that is very right, and please you," 
 replied Hawkins, "and I would have voted at my landlord's 
 bidding for any other man in the kingdom but Squire Mar- 
 low. You must know, one day his huntsman rode over my 
 fence, and so through my best field of standing 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 please your honour, three or four times before. So I 
 only asked him what he did that for, and whether he had 
 not more conscience than to spoil people's crops o' that 
 fashion? Presently the squire came up. He is but a poor, 
 weasen-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 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 8s 
 
 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 suit- 
 able in every respect, Hawkins was installed out of hand 
 in the catalogue of Mr. Tyrrel 's tenants. Mr. Underwood 
 extremely resented this proceeding, which indeed, as being 
 contrary to the understood conventions of the country gen- 
 tlemen, few people but Mr. Tyrrel would have ventured 
 upon. There was an end, said Mr. Underwood, to all regu- 
 lation, if tenants were to be encouraged in such disobedi- 
 ence. It was not a question of this or that candidate, see- 
 ing that any gentleman, who was a true friend to his coun- 
 try, 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 ac- 
 cord; it became every day more difficult to keep them 
 under any subordination; and, if the gentlemen were so ill 
 advised as to neglect the public good, and encourage them, 
 in their insolence, there was no foreseeing where it would 
 end. 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel was not of a stamp to be influenced by these 
 remonstrances. Their general spirit was sufficiently con- 
 formable to the sentiments he himself entertained; but he 
 was of too vehement a temper to maintain the character 
 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 
 

 86 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to it; and he was at no loss in clubs and other assemblies 
 to overbear and silence, if not to confute, his censurers. 
 Besides which, Hawkins had certain accomplishments which 
 qualified him to be a favourite with Mr. Tyrrel. The blunt- 
 ness of his manner and the ruggedness of his temper gave 
 him some resemblance to his landlord; and, as these quali- 
 ties were likely to be more frequently exercised on such 
 persons as had incurred Mr. Tyrrel's displeasure than upon 
 Mr. Tyrrel himself, they were not observed without some 
 degree of complacency. In a word, he every day received 
 new marks of distinction from his patron, and after some 
 time was appointed coadjutor to Mr. Barnes under the de- 
 nomination 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 dependant. 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 sagacity 
 in presence of the squire. One day in particular he ex- 
 hibited 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 appoint- 
 ment in his service. 
 
 This proposal was received by Hawkins with various 
 marks of mortification. He excused himself with hesita- 
 tion for not accepting the offered favour; said the lad was 
 in many ways useful to him; and hoped his honour would 
 not insist upon depriving him of his assistance. This apol- 
 ogy might perhaps have been sufficient with any other man 
 than Mr. Tyrrel; but it was frequently observed of this 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 87 
 
 gentleman that when he had once formed a determination, 
 however slight, in favour of any measure, he was never 
 afterward known to give it up, and that the only effect of 
 opposition was to make him eager and inflexible in pursuit 
 of that to which he had before been nearly indifferent. At 
 first he seemed to receive the apology of Hawkins with 
 good humour, and to see nothing in it but what was reason- 
 able; but afterward, every time he saw the boy 
 his desire of retaining him in his service was increased, 
 and he more than once repeated to his father the good dis- 
 position in which he felt himself towards 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. Tyr- 
 rel's character, was 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 
 with. I shall not be contented when I offer my favours 
 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 
 my 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 I cannot help it. My 
 father was a clergyman. We have all of us lived in a 
 creditable way; and I cannot bear to think that this poor 
 
88 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 lad of mine should go to service. For my part I do not 
 see any good that comes by servants. I do not know, your 
 honour, but I think I should not like my Leonard to be 
 such as they. God forgive me, if I wrong them! But 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 foolish of me to talk 
 to you thus; but your honour has been a good master 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! Why, you impudent 
 rascal ! was it for this that I took you up, when Mr. Under- 
 wood dismissed you for your insolence to him? Have I 
 been nursing a viper in my bosom? Pretty master's man- 
 ners 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 determination, 
 and no time can make any change in it. I am main sorry 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 89 
 
 to displease your worship, and I know that you can do me 
 a great deal of mischief. But I hope you will not be so 
 hardhearted as to ruin a father only for being fond of his 
 child, even if so be 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 point 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 gentleman's servant 
 of him." 
 
 "Very well, friend; very well!" replied Mr. Tyrrel, foam- 
 ing with rage. "Depend upon it, I will remember you! 
 Your pride shall have a downfall! God damn it! is it come 
 to this? Shall a rascal that farms his forty acres pretend 
 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 will 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. No; I have got a lease of my 
 farm, and I shall not quit it o' thaten. I hope there is 
 some law for poor folk, as well as for rich." 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel, unused to contradiction, was provoked be- 
 yond bearing at the courage and irjHpppnHpnt spirit nf his 
 retainer. There was not a tenant upon his estate, or at 
 least not one of Hawkins's mediocrity of fortune, whom the 
 general policy~~oFTandowners, and still more the arbitrary 
 and uncontrollable temper of Mr. Tyrrel, did not effectually 
 restrain from acts of open defiance. 
 
 "Excellent, upon my soul! Damn my blood! but you 
 
go ADVENTURES OF 
 
 are a rare fellow. You have a lease, have you? You will 
 not quit, not you! 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 
 igain." 
 
 Hawkins (to borrow the language of the world) was 
 guilty in this affair of a double imprudence. He talked to 
 his landlord in a more peremptory manner than the consti- 
 tution and practices of this country allow a dependant to 
 assume. But, above all, having been thus hurried away by 
 his resentment, he ought to have foreseen the consequences. 
 It was mere madness in him to think of contesting 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 influence 
 and wealth, and therefore could so victoriously justify any 
 extravagances that he might think proper to commit. This 
 maxim was completely illustrated in the sequel. Wealth 
 and despotism easily know how to engage those laws as 
 the coadjutors of their oppression which were perhaps at 
 first intended [witless and miserable precaution!] for the 
 (""' safeguards of the poor. 
 
 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 
 I deprived him of his appointment of bailiff, and directed 
 1 Barnes and his other dependants 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 af- 
 forded 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- 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 91 
 
 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 dur- 
 ing the night, and to turn in his cattle, to the utter destruc- 
 tion of the crop. These expedients, however, applied to only 
 one part of the property of this unfortunate man. But Mr. 
 Tyrrel did not stop here. A sudden mortality took place 
 among Hawkins's live stock, attended with 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 of opinion that law was better 
 adapte d for a. weapon of tyranny in the_J iands_aL the ikh, 
 than for a shield to protect the humbler part of the com- 
 munity against their usurpations. In this last instance, 
 However, ne conceived that the offence was so atrocious as 
 to make it impossible that any rank could protect the cul- 
 prit 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 which Mr. Tyrrel wanted to 
 bring him, and he could scarcely credit his good fortune, 
 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 irre- 
 trievable. 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 repel- 
 ling 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 question from 
 
 1 
 
92 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 term to term, and from court to court. It would, as Mr. 
 Tyrrel argued, be the disgrace of a civilized country, if a 
 gentleman, when insolently attacked in law by the scum of 
 the earth, could not convert the cause into a question of 
 the longest purse, and stick in the skirts of his adversary 
 till he had reduced him to beggary. 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel, however, was by no means so far engrossed 
 by his lawsuit as to neglect other methods of proceeding 
 offensively against his tenant. Among the various expedi- 
 ents that suggested themselves, there was one, which, though 
 it tended rather to torment than irreparably injure the suf- 
 ferer, was not rejected. This was derived from the par- 
 ticular situation of Hawkins's house, barns, stacks, and out- 
 houses. 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 
 own domains, and oblige him to go near a mile about for 
 the purposes of his traffic. 
 
 Young Hawkins, the lad who had been the 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 affection to him; at the same time 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, without asking any coun- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 93 
 
 sel but of his own impatient resentment, he went in the 
 middle of the night and removed all the 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 jail, to take his trial 
 for the felony at the next assizes. Mr. Tyrrel was deter- 
 mined to prosecute the offence with the greatest severity; 
 and his attorney, having made the proper inquiries for that 
 purpose, undertook to bring it under that clause of the act 
 9 Geo. I. commonly called the Black Act, which declares 
 that "any person, armed with a sword, or other offensive 
 weapon, 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 
 suffer death, as in cases of felony, without benefit of clergy." 
 Young Hawkins, it seemed, had buttoned the cape of his 
 great coat over his face, as soon as he perceived himself to 
 be observed, and he was furnished with a wrenching-iron 
 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 regu- 
 larly fed. Mr. Tyrrel seized upon these pretences with in- 
 expressible 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 affec- 
 tion would have desired, that the same overpowering influ- 
 ence would not cause in the sequel the penal clause to be 
 executed in all its strictness. 
 
 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 
 
94 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 suffered 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 jail. 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 machinations; Hawkins's 
 affairs every day grew more desperate, and the squire, 
 watching the occasion, took the earliest opportunity of seiz- 
 ing upon his remaining property in the mode of a distress 
 for rent. 
 
 It was 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 horseback, 
 and Mr. Falkland was going to the house of the unfortunate 
 tenant, who 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 addi- 
 tional aggravation of Hawkins's calamity, that Mr. Falk- 
 land, whose interference might otherwise have saved him, 
 had been absent from the neighbourhood for a considerable 
 time. 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. 
 Falkland, or indeed indulging himself in any manner in 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 95 
 
 communicating and bewailing his hard hap, in the begin- 
 ning of the contention; 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 un- 
 expectedly; and having learned, among the first articles of 
 country intelligence, the distresses of this unfortunate yeo- 
 man, 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. Tyrrel in this unexpected rencounter, 
 his face reddened with indignation. His first feeling, as 
 he afterward said, was to avoid him; but finding that he 
 must pass him, he conceived that it would be want of spirit 
 not to acquaint him with his feelings on the present occa- 
 sion. 
 
 "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 have proceeded 
 without your authority, I think it right to inform you what 
 he has done; and if he have had your authority, I would 
 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, Mr. 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 u^eto^ 
 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 
 
96 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 
 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 Mr. Falkland, avoiding any direct 
 notice of the last words of Mr. Tyrrel, "that there is a dis- 
 . tinction of ranks. I b elieve that d istincti on is a good thing? 
 and n ffpiffniry to 'thep^ ace ot mankin d. But, however 
 necessary it may be, we must acknowledge that ^j^uJsjsome 
 hardship upon the lower orders of society. It makes one's 
 Heart ache to think, that Olle man is bornto the inheritance 
 of every superfluity, while the whole share of another, with- 
 out any demerit of his, is drudgery and starving; and that 
 all this is indispensable. We that are rich, Mr. Tyrrel, 
 must do everything 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 are pressed almost beyond bearing as it is; 
 and if we unfeelingly give another turn to the machine, 
 they will be crushed into atoms." 
 
 This picture 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 animos- 
 ity. Suffer me to hail the new-born benevolence of your 
 nature. Go with 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." 
 
 "No, sir, I will not go. I own there is something in 
 what you say. J^ always knew you had the wit to make 
 good your own story, and tell a plausible tale. But I will 
 not be come over thus. It has been my character, when I 
 had once conceived a scheme of vengeance never to forego 
 it; and I will not change that character. I took up Haw- 
 kins when everybody forsook him, and made a man of him; 
 and the ungrateful rascal has only insulted me for my pains. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 97 
 
 Curse me, if I ever forgive him! It would be a good jest 
 indeed, if I were to forgive the insolence of my own creature 
 at the desire of a man like you that has been my perpetual 
 plague." 
 
 "For God's sake, Mr. Tyrrel, have some reason in your 
 resentment! Let us suppose that Hawkins has behaved 
 unjustifiably, 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 for- 
 give 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! Al mighty God! to hear you tal k gives 
 one. a loathing for the institution s^ and regulations of so- 
 ci etv. and would indu ce one to fly the very face of man! 
 But, no! society casts you out; man abominates~y<m 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 sympathize with yours? You 
 have 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 indignati on annihilate d e^ pr> hi g .faArmiritP caiica 
 ,-a thonour, and he re g ard^ *" g "Pighhnnr q^--i nTitntniij TinfU 
 whom it was impossible even to enter into contention. For 
 the latter, he remained for the present motionless and pet- 
 rified. The glowing enthusiasm of Mr. Falkland was such 
 as might well have unnerved the stoutest foe. Mr. Tyrrel, 
 
98 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 in spite of himself, was blasted with the compunctions of 
 guilt, and unable to string himself for the contest. The 
 picture Mr. Falkland had drawn was prophetic. It de- 
 scribed what Mr. Tyrrel chiefly feared; and what in its 
 commencement he thought he already felt. It was respon- 
 sive 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, however, 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 was the furthest 
 in the world 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 would 
 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 with a 
 confirmed disapprobation of the conduct of his neighbour, 
 and an unalterable resolution to do everything in his power 
 to relieve the distresses of Hawkins. But he was too late. 
 When he arrived he found the house already evacuated by 
 its master. The family was removed nobody knew whither; 
 Hawkins had absconded, and, what was still more extraor- 
 dinary, the boy Hawkins had escaped on the very same 
 day from the county jail. The inquiries Mr. Falkland set 
 on foot after them were fruitless; no traces could be found 
 of the catastrophe of these unhappy people. That catas- 
 trophe I shall shortly have occasion to relate, and it will 
 be found pregnant with horror, beyond what the blackest 
 misanthropy could readily have suggested. 
 
 I go on with my tale. I go on to relate those incidents 
 in which my own fate was so mysteriously involved. I lift 
 the curtain, and bring forward the last act of the tragedy. 
 
CHAPTER TEN 
 
 IT may easily be supposed, that the ill temper cherished 
 by Mr. Tyrrel in his contention with Hawkins, and 
 the increasing animosity between him and Mr. Falk- 
 land, 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 pre- 
 viously 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 desired to announce to his master that Miss 
 Melville was lost, the moment after fled from his presence 
 with the most dreadful apprehensions. Presently he bel- 
 lowed 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 exe- 
 crations with which Mr. Tyrrel overwhelmed him. Grimes 
 was no coward; but he reverenced the inborn divinity that 
 attends upon 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 
 inferiority. 
 
 He no sooner obtained a moment's pause than he began 
 to recall to his tempestuous mind the various circumstances 
 of the case. His complaints were bitter; and, in a tranquil 
 observer, might have produced the united feeling of pity 
 for his sufferings, and horror at his depravity. He rec- 
 ollected all the precautions he had used; he could scarcely 
 find a flaw in the process; and he cursed that blind and 
 
 99 
 
ioo ADVENTURES OF 
 
 malicious power which delighted to cross his most deep- 
 laid schemes. "Of this malice he was beyond all other 
 V 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 an- 
 guish, he forgot his recent triumph over Hawkins, or per- 
 haps he regarded it less as a triumph than an overthrow, 
 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 was only necessary for 
 him to be the enemy of any person, to ensure that person's 
 being safe against the reach of misfortune. What insults, 
 the most shocking and repeated, had he received from this 
 paltry girl! And by whom was she now torn from his 
 indignation? By that devil that haunted him at every 
 moment, that crossed him at every step, that fixed at pleas- 
 ure his arrows in his heart, and made mows and mockery 
 at his insufferable tortures." 
 
 There was one other reflection that increased his anguish, 
 and made him careless and desperate as to his future 
 conduct. It was in vain to conceal from himself that his 
 reputation would be cruelly wounded by this event. He had 
 imagined, that while Emily was forced into this odious 
 marriage, she would be obliged by decorum, as soon as the 
 event was decided, to draw a veil over the compulsion she 
 had suffered. But this security was now lost, and Mr. 
 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 101 
 
 considerably subsided, the moment she believed herself in 
 a place of safety. While danger and injustice assailed her 
 with their menaces, she found in herself a courage that dis- 
 dained 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 which Mr. 
 Tyrrell had been inspired with this cruel antipathy, 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 fit of sickness, it produces a more powerful effect 
 than the same indisposition upon a delicate valetudinarian. 
 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 constitution, assisted 
 by tranquillity and the kindness of those about her, would 
 ultimately surmount it. On the second day she was de- 
 lirious. On the night of that day she was arrested at the 
 suit of Mr. Tyrrel, for a debt contracted for board and 
 necessaries for the last fourteen years. 
 
 The idea of this arrest, as the reader will perhaps rec- 
 ollect, first occurred in the conversation between Mr. Tyr- 
 rel and Miss Melville, soon after he had thought proper 
 to confine 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 pos- 
 sible instrument of tyranny and revenge. But now that the 
 unlooked-for rescue and escape of this poor kinswoman 
 had wrought up his thoughts to a degree of insanity, and 
 
102 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 that he revolved in the gloomy recesses of his mind how 
 he might best shake off the load of disappointment which 
 oppressed him, the idea recurred with double force. He 
 was not long in forming his resolution; and calling for 
 Barnes, his steward, immediately gave him directions in 
 what manner to proceed. 
 
 Barnes had been for several years the instrument 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 occasion. The character and conduct of Emily in 
 Mr. Tyrrel'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 
 — Miss Emily!" 
 
 "Yes, — I tell you! — What is the matter with you? — Go 
 instantly to Swineard, the lawyer, and bid him finish the 
 business out of hand!" 
 
 "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, 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 103 
 
 and stand to it afterward. Tell Swineard, — if he makes 
 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! What 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 I 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 will 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 it! They have 
 provoked me past bearing, — and they shall feel me! Tell 
 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 
 conformity to his directions were the proceedings of that 
 respectable limb of the law he employed upon the present 
 occasion. Miss Melville had been delirious through a con- 
 siderable part of the day on the evening of which the bailiff 
 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. Mrs. Hammond, the sister of Mrs. Jakeman, was 
 sitting by her bedside, full of compassion for the lovely 
 sufferer, and rejoicing in the calm tranquillity 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 bailiff. He said he wanted to speak to Miss Melville, 
 and the child answered that she would go tell her mother. 
 
X 
 
 104 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 So saying, she advanced to the door of the back-room 
 upon the ground-floor, 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. 
 
 Mrs. Hammond looked up. "Who are you!" said she. 
 "Why do you come in here? Hush! be quiet!" 
 "I must 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." 
 
 " That is no business of mine. I must obey orders ." 
 "Orders? Whose orders? What is it you meanP' 
 At this moment Emily opened her eyes. "What noise is 
 that? Pray let me be quiet." 
 
 "Miss, I want to speak with you. I have got a writ 
 against you for eleven hundred pounds at the suit of 
 Squire Tyrrel." 
 
 At these words both Mrs. 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 1 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 vil 
 contrivance to get the poor orphan out of the hands o 
 those with whom only she can be safe. Proceed upon it 
 at your peril!" 
 
 u 
 
 5 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 105 
 
 "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 
 take her sick or well. We will do her no harm; except 
 so far as we must perform our office, be it how it will." 
 
 "Where would you take her? What is it you mean to 
 do?" 
 
 "To the county jail. Bullock, go order a post-chaise 
 from 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 whatever was enig- 
 matical in the first appearance of the bailiffs. The painful 
 and incredible reality that was thus presented effectually 
 dissipated the illusions of phrensy to which she had just 
 been a prey. "My dear Madam," said she to Mrs. Ham- 
 mond, "do not harass yourself with useless efforts. I am 
 very sorry for all the trouble I have given you. But my 
 misfortune is inevitable. 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 strug- 
 gles 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 another she expostulated with bitter invec- 
 tive against the hard-heartedness of the bailiff, and exhorted 
 
io6 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 
 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 Emily yielded with the 
 sweetest resignation to an inevitable evil. Mrs. Hammond 
 insisted that, at least, they should permit her to attend 
 her young lady in the chaise; and the bailiff, 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 willing 
 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 unfit- 
 ness for removal, as a sufficient cause to interrupt a direct 
 process; and that, accordingly, in all doubtful questions 
 and presumptive murders, the practice of the law inclined, 
 with a laudable partiality, to the vindication of its own 
 officers. In addition to these general rules, he was in- 
 fluenced by the positive injunctions and assurances of 
 Swineard, and the terror which, through a circle of many 
 miles, was annexed to the name of Tyrrel. Before they 
 departed, Mrs. Hammond 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. Tyrrel, for he had himself been too much 
 under the dominion of an uncontrollable fury to take a cir- 
 cumstance 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 107 
 
 calm reflection might have prescribed. The health of Miss 
 Melville was materially affected by the surprise and re- 
 moval she 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 unfavourable- 
 ness of the state in which the removal had been effected. 
 It was highly improbable that she could recover. 
 
 In the moments of suspended 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. I 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 was deter- 
 mined 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 Mr. 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 hard-heartedness, that no one would make the small- 
 est exertion for his rescue. In such vicissitudes of pain, 
 perpetually imagining to herself unkindness, insult, con- 
 spiracy, and murder, she passed a considerable part of two 
 days. 
 
 On the evening of the second Mr. Falkland arrived, ac- 
 companied by Doctor Wilson, the physician by whom she 
 had previously been attended. The scene he was called 
 upon to witness was such as to be most exquisitely agoniz- 
 ing to a man of his acute sensibility. The news of the 
 arrest had given him an inexpressible shock; he was trans- 
 
108 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ported out of himself at the unexampled malignity of its 
 author. But when he saw the figure of Miss Melville, hag- 
 gard, 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 reproached them with the sordidness of their 
 conduct in becoming 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 indis- 
 position 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 with- 
 drawn, to sooth, 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 Melville lay in this feeble and ex- 
 hausted condition, Mrs. Hammond betrayed every token 
 of the tenderest anxiety. Her sensibility was habitually 
 of the acutest sort, and the qualities of Emily were such 
 as powerfully to fix her 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 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 109 
 
 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 uncontrolla- 
 ble; 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 inclination. Her eye was a thousand 
 times turned, with the most eager curiosity, upon the coun- 
 tenance of Doctor Wilson, 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 
 meantime she listened with the deepest attention to every- 
 thing that dropped either from the physician or the 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 turn. She dozed for near two hours, and, 
 when she awoke, appeared perfectly calm and sensible. 
 Understanding that Mr. Falkland had brought the physician 
 to attend her, and was himself in her neighbourhood, 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 inquire whether the young lady might 
 be safely removed from her present miserable residence 
 to a more airy and commodious apartment. When he ap- 
 peared, the sight of him revived in the mind of Miss Mel- 
 ville an imperfect recollection of the wanderings of her 
 delirium. She covered her face with her fingers, and be- 
 trayed the most expressive confusion, while she thanked him, 
 with her usual unaffected simplicity, for the trouble 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 countenance; but it 
 was a faint effort, which the feeble state of her frame did 
 
no ADVENTURES OF 
 
 not seem sufficient to support. Mr. Falkland and the doc- 
 tor 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 entertained. 
 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 undertake 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 opportunity to press her to give 
 herself a little 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 altera- 
 tion in the state of the patient. 
 
 Mrs. Hammond enjoyed an uninterrupted sleep of sev- 
 eral hours. It was already night, when she was awaked 
 by an unusual bustle in the next room. She listened for 
 a few moments, and then determined to go and discover 
 the occasion of it. As she opened her door for that purpose, 
 she met the nurse coming to her. The countenance of the 
 messenger told her what it was she had to communicate, 
 without the use of words. She hurried to the bedside, and 
 found Miss Melville expiring. The appearances that had 
 at first been so encouraging were of short duration. The 
 calm of the morning proved to be only a sort of lightening 
 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 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS in 
 
 over. She was for some time in convulsions; but these 
 subsiding, she addressed the physician with a composed, 
 though feeble voice. She thanked him for his attention ; and 
 expressed the most lively sense of her obligations to Mr.. 
 Falkland. She sincerely forgave her cousin, and hoped 
 he might never be visited by too acute a recollection of his 
 barbarity to her. She would have been contented to live. 
 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 affectionate ex- 
 pression 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 ELEVEN 
 
 SUCH was the fate of Miss Emily Melville. Perhaps 
 tyranny never exhibited a more painful memorial of 
 the detestation in which it deserves to be held. The 
 idea irresistibly 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 under- 
 stood, expressed their astonishment and disgust at his un- 
 paralleled cruelty. 
 
 If such were the feelings of men bred to the commission 
 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 returned soon 
 again. He approached the sad remains of what had been 
 Emily, and gazed on them with such intentness, 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 wearing 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 crush so many noxious insects. It 
 was necessary to guard him like a madman. 
 t The whole office of judging what was proper to be done 
 
 112 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 113 
 
 under the present circumstances devolved upon Doctor Wil- 
 son. The doctor was a man of cool and methodical habits 
 of acting. One of the first ideas that suggested itself to 
 him was, that Miss Melville was a branch of the family 
 of Tyrrel. He did not doubt of the willingness of Mr. 
 Falkland to discharge every expense that might be further 
 incident to the melancholy remains of this unfortunate vic- 
 tim ; 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 Mr. Tyrrel 's considera- 
 tion 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 messen- 
 ger; besides 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 journey 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!" 
 
 "Me? — my?— Poh! she is not dead — it cannot be — it is 
 not a week since she left this house." 
 
 "Do not you believe me? I say she is dead!" 
 
ii 4 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "i 
 
 'Have a care, woman! this is no matter for jesting. 
 No: though she used me ill, I 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 everything 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!" 
 
 "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 everything 
 — I will forgive her — I will take her into favour — I will do 
 anything you please! — I never meant her any harm!" 
 
 "I tell you she is dead! You have murdered the sweet- 
 est innocent that lived! 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 115 
 
 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 
 in which Mr. Tyrrel was made to drink the full cup of 
 retribution. This was, however, only a specimen of a long 
 series of contempt, abhorrence, and insult, that was reserved 
 for him. The words of Mrs. Hammond were prophetic. 
 It evidently appeared, that though wealth and hereditary 
 elevation operate as an apology for many delinquencies, 
 there are some which so irresistibly address themselves to 
 the indignation of mankind, that, like death, they level all 
 distinctions, and reduce their perpetrator to an equality with 
 the most (jndigenL and squalid of his species. Against 
 Mr. Tyrrel7~as~~the tyrannical and unmanly murderer of 
 Emily, those who dared not venture the unreserved avowal 
 of their sentiments muttered curses, deep, not loud; while 
 the rest joined in a universal cry of abhorrence and exe- 
 cration. He stood astonished at the novelty of his situa- 
 tion. Accustomed as he had been to the obedience and 
 trembling homage of mankind, he had imagined they would 
 be perpetual, and that no excess on his part would ever be 
 potent enough to break the enchantment. Now he looked 
 round, and saw sullen detestation in every face, which 
 with difficulty restrained itself, and upon the slightest 
 provocation broke forth with an impetuous tide, and swept 
 away the mounds of subordination and fear. His large es- 
 tate could not purchase civility from the gentry, the peas- 
 antry, scarcely from his own servants. In the indignation 
 of all around him he found a ghost that haunted him with 
 every change of place, and a remorse that stung his con- 
 science, and exterminated his peace. The neighbourhood 
 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 recol- 
 lect every other instance of his excesses, and it was, no 
 doubt, a fearful catalogue that rose up in judgment against 
 
 t 
 
n6 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 him. It seemed as if the sense of public resentment 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 inno- 
 cence prompting him continually to recoil from the detesta- 
 tion of mankind as a thing totally unallied to his character, 
 yet the imperiousness of his temper, and the constant ex- 
 perience 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 
 impatience. That he, at the beam of whose eye every coun- 
 tenanance fell, and to whom in the fierceness of his wrath 
 no one was daring enough to reply, should now be re- 
 garded with avowed dislike, and treated with unceremonious 
 censure, 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 appeared 
 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, 
 without delay, to the rural assembly which I have already 
 mentioned in the course of my story. Miss Melville had 
 now been dead one month. Mr. Falkland had been absent 
 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 effect 
 his re-establishment, that he should easily preserve 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. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 117 
 
 There was a sort of bustle that took place at his entrance 
 into the assembly, — it having been agreed by the gentlemen 
 of the assembly that Mr. Tyrrel was to be refused admit- 
 tance, as a person with whom they did not choose to asso- 
 ciate. 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 disposi- 
 tion, 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 
 authority and ineffable 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 effectually to silence the one set, and to shake off 
 the other. His muscular form, the well-known eminence of 
 his intellectual powers, the long habTts to which every man 
 was formed of acknowledging his ascendency, were all in 
 his favour. He considered himself as playing a desperate 
 stake, and had roused all the energies he possessed, to 
 enable him to do justice to so interesting a transaction. 
 Disengaged 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 anything 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 anything personally 
 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 perti- 
 
n8 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 nent 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 condemnation 
 of his character; but they could not help admiring the 
 / ^courage and resources he displayed upon the present occa- 
 / sion. They could without difficulty have concentered afresh 
 
 U 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." 
 
 "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 them." 
 
 "Mr. what do you call yourself, if you have anything 
 to say to me, choose a proper time and place. Do not think 
 to put on your bullying airs under shelter of this company ! 
 I will not endure it." 
 
 "You are mistaken, sir. This public scene is the only 
 place where I can have anything to say to you. If you 
 would not hear the universal indignation of mankind, you 
 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 unresentful temper, 
 and not run distracted with remorse? Have you not killed 
 her in the first bloom of her youth? Can you bear to 
 think that she now lies mouldering in the grave through 
 your cursed contrivance, that deserved a crown, ten thou- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 119 
 
 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 face of man! Why, what a 
 pitiful figure do you make at this moment! Do you think 
 that anything could bring so hardened a wretch as you 
 are to shrink from reproach, if your conscience were not 
 in confederacy with them that reproached you? And were 
 you fool enough to believe that any obstinacy, however 
 determined, could enable you to despise the keen rebuke 
 of justice? Go, shrink into your miserable self! Begone, 
 and let me never be blasted with your sight again!" 
 
 And here, incredible as it may appear, Mr. Tyrrel began 
 to obey his imperious censurer. His looks were full of 
 wildness and horror; his limbs 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 grad- 
 ually to hootings, tumult, and a deafening noise of indig- 
 nation. At length he willingly retired from the public scene, 
 unable any longer to endure the sensations it inflicted. 
 
 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 with 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 
 
120 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 rapidity difficult to conceive, and Mr. Falkland was once 
 again 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 from 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 
 his life was calculated to make him feel it more acutely. 
 Ke had repeatedly exerted an uncommon energy and pru- 
 dence, to prevent the misunderstanding between Mr. Tyr- 
 rel and himself 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. Xp Mr. Falkland disgrac e ™^cj mnr gP t^an 
 slight 
 
 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, humiliating, and public? 
 Could Mr. Tyrrel have understood the evil he inflicted, 
 even he, under all his circumstances of provocation, could 
 scarcely have peipetrated it. Mr. Falkland's mind was 
 full of uproar like the war of contending elements, and of 
 such suffering as casts contempt on the refinements of in- 
 ventive cruelty. He wished for annihilation, to lie down 
 in eternal oblivion, in an insensibility, which, compared 
 with 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 memorable 
 evening. Mr. Falkland was baffled of the vengeance that 
 yet remained to him. Mr. Tyrrel was found by some of 
 the company dead in the street, having been murdered at the 
 distance of a few yards from the assembly house. 
 
CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 I SHALL endeavour to state the remainder of this nar- 
 rative in the words of Mr. Collins. The reader has 
 already had occasion to perceive that Mr. Collins was 
 a man of no vulgar order; and his reflections on the subject 
 were uncommonly judicious. 
 
 "This day was the crisis of Mr. Falkland's history. 
 From hence took its beginning that gloomy and unsociable 
 melancholy, of which he has since been the victim. No 
 two characters can be in certain respects more strongly \$ 
 contrasted, than the Mr. Falkland of a d ate prior and sub-^ 
 sequent to these" BVWiLs. IUllMlo he 1 had oeen attended 
 b^d fuitum pupctually 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 subd ued. 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-transport- 
 ing 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 
 happiness, few men could exhibit a more consistent and 
 powerful claim than Mr. Falkland. 
 
 "He was too deeply pervaded with the idle and grmmd- 
 less romances of chivalry ever to forget the situation, hu- 
 121 
 
122 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 miliating and dishonourable according to his ideas, in which 
 he had been placed upon this occasion. There is a mys- 
 terious sort of divinity annexed to the person of a true 
 knight, that makes any species of brute violence committed 
 upon it indelible and immortal. Tn Kp fr^^ir^ flpya, 
 cuffed, kicke d, dragged a long the flo or] S arrpH fTpavpr^ 
 the memory ol such a Lealllient was 1 iiutto 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 of human improvement, it is 
 probable that that calamity will be in a manner unintelli- 
 gible, 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 down 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 
 Themistocles, the most gallant of the Greeks; who, when 
 Eurybiades, his commander-in-chief, in answer to some of 
 his remonstrances, lifted his cane over him with a menacing 
 air, 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 calamity and pain ; shall I not be able to endure 
 the trifling inconvenience that your folly can inflict upon 
 me? Perhaps a human being would be more accomplished, 
 if he understood the science of personal defence; but how 
 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 directed by 
 the principles of reason and benevolence? Besides, how 
 narrow would be the use of this science when acquired? It 
 will scarcely put the man of delicate make and petty 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 123 
 
 stature upon a level with the athletic pugilist; and if it 
 did in some measure secure me against the malice of a 
 single adversary, still my person and my life, so far as mere 
 force is concerned, would always be at the mercy of two. 
 Further than immediate defence against actual violence, it 
 could never be of use to me. The man who can deliberately 
 meet his adversary for the purpose of exposing the person 
 of one or both of them to injury tramples upon every prin- 
 ciple of reason and equity. Duell ing is the vilest_ of a ll 
 e ffotjsm. tr eating the public, who 
 ana exertions, 
 
 powers 
 
 of ratllBl '9,T1 "UMelligible chimera I annex to myself, as if 
 it were entitled to my exclusive attention. I am unable 
 $ cope"^teh you: what then? CanJ ;hat riVrnrr^tanrpjj|*- 
 honourmej/ No; I can only be dishonoured by perpe- 
 trating an unjust action. My honour is in my own keep- 
 ing, beyond the reach of all mankind. Strike! I am 
 passive. No injury that you can inflict shall provoke me to 
 expose you or myself to unnecessary evil. I refuse that; 
 but I am not therefore pusillanimous: when I refuse any 
 danger or suffering by wmcTTT3ie~general good may be pro- 
 moted, then brand me for a coward!' 
 
 "These reasonings, however simple and irresistible they 
 must be found by a dispassionate inquirer, are little re- 
 flected on by the world at large, and were most of all un- 
 congenial to the prejudices of Mr. Falkland. 
 
 "But the public disgrace and chastisement that had been 
 imposed upon him, intolerable as they were to be recollected, 
 were not the whole of the mischief that redoundecpto 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 its 
 being concealed from him. He heard it with inexpressible 
 astonishment and horror; it formed a dreadful addition to 
 the load of intellectual anguish that already oppressed him 
 No man had ever held his reputation more dear than Mr 
 
 to k 
 
 im - & 
 
124 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Falkland; and now, in one day, he was fallen under the 
 mosJ^^exqttSrte calamities, a complicated personal insult, 
 and the imputation of the foulest of crimes. He might 
 have fled ; for no one was forward to proceed against a man 
 so adored as Mr. Falkland, or in revenge of one so univer- 
 sally execrated as Mr. Tyrrel. But flight he disdained. In 
 the meantime the affair was of the most serious magnitude, 
 and the rumour unchecked seemed daily to increase in 
 strength. Mr. Falkland appeared 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 memory of which he deprecated; 
 at the same time that he was sufficiently willing to meet 
 the severest scrutiny, 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 desire 
 <C^Ji£jftseTitcr appe^Fbrf©f | «-4h£ta-«* i, wier uf'their meetings. The 
 proceeding being thus opened, Mr. Falkland expressed his 
 hope that, if the business were likely to stop there, their in- 
 vestigation might at least be rendered as solemn 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 
 apprized 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 magistrates investigated the particulars of the story. 
 Mr. Falkland, it appeared, had left the rooms immediately 
 after his assailant; and though he had been attended by 
 one or two of the gentlemen to his inn, it was proved that 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 125 
 
 he had left them upon some slight occasion as soon as he 
 arrived at it; and that, when they inquired for him of the 
 waiters, 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 afterward suppressed it. I have one of the copies 
 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 himselfT He did not, in the strict sense of the 
 word, hesitate ; but he was prompted to make some apology 
 for what he was doing. 
 
 "You seem never to have heard of this memorable transac- 
 tion; and, indeed, that is little to be wondered at, since 
 the good-nature of the world is interested in suppressing 
 it, and it is deemed a disgrace to a man to have defended 
 himself from a criminal imputation, though with circum- 
 stances the most satisfactory and honourable. It may be 
 supposed that this suppression is particularly acceptable to 
 Mr. Falkland; and I should not have acted in contradiction 
 to his modes of thinking in communicating the story to you, 
 had there not been circumstances of peculiar 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 thatf \ 
 any human creature is capable of perpetrating. I am inno- >j- 
 cent. I have no fear that I shall fail to make every person in 
 this company acknowledge my innocence. In 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 anything be 
 more deplorable than for me to answer to a charge of mur- 
 
126 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 der? 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 prevent 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 am now to gain! I have 
 called no witnesses to my character. Great God! what sort 
 of character is that which must be supported by witnesses? 
 But, if I must speak, look round the company, ask of every 
 one present, inquire of your own hearts! Not one word of 
 reproach was ever whispered against me. I do not hesitate 
 to call upon those who have known me most, to afford me 
 the most honourable testimony. 
 
 " 'My life has been spent in the keenest and most unin- 
 termitted sensibility to reputation. I am also 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 re- 
 membered that I have been brought to examination upon a 
 charge of murder. Your decision can never have the efficacy 
 to prevent the miserable remains of my existence from be- 
 ing 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 
 J /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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 127 
 
 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 recom- 
 mendations 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 having that 
 impatience regarded as confirming a charge of murder. 
 Gentlemen, if by your decision you could take away my 
 life, without that act being connected with my disgrace, I 
 would bless the cord that stopped the breath of my existence 
 for ever. 
 
 ^JilYpu all know how easily I might have fled from this 
 (purgation) If I had been guilty, should I not have embraced ty 
 tEe~b^portunity? But, as it was, I could not. Reputation^ f 
 has been^the ido^ {he jVwpI nf r^ y life. I_c juld nei'eT lia've j 
 "*'15t5ffTeK) think that a human creature, in the remotest part \ 
 of the globe, should believe that I was a criminal. Alas! \ 
 what a deity it is that I have chosen for my worship! I ^ 
 have entailed upon 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 ^ n nny r | thp pmpty remains 
 jif honour T have now to boast r is inj^ oiu^JuHgment. and 
 you will each of you, from this day, have imposet 
 selves 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 before 
 you is devoted to perpetual barrenness and blast! He has 
 nothing to hope for beyond the feeble consolation of this 
 day!' 
 
 "You will easily imagine that Mr. Falkland was dis- 
 charged with every circumstance of credit. Nothing is more 
 
128 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to be deplored in human institutions, than that the ideas of 
 mankind should have annexed a sentiment of disgrace to a 
 purgation thus satisfactory and decisive. No one entertained 
 the shadow of a doubt upon the subject, and yet a mere 
 concurrence of circumstances made it necessary that the best 
 of men should be publicly put on his 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 farther distance from the crimi- 
 nality in question. He was the fool of honour an d fame: a 
 man who m, in the pursuit of reput ation, nothing ""could 
 di vert; w ho would have purchased the character of a true, 
 "gallant, "aM~undaun ted hero, at the expense 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 unfeeling to oblige him to defend 
 himself from such an imputation! Did any man, and, 
 least of all, a man of the purest honour, ever pass in a 
 moment from a life unstained by a single act of injury, to the 
 consummation of human depravity? 
 
 "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 
 gradually became louder. As it was the expression of 
 rapturous delight, and an emotion disinterested and divine, 
 so there was an indescribable something in the very sound, 
 that carried it home to the heart, and convinced every 
 spectator that there was no merely personal pleasure which 
 ever existed that 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 con- 
 gratulations. 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 129 
 
 that took hold upon all ranks and degrees. The multitude 
 recetvedJiim^with huzzas ; they took his horses from his car- 
 riage, dragged him along in triumph, and attended him many 
 miles on his return to his own habitation. It seemed as if 
 a public examination upon a criminal charge, which had 
 hitherto been considered in every event as a brand of dis- 
 grace, was converted, in the present instance, into an occa- 
 sion of enthusiastic adoration and unexampled honour. 
 
 "Noth in g could reach the heart of Mr. Falkla nd. He 
 was not insensible to the general kindness and "exel'tlOliyj^ 
 but it was too evident that the melancholy that had taken\ 
 hold of his mind was invincible. >*A 
 
 "It was only a few weeks after rhk m.ejnnrphlf, grene that 
 the real murderer was dis^pvefecT. Every part oftrnssstory 
 was extraordinary. Tfofreal murderer was Hawkins. ^ Ie 
 was found with his son, under a feigned name, at a village 
 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 inquiries that had been set on 
 foot by the benevolence of Mr. Falkland or the insatiable 
 malice of Mr. Tyrrel, had been insufficient to discover 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 vil- 
 lage to belong to this man. The murder of Mr. Tyrrel was 
 not a circumstance that could be unknown, and suspicion 
 was immediately roused. A diligent search being made, the 
 rusty handle, with part of the blade of a knife, 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 correspond. Upon further in- 
 quiry, two rustics, who had been accidentally on the spot, 
 remembered to have seen Hawkins and his son in the town 
 that very evening, and to have called after them, and re- 
 ceived no answer, though they were sure of their persons. 
 Upon this accumulated evidence both Hawkins and his son^v^, 
 were tried, condemned, and afterward executed. In the 
 
 
130 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 interval between the sentence and execution Hawkins con- 
 fessed his guilt, with many marks of compunction; though 
 there are persons by whom this is denied; but I have taken 
 some pains to inquire into the fact, and am persuaded that 
 their disbelief is precipitate and groundless. 
 
 "The cruel injustice that this man had suffered from his 
 village-tyrant was not forgotten upon the present occasion. 
 It was by a strange fatality that the barbarous proceedings 
 
 n £J^J T y rrp1 <a^™pH npypr tq fall ^ojt QJ *lipir rnmplp- 
 
 tion- and even his death served eventually to rnnfiiiimrnrtr 
 
 jK ? miu- .i f j , i un 'in iii, a ^ rini m s tance which 1 if it^ 
 
 could ha^e,LQm£^t Q- his knowledge, would perhaps have in 
 
 Q 2, 1 3^~^- P ^ 1?rP rrmgn1prl ^'iT 1 for his untimely, .end . This 
 "poor Hawkins was surely entitled to some pity, since his 
 being finally urged to desperation, 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 unselfishness, that he had not rather come boldly for- 
 ward 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 com- 
 mitted. 
 
 "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, no 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 humanity. Everybody respects him, for his benevolence 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 131 
 
 is unalterable; but there is a stately coldness and reserve in 
 his behaviour, which makes it difficult for those about him to 
 regard him with the familiarity of affection. These symp- 
 toms 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 supposed to 
 attend upon an accusation of murder. But, sensible 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 everything he does." 
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 I HAVE stated the narrative of Mr. Collins, interspersed 
 with such other information as I was able to collect, 
 with all the exactness that my memory, assisted by cer- 
 tain memorandums I made at the time, will afford. I do 
 not pretend to warrant the authenticity 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 everything dear to me. The 
 same scrupulous fidelity restrains me from altering the man- 
 ner of Mr. Collins'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 
 service 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 happened but the other day, as it were, in the very 
 neighbourhood 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 
 feelings were successively interested for the different per- 
 sons 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 crea- 
 ture should be so shockingly perverted as Mr. Tyrrel. I 
 paid the tribute of my tears to the memory of the artless 
 
 132 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 133 
 
 Miss Melville. I found a thousand fresh reasons to admire 
 and love Mr. Falkland. 
 
 At present I was satisfied with thus considering every 
 incident in its obvious sense. But the story I had heard 
 was for ever in my thoughts, and I was peculiarly in- 
 terested to comprehend its full import. I turned it a 
 thousand ways, and examined it in every point of view. 
 In the original communication it appeared sufficiently dis- 
 tinct 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 mur-^' 
 derer! His first behaviour under the prosecution, how 
 accurately was it calculated to prepossess one in his favour ! 
 To be sure, if he were guilty, it was unpardonable in him 
 to permit a man of so much dignity and worth as Mr. Falk- 
 land to suffer under the imputation of his crime! And 
 yet I could not help bitterly compassionating the honest 
 fellow, brought to the gallows, as he was, strictly speak- 
 ing, by the machinations of that devil incarnate, Mr. Tyrrel. 
 His son, too, that son for whom 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 
 simplicity of my character. Then I recollected the virtues 
 of my master, almost too sublime for human nature; I 
 thought of his sufferings so unexampled, so unmerited; and 
 chid myself for the suspicion. The dying confession of 
 Hawkins recurred to my mind ; anHTfpl f ; ffrai. thni a ^ was no 
 longer a possibility^j^jiM^ yet what was the 
 
 meaning of a^s ^rrFalkla nd's^ agon ies and terrors? In 
 fine, the idea having once occurreTTo 1 'Tliy mlfSd, it was 
 fixed there for ever. My thoughts fluctuated from con- 
 jecture to conjecture, but this was the centre about which 
 
i 3 4 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 they revolved. I determined 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 for- 
 bidden always has its charms, because we have an indis- 
 tinct apprehension of something arbitrary and tyrannical 
 in the prohibition. To be a spy upon Mr. Falkland! That 
 there was danger in the employment served to give an allur- 
 ing pungency^ to the choice. I remembered the stern 
 reprimand I had received, and his terrible looks; and the 
 recollection gave a kind of tingling sensation, not alto- 
 gether unallied to enjoyment. The further I advanced, 
 the more the sensation was irresistible. I seemed to myself 
 perpetually upon the brink of being countermined, and 
 perpetually roused to guard my designs. The more im- 
 penetrable Mr. Falkland was determined to be, the more 
 uncontrollable was my curiosity. Through the whole, my 
 alarm and apprehension of personal danger had a large mix- 
 ture of frankness and simplicity, conscious of meaning no 
 ill,, that made me continually ready to say everything 
 that was upon my mind, and would not suffer me to believe 
 that, when things were brought to the test, any one could 
 be seriously angry with 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 rendered me cautious and 
 reserved. The distant and solemn manners of my master 
 seemed to have annihilated my constitutional gayety. 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 communi- 
 cate my thoughts; my age was, of course, inclined to 
 talkativeness; and I ventured occasionally, in a sort of 
 hesitating way, as if questioning whether such a conduct 
 might be allowed, to express my sentiments as they arose, 
 in the presence of Mr. Falkland. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 135 
 
 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 
 heart to treat with severity my innocent effusions. I 
 needed but little encouragement; for the perturbation of 
 my mind stood in want of this relief. My simplicity, aris- 
 ing from my being a total stranger to the intercourse of 
 the world, was accompanied with a mind in some degree 
 cultivated with reading, and perhaps not altogether destitute 
 of observation and talent. My remarks were therefore 
 perpetually unexpected, at one time implying extreme 
 ignorance, 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 com- 
 pare my observations, and study the inferences to which 
 they led; for the effect of old habit was more visible than 
 that of a recently 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 observa- 
 tion 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 sor- 
 rows was touched, though in a manner the most indirect and 
 remote, his countenance altered, his distemper returned, and 
 it was with difficulty that he could suppress his emotions, 
 sometimes conquering himself with painful effort, and 
 
136 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 sometimes bursting into a sort of paroxysm of insanity, 
 and hastening to bury himself in solitude. 
 
 ;ances I too frequently interpreted into 
 grounds of suspicmn, though I might with equal probability 
 "^^m^lj^QreJ^e^^fy have ascribed them to the cruel morti- 
 ficationsnenad encountered in the objects of his darling 
 ambition. Mr. Collins had strongly urged me to secrecy; 
 and Mr. Falkland, whenever my gesture or his conscious- 
 ness impressed him with the idea of my knowing more than 
 I expressed, looked at me with wistful earnestness, as 
 questioning what was the degree of information I possessed, 
 and how it was obtained. But again at our next interview 
 the simple vivacity of my manner restored his tranquillity, 
 obliterated 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 inquiry for ever in my mind, 
 or that my questions and innuendoes were perpetually 
 regulated with the cunning of a gray-headed inquisitor. 
 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 influence 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 intercourse. 
 
 I will give a specimen of the conversations to which I 
 allude; and as it shall be selected from those which began 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 137 
 
 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. 
 
 "Pray, sir," said I, one day, as I was assisting Mr. 
 Falkland in arranging some papers, previously to their 
 being transcribed into his collection, "how came Alexander 
 of Macedon to 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. 
 Doctor Prideaux says in his Connexions that he deserves A 
 only to be called the Great Cut-throat; and the author of 
 Tom Jones has written a volume, to prove that he and all t> 
 
 other conquerors ought to be classed with Jonathan Wild."-^v^«^ 
 
 Mr. Falkland reddened at these citations. wPP^t- 
 
 "Accursed blasphemy! Did these authors think that, by 
 the coarseness of their ribaldry, they could destroy hi 
 nToii.MrnpH f(\vc^ ? Are learning, sensibility, and taste no 
 securities to exempt their possessor 'from this vulgar abuse? 
 Did you ever read, Williams, of a man more gallant, gener- 
 ous, and free? Was ever mortal so completely the reverse 
 of everything engrossing and selfish? He formed to him- 
 self a sublime image of excellence, and his only ambition 
 was to realize it in his, own story. Remember his giving 
 away everything when he set out upon his grand expedi- 
 tion, professedly reserving for himself nothing but hope. 
 Recollect his heroic confidence in Philip the physician, and 
 his entire and unalterable friendship for Hephestion. He 
 treated the captive family of Darius with the most cordial 
 urbanity, and the venerable Sysigambis with all the tender- 
 ness and attention of a son to his mother. Never take the 
 judgment, Williams, upon such a subject of a clerical pedant, 
 or a Westminster justice. Examine for yourself, and you will 
 find in Alexander a model of honaux, g enerosity, and_disiii^ 
 
 \ 
 
138 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 te restedness, — a man who, for the cultivated liberality of his 
 mind, and the unparalleled grandeur of his projects, must 
 | stand alone the spectacle and admiration of all ages of the 
 world." 
 
 "Ah, sir! it is a fine thing for us to sit here and compose 
 is panegyric. But shall I forget what a vast expense was 
 estowed in erecting the monument of his fame? Was not 
 e the common disturber of mankind? Did not he overrun 
 nations that would never have heard of him but for his dev- 
 astations? 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 committed by their an- 
 cestors one hundred and fifty years before; fifty thousand 
 sold into slavery; two thousand crucified for their gallant 
 ^defence of their country? Man is surely a strange sort of 
 kreature, 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 
 that you will become more liberal. The death of a hundred 
 thousand men is at first sight very shocking; but what in 
 reality are a hundred thousand such men, more than a hun- 
 dred thousand sheep? It is mind, Williams, the generation 
 of knowledge and virtue, that we ought to love. This was 
 the project of Alexander; he set out in a great undertaking 
 to civilize mankind; he delivered the vast continent of Asia 
 from the stupidity and degradation of the Persian mon- 
 archy; and though he was cut off in the midst of his career, 
 we may easily perceive the vast effects of his project. 
 Grecian literature and cultivation, the Seleucidse, the Anti- 
 ochuses, and the Ptolemies followed, in nations which before 
 had been sunk to the condition of brutes. Alexander was the 
 builder, as not oriously as t>>p ^frroYpri f*f n'ti'T "_ 
 
 "And yet, sil 1 , 1 Rill al'lald llial the pike and the battle-axe 
 
 jire not the right instruments for making men wise. Suppose 
 
 it were admitted that the lives of men were to be sacrificed 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 139 
 
 without remorse if a paramount good were to result, it seems 1 
 to me as if murder and massacre were but a very left-handed 
 way of producing civilization and love. But pray, 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 misrepre- \ 
 sentation, for having so far eclipsed the rest of his species. 
 I t was necessary to the realizing his project, that he should 
 jass fo r a god. It was the only way by which he could get v 
 aTfirm hold upon the veneration of the stupid and bigoted 
 Persians. Tt jga^hi s, and not a mad vanity, that was th e 
 source of his proceeding? "" Mi(! IlUW amcrrlud he to struggle 
 with in this respect, in the unapprehending obstinacy 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 pursuit 
 of their own happiness. But what is worse, sir, this Alex- 
 ander, 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, sure, that a. 
 
 [ word can be said for a man whom a momentary provocation 
 
 jean hurry into the commission of murders — " 
 
 The instant 1 had uttered BIB5S WoTUS 1 Ml "w Hat it was 
 that I had done. Therewasa magnetical sympathy between 
 me and my patron, so that their effect was not sooner pro- 
 duced upon him, than my own mind reproached me with the 
 inhumanity of the allusion. 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. 
 
140 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 n 
 
 After a short but severe struggle to continue the conversa- 
 tion, Mr. Falkland began with trepidation, but afterward 
 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 determined 
 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. ¥nmjrr\re ynmr Qttted^ 
 has a fascinating power, like that ascrn 
 the rattlesnake, to draw us into a second error. It depriv* 
 ' us "oTTh^^jJxaidj^mJ&d^nt:^ in 6UT own mrwigth, 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. 
 
 "Clitus," said I, "was a man of very coarse and provoking 
 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 per- 
 ceive him seized with a convulsive shuddering, which, though 
 strongly counteracted, and therefore scarcely visible, had I 
 know not what of terrible in it. He left his employment, 
 strode about the room in anger, his visage gradually assumed 
 an expression as of supernatural barbarity, he quitted the 
 apartment abruptly, and flung the door with a violence that 
 seemed to shake the house. 
 
 "Is this," said I, "the fruit of conscious guilt, or of the 
 disgust that a man of honour conceives at guilt undeservedly 
 imputed?" 
 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 THE reader will feel how rapidly I was advancing to 
 the brink of the precipice. I had a confused ap- 
 prehension of what I was doing, but I could not 
 stop myself. "Is it possible/' said I, "that Mr. Falkland, 
 who is thus overwhelmed with a senqe-ef-the unmer&echdis* 
 hon our that has beeiijFa^eiieiLu p o n h i m in the -face-ol-the 
 woricl, will long endurethe presence of a raw and unfriended 
 youth, who is perpetually bringing back that dishonour to 
 his recollection, and who seems himself the most forward 
 to entertain the accusation ?" 
 
 I felt indeed that Mr. Falkland would not hastily incline 
 to dismiss me, for the same reason that restrained him from 
 many other actions, which might seem to savour of a too 
 tender and ambiguous sensibility. But this reflection was 
 little adapted to comfort me. That he should cherish in his 
 heart a growing hatred against me, and that he should think 
 himself obliged 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 un- 
 opened to my master, its owner. But my eagerness for in- 
 formation had been too much stimulated by the preceding 
 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 abscond- 
 ing from the persecutions of Mr. Tyrrel. It was as fol- 
 lows: — 
 
 141 
 
142 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "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 cer- 
 tain), 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 deter- 
 mined 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 to a man; but he has been too 
 much for me. 
 
 "Perhaps if I were to ride over to the market-town and 
 inquire of Munsle, your lawyer, he could tell me how to 
 direct to you. But having hoped and waited o' this fashion, 
 and all in vain, has put me upon other thoughts. I was 
 in no hurry, sir, to apply to you; for I do not love to be a 
 trouble to anybody. I kept that for my last stake. Well, 
 sir, and now that has failed me like, I 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 cabbage, 
 that if you pull it out of the ground it must die. I am 
 penniless. 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 little folks had but the 
 wit to do for ourselves, the great folks would not be such 
 maggoty 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 I lay my 
 head upon my pillow under my own little roof, my heart 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 143 
 
 smites me with the situation of my Leonard. I 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 see him; and there is one 
 man in the same quarter of the prison that looks so wicked! 
 I do not much fancy the looks of the rest. To be sure, 
 Leonard is as good a lad as ever lived. I think he will not 
 give his mind to such. But come what will, I am determined 
 he shall not stay among them twelve hours longer. I am an 
 obstinate old fool perhaps; but I have taken it into my 
 head, and I will do it. Do not ask me what. But if I were 
 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 honour, 
 might be a little 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 everything 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 myself too well ever to / 
 be tempted to do anything 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 with all mankind ; and I forgive everybody. It is like 
 enough that poor Leonard and I may have hardship enough 
 to undergo among strangers, and being obliged to hide our- 
 selves like housebreakers or highwaymen. But I defy all the 
 malice of fortune to make us do an ill thing. That consola- 
 tion 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." 
 
144 
 
 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 I read this letter with considerable attention, and it occa- 
 sioned me many reflections. To my way of thinking it con- 
 tained a very interesting picture of a blunt, downright, hon- 
 est mind. "It is a melancholy consideration," said I to my- 
 self; "but such is man! To have judged from appearances 
 one would have said, this is a fellow to have taken for- 
 tune's buffets and rewards with an incorruptible mind. And 
 yet see where it all ends! This man was capable of after- 
 ward becoming a murderer, and finished his life at the 
 gallows. O poverty! thou art indeed omnipotent! Thou 
 grindest us into desperation; thou confoundest all our 
 boasted and most deep-rooted principles; thou fillest 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 with respect to this paper, 
 I took care to dispose of it in such a manner as that it should 
 be found by Mr. Falkland; at the same time that, in obe- 
 dience 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 I saw him, and I exerted myself to lead the con- 
 versation, 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 literature and a cultivated mind 
 are the only assurance from the constancy of our principles! " 
 
 "Humph! — why, do you suppose, sir, that learning and 
 ingenuity do not often serve people rather to hide their 
 crimes than to restrain them from committing them? His- 
 tory tells us strange things in that respect." 
 
 ; 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 145 
 
 "Williams," said Mr. Falkland, a little disturbed, "you 
 are extremely given to censure and severity." 
 
 "I hope not. I 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 
 almost torn to pieces by their fellow-creatures, whom, when 
 properly understood, we find worthy of our reverence and 
 love." 
 
 "Indeed," replied Mr. Falkland, with a sigh, "when I 
 consider these things I do not wonder at the dying exclama- 
 tion of Brutus, 'O Virtu£ f J^sought thef ts a. substan ce, but 
 I findtheejan _emptv nameT r ^J3 g]^^mucri inclined to 
 b e eJ^n^"oprnio n." "" * ~~ 
 
 "Why, to be sure, sir, JmipjC£nca^andguilt are too much 
 ^c onfounde d in humanjjfe. I remember*arTartectirig storyof 
 a poor man in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, who would 
 have infallibly been hanged for murder upon the strength 
 of circumstantial evidence, if the person really concerned 
 had not been himself upon the jury and prevented it." 
 
 In saying this I touched the spring that wakened madness 
 in his mind. He came up to me with a ferocious counte- 
 nance, as if determined to force me into a confession of my 
 thoughts. A sudden pang, however, seemed to change his 
 design! He drew back with trepidation, and exclaimed, "De^ ~f [ ) 
 tested be the universe, and the laws that govern it ! Honour, 
 justice, virtue, are all the juggle of knaves! Jf it were in 
 my power I would instantly ^msh^ the whole system into 
 nothing!" 
 
 I replied, "Oh, sir! things are not so bad as you imagine. 
 The world was made for men of sense to do what they 
 will with. Its affairs cannot be better than in the direction 
 of the genuine heroes ; and as in the end they will be found 
 the truest friends of the whole, so the multitude have noth- 
 ing to do but to look on, be fashioned, and admire." 
 
 Mr. Falkland made a powerful effort to recover his tran- 
 quillity. "Williams," said he, "you instruct me well. You 
 have a right notion of things, and I have great hopes of 
 
 '■> 
 
 ** 
 
i 4 6 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 you. I will be more of a man; I will 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 I suggested did not give Mr. Falkland the proper 
 degree of delight. He suffered a temporary relapse. "Jus- 
 tice!" — he muttered. "I do not know what is justice. 
 My case is not within the reach of common remedies; per- 
 haps of none. I only know that I am miserable. I began 
 life with the best intentions and the most fervid philan- 
 thropy; and here I am — miserable — miserable beyond ex- 
 pression 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 confidant? 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 pleasure, 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 committed!" 
 
 There was an energy and determination in the gestures 
 with which these words were accompanied, that did not 
 admit of their being disputed. My mouth was closed; I 
 felt as if deprived of all share of activity, and was only able 
 silently and passively to quit the apartment. 
 
HT 
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 WO days subsequent to this conversation, Mr. 
 Falkland ordered me to be called to him. [I shall- 
 
 JL continue to speak in my narrative of the silent as ,1 
 well as the articulate part of the intercourse between us;, 
 His countenance was habitually animated and expressive, 
 much beyond that of any other man I have seen. The 
 curiosity which, as I have said, constituted my ruling pas- 
 sion, stimulated me to make it my perpetual study. It will *. 
 also most probably happen, while I am thus employed in 
 collecting the scattered incidents of my history, that I 
 shall upon some occasions annex to appearances an explana- 
 tion which I was far from possessing 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 compo- 
 sure, 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. 
 
 "Williams," 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 disturbance. 
 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 anything that relates to my 
 personal concerns. You have said many things lately in a 
 very mysterious way, and appear to know something more 
 than I am aware of. I am equally at a loss to guess how 
 
 147 
 
148 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 you came by your knowledge, as of what it consists. But 
 I think I perceive too much inclination on your part to trifle 
 with 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. It is a sort of sporting with 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. Vhat is it y ou know? 
 .What isjt you want? I have been too much exposed already 
 to unparalleled mortification and hardship, and my wounds 
 will 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. I have always 
 tried to stop myself, but the demon that possessed me was 
 too strong for me. I know nothing, sir, but what Mr. Collins 
 told me. He told me the story of Mr. Tyrrel and Miss Mel- 
 ville 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." 
 
 "Well, sir: I found a letter written by that Hawkins 
 the other day; did not that letter fall into your hands? 
 Did not you read it?" 
 
 "For God's sake, sir, turn me out of your house. Punish 
 me in some way or other, that I may forgive myself. I am a 
 foolish, wicked, despicable wretch. I confess, sir, I did read 
 the letter." 
 
 "And how dared you read it? It was indeed very wrong 
 of you. But we will talk of that by-and-by. Well, and what 
 did you say to the letter? You know, it seems, that Haw- 
 kins was hanged." 
 
 "I say, sir? Why, it went to my heart to read it. I say 
 as I said the day before yesterday, that when I see a man 
 of so much principle afterward deliberately proceeding to 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 149 
 
 the very worst of crimes, I can scarcely bear to think of 
 it." 
 
 "That is what you say? It seems, too, you know — 
 accursed 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 diabolical, 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 annihila- 
 tion I should prefer a thousand times to the being that I 
 am. As soon as I was capable of a choice, I chose honour 
 and tire e^Leem of mankind as a good 1 preterred to «H ftthprs j 
 You Know, it seems, in how many ways my 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 
 miserable and ruined, a proper subject upon which for 
 you to exercise your ingenuity, and improve your power of 
 tormenting? Was it not enough that I was publicly dis- 
 honoured? that I was deprived, by the'TVc^ 111 I'll lial iiifl ucllLU 1 
 or ^ oomo duiiun, ul Llle ^ opportunity of avenging my dis - 
 
 having in this critical moment intercepted my own venge- 
 ance by the foulest of crimes. That trial is past. Misery 
 itself has nothing worse in store for me, except what you 
 have inflicted; the seeming to doubt of my innocence, 
 which, after the fullest and most solemn examination, has 
 been completely established. You have forced me to this 
 explanation. You have extorted from me a confidence 
 which I 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 
 
150 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 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 what 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 with you? But you cannot bear to 
 live with such a miserable wretch as I am! You are not 
 disposed to put up with the caprices of a man so dissatisfied 
 and unjust!" 
 
 "Oh, sir, do not talk to me thus! Do with me anything 
 you will. Kill me, if you please." 
 
 "Kill you!" [Volumes could not describe the emotions 
 with which this echo of my words was given and received.] 
 
 "Sir, I could die to serve you! I love you more than I 
 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." 
 
 Here our conversation ended; and the impression it made 
 upon my youthful mind it is impossible to describe. I 
 thought with astonishment, even with rapture, of the atten- 
 tion and kindness towards me I discovered in Mr. Falkland, 
 through all the roughness of his manner. I could never 
 v enough wonder at finding mvself, fiumhle a s L- HMfrJay mv 
 - 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 medi- 
 tated upon my situation, that I would never prove unworthy 
 of so generous a protector. 
 
^iw- 
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN ' V)H ^ 
 
 V^ 
 
 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 im- 
 pulse, tnat 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 sensibility 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 connected with his name, he would 
 of course be perpetually uneasy, and suspect some latent 
 insinuation at every possible opportunity. He would doubt 
 and fear, lest every man with whom he conversed har- 
 boured 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 its being possible for him 
 to decide to what it amounted, — whether I had heard a 
 just or unjust, a candid or calumniatory tale. He had 
 also reason to suppose that I gave entertainment to thoughts 
 derog atory to his honour^ and that I did not form that 
 favourable judgment which the exquisite 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 I 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 would by no means depart 
 from me. 
 
 The fluctuating state of my mind produced a contention 
 
 151 
 
152 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 I 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 everything that related to his honour, saw these 
 variations, and betrayed his consciousness of them now in 
 one manner, and now in another, frequently before I was 
 myself aware, sometimes almost before they existed. The 
 situation of both was distressing; we were each of us a 
 plague to the other; and I often wondered that the for- 
 bearance and benignity of my master was not at length 
 exhausted, and that he did not determine 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 consolation in the midst of my restless- 
 ness^ r^ip^rjy is a principle 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 ap- 
 proaching to the end of its race; and as the insatiable desire 
 of satisfaction is its principle of conduct, so it promises 
 itself in that satisfaction 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 hu- 
 manity led him to rescue me from my obscurity, and place 
 
 e in his service. 
 
 A consequence produced upon me by the extraordinary 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 153 
 
 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 contrary, 
 after having carefully examined the different kinds of evi- 
 dence of which the subject was susceptible, and recollecting 
 all that had already passed upon the subject, it was not 
 without considerable pain that I felt myself unable to dis- 
 cover any way in which I could be perfectly and unalterably 
 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 knowledge of that, 
 if it really existed. But I could not endure to think, almost 
 for a moment, of that side of the alternative as true; and 
 with all my ungovernable suspicion arising from the mys- 
 teriousness of the circumstances, and all the delight which 
 a young and unfledged mind receives from ideas that give 
 scope to all that imagination can picture of terrible or 
 sublime, I could not yet bring myself to consider Mr. Falk- 
 land's guilt as a supposition attended with the remotest 
 probability. 
 
 I hope the reader will forgive me for dwelling thus long 
 on preliminary circumstances. I 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 was to c onsole my s elf in m y insup portable distress . 
 I derive a melancholy pleasure from dwelling upon the cir- 
 cumstances which imperceptibly paved the way to my ruin. 
 While I recollect or describe past scenes, which occurred 
 
154 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 in a more favourable period of my life, my attention is called 
 off for a short interval from the hopeless misfortune in which 
 I am at present involved. The man must indeed possess 
 an uncommon portion of hardness of heart, who 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 fits of 
 insanity — for such I must denominate them for want of a 
 distinct appellation, though it is possible they might not 
 fall under the definition that either the faculty or the court 
 of chancery appropriate to the term — 'became stronger and 
 more durable than ever. It was no longer practicable wholly 
 to conceal them from the family, and even from the neigh- 
 bourhood. He would sometimes, without any previous no- 
 tice, absent himself from his house for two or three days, 
 unaccompanied by servant or attendant. This was the more 
 extraordinary, as it is 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 be- 
 come 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 climbing 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 consideration 
 either of place or time; insensible to the variations 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 occupied his own mind. 
 
 At first, when we received intelligence at any time of the 
 place to which Mr. Falkland had withdrawn himself, some 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 155 
 
 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 happen to suit his 
 own inclination. Mr. Collins, whose gray hairs and long 
 services seemed to give him a sort of right to be importu- 
 nate, 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 incapable of deliberately con- 
 trolling his own words and actions. At one time he would 
 suddenly yield to his humble venerable friend, murmuring 
 grievously at the constraint 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 occa- 
 sions 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 
 drove me from him with a vehemence lofty, emphatical, and 
 sustained, beyond anything 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 when- 
 ever he was induced to such a premature return, 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 I 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 man is a murderer! 
 
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 IT was in one of the lucid intervals, as I may term them, 
 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, however, must not imagine, 
 though I have employed the word insanity in describing 
 Mr. Falkland's symptoms, that he was by any means reck- 
 oned for a madman by the generality 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 con- 
 descending, 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 conceived 
 the possibility of rendering the incident subordinate to the 
 great inquiry which drank up all the currents of my soul. 
 I said, this man is arraigned of murder, and murder is the 
 master-key that wakes distemper in the mind of Mr. 
 Falkland. I will watch him without remission, I will trace 
 all the mazes of his thought. Surely, at such a time his 
 
 156 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 157 
 
 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. 
 
 I 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 reluctance 
 to the business in which he was engaged; but there was no 
 possibility of retreating. His countenance was embarrassed 
 and anxious; he scarcely saw anybody. The examination 
 had not proceeded far before he chanced to turn his eye 
 to the part of the room where I was. It happened in this 
 as in some preceding instances — we exchanged a silent look, 
 by which we told volumes to each other. Mr. 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; I was rooted to the spot; though 
 my own life, that of my master, or almost of a whole nation 
 had been at stake, I had no power to change my position. 
 
 The first surprise, however, having subsided, Mr. Falkland 
 assumed a look of determined constancy, and even seemed 
 to increase in self-possession much beyond what could have 
 been expected from his, first entrance. This he could prob- 
 ably 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 vehemently ac- 
 cused by the brother of the deceased as having acted from 
 the most rooted malice. He swore that there had been 
 an old grudge between the 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 antagonist. 
 
 While the accuser was giving in his evidence, the accused 
 discovered every token of the most poignant sensibility. 
 
I 
 
 158 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 be- 
 traying any impatience to interrupt. I never saw a man 
 less ferocious in his appearance. He was tall, well made, 
 and comely. His countenance was ingenuous and benevo- 
 lent, 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 appear- 
 ances visible in the person of the accused, till, in the sequel, 
 those appearances were more forcibly suggested to their 
 attention. As for Mr. Falkland, he was at one moment en- 
 grossed by curiosity and earnestness to investigate the tale, 
 while at another he betrayed a sort of revulsion of senti- 
 ment, 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. 
 Indeed, he was his only enemy, and he could not tell the 
 reason that had made him so. He had employed every 
 effort to overcome his animosity, but in vain. The deceased 
 had upon all occasions sought to mortify him, and do him 
 an ill turn; but he had resolved never to be engaged in a 
 broil with him, and till this day he had succeeded. 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, 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 159 
 
 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 endeavoured 
 in various manners to harass and vex them ; they had sought 
 in vain to shake him off. The young woman was consider- 
 ably terrified. The accused expostulated with their per- 
 secutor, and asked him how he could be so barbarous as 
 to persist in frightening a woman? He replied, with an 
 insulting tone, "Then the woman should find some one able 
 to protect her; people that encouraged and trusted to such 
 a thief as that, deserved no better!" The accused tried 
 every expedient he could invent; at length he could endure 
 it no longer; he became exasperated, and challenged the 
 assailant. The challenge was accepted; a ring was formed; 
 he confided 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 
 of him. He had been anxious to go through the world in 
 an inoffensive manner, and now he had the guilt of blood 
 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 he 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 life and vigour, and the 
 next lifted 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 with agony, and he looked the statue of despair. 
 
 This was the story of which Mr. Falkland was called 
 
i6o 
 
 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 upon to be the auditor.^ Though the incidents were, for 
 the most part, wide of those which belonged to the adven- 
 tures of the preceding chapters 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, suggested a suf- 
 ficient resemblance. In each case it was a human brute per- 
 sisting in a course of hostility to a man of benevolent charac- 
 ter, and suddenly and terribly cut off in the midst of his ca- 
 jreer\\ 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 who is unable longer 
 to endure the sensations that press upon him. Then he 
 new strung his nerves to stubborn 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 side of the room where I stood; 
 and this gave an air of embarrassment to his whole figure. 
 But when the accused came to speak of his feelings, 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 master 
 was indisposed; and, at the same time, the accused was 
 ordered to be discharged. The vengeance of the brother, 
 however, as I afterward 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 affair was no sooner concluded, than I hastened 
 into the garden, and plunged into the deepest of its thickets. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 161 
 
 My mind was full, almost to bursting. I no sooner conceived 
 myself sufficiently removed from all observation, than my 
 thoughts forced their way spontaneously to my tongue, and 
 I exclaimed, in a fit of uncontrollable enthusiasm, "This is 
 the murderer; the Hawkinses were innocent! I am sure 
 of it! I will pledge my life for it! It is out! It is dis- 
 covered! 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 || n P ' 
 to the tumult of my thoughts in involuntary exclamations, rJJr cjL 
 I felt as if my animal system had undergone a total revo- ckrtfy* 
 lution. My blood boiled within me. I was conscious toa* £f^\ 
 kind of rapture for which I could not account. I was ^"^Kt^ftV? 7 
 emn, yet full of rapid emotion, burning with indignation (f^^r 
 and energy. In the very tempest and hurricane of thevvtf^ X° 
 passions, I seemed to enjoy the most soul-ravishing calm. %A(r*Q, ' 
 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 elevat ion continued for several hours, 
 but at length subsided, and gave place to more deliberate 
 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 inclinati on to turn informer. I felt 
 what I had had no previous conception of, that it was pos - 
 sible to love a murderer, and, as I then understood it, the 
 worst of murderers. I conceived it to be in the highest 
 degree absurd and iniquitous, to cut off 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 admissible 
 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 
 
162 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 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 application, that nobody but I was discerning 
 enough to see? 
 
 But all this reasoning produced no alteration in my 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! I feel it! I am sure of it!" Thus 
 was I hurried along bj' an uncontrollable destiny. The 
 state of my passions in their progressive career, the inquisi- 
 tiveness 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 
 transiently by me at a small distance. Though I had 
 scarcely caught a faint glimpse of his person, there was 
 something in the occurrence that persuaded me it was Mr. 
 Falkland. I shuddered at the possibility of his having over- 
 heard 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 Mr. 
 Falkland was not to be found. Supper and bedtime 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. 
 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 THE 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 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. Collins, 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 mysterious 
 fatality, were directed to the private apartment at the end 
 of the library. 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 instantane- 
 
 163 
 
1 64 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ously 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 surmounted 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 magazine which enclosed all for which 
 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 was at once within my reach. 
 
 I was in the act of lifting up the lid, when Mr. Falkland 
 entered, wild, 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 which 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 with his usual irre- 
 sistible energy; and, overcome as I was already by the 
 horror of the detection, I eagerly complied. 
 
 A moment after, a considerable part of the chimney tum- 
 bled with noise into the court below, and a voice exclaimed 
 that the fire was more violent than ever. These circum- 
 stances seemed to produce a mechanical effect upon my 
 patron, who, having first 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 insanity; but how indescribable are the feel- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 165 
 
 ings with which I looked back upon it! It was an in- 
 stantaneous impulse, a short-lived and passing alienation of 
 mind; but what must Mr. Falkland think of that alienation? 
 To any man a person who had once shown himself capable 
 of so wild a flight of the mind must appear dangerous: 
 how~Trlu"sTTie appear to a man under Mr. Falkland r s cir- 
 cumstances? I had just had a pistol held to my head by a 
 man resolved to put a period to nvy existence. That indeed 
 was past; but what 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 myself 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 un- 
 concerned into the midst of flames? Was it possible I 
 could have forgotten for a moment the awe-creating manners 
 of Falkland, and the inexorable fury I should awake in his 
 soul? No thought of future security had reached my mind. 
 I had acted upon no plan. I had conceived no means of 
 concealing my deed after it had once been effected. But 
 it was over now. One short minute had effected 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 sympathy. 
 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 unpractised apprehension, 
 appeared desperate, and I by contagion became alike des- 
 
1 66 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 perate. At first I had been in some degree calm and col- 
 lected, but that too was a desperate effort; and when it 
 gave way, a kind of instant insanity became its successor. 
 I had now everything to fear. And yet what was my 
 fault? 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 harboured 
 in my soul. I had always reverenced the sublime mind of 
 Mr. Falkland; I reverenced it still. My offence had merely 
 been a mistaken thirst for knowledge. Such, however, it was, 
 -~as to admit neither of forgiveness nor remission. 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 was 
 short, not aggravated by any sinister intention: but the 
 reprisals I was to suffer are long, and can terminate only 
 with my life! 
 
 In the state in which I found myself, when the recollec- 
 tion of what I had done flowed back upon my mind, I was 
 incapable of any resolution. All was chaos and uncertainty 
 within me. My thoughts were too full of horror to be 
 susceptible of activity. I felt deserted of my intellectual 
 powers, palsied in mind, and compelled to sit in speech- 
 less expectation of the misery to which I was destined. 
 To my own conception I was like a man who, though blasted 
 with lightning, and deprived for ever of the power of mo- 
 tion, should yet retain the consciousness of his situation. 
 Death-dealing despair was the only idea of which I was 
 sensible. 
 
 I was still in this situation of mind when Mr. Falkland 
 sent for me. His message roused me from my trance. In 
 recovering, I felt those sickening and loathsome sensations 
 which a man may be supposed at first to endure who should 
 return from the sleep of death. Gradually I recovered the 
 power of arranging my ideas and directing my steps. I 
 understood that the minute the affair of the fire was over 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 167 
 
 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?" 
 
 "Williams!" said he, in a tone which had more in it of 
 sorrow than resentment, "I have attempted your life! I 
 am a wretch d evoted to the scorn and execration of man- 
 kind!" There ~lle" s tupped." m 
 
 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 
 pe$ectual torture and madness. But I can put an end to 
 it t a j its consequences; and, so far at least as relates to you, 
 I u«^ determined to do it. I know the price, and — I will 
 make the purchase. 
 
 "You must swear," said he. "You must attest every sac- 
 rament, 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 
 magnitude. He wiped his face with his handkerchief. The 
 moisture that incommoded him appeared not to be tears, 
 but sweat. 
 
 "Look at me. Observe me. Is it not strange that such 
 a one as I should retain lineaments of a human creature? 
 
1 68 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 T aaa fV>A blacke st nf villains. I am the murderer of 
 Tyrrel. I am the assassin of tne Hawkinses." 
 
 I started with terror, and was silent. 
 
 "What a story is mine! Insulted, disgraced, pollute d 
 
 in thp farp p^^jmiicadfiwJUiitt^xaDable oi any act of d es- 
 
 lon . I watched my opportunity, followed Mr. Tyrrel 
 
 rom the rooms, seized a sharp-pointed knife that fell in 
 
 my way, came behind him and stabbed him to the heart. 
 
 My gigantic oppressor rolled at my feet. 
 
 "All are but links of one chain. A blow! A murder! 
 
 My next business was to defend myself, to tell so well- 
 digested a lie as that all mankind should believe it true. 
 Never was a task so harrowing and intolerable! 
 
 "Well, thus far fortune favoured me; she favoured me 
 beyond my desire. The guilt was removed from me, and 
 cast upon another; but this I was to endure. Whence 
 came the circumstantial evidence against him, the broken 
 knife and the blood, I am unable to tell. I suppose, by 
 some miraculous accident, Hawkins was passing by^ and 
 endeavoured to assist his oppressor in the agonies of [ w lth. 
 You have heard his story; you have read one of his l^;*&rs. 
 But you do not know the thousandth part of the proofs of 
 his simple and unalterable rectitude that I have known. 
 His son suffered with him; that son for the sake of whose 
 happiness and virtue he ruined himself, and would have 
 died a hundred times. — I have had feelings, but I cannot 
 describe them. 
 
 "This it is to be a gentleman! a man of honour! I was 
 
 the fool of fame. My virtue, my honesty, my everlasting 
 
 peace of mind, were cheap sacrifices to be made at the 
 
 shrine of this divinity. But, what is worse, there is nothing 
 
 that has happened that has in any degree contributed to 
 
 my cure. I am as much the fool of fame as ever. I cling 
 
 I to it to my last breath. Though I be the blackest of vil- 
 
 I lains, I will leave behin d me a spotless and illustrious name. 
 
 ; There is no crime sef malignant, no scene of blood SS 
 
 horrible, in which that object cannot engage me. It is no 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 169 
 
 matter that I regard these things at a distance with aver-\ 
 sion; — I am sure of it; bring me to the test, and I shall] 
 yield. I despise myself, but thus I am; things are gone too I 
 far to be recalled. \ 
 
 "Why is it that I am compelled to this confidence? \ 
 From the love of fame. I should tremble at the sight of 
 «iWy-^|)Isl6r or instrument of death that offered itself to 
 my hands; and perhaps my next murder may not be so 
 fortunate as those I have already committed. I had no 
 alternative but to make you my confidant or my victim. 
 It was better to trust you with the whole truth under 
 every seal of secrecy, than to live in perpetual fear of your 
 penetration or ' your rashness. 
 
 "Do you know what it is you have done? To gratify 
 a foolishly inquisitive humour, you have sold yourself. 
 You shall continue in my service, but can never share my 
 affection. I will benefit you in respect of fortune, but I 
 shall always hate you. If ever an unguarded word escape 
 from your lips, if ever you excite my jealousy or suspicion, 
 expect to pay for it by your death or worse. It is a dear 
 bargain you have made. But it is too late to look back. 
 I charge and adjure you by everything that is sacred, and 
 that is tremendous, preserve your faith! 
 
 "My tongue has now for the first time for several years 
 spoken the language of my heart; and the intercourse from 
 this hour shall be shut for ever. I want no pity. I desire 
 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 different destiny I have qualities in that re- 
 spect worthy of a better cause. I can be mad, miserable, 
 and frantic; but even in phrensy I can preserve my pres- 
 ence 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 conference. 
 
i 
 
 170 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 This dreadful appellative, "a murderer," made my very 
 blood run cold within me. "He killed Mr. Tyrrel, for he 
 ronlH not cg njrol *"& r e cpntr Mfnt And agger: he sacrificed 
 Hawfflts* the elder and Hawkins the younger, because he 
 could upon no terms endure the public loss of honour: 
 how can I exBeTf 1 Tflat a man thus passionate and unrelent- 
 sooner or later make me his victim? 
 
 ■ ■ But/ 'tTotwiths taftdiiig this- tei rible a pplication 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 mur- 
 derer!" resumed I. "He might yet be a most excellent 
 man, if he did but think so." It is the thinking ourselves 
 vicious, then, that principally contributes to make us 
 vicious. 
 
 Amid the shock I received from finding, what I had 
 never suffered myself constantly to believe, that my sus- 
 picions were true, I still discovered new cause of admira- 
 tion for my master. His menaces indeed were terrible. 
 But when I recollected the offence I had given, so con- 
 trary to every received principle of civilized society, so 
 insolent and rude, so intolerable to a man of Mr. Falkland's 
 elevation, and in Mr. Falkland's peculiarity of circum- 
 stances, I was astonished at his forbearance. There were 
 indeed sufficiently obvious reasons why he might not choose 
 to proceed to extremities with me. But how different from 
 the fearful expectations I had conceived were the calmness 
 of his behaviour, and the regulated mildness of his lan- 
 guage! 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 
 liberality, 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 will never become an in- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 171 
 
 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 has been criminal, that is owing to circumstances; the 
 same qualities under other circumstances would have been, 
 or rather were, sublimely beneficent." 
 
 My reasonings were, no doubt, infinitely more favourable 
 to Mr. Falkland, than those which human beings are accus- 
 tomed 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 es- 
 tablished 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 beneficent 
 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 com- 
 parison the most fertile and accomplished I had ever known. 
 
 But though the terrors which had impressed me were con- 
 siderably alleviated, my situation was notwithstanding suf- 
 ficiently 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." I was 
 tormented with a secret, of which 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 which I 
 had extorted from him a confession, and whose lightest 
 caprice might at any time decide upon everything that 
 was dear to me. The vigilance even of a public and sys- 
 tematical 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 
 
172 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 to invent a refuge. I dared neither fly from the observation 
 of Mr. Falkland, nor continue exposed to its operation. 
 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 I am now to relate are 
 among the most memorable. 
 
CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 IN no long time after the disclosure Mr. Falkland had 
 made, Mr. Forester, his elder brother by the mother's 
 side, came to reside for a short period in our family. 
 This was a circumstance peculiarly adverse to my patron's 
 habits and inclinations. He had broken off, as I have 
 already said, all intercourse of visiting with his neighbours. 
 He debarred himself every kind of amusement and relaxa- 
 tion. He shrunk from the society of his fellows, and 
 thought he could never be sufficiently buried in obscurity 
 and solitude. This principle was, in most cases, of no diffi- 
 cult 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 apart- 
 ment 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 residence at his house would be little agreeable to 
 his kinsman; and Mr. Forester conceived that this was a 
 disqualification which would always augment in proportion 
 as it was tolerated, and hoped that his society, by inducing 
 Mr. Falkland 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 indi- 
 
 173 
 
 -? 
 
V 
 
 174 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 cated the singularity of his disposition. His figure was 
 short and angular. His eyes were sunk far into his head, 
 and were overhung with eyebrows, 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 appearance and manners, one would have thought that 
 he had never moved from his fireside. 
 
 His temper was acid/petulant) and harsh. He was easily 
 offended by trifles, respecting which, previously to the 
 offence, the persons with whom he had intercourse could 
 have no suspicion of such a result. When offended, his 
 customary behaviour 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 
 benefits, but not disclosed, lest an undue advantage should 
 be taken of it by its object. 
 
 With this rugged outside, Mr. 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, with weightiness of expression, a dryness of charac- 
 teristic humour, that demonstrated at once the vividness of 
 his observation and the force of his understanding. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 175 
 
 The peculiarities of this gentleman's character were not 
 undisplayed in the scene to which he was now introduced. 
 Having much kindness in his disposition, he soon became 
 deeply interested in the unhappiness of his relation. He 
 did everything 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 how- 
 ever 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 exhortations found 
 no sympathetic chord in the mind of my patron. He had 
 not the skill to carry conviction to an understanding 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 diminu- 
 tion of his affection for him, and was sincerely grieved to 
 find that he was 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 visiter 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 contempla- 
 tion and solitude. He put upon himself some degree of 
 
176 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 restraint upon the arrival of his kinsman, though even then 
 his darling habits would break out. But when they had 
 seen each other a certain number of times, and it was suffi- 
 ciently evident that the society of either would be a burthen 
 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 inclination. Mr. Falkland was, in a sense, the great- 
 est 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 at a loss. He had all the disadvantages of retire- 
 ment, without being able, as he might have done at his 
 house, to bring his own associates or his own amusements 
 about him. 
 
 In this situation he cast his eyes upon me. It was his 
 principle to do everything that his thoughts suggested, 
 without caring for the forms 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 was deeply impressed 
 with the venerableness of old institutions. Reduced 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 correspondence 
 was sufficiently characteristical. It was abrupt; but it was 
 strongly stamped with essential benevolence. It was blunt 
 and humorous; but there was attractiveness, especially in 
 a case of unequal intercourse, in that very rusticity by which 
 he levelled himself with the mass of his species. He had 
 to reconcile himself as well as to invite me ; not to reconcile 
 himself to the postponing an aristocratical vanity, for of 
 that he had a very slender portion, 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 distinc- 
 
t 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS 177 
 
 tion that was paid me. My mind had been relaxed into 
 temporary dejection, but my reserve had no alloy of mo- 
 roseness 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 re- 
 flections; 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 Mr. Forester 
 wanted, a diligent and zealous hearer. I was strongly sus- 
 ceptible of impression; and the alternate impressions my 
 mind received, visibly displayed themselves in my counte- 
 nance 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. 
 Everything he had to relate delighted me; while, in return, 
 my sympathy, my eager curiosity, and my unsophisticated 
 passions rendered me to Mr. Forester a most desirable 
 hearer. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that every 
 day rendered our intercourse more intimate and cordial. 
 
 Mr. Falkland 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 with 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 
 
178 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 shuddering; an emotion which his guest perceived, and 
 pitied as the result of habit and disease, rather than of 
 judgment. None of his actions passed unremarked; the 
 most indifferent excited uneasiness and apprehension. The 
 first overtures of intimacy between me and Mr. Forester 
 probably gave birth to sentiments of jealousy in the mind 
 of my master. The irregular, variable character of his 
 visiter 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 expected 
 that I 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 
 penance 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 Mr. Falkland demanded. In early life I had been 
 accustomed to be much my own master. When I first 
 entered into Mr. Falkland's service, my personal habits 
 were checked by the novelty of my situation, and my 
 affections were gained by the high accomplishments of my 
 patron. To novelty and its influence, curiosity had suc- 
 ceeded: curiosity, so long as it lasted, was a principle 
 stronger in my bosom than even the love of independence. 
 To that I would have sacrificed my liberty or my life; to 
 gratify it, I would have submitted to the condition of a 
 West Indian negro, or to the tortures inflicted by North 
 American savages. 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 to 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 179 
 
 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? Were 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 everything 
 that can make life a blessing. I was prepared for an 
 amicable adjustment of interests: I would undertake that 
 Mr. Falkland should never sustain injury through my 
 means; but I expected 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. Mr. Falkland observed 
 these symptoms with visible perturbation. Whenever I was 
 conscious of their 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, with a look of myste- 
 rious 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 
 
180 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 always be the butt of your simplicity and inexperience, nor 
 suffer 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 escaping 
 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 torment, of which 
 as yet you have not the remotest idea. Remember! I 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 effect. I withdrew in silence. My whole soul re- 
 volted against the treatment I endured, and yet I could not 
 utter a word. Why could not I speak the expostulations 
 of my heart, or propose the compromise I meditated? It 
 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 bs 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 required 
 that he should purchase my kindness; but he preferred to 
 govern me by terror, and watch me with unceasing anxiety. 
 I ruminated with the most mournful sensations 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 several 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 ascendency. If I encountered him, what 
 chance had I of victory? If I were defeated, what was the 
 
 I 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 181 
 
 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 con- 
 demned 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 would 
 never calumniate Jiim in matters of the most trivial import, 
 much less betray the grand secret upon which everything 
 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, whatever might be 
 the risk. If I were worsted in the contest, I would at least 
 have the consolation of reflecting that I had exerted myself 
 with 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 inces- 
 santly upon plans of deliverance, but I was anxious that my 
 choice should not be precipitately made. 
 
 It was during this period of my deliberation and uncer- 
 tainty that Mr. Forester terminated his visit. He observed 
 a strange distance in my behaviour, and, in his good- 
 natured, 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 
 explanation, but I was now as ingenious in avoiding as I 
 had before been ardent to seek him; and he quitted our 
 house, as he afterward 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 its 
 being possible for a bystander to penetrate the reason. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 MR. FORESTER had left us about three weeks, when 
 Mr. Falkland sent me upon some business to an 
 estate he possessed 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 visiter. 
 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 sur- 
 rounding objects. The first determination of my mind was 
 to escape from the lynx-eyed jealousy and despotism of 
 Mr. Falkland; 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 before 
 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 no ordinary dimensions. Before 
 me, scarcely a single track could be found, to mark that any 
 human being had ever visited the spot. As the best expedi- 
 ent 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 enclosure. 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 gray and cloudy atmosphere; I was in- 
 duced to continue along the skirts of the wood, and sur- 
 mounted with some difficulty the hedges and other obstacles 
 
 182 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 183 
 
 that from time to time presented themselves. My thoughts 
 were gloomy and disconsolate ; the dreariness of the day, and 
 the solitude which surrounded me, seemed to communicate 
 a sadness to my soul. I had proceeded a considerable way, 
 and was overcome with hunger and fatigue, when I dis- 
 covered a road and a little inn at no great distance. I 
 made up to them, and upon inquiry found that, instead of 
 pursuing the proper direction, I had taken one that led to 
 Mr. Forester's rather than to my own habitation. I 
 alighted, 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 inquired what acci- 
 dent had brought 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 was, by Mr. 
 Forester's order, prepared for me; I sat down, and partook 
 of it. Still this thought dwelt upon my recollection: — "Mr. 
 Falkland will never be made acquainted with our meeting; 
 I have an opportunity thrown in my way, which if I do not 
 improve, I shall deserve all the consequences that may re- 
 sult. I can now converse with a friend, and a powerful 
 friend, without fear of being watched and overlooked." 
 What wonder that I was tempted to disclose, not Mr. Falk- 
 land's secret, but my own situation, and receive the advice 
 of a man of worth and experience, which 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 I had before taken pleasure in his com- 
 munications. I replied, that I could give him but an im- 
 perfect satisfaction upon these points; but what I could, 
 I would willingly explain. The fact, I proceeded, was, 
 
1 84 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 that there were reasons which rendered it impossible for 
 me to have a tranquil moment under the roof of Mr. 
 Falkland. I had revolved the matter again and again in 
 my mind, and was finally convinced 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 Mr. 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 re- 
 serve. 
 
 He appeared to muse for a moment upon what I had said, 
 and then asked what reason I could have to complain of 
 Mr. 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 I 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 con- 
 tinued to live with him. 
 
 I observed Mr. Forester gaze upon me eagerly with curi- 
 osity and surprise; but this circumstance I did not think 
 proper to notice. Having recovered himself, he inquired, 
 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; add- 
 ing, that he would undertake to remove that difficulty, as 
 well as to provide me with a more agreeable appointment. 
 This suggestion produced in me a serious alarm. I replied, 
 that I must entreat him upon no account to think of apply- 
 ing to Mr. Falkland upon the subject. I added, that per- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 185 
 
 haps I was only betraying my imbecility; but, in reality, 
 unacquainted as I was with experience and the world, I 
 was afraid, though disgusted wtih my present residence, to 
 expose myself, upon a mere project of my own, to the re- 
 sentment of so considerable a man as Mr. Falkland. If he 
 would favour me with 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 re- 
 quest; and, thus encouraged, I would venture to obey the 
 dictates of my inclination, and fly in pursuit of my 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 fierce- 
 ness of manner and voice, he thus addressed me: " Young 
 man, perhaps you are ignorant of the nature of the conduct 
 you at present hold. Maybe you do not know that where 
 there is mystery, there is always something at bottom that 
 will not bear the telling. Is this the way to obtain the 
 favour of a man of consequence and respectability? To pre- 
 tend to make a confidence, and then tell him a disjointed 
 story that has not common sense in it!" 
 
 I answered, that, whatever were the amount of that prej- 
 udice, I must submit. I placed my hope of a candid con- 
 struction, in the present instance, in the rectitude of his 
 nature. 
 
 He went on: "You do so; do you? I tell you, sir, the 
 rectitude of my nature is an enemy to disguise. Come, 
 boy, you must know that I understand these things better 
 than you. Tell all, or expect nothing from me but censure 
 and contempt." 
 
 "Sir," replied I, "I have spoken from deliberation; I have 
 told you my choice, and, whatever be the result, I must 
 abide by it. If in this misfortune you refuse me your 
 assistance, here I must end, having gained by the communi- 
 cation only your ill opinion and displeasure." 
 
1 86 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 foolish, 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 dislike is in 
 your favour. How long it will last I cannot tell; I engage 
 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 ap- 
 pearances 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. With- 
 out the smallest notice, and as if he had dropped upon us 
 from the clouds, Mr. Falkland burst into the room. I found 
 afterward 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. For- 
 ester 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 unaccount- 
 able in the world. 
 
 I instantly foresaw the dreadful complication of misfor- 
 tune that was included in this event. To Mr. Falkland, the 
 meeting between me and his relation must appear not acci- 
 dental, 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 
 suppose I came to that place? The truth, if told, that I 
 came there without design, and purely in consequence of 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 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 inter- 
 course which had been so severely forbidden. But in this in- 
 stance 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! "TTThad been forbidden with the most 
 dreadful menaces; and Mr. Falkland was not ignorant how 
 deep an impression those menaces had made upon my 
 imagination. Such a meeting, therefore, could not have 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 crime, such was the agony 
 my appearance was calculated to inspire ; and it was reason- 
 able 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 different circumstances 
 is often so various as to render it very difficult to be 
 accounted for. Mr. Falkland, in this to him terrible crisis, 
 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 otherwise, 
 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 overcome; I yielded, as in a 
 former instance, to the discomfiting influence of surprise. I 
 dared scarcely breathe; I observed the appearances with 
 equal anxiety and surprise. Mr. Falkland quietly ordered 
 
1 88 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 me to return home, and take along with me the groom he 
 had brought with him. I obeyed in silence. 
 
 I afterward 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 everything 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 watchful, 
 inquisitive, and doubting; and partly perhaps was adopted 
 for the sake of the effect it was calculated to produce, Mr. 
 Falkland not being unwilling to encourage prejudices 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 
 send with me a guard to attend upon his prisoner. I seemed 
 as if conducting to one of those fortresses, famed in the 
 history of despotism, from which the wretched victim is 
 never known to come forth alive; and when I entered my 
 chamber, I felt as if I were entering a dungeon. I reflected 
 that I was at the mercy of a man, exasperated at my dis- 
 obedience, and who was already formed to cruelty by suc- 
 cessive murders. My prospects were now closed ; I was cut 
 off for ever from pursuits that I had meditated with in- 
 effable 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 cata- 
 logue of the living, and my fate remain eternally a secret; 
 the man who added my murder to his former crimes would 
 show himself the next morning, and be hailed with the ad- 
 miration and applause of his species. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 189 
 
 In the midst of these terrible imaginations, one idea pre- 
 sented itself that alleviated my feelings. This was the recol- 
 lection of the strange and unaccountable tranquillity which 
 Mr. Falkland had manifested when he discovered me in com- 
 pany with Mr. Forester. I was not deceived by this. I 
 knew that the calm was temporary, and would be succeeded 
 by a tumult and whirlwind of the most dreadful sort. But 
 a man under the power of such terrors 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, be- 
 cause I already stood in fear of the vengeance of Mr. 
 Falkland, to risk the possibility of provoking it in a degree 
 still more inexpiable, and terminate at once my present 
 state of uncertainty. I had now opened my case to Mr. 
 Forester, and he had given me positive assurances of his 
 protection. I determined immediately to address the follow- 
 ing letter to Mr. Falkland. The consideration, that if he 
 meditated anything 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 unpleas- 
 ing 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 
 severity. My heart is impressed with gratitude for your 
 favours. I sincerely ask your forgiveness for the many \ 
 
i go ADVENTURES OF 
 
 errors of my conduct. I consider the treatment I have re- 
 ceived 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 life. 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. 
 
 The next morning I was informed that my patron did not 
 come home till late; that he had inquired for me, and, 
 being told that I was in bed, had said nothing further upon 
 the subject. Satisfied in this respect, I went to the break- 
 fasting-parlour, and, though full of anxiety and trepidation, 
 endeavoured to busy myself in arranging the books, and a 
 few other little occupations, till Mr. Falkland should come 
 down. After a short time I heard his step, which I per- 
 fectly well knew how to distinguish, in 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 inquiring for me. In conformity to the plan I had 
 persuaded myself to adopt, I now laid the letter I had 
 written upon the table at which he usually sat, and made 
 my exit at one door as Mr. Falkland entered the other. This 
 done, I withdrew, with flutterings and palpitation, to a 
 private apartment, a sort of light closet at the end of the 
 library, where I was accustomed not unfrequently to sit. 
 
 I had not been here three minutes when I heard the voice 
 of Mr. Falkland calling me. I went to him in the library. 
 His manner was that of a man labouring with some dread- 
 ful thought, and endeavouring to give an air of carelessness 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 191 
 
 and insensibility to his behaviour. Perhaps no carriage of 
 any other sort could have produced a sensation of such in- 
 explicable 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, "I believe now you have played 
 all your tricks, and the farce is nearly at an end ! With your 
 apishness and absurdity, however, you have taught me one 
 thing; and whereas before I have winced at them with tor- 
 ture, I am now as tough as an elephant. I shall crush 
 you in the end with the same indifference that I would any 
 other little insect that disturbed my serenity. 
 
 "I am unable to tell what brought about your meeting 
 with Mr. Forester yesterday. It might be design; it might 
 be accident. But I shall not forget it. You write me 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 as long 
 as you exist. That is my will ; and I will not have 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 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. 
 
 "Do not imagine I am afraid of you! I wear an armour 
 against which all your weapons are impotent. I have dug a 
 
 pit fnrvmi; anfl whir*— ™ ™»y™" — twlflf 70 ^ ™ ^I'j^f 
 
 stjUJ If once you fall, call as loud as you will, no man on 
 earth shall hear your cries; prepare a tale however plausible, 
 or however true, the whole world shall execrate you for an 
 impostor. Your innocence shall be of no service to you; I 
 laugh at so feeble a defence. It is I that say it; you may 
 believe what I tell you. — Do you not know, miserable 
 wretch! " added he, suddenly altering his tone, and stamping 
 upon the ground with fury, "that I have sworn to preserve 
 my reputation, whatever be the expense; that I love it more 
 
V 
 
 192 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 than the whole world and its inhabitants taken together? 
 And do you think that you shall wound it? Begone, mis- 
 creant! reptile! and cease to contend with insurmountable 
 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 imperious 
 carriage of Mr. Falkland, and unable to utter a word? The 
 reader will be presented with many occasions in the sequel, 
 in which I wanted neither facility in the invention of ex- 
 pedients, nor fortitude in entering upon my justification. 
 Persecution at length gave firmness to my character, and 
 taught me the better part of manhood. But in the present 
 instance I was irresolute, overawed, and abashed. 
 
 The speech I had heard was the dictate of phrensy, and 
 it created in me a similar phrensy. 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 sub- 
 jugation he imposed on me. It was in vain that my reason 
 warned me of the rashness of a measure to be taken with- 
 out concert or preparation. I seemed to be in a state in 
 which reason had no power. I felt as if I could coolly sur- 
 vey 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 energetic 
 than you. , 
 
 I was not long in executing what I had thus rapidly de- 
 termined. I 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 opportunity 
 was useless to me ; my mind was fixed, and each succeeding 
 moment only increased the unspeakable eagerness with 
 which I meditated my escape. The hours usually ob- 
 served by our family in this country residence were regular; 
 and one in the morning was the time I selected for my 
 undertaking. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 193 
 
 In searching the apartment where I slept, I had formerly 
 discovered a concealed door, which led to a small apartment 
 of the most secret nature, not uncommon in houses so old 
 as that of Mr. Falkland, and which had perhaps served as 
 a refuge from persecution, or a security from the inveterate 
 hostilities of a barbarous age. I believed no person was 
 acquainted with this hiding-place but myself. I felt unac- 
 countably impelled to remove into it the different articles 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. Hav- 
 ing 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 believe 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 ascendency 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 TWENTY-ONE 
 
 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 believed I should be 
 most safe from discovery, if the vengeance of Mr. Falkland 
 should prompt him to pursue me; and I did not doubt, 
 among the multiplied resources of the metropolis, to find 
 something which should suggest to me an eligible mode of 
 disposing of my person and industry. I reserved Mr. For- 
 ester in my arrangement as a last resource, not to be called 
 forth unless for immediate protection from the hand of 
 persecution and power. I was destitute of that experience 
 of the world which can alone render us fertile in resources, 
 or enable us to institute a just comparison between the re- 
 sources that offer themselves. I was like the fascinated 
 animal, that is seized with the most terrible apprehensions at 
 the same time that he is incapable of adequately consider- 
 ing for his own safety. 
 
 The mode of my proceeding being digested, I traced, with 
 a cheerful heart, the unfrequented path it was now neces- 
 sary for me to pursue. The night was gloomy, and it 
 drizzled with rain. But these were circumstances I had 
 scarcely the power to perceive ; all was sunshine and joy with 
 me. I hardly felt the ground; I repeated to myself a 
 thousand times, "I am free. What concern have I with 
 danger and alarm? I feel that I am free: I feel that I will 
 continue so. What power is able to hold in chains a mind 
 ardent and determined? What power can cause that man 
 to die whose whole soul commands him to continue to live?" 
 I looked back with abhorrence to the subjection in which I 
 had been held. I did not hate the author of my misfor- 
 tunes — truth and justice acquit me of that; I rather pitied 
 
 194 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 195 
 
 the hard destiny to which he seemed condemned. But I 
 thought with unspeakable loathing of those errors, in con- 
 sequence of which every man is fated to be more or less the V 
 tyrant or the slave. I was astonished at the folly of my 
 species, that they did not rise up as one man, and shake off 
 chains so ignominious and misery so insupportable. So far 
 as related to myself, I resolved — and this resolution has 
 never been entirely forgotten by me — to hold myself dis- 
 engaged 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 
 everything was quiet; no sound of anything human saluted 
 my ear. It was with difficulty that I gained admittance into 
 the yard of the inn, where I found a single ostler taking 
 care of some horses. From him I received the unwelcome 
 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 occurring only three times a week. This intelli- 
 gence gave the first check to the rapturous inebriation 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 immediate 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 persecution 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 
 
196 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 myself, and that I should nevermore hear the repetition of 
 a name which had been so fatal to my peace. 
 
 Thus circumstanced, I conceived frugality to be an object 
 by no means unworthy of my attention, unable as I was to 
 prognosticate what discouragements and delays might pre- 
 sent themselves to the accomplishment of my wishes, after 
 my arrival in London. For this and other reasons, I deter- 
 mined to adhere to my design of travelling by the stage; it 
 only remaining for me to consider in what manner I should 
 prevent the eventful delay of twenty-four hours from becom- 
 ing, 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 different 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 my- 
 self that it was the best which, under the circumstances, 
 could be adopted, I 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 for- 
 ward at the impulse of the moment. At one time I re- 
 clined upon a bank immersed in contemplation, and at an- 
 other exerted myself to analyze the prospects which suc- 
 ceeded each other. The haziness of the morning was fol- 
 lowed by a spirit-stirring and beautiful day. With the duc- 
 tility so characteristic of a youthful mind, I forgot the 
 anguish which had lately been my continual guest, and 
 occupied myself entirely in dreams of future novelty and 
 felicity. I scarcely ever in the whole course of my existence, 
 spent a day of more various or exquisite gratification. It 
 furnished a strong, and perhaps not an unsalutary contrast, 
 to the terrors which had preceded, and the dreadful scenes 
 that awaited me. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 197 
 
 In the evening I arrived at the place of my destination, 
 and inquired for the inn at which the coach was accustomed 
 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 inquisitiveness 
 in his gesture that I did not like; and, as far as I could dis- 
 cern 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 ap- 
 pearing to answer the purpose, I afterward 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 perceived 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 suddenly rode up to me, and asked if 
 my name were Williams. 
 
 This adventure, while it had been passing, expelled the 
 gayety of my mind, and filled me with anxiety. The appre- 
 hension, however, that I felt, appeared to me groundless ; 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 precaution. 
 I determined at least to proceed to the inn, and make the 
 necessary inquiries. 
 
 I no sooner heard the sound of the horse as I entered 
 the yard, and the question proposed to me by the rider, 
 than the dreadful certainty of what I feared instantly took 
 possession of my mind. Every incident connected with my 
 
i 9 8 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 late abhorred situation was calculated to impress me with 
 the deepest alarm. My first thought was, to betake myself 
 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, I 
 might reasonably hope to get the better of him, either by the 
 firmness of my determination, or the subtlety of my inven- 
 tion. 
 
 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 conduct 
 me back to Falkland House; but no force shall ever drag 
 me to that place alive. I have not taken my resolution with- 
 out strong reasons; and all the world shall not persuade 
 me to alter it. I am an Englishman, and it is the privilege 
 of an Englishman 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 off a little of your stoutness. 
 If that does not answer, it will then be time to think what 
 is to be done next." 
 
 Thus saying, he gave me his letter, which was from Mr. 
 Forester, whom, as he told me, he had left at Mr. Falk- 
 land's house. I went into a room of the inn for the pur- 
 pose of reading it, and was followed by the bearer. The 
 letter was 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 199 
 
 to fly; 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, I pledge myself 
 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 of 
 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 
 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 ac- 
 cusation could be extorted. In that instance my conduct 
 had been highly reprehensible, and I had never looked 
 back upon it without remorse and self-condemnation. But 
 I did not believe that it was of the nature of those actions 
 which can be brought under legal censure. I 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 power, 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 
 
200 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of Mr. Forester's billet, the less could I 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 suffice to overwhelm my courage. My mind 
 seemed to undergo an entire revolution. Timid and em- 
 barrassed as I had felt myself, when I regarded Mr. Falk- 
 land 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 oppo- 
 site to each other. I would not suffer myself to believe 
 that the former could be confounded with the latter, unless 
 the innocent man first allowed himself to be subdued in 
 mind, before he was defrauded of the good opinion of man- 
 kind. Virtue rising superior to every calamity, defeating by 
 a plain unvarnished tale all the stratagems of vice, and 
 throwing back upon her adversary the confusion with which 
 he had hoped to overwhelm her, was one of the favourite 
 subjects of my youthful reveries. I determined never to 
 prove an instrument 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 immediately 
 have occasion to relate. It was thus, with the most generous 
 and undoubting spirit, that I rushed upon irretrievable 
 ruin. 
 
 "Friend," said I to the bearer, after a considerable inter- 
 val of silence, "you are right. This is, indeed, an extraordi- 
 nary letter you have brought me ; but it answers its purpose. 
 I will certainly go with you now, whatever be the conse- 
 quence. 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 201 
 
 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 magnanimous 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. 
 
 Next morning the first person I saw was Mr. 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. 
 He had arrived at the house of his brother by appointment 
 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 Mr. Falkland. But he was no sooner 
 come than he found the whole house in confusion, 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 ar- 
 rived at the same moment with Mr. Forester, with intelli- 
 gence that a person answering the description he gave had 
 been there very early in the morning, inquiring respecting 
 the stage to London. 
 
 Mr. Falkland seemed extremely disturbed at this informa- 
 tion, and exclaimed on me with acrimony, as an unthankful 
 and unnatural villain. 
 
 Mr. Forester replied, "Have more command of yourself, 
 
202 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 sir! Villain is a serious appellation, and must not be trifled 
 with. Englishmen are free; and no man is to be charged 
 with villany because he changes one source of subsistence for 
 another." 
 
 Mr. Falkland shook his head, and with a smile expressive 
 of acute sensibility, 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 discov- 
 ered — " 
 
 "Stop, sir!" interrupted Mr. Forester. "I own I thought 
 that, in a moment of acrimony, you might be employing 
 harsh epithets in a sort of random style. But if you have 
 a serious accusation to state, we must not be told of that 
 till it is known whether the lad is within reach of a hearing. 
 V J am indifferent myself about the pr>od opinion of others Tt 
 
 js what the world bestows and retracts with so little thought. 
 that I can make nojrcount of its decision J&fljlhal Hneg ^rd 
 
 authorize me lightly to pntertain an ill npini n n n f q n.Qthpr^ 
 
 The slenderest allowance I thin k T ran m ake to such aj^J 
 consign to be the example and terror of their species, is 
 that qTBeing h eaMinJ^heirjiwjLjieience. It is a wise prin- 
 ciple 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 treat- 
 ment of offenders; but -the severity I exercise in the sequel, 
 must be accompanied with impartiality and caution in what 
 is preliminary." 
 
 While Mr. Forester related to me these particulars, he 
 observed me ready to break out 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 203 
 
 • 
 
 truth, as I hope, will serve your purpose; 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 pre- 
 mature, depend upon having me mere 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 
 solemn, so big with conditional menace, did not greatly tend 
 to encourage me. I was totally ignorant of the charge to 
 be advanced against me; 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 in- 
 dividual to be the party accused and suffering, instead of 
 having, as was natural, the real criminal at his mercy. I was 
 still more astonished at the superhuman power Mr. Falk- 
 land seemed to possess, of bringing the object of his persecu- 
 tion within the sphere of his authority; a reflection at- 
 tended with some check to that eagerness and boldness of 
 spirit which now constituted the ruling passion of my mind. 
 
 But this was no time for meditation. 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. I was conducted to the library, where I 
 had passed so many happy and so many contemplative 
 hours, and found there Mr. Forester and three or four of the 
 servants already assembled, in expectation of me and my 
 accuser. Everything was calculated to suggest to me that 
 I must trust only in the justice of the parties concerned, 
 and had nothing to hope from their indulgence. Mr. Falk- 
 land entered at one door, almost as soon as I entered at 
 the other. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 MR. FALKLAND began: "It has been the principle 
 of my life never to inflict a -wilful iniurv 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 T ow fi it t^ f "viety tn j etect an o ffen der,, and , 
 _prevent other men from being i mposed upon, as I h ^y* ji^n 
 by a n appearance ot lfltEgrhV." ^ 
 
 would be better/' interrupted Mr. Forester, "to speak 
 directly to the point. We ought not, though unwarily, by 
 apologizing for ourselves, to create at such a time a prejudice 
 against an individual, against whom a criminal accusation 
 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," replied Mr. Forester, "are the grounds of your 
 suspicion?" 
 
 "The first of them is the actual loss I have sustained, in 
 notes, jewels, and plate. I have missed bank-notes to the 
 amount of nine hundred pounds, three gold repeaters of con- 
 siderable value, a complete set of diamonds, the property 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 the depredation?" 
 
 "I found him, on my coming home, upon the day when 
 everything was in disorder from the alarm of fire, in the 
 very act of quitting the private apartment where these 
 
 204 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 205 
 
 articles were deposited. He was confounded at seeing me, 
 and hastened to withdraw 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 was his errand in that place. He was at 
 first so terrified and overcome, that he could not answer 
 me. Afterward, 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 removed 
 nothing." 
 
 "Did you immediately examine to see that everything 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 therefore only 
 took out the key from the door of the apartment, having 
 first locked it, and, putting it in my pocket, hastened to go 
 where my presence seemed indispensably necessary." 
 
 "How long was it before you missed your property?" 
 
 "The same evening. The hurry of 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 Williams, rushed at 
 once upon my recollection. I immediately entered, examined 
 the trunk in which these things were contained, and, to my 
 astonishment, found the locks broken and the property 
 gone." 
 
 "What steps did you take upon this discovery?" 
 
 "I sent for Williams, and talked to him very seriously 
 upon the subject. But he had now perfectly recovered his 
 self-command, and calmly and stoutly denied all knowledge 
 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 expected 
 from a person entirely innocent, or the uneasiness that gen- 
 erally attends upon guilt. He was rather silent and re- 
 
206 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 served. 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 multit ude of innocent person s to 
 inxiety anoliiiiuslk^ My suspicion, for the present; un- 
 avoidably nxed upon him. But, in a matter of so great con- 
 sequence, I was determined not to act upon suspicion. I 
 would neither incur the possibility 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 con- 
 sider that as an indication of guilt, and proceed accordingly." 
 
 "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 visiter. I observed, with dissatis- 
 faction, the growing intercourse between 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 him severely; and I believe you ob- 
 served the change that presently after occurred in his be- 
 haviour with relation to you." 
 
 "I did, and it appeared at that time mysterious and 
 extraordinary." 
 
 "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 un- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 207 
 
 easiness of his mind, without discovering the cause, and 
 openly proposed to you to assist him in his flight, and 
 stand, in case of necessity, between him and my resentment. 
 You offered, it seems, to take him into your service; but 
 nothing, as he acknowledged, would answer his purpose that 
 did not place his retreat wholly out of my power to dis- 
 cover." 
 
 "Did it not appear extraordinary to you, that he should 
 hope for any effectual protection from me, while it remained 
 perpetually in your power to satisfy me of his unworthi- 
 ness?" 
 
 "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 pro- 
 ceeding 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 first impres- 
 sion in his favour. After all, this protection, on your part, 
 was merely reserved in case all other expedients failed. 
 He does not appear to have had any other sentiment upon 
 the subject, than that, if he were defeated in his projects 
 for placing himself beyond the reach of justice, it was better 
 to have bespoken a place in your patronage than to be des- 
 titute 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 Mr. 
 Falkland called him into the private apartment adjoining 
 
208 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to the library, and bid him bring a hammer and some nails. 
 He then showed him a trunk standing in the apartment with 
 its locks and fastenings broken, and ordered him to observe 
 and remember what he saw, but not to mention 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 instrument, with the in- 
 tention 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 circumstances 
 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 whether by that means any trace could be 
 discovered to confirm the imputation. Mr. Falkland treated 
 this suggestion slightly, saying, that if I were the thief, I 
 had, no doubt, taken the precaution to obviate so palpable 
 a means of detection. To this Mr. Forester only replied, 
 that conjecture, however skilfully formed, was not always 
 realized in the actions and behaviour 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 ap- 
 pearances 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, presently produced what was in- 
 quired 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 astonishment ap- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 209 
 
 peared to be greater than that of Mr. Falkland. That I 
 should have left the stolen goods behind me would of itself 
 have appeared incredible ; but when it was considered what a 
 secure place of concealment I had found for them, the won- 
 der diminished, and Mr. Forester observed that it was by 
 no means impossible I might conceive it easier to obtain 
 possession of them afterward than to remove them at the 
 period of my precipitate flight. 
 
 Here, however, I thought it necessary to interfere. I 
 fervently urged my right to a fair and impartial construc- 
 tion. I asked Mr. Forester whether it were probable, if I had 
 stolen these things, that I should not have contrived at least 
 to remove them along with me? And again, whether, if I 
 had been conscious they would be found among my prop- 
 erty, 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 instant, 
 with the flush of anger. 
 
 "Impartiality, young man! Yes, be sure, from me you 
 shall experience an impartial treatment! God send that 
 may answer your purpose. Presently you shall be heard at 
 full in your own 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 
 inconsistencies and oversights of any human mind, and, 
 least of all, if that mind should appear to be disturbed with 
 the consciousness of guilt. 
 
 "You observe that it was by your own direction these 
 boxes and trunks have been found: that is indeed extraordi- 
 nary. 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?" 
 
 \ 
 
210 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 I was silent. 
 
 To the rest of the persons present I 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 con- 
 ceive, through every stage of the scene, what would come 
 next, and who listened to every word that was uttered with 
 the most uncontrollable amazement. Amazement, however, 
 alternately yielded to indignation and horror. At first I 
 could not refrain from repeatedly attempting to interrupt; 
 but I was checked in these attempts by Mr. Forester; and I 
 presently felt how necessary it was to my future peace that 
 I should collect the whole energy of my mind to repel the 
 charge, and assert my innocence. 
 
 Everything 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 anything in my defence. In reply to this 
 invitation, I spoke nearly as follows: — 
 
 "I am innocent. It is in vain that circumstances are 
 accumulated 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 pro- 
 ceeded: — 
 
 "One thing more I must aver; — Mr. Falkland is not de- 
 ceived; he perfectly knows that I am innocent." 
 
 I had no sooner uttered these words than an involuntary 
 cry of indignation burst from every person in the room. 
 Mr. Forester turned to me with a look of extreme severity, 
 rnd said: — 
 
 " Young man, consider well what you are doing! It is 
 the privilege of the party accused to say whatever he thinks 
 proper; and I will take care that you shall enjoy that 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 211 
 
 privilege in its utmost extent. But do you think it will 
 conduce in any respect to your benefit to throw out such in- 
 solent and intolerable insinuations?" 
 
 "I thank you most sincerely," replied I, "for your cau- 
 tion; but I well know what it is I am doing. I make 
 this declaration, not merely because it is solemnly true, 
 but because it is inseparably connected with my vindica- 
 tion. I am the party accused, and I shall be told that I 
 am not to be believed in my own defence. I can produce 
 no other witnesses of my innocence; I therefore call upon 
 Mr. Falkland 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 in 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, re- 
 questing your consent to my departure? Should I have 
 done that if my flight had been that of a thief? I challenge 
 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. Falkland returned no immediate answer to my in- 
 terrogations. 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 conversa- 
 
212 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tion; 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 volubil- 
 ity of speech and intrepidity of manner." 
 
 Mr. Forester then turned to me: "If," said he, "you trust 
 your vindication to the plausibility of your tale, you must 
 take care to render it consistent and complete. You have 
 not told us what was the cause of the confusion and anxiety 
 in which Robert professes to have found you, why you were 
 so impatient to quit the service of Mr. Falkland, or how 
 you account for certain articles of his property 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, 
 they would not conduce to my disadvantage, and they would 
 make the present accusation appear still more astonishing. 
 But I cannot, as yet at least, prevail upon myself to tell 
 them. Is it necessary to give any particular and precise 
 reasons why I should wish to change the place of my resi- 
 dence? You all of you know the unfortunate state of Mr. 
 Falkland's mind. You know the sternness, reservedness, and 
 distance of his manners. If I had no other reasons, surely 
 it would afford small presumption of criminality 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 mate- 
 rial. 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. I only know, that as 
 I have the most perfect assurance of Mr. Falkland's being 
 conscious of my innocence, for, observe! I do not shrink 
 from that assertion; I reiterate it with new confidence — I 
 therefore firmly 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 213 
 
 looked at me with furious glances, as if they could have 
 torn me to pieces. I proceeded: — 
 
 "I have now answered everything that is alleged against 
 me. 
 
 "Mr. Forester, you are a lover of justice; I conjure you 
 not to violate it in my person. You are a man of penetra-^ 
 tion; look at me! do you see any of the marks of guilt? 
 Recollect all that has ever passed under your observation; 
 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, with- 
 out a friend in the world. That is a ground of real differ- 
 ence to a certain extent; but it is not a sufficient ground for 
 the subversion of justice. Remember, that I am in a situa- 
 tion that is not to be trifled with; that a decision given 
 against me now, in a case in which I solemnly assure you 
 I am innocent, will for ever deprive me of reputation 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 suffer a pusillanimous timidity to pre- 
 vent you from saving a fellow-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, cannot make other men perceive that he has 
 that thought. Do not you feel that my whole heart tells 
 me, I am not guilty of what is imputed to me? 
 
 "To you, Mr. Falkland, I have nothing to say: I know 
 you, and know that you are impenetrable. At the very 
 moment that you are urging such odious charges against 
 me, you admire my resolution and forbearance. But I have 
 nothing to hope from you. You can look upon my ruin 
 without pity or remorse. I am most unfortunate indeed 
 
214 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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." 
 
 Everything that could be alleged on either side being 
 now concluded, Mr. 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 circumstances 
 numerous and striking. I grant that you have shown con- 
 siderable dexterity in your answers; but you will learn, 
 young man, to your cost, that dexterity, however power- 
 ful 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 distinctions of 
 right and wrong. Take my word for it, that the true merits 
 of the case against you will be too strong for sophistry to 
 overturn; that justice will prevail, and impotent 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 uneasiness. 
 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 for your misfortune, in being obliged to hear 
 such calumnies from a person who has injured you so 
 grossly. But you must be considered in that respect as a 
 martyr in the public cause. The purity of your motives 
 and disposition is beyond the reach of malice; and truth 
 and equity will not fail to award, to your calumniator in- 
 famy, and to you the love and approbation of mankind. 
 
 "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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 217 
 
 Mr. Falkland. Defend yourself as well as you can, but uo 
 not attack your master. It is your business to create in j 
 those who hear you a prepossession in your favour. But the 
 recrimination you have been now practising will always cre- 
 ate 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 evidence 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 re- 
 tract 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 recti- 
 tude 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 de- 
 fence 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 world, I know nothing of its affairs but what 
 has reached me by rumour, or is recorded in books. I 
 have come into it with all the ardour and confidence insepa- 
 rable 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 animosity of mankind ; but, if I may 
 judge from the present scene, I am henceforth to be de- 
 
ADVENTURES OF 
 
 214 
 
 prived of the benefits of integrity arid honour. I am to for- 
 feit the friendship of every one I have hitherto known, 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 concessions. If I am to despair of the good- 
 will of other men, I will at least maintain the independence 
 of my own mind. Mr. Falkland is my implacable enemy. 
 Whatever may be his merits in other respects, he is acting 
 towards me without humanity, without remorse, and with- 
 out principle. Do you think I will ever make submissions 
 to a man by whom I 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 what I 
 had conceived of human powers. Perhaps you have chosen 
 the part which, all things considered, may serve your pur- 
 pose best; though I think more moderation would be more 
 conciliating. The exterior of innocence will, I grant, stagger 
 the persons who may have the direction of your fate, but 
 it will never be able to prevail against plain and incon- 
 trovertible facts. But I have done with you. I see in you a 
 new instance of that abuse which is so generally made of 
 talents, the admiration of an undiscerning public. I regard 
 you with horror. All that remains is, that I should dis- 
 charge my duty, in consigning you, as a monster of deprav- 
 ity, 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, be- 
 cause it was right that evidence and inquiry should take 
 their course. I have suppressed all my habits and senti- 
 ments, 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 217 
 
 the smallest resentment of his impotent attacks upon my 
 character; I smile at their malice; and they make no diminu- 
 tion in my benevolence to their author. Let him say what 
 he pleases; he cannot hurt me. It was proper that he 
 should be brought to public 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." 
 
 a Mr. Falkland," answered Mr. Forester, "these sentiments 
 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 good- 
 ness of your master? Vile calumniator! you are the abhor- 
 rence of nature, the opprobrium of the human species, and 
 the earth can only be freed from an insupportable burthen 
 by your being exterminated! Recollect, sir, that this mon- 
 ster, at the very moment that you are exercising such un- 
 exampled forbearance in his behalf, has the presumption to 
 charge you with prosecuting a crime of which you know him 
 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 in- 
 terest to admit no relaxing 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. Falkland ; 
 "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 be 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 
 
218 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 dignity, and not before the cold formality of statutes. If 
 my calumniator were worthy of resentment, I would chastise 
 him with my own sword, and not that of the magistrate; 
 but in the present case I smile at his malice, and resolve to 
 spare him, as the generous lord of the forest spares the in- 
 sect that would dare to disturb his repose." 
 
 "The language you now hold," said Mr. Forester, "is that 
 of romance, and not of reason. Yet I cannot but be struck 
 with the contrast exhibited before me, of the magnanimity 
 of virtue, and the obstinate, impenetrable injustice of guilt. 
 While your mind overflows with goodness, nothing can 
 touch the heart of this thrice-refined villain. I shall never 
 forgive myself for having once been entrapped by his de- 
 testable arts. This is no time for us to settle the question 
 between chivalry and law. I shall therefore simply insist as 
 a magistrate, having taken the evidence in this felony, upon 
 my right and duty of following the course of justice, and 
 committing the accused to the county jail." 
 
 After some further contest Mr. Falkland, finding Mr. 
 Forester obstinate and impracticable, withdrew his opposi- 
 tion. Accordingly a proper officer was summoned from the 
 neighbouring village, a mittimus made out, and one of Mr. 
 Falkland's carriages prepared to conduct me to the place 
 of custody. It will easily be imagined that this sudden re- 
 verse was very painfully felt by me. I looked round on the 
 servants who had been the spectators of my examination, 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 undisciplined minds were 
 totally obliterated by indignation at my 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 Mr. Falkland 
 withdrew, and left me in the custody of two others. 
 
 One of these was the son of a farmer at no great distance, 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 219 
 
 who had been in habits of long-established intimacy with 
 my late father. I was willing accurately to discover the 
 state of mind of those who had been witnesses of this scene, 
 and who had had some previous opportunity of observing 
 my character and manners. I therefore endeavoured 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 creaure?" 
 
 "Do not speak to me, Master 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 villany 
 would else have made him curse the day that ever he was 
 born." 
 
 "Thomas, I am innocent! I swear by the great God that 
 shall judge me another day, I am innocent!" 
 
 "Pray, do not swear! for goodness' sake, do not swear! 
 Your poor soul is damned enough without that. For your 
 sake, lad, I will never take anybody'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 newborn 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. I 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 life to see you hanged." 
 
 "Good God, Thomas! have you the heart? What a 
 change! I call God to witness, I have done nothing to de- 
 serve it! What a world do we live in!" 
 
 "Hold your tongue, boy! It makes my very heart sick 
 to hear you! I would not lie a night under the same roof 
 with you for all the world! I should expect the house to 
 fall and crush such wickedness! I admire that the earth 
 does not open and swallow you alive! It is poison so much 
 as to look at you! If you go on at this hardened rate, I 
 
220 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 v 
 
 believe from my soul that the people you talk to will tear 
 you to pieces, and you will never live to come to the gallows. 
 Oh yes, you do well to pity yourself; poor tender thing! 
 that spit venom all round you like a toad, and leave the very 
 ground upon which you crawl infected with your slime." 
 
 Finding the person with whom I talked thus impenetrable 
 to all I could say, and considering that the advantage to 
 be gained was small, even if I could overcome his preposses- 
 sion, I took his advice, and was silent. It was not much 
 longer before everything was prepared for my departure, 
 and I was conducted to the same prison which had so lately 
 ^ ttlfr """^tr hed and innoce nt ^ajzkjasfls^ Thpv tnn 
 J^d been the victims of Mr. Falkland. Ij e exhihffieJTupl-. 
 a contracted scale WeTS^HuTnT which the truth ol dWlliui"** 
 tion was faithfully sustained, a copy of what monarchs are, 
 who reckon among the instruments of their power prisons of 
 state. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 FOR my own part, I had never seen a prison, and, like 
 the majority of my brethren, had given myself little* 
 concern to inquire what was the condition of those 
 who committed offence against, or became obnoxious to sus- 
 picion 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 everything 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 filth 
 with which these mansions are distinguished. I have seen 
 dirty faces in dirty apartments, which have nevertheless 
 borne the impression of health, and spoke carelessness and 
 levity rather than distress. But the dirt of a prison speaks 
 sadness to the heart, and appears to be already in a state of 
 putridity and infection. 
 
 I was detained for more than an hour in the apartment of 
 the keeper, one turnkey after another coming in, that they 
 might make themselves familiar with my person. As I was 
 already considered as guilty of felony to a considerable 
 amount, I underwent a rigorous search, and they took 
 from me a penknife, a pair of scissors, and that part of my 
 money which was in gold. It was debated whether 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 dis- 
 played an unexpected firmness of manner and vigour of ex- 
 postulation, such is probably the conduct that would have 
 
 221 
 
222 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 them was too much .engaged in his own 
 reflections to take notice of me. Of these, two were im- 
 prisoned 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 difference 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 among thieves to constitute a sort of mock 
 tribunal of their own body, from whose decision every one 
 is informed whether he shall be acquitted, respited, or 
 pardoned, as well as respecting the supposed most skilful 
 way of conducting his defence. One of the house-breakers, 
 who had already 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 223 
 
 business for you!" The other expressed no marks of re- 
 sentment, but sullenly answered, "Damn you, why did not 
 you take the edge? It would have been the best thing you 
 have done this many a day!" 1 
 
 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 intellectual 
 cultivation, and was accustomed to draw his favourite 
 amusement from the works of Virgil and Horace. The 
 humbleness of his situation, combined with his ardour for 
 literature, only served to give an inexpressible heightening to 
 the interestingness of his character. He was plain and un- 
 affected; he assumed nothing; he was capable, when occa- 
 sion demanded, of firmness, but in his ordinary deportment 
 he seemed unarmed and unresisting, unsuspicious of guile 
 in others, as he was totally free from guile in himself. His 
 integrity was proverbially 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 furniture, to the value of at least five 
 times that sum. His habits of thinking were strictly his 
 own, full of justice, simplicity, and wisdom. He from time 
 to time earned money of his officers, by his peculiar excel- 
 lence in furbishing arms; but he declined offers that had 
 been made him to become a sergeant 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 con- 
 stant in refusing presents that were offered him by persons 
 who had been struck with his merit; not that he was 
 
 1 An incident exactly similar to this was witnessed by a friend of 
 the author, a few years since, in a visit to the prison of Newgate. 
 
224 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 under the influence of false delicacy and pride, but that he 
 had no inclination to accept that, the want of which he 
 did not feel to be an evil. This man died while I was in 
 prison. I received his last breath. 1 
 
 The whole day I was obliged to spend in the company of 
 these men, some of them having really committed the ac- 
 tions laid to their charge, others whom their ill-fortune 
 had rendered the victims of suspicion. The whole was a 
 scene of misery, such as nothing short of actual observation 
 can suggest to the mind. Some were noisy and obstreperous, 
 endeavouring by a false bravery to keep at bay the remem- 
 brance of their condition; while others, incapable even of 
 this effort, had the torment of their thoughts aggravated 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 insupport- 
 able 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 instru- 
 ments of torture; Englishmen take credit to themselves for 
 having banished the use of them from their happy shore! 
 Alas ! he that has observed the secrets of a prison well knows 
 that there is more torture in the lingering existence 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 jailers appeared, and 
 
 1 A story extremely similar to this is to be found in the Newgate 
 Calendar, vol. i. p. 382. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 225 
 
 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 follows. They felt no man's 
 sorrow; they were of all men least capable of any sort of 
 feeling. They had a barbarous and sullen pleasure in issuing 
 their detested mandates, and observing the mournful re- 
 luctance with which they were obeyed. Whatever they 
 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 pur- 
 pose complain, when his complaints are sure to be received 
 with incredulity? A tale of mutiny and necessary precau- 
 tion is the unfailing refuge of the keeper, and this tale is an 
 everlasting bar against redress. 
 
 Our dungeons were cells, seven and a half feet by six 
 and a half, 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 re- 
 ceptacles three persons were put to sleep together. 1 I 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 already 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 aggravation 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 meditation to invent. 
 This is the empire that man exercises over man. Thus is a 
 
 1 See Howard on Prisons. 
 
226 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 being, formed to expatiate, to act, to smile, and enjoy, re- 
 stricted and benumbed. How great must be his depravity 
 or heedlessness, who vindicates this scheme for changing 
 health and gayety and serenity, into the wanness of a 
 dungeon, and the deep furrows of agony and despair!" 
 
 "Thank God," exclaims the Englishman, "we have no 
 Bastile! Thank God, with us no man can be punished 
 without a crime! " Unthinking wretch! Is that a country of 
 liberty where thousands languish in dungeons and fetters? 
 Go, 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 
 prosecutors? But against all this perhaps you have been 
 told there is redress. Yes: a redress that it is the consum- 
 mation of insult so much as to name! Where shall the poor 
 wretch reduced to the last despair, and to whom acquittal 
 perhaps 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 dur ^eon, and the memory of his dungeon, behind him; 
 anduthe 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 inno- 
 cence; and I said, "This is society. This is the object, 
 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 immediate 
 subject of my story. If it should be said these are general 
 remarks, let it be remembered that they are the dear-bought 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 227 
 
 result of experience. It is from the fulness of a bursting 
 heart that reproach thus flows to my pen. These are 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^mused 
 with "Baubles. Without it, I might have had serenity of 
 
 heart and cheerfulness of occupation, peace, and liberty; 
 why should I consign my happiness 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 with fetters; thus shall you be cleared from every 
 unworthy aspersion, and restored to reputation and honour ! ' 
 This is the consolation she affords to those whom malignity 
 or folly, private pique or unfounded positiveness, have, with- 
 out the smallest foundation, loaded with calumny." For 
 myself, I felt my own innocence; and I soon found, upon 
 inquiry, that three-fourths of those who are regularly sub- 
 jected to a similar treatment are persons whom, even with 
 all the superciliousness and precipitation of our courts of 
 justice, no evidence can be found sufficient to convict. 
 How slender then must be that man's portion of informa- 
 tion and discernment who is willing to commit his character 
 and welfare to such guardianship! 
 
 But my case was even worse than this. I intimately felt 
 that a trial, such as our institutions have hitherto been able 
 to make it, is only the worthy sequel of such a beginning. 
 What chance was there, after the purgation I was now suffer- 
 
228 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ing, that I should come out acquitted at last? What proba- 
 bility was there that the trial I had endured in the house of 
 Mr. Falkland was not just as fair as any that might be ex- 
 pected to follow? No; I anticipated my own condemnation. 
 
 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 delighted 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-sickening 
 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 species as so 
 many hangmen and torturers; I considered them as confed- 
 erated to tear me to pieces; and this wide scene of inexor- 
 able 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, unalterable 
 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 enthroned ; I saw the sinews 
 of innocence crumbled into dust by the gripe of almighty 
 guilt. 
 
 What relief had I from these sensations? Was it relief, 
 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 lively 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- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 229 
 
 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. Nor did I 
 find the solitude of my nightly dungeon less insupportable. 
 Its only furniture was the straw that served me for my re- 
 pose. It was narrow, damp, and unwholesome. The slum- 
 bers of a mind, wearied, like mine, with the most detestable 
 uniformity, to whom neither amusement nor occupation 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 obliged, though 
 awake, to spend in solitary and cheerless darkness. Here I 
 had neither books nor pens, nor anything 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 unintermitted and demoniac 
 malice. Cruel, inexorable policy of human affairs, that con- 
 demns a man to torture like this; that sanctions it, and 
 knows not what is done under its sanction ; that is too supine 
 and unfeeling to inquire into these petty details; that calls 
 this the ordeal of innocence, and the protector of freedom! 
 A thousand times I could have dashed my brains against 
 the walls of my dungeon; a thousand times I longed for 
 death, and wished, with inexpressible ardour, for an end to 
 what I suffered; a thousand times I meditated suicide, and 
 ruminated, in the bitterness 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 instruments decreed? Still some inexplicable 
 suggestion withheld my hand. I clung with desperate fond- 
 ness to this shadow of existence, its mysterious attractions, 
 and its hopeless prospects. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 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 
 burthen; 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 perse- 
 cutors. Blessed state of innocence and self -approbation! 
 The sunshine of conscious integrity pierced through all the 
 barriers of my cell, and spoke ten thousand times more joy 
 to my heart than the accumulated splendours 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, without 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 curi- 
 osity? When should I derive benefit from these superior 
 advantages, if not at present?" Accordingly, I tasked the 
 stores of my memory, and my powers of invention. I amused 
 myself with recollecting the history of my life. By degrees 
 I called to mind a number of minute circumstances, which, 
 
 230 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 231 
 
 but for this exercise, would have been for ever forgotten. 
 I repassed in my thoughts whole conversations, I recollected 
 their subjects, their arrangement, their incidents, frequently 
 their very words. I mused upon these ideas, till I was to- 
 tally absorbed in thought. I repeated them, till my mind 
 glowed with enthusiasm, I had my different 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. 
 
 By degrees I quitted my own story, and employed myself 
 in imaginary adventures. I figured to myself every situa- 
 tion in which I could be placed, and conceived the conduct 
 to be observed in each. Thus scenes of insult and danger, 
 of tenderness and oppression, became familiar to me. In 
 fancy I often passed the awful hour of dissolving nature. 
 In some of my reveries I boiled with impetuous indignation, 
 and in others patiently collected the whole force of my mind 
 for some fearful encounter. I cultivated the powers of ora- 
 tory suited to these different states, and improved more in 
 eloquence in the solitude of my dungeon than perhaps I 
 should have done in the busiest and most crowded scenes. 
 
 At length I proceeded to as regular a disposition of my 
 time as the man in his study, who passes from mathematics 
 to poetry, and from poetry to the law of nations, in the dif- 
 ferent 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 mem- 
 ory only, a considerable part of Euclid during my confine- 
 ment, and revived, day after day, the series of facts and in- 
 cidents in some of the most celebrated historians. I became 
 myself a poet; and while I described the sentiments cher- 
 ished 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 squalid 
 solitude of my dungeon, and wandered in idea through all 
 the varieties of human society. I easily found expedients, 
 
232 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 such as the mind seems always to require, 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 h> 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 ex- 
 ercising myself even to perspiration in my dungeon. I had 
 no power of withdrawing my person from a disgustful so- 
 ciety, in the most cheerful and valuable part of the day; 
 but I soon brought to perfection the art of withdrawing 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 tranquillity 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, 
 I 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 terrors in health, and 
 with every advantage for the collection of fortitude, than to 
 encounter him already half-subdued by sickness and suffer- 
 ing. I was resolved, at least, fully to possess the days I 
 had to live; and this is peculiarly in the power of the man 
 who preserves his health to the last moment of his existence. 
 
 M I 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 233 
 
 Why should I suffer my mind to be invaded by unavailing 
 regrets? Every sentiment of vanity, or rather of independ- 
 ence and justice within me, instigated me to say to my perse- 
 cutor, "You may cut off my existence, but you cannot dis- 
 turb my serenity." 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 
 
 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 persecutor. 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 clear- 
 ness of my spirit, the firmness of my temper, are beyond his 
 reach; is not my life equally so, if I please? What are the 
 material 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? Was 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 obvi- 
 ously my inferiors in that respect. Why should not I be as 
 daring as they? Adamant and steel have a 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 
 contemplation, I said, "No, I will not die!" 
 
 My reading, in early youth, had been extremely miscel- 
 laneous. I had read of housebreakers, to whom locks and 
 bolts were a jest, and who, vain of their art, exhibited the 
 experiment of entering a house the most strongly barricaded, 
 with as little noise, and almost as little trouble, as other men 
 would lift up a latch. There is nothing so interesting to the 
 juvenile mind as the wonderful ; there is no power that it so 
 eagerly covets as that of astonishing spectators by its mi- 
 raculous exertions. Mind appeared to my untutored reflec- 
 
 234 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 235 
 
 tions, 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 with- 
 draw myself, should I not be capable of eluding the most 
 vigilant search? These limbs and this trunk are a cum- 
 brous and unfortunate load for the power of thinking to 
 drag along with it; but why should not the power of think- 
 ing be able to lighten the load, till it shall be no longer felt? 
 — These early modes of reflection were by no means indif- 
 ferent to my present inquiries. 
 
 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 powers and 
 their uses. This carpenter was a man of strong and vigor- 
 ous mind; and his faculties having been chiefly confined to 
 the range of his profession, he was fertile in experiments, 
 and ingenious in reasoning 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 partic- 
 ularly agreeable to me; I at first worked with him some- 
 times for my amusement, and afterward occasionally for a 
 short time as his journeyman. I was constitutionally vig- 
 orous; and, by the experience thus attained, I added to the 
 abstract possession of power the skill of applying it, when 
 I pleased, in such a manner as that no part should be in- 
 efficient. 
 
 It is a strange, but no uncommon feature in the human 
 mind, that the very resource of which we stand in greatest 
 need in a critical situation, though already 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 liberation suggested itself. 
 My faculties were overwhelmed in the first instance, and 
 raised to a pitch of enthusiasm in the second ; while in both 
 
236 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 oc- 
 casion my case was not brought forward, but was suffered 
 to stand over six months longer. It would have been just 
 the same if I had had as strong reason to expect acquittal 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 legis- 
 lators 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 pros- 
 ecutor, or whether it fell out in the regular administration 
 of justice, which is too solemn and dignified to accommo- 
 date itself to the rights or benefit of an insignificant indi- 
 vidual. 
 
 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 appropri- 
 ated for his 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 with the unexpectedness of this ques- 
 tion, and desired to know whether anybody had employed 
 him to ask it. No, 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 237 
 
 none of the usual symptons of kindness; he appeared to me 
 to be acting a part unnatural, and that sat with awkward- 
 ness upon him. He went on, however, to offer me the lib- 
 erty of eating at his table; which, if I chose it, he said, 
 would make no difference to him, and he should not think of 
 charging me anything for it. He had always indeed as 
 much upon his hands as one person could see to; but his 
 wife and his daughter Peggy would be woundily pleased to 
 hear a person of learning talk, as he understood ? I was; and 
 perhaps I 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 that 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 
 ndulgence and attention. The two most likely persons 
 were Mr. Falkland and Mr. Forester. The latter I knew to 
 be a man austere and inexorable towards those whom he 
 deemed vicious. He piqued himself upon being insensible 
 to those softer emotions, which, he believed, answered no 
 other purpose than to seduce us from our duty. Mr. Falk- 
 land, on the contrary, was a man of the ac utest sensibility ; 
 hence arose hls-j^leasur es and his p ains, his^virtue s and his ' 
 vices. Though he were the bitterest enemy to whom I 
 ^couTd possibly be exposed, and though no sentiments of 
 humanity could divert or control the bent of his mind, I yet 
 persuaded myself that he was more likely than his kinsman 
 to visit in idea the scene of my dungeon, and to feel im- 
 pelled 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 life was deemed of no consideration? 
 I saw him crushing the one, and bringing the other into 
 
238 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 preserva- 
 tion of one whose future prospects he had so iniquitously 
 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 inexorableness of his 
 vengeance. 
 
 I was influenced by these sentiments in my reply to the 
 jailer; 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 penetrations as 
 to the humanity of a jailer, 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 
 favours from a man that held a halter about my neck; and 
 had courage enough to endure the worst both in time to 
 come and now. — The jailer looked at me with astonishment, 
 and turning upon his heel, exclaimed, "Well done, my cock! 
 You 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 housebreakers (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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 239 
 
 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 in- 
 dividual who would have been the ornament of any age; 
 one who, of all the men I ever knew, was perhaps the kind- 
 est, of the most feeling heart, of the most engaging and un- 
 affected manners, and the most unblemished life. The name 
 of this man was Brightwel. Were it possible for my pen 
 to consecrate him to never-dying fame, I could undertake no 
 task more grateful to my heart. His judgment was pene- 
 trating and manly, totally unmixed with imbecility and con- 
 fusion; while at the same time there was such an uncontend- 
 ing frankness in his countenance, that a superficial ob- 
 server would have supposed he must have been the prey 
 of the first plausible knavery that was practised against 
 him. Great reason have I to remember him with affection! 
 He was the most ardent, I had almost said the last, of my 
 friends. Nor did I remain in this respect in his debt. There 
 was indeed a great congeniality, if I may presume to say so, 
 in our characters, except that I cannot pretend to rival the 
 originality and self-created vigour of his mind, or to com- 
 pare with, what the world has scarcely surpassed, the cor- 
 rectness and untainted purity of his conduct. He heard 
 my story, as far as I thought proper to disclose it, with 
 interest; he examined it with sincere impartiality; and if, 
 at first, any doubt remained upon his mind, a frequent ob- 
 servation of me in my most unguarded moments taught him 
 in no long time to place an unreserved confidence in my in- 
 nocence. 
 
 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 
 
340 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 strive his present calamity. This was his pre- 
 diction, while yet in health. He might be said, in a certain 
 sense, to have a broken heart. But, if that phrase were 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 was I 
 exposed to a shock more severe than I received from this 
 man's death. The circumstances of his fate presented them- 
 selves to my mind in their full complication of iniquity. 
 From him, and the execrations with which I loaded the gov- 
 ernment that could be the instrument of his tragedy, I turned 
 to myself. I beheld the castastrophe of Brightwel with 
 envy. A thousand times I longed that my corpse had lain 
 in death, instead of his. I was only reserved, as I persuaded 
 myself, for unutterable wo. In a few days he would have 
 been acquitted; his liberty, his reputation restored; man- 
 kind, perhaps, struck with the injustice he had suffered, 
 would have shown themselves eager to balance his misfor- 
 tunes, and obliterate his disgrace. 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 villain, 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, with- 
 out its portion of comfort. I said, "This man has seen 
 through the veil of calumny that overshades me: he has un- 
 derstood, and has loved me. Why should I despair? May 
 I not meet hereafter with men ingenuous like him, who shall 
 do me justice, and sympathize with my calamity? With 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 241 
 
 that consolation I will be satisfied. I will rest in the arms 
 of friendship, and forget the malignity of the world. Hence- 
 forth I will be contented with tranquil obscurity, with the 
 cultivation of sentiment and wisdom, and the exercise of 
 benevolence within a narrow circle." It was thus that my 
 mind became excited to the project I was about to under- 
 take. 
 
 I had no sooner meditated the idea of an escape than I de- 
 termined upon the following method of facilitating the prep- 
 arations for it. I undertook to ingratiate myself with my 
 keeper. In the world I have generally found such persons 
 as had been acquainted with the outline of my story, re- 
 garding me with a sort of loathing and abhorrence, 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 charg- 
 ing him with subornation against me, placed me in a class 
 distinct from, and infinitely more guilty than, that of com- 
 mon 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 difference of innocence and guilt he looked 
 down upon as an affair beneath his attention. I had not, 
 therefore, the prejudices to encounter in recommending my- 
 self 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 be- 
 fore, 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 in- 
 dustry of this kind, even if my existence had depended 
 
242 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 upon it. He looked at me, first, as asking himself 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 please in it; but I might depend upon every 
 civility from him that he could show with safety to him- 
 self, if so be as, when he was civil, I did not offer a second 
 time for to snap and take him up short. 
 
 Having thus gained my preliminary, I gradually accumu- 
 lated tools of various sorts — gimlets, piercers, chisels, et 
 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 there- 
 fore petitioned for, and was indulged with, a bit of candle, 
 that I might amuse myself for an hour or two with my work 
 after I was locked up in my dungeon. I did not, however, 
 by any means apply constantly to the work I had under- 
 taken, and my jailer betrayed various tokens of impatience. 
 Perhaps he was afraid I should not have finished it before 
 I 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, I 
 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 partiality for my per- 
 son, the implement of an iron crow. 
 
 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. But I must acknowledge my weakness in that re- 
 spect; I am writing my adventures, and not my apology; 
 and I was not prepared to maintain the unvaried sincerity 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 243 
 
 of my manners, at the expense of a speedy close of my ex- 
 istence. 
 
 My plan was now digested. I believed, that by means of 
 the crow I could easily, and without much noise, force the 
 door of my dungeon from its hinges, or, if not, that I 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 jailer's and turnkeys' 
 apartments, through which was the usual entrance from the 
 street. This outlet I dared not attempt, for fear of disturb- 
 ing the persons close to whose very door I should in that 
 case have found it necessary to pass. I determined, there- 
 fore, upon another door at the farther end of the passage, 
 which was well barricaded, and which led to a sort of gar- 
 den 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. I perceived that it was bounded by a wall of 
 considerable height, which I was told by my fellow-prison- 
 ers 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 immediately skirted my dungeon, on the other 
 side of which was a populous street. 
 
 I 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 execu- 
 tion. The first door was attended with considerable diffi- 
 culty; but at length this obstacle was happily removed. 
 The second door was fastened on the inside. I was there- 
 
244 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 fore able with perfect ease to push back the bolts. But the 
 lock, which of course was depended upon for the principal 
 security, and was therefore strong, was double-shot, and 
 the key taken away. I endeavoured with my chisel to force 
 back the bolt of the lock; but to no purpose. I then un- 
 screwed 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 presently suc- 
 ceeded. I then returned along the passage to listen whether 
 anybody had been disturbed by the noise of the dog; re- 
 solved, if that had been the case, that I would return to my 
 dungeon, and endeavour to replace everything in its former 
 state. But the whole appeared perfectly quiet, and I was 
 encouraged to proceed in my operation. 
 
 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 therefore returned, 
 as I judged, into the house for a light. Meantime the dog, 
 understanding the key in which these interrogations were 
 uttered, began barking again more violently than ever. I 
 had now no possibility of retreat, and I was not without 
 hopes that I might yet accomplish my object, and clear the 
 wall. Meanwhile 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 me. He immediately 
 set up a shout, and threw a large stone, which grazed me in 
 its flight. Alarmed at my situation, I was obliged to de- 
 scend on the other side without taking the necessary pre- 
 cautions, and in my fall nearly dislocated my ankle. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 245 
 
 There was a door in the wall, of which I was not previ- 
 ously apprized; 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 the place 
 from which I had descended. I endeavoured to rise after 
 my fall ; but the pain was so intense that I was scarcely able 
 to stand, and, after having limped a few paces, I twisted 
 my foot under me, and fell down again. I had now no 
 remedy, and quietly suffered myself to be retaken. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 
 
 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 
 little 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 with warmth upon this 
 treatment, and told them that I was a man upon whom the 
 law as yet had passed no censure, and who therefore, in the 
 eye of the law, was innocent. But they bade 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. I endeavoured 
 in various ways to relieve it, and even privily to free my leg; 
 but the more it was swelled, the more was this rendered im- 
 possible. 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 sur- 
 geon who usually attended the prison to look at it, for if it 
 continued longer as it was, I was convinced it would mor- 
 tify. But he glared surlily at me, and said, "Damn my 
 blood! I should like to see that day. To die of a mortifi- 
 cation 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 I had undergone, my pa- 
 
 246 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 247 
 
 tience was wholly exhausted, and I was silly enough to be 
 irritated beyond bearing, by his impertinence and vulgarity: 
 "Look you, Mr. Turnkey," said I, "there is one thing that 
 such fellows as you are set over us for, and another thing 
 that you are not. You are to take care we 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 floor, 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." 
 
 While I thus spoke, the man stared at me with astonish- 
 ment. He was so little accustomed to such retorts, that, 
 at first, he could scarcely believe his ears ; and such was the 
 firmness of my manner, that he seemed to forget for a 
 moment that I was not at large. But as soon as he had 
 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 was determined to change my mode of attack. The same 
 turnkey returned in a few minutes; and as he approached 
 me, to put down some food he had brought, I 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 uttering a single word, 
 went away. The surgeon presently after made his appear- 
 ance; and, finding the part in a high state of inflammation, 
 ordered certain applications, and gave JTjeremptory) direc- 
 tions that the fetter should not be replaced upon that leg, 
 till a cure had been effected. It was a full month before 
 
248 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the leg was perfectly healed, and made equally strong and 
 flexible with the other. 
 
 The condition in which I was now placed was totally dif- 
 ferent from that which had preceded this attempt. I was 
 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 occa- 
 sionally came and spoke to me, particularly one, who, though 
 he could ill replace my benevolent Brightwel, was not de- 
 ficient in excellent qualities. This was no other than the 
 individual whom Mr. Falkland had, some months before, 
 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 in- 
 nocent, worthy, brave, and benevolent. He was, I believe, 
 afterward acquitted, and turned loose, to wander a desolate 
 and perturbed spectre through the world. My manual la- 
 bours 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 concealment ; and the 
 only conveniences with which I was indulged were a chair 
 and a blanket. 
 
 A 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 
 observed, that there must be an end of civility from 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 would be ridicu- 
 lous in me to complain, if, after a regular trial, things should 
 go hard with me. He was desirous of being in every re- 
 spect my friend, if I would let him. In the midst of this 
 circumlocution and preamble, he was called away from me, 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 249 
 
 for something relating to the business of his office. In the 
 meantime I ruminated upon his overtures; and detesting, 
 as I did, the source from which I conceived them to flow, I 
 could not help reflecting how far it would be possible to 
 extract from them the means of escape. But my medita- 
 tions in this case were vain. The keeper returned no more 
 during the remainder of that day, and on the next an inci- 
 dent occurred which put an end to all expectations from his 
 kindness. 
 
 An active mind, which has once been forced into any par- 
 ticular train, can scarcely be persuaded to desert it as 
 helpless. I had studied my chains, during the extreme an- 
 guish that I endured from the pressure of the fetter upon the 
 ankle which had been sprained ; and though, from the swell- 
 ing and acute sensibility of the part, I had found all at- 
 tempts at relief, in that instance, impracticable, I obtained, 
 from the coolness of my investigation, another and appar- 
 ently 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 glimmering 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 I learned to distinguish the mi- 
 nutest object. One day, as I was alternately meditating and 
 examining the objects around me, I chanced to observe a 
 nail trodden into the mud-floor at no great distance from 
 me. I immediately conceived the desire of possessing my- 
 self of this implement; but, for fear of surprise, people 
 passing perpetually to and fro, I 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, I seized upon this new treasure, 
 and, having contrived to fashion it to my purpose, found 
 that I could unlock with it the padlock that fastened me to 
 
2 5 o ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the staple in the floor. This I regarded as no inconsiderable 
 advantage, separately from the use I might derive from it 
 in relation to my principal object. My chain permitted 
 me to move only about eighteen inches to the right or left; 
 and having borne this confinement for several weeks, my 
 very heart leaped at the pitiful consolation of being able 
 to range, without constraint, 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 lib- 
 erate 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 jailer, it so happened, whether I overslept 
 myself, or the turnkey went his round earlier 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 I was unable to fasten the chain to the staple before 
 he entered, as usual, with his lantern. He was extremely 
 surprised to find me disengaged, and immediately sum- 
 moned the principal keeper. I was questioned respecting 
 my method of proceeding; and, as I believed concealment 
 could lead to nothing but a severer search and a more ac- 
 curate watch, I readily acquainted them with the exact 
 truth. The illustrious personage whose function it was to 
 control the inhabitants of these walls, was by this last in- 
 stance, completely exasperated against me. Artifice and 
 fair speaking were at an end. His eyes sparkled with fury; 
 he exclaimed, that he was now convinced of the folly of 
 showing kindness to rascals, the scum of the earth, such as 
 I was; and, damn him, if anybody should catch him at that 
 again towards any one. I had cured him effectually! He 
 was astonished that the laws had not provided some ter- 
 rible retaliation for thieves that attempted to deceive their 
 jailers. Hanging was a thousand times too good for me! 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 251 
 
 Having vented his indignation, he proceeded to give such 
 orders as the united instigations of anger and alarm sug- 
 gested to his mind. My 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 dungeons. 
 It was underground, as they were, and has 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 were employed, as in the former case, in addi- 
 tion to which they put on me a pair of handcuffs. 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 jailer; 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." 1 It was fur- 
 ther 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 ex- 
 pressed much dissatisfaction at the mandate: but there was 
 no alternative. 
 
 The situation to which I was thus removed was, appar- 
 ently, the most undesirable that could be imagined; but I 
 was not discouraged; I had for some time learned not to 
 judge by appearances. The apartment was dark and un- 
 wholesome; but I had acquired the secret of counteracting 
 these influences. My door was kept continually shut, and 
 the other prisoners were debarred access to me; but if the 
 intercourse of our fellow-men has its pleasure, solitude, on 
 the other hand, is not without its advantages. In solitude 
 
 1 In the case of the peine forte et dure. See State Trials, vol. L 
 anno 1615. 
 
252 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 we can pursue our own thoughts undisturbed; and I was 
 able to call up at will the most pleasing avocations. Be- 
 sides which, to one who meditated such designs as now 
 filled my mind, solitude had peculiar recommendations. 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 disengaged myself from 
 this restraint. The hours at which 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 perpendicular, and a foot 
 and a half horizontally, which, though small, admitted a 
 much stronger light than that to which I had been accus- 
 tomed for several weeks. Thus circumstanced, I scarcely 
 ever found myself in total darkness, and was better pro- 
 vided 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 where I was imprisoned a few weeks before, while 
 I was confined with the hurt in my ankle, and had called 
 in to see me. The account he gave of what he observed 
 had been the source of many an uneasy sensation to 
 Thomas. The former visit was a matter of mere curi- 
 osity; but Thomas was of the better order of servants. 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 hard- 
 ship 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, 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 253 
 
 "Lord bless us!" said he, in a voice in which commisera- 
 tion was sufficiently perceptible, "is this you?" 
 
 "Why not, Thomas? You knew I 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! Why, 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 fine 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 countries the like 
 of that. Why, you ha 'n't been tried, ha' you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And what signifies being tried, when they do worse 
 than hang a man, and all beforehand? Well, master Wil- 
 liams, you have been very wicked to be sure, and I thought 
 it would 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 
 memory, and he felt more for my sufferings, at the mo- 
 
254 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ment, than I did for myself. In the afternoon I was sur- 
 prised to see him again. He said that he could not get 
 the thought of me 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 avoca- 
 tionjhowever — a noise, I believe in the passage — the turn- 
 key went as far as the door to satisfy his curiosity; and 
 Thomas, watching the opportunity, slipped into my hand 
 a chisel, a file, and a saw, exclaiming at the same time, 
 with a sorrowfm tone, "I know I am doing wrong: but if 
 they hang me too, I cannot help it; I can do no other. 
 For Christ's sake, get out of this place; I cannot bear the 
 thoughts of it!" I 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 which 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, say- 
 ing, though without assigning any ground for their sus- 
 picion, that they were sure I had some tool in my posses- 
 sion 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 moonlight. It was 
 necessary that I should work in the night; it was necessary 
 that my operations should be performed between the last 
 visit of the keepers at night and their first in the morning, 
 that is, between nine in the evening and seven. In my 
 dungeon, as I have already said, I passed fourteen or six- 
 teen 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. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 255 
 
 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 purpose 
 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 climbed, partly by the assistance of 
 my chair, and partly by means of certain irregularities 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 being removed. But the space thus obtained 
 was by no means wide enough to admit the passing of 
 my body. I therefore applied myself, partly with my chisel, 
 and partly with one of the iron bars, to the loosening of the 
 brickwork; 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 stepped upon a shed on the outside. 
 
 I was now in a kind of rude area between two dead walls, 
 that south of the felons' day -room (the windows 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 scal- 
 ing the wall, which was of considerable height. There was, 
 of consequence, no resource for me but that of effecting a 
 practicable breach in the lower part of the wall which was 
 of no contemptible strength, being of stone on the outside, 
 with a facing of brick within. The rooms for the debtors 
 were at right angles with the building from which I had 
 
256 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 just escaped; and as the night was extremely bright, I was 
 in momentary danger, particularly in case of the least noise, 
 of being discovered by them, several of their windows com- 
 manding this area. Thus circumstanced, I determined to 
 make the shed answer the purpose of concealment. 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 
 difficulty in opening the lock. I had now got a sufficient 
 means of hiding my person while I proceeded in my work, 
 attended with no other disadvantage than that of being 
 obliged to leave the door, through which I had thus broken, 
 a little open for the sake of light. After some time, I had 
 removed a considerable part of the brick-work of the outer 
 wall; but when I came to the stone, I found the under- 
 taking infinitely more difficult. The mortar which bound 
 together the building was, by length of time, nearly petri- 
 fied, 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 al- 
 ready endured, and the seemingly invincible difficulty be- 
 fore me, I concluded that I must remain 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 molehill 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 257 
 
 the opening, and in ten minutes more the keepers would 
 probably enter my apartment, and perceive the cevastation 
 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, ten- 
 anted 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 
 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 my 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 precise 
 extent I could not ascertain; and I was well aware, that 
 every 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 were 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 TWENTY-SEVEN 
 
 I PASSED along the lane I have described, without 
 perceiving 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 un- 
 molested. 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 pro- 
 ceed without hesitation, as I on my part was obliged to do, 
 from the end nearest to the prison to its farthest termina- 
 tion. 
 
 The face of the country in the spot to which I had thus 
 opened myself a passage was rude and uncultivated. It 
 was overgrown with brushwood and furze; the soil was for 
 the most part of a loose sand; and the surface extremely 
 irregular. I climbed a small eminence, and could perceive, 
 not very remote in the distance, a few cottages thinly scat- 
 tered. This prospect did not altogether please me; I con- 
 ceived 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 begun 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 
 
 258 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 259 
 
 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- 
 dred 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 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 wish 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 pur- 
 suers 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 town, 
 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 ven- 
 tured 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 incessant rain; and the gloomy state of the air and 
 
260 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 inclem- 
 ency 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 some- 
 what 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 
 moon shone, as on the preceding night, in full brightness. 
 I had perceived no human creature during the whole day, 
 except in the instance already mentioned. This had per- 
 haps been owing to the nature of the day; at all events I 
 considered it as too hazardous an experiment to venture 
 from my hiding-place in so clear and fine a night. I was 
 therefore obliged 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, impelling 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- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 261 
 
 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 my 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, guid- 
 ing 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. I was often com- 
 pelled, by the dangerousness of the way, to deviate consid- 
 erably from the direction I wished to pursue. In the mean- 
 time I advanced with as much rapidity as these and similar 
 obstacles would permit me to do. The swiftness of the mo- 
 tion, 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 enthusiastic. 
 
 I 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 fu- 
 ture, 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 I 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 lib- 
 erty. Never did man more strenuously prefer pov- 
 erty with independence, to the artificial allurements of a 
 life of slavery. I 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 I rose up or 
 
4 
 
 262 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 sat down, were echoed to with the clanking of chains; I 
 was tied down like a wild beast, and could not move but 
 in a circle of a few feet in circumference. Now I can run 
 fleet as a greyhound, and leap like a young roe upon the 
 mountains. Oh, God! (if God there be that condescends 
 to record the lonely beatings of an anxious heart) thou only 
 canst tell with what delight a prisoner, just broke forth 
 from his dungeon, hugs the blessings of new-found liberty! 
 Sacred and indescribable moment when man regains his 
 rights! But lately I held my life in jeopardy, because one 
 man was unprincipled 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 
 ppngtratinyi fmrmfiV| |q distinguish from falsehood, what I 
 uttered with the entire corTIi limi yl u RHI-iraugnt 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 power of acting the tyrant according 
 to law! Oh ; God! give me poverty! shower upon me all 
 the imaginary hardships of human life! I will receive them 
 all with thankfulness. 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 revenge of barbarians, but not of the cold-blooded 
 prudence of monopolists and kings!" — How enviable w T as 
 the enthusiasm 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 clew 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 263 
 
 favourable than the contrary. It was necessary for me to 
 avoid entering any of the towns and villages in the vicinity. 
 It was, however, full time that I should procure for myself 
 some species of refreshment, and by no means improbable 
 that 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 little 
 to apprehend from thieves, and I believed that they, as well 
 as honest men, could not fail to have some compassion for 
 a person under my circumstances. I 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. "Gentlemen," 
 said I, "I am a poor traveller, almost" — While I spoke, 
 they came round me; and he that had at 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 besides." — "Not a 
 shilling!" answered my assailant; "what, I suppose 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 can- 
 not desire such a thing. Is it not enough that I am pen- 
 niless? I 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 relieve those who are perishing 
 like me. For God's sake, give me food! do not strip me 
 of the comforts I still possess!" 
 
 While I uttered this apostrophe, the unpremeditated elo- 
 quence of sentiment, I could perceive by their gestures, 
 though the day had not yet begun to dawn, that the feel- 
 ings of one or two of the company appeared to take my 
 
264 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 part. The man who had already undertaken to be their 
 spokesman perceived the same thing; and, excited either 
 by the brutality 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 listened to my expostulation; and he re- 
 peated 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 assailants, and turned round to defend myself. The 
 first that advanced within my reach was my original enemy. 
 In the present moment I listened 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 my 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 
 upon my neck and shoulder. He was going to repeat 
 his blow. The two who had seemed to waver at first in 
 their animosity, afterward appeared to me to join in the 
 attack, urged either by animal sympathy or the spirit of 
 imitation. One of them, however, as I afterward under- 
 stood, seized the arm of the man who was going to strike 
 me a second time with his cutlass, and who would other- 
 wise 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 de- 
 bate. I made an effort to speak; my voice failed me. I 
 stretched out one hand with a gesture of entreaty. "You 
 shall not strike, by God!" said one of the voices; "why 
 should we be murderers?" — The side of forbearance at 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 265 
 
 length prevailed. They therefore contented themselves 
 with stripping me of my coat and waistcoat, and rolling me 
 into a dry ditch. They then left me, totally regardless of 
 my distressed condition, and the plentiful effusion of blood 
 which streamed from my wound. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 
 
 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 stanch the flowing of the blood. I then 
 exerted myself to crawl up the side of the ditch. I had 
 scarcely effected the latter, when, with 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 to- 
 wards me with evident signs of compassion, and the appear- 
 ance I exhibited was indeed sufficiently calculated to excite 
 it. I 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, was 
 variegated with streams of blood; nor had my lower gar- 
 ments, 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 thus?" 
 and, saying this, he lifted me up, and set me on my feet. 
 "Can you stand?" added he, doubtfully. "Oh, yes, 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 
 
 266 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 267 
 
 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-humoured, and benevolent, equally free 
 from the torture of droning expostulation, and the weak- 
 ness of indulgence, that I thought myself under the con- 
 duct 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 affectionate 
 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. 
 
 At the upper end of this passage was a door, which I 
 was unable to perceive. My 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, inquiring, 
 "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 woman, rather advanced in life, 
 and whose person had I know not what of extraordinary 
 and loathsome. Her eyes were red and bloodshot; her hair 
 
268 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 was pendent in matted and shaggy tresses about her shoul- 
 ders; her complexion swarthy, and of the consistency of 
 parchment; her form spa're, and her whole body, her arms 
 in particular, uncommonly vigorous and muscular. Not the 
 milk of human kindness, but the feverous blood of 
 savage ferocity, seemed to flow from her heart; and her 
 whole figure suggested an idea of unmitigable energy, and 
 an appetite gorged in malevolence. This infernal Tha- 
 lestris 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 fire. This she did with apparent reluc- 
 tance, murmuring, "Ah! you are at your old tricks; I won- 
 der what such folks as we have to do with charity! It will 
 be the ruin of us at last, I can see that!" — "Hold your 
 tongue, (beldam!" said he, with a stern significance of man- 
 ner, "and TetclTone of my best shirts, a waistcoat, and some 
 dressings." Saying this, he 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 bene- 
 factor recommended to me to retire to rest, and prepara- 
 tions were making for that purpose, when suddenly a tram- 
 pling 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, ex- 
 tremely unlike anything I had before observed in such a 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 269 
 
 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 per- 
 suaded me they were the gang from which I had just 
 escaped, and this one the antagonist by whose animosity 
 I was so near having been finally destroyed. I imagined 
 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- 
 marks and exclamations, but their turbulence was tempered 
 by a certain deference to his opinion and authority. I 
 could observe in the person who had been my active oppo- 
 nent some awkwardness and irresolution as he first per- 
 ceived me, which he dismissed with a sort of effort, exclaim- 
 ing, "Who the devil is here?" There was something in the 
 tone of this apostrophe that roused the attention of my 
 protector. He looked at the speaker with a fixed and pene- 
 trating glance, and then said, "Nay, Gines, do you know? 
 Did you ever see the person before?" "Curse it, Gines!" 
 interrupted a third, "you are damnably out of luck. They 
 say dead men walk, and you see there is some truth in it." 
 — "Truce with your impertinence, Jeckols!" replied my pro- 
 tector: "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 morning upon the forest?" 
 
 "Mayhap I was. What then?" 
 
 "What 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." 
 
270 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "Pooh, what signifies what I am? You, with your com s 
 passion, and your fine feelings, will bring us all to the 
 gallows." 
 
 "I 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." 
 >' [It is thus that the prejudices of men universally teach 
 • them to colour the most desperate cause to which they have 
 determined to adhere.] "We, who are thieves without a 
 license, are at open war with another set of men who are 
 thieves according to law. With such a cause 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 authority 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 
 meantime Gines muttered something in a surly and irreso- 
 lute 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 
 believe 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 consists in 
 the treachery of fellows like you. But we did not enter 
 at first to flinch now. Did you believe that we would live 
 in hourly fear of you, tremble at your threats, and com- 
 promise, whenever you should so please, with your inso- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 271 
 
 lence? 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 sac- 
 rifice 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, "I did not mean — No, damn 
 it! I will not snivel neither. I was always true to my 
 principles, and a friend to you all. But since you are re- 
 solved to turn me out, why — good-by to you!" 
 
 The expulsion of this man produced a remarkable im- 
 provement in the whole gang. Those who were before in- 
 clined to humanity assumed new energy in proportion as 
 they saw such sentiments likely to prevail. They had be- 
 fore suffered themselves to be overborne by the boisterous 
 insolence of their antagonist; but now they adopted, and 
 with success, a different conduct. Those who envied the 
 ascendency of their 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, with 
 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 
 
272 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 offence, and the displeasure of his leader. His profession 
 accustomed him to a certain degree of indifference to con- 
 sequences, and indulgence to the sallies of passion; and he 
 might easily have found his opportunity to insult or injure 
 me, when I should have had nothing but my own debili- 
 tated exertions to protect me. 
 
 Freed from this danger, I found my situation sufficiently 
 fortunate 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 
 humanity. Nothing could be more unlike than the thieves 
 I had seen in jail, and the thieves of my new resi- 
 dence. The latter were generally full of cheerfulness and 
 merriment. They could expatiate freely wherever they 
 thought proper. They could form plans and execute them. 
 They consulted their inclinations. They did not impose 
 upon themselves the task, as is too often the case in human 
 society, of seeming tacitly to approve that from which they 
 suffered most; or, which is worst, of persuading themselves 
 that all the wrongs they suffered were right; but were at 
 open war with their oppressors. On the contrary, the im_- 
 prisoned felons I had lately seen were shut up like wild 
 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 pur- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 273 
 
 poses of concealment. It was the seat of merriment and 
 hilarity; but the hilarity that characterized it produced no 
 correspondent feelings in my bosom. The persons who com- 
 posed this society had each of them cast off all control from 
 established principle: their trade was terror, and their con- 
 stant object to elude the vigilance of the community. The 
 influence of these circumstances was visible in their char- 
 acter. I found among them benevolence and kindness: they 
 were strongly susceptible of emotions of generosity. But 
 as their situation was precarious, their dispositions were 
 proportionably fluctuating. Inured to the animosity of 
 their species, they were irritable and passionate. Accus- 
 tomed to exercise harshness towards the subject of their 
 depredations, they did not always confine their brutality 
 within that scope. They were habituated to consider 
 wounds and bludgeons and stabbing as the obvious mode 
 of surmounting every difficulty. Uninvolved in the debili- 
 tating routine of human affairs, they frequently displayed 
 an energy which, from every impartial observer, would have 
 extorted veneration. Energy is perhaps of all qualities the 
 most valuable; and a just political system would possess 
 the means of extracting from it, thus circumstanced, its 
 beneficial 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 misapplied, unassisted by liberal and 
 enlightened views, and directed only to the most narrow 
 and contemptible purposes. 
 
 The residence I have been describing might to many 
 persons have appeared attended with intolerable inconven- 
 iences. But, exclusively of its advantages as a field for 
 speculation, it was Elysium compared with that from which 
 I had just escaped. Displeasing company, incommodious 
 apartments, filthiness, and riot lost the circumstance by 
 which they could most effectually disgust, when I was not 
 

 274 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 compelled to remain with them. All hardships I could 
 patiently endure, in comparison with the menace of a vio- 
 lent and untimely death. There was no suffering that I 
 could not persuade myself to consider as trivial, except 
 that which flowed from the tyranny, the frigid precaution, 
 or the inhuman revenge of my own 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 expul- 
 sion 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 experienced 
 sinner for a raw probationer but an ill exchange. Add to 
 which, that her habits inclined her to moroseness and dis- 
 content, 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 canine 
 hunger for my destruction. Nothing was more evidently 
 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. For myself I 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 tran- 
 quillity. 
 
 As I recovered, I told my story, except so far as related 
 to the detection of Mr. Falkland's eventful secret, to my 
 protector. That particular I could not, as yet, prevail upon 
 myself to disclose, even in a situation like this, which 
 seemed to preclude the possibility of its being made use 
 of to the disadvantage of my persecutor. My present 
 auditor, however, whose habits of thinking were extremely 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 275 
 
 opposite to those of Mr. Forester, did not, from the ob- 
 scurity which flowed from this reserve, deduce any unfa- 
 vourable 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 penetration. 
 So confiding, the simplicity and integrity of my manner 
 carried conviction to his mind, and ensured his good opinion 
 and friendship. 
 
 He listened to my story with 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 powerful members of the community 
 against those who were less privileged than themselves. 
 Nothing could be more clear than their readiness to sacri- 
 fice 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 fit to decree 
 their destruction, and not take arms in their defence while 
 it was yet in their power? Which was most meritorious, 
 the unresisting and dastardly submission of a slave, or the 
 enterprise and gallantry of the man who dared to assert 
 his claims? Since, by the partial administration of 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 himself, 
 he should certainly never have embraced his present call- 
 ing, had he not been stimulated to it by these cogent and 
 irresistible reasons; and he hoped, as experience had so 
 forcibly brought a conviction of this sort to my mind, that 
 he should for the future have the happiness to 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 
 
276 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 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 in- 
 debted for my present asylum. After having possessed 
 themselves of any booty, they took care, in the sight of the 
 persons whom they had robbed, to pursue a route as nearly 
 as possible 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 super- 
 natural; and if the noise of revelry at any time saluted 
 their ears, it was imagined to proceed from a carnival of 
 devils. With all these advantages, the thieves did not ven- 
 ture to reside here but by intervals: they 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 reappear- 
 ance and the alarms of depredation that were frequently 
 given; and the festival of demons seemed, to the terrified 
 rustics, indifferently to take place whether she were present 
 or absent. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 
 
 ONE day, while I continued in this situation, a cir- 
 cumstance 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 de- 
 livered these to our landlady, they retired to one corner of 
 the room; and one of them pulling a printed paper from 
 his pocket, they mutually occupied themselves in examin- 
 ing its contents. I was sitting 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 consid- 
 erable time, they looked at me, and then at the paper, and 
 then at me again. They then went out of the room to- 
 gether, as if to consult without interruption upon something 
 which that paper suggested to them. Some time after they 
 returned; and my protector, who had been absent upon the 
 former occasion, entered the room at the same instant. 
 
 "Captain!" said one of them with an air of pleasure, 
 "look here! we have found a prize! I believe it is as good 
 as a bank-note of a hundred guineas." 
 
 Mr. Raymond (that was his name) took the paper, and 
 read. He paused for a moment. He then crushed the 
 paper in his hand; and, turning to the person from whom 
 he had received it, said, with the tone of 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 contented 
 to purchase them at the price of treachery — of violating 
 the laws of hospitality?" 
 
 "Faith, captain, I do not very well know. After having 
 violated other laws, I do not see why we should be fright- 
 
 277 
 
278 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ened at an old saw. We pretend to judge for ourselves, 
 and ought to be above shrinking from a bugbear of a 
 proverb. Besides, 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 be a foe to inter- 
 lopers, 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 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 mankind. 
 I tell you this, because I would fain have you aware that 
 an informer or a king's evidence, a man who takes the 
 advantage of the confidence of another in order to betray 
 him, who sells the life 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 himself, is the 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 279 
 
 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, — 
 
 "My friends, here is a piece of intelligence that Larkins 
 has just brought in which, with his leave, I will lay before 
 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 par- 
 ticularly 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 confi- 
 dence of his patron and benefactor to rob him of property 
 to a large amount. Upon this charge he was committed 
 to the county jail, from whence he made his escape about 
 a fortnight ago, without venturing to stand his trial; a cir- 
 cumstance which is stated by the advertiser as tantamount 
 to a confession of his guilt. 
 
 "My friends, I was acquainted with the particulars of 
 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? Who 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 
 
280 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 trou- 
 ble 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 inquisi- 
 tive in his master's concerns, and because, as I suspect, he 
 had been trusted with some important secrets, his master 
 conceived an antipathy against him. The antipathy gradu- 
 ally proceeded to such a length as to induce the master to 
 forge this vile accusation. He seemed willing 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 ingenuousness, that I am 
 as sure that he is guiltless of what they lay to his charge, 
 as that I am so myself. Nevertheless the man's servants 
 who were called in to hear the accusation, 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 afforded Williams a 
 sample of what he had to expect in the sequel. 
 
 "Larkins, who, when he received this paper, had no pre- 
 vious 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 
 for so paltry a consideration deliver up the lamb into the 
 jaws of the wolf? Will you abet the purposes of thi^san- 
 guinary rascal, who, not contented . with driving his late 
 dependant from house and home, depriving him of char- 
 acter 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 artifices of the informer? Shall we, 
 against whom the whole species is in arms, refuse our pro- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 281 
 
 tection to an individual, more exposed to, but still less 
 deserving of, their persecution than ourselves? ; ' 
 
 The representation of the captain produced an instant 
 effect upon the whole company. They all exclaimed. "Be- 
 tray him! No, not for worlds! He is safe. We will pro- 
 tect him at the hazard of our lives. If fidelity and honour 
 be banished from thieves, where shall they find refuge upon 
 the face of the earth? ' J1 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-villany. Saying this, he 
 took me by the hand and bade me fear nothing. Under 
 their roof no harm should ever befall me; and even if the 
 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 appeased 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 con- 
 fidence in the returning equity of Mr. Falkland. Though 
 he persecuted me with bitterness, I could not help believing 
 that he did it unwillingly, and I 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 recollect the injustice of his conduct, and to remit his 
 
 1 This seems to be the parody of a celebrated saying of John 
 King of France, vrho was taken prisoner by the Black Prince at 
 the battle of Poitiers. 
 
 i 
 
282 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 en- 
 couraged by Mr. Falkland's behaviour upon the question 
 of my imprisonment, 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 continu- 
 ing his pursuit under these forlorn circumstances with un- 
 mitigable cruelty. Indignation and resentment seemed now 
 for the first time to penetrate my mind. I knew his misery so 
 well, I was so fully acquainted with its cause, and strongly 
 impressed with the 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 be- 
 lieve that he had sufficiently disarmed me, and might at 
 length suffer me to be at peace. At least, ought he 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 
 opposition to the stern severity of Mr. Forester, and his 
 various 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- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 283 
 
 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 aversion 
 and abhorrence to the men which are commonly entertained. 
 I saw and respected their good qualities and their virtues. 
 I was by no means inclined to believe them worse men, or 
 more hostile in their dispositions to the welfare of their 
 species, than the generality of those that look down upon 
 them with most censure. But though I did not cease to 
 love them as individuals, my eyes were perfectly open to 
 their mistakes. If I should otherwise have been in danger 
 of being misled, it was my fortune to have studied felons 
 in a jail before I studied them in their state of compara- 
 tive prosperity; and this was an infallible antidote to the 
 poison. I saw that in this profession were exerted un- 
 common energy, ingenuity, and fortitude, and I could not 
 help recollecting how admirably beneficial such qualities 
 might be made in the great theatre of human affairs; 
 while, in their present direction, they were thrown away 
 upon purposes diametrically at war with the first interests 
 of human society. Nor were their proceedings less in- 
 jurious to their own interest than incompatible with the 
 general welfare. The man who risks or sacrifices his life 
 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 and self- 
 neglectful than the man who should set himself up as a 
 mark for a file of musketeers to shoot at. 
 
 Viewing the subject in this light, 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 
 from an employment in which they must themselves be the 
 greatest sufferers. My expostulation met with a various 
 
284 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 par- 
 ticularly the captain, repelled them with the boldness of a 
 man that knows he has got the strongest side. But this 
 sentiment of ease and self-satisfaction did not long remain. 
 They had 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 of the 
 subject appealed to principles which they could not con- 
 test, and had by no means the air of that customary re- 
 proof which is for ever dinned in our ears without finding 
 one responsive chord in our hearts. Urged, as they now 
 were, with objections unexpected and cogent, some of those 
 to whom I addressed them began to grow peevish and im- 
 patient 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 sur- 
 prised to hear objections so powerful to that which, as a 
 matter of speculation, he believed he had examined on all 
 sides. He revolved them with 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 fortunate 
 for me if these views had been presented to me previously 
 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, receives 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 285 
 
 delight in confounding the demerits of offenders. It sig- 
 nifies not what is the character of the individual at the 
 hour of trial. How changed, how spotless, and how useful, 
 avails him nothing. If they discover at the distance of 
 fourteen x or of forty years 2 an action for which the law 
 ordains that his life shall be the forfeit, though the interval 
 should have been spent with the purity of a saint and the 
 devotedness of a patriot, they disdain to inquire into it. 
 What, then, can I do? Am I not compelled to go on in 
 folly, having once begun?" 
 
 1 Eugene Aram. See Annual Register for 1759. 
 
 2 William Andrew Home. Ibid. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY 
 
 I WAS extremely affected by this plea. I could only 
 answer, that Mr. 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 Mr. 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 reasonings I had lately 
 offered against the profession of robbery. Robbery was a 
 fundamental article in the creed of this hoary veteran, and 
 she listened to my objections with the same unaffected 
 astonishment and horror that an old woman of other habits 
 would listen to one who objected to the agonies and disso- 
 lution of the Creator of the world or to the garment of 
 imputed righteousness prepared to envelop the souls of the 
 elect. Like the religious bigot, she was sufficiently dis- 
 posed to avenge an hostility against her opinions by the 
 weapons of sublunary warfare. 
 
 Meanwhile I had smiled at the impotence of her malice, 
 as an object of contempt rather than alarm. She perceived, 
 as I imagine, the slight estimation in which I held her, 
 
 286 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 287 
 
 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 sibyl. The thieves had set out 
 upon an expedition about two hours after sunset on the 
 preceding evening, and had not returned, as they were ac- 
 customed to do, before daybreak 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 pursuit; 
 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 the regular return of the different parts of the 
 day, and in some degree to turn day into night, and night 
 into day. I had been now several weeks in this residence, 
 and the season was considerably advanced. I had passed 
 some hours during the night in ruminating on my situa- 
 tion. 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 becoming 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 con- 
 temptibly employed. I had attempted to counteract the 
 
288 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 I 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 defi- 
 cient 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 subsisted, and had no congeniality with their habits, 
 that I should continue to reside with them longer than was 
 absolutely necessary. There was one circumstance that 
 rendered this deliberation particularly pressing. They in- 
 tended in a few days removing from their present habita- 
 tion to a haunt to which they were accustomed, in a dis- 
 tant county. If I did not propose to continue with them, 
 it would perhaps be wrong to accompany them in this re- 
 moval. 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. I sighed 
 for that solitude and obscurity, that retreat from the vexa- 
 tions 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 I grew fatigued with 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 independ- 
 ence. By this time the sun rose from behind the eastern 
 hills, and I opened my casement to contemplate it. The 
 day commenced with peculiar brilliancy, and was accom- 
 panied with all those charms which the poets of nature, as 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 289 
 
 they have been styled, have so much delighted to describe. 
 There was something in this scene, particularly as succeed- 
 ing to the active exertions of intellect, that soothed the 
 mind to composure. Insensibly a confused revery invaded 
 my faculties: 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 
 concluded with the idea of some person, the agent of ZSIr. 
 Falkland, approaching to assassinate me. This thought 
 had probably been suggested by the project I meditated of 
 entering: once again into the world, and throwing mvself 
 within the sphere of his possible vengeance. I imagined 
 that the design of the murderer was to come upon me by 
 surprise, that I was aware of his design, and yet. by some 
 fascination, had no thought of evading it. I heard the 
 steps of the murderer as he cautiously approached. I 
 seemed to listen 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 scull 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 
 life. Her vigour was truly Amazonian, and at no time had 
 I ever occasion to contend with a more formidable oppo- 
 nent. Her glance was rapid and exact, and the shock with 
 which from time to time she impelled her whole frame in- 
 conceivably 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 
 

 290 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 replied: "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 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 certain 
 furious motions of her head, and by occasional vehement 
 efforts to disengage herself from my grasp. These contor- 
 tions 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 emotions was 
 inconceivably frightful. Her violence at length, however, 
 began to abate, and she became convinced of the hopeless- 
 ness of the contest. 
 
 "Let me go!" said she. "Why do you hold me? I 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, "I 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 291 
 
 it upon me. An action so totally unexpected startled me. 
 Whither was she gone? What was it she intended? To 
 perish by the machinations of such a hag as this was a 
 thought not to be endured. Death in any form brought 
 upon us by surprise, and for which the mind has had no 
 time to prepare, is inexpressibly terrible. My thoughts 
 wandered in breathless horror and confusion, and all within 
 was uproar. I endeavoured to break the door, but in vain. 
 I 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. 
 
 I 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. 
 
 Suddenly the recollection of the handbill 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 
 
292 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 imprison- 
 ment, trial, and death. The longer they had formed the 
 subject of my contemplation, the more forcibly was I im- 
 pelled to avoid them. I had entered upon a system of action 
 for that purpose; I had already made many sacrifices; and 
 I believed that I would never miscarry in this project 
 through any neglect of mine. The thought of what was re- 
 served 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 ab- 
 horrence 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 habi- 
 tation to which, for six weeks, I had apparently been in- 
 debted for protection from trial, conviction, and an igno- 
 minious death. I had come hither penniless; I quitted my 
 abode with the sum of a tew 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 remitted 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 
 handbill 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, or even by strangers. It seemed 
 prudent, therefore, to disguise it as effectually as I could. 
 For this purpose I had recourse to a parcel of tattered gar- 
 ments, that lay in a neglected corner of our habitation. The 
 disguise I chose was that of a beggar. Upon this plan, I 
 threw off my shirt; I tied a handkerchief about my head, 
 with which I took care to cover one of my eyes; over this I 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 293 
 
 drew a piece of an old woollen nightcap. I selected the 
 worst apparel I could find; and this I reduced to a still 
 more deplorable condition, by rents that I purposely made 
 in various places. Thus equipped, I surveyed myself in a 
 looking-glass. I had rendered my appearance 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 THIRTY-ONE 
 
 THE only rule that I had laid down to myself in trav- 
 ersing the forest was to take a direction as oppo- 
 site 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 pulling out a 
 crust of bread which I had brought away with me, rested 
 and refreshed myself. While I continued in this place, I 
 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 of peasants passing at a small distance, and in- 
 quired of them respecting the London road. By their de- 
 scription I understood that the most immediate way would 
 be to repass a part of the forest, and that it would be neces- 
 sary to approach considerably nearer to the county-town 
 than I was at the spot which I had at present reached. I 
 did not imagine that this could be a circumstance of con- 
 siderable importance. My disguise appeared to be a suf- 
 ficient security against momentary danger; and I therefore 
 took a path, though not the most direct one, which led to- 
 wards 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 
 
 294 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 295 
 
 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 with terror, 
 though perhaps it would have been difficult for calm reflec- 
 tion to have discovered any considerable danger. I with- 
 drew from the road, and skulked behind a hedge till it should 
 have completely gone by. I was too much occupied with 
 my own feelings to venture to examine whether or no the 
 terrible adversary of my peace were in the carriage. I per- 
 suaded myself that he was. I looked after the equipage, 
 and exclaimed, "There you may see the luxurious accom- 
 modations and the appendages of guilt, and here the for- 
 lornness 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 con- 
 tributes to imbitter the cup to the man of adversity. The 
 thought, however, was a transient one. I had learned this 
 lesson from my sufferings, not to indulge in the luxury- of 
 discontent. As my mind recovered its tranquillity, I be- 
 gan to inquire whether the phenomenon I had just seen 
 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 refresh- 
 ment after their work. Ideas respecting the inequality 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 varia- 
 tion of circumstances, they styled the notorious house- 
 breaker, Kit Williams. 
 
 M 
 
296 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "Damn the fellow," said one of them, "one never hears 
 of anything 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, "I 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. Besides, I 
 could forgive the fellow all his other robberies, but that he 
 should have been so hardened as to break the house of his 
 own master at last, that is too bad." 
 
 "Lord! lord!" replied the other, "I see you know nothing 
 of the matter! I will tell you how it was, as I 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 
 suppose 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 relation of 
 t'other, found it all out. And he made the hell of a rum- 
 pus, and sent away Kit to prison in a twinky; and I believe 
 he would have been hanged: for 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 207 
 
 say which; but it is much at one when the poor fellow's 
 breath is out of his body." 
 
 Though this story was very circumstantially told, and 
 with a sufficient detail of particulars, it did not pass un- 
 questioned. Each man maintained the justness of his own 
 statement, and the dispute was long and obstinately pur- 
 sued. Historians and commentators at length withdrew 
 together. The terrors with which I was seized when this 
 conversation began were extreme. I stole a sidelong 
 glance to one quarter and another, to observe if any 
 man's attention was turned upon me. I trembled as if in 
 an ague-fit; and, at first, felt continual impulses to quit the 
 house, and take to my heels. I drew closer to my corner, 
 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 obtrude 
 myself to examination. By degrees I began to be amused 
 at the absurdity of their tales, and the variety of the false- 
 hoods I heard asserted around me. My soul seemed to ex- 
 pand; I felt a pride in the self-possession and lightness of 
 heart with which I could listen to the scene; and I deter- 
 mined to prolong and heighten the enjoyment. Accordingly, 
 when they were withdrawn, I addressed myself to our 
 hostess, a buxom, bluff, good-humoured widow, and asked 
 what sort of a man this Kit Williams might be? She re- 
 plied, 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 observed, 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 
 
7 
 
 298 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 interested 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. 
 
 The next day about noon, as I was pursuing my journey, 
 I was overtaken by two men on horseback, who stopped me, 
 to inquire respecting a person that they supposed might have 
 passed along that road. As they proceeded in their descrip- 
 tion, I perceived, with astonishment and terror, that I was 
 myself the person to whom their questions related. They 
 entered into a tolerably accurate detail of the various char- 
 acteristics by which my person might best be distinguished. 
 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 increased upon seeing 
 that this person was the servant of Mr. Forester, who had 
 visited me in prison about a fortnight before my escape. My 
 best resource in this crisis was composure and apparent in- 
 difference. 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 con- 
 siderable facility in the art of imitation ; and when I quitted 
 my retreat in the habitation 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 Irish 
 brogue which I had had an opportunity of studying in my 
 prison. Such are the miserable expedients, and so great 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 299 
 
 the studied artifice, which man, who never deserves the 
 name of manhood but in proportion as he is erect and in- 
 dependent, may find it necessary to employ, for the purpose 
 of eluding the inexorable animosity and unfeeling tyranny 
 of his fellow-man! I had made use of this brogue,' though 
 I have not thought it necessary to write it down in my nar- 
 rative, in the conversation of the village alehouse. Mr. For- 
 ester'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 resolution 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 king- 
 dom, it would be impossible 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 sole 
 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 execu- 
 tioner, notwithstanding the greatest superiority in my as- 
 sailants. But the incidents which had befallen me, though 
 they did not change my purpose, induced me to ex- 
 amine 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 seaport 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. 
 
3 oo CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 I arrived without further impediment at the place from 
 which I intended to sail, inquired for a vessel, which I found 
 ready to put to sea in a few hours, and agreed with the 
 captain for my passage. 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 farther 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 in- 
 tervened between my determination for the sea and my 
 arrival 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 unneces- 
 sarily, 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 THIRTY-TWO 
 
 THE time was now nearly elapsed that was prescribed 
 for our stay, and orders for weighing anchor were 
 every moment expected, when we were hailed by a 
 boat from the shore, with two other men in it besides those 
 that rowed. They entered our vessel in an instant. They 
 were officers of justice. The passengers, five persons be- 
 sides myself, were ordered upon deck for examination. I 
 was inexpressibly disturbed at the occurrence of such a cir- 
 cumstance in so unseasonable a moment. I took it for 
 granted that it was of me they were in search. Was it pos- 
 sible that, by any unaccountable accident, they should have 
 got an intimation 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 en- 
 countered my pursuers, under the appearance of an indif- 
 ferent 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 the 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 hap- 
 pened to be nearest to them; and then, turning to me, in- 
 quired 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 
 
 301 
 
302 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 through all 
 space, and his eye penetrate every concealment? Was he 
 like that mysterious being, to protect us from whose fierce 
 revenge mountains and hills, we are told, might fall on us 
 in vain? Xo 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 in- 
 comprehensibility of the conception: it was an affair of 
 sense; I felt the fangs of the tiger striking deep into my 
 heart. 
 
 But though this impression was at first exceedingly strong, 
 and accompanied with its usual attendants of dejection and 
 pusillanimity, my mind soon began, as it were, mechanically, 
 to turn upon the consideration of the distance between this 
 seaport and my county prison, and the various opportunities 
 of escape that might offer themselves in the interval. My 
 first duty was to avoid betraying myself more than it might 
 afterward appear I was betrayed 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 seldom 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 connexion with Mr. Falkland's affair. Upon 
 every supposition, it was my business to gain information. 
 In my passage from the ship to the town I did not utter a 
 word. My conductors commented on my sulkiness; but re- 
 marked that it would avail me nothing — I should infallibly 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 303 
 
 swing, as it was never known that anybody got off who was 
 tried for robbing his majesty's mail. It is difficult to con- 
 ceive the lightness of heart which was communicated to me 
 by these words: I persisted, however, in the silence I had 
 meditated. From the rest of their conversation, which was 
 sufficiently voluble, I learned that the mail from Edinburgh 
 to London had been robbed about ten days before by two 
 Irishmen, 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 afterward 
 found, it disagreed from mine in several material articles, 
 appeared to them to tally to the minutest, tittle. The intelli- 
 gence that the whole proceeding against me was founded in 
 a mistake took an oppressive load from my mind. I be- 
 lieved that I should immediately be able to establish my in- 
 nocence, to the satisfaction of any magistrate in the king- 
 dom; 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 trifling 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 cap- 
 tain of a collier, 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, wait- 
 ing 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 his worship's servants. They found upon me fif- 
 teen guineas and some silver. They required me to strip my- 
 self perfectly naked, that they might examine whether I 
 had bank-notes concealed anywhere about my person. 
 They took up the detached parcels of my miserable attire 
 as I threw it from me, and felt them one by one, to discover 
 whether the articles of which they were in search might by 
 any device be sewn up in them. To all this I submitted 
 
304 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 without murmuring. It might probably come to the same 
 thing at last; and summary justice was sufficiently coinci- 
 dent with my views, my principal object being to get as 
 soon as possible out of the clutches of the respectable per- 
 sons who now had me in custody. 
 
 This operation was scarcely completed, before we were 
 directed to be ushered into his worship's apartment. My 
 accusers opened the 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 this time under sail for Ireland. "Well," said 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 are you pleased to 
 come?" I had already taken my determination upon this ar- 
 ticle; 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 words I had spoken to my conductors 
 in the anteroom: they started at the metamorphosis; but 
 they had gone too far for it to be possible they should re- 
 tract, in consistence with their honour. I now told the jus- 
 tice that I was no Irishman, nor had ever been in that coun- 
 try: I was a native of England. This occasioned a con- 
 sulting of the deposition in which my person was supposed 
 to be described, and which my conductors had brought with 
 them for 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 the matter a little further. I referred to the 
 paper, and showed that the description neither tallied as to 
 height nor complexion. But then it did as to years and the 
 colour of the hair ; and it was not this gentleman's habit, as 
 he informed me, to squabble about trifles, or to let a man's 
 neck out of the halter for a pretended flaw of a few inches 
 in his stature. "If a man were too short," he said, "there 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 305 
 
 was no remedy like a little stretching." The miscalculation 
 in my case happened to be the opposite way, but his rev- 
 erence did not think proper to lose his jest. Upon the 
 whole, he was somewhat at a loss how 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 pockets. To retain me in custody they judged to 
 be a safe speculation ; if it turned out a mistake at last, they 
 felt little apprehension of a suit for false imprisonment 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 re- 
 specting 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 could a poor beggar, who had never 
 been in Ireland in his life, want to transport himself to that 
 country? It was as clear as the sun that I was no better 
 than I should be. This reasoning, together with some sig- 
 nificant 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 everything appeared fair and satisfactory, I 
 should be discharged. 
 
 No intelligence could be more terrible than that which 
 was contained in these words. That I, who had found the 
 whole country in arms against me, who was exposed to a 
 pursuit so peculiarly vigilant and penetrating, should now be 
 dragged to the very centre of the kingdom, without power 
 
306 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of accommodating myself to circumstances, and under the 
 immediate custody of the officers of justice, seemed to my 
 ears almost the same thing as if he had pronounced upon me 
 a sentence of death! I strenuously urged the injustice of 
 this proceeding. I observed to the magistrate that it was 
 impossible I should be the person at whom the description 
 pointed. It required an Irishman; I was no Irishman. It 
 described a person shorter than I; a circumstance of all 
 others the least capable of being counterfeited. There was 
 not the slightest reason for detaining me in custody. I had 
 been already disappointed of my voyage, and lost the money 
 I had paid down, through the officiousness of these gentle- 
 men in apprehending me. I assured his worship that every 
 delay, under my circumstances, was of the utmost impor- 
 tance to me. It was impossible to devise a greater injury 
 to be inflicted on me, than the proposal that, instead of be- 
 ing permitted to proceed upon my voyage, I should be sent, 
 under arrest, into the heart of the kingdom. 
 
 My remonstrances were vain. The justice was by no 
 means inclined to digest the being expostulated with in this 
 manner by a person in the habiliments of a beggar. In the 
 midst of my address he would have silenced me for my im- 
 pertinence, but that I spoke with an earnestness with which 
 he was wholly unable to contend. When I had finished he 
 told me it was all to no purpose, and that it might have 
 been better for me if I had shown myself less insolent. It 
 was clear that I was a vagabond and a suspicious person. 
 The more earnest I showed myself to get off, the more reason 
 there was he should keep me fast. Perhaps, after all, I 
 should turn out to be the felon in question. But, if I was 
 not that, he had no doubt I was worse; a poacher, or, for 
 what he knew, a murderer. He had a kind of a notion that 
 he had seen my face before about some such affair; out of 
 all doubt I was an old offender. He had it in his choice 
 to send me to hard labour as a vagrant, upon the strength of 
 my appearance and the contradictions in my story, or to 
 order me to Warwick; and, out of the spontaneous goodness 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 307 
 
 of his disposition, he chose the milder side of the alternative. 
 He could assure me I should not slip through his fingers. 
 It was of more benefit to his majesty's government to hang 
 one such fellow as he suspected me to be, than out of mis- 
 taken tenderness to concern one's self for the good of all the 
 beggars in the nation. 
 
 Finding it was impossible to work in the way I desired 
 on a man so fully impressed with his own dignity and im- 
 portance and my utter insignificance, I claimed that, at 
 least, the money taken from my person should be restored 
 to me. This was granted. His worship perhaps suspected 
 that he had stretched a point in what he had already done, 
 and was therefore the less unwilling to relax in this inci- 
 dental circumstance. My conductors did not oppose them- 
 selves to this indulgence, for a reason that will appear in the 
 sequel. The justice, however, enlarged upon his clemency 
 in this proceeding. He did not know whether he was not 
 exceeding the spirit of his commission in complying with my 
 demand. So much money in my possession could not be 
 honestly come by. But it was his temper to soften, as far 
 as could be done with propriety, the strict letter of the law. 
 
 There were cogent reasons why the gentlemen who had 
 originally taken me into custody chose that I 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 disgrace 
 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 rea- 
 son of the case. It was not, however, an unsubstantial hon- 
 our and barren power that formed the objects of their pur- 
 suit: no, their views were deeper than that. In a word, 
 though they chose that I should retire from the seat of jus- 
 tice as I had come before 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. 
 
3 o8 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 con- 
 ducted me to an inn, and given directions respecting a ve- 
 hicle 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 Warwick 
 is the word! and when we are got there, what may happen 
 then I will not pretend for to say. Whether you are in- 
 nocent 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 busi- 
 ness calls you another way, and as how you are in haste: I 
 scorns to cross any man in his concerns if I can help it. If, 
 therefore, you will give us them there fifteen shiners, why 
 snug is the word. They are of no use to you; a beggar, 
 you know, is always at home. For the matter 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 aboveboard, and scorns to extort a shilling from any 
 man." ~^s 
 
 He who is tinctured with principles of moral discrimina- 
 tion is apt upon occasion to be run away with by his feelings 
 in that respect, and to forget the immediate interest of the 
 moment. I confess, that the first sentiment excited in my 
 mind by this overture was that of indignation. I was ir- 
 resistibly impelled to give utterance to this feeling, and post- 
 pone for a moment the consideration of the future. I re- 
 plied with the severity which so base a proceeding appeared 
 to deserve. My bear-leaders were considerably surprised 
 with 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 replying, 
 "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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 309 
 
 were strikingly applicable to my situation, and I was de- 
 termined not to suffer the occasion to escape me unimproved. 
 The pride of these gentlemen, however, was too great to 
 admit of further 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 in- 
 tention of this manoeuvre I am unable certainly to pro- 
 nounce. Probably it was a sort of compromise between 
 their pride and their avarice ; being desirous, for some reason 
 or other, to drop me as soon as convenient, and therefore 
 determining to wait the result of my private meditations on 
 the proposal they had made. 
 
V 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 
 
 THEY were no sooner withdrawn than I cast my eye 
 upon the old man, and found something extremely 
 venerable 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 consid- 
 erable quantity, and was 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 
 expressive of good-nature. The boorishness of his rank in 
 society 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 with regard to him, he could easily give the 
 alarm to other persons, who would, no doubt, be within 
 call. Add to which, I could scarcely have prevailed on my- 
 self to offer any offence to a person whose first appearance 
 so strongly engaged my affection and esteem. In reality my 
 thoughts were turned into a different channel. I was im- 
 pressed with an ardent wish to be able to call this man my 
 benefactor. Pursued by a train of ill fortune, I could no 
 longer consider myself as a member of society. I was a 
 solitary being, cut off from the expectation of _ symrjathy , 
 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 
 
 310 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 311 
 
 to have denied. I could not conceive the smallest compari- 
 son between the idea of deriving my liberty from the spon- 
 taneous kindness of a worthy and excellent mind, and that 
 of being indebted for it to the selfishness and baseness of 
 the worst members of society. It was thus that I allowed 
 myself in the wantonness 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 anything 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 dif- 
 fering from me both in country and stature; but that, by 
 collusion between them and the justice, they were permitted 
 to retain me in custody, and pretended to undertake to 
 conduct me to Warwick to confront me with my accomplice ; 
 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 lib- 
 erty upon condition of my surrendering this sum into their 
 hands. Under these circumstances, I requested him to con- 
 sider, whether he would wish to render himself the instru- 
 ment of their extortion. I put myself into his hands, and sol- 
 emnly averred the truth of the facts I had just stated. If he 
 would assist me to escape, it could have no other effect than 
 to disappoint the base passions of my conductors. I would 
 upon no account expose him to any real inconvenience; but 
 I 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 
 
3 i2 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 with confusion, and not dare to take another step in the 
 affair. 
 
 The old man listened to what I related with curiosity and 
 interest. He said that he had always felt an abhorrence 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 disagreeable offices 
 to oblige his daughter and son-in-law. He had no doubt, 
 from my countenance and manner, of the truth of what I 
 had asserted to him. It was an extraordinary request I had 
 made, and he did not know 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 think- 
 ing 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 de- 
 gree respecting the person he was desired to oblige. What 
 was my name? 
 
 The question came upon me unprepared. But, what- 
 ever might be the consequence, I could not bear to deceive 
 the person by whom it was put, and in the circumstances 
 under which it was put. The practice of perpetual false- 
 hood is too painful a task. I replied that my name was 
 Williams. 
 
 He paused. His eye was fixed upon me. I saw his com- 
 plexion alter at the repetition of that word. He proceeded 
 with visible anxiety. 
 
 My Christian name? 
 
 Caleb. 
 
 Good God! it could not be ? He conjured me by 
 
 everything 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. Falkland, 
 of ? 
 
 I told him that, whatever might be the meaning of his 
 question I would answer him truly. I was the individual 
 he mentioned. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 313 
 
 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 satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 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 the 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 recol- 
 lection. 
 
 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 
 justice required of him; but, since he had come into the 
 knowledge of who I was only by my own confession, it was 
 irreconcilably repugnant to his feelings to make use of 
 that knowledge to my injury. Here, therefore, ail relation 
 between us ceased; as indeed it would be an abuse of words 
 to 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 unalterable. 
 Our contest lasted for some time, and he at length termi- 
 nated 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 hur- 
 ried me from one species of anxiety and distress to another. 
 
314 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 too rapidly to suffer any one of them to sink deeply into my 
 mind. I am apt to believe, in the retrospect, that half the 
 calamities I was destined to endure would infallibly have 
 overwhelmed and destroyed me. But, as it was, I had no 
 leisure to chew the cud upon misfortunes as they befell me, 
 but was under the necessity of forgetting them, to guard 
 against peril that the next moment seemed ready to crush 
 me. 
 
 The behaviour of this incomparable and amiable old man 
 cut me to the heart. It was a dreadful prognostic for all 
 my future life. But, as I have just observed, my con- 
 ductors entered, and another subject called imperiously upon 
 my attention. I could have been content, mortified as I 
 was at this instant, to have been shut up in some impene- 
 trable solitude, and to have wrapped myself in inconsolable 
 misery. But the grief I endured had not such power over 
 me 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 inert- 
 ness. In the scene that had just passed, I 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 sadness by the result of my 
 last attempt, I was little disposed to unnecessary circumam- 
 bulation. 
 
 I was exactly in the temper in which the gentlemen who 
 had me in their power would have desired to find me. Ac- 
 cordingly we entered immediately upon business; and, 
 after some chaffering, they agreed to accept eleven 
 guineas as the price of my freedom. To preserve, 
 however, the chariness of their reputation, they insisted 
 upon conducting me with them for a few miles on the out- 
 side of a stagecoach. 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 associa- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 315 
 
 tion, and follow my own inclinations. It may be worth re- 
 marking, by the way, that these fellows outwitted them- 
 selves 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 possession, 
 they would have found the possibility of acquiring the sum 
 that had originally excited their pursuit, upon a different 
 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 more 
 returned to the suggestion of hiding myself, at least for the 
 present, among the crowds of the metropolis. Meanwhile, 
 I 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 par- 
 ticular 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 expected 
 to engross every thought of my mind. Yet it was borne by 
 me with singular impatience. I was that day uncommonly 
 fatigued. Previously to the time that I mistook, 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. I 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 hailstones were large and frequent. I was ill 
 defended by the miserable covering I wore, and they seemed 
 to cut me in a thousand directions. The hail-storm subsided 
 
■* 
 
 316 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and was again succeeded by a heavy rain. By 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 
 sufficient reason to reject one or prefer another. My mind 
 was bursting with depression and anguish. I muttered im- 
 precations 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 with- 
 out 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 
 stumbled 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 in- 
 conveniences and the persecution under which 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 exist- 
 ence. 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 amid the 
 lairs of these human tigers?" 
 
 This; paroxysm at length exhausted itself. Presently after 
 I discovered a solitary shed, which I was contented to re- 
 sort to for shelter. In a corner of the shed I found some 
 
; 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS 317 
 
 clean straw. I threw off my rags, placed them in a situa- 
 tion where they would best be dried, and buried myself amid 
 this friendly warmth. Here I forgot by degrees the anguish 
 that had racked me. A wholesome shed and 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 hap- 
 pened in this instance, though in general my repose was re- 
 markably 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 in- 
 tended 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 
 which one of them exclaimed, "I will be damned if I do 
 not think that this is the very fellow those men were in- 
 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 mo- 
 ment 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 were the very persons who had apprehended me on 
 board the ship in which I had embarked for Ireland; that 
 by some accident they had met with the description of my 
 person as published on the part of Mr. 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, after 
 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 had not lost 
 my way in consequence of the hail-storm on the preceding 
 
318 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 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, arid a bet- 
 ter 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 like the son of a repu- 
 table farmer of the lower class. Thus equipped, I proceeded 
 on my journey, and after a thousand alarms, precautions, 
 and circuitous deviations from the direct path, arrived safely 
 in London. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 
 
 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 had purchased this resting-place; 
 whether we consider the efforts it had cost me to escape 
 from the walls of my prison, or the dangers and anxieties to 
 which I had been a prey from that hour to the present. 
 
 But why do I call the point at which I was now arrived 
 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 opera- 
 tion; but ordinary cases formed no standard for the colos- 
 sal 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 consolatory sentiment to my mind. Whether 
 life were worth accepting on such terms I cannot pro- 
 nounce. 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 expended in rearing it to its present per- 
 fection, the less did I find myself disposed to abandon it. 
 Another motive, not less strenuously exciting me to perse- 
 verance, was the ever-growing repugnance I felt to injustice 
 and arbitrary power. 
 
 3i9 
 
320 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The first evening of my arrival in town I slept at an ob- 
 scure 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 I came. I entered the inn in 
 the evening in my countryman's frock; and, having paid for 
 my lodging before I went to bed, equipped myself next morn- 
 ing as differently 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 it in the corner of an alley 
 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 forests, had beeffof 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 likely to present themselves. One of the preliminaries 
 I adopted was, to repair to a quarter of the town in which 
 great numbers of this people reside, and study their complex- 
 ion 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- 
 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 as- 
 sumed to belong; and that when my metamorphosis was fin- 
 ished, I could not, upon the strictest examination, conceive 
 that any one could have traced out the person of Caleb 
 Williams in this new disguise. 
 
 Thus far advanced in the execution of my project, I 
 deemed it advisable to procure a lodging, and change my 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 321 
 
 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 window of my apartment, though 
 upon the attic story; a principle I laid down to myself was, 
 not wantonly 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 lineaments 
 and members of a human body. I was not born indeed to 
 the possession of hereditary wealth: but I had a better in- 
 heritance, an enterprising mind, an inquisitive spirit, a lib- 
 eral ambition. In a word, I accepted my lot with willing- 
 ness and content; I did not fear but I should make my cause 
 good in the lists of existence. I was satisfied to aim at 
 small things: I was pleased to play at first for a slender 
 stake: I was more willing to grow than to descend in my 
 individual significance. 
 
 The free spirit and the firm heart with which I com- 
 menced, one circumstance was sufficient to blast. I was 
 ignorant of the power which the institutions of society give 
 to one man over others: I had fallen unwarily into the 
 hands of a person who held it as his fondest wish to oppress 
 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 even' human countenance I feared to find the counte- 
 nance of an enemy. I shrunk from the vigilance of every 
 human eye. I dared not open my heart to the best af- 
 fections of our nature. I was shut up, a deserted, solitary 
 wretch, in the midst of my species. I dared not look for 
 the consolations of friendship: but. instead of seeking to 
 identify myself with the joys and sorrows of others, and ex- 
 
4 
 
 322 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 changing the delicious gifts of confidence and sympathy, 
 was compelled to centre my thoughts and my vigilance in 
 myself. My life was all a lie. I had a counterfeit character 
 to support. 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 procure 
 myself a subsistence — a subsistence to be acquired with in- 
 finite 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. My time was divided 
 between the terrors of an animal that skulks from its pur- 
 suers, the obstinacy of unshrinking firmness, and the elastic 
 revulsion that from time to time seems to shrivel the very 
 hearts of the miserable. If at some moments I fiercely de- 
 fied all the rigours of my fate, at others, and those of fre- 
 quent recurrence. I sunk into helpless despondence. I looked 
 forward without hope through the series of my existence, 
 tears of anguish rushed from my eyes, my courage became 
 extinct, and I cursed the conscious life that was reproduced 
 with every returning day. 
 
 "Why," upon such occasions I was accustomed to ex- 
 claim, "why am I overwhelmed with the load of existence? 
 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 role 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 
 proved indeed the worst of step-mothers; endowed me with 
 wishes insatiate, and sunk me in never-ending degradation!" 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 323 
 
 I might have thought myself more secure if I had been in 
 possession of money upon which to subsist. The necessity 
 of earning for myself the means of existence, evidently 
 tended to thwart 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 
 meantime I had no alternative. The little money with 
 which I had escaped from the blood-hunters was almost ex- 
 pended. 
 
 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 specu- 
 lators in this sort of ware to its proper manufacturers. My 
 qualifications 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 I was 
 utterly destitute, my propensities had always led me in 
 this direction; and my early thirst of knowledge had con- 
 ducted me to a more intimate acquaintance with books than 
 could perhaps have been expected under my circumstances. 
 If my literary pretensions were slight, the demand I intended 
 to make upon them was not great. All I asked was a sub- 
 sistence; and I was persuaded few persons could subsist 
 upon slenderer means than myself. I also considered this 
 as 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 me for the least prepara- 
 tion, and could, as I thought, be exercised with least obser- 
 vation. 
 
 There was a solitary 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 
 industry than I cast my eye upon her as the possible instru- 
 
324 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ment for disposing of my productions. Excluded as I was 
 from all intercourse with my species in general, I found 
 pleasure in the occasional exchange ot a few words with 
 this inoffensive and good-humoured creature, who was al- 
 ready of an age to preclude scandal. She lived upon a very 
 small annuity, allowed her by a distant relation, a woman 
 of quality, who, possessed of thousands herself, had no 
 other anxiety with respect to this person than that she 
 should not contaminate her alliance by the exertion of honest 
 industry. This humble creature was of a uniformly cheer- 
 ful 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 dis- 
 cernment; but her temper was of so mild and forgiving a 
 cast, as would have induced most persons to believe 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 
 precluded my demands upon her kindness. But I speedily 
 perceived, from her manner of receiving and returning 
 civilities of an indifferent sort, that her heart was too noble 
 to have its effusions checked by any base and unworthy 
 considerations. Encouraged by these preliminaries, I deter- 
 mined to select her as my agent. I found her willing and 
 alert in the business I proposed to her. That I might antici- 
 pate occasions of suspicion, I frankly told her that, for 
 reasons which I wished to be excused from relating, but 
 which, if related, I was sure would not deprive me of her 
 good opinion, I found it necessary, for the present, to keep 
 myself private. With this statement she readily acquiesced, 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 325 
 
 and told me that she had no desire for any further informa- 
 tion 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 crea- 
 ture to take them to the office of a newspaper; 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 cannot 
 help mentioning in this place, that the countenance of Mrs. 
 
 arney (this was the name of my ambassadress) was in 
 alPcSses^a perfect indication of her success, and rendered 
 explanation by words wholly unnecessary. She interested 
 herself so unreservedly in what she undertook, that she felt 
 either 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 meditations more 
 interesting and more painful, I regarded these matters as 
 altogether trivial. 
 
 I quietly took the pieces back, and laid them upon my 
 table. L'pon revisal, I altered and transcribed one of them, 
 and, joining it with two ethers, despatched them together 
 to the editor of a magazine. He desired they might be left 
 with him till the day after to-morrow. When that day 
 came he told my friend that they should be inserted; but 
 Mrs. Marney asking respecting the price, he replied, it 
 was their constant rule to give nothing for poetical com- 
 positions, the letter-box being always full of writings of that 
 sort; but if the gentleman would try 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 immedi- 
 ately complied. I attempted a paper in the style of Ad- 
 dison's Spectators, which was accepted. In a short time 
 I was upon an established footing in this quarter. I how- 
 ever distrusted my resources in the way of moral dis- 
 
 quisition, and soon turned my thoughts to his other sug- 
 
326 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 gestion, a tale. His demands upon me were now frequent, 
 and to facilitate my labours I bethought myself of the re- 
 source of translation. I had scarcely any convenience with 
 respect to the procuring of books; but as my memory was 
 retentive, I 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 
 frequently led me to the histories of celebrated robbers: and 
 I related, from time to time, incidents and anecdotes of 
 
 1 Cartouche, Gusman d'Alfarache, and other memorable 
 worthies, whose career was terminated upon the gallows or 
 the scaffold. 
 
 In the meantime 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 inca- 
 pable of action, and sunk into a sort of partial stupor, too 
 wretched to be described. Youth and health however en- 
 abled me, from time to time, to get the better of my de- 
 jection, and to rouse myself to something like a gayety, 
 which, if it had been permanent, might have made this 
 interval of my story tolerable to my reflections. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 
 
 WHILE I was thus endeavouring to occupy and pro- 
 vide for 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 pre- 
 vious suspicion. 
 
 J^ines ^ 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 origi- 
 nally devoted himself to the first; and probably his initia- 
 tion in the mysteries of thieving qualified him to be pecul- 
 iarly expert in the profession of a thief-taker — a profession 
 he had adopted, not from choice, but necessity. In this em- 
 ployment his reputation was great, 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 
 the eclat. He was exercising this art in a very prosperous 
 manner, when 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 subjects of public attention. Having had repeated 
 intimations of this, he thought it prudent to 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 the situation in which I had first encountered 
 him. At the time of that encounter he was a veteran of 
 Captain Raymond's gang; for thieves being a short-lived 
 race, the character of veteran costs the less time in ac- 
 
 327 
 
328 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 quiring. Upon his expulsion from this community he re- 
 turned once more to his lawful profession, and by his old 
 comrades was received with congratulation as a lost sheep. 
 In the vulgar classes of society no length of time is suf- 
 ficient to expiate a crime; but among the honourable fra- 
 ternity of thief-takers it is a rule never to bring one of their 
 own brethren to a reckoning when it can with any decency 
 be avoided. They are probably reluctant to fix an un- 
 necessary stain upon the ermine of their profession. An- 
 other rule observed by those who have passed through the 
 same gradation as Gines had done, and which was adopted 
 by Gines himself, is always to reserve such as have been the 
 accomplices of their depredations to the last, and on no 
 account to assail them without great necessity or power- 
 ful temptation. For this reason, according to Gines's sys- 
 tem of tactics, Captain Raymond and his confederates were, 
 as he would have termed it, safe from his retaliation. 
 
 But though Gines was, in this sense of the term, a man of 
 strict honour, my case unfortunately did not fall within 
 the laws of honour he acknowledged. Misfortune had over- 
 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 fel- 
 ony to an immense amount. But in this Gines had had no 
 participation; he was careless whether the supposition were 
 true or false, and hated me as much as if my innocence had 
 been established beyond the reach of suspicion. 
 
 The blood-hunters who had taken me into custody at 
 
 , related, as usual among their fraternity, a part of 
 
 their adventure, and told of the reason which inclined them 
 to suppose that the individual who had passed through 
 their custody was the very Caleb Williams for whose ap- 
 prehension a reward had been offered of a hundred guineas. 
 Gines, whose acuteness was eminent in the way of his pro- 
 fession, by comparing facts and dates, was induced to sus- 
 pect in his own mind that Caleb Williams was the person 
 he had hustled and wounded upon forest. Against 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 329 
 
 that person he entertained the bitterest aversion. I had 
 been the innocent cccasion of his being expelled with dis- 
 grace from Captain Raymond's gang; and Gines, as I after- 
 ward 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 consecrate 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 indemnification 
 of his labour and expense. Thus I had to encounter the 
 sagacity he possessed in the way of his profession, whetted 
 and stimulated by a sentiment of vengeance, in a mind 
 that knew no restraint from conscience or humanity. 
 
 When I drew to myself a picture of my situation soon 
 after having fixed on my present abode, I foolishly thought, 
 as the unhappy are accustomed to do, that my calamity 
 would admit of no aggravation. The aggravation which, 
 unknown to me, at this time occurred was the most fearful 
 that any imagination could have devised. Nothing could 
 have happened more critically hostile to my future peace 
 
 than my fatal encounter with Gines upon forest. By 
 
 this means, as it now appears, I had fastened upon myself a 
 second enemy, of that singular and dreadful sort that is 
 determined never to dismiss its animosity as long as life 
 shall endure. While Falkland was the hungry lion whose 
 roarings astonished and appalled me, Gines was a noxious 
 insect, scarcely less formidable and tremendous, that hov- 
 ered 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 seaport town where I had formerly 
 been apprehended. From thence he traced me to the banks 
 of the Severn, and from the banks of the Severn to London. 
 
330 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to observe that this is always prac- 
 ticable, provided the pursuer have mcdves strong enough 
 to excite him to perseverance, unless the precautions of the 
 fugitive be, in the highest degree, both judicious in the con- 
 ception, and fortunate in the execution. Gines indeed, in 
 the course of his pursuit, was often obliged to double his 
 steps; and, like the harrier, whenever he was at fault, re- 
 turn 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 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 pur- 
 suit. The describing me was now more difficult, on ac- 
 count of the partial change of dress I had made the second 
 day of my being in town. But Gines at length overcame 
 the 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 sub- 
 ject of speculation for the leisure hours of some of the per- 
 sons belonging to this inn. An old woman, of a most curi- 
 ous and loquacious disposition, who lived opposite to it, 
 and who that morning rose early to her washing, had espied 
 me from her window, by the light of a large lamp which 
 hung over the inn, as I issued from the gate. She had 
 but a very imperfect view of me, but she thought there was 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 331 
 
 something Jewish in my appearance. She was 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 morn- 
 ing, 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 respecting my appear- 
 ance and dress. No two things could be more dissimilar. 
 The Jew Christian, upon any dearth of subjects of intelli- 
 gence, repeatedly furnished matter for their discourse. 
 
 The information thus afforded to Gines appeared exceed- 
 ingly 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 admitted, in the 
 same manner that he had treated the inns. He walked the 
 streets, and examined with a curious and inquisitive eye the 
 countenance of every Jew about my stature; but in vain. 
 He repaired to Duke's Place and the synagogues. It was 
 not here that in reality he could calculate upon finding me; 
 but he resorted to those means in despair, and as a last hope. 
 He was more than once upon the point of giving up the pur- 
 suit; 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 little intercourse between these two persons, their dis- 
 positions and habits of life being extremely dissimilar. The 
 printer was industrious, sober, inclined to Methodism, and 
 of a propensity to accumulation. He was extremely dis- 
 satisfied with the character and pursuit 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; 
 
332 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and his brother was one more hearer in addition to the set 
 of his usual associates. The printer was amused with the 
 blunt sagacity of remark and novelty of incident that char- 
 acterized Gine'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 ingenuity 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 en- 
 tertain his brother in his turn. He began to retail some of 
 my stories of Cartouche and Gusman d'Alfarache. The at- 
 tention of Gines was excited. His first emotion was won- 
 der; his second was envy and aversion. Where 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, and cor- 
 rector of the press, and may pretend without vanity to be a 
 tolerably 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 anything 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 everything 
 by proxy, and made a secret of all his motions! Here was 
 abundant matter for the speculations and suspicions of Gines. 
 He was confirmed in them, without adverting to the process 
 of his own mind, by the subject of my lucubrations, — men 
 who died by the hand of the executioner. 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 333 
 
 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 
 brother 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 miscarriage by 
 negligence. He waited several hours, but not without suc- 
 cess. Mrs. Marney came; he watched her into the house; 
 and, after about twenty minutes' delay, saw her return. He 
 dogged her from street to street; observed her finally en- 
 ter 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 follow- 
 ing her in the street. As she went home she saw a woman 
 who had fallen down in a fainting fit. Moved by the com- 
 passion that was ever alive in her, she approached her, in 
 order to render her assistance. Presently, a crowd col- 
 lected round them. Mrs. Marney, having done what she 
 was able, once more proceeded homewards. Observing 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 confusion, was 
 at that moment standing exactly opposite to her. His vis- 
 age was of the most extraordinary kind; habit had written 
 the characters of malignant cunning and dauntless effrontery 
 in every line of his face ; and Mrs. Marney, who was neither 
 philosopher nor physiognomist, was nevertheless struck. 
 This good woman, like most persons of her notable charac- 
 ter, had a peculiar way of going home, not through the 
 open streets, but by narrow lanes and alleys, with intricate 
 insertions and sudden turnings. In one of these, by some 
 
334 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 accident, she once again caught a glance of her pursuer. 
 This circumstance, together with the singularity of his ap- 
 pearance, 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 se- 
 crecy I practised, and had no doubt that I had reasons for 
 what I did. She recollected that she had always been upon 
 her guard respecting me; but had she been sufficiently so? 
 She thought that, if she should be the means of any mis- 
 chief to me, she should be miserable for ever. She de- 
 termined, 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 intelligence 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 with me 
 nothing but what I could carry in my hand ; to see my gen- 
 erous benefactress no more; to quit my little arrangements 
 and provision; and to seek once again, in some forlorn re- 
 treat, 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, per- 
 sons are at this moment supposed to be roaming the street in 
 search of me: I must not trust to the chance of their pursu- 
 ing one direction, and I another. I traversed half a dozen 
 streets, and then dropped into an obscure house of enter- 
 tainment for persons of small expense. In this house I 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 335 
 
 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 went out (for this was indispen- 
 sable) to purchase the materials of a new disguise. 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 THIRTY-SIX 
 
 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 con- 
 jecture through what means danger had approached me; 
 and had, therefore, only the unsatisfactory remedy of re- 
 doubling my watch upon all my actions. Still I had the 
 joint considerations pressing upon me of security and sub- 
 sistence. I had some small remains of the produce of my 
 former industry; but this was but small, for my employer 
 was in arrear with me, and I did not choose in any method 
 to apply 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 appear- 
 ance 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 those 
 times speedily flowed back upon my mind, and reanimated 
 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 undertake 
 this office in my behalf; but where should I find the benevo- 
 lent soul of Mrs. Marney? The person I fixed upon was a 
 Mr. Spurrel, a man who took in work from the watch- 
 makers, and had an apartment upon our second floor. I ex- 
 amined him two or three times with irresolute glances, as 
 we passed upon the stairs, before I would venture to accost 
 
 336 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 337 
 
 him. He observed this, and at length kindly invited me 
 into his apartment. 
 
 Being seated, he condoled with me upon my seeming bad 
 health, and the solitary mode of my living, and wished to 
 know whether 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 de- 
 formed, and in other respects by no means an object of at- 
 traction. 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 anybody that cared for him, in the whole world. If I 
 pleased, I should be instead of that son to him, and he 
 would treat me in all respects with the same attention and 
 kindness." 
 
 I expressed my sense of these benevolent offers, but told 
 him that I should be sorry to be in any way burthensome to 
 him. "My ideas at present led me to a private and solitary 
 life, and my chief difficulty was to reconcile this with some 
 mode of earning necessary subsistence. If he would con- 
 descend to lend me his assistance in smoothing this difficulty, 
 it would be the greatest benefit he could confer on me." 
 I added, that "my mind had always had a mechanical and 
 industrious turn, and that I 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 favor 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 necessity, and encouraged on 
 the other by the persuasiveness of his friendly professions." 
 
33& ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The old man dropped some tears over my apparent dis- 
 tress, and readily consented to everything I proposed. Our 
 agreement was soon made, and I entered upon my functions 
 accordingly. My new friend was a man of a singular turn 
 of mind. Love of money, and a charitable ofnciousness of 
 demeanour, were his leading characteristics. He lived in 
 the most penurious manner, and denied himself every in- 
 dulgence. 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 industry. Yet he 
 frequently shed tears over me, was uneasy in every mo- 
 ment of our indispensable separation, and exhibited perpet- 
 ual tokens of attachment and fondness. I found him a man 
 of excellent mechanical contrivance, and received consid- 
 erable pleasure from his communications. My own sources 
 of information were various; and he frequently expressed 
 his wonder and delight in the contemplation 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, 
 however, still more unhappy. My fits of despondence were 
 deeper, and of more frequent recurrence. My health every 
 day grew worse; and Mr. Spurrel was not without appre- 
 hensions that he should lose me, as he before lost his only 
 son. 
 
 I had not been long, however, in this new situation, be- 
 fore 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 with two or three casual 
 sounds from the mouth of a hawker who was bawling his 
 wares. I stood still to inform myself more exactly, when, j 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 339 
 
 to my utter astonishment and confusion, I heard him de- 
 liver himself nearly in these words: — "Here you have the 
 
 MOST WONDERFUL AND SURPRISING HISTORY AND MIRACU- 
 LOUS adventures of Caleb Williams: you are informed 
 how he first robbed, and then brought false accusations 
 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 incredible manner ; as also of his trav- 
 elling the kingdom in various disguises, and the robberies he 
 committed with a most desperate and daring gang of thieves; 
 and of his coming up to London, where it is supposed he now 
 lies concealed; with a true and faithful copy of the hue and 
 cry printed and published by one of his majesty 1 s most prin- 
 cipal secretaries of state, offering a reward of one hundred 
 guineas for apprehending him. All for the price of one 
 halfpenny." 
 
 Petrified as I was at these amazing and dreadful sounds, 
 I had the temerity to go up to the man and purchase one of 
 his papers. I was desperately resolved to know the exact 
 state of the fact, and what I had to depend upon. I car- 
 ried it with me a little way, till, no longer able to endure 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 contained a greater number 
 of circumstances than could have been expected in this 
 species of publication. I was equalled to the most no- 
 torious housebreaker in the art of penetrating through walls 
 and doors, and to the most accomplished swindler in plausi- 
 bleness, duplicity, and disguise. The handbill which Lar- 
 kins 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 public were warned to be 
 upon their watch against a person of an uncouth and ex- 
 traordinary appearance, and who lived in a recluse and soli- 
 tary manner. I also learned from this paper that my former 
 lodgings had been searched on the very evening of my es- 
 
340 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 cape, and that Mrs. Marney had been sent to Newgate, 
 upon a charge of misprision of felony. — This last circunv 
 stance affected me deeply. In the midst of my own suf- 
 v ferings my— symp athies flo wed undiminished. It was a 
 most cruel and intolerable idea, if I were not only myself 
 to be an object of unrelenting persecution, but my • ^ery 
 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 malice 
 of my enemies, could I by that means have saved this ex- 
 cellent woman from alarm and peril. — I afterward learned 
 that Mrs. Marney was delivered from confinement, by the 
 interposition of her noble relation. 
 
 My sympathy for Mrs. Marney, however, was at this 
 moment a transient one. A more imperious and irresistible 
 consideration demanded to be heard. 
 
 With what sensations did I ruminate upon this paper! 
 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 terror 
 to which I was a' prey. Disguise was no longer of 
 use. A numerous class of individuals, through every de- 
 partment, almost every—house -ot^the metropolis, would be 
 induced to look with a suspicious eye upon every stranger, 
 especially every solitary stranger, that fell under their ob- 
 servation. 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 million 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 la- 
 bours lead to no termination! Termination! No; the 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 341 
 
 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? I 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 rne!" 
 
 In the 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 par- 
 oxysm of my mind that my powers of vision became par- 
 tially suspended. I was no longer conscious to the feeble- 
 ness of disease, but rushed along with fervent impetuosity. 
 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 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 inquired, 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 me 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 man- 
 ner 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 
 
342 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 fatigue, 
 disappointment, and the ill state of my health. I sunk upon 
 a chair. Speedily, however, I recollected myself. I had 
 work of Mr. SpurreFs in my trunk, which had been de- 
 livered out to me that very morning, to five times the amount 
 I wanted. I canvassed for a moment whether I should 
 make use of this property as if it were my own: but I re- 
 jected the idea with disdain. I had never in the smallest de- 
 gree merited the reproaches that were cast upon me: and I 
 determined I never would merit them. I sat gasping, anxious, 
 full of the blackest forebodings. My terrors appeared, even 
 to my own mind, greater and more importunate than the cir- 
 cumstances authorized. 
 
 It was extraordinary that Mr. Spurrel should be abroad 
 at this hour; I had never known it happen before. His 
 bedtime 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. 
 Mr. Spurrel, on account of his regular hours, was unpro- 
 vided with a key to open for himself. A gleam, a sickly 
 gleam, of the social spirit came over my heart. I flew 
 nimbly down stairs, and opened the door. 
 
 I 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 first 
 glance I was sufficiently assured what sort of persons they 
 were. At the second, I perceived that one of them was no 
 other than Gines himself. I had understood formerly that 
 he had been in this profession, and I was not surprised to 
 find him in it again. Though I had for three hours en- 
 deavoured, as it were, to prepare myself for the unavoidable 
 necessity of falling once again into the hands of the officers 
 of law, the sensation I felt at their entrance was indescriba- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 343 
 
 bly agonizing. I was besides not a little astonished at the 
 time and manner of their entrance; and I 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 con- 
 vulsive eagerness, "There, there, that is your man! thank 
 God! thank God!" Gines looked eagerly in my 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 we are in the wrong box!" Then recol- 
 lecting himself, "We will go into the house, and examine 
 further, however." We all went up stairs into Mr. Spur- 
 rePs room; I set down the candle upon the table. I had 
 hitherto been silent; but I determined not to desert myself, 
 and was a little encouraged to exertion by the skepticism of 
 Gines. With a calm and deliberate manner, therefore, in 
 my feigned voice, one of the characteristics of which was 
 lisping, I asked, "Pray, gentlemen, what may be your pleas- 
 ure with me?" — "Why," said Gines, "our errand is with one 
 Caleb Williams, 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'll please to 
 pull off your face ; or, if you cannot do that, at least you can 
 pull off 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. Mr. 
 Spurrel perfectly gloated, with eyes that seemed ready to 
 devour everything that passed. As my imposture gradually 
 appeared 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, Mr. Spurrel!" — He gave a violent start. 
 
344 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The instant I declared myself his transport had been at the 
 highest, and was, to any power he was able to exert, abso- 
 lutely uncontrollable. But the unexpectedness of my address, 
 and the tone in which I spoke, electrified him. — "Is it pos- 
 sible," 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 professed? the affection that was 
 perpetually in your mouth? to be the death of me!" 
 
 "My poor boy! my poor creature!" cried Spurrel, whim- 
 pering, and in a tone of the humblest expostulation, "indeed 
 I could not help it! 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 stern 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 
 neck, and atthe^same piiui putrid have done so to your 
 onlylOn4-^Qo, count your accursed guineas! My life would 
 have been safer~m-4hehands of one I had never seen than in 
 yours, whose mouth ancT'wtrose-^ye's'lor ever ran over with 
 crocodile affection!" 
 
 I have always believed that my sickness, and, as he 
 apprehended, approaching death, contributed its part to the 
 treachery of Mr. Spurrel. He predicted to his own mind 
 the time 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 as- 
 sistance of a similar kind. He feared, however, the reproach 
 of deserting me. He feared the tenderness of his nature. 
 He felt that I was growing upon his affections, and that in a 
 short time he could not have deserted me. He was driven 
 by a sort of implicit impulse, for the sake of avoiding one 
 ungenerous action, to take refuge in another, the basest and 
 most diabolical. This motive, conjoining with the prospect 
 of the proffered reward, was an incitement too powerful for 
 him to resist. 
 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN 
 
 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 unnec- 
 essary 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 quitted, 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 penniless. 
 
 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 un- 
 common 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 
 injustice 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 extri- 
 cate myself from prison, and next to evade the diligence of 
 my pursuers; and the result of all, to be brought back to the 
 point from which I began! I had gained fame, indeed, the 
 
 345 
 
346 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 chamber- 
 maids; but I was neither an Erostratus nor an Alexander, 
 to die contented with that species of eulogium. With re- 
 spect 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 persecu- 
 tion, or that my future attempts would be crowned with 
 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 fiendlike 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, 
 I nay, I might add, my virtues — that henceforth I trampled 
 ^v reverence and the recollection of former esteem under my 
 ) feet. I lost all regard to his intellectual greatness, and all 
 -A pity for the agonies of his soul. I also would abjure 
 J forbearance. I would show myself bitter and inflexible as 
 he had done. Was it wise in him to drive me into extrem- 
 ity and madness? Had he no fears for his own secret and 
 \ atrocious offences? 
 
 V^ I had been obliged to spend the remainder of the night 
 upon which I had been apprehended in prison. During 
 the interval I had thrown off every vestige of disguise, and 
 appeared the 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 them- 
 selves concerned, they were proceeding to make out an order 
 for my being conducted back to my own county. I sus- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 347 
 
 pended 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 which I had hitherto been the faithful 
 depositary; 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 guilt, but that the guilt wholly belonged to 
 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 declara- 
 tion. I am persuaded you will be by no means disposed, 
 actively or passively, to contribute to the atrocious in- 
 justice under which I suffer, to the imprisonment and con- 
 demnation of an innocent man, in order that a murderer 
 may go free. I suppressed this story as long as I could. 
 I was extremely averse to 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 mur- 
 der?" 
 
 "No." 
 
348 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "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 annum. 
 I lived with 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. 
 Next, 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 suppose 
 that the sort of story you have been telling can be of any 
 service to you, either here, or at the assizes, or anywhere 
 else? A fine time of it indeed it would be if, when gentle- 
 men of six thousand a-year take up their servants for rob- 
 bing them, those servants could trump up such accusations 
 as these, and could get any magistrate or court of justice 
 to listen to them! Whether or no the felony with which 
 you stand charged would have brought you to the gallows, 
 I will not pretend to say; but I am sure this story will. 
 There would be a speedy end to all order and good gov- 
 ernment, if fellows that trample upon ranks and distinctions 
 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!" 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 349 
 
 Such was the success of this ultimate 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 forbearance; 
 and I had determined to endure all that human nature could 
 support rather than have recourse to this extreme recrimina- 
 tion. That idea secretly consoled me under all my calam- 
 ities; it was a voluntary sacrifice, and was cheerfully made. 
 I thought myself allied to the army of martyrs and confes- 
 sors; I 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 unrelenting display of my 
 resources, to put an end at once to my sufferings and perse- 
 cutions. 
 
 And this at last was the justice of mankind! A 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 flagitious murder shall be listened to 
 with indifference, while an innocent man is hunted, like a 
 wild beast, to the farthest corners of the earth! Six thou^ 
 sand a year shall protect a man from accusation; and the 
 validity of an impeachment shall be superseded because the 
 author of it is a servant! 
 
 I was conducted back to the very prison from which a 
 few months before I had made my escape. With a 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 despotism 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 ap- 
 pear, 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 bot- 
 tom of my heart. Shut up for the first night in my dungeon, 
 
350 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 I was seized at intervals with temporary phrensy. From 
 time to time I rent the universal silence with roarings of un- 
 supportable 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 ap- 
 parently 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 
 I repeat the loathsome tale of all that was endured by me, 
 and is endured by every man who is unhappy enough to 
 fall under the government of these consecrated ministers of 
 national jurisprudence? The sufferings I had already ex- 
 perienced, my anxieties, my flight, the perpetual expecta- 
 tion of being discovered, worse than the discovery itself, 
 would perhaps have been enough to satisfy the most insensi- 
 ble individual, in the court of his own conscience, if I had 
 ever been the felon I was pretended 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 determina- 
 tion. 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 d je^ resisting. What use, what ad- 
 vantage, what pleasurable sentiment, could arise from a tame 
 surrender? There is no man that is ignorant, that to hum- 
 ble yourself at the feet of the law is a bootless task; in her 
 courts there is no room for amendment and reformation. 
 
 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 
 austerely held to its design, that felt, as it were, satisfied 
 with the naked effort, and prepared to give success or mis- 
 
 
 -> 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 351 
 
 carriage to the winds. It was to this miserable condition, 
 which might awaken sympathy in the most hardened bosom, 
 that Mr. Falkland had reduced me. 
 
 In the meantime, 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 perpetual 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 desperate firmness. 
 
 I anticipated the event of my trial. I determined once 
 more to escape from my prison: nor did I doubt of my 
 ability to effect at least this first step towards my future 
 preservation. The assizes, however, were near, and there 
 were certain considers :::r. 5. unnecessary to be detailed, that 
 persuaded me there might be 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 were unexpected, how much greater was 
 my astonishment, when my prosecutor was called, to find 
 neither Mr. Falkland nor Mr. Forester, nor a single indi- 
 vidual of any description, appear against me! The recog- 
 nisances into which my prosecutors had entered were de- 
 clared 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 adamantine walls 
 of my prison: that I had passed so many anxious days, and 
 sleepless spectre-haunted nights; that I had racked my in- 
 vention for expedients of evasion and concealment: that 
 mv mind had been roused to an enerev of which I could 
 
352 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 scarcely have believed it capable; that my existence had 
 been enthralled to an ever-living torment, such as I could 
 scarcely have supposed it in man to endure? Great God!, 
 what is man? Is he thus blind to the future, thus totally un- 
 suspecting 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 incidents of our life. My own 
 experience does not well accord with this assertion. In this 
 instance at least I should have been saved from insupport- 
 able labour and undescribable anguish, could I have fore- 
 seen the catastrophe of this most interesting transaction. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT 
 
 IT was not long before I took my everlasting leave of 
 this detested and miserable scene. My heart was for the 
 present too full of astonishment and exultation in my 
 expected 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 revery. Accident led me towards 
 the very heath which at first sheltered me, when, upon a 
 former occasion, I broke out of my prison. I wandered 
 among its cavities and its valleys. It was a forlorn and 
 desolate solitude. I continued here I know not how long. 
 Night at length overtook me unperceived, and I prepared 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, how- 
 ever, perceive that one of them was the diabolical Gines. 
 They blindfolded, gagged me, and hurried me I knew not 
 whither. As we passed along in silence, I endeavoured to 
 conjecture what could be the meaning of this extraordinary 
 violence. I was strongly impressed with the idea, that, 
 after the event of this morning, the most severe and painful 
 part of my history was past ; and, strange as it may seem, I 
 could not persuade myself to regard with alarm this unex- 
 pected attack. It might, however, be some new project, sug- 
 gested 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 
 
 353 
 
354 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 as they had taken possession of a room, freed me from the 
 restraints they had before imposed. Here Gines informed 
 me, with a malicious grin, that no harm was intended me, 
 and therefore I should show more 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 would be time enough to resist when 
 they attempted to conduct me from the inn in the same man- 
 ner 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 Mr. Falkland entered the room. I remember 
 Collins, when he first communicated to me the particulars 
 of our patron's history, observed that he was totally unlike 
 the man he had once been. I had no means of ascertaining 
 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 un- 
 dying remorse, as now. Misery was at that time inscribed 
 in legible characters upon his countenance. But now he 
 appeared like nothing that had ever been visible in human 
 shape. His visage was haggard, emaciated, and fleshless. 
 His complexion was a dun and tarnished red, the colour uni- 
 form through every region of the face, and suggested the 
 idea of its being burnt and parched 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 
 suggested the idea rather of a skeleton than a person ac- 
 tually alive. Life seemed hardly to be the capable inhabi- 
 tant of so wo-begone and ghostlike a figure. The taper of 
 wholesome life was expired ; but passion, and fierceness, and 
 phrensy were able for the present to supply its place. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 355 
 
 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 ignominious 
 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 maintain you in prison? Did 
 not I endeavour to prevent your being sent thither? Could 
 you mistake the bigoted and obstinate conduct of Forester in 
 offering a hundred guineas for your apprehension for mine? 
 
 "I had my eye upon you in all your wanderings. You 
 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 
 of my uninterrupted and hourly remorse. I have con- 
 nived at no man's fate but that of the Hawkinses: they 
 could no otherwise have been saved than by my acknowl- 
 edging myself a murderer. The rest of my life has been v 
 spent in acts of benevolence. 
 
 "I meditated to do you good. For that reason I was 
 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 im- 
 potent malignity of your own heart; but in the circum- 
 stances 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 attempted 
 to blast my reputation. You have sought to disclose the 
 select and eternal secret of my soul. Because you have 
 done that, I will never forgive you. I will remember it to 
 my latest breath. The memory shall survive me when my 
 existence is no more. Do you think you are out of the 
 
356 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 whole 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 
 the guardian of my reputation. That, and to endure a mis- 
 ery such as man never endured, are the only ends to which 
 I live. But when I am no more, my fame shall still sur- 
 vive. My character shall be revered as spotless and unim- 
 peachable by all posterity, as long as the name of Falkland 
 shall be repeated in the most distant regions of the many- 
 peopled globe." 
 
 Having said this, he returned to the discourse which 
 more immediately related to my future condition and hap- 
 piness. 
 
 "There is one condition," said he, "upon which you may 
 obtain some mitigation of your future calamity. It is for 
 that purpose that I have sent for you. Listen to my pro- 
 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 
 the most solemn manner, that I am innocent of murder, and 
 that the charge you alleged at the office in Bow-street is 
 false, malicious, and groundless. Perhaps you may scruple 
 out of a regard to truth. Is truth, then, entitled to adora- 
 tion 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 
 consideration that is dear to the human heart require that 
 it should be superseded? It is probable that I may never 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 357 
 
 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 heard you to an end, and I 
 stand in need of no deliberation to enable me to answer you 
 in the negative. You took me up a raw and inexperienced 
 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 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 inquire whether what I 
 have suffered flowed from you by design or otherwise; 
 whether you were the author of my miseries, or only con- 
 nived at them. This I know, that I have suffered too ex- 
 quisitely on your account for me to feel the least remaining 
 claim on your part to my making any voluntary sacrifice. 
 
 "You say that benevolence and humanity require this 
 sacrifice of me. No; it would only be a sacrifice to your 
 mad and misguided love of fame, — to that passion which 
 has been the source of all your miseries, of the most tragical 
 calamities to others, and of every misfortune that has hap- 
 pened 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 equa lity of that? What is it that casts me at, 
 such an immense "distance below you as to make everything 
 that relates to me wholly unworthy of consideration? You 
 have been educated in the prejudice of birth. I abhor that* 
 prejudice. You have made me desperate, and I utter what 
 that desperation suggests. 
 
 "You will tell me, perhaps, that I have no reputation 
 
358 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to lose ; that, while you are esteemed faultless and unblem- 
 ished, I am universally reputed a thief, a suborner, and a 
 calumniator. Be it so. I will never do anything to coun- 
 tenance those imputations. The more I am destitute of 
 the esteem of mankind, the more careful I will be to pre- 
 serve my own. I will never from fear or any other mis- 
 taken motive do anything of which I ought to be ashamed. 
 
 "You are determined to be for ever my enemy. I have 
 in no degree deserved this eternal abhorrence. I have al- 
 ways esteemed and pitied you. For a considerable time I 
 rather chose to expose myself to every kind of misfortune 
 than disclose the secret that was so dear to you. I was not 
 deterred by your menaces — (what could you make me suf- 
 fer more than I actually suffered?) — but by the humanity 
 of my own heart; in which, and not in means of violence, 
 you ought to have reposed your confidence. What 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 pro- 
 ceed to the step with which you reproach me till I was ap- 
 parently 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 suicide. I am now 
 sorry, however, that the step of which you complain was 
 ever adopted. But, urged to exasperation by an uninter- 
 mitted rigour, I had no time to cool or to deliberate. 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 listened 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 
 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 359 
 
 he betrayed an intention to interrupt ; but he was restrained 
 by the collectedness of my manner, and perhaps by a de- 
 sire to be acquainted with the entire state of my mind. _-* ,^a 
 Finding that I had concluded, he paused for a moment; his ' \ '"^^w 
 passion seemed gradually to enlarge, till it was no longer £*\¥ fJ * 
 capable of control. I ^.^w 
 
 "It is well!" said he, gnashing his teeth, and stamping / \^^ n 
 upon the ground. "You refuse the composition I offer! I* / ,y 
 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 jyou in to jttom s. I 
 condescend to no more expostulation. I know what I am, 
 and what I can be. I know what you are, and what fate 
 is reserved for you!" 
 
 Saying this he quitted the room. 
 
 Such were the particulars of this memorable scene. The 
 impression it has left upon my understanding is indelible. 
 The figure and appearance of Mr. Falkland, his deathlike 
 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 noth- 
 ing of the same nature could ever parallel. The idea of his 
 misery thrilled through my frame. How weak in com- 
 parison of it is the imaginary hell which the great enemy 
 of mankind is represented as carrying everywhere about 
 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 im- 
 agined it to consist. He had talked of misery, but had not 
 dropped a syllable respecting the nature of the misery to be 
 inflicted. 
 
 I sat still for some time, ruminating on these thoughts. 
 Neither Mr. 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. No one offered to molest 
 
 
360 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 me. It was strange! What was the nature of this power, 
 from which I was to apprehend so much, yet which seemed 
 to leave me at perfect liberty? I began to imagine 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 be able to employ Gines and his associate, 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 out, 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 anything 
 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 
 dreadful 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 were in prison in that miserable fashion, I felt all at one 
 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 the very lad Williams for whom I could with 
 pleasure, as it were, have laid down my life; and yet, be- 
 hind that smiling face there lie robbery, and lying, and 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 361 
 
 everything that is ungrateful and murderous. Your last 
 action was worse than all the rest. How could you find in 
 your heart to revive that cruel story about Mr. Tyrrel, 
 which everybody 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 unborn? 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!" 
 
 "Worse! I think worse of you than ever! Before, I 
 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 U 
 What can Mr. Falkland contrive for me worse than the ill j 
 opinion and enmity of all mankind?" 
 
 "Mr. 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 me that 
 it is not all owing to you. At least you have given the 
 finishing lift to the misfortune that was already 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 maliciousness as 
 mild and innocent as a lamb, and to think of your vile pro- 
 ceedings against him, is a sight one shall not see again, go 
 all the world over. For God's sake, repent of your repro- 
 bate doings, and make what little reparation is in your 
 power! Think of your poor soul, before you awake, as to 
 
362 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 un- 
 premeditated result of his solemn and well-intended ad- 
 juration. 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 was as great as ever; that I had just had con- 
 firmed to me from his mouth. Yet his animosity appeared to 
 be still tempered with the remains of humanity. He pre- 
 scribed 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 consolation 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 put 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 and 
 most atrocious falsehoods, and urged them with a serious- 
 ness and perseverance which produced universal belief? who, 
 an hour before, had vowed against me inexorable enmity, 
 and sworn to entail upon me misery without end? Would 
 not this conduct on my part betray a base and abject spirit, 
 that crouched under tyranny, and kissed the hands that 
 were imbrued in my blood? 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 363 
 
 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 remove 
 to some distant spot, to be prepared against all the ill-will 
 of mankind, and the unexplored projects of hostility 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 will be beneficial to me, and the vol- 
 untary 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 will boast perhaps of the im- 
 aginary obligation he has conferred on me: surely to shrink 
 from a thing in itself right from any such apprehension, can 
 be the result only of pusillanimity and cowardice! 
 

 CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE 
 
 INFLUENCED by these reasonings, I determined to 
 retain what had thus been put into my hands. My 
 next care 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 ex- 
 posed of forcible 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 deliberation by the strong loathing I conceived for the 
 situation in which I had lately been engaged. I knew not 
 in what mode Mr. Falkland intended to exercise his ven- 
 geance 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 anything 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 
 imagination, 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 facul- 
 ties I in any degree possessed, and employ the intervals of 
 these occupations in simple industry, and the intercourse of 
 guileless, uneducated, kind-intentioned minds. The men- 
 aces of my persecutor seemed to forebode the inevitable 
 interruption of this system. But I deemed it wise to put 
 theee menaces out of my consideration. I compared them 
 
 364 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 365 
 
 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 un- 
 dertaking. 
 
 Such were the ideas that determined my choice. Thus 
 did my youthful mind delineate the system of distant years, 
 even when the threats of instant calamity still sounded in 
 my ears. I was inured to the apprehension of mischief, 
 till at last the hoarse roarings of the beginning tempest had 
 lost their power of annihilating my peace. I however 
 thought it necessary, while I was most palpably within the 
 sphere of the enemy, to exert every practicable degree of 
 vigilance. I was careful not to incur the hazards of dark- 
 ness and solitude. When I left the town it was with the 
 stage-coach, an obvious source of protection against glaring 
 and enormous violence. Meanwhile I found myself no 
 more exposed to molestation in my progress, than the man 
 in the world who should have had the least reason for ap- 
 prehensions of this nature. As the distance increased, I re- 
 laxed something in my precaution, though still awake to a 
 sense of danger, and constantly pursued with the image 
 of my foe. I fixed upon an obscure market-town in Wales 
 as the chosen seat of my operations. This place recom- 
 mended itself to my observation as I was wandering in quest 
 of an abode. It was clean, cheerful, and of great simplicity 
 of appearance. It was at a distance from any public and 
 frequented road, and had nothing which could deserve the 
 name of trade. The face of nature around it was agreeably 
 diversified, being partly wild and romantic, and partly rich 
 and abundant in production. 
 
 Here I solicited employment in two professions; the first, 
 that of a watchmaker, in which though the instructions I 
 had received were few, they were eked out and assisted 
 by a mind fruitful in mechanical invention; the other, that 
 of an instructor in mathematics and its practical application, 
 geography, astronomy, land-surveying, and navigation. 
 
3 66 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Neither of these was a very copious source of emolument 
 in the obscure retreat I had chosen for myself; but, if my 
 receipts were slender, my disbursements were still fewer. 
 In this little town I became acquainted 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 law- 
 yer was the village schoolmaster. 
 
 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 be- 
 nevolence and good-will. My manners had never been 
 greatly debauched from the simplicity of rural life by the 
 scenes through which I had passed; and the hardships I 
 had endured 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-resi- 
 dent; and the schoolmaster, who did not aspire to the sub- 
 lime heights of science I professed to communicate, was 
 willing to admit me as a partner in the task of civilizing the 
 unpolished manners of the inhabitants. For the parson, 
 civilization 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 principally 
 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 a 
 very different description, of which I gradually became the 
 chosen intimate. The father was a shrewd, sensible, ra- 
 tional man, but who had turned his principal attention to 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 367 
 
 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 nis estates confiscated. With this only 
 child, like Prospero in the Tempest, he had withdrawn him- 
 self to one of the most obscure and uncultivated regions of 
 the world. Very soon, however, after his arrival in Wales 
 he had been seized with 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, to no considerable 
 amount, upon an English banker. 
 
 Here then was the infant Laura, left in a foreign country, 
 and without a single friend. The father of her present 
 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 refinement 
 of intellect, there was something in his countenance that 
 determined the stranger, in his present forlorn and mel- 
 ancholy situation, to make him his executor, and the guar- 
 dian of his daughter. The Neapolitan understood enough 
 of English to explain his wishes to this friendly attendant 
 of his deathbed. As his circumstances were narrow, the 
 servants of the stranger, two Italians, 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 
 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 life 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 accom- 
 
368 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 plishments. She read, she observed, she reflected. With- 
 out instructors, she taught herself to draw, to sing, and to 
 understand the more polite European languages. As she 
 had no society 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 disposition 
 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 forlorn and destitute 
 condition, it is little probable, when we consider the habits 
 and notions that now prevail, that her accomplishments, un- 
 assisted by fortune, would have procured 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 
 occurred before, that in her children, at least, she might 
 find the partners and companions of her favorite employ- 
 ments. She w 7 as, at the time of my arrival, mother of 
 four, the 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 perhaps im- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 369 
 
 possible that the refinements of which human nature is 
 capable should not. after a time, subside into sluggishness, 
 if they be not aided by the influence of society and affec- 
 tion. 
 
 The son of the Welsh 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 
 delighted to associate in any situation. It is easy, there- 
 fore, 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 ami- 
 able 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 expressed in the looks of a human 
 being. She soon distinguished me by her kindness and 
 friendship: for, living as she had done, though familiar with 
 the written productions of a cultivated intellect, she had 
 never seen the thing itself realized in a living being, except 
 in the person of her father. She delighted to converse with 
 me upon subjects of literature and taste, and she eagerly 
 invited my assistance in the education of her children. The 
 son, though young, had been so happily improved and in- 
 structed by his mother, that I found in him nearly all the 
 most essential qualities we require in a friend. Engage- 
 ment and inclination equally led me to pass a considerable 
 part of every day in this agreeable society. Laura treated 
 me as if I had 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 had 
 known nothing but calamity, and had scarcely dared to 
 look for sympathy and kindness in the countenance of a 
 human being! 
 
 The sentiments of friendship which early disclosed them- 
 selves between me and the members of this amiable family 
 
370 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 daily became stronger. At every interview the confidence 
 reposed in me by the mother increased. While our familiar- 
 ity gained in duration, it equally gained in that subtlety of 
 communication by which it seemed to shoot forth its roots 
 in every direction. There are a thousand little evanescent 
 touches in the development of a growing friendship, that are 
 neither thought of nor would be understood between com- 
 mon acquaintances. I honoured and esteemed the respecta- 
 ble Laura like a mother; for, though the difference of our 
 ages was by no means sufficient to authorize the sentiment, 
 it was irresistibly suggested to me by the fact of her al- 
 ways being presented to my observation under the maternal 
 character. Her son was a lad of great understanding, gen- 
 erosity, and feeling, and of no contemptible acquirements; 
 while his tender years, and the uncommon excellence of 
 his mother, subtracted something from the independence of 
 his judgment, and impressed him with a sort of religious 
 deference for her will. In the eldest daughter I beheld the 
 image of Laura ; for that I felt attached to her for the pres- 
 ent; and I sometimes conceived it probable that hereafter 
 I might learn to love her for her own sake. — Alas, it was 
 thus that I amused myself with 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. But, 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. I fondly flat- 
 tered myself that such would be the event: in the midst of 
 my unlooked-for happiness, I scarcely recollected, or, recol- 
 lecting, was disposed to yield but a small degree of credit 
 to, the menaces of Mr. Falkland. 
 
 One day, that I was sitting alone with 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- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 371 
 
 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 ac- 
 quainted with this fatal and tremendous name. Astonish- 
 ment, however, was not my only sensation. I became pale 
 with terror; I rose from mv seat; I attemDted to sit down 
 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 nothing 
 further occurred to excite her attention to it at that time; 
 and concluding from my manner that inquiry would be 
 painful to me, she humanely suppressed her curiosity. 
 
 I afterward found that Mr. Falkland had been known to 
 the father of Laura; that he had been acquainted with the 
 story of Count Malvesi, and with a number of other trans- 
 actions redounding in the highest degree to the credit 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 relic of her father with 
 a sort of religious 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 per- 
 sons 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 tranquillity. 
 It seemed as if my faculties were, at least for the time, ex- 
 hausted by the late preternatural intensity of their exer- 
 tions, and that they stood indispensably in need of a period 
 of comparative suspension. 
 
 This was, however, but a temporary feeling. My mind 
 had always been active, and I w T as probably indebted to the 
 sufferings I had endured, and the exquisite and increased 
 susceptibility they produced, for new energies. I soon felt 
 
372 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 general dictionary 
 of four of the northern languages. This incident gave a 
 direction to my thoughts. In my youth I had not been in- 
 attentive to language. I determined to attempt, at least 
 for my own use, an etymological analysis of the English 
 language. I easily perceived, that this pursuit had one 
 advantage to a person in my situation, and that a small 
 number of books, consulted with this view, would afford 
 employment for a considerable time. I procured other 
 dictionaries. In my incidental reading, I noted the man- 
 ner in which words were used, and applied these remarks 
 to the illustration of my general inquiry. I was uninter- 
 mitted in my assiduity, and my collections promised to ac- 
 cumulate. Thus I was provided with sources both of in- 
 dustry and recreation, the more completely to divert my 
 thoughts from the recollection of my past misfortunes. 
 
 In this state, so grateful to my feelings, week after week 
 glided away without interruption or alarm. The situation 
 in which I was now placed had some resemblance to that in 
 which I had spent my earlier years, with the advantage of 
 a more attractive society and a riper judgment. I began 
 to look back upon the intervening period as upon a dis- 
 tempered 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, flight, 
 persecution, agony, and despair! When I recollected what I 
 had undergone, it was not without satisfaction, as the recol- 
 lection of a thing that was past; every day augmented my 
 hope that it was never to return. Surely the dark and ter- 
 rific menaces of Mr. Falkland were rather the perturbed 
 suggestions of his angry mind, than the final result of a 
 deliberate and digested system! How happy should I feel, 
 beyond the ordinary lot of man, if, after the terrors I had 
 undergone, I should now find myself unexpectedly restored 
 to the immunities of a human being. 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 373 
 
 While I was thus soothing my mind with fond imagina- 
 tions, it happened that a few bricklayers and their labour- 
 ers came over from a distance of five or six miles, to work 
 upon some additions to one of the better sort of houses in 
 the town, which had changed its tenant. No incident could 
 be more trivial than this, had it not been for a strange coin-- 
 cidence of time between this circumstance, and a change 
 which introduced itself into my situation. This first mani- 
 fested itself in a sort of shyness with which I was treated, 
 first by one person, and then another, of my new-formed 
 acquaintance. They were backward to enter into con- 
 versation with me, and answered my inquiries 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 progress 
 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 some- 
 times supposed that it was a delusion of the imagination; 
 till the repetition of the sensation brought the reality 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 fellowmen, of great importance to our 
 concerns, and for which we are unable to assign any plausi- 
 ble reason. At times I was half-inclined to believe that the 
 change was not in other men, but that some alienation of 
 my own understanding generated the horrid vision. I en- 
 deavoured 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, unac- 
 quainted with the source of the evil, observing its perpetual 
 
374 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 was one idea that 
 instantly obtruded itself, and that I could never after banish 
 from my mind. It is Falkland! In vain I struggled against 
 the seeming improbability of the supposition. In vain, I 
 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 was that I bribed 
 my imagination, and endeavoured to persuade myself that 
 my present unhappiness originated in a different source 
 from my 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 in- 
 terval 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 I could with difficulty 
 think anything impossible to him. I 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. Falk- 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 375 
 
 land had always been to my imagination an object of won- 
 der, and that which excites our wonder we scarcely suppose 
 ourselves competent to analyze. 
 
 It may well be conceived that one of the first persons to 
 whom I 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 inquiries, the 
 mortification I suffered only drove me more impetuously 
 to seek the cure of my griefs from this object of my admi- 
 ration. "In Laura," said I, "I am secure from these vulgar 
 prejudices. I confide in her justice. I am sure she will 
 not cast me off unheard, nor without strictly examining 
 a question on all sides, in which everything 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 recol- 
 lections, I summoned my faculties. "I may be made mis- 
 erable," 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 communication. 
 I will leave nothing unsaid that the case may require. I 
 will not volunteer anything that relates to my former 
 transactions with Mr. Falkland ; but, if I find that my pres- 
 ent 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 everything that I 
 supposed likely to happen, but this event had not entered 
 
376 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 work- 
 men following me, who put into my hands a billet. The 
 contents were these: — 
 
 "Mr. Williams: 
 "Let me see you no more. I have a right at least to expect 
 your compliance with this requisition; and, upon that con- 
 dition, 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. But 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 would 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 pre- 
 vious contention. Accordingly, the next morning, at the 
 time she usually devoted to half an hour's air and exercise, 
 I hastened to her garden, leaped the paling, and 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 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 377 
 
 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. 
 
 'Tor 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! 
 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 re- 
 flates, 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," replied she with dignity. "The maxim 
 of hearing both sides may be very well in some cases; but 
 it would be ridiculous to suppose that there are not cases, 
 that, at the first 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." 
 
 "Madam! Amiable, exemplary Laura! whom, in the 
 
378 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 midst of all your harshness and inflexibility, I honour! I 
 conjure you, by everything that is sacred, to tell me what 
 it is that has filled you with this sudden aversion to me." 
 
 "No, 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 a _and_not_ in 
 .words. The good man and trie 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 without a clew in the most im- 
 portant 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 perverted, 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 obscure 
 retreat, if you had ever been conversant with the passions 
 and institutions of men." 
 
 "It may be so. And, if that be the case, I have great 
 reason to be thankful to my God, who has thus enabled me 
 v^ 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 
 

 CALEB WILLIAMS 379 
 
 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 aggrava- 
 tions you well knew that accident would give it? Is it pos- 
 sible you should have violated the most sacred of all trusts, 
 and have led me unknowingly to admit to the intercourse 
 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 this 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. Falk- 
 land." 
 
 "I have. I am astonished you have the effrontery to 
 pronounce his name. That name has been a denomina- 
 tion, as far back as my memory can reach, for the most ex- 
 ialted of mortals, the wisest and most generous of men." 
 
 "Madam, I owe it to myself to see you right on this sub- 
 ject. Mr. Falkland—" 
 
 "Mr. Williams, 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 instructer. 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, 
 
380 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 upon whom, though I was innocent of the crimes she im- 
 puted to me, I had inflicted so much pain already. I yielded 
 to the imperiousness of her 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 hus- 
 band was engaged in his usual out-door occupation. The 
 doors of persons of the lower order in this part of the coun- 
 try are secured in the daytime 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 ex- 
 plain, roused in me a strong sensation of suspicion and 
 curiosity. I eagerly went towards it, caught it up, and 
 found it to be the very paper of the wonderful and sur- 
 prising history of Caleb Williams, the discovery of 
 which, towards the close of my residence in London, had 
 produced in me such inexpressible anguish. 
 
 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 acquittal 
 useless? Was there no period, past or in prospect, 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 life must be sustained? 
 
 For the space perhaps of half an hour the agony I felt 
 from this termination to my tranquillity, and the expecta- 
 tion it excited of the enmity which would follow me through 
 every retreat, was such as to bereave me of all consistent 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 381 
 
 thinking, much more of the power of coming to any resolu- 
 tion. As soon as this giddiness and horror of the mind sub- 
 sided, and the deadly calm that invaded my faculties was 
 no more, one stiff and master gale gained the ascendency, 
 and drove me to an instant desertion of this late cherished 
 retreat. I had no patience to enter into further remon- 
 strance 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 had seen too much of the 
 reign of triumphant falsehood, to have that sanguine confi- 
 dence in the effects of my innocence which would have sug- 
 gested itself to the mind of any other person of my propen- 
 sities and my age. The recent instance which had occurred 
 in my conversation with Laura might well contribute to dis- 
 courage me. I could not endure the thought 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 like 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 would encounter the calumny in its stronghold; 
 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 believe Mr. 
 Falkland a suborner and a murderer! 
 
CHAPTER FORTY 
 
 1 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 retreat in Wales, where first the certainty of Mr. Falk- 
 land's menaces was confirmed to me, I left behind me the 
 apparatus of my etymological inquiries, and the papers I 
 had written upon the subject. I have never been able to 
 persuade myself to resume this pursuit. It is always dis- 
 couraging to begin over again a laborious task, 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 
 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 my hourly-renewing distress. 
 
 But what was of greatest importance, and made the 
 1 deepest impression upon my mind, was my separation from 
 I the family of Laura. Fool that I was, to imagine that 
 there was any room for me in the abodes of friendship and 
 / tranquillity! It was now first that I felt, with the most 
 intolerable acuteness, how completely I was cut off from the 
 whole human species. Other connexions I had gained, com- 
 paratively without interest; and I saw them dissolved with- 
 1 out the consummation of agony. I had never experienced 
 \the purest refinements of friendship but in two instances, 
 What of Collins, and this of the family of Laura. Solitude, 
 (separation, banishment! These are words often in the 
 mouths of human beings; but few men except myself have 
 
 382 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 383 
 
 felt the full latitude of their meaning. The pride of phi- 
 losophy 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 inevitably 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 everything 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 mel- 
 ancholy satisfaction 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 con- 
 ceived that my story, faithfully digested, would carry in it 
 an impression of truth that few men would be able to re- 
 sist; 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 inclined to turn their atten- 
 tion upon the fountain from which such bitter waters have 
 been accustomed to flow. But these motives have di- 
 minished in their influence. I have contracted a disgust for 
 life and all its appendages. Writing, which was at first a 
 pleasure, is changed into a burden. I shall compress into 
 a small compass what remains to be told. 
 
 I discovered, not long after the period of which I am 
 speaking, the precise cause of the reverse I had experi- 
 enced in my residence in Wales, and, included in that cause, 
 what it was I had to look for in my future adventures. 
 
384 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 employment to which this man was hired was 
 that of following me from place to place, blasting my repu- 
 tation, and preventing me from the chance, by continuing 
 long in one residence, of acquiring a character for integrity, 
 that should give new weight to any accusation I might 
 at a future time be induced to prefer. He had come to 
 the seat of my residence with the bricklayers and labourers 
 I have mentioned; and, while he took care to keep out of 
 sight so far as related to me, was industrious in disseminat- 
 ing that which, in the eye of the world, seemed to amount 
 to a demonstration of the profligacy and detestableness of 
 my character. It was no doubt from him that the detested 
 scroll had been procured, which I had found in my habita- 
 tion immediately prior to my quitting it. In all this Mr. 
 Falkland, reasoning upon his principles, was only employ- 
 ing a necessary precaution. There was something in the 
 temper of his mind that impressed him with aversion to the 
 idea of violently putting an end to my existence; at the 
 same time that unfortunately he could never deem him- 
 self sufficiently secured against my recrimination, so long 
 as I remained alive. As to the fact of Gines being re- 
 tained 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 ac- 
 quainted with our history, did not entertain less abhor- 
 rence against me for my own sake. If they should at any 
 time know the pains he exerted in causing my evil reputa- 
 tion to follow me, they would consider it as an act of im- 
 
 % 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 385 
 
 partial justice, perhaps as a generous anxiety, to prevent 
 other men from being imposed upon and injured as he had 
 been. 
 
 What expedient was I to employ for the purpose of 
 counteracting the meditated and barbarous prudence which 
 was thus destined, in all changes of scene, to deprive me of 
 the benefits and consolations of human society? There 
 was one expedient against which I was absolutely de- 
 termined — disguise. I had experienced so many mortifi- 
 cations and such intolerable restraint when I formerly had 
 recourse to it, — it was associated in my memory with sen- 
 sations of acute anguish, that my mind was thus far en- 
 tirely convinced: life was not worth purchasing at so high a 
 price! But, though 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 accommodate myself 
 to circumstances. I was contented, if that would ensure 
 my peace, to submit to the otherwise unmanly expedient 
 of passing by a different name. 
 
 But the change of my name, the abruptness with which I 
 removed from place to place, the remoteness and obscurity 
 which I proposed to myself in the choice of my abode, were 
 all insufficient to elude the sagacity of Gines, or the unre- 
 lenting constancy with which Mr. Falkland incited my 
 tormentor to pursue me. Whithersoever I removed myself, 
 it was not long before I had occasion to perceive this de- 
 tested adversary in my rear. No words can enable me to 
 do justice to the sensations which this circumstance pro- 
 duced in me. It was like what has been described of the 
 eye of Omniscience, pursuing the guilty sinner, and darting 
 a ray that awakens him to new sensibility, at the very 
 moment that, otherwise, exhausted nature would lull him 
 into a temporary oblivion of the reproaches of his con- 
 science. Sleep fled from my eyes. No walls could hide 
 me from the discernment of this hated foe. Everywhere 
 his industry was unwearied to create for me new distress. 
 Rest I had none; relief I had none: never could I count upon 
 
386 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 an instant's security; never could I wrap myself in the 
 shroud of oblivion. The minutes in which I did not actually 
 perceive him were contaminated and blasted with the cer- 
 tain expectation of speedy interference. In my first re- 
 treat I had passed a few weeks of delusive tranquillity, but 
 never after was I happy enough to attain to so much as 
 that shadowy gratification. I spent some years in this 
 dreadful vicissitude of pain. My sensations at certain pe- 
 riods 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 im- 
 practicable, and that they proceeded by arming against me 
 a whole vicinity at once? 
 
 It is inconceivable the mischiefs that this kind of ex- 
 istence included. Why should I insist upon such aggra- 
 vations as hunger, beggary, and external wretchedness? 
 These were an inevitable consequence. It was by the de- 
 sertion 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, meager- 
 ness and penury w ? ere the ordinary attendants of my 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 situ- 
 ation could be meliorated; the question occurred to me, 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 387 
 
 "Why should I be harassed by the pursuit of this Gines? 
 Why, man to man, may I not, by the powers of my mind, 
 attain the ascendency over him? At present he appears to 
 be the persecutor, and I the persecuted: is not this dif- 
 ference the mere creature of the imagination? May I not 
 employ my ingenuity to 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 suf- 
 ferer! 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 dissemi- 
 nating 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 refine- 
 ment 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 mis- 
 erable 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 which had ever since pursued me with unrelenting 
 eagerness. Mr. Falkland, in addition to the large estate 
 he possessed in England, had a very valuable plantation in 
 the West Indies. This property had been greatly mis- 
 
388 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 managed 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 
 Mr. Falkland, had been attended with no salutary fruits, 
 it was resolved that Mr. Collins should go over in person, 
 to rectify 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 intelligence 
 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 little 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 
 believed that, had he been present in the crisis of my 
 fortune, he would have felt a conviction of my innocence; 
 and. convinced himself, would, by means of the venerable- 
 ness and energy of his character, have interposed so effectu- 
 ally, 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 oft from the friendship of mankind. I can 
 safely affirm; "that poverty and hunger, that enc!Te?s"wander- 
 ings, that a blasted character and the curses that clung to 
 my name, were all of them slight misfortunes compared to 
 this. I endeavoured to sustain myself by the sense of my 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 389 
 
 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 regarded." To me 
 the whole world was unhearing as the tempest, and as cold 
 as the torpedo. Sympathy, the magnetic virtue, the hidden 
 essence of o ur life jwas extinct: Nor was this the sum of my 
 misery. This food7"so essential 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 in- 
 tolerably mortifying. 
 
 Xo 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 counte- 
 nance 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 appearance, pale, sickly, and thin. These unfavour- 
 able effects had been produced by the change of climate, 
 particularly 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 the period 
 that had elapsed as he had been. I was the first to recol- 
 lect him. He was on horseback; I on foot. I had suf- 
 fered him to pass me. In a moment the full idea of who 
 he was rushed upon my mind: I ran; I called with an im- 
 petuous voice; I was unable to restrain the vehemence of 
 my emotions. 
 
 The ardour of my feelings disguised my usual tone of 
 speaking, which otherwise Mr. Collins would infallibly have 
 recognised. His sight 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 
 
390 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 with fervour and delight, "I am your son; once your little 
 Caleb, whom you a thousand times loaded with your kind- 
 ness!" 
 
 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 blend- 
 ing itself with my impatience, "do not say so! I have not 
 a friend anywhere in the world but you! In you at least 
 let me find sympathy and reciprocal affection! 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 
 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. My silence was an affirmative to the 
 question. 
 
 "And what benefit will result from this conviction? I 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 391 
 
 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 pre- 
 vented from being mistaken for virtue, what benefit would 
 arise from that? I must part with all my interior con- 
 solation, and all my external connexions. And for what? 
 What is it you propose? The death of Mr. Falkland 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 will not suc- 
 ceed in enlightening it. Such is the state of mankind, that 
 innocence, when involved in circumstances of suspicion, can 
 scarcely ever make out a demonstration of its purity; and 
 guilt can often make us feel an insurmountable reluctance 
 to the pronouncing it guilt. Meanwhile, for the purchase 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 would never forgive me 
 even this accidental parley, if by any means he 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 
 
392 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 aTpresent consider 
 you, I am ready to contribute everything in my power to 
 your real advantage, and would gladly assist you, if I knew 
 how, in detecting and extirpating the errors that have mis- 
 led you. You have disappointed me, but I have no re- 
 proaches to utter: it is more necessary for me to feel com- 
 passion for you, than that I should accumulate your mis- 
 fortune by my censures." 
 
 What could I say to such a man as this? Amiable, in- 
 comparable 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 to 
 compensate the general injustice. But was it for me to 
 force this conduct upon him, if now, in his declining years, 
 his own fortitude shrank from it? Alas, neither he nor I 
 foresaw the dreadful catastrophe that was so closely im- 
 pending! Otherwise I am well assured that no tender- 
 ness for his remaining tranquillity would have withheld him 
 from a compliance with my wishes! On the other hand, 
 could I pretend to know what evils might result to him 
 from his declaring himself my advocate? Might not his 
 integrity be browbeaten and defeated, as mine had been? 
 Did the imbecility of his gray hairs afford no advantage to 
 my terrible adversary in the contest? Might not Mr. Falk- 
 land reduce him to a condition as wretched and low as 
 mine? After all, was it not vice in me to desire to involve 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 393 
 
 another man in my sufferings? If I regarded them as in- 
 tolerable, 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 one man in 
 the world whose esteem I most ardently desired, rather than 
 involve him in possible calamity. I assented to the resign- 
 ing what appeared to me at that moment as the last prac- 
 ticable comfort of my life; a comfort, upon the thoughts 
 of which, while I surrendered it, my mind dwelt with in- 
 describable longings. Mr. Collins was deeply affected with 
 the apparent ingenuousness with which I expressed 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 disinterestedly virtuous per- 
 sons in the world." We tore ourselves from each other. 
 Mr. Collins promised, as far as he was able, to have an eye 
 upon my vicissitudes, and to assist me in every respect that 
 was consistent with a just recollection of consequences. Thus 
 I parted, as it were, with the last expiring hope of my mind ; 
 and voluntarily consented, thus maimed and forlorn, to en- 
 counter all the evils that were yet in store for me. 
 
 This is the latest event which at present I think it neces- 
 sary 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 sufferings that await me. What mysterious 
 cause is it that enables me to write this, and not to perish 
 under the horrible apprehension! 
 
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE 
 
 IT is as I foretold. The presage with which I was vis- 
 ited 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 tranquillity, 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 pre- 
 serve them!" It is inconceivable with what ardent Teach- 
 ings of the soul I aspired to this termination. 
 
 This last consolation was denied me by the inexorable 
 Falkland. 
 
 At the time the project was formed I was at no great dis- 
 tance 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 intelligence 
 to communicate to you. I come as a friend, and that I may 
 save you a labour-in-vain trouble. If you consider what I 
 
 394 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 395 
 
 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. Xot that I much 
 matter having one man for my employer, or dancing at- 
 tendance 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 farther, 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 think 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 determined you shall never pass the reach of*/ 
 his disposal. He has therefore given orders that, whenever 
 you attempt so to do, you shall be converted from a pris- 
 oner 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 future, 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 limbo, with a rope about your neck, and a comfortable 
 bird's-eye prospect to the gallows: but I do as I am di- 
 rected; 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 present 
 my blood has been in a perpetual ferment. My thoughts 
 
396 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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, uncer- 
 tain as I am of the events of each succeeding hour, I de- 
 termined to force myself to the performance 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, unfeeling, unrelenting tyrant! 
 
 — is it come to this? When Xero and Caligula 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 day 
 
 ^v seems to us first to ascend from the waves of the ocean, the 
 
 ) power of the tyrant was still behind him. If he withdrew 
 
 / to the west, to Hesperian darkness, and the shores of bar- 
 
 / barian Thule, still he was not safe from his gore-drenched 
 
 / foe. — Falkland! art thou the offspring, in whom the linea- 
 
 1 ments of these tyrants are faithfully preserved? Was the 
 
 X^world, with all its climates, made in vain for thy helpless, 
 
 unoffending victim? 
 
 Tremble! 
 
 Tyrants have trembled, surrounded with whole armies of 
 their janissaries! What should make thee inaccessible to 
 my fury? No, 1 will use no daggers! I will unfold a tale! 
 — I will show thee to the world for what thou art; and ail 
 the men that live shall confess my truth! — Didst thou im- 
 agine that I was altogether passive, a mere worm, organized 
 to feel sensations of pain, but no emotion of resentment? 
 Didst thou imagine that there was no danger in inflicting 
 on me pains however great, miseries however dreadful? 
 Didst thou believe me impotent, imbecile, and idiot-like, 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 307 
 
 with no understanding to contrive thy ruin, and no energy 
 to perpetrate it? 
 
 I will tell a tale! — The justice of the country shall hear 
 me! The elements of nature in universal uproar shall not 
 interrupt me! I will 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 
 shall not now appear to be endeavouring to remove a crim- 
 inal indictment from myself, by throwing it back on its 
 author! — Shall I regret the ruin that will overwhelm thee? 
 Too long have I been tender-hearted and forbearing! What 
 benefit has ever resulted from my mistaken clemency? 
 There is no evil thou hast scrupled to accumulate upon me! 
 Neither will I be more scrupulous! Thou hast shown no 
 mercy; and thou shalt receive none! — I must be calm! 
 bold as a lion, yet collected! 
 
 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 preserve 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 tn he endured 
 t hat falsehood and tyr anny should reign for ever. 
 
 How impotent are the precautions ot man against the 
 eternally existing laws of the intellectual world! This Falk- 
 land has invented against me every species of foul accusa- 
 tion. He has hunted me from city to city. He has drawn 
 his lines of circumvallation round me that I may not es- 
 cape. 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 was most solicitous to 
 defend! 
 
 Collins! I now address myself to you. I have con-\ 
 sented that you should yield me no assistance in my pres- 
 
39 8 CALEB WILLIAMS 
 
 ent terrible situation. I am content to die rather than do 
 anything 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 innocence! — by all 
 these, or whatever tie more sacred has influence on your soul, 
 I conjure you, listen to my last request! Preserve these 
 papers from destruction, and preserve them from Falkland! 
 It is all I 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 public. 
 
 The pen lingers in my trembling 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 mur- 
 derous instrument or relic 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 concomitant 
 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 Falk- 
 land 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 perhaps, sup- 
 ply 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 re- 
 specting Falkland, my precaution in the disposal of these 
 papers will have been unnecessary; I shall no longer be re- 
 duced 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 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. Falkland 
 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 purpose I pur- 
 sued 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 counteract my proceeding. 
 
 I told him who I was, and that I was come from a dis- 
 tant 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 him. 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 
 
 399 
 
4 oo ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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, 
 knowing that, I went perpetually in danger of my life from 
 his malice and revenge. I was resolved to go through with 
 the business, if justice were to be obtained from any court in 
 England. Upon what pretence did he refuse my deposi- 
 tion? I was in every 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 appear. 
 
 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 expostu- 
 late with me. He represented to me Mr. Falkland's health, 
 which had for some years been exceedingly indifferent; his 
 having been once already brought to the most solemn ex- 
 amination upon this charge; the diabolical malice in which 
 alone my proceeding must have originated; and the tenfold 
 ruin it would bring down upon my head. To all these rep- 
 resentations my answer was short. "I was determined 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 be 
 taken in this business. This interval in no degree con- 
 tributed to tranquillize my mind. The thought of prefer- 
 ring a capital accusation against, and hastening the death of, 
 such a man as Mr. Falkland, was by means an opiate to 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 401 
 
 reflection. At one time I commended the action, either 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 esti- 
 mate, included the smallest evil. At another time I was 
 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 conse- v 
 quences 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 sus- 
 pected not to be without his claims to veneration ; or a con- 
 firmation, perhaps an increase, of the calamities I had so 
 long endured. Yet these I preferred to a state of uncer- 
 tainty. I desired to know the worst; to put an end to the 
 hope, however faint, which had been so long my torment; 
 and, above all, to exhaust and finish the catalogue of expedi- 
 ents that were at my disposition. My mind was worked 
 up to a state little short of phrensy. My body was in a 
 burning fever 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 applied upon 
 the subject. I had only two hours' notice to prepare my- 
 self; Mr. Falkland seeming as eager as I to have the ques- 
 tion 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 con- 
 fined with an alarming illness. His constitution had been 
 wholly broken by his West Indian expedition. The audi- 
 ence I met at the house of the magistrate consisted of sev- 
 
402 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 eral 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 ex- 
 amination, and the indelicacy, as it was styled, of an ex- 
 amination exposed to the remark of every casual spectator. 
 
 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, ghostlike, 
 and wild, energy in his gestures, and phrensy in his aspect. 
 It was now the appearance of a corpse. He was brought 
 in in a chair, unable to stand, fatigued and almost destroyed 
 by the journey he had just taken. His visage was colour- 
 less; his limbs destitute of motion, almost of life. His head 
 reclined upon his bosom, except that now and then he lifted 
 it up, and opened his eyes with a languid glance; immedi- 
 ately after which he sunk back into his former apparent in- 
 sensibility. 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 delivered to him at his bedside, 
 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 con- 
 veyed, with all practicable expedition, to the place of ap- 
 pointment. Falkland, in the most helpless state, was still 
 Falkland, firm in command, and capable to extort obedience 
 from every one that approached him. 
 
 What a sight was this to me! Till the moment that Falk- 
 land was presented to my view my breast was steeled to 
 pity. I thought that I had coolly entered into the 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 wretched- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 403 
 
 ness 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 de- 
 sire, that one person should be miserable in preference to 
 two; that one person rather than two should be incapaci- 
 tated from acting his part, and contributing his share to 
 the general welfare. I thought that in this business I had 
 risen superior to personal considerations, and judged with a 
 total neglect of the suggestions 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 declared that his reputation should be for ever invi- 
 olate; this was the ruling passion, the thought that worked 
 his soul to madness. He would probably, therefore, leave 
 aTegac^Tof 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 life from endless wo. 
 
 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 possible. There must have been some 
 dreadful mistake in the train of argument that persuaded 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, solemnly 
 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 would 
 
404 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 eagerly have consented that that moment should have been 
 the last of my existence. I however believed, that the con- 
 duct now most indispensably incumbent on me was to lay 
 the emotions of my soul naked before my hearers. I looked 
 first at Mr. Falkland, and then at the magistrate and at- 
 tendants, and then at Mr. Falkland again. My voice was 
 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 sub- 
 mitted to the well-meant despotism of his authority! Hith- 
 erto 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 God 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. But the situation and the demands of Mr. Falk- 
 land himself forbid me. He, in compassion for whose 
 fallen state I would willingly forget every interest of my 
 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. Falk- 
 land well knows — I affirm it in his presence — how unwill- 
 ingly I have proceeded to this extremity. I have rever- 
 enced him; he was worthy of reverence: I have loved him; 
 he was endowed with 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 with the fulness of my affection. 
 He was unhappy; I exerted myself with youthful curiosity 
 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 405 
 
 to discover the secret of his woe. This was the beginning 
 of misfortune. 
 
 "What shall I 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 recol- 
 lect yourself! Did I ever prove myself unworthy of your 
 confidence? 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 would 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 im- 
 prudence would then have been comparatively little. You 
 threatened me; did I then betray 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 fugitive upon the 
 world, in silence. Why did you not suffer me to depart? 
 You brought me back by stratagem and violence, and wan- 
 tonly accused me of an enormous felony! Did I then men- 
 tion a syllable of the murder, the secret of which was in 
 my possession? 
 
 "Where is the man that has suffered more from the in- 
 justice 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! Young, ambitious, fond of life, 
 innocent as the child unborn, I looked forward to the gal- 
 lows! I believed that one word of resolute accusation 
 
4c6 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 against my patron would deliver me; yet T was silent, I 
 armed myself with patience, uncertain whether it were bet- 
 ter to accuse or to die. Did this show me a man unworthy 
 to be trusted? 
 
 "I determined to break out of prison. With infinite dif- 
 ficulty 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 imminent 
 peril of my life when I entered this retreat, and when I 
 quitted it. Immediately after, I travelled almost the whole 
 length of the kingdom, in poverty and distress, in hourly 
 danger of being retaken and manacled like a felon. I 
 would have fled my country; I was prevented. I had re- 
 course to various disguises; I was innocent, and 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 persecu- 
 tions persuade me to put an end to my silence? Xo: 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 mag- 
 istrate 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 con- 
 tributed 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 for- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 407 
 
 bearance was unknown 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 ob- 
 scure 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 pro- 
 posal, and have ever since been driven from place to place, 
 deprived of peace, of honest fame, even of bread. For a 
 long time I persisted in the resolution that no emergency 
 should convert me into the assailant. In an evil hour I 
 at last listened to my resentment and impatience, and the 
 hateful mistake into which I fell has produced the present 
 scene. 
 
 "I now see that mistake in all its enormity. I am sure, 
 that if I had opened my heart to Mr. Falkland, if I had 
 told 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 
 worked up to disclose everything 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 sought his safety, in conciliation, 
 or in inexorable cruelty? ^^ 
 
 "Mr. Falkland is of a noble nature. Yes; in spite of^"H 
 the catastrophe of Tyrrel, of the miserable end of the 
 Hawkinses, and of all that I have myself suffered, I affirm 
 that he has qualities of the most admirable kind. It is 
 therefore impossible that he could have resisted a frank 
 
408 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 
 hither to curse, but I remain to bless. I came to accuse, 
 but am compelled to applaud. I proclaim to all the world, 
 tW A[r Paivip| n 4 i s a ma n worthy of affection and kind - 
 ness, 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 imbitter 
 every hour of my existence. In thus acting I have been 
 • a murderer — a cool, deliberate, unfeeling murderer. — I have 
 said what my accursed precipitation has obliged me to say. 
 Do with me as you please! I ask no favour. Death would 
 be a kindness compared to what I feel!" 
 
 Such were the accents dictated by my remorse. I poured 
 them 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 aston- 
 ishment. 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 sym- 
 pathy 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 mentioned 
 the murder, I could perceive in him an involuntary shud- 
 dering, though it was counteracted partly by the feeble- 
 ness of his frame, and partly by the energy of his mind. 
 This was an allegation he expected, and he had endeav- 
 oured 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 expe- 
 dient to gain credit to my tale. His indignation against 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 409 
 
 me was great for having retained all my resentment to- 
 wards him, thus, as it might be, to the last hour of his 
 existence. It was increased when he discovered me, as he 
 supposed, using a pretence of liberality 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, sup- 
 ported by the attendants, and, to my infinite astonishment, 
 threw himself into my arms! 
 
 "Williams," said he, "you have conquered! I see too 
 late the greatness and elevation of your mind. I confess / 
 that it is to my fault and not yours, that it is to the excess 
 nfjValrnjsy that ^-^ .ever burning in m y hosnm that I owe 
 my ruin. I could have resisted any plan of malicious accu- 
 sation you might have brought against me. But I see that 
 the artless and manly story you have told has carried con- 
 viction 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 protect myself against the preju- 
 dices of my species. I stand now completely detected. My 
 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, the- hand- 4hat w orrrrds-me. And now," — turn- 
 ing tothe magistrate, — "and now, do with mlTalfyou 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 consented to exist. It was worthy 
 of such a life that it should continue just long enough to 
 witness this final overthrow. If, however, you wish to 
 

 4 io ADVENTURES OF 
 
 punish me, you must be 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 aggra- 
 vate the baseness of my cruelty. He survived this dreadful 
 ^ j ^ scene but three days. I have been his murder er. It was 
 x 5r* P fit that he should praise "Iny^patience who has fallen a vic- 
 "5 S tim, life and fame, to my precipitation! It would have 
 
 j been merciful in comparison, if I had planted a dagger in 
 ^ \ his heart. He would have thanked me for my kindness. 
 
 But, atrocious, execrable wretch that I have been! I wan- 
 tonly 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 expostu- 
 late with me for my unfeeling behaviour. I live the de- 
 voted 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, I was still 
 innocent. 
 
 Such has been the result of a project I formed for deliver- 
 ing 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 life 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 ?4-selfy an overweening regard to which has been the 
 source^trfmy 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 godlike am- 
 
CALEB WILLIAMS 411 
 
 bition. But of what use are talents and sentiments in the 
 corrupt wilderness of human society? It is a rank and 
 rotten soil, from which every finer shrub draws poison as 
 it growls. All that, in a happier field and a purer air, 
 would expand into virtue and germinate into usefulness is 
 thus converted into henbane and deadly nightshade. 
 
 Falkland ! thou enteredst upon thy career with the purest 
 and most laudable intentions. But thou imbibedst the 
 poison of chivalry with thy earliest youth; and the base 
 and low-minded envy that met thee on thy return to thy 
 native seats operated with this poison to hurry thee into 
 madness. Soon, too soon, by this fatal coincidence, were 
 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 in- 
 exorable precaution. Year after year didst thou spend in 
 this miserable project of imposture; and only at last con- 
 tinuedst to live, long enough to see, by my misjudging and 
 abhorred intervention, thy closing hope disappointed, and 
 thy death accompanied with the foulest disgrace! 
 
 I began these memoirs with the idea of vindicating my 
 character. I have now no character that I wish to vin- 
 dicate: but I will finish them that thy story may be fully 
 understood; and that, if those errors of thy life be known 
 which thou so ardently desiredst to conceal, the world may 
 at least not hear and repeat a half-told and mangled tale. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 OUINN a BODEN COMPANY, INC. 
 
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