University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX.

“Theodore wieland, the prisoner at
the bar, was now called upon for his defence. He
looked around him for some time in silence, and
with a mild countenance. At length he spoke:

“It is strange; I am known to my judges and
my auditors. Who is there present a stranger to
the character of Wieland? who knows him not as
an husband—as a father—as a friend? yet here am
I arraigned as criminal. I am charged with diabolical
malice; I am accused of the murder of my
wife and my children!

“It is true, they were slain by me; they all perished
by my hand. The task of vindication is ignoble.
What is it that I am called to vindicate?
and before whom?

“You know that they are dead, and that they
were killed by me. What more would you have?
Would you extort from me a statement of my motives?
Have you failed to discover them already?
You charge me with malice; but your eyes are not
shut; your reason is still vigorous; your memory
has not forsaken you. You know whom it is that
you thus charge. The habits of his life are known
to you; his treatment of his wife and his offspring
is known to you; the soundness of his integrity,
and the unchangeableness of his principles, are familiar
to your apprehension; yet you persist in this
charge! You lead me hither manacled as a felon;
you deem me worthy of a vile and tormenting
death!

“Who are they whom I have devoted to death?
My wife—the little ones, that drew their being
from me—that creature who, as she surpassed them
in excellence, claimed a larger affection than those
whom natural affinities bound to my heart. Think
ye that malice could have urged me to this deed?
Hide your audacious fronts from the scrutiny of
heaven. Take refuge in some cavern unvisited by
human eyes. Ye may deplore your wickedness
or folly, but ye cannot expiate it.

“Think not that I speak for your fakes. Hug
to your hearts this detestable insatuation. Deem
me still a murderer, and drag me to untimely death.
I make not an effort to dispel your illusion: I utter
not a word to cure you of your sanguinary folly:
but there are probably some in this assembly who
have come from far: for their fakes, whose distance
has disabled them from knowing me, I will tell
what I have done, and why.

“It is needless to say that God is the object of
my supreme passion. I have cherished, in his presence,
a single and upright heart. I have thirsted
for the knowledge of his will. I have burnt with
ardour to approve my faith and my obedience.

“My days have been spent in searching for the
revelation of that will; but my days have been
mournful, because my search failed. I solicited
direction: I turned on every side where glimmerings
of light could be discovered. I have not been
wholly uninformed; but my knowledge has always
stopped short of certainty. Dissatisfaction has insinuated
itself into all my thoughts. My purposes
have been pure; my wishes indefatigable; but not
till lately were these purposes thoroughly accomplished,
and these wishes fully gratified.

“I thank thee, my father, for thy bounty; that

thou didst not ask a less sacrifice than this; that
thou placedst me in a condition to testify my submission
to thy will! What have I withheld which
it was thy pleasure to exact? Now may I, with
dauntless and erect eye, claim my reward, since I
have given thee the treasure of my soul.

“I was at my own house: it was late in the
evening: my sister had gone to the city, but proposed
to return. It was in expectation of her return
that my wife and I delayed going to bed beyond
the usual hour; the rest of the family, however,
were retired.

“My mind was contemplative and calm; not
wholly devoid of apprehension on account of my
sister's safety. Recent events, not easily explained,
had suggested the existence of some danger; but
this danger was without a distinct form in our imagination,
and scarcely ruffled our tranquillity.

“Time passed, and my sister did not arrive; her
house is at some distance from mine, and though
her arrangements had been made with a view to
residing with us, it was possible that, through forgetfulness,
or the occurrence of unforeseen emergencies,
she had returned to her own dwelling.

“Hence it was conceived proper that I should
ascertain the truth by going thither. I went. On
my way my mind was full of these ideas which related
to my intellectual condition. In the torrent
of fervid conceptions, I lost sight of my purpose.
Some times I stood still; some times I wandered
from my path, and experienced some difficulty, on
recovering from my fit of musing, to regain it.

“The series of my thoughts is easily traced. At
first every vein beat with raptures known only to
the man whose parental and conjugal love is without

limits, and the cup of whose desires, immense
as it is, overflows with gratification. I know not
why emotions that were perpetual visitants should
now have recurred with unusual energy. The
transition was not new from sensations of joy to a
consciousness of gratitude. The author of my being
was likewise the dispenser of every gift with
which that being was embellished. The service to
which a benefactor like this was entitled, could not
be circumscribed. My social sentiments were indebted
to their alliance with devotion for all their
value. All passions are base, all joys feeble, all
energies malignant, which are not drawn from this
source.

“For a time, my contemplations soared above
earth and its inhabitants. I stretched forth my
hands; I listed my eyes, and exclaimed, O! that I
might be admitted to thy presence; that mine were
the supreme delight of knowing thy will, and of
performing it! The blissful privilege of direct
communication with thee, and of listening to the
audible enunciation of thy pleasure!

“What task would I not undertake, what privation
would I not cheerfully endure, to testify my
love of thee? Alas! thou hidest thyself from my
view: glimpses only of thy excellence and beauty
are afforded me. Would that a momentary emanation
from thy glory would visit me! that some
unambiguous token of thy presence would salute
my senses!

“In this mood, I entered the house of my sister.
It was vacant. Scarcely had I regained recollection
of the purpose that brought me hither. Thoughts
of a different tendency had such absolute possession
of my mind, that the relations of time and space

were almost obliterated from my understanding.
These wanderings, however, were restrained, and
I ascended to her chamber.

“I had no light, and might have known by external
observation, that the house was without any
inhabitant. With this, however, I was not satisfied.
I entered the room, and the object of my search not
appearing, I prepared to return.

“The darkness required some caution in descending
the stair. I stretched my hand to seize the
balustrade by which I might regulate my steps.
How shall I describe the lustre, which, at that moment,
burst upon my vision!

“I was dazzled. My organs were bereaved of
their activity. My eye-lids were half-closed, and
my hands withdrawn from the balustrade. A nameless
fear chilled my veins, and I stood motionless.
This irradiation did not retire or lessen. It seemed
as if some powerful effulgence covered me like a
mantle.

“I opened my eyes and found all about me luminous
and glowing. It was the element of heaven
that flowed around. Nothing but a fiery stream
was at first visible; but, anon, a shrill voice from
behind called upon me to attend.

“I turned: It is forbidden to describe what I
saw: Words, indeed, would be wanting to the
task. The lineaments of that being, whose veil was
now lifted, and whose visage beamed upon my
sight, no hues of pencil or of language can pourtray.

“As it spoke, the accents thrilled to my heart.
“Thy prayers are heard. In proof of thy faith,
render me thy wife. This is the victim I chuse.
Call her hither, and here let her fall.”—The sound,
and visage, and light vanished at once.

“What demand was this? The blood of Catharine
was to be shed! My wife was to perish by
my hand! I sought opportunity to attest my virtue.
Little did I expect that a proof like this would have
been demanded.

“My wife! I exclaimed: O God! substitute
some other victim. Make me not the butcher of
my wife. My own blood is cheap. This will I
pour out before thee with a willing heart; but
spare, I beseech thee, this precious life, or commission
some other than her husband to perform the
bloody deed.

“In vain. The conditions were prescribed; the
decree had gone forth, and nothing remained but to
execute it. I rushed out of the house and across
the intermediate fields, and stopped not till I entered
my own parlour.

“My wife had remained here during my absence,
in anxious expectation of my return with
some tidings of her sister. I had none to communicate.
For a time, I was breathless with my speed:
This, and the tremors that shook my frame, and
the wildness of my looks, alarmed her. She immediately
suspected some disaster to have happened
to her friend, and her own speech was as much
overpowered by emotion as mine.

“She was silent, but her looks manisested her
impatience to hear what I had to communicate. I
spoke, but with so much precipitation as scarcely to
be understood; catching her, at the same time, by
the arm, and forcibly pulling her from her seat.

“Come along with me: fly: waste not a moment:
time will be lost, and the deed will be omitted.
Tarry not; question not; but fly with me!

“This deportment added afresh to her alarms.
Her eyes pursued mine, and she said, “What is the

matter? For God's sake what is the matter? Where
would you have me go?”

“My eyes were fixed upon her countenance
while she spoke. I thought upon her virtues; I
viewed her as the mother of my babes; as my wife:
I recalled the purpose for which I thus urged her
attendance. My heart faltered, and I saw that I
must rouse to this work all my faculties. The
danger of the least delay was imminent.

“I looked away from her, and again exerting
my force, drew her towards the door—`You must
go with me—indeed you must.'

“In her fright she half-resisted my efforts, and
again exclaimed, `Good heaven! what is it you
mean? Where go? What has happened? Have
you found Clara?'

“Follow me, and you will see,” I answered, still
urging her reluctant steps forward.

“What phrenzy has seized you? Something
must needs have happened. Is she sick? Have you
foundh er?”

“Come and see. Follow me, and know for
yourself.”

“Still she expostulated and besought me to explain
this mysterious behaviour. I could not trust
myself to answer her; to look at her; but grasping
her arm, I drew her after me. She hesitated, rather
through confusion of mind than from unwillingness
to accompany me. This confusion gradually
abated, and she moved forward, but with irresolute
footsteps, and continual exclamations of wonder
and terror. Her interrogations of “what was the
matter?” and “whither was I going?” were ceaseless
and vehement.

“It was the scope of my efforts not to think;
to keep up a conflict and uproar in my mind in

which all order and distinctness should be lost; to
escape from the sensations produced by her voice.
I was, therefore, silent. I strove to abridge this
interval by my haste, and to waste all my attention
in furious gesticulations.

“In this state of mind we reached my sister's
door. She looked at the windows and saw that all
was desolate—“Why come we here? There is
no body here. I will not go in.”

“Still I was dumb; but opening the door, I drew
her into the entry. This was the allotted scene;
here she was to fall. I let to go her hand, and pressing
my palms against my forehead, made one mighty
effort to work up my soul to the deed.

“In vain; it would not be; my courage was
appalled; my arms nerveless: I muttered prayers
that my strength might be aided from above. They
availed nothing.

“Horror diffused itself over me. This conviction
of my cowardice, my rebellion, fastened
upon me, and I stood rigid and cold as marble.
From this state I was somewhat relieved by my
wife's voice, who renewed her supplications to be
told why we came hither, and what was the fate of
my sister.

“What could I answer? My words were broken
and inarticulate. Her fears naturally acquired
force from the observation of these symptoms; but
these fears were misplaced. The only inference
she deduced from my conduct was, that some terrible
mishap had befallen Clara.

“She wrung her hands, and exclaimed in an
agony, “O tell me, where is she? What has become
of her? Is she sick? Dead? Is she in her
chamber? O let me go thither and know the
worst!”

“This proposal set my thoughts once more in
motion. Perhaps what my rebellious heart refused
to perform here, I might obtain strength enough to
execute elsewhere.

“Come then,” said I, “let us go.”

“I will, but not in the dark. We must first
procure a light.”

“Fly then and procure it; but I charge you, linger
not. I will await for your return.

“While she was gone, I strode along the entry.
The fellness of a gloomy hurricane but saintly resembled
the discord that reigned in my mind. To
omit this sacrifice must not be; yet my sinews had
refused to perform it. No alternative was offered.
To rebel against the mandate was impossible; but
obedience would render me the executioner of my
wife. My will was strong, but my limbs refused
their office.

“She returned with a light; I led the way to
the chamber; she looked round her; she lifted the
curtain of the bed; she saw nothing.

“At length, she fixed inquiring eyes upon me.
The light now enabled her to discover in my visage
what darkness had hitherto concealed. Her cares
were now transferred from my sister to myself, and
she said in a tremulous voice, “Wieland! you are
not well: What ails you? Can I do nothing for
you?”

“That accents and looks so winning should
disarm me of my resolution, was to be expected.
My thoughts were thrown anew into anarchy. I
spread my hand before my eyes that I might not
see her, and answered only by groans. She took
my other hand between her's, and pressing it to her
heart, spoke with that voice which had ever swayed
my will, and wasted away sorrow.

“My friend! my soul's friend! tell me thy
cause of grief. Do I not merit to partake with
thee in thy cares? Am I not thy wife?”

“This was too much. I broke from her embrace,
and retired to a corner of the room. In this
pause, courage was once more infused into me. I
resolved to execute my duty. She followed me,
and renewed her passionate entreaties to know the
cause of my distress.

“I raised my head and regarded her with stedfast
looks. I muttered something about death, and the
injunctions of my duty. At these words she shrunk
back, and looked at me with a new expression of
anguish. After a pause, she clasped her hands, and
exclaimed—

“O Wieland! Wieland! God grant that I am
mistaken; but surely something is wrong. I see it:
it is too plain: thou art undone—lost to me and to
thyself.” At the same time she gazed on my features
with intensest anxiety, in hope that different
symptoms would take place. I replied to her with
vehemence—

“Undone! No; my duty is known, and I thank
my God that my cowardice is now vanquished, and
I have power to fulfil it. Catharine! I pity the
weakness of thy nature: I pity thee, but must not
spare. Thy life is claimed from my hands: thou
must die!”

“Fear was now, added to her grief. `What
mean you? Why talk you of death? Bethink
yourself, Wieland: bethink yourself, and this fit
will pass. O why came I hither! Why did you
drag me hither?'

“I brought thee hither to fulfil a divine command.
I am appointed thy destroyer, and destroy
thee I must.” Saying this I seized her wrists. She

shrieked aloud, and endeavoured to free herself
from my grasp; but her efforts were vain.

“Surely, surely Wieland, thou dost not mean
it. Am I not thy wife? and wouldst thou kill me?
Thou wilt not; and yet—I see—thou art Wieland
no longer! A fury resistless and horrible possesses
thee—Spare me—spare—help—help—”

“Till her breath was stopped she shrieked for
help—for mercy. When she could speak no longer,
her gestures, her looks appealed to my compassion.
My accursed hand was irresolute and tremulous. I
meant thy death to be sudden, thy struggles to be
brief. Alas! my heart was infirm; my resolves
mutable. Thrice I slackened my grasp, and life
kept its hold, though in the midst of pangs. Her
eye-balls started from their sockets. Grimness and
distortion took place of all that used to bewitch me
into transport, and subdue me into reverence.

“I was commissioned to kill thee, but not to
torment thee with the foresight of thy death; not
to multiply thy fears, and prolong thy agonies.
Haggard, and pale, and lifeless, at length thou
ceasedst to contend with thy destiny.

“This was a moment of triumph. Thus had
I successfully subdued the stubbornness of human
passions: the victim which had been demanded was
given: the deed was done past recal.

“I lifted the corpse in my arms and laid it on
the bed. I gazed upon it with delight. Such was
the elation of my thoughts, that I even broke into
laughter. I clapped my hands and exclaimed, `It
is done! My sacred duty is fulfilled! To that I
have sacrificed, O my God! thy last and best gift,
my wife!'

“For a while I thus soared above frailty. I imagained
I had set myself forever beyond the reach of

selfishness; but my imaginations were false. This
rapture quickly subsided. I looked again at my
wife. My joyous ebullitions vanished, and I asked
myself who it was whom I saw? Methought
it could not be Catharine. It could not be the woman
who had lodged for years in my heart; who
had slept, nightly, in my bosom; who had borne
in her womb, who had fostered at her breast, the
beings who called me father; whom I had watched
with delight, and cherished with a fondness ever new
and perpetually growing: it could not be the same.

“Where was her bloom! These deadly and
blood-susfused orbs but ill resemble the azure and
exstatic tenderness of her eyes. The lucid stream
that meandered over that bosom, the glow of love
that was wont to sit upon that cheek, are much unlike
these livid stains and this hideous deformity.
Alas! these were the traces of agony; the gripe of
the assassin had been here!

“I will not dwell upon my lapse into desperate
and outrageous sorrow. The breath of heaven that
sustained me was withdrawn, and I sunk into mere
man. I leaped from the floor: I dashed my head
against the wall: I uttered screams of horror: I
panted after torment and pain. Eternal fire, and
the bickerings of hell, compared with what I felt,
were music and a bed of roses.

“I thank my God that this degeneracy was transient,
that he deigned once more to raise me alost.
I thought upon what I had done as a sacrifice to
duty, and was calm. My wife was dead; but I
reflected, that though this source of human consolation
was closed, yet others were still open. If
the transports of an husband were no more, the
feelings of a father had still scope for exercise.
When remembrance of their mother should excite

too keen a pang, I would look upon them, and
be comforted.

“While I revolved these ideas, new warmth
flowed in upon my heart—I was wrong. These
feelings were the growth of selfishness. Of this I
was not aware, and to dispel the mist that obscured
my perceptions, a new effulgence and a new mandate
were necessary.

“From these thoughts I was recalled by a ray
that was shot into the room. A voice spake like
that which I had before heard—`Thou hast done
well; but all is not done—the sacrifice is incomplete—thy
children must be offered—they must perish
with their mother!—'