Chapter XI.
Next morning I stored a small bag with meat and bread, and, throwing anaxe on my shoulder, set out, without informing any one of my intentions,for the hill. My passage was rendered more difficult by theseencumbrances, but my perseverance surmounted every impediment, and Igained, in a few hours, the foot of the tree whose trunk was to serve mefor a bridge. In this journey I saw no traces of the fugitive.
A new survey of the tree confirmed my former conclusions, and I began mywork with diligence. My strokes were repeated by a thousand echoes, andI paused at first, somewhat startled by reverberations which made itappear as if not one but a score of axes were employed at the same timeon both sides of the gulf.
Quickly the tree fell, and exactly in the manner which I expected ariddesired. The wide-spread limbs occupied and choked up the channel of thetorrent, and compelled it to seek a new outlet and multiplied itsmurmurs. I dared not trust myself to cross it in an upright posture, butclung, with hands and feet, to its rugged bark. Having reached theopposite cliff, I proceeded to examine the spot where Clithero haddisappeared. My fondest hopes were realized, for a considerable cavityappeared, which, on a former day, had been concealed from my distantview by the rock.
It was obvious to conclude that this was his present habitation, or thatan avenue, conducting hither and terminating in the unexplored sides ofthis pit, was that by which he had come hither, and by which he hadretired. I could not hesitate long to slide into the pit. I found anentrance through which I fearlessly penetrated. I was prepared toencounter obstacles and perils similar to those which I have alreadydescribed, but was rescued from them by ascending, in a few minutes,into a kind of passage, open above, but walled by a continued rock onboth sides. The sides of this passage conformed with the utmostexactness to each other. Nature, at some former period, had occasionedthe solid mass to dispart at this place, and had thus afforded access tothe summit of the hill. Loose stones and ragged points formed theflooring of this passage, which rapidly and circuitously ascended.
I was now within a few yards of the surface of the rock. The passageopened into a kind of chamber or pit, the sides of which were notdifficult to climb. I rejoiced at the prospect of this termination of myjourney. Here I paused, and, throwing my weary limbs on the ground,began to examine the objects around me, and to meditate on the stepsthat were next to be taken.
My first glance lighted on the very being of whom I was in search.Stretched upon a bed of moss, at the distance of a few feet from mystation, I beheld Clithero. He had not been roused by my approach,though my footsteps were perpetually stumbling and sliding. Thisreflection gave birth to the fear that he was dead. A nearer inspectiondispelled my apprehensions, and showed me that he was merely buried inprofound slumber. Those vigils must indeed have been long which were atlast succeeded by a sleep so oblivious.
This meeting was, in the highest degree, propitious. It not only assuredme of his existence, but proved that his miseries were capable of beingsuspended. His slumber enabled me to pause, to ruminate on the manner bywhich his understanding might be most successfully addressed; to collectand arrange the topics fitted to rectify his gloomy and disastrousperceptions.
Thou knowest that I am qualified for such tasks neither by my educationnor my genius. The headlong and ferocious energies of this man could notbe repelled or diverted into better paths by efforts so undisciplined asmine. A despair so stormy and impetuous would drown my feeble accents.How should I attempt to reason with him? How should I outrootprepossessions so inveterate,--the fruits of his earliest education,fostered and matured by the observation and experience of his wholelife? How should I convince him that, since the death of Wiatte was notintended, the deed was without crime? that, if it had been deliberatelyconcerted, it was still a virtue, since his own life could by no othermeans be preserved? that when he pointed a dagger at the bosom of hismistress he was actuated, not by avarice, or ambition, or revenge, ormalice? He desired to confer on her the highest and the only benefit ofwhich he believed her capable. He sought to rescue her from tormentingregrets and lingering agonies.
These positions were sufficiently just to my own view, but I was notcalled upon to reduce them to practice. I had not to struggle with theconsciousness of having been rescued, by some miraculous contingency,from imbruing my hands in the blood of her whom I adored; of havingdrawn upon myself suspicions of ingratitude and murder too deep to beever effaced; of having bereft myself of love, and honour, and friends,and spotless reputation; of having doomed myself to infamy anddetestation, to hopeless exile, penury, and servile toil. These were theevils which his malignant destiny had made the unalterable portion ofClithero, and how should my imperfect eloquence annihilate these evils?Every man, not himself the victim of irretrievable disasters, perceivesthe folly of ruminating on the past, and of fostering a grief whichcannot reverse or recall the decrees of an immutable necessity; butevery man who suffers is unavoidably shackled by the errors which hecensures in his neighbour, and his efforts to relieve himself are asfruitless as those with which he attempted the relief of others.
No topic, therefore, could be properly employed by me on the presentoccasion. All that I could do was to offer him food, and, by patheticsupplications, to prevail on him to eat. Famine, however obstinate,would scarcely refrain when bread was placed within sight and reach.When made to swerve from his resolution in one instance, it would beless difficult to conquer it a second time. The magic of sympathy, theperseverance of benevolence, though silent, might work a gradual andsecret revolution, and better thoughts might insensibly displace thosedesperate suggestions which now governed him.
Having revolved these ideas, I placed the food which I had brought athis right hand, and, seating myself at his feet, attentively surveyedhis countenance. The emotions which were visible during wakefulness hadvanished during this cessation of remembrance and remorse, or werefaintly discernible. They served to dignify and solemnize his features,and to embellish those immutable lines which betokened the spirit of hisbetter days. Lineaments were now observed which could never coexist withfolly or associate with obdurate guilt.
I had no inclination to awaken him. This respite was too sweet to beneedlessly abridged. I determined to await the operation of nature, andto prolong, by silence and by keeping interruption at a distance, thissalutary period of forgetfulness. This interval permitted new ideas tosucceed in my mind.
Clithero believed his solitude to be unapproachable. What new expedientsto escape inquiry and intrusion might not my presence suggest! Might henot vanish, as he had done on the former day, and afford me no time toassail his constancy and tempt his hunger? If, however, I withdrewduring his sleep, he would awake without disturbance, and beunconscious, for a time, that his secrecy had been violated. He wouldquickly perceive the victuals, and would need no foreign inducements toeat. A provision so unexpected and extraordinary might suggest newthoughts, and be construed into a kind of heavenly condemnation of hispurpose. He would not readily suspect the motives or person of hisvisitant, would take no precaution against the repetition of my visit,and, at the same time, our interview would not be attended with so muchsurprise. The more I revolved these reflections, the greater force theyacquired. At length, I determined to withdraw, and, leaving the foodwhere it could scarcely fail of attracting his notice, I returned by theway that I had come. I had scarcely reached home, when a messenger fromInglefield arrived, requesting me to spend the succeeding night at hishouse, as some engagement had occurred to draw him to the city.
I readily complied with this request. It was not necessary, however, tobe early in my visit. I deferred going till the evening was faradvanced. My way led under the branches of the elm which recent eventshad rendered so memorable. Hence my reflections reverted to thecircumstances which had lately occurred in connection with this tree.
I paused, for some time, under its shade. I marked the spot whereClithero had been discovered digging. It showed marks of beingunsettled; but the sod which had formerly co
vered it, and which hadlately been removed, was now carefully replaced. This had not been doneby him on that occasion in which I was a witness of his behaviour. Theearth was then hastily removed, and as hastily thrown again into thehole from which it had been taken.
Some curiosity was naturally excited by this appearance. Either someother person, or Clithero, on a subsequent occasion, had been here. Iwas now likewise led to reflect on the possible motives that promptedthe maniac to turn up this earth. There is always some significance inthe actions of a sleeper. Somewhat was, perhaps, buried in this spot,connected with the history of Mrs. Lorimer or of Clarice. Was it notpossible to ascertain the truth in this respect?
There was but one method. By carefully uncovering this hole, and diggingas deep as Clithero had already dug, it would quickly appear whether anything was hidden. To do this publicly by daylight was evidentlyindiscreet. Besides, a moment's delay was superfluous. The night had nowfallen, and before it was past this new undertaking might be finished.An interview was, if possible, to be gained with Clithero on the morrow,and for this interview the discoveries made on this spot might eminentlyqualify me. Influenced by these considerations, I resolved to dig. I wasfirst, however, to converse an hour with the housekeeper, and then towithdraw to my chamber. When the family were all retired, and there wasno fear of observation or interruption, I proposed to rise and hasten,with a proper implement, hither.
One chamber in Inglefield's house was usually reserved for visitants. Inthis chamber thy unfortunate brother died, and here it was that I was tosleep. The image of its last inhabitant could not fail of being calledup, and of banishing repose; but the scheme which I had meditated was anadditional incitement to watchfulness. Hither I repaired at the dueseason, having previously furnished myself with candles, since I knewnot what might occur to make a light necessary.
I did not go to bed, but either sat musing by a table or walked acrossthe room. The bed before me was that on which my friend breathed hislast. To rest my head upon the same pillow, to lie on that pallet whichsustained his cold and motionless limbs, were provocations toremembrance and grief that I desired to shun. I endeavoured to fill mymind with more recent incidents, with the disasters of Clithero, mysubterranean adventures, and the probable issue of the schemes which Inow contemplated.
I recalled the conversation which had just ended with the housekeeper.Clithero had been our theme, but she had dealt chiefly in repetitions ofwhat had formerly been related by her or by Inglefield. I inquired whatthis man had left behind, and found that it consisted of a square box,put together by himself with uncommon strength, but of ruggedworkmanship. She proceeded to mention that she had advised her brother,Mr. Inglefield, to break open this box and ascertain its contents; butthis he did not think himself justified in doing. Clithero was guilty ofno known crime, was responsible to no one for his actions, and mightsome time return to claim his property. This box contained nothing withwhich others had a right to meddle. Somewhat might be found in it,throwing light upon his past or present situation; but curiosity was notto be gratified by these means. What Clithero thought proper to conceal,it was criminal for us to extort from him.
The housekeeper was by no means convinced by these arguments, and atlength obtained her brother's permission to try whether any of her ownkeys would unlock this chest. The keys were produced, but no lock norkeyhole were discoverable. The lid was fast, but by what means it wasfastened the most accurate inspection could not detect. Hence she wascompelled to lay aside her project. This chest had always stood in thechamber which I now occupied.
These incidents were now remembered, and I felt disposed to profit bythis opportunity of examining this box. It stood in a corner, and waseasily distinguished by its form. I lifted it and found its weight by nomeans extraordinary. Its structure was remarkable. It consisted of sixsides, square and of similar dimensions. These were joined, not bymortise and tennon, not by nails, not by hinges, but the junction wasaccurate. The means by which they were made to cohere were invisible.
Appearances on every side were uniform, nor were there any marks bywhich the lid was distinguishable from its other surfaces.
During his residence with Inglefield, many specimens of mechanicalingenuity were given by his servant. This was the workmanship of his ownhands. I looked at it for some time, till the desire insensibly arose ofopening it and examining its contents.
I had no more right to do this than the Inglefields; perhaps, indeed,this curiosity was more absurd, and the gratification more culpable, inme than in them. I was acquainted with the history of Clithero's pastlife, and with his present condition. Respecting these, I had no newintelligence to gain, and no doubts to solve. What excuse could I maketo the proprietor, should he ever reappear to claim his own, or toInglefield for breaking open a receptacle which all the maxims ofsociety combine to render sacred?
But could not my end be gained without violence? The means of openingmight present themselves on a patient scrutiny. The lid might be raisedand shut down again without any tokens of my act; its contents might beexamined, and all things restored to their former condition, in a fewminutes.
I intended not a theft. I intended to benefit myself without inflictinginjury on others. Nay, might not the discoveries I should make throwlight upon the conduct of this extraordinary man which his own narrativehad withheld? Was there reason to confide implicitly on the tale which Ihad heard?
In spite of the testimony of my own feelings, the miseries of Clitheroappeared in some degree fantastic and groundless. A thousand conceivablemotives might induce him to pervert or conceal the truth. If he werethoroughly known, his character might assume a new appearance; and whatis now so difficult to reconcile to common maxims might prove perfectlyconsistent with them. I desire to restore him to peace; but a thoroughknowledge of his actions is necessary, both to show that he is worthy ofcompassion, and to suggest the best means of extirpating his errors. Itwas possible that this box contained the means of this knowledge.
There were likewise other motives, which, as they possessed someinfluence, however small, deserve to be mentioned. Thou knowest that Ialso am a mechanist. I had constructed a writing-desk and cabinet, inwhich I had endeavoured to combine the properties of secrecy, security,and strength, in the highest possible degree. I looked upon this,therefore, with the eye of an artist, and was solicitous to know theprinciples on which it was formed. I determined to examine, and, ifpossible, to open it.
Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a Sleep-Walker Page 11
