Melmoth the Wanderer

of all but himself. I am convinced he had not, from the first hour of his machinations, the least malignity against you. The aggrandizement of his interest, which ecclesiastics always individualize with that of the church, was his only object. To dictate, to tyrannize, to manage a whole family, and that of rank, by his knowledge of the frailty of one of its members, was all he looked to. Those who by their vows are excluded from the interest which natural affections give us in life, must seek for it in the artificial ones of pride and domination, and the Director found it there. All thenceforth was conducted and inspired by him. It was he who caused us to be kept asunder from our infancy, fearful that nature might frustrate his plans⁠—it was he who reared me in sentiments of implacable animosity against you. When my mother fluctuated, he reminded her of her vow, with which she had rashly entrusted him. When my father murmured, the shame of my mother’s frailty, the bitter feuds of domestic discussion, the tremendous sounds of imposture, perjury, sacrilege, and the resentment of the church, were thundered in his ears. You may conceive there is nothing this man would shrink at, when, almost in my childhood, he disclosed to me my mother’s frailty, to insure my early and zealous participation in his views. Heaven blast the wretch who could thus contaminate the ears, and wither the heart of a child, with the tale of a parent’s shame, to secure a partisan for the church! This was not all. From the first hour I was able to hear and comprehend him, he poisoned my heart by every channel he could approach. He exaggerated my mother’s partiality for you, which he assured me often contended vainly with her conscience. He represented my father as weak and dissipated, but affectionate; and, with the natural pride of a boy-father, immoveably attached to his eldest offspring. He said, “My son, prepare yourself to struggle with a host of prejudices⁠—the interests of God, as well as of society, demand it. Assume a high tone with your parents⁠—you are in possession of the secret that corrodes their consciences, make your own use of it.” Judge the effect of these words on a temper naturally violent⁠—words, too, uttered by one whom I was taught to regard as the agent of the Divinity.

All this time, as I have since been informed, he was debating in his own mind whether he would not adopt your part instead of mine, or at least vacillate between both, so as to augment his influence over our parents, by the additional feature of suspicion. Whatever influenced his determination, the effect of his lessons on me may be easily calculated. I became restless, jealous, and vindictive;⁠—insolent to my parents, and suspicious of all around me. Before I was eleven years of age I reviled my father for his partiality to you⁠—I insulted my mother with her crime⁠—I tyrannized over the domestics⁠—I was the dread and the torment of the whole household; and the wretch who had made me thus a premature demon, had outraged nature, and compelled me to trample on every tie he should have taught me to hallow and cherish, consoled himself with the thought that he was obeying the calls of his function, and strengthening the hands of the church.

“Scire volunt secreta domus et inde timeri.”

On the day preceding our first meeting (which had not been intended before), the Director went to my father; he said, “Señor, I think it best the brothers should meet. Perhaps God may touch their hearts, and by his merciful influence over them, enable you to reverse the decree that threatens one of them with seclusion, and both with a cruel and final separation.” My father assented with tears of delight.

Those tears did not melt the heart of the Director; he hastened to my apartment, and said, “My child, summon all your resolution, your artful, cruel, partial parents, are ‘preparing a scene’ for you⁠—they are determined on introducing you to your spurious brother.”

“I will spurn him before their faces, if they dare to do so,” said I, with the pride of premature tyranny.

“No, my child, that will not do, you must appear to comply with their wishes, but you must not be their victim⁠—promise me that, my dear child⁠—promise me resolution and dissimulation.”

“I promise you resolution, keep the dissimulation for yourself.”

“Well, I will do so, since your interests require it.” He hurried back to my father. “Señor, I have employed all the eloquence of heaven and nature with your younger son. He is softened⁠—he melts already⁠—he longs to precipitate himself into the fraternal embrace, and hear your benediction poured over the united hearts and bodies of your two children⁠—they are both your children. You must banish all prejudices, and⁠—”

“I have no prejudices!” said my poor father; “let me but see my children embrace, and if Heaven summoned me at that moment, I should obey it by dying of joy.”

The Director reproved him for the expressions which gushed from his heart, and, wholly unmoved by them, hurried back to me, full of his commission. “My child, I have warned you of the conspiracy formed against you by your own family. You will receive a proof of it tomorrow⁠—your brother is to be introduced⁠—you will be required to embrace him⁠—your consent is reckoned on, but at the moment you do so, your father is resolved to interpret this as the signal, on your part, of the resignation of all your natural rights. Comply with your hypocritical parents, embrace this brother, but give an air of repugnance to the action that will justify your conscience, while it deceives those who would deceive you. Watch the signal-word, my dear child; embrace him as you would a serpent⁠—his art is not less, and his poison as deadly. Remember that your resolution will decide the event of this meeting. Assume the appearance of affection, but