Wieland; or, The Transformation | Page 4

from
mutation. The storm that tore up our happiness, and changed into
dreariness and desert the blooming scene of our existence, is lulled into
grim repose; but not until the victim was transfixed and mangled; till
every obstacle was dissipated by its rage; till every remnant of good
was wrested from our grasp and exterminated.
How will your wonder, and that of your companions, be excited by my
story! Every sentiment will yield to your amazement. If my testimony
were without corroborations, you would reject it as incredible. The
experience of no human being can furnish a parallel: That I, beyond the
rest of mankind, should be reserved for a destiny without alleviation,
and without example! Listen to my narrative, and then say what it is
that has made me deserve to be placed on this dreadful eminence, if,
indeed, every faculty be not suspended in wonder that I am still alive,
and am able to relate it. My father's ancestry was noble on the paternal
side; but his mother was the daughter of a merchant. My grand-father
was a younger brother, and a native of Saxony. He was placed, when he
had reached the suitable age, at a German college. During the vacations,
he employed himself in traversing the neighbouring territory. On one
occasion it was his fortune to visit Hamburg. He formed an
acquaintance with Leonard Weise, a merchant of that city, and was a
frequent guest at his house. The merchant had an only daughter, for
whom his guest speedily contracted an affection; and, in spite of
parental menaces and prohibitions, he, in due season, became her
husband.
By this act he mortally offended his relations. Thenceforward he was
entirely disowned and rejected by them. They refused to contribute any
thing to his support. All intercourse ceased, and he received from them
merely that treatment to which an absolute stranger, or detested enemy,
would be entitled.

He found an asylum in the house of his new father, whose temper was
kind, and whose pride was flattered by this alliance. The nobility of his
birth was put in the balance against his poverty. Weise conceived
himself, on the whole, to have acted with the highest discretion, in thus
disposing of his child. My grand-father found it incumbent on him to
search out some mode of independent subsistence. His youth had been
eagerly devoted to literature and music. These had hitherto been
cultivated merely as sources of amusement. They were now converted
into the means of gain. At this period there were few works of taste in
the Saxon dialect. My ancestor may be considered as the founder of the
German Theatre. The modern poet of the same name is sprung from the
same family, and, perhaps, surpasses but little, in the fruitfulness of his
invention, or the soundness of his taste, the elder Wieland. His life was
spent in the composition of sonatas and dramatic pieces. They were not
unpopular, but merely afforded him a scanty subsistence. He died in the
bloom of his life, and was quickly followed to the grave by his wife.
Their only child was taken under the protection of the merchant. At an
early age he was apprenticed to a London trader, and passed seven
years of mercantile servitude.
My father was not fortunate in the character of him under whose care
he was now placed. He was treated with rigor, and full employment
was provided for every hour of his time. His duties were laborious and
mechanical. He had been educated with a view to this profession, and,
therefore, was not tormented with unsatisfied desires. He did not hold
his present occupations in abhorrence, because they withheld him from
paths more flowery and more smooth, but he found in unintermitted
labour, and in the sternness of his master, sufficient occasions for
discontent. No opportunities of recreation were allowed him. He spent
all his time pent up in a gloomy apartment, or traversing narrow and
crowded streets. His food was coarse, and his lodging humble. His
heart gradually contracted a habit of morose and gloomy reflection. He
could not accurately define what was wanting to his happiness. He was
not tortured by comparisons drawn between his own situation and that
of others. His state was such as suited his age and his views as to
fortune. He did not imagine himself treated with extraordinary or
unjustifiable rigor. In this respect he supposed the condition of others,

bound like himself to mercantile service, to resemble his own; yet
every engagement was irksome, and every hour tedious in its lapse.
In this state of mind he chanced to light upon a book written by one of
the teachers of the Albigenses, or French Protestants. He entertained no
relish for books, and was wholly unconscious of any power