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THEODORE;



THE ENTHUSIAST.



IN FOUR VOLUMES.



VOL. III.



Brooke, Printer.
?acernoster-row.



THEODORE;



OR,



THE ENTHUSIAST.



IN FOUR VOLUMES.



VOL. in.



LONDON



PRINTED Ton LOliGMAM, HURST, REES, AND
ORME, PATERNOSTER-ROW,



1807.



THEODORE;



\ OR.

THE E^'THUSIAST.



BOOK FirrH,
CHAPTER I.

Increase and Multiply.



The man who fights and runs av/ay
Will live to fight another day.

So says a celebrated poet, and a truer
thing was never said. — You smile, gentle
reader, and I perfectly understand the
reason why. It is because you think a
truth so obvious does not need the sanc-
tion of prophetic rhyme. But^you for-
get, . all the while, that truths full as ob-
vious have escaped the nodce of mankind
for a long series of years, and that it was
Vol. III. B



2 THEODORE i OR,

no longer ago than yesterday, that we
perceived the necessity of a man's eat-
ing in order to live^ although, since the
creation, there is no instance of a man's
living, who did not eat.

The advice of Butler was given in an
age of error, when the preservation of the
human species was an object of attention
to the ignorant politicians of the day.
But at a period so enlightened as the
present, an author would blush to re-
commend it, and that for a variety of
reasons, of which I shall content myself
v/ith specifying only two.

imprimis, because it would be an un*
necessary caution, and might operate with
incalculable prejudice if applied to the
science of war. And secondly, because
it has been clearly demonstrated, that an
Increasing population is a political
ei'iL It follows, therefore, of course,
that the most meritorious service, which
a general can. perform, is to get rid of
his soldiers as fast as he can.



THE ENTHUSIAST. 3

In our former state of mental obscu-
rity, we were weak enougli to consider
such men as Alexander and Attila, to be
the severest scourges of mankind ; but
we are now compelled to acknowledge
the fallacy of this opinion, and to class
it among the most dangerous errors,
which ever perverted die human under-
standing. For the very reverse of the
foregoing proposition is found to be
true; viz. that conquerors have

BENEFITED THE WORLD, IN EXACT
PROPORTION AS THEY HAVE DELIVERED
IT FROM MANY THOUSANDS OF USELESS
MOUTHS.

Frugescommuntrenatus is a very exact
definition of man. ^et so ignorant were
legislators of the fundamental principles
of political economy, that they encou-
raged the growth of population, in pre-
ference to the growth of corn. So that
the. earth must inevitably have been over-
stocked, had it nor been occasionally
disburdened of its redundant produce by
B 2



t THEODORE J OR,

the invaluable bleflings of famine, pesti-
lence, and war.

Let us recur to history, and we shall
instantly discover how infinitely we are
indebted to those efficient causes for the
actual comforts we enjoy. This too we
we ought to regard as an additional proof
of the bounty of providence in counter-
acting the folly of man. Happily, in-
deed, we have seldom enjoyed many
successive years of what we .blindly honor
with the mistaken appelladon of felicity,
and peace, since the gallant son of Priam
carried off the beaunful wife of Menelaus,
and thus freed his country from the ruin-
ous incumbrance of superfluous multi-
tudes.

Few nations possess stronger claims to
the gratitude of posterity than the Ro-
mans, since none have swept away more
useless m.embers from the surface of the
globe. Yet we were induced by the pre-
judices of education to contemplate many
of those illustrious republicans with hor*



THE ENTHUSIAST. 3

TOT and detestation, for having sacrificed
the lives and happiness of their fellow
creatures at the shrine of ambition -, but
their conduct must now appear, to the
enlightened statesman, in very different
colors. Instead of execrating the barba-
rity of Sylla and Augustus, we ought to
admire the sublimity of their plans, for
having" wisely availed themselves of for-
tuitous circumstances, to check the ex-
uberance of a too rapid population. Nay,
it is far from impossible, that Tiberius,
Caligula, and Nero, may cease to be re-
garded as monsters of inhumanity, while
we attribute their frequent executions to
a comprehensive judgment, or an intui-
tive glance at modern improvements, ra-
ther than to the violence of tempers ren-
dered callous to the claims of humanity,
or the frantic ebullitions of ungovernable
passions.

How subservient is every principle of
moral rectitude to the irrefragable dic-
tates of experience ! one of the mc^st
B 3



6 THEODORE ; OR,

conclusive arguments, which has been
ever urged againsi the rehgion of Rome,
is its favourite tenet of ecclesiatical celi-
bacy. It was triumphantly objected by
its learned opponents, that such an in-
junction was diametrically repugnant to
the divine command, as delivered to
Adam himself j but there is norulev/ith-
out an exception. Even the exhortation

to INCREASE AND MULTIPLY, may bc

carried too far, as the poor-rates will shew
in almost every parish in England.

Hence it appears that the characters
of St. Francis and St. Benedict have been
most falsely traduced ; for it is scarcely
within the reach of computation to ascer-
tain the extent of our obligation to the
monastic orders, or to determine how far
their wise instimiions have operated for
the benefit of societ}^, in counteracting
the first precept of the divinity.

Did we require any additional proofs to
shew the ignorance of the French legisla-
tors, or to demonstrate the many evils wich



THE ENTHUSIAST. 7

which that fatal revolution has inundated
the world, the abolition of the religious
orders would furnish them ; and I am
happy in this opportunity of affording
our juvenile orators a fresh topic for par-
liamentary declamation. Indeed when I
attempt to compute the mischief that
may have arisen from the destruction of
the convents, I am doubtful if it has
been compensated for by all the murders
and assassinations which have polluted that
disgusting theatre of blood, from the
reign of Robertspierre to that of Napoleon
the Great. Though truth compels me to
acknowledge that both these illustrious
men have been unremitting in their en-
deavours to correct the mistake, so that
by the united operation of the guillotine,
and the sword, the balance is now pretty
fairly struck.

These surely are considerations highly
deserving of the attention of every pa-
triotic government ; and it was probably
upon this principle^hat the leaders of the
B 4



8 tHJODoRE J OR,

French revolution were honoured with
the appellation of patriotes. The same
means, indeed, are not equally at the dis-
posal of every statesman; but various
other devices may be hit upon, of great,
if not of similar efficacy.

It is not, I confess, my business to le-
gislate for nations, but still I cannot re^
frain from throwing out the following
hints, as objects of reflection for the rising
generation. Now^ I am firmly persuaded
that so long as trie command to increase.
and multiplij shall be promulgated by the
clergyman, as the express injunction of
the creator, it will be no easy task to per-
suade his parishioners to abstain from
the propagation of children. But in a
a new version of the Bible this impolitic
charge might be expunged, or with the
aid of a little casuistry be interpreted as
alluding to the fruits of the earth. Then
mighr every parish priest declaim with
orthodox energy against the many in-
conveniencies of early marriages, and



THE ENTHUSIAST. 9

recommend the produce of potatoes in
preference to the produce of children.

For my own parr, I am so fully sen-
sible of the mischiefs arising from an
over-stocked population, that I resolved
to contribute my mite of reasoning to the
general fund ; flattering myself, that
whoever seriously reflectJ^ upon the
weighty arguments adduced by Theo-
dore in favour of a monastic life, will
instantly become a convert to his system,
and endeavor like him and Sophia, to
triumph over the seductions of pleasure,
and the temptauons of the flesh.



CHAP. II.



There is little new under the sun.



The first thing which caught Theo-
dore's attention, upon entering his friend's
apartment, was Theresa's portrait. For
B 5



10 THEODORE ; OR,

some moments he contemplated it in si-
lence, no less astonished at the likeness,
than doubtful of the means by which it
v/as obtained. Reading his thoughts in
his countenance, Frederic hasiened to in-
form him that it was painted from me-
mory, adding, with a deep sigh, ** Alas!
you knov/ n ^i: the happiness I en j eyed,
while tracing the features of her whom I
adore." ** I pity you most sincerely,''
replied Theodore, ** for 1 fear you are
cherishing a hopeless passion. Indeed, I
thought to have found you more reason-
able, and flattered myself that time and
absence would have done much tov/ards
alleviating your sorrows.'* *^ Time and
absence," resumed the disconsolate youth,
*^ are never-failing nostrums, which the
moralist applies promiscuously to every
disease : but to the wretched victim, ex-
tended on the rack, or suffering under a,
fit of the stone, they bring neither ease
nor consolation. Their pangs, like mine.



mi ENTHUSIAST. 11

are beyond the reach of philosophy —
death only c:in appease them."

Perceiving how deeply ne was affecred
by every thing that retraced the image
of his beloved Theresa, Theodore at-
tempted to give the conversation a dif-
ferent turn j but all his endeavors proved
ineffectual. The similitude of Lis own
features with those of his sister had
awakened the tenderest emotions of sen-
sibility 3 nor could any object, except
Theresa, occupy the thoughts of Fre-
deric.

All his inquiries, however, being at
length satisfied, the establishment of our
hero came next under consideration, and
there being a vacant room in che house, it
was as;reed that Tlieodore should take it.
His next -occupation was to see every thing
in the town that was deserving of nocxce ;
and tj deliver letters of introduction to
some of the pr'iiclpal inhabitants.

Am.ong others, he was particularly rc-
commcnaed to the Greiffenberg fanwly,
B 6



If THEODORE} OR,

with whom his father had been formerly
acquainted. This, however, was a visit
than he paid with visible reluctance, as the
hoffrath * had the reputation of being
proud, and inscknt to those whom he
considered as of a rank inferior to his
own 'y while he bowed with ail the servi-
lity of a sycophant to a star or a title.
Theodore, on the contrary, had no idea
of any superiority but what arose from
personal merit, and conseqij^ntiy was
little calculated either to be pleased with
the hoffrath, or to please him. He re-
solved, howeverj to deliver his letter, but
with the secret determination, in case his
reception should prove unfavourable, by
assuming an air of independence, to assert
the dignity of worth.

Old Greiffenberg was no sooner aware
that our hero was the «on of a village

* There being no word in the English language,
that corresponds with that of hojfrath, the Gci-
ia«& is retained.



Tfll E>^THUSiAST. H

bailiff, than he pui on all the ccnsequen-*
tial airs of office, scarce deigning to re-»
turn Ills saints. He then cast hisfcyes
upi^Li the letter with affected indifference,
and after reading a line or two, carelessly
said, " What, is your father still alive ?
1 thought he had been dead many years
ago/*

" I am happy, Sir, to be able to cor-
rect that mistake,*' replied Theodore,
with an equal degree of coldness.

" I am seldom mistaken," resumed
the man of importance, " when the sub-
ject is of a nature to engage my serious
thoughts ; but I have too many occupa-
tions of real consequence to attend to the
bills of mortality of every provincial
district. Things of this kind will escape
my recollection. However, when you
write to your father, you may give my
compliments to him ; and should you, at
any time, have need of my protection, I
shall always be ready to assist you.**

Theodore, not a litde piqued at tht^



14 THEODORE 5 OR,

ridiculous pretensions, made a slight bow,
and was on the point of retiring, when
old GreifFenberg, surprised that h-:: did
net express his gratitude in warmer lan-
guage, and attributing his silence to ti-
midity, condescended to unbend his fea-
tures to something like a smile of en-
couragement, adding, in a softened tone,

'* You need not, young man, have the
least hesitation in applying to me, under
any difficulties .; for although my avoca-
tions are numerous, I will endeavor to
find leisure to serve you: and give me
leave to say, that when you zre. better
acquainted with Ingoldstadt, you will learn
the value of such a friend.*'

Having thuS;, in his own opinion, im-
pressed the astonished youth with the
highest idea of his own consequence, he
dismissed him with a nod more gracious
than that with which he received him.

St*!: mfield was waiting for him at the
door, impatient to learn the result of hi>s
visit.



rnt ENTHUSIAST. ]5

« Well !*' cried he, as Theodore de-
scended the steps, *' am I a true prophet,
or not ?"

" Correct as the Delphic priestess,*'
replied the other, " for so despicable a
compound of vanity and impertinence
was never, I believe, seen before. The
visit, however, was indispensable, and I
have performed a necessary duty ; but he
may rest assured, that rhere is little chance
of my interrupting his occupations by a
renewal of it.'*

Frederic — ^^ No rash resolutions, I
beg, till you have seen the lovely Leo-
nora."

Theodore, — '* What is Leonora to me ?
W^hoever dwells under that hateful roof
must pa.t-^ke of the odious qualities of
ks owner,"

Frederic, — '' Judge not too hastily ;
for here the opinion of the world is
against you.'*

Theodore. — '^ Do not suppose that I
care for the decision* of such a world at



IS TrtEODORB 5 OR,

that which we inhabit 5 li I may be allowed
to judge of it from the understandings
and morals of my fellow -travellers. I
thank God, that reason has been hitherto
my guide, and I feel litde inclination to
abandon her direction, to eniisi under the
banners of folly and ciissipadon."

Convinced that it was in vain to argue
the point any longer, in his present state of
mind, Steinfeld changed the fubjed, and
upon their return to their lodgings, as-
sisted his friend in making such arrange-?
meats as seemed essential to his future
comfort.

Theodore would now have been toler-
ably happy, had not his sympathetic feel-
ings for Frederic cast a cloud over every
prospedb. But hourly to witness the pangs
w~hich gradually undermined his health,
was a trial too severe for his compassionate
heart. Having previously resolved, if
possible, to extinguish so hopeless a flame,
he sedulously avoided ever mentioning
Theresa's name, nor could he be pre-



THE INTHUSIAST* 1?

Vailed on to enter into any details respect-
ing her present state of mind, as he eluded
the subject by alleging that she had of late
been a very negligent correspondent, and
that he was consequently unacquainted
with many particulars about which his
friend might wish for information.

This reserve, however, was far from
proving successful, and served either to
irritate Steinfeld's temper, or to alarm
his fears. At one moment, he was con-
vinced that Theresa was dying ; at ano-
ther, that he had lost her affections ; for
what else could there be to conceal. It
was in vain for Theodore to assure him,
that he had no grounds for similar ap-
prehensions. No asseveration could sa-
tisfy him. He taxed his friend with in-
difference and want of feeling : yet so
gentle was the heart of Theodore, that he
bore it all with patience, and though ex-
posed to the irregular sallies of a dis-
lempered imagination, he devoted all his



18 tHEODOREi OR,

time and talents to the consolation of hrs
unhappy friend.

These unremitting attentions, added to
the requisite labors which a regular course
of .study imposed, left him little leisure
for amusement, and allowed him no time
for society. The only student with whom
he associated was Godfrey, and in him
he found a heart susceptible of the ten-
derest feeling, and a temper, in many
respects, congenial to his own.



CHAP. IIL



An Electric Shock.



Theodore now began systematically
to explore the secrets of nature, and to
dive into the mazes of metaphysics. In
thQ form.er pursuit, he was directed by a



THE ENTHUSIAST; . 19

man of an enlightened genius ; but in
the latter, he found the gloom that sur-
rounded him, rendered still more im-
penetrable by the intricate jargon of the
schools. The teacher of metaphysics was
a Jesuit, and the reader may judge of the
abstruseness of the subject, when pinched
and tortured by the subtilizing spirit of
casuistry.

Yet in spite of all the difficulties which
he had to encounter, our hero's under-
standing was rapidly improving, while
his enthusiasm for virtue seemed equally
to increase. By attentively tracing the
crimes and follies of mankind in the event-
ful page of history, he learned properly
to estimate those important maxims which
father Philip had so warmly inculcated ;
and as he discovered the wisdom of his
precepts, his attachment was strengthened
by an additional tie. Nor were his ta-
lents for music and poetry neglected ;
on the contrary, they served as agreeable
relaxations from m^ore serious studies.



JEO THEODORE; Oft>

Yet Theodore was far from enjoying
that serenity of mind, which is the usual
companion of innocent youth. For the
first time in his life, he felt an irksome
void, for which he was unable to ac-
count. When alone, his bosom heaved
with an involuntary sigh, while the un-
bidden tear rolled gendy down his cheek.
This sudden alteration alarmed him, and
he began seriously to investigate the
cause. Yet after deliberately examining
his heart, the result was by no means sa-
tisfactory. No apparent motive existed
to disturb the tranquility of his mind, but
a sympathetic feeling for the sorrows of
his friend, and to that therefore he at-
tributed his uneasiness.

Yet while he reflected upon the severe
trials to which Frederic and his sister
were exposed, and the miserable fate of
Sophia, he grew still more weary of a
world, in which the noblest souls are
doomed to suffer the bitterest pangs.
The frightful spectacle of moral evil af-



THE ENTHUSIAST. 21

fccted him with emotions too violent to
be controuled -, and he saw no spot, ex-
cept a convent, amid the desart waste
where he was condemned to wander, which
afforded a prospect of repose. All else
was convulsed by the storms and tempests
of ambition, obscured by the gloom of
poverty, or desolated by the abuse of
power.

Impressed with these sentiments,, he
resolved, by increasing application, to an-
ticipate the happy moment of his recep-
tion, and accordingly directed his re-
searches almost entirely to theological
questions, passing many hours daily in
meditation and prayer. Such a temper
of mind seemed peculiarly formed for
those high-flown notions of religion,
which elevate the imagination to vision-
ary dreams of unattainable perfection.
But the sacred writings, which were now
constantly before him, by enlarging his
conceptions of the Divinity, secured him
against the dangers of a too lively fancy.



22 THEODORE i OR,

and taught him t< consider Christianity
in its only proper light, as the noblest
system of practical morality.

Theodore's way of life was scarcely
less recluse than it would have been,
had he been already immured in a mo-
nastery. At an early hour he visited the
churches, and particularly that of a
neighbouring convent, where he was
equally attracted by a passion for music,
and the enthusiastic warmth of devotion.

It was there that he accidentally knelt
by the side of a young lady, who ap-
peared so entirely occupied with her re-
ligious duties, that her eyes were never
raised from her book. Theodore was so
struck with her piety, that he could not
help observing her with more than com-
mon attention. At length she lifted her
face towards heaven with a supplicating
look. So angelic a countenance never
before attracted his regards, for to him
she appeared like the messenger of peace,
commissioned to deliver to the enrap-



THE ENTHUSIAST, 2S

tured world the blessed tidings of immor-
tality. Her form was aerial, and seemed
to his fascinated imagination to be pu-
rified from all the grosser particles of
human imperfection. In mute astonish-
ment he gazed upon her, scarcely ven-
turing to breathe, lest he should disturb
her meditations. After praying fervently
for some moments, her head was again
inclined, and her eyes met those of
Thoedore. That instant was decisive.
Every faculty of his soul was entranced,
and all the lessons of philosophy were
forgotten. In vain he strove to recall his
wandering senses, or to compose his
thoughts to pious contemplation. It was
to the unknown divinity that every ofFcr -
ing was paid, who reigned the queen and
arbitress of his future destiny.

When the service was over she rose to
quit the chapel. Theodore heard the
rusding of her robe, but felt unable to
move, for he was rivctted to the pave-
ment by the magic powers of fascinauon.



B4 THEODORE ; OR,

and when he lifted up his head, she was
already gone. He attempted to follow
her, and mingling with the crowd, pressed
forwards towards the door. She was
among the foremost of the throng, and
he caught a distant glimpse of her grace-
ful figure, as she descended the steps,
and vanished like a blissful vision into the
transparent air.

Without allowing time for a moment's
reflection, he suffered himself to be car-
ried away by the streaming crowd, till he
found himself in the street, at some dis-
tance from the church. In his hurry,
he ran against Godfrey, and was pro-
ceeding onward with indiscriminating
haste, when struck with the anxiety that
was visible in every feature, his new-
friend inquired if any thing particular he'd
happened. Again he repeated the ques-
tion, but might as v/ell have been talking
to the winds ; for Theodore heard him
not, and hurrying av/ay with the utmost
rapidity, was out of sight in an instant.



THE ENTHUSIAST, £3



CHAP. IV.



Many dangerous symptoms appear.



Unconscious whither he was going,
Theodore continued walking with a hasty
itepi nor did he recollect that he was
moving in a contrary direction from what
he intended, till he was already in the
open fields ; when throwing himself on a
bank, beneath an aged oak, he began
coolly to reflect on what had passed.

*' Could it,*' cried he, " be a frail
compound of weakness and sin, that
shone with such angelic brightness ?
Could mouldering dust assume a form
so captivating ? move with so light a
step ? or breathe so purely ? I have
heard that beings of a superior nature oc-

Vol, III. c



26 THEODORE ; OR,

casionally assume a mortal semblance^
for purposes too wise for our dull intel-
lect to penetrate. And surely the im-
pression left on my mind is not that of
incorporated clay. The feeling is un-
mixed with gross desire, and untainted
as the breath of morning in the month
of May. Methought, when she left me,
ambrosial fragrance diffused its sweetest
perfumes. Nor was her disappearance
like that of receding matter y it was the
evanescent fluidity of spirit melting into
its native air."

While Theodore was thus busied with
the creations of an enthusiastic fancy, the
minutes stole imperceptibly away, till the
cathedral clock struck one, announcing
the busy hour, when the inhabitants of In-
golstadt were wont to recruit their ex-
hausted strength with stewed beef and
sour cabbage. He started at the sound,
and running home, found Steinfeld wait-
ing with the dinner on the table, and not
a little surprised at his long absence.



THE ENTHUSIAST. 27

The meal was a silent one, especially on
the side of Theodore, who as soon as it
was over, retired under pretext of tlie
liead-ach, but in reality to ruminate un-
molested on the subject which was nearest
his heart.

In this state he remained till he was in-
terrupted by Steinfeid, who cam.c to re-
mind him of an engagement to meet a