ABSTRACT
I have already said that, from the moment of my brother’s death, my heart has never known an instant of peace. In my journey from Vienna to London I was beset with a thousand demons. The purpose of my return home was to assume my rank, and take possession of my estate. But this thought was an insufficient preservative against the inroads of remorse. As long as I was engaged in the forbidden acts necessary to the accomplishment of my purpose, / the cabals with Cloudesley, the secret sending away of my brother’s child, and the possessing myself of the lying attestations of his death and interment, ambition possessed me alone. I had no leisure for any other thought; one step seemed indissolubly linked to another in my career. My whole soul was inebriated, or rather was wrought up to a sustained and continuous frenzy.
