CHAPTERXXXIX.
And in he came with eyes of flame,The fiend to fetch the dead.Southey’sOld Woman of Berkeley.
And in he came with eyes of flame,The fiend to fetch the dead.Southey’sOld Woman of Berkeley.
And in he came with eyes of flame,The fiend to fetch the dead.Southey’sOld Woman of Berkeley.
And in he came with eyes of flame,
The fiend to fetch the dead.
Southey’sOld Woman of Berkeley.
Melmothand Monçada did not dare to approach the door till about noon. They then knocked gently at the door, and finding the summons unanswered, they entered slowly and irresolutely. The apartment was in the same state in which they had left it the preceding night, or rather morning; it was dusky and silent, the shutters had not been opened, and the Wanderer still seemed sleeping in his chair.
At the sound of their approach he half-started up, and demanded what was the hour. They told him. “My hour is come,” said the Wanderer, “it is an hour you must neither partake or witness—the clock of eternity is about to strike, but its knell must be unheard by mortal ears!” As he spoke they approached nearer, and saw with horror the change the last few hours had wrought on him. The fearful lustre of his eyes had been deadened before their late interview, but now the lines of extreme age were visible in every feature. His hairs were as white as snow, his mouth had fallen in, the muscles of his face were relaxed and withered—he was the very image of hoary decrepid debility. He started himself at the impression which his appearance visibly made on the intruders. “You see what I feel,” he exclaimed, “the hour then is come. I am summoned, and I must obey the summons—my master has other work for me! When a meteor blazes in your atmosphere—when a comet pursues its burningpath towards the sun—look up, and perhaps you may think of the spirit condemned to guide the blazing and erratic orb.”
The spirits, that had risen to a kind of wild elation, as suddenly subsided, and he added, “Leave me, I must be alone for the few last hours of my mortal existence—if indeed they are to be the last.” He spoke this with an inward shuddering, that was felt by his hearers. “In this apartment,” he continued, “I first drew breath, in this I must perhaps resign it,—would—would I had never been born! * * * * * *
“Men—retire—leave me alone. Whatever noises you hear in the course of the awful night that is approaching, come not near this apartment, at peril of your lives. Remember,” raising his voice, which still retained all its powers, “remember your lives will be the forfeit of your desperate curiosity. For the same stake I risked more than life—and lost it!—Be warned—retire!”
They retired, and passed the remainder of that day without even thinking of food, from that intense and burning anxiety that seemed to prey on their very vitals. At night they retired, and though each lay down, it was without a thought of repose. Repose indeed would have been impossible. The sounds that soon after midnight began to issue from the apartment of the Wanderer, were at first of a description not to alarm, but they were soon exchanged for others of such indescribable horror, that Melmoth, though he had taken the precaution of dismissing the servants to sleep in the adjacent offices, began to fear that those sounds might reach them, and, restless himself from insupportable inquietude, rose and walked up and down the passage that led to that room of horror. As he was thus occupied, he thought he saw a figure at the lower end of the passage. So disturbed was his vision, that he did not at first recognize Monçada. Neither asked the other thereason of his being there—they walked up and down together silently.
In a short time the sounds became so terrible, that scarcely had the awful warning of the Wanderer power to withhold them from attempting to burst into the room. These noises were of the most mixed and indescribable kind. They could not distinguish whether they were the shrieks of supplication, or the yell of blasphemy—they hoped inwardly they might be the former.
Towards morning the sounds suddenly ceased—they were stilled as in a moment. The silence that succeeded seemed to them for a few moments more terrible than all that preceded. After consulting each other by a glance, they hastened together to the apartment. They entered—it was empty—not a vestige of its last inhabitant was to be traced within.
After looking around in fruitless amazement, they perceived a small door opposite to that by which they had entered.It communicated with a back staircase, and was open. As they approached it, they discovered the traces of footsteps that appeared to be those of a person who had been walking in damp sand or clay. These traces were exceedingly plain—they followed them to a door that opened on the garden—that door was open also. They traced the foot-marks distinctly through the narrow gravel walk, which was terminated by a broken fence, and opened on a heathy field which spread half-way up a rock whose summit overlooked the sea. The weather had been rainy, and they could trace the steps distinctly through that heathy field. They ascended the rock together.
Early as it was, the cottagers, who were poor fishermen residing on the shore, were all up, and assuring Melmoth and his companion that they had been disturbed and terrified the preceding night by sounds which they could not describe. It was singular that these men, accustomedby nature and habit alike to exaggeration and superstition, used not the language of either on this occasion.
There is an overwhelming mass of conviction that falls on the mind, that annihilates idiom and peculiarities, and crushes out truth from the heart. Melmoth waved back all who offered to accompany him to the precipice which over-hung the sea. Monçada alone followed him.
Through the furze that clothed this rock, almost to its summit, there was a kind of tract as if a person had dragged, or been dragged, his way through it—a down-trodden track, over which no footsteps but those of one impelled by force had ever passed. Melmoth and Monçada gained at last the summit of the rock. The ocean was beneath—the wide, waste, engulphing ocean! On a crag beneath them, something hung as floating to the blast. Melmoth clambered down and caught it. It was the handkerchiefwhich the Wanderer had worn about his neck the preceding night—that was the last trace of the Wanderer!
Melmoth and Monçada exchanged looks of silent and unutterable horror, and returned slowly home.
FINIS.
John Pillans, Printer, Edinburgh.
(1)Here Monçada expressed his surprise at this passage, (as savouring more of Christianity than Judaism), considering it occurred in the manuscript of a Jew.(2)Fact,—it occurred in a French family not many years ago.(3)Vide Cervantes, apud Don Quixote de Collibus Ubedæ.(4)Vide Jonson’s play, in which is introduced a Puritan preacher, aBanbury man, named Zeal-of-the-land Busy.(5)I have been an inmate in this castle for many months—it is still inhabited by the venerable descendant of that ancient family. His son is now High-Sheriff of the King’s county. Half the castle was battered down by Oliver Cromwell’s forces, and rebuilt in the reign of Charles the Second. The remains of thecastleare a tower of about forty feet square, and five stories high, with a single spacious apartment on each floor, and a narrow staircase communicating with each, and reaching to the bartizan. A beautiful ash-plant, which I have often admired, is now displaying its foliage between the stones of the bartizan,—and how it got or grew there, heaven only knows. There it is, however; and it is better to see it there than to feel the discharge of hot water or molten lead from the apertures.(6)See a comedy of Wycherly’s, entitled, “Love in a Wood, or St James’s Park,” where the company are represented going there at night in masks, and with torches.(7)Taylor’s Book of Martyrs.(8)Anachronism—n’importe.(9)In Cowley’s “Cutter of Coleman Street,” Mrs Tabitha, a rigid Puritan, tells her husband she had danced the Canaries in her youth. And in Rushworth’s Collections, if I remember right, Prynne vindicates himself from the charge of a general denunciation against dancing, and even speaks of the “Measures,” a stately, solemn dance, with some approbation.(10)As this whole scene is taken from fact, I subjoin the notes whose modulation is so simple, and whose effect was so profound.Music(11)Ireland,—forsan.(12)Vide Dillon’s travels through Spain.(13)The celebrated manufactory for glass in Spain.(14)He called unto me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night?—Watchman, what of the night?——Isaiah.(15)Vide the beautiful tale of Auheta the Princess of Egypt, and Maugraby the Sorcerer, in the Arabian Tales.(16)From this it should seem that they were unacquainted with the story of Elinor Mortimer.(17)Vide the original play, of which there is a curious and very obsolete translation.
(1)Here Monçada expressed his surprise at this passage, (as savouring more of Christianity than Judaism), considering it occurred in the manuscript of a Jew.
(1)Here Monçada expressed his surprise at this passage, (as savouring more of Christianity than Judaism), considering it occurred in the manuscript of a Jew.
(2)Fact,—it occurred in a French family not many years ago.
(2)Fact,—it occurred in a French family not many years ago.
(3)Vide Cervantes, apud Don Quixote de Collibus Ubedæ.
(3)Vide Cervantes, apud Don Quixote de Collibus Ubedæ.
(4)Vide Jonson’s play, in which is introduced a Puritan preacher, aBanbury man, named Zeal-of-the-land Busy.
(4)Vide Jonson’s play, in which is introduced a Puritan preacher, aBanbury man, named Zeal-of-the-land Busy.
(5)I have been an inmate in this castle for many months—it is still inhabited by the venerable descendant of that ancient family. His son is now High-Sheriff of the King’s county. Half the castle was battered down by Oliver Cromwell’s forces, and rebuilt in the reign of Charles the Second. The remains of thecastleare a tower of about forty feet square, and five stories high, with a single spacious apartment on each floor, and a narrow staircase communicating with each, and reaching to the bartizan. A beautiful ash-plant, which I have often admired, is now displaying its foliage between the stones of the bartizan,—and how it got or grew there, heaven only knows. There it is, however; and it is better to see it there than to feel the discharge of hot water or molten lead from the apertures.
(5)I have been an inmate in this castle for many months—it is still inhabited by the venerable descendant of that ancient family. His son is now High-Sheriff of the King’s county. Half the castle was battered down by Oliver Cromwell’s forces, and rebuilt in the reign of Charles the Second. The remains of thecastleare a tower of about forty feet square, and five stories high, with a single spacious apartment on each floor, and a narrow staircase communicating with each, and reaching to the bartizan. A beautiful ash-plant, which I have often admired, is now displaying its foliage between the stones of the bartizan,—and how it got or grew there, heaven only knows. There it is, however; and it is better to see it there than to feel the discharge of hot water or molten lead from the apertures.
(6)See a comedy of Wycherly’s, entitled, “Love in a Wood, or St James’s Park,” where the company are represented going there at night in masks, and with torches.
(6)See a comedy of Wycherly’s, entitled, “Love in a Wood, or St James’s Park,” where the company are represented going there at night in masks, and with torches.
(7)Taylor’s Book of Martyrs.
(7)Taylor’s Book of Martyrs.
(8)Anachronism—n’importe.
(8)Anachronism—n’importe.
(9)In Cowley’s “Cutter of Coleman Street,” Mrs Tabitha, a rigid Puritan, tells her husband she had danced the Canaries in her youth. And in Rushworth’s Collections, if I remember right, Prynne vindicates himself from the charge of a general denunciation against dancing, and even speaks of the “Measures,” a stately, solemn dance, with some approbation.
(9)In Cowley’s “Cutter of Coleman Street,” Mrs Tabitha, a rigid Puritan, tells her husband she had danced the Canaries in her youth. And in Rushworth’s Collections, if I remember right, Prynne vindicates himself from the charge of a general denunciation against dancing, and even speaks of the “Measures,” a stately, solemn dance, with some approbation.
(10)As this whole scene is taken from fact, I subjoin the notes whose modulation is so simple, and whose effect was so profound.Music
(10)As this whole scene is taken from fact, I subjoin the notes whose modulation is so simple, and whose effect was so profound.
Music
(11)Ireland,—forsan.
(11)Ireland,—forsan.
(12)Vide Dillon’s travels through Spain.
(12)Vide Dillon’s travels through Spain.
(13)The celebrated manufactory for glass in Spain.
(13)The celebrated manufactory for glass in Spain.
(14)He called unto me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night?—Watchman, what of the night?——Isaiah.
(14)He called unto me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night?—Watchman, what of the night?——Isaiah.
(15)Vide the beautiful tale of Auheta the Princess of Egypt, and Maugraby the Sorcerer, in the Arabian Tales.
(15)Vide the beautiful tale of Auheta the Princess of Egypt, and Maugraby the Sorcerer, in the Arabian Tales.
(16)From this it should seem that they were unacquainted with the story of Elinor Mortimer.
(16)From this it should seem that they were unacquainted with the story of Elinor Mortimer.
(17)Vide the original play, of which there is a curious and very obsolete translation.
(17)Vide the original play, of which there is a curious and very obsolete translation.
Transcriber’s Note:The following is a list of corrections made to the original. The first passage is the original passage, the second the corrected one.Page 1:CHAPTERXXI.CHAPTERXXIII.Page 14:etsenieconfectus,”—or finally, theetsenioconfectus,”—or finally, thePage 22:CHAPTERXXII.CHAPTERXXIV.Page 24:of steps pursuingher.”of steps pursuingher.Page 42:Asthey approached, in spite of the“Asthey approached, in spite of thePage 48:darknesssso profound, that Isidora diddarknessso profound, that Isidora didPage 49:norwhat she said. All was mist and darknessnotwhat she said. All was mist and darknessPage 50:CHAPTERXXIII.CHAPTERXXV.Page 50:Τηλεμἐιργουσιψυχαι,ειδοωλακαμοντων.Homer.Τηλεμ’ ειργουσιψυχαι,ειδωλακαμοντων.Homer.Page 50:Wehave now to retrace a short period“Wehave now to retrace a short periodPage 56:may be, could notaviodgiving him hismay be, could notavoidgiving him hisPage 57:knowledge.knowledge.”Page 61:CHAPTERXXIV.CHAPTERXXVI.Page 73:Thisnight he perhaps began to feel the“Thisnight he perhaps began to feel thePage 73:Theweather was gloomy and cold that“Theweather was gloomy and cold thatPage 79:“Father,” said Walberg,isnot Everhard“Father,” said Walberg,“isnot EverhardPage 84:CHAPTERXXV.CHAPTERXXVII.Page 99:Thepriest was as good as his word,—the“Thepriest was as good as his word,—thePage 109:CHAPTERXXVI.CHAPTERXXVIII.Page 110:among them—“andfelt too.” The worthyamong them—andfelt too.” The worthyPage 119:Themother, with the forced smile of a“Themother, with the forced smile of aPage 145:do they moan for?” “Hunger Ibelieve,’do they moan for?” “Hunger Ibelieve,”Page 153:must drag me from ityourselves.must drag me from ityourselves.”Page 177:CHAPTERXXVII.CHAPTERXXIX.Page 177:Χαλεπονδέτο φιλησαι·χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·χαλεπωτερον δε παντωναποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.Χαλεπονδετο φιλησαι·χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·χαλεπωτερον δε παντωναποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.Page 180:tremble,leshe was pursued by banditti attremble,lesthe was pursued by banditti atPage 188:have had dealings withShewsburymerchants,”have had dealings withShrewsburymerchants,”Page 200:by the name of—“Thou-art-not-worthy-to-unloose-the-latchets-of-his-shoes,—Sandal.by the name of—“Thou-art-not-worthy-to-unloose-the-latchets-of-his-shoes,—Sandal.”Page 206:CHAPTERXXVIII.CHAPTERXXX.Page 217:natics, after robbing a church of all its silver-plate,fanatics, after robbing a church of all its silver-plate,Page 241:Suchwas the state of Elinor, when the“Suchwas the state of Elinor, when thePage 263:doomed by many athristyeye to be oftendoomed by many athirstyeye to be oftenPage 274:where the non-comformistministers,where the non-conformistministers,Page 286:Ona dim autumnal evening, when Mrs“Ona dim autumnal evening, when MrsPage 307:CHAPTERXXIX.CHAPTERXXXI.Page 307:Theincreasing decline of Elinor’s health“Theincreasing decline of Elinor’s healthPage 317:CHAPTERXXX.CHAPTERXXXII.Page 338:Ihad not seen Melmoth for some years.“Ihad not seen Melmoth for some years.Page 346:CHAPTERXXXI.CHAPTERXXXIII.Page 355:CHAPTERXXXII.CHAPTERXXXIV.Page 365:will show,“said Donnawill show,”said DonnaPage 367:at allsimes, I have been told,” answeredat alltimes, I have been told,” answeredPage 380:CHAPTERXXXII.CHAPTERXXXV.Page 402:CHAPTERXXXIII.CHAPTERXXXVI.Page 414:one moment!’cried Isidora,one moment!”cried Isidora,Page 415:FraJose melted at the appeal, and he“FraJose melted at the appeal, and hePage 417:CHAPTERXXXIV.CHAPTERXXXVII.Page 428:“Daughter,said the priest, bending over“Daughter,”said the priest, bending overPage 431:CHAPTERXXXV.CHAPTERXXXVIII.Page 446:CHAPTERXXXVI.CHAPTERXXXIX.
Transcriber’s Note:
The following is a list of corrections made to the original. The first passage is the original passage, the second the corrected one.
Τηλεμἐιργουσιψυχαι,ειδοωλακαμοντων.Homer.
Τηλεμἐιργουσιψυχαι,ειδοωλακαμοντων.Homer.
Τηλεμἐιργουσιψυχαι,ειδοωλακαμοντων.Homer.
Τηλεμἐιργουσιψυχαι,ειδοωλακαμοντων.
Homer.
Τηλεμ’ ειργουσιψυχαι,ειδωλακαμοντων.Homer.
Τηλεμ’ ειργουσιψυχαι,ειδωλακαμοντων.Homer.
Τηλεμ’ ειργουσιψυχαι,ειδωλακαμοντων.Homer.
Τηλεμ’ ειργουσιψυχαι,ειδωλακαμοντων.
Homer.
Wehave now to retrace a short period
“Wehave now to retrace a short period
Χαλεπονδέτο φιλησαι·χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·χαλεπωτερον δε παντωναποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.
Χαλεπονδέτο φιλησαι·χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·χαλεπωτερον δε παντωναποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.
Χαλεπονδέτο φιλησαι·χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·χαλεπωτερον δε παντωναποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.
Χαλεπονδέτο φιλησαι·
χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·
χαλεπωτερον δε παντων
αποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.
Χαλεπονδετο φιλησαι·χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·χαλεπωτερον δε παντωναποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.
Χαλεπονδετο φιλησαι·χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·χαλεπωτερον δε παντωναποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.
Χαλεπονδετο φιλησαι·χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·χαλεπωτερον δε παντωναποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.
Χαλεπονδετο φιλησαι·
χαλεπον το μη φιλησαι·
χαλεπωτερον δε παντων
αποτυγχανειν φιλουντα.
Theincreasing decline of Elinor’s health
“Theincreasing decline of Elinor’s health