Tuesday's Serial: "The Eunuch" by Terentius (translated into English by Edward St. John Parry) - III

ACT IV

Scene 1 - Enter Dorias, with a casket in her hand.

DORIAS – (to herself) So may the Gods bless me, but from what I have seen, I'm terribly afraid that this mad fellow will be guilty of some disturbance to-day or of some violence to Thais. For when this young man, the brother of the damsel, arrived, she begged the Captain to order him to be admitted; he immediately began to get into a passion, and yet didn't dare refuse; Thais still insisted that he would invite the man in. This she did for the sake of detaining him; because there was no opportunity just then of telling him what she wanted to disclose about her sister. He was invited in, and took his seat. Then she entered into discourse with him. But the Captain, fancying it was a rival brought before his very eyes, wanted in his turn to mortify her: "Hark you, boy," said he, "go fetch Pamphila, that she may amuse us here." She exclaimed, "At a banquet! Certainly not." The Captain still persisted to a downright quarrel. Meanwhile my mistress secretly took off her golden jewels, and gave them to me to take away: this is a sign, I'm sure, that she'll betake herself from there as soon as she possibly can. (goes into the house)

 

Scene 2 - Enter Phaedria.

PHAEDRIA – (to himself) While I was going into the country, I began on the road, as it mostly happens when there is any anxiety on the mind, to reflect with myself upon one thing after another, and upon every thing in the worst light. What need of words? While I was musing thus, inadvertently I passed my country-house. I had already got some distance from it, when I perceived this; I returned again, really feeling quite uneasy; when I came to the very turning that leads to the house, I came to a stop, and began to reason with myself; "What! must I stay here alone for two days without her? Well, and what then? It's nothing at all. What? Nothing at all? Well now, if I haven;t the privilege of touching her, am I not even to have that of seeing her? If I may not do the one, at least I may the other. Surely to love at a distance even, is better than nothing at all." I purposely passed the house. But how's this, that Pythias is suddenly hurrying out in such a fright? (Stands apart)

 

Scene 3 - Enter PYTHIAS and DORIAS in haste from the house of Thais.

PYTHIAS – (aloud) Where, wretch that I am, shall I find this wicked and impious fellow? Or where look for him? That he should dare to commit so audacious a crime as this! I'm ruined outright!

PHAEDRIA – (apart) I dread what this may be.

PYTHIAS - Besides, too, the villain, after he had abused the girl, rent all the poor thing's clothes, and tore her hair as well.

PHAEDRIA – (apart, in surprise) Ha!

PYTHIAS - If he were just now in my reach, how eagerly would I fly at that villain's eyes with my nails!

PHAEDRIA – (apart) Really I can't imagine what disturbance has happened to us at home in my absence. I'll accost them. Going up to them. What's the matter? Why in such haste? Or whom are you looking for, Pythias?

PYTHIAS - Why, Phaedria, whom should I be looking for? Away with you, as you deserve, with such fine presents of yours.

PHAEDRIA – What is the matter?

PYTHIAS - What, do you ask? The Eunuch you gave us, what confusion he has caused. He has ravished the girl whom the Captain made present of to my mistress.

PHAEDRIA – What is it you say?

PYTHIAS - I'm ruined outright!

PHAEDRIA – You are drunk.

PYTHIAS - I wish that they were so, who wish ill to me.

DORIAS - Oh, prithee, my dear Pythias, what a monstrous thing this is!

PHAEDRIA – You are out of your senses. How could a Eunuch possibly do this?

PYTHIAS - I know nothing about him: as to what he has done, the thing speaks for itself. The girl is in tears; and when you ask her what's the matter, she does not dare tell. But he, a precious fellow, is nowhere to be seen. To my sorrow I suspect too, that when he took himself off he carried something away from the house.

PHAEDRIA – I can not enough wonder, whither this varlet can possibly have betaken himself to any distance from here; unless perhaps he has returned home to our house.

PYTHIAS - Pray, go and see whether he is there.

PHAEDRIA – I'll let you know immediately. (Goes into the house of Laches)

DORIAS - Ruined outright! Prithee, my dear, I never did so much as hear of a deed so abominable!

PYTHIAS - Why, faith, I had heard that they were extremely fond of the women, but were incapable; unfortunately what has happened never came into my mind; otherwise I should have shut him up somewhere, and not have intrusted the girl to him.

 

Scene 4 - Enter Phaedria from the house of Laches, with Dorus in Chaerea's clothes.

PHAEDRIA – (dragging him out) Come out, you villain! What, do you lag behind, you runaway? Out with you, you sorry bargain!

DORUS – (crying out) Mercy, I do entreat you!

PHAEDRIA – Oh, do look at that! How the villain distorts his face. What means your coming back hither? Why this change of dress? What have you to say? If I had delayed a moment, Pythias, I shouldn't have found him at home: he had just prepared, in this fashion, for flight. Pointing at his dress.

PYTHIAS - Have you caught the fellow, pray?

PHAEDRIA – Caught him, why not?

PYTHIAS - O well done!

DORIAS - Upon my faith that really is capital!

PYTHIAS - Where is he?

PHAEDRIA – Do you ask the question? Don't you see him? (pointing to the Eunuch)

PYTHIAS – (staring about) See whom, pray?

PHAEDRIA – This fellow, to be sure pointing .

PYTHIAS - What person is this?

PHAEDRIA – The same that was brought to your house to-day.

PYTHIAS - Not one of our people has ever beheld this person with her eyes, Phaedria.

PHAEDRIA – Not beheld him?

PYTHIAS - Prithee, did you fancy that this was he who was brought to our house?

PHAEDRIA – Why, I had no other.

PYTHIAS - O dear! this one really isn't to be compared with the other. He was of a handsome and genteel appearance.

PHAEDRIA – He seemed so, just then, because he was decked out in party-colored clothes:1 now he appears ugly, for this reason--because he hasn't got them on.

PYTHIAS - Prithee, do hold your tongue; as though indeed the difference was so trifling. A young man was brought to our house to-day, whom, really, Phaedria, you would have liked to look upon. This is a withered, antiquated, lethargic, old fellow, with a speckled complexion.

PHAEDRIA – (starting) Hah! What tale is this? You'll so befool me that I sha'n't know what I bought. (to Dorus) How now, sirrah, did I not buy you?

DORUS – You did buy me.

PYTHIAS - Bid him answer me in my turn.

PHAEDRIA – Question him.

PYTHIAS – (to Dorus) Did you come here to-day to our house? DORUS shakes his head. He says, no. But it was the other one that came, about sixteen years of age; whom Parmeno brought with him.

PHAEDRIA – (to Dortus) Well now, in the first place tell me this, where did you get that dress that you have on? What, are you silent? Monster of a fellow, are you not going to speak? Shakes him.

DORUS – Chaerea came.

PHAEDRIA – What, my brother?

DORUS – Yes.

PHAEDRIA – When?

DORUS – To-day.

PHAEDRIA – How long since?

DORUS – Just now.

PHAEDRIA – With whom?

DORUS – With Parmeno.

PHAEDRIA – Did you know him before?

DORUS – No.

PHAEDRIA – How did you know he was my brother?

DORUS – Parmeno said he was. He gave me these clothes.

PHAEDRIA – I'm undone!

DORUS – He himself put on mine; afterward, they both went out together.

PYTHIAS - Now are you quite satisfied that I am sober, and that we have told you no falsehood? Is it now sufficiently evident that the girl has been ravished?

PHAEDRIA – Avaunt, you beast, do you believe what he says?

PYTHIAS - What is there to believe? The thing speaks for itself.

PHAEDRIA – (apart to Dorus) Step aside a little this way. Do you hear? (Dorus steps aside) A little further still. That will do. Now tell me this once more; did Chaerea take your clothes off you?

DORUS – He did.

PHAEDRIA – And did he put them on?

DORUS – He did.

PHAEDRIA – And was he brought here instead of you?

DORUS – Yes.

PHAEDRIA – Great Jupiter! O wicked and audacious fellow!

PYTHIAS - Woe unto me! Now at last will you believe that we have been insulted in a disgraceful manner?

PHAEDRIA – It is no wonder that you believe what the fellow says. Aside. What I'm to do I know not. Aside to DORUS. Hark you, deny it all again. Aloud. Can I not this day extract the truth from you? Did you really see my brother Chaerea?

DORUS – No.

PHAEDRIA – He can't be brought to confess without being punished, I see: follow me this way. At one moment he affirms, at another denies. Aside. Ask pardon of me.

DORUS – Indeed, I do entreat you, Phaedria.

PHAEDRIA – (kicking him) Be off in-doors.

DORUS – Oh! oh!

PHAEDRIA – aside. How in any other fashion to get decently out of this I don't know; for really it's all up with me. Aloud, with pretended indignation. Will you be trifling with me even here, you knave? (foollows Dorus into the house)

PYTHIAS - I'm as certain that this is the contrivance of Parmeno as that I'm alive.

DORIAS - So it is, no doubt.

PYTHIAS - I'faith, I'll find out a method to-day to be even with him. But now, what do you think ought to be done, Dorias?

DORIAS - Do you mean with regard to this girl?

PYTHIAS - Yes; whether I ought to mention it or be silent?

DORIAS - Upon my word, if you are prudent, you won't know what you do know, either about the Eunuch or the girl's misfortune. By this method you'll both rid yourself of all perplexity, and have done a service to her. Say this only, that Dorus has run away.

PYTHIAS - I'll do so.

DORIAS - But don't I see Chremes? Thais will be here just now.

PYTHIAS - Why so?

DORIAS - Because when I came away from there, a quarrel had just commenced between them.

PYTHIAS - Take in these golden trinkets; I shall learn from him what's the matter. DORIAS takes the casket into the house.

 

Scene 5 - Enter Chremes, somewhat drunk.

CHREMES - Heyday! upon my faith, I've been bamboozled: the wine that I've drunk has got the upper hand. But, so long as I was reclining, how extremely sober I did seem to myself to be; when I got up, neither feet nor senses were quite equal to their duty.

PYTHIAS - Chremes!

CHREMES – (turning round) Who's that? What, Pythias; dear me, how much more charming you now seem to me than a short time since!

PYTHIAS - Troth now, you are much more merry, that's certain.

CHREMES - Upon my faith, it is a true saying, that "Venus grows cold without Ceres and Bacchus." But has Thais got here long before me?

PYTHIAS - Has she already come away from the Captain's?

CHREMES - A long time ago; an age since. There has been a most violent quarrel between them.

PYTHIAS - Did she say nothing about you following her?

CHREMES - Nothing at all; only, on going away, she gave me a nod.

PYTHIAS - Well now, wasn't that enough?

CHREMES - Why, I didn't know that she meant that, until the Captain gave me an explanation, because I was dull of comprehension; for he bundled me out of the house. But look, here she is; I wonder how it was I got here before her.

 

Scene 6 - Enter Thais.

THAIS – (to herself) I really do believe that he'll be here presently, to force her away from me. Let him come; but if he touches her with a single finger, that instant his eyes shall be torn out. I can put up with his impertinences and his high-sounding words, as long as they remain words: but if they are turned into realities, he shall get a drubbing.

CHREMES - Thais, I've been here some time.

THAIS – O my dear Chremes, you are the very person I was wanting. Are you aware that this quarrel took place on your account, and that the whole of this affair, in fact, bore reference to yourself?

CHREMES - To me? How so, pray?

THAIS – Because, while I've been doing my best to recover and restore your sister to you, this and a great deal more like it I've had to put up with.

CHREMES - Where is she?

THAIS – At home, at my house.

CHREMES – (starting) Hah!

THAIS – What's the matter? She has been brought up in a manner worthy of yourself and of her.

CHREMES - What is it you say?

THAIS – That which is the fact. Her I present to you, nor do I ask of you any return for her.

CHREMES - Thanks are both felt and shall be returned in such way, Thais, as you deserve.

THAIS – But still, take care, Chremes, that you don't lose her, before you receive her from me; for it is she, whom the Captain is now coming to take away from me by force. Do you go, Pythias, and bring out of the house the casket with the tokens.

CHREMES – (looking down the side Scene) Don't you see him, Thais?

PYTHIAS – (to Thais) Where is it put?

THAIS – In the clothes' chest. Tiresome creature, why do you delay? PYTHIAS goes into the house.

CHREMES - What a large body of troops the Captain is bringing with him against you. Bless me!

THAIS – Prithee, are you frightened, my dear sir?

CHREMES - Get out with you. What, I frightened? There's not a man alive less so.

THAIS – Then now is the time to prove it.

CHREMES - Why, I wonder what sort of a man you take me to be.

THAIS – Nay, and consider this too; the person that you have to deal with is a foreigner; of less influence than you, less known, and one that has fewer friends here.

CHREMES - I'm aware of that; but it's foolish to run the risk of what you are able to avoid. I had rather we should prevent it, than, having received an injury, avenge ourselves upon him. Do you go in and fasten the door, while I run across hence to the Forum; I should like us to have the aid of some legal adviser in this disturbance. Moves, as if going.

THAIS – (holding him) Stay.

CHREMES - Let me go, I'll be here presently.

THAIS – There's no occasion, Chremes. Only say that she is your sister, and that you lost her when a little girl, and have now recognized her; then show the tokens.

(Re-enter Pythias from the house, with the trinkets)

PYTHIAS – (giving them to Thais) Here they are.

THAIS – (giving them to Chremes) Take them. If he offers any violence, summon the fellow to justice; do you understand me?

CHREMES - Perfectly.

THAIS – Take care and say this with presence of mind.

CHREMES - I'll take care.

THAIS – Gather up your cloak. Aside. Undone! the very person whom I've provided as a champion, wants one himself. They all go into the house.

 

Scene 7 - Enter Thraso, followed by Gnatho, Sanga, and other Attendants.

THRASO - Am I to submit, Gnatho, to such a glaring affront as this being put upon me? I'd die sooner. Simalio, Donax, Syriscus, follow me! First, I'll storm the house.

GNATHO - Quite right.

THRASO - I'll carry off the girl.

GNATHO - Very good.

THRASO - I'll give her own self a mauling.

GNATHO - Very proper.

THRASO – (arranging the men) Advance hither to the main body, Donax, with your crowbar; you, Simalio, to the left wing; you, Syriscus, to the right. Bring up the rest; where's the centurion Sanga, and his maniple of rogues?

SANGA – (coming forward) See, here he is.

THRASO - What, you booby, do you think of fighting with a dish-clout, to be bringing that here?

SANGA – What, I? I knew the valor of the general, and the prowess of the soldiers; and that this could not possibly go on without bloodshed; how was I to wipe the wounds?

THRASO - Where are the others?

SANGA – Plague on you, what others? Sannio is the only one left on guard at home.

THRASO – (to Gnatho) Do you draw up your men in battle order; I'll be behind the second rank; from that position I'll give the word to all. Takes his place behind the second rank.

GNATHO – (aside) That's showing prudence; as soon as he has drawn them up, he secures a retreat for himself.

THRASO – (pointing to the arrangements) This is just the way Pyrrhus used to proceed.

(Chremes and Thais appear above at a window)

CHREMES - Do you see, Thais, what plan he is upon? Assuredly, that advice of mine about closing the door was good.

THAIS – He who now seems to you to be a hero, is in reality a mere vaporer; don't be alarmed.

THRASO – (to Gnatho) What seems best to you?

GNATHO - I could very much like a sling to be given you just now, that you might pelt them from here on the sly at a distance; they would be taking to flight.

THRASO – (to Gnatho) But look pointing , I see Thais there herself.

GNATHO - How soon are we to fall to?

THRASO - Hold holding him back ; it behooves a prudent person to make trial of every thing before arms. How do you know but that she may do what I bid her without compulsion?

GNATHO - Ye Gods, by our trust in you, what a thing it is to be wise! I never come near you but what I go away from you the wiser.

THRASO - Thais, in the first place, answer me this. When I presented you that girl, did you not say that you would give yourself up to me alone for some days to come?

THAIS – Well, what then?

THRASO - Do you ask the question? You, who have been and brought your lover under my very eyes? What business had you with him? With him, too, you clandestinely betook yourself away from me.

THAIS – I chose to do so.

THRASO - Then give me back Pamphila; unless you had rather she were taken away by force.

CHREMES - Give her back to you, or you lay hands upon her? Of all the----

GNATHO - Ha! What are you about? Hold your tongue.

THRASO - What do you mean? Am I not to touch my own?

CHREMES - Your own, indeed, you gallows-bird!

GNATHO – (to Chremes) Have a care, if you please. You don't know what kind of man you are abusing now.

CHREMES – (to Gnatho) Won't you be off from here? Do you know how matters stand with you? If you cause any disturbance here to-day, I'll make you remember the place, and day, and me too, for the rest of your life.

GNATHO - I pity you, who are making so great a man as this your enemy.

CHREMES - I'll break your head this instant if you are not off.

GNATHO - Do you really say so, puppy? Is it that you are at?

THRASO – (to Chremes) What fellow are you? What do you mean? What business have you with her?

CHREMES - I'll let you know: in the first place, I assert that she is a freeborn woman.

THRASO – (starting) Ha!

CHREMES - A citizen of Attica.

THRASO - Whew!

CHREMES - My own sister.

THRASO - Brazen face!

CHREMES - Now, therefore, Captain, I give you warning; don't you use any violence toward her. Thais, I'm going to Sophrona, the nurse, that I may bring her here and show her these tokens.

THRASO - What! Are you to prevent me from touching what's my own?

CHREMES - I will prevent it, I tell you.

GNATHO – (to Thraso) Do you hear him? He is convicting himself of theft. Is not that enough for you?

THRASO - Do you say the same, Thais?

THAIS – Go, find some one to answer you. (She and Chremes go away from the window)

THRASO – (to Gnatho) What are we to do now?

GNATHO - Why, go back again: she'll soon be with you, of her own accord, to entreat forgiveness.

THRASO - Do you think so?

GNATHO - Certainly, yes. I know the disposition of women: when you will, they won't; when you won't, they set their hearts upon you of their own inclination.

THRASO - You judge right.

GNATHO - Shall I dismiss the army then?

THRASO - Whenever you like.

GNATHO - Sanga, as befits gallant soldiers, take care in your turn to remember your homes and hearths.

SANGA – My thoughts have been for some time among the sauce-pans.

GNATHO - You are a worthy fellow.

THRASO – (putting himself at their head) You follow me this way. (all leaves)

Monday's Illustrated Word: "The Court of Miracles" by Unknown Writer (in English)

 art by Ruben Moreira - America's Best Comics #31 - Standard Comics, July 1949. 

 

 

Good Reading: “The Tapestried Chamber” by Sir Walter Scott (in English)

“The Tapestried Chamber” by Sir Walter Scott[1]

 

About the end of the American war, when the officers of Lord Cornwallis's army, which surrendered at Yorktown, and others, who had been made prisoners during the impolitic and ill-fated controversy, were returning to their own country, to relate their adventures and repose themselves after their fatigues, there was amongst them a general officer, to whom Miss S. gave the name of Browne, but merely, as I understood, to save the inconvenience of introducing a nameless agent in the narrative. He was an officer of merit, as well as a gentleman of high consideration for family and attainments.

Some business had carried General Browne upon a tour through the western counties, when, in the conclusion of a morning stage, he found himself in the vicinity of a small country town, which presented a scene of uncommon beauty, and of a character peculiarly English.

The little town, with its stately old church, whose tower bore testimony to the devotion of ages long past, lay amidst pasture and corn-fields of small extent, but bounded and divided with hedgerow timber of great age and size. There were few marks of modern improvement. The environs of the place intimated neither the solitude of decay nor the bustle of novelty; the houses were old, but in good repair; and the beautiful little river murmured freely on its way to the left of the town, neither restrained by a dam nor bordered by a towing-path.

Upon a gentle eminence nearly a mile to the southward of the town were seen, amongst many venerable oaks and tangled thickets, the turrets of a castle as old as the wars of York and Lancaster, but which seemed to have received important alterations during the age of Elizabeth and her successors. It had not been a place of great size; but whatever accommodation it formerly afforded was, it must be supposed, still to be obtained within its walls; at least such was the inference which General Browne drew from observing the smoke arise merrily from several of the ancient wreathed and carved chimney-stalks. The wall of the park ran alongside of the highway for two or three hundred yards; and, through the different points by which the eye found glimpses into the woodland scenery, it seemed to be well stocked. Other points of view opened in succession, now a full one of the front of the old castle, and now a side glimpse at its particular towers; the former rich in all the bizarrerie of the Elizabethan school, while the simple and solid strength of other parts of the building seemed to show that they had been raised more for defence than ostentation.

Delighted with the partial glimpses which he obtained of the castle through the woods and glades by which this ancient feudal fortress was surrounded, our military traveller was determined to inquire whether it might not deserve a nearer view, and whether it contained family pictures or other subjects of curiosity worthy of a stranger's visit; when, leaving the vicinity of the park, he rolled through a clean and well-paved street, and stopped at the door of a well-frequented inn.

Before ordering horses to proceed on his journey, General Browne made inquiries concerning the proprietor of the château which had so attracted his admiration, and was equally surprised and pleased at hearing in reply a nobleman named whom we shall call Lord Woodville. How fortunate! Much of Browne's early recollections, both at school and at college, had been connected with young Woodville, whom, by a few questions, he now ascertained to be the same with the owner of this fair domain. He had been raised to the peerage by the decease of his father a few months before, and, as the General learned from the landlord, the term of mourning being ended, was now taking possession of his paternal estate in the jovial season of merry autumn, accompanied by a select party of friends to enjoy the sports of a country famous for game.

This was delightful news to our traveller. Frank Woodville had been Richard Browne's fag at Eton, and his chosen intimate at Christ Church; their pleasures and their tasks had been the same; and the honest soldier's heart warmed to find his early friend in possession of so delightful a residence, and of an estate, as the landlord assured him with a nod and a wink, fully adequate to maintain and add to his dignity. Nothing was more natural than that the traveller should suspend a journey which there was nothing to render hurried, to pay a visit to an old friend under such agreeable circumstances.

The fresh horses, therefore, had only the brief task of conveying the General's travelling carriage to Woodville Castle. A porter admitted them at a modern Gothic lodge, built in that style to correspond with the castle itself, and at the same time rang a bell to give warning of the approach of visitors. Apparently the sound of the bell had suspended the separation of the company bent on the various amusements of the morning; for, on entering the court of the château, several young men were lounging about in their sporting dresses, looking at and criticising the dogs which the keepers held in readiness to attend their pastime. As General Browne alighted, the young lord came to the gate of the hall, and for an instant gazed, as at a stranger, upon the countenance of his friend, on which war, with its fatigues and its wounds, had made a great alteration. But the uncertainty lasted no longer than till the visitor had spoken, and the hearty greeting which followed was such as can only be exchanged betwixt those who have passed together the merry days of careless boyhood or early youth.

"If I could have formed a wish, my dear Browne," said Lord Woodville, "it would have been to have you here, of all men, upon this occasion, which my friends are good enough to hold as a sort of holiday. Do not think you have been unwatched during the years you have been absent from us. I have traced you through your dangers, your triumphs, your misfortunes, and was delighted to see that, whether in victory or defeat, the name of my old friend was always distinguished with applause."

The General made a suitable reply, and congratulated his friend on his new dignities, and the possession of a place and domain so beautiful.

"Nay, you have seen nothing of it as yet," said Lord Woodville, "and I trust you do not mean to leave us till you are better acquainted with it. It is true, I confess, that my present party is pretty large, and the old house, like other places of the kind, does not possess so much accommodation as the extent of the outward walls appears to promise. But we can give you a comfortable old-fashioned room; and I venture to suppose that your campaigns have taught you to be glad of worse quarters."

The General shrugged his shoulders and laughed. "I presume," he said, "the worst apartment in your château is considerably superior to the old tobacco-cask in which I was fain to take up my night's lodging when I was in the Bush, as the Virginians call it, with the light corps. There I lay, like Diogenes himself, so delighted with my covering from the elements that I made a vain attempt to have it rolled on to my next quarters; but my commander for the time would give way to no such luxurious provision, and I took farewell of my beloved cask with tears in my eyes."

"Well, then, since you do not fear your quarters," said Lord Woodville, "you will stay with me a week at least. Of guns, dogs, fishing-rods, flies, and means of sport by sea and land we have enough and to spare; you cannot pitch on an amusement but we will pitch on the means of pursuing it. But if you prefer the gun and pointers, I will go with you myself, and see whether you have mended your shooting since you have been amongst the Indians of the back settlements."

The General gladly accepted his friendly host's proposal in all its points. After a morning of manly exercise, the company met at dinner, where it was the delight of Lord Woodville to conduce to the display of the high properties of his recovered friend, so as to recommend him to his guests, most of whom were persons of distinction. He led General Browne to speak of the scenes he had witnessed; and as every word marked alike the brave officer and the sensible man, who retained possession of his cool judgment under the most imminent dangers, the company looked upon the soldier with general respect, as on one who had proved himself possessed of an uncommon portion of personal courage, that attribute, of all others, of which everybody desires to be thought possessed.

The day at Woodville Castle ended as usual in such mansions. The hospitality stopped within the limits of good order; music, in which the young lord was a proficient, succeeded to the circulation of the bottle; cards and billiards, for those who preferred such amusements, were in readiness; but the exercise of the morning required early hours, and not long after eleven o'clock the guests began to retire to their several apartments.

The young lord himself conducted his friend, General Browne, to the chamber destined for him, which answered the description he had given of it, being comfortable, but old-fashioned. The bed was of the massive form used in the end of the seventeenth century, and the curtains of faded silk, heavily trimmed with tarnished gold. But then the sheets, pillows, and blankets looked delightful to the campaigner, when he thought of his mansion, the cask. There was an air of gloom in the tapestry hangings, which, with their worn-out graces, curtained the walls of the little chamber, and gently undulated as the autumnal breeze found its way through the ancient lattice-window, which pattered and whistled as the air gained entrance. The toilet, too, with its mirror, turbaned after the manner of the beginning of the century with a coiffure of murrey-coloured silk, and its hundred strange-shaped boxes, providing for arrangements which had been obsolete for more than fifty years, had an antique, and in so far a melancholy, aspect. But nothing could blaze more brightly and cheerfully than the two large wax candles; or, if aught could rival them, it was the flaming bickering faggots in the chimney, that sent at once their gleam and their warmth through the snug apartment; which, notwithstanding the general antiquity of its appearance, was not wanting in the least convenience that modern habits rendered either necessary or desirable.

"This is an old-fashioned sleeping apartment, General," said the young lord; "but I hope you will find nothing that makes you envy your old tobacco-cask."

"I am not particular respecting my lodgings," replied the General; "yet, were I to make any choice, I would prefer this chamber by many degrees to the gayer and more modern rooms of your family mansion. Believe me, that when I unite its modern air of comfort with its venerable antiquity, and recollect that it is your lordship's property, I shall feel in better quarters here than if I were in the best hotel London could afford."

"I trust I have no doubt that you will find yourself as comfortable as I wish you, my dear General," said the young nobleman; and once more bidding his guest good-night, he shook him by the hand and withdrew.

The General again looked round him, and internally congratulating himself on his return to peaceful life, the comforts of which were endeared by the recollection of the hardships and dangers he had lately sustained, undressed himself, and prepared himself for a luxurious night's rest.

Here, contrary to the custom of this species of tale, we leave the General in possession of his apartment until the next morning.

The company assembled for breakfast at an early hour, but without the appearance of General Browne, who seemed the guest that Lord Woodville was desirous of honouring above all whom his hospitality had assembled around him. He more than once expressed surprise at the General's absence, and at length sent a servant to make inquiry after him. The man brought back information that General Browne had been walking abroad since an early hour of the morning, in defiance of the weather, which was misty and ungenial.

"The custom of a soldier," said the young nobleman to his friends; "many of them acquire habitual vigilance, and cannot sleep after the early hour at which their duty usually commands them to be alert."

Yet the explanation which Lord Woodville thus offered to the company seemed hardly satisfactory to his own mind, and it was in a fit of silence and abstraction that he awaited the return of the General. It took place near an hour after the breakfast-bell had rung. He looked fatigued and feverish. His hair, the powdering and arrangement of which was at this time one of the most important occupations of a man's whole day, and marked his fashion as much as in the present time the tying of a cravat or the want of one, was dishevelled, uncurled, void of powder, and dank with dew. His clothes were huddled on with a careless negligence, remarkable in a military man, whose real or supposed duties are usually held to include some attention to the toilet; and his looks were haggard and ghastly in a peculiar degree.

"So you have stolen a march upon us this morning, my dear General," said Lord Woodville; "or you have not found your bed so much to your mind as I had hoped and you seemed to expect. How did you rest last night?"

"Oh, excellently well! remarkably well! never better in my life," said General Browne rapidly, and yet with an air of embarrassment which was obvious to his friend. He then hastily swallowed a cup of tea, and, neglecting or refusing whatever else was offered, seemed to fall into a fit of abstraction.

"You will take the gun to-day, General?" said his friend and host, but had to repeat the question twice ere he received the abrupt answer, "No, my lord; I am sorry I cannot have the honour of spending another day with your lordship; my post-horses are ordered, and will be here directly."

All who were present showed surprise, and Lord Woodville immediately replied, "Post-horses, my good friend! what can you possibly want with them, when you promised to stay with me quietly for at least a week?"

"I believe," said the General, obviously much embarrassed, "that I might, in the pleasure of my first meeting with your lordship, have said something about stopping here a few days; but I have since found it altogether impossible."

"That is very extraordinary," answered the young nobleman. "You seemed quite disengaged yesterday, and you cannot have had a summons to-day; for our post has not come up from the town, and therefore you cannot have received any letters."

General Browne, without giving any further explanation, muttered something of indispensable business, and insisted on the absolute necessity of his departure in a manner which silenced all opposition on the part of his host, who saw that his resolution was taken, and forbore further importunity.

"At least, however," he said, "permit me, my dear Browne, since go you will or must, to show you the view from the terrace, which the mist, that is now rising, will soon display."

He threw open a sash window, and stepped down upon the terrace as he spoke. The General followed him mechanically, but seemed little to attend to what his host was saying, as, looking across an extended and rich prospect, he pointed out the different objects worthy of observation. Thus they moved on till Lord Woodville had attained his purpose of drawing his guest entirely apart from the rest of the company, when, turning round upon him with an air of great solemnity, he addressed him thus: "Richard Browne, my old and very dear friend, we are now alone. Let me conjure you to answer me upon the word of a friend and the honour of a soldier. How did you in reality rest during last night?"

"Most wretchedly indeed, my lord," answered the General in the same tone of solemnity; "so miserably, that I would not run the risk of such a second night, not only for all the lands belonging to this castle, but for all the country which I see from this elevated point of view."

"This is most extraordinary," said the young lord, as if speaking to himself; "then there must be something in the reports concerning that apartment." Again turning to the General, he said, "For God's sake, my dear friend, be candid with me, and let me know the disagreeable particulars which have befallen you under a roof where, with consent of the owner, you should have met nothing save comfort."

The General seemed distressed by this appeal, and paused a moment before he replied. "My dear lord," he at length said, "what happened to me last night is of a nature so peculiar and so unpleasant that I could hardly bring myself to detail it even to your lordship, were it not that, independent of my wish to gratify any request of yours, I think that sincerity on my part may lead to some explanation about a circumstance equally painful and mysterious. To others the communication I am about to make might place me in the light of a weak-minded, superstitious fool, who suffered his own imagination to delude and bewilder him; but you have known me in childhood, and youth, and will not suspect me of having adopted in manhood the feelings and frailties from which my early years were free." Here he paused, and his friend replied, "Do not doubt my perfect confidence in the truth of your communication, however strange it may be," replied Lord Woodville; "I know your firmness of disposition too well to suspect you could be made the object of imposition, and am aware that your honour and your friendship will equally deter you from exaggerating whatever you may have witnessed."

"Well, then," said the General, "I will proceed with my story as well as I can, relying upon your candour, and yet distinctly feeling that I would rather face a battery than recall to my mind the odious recollections of last night."

He paused a second time, and then, perceiving that Lord Woodville remained silent and in an attitude of attention, he commenced, though not without obvious reluctance, the history of his night's adventures in the Tapestried Chamber.

"I undressed and went to bed so soon as your lordship left me yesterday evening; but the wood in the chimney, which nearly fronted my bed, blazed brightly and cheerfully, and, aided by a hundred exciting recollections of my childhood and youth, which had been recalled by the unexpected pleasure of meeting your lordship, prevented me from falling immediately asleep. I ought, however, to say that these reflections were all of a pleasant and agreeable kind, grounded on a sense of having for a time exchanged the labour, fatigues, and dangers of my profession for the enjoyments of a peaceful life, and the reunion of those friendly and affectionate ties which I had torn asunder at the rude summons of war.

"While such pleasing reflections were stealing over my mind, and gradually lulling me to slumber, I was suddenly aroused by a sound like that of the rustling of a silken gown and the tapping of a pair of high-heeled shoes, as if a woman were walking in the apartment. Ere I could draw the curtain to see what the matter was, the figure of a little woman passed between the bed and the fire. The back of this form was turned to me, and I could observe from the shoulders and neck it was that of an old woman, whose dress was an old-fashioned gown which, I think, ladies call a sacque; that is, a sort of robe completely loose in the body, but gathered into broad plaits upon the neck and shoulders, which fall down to the ground and terminate in a species of train.

"I thought the intrusion singular enough, but never harboured for a moment the idea that what I saw was anything more than the mortal form of some old woman about the establishment, who had a fancy to dress like her grandmother, and who, having perhaps (as your lordship mentioned that you were rather straitened for room) been dislodged from her chamber for my accommodation, had forgotten the circumstance, and returned by twelve to her old haunt. Under this persuasion I moved myself in bed and coughed a little, to make the intruder sensible of my being in possession of the premises. She turned slowly round, but, gracious Heaven! my lord, what a countenance did she display to me! There was no longer any question what she was, or any thought of her being a living being. Upon a face which wore the fixed features of a corpse were imprinted the traces of the vilest and most hideous passions which had animated her while she lived. The body of some atrocious criminal seemed to have been given up from the grave and the soul restored from the penal fire, in order to form for a space a union with the ancient accomplice of its guilt. I started up in bed, and sat upright, supporting myself on my palms, as I gazed on this horrible spectre. The hag made, as it seemed, a single and swift stride to the bed where I lay, and squatted herself down upon it, in precisely the same attitude which I had assumed in the extremity of horror, advancing her diabolical countenance within half a yard of mine, with a grin which seemed to intimate the malice and the derision of an incarnate fiend."

Here General Browne stopped, and wiped from his brow the cold perspiration with which the recollection of his horrible vision had covered it.

"My lord," he said, "I am no coward. I have been in all the mortal dangers incidental to my profession, and I may truly boast that no man ever knew Richard Browne dishonour the sword he wears; but in these horrible circumstances, under the eyes and, as it seemed, almost in the grasp of an incarnation of an evil spirit, all firmness forsook me, all manhood melted from me like wax in the furnace, and I felt my hair individually bristle. The current of my life-blood ceased to flow, and I sank back in a swoon, as very a victim to panic terror as ever was a village girl or a child of ten years old. How long I lay in this condition I cannot pretend to guess.

"But I was roused by the castle clock striking one, so loud that it seemed as if it were in the very room. It was some time before I dared open my eyes, lest they should again encounter the horrible spectacle. When, however, I summoned courage to look up, she was no longer visible. My first idea was to pull my bell, wake the servants, and remove to a garret or a hay-loft, to be insured against a second visitation. Nay, I will confess the truth, that my resolution was altered, not by the shame of exposing myself, but by the fear that, as the bell-cord hung by the chimney, I might, in making my way to it, be again crossed by the fiendish hag, who, I figured to myself, might be still lurking about some corner of the apartment.

"I will not pretend to describe what hot and cold fever-fits tormented me for the rest of the night, through broken sleep, weary vigils, and that dubious state which forms the neutral ground between them. A hundred terrible objects appeared to haunt me; but there was the great difference betwixt the vision which I have described and those which followed, that I knew the last to be deceptions of my own fancy and over-excited nerves.

"Day at last appeared, and I rose from my bed ill in health and humiliated in mind. I was ashamed of myself as a man and a soldier, and still more so at feeling my own extreme desire to escape from the haunted apartment, which, however, conquered all other considerations; so that, huddling on my clothes with the most careless haste, I made my escape from your lordship's mansion, to seek in the open air some relief to my nervous system, shaken as it was by this horrible rencontre with a visitant—for such I must believe her—from the other world. Your lordship has now heard the cause of my discomposure, and of my sudden desire to leave your hospitable castle. In other places I trust we may often meet; but God protect me from ever spending a second night under that roof!"

Strange as the General's tale was, he spoke with such a deep air of conviction that it cut short all the usual commentaries which are made on such stories. Lord Woodville never once asked him if he was sure he did not dream of the apparition, or suggested any of the possibilities by which it is fashionable to explain supernatural appearances, as wild vagaries of the fancy or deceptions of the optic nerves. On the contrary, he seemed deeply impressed with the truth and reality of what he had heard, and after a considerable pause regretted, with much appearance of sincerity, that his early friend should in his house have suffered so severely.

"I am the more sorry for your pain, my dear Browne," he continued, "that it is the unhappy, though most unexpected, result of an experiment of my own! You must know that, for my father and grandfather's time at least, the apartment which was assigned to you last night had been shut on account of reports that it was disturbed by supernatural sights and noises. When I came, a few weeks since, into possession of the estate, I thought the accommodation which the castle afforded for my friends was not extensive enough to permit the inhabitants of the invisible world to retain possession of a comfortable sleeping apartment. I therefore caused the Tapestried Chamber, as we call it, to be opened; and, without destroying its air of antiquity, I had such new articles of furniture placed in it as became the modern times. Yet, as the opinion that the room was haunted very strongly prevailed among the domestics, and was also known in the neighbourhood and to many of my friends, I feared some prejudice might be entertained by the first occupant of the Tapestried Chamber, which might tend to revive the evil report which it had laboured under, and so disappoint my purpose of rendering it a useful part of the house. I must confess, my dear Browne, that your arrival yesterday, agreeable to me for a thousand reasons besides, seemed the most favourable opportunity of removing the unpleasant rumours which attached to the room, since your courage was indubitable, and your mind free of any preoccupation on the subject. I could not, therefore, have chosen a more fitting subject for my experiment."

"Upon my life," said General Browne somewhat hastily, "I am infinitely obliged to your lordship—very particularly indebted indeed. I am likely to remember for some time the consequences of the experiment, as your lordship is pleased to call it."

"Nay, now you are unjust, my dear friend," said Lord Woodville. "You have only to reflect for a single moment, in order to be convinced that I could not augur the possibility of the pain to which you have been so unhappily exposed. I was yesterday morning a complete sceptic on the subject of supernatural appearances. Nay, I am sure that, had I told you what was said about that room, those very reports would have induced you, by your own choice, to select it for your accommodation. It was my misfortune, perhaps my error, but really cannot be termed my fault, that you have been afflicted so strangely."

"Strangely indeed!" said the General, resuming his good temper; "and I acknowledge that I have no right to be offended with your lordship for treating me like what I used to think myself—a man of some firmness and courage. But I see my post-horses are arrived, and I must not detain your lordship from your amusement."

"Nay, my old friend," said Lord Woodville, "since you cannot stay with us another day, which, indeed, I can no longer urge, give me at least half-an-hour more. You used to love pictures, and I have a gallery of portraits, some of them by Vandyke, representing ancestry to whom this property and castle formerly belonged. I think that several of them will strike you as possessing merit."

General Browne accepted the invitation, though somewhat unwillingly. It was evident he was not to breathe freely or at ease till he left Woodville Castle far behind him. He could not refuse his friend's invitation, however; and the less so that he was a little ashamed of the peevishness which he had displayed towards his well-meaning entertainer.

The General, therefore, followed Lord Woodville through several rooms into a long gallery hung with pictures, which the latter pointed out to his guest, telling the names and giving some account of the personages whose portraits presented themselves in progression. General Browne was but little interested in the details which these accounts conveyed to him. They were, indeed, of the kind which are usually found in an old family gallery. Here was a Cavalier who had ruined the estate in the royal cause; there a fine lady who had reinstated it by contracting a match with a wealthy Roundhead. There hung a gallant who had been in danger for corresponding with the exiled court at Saint Germains; here one who had taken arms for William at the Revolution; and there a third that had thrown his weight alternately into the scale of Whig and Tory.

While Lord Woodville was cramming these words into his guest's ear "against the stomach of his sense," they gained the middle of the gallery, when he beheld General Browne suddenly start, and assume an attitude of the utmost surprise, not unmixed with fear, as his eyes were caught and suddenly riveted by a portrait of an old lady in a sacque, the fashionable dress of the end of the seventeenth century.

"There she is!" he exclaimed; "there she is, in form and features, though inferior in demoniac expression to the accursed hag who visited me last night!"

"If that be the case," said the young nobleman, "there can remain no longer any doubt of the horrible reality of your apparition. That is the picture of a wretched ancestress of mine, of whose crimes a black and fearful catalogue is recorded in a family history in my charter-chest. The recital of them would be too horrible; it is enough to say that in yon fatal apartment incest and unnatural murder were committed. I will restore it to the solitude to which the better judgment of those who preceded me had consigned it; and never shall any one, so long as I can prevent it, be exposed to a repetition of the supernatural horrors which could shake such courage as yours."

Thus the friends, who had met with such glee, parted in a very different mood, Lord Woodville to command the Tapestried Chamber to be unmantled and the door built up, and General Browne to seek in some less beautiful country, and with some less dignified friend, forgetfulness of the painful night which he had passed in Woodville Castle.

 

Footnote:

1.       The present writer heard the following events related, more than twenty years since, by the celebrated Miss Seward of Litchfield, who to her numerous accomplishments added, in a remarkable degree, the power of narrative in private conversation. In its present form the tale must necessarily lose all the interest which was attached to it by the flexible voice and intelligent features of the gifted narrator. Yet still, read aloud to an undoubting audience by the doubtful light of the closing evening, or in silence by a decaying taper, and amidst the solitude of a half-lighted apartment, it may redeem its character as a good ghost story.

Friday's Sung Word: "Linda Pequena" by Noel Rosa and Braguinha (in Portuguese)

A estrela d'alva
No céu desponta
E a lua anda tonta
Com tamanho esplendor
E as moreninhas
Pra consolo da lua
Vão cantando na rua
Lindos versos de amor

Linda pequena
Pequena que tens a cor morena
Tu não tens pena de mim
Que vivo tonto com o teu olhar

Linda criança
Tu não me sais da lembrança
Meu coração não se cansa
De sempre e sempre te amar.

 

You can listen "Linda Pequena" sung by João Petra de Barros here.